#(( this is...........lengthy rip ))

[daz4i]

cw for uuuuuh fuck man idk. negative body image? implied internalized fatphobia?? sorry

fr tho i've been feeling so ugly in recent months and not having anyone tell me otherwise (beyond my besties but like. they're biased) in awhile now isn't helping. i don't take as many selfies and i struggle to look in the mirror for anything beyond the bare minimum necessary

it's a combination of things like. my hair being the biggest one, but also losing all my piercings, and my facial hair never looking on point (bc long enough to look nice means long enough to be a bother physically) but also the usual stuff of how my body is and how clothes look on me (very bad) n all.

and it really sucks bc this is one of those things that make things like taking the bus harder for me, like i'm so stressed of ppl thinking i'm gross bc of how i look, and i'm ashamed to go outside alone. but even when i'm already in public or i feel like i'm dressed in a way that makes me hot or w/e as soon as i look in the mirror i can feel my mood significantly dropping and i just wanna go hide in a dark room

the worst part is idk what i can even do abt it?? 😭 makeup helps sometimes - if i'm already looking decent at least - and as embarrassing as it is my mom does bring up getting hair implants when she sees how stressed i get abt losing my hair. but neither is very attainable (i'm gonna be fr i say makeup but it's exclusively eye pencil thing idk the english word. and this shit is hard to apply when i'm half asleep in the morning + it hurts my eyes if i go out of line even a little bit or rub my eyes in any way which. isn't ideal to say the least) (as for the hair thing it's just very expensive to get an already not great result over here. ppl hete used to go to other countries to get those but now these countries won't let us in so)

one thing that does consistently help is validation from outside but this is smth i really can't ask for directly bc it makes the answer feel fake, so i can't get it right when i need it the most

idk. i'm sad over this. makes life harder. reminds me that i hate myself. not helpful at all. wish i looked better but alas

[a-funeral-pyre]

The feminine urge to re-read the HoME version of The fall of Gondolin

[ratcandy]

Hi Clam. Question about CoGR. I know you didn't have the fic finished when you first started posting. Did you make an outline for the whole fic or did you just wing it?

I'm struggling to keep my longfic together and could use some pointers.

Oh worm! Coming to me for planning tips is a dangerous game considering I change it up with every fic hdKJH

But in the case of CoGR specifically, yes, the entire fic was outlined before I started writing! Every chapter had a very basic concept attached to it so I understood what was meant to happen + how his Thought Processes had formed. And at the very top of the doc I had the entire Zote History written out so I could keep it in mind as I wrote

I also color-coded chapters based on where they were taking place, unless something important was discussed in that chapter, in which case they were color-coded with red text (hence my author notes referring to certain chapters as "colored red"!)

actually i went digging thru my files and I found the old planning doc, so if u were wondering how the cogr plan looked, well. here u go,

and yes it's in chronological precept order, meaning my plan was backwards. i only figured out that I wanted to go in reverse precept order After I wrote down the initial plan, lmao

But even with an established outline far in advance, stuff was constantly getting tweaked and messed around with as I wrote. Really big plot points stayed relatively the same (such as Chapter 47 - the plan for that stayed pretty cut and dry from start to finish) but some things ended up being added or changed as I went along (for instance, the entire grub arc was a sort of last minute decision; I got the idea a few chapters in advance and went 'hey fuck it that'd be fun to add' so I Did, and I found it made the chapters where the grub was included far more interesting than if they were never there!)

So my advice would be to make an outline but not be too hard on yourself when it comes to sticking to it. I find an outline to be SUPER helpful, as if I don't plan something well in advance I just end up writing myself into a hole (R.I.P Tinnitus), but adding little things as I write can make it all the better. So make a plan, yeas, but give yourself breathing room for changing things/adding stuff!

Hope that helps at all!!

[thelostrainbowthenovel]

Perception With The In-Laws

I feel like I've talked quite a bit here-and-there about Brooke's relationship with Nate's family, and/or their perception of him, but I've never really talked about the reverse. That being, Nate's relationship with Brooke's family, and their perceptions about him. Since I've had some ideas floating around in my head about that, kind of in a way going along with my ideas for a future happy and functional Alagona family, here is a post to explore that more! Plus with the current/updated ideas for Brooke and the Von Brandts. I hope you enjoy!

((Just going to do these by the individual family members to make things simple))

================================================

- Brooke + the Von Brandts

. Vulcan: At first, Vulcan wasn't too fond of him, sharing the common thought of the Mareasian royal court that he was troublesome. This attitude mainly is from the time Brooke was a child, partly from his grievances with his parents, but also from finding out about the rivalry between him and his eldest son. Their interactions were limited back then as Brooke did not get too involved in conference meetings or major royal matters till he was a teenager, so positive progress between them was slow. It was not till Brooke was an older teen did things start to change, as by that point not only had he become genuine friends with Nate, but he had also started working on making a good impression of himself after learning more about why he struggled so much as a child(both his mental health disorders + his adhd). Brooke never got to interact with the other rulers much when he was younger so he didn't have many thoughts on Vulcan other than finding him intimidating, but as he started getting more involved in royal matters and conferences, and closer to Nate, he knew he wanted to do whatever he could to make both Nate's parents like him. In time, things improve to the point that Vulcan genuinely thinks of Brooke as a good person and enjoys conversing with him, particularly for his enthusiasm about learning more about Feorian culture and his generally care-free attitude being a rarity in Feor.

. Soleil: Soleil shared similar sentiments as her husband at first, but warmed up to Brooke quicker than him. She did not like how teasing he was to Nate when they were children, with their rivalry reminding her too much of how she does not like or get along with Arethusa and Lian. She was the first between her and her husband to pick up on the shift between their son and Brooke when they were teenagers, but was happy to see both Nate in higher spirits, and seeing what a genuinely good young man Brooke was. As Soleil has come a long way herself in being more expressive and lively, she greatly enjoys Brooke's presence, especially with him bringing a more "fun" energy than the normally serious one in the Feorian palace and royal court. On Brooke's end, he always found her a bit more approachable than Vulcan, with there being a silent understanding of the other that helps their relationship build. As another part of Soleil's mother's intuition, she was the first to start speculating something "more" was going on between him and Nate when they became adults, noticing first how they would look at each other fondly and seemed to be talking more when at royal functions together. She brought these suspicions up with Vulcan privately, and with the Mareasian-style engagement ring Nate has started wearing recently, this has pretty much given them as close to a confirmation as they can get without Nate telling them anything. As they have both warmed up to Brooke, they would not mind letting him into their family, though are patiently waiting for Nate to tell them everything himself.

. Hestia: Easily the one he has the best relationship with, outside of the fact she is also the one he has interacted with the most. They were always quite friendly with each other even before the events of the main story, though Tia was initially wary of him as she knew him to be her older brother's childhood rival for the longest time before finding out that they became friends. Though it was a slow process to get her to warm up to him, Brooke was patient and always made it a point to engage in friendly conversation with her, with him being so happy once she finally does. When they do get to know each other better, they are relieved to find that they actually have a few things in common, such as both of them being neurodivergent. With Tia's special interest in pirates and Mareasian history in general, she always looked forward to getting to talk to him during conference meetings and asking him all the questions she has from her readings without the fear of judgement. She just finds him so cool to talk to, and he in turn finds her excitability so charming, happily indulging in her ideas and plans whenever she is in Mareas. Their relationship does get more tense during the main adventure after the secret of his and Nate's relationship gets out, as things get awkward and Tia becomes unsure of how to interact with him as she processes all of their history together, but eventually they come to an understanding of each other and become good friends. She is happy seeing how much he makes her brother happy, and sees him like her "big brother-in-law" even before him and Nate get officially married in the future.

. Flint: Their relationship starts off a little hesitantly at first, mainly on Flint's end. Though they always had opportunities to interact before, they just never took the time to truly get to know each other better outside of brief greetings. Since Flint is at an age where he is mostly preoccupied with his own interests and aspirations, he is not the most aware or privy to what his older siblings get up to or the connections they have outside of Feor. So, when his older brother gets outed and his relationship gets revealed, Flint doesn't know what to think. This mostly comes from the fact that he had no sort of inkling or hint to it at all, that while he does love and support his brother, he's still a little confused and takes his time to warm up to the situation. On Brooke's end, he just wants to make a good impression and get along with all of his in-laws. After enough time of him living in Feor and getting closer to both Nate and the other family, Flint eases up a lot more to see Brooke as another "older brother" figure, and loves bonding with him over hand-to-hand combat as they both specialize in that than magic or weapon-based fighting.

. Ashton: Since Ash is so young, Brooke has not had any meaningful or substantial interactions with him before. The few times their respective families have been at the same event together, Ash was either being watched by his mother or royal nanny away from everyone else, or had already been put to bed, so anytime they had gotten to see each other was very brief. Though as that is, they come to have a pretty good relationship. As Ash is mostly a happy and excitable toddler right now, and Brooke loves kids, they have a fun and happy energy when they are together. Ash always ropes Brooke into playing with him, which Brooke is more than happy to as his happiness is infectious to him and never fails to brighten his day.

- Nate + the Alagonas

. Arethusa: Their relationship has always been complicated. Like with all the other royals and especially rulers, Nate does his best to be cordial and respectful, as he wants to establish good relations before he becomes king someday. This is especially true with the Mareasian royals, as it was always a goal of his to strengthen the relations between their kingdoms. With Arethusa, he can respect her dedication to her role as queen, though he does not care for her harshness. It comes out in bites at times, with her other times acting kind of indifferent and distant, so he is always on guard and careful when interacting with her. Part of this also comes from hearing what she was like as a mother from Brooke, as even if she has mellowed out a little bit in recent years, that still does not erase all the coldness and stress she has placed with all of her children. On Arethusa's end, though she has never admit it before, she secretly admires Nate's own dedication to his role, and how adamant he is in wanting to improve relations. She still has a ways to go before showing a warmer side, but there have been small signs of her opening up more already.

. Lian: The one he has the most complicated relationship with. Since Lian is not at all invested in either his children's lives or his royal duties, any interactions they have had in the past were very brief and limited to a respectful but begrudging acknowledgement. Nate tries to remain civil, both to keep up appearances and because of his goal of strengthening the relationship between their respective kingdoms, but truthfully he never liked Lian. Half of it comes from hearing how awful he is from Brooke and seeing that reflected during their few brief interactions, but also for how apathetic and callous he seems, as his only interests are for what makes his life easier or benefits himself. After the fiasco that was Nate and Brooke's being outed, any lingering politeness is thrown out the window once Nate hears of the prejudiced things Lian had to say about the situation, with him being silently glad and thankful when Lian eventually leaves the family.

. Meredith: The one he has the most positive relationship with. Both being crowned heirs, Nate has interacted with her the most, both in and outside of royal matters. They always had a cordial relationship, as they hold a mutual respect for each other and share a lot of the same goals. Those goals being wanting to strengthen the relationship between their respective kingdoms, creating more opportunities for them to work together and get along, and change some of the laws that are preventing their people from living their authentic lives. Since they have worked so closely together, some people in the past have made rumors of something 'deeper' going on between the two, but they are nothing more than good friends. With Mere being one of the first people that are told about Nate and Brooke's relationship, Nate does feel more at ease sharing about it with her, even going to her for advice at times on how to make Brooke's life more special(or to gossip, he deserves it since Brooke does so about him with Hestia).

. Murphy: Nate has not had many interactions with Murphy before. There is the considerable age gap at play, with Murphy spending most of his time with other children or a trusted adult when their respective kingdoms are at the same royal event. Murphy is also pretty anxious and awkward around most people, so most of the time he stays close to his family's side instead of interacting with the other royals. Any interactions they have had are brief, but Nate does feel a great amount of sympathy and patience for him, as he is an introvert himself and understands his preference for interacting mostly with close people. Despite their awkwardness and hesitance at times, Murphy slowly eases up enough to approach and talk to Nate, thanks mainly to Brooke talking so much about him, and Nate in return is happy to see him opening up more and them finally being able to bond a little bit.

[beobraed]

i FINALLY played the Tale of Crowns update lol it was good!! made me more excited for more story and more of X's route bc they STAY getting interrupted 😭😭 a Crown's work is never done ig

[comradetork]

i’m usually totally fine listening to boris the spider but very occasionally i listen to it and it hits me so hard and reminds me of my old roomie and suddenly i’m coughing up blood and tar. i’m the one that cut him off btw. because i’m a fucking lunatic

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, vīrgin gojo, established relationship, doggy, whiny gojo, premature ejac, mdni.

loserboy gojo who’s so confident to fuck you stupid once you give him a chance but folds the moment he goes inside raw for the first time.

he blabbers and blabbers to you on a daily of how there’s over ten thousand nerves in the clit, how he’s just so ‘good with his fingers’ and even brags at how his good his strokes are.

but the moment he’s leisurely delving his cock into your sopping walls, ogling at how easy his blushing pink tip disappears onside you, he grunts. so warm, you’ve got the stretch that’s so gripping that it practically gives him whiplash. “ngh, such a pretty girl, thaaaat’s it,” a single breath rips from his windpipe, combing a few fingers against the fat edges of your ass. you moan, instinctively wriggling your hips against his pelvis and he hisses. “fuck, fuck baby, godddd.”

and already, he’s a mess.

naturally sheeny slick lips rub against each other as he digs his slender fingers, slender fingertips into the soft parts of your flesh. gojo’s shaking, he’s never felt it from the inside, he’s shaking so much that it’s almost mouthwatering. a swirling pool of saliva starts to fill inside his mouth as he’s gradually trying to make a thorough piston of his hips. “s- satoru, harder,” you moan, and you feel his dick twitch inside of you almost immediately.

as he’s deepening himself inside, he shudders.

by now, his eyes become droopy.

gojo stares at your body, perfectly arched and hunched over.

as you’re in such a lewd position of doggy, a plump, sweaty thumb of his traces against the curvature of your body.

“s- sooo pretty,” he coos out, and he’s feeling the crazed repetitive throb on his tip accelerate. each second he spends inside, trying to give you every inch, he’s about to lose it. he’s panting, huffing out short breaths as the squelches of your cunt makes him ten times harder. once his hips finally start, he yanks onto the back of your shirt. the fabric makes a shrilling riiiip and you could hear it tearing a bit from his feral grip. “ugh, ‘s warm inside baby, ‘m not gonna last.”

and he doesn’t last—

all that talk about fucking you stupid, making you moan his name, and he’s the one babbling yours.

lengthy snowy lashes squeeze themselves tight as he’s barely even giving you any pumps. he’s practically humping your cunt like a pillow, trying to memorize specific positions from this one thread he’s read. a thread that had a title of ‘how to fuck a girl right, no clickbait.’

and of course, with a smug conceited grin, satoru clicks the link, jotting down everything in his notes.

he was gonna be the best you’ve had.

yet, the moment he’s stuffed inside your sloppy pussy, he could barely last a few seconds. because as his breaths continue to grow raspier and raspier, he’s already cumming.

it shoots out quick— it’s hot, velvet ropes pour inside between your folds as he’s trying to reel you back against him.

clashing, rutting hips that come to a brief halt once he realizes he came too quick. pretty lips curl into a surprised ‘o’ and his husky grunt makes your own cunt pulsate. his hits against you was sloppy, rhythm barely able to keep up a pace. you’re on all fours, feeling his entire cock from his flustered crown plug you in until you feel his body rumbling against you.

“o- oh, fuck fuuuckkk,” he whimpers, trying to thrust some more but he’s already finished.

out of all the enemies he’s fought, gojo satoru was never no match for your sweet, sweet cunt.

the real villain,

he’s feeling himself dump into you raw and he can feel droplets of drool dribble down his chin.

it’s so tepid inside, sweltering your gummy walls up to your womb with his sticky, oozing cum. you moan, raising your ass up as he’s still got clammy fingertips burying into the depths of your skin.

you’ve got him drooling for more, heaving heavy pants exiting from his full lungs and his bottom lip quivers. he watches with docile, blown irises at the way your pussy sucks it up.

he’s dimwitted, witnessing as a pretty milky, translucent form around his weighty base. his tip was a reddened pink, and the thought of pulling out only makes him whimper. he’s addicted, and more importantly, he’s whipped.

a bundle of slender fingers wisp near your runny, full pussy before he swipes a thumb across, getting a taste himself.

“y- you taste so sweet with my cum,” he hiccups, hissing almost immediately after you teasingly jerk your hips back against him. “ngh, baby. wish you could see this mess. ‘s sloppy ‘n so pretty,” and he’s still buried deep, to the very hilt before slowly pulling out.

the moment gojo does, your folds gradually emits out his seed and it’s so sexy.

the way his sloppy seed bubbles out, he licks his lips, a feral look burning against his pupils for more. more of you.

he could watch this view all day — you’re curling up your toes in blissful rapture as you feel his bright, blue eyes burn into your backside. “god, ‘s gonna spill out. hold on, baby.”

“s- satoru,” you whine, and that’s when you heard a bit of shuffling. without even thinking, he gets down and flicks his tongue against your soddened cunt, lapping up the bitterly sweet taste of his own cum. he moans against your entrance, burring low grunts vibrate against your clit before his faint sucks turn into filthy slurps. “mh, good boy, ‘toru. jus’ like that.”

and he feels his flaccid dick twitch at your praise. gojo reaches down toward his twitching shaft, a big hand wrapping around it before stroking it off to your sweet, melodic voice. “again,” he whines, his rickety hips now humping against the thick cloudy bedsheets. as his nose brushes up against your pussy, he continues to drink you clean, swirling the tip of his feverish pink tongue against the mess he created.

“call me a good boy, w- wanna be your good boy, baby.”

[eternallynamelessvoid]

HEAVY VENT

I was very mad and depressed while writing this.

I want to burn the world to the ground.

I want to burn the ass-hats all the fucking way down until their faces are charred and smoldering inky messes.

God the US is going to turn into a fucking dictatorship and then what do I do? Fucking die?

Like seriously.

At this point I’m not even scared of my own fucking amnesia or dissociation because then I won’t have to deal with the god damn shit-fuckers.

I’m so so scared.

Im so, so scared.

My teachers say we live in a time of peace, but then there’s a genocide happening and governments want to fuck us all over and rob us of our last breath.

They want to remove retirement. And LGBT. And colored-folk. And anything that’s not a white rich man.

God I have never wanted to shoot myself so bad in so long. I can only hold on so long.

It’s like everything is dying and guess what?

GUESS WHAT

IM NOT EVEN FUCKING OLD ENOUGH TO DO FUCK ALL. What do I do? Sob hysterically while 80+ year olds decide the fate for everybody else. ISNT THAT GRAND?

IS THIS WHAT AMERICA WAS SUPPOSED TO FUCKING LOOK LIKE?

I want to cry.

[barnes-babydoll]

Save Me Tonight | b.b 𐙚˙⋆.˚

Pairing | Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Assistant!Reader 

Summary | Congressman James Barnes is your boss. When you begin to develop strong feelings for him, you decide to take a practical approach and download Tinder. However, when your date takes a turn for the worse, you find yourself desperately hoping for someone—anyone—to come to your rescue. Bucky will always be there to save you.

Warnings/tags | Between the events of CA:BNW and Thunderbolts*, fluff, slow-burn, hurt/comfort, yearning, cursing, sexual harassment (not by Bucky), angst, panic attack, nsfw, MDNI (18+), kissing, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, low-key switch!Bucky, protective!Bucky, breast play, fingering, save a horse; ride Bucky, mentions of violence, injuries, Bucky would let the world burn for Reader, no use of y/n.

Word Count | 17.8k

A/N | Hey, lovelies. Thank you for all the support on my last fic and 160 followers!! It motivated me to write this one, and I’m pretty proud of it. To reiterate, this is only my second fanfiction, so bear with me, I’m still learning. There’s a little something extra at the end because I’m a sucker for protective Bucky. Sorry in advance for it being so lengthy. Blame my fingers for typing away without consequence. (Hahaha, you’ll never stop me ~ my fingers) Hope you enjoy, and if you did, let me know or feel free to give any feedback:))

You were falling.

No, you were clearly standing upright, but it felt like you were falling. Whenever you looked at him, you felt like the rug was being ripped out from under you.

Him being your boss, Congressman James Barnes. He’s so handsome in a rugged, but polished way. 

Like the white button-up he’s in now. Sure, it’s sophisticated, but he has his grey suit jacket off, draped over the back of his chair. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing a bit of his forearms. A few of his top buttons are undone, leaving an immaculate view of his collarbone. That and his five o’clock shadow leave a perfect mix of rugged and polished.

The scent of his cologne is filling your nostrils—oak, amber, and lavender. It’s making your head spin. You feel crazy. You should not be breathing in your boss’s scent or staring at him like you are now.

Bucky is leaning over his desk, focused on a document. He’s chewing on the end of a pen with a furrowed brow, as if the papers had personally offended him.

You let yourself take him in for a few more seconds before you step into his office. You enter with a soft knock on his door.

”I thought I told you that’s bad for your teeth. And, if you keep scrunching your eyebrows like that, you’ll get wrinkles.” You tease, your voice is light and full of warmth.

Bucky’s eyes shoot up immediately. He gapes at you momentarily before taking the pen out of his mouth and relaxing his face. He snorts and rolls his eyes, but you can see the hint of amusement in his expression. 

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Always tellin’ me what to do.” 

“Maybe you’ll finally look your age if you get wrinkles.” You bite your lip to suppress a giggle.

Bucky shakes his head, but the corner of his lip lifts. “You’re hilarious.” His tone is laced heavily with sarcasm.

“Thank you,” you bow, your arm over your stomach as you bend. “I’ll be here all week.”

“Not if I fire you.” He tilts his head, smirking.

Your jaw drops in faux shock as you cross the room to his desk. You let out a soft laugh. “Smooth, Barnes.”

He swivels in his chair to face you; it’s evident he’s enjoying the banter. Bucky leans back in his seat, elbow on his armrest with his head propped in his hand. Fuck, he’s sexy.

You gesture to the document on his desk as your face goes serious. “If that’s stressing you out, take a break.”

He waves you off. “Nah, I’m alright. Besides, isn’t that what I’m doin’?” Bucky winks at you. Winks at you! What, is he trying to kill you? 

After a beat, you clear your throat and nervously grin. Bucky motions to you as he speaks. “What’d you need, darlin’?” 

You honestly forgot why you were even here, but you glance down at the packet in your hand, and it all comes flooding back. 

“You’re going to hate me.” Your expression turns apologetic. “But I need you to read this over and sign it.” You sheepishly hand him the packet.

”I could never hate you.” He grabs the papers, and your fingers brush. You feel sparks across your flesh. It’s like tiny fireworks coursing through your veins, threatening to reach your pounding heart. You haven’t let go yet, relishing in the bit of contact. 

You snap out of your daze and release them. Your cheeks warm, and you hope he can’t see the slight flush crawling up your face. You tuck a loose strand of hair that has fallen from your bun behind your ear. 

Bucky’s jaw sets as he places the packet off to the side. He coughs into his fist and locks eyes with you. “Consider it done. I’ll leave it on your desk before I go home.” 

“Perfect!” You force your voice up an octave to distract from your embarrassment. “Sorry, I know you have a lot on your plate.” 

“All good, it’s a part of my job.” 

“Yeah,” You cross your arms over your chest. “But you work too hard. Take a break.”

He arches a brow, trying to keep a straight face, but fails miserably. “Like I said, always tellin’ me what to do.” Bucky huffs air through his nose. “I could say the same for you.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to deflect your concern. “I work a normal amount, and my break is in five, so don’t worry about me.”

”I’m always worried about you.” Bucky’s voice softens.

You can’t hear anything over your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. Does he realize how those words affect you? You could die happy knowing you‘re even a thought on Bucky’s mind.

He sits up in his seat and continues. “When was the last time you went home on time and didn’t stay after hours?”

”I do go home on time.” Your voice squeaks; you’re lying.

Bucky lets out a dry laugh. “You’re not foolin’ me, doll.”

”Fine, if I promise to leave on time, you have to promise you’ll take a break.”

He contemplates your words and then gives you a stiff nod. “Okay, I promise.”

You grin as you stick out your pinky. He stares at you with a perplexed expression. “What’re you doin’?” 

You let out a deep sigh. “Pinky promise me.”

Bucky‘s eyebrows knit together. “I’m not twelve.”

You give him an unimpressed look. ”You’re right, you’re a hundred and something years old. Now give me your damn pinky.” 

He grunts, glaring at the ceiling as if it were the one to make him do this. He eventually concedes and interlocks his pinky with yours. 

Your fingers tingle again at his touch. You feel like a touch-starved puppy who’s finally getting some attention. If only both of his hands were on you, holding you by your waist and pulling you in to put his lips against yours-

You mentally punch yourself, so that thought doesn’t go any further. Maybe you need to get laid. Then, all these feelings for your boss will go away. This relationship is strictly professional, so you might want to find something to keep your mind off the idea of it becoming more. 

You straighten, beaming at him. You pull your hand away and turn on your heels to stride toward the door.

When you exit his office, you grab the handle, ready to close the door behind you. Before you do, you peek your head in. “Have a nice break.”

“Yeah, you too,” Bucky grumbles.

On your way back to your desk, you're grinning from ear to ear like an idiot. This is ridiculous. You need a distraction. You pull your phone out of your blazer and download Tinder.

This should be fun.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Bzz. Bzz.

Bucky glances at your phone resting on his desk before refocusing on his laptop to determine where he left off with his email. Just as he gets his train of thought back-

Bzz. Bzz.

He takes a steady breath in and releases it. Why is he upset over a simple notification? He wonders why you didn’t take it with you to the bathroom. Bucky sighs and begins typing away on his laptop again.

Bzz. Bzz.

What the fuck? How many notifications can you get in a minute? He nearly wants to reach over and grab it to see, but he won’t snoop into your business. That’s unprofessional.

Bzz. Bzz.

Bucky groans, rubbing at his eyes as he inclines back in his chair. How can he get any work done with that thing buzzing on his desk? He hears your heels clack against the wood floor as you enter his office.

“You okay, sir?” Your pretty voice drifts through the air like a bird’s song.

Bucky’s gaze darts to you, and he gestures to your phone. “Can you get that thing under control? And I told you, stop calling me that.” His voice comes out harsher than he intended.

You raise your hands in surrender. “I’ll get right to that, grumpy.” 

You grab your phone off the desk, glance at it, and press a button on the side. Then, you slide it into the pocket of your trousers before perching on the seat across from him.

“Fuck,” he grunts under his breath, massaging his temples. “Sorry, I didn’t sleep much last night, but that’s no excuse.”

You shrug and give him a soft smile. “It’s alright, I can handle your grumpy ass.” You motion to your pocket. “I’m sorry, I must have forgotten to silence my phone this morning.”

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bucky scoots forward, getting back to his email. His fingers are on the keys, but his mind is elsewhere. 

“What was that all about anyway?” He points to your pocket.

You cross one leg over the other, settling into the chair. “Oh, nothing. It’s just this guy I’ve been talking to.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches, and he has to force his face to remain blank. He shouldn’t be jealous. He’s not jealous. You're his assistant, nothing more. You deserve to have a life outside of work, outside of him. Anyone would be lucky to have you.

Lucky fucking bastard.

“Yeah? What’s his name?” Bucky lightens his tone as if it doesn’t bother him, which it doesn’t. He doesn’t care about his name, but he’ll try for your sake. 

“Uh…Derek.” You mutter.

His posture goes rigid. He attempts to tease you, so you don’t notice. “What’s uh…Derek like?” 

You giggle, and it’s the sweetest sound. Like a soft patter of rain against a window. “I don’t know, I guess he's nice.”

”You guess? Haven’t you been on a date with him yet?” Bucky inquires.

This is entirely unprofessional. He shouldn’t be asking about your relationship status. He’s just trying to get to know you, right? It’s normal for bosses to ask their employees about their lives. 

He doesn’t see you that way, though. He’d much rather label you as his equal. You do as much work as he does, if not more. He knows he could never do this job without you.

You let out a long sigh, drawing him away from his brain's constant back and forth. “No, our first date is tomorrow.”

Bucky tilts his head. “Tomorrow’s the gala, darlin’. I kinda need you there.” 

If you asked for a day off, he would be more than happy to give it to you. However, he wants to be selfish. You are the highlight of his evenings at those damn events. Whenever he feels anxious or overwhelmed by all the rich bastards around him, he seeks comfort in your company.

“I know, that’s why I invited him as my plus one. It completely slipped my mind. I should have asked you earlier this week.”

It’s not the best situation, but you’re still going with him. He hates the thought of you being around another man all night, but he’ll deal with it because it’s necessary. This is a professional relationship, and he has to accept that, even though he wishes it could be something more.

Bucky’s silent, so you continue. “I just didn’t want to be alone all night. I always appreciate it when you come over to check on me, but you shouldn’t have to feel obligated to.” He opens his mouth to interrupt you, but you talk right over him.

“I thought it would be easier this way. You can focus on the political side of things, and I can keep tabs from a distance like we always do, but instead, I’ll have someone to keep me company.” 

You’re rambling, your words spilling out like water from a faucet. You’re bouncing your leg and picking at your nails—clear signs of anxiety. He recognizes these behaviors all too well, although his own anxiety manifests as a silent, gnawing feeling. In contrast, yours feels like a wildfire, all-consuming and intense.

“Doll-” Bucky tries to cut you off, to ease the tension out of your body, but your mouth is moving a mile a minute.

“Gosh, what was I thinking? It’s a dumb idea and entirely unprofessional. I’ll cancel and reschedule our date for another time.” Your gaze has shifted to a point on the wall, as if you’re dissociating. 

He stands up from his chair and drops down to one knee in front of you. You still don’t notice his existence as you keep chatting away.

“It’s not that I hate galas, I like them, but it’s easier around someone. I don’t even have to talk to them just to be near them-” You stop suddenly when Bucky places his hand on your restless leg, halting its movement.

“Hey, darlin’.” Bucky’s voice is gentle, calmly trying to pull you out of your trance. His thumb strokes your knee over the fabric of your pants. Your wide eyes focus on him, and your breathing becomes erratic.

“You’re having a panic attack. Can you breathe with me for a second?” He demonstrates breathing in and then releasing slowly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth. Do it with me now.”

You follow his lead, breathing deeply into your nose and releasing a long breath out of your mouth.

”Good, do that a couple more times with me.” Bucky coaxes. You obey his instruction, slowing your breathing down.

Once he knows that you can breathe easier, he speaks again. “Can you tell me five things you can see?”

”Huh?” You look utterly confused.

”It’s a trick I learned in therapy. Indulge me.” Bucky continues to gently massage your knee with soothing patterns.

You give him a tight nod. Your eyes begin wandering around the room. “Uh…your laptop, that little white cat figurine I bought you—Alpine.”

Bucky snorts; he really loves that figurine. One day, early in his term, you were discussing pets. You asked him if he would ever consider having a pet, and he replied that he couldn’t because he’s too busy. Curious about his preferences, you asked what type of pet he would choose if he had the time, and he mentioned that he liked cats. That’s how the cat figurine came to be. Of course, you were the one who named it.

”That’s two. Give me three more.”

Your attention flicks back to Bucky, and he notices how drained you look. “Your tie has blue stars on it.” 

You lock eyes with him, and a faint smile appears on your lips. "It matches your eyes, though yours are the perfect shade of blue. That color is rare; I don't think I've seen it anywhere else."

Bucky swears that his heart skips a beat. He doesn’t think he’s ever received a compliment quite like that before. He decides he only wants you to compliment him from now on.

He clears his throat when he realizes he stared at you for too long. “One more, doll.”

You lift your gaze again, searching for something in his office. “That dumbass painting.” You point to the wall, and Bucky pivots to see. 

You’re referring to the painting with dogs around a table playing poker. He chuckles, scanning your face as if your thoughts are written there and he’s trying to read them.

“What’s wrong with it?” Bucky sounds offended, but he’s suppressing a smirk.

”It doesn’t fit your aesthetic.”

“My aesthetic?” The word feels foreign on his tongue, as if he were never meant to say it.

You clarify, your hands motioning to the room around you. “Your style.”

He no longer tries to hide his amusement, grinning like you are the most interesting thing in the world. “And, what is my style, doll?”

“Dark, mysterious, clean, and you’re a minimalist.” You express it as though it’s obvious, and he can’t deny your description.

”Huh, I guess I’ll remove it then. I didn’t realize you had such disdain for dogs playin’ poker.”

”I don’t, it’s cute,” you insist. “And, don’t take it down. You put it there, and it’s your office.”

“Nope, it’s already settled.” Bucky rises from his kneeling position with a grunt. “I’m removin’ it. I didn’t put it there anyway. It was here before I became a congressman.”

Bucky grabs the pitcher of water off his desk and pours it into one of the stacked plastic cups beside it. He sits in the chair beside you and hands you the water.

“Drink.” He orders, but his voice is soft.

“Now you’re telling me what to do.” You tease, lifting the cup to your lips and gulping down the refreshing liquid.

He ignores your comment and presses on. “Wanna tell me what happened to make you have a panic attack? Was it somethin’ I said?”

“No,” Your shoulders slump forward as you release a breath. You set the empty cup down on his desk before speaking again. “It was the silence. I immediately thought you were angry with me when you didn’t say anything.”

“Have I given you any reason to believe I’d be mad at you?” It’s a sincere question. You’re the only person he genuinely cares about protecting. If you think he’s upset with you, then he’s not fulfilling his role.

You shake your head, and it instantly puts his worries to rest. Bucky clasps his hands together and continues. “I’m okay with the idea of you bringin’ a plus one, I just wish you had told me-” 

You open your mouth to speak, but Bucky raises a hand to signal that he isn't finished. “I wish you had told me you don’t like being alone.”

You furrow your brow, surprised by his unexpected response. You bite your lip, searching for the right words to express your feelings.

“I’m not your responsibility.” You murmur. There’s no malice behind your words, just a woman who’s done things on your own for far too long and doesn’t want to ask for help.

“No, you’re not.” Bucky begins. “But we’re a team, and if secrets exist between us, this doesn’t work.”

He’s such a hypocrite. He’s holding back vital information from you. Bucky likes you, and no one can pry that knowledge from him. Feelings are fleeting; whatever he feels towards you will fade eventually. Right?

You smile sweetly, your eyes crinkling at the corners. It’s like the sun has entered the room. You’re bright and blinding. You’ll destroy him from the inside out if he looks for too long. 

He doesn’t mind the idea of that, though. He was yours to take apart anyway. How can he move on when you look like that, and you make him feel like this?

“You’re right. No more secrets.”

“Damn right, I’m always right.” His expression is all smug, which prompts you to roll your eyes and giggle, but it seems somewhat frail.

Bucky gets up from his spot. “You should go home. I got it from here.”

You stand to meet his eyes, defiance etched on your face. “No, I’m fine. I was going to help you-”

He cuts you off. "If you want to help me, go home. Get some rest, darlin’. I’ll see you at the gala, and you can introduce me to uh…Derek.”

You snort, shaking your head. “You are not making that a thing.”

“Oh, I’m definitely making that a thing.” Bucky puts his hands on his hips. “Now, go before I fire you.”

You narrow your gaze. “Fine, but you can’t keep threatening to fire me when it’s convenient for you.”

“Nah, I like seein’ the look on your face every time I say it.” His smirk is wide and arrogant. You glare at him in response, and it’s adorable.

He tips his head in the direction of the door. “Do you need a ride home?”

Your expression softens. “No, I’ll manage.” He gives you a stiff nod.

You amble towards the door, but pause, peeking over your shoulder. “Thank you, Barnes. For everything.”

Bucky staggers slightly. He would do anything for you. He doesn’t need a thank you in return, but it sounds too good coming from your lips. He’s staring at you like a damn fool, undoubtedly with hearts in his eyes.

”Of course, doll.” He mumbles. You hum and proceed forward, stepping out of the door and out of Bucky’s view.

As soon as you leave, he flops back down in the chair. He lets out a long sigh, metal hand running down his features. 

How will he manage a whole night with another man's arm around you? 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You’re leaning against the bar, glass in hand, and patiently waiting. 

No, pacing by the bar and fixing your hair for the tenth time tonight is not what anyone would describe as patience. You have never been a patient person, and you can thank your anxiety for that.

You arrived at the venue about half an hour ago, an hour before the gala even starts. You like to be on time or extremely early. There’s no in between. 

The real reason you arrived early was to meet Derek before the event. You wanted to chat and get acquainted before everyone else arrived. 

He’s late. You would understand if he had sent a quick text saying he would be there soon, but you haven’t received anything in an hour.

You spent the last twenty minutes pacing back and forth. The bartender noticed your nerves and slid a glass of water your way. You’ve been sipping on it while trying to fix your curled strands. This is why you usually wear your hair up—so you don’t have to worry about adjusting it repeatedly. Then there’s your dress, which you keep fussing with.

You wore a navy satin dress with a plunging neckline that revealed just enough cleavage. The back was mostly open, featuring crisscross straps. The dress hugged your curves perfectly and accentuated your figure, making your ass look fantastic. You exuded elegance along with just the right amount of sultriness.

It wasn’t your typical style, and the thought of revealing too much of yourself made you feel insecure. Since you hadn’t been on a date in a while, you decided it was the perfect opportunity to try something bold. Now, you worry that after putting in so much effort, he might end up standing you up.

You continue to drink your water, letting it cool you. You almost wish you had something a bit stronger to ease the tension in your body.

Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you as a warm hand brushes your arm. You quickly turn your head around.

Damn. Congressman Barnes.

He looks like snow cast in shadow under the midnight sky, with the snowflakes illuminated only by the moonlight. He’s wearing a crisp white button-up shirt over a black tuxedo and dark dress pants. Although his bow tie is crooked, it doesn’t matter at all. Bucky wears suits every day, but tonight he looks incredibly handsome with his hair slicked back and his blue eyes shining.

Shit. You’re gawking at him. To distract him from your flustered state, you flash him a wide smile. His warm flesh hand rests gently on your arm, but after a moment, he acknowledges that he is still touching you, and he lets his hand fall away.

Bucky opens and closes his mouth several times before spitting it out. “You look…lovely.” 

Your smile falters slightly, and you feel your breath become heavier in your lungs from that simple word. Sure, he has complimented you before, but this feels different. You can't quite put your finger on why, though.

“Thank you.” Your voice is delicate, and your grin turns genuine, unlike the showy one from before. “You don't look too bad yourself.”

Bucky huffs air out of his nose, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes seem to penetrate your very being, as if he's tearing through your flesh to truly understand every part of you. He knows your most vulnerable sides and didn't flinch. So, what’s the harm in him seeing everything?

You turn your gaze away from his eyes, afraid of losing yourself in them. Your eyes shift to his neck as you take a step forward until you're directly in front of him.

“You look perfect, but can I make one minor adjustment?” 

He gives you a firm nod in response. You extend your arms to grip both sides of his bow tie and adjust it to your liking.

“Great,” Bucky grumbles. “I can’t even dress myself properly.” 

“You did fine, it was just a bit crooked. Sometimes all a man needs is a woman’s touch to look presentable.” There’s a teasing lilt to your tone. 

After adjusting, you rest your hand over the middle of the bow tie. Glancing up into his piercing blues, you realize how close you are.

You swear he’s reading every one of your thoughts as if they’re on full display. It’s intimidating, yet his eyes tell you he’ll treasure them, keeping them tucked away in his mind in a special spot just for you.

His cologne envelops you like a warm hug, drawing you in as if urging you to kiss him. You find yourself captivated by the scent, which clouds your mind and impairs your logical thinking.

Instead, you gently pat him and take a step back, admiring your work. “Now you’re ready for your close-up, Congressman Barnes.”

He shakes his head and playfully rolls his eyes. “Thanks, doll.” He peers around the room. “Where’s uh…Derek?”

You let out a lengthy sigh. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

He looks puzzled, so you clarify, “We were supposed to meet thirty minutes ago, but he hasn’t shown up or even sent a text.”

Bucky clenches his jaw, but releases it as if the tension was never there. “Would you like me to wait with you?”

You wave your hand as if to shoo him away. "No, please, go mingle."

He seems like he might press the issue, but gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Well, as soon as he gets here, I’m givin’ him a piece of my mind for makin’ a pretty girl wait.”

He’s stolen the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping for just a bit of air to keep from suffocating. It feels as if he hasn’t realized that his sweet words are slowly killing you. Then, he walks away as if nothing had happened.

Air rushes into your lungs again, overwhelming you as if it’s choking you. You’re panting like you ran a marathon, yet your feet remain planted in the same spot.

You pull out your phone from your purse and shoot Derek another text.

I’m at the bar whenever you get here.

You need him here now. The whole reason you put yourself out there is to distract your heart from liking someone you can’t be with. And once again, Bucky has turned your world upside down. You must avoid your feelings before they sink their teeth into your vulnerable, beating heart.

Minutes go by, and finally, you see a familiar figure moving around the ballroom. Derek is even more attractive in person. He carries himself with confidence, and his presence fills the space, as if his frame were larger than it actually is.

He is wearing a casual beige polo shirt loosely tucked into mocha-colored trousers, paired with loafers. His dark hair is perfectly coiffed around his eyes, and the sleeves of his shirt fit tightly around his biceps.

It seems he wore it intentionally for that reason, and you don’t mind. You can appreciate some muscle; there’s nothing wrong with showcasing something you worked hard for.

Of course, appearances aren’t everything for you. You matched with him because of his impressive profile. He works as a financial manager, which shows he is skilled with money. He has a dog named Luna, who is a husky. In his free time, he has hosted multiple charity events and volunteers at homeless shelters.

Derek seems like the perfect guy on paper. From your conversations with him, he checks all the right boxes: he’s kind, caring, and communicates well. The only downside is that he left you waiting for almost two hours. However, you believe in not judging someone based on first impressions, so you’re genuinely excited to see how this date unfolds.

You eventually wave him over. “Derek, hey!”

He immediately responds to the sound of your voice, greeting you with an easy smile as he checks you out.

Being examined by an objectively handsome man should elicit some feelings, right? You might expect butterflies in your stomach, your skin to heat, or your heart to skip a beat. But it does nothing for you. Not like when Bucky even glances your way, then your palms become instantly sweaty.

Stop thinking about Bucky and focus on the man approaching you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a quick hug while you drape your arms around his neck. You might feel rigid in his embrace, like stiff cardboard. As he steps back, you remind yourself to relax and not let your nerves get the better of you.

Derek leans back to get the full view of you up close. “Damn, you’re hotter in person.”

Oh, what an interesting way to start a conversation. You can't help but think of Bucky and how gently he spoke about your appearance, as if it were difficult for him to express what he was seeing in just a few words. In contrast, Derek is quite bold. Perhaps that's a good thing?

”Thank you, you’re very handsome in person.”

He smirks at you like he knows it. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He pushes his hair back and deliberately flexes his arm muscles. “Listen, I’m sorry I’m late. Something came up.”

Well, that’s vague. It’s fine, you’re over it. At least he’s here now.

“All good,” you gesture toward the bar seats. “Would you like to sit?” He nods, climbing onto one of the stools, while you take the one next to him.

“What‘re we drinking?” Derek claps his hands and rubs them together. 

“I’m on the job, so unfortunately, it's just water for me. You can go ahead, it's an open bar.” 

“Come on,” he pokes you in the side. “Just one, I won’t tell anyone.”

You lightly giggle. “No, really, I shouldn’t.”

He rolls his eyes, and he seems annoyed. “You’re no fun.”

Derek turns to the bartender and orders a rum and Coke. Your water is refilled. You turn in your seat, resting your jaw on your hand, and wait for the conversation to flow.

As the night progressed, the date hadn’t. Derek only seemed to want to talk about himself, which would have been fine if he had included you in the conversation. Instead, he spoke right over you and didn't ask about you once.

You nod along and actively listen. He takes full advantage of the open bar while you stay hydrated. He is not at all what you expected and is completely different from the man you texted daily.

There’s a beat of silence, and you take that opportunity to finally get a word in. “I read on your profile that you do charity work. What charity did you last host for?”

Derek shrugs. “No idea, my dad is in charge of all that shit.”

“Huh?” You give him a perplexed expression.

“My dad runs the company where I work and organizes the charity events. Sometimes I don't even bother showing up.” He chuckles as if it’s funny, but you don’t laugh.

You change the topic since he doesn't know anything about it. "What kind of volunteer work do you do at homeless shelters?"

“That was a lie.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “Look, it's tough out here for us men. Sometimes, you have to lie to even get a date with these self-absorbed women.”

You suppress your growing anger. Why would someone lie about that? You feel like you need to make an excuse to run to the bathroom.

Derek leans closer to you. “But you’re different, sweetheart.” His hand wraps around your waist, and you can smell alcohol on his breath.

He presses his mouth to your ear and whispers. “Maybe we can find a private room in this place.” Derek’s hand drifts down your back and he grabs your ass.

Your body tenses up, and you feel extremely uncomfortable. He just squeezed your ass as if he had the right to do so. You hadn’t given any indication that such behavior was acceptable. Even if you had, he should have asked for permission before touching you in that way.

You hardly know each other. You know almost everything about him, but he knows very little about you. You’re trying to lean away from him to breathe air that isn’t his, but he’s holding you close.

You almost convince yourself that this is what you want, but your body rejects the idea. The thought of having sex with him makes you feel physically ill. He’s drunk and would only be using you for his own pleasure, which wouldn’t be enjoyable for you at all. You crave meaningful sex, not a brief distraction to forget about your boss.

Your breathing is shallow, and you begin to shake. You try to speak, but the words won’t come out. Silently, you pray for anyone to come to your rescue. Although you could push him off you, you can’t find the strength; you feel frozen.

Save me, please, you think. You don’t know exactly who you’re pleading to, but you hope someone can somehow hear you.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Bucky has been watching you all night, especially when Derek arrived. He was supposed to go over and introduce himself to your date, but he didn't have the courage to do it. 

He’s fine with watching from a distance. He doesn’t have to hear you laugh at Derek’s jokes or look at him with your beautiful, sparkling eyes.

He places himself so that he can catch a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye during every conversation he has with the wealthy assholes. He hardly pays attention to what they are saying because he is concerned about you. While he adds a few remarks to each topic, he isn’t genuinely interested in their responses.

Bucky becomes especially interested in your date when Derek leans in closer. He clenches his fist and grinds his teeth in frustration. He almost looks away, but notices how uncomfortable you appear. Though Bucky is quite a distance away from you, he knows exactly what he saw.

You attempt to pull away from Derek, but he only draws you closer. Meanwhile, Bucky has vanished without a word to the person he was talking to. He moves through the crowd with purpose, as if on a mission that no one can interrupt.

Derek leans back to examine your face, gently pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. Bucky feels a wave of nausea; he can tell you're not interested in Derek's advances because you appear to be panicking internally.

Bucky clears his throat as he stands behind you. Derek eventually lowers his hand, and the tension instantly leaves your body. You glance back at Bucky, and your breathing becomes lighter.

”Can I borrow you for a second?” Bucky nearly grits the words out through his teeth.

“Sure.” You turn in your seat and begin to get off, but Bucky is there with a hand out to help you. You grin in appreciation and use his hand to leap down.

After you’re down, Bucky’s hand falls back to his side. You turn to Derek while motioning towards Bucky. “This is my boss, Congressman Barnes.” You swivel around to Bucky. “Barnes, this is Derek.”

Bucky nods in Derek’s direction but avoids making eye contact. Derek stumbles out of his seat, clearly drunk and struggling to hold his liquor.

“Congressman, it’s an honor to meet you,” Derek slurs as he stands in front of Bucky, extending his hand. “Let me just say, your campaign was inspiring.”

Bucky takes a moment to push down the raging fire crawling up his throat. “Thanks.” He grunts and takes Derek’s outstretched hand with his metal one. His grasp is unyielding, as if one wrong move could snap all the bones in Derek’s hand.

“Shit,” Derek growls as he grimaces in pain. ”Strong grip you have there.”

Bucky grins mischievously as he claps his hand on Derek’s shoulder. "Sorry, sometimes I don't know my own strength." He then releases his hand and steps back, offering his arm to you.

You link your arm with his, resting your hand on his forearm. “I’ll be right back,” you assure your date, but he secretly clutches his hand as if the bones have shattered.

Bucky guides you away, his expression marked by irritation. You glance up at him and squeeze his bicep with your free hand. “What’s wrong, grumpy?”

“Nothing. Why would anything be wrong?” Bucky mutters, keeping his eyes forward, as if you’ll see the reason swimming there if he looks at you.

“I don’t know; you tell me.” You stop, making Bucky halt and glance in your direction. Your eyes show concern. “Are the rich bastards stressing you out?” 

You reach up, placing your thumb on Bucky’s forehead, rubbing out the frown lines between his eyebrows. His eyes flutter closed at the sensation as he lets you melt away the tension with your touch.

You hum and remove your thumb from its spot when you register that all the strain in his forehead is long gone. Bucky peels his eyes open again as he speaks. “What stress, darlin’?”

You giggle, and it lights up the entire room. “I swear it was there a second ago.” You tease, patting his forearm. “What’d you need me for, Barnes?” 

Shit. Bucky didn’t fully consider the consequences; he just wanted to help you escape that uncomfortable situation.

So, he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “I need a second opinion. Could you listen in on the conversation? Let me know what’s worthy of my attention.”

“Of course, lead the way.” You answer with warmth in your voice.

Bucky guides you towards a group of people in suits engaged in conversation. You both join the discussion, and Bucky introduces you. You shake a few hands and receive a warm welcome. As the conversation resumes, you actively participate in it.

Bucky is impressed by your enthusiasm for political topics. Words come easily to you, and you have a wealth of knowledge. He always knew you were intelligent, but witnessing you in action is captivating. 

The conversation shifts to more personal matters, including families, properties, and everyone’s golf score. You and Bucky don’t participate in that section of the discussion. 

You angle your mouth to Bucky’s ear and whisper. “I should get back, but let me know if you need anything.”

He doesn’t want you to leave. Things are easier with you around. Bucky can’t let you return to that jerk, who’s drunk and trying to take advantage of you.

Bucky gently grabs your arm before you leave and leads you away from the suits for a private conversation. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

”Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” You respond, trying to avert Bucky’s gaze.

”Darlin’,” He begins. “I saw him touch you.”

You shrug, acting as if it’s no big deal. “That’s typically how things go on dates.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Not like that.”

”Please, stay out of it.” Your voice is small, like you don’t want to argue with him right now.

“What if he tries that shit again?” Bucky doesn’t mean to raise his voice at you, but he loathes this situation. He wants more than anything to protect you, even if you're not his to protect.

“Then, I’ll handle it. I’m very capable of doing things myself.” You match his tone, clearly showing that you’re getting upset with him.

He wants to avoid making you angry, so he tries to make his voice sound lighter and more compassionate. “I know you’re capable, but I want you to be safe. I’m not convinced you're safe with him.”

You take a deep, shaky breath, and Bucky sees this as a signal to continue. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but you shouldn't waste your time on him. He disrespected you, and I don’t think he deserves a second chance.”

“Well, I believe everyone deserves a second chance.” You state calmly.

Bucky scoffs. “Not everyone, doll.”

You don’t miss a beat. “You did.”

Bucky's shoulders slump as he reflects on your words. He has always struggled to believe he deserves forgiveness for his past. Although he knows, on some level, that he had no other choice, that doesn't erase the lives he took and the families he destroyed.

Those feelings will never fade, no matter how often he’s told ‘it wasn’t him’. He still has to live with the screams and gore he witnessed with his own hands. When he relives those memories, it’s his hand that is doing the killing, even if it’s dark now instead of the silver one in his nightmares. 

It's not an out-of-body experience where he watches the soldier do his bidding. No, it's all Bucky; that's clear to him. Now, he's questioning his judgment all because of you. With just two simple words and that twinkle in your eye, you convinced him that he deserved a second chance and that he is worthy of the life he’s living now.

How does she do that? That must be a superpower or something.

“Listen,” you begin again. “I appreciate your concern, but please let me do this.”

Bucky’s hand drops from your arm as if he's enchanted. He doesn't want to tell you what to do; God knows he's had enough of that in his lifetime. He shouldn't do that to you either.

“You’re going to give me wrinkles with all this stress you’re puttin’ me through, darlin’.” His gaze narrows at you.

“Aw, you poor thing,” you smirk. “Seriously, please don’t stress. You're first on my contact list, if anything goes wrong.”

First on your contact list? Bucky won’t dwell on that too much, for his own sake. He rolls his eyes, and you chuckle at his disapproval. 

You step towards him and quickly kiss his cheek. Bucky practically melts at the brief contact. As you pull away, your eyes shine with forming tears. “Thank you for always looking out for me. I truly don’t deserve you.”

Bucky is stunned into silence as he stares at you, dumbfounded, as if you just told him the world is falling apart. He wants to say it's the opposite—that he doesn’t deserve you—but the words are stuck in his throat, as if he’s choking on them.

You smile at him as if you can read his thoughts, and one of the tears rolls down your face. You turn and stride away. Before he knows it, the crowd has engulfed you.

There's a sharp pain in his chest. For some reason, he feels like he just lost you. Bucky should have fought harder for you. Although he doesn’t deserve you, he would treat you right.

If it were Bucky instead, he would have a hand on the small of your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, and asking you to dance. He would take his time with you, making you feel like you were something special, because you are special.

Now he has to spend the next hour drifting in and out of meaningless conversations while he worries about you. 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You wipe the tears from your eyes as you return to the bar. You’ve never felt so deeply cared for in your life, and you refuse to take it for granted. Already, you’re planning ways to show your gratitude to Bucky, making sure he knows how much you appreciate him and everything he has done for you.

You spot Derek still at the bar where you left him. His head is resting in his hand, and it looks like he has switched to water. Sneaking up behind him, you say with a hint of amusement in your tone, “Did you drink them dry of all their alcohol?”

Derek spins around, and upon seeing you, he bursts out laughing. “No, I thought this would help me sober up faster.” He lifts his glass.

You hum in response. Derek jumps down from his stool and faces you. “I’m sorry about earlier. I was out of line. First, I shouldn’t have gotten drunk on a date. Work was frustrating me, and you were making me nervous. I thought the alcohol might help, but I realize now that it only made things worse.”

Derek takes a deep breath. “Second, I talked about myself the whole time. That was not fair to you. I didn’t even ask you anything; I just rambled on and on about shit that doesn’t matter.”

“Third,” he rubs the back of his neck. “The biggest mistake. I shouldn’t have touched you like that. That was highly inappropriate, and I should have asked you before even thinking about it.”

Wow, you weren't expecting that, but you're pleasantly surprised. It doesn’t justify what he did, but at least he’s taking accountability. 

“I think we need a do-over. What do you think?” You offer.

Derek seems relieved by your words. “That sounds great.”

You give him a kind smile. “How about a walk?” 

He glances down at your attire. “In heels?”

You snort. “I’ll take them off.”

“I’ll carry them for you.” He winks at you. You already feel more at ease with this new start.

Derek motions for you to follow him out of the room, and you do. You stroll side by side through the hallway. His fingers gently brush against yours, as if silently asking for permission. You feel warmth in your chest and heat rising in your cheeks.

He pauses by the coat room and motions to it. “I gotta get my jacket quick.” You nod for him to go ahead, and he steps inside. 

You lean against the doorframe as you pull your phone out of your purse. “I should send my boss a text before we leave.” You swiftly type something out and send it to Bucky.

Change of plans, we’re going for a walk. If you need anything, don’t hesitate. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. You can make me work extra :) 

Derek grabs his leather jacket and throws it on. “I thought you’d never get away from him.”

You put your phone back in your purse, and your brow furrows. “Hmm?”

“I thought he was going to hold you hostage all night.”

“Well, he is kind of my job.” You shrug with a grin on your lips.

“I know that,” Derek crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t get me wrong, he seems like a nice guy, he just asks a lot of you.”

“I don’t think he asks enough of me, honestly. I have the easiest job.” 

He tilts his head. “You don’t think he’s demanding or testy?”

“Not at all. Sure, he sometimes gets grumpy, but I know he means well,” you admit. Derek quirks a brow, then dips his head and shakes it. He stays quiet for a moment.

You press the matter because you're curious. “You seem like you want to say something else.”

“It’s nothing.” Derek waves you off.

“Come on, just say it.” Your tone is playful..

Derek takes a deep breath as he contemplates whether to say what’s on his mind. “I mean, he’s kind of a murderer.”

Your body stiffens, and you frown; you are entirely disgusted by the fact that he said that.

"No, he's not." Your voice is firm and unwavering.

“You’re defending him? I get that you work for him, but you don’t have to follow him blindly.”

You scoff. “Of course, I’m defending him. He was brainwashed for fuck’s sake and he didn’t have a choice. How would you like to be stripped of your choices and used as a weapon?”

Your blood is boiling. Why were you so naive to think that this guy was anything other than a jerk? Derek disrespected you, and now he's doing the same to Bucky. You should have listened to your boss when he advised you not to give this guy another chance.

“You believe that shit? He almost broke my fucking hand, shaking it. That seems like a conscious mind, freely being violent, to me.” Derek shouts.

You could laugh because you weren’t aware that Bucky tried to break his hand. You thought Derek was exaggerating, but now you realize he wasn’t.

You’re finished with this discussion. You need to walk away before you become ‘freely violent.’ You start to march away, but stop and turn around when Derek speaks again.

“Hold on, I see what this is. You follow Barnes around like a lost puppy because you want something from him.”

You let out a dry laugh. You can’t believe you’re still listening to this guy like he has anything relevant to say.

Derek gets closer to you again. “No wait, I got it. You’re trying to get in his pants for a promotion.”

Your heart pounds with anger as you glare at Derek. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but I truly love my job, asshole.”

“No one wants to be an assistant.” 

“Well, this date is over.” You stomp down the hallway, attempting to get some distance from him.

“It’s a shame.” You glance over your shoulder, and he’s giving you a condescending smile. “You would have been a decent fuck.”

Your hands ball into fists tightly, and your fingernails dig into your palms. You shouldn’t even be entertaining Derek, but you yell back anyway. “That’s your problem, huh? You think with your two inch dick rather than your brain.”

You can tell that bothered him. “You’re just mad because I figured you out.” You roll your eyes, and your feet shift forward again. “That’s right. Go cry to your boss and beg him to fuck you.”

You keep moving, unbothered by his shouts. Derek continues, much to your dismay, “I knew you were desperate, but I didn’t realize you were also a slut.”

Your movements falter slightly. Out of everything Derek said, that’s what affects you the most. It feels heavy on your chest. Everything he mentioned about you and Bucky feels like weights tied to your ankles, dragging you down. Your vision blurs as tears prick your eyes.

You hear a door shut in the distance, and you hope that means he’s gone because you can’t hold back your tears any longer. You need to sit down, but the waterfall of tears obstructs your vision. You find a wall to lean against and slowly slide down into a sitting position.

You pull your knees to your chest and sob. Tears stream down your cheeks as you gasp for air in a broken cry.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Change of plans, we’re going for a walk. If you need anything, don’t hesitate. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. You can make me work extra :) 

Bucky has been standing in the same spot for several minutes, staring at your text. He’s thinking about whether to find you and take you home or stay put like you asked him to.

He struggles to follow your precise instructions; stay out of it. He strides out of the room like a tracking dog following a scent. As soon as he exits the ballroom, he hears it.

Muffled cries fill his ears, and he knows it’s you without even looking. Your back is against the wall, but you’re curled in on yourself. He tentatively steps over to you, so he doesn’t startle you.

“Darlin’?” Bucky’s tone is tender, full of sympathy. He’s never seen you like this, and it breaks his heart.

Your head snaps up from your knees. Your red, tired eyes dart over Bucky’s form. You quickly wipe the tears from your face and force a weak smile.

You point your thumb toward the ballroom. “I’ll be in; I just need a minute.” Your voice is thick with unshed tears.

“No,” he declares as he walks over to you, positioning himself against the wall while maintaining a little distance to give you space. He grabs the fabric of his dress pants at his thighs and adjusts them before sitting down beside you.

Bucky stretches out his legs and lets the quiet settle between you, interrupted only by your sniffles. After a while, he decides to continue his statement. “You’re going to sit with me for as long as you need.”

Once you can breathe clearly and the occasional tear falls, you mumble, “You should have broken his hand.”

Bucky lets out a nervous chuckle. “You saw that?”

“Sort of, but…Derek confirmed my suspicions.” It’s a struggle for you to get his name out as if it’s strangling you from the inside.

He clenches his jaw, furious that Derek hurt you and that Bucky could have prevented it. But then again, you’re stubborn, and he knows you would eventually find a way to return to your date, even if he physically tried to hold you back. Yes, he’s a super soldier, but he doesn’t stand a chance against you when your heart is set on something.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Bucky murmurs.

You shake your head. “Not right now, maybe later.” You wipe a stray tear from your jaw and rest your chin on your knee, examining a point on the opposite wall.

Bucky's heart squeezes in his chest. He doesn't know what to say or do. When he feels pain, he prefers to sit in silence. Maybe that’s what you want, so he chooses not to speak.

You break the stillness with a question. “You know how we said no secrets?”

He nods his head even though your focus isn’t on him. “Yeah.”

You slowly turn your head to meet his gaze. The color of your eyes is dim, and the skin around them is swollen.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Your voice cracks as if there’s a threat of more tears yet to come.

Bucky's throat tightens as he watches you. The sight is like witnessing a butterfly losing its wings yet struggling to stay aloft. You keep falling, desperately pleading for someone to save you from your impending doom. Bucky has been there for you, arms wide open; he’s just waiting for you to notice him.

“Could we do our post-gala recap tonight instead of tomorrow morning?” you ask, sounding uncertain, and his heart shatters.

“Works for me, doll.” Bucky’s lips lift at the corners. You return his smile, albeit smaller. At least he got that much. 

“Damnit,” his eyebrows knit together, deep in thought. “I didn’t bring my keys for the building. I can swing by my apartment-”

You interrupt him. “We can go to your apartment instead.” Your following words tumble out of you like you can’t hold back your growing anxiety. “If that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“That doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all.” He reassures, and your expression softens.

You nod and relax against the wall behind you. “I think I’m going to wait in my car, if that’s alright with you. I don’t feel like being in a crowd.”

Bucky scoffs in amusement; he wouldn't leave you alone in your car, especially not like this. You just admitted that you didn't want to be by yourself.

“No,” he stands up to his full height. You were baffled, staring at him with wide eyes. Your expression read What do you mean ‘no’, but you were hesitant to question his authority.

He offers you his hand and clears up your confusion. “We’re leaving.”

“Now?” You inspect his outstretched hand and then his face.

”Yes, now. You’re ridin’ with me.” 

“But, my car-”

Bucky cuts you off. “I’ll bring you back.” He waves his extended hand around. “Take my damn hand.”

You comply, allowing him to help you to your feet. “Always telling me what to do,” you smirk, and he can't help but chuckle. You brush off invisible dirt from your dress and look up at him.

Fuck, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, even with your exhausted eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You’re like a sunset, with colors in full vibrancy. Reds and oranges swirl together to create the masterpiece that is you.

“Is there something on my face? Oh shit, did I cry all my mascara off? The packaging said it was waterproof.” You grumble as if you’re furious about your makeup. He can just see you writing a lengthy review about how you bawled your eyes out, and the mascara didn’t hold up.

He shakes his head and chuckles. "No, your mascara is fine." He doesn't know why, but he admits the truth about why he was openly gawking at you: "I was staring because you're beautiful."

You blink multiple times at him, then he notices your cheeks flush. “James, I—I know I look like a wreck. Don’t lie,” you stammer out.

Bucky smirks at the sound of his first name. He rarely hears you call him anything other than ‘Barnes,’ but when you're serious or scolding him, you use ‘James.’ He lives for those moments, just to hear you say his name that way.

He shrugs. "Logically, you should. But you're beautiful, no matter the circumstances."

You’re attempting to suppress a smile, but failing. “You can’t say things like that.”

A charming smirk appears on Bucky’s face. “Why not?”

“Because,” you’re searching for the best answer, “you’re going to give me a big head.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you hold it up.” He winks at you.

Your cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. You playfully roll your eyes and slap his arm. “Are you going to keep flirting, or are you taking me to your apartment?”

Is that what he was doing? Talking to you like this felt so effortless that he didn’t even realize he was flirting. He enjoyed it and wanted to continue. He liked seeing you all flustered—the way you tried to pretend you didn’t like it, but your flushed cheeks gave you away.

Bucky tilts his head. “I can do both. I’m a great multitasker.”

Your lips part and you suck in a breath. Now he’s thinking that little comment he just made could have a double meaning. Maybe he intended it that way because you definitely took it like that. And, damn, now he’ll be thinking about it the whole way home.

“Uh-huh, I bet you are.” You reply in a mocking tone.

Bucky could do this forever with you and never tire of it. However, he knows that this is extremely inappropriate. No matter how much he wants you, he understands he can’t have you.

He wants to be the person who makes you laugh, comforts you on tough days when you're feeling anxious, kisses your shoulder when he wakes up beside you, and holds you in his arms to relieve his stress, as you melt away his tension. He craves all the cheesy, romantic moments that come with being in a relationship with you.

But you are unattainable. You’re his assistant. Bucky feels like all the other creepy political figures who fantasize about being with someone who works for them. They get a sickening power high from it. 

That’s not how he sees it, though. At least, that’s what he tells himself. Unlike the other wealthy assholes who view their employees as mere possessions, he perceives you as something precious that he doesn’t deserve. Perhaps that’s why he believes he can’t have you — because he thinks you’re too good for him.

“Ready, darlin’?”He eventually asks. You nod, still grinning. If he sees you smile like that one more time, he might not be able to stop his common sense from flying out the window.

Bucky offers you his arm, and you wrap yours through the opening, gripping his bicep as he leads you out of the building. He calls for the car to come around and helps you into it, placing a protective hand over your head to prevent you from bumping it.

Once he knows you’re safely inside, he squeezes his eyes shut and wills the feelings within him to stop burrowing into his heart. It’s like a festering wound he can never quite be free of. 

One hell of a wish that is. He’ll never get rid of these maddening feelings for you.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The car ride to Bucky’s apartment is mostly quiet, which is fine with you because your mind is keeping you thoroughly entertained.

Congressman James Barnes was flirting, and he was flirting with you. He called you beautiful and meant it, even when your face was streaked with dried tears. He winked at you, and you felt your stomach flutter instantly.

You were foolish to think one date would erase these feelings, because now that you know him, no man will ever compare. You’ll constantly hold everyone to the standard set by Bucky.

Bucky's driver approaches his apartment building, which appears to be quite expensive based on its exterior. You know that this apartment was provided to him by the government upon his return to the States; it was part of the deal for his pardon. He received a nice apartment situated high enough that no one would disturb him, but the government was keeping a close eye on him.

It made you feel nauseous just thinking about it, even though he wasn’t being monitored closely at the moment. It was absurd that he had been under constant surveillance in a home he never chose. Hydra had taken away all of Bucky’s choices, so why couldn't he even decide something as simple as where he lives?

You open the door to get out, but you hear another door slam, causing you to stop. Then, Bucky jogs around the car to stand in front of you with his hand out. Ever the gentleman.

You smile and take his human hand to help you out of the car. His metal hand rests gently atop your head again as you exit. You feel like a princess with this kind of treatment.

Bucky subtly waves to his driver as the car pulls away. He then guides you inside, takes you to the elevator, and directs you down the hall to his apartment.

Once inside, you were surprised by how charming and modern it was. It wasn't at all what you had imagined, but you liked it.

“Make yourself at home.” Bucky passes you and wanders into the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water, please,” you murmur, still taking in your surroundings. You take off your heels at the door, not to be polite, but because your feet are killing you.

You pad into the kitchen after him, and he’s putting ice in a glass. The kitchen is bright white with a splash of color. There’s an island with stools lined up along it, and that’s where you decide to ‘make yourself at home’.

You lift yourself onto the stool, and Bucky slides your water glass over the counter. You nod in thanks and take a sip. He then disappears down the hallway that you’re certain leads to his room.

He returns without his tuxedo jacket, bowtie, and shoes. His collar is unbuttoned, and he's rolling up his sleeves as he rounds the island to sit beside you. Every time you see him like this, you can't help but internally freak out.

You nearly choke on your water, and he’s there with a hand gently patting you on the back. “You okay there?”

“Of course, just drank it too fast.” You nervously smile, hoping he misses your lie. Bucky drops his hand when you stop coughing.

You need to change the subject because you have to stop thinking about how dreamy he looks. “Where would you like to start?” 

You take your purse from your shoulder and place it on the surface to dig for your phone. “I don’t have my laptop, but I can write your thoughts down on my notes app and transfer them to a document later.”

He shakes his head and grabs your wrist, pausing your action. “We can do that tomorrow. Relax, talk to me.”

You glance up at him, and your breath catches in your throat. Breathing feels pointless because you can't seem to exhale. His eyes are shifting in a way that makes it seem like his smoky blue gaze conveys something entirely different from what his mouth is saying, but you're struggling to understand their message.

He releases your wrist, and you come back to reality. You set your purse off to the side as you inhale oxygen properly again. “What do you want me to say?”

“What happened?” Bucky mumbles. He doesn’t want to pressure you if you’re not ready to talk.

You take a deep breath and begin to explain. “When I returned to the bar, he had sobered up a bit and apologized to me. I foolishly believed he was genuinely sorry and asked if he would like to start over.”

You let your eyes fall away from him, examining the drops of condensation running down your glass. “But, then, he insulted you, and that apology didn’t mean anything anymore.”

Bucky nods slowly. “What’d he say?” You shake your head, unable to tell him the vile words bouncing around in your skull.

”It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” He insists.

You meet his gaze once more, and your eyes begin to well up with tears. Not out of pity for him, but because it pains you to hear someone speak negatively about your favorite person. The most heartbreaking part is that the worst of it comes from his own mind.

Hydra is long gone, but now he is torturing himself. You wish you could take away all that pain and those awful thoughts, replacing them with something pure.

From your experience, you understand that the healing process is a slow journey. It requires time and energy to rebuild your mental and emotional state and regain a sense of humanity. You want to be the person he trusts enough to share that process with.

Bucky doesn’t need fixing because he wasn’t broken to begin with; he needs someone to confide in and rely on. You want to be that person who’s there for him through it all, just as he is for you.

“That’s the problem. You don’t deserve that.” Your voice quivers slightly. 

He scans your face like he’s trying to find the lie hidden in your features, but he won’t find one.

“Okay,” he lets out a long sigh. “You’re right.”

“Absolutely, I am.” You agree matter-of-factly, then deepen your voice to impersonate Bucky: “I’m always right.”

He scoffs. “I don’t sound like that.”

You raise your hands in mock surrender. ”I know, I’m working on it.”

Bucky smirks, shaking his head as if trying not to laugh. His expression becomes serious again. “What else did he say?”

You wave him off. “It’s not important.”

He raises an eyebrow, giving you a disapproving look. You roll your eyes and say, “Why do you need to know?”

He shrugs. “For research purposes.” 

You purse your lips, but eventually concede. “He suggested that I was trying to…get in your pants for a promotion.” 

His jaw ticks, but you reluctantly carry on. “On top of that, he called me desperate and a slut, so truly the highlight of my week.” You release a dry laugh.

Bucky’s jaw is clenched so tightly that it seems he might break a tooth. His hands are balled into fists, and the raging fire in his eyes is unmistakable.

”Don’t.” You warn.

“What?” He grits his teeth.

“Don’t get mad. He’s not worth the energy.”

“Not mad.” He growls. You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow, and he proceeds. “I’m fucking pissed.”

“Well, I’m over it, you should be too-”

Bucky interrupts you. “Hold on, I’m plotting his murder in my mind.” His eyes squeeze shut for a second, and you stifle a giggle. “Okay, now I’m at the part where I hide the body.”

You playfully slap his arm, and his eyes shoot open, amusement evident on his face. “Are you making me an accomplice to your imaginary crimes?” you tease.

“Who said imaginary?” He smirks. You laugh, and your eyes crinkle at the corners. You shouldn’t find planning a murder comical, but it feels nice to laugh again.

After a beat of silence, Bucky speaks. “Can I ask why you went back to him?”

Your smile fades as you lean forward, resting your elbow on the surface in front of you and propping your head in your hand. "If this is your way of saying 'I told you so,' just save it. I already know I was being stupid."

“That’s not-” he blurts, but cuts himself off to start over. “I just wanna know. And, you’re not stupid, don’t say that.”

You swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts before revealing yourself to him. "I haven't been on a date in a couple of years, and I had a lot riding on this one. I know it sounds naive, but I thought it would be a one-and-done situation."

You chew on the skin of your bottom lip. "When he touched me, I thought I was the one with the problem. I believed there was something mentally wrong with me for not wanting him. But I was just making excuses for him, as I always do for horrible men who don't deserve my mercy."

Bucky’s eyes are fixed on you, intently listening and absorbing every word. This support is something you didn’t realize you needed, but it’s helping tremendously, and you hope he understands that.

You sit up a little taller in your seat, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over you as you open up to him. “I tried dating before, and it was terrible—one bad date after another. I made a silent vow to myself that the next guy I met, I would settle for, because I’m tired of coming home alone. I want love, and if that makes me desperate, so be it.”

You give him a weak smile as you finish your rambling. You avert your gaze and start glancing around the kitchen, suddenly embarrassed.

“Look at me,” he orders in a soft voice. You find his eyes again, and they’re earnest. “Never settle, darlin’. You are something special, and you deserve nothing less than perfect.”

You're looking at him as if he has cleared your cloudy sky and made the sun shine brighter. You don't know how to react or what to say. Your heart is pounding against your rib cage, as if it's trying to escape.

Bucky clears his throat and hops off the stool. He veers around the island and picks up an old-fashioned radio that you notice for the first time.

“What are you doing?” you mumble. He turns the dial, and the crackle of the radio fills the air. The noise fades as he finds the station he was searching for. Right away, you recognize that the music is from the forties, instantly bringing a smile to your lips.

“I found a station that still plays music from my era some time ago. I listen to it occasionally, and it takes me back.” A broad smile lights up your face as you notice his relaxed demeanor, as if the mere sound of the music puts him at ease. 

Bucky rounds the counter again, standing in front of you. He offers you his flesh hand with a charming smirk. You tilt your head. “What?”

He nods to his hand. “I’m showing you how a real date should go.” 

Your stomach does somersaults and you bite your lip. “Are you smooth-talking me, Barnes?”

“Maybe, is it working?” His voice is deep and suave.

“You know it is.”

He extends his hand further. “Dance with me.” 

You take his hand, and he helps you down. He leads you to an open space between the kitchen and the living room.

He grabs your arm with his metal hand and places it on his shoulder. Slowly, he lowers his hand from your arm to grip your waist, sending a shiver down your spine. With your hands still interlocked, he raises his elbow and points outward.

“I should probably tell you, I don’t know how to dance.” You mutter.

“Do I have the honor of being your first dance?” His expression is marked by feigned shock.

You giggle and roll your eyes. “Yes.”

His face softens. “Don’t worry. I’ll lead, you follow. We’ll start slow.” 

You nod, and he sees this as a chance to begin. “Watch my feet and mimic my movements.”

You glance down between your bodies, and he takes a step back. You take a step forward, then he side steps, and you follow. You register that it’s your turn to take a step back, and he takes a step forward—another side step in the opposite direction, and you find yourselves back where you started.

“Good, you’re a natural.” Bucky sounds pleased, which brings a grin to your face.

He repeats his actions while you follow, and you watch his feet several more times until you feel confident in your understanding.

Your gaze returns to his, and the expression in his eyes is undeniably captivating. This moment feels like much more than a simple dance. You search your mind for a topic to discuss, hoping to avoid getting lost in the music and giving in to the urge to kiss him.

“Do you like being here?” The question runs out of your mouth.

Bucky’s taken aback by your sudden inquiry. He gives you a perplexed expression. “You mean this apartment?”

“Yeah, this apartment. Brooklyn. I know you lived here, but Brooklyn has changed a lot since the forties.”

“Oh, definitely, but I still enjoy living here.” He answers with a shrug. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering.” You resume your thought. “Don’t get me wrong; it's a lovely space, but do you see yourself living somewhere else?”

Bucky hums, lost in thought. “Yeah, I do. I want a house away from everything—somewhere without the noise of traffic, surrounded by nature like I had in Wakanda. Maybe I’ll finally get that cat.” He pinches your side, and you let out a snort.

You release a lengthy sigh. “And, I’ll be long gone.” You’re teasing, but there’s some truth to your words.

He shakes his head, clearly offended by your assumption. “That’s not how I see it.”

“Well, if you’re talking about settling down, you won’t be in politics anymore, and I won’t be your assistant.” You clarify.

His eyebrows knit together. “You don’t want to stay friends?” 

“Yeah, I do.” You squeak.

“Why’d you say it like that?” Bucky presses, and he’s caught you in a lie.

Your heart is racing now. Are you really about to tell him how you feel? You can’t imagine a future without him in it, but if you remain just friends for the rest of your life, it might break you.

You open and close your mouth before spitting it out. “Because I want to be more than just your friend.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, and his jaw clenches. His metal fingers twitch on your waist, causing more chills to run through your body. He scrutinizes you as if you had said something obscene.

You part your lips to interrupt his thoughts. As soon as you do, his attention shifts to your open mouth. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip as his gaze traces the outline of your mouth.

“Fuck,” He grunts. “I wanna kiss you so bad.”

You must've forgotten you were still dancing, as you're tripping over your feet. You recover, getting back into the rhythm of the movements, but your mind feels like it's short-circuiting.

“Th-then,” you stutter, “kiss me.”

“It’s a bad idea.” His tone is serious, though a soft smile plays on his lips.

You contemplate this for a moment. He’s right; your situation is complicated, and kissing your boss would be a bad idea. Yet, you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“Maybe, but you tend to have many of those.” You quip, smirking.

Bucky huffs air through his nose as if it’s funny, but when he speaks, his voice is firm. “No, I mean, it’s a terrible idea.”

You scoff, lightly hitting his shoulder where your hand rests. “That’s not making me feel any better, James.”

His smile fades, and his eyes darken. He looks as if he’s been longing for you, and now that he has permission to have you, he’s still contemplating the situation.

He comes to a sudden stop, causing you to halt your footwork as well. He still hasn’t released his grip on you, almost as if he physically can’t. You hear a deep, frustrated sound coming from his throat, indicating that he's angry with himself.

“Fuck it,” Bucky grumbles. 

Before you can fully register what he’s doing, he pulls you in by your waist and crashes his lips against yours. You gasp, and he swallows the sound. His lips bruise yours with a desperate intensity, as though he’s starved, and you’re the only one who can satisfy his hunger.

You reach out and cup the back of his neck with your palm. His hand falls away from yours as he grips the side of your neck, right under your jaw. With your hand now free, you run your fingers along his back, drawing him closer. Your bodies fit together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle.

His tongue glides along your bottom lip before invading your mouth. It explores every crevice like he’s committing your mouth to memory. You swirl your tongue around his and moan into the kiss.

Bucky shifts his weight, struggling to find his footing, as if the sound alone weakened his knees. His tongue retreats, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth before he pulls away completely.

Your eyes flutter open, and you find him studying you intently as you both try to catch your breath. His fingers gently brush against your rosy cheeks and swollen lips. He sweeps your hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear.

“We need to stop.” His voice is strained, as if the words are forced from his throat.

“Why?” You breathe.

He closes his eyes as if he can’t bear to see you in this state, flushed and desperate for more of him. “If we continue, I won’t be able to hold back.”

You smooth the loose strands that hang in his eyes back to their original place. “Don’t hold back.” Your tone is low and sultry.

Bucky's eyes fly open, breathing hard through his nose. His metal arm envelops your torso, pulling you close until you feel him, thick and hard against your lower stomach.

“Darlin’,” he drawls. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, and your eyes dart between his features, unsure of where to focus because you desire all of him. Your hand travels down the smooth expanse of his chest, feeling the quick thump of his heart beneath your fingertips. You grasp the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until you're only inches apart from his lips.

“Yes,” you murmur against his mouth. “Now, shall we continue, or do you have any more objections?”

He releases a shaky breath against your lips and shakes his head. You must’ve stolen his ability to speak. “Fantastic,” you whisper.

You lean in to kiss him again, this time more slowly. Your lips brush against each other gently, savoring the moment. You relish the soft curve of his mouth, the way his stubble tickles your delicate skin, and the feel of his nose nudging against your cheek.

Your tongue delves into his mouth uninvited, but he welcomes it with a satisfied hum. Now it’s your turn to explore his mouth with your tongue. You don’t get an adequate exploration because his tongue is sliding against yours, making it hard to focus on anything but his taste.

His warm hand slips into your hair, gently tugging at the roots to intensify the kiss. You whimper into his mouth, and suddenly, it feels like a switch has flipped. The kiss quickly becomes heated, as if your mouths are battling for dominance.

You unclasp your fist from his shirt as both of your hands move to the buttons of his dress shirt. One by one, you start to undo them. Once you’ve finished, he removes his hands from you and shrugs the shirt off. You hear the light fabric drop to the floor, and his hands quickly return to their previous positions.

Bucky begins to step forward, pushing you backward while your hands explore the firm contours of his chest and stomach. Your calves bump against something soft, and you realize it's the couch. You break the kiss, but his lips follow yours as if he's not finished savoring you.

“Sit.” You coax.

His eyelids flip up to reveal dilated, icy eyes. He inclines back and smirks. “Always tellin’ me what to do.” 

He sits down reluctantly with a huff. You back away from the couch, taking a moment to admire the view. As you scan his shirtless body, you notice the defined muscles. The black metal of his arm glimmers under the dim light.

You reach behind you to pull at the navy ties on your back as he proceeds to complain from his seat. “Y’know, this is my apartment.” 

The ties give way, and you start to slide the thin straps down your shoulders. “I feel like I should be tellin’-” Bucky stops himself as the material of the dress cascades down your body, pooling at your feet. You’re completely naked save for the steel blue panties you're wearing.

“What were you saying?” You poke fun at his stunned expression.

He swallows hard as he observes the angles and curves of your form. "It's irrelevant."

You giggle, warm and breathy. You hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties. “Should I take these off, too?”

“No,” he blurts. “Keep ‘em on.”

You let go of the band, relaxing your hands at your sides. Bucky stretches out his arm and beckons you closer. “Come here.”

You saunter over to him. Once you’re close enough, he grips your hip with his metal hand. His cold touch sends shivers down your body. You sink onto the couch, positioning your knees on either side of him as you straddle his thighs. 

His flesh hand drags along the length of your figure, fingertips ghosting over you like he’s touching petals on a flower. “You’re stunning, doll.”

Your heart skips a beat at the compliment. Bucky’s eyes shift from your body to gaze up at you, and you cup his cheek. Your thumb strokes his skin, and he leans into your touch.

“Me?” You mutter. “You are perfect.”

His lips curl as he tilts his head up to peck your jaw in gratitude. When he leans back, his head dips to examine your panties again, his fingers toying with the waistband as he bites his lip.

“Do you know why I bought these?” you ask sheepishly. He shakes his head, his gaze still fixed on the steel blue fabric. “They reminded me of your eyes.”

Bucky looks up suddenly at your confession. "You're tryin’ to kill me, aren't you?"

You tilt your head back and chuckle. When you glance down again, he pokes your side. “That’s not funny! I swear, you’re going to give me a heart attack. You can’t just say that and expect me to stay calm,” he scolds, but you can’t help but keep laughing.

You tip your head forward and trail kisses from his cheek to his ear. “Sorry, baby. I wouldn’t want your heart to give out,” you whisper.

As you lean close to his ear, you gently nibble on his earlobe, and he lets out a soft grunt in response. You begin to kiss your way down his neck, focusing on the spots that elicit the strongest reactions from him. Your tongue flicks out to taste his skin, and you feel him shiver beneath you.

Bucky’s metal fingers press into your hip, as if he’s struggling to resist the urge to take you right here and now. His other hand lightly traces the wet spot on your underwear, making you groan against his neck.

“Hmm…you’re soaked,” he announces as he applies more pressure to your pussy. Your hips jerk when his fingertips move in circular motions on your underwear clad clit. 

You place lazy kisses along the area where metal touches skin. It's too hard to do anything beyond that now, as your head spins from his actions. You lean your forehead against the cool metal, finding a soothing comfort in it.

“There you go, just relax for me.” His voice is raspy as he speaks in your ear. 

He moves your panties to the side, running his fingers through your slick folds. Bucky slides a single digit into your entrance and you suck in a breath. He languidly pumps his finger into you while gently kissing your shoulder.

Your warm, heavy breathing against his chest quickens as he increases his pace. He inserts another one, stroking your walls with his long fingers. You let out a throaty moan and reach up to clutch his metal bicep to ground yourself.

You tip your head back to see him as he thrusts his fingers deeply into you. A delighted sound escapes your lips as his fingers crook deliciously inside of you. You grind against the palm of his hand as he works at your core.

“That’s it. Take what you need, darlin’.” He encourages.

You tilt his chin up and press your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He responds with equal enthusiasm as his fingers expertly plunge further and faster. Lips connect roughly as his teeth graze your bottom lip to nip at it. Your mouth separates from his, and your hot breath brushes across his lips. 

“I—I want to ride you.” You pant.

His fingers falter as he processes your comment. He inspects you as if he can’t believe you’re real. His metal fingers brush against your collarbone to tuck your hair back.

“Shit,” Bucky mutters, awestruck by you. “If that’s what you want.” 

He gradually reduces his pleasing movements as you nod your head in agreement. His fingers slip out of you, and when he holds them up, they’re glistening with your juices. He puts the digits to his mouth and wraps his lips around them, sucking them clean.

Your jaw drops at the sight; it’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen. You didn’t realize he could turn you on even more than you already are. 

He takes his fingers out of his mouth with a hum. “You taste divine. I would eat you out, but I guess we’ll save that for another time.” He states with a wink.

You aren't sure you can get off the couch now because your knees feel weak and your stomach is a fluttering mess.

He snaps the band of your underwear, pulling you from your daze. “How ‘bout you take these off for me while I take off my pants, sound good?”

You clamber off the couch as Bucky starts to unfasten his belt. You watch him intently while your thumbs hook into your panties. Sliding them down your thighs, you realize you’re both observing one another getting undressed.

You step out of your underwear and toss them somewhere in the living room. You hear him grunt from his seat now that you are completely bare.

He lifts his hips off the sofa and tugs his pants and boxers down the length of his thighs. You watch his cock spring free and your mouth begins to water. You want to drop to your knees for him, but the thought of him inside you is too tempting to resist.

Bucky tears the fabric from his legs and mimics your actions by tossing it across the room. He reaches out and holds you by your hips, then leans down to place soft kisses on your waist. He pulls you closer, and you both settle back into your spot on the couch.

His dick rests against his stomach, hardened and demanding. You take him firmly in your grasp and he sucks air through his teeth. You pump him a few times, spreading the precum with your thumb.

Your core is throbbing with anticipation. You decide you need him now. You position yourself over him, swiping the head of his cock through your slick. You line up his tip with your entrance, teasing it.

Bucky glances up at you with pleading eyes, and his grip on your hips is almost bruising. “Please, darlin’. I need to feel you.”

You didn’t know how beautiful begging could sound, but hearing it from his sweet lips is like silk blanketing your ears. “I know, honey. I need you too.” 

His eyes soften at the nickname. You’ll save that knowledge for later. 

You don’t waste any more time. You grab his shoulder with your free hand in preparation. Slowly, you lower yourself onto him as if you have all the time in the world, wanting to memorize every second of this moment.

He releases a strangled moan as his body goes rigid beneath you. He’s stretching out your tight pussy luxuriously as you inch down his cock. You maintain eye contact with him, observing the way his face twists in pleasure.

You settle onto his thighs, and he bottoms out inside you. You feel incredibly full, it’s a sensation you could easily get addicted to. As you take your time to adjust to his sheer size, you brush your knuckles across his cheekbone.

“You feel so good.” You praise. “Where have you been all my life?”

Bucky’s flesh hand loosens on your hip to take your wrist and kiss your palm. “Right here. I’ve been waiting for you.”

You lean in, kissing him desperately because you’re already addicted to him and can’t get enough. Your lips move tenderly against his, pouring every ounce of adoration you feel for him.

You ease up on his cock, moaning into each other's mouth. You fall back down, his dick filling you once more. You maintain a steady pace up and down on him, using his shoulder as leverage.

He breaks the kiss, allowing his hand to wander into your hair. He gently tugs on the strands at the base of your scalp to angle your head upwards. His mouth finds your neck like a magnet, kissing and licking the soft flesh.

Your hips roll at the pace of his languid kisses on your neck. Your greedy pussy is taking every delectable inch of him, drawing him in deep. Bucky groans against your throat, sending vibrations through you.

He caresses his way down your body, letting your hair fall as he trails his fingers over your thigh. Your hips pick up speed, riding him quicker. His forehead rests against your chest due to the sudden change of pace.

“Doll-” he drawls. “You feel incredible.”

Bucky licks a line up your sternum as his metal hand glides up your side. His touch is feather-light on your breast, a cool sensation sweeping over your nipple. His mouth moves to place wet, open-mouthed kisses along the opposite breast. 

He eventually finds your nipple with his mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. He latches onto it, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. You arch into him, a lewd noise escaping your parted lips.

He palms at the other breast, massaging and swiping his thumb over the delicate skin. The pleasure you’re feeling from his skilled tongue only spurs you on, and it drives you to ride him faster, harder, and deeper.

He grunts and bites your nipple. Your mind feels overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. Has sex always been this magical? Not for you, at least. 

Bucky is the missing piece you’ve been searching for, not just because of the sex, but because of everything he brings to your life. The sex is incredible because he is incredible. It’s that simple.

“Just like that. Fuck—you’re doing so good.” He mumbles in between kisses as he trails over to your opposite breast. His metal hand moves back to your hip to help guide your movements.

He backs away from your chest when he knows he’s given equal attention to each of your breasts. He concentrates on your face, observing the way your lips part and the sounds that flow from them.

His fingers dig into your thigh as he begins to massage it. Bucky kneads the pliable skin, moving up and down the flesh until he’s squeezing your ass. With the leverage he has, he bucks up into you with the same rhythm you set. 

Your voice breaks into a guttural moan as he pulls you down forcefully onto his cock. You continue to match his tempo, but your hip movements are becoming more erratic.

“Let me take over, darlin’.” He groans. “I wanna make you feel good.”

How did you get so lucky to have a man who is more concerned about your pleasure? He makes it his mission to satisfy your every need; you just have to allow him to do so.

You softly smile. “I think you underestimate what your cock is doing to me.”

“Well, let me make you feel even better,” Bucky reiterates. You nod in response and stop your actions.

“Good girl,” he rasps. He scoots to the edge of the couch while still fully inside you. Carefully, he positions your legs to wrap around his hips, and his metal arm covers your torso. Then, he effortlessly picks you up as if you weigh nothing and begins moving across the apartment.

You cling to him, though you know he would never let you fall. He steps into his room and gingerly sets you down on the end of the bed. Leaning over you, he kisses the tip of your nose, causing you to giggle.

“You didn’t want to fuck me on your couch?” You tease.

“No,” he lowers his mouth to your ear and growls, “because you’re not some random hook up.”

Bucky punctuates that statement by slamming his dick into you. You whine and squirm beneath him. He inclines back and clutches your hips, thrusting into you at an unrelenting pace. You throw your head back against the mattress because he was right, this is even better.

He’s touching parts inside of you that you never knew existed. Your legs tighten around him as you reach for his neck, craving the sensation of him beneath your fingertips. His gaze is locked on you, and his eyes sparkle with a desperate desire to please you.

“Tell me how that feels, doll.” 

“Fucking fantastic.” You breathe, your lungs are working overtime, as he effortlessly drains the oxygen from your chest.

A ghost of a smile appears on his lips; that's exactly what he wanted to hear. Bucky's hand moves down to the underside of your knee. He takes hold of it and lifts it up, so your knee presses into your side. Finding the angle he desired, he pushes into you with renewed purpose.

You arch your back, and you wail when he hits that sweet spot deep inside of you. The head of his cock pounds against your g-spot repeatedly, reducing you to a writhing and whimpering mess.

He’s bringing you to the edge, and it’s happening quickly. The pressure is rising within you like a tidal wave, and you feel like you might drown in it. Your senses seem heightened, and Bucky is surrounding you, integrating himself into every one of them.

“James–” His name feels like a prayer on your lips.

“I know you’re close, pretty girl. Let me get you there.” His metal hand reaches between your bodies and his thumb rubs tight circles into your clit. 

Your cunt instantly clamps down on his dick and you moan loudly. You were already close, but now you’re teetering on the edge. Your free hand fists the sheets, and your thighs begin to shake.

“I’ve got you, darlin’. Let go. I’ll be right behind you.” His words drift over you like steam rising from a hot spring, warm and enticing.

Your body obeys immediately, your orgasm hitting you like a tsunami. The pressure coiled in your stomach releases and your pussy clenches hard around him in waves. You scream out in a breathless cry, your grip tightening on his neck as you tug him closer.

You’re a shuddering, aching mess under him. Your eyes are sewn shut, and you feel as though you’re floating. A wave of euphoria washes over you, leaving you high on the sensation.

Bucky presses his forehead to yours, whispering your name like a mantra. He grabs both your hips again, as if afraid you'll slip away.

His cock proceeds to ram into your pulsating cunt, working you through your climax until he’s twitching inside you. His cum spills deeply into you with a low groan from his lips. He’s coating your walls and warming your core with the thick liquid.

His hips come to a stop, and his head rests in the crook of your neck. Bucky wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. You lazily fold your arms over him, holding him as if you never want to let go. He nuzzles into your hair, inhaling your scent. You gently scratch his upper back, relishing the intimacy of the moment.

“You’re unbelievable.” He mutters right below your ear. “You’re real, right? This isn’t a dream?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Yes, I’m very real, honey.” You kiss his shoulder softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky hums contentedly and leans back, gently slipping out of you. “Good.”

He strolls away from the bed and into the bathroom, turning on the light. You prop yourself up on your elbows to see what he’s doing. The sound of running water becomes audible, though you can’t see it.

He returns with a damp washcloth and completes his thought. “I’m holding you hostage.”

You’re smiling broadly. “I don’t believe this is a hostage situation if I’m here willingly.”

“Are you sure you don’t already have Stockholm syndrome?” he asks, a smirk on his face.

You chuckle and shake your head as he moves closer. He opens your legs and steps between them to wipe down your inner thighs, gently gliding his hand over your dripping cunt.

The sight gives you a warm feeling, knowing this isn’t the last time Bucky will take care of you. “Well, aren’t you the king of aftercare?” you joke.

“I can't leave my pretty girl in a mess, especially since I'm the one who made it.” Once he's finished, he tosses the dirty rag into his hamper and lies down beside you. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close into his embrace.

You hum in contentment, burying your head into his chest. “I have a sneaky suspicion this won’t be the only mess we make tonight.”

Bucky squeezes you, running his hand through your hair to cradle your head. “I think you read my mind.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The door clicks softly behind Bucky as he treads carefully through the hall. His heavy boots thud against the floor, so he decides to take them off at the door to avoid waking you from sleep.

He changes out of his tactical gear and puts on a pair of sleep shorts. Gingerly, he moves the blanket aside to crawl in beside you. You are facing the opposite direction, and your light breathing indicates that you are still asleep.

Bucky wraps his arms around you and kisses your shoulder, unable to help himself. You stir slightly, resting your arms over his and melting into him. 

“Where’d you go?” Your sleepy voice breaks the quiet.

His chest warms at the adorable sound as he whispers against your neck, “I had some business to take care of.”

You hum and snuggle into the pillow, settling back into a relaxed state. Suddenly, your head pops up, and you peek over your shoulder at him. “James, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.” Bucky retorts.

You let out a heavy sigh; it's clear you know he's lying. You kick off the covers and hop out of bed, moving toward his closet. He ogles your naked form; fuck, he wants to take you again.

You grab a random shirt from a hanger and slip it on. Turning to face him, you cross your arms over your chest with a blank expression. “Where’s your first-aid kit?”

It's as if you see right through him. One glance into his eyes reveals exactly where he's been and what he's done.

“What? I’m fine. Come back to bed.” He pats the spot next to him.

You narrow your gaze at him, and your expression says it all: you don’t want to make me mad, James.

“Okay, okay.” Bucky points to the bathroom. “Cabinet. Top shelf.”

You practically stomp to the bathroom. He hears the sound of you rummaging around, and you exit with the opened first-aid kit in hand. You set it on his nightstand and search through it.

“Sit up,” you command in a surprisingly authoritative tone.

He smirks and does as you instructed him. “Always tellin-”

You hold up a finger, stopping him. “Not the time.”

“Don’t be upset.” He mutters.

Your shoulders, once tense, relax as you shake your head. “I’m not upset.” Your voice is softer and more gentle now.

“Then what’s wrong, doll?” Of course, he knows what’s bothering you, but he doesn’t seem to want to admit it. You haven’t seen this side of him; he’s afraid that because you have, you might leave.

“You paid Derek a visit, didn’t you?”

Bucky nods stiffly. “I did.”

You rub your forehead with your thumb and pointer finger. “Do I have to help you hide a body?”

“No.” He states simply.

You let your hand fall to your side now that you have confirmation that no murders occurred tonight. You point to his bloody and bruised knuckles and say, "If your hand is any indication, you beat the shit out of him."

“He got what he deserved. I actually let him off easy,” he grumbles, wishing he had done more to the bastard. He didn't use his metal arm; that was an act of mercy. Now he's regretting that decision.

“That’s not the point.” You release a long breath. “What if someone saw? Or worse, what if he talks? Your job could be in jeopardy.” You give him a worried expression.

“No one saw, and I doubt he’ll be saying much, if anything at all.” Bucky’s mind drifts back to the condition he left Derek in. His face was swollen, bloody, and bruised. Yup, he won’t be talking for a while; I made sure of that.

“Not helping.” You scold.

"Listen, nothing is more important than you. I would gladly lose my job if it meant keeping you safe." Your expression softens at his words, and he continues, knowing he has your full attention. “That asshole doesn’t get to speak to you like that, and get off scot-free.”

Bucky adjusts his tone to be light and caring as he takes your hand in both of his—flesh and metal. “I will always protect you. You never have to doubt that.” 

After a beat of silence, your lips curve into a smile. “Okay.”

He quirks a brow. “Okay? That’s it, no more arguing?”

“What’s there to argue about?” You shrug. “Like you said, the asshole got what he deserved.”

He returns your sweet grin and kisses your hand gently before letting it go. You bite your lip and turn around to search in the medical kit. Grabbing an antiseptic wipe, you extend your hand toward him. "Now, let me clean you up, honey."

“Yes, ma'am.” He offers his hand willingly. You clean the blood from his knuckles, scrubbing deep into the grooves between his fingers.

“Did Derek at least cry?” you inquire, tilting your head as you examine his wounds.

“Like a baby,” he replies. You snort as you toss the dirty wipe into his trash can. Taking out some ointment from the kit, you apply it to the sores on his skin. He doesn't really need it since he’s a super soldier with rapid healing, but he lets you do it anyway because he appreciates the way you care for him.

“He apologized, by the way,” he adds. “At least, I think he did. I couldn’t understand him through all the blood in his mouth.”

"Bucky," you scoff, but then you break into laughter. "That's awful."

He wants to laugh with you, but is caught off guard when you call him by his nickname. He’s never heard you say it before, and it sounds so pleasant to him. You put away the ointment, and then he grabs your wrist. You whip your head around to meet his gaze.

“Say that again.” His voice is low and rough.

You furrow your brows in confusion but then understand his meaning, and your expression softens.

“Oh,” you shift to face him, your voice becoming seductive and breathy. “Bucky.”

He basically melts; his lips part, and all his muscles loosen up. “Again. Slower. I like the way it sounds.”

You giggle and gently cup his face in your hands, obeying his request. “Bucky…” You lean down and press a lingering kiss to his forehead. His eyes flutter closed; he believes he has died and gone to heaven, with you as the angel welcoming him at the pearly gates.

You lean back, and he looks up at you with hooded eyes. “Alright, my hero,” you murmur. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Bucky's face is etched with amusement as you utter the words ‘my hero’. He has never been called that, nor has he felt like much of a hero anyway. But honestly, that word wouldn’t matter if it came from anyone else because he only ever wants to save you.

“Whatever you say, darlin’.”

[evewhon]

cw: breeding, choking, overstim

satoru gojo who . . . loves to have you ontop of him. not so you can do all the work, no. quite the opposite. 

two thick and and warm hands occupying your body,  lenghty and skilled fingers curled around your throat whilst his other hand delicately traced n’ swirled his initials into your aching clit. you didn’t know what you wanted to do, grind your slicked cunt onto his fingers or slink down onto the 8 inches your greedy pussy was already creaming on whinily. eitherway, satoru had it so you couldn’t escape. suffocated, ‘ trapped ‘ in the overstimulation he provided to you. and that’s how he wanted it. 

he kept you trapped against his broad and fit body, your smaller frame daintily arched whilst he fucked his cock into you. fingers squeezing deliciously around your neck. you couldn’t think about anything other than how you could feel him in your stomach. and he could tell. hell, he’s almost as gone as you. watching his length hitting deep enough to create a plush bulge in your tummy was something he didn’t know he needed to see until now. airy, shakey moans hitting the back of your ear with an occasional teasing strip being licked that made you shiver. breathlessly giggling in your ear when he feels you almost impossibly tighten up and twitch around him. almost painfully so, though, it only adds to his stimulation. whiny masochistic giggles slipping out more n’ more.  

“aheh..f-fuck..” he groans, his hips stuttering for a second before his pace picks up. deeper this time. trying to sink all of him into you at once, and god was it a tight fit. his hand moving from your clit to your pelvis to fuck up deeper into you had you breathless. a mewl ripping from your throat, it was like you could feel him there, too.  “ss-satoruu ‘s too much, - too muchh..” you whine, and you barely get that out. through gasps or sniffles, you can’t tell. it’s too fucking good and he’s too fucking deep. blinded by your mostly shut eyes in overstimulation, the sliver of your sight brimming with tears and pleasure. “yea ? too much f’ya baby?” he encourages. coo’s, even. knowing he won’t slow down, too in love with overstimmulating your slutty cunt till you’re nothing but a twitchy mess. and you knew it too. “cmonngh, y’can take it for me-oh-.. fuck- r-right pretty baby?” he practically whined in your ear, lengthy need twitching inside, nudging and hitting what feels like your cervix. you weakly moaned a pretty “yeah, toru’-“

and you could feel him twitching inside you, defined hips sloppyily bucking up into you whilst he began messily pressing kisses to the back of your ear, moaning lewdly and unabashedly, knowing how much you loved it. fucked out smiled pressed to the back of your neck. whilst he gives your puffy cunt a little slap punishingly, grabbing your attention in your fucked out state, making you throb against his hand. your slick lingering on his fingers as he fucking whines hard into you ear. “so fuckin’ wet f’me , huh?” he speaks, voiced wracked with trembles. “y’know, starting to think y’like me stretching you out, baby…” he mocked, eyes trying to avoid rolling back into his head, he dosent want to miss any view you give him, but it was getting hard. “but wha did i tell’you? keep your attention on me, ‘pretty ..” he purred against you. 

he didn’t know how he was gonna continue his punishment without driving himself insane inside your tight cunt.

masterlist

[chrissturnsfav]

car sex w rapper!chris while his music plays in the backround

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris' favorite music to fuck to is none other than his own

"yeah, jus' keep ridin' like that mama," chris gasps from below you, your fresh acrylics digging into the fabric of his hoodie on his chest as you bounce on his cock. your mouth is stuck in an 'o' shape as you whimper and gasp, chris' hands on your ass guiding you up and down his lengthy dick.

all that can be heard in his rolls royce is your asscheeks clapping against his pelvis, the lewd noises escaping both of your mouths, and one of his new songs which features travis scott, 'sdp interlude' blaring through the luxurious car.

"c'mon, faster, y'got it," chris grunts softly, cupping your face as you throw your head back and pulling it to look at him as he breathes heavily, "go a lil' faster f'me."

you nod, panting gently as you get a better position above him, crossing your arms around his shoulders as you pick up the pace. it instantly makes you gasp, followed by a dragged out whine right in his ear that makes his cock twitch inside you.

"atta girl, look at you," chris coos through a wicked grin, placing a hand back on your ass as the other rides your hoodie up and over your tits, "takin' that dick so good."

"chris," you whimper, the sound of his voice booming through the speakers in a hazy beat echoing in your ears which turns you on even more. you can feel your slick dripping down your skin, pooling around his cock as your face twists deeper in ecstasy, sticky lashes fluttering open just enough to see how fogged the windows are.

"feels so good, pussy's wet as fuck," chris grunts, hissing in pleasure as his hips begin thrusting up into you, leaning his face forward to take one of your hardened nipples into his mouth.

your hands latch onto his messy waves, burying your pretty face in them as you moan softly, "c-chris," you whine into his hair, eyes pinched shut in pleasure. your hips begin to burn, your body slumping against him as you moan.

"tired baby?" chris smirks, looking up at you through hooded eyes and you nod into his hair. he hums, placing both hands on your ass as he adjusts his position below you, "i gotchu ma, jus' sit like that f'me."

he begins to thrust his hips up into you, faster, harder, making the car shake, his song echoing in your ears as you begin crying out in pleasure and sinking your nails into his hair.

you're speechless, his thick cock pounding into your leaky cunt repeatedly making you drown in ecstasy, your gummy walls immediately beginning to clench around him lewdly.

chris grunts, panting against your neck as he begins nipping and sucking wet hickeys into the warm skin, his pace not letting up for a second. "shiiit keep takin' it deep baby, cum all on this cock, wanna feel you," he groans as his thrusts get sloppier and quicker, letting you both know he's just as close as you are.

your body wastes no time in doing just that. a loud wail of pleasure leaves your open mouth, your knuckles white as you grip his hair tighter, thighs shaking on either side of him as your orgasm rips through your heated body relentlessly. seeing you cum like that sends him over the edge with you, a deep grunt of your name leaving his lips just as his song fades out.

thank you for reading! <3

tags: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @swagalicious260 , @sturnhyyhblog , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott

@chrissturnsfav ™

[miraclewoozi]

thank u for the tag @hwanghyunjinenthusiast 🫶

( i don’t know who has and who hasn’t done this already and it’s too early for my braincells to rub together to generate any common sense😭) ( but tagging @soonyoungblr if you haven’t already, anyone who sees this that wants to do it, this is a Very Official @/you! )

[webism]

★ sometimes, sukuna makes you ride his thigh instead of his lengthy fingers, or his sharp face or prodigious cock.

it's meant to be a punishment, a deprivation of what so often leaves you breathless and stupid, but you can't find fault in the muscled ridges of his thighs. maybe if your sharp-toothed lover was less active, less built, you'd struggle a bit more to find pleasure in his thigh.

you don't even know why you're being punished. it could be for your sharp tongue, or for touching yourself unpermitted, or for some other perceived sin. but as far as the space between you and ryomen stretches; he is the church and you are to kneel over his thick thigh and repent.

so repent you do. you rock your hips, grind down against his bare thigh as if seeking your own climax is apology enough for wronging your lover. if you wronged him, that is—sometimes sukuna punishes you unprovoked, the protests you give when you've really done nothing wrong get his dick hard. though you've cum more times you can count now, surely he can't punish you longer.

you can practically taste his cock it's so close, hard and throbbing and resting against his stomach just waiting to be doted on. you could reach out and grab it, and your fingers ache to feel the weight of his length against them, as does your tongue—but you know your ministries wouldn't go unpunished. and touching him when you're not permitted to doesn't reward you with the fun punishments like fucking yourself on his thigh; your ass would be sore for days.

"faster," his voice is steeled, painted nails digging into your hips. it hurts, how harshly he holds you, but it hurts in a searing way you'd miss if he were to let go. his touch is mean, you love it about him.

you oblige, rock your hips faster despite the sweat that pricks at your skin and the increasing work it takes for your lungs to provide you with enough oxygen to stay clear-headed. sukuna tsks, though, bares his teeth and forces you down harder against his solid thigh. it's a mess of your lust, glossy with your slick and you don't doubt he'll have you clean him up once you're too fucked out to think. perhaps with a cooling bath; perhaps with your tongue.

"you're a mess," he chides. "fucking filthy. stupid brat, so dumb and you're not even taking my cock. you couldn't."

harder, he presses your cunt against his thigh, pulls you to grind down on him. your desperation isn't lost on you, but sukuna's words prick at your stomach.

"i could. let me, please, i want—"

"you want?" he growls. "you don't want. you need my cock, brat, and i'm denying you a necessity."

you know he gets off on using you like this, playing with your threshold for pleasure. just how many orgasms can he rip out of you using his thigh alone? he's controlling your movements like you're the toy despite the lack of physical stimulation he gets from this. he's fucking you mindless and all he's doing is sitting nice and still for you.

when he manages another orgasm out of you, the slurred mewls of 'too much' falling of his deaf-by-choice ears, you realise your punishment isn't pleasure. it is the denial of himself: your newfound addiction, his reverent touch. he won't give you his cock, his tongue, his fingers or even the heel of his palm. all you get is his thigh, and you unravel from that alone. he finds it pathetic and all too erotic in the same breath.

is there really any denying you if he can draw pleasure from you using just the frame of his build?

thanks sutton for star hehe its so fun. i need to write more two-dick-sukuna writing him with one dick here felt wrong

kinktober tags: @medusamara5 @echodead @curiositykilledthecatx3 @hirainne

@plinkuro @sooouth @megumiiiswife @nyxiswrites1200 @yveiscringe

@sharks31 @lenahathunger @aydene @dreamyokai @n0tviv

@chiiinglebells @timetoletmyimaginationfly @nayely45 @waffless-simp-blog

@zoozvie @gothicchildofthenight @repnights @flwerie @soundofraindropss

@ushijimas1simp @aliidarling @aeswin @peachygelic @silvermet

@rinadisapproves @theshxaverse @cipher00 @milkkteary @snackeyalleyjuice

@cvipped @toadtoru @keiette @satosugu4-ever @itachiiwrites

@sugurubabe @wickedpoison6 @simp-plague @tojis-ball-sack @ventila98

@xxbookdrunkdemigodxx @oikawasthirdleg @yogichi @theycallmesia

@kdrama-anna @vurelliex @anonnieghost @tadabzzzbee

@luvofbows @crywolfix @hhonaoin @gigiiiiislife @aviesnapkindoodles

@ninikrumbs @bijuu-naginata @baekhyunsbestie @grimmshold @dalnimmie

@domainexpansionmypants @5tarx @1depressedsimp @beachaddict48 @jadeis0nline

@sukunasbbygrl @luna-v-roiya @sukunaspillow @starsval @vamqyx

@laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @mermaid-jewels @sugusmonkeyy @sammywo @noyaskneepad

@astrideverstar @lordchula-thagrandrula @chuuminn @angel1of-death @flooftoof

@rumi-rants @dysphoricsanity @coolcephalopod @satoruslxt @xoxo1mira

@whosmarjj @kikosaidbye @iceddragonfruit @amisuh

@veraiku @niinistudies @jexx233 @logoleptic-since-06 @kirishimasboobs

@samaraxmorgan @sweetsformysoul @uranosbaaee @angeleen777

@xixflower @alifromtheotherworld

[roseofcards90]

Nvm y’all I’ve been saved we got 30 minutes instead 😭😭😭

I HAVE TO DRIVE AN HOUR AND 20 MINUTES IN THE RAIN WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME

[lacedinweb22]

Intimate ❦︎⊹₊˚ Miguel O’Hara blurb 

nsfw 18+

He's not the type to fuck you mindlessly. He sinks into you. He takes his sweet time. 

He mutters words of importance, beautiful strings of Spanish profanities, complimenting the way your velvet walls surround him. 

His body is heavy, hovering over yours, colliding into yours with every deep thrust. Soft, tan, and scarred skin glistens with sweat—too pretty not to mark up, with bruises, or scratches.

Crimson eyes stare into yours, claws rip the sheets beside you. Every kiss at your neck comes with the threat of sharp fangs, grazing sensitive skin. 

He feels so incredibly filling, his tip squeezing into the deepest corner of you, rubbing your most sensitive spot. 

He knows how to make you feel good, grinds up and into you, one hand at your neck, his thumb caressing your jaw, and the other hand with a thumb against your clit, at a slow and gentle pace. 

Your end crashes over you in waves. Miguel kisses your neck, praising you, “such a good girl,” as his hips brush against yours. His climax is quick to follows yours.

You twirl your fingers in his hair as you watch him take his turn.

You observe the way his jaw clenches, the way his fist grips the sheets, his other hand holding your face, as he kisses you repeatedly, cussing in between. He digs his face into your neck trying to control his reaction to bliss, before coming back up to finish with a lengthy passionate, messy kiss. 

[screampied]

‘GHOSTIN' ?! ★

ᡴꪫ sum. it's midnight and you're bored. bored and horny. everyone knows ghosts aren't real, or are they? you end up summoning a ghost and he's not leaving anytime soon, in fact, he wants to give you a taste of your own medicine for disrupting his slumber. you get a taste, alright.

wc. 5.0k

warnings. fem! reader, ghost! toji, unprotected, switch toji, praise, dirty talk, oral (m! receiving), manhandling, spit, impact play, brēeding, biting, size kink, mentions of tummy bulge, nipple play.

an. don't summon ghosts unless their name is toji fushiguro idk

don’t summon ghosts they said—you’ll regret it in the end they said,

but who cares? not you. besides, it’s not like ghosts even exist. you’ve never been one to believe in paranormal activity anyway, although all of that starts to change on a specific night. this night, the clock just struck twelve and you’re bored out of your skull. it was an ordinary sunday night and it was just you and your dead quiet apartment walls. as you’re scrolling on your phone, glancing at your feed a certain link catches your eye. wanna summon a ghost? click here to find out how.

to keep it brief, your curiosity eventually gets the best of you. with a snort, very much not believing the lengthy follow up article that warns you of the possible dangers to come of the spirit, you go into your bathroom, following the steps before your lights flicker. at first nothing happens, oh, see you knew ghosts weren’t real. annoyed a bit that you wasted fifteen minutes of your time—you prepare to leave the restroom when you feel a cold hand on creep on your shoulder.

“tch. the nerve,” a rough voice murmurs behind you. you tense up, craning your neck to indeed see the ghost that was displayed on the picture. yet, he looks more human-like if anything. toji, the name that was said to be his. toji eyes you up and down before a scoff leaves from his reddened slick lips. “why’d you summon me..”

you’re taken aback immediately. with a staggering height of almost six feet, you meet the soulless eyes of a mere attractive spirit. “i— uh,” you sheepishly peer down at your feet, not in a million years thinking it’d actually work. “you’re a real ghost?”

“uh obviously,” he murmurs, mocking your expense. trodding his bare feet across your carpet floor as if he knows the layout, he scratches his chest. “eh, what a mess. you live here?”

ouch, so he was hot and rude. figures,

you take a moment to gawk at the ghost’s attire. nothing really too appealing—just a simple white t-shirt with sweats. it almost could be mistaken as an eerie nightgown if you squint. again, he looks more human than an actual spirit. it was just the paleness of his skin that gave away his non-human features. his clothes weren’t the only thing you were staring at though.

his bulge,

its hard to not notice it, especially with a size like toji’s. you spot the invading print poke through his sweats, the roundness of it, basking in all its dirty glory. you had to restrain yourself from making a fool of yourself — licking your lips and almost allowing your lewd, obscene thoughts to take over. you couldn’t help it though, it was quite literally all in your face. you’re so entrapped in your little phantasm that you don’t even feel the ghost flicking his chilly cold fingers against your forehead.

“girl are you even listening?” he rasps.

“h-huh?” you look up, snapping out of whatever trance had you on such a leash.

toji deadpans, a groan sliding past his lips before he eyes you up and down. his gaze alone makes you nervous. “don’t huh me, i saw what you were looking at,” and he peels up his shirt with a single hand, exposing his curled up washboard abs. god, even as a ghost he was so ripped. your eyes ogle down towards the sable-black boxers he wore, the hem of it peeking from over his pants before he hums, amused. “wanna feel?”

“can i…?” your voice trails off, and it’s so pathetic and soft. you could hardly recognize your own softened tone but you didn’t care.

“knock y’erself out.” he hoarsely shrugs, and you barely give him a chance to finish before your fingers twang against his skin.

immediately, you feel how cold his body was, a shivering temperature that ghosts against your digits as you feel against his body. jade pupils of his burn into you as he watches intently. the hardness of his abs — you feel everywhere, the texture of it was rock hard. his muscles, the way he carried himself, the flexing of his abs. it was all just so attractive. despite how the lower half of his body was freezing, you continued to let your fingers wander on every part of his abdomen.

“you’re cute,” he murmurs, and you don’t realize he’s been staring at you the entire time. toji had to admit, for a human, you were quite easy on the eyes. maybe even his type, if he was a human himself. “are ya always this handsy towards people you first meet or…?”

“not really,” you huff, and your hand trails deeper until it stops near a certain area.

his happy trail,

it was so pretty, jumbles of blackened curly hairs run down near the under part of his v-line. he’s so perfectly sculptured. it was easy to compare his ghostly anatomy to a mere greek god. so perfect, the more your fingers explore down his muscular frame, the colder your fingertips get. “wow, are you sure you’re not a human?”

“wanna find out?”

his words struck right into you like a knife strikes its enemy — you pause, leering up at him with glossy eyes and a slight head tilt. in a coy tone, you rub the back of your neck. “y- yes.”

“c’mere then, girl.”

inching towards him, the ghost then pulls you into a longing kiss. its passionate at first then shifts to sloppy. you moan, feeling him try to pry open your lips with his tongue to allow him access. you do, savoring his freshly minty taste and even his tongue was just as cold. toji tasted like hypothermia—chillingly cold, yet your lips stuck against his like ice. speaking of, his lips stuck against yours like velcro, like glue. your breathing continues to grow heavier by the second before he snakes a hand around your neck, giving it a delicate squeeze. already, you were weak for his touch. toji’s thumb skids against the middle opening of your throat, physically feeling the vibrated sensations pour out from your sweet little esophagus.

a gasp wretches from your throat once you feel the front of his knee go right between your legs. it’s sneaky, the friction you feel from that muscle alone earns a soft noise from you. you whine in his mouth as tongues dance and tangle together in harmony.

where there’s harmony, there’s sync,

he loved the way your tongue curls into his mouth, tasting and savoring his minty flavor. you only wanted more by each dreadfully long second that passes. wobbly arms of yours sling around his neck and the static from his rubbing knee only grows. “f-fuck.” you’d whimper between hot, sultry kisses. suddenly, the air felt thick and heavy. you’re panting, lungs already feeling like they were about to collapse as he gingerly starts to suck on your neck. while he does, you succinctly open your eyes to see him already staring at you. darkened raven eyes, long untrimmed bangs that almost shield his eerie pupils alone, his eyes told a thousand stories.

his eyes told a thousand stories and maybe you wanted to know more about this ghoulish visitor.

after a while, the steamy kiss ends up departing and you gasp for air. “knees, pretty. get down for me.”

with how compliant you were, it was almost amusing to see. you get down on your knees, being face first with his bulge yet again. you just wanted to run your tongue everywhere. so full and well rounded, you already started to feel the saliva trickle into your mouth. mouthwatering. toji’s eyes rove towards the pullover hoodie you wore. with an impish expression, he claws a hand over your head delicately. a free finger of his crooks near your chosen attire.

“this. take it off, wanna see more of your body.” he utters in a low tone.

“for a ghost, you’re pretty pervy.” you tease, hauling the piece of clothing over your head.

“girl please. says the mortal staring at my crotch,” and as your hoodie is suddenly removed, he takes a good peek at your bra. he simpers. “mhm,” he inhales for a second, taking in your frame for a few solid moments. toji’s eyes then glance towards your chest. “bra, take that off too.”

you unclasp the back strap of your bra with one hand and he grunts once he sees your breasts spring free. “fuck, y’er pretty. ‘m gonna ‘hafta take my time with you.”

and he does,

toji’s got you on all fours, cutely struggling to take him fully into your mouth. his ruby-colored tip greets you and you can’t help but skitter your tongue against the frenulum. he groans, raking a hand in your scalp. as he’s standing, he moves a few strands of hair away from your face. “yeah, open that jaw. get it wet, spit on it if you have to, doll.”

“mmf,” a muffled moan comes from you as your knees dig into the ground. his taste was flavorless and still you wanted to savor it. sweet like candy, toji’s scent alone clogs up your nostrils and his darkened pubic hair tickle against the rim of your nose. he’s just so big though, so fucking big . .

as you’re taking him down inch by inch, it’s hard to try not to gag as he continues to gradually shove himself into your throat. toji’s abs clench and tighten as he sees your jaw hang open, giving you a single thrust and you pull away to gasp. already, you’re starting to drool for him. with your mouth left open ajar, it had easy access to the saliva dribble down the sides of your lips and onto your chin.

“heh, ‘s too big for you? that’s my bad.” he purrs.

“shut up,” you grumble, your tongue licking alongside his dick. a throbbing vein of his that runs down his side pulses against your tongue and you hear him hiss. toji’s still got a hand combing into your hair, pulling your head up concisely just so he can see that pretty face one more time. “so f-fuckin’ big.”

“this is just y’er mouth, wait ‘till ya feel me from the inside.”

you roll your eyes at his cockiness, preparing to take him inside of your mouth again. your spit covered lips open up and he coos once he sees that you’re slobbering. you let a few amounts of your sheeny saliva pour onto his shaft, wetting it in the process. “play with y’er tits, use ‘em.”

you grab ahold of your plump mounds, brushing a thumb against your perked nipples before your head starts to bob. as he’s sinking his dick into your tight little throat, he groans.

toji could get used to the warmth of your mouth, your plush lips suffocating all around him — he was addicted, and so were you.

with your head resuming to jolt up and down, bobbing repeatedly from the decent pace, your tongue continues to flick against his leaky tip, relishing in the bitterly sweet pre-cum that resides against the very top. another muffled moan slips past your lips as you’re still playing with your breasts, feeling them bounce against each other in crude tandem.

“such a pretty mouth… ugh,” he tightens his grip against your hair, thrusting his hips into you a bit. you break your hands away from your tits to latch onto his thighs. immensely, your fingers dig into the cottony fabric of his sweatpants. toji starts to pant laboriously. heave after heave, you’ve got him sweating already. peeping down, his dick twitches at the sight of your spit dribbling down the corners of your pretty purses lips.

as it travels — it cascades like a waterfall, landing between the curvature of your chest. “mhm, jus’ like that. good girl. haah, ‘s good.”

as his hands rummage in your hair, it’s still maintaining its strengthening grip—you inhale through your nose as your head bounces in consistency. his fingers were still crispy cold, you’re feeling frosty all the way from the waist down.

not only were you feeling frosty though, you were throbbing..

it was no mistake. the sudden adds of multiplying throbs that pang against your pussy makes you start to whine as a hand of yours reaches between your thighs. your panties protect your slick arousal and a pout contorts against your lips as you’re still having your mouth stuffed full of ghostly cock.

“f-fuuuck, y’er fuckin’ nasty. play with y’erself while ya suck me off, do it.” he groans, it was as if he read right through your mind. toji’s breathing starts to pick up as he’s keeping strict eye contact with you. doe-eyed and all, your lashes suddenly shut close for a few seconds. toji meanly pistons his hips, and you moan as you drag your fingers against your sheathed pussy. peeling your laced panties to the side—you strum two digits against your slick entrance, starting to rut back and forth. toji snickers, ruffling the top of your head. “gonna fill this throat up with so much cum, you want that, sweets?”

abruptly, you pry your mouth away from his fattened dick before breathing in a gasp of fresh air. slyly, you hum, a hand wrapping around his hefty base. “don’t you mean with ectoplasm?”

“y’er mouth’s getting smart,” he sneers, grabbing ahold of your head before making you go back down.

toji started to get addicted to your frisky tongue. the way it’s so sloppy, slurping up every part of his fervor, he only wanted more.

he’s a ghost and well, it’s been a while..

as his dick perfectly tucks inside of your mouth, you take him even further. a clammy hand of yours starts to fondle with his balls and he groans. with his jaw tightening, he starts to feel his thigh pounce. “fuuuuck me,” he heaves lowly, knowing his finish was about to approach rather sooner than later. he was just so thick in your throat, tap-tapping away at your little uvula. toji stares at your pretty slobbering lips, your hands still crammed all up inside of your cunt before he presents a more thorough thrust into your mouth.

a familiar primal heat pools into the very depths of your tummy before you hear toji suck his teeth.

it’s a long, deep and sexy groan.

it bellows throughout the thin walls of your small apartment — his face turns sour and you start to feel a surprised guest get introduced on your tongue.

his cum tastes more sweet which was peculiar. usually it’s tastelessly bitter, bland and purely insipid.

but with him, it was sugary sweet. as he pours such volumes of satiny ropes into your mouth, your hands continue to cling onto his pants. it’s a lot, with the way the ghost’s cock erupts into your mouth it’s like a volcano. spitting out such gooey sums of seed. its warmth has you wanting more, as it fills the very inside of your mouth, your tongue swirls all around the savory uncanny mixture.

toji yokes your head back, taking his heavyset dick out of your mouth and you gawk at how red it was now. from the very top, a smile stretches against your lips knowing you did that. swollen, fat balls of his were all in your face, neglected and just desperate to be played with a bit more.

“shit,” he sighs, taking a moment to breathe. toji looks down at your dumb expression, more smug than anything. a hand of his cups underneath your chin before he bends down, pulling you into a deep kiss. again, you return the favor, glissading your tongue against his. it tickles and tangos together, enjoying each other’s wet company. he grunts, reveling in the sweetened taste of his own cum that’s just residing inside your mouth. no shame, no shame at all. the kiss was much sloppier this time—toji pulls away to lick near the corner of your lips, capturing a few remnants of his own seed that tries to stream down from your mouth and below toward your chin. breaking away, he grabs your neck softly, giving you an intimating stare. “you,” the ghost murmurs, his eyes flickering towards your bed. “i wanna break you.”

“you’ll have to pay for that you kn-”

“don’t make me drag you, human.”

you let off a soft playful ‘oof’ once you’re faintly tossed on your own bed. his strength was out of this world— quite literally though,

you look at toji and he inches himself closer towards you. as he leans in for another warm kiss, his body presses up against yours. he starts to grind against you, the friction leaves a wave of fuzz in your ears that never seems to go away. cold glacial lips squashing against your own as you flick your tongue against his, moaning for more. as he’s claiming your mouth in such a rough way, you start to paw at his pants. you feel a simper tug against his lips as he makes out with you, feeling the weight of the bed collapse and shriek a bit in ponderous discomfort.

“taste so good,” he grouses, withdrawing his lips to nip chaste kisses near your neck. you moan, feeling him prop between your thighs. he then licks all against the hidden crevices of your collarbone. “ever fucked a ghost before?”

“usually i’m more into humans,” you pant, and he gives you a subtle eye roll. if you knew a ghost such as toji would look this good — perhaps you’d summon him a long time ago on that stupid link.

“really, oh,” he plays along, prying your legs open a bit to take a quick peek at what he was about to destroy. with low hooded eyes, toji grunts as he sees your soaked pussy all open and on display for him. a padded thumb of his runs down your puffy slit and your legs twitch slightly as a greeting response. “mhm, such a pretty cunt. tell me though,” he huffs, enveloping all five digits around his cock to give it two single pumps. he prods his leaky cockhead against your entrance, watching you writhe underneath him. “before you summoned me, were ya playin’ with her?”

her as in between your legs, your pussy,

for some reason, toji addressing your cunt as her made you throb profusely. you felt it. an annoying ring screams through your ears as you slump back against your bed, your ankles making an attempt to lock around him. “n- no.”

“y- yea,” he mimicks your little stutter. your mouth drops as you feel yourself starting to gape open for him the moment he starts delve his dick into your pussy. he was so big, you feel the curve of the head and it’s just voluntarily crooking inside of you. toji gives you a side eye with misty peripherals, watching as you make an attempt to hide your face within the crack of your elbow. “nah, girl. don’t hide that pretty face from me. i wanna see you while i stretch you out.”

you moan, feeling his frigid fingers peel your arm away and he’s got a full face view of you.

already, your toes started to center with feelings of pure numbness. his thick cock splits inside of you so good that it’s already got you whimpering out elongated syllables. your voice was a euphony, “oh my g-goddd,” you whimper out, grabbing ahold of his shoulders. toji falls into your chest, still easing his way into your accepting walls. it’s relatively hot inside, smoldering gummy walls of yours entrap him, holding him hostage. he sibilates out a single hiss as you’re still trying to adjust to his massive size. his sack hangs from the base down and you let off a lusty giggle, already cockdrunk. “s-so the rumor’s true that ghosts have big dicks, f-fuck you’re gonna split me open.”

“heh, oh? that’s a fact, not a rumor,” he playfully flicks your forehead. a hand of his then clasps around your thigh. he spreads it apart, sinking into you further. he’s so deep, halfway in that your stomach’s already seizing. it was his tip that made you feel everything at once. the girth he has, he makes sure you feel every inch, every part. toji’s filling every area of your orifice with his spectral shaft. “ugh, clampin’ around me so good,” and he presses a palm against your tummy. “feel me here, yeah?”

and you do, as his hand gingerly brushes against the outer skirts of your stomach, your lips part into an ‘o’ shape of surprise. “y- yesss, fuck. ‘s deep, toji.”

“fuck,” he groans, and you let off a cute astounded, ‘oh’ once you feel him fully plug you all the way in. it’s a popping noise that you’ll never forget. heavy balls of his creates a single thrust and you jolt all the way back. clawing at the backsides of his skin, you whimper out a sweet melodic hum. “pussy’s gonna get me addicted, girl.”

your legs lock and ensnare around toji’s slim waist as he starts up a pace—he’s slow and steady at first. slow and steady wins the race, but with a dick as big as his, you’re already losing. not so much physically, at least not yet.

just a few fathomless thrusts from the ghost and you were whipped, starving for more. hungry even.

perhaps if this was some sort of dream, you didn’t wanna wake up. it all felt to real to just be your imagination anyway,

his hits against you were just so good that it was brutal. toji’s got you laid against your back so he can stare right into your eyes. he’s panting, gawking openly as he feels you bare down on him. your dense walls squeeze around him before he’s starting up a more salacious tempo. you could barely even keep up. you whine, craning your neck to the left a bit — to the right, then to the left for the umpteenth time. your legs were already shuddering, your cunt feels so stuffed of his shaft that you’re already flumped against the mattress. not even before long, it’s stares to bounce and judder from the clumps of weight on top of it. you dig your teeth into toji’s shoulder, whimpering at how he repeatedly thwacks his tip against that forbidden g-spot. “t- toji, tojiiii,” you hiccup, cross eyed and doe-eyed.

he could listen to your voice all day, a tune he could forever hum.

for the nth time within seven seconds, your pussy squelches from the parching sensations of pleasure. you’re so wet, sopping so much that you put faucets to shame. toji feels your slick trying to snail its way all the way down to his base. “that’s it, mhm. fuck against me, girl. c’mon, yeah,” he shushes up against your ear, licking against your lobe. you shiver, his voice all deep with a slight hint of rasp in it. a raw moan grabs itself from the back of your throat and you feel a hand of his snakes its way towards your jouncing tits. toji groans—leaning in to suck against your neglected nipples, feverish breath ghosting against your sweet skin before you whine. “god, you taste so mmf, good.”

as he’s still jerking his sharp hips into you at full might, his tongue swirls around your pretty nubs, savoring it. another ear splitting ‘pop’ leaves his lips each time he breaks away from your mounds. “could eat you up.”

“f- fuck, ‘s good, toji. harder p-pleaseee,” you mewl out, his weight that hovers over you sends you shivers all throughout your spine and body. strained deep inhales escape from your heavy lungs as you feel his calloused fingertips dance against your skin. a big hand of toji’s caresses alongside the curvilinear juncture of your body, your pretty physique—taking in your humanly beauty. oh, a sight for sore eyes.

toji was almost positive he was addicted to you, he’s fucking you so deep that he makes it so easy for you to jerk away from from your attentions. he even has a scent to him. despite his phantom being, his aurora alone was just enticing. its strong. the musk infiltrates the insides of your flared up nostrils and you whine again. your whine was more of a choke, clinging onto his back, scraping your nails down his tense back muscles.

“f-fuck, squeezin’ around me so good, baby,” he groans, leafy eyes staring into yours the entire time. toji leans in to nip kisses everywhere on your face, near your neck, and right back to your chest again. your body, he could get used to this,

to you.

maybe humans weren’t all that bad,

toji’s hips were rude, the perfect way to describe it. it really knew no bounds, he knew no bounds.

your glossy eyes glance up at him and he’s got nothing but a sly smirk plastered on his face. you study his features as he’s plowing you deeply into your own bed—the bed creeks and creeks that it sounds like it’s hanging onto his final hinges.

as you’re gazing into his features, the first thing you notice was that scar.

he’s got a slanting, slashing scar that runs down near the right side of his mouth. surprisingly, it makes him ten times more attractive than he already was. as you’re trapped in your own thoughts again, he moves his face closer to you to kiss an alluring slope down the side of your neck. just a few minutes with you and he was already memorizing each particular spot of yours.

an adorable lewd expression marinated against your features as your pussy continues to slosh and squeak against his thickened cock. he’s so big inside of you, your tummy ends up extending a bit from his angles he’s hitting. toji never misses a spot though, he’s a precise man, a precise ghost,

you’re left stupid with your tongue visibly lolling out. he can’t help but chuckle.

“look at that tongue, mhm,” and he takes the opportunity to suck against the limp muscle. you whine, hugging his beefy body tightly as you suddenly feel agitated with the pure feeling of your arousal. pretty soon, you were getting close.

he was too—he could feel it, warm bodies against each other, he was gonna lose it.

toji’s mouth goes against your neck, exposing his pearly whites and he bares a single fang. he buries it into the crook of your neck again, adam’s apple bobbing out from each guttural moan that detaches from him.

“f-fuck fuck,” you sob out, your ankles securely locking around his hips as he’s making more haste. you let off a tiny whine, his teeth gently nibbling against your flavorsome flesh. you tasted so sweet, he craved you. crimson lips of his twitch before he pulls you into another kiss. this time, it’s more passionate. as his tongue explores the very depths of your mouth, his tempo was now relentless. flimsy arms of yours continue to flop due to your weak grip against his wide shoulders before he gently bites your bottom lip. “inside,” you huff, licking the edge of his scar. a faint purr comes from toji once you do that and it’s a bit cute. “wanna feel you from the inside.”

“careful,” he groans into your neck, pressing a palm onto your tummy again. “you might get possessed after this.”

you pause, giving him a furrowed eyebrow look and he only sneers at you.

“joking, ghost cum ‘s harmless, baby. i think..”

he was nothing but a mere tease, you roll your eyes before you babble over and over in his ear for him to shoot inside of you. with ease, he’s emitting out all kinds of moans from you. you’re so loud, he’s got sensitive ears so it makes his ears twitch. your voice though, he’s so drawn in to hearing every little whine that departures from the backs of your precious throat.

welts of pleasure surge through your body as your chest recoils against his. gnawing down on your lip, you spasm once it finally approaches.

it’s a wave, pouring into you all at once. the crash was unexpected. expect the unexpected, they say.

your legs felt zealously numb, your eyes dramatically roll back as your high finally comes. it’s so much, you could still feel your cunt gaping. a whiney grunt cuts out of your throat before a squeal shortly follows. waves and waves of pleasure make way for you, pupils twinkling with stars, you were experiencing pure ecstasy.

shortly afterward, toji’s comes and when he cums, it’s a lot. he spurts into you in volumes, it dumps into you so good that you’re left twitching. suddenly, you grow quiet from the way his palm swats over your mouth. “listen to it with me. saved so much for you.”

and his words were slow, his breaths were slow, everything was ploddingly slow.

you don’t think you’ve ever felt more full in your life, your cunt constricts one more time around his length before you let off a dry whimper. “mmm,” you inhale a candied breath, he’s still buried balls deep. his hilt thrashes against your sodden entrance gently before he pulls out, staring at the mess. such goopy amounts of cum pour out of your slit, he brings two fingers to peel back against your sloppy folds. you’re covering him with your slick, viridescent eyes of his peer down to see the head of his cock still oozing out with gluey white masses of seed. “toji..”

“atta girl,” he whispers, hearing the little falter in your voice.

so cute,

he’s filled you up to the brim and that was only just the beginning. “i know. i kn—” and he pauses, being cut off as he feels you bedaub his sensitive tip against your greedy cunt. you move it against your opening slit, watching as it tries to swallow it hole before you pull it back outs you’re still oozing and his eyes flicker to white for a second. “fuuuck, ‘m still sensitive girl.” and he’s the one to let off a whine this time. toji’s weight still hangs against you before you drag him into a kiss while hearing his deprived whimpers feed into your mouth. jet black strands of his tickle against your forehead as he grinds his hips against you, already weak for you. the epitome of pussy drunk. whatever spell you had, he wanted to know what it was. perhaps your pussy was a curse he wasn’t aware of.

your taste was just too tasteful. with the way you linger on his tongue like a treat, he only wanted more. toji pulls away after a while, shaft still halfway into you—idle, not moving a single inch. he’s buried but remains still. a shimmery concoction of spit leaves each lips and toji pants as your lips stray away from his. toji’s lungs feel like they were on fire, each breath he takes feels like it’s being snatched away.

“you,” he exhales, a thumb curling underneath your chin. with a needy look, the ghost’s confidence throws itself out the window and his bottom lip quavers a bit. he pants, making you switch positions and he pats his lap, pouting. “you, on top of me. i- i want more of you. please.”