#and now we do tasks in increments from here on out

[voltrons]

my mental stability rests in the speed racer poster hanging in my bedroom

[balkanradfem]

So, you might remember I started fixing my abandoned garden, and I said I was going to do it in small increments, and then I never said anything about it again. This is because, after I started doing it, suddenly the temperatures dropped below zero, and we had frost! This is appropriate in November, but it was so sudden I didn't expect it. I hadn't even planted garlic yet! And now it was too cold to work the soil. Oopsie.

However this morning I woke up, opened the window, and realized the southern wind was blowing, which means it got super warm! I immediately dressed up, grabbed my garlic, and went to the garden. I couldn't plant my garlic in the area I had already cleaned, because it's the outer area of the garden, and garlic is the #1 crop that gets stolen, so I have to plant it sneakily behind other things, invisible to prying eyes. That means I'd have to clear off another area. Here's what I'm dealing with today!

I know this looks like such a flop but honestly, this is so good for nature. All of the plants have lived their life cycle, housed little bugs and insects, produced flowers for the bees, and then got obliterated by the frost, as it should be. If I just left them be, they would slowly decompose into the soil and make it more fertile. It looks chaotic but nothing bad is going on here! I am going to make space now because there are some regulations for how community gardens should look like, and if one looks abandoned for too long, it gets taken away. I'm off to work :)

I've been working on this for 20 minutes and I found some produce in here!

I'm shocked there's a whole zucchini in there, even after the frost, I've never seen that. She's a bit of a weird texture, because she's gotten frozen, but otherwise looks good! Certainly the slugs love it. I also found a little potato plant, there could be potatoes underneath her. And in the third picture, I'm holding young garlic! I usually find this in the spring, it's interesting it's already so big, I love that.

Another little task I had planned was to find basil seeds; basil will usually grow flowers when it's allowed to grow naturally, and then the flowers create little seed packets inside of them, and after those get nice and dried up, they're ready to harvest. Here's how it looks like:

If I rubbed all those little pods together, I would be able to find tiny black-brown seeds in there! I used to do that before, extract all of the tiny seeds and store them, but later I got lazy and figured I can just save this entire mess and plant it and basil still germinates just the same.

An hour of work later, I have dug out a giant lemon balm plant out of the soil, because it was taking up too much space (no worries about her, she'll grow back in no time, they're immortal), and took out most of the grass, dead plants, and weeds. Here is the cleared garden!

I've freed two small kale plants that could still thrive during the winter, and there's a few brassicas that look willing to go to seed, which would be great for me to have more seeds from them. Now I can finally focus on the task I've come here for; to plant my garlic.

I made little holes with my spoon, and grabbed two biggest heads of garlic to plant the cloves. I'm not too fussed about it, as long as the bulbs are underground, you can't stop them from growing. If they're not in too deep, then it's easier to pull them out later! And my soil is more fertile on the surface as well. Usually during the winter, little rodends will dig a few of these out, to see if they're delicious, but when they realize it's not yummy, they just leave the bulbs on the top of soil. So I have to check on them a few times to make sure I plant them back! And they're so forgiving and strong, they just go right back to growing, bulbs are incredible.

I counted the garlic here, and there's 22 cloves, which should give me 22 heads of garlic in the late spring/early summer. I couldn't take any more pictures, because my hands were too muddy, but I planted additional two rows in a different location (in case thiefs find one location), and then I also had some of the 'spring garlic', which is a late variety, meaning it grows later, but lasts longer. Usually normal garlic will start sprouting in december, after which point it starts getting inedible, but late-variety garlic will stay fresh until spring. Planting garlic is so easy! The entire venture took me 15 minutes, and you could do this anywhere, and would be guaranteed some heads of garlic.

So watching these pictures you might think 'there's still so much weeds in here, you did not clear this off' and you're correct, I don't clear everything off! This is because I employ a different tactics in stopping weeds from growing; usually during the winter, I will cover the ground in a thick layer of dry leaves, so that light won't reach any of those weeds, and they stop growing just due to lack of sunlight. I'm not doing it this year because of one particular reason, and this reason is slugs. If I cover the ground in leaves now, they won't only protect it from the light, but also protect it from the cold. They'll prevent the ground from freezing as badly as it would usually freeze. And usually I love doing that, but this time, there are so many slugs in the ground that I want cold to eliminate. I'm going to leave my garden like this, and hope that we have an exceptionally cold winter and that slugs get deleted.

I planned to make a lentil soup today for lunch, so I'm grabbing some chives, and some kale to add to it! Kale is still thriving, and I'll be able to harvest it all winter. At this point I've been working for two hours and my pain started acting up, so I figured it was enough for today, and headed home. Here's all the stuff I brought home for lunch!

Zucchini, kale, potatoes, chives, young garlic. All great additions for my lentil soup! I love being able to get fresh food in November. The soup turned out amazing, I love lentils with potatoes and kale and garlic.

[keyboardsmashess]

The Siren, or The Heart of the Matter

Chapter Twenty Nine: The Moment

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, canon-typical violence, smut MINORS DNI. A/N: *Eventual smut* has left the chat, *smut* has arrived. If that isn't your jam, you may want to wait for tomorrow's chapter because this one is smut all the way down. If it *is* your jam, then happy Monday my lil degenerates (affectionate)

Summary: Cleo and Bucky finally open up about their feelings, letting the chips fall where they may.

Chapter Directory

As Bucky and I make the awkward walk back to Meg’s (empty) apartment, I find myself wishing I wasn’t so fucking responsible. I would feel a lot less uncomfortable right now if I was well and truly buzzed, but no - I had to switch to water. Idiot. There’s a good foot or more of space between the two of us as we amble down the sidewalk, and if I were any further from him, I’d be walking in the grass.

As we near Meg’s place, I notice Bucky inching incrementally closer to me. Soon, he’s close enough that his right hand brushes my left every few steps. He clears his throat, and if I didn’t know better I’d say he was a bit nervous.

“Cleo.”

I don’t look at him. “Bucky.”

“I - let me explain what happened yesterday.” His voice is pleading.

I shake my head, feeling embarrassed. “No need. Like I said, I heard you loud and clear, and I’m sorry for… for doing that.”

He stops right there in the middle of the sidewalk in front of Meg’s apartment, grabbing my hand and pulling. I’m yanked backward mid-step and stumble as I spin to face him, colliding with his chest. I try to back away, to put some space between us so I can think straight, but his right hand stays tight around my left and his metal arm snakes around my waist, holding firmly.

“I’m the one who needs to apologize,” he says, voice soft. I’m incapable of thought at the moment, which means speech is certainly out the window, so I simply shake my head blankly.

“The only mistake yesterday was me running off. The kiss was the opposite of a mistake. It- it was the best damn kiss I’ve ever had, Cleo, and I wouldn’t take it back for a second.” My eyes widen as I blink up at him, but I can’t form a single word, so he continues speaking. “I- I got scared that maybe once you had time to think about things, you’d regret it, and hate me. When I ran off, I went to talk to Nat and she set me straight. Cleo, I came right back to find you - to apologize - but you’d already left.”

I finally find my voice, although it comes out a bit hoarse. “Why on earth would I hate you, James?”

He shakes his head, looking down at the ground. “I was being an idiot. I thought… I was worried that I was taking advantage of you.”

I blink to fight back the sudden rush of tears and wrench myself out of Bucky’s grasp, turning and striding quickly into Meg’s building and up the stairs. I use my key to open her door, feeling Bucky right behind me, and I keep my back to him as we enter.

 I hear the click of the door behind me as he locks it, and I wipe furiously at my eyes, laughing darkly. “I knew it. I fucking knew it would ruin everything.” I whirl back around and face him, giving up on the fruitless task of stopping my tears from falling. “You promised it wouldn’t change things for the worse, and I believed you! I can’t believe I believed you.”

Bucky’s face is anguished as he steps closer to me. “Cleo, no - that’s not it at all, I…” He rubs at his own eyes roughly. “It wasn’t about what’s in the file, I just couldn’t let myself think that you’d… that you’d want me.”

I look up at him, shocked at his confession, and he reaches a tentative hand out to wipe the tears from my cheek. I close my eyes, but I can’t make myself stop his touch.

His voice is low, husky, when he speaks again. “If you never wanna talk about it again, then we don’t. If you wanna talk about it every day forever, then I’m here for that, too. And next time you make a choice, whatever it is, I promise - I swear I’ll trust you - trust that you wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want to.”

I lean into the hand still pressed against my cheek, tears long gone. “Even if what I want is you?”

He blinks in surprise. “You don’t -” He shakes his head. “God knows you’re not the only one with baggage, Cleo, but I can promise I’ll try to trust you if you say you… you want me.”

“Did you mean it when you said you wouldn’t take the kiss back?” I murmur, voice laced with insecurity.

Bucky strokes my cheek with his thumb. “I meant every word, doll.”

Doll.

I freeze, eyes narrowing as an annoyed expression chases the sincerity from my face. “Why the fuck would you call me that right now?”

He drops his hand, running it through his hair as he exhales irritatedly. The tender moment is well and truly broken as our voices rise in frustration. “Christ, Cleo, really? That’s what you’re landing on, out of everything I just said?”

I shrug. “Well, I’ve told you not to call me ‘doll’ like a million times, and then you went ahead and did it anyway.”

Bucky sighs exasperatedly. “It was a term of endearment the last time I had feelings for a woman - you know, back before I was fucking frozen.”

“Of course,” I say, rolling my eyes. Neither of us has moved, the space between us still no more than an inch. “How could I forget, you’re ancient.”

He glares at me, but the heat behind his expression is entirely new, and it coils in my belly. “Goddammit, Cleo, you’re impossible.” His metal fist clenches. “Do you ever just shut up?” His jaw tics as he clenches his teeth, and I feel each flutter of his muscles in my core.

I swallow thickly, steeling myself, and stare directly into his blazing eyes. “I might if you made me, Sergeant Barnes.”

As if I’ve snapped the tether on time itself, everything speeds up - each movement more rapid than seems physically possible.

I see Bucky’s pupils dilate, completely blown, and he makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat as he grips my waist and yanks me flush against him. His metal arm vines up my back, fisting my hair just enough that I feel it. He’s breathing hard with barely-restrained lust, but he stops suddenly - his lips a millimeter away from my own.

I understand what he’s doing - giving me the choice, letting me take that final step - and it makes the want in my center flare white-hot. I don’t hesitate for a second, gripping his shirt in my fists and pressing my lips hard against his. It’s not graceful or tender, this kiss - nothing but a flurry of hands and teeth and tongues and months of pent-up need - but it’s perfect. It’s us.

I skim my hands down his chest, marveling at what I feel, finally allowing myself to appreciate each muscle. They’re chiseled and hard, but not overly large - earned through work and pain, rather than hours in a gym. I slide my fingers under the hem of his shirt and slip them up to his abs, desperate to touch him anywhere - desperate for more. Bucky groans into my mouth at the press of my fingers against his skin, and the sound crashes right through me.

His fingers mirror mine, skating down my back and under my tank top until his large hand settles firmly against my skin, fingers spanning from the small of my back down beneath the waist of my jeans. His pinky just barely brushes against the hem of my underwear. Bucky pulls back, ignoring my whine of protest, and plants kisses along my jaw until he reaches the sensitive spot behind my ear, drawing a breathy moan from my lips. I can feel his satisfied grin against my skin as he kisses down to my neck, my throat, finally placing a soft and reverent kiss on the crystal in the center of my chest.

I open my eyes in surprise, meeting his hooded gaze as he looks up at me with worshipful eyes. Bucky quickly moves both hands to the backs of my thighs, gripping them tightly, and I let out a squeal as he lifts me without warning. I wrap my legs around his waist and my hands tangle in his hair - the hair I cut once in a moment of achingly tender vulnerability. I kiss him deeply and try to communicate the sudden rush of feelings at the memory. He kisses me back, slipping his tongue between my lips, and I lose myself in the taste of him.

“Where - where’s the guest room?” Bucky manages to say, pulling back. He shifts my weight, metal arm supporting me fully now (and tightly gripping my ass), so he can use his other hand to slide the strap of my tank top and bra off my shoulder and press a few kisses there.

I tip my head back, eyes closed, and moan - trying to form a coherent thought. “Th-there isn’t one,” I gasp, gripping his hair tighter.

He growls, the sound low and from the back of his throat, and reluctantly pulls away from my shoulder to look at me. “Couch or bed?” he asks simply.

I meet his eyes and refuse to let myself be scared by the deep well of emotions I find there. “Bed,” I say. “I’ll leave some quarters.”

Bucky laughs, the husky sound of it building to a throb deep in my core, and he carries me effortlessly down the hallway to Meg’s room. When we get there, he tosses me onto the bed, watching me with lust-filled eyes as I bounce a few times before settling. 

“Are you sure, Cleo?” he asks, and I can see the effort he’s putting into holding back. I nod vigorously, propping myself up on my elbows to whip my tank top off by way of answering. He groans at the sight before closing his eyes. “I need to hear you say it.”

“James,” I say, voice breathy and full of need. “Trust me - I want this. I want you.”

The final grasp on his control shatters, and he grabs the meat of my thighs to pull me roughly toward the edge of the bed. I nod, understanding his unspoken ask, and undo the button on my jeans. He yanks them down my legs with one hand, using the other to hold my bare waist and keep me from sliding off the bed. I kick my jeans the rest of the way off my ankles and Bucky pauses, just staring at me.

For a brief moment, I’m almost embarrassed to be wearing such unremarkable undergarments, but the awe in his eyes quickly chases that thought from my mind. I bask in the feeling of being adored - being wanted - and a sense of joy spreads through my body. My crystal begins shining brightly. “You’re the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” he says roughly, and I beam at him, his face painfully beautiful in the glow.

I reach up and grab a handful of Bucky’s shirt, pulling him close enough to kiss. He rests his hands on either side of my head to support his weight, and kneels on the bed with a knee on one side of my hip and another between my legs. I break the kiss long enough to tug at his shirt with both hands, looking at him in question. “Yes,” he whispers. “Anything you want.”

I pull it up and over his head, tossing it to the side, and quickly slide my hands down the planes of his chest to reach his jeans. I undo his button almost as quickly as I had my own and push the jeans as far down his hips as I can reach. He kicks them off awkwardly, lifting one knee at a time to shuffle them down his legs and onto the floor, and I giggle at the adorable way he furrows his brows in concentration.

Now in only his boxers, Bucky smirks down at me. “Oh, you think this is funny?”

I bite my lip to keep from grinning. “Maybe a little.”

He shakes his head. “Always with something to say. What happened to shutting that pretty little mouth of yours?”

I raise my eyebrows defiantly. “I’m still waiting for you to make me.”

He narrows his eyes and growls deep in his throat, pressing his body down against mine and roughly kissing my neck. I claw at his back and moan at the feeling of his knee pressing against my center. I can feel the smirk on his lips as he nips at my neck, quickly soothing the hurt with his tongue. 

“What was that?” he says smugly, reaching underneath me to unclasp my bra. He pulls the garment off in one movement and spares a moment to stare at my exposed breasts, the hungry look in his eyes almost certainly mirrored in my own. 

He bends and takes a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, and brings a hand to thumb my other peak. I moan again. “Hmm?” I can feel the vibration of his question, and my eyes flutter closed in bliss. “Finally out of snarky remarks?” he asks.

“No,” I pant, unable to stop myself. I force my eyes open. “Just waiting for you to do something worth remarking on.”

Bucky’s eyes burn as he looks up at me with a crooked smirk. “You’re fucking infuriating,” he says fondly.

 “You say that a lot.” I grin, repeating my quip from earlier in the evening. “Find a new line.”

He chuckles. “If you say so.” And he pushes up, lifting his body off mine to draw a line with his tongue from the hollow of my throat, over my crystal, between my breasts, down my stomach and through my navel, stopping right above the line of my underwear. He kneels on the ground and wraps his arms under my knees, throwing my legs over his shoulders and yanking my ass right to the edge of the bed. Bucky takes the elastic of my underwear between his teeth and smiles at me smugly. 

“Oh gods,” I whimper, drinking in the sight of him.

“No, just Bucky,” he says, and I roll my eyes and huff a laugh, nudging his head with my knee.

“You’re awfully cocky, Barnes.”

“You’re about to find out why.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “And I really prefer Sergeant Barnes, if you’re taking notes.” Before I can respond, he takes the hem of my underwear in his mouth again and yanks them down to my knees, letting them fall the rest of the way off.

I shiver at the feeling of being fully naked before him. It’s not as if I’ve never been in this position with someone. I’ve been here plenty of times, but when Bucky is the one looking at me - taking in every single exposed inch of me - I know he’s seeing far more than just bare skin. 

He inhales deeply. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispers with none of the blustering and preening from before, pressing kisses on each individual stretch mark lining the inside of my thighs. My breath catches in my throat, and I run my fingers through his hair, nails gently scraping his scalp. He blinks up at me, the emotion in his eyes sending me reeling.

“Bucky, please,” I whine, my confident snark long gone. 

“What?” I make a pleading noise at his question, eyes wide, but he shakes his head. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“I need you,” I whimper.

Bucky presses featherlight kisses up my thighs, alternating between each side, coming close but never reaching my center. “What do you need, sweetheart?” His voice is low - reverent.

I close my eyes, cheeks flushing crimson. I’ve never been shy in bed before. Then again, Bucky’s been bringing out new sides of me since the moment we met, so why would now be any different? 

He grips the side of my leg with his metal arm, hard enough that I jolt at the pressure. “Eyes open. I want you to look at me when you tell me what you need.”

“James,” I gasp, forcing my eyes open. “I need you to touch me. I need to feel you inside me.” The words spill out in one breath, a long, nearly unintelligible run-on word, but his grin tells me Bucky understands just fine.

“Anything you want,” he murmurs, finally - blessedly - dipping his right middle finger between my thighs. “Oh sweetheart, is all this for me?” he says, grinning crookedly at the wetness he finds there.

I nod fervently, eyes wide and on him, and he doesn’t break his gaze as he leans close and licks a stripe up my center. My head falls back against the bed and I moan, biting my lip to stifle the sound.

Bucky chuckles against my core, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through me. “We don’t live here,” he says, beginning to move his finger inside me. “Let me hear you.” I moan again, loud and unrestrained, as he adds a second finger, pumping them in sync with his tongue circling - but never touching - my apex. 

“Good girl,” he praises the sounds of my pleasure, and I feel a flood of wetness at the phrase. He raises his eyebrows. “Liked that, did you? You like being my good girl?” I’m incapable of response, riding the waves of euphoria, until his fingers suddenly withdraw. I whine in protest and he gives me a heated smirk. “I said I wanted to hear you, doll.”

“Yes,” I gasp, wiggling beneath the metal arm pinning me against the bed, my dislike of the pet name the farthest thing from my mind. “Yes, I like being your good girl.”

He grins and returns his fingers, adding a third, and I gasp at the feeling of fullness. 

“Is this okay?” he asks at the sound, voice suddenly concerned. 

I nod vigorously. “Very okay. Please don’t stop.” Bucky resumes his ministrations at my plea, his tongue moving ever closer to the bundle of nerves at my center. “Oh gods, Bucky, I’m so close. So fucking close.”

He hums against me, pumping his fingers faster, and finally brings his tongue to my clit. I cry out at the sensation, and without even meaning to I squeeze my thighs against Bucky’s head.

“Good girl, that’s it. Let go for me,” he says before bringing his tongue back to my center, laving it as he fills me again and again with his long fingers. 

I’m overloaded with pleasure, absolutely overwhelmed with the competing sensations of his fingers and tongue and words, and soon I find myself climbing higher - higher - higher. He scrapes his teeth across my clit and I’m gone, toppling over the edge as I moan his name. Stars explode behind my eyes, and I feel heat radiating from the crystal at the center of my chest. Bucky carries me through my climax without wavering for a second from his movements, waiting until I collapse - boneless and breathing hard - to withdraw. 

He waits until I open my eyes to suck his fingers clean, winking at me when he’s done, and I give him a blissful smile as I catch my breath. “I told you I’d finally get you to shut up,” he says, a proud smirk on his face.

“That’s it,” I say, panting a little as I sit up on the bed. “You’re done for.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “What do you me-” he starts to ask, but I cut him off by standing and rotating him so his back is to the bed. As I sink to my knees in front of him, his mouth gapes open. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to do that just because I -”

I interrupt him a second time by palming him through his boxers. “I thought you were going to trust that I know what I want, Sergeant Barnes,” I say in an innocent voice. He groans, his eyes all but rolling back in his head, rendered speechless. “That’s what I thought.”

I slowly inch his boxers down his legs, pulse stuttering as his length is freed. And I thought three fingers felt like a lot, I think to myself, eyes wide. I wait for his smug remark at my expression, but his eyes remain closed as he steps out of his boxers. I toss them over near my own underwear and grin, eager to see him as lost in ecstasy as I was. Without warning him, I inhale deeply and take the entire length of him in my mouth, choking slightly as I do.

Bucky’s eyes fly open, moaning wildly as he sees me looking up through my eyelashes at him, mouth stretched around the base of his cock. With his attention secured, I slowly slide my lips down off his length, releasing him with a pop. “Now who’s shutting up,” I tease, pushing him back to sit on the bed. I crawl closer on my knees, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and swirling my tongue around the tip.

He groans. “Holy shit, Cleo.” I grin, lips wrapped around his tip, and hum in pleasure at his praise. I bob up and down on him for a few moments, swirling my tongue as I go and using my hand to cover his entire length. He fists his right hand in my hair but, instead of directing my movements like I thought he would (hoped he would, maybe), he pulls me off. “As much as I would love for you to keep going, and believe me - I’d love it, I’m not going to last long at this rate, and I want to feel you on my cock first.”

My breath hitches in my throat at his words and I allow him to pull me to stand. 

“Shit,” he mutters, bringing a hand to his forehead.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, instantly nervous I’ve fucked things up somehow.

Bucky shakes his head. “I obviously didn’t think this was going to happen,” he gestures at me. “So I didn’t bring any… supplies.”

I stifle a laugh at his unwillingness to say the word ‘condom’ (especially after just telling me he wants to feel me on his cock) and step closer to him. “I have an IUD, and I’m clean.”

“So am I.” 

“Then I think we have all the ‘supplies’ we need,” I tease.

He bites his lip, suppressing a groan at the implication of my words, and looks up at me like I’ve just hung the moon. “Have I told you yet that you’re incredible?”

I laugh. “Maybe, but I don’t think I’m tired of hearing it just yet.”

“You’re incredible.” Bucky slides backward on the bed, grabbing my hips with both hands to pull me on top of him. “You’re incredible,” he says again, and I climb over his lap, a knee on either side. I hover for a second, soaking in the feeling of his eyes looking up at me with a reverent expression on his face. He’s doing it again - letting me take the lead, make the first move - and in this moment I think I could love him if I let myself.

Unable to put the feeling into words, I try to pour that adoration into my expression as I reach down between us and guide his length inside me. Moving slowly, I give myself time to adjust to his size - far more than his three fingers earlier. With each inch of him I take, I watch a wave of pleasure wash over Bucky’s face. His hands grip my hips tightly enough to bruise, but he never pulls me down. He’s giving me complete control.

With a final gasp, Bucky is fully sheathed inside me, and we moan in tandem at the sensation. 

“You’re incredible,” he says a final time, words coming out between sharp inhales.

Slowly picking up the pace, I brace my palms against his firm chest and move on him, each bounce and twist of my hips sending us both to new heights. He reaches his right hand up to grasp my breast, squeezing and thumbing my nipple, and I sigh his name. James, Bucky - they come from my lips interchangeably, both meaning this man who is drowning me in pleasure.

When I start to feel myself nearing my climax, I cup his jaw in my hand, running a thumb over his cheek. “James,” I murmur, and his eyes fly open and meet mine. “I want you to let yourself go.”

His eyebrows knit together. “What?”

“I’m close, but I don’t think I can finish unless you… take charge.” He groans at my words, self control snapping, and with one fluid motion he flips us around, pinning me underneath him.

“Anything you want,” he repeats. Bucky lifts one of my legs over his shoulder, reaching a new depth with this angle. I moan his name as he bottoms out inside me, his movements coming harder and faster at the urging of my cries.

“Gods, fuck, yes, Bucky, right there, fuck me, so good, you’re so good James,” I mumble incoherently, not even aware of what I’m saying but just needing to say something about the ecstasy he’s bringing me. 

He pistons in and out of me, the sound of our bodies slapping together growing quite loud, and I feel my release inching closer. From the way I tense around him, Bucky can tell, and he beams down at me as he brings a thumb to my clit. “That’s my good girl,” he groans, speech difficult as he nears his own peak.

With the added sensation of him rubbing my center, I claw at his back to bring him closer to me. He complies, never slowing in his thrusts, and I capture his lips in a fervent kiss. As our tongues tangle, I feel his movements start to stutter, and knowing that our kiss brought him closer to finishing is all it takes to push me over the edge. My walls squeeze against Bucky’s length and I scream his name, shattering the mirror and every lightbulb in the room. Plunged into darkness, all I can see is Bucky’s face in the glow of my crystal as I ride the waves of my orgasm, which peaks again at his expression as he finds his own release alongside me.

I moan at the feeling of him filling me up, kissing him again and again and again through our climaxes as we both slow and finally come to a stop, breathing hard.

Bucky withdraws from me, spilling some of his release in the process, and presses against my side. He wraps his arms around me to pull me close, planting a tender kiss to my temple.

“I think I owe Meg more than a few quarters,” I say, waving a hand at the broken mirror and burst lightbulbs.

“I think I love you,” Bucky says, and we both freeze - staring at each other as we simultaneously process the words.

He shakes his head and brings his hand up to cup my cheek and gazes at me adoringly. “No, I didn’t mean to say that.” I huff a sigh of relief, grateful that I won’t have to parse my own tangle of feelings now, but I go rigid as he keeps talking. “I know I love you, Cleo. I’ve known it since the damn karaoke bar.”

I force myself to meet his eyes, not wanting to reject him but not able to say it back, either - not yet. I’ve never said those words to a partner before, and no matter how deeply I might feel them, saying them for the first time is another matter entirely. Instead of telling him that, though - instead of being honest - I kiss him deeply and close my eyes against my own cowardice. 

I pull back from the kiss and gaze at him, trying to say with my eyes what I can’t yet speak, and stand. “I’m going to go get cleaned up,” I say, and I pretend I don’t see the hurt look in his eyes as I turn and make my way to the bathroom.

When I return, he’s slipped his boxers back on, but my anxiety is eased a little when he pats the bed next to him. I slip on his shirt and my underwear before climbing in next to him, laying my head on his chest as his right arm wraps snugly around my middle. He kisses my temple again, and I grab his left hand and bring it to my lips, pressing a kiss to his metal palm. Bucky’s eyes are soft, fond, as he smiles down at me. 

I wrap a leg around his torso and snuggle as close as I can get, my curves and valleys fitting into his body like a missing puzzle piece. 

Please read my mind, I think. Please feel what I’m feeling right now, even though I can’t say it.

He sighs contentedly, chin coming to rest on my head, and blinks his eyes closed, falling quickly into a deep sleep. I watch him for signs of distress - signs of a nightmare - but as the hours tick by, his face remains the picture of calm. Eventually I find myself falling into sleep after him - always, always falling after him. 

[stellacartography]

So @fluffbruary is almost over but time is meaningless and I don't have enough of it so here we go.

This doesn't have a title yet but it will when it moves to ao3.

Day 1 - dark

The early evening dark closed in on the windows of his office at the Diogenes Club. There was a little more daylight every day, the sun stealing back the evening hours in increments of minutes.

Mycroft had retired to the club when his task list had doubled in length at the end of a particularly trying day, which fell at the end of a busier than average week in an interminable month. He longed for a break. He would gladly contract an inconvenient illness if it meant he could justify a week in bed at this stage.

When he arrived he'd called for the vegetable soup and the bowl sat empty as his stomach felt on the corner of the desk. He couldn't explain the hunger that had been plaguing him for the last few weeks. Normally when he was occupied with work, his body's cries for attention went unnoticed –sometimes for days before he deigned to heed them. Yet, recently, it was as though its clamourings had been amplified. Every craving for sweet, rich food, every longing for rest or respite, every yearning to fill the nameless unfathomable emptiness in the back of his mind were now so augmented, he could scarcely ignore any of them.

He'd been working excessively nearly every day in the past month. He had resolved to cut back, swore on his most beloved books that he would increase delegations to Anthea, but the pressures of the role and his long-standing presence in the halls of power made it impossible to escape the eternal parade of requests and questions beginning with "Just one more thing."

At least he had less to concern himself with in regards to Sherlock. His brother had restored his relationship with Doctor Watson and the two were once again cohabiting at Baker Street. Mary's numerous betrayals had continued to reverberate after her death. The child's parentage was questioned and subsequently resolved in favour of her true father and his family in Leeds. Doctor Watson had taken it in his stride and appeared relieved to close that particular chapter. He and Sherlock had taken on a number of cases that sent them all over the United Kingdom and Europe in the wake of the upheaval. Mycroft rejoiced that Watson's instinct was to turn towards Sherlock in his time of need, but kept those thoughts to himself.

Mycroft steered his attention once more to his ever growing collection of unread emails. He psyched himself up to respond to three of the most pressing and was just firing off the last response when a gentle tapping sounded at the door. He pressed the button to signal the awaiting parties should enter and a young club employee entered with DI Greg Lestrade in tow.

Lestrade was visibly agitated, face flushed, shifting uneasily from side to side. Once Mycroft had dismissed the young staffer with a grateful nod, Lestrade let out and audible sigh and let his posture sag.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, so I can speak in here. Thank god." He strode towards the desk, reached into his coat and produced a mostly full bottle of small batch single malt. He placed the bottle on the desk with a pointed thunk and with a steely expression demanded, "Drink with me."

Next

[theweirdwideweb]

we want the work blowout deets

I'll give you the tea but it will be lengthy and I'm going to cry.

Thank you for asking anon. To be honest with you I've been crying in bed about it for the past couple hours. I stood up just now and went to the bathroom and saw two big wet patches on my smiley face tshirt and it sucks so much. I'm so sad.

I could really use some feedback on this situation to be honest. OK. So the long story short is that I got a new supervisor a year ago and my work life has been hell ever since. First off, she doesn't understand what I do. She's never done my job. And she is THE micromanager from hell. For the first 7 months of the year she had me turning in a time card every week showing everything I did down to 5 minute increments. I turn the spreadsheet in on Friday, then every Monday we'd have a meeting where she'd tell me she just doesn't understand how I use my time. Why did it take so long to do X amount of invoices? She estimates it should take 2 minutes per invoice, but it took me 4 minutes per invoice. Like I said she knows nothing about my job and as many times as I've explained it she still "doesn't get it." It was demoralizing, nerve wracking, and frankly so insulting to my competence that I went to her boss (my old supervisor who I love). When she did nothing I went to HR with serious concerns about discrimination----it's no coincidence that I was granted some medical leave at the beginning of the year to address mental health concerns.

Yada yada yada, we made some changes and I don't have to turn in the spreadsheet anymore, but she is still making me email her every week with a list of tasks I didn't complete from the week before. It's still insulting but at least she agreed I'd only have to do it for another 3 months. Actually she said 1 month, but she's such a bitch that by the next HR meeting she claimed she never said 1 month and switched it to 3 months. She's a fucking moron, reader. She's dead fucking stupid. I really can't stress that enough. Dumb. It took her 15 years to get the position I got within 3 years of starting. The only reason she's where she is is seniority, personal relationships with management, and being a fucking bully. A dumb bully! Telling you how to prioritize your work! She's accused me recently of being unprepared for a meeting---a meeting that I hosted, provided all the material for, wrote all the notes on, fleshing out a new process she told me to start implementing but had zero idea how. She just tosses ideas at me and I'm left to figure out any kind of practical way to do it because---AGAIN---she doesn't know how to do my job. There've been other things too. She's a sneak humiliator. She's a button pusher. She's a moron. A big fat ugly moron who looks like Roz from Monster's Inc.

So on Thursday at 4:30pm, end of the day, suddenly a meeting with HR and this cunt appears on my calendar for 10am Friday (yesterday). I'm like---well here we go. She's either going to fire me or put me on a formal PIP. I'll be honest with you, I'd already decided to quit but I was holding out for my bonus in December. I entered the meeting feeling tranquil. I thought, "Do it. Pull the trigger. I'm ready for the end. Just fire me. Let me go. Release me."

But when the meeting starts it's just a touch base with our HR rep to see how everything is going. Are YOU fucking KIDDING me. Anyone would have thought the same thing I did. Of all the things my supervisor sucks dicks at, communication is the worst of all. She can't even spell. She can't string a sentence together. I mean it's shocking she writes at like a 6th grade level. I've seen emails she sent that are so garbled they are literally incomprehensible.

So I'm PISSED. I express how nerve-wracking the previous evening and all morning had been. We're off to a great start. She lets me know she's going to try to end the email process early. OK good. She tells me she's concerned because I haven't been providing personal feedback to her when prompted. Easy enough to explain: I hate your fucking guts, I'm trying to be a grey rock until I can quit. But I can't say that so I'm just like Alright.

Now here comes the bullshit! 1) She now wants me to ask permission in advance to work on weekends. I'm so overworked and stressed out I work like every weekend and now she wants me to ask her permission for the privilege of working on my day off. Guess who's never working a weekend for this company again. 2) The emails that just contain a list of tasks, right? Was 1 month, now 3 months, etc. She also changed the rules so that I have to provide a count of all the claims I processed across multiple platforms. And well---she just doesn't understand how I processed X number of claims and it took this long. In fact, she said, she counts 8 hours reported on my timecard she can't account for last week.

I lost it. I was openly hostile and belligerent. Fuck this fucking bitch. I cannot work for this vile idiot anymore. I actually used my IRL voice to poke holes in what she was saying and pointing out how fucking stupid it all is. Then she comes at me for not respecting her authority. As a reminder, just minutes before she'd complained about me having no feedback for her.

I left the meeting by refusing offers for additional time with the HR rep. I was in no place. I barely worked the rest of the day I was so upset and I didn't send my email, didn't complete my tasks, and didn't ask her permission to finish it up on the weekend (lol). I don't have another job lined up but this is the last time she's going to question whether I'm just straight up lying on my timecard or some kind of moron. That's it. This is her 100th strike for me.

Now here's why I'm so conflicted. 1) My previous supervisor (now my boss's boss) is going on a leave of absence like THIS WEEK for about a month and a half to treat her cancer. I care about her very much. I don't want to stress her out at the last second like this. 2) My bitch boss is also having a sudden serious health problem requiring her to be at the hospital multiple times a week. 3) On top of that, this stupid fucking cow has to take over my boss's boss's work while she's out for cancer. 4) They are absolutely fucked without me. For me to leave right now is a disaster. Add to that---the one person I manage and have a 100% rock solid relationship straight up told me that she's going to quit at some point and that if I quit she's walking out right behind me. She said this to me unprompted and I discouraged her from quitting. 5) I have a heart. The boss and the boss's boss are both having life problems that are more important than work. I think it's immoral to leave them in the lurch right now. They have serious health problems. As much as I hate my boss, at one point we were friends. My heart is breaking.

So I'm crying in bed. I can't live this way anymore. Toxic work stress has taken over my life. I get so miserable, but then some days it's just a job. It's a job I know how to do. I've been here 6 years. The health insurance is spectacular. I've got nothing lined up. I have adequate savings to get through a couple months of unemployment, but it's no guarantee I'll find a position that suits me in that timeframe. I have all these personal relationships at work (a mistake I will not repeat). I've let this job become part of my identity. I'm getting older. I'm 37 and I'm tired and I'm crazy and I just want peace. This position is fully remote---what if the next guy makes me work in person? My whole life will change. I just want this job to work like it has been for the 5 years before she took over. I'm so sad. I've felt this way so many times.

I want to quit first thing Monday. But I want to offer them the option of staying on until good boss gets back from cancer leave, so long as I don't have to work with illiterate cunt boss any more than is absolutely critical in the meantime. What do you think guys? My heart is breaking.

[betterbemeta]

don't let the bad news (evil executive orders, play by play of obvious corrupt schemes, etc.) tire you out but here's the thing.

this is not the time to 'wait,' or 'hunker down' or 'take a break.'

I know that fact plays havoc with people who have anxiety, or have ADHD or experience mania, etc. It can be difficult for many people to handle 'urgency' without it feeling like

they are being screamed at maximum volume to have already done 'everything'

but also to do it right now

and also they're already a failure

and also they can fail worse or harder, etc. etc.

I understand these feelings. But we must navigate urgency now and fragility is unfortunately not an option. Increasingly 'breaking' doesn't mean another adult fixes it for you, it means 'swept into the trash.' I understand that many people need support to confront this reality, but accessing that support also takes work, unlike an algorithm it will never 'find you.' Not falling through the cracks is not always voluntary but we want to maximize the cases where it is.

And we can talk about how the removal of safety nets is a strategy to ensure as many people smash against the ground as possible. But not on this post.

The thing is, there is no material difference between the behavior that a violent ruling party wants us to do (stay put due to obedience) and the action that the 'freeze' reaction to danger wants us to do (stay put to conserve energy/endure pain).

Even if we frame it as 'needing a rest' or 'self-care,' every significant delay to critical tasks is still a delay that could have an impact on us. Moving forward is self care right now, and will be community care if we do it in groups.

It is the strategy of oppression to make moving at all feel so overwhelming that you believe you only have the strength to hide away as they do whatever they want.

Many people will relinquish their autonomy this way, sometimes even actively.

the creepy tradwife lifestyle is bait for overwhelmed women, that a Husband will take half of the artificially overwhelming responsibility of independence away from you, in exchange for being a robot that automates HIS independence. Which he believes he needs, if he can't afford to pay a servant!

The military benefits when poverty is un-survivable with dead ends, to-dos, shit jobs, waiting lists, especially for people who have been screwed over education, that giving yourself to a cult seems like a good deal. They house, feed, clothe you, they give you directions in a world that abandoned you! You can trade up 'get a job lazy poor' to 'god bless you for your service!' (don't ask veterans if they can eat that.)

But being overwhelmed can still cause you to give up autonomy passively. Especially if you are alone or feel alone.

You don't need to do everything all at once but make serious (incremental, sane, well-paced) goals to do things you may want to accomplish like

get your bank account or financial stuff sorted out,

apply for a passport,

change your name/get married/similar processes,

get on unemployment (may also require proof of weekly job applications depending on where you live),

go to the doctor,

renew your lease or move house,

whatever you need to do. This isn't an exhaustive list.

Pencil in your Saturdays and don't bail, is what I mean.

Make buddies and teams.

Start a group chat.

Whatever works.

As long as it does and you can hold proof of it. Not a 'I sent an email' or 'i left a message,' you MUST follow up. I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry ok. I know. You're ALREADY doing so many things, I know! Me too. I know it sounds like your parents or like "pull up your pants and clean your room!" or like someone's disappointed in you. But nobody is, or they shouldn't be. And this isn't about bootstraps: nobody will participate collectively if you don't. If you wait for there to be a puller upper group, there won't be one. you have to decide to do that thing tomorrow. Even if you're tired and did so many other things today. You have to tell your friends. I KNOW. I know.

these plans and actions will give you a 'tomorrow' and that is critical right now. It is the whole goal of those who oppose you to deny you that. To make them work for it, we have to also work for ourselves.

[peachy-cheeks]

We Still Have Time (week one)

week: arrival | two | three | four

word count: 1,785 words

characters: gojo satoru x afab reader; (minor: Miwa Kasumi; Nishimiya Momo)

warnings: nsfw! also a little angsty and contains spoilers from chapter 222

a/n: well... against my better judgement, i'm making this a six chapter series. i'll go slow since i do want to know where gege is taking this whole thing... its just been a really good writing week and ive been thinking about sleepy sex so! enjoy!

The first week of Satoru's return was a volley between enervation and relief. The dust around his release was gradually settling and the days steadily filled by establishing a rhythm of hypothesizing, strategizing, then training.

Week one of five. A collective, unspoken countdown was the tensed thread between the students, mentors, and the other sorcerers caught in the mix. The recognition of this D-Day prompted vigilance amongst the group and a want to be at their fittest, god forbid, if anything were to go awry.

Vigilance... this was a double-edged sword as you had incrementally lost more sleep as the days drew on.

A lot of your immediate, guttural fear in understanding the gravity of life now had dissipated, so you figured. But the unpredictable stretch of sleeplessness made you aware that fear, at least for you, had manifested as wakefulness.

Satoru, on the other hand, was wakeful out of making up for lost time. So much had happened in those three weeks of his absence. So much... due to his absence. He tasked himself with carefully vetting and reaffirming his alliances, even in the small group of allies present. It would take a while for him to lower any kind of guard... sadly, even with you.

His insomniac habits manifested in him sitting, standing, pacing... while yours were placing all of your might into keeping your eyes shut and, unsuccessfully, attempting to sleep. The common trait between you both being an overactive mind, continuing to hypothesize.... strategize... in preparation for another day of conditioning.

It had been six days since his return. Most of those nights had been spent like this... minds cloudy and unable to shut off for needed restoration.

Your first night next to each other was spent cradling the other, sharing the typical warmth that you both missed. Despite the clinical and unfamiliar environment of your emergency shelter, pure exhaustion and desperate clinging allowed you both to sleep tightly in each other's arms like swaddled babies.

Night two was also warm, but much less peaceful as you both fidgeted, switching positions seemingly every 20 minutes seeking deeper comfort. Energy and focus regained from the night before gave way to a mutual self awareness that the weeks apart allowed your bodies to become more accustomed to sleeping alone than not.

At one point your eyes finally felt as heavy as your spirit. The image of Satoru's tired face peering at you from under his own weighty lids and lashes lulled you closer to sleep. Only moments later, your eyes begrudgingly opened, subconscious sensing the slightest movement.

Your blurry vision could make out the image of Satoru's naked, broad and defined back facing you. So still... apart from paced breathing; slow enough to know that he wasn't in panic... but noticeable enough to make you wonder what was keeping him up. Unfortunately, you had several ideas.

"...you okay?"

He unexpectedly tensed, slipping out of his mental solitude. You could feel him thinking, really contemplating how to answer, which in many ways told you some of what you already knew.

"no... not really. more tired than anything."

An honest answer said with a faint smile. He looked a bit over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of your face which was paying him every last cent of exhausted attention you could.

"me too... "

Your voices matched in whispers as if to not wake yourselves up.

"'...kinda difficult being out... the dark feels different here..."

He was overstimulated. Likely had been since the moment he was freed.

"...'m gonna take a walk..."

You couldn't stop him. Maybe it'd help to let him run through the scenarios and varied endings of what was to come without feeling your presence there.

"okay."

"i'll be right back, promise."

"...it's okay... i know."

Night three took you both by surprise, after finally finding a way to stay more static in sleep. You two counted it as a win, only waking up briefly every other hour, eventually crashing into REM around 6am and, remarkably, sleeping until noon.

"They've been sleeping for a while... should someone-"

Momo intercepted Kasumi's understandable concern as they walked passed the room where you two rest.

"Don't bother... they both look like they haven't slept at all. It's really starting to show in their under-eyes..."

Nights four (better) and five (worse) resumed the disordered pattern with bursts of consciousness segmenting ounces of sleep. As one slept, the other watched.

Night six. It had nearly been a week, a torturous one, and the determination you both felt to catch up on your debt rivaled the overactivity of your anxieties.

Deciding on a new method, Satoru laid toward you in a fetal position; his face inches away from your exposed midriff. Exhales from his nose lightly tickled the shown skin, subtle evidence of his vitality comforting you but not enough to take your sleepy gaze off of the wall. Your palm rested on the crown of his head, fingers lightly playing in the snowy tousle of hair.

He forgot how much he loved this sensation.

With powerful arms wrapping around your waist, he closed the distance between your belly and his face. The pressure of his exhales warmed the surface of your stomach as other sections were blessed with delicate, apologetic kisses. Your fingers massaged the top of his head as his lips pressed further into your skin. His hands reached under your shirt to lightly stroke the expanse of your back and draw you in closer. His desire to suffocate in you halted only by the need to propose a question. Or rather, a solution.

"Can I have you?"

His words followed by another kiss caused a stir in your lower stomach and elicited a hitched gasp from your lips. The pent up rage, mourning, and raw, reactionary emotion had way-sided the common physical desires you had for each other. Desires that you two were unable to express and act on for weeks.

"Of course."

His tongue dragged across small areas leading to your hipbone, punctuated either by a kiss or playful bite. Your vocalizations motivated him through his sleep deprivation.

Pushing at your hip to lay you flatly against the futon and hiking your thighs up and apart, he continued to mouth at your pantyline and inner thigh. You felt drunk off of the lack of sleep and the soothing touch his soft lips provided. His wide hands gripped the back of your thighs, practically pinning them to the areas of the futon around your torso.

Sleepiness stole the memory of your panties slipping off of you. A louder moan fell out of you as his tongue reached the bare and wet folds of your core. While you lazily wondered how he had so seamlessly reached the most vulnerable and sensitive part of you, his tongue dragged deeper across your entrance. Two thick fingers followed, pushing slowly into you.

"...'his okay?"

His lips barely parted from your body, breaking to gauge where your stamina laid. The two digits, surrounded by the wet love that streamed out of you, curled upwards to press against your g-spot.

"fuck... yes... 'toru... yes..."

Your affirming voice and the squeeze of your walls around him intensified the rush of blood to his groin. His hips pushed into the surface below him for friction, moans traveling from his throat, to his mouth, and against your clit. He looked towards your face with deceivingly innocent eyes and when your head wasn't titled back in ecstasy you caught a glimpse that melted you onto him further.

Satoru's persistence despite the lack of rest inspired you to muster strength to reach into his hair again and offer the most provocative tug you could. Your nails sweetly scratched at his scalp before firmly tugging, pushing his lips closer to you. Precum dampened the font of his sweatpants and the pace of his fingers quickened, plunging deeper inside of you pushing you closer to the edge.

Pleasure and sleep pulled at your brains as you drew closer to a climax.

"wait... wait."

You felt Satoru's grasp on your thigh loosen and he immediately stopped, raising his eyes to yours. You pushed to drop your thighs and motioned for his lips to meet yours in a messy, languid kiss. The shift of his body pressed the dense muscle of his torso into yours. His painfully stiff and covered length rubbed against your soaked cunt and across your thigh as he slowly settled next to you.

Your hand idly reached beneath his waistband to cop a feel and slowly expose him. The wet tip met the air and your thumb pressed into the ooze before you stroked up and down. He held onto your face, hungrily kissing and mumbling into your cheek.

"mm... mmuh... fuck..."

He relinquished himself to the feeling of your palm and fingertips massaging the pink tip of his cock for an all too brief moment. Tearing away, he turned you to your side, spooning you, and snuck a hand between your legs to feel your wetness again. You felt his hardness as it poked at your buttocks before slipping between your inner thighs. Wet fingertips reached under your shirt to roughly knead at your breasts and lovingly pinch at both nubs.

The press of your ass against Satoru's lower stomach made him dizzy and he buried his face into the crook of your neck, entering you with a mutual desperation. Touches traveled across your lifted thigh, your breasts, throat, mouth, and hair. Slapped skin and heavy breathing created a lewd lullaby that further intoxicated you two. Tears welted up in your eyes as he fucked into you harder.

Repeated expletives and moans syncopated the sound of your bodies meeting. Your voice hit higher notes and your insides pulsated tighter against the pleasing friction. The closer you were, the foggier your consciousness was. Your climax gave way to a domino effect of Satoru giving his all then (abruptly, to you) pulling out to paint across your nether regions.

And then, silence. Slowing beats of your heart grounded Satoru.

“…Are you already asleep?”

“…mm..uhn…”

You hadn't quite made it down yet.

“Heh... gimme a second.”

With a pat on your rear, Satoru got up and searched for a towel. He returned to the beautiful image of you, blushed all over and unconscious.

“...What a dream.”

So few people were privileged enough to feel the careful touches that swiped your skin as he cleaned you. Even if for just that night, there was alleviation… some sort of pardon (or pity) for your souls. Satoru rested next to you, giving you a final watch before setting his eyes to the ceiling and drifting to wherever you were.

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Bite Down on This

Sierra’s not sure why it’s always when they’re miles from actual help when one of them gets seriously injured. She’s pretty sure it’s almost every time.

She should probably ask Pete. He might have a spreadsheet for it. 

Rows: Sierra, Wren, Shay, Pete, Saanvi (she’d rank them in order of most likely to be injured, but Pete might have gone alphabetical).

Columns: Miles from assistance when needed (It probably goes up in increments of twenty-five).

Wren would have the most recent column addition, she’s out for the next two weeks. But when Pete and Saanvi dialed in on a location being used as a weapons cache for a couple hunters dealing Agency-grade armaments to vigilantes, it needed to be dealt with immediately. 

Unfortunately, the arms dealers happened to be at home when the raid party showed up. One of them took off in a truck full of goods, and Pete and Saanvi followed him with the Jeep they’d borrowed from the agency that was getting ripped off.

She’d chosen not to ask for local manpower backup, in case these guys were someone’s friends and they wound up double crossed.

Now she sort of wishes she’d at least taken two vehicles.

Because when they took down the guy who’d holed up in the cabin, Shay had taken a silver bullet.

Pete gives her a hard time about getting injured a lot, but Sierra would rather it be her than any of the rest of her team. She’s on this task force to redeem herself. She’s got a lot to make up for. The others are just here because it’s the right thing to do. Even Shay.

“I can’t give you blood until we get that bullet out of your leg, or you’ll heal around it. And the silver would poison you even faster.”

Shay nods, teeth clenched. “Then get it out.” 

Sierra unbuckles her wrist cuff, then hands it to him. “Bite down on this. You don’t need to break a fang while I'm working.” 

He does, sharp teeth sinking deep into the worn leather.

Sierra looks from his bloodied pantleg to his tense face, pulls out the smaller tactical knife that isn’t silver plated, and gets to work.

It’s not like she has a lot of experience in safe field bullet removal, but unless she somehow slices through multiple major blood vessels and he loses more blood than they can replace with the emergency stock in his field kit, that doesn’t really matter. 

A field kit that she just remembered is in the Jeep Pete and Saanvi drove away with.

Well, at least she ate some peanut-butter stuffed crackers on the drive over. 

The bullet thankfully isn’t deep, going through a layer of wooden door first sort of lessened the impact, but she has to make sure it, any wood splinters, and whatever pant leg piece it drove in are all out before the wound closes. Vampires always heal back to their state at the time of turning, but that doesn’t account for foreign bodies in wounds. They learned that the hard way. Sierra doesn’t want a repeat performance. 

Shay whines, the sound buzzing around the leather, as she works the tip of the knife below the bullet and pushes it out. She hopes something in his mouth is at least some sort of distraction from her digging around in his leg.

Truth be told, she couldn’t have focused on the task at hand if she’d heard those tortured screams again. As it is, hurting him even to help him makes her feel too much like the Silver State monsters whose spikes and mallets left the faint silver scars still visible on his wrists. 

She rinses the wound with a bottle of water from these guys’ stash, checking for anything she still needs to pull out. The cloth she catches with the point of her blade and part of a disassembled rifle that had been laying on top of a couple crates of phosphorus grenades, and she’s able to pull out the two wood splinters with her fingers.

“Almost done,” she says, resting a hand on Shay’s shoulder for a moment before stalking over to the guy tied up and snarling through a gag in the corner.

“My partner’s injured. And he needs blood,” she says, bending down next to him.

What she assumes were curses turn into something that sounds a lot more like pleading. He thinks she’s going to feed him to the vampire.

She might consider it, but she’s not supposed to be breaking the rules of engagement for her own personal vendettas anymore. Aside from the fact that he’d probably tell everyone she let it happen while he was unarmed and restrained, and Maira would have her head for it (and possibly her strike team as well), they’d probably never get that far because Shay would flat out refuse the blood.

He’s like that. 

Sierra wonders, at times like this, how she ended up with less moral compass than an undead blood drinker. 

She rifles through his jacket pockets until she finds the packet of jerky she saw him snacking on when they were scouting the place, before they pulled up and all hell broke loose. 

She’s got to bring her iron levels back up afterward.

She turns away from the still panicking arms dealer and sits down next to Shay, holding out her arm.

“Bite down on this.”

“I’m not biting you.”

“You’re losing more blood now that the bullet’s out. By the time Pete and Saanvi get back, you’ll need more than they have in our kit.”

“Can’t you do the knife thing?”

“I can go digging around your leg with unsterile tools, genius, I can’t do that on me.”

He shakes his head, but takes the leather out of his mouth, and a second later, teeth close on her wrist.

She doesn’t think she’s ever going to quite get used to the feel of a bite. The closest thing she can compare it to is the stomach-dropping feeling of driving hills at a speed where when you come over the top and start going down, there’s a second where it feels like the car’s going forward into nothing but thin air like a Wile-e Coyote cartoon. 

Another scream buzzes against her skin this time as the wound in Shay’s leg begins to knit itself back together.

Fast healing is a pretty nice trick, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. 

Numbness creeps up her arm, spidering along the veins as the saliva does its work. She watches muscle and skin cover the bloody gash in Shay’s leg. 

She got all the pieces out. He’s going to be fine.

She works a wrapped pad out of a back pocket of her jeans one-handed, and as soon as the fangs slip out of her skin, she opens the cover and presses it against her arm. Vamp saliva is like mosquito saliva. It makes the blood clot less so they can drink. She’s going to need to apply pressure for a bit.

Shay leans against her, panting even though he no longer physically needs to breathe. They both sit in silence for several minutes, until Shay finally says something in a shallow voice that’s still raw with recent pain.

“Why do you always eat peanut butter when we’re going into danger?”

He was bound to notice sooner or later.

“Because your favorite food is peanut butter pie but I don’t always have enough advance notice or the supplies to make that.”

“Whoa. Hold on. You eat peanut butter before these things because you think I might get injured enough that I have to drink your blood?”

“Beats stale bagels and bad motel coffee, right?”

He shakes his head. “Sierra, I mean this in the best possible way, but you’re really, really weird.”

She just reaches for the packet of jerky and pulls out a strip. “Try not to need a round two. This guy’s taste in dried meat was honey mustard.”

Shay makes a face. “Yeah. Have fun with that.”

Sierra chuckles and leans back into him, the vamp saliva in her blood making even eating honey-mustard flavored jerky in a musty cabin with a soon to be ex-hunter screaming obscenities at them from behind a sock gag feel kind of nice.

Still, nothing is going to make filling out the after action report on this fiasco suck any less.

(You can read this story and others from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!)

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies  @writeouswriter @whump-place

[sadisweetomi]

Asking ChatGPT vs Googling: Can AI chatbots boost human creativity?

HOUSTON, Texas

Think back to a time when you needed a quick answer, maybe for a recipe or a DIY project. A few years ago, most people’s first instinct was to “Google it.” Today, however, many people are more likely to reach for ChatGPT, OpenAI’s conversational AI, which is changing the way people look for information.

Rather than simply providing lists of websites, ChatGPT gives more direct, conversational responses. But can ChatGPT do more than just answer straightforward questions? Can it actually help people be more creative?

I study new technologies and consumer interaction with social media. My colleague Byung Lee and I set out to explore this question: Can ChatGPT genuinely assist people in creatively solving problems, and does it perform better at this than traditional search engines like Google?

Across a series of experiments in a study published in the journal Nature Human Behavour, we found that ChatGPT does boost creativity, especially in everyday, practical tasks. Here’s what we learned about how this technology is changing the way people solve problems, brainstorm ideas and think creatively.

ChatGPT and creative tasks

Imagine you’re searching for a creative gift idea for a teenage niece. Previously, you might have googled “creative gifts for teens” and then browsed articles until something clicked. Now, if you ask ChatGPT, it generates a direct response based on its analysis of patterns across the web. It might suggest a custom DIY project or a unique experience, crafting the idea in real time.

To explore whether ChatGPT surpasses Google in creative thinking tasks, we conducted five experiments where participants tackled various creative tasks. For example, we randomly assigned participants to either use ChatGPT for assistance, use Google search, or generate ideas on their own. Once the ideas were collected, external judges, unaware of the participants’ assigned conditions, rated each idea for creativity. We averaged the judges’ scores to provide an overall creativity rating.

One task involved brainstorming ways to repurpose everyday items, such as turning an old tennis racket and a garden hose into something new. Another asked participants to design an innovative dining table. The goal was to test whether ChatGPT could help people come up with more creative solutions compared with using a web search engine or just their own imagination.

The results were clear: Judges rated ideas generated with ChatGPT’s assistance as more creative than those generated with Google searches or without any assistance. Interestingly, ideas generated with ChatGPT – even without any human modification – scored higher in creativity than those generated with Google.

One notable finding was ChatGPT’s ability to generate incrementally creative ideas: those that improve or build on what already exists. While truly radical ideas might still be challenging for AI, ChatGPT excelled at suggesting practical yet innovative approaches. In the toy-design experiment, for example, participants using ChatGPT came up with imaginative designs, such as turning a leftover fan and a paper bag into a wind-powered craft.

Limits of AI creativity

ChatGPT’s strength lies in its ability to combine unrelated concepts into a cohesive response. Unlike Google, which requires users to sift through links and piece together information, ChatGPT offers an integrated answer that helps users articulate and refine ideas in a polished format. This makes ChatGPT promising as a creativity tool, especially for tasks that connect disparate ideas or generate new concepts.

It’s important to note, however, that ChatGPT doesn’t generate truly novel ideas. It recognizes and combines linguistic patterns from its training data, subsequently generating outputs with the most probable sequences based on its training. If you’re looking for a way to make an existing idea better or adapt it in a new way, ChatGPT can be a helpful resource. For something groundbreaking, though, human ingenuity and imagination are still essential.

Additionally, while ChatGPT can generate creative suggestions, these aren’t always practical or scalable without expert input. Steps such as screening, feasibility checks, fact-checking and market validation require human expertise. Given that ChatGPT’s responses may reflect biases in its training data, people should exercise caution in sensitive contexts such as those involving race or gender.

We also tested whether ChatGPT could assist with tasks often seen as requiring empathy, such as repurposing items cherished by a loved one. Surprisingly, ChatGPT enhanced creativity even in these scenarios, generating ideas that users found relevant and thoughtful. This result challenges the belief that AI cannot assist with emotionally driven tasks.

Future of AI and creativity

As ChatGPT and similar AI tools become more accessible, they open up new possibilities for creative tasks. Whether in the workplace or at home, AI could assist in brainstorming, problem-solving and enhancing creative projects. However, our research also points to the need for caution: While ChatGPT can augment human creativity, it doesn’t replace the unique human capacity for truly radical, out-of-the-box thinking.

This shift from Googling to asking ChatGPT represents more than just a new way to access information. It marks a transformation in how people collaborate with technology to think, create and innovate.

Jaeyeon Chung is Assistant Professor of Business, Rice University.

[searidings]

With esme being around the superfriends all the time no way she doesn’t think Lena and Kara is a thing

(i took the liberty of combining these two prompts into a single ficlet i like to call the one where esme calls them out)

also here on ao3

“I think I'm gonna use orange for mommies and daddies,” Esme says, tongue poking out between her teeth as she carefully selects the desired felt pen from the box. “And blue for brothers and sisters, and purple for boyfriend girlfriends.”

Kara nods, appraising the selection with a critical eye. “Those sound like excellent choices. So.” She shuffles the six-year-old more comfortably in her lap, adjusting the pillow between her back and the couch. “Where are we gonna start?”

Esme turns to stare up at her, puffing out her cheeks in a move eerily reminiscent of an exasperated Alex Danvers. “With me, of course!”

“Of course.”

Kara mimes slapping herself on the forehead, and the young girl giggles. “Aunt Kara, you're silly.”

A flush of warmth suffuses her from head to toe, bolder and brighter than the strongest sunlight. She hasn't been around a child like this, hasn't loved a child like this, since Kal back on Krypton. For a time she'd wondered if she ever would again.

She tightens her arms incrementally around the young girl, breathing in her soft baby powder scent. “I am the silliest,” she agrees solemnly, reaching out to tap at the blank sheet of paper on the coffee table before them. “And you have homework, young lady. Come on, let's get this family tree started.”

Esme turns her attention back to the task at hand, writing out the wobbly letters of her name with painstaking care. A few inches above, Alex and Kelly are printed in unsteady capitals. Esme draws a thick orange line from her own name to the gap between theirs, then pauses.

“But, but, Mommy and Mama aren't girlfriends no more,” she says suddenly, turning to frown up at Kara. This child may not be her flesh and blood, but she'd managed to inherit the Danvers family crinkle all the same. Esme purses her lips, thinking. “Now they gonna be wives.”

Kara nods, tapping her chin in consideration. “That's true,” she agrees. “Good thinking. Maybe you could pick another colour for people who get married?”

Esme nods like Kara's just handed her the answer to the purpose of life. “I'm gonna use green, ‘cause it's pretty,” she decides, uncapping the pen. “Do you think green is pretty, Aunt Kara?”

Kara smiles. Thinks, for once, not of Kryptonite and burning screaming agony but of new leaves, new life, new shoots pushing up through the soil. Of Esme's striped bedspread and kale disappearing between pretty pink lips and one specific pair of crystal-bright eyes. “Yeah,” she hums, resting her chin lightly on the crown of Esme's head. “I think green is very pretty.”

Esme joins her mothers’ names with a bright green line then pauses, appraising. “What next?”

“Well, what about your mommies’ mommies and daddies?”

“Grandpa J’onn!” the young girl squeals, wriggling excitedly in her lap. Kara's cheeks are beginning to hurt from so much smiling. Being with Esme tends to have that effect.

Together they arrange J’onn and M’gann's names along the top of the page, then Eliza and Jeremiah and Kelly's parents, connecting them downwards with thick orange lines.

“Why I got so many grandmas and grandpas?” Esme asks once the last line is connected, her tiny brow furrowing. “Does everybody have this many?”

Kara bites her lip, considering. “No,” she allows. “But everybody's family is different. You know how your moms adopted you, but you also have another mom and dad that you lived with before?”

Esme nods, and Kara smiles. “So that means you've got two sets of parents. Some people just have one mom and dad, and some people have more, like me and you and Aunt Lena. But all it means is that there's extra people who love you. And that's never a bad thing, right?”

Esme nods decisively, the matter apparently settled. “Right.” She appraises her project, eyes narrowed in a concentrated pout that could rival Kelly Olsen's. “Now we gotta do brothers and sisters.”

They join James’ name to Kelly's with a sky-blue pen, then add Kara's beside Alex. “What about Uncle Brainy and Aunt Nia?” Esme asks, and Kara chuckles.

“Oh, Uncle Brainy is definitely little brother material.” She wraps her fingers lightly around Esme's tiny fist, guiding the child's hand to link Brainy to her, Alex and Kelly with careful blue strokes.

Esme caps the light blue and unscrews the lilac, drawing a wobbly line from the far side of Brainy's name to the blocky print of Nia's. “Boyfriend girlfriend,” she declares resolutely, taking a sip of orange juice from her zebra-print cup and nibbling at one of the double chocolate cookies laid out beside them.

Kara grabs for one too, so absorbed in demolishing it without dropping any crumbs in Esme's hair that she doesn't even notice the child writing again until an accusing lilac line is linking Kara's own name to— to Lena's.

Kara promptly inhales half a cookie's worth of crumbs directly into her lung, coughing and spluttering as she gapes down at the page. Esme seems utterly unperturbed by her armchair's choking fit, clicking the cap back on her felt pen and tracing her handiwork with one finger. “There,” she hums, satisfied. “Girlfriend girlfriend.”

Once Kara regains the ability to draw oxygen into her airways, she stares down at her niece with wide eyes. “But, Esme,” she tries, voice strangled by more than just the chocolate chips looking to make their forever home inside her bronchi. “Lena and I aren't— Aunt Lena and I aren't girlfriends.”

Esme finishes writing her name and the date in the top corner of her project and twists to gaze up at Kara serenely. “Yeah, you are.”

"Why, why would you think that?” Kara manages, breathless and blushing. Her niece gives her an honest to God eyeroll in response.

“Because,” she drawls, sounding more sixteen than six. “You do everything that girlfriends do.”

Kara gapes. “Do not.”

Esme pouts. “Do too.”

Kara flushes, heat spreading through her cheeks and prickling the back of her neck. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“You always hold the door open for her,” Esme says without even a flicker of hesitation, ticking each point off on her tiny fingers. “And pull out her chair, just like Mommy does for Mama in fancy restaurants.”

Kara frowns. “That's— I don't—”

“You save food for her,” Esme continues, unperturbed. “And hold her drink when she's not there.”

Kara huffs. She's already had an earful about this one from Nia. “If this is about the champagne at the party last week, that was one time—”

"You gave her your last potsticker at pirate princess movie night.” Esme gazes at her coolly, as if she's just hammered the final nail into the coffin of her proof. In a way, Kara supposes, she has. But a six-year-old shouldn't know that.

“So what?” she tries, aiming for nonchalance and failing miserably. "That's not a big deal.”

"Mommy says it is,” Esme counters calmly, blinking up at her with those sweet brown eyes. “Mommy says you almost melted her face off one time when she tried to take the last potsticker. That's not very nice, Aunt Kara.” Miniature eyelashes flutter in disapproval. “You shouldn't melt people's faces. Ms Fleming at school says it's always better to talk and hug than hit and thump.”

Kara's face scrunches and she huffs, cursing her sister and her propensity to stir the pot. “Do you think Ms Fleming could teach your mommy how to keep her big mouth shut?”

Esme blinks up at her over the rim of her zebra print cup. "What?”

"Nothing.” Kara sighs, tugging a hand through her loose hair. She shouldn't be getting into this with a six-year-old, no matter how eloquent and well-educated she may be.

She reaches out, tucking an unruly curl behind Esme's ear and smoothing a hand over her niece's cheek. “Kiddo, Aunt Lena and I are best friends.” If the words burn a little on the back of her tongue, so what. If her heart cracks open, safe inside the confines of her chest, it doesn't need to make a sound.

She takes a deep breath. "That's why we do all that stuff. Because we're very close. But we're— we're not girlfriends. So, I think we'd better fix that line on your project.”

Esme's brow furrows. Kara smooths her thumb gently over the tiny crinkle as the child fiddles with the teddy in her lap, carding her fingers through the zebra's cotton mane. "But—”

“What, sweetie?”

“Your heart gets faster,” Esme whispers, gazing up at her with a mournful expression. “It beats real hard whenever Aunt Lena's here. Sometimes it beats so hard I think it's gonna come right out of you, splat.”

The little girl mimes the motion, slapping the back of her fist into her open palm. She regards Kara seriously, sombrely. “It don't do that with no one else.”

Kara swallows hard against the sudden lump in her throat. She wouldn't trade Esme for anything in the galaxy but of course, of course her adoptive niece had to be an alien with mimicking powers. A tiny, perceptive alien with the borrowed Kryptonian ability to pick up on inconvenient things like heartbeats and racing pulses and the emotional maturity to guess at what it means.

When Kara doesn't reply, Esme reaches up, pressing her tiny thumb to the crinkle that must have formed between Kara's own brows. “Don't worry,” she whispers, quiet and close like she's sharing a secret. “Aunt Lena's heart goes splat when she sees you, too.”

Kara's breath shudders out of her in a rush. She feels too warm, suddenly. Hot and exposed and a little sick, punch-drunk on the false hope dripping like honey from a six-year-old's lips.

She closes her eyes, presses her lips together hard. Wrestles herself back under control, digs around till she finds a smile that almost manages to feel genuine.

“Kiddo, I promise you.” She takes the child's tiny hands in her, marvels at the delicate bones beneath down-soft skin. “Aunt Lena and I are best friends. Nothing more. So. Let's have another look at this project, huh?”

But Esme pulls her hands away, frowning in earnest. "No.”

Kara winces. “Esme—”

“No!” The little girl pushes backwards until her back connects with the hard edge of the coffee table. Kara reaches out, trying to cushion her, but Esme wriggles in her grip.

“Mama told me what it means to be girlfriend girlfriend,” she insists, voice pitching higher. “S’when two people always look at each other, and think about each other, and do stuff together. When they have sleepovers and cuddles and spend lots and lots of time together, because they love each other.”

She pushes at the hands Kara's trying to use to pad her fragile body against the edge of the table, her face screwing up. “Mama told me! Like how she and Mommy were girlfriend girlfriend before they got to be wives. Like how you are with Aunt Lena!”

Kara swallows hard. She's still trying to corral Esme's squirming limbs back into the safety of her lap when a key sounds in the lock, the front door of her apartment swinging open.

“I'm so sorry,” Lena's gabbling before she's even stepped across the threshold, laden with carrier bags and almost tripping on the trailing end of her winter scarf. “Brainy had an, um, incident in the lab and there was goo all over our equipment that was very difficult to clean off, and now I'm late for Esme's special sleepover night even though I promised—”

Green eyes fall upon the two of them at last, Lena's ramble cutting off as she takes in the distress on both their faces, Esme's red cheeks and the way she's still trying to wriggle free of Kara's attempts to prevent her cracking her head on the edge of the table.

She blinks at them, brows pinching. “Is everything alright?”

Esme – with Kara's help – finally manages to stand up without doing herself an injury, pushing away from the couch and careening straight into Lena's middle. Lena drops the bags she's holding unceremoniously on the ground, both hands going to stroke comfortingly over Esme's hair as the little girl buries her face in her stomach.

“Oh, what is it, honey?” she asks gently, bending to scoop Esme into her arms as naturally as if she'd been doing it for years.

Kara's heart, already smarting, aches a little more.

Lena props the child on her hip, brushing her free hand over Esme's flushed cheeks, stroking at the miniature lines of her frown. “Hey, what's this?” she hums, pulling the young girl a little closer. “Can you tell me what happened, Esme? Can we try and figure it out together?”

Nudging the front door closed with one hip, she crosses to the couch with Esme in her arms, settling the two of them comfortably into the cushions. Even though her attention is focused on the distressed child, Kara feels Lena's toes wriggle against her thigh as she flashes her a quick, uncertain smile. Just that, just the simple point of contact between the two of them is enough to slacken the invisible band constricting around Kara's ribcage, just a little.

“Okay,” Lena murmurs, tucking Esme against her chest and stroking a thumb over the back of her hand. “You tell me why you're upset, and we'll see what we can do to make it better, how about that?”

Esme nods, cheek rubbing against the soft wool of the winter coat Lena hasn't yet taken off. “Aunt Kara says you're not girlfriends,” she mumbles into the fabric, fisting a hand in Lena's scarf.

Lena freezes, a tableau of perfect stillness as her eyes widen, a near-inaudible exhale sighing out of her. It's a solid thirty seconds before she composes herself enough to speak. “And—”

Her voice cracks and she swallows, clearing her throat as her cheeks flush pink. She's no longer meeting Kara's gaze. “And why has that upset you, honey?”

“Because you are,” the young girl wails, equal parts mournful and indignant. “You do all the things! You stare at each other and you love each other and I already put it on my project and, and—”

She breaks off to sniffle against Lena's collar, hiding her face in the soft waves of Lena's hair. “And both your hearts go splat,” Esme whispers just as Lena's eyes meet Kara's above the crown of her head. "They're doing it right now.”

A long moment of silence blankets the apartment.

Kara has to hand it to her niece. The feeling of what her heart is doing in her chest right now could definitely be described as splat.

Esme wriggles, shifting to face Lena on her lap, and Lena's eyes snap away from Kara's with a crackle of latent tension that zips up the length of her spine.

Lena blinks rapidly a few times, then reaches up to smooth Esme's unruly hair. “Okay, but— I still don't understand why you're so upset, darling,” she manages, teeth digging just slightly into the plush of her lower lip. To anyone who doesn't know her as Kara does, she'd appear perfectly composed. Her pulse, however, tells a different story.

“Because!” Esme insists, though she sounds marginally calmer now. “Because Aunt Kara said it wasn't true. Because she was being silly, she— she wasn't telling the truth.”

Kara flinches involuntarily at the accusation. Such an indictment, from the mouth of the child she's so desperate to protect, to care for, to love, hits her harder than she could have expected. A twisting kind of regret roots through her stomach, a nausea at having upset Esme this way, no matter how unintentional.

Lena's attention is still fixed on the child in her lap but one hand snakes out, sliding beneath the waterfall of Kara's curls to cup the nape of her neck. Lena's palm is warm, her fingers sure as she squeezes in silent reassurance.

Kara softens into it, into her, and wonders just who the hell they're keeping up this pretence for anymore.

“You know what,” Lena says gently, sliding an arm around the young girl's back to bring her closer. “I don't think Aunt Kara meant to lie to you, Esme. And she definitely didn't mean to upset you. It— it's true that we aren't girlfriends.”

Esme's mouth opens indignantly but Lena silences her with a quirk of her mouth, with a gentle finger to her lips. “But, can I tell you a secret?” she asks, hushed and smiling, and the young girl nods eagerly.

Lena leans in close, one hand still scratching lightly through the curls at the base of Kara's skull. “I think we're both being silly,” she whispers conspiratorially, knocking her forehead feather-light against the child's. “Because you're very clever, Esme, and very observant, and you know what? I think you might be right.”

Kara's breath catches in her throat just as Lena's chin lifts, their gazes locking. Lena's eyes stay fixed on hers as the barest hint of a hesitant smile pulls at the corner of her lips.

"Because, my heart does go splat around her,” Lena whispers, hushed and brave and beautiful. Her gaze never falters. The love in her eyes doesn't flicker for a moment. “I think it always has.”

Esme bounces on Lena's knees, so fervent in her excitement that she almost topples clean off her lap. Four hands snap out on instinct to snag her back to safety even as Kara's gaze stays fixed on Lena's, never breaking, wide-eyed and disbelieving that what she hopes may be happening between them is actually real.

Esme clambers to the ground and throws herself at Kara, all previous grievance apparently forgotten as tiny arms wind tight around her neck. “I told you!” she croons in Kara's ear, pink-cheeked and giggling. “Now you just have to tell her, too!”

Lena presses her lips together to hold back a smirk at their niece's authoritative tone. She slides off the couch to sit beside Kara on the floor, bent knees nudging as she angles their bodies close.

“Well, Aunt Kara?” Lena asks, the barest hint of apprehension in her eyes as she licks her lips, throat working. “Do you have anything to tell me? Something about a certain body part and a rather descriptive sound effect, maybe?”

But Kara's all done with talking. She gently detaches Esme from her neck, keeping the child close in her lap as she does what she should have been doing ever since the very first day her heart had gone splat against her ribcage on the top floor of an airy L-Corp office.

As she leans in, and presses her lips to Lena's.

Lena sighs into the kiss, softening until it's no longer Kara and Lena but simply them, the sharing of breath, the gentle give and take, the fulfilment of all her wildest dreams.

A tiny throat clearing before them breaks them apart and they do so with giggles, breathless and disbelieving. Lena's forehead knocks against her own as the hand at Kara's nape slides round, stroking over her cheekbone in barely concealed wonder.

“Splat?” Lena whispers, breath soft and sweet against her kiss-swollen lips.

Kara beams. She couldn't stop beaming if she tried. “Splat.”

When they finally pull back Esme is grinning like it's her birthday and Christmas all rolled into one, tiny hands clapping together as she bounces on Kara's bent thighs. “Yay!” she squeals, looking between the two of them with a grin. “No more being silly!”

Kara winks, lunging for the child and flipping her easily in her arms, blowing raspberry after raspberry on her belly as Esme shrieks in delight. Lena laughs, palm still resting against Kara's neck, thumb stroking lightly at the hollow beneath her jaw.

“Oh, I don't know about that,” she hums, reaching out to smooth Esme's hair out of her eyes when Kara finally lets the little girl go. “With Aunt Kara, there's always more silliness.”

Kara grins, cheeks heating, then leans in and captures Lena's lips again in a just barely PG kiss. “You love it,” she pants against her mouth, snaking an arm round Lena's waist to thumb discreetly at her hip.

Lena chuckles. “I really do.”

“So,” Esme calls, pulling their attention back to her. Lena's fingers find Kara's across the little girl's lap, twining tight. Their niece gestures down at the paper still on the coffee table, the lilac dash linking their names in the middle of her homework project. “Do I not gotta fix the girlfriend line no more?”

Lena presses her lips together, squeezing their woven fingers as her forehead tilts against Kara's shoulder. “No, honey,” she whispers, her entire face lighting up in smile so brilliant it’s almost blinding. “I think you got it right the first time.”

[iamthecomet]

Comet I am addicted to your ficlets. Is there a 3 step program for this?

Anyways... what do you think of Cirrus bottoming for Aether with a praise kink and bondage during which she's deep into subspace and then tender moments bringing her out of it with amazing aftercare?

I'm sorry I've been sitting on this for so long. But it's HERE NOW. We do NOT see enough sub Cirrus, that's for sure.

Cirrus doesn't drop easily. And not for very many people. Cumulus can get her go to down. She'll kneel for her with ease, obey, worship, give her anything she asks for. But she doesn't always get deep, doesn't always forget herself. She rarely feels the singular focus to please, to do good. So when she really needs to disappear from her own brain, she goes to Aether. He's the only ghoul knows how to get her here. Who she trusts to do it right and take care of her. She can let go around him, her carefully curated control finally let lose from her usually white knuckled grip. The ache in her knees and thighs from kneeling on Aether's floor for so long has finally started to fade into the background. Her arms are tied behind her back, forearms laddered together with pale blue rope. The position pins her shoulders back, sticks out her chest. The ropes dig into her skin, her shoulders hurt. But it's good. She likes it. Needs it even.

Her face is pressed against Aether's bare thigh. The head of his cock rests at the back of her tongue. Far enough in for her mouth to be full, not far enough for her to gag on it. She doesn't know how long she's been here. She lost track of time a while ago. Her mind has been blissfully empty for a while. Aether's been playing with her hair for a while, his fingers stroking absently against her scalp through her dark hair. Working out knots, dragging her deeper. "You're so good for me, so patient." Aether purrs. Cirrus feels something in her chest warm, swell. She'd preen if she had the range of movement to do it. She closes her eyes, listens to Aether's steady breath. She swallows a mouth full of spit and he makes a small noise, his hand tightening incrementally in her hair. He won't let her cockwarm him much longer, she can tell by the tension in his thighs, the weight of his breath. "Hands?" Aether asks.

Cirrus wiggles her fingers, does a hand check on muscle memory. She shifts her head to look up at him, awaiting instruction about how she can tell him that she's good. He tugs at her hair, pulling her off of his cock. It's flushed and shiny. She whines at the loss as he pulls out of her mouth. "''M green," she whispers, and then, without instruction, sinks her mouth back down on his cock. She sighs when the heady, salt musk of him settles back on her tongue. He groans.

"Cir--" She doesn't let him finish his thought, swirls her tongue, bobs her head. Let's the rhythm of it drain the rest of her thoughts from her mind. She is nothing but this task. She focuses on the taste of him, on the steady drool of pre on her tongue. His hand tightens in her hair. She lets the broken noises he makes soothe her, the hitch of his breathing as she swirls her tongue over the head. It doesn't take long for him to cum, hips twitching up as he spills into her mouth and down her throat. She swallows greedily, sucking him into over stimulation to make sure she gets it all. He hisses and pulls back. Petting his hand over her hair. He doesn't give himself time to come down. He stands, coming behind her to untie her. Once she's free he gathers her into his arms and pulls her onto the bed with him. He nuzzles against her hair, whispering praises as she sinks into his embrace. One hand drags down her side, over the curve of her hip, between her legs to find her slick and swollen. It doesn't take her long either. He rubs firm quick strokes over her clit and it's a matter of minutes before she's bowing off the bed and whining in his arms. She buries her face in his neck as she cums. She breaths him in, he smells like home. He smooth his hand over her shaking thighs, up over her stomach, her ribs, to curl around her back and hold her closer. She doesn't hear many of his words, she never does like this. They land and float away as she slowly comes back. But she can hear the reverence in them, knows he's telling her how good she is. How well she always takes him. He rolls her over, curling around her back, digging this thumbs into her shoulders to try to rub the ache away before it comes back. He presses soft kisses along the side of her neck, over her shoulder. She lets herself drift, lets the afterglow tug at her. It takes her a long time to come back. It always does. By then Aether's moved on from rubbing her back to massaging one of her aching thighs. She sighs happily, leaning her body back against him, melting into the softness of his body. "You with me?" Aether asks, kissing her temple. She nods. "Yeah. Thanks, Aeth." She can feel his smile against the side of her face. "Any time, Cir. I'm always happy to help."

[tex-was-taken]

So I caved and decided to make an OC for COD. Why? Because why the hell not.

TeX

"At a press of a button, I'll be the one laughing here."

Picrew used (I WISH A COULD DRAW)

Meet 141's target new recruit: Angelo 'TeX' Salvador.

He is Task Force 141's new fillipino cyber expert and excels as a frightening hacker. Unlike the operatives in the team, he is unable to take arms on the field due to missing a leg the frontline.

But that doesn't mean can't put his skill to use!

Short story ahead!

Once a soldier, always a soldier. But in Angelo's case, losing a leg meant he couldn't fight in the frontlines anymore. Nowadays, he is a freelance hacker who takes on contracts from even the shadiest of people, all for the fun and money.

As long as they don't involve the government that is.

"Here's your coffee, Angelo." A waiter approached the table where Angelo sat, holding a cup of hot liquid and offered to the man. "Busy as always, huh?"

"You betcha, salamat." He takes the cup in his hand, the warmth absorbed into his hand as the aroma of freshly brewed java filled his nostrils. "Got tons of report to analyse and send off. Can't waste time, and besides why not enjoy it with the best coffee in town?"

The waiter chuckled, "The best indeed. Anyways, howl if you need me."

RING

Before he said anything, his phone began to let out a buzz. Every second, it vibrates. Angelo frowned to see the name that popped on the screen, 'Annoying', he was hoping it was someone completely different.

He sighs, picking up the phone.

"TeX, have you gotten our information yet?"

Of course.

Straight to the point.

"Their systems are slightly outdated but their security is hardcore." He responded, observing his screen as the loading bar continued to increment.

"So you can't get crack it?" The voice sounded disappointed. "Such a shame, I thought—"

"Now hold on a minute, buddy. I didn't say I gave up, didn't I? Took a couple of days to break their encryption. Had to sacrifice a shit tons of resources to keep them from tracing me."

"Cut the bullshit, TeX. Our deal?"

Angelo rolled his eyes. Quite a persistent fellow. "Yes, I have it here. Will have a drop point ready for you in a few hours." Twirling a USB around his finger.

"Good. You'll have your pay as soon as the exchange is made."

"Pleasure doing business with ya." Angelo smirked, the files finally ready to be transferred. The call ended and he sets the phone done next to the laptop, plugging the drive into the port. "What did this guy want anyways..." he uttered as he browsed through the files.

It didn't take long to realise what he had stolen.

Reports, logs, secrets, and Operative information. A file drew his attention as it was clearly out of the ordinary in a directory full of sub directories.

Read me

...

A bright red laser appeared on his chest, moving carefully towards the top of his head like. Even if he moved, he wouldn't get away with a leg like his.

He was caught.

"Ah shit."

He clicked his mouse on the text file, reading what was saved as he felt sweat dropping from his temple. He never felt this pressure since he was a soldier.

The fear running down his spine as he is in enemies sight.

Not bad. Your actions haven't gone unnoticed but I'm impressed you made it this far. We had our eyes on you for quite some time now, TeX.

You got two choice.

Angelo read the next lines, it looks like he will have to decide what comes next. Surrender and confess to his crimes or...

He slowly picked up his phone. Dialing the number that was on the screen and waited.

"So?"

Angelo drew his sight towards the source of the light.

"I'm in."

[cabalex]

Where Are Astral Chain's Major Speedrun Skips?

UPDATE: A new skip has been discovered that skips from File 02 to File 11! Though it's not without caveats: you already need a save file at File 11 in the first place. It's being run at SGDQ 2024, but a great explanation of the glitch can be found here.

A lot of video games have "ultra shortcuts", ways to skip hours of an otherwise completely linear game. Many of these take the form of clipping into loading areas left behind by the developer, or warping to the credits using some obscure trick.

Astral Chain has been out for over three years now, and has a relatively active speedrunning community (hell, ratyu's going to be speedrunning it at GDQ this year!). So, clearly there should be at least some major game-breaking glitch that lets you skip significant parts of a file, right?

Well... there isn't. The biggest skips speedrunners have found are in the Astral Plane sections, with some notable skips being the File 03 Hal skip, File 05 Beast fight, and second Hal Skip. But even those save a handful of minutes at best in a two and a half hour speedrun.

So, what gives?

Okay, so what are our options?

Having no major skips doesn't mean there's no glitches at our disposal. Even though Astral Chain is a relatively well built game, there's still some glitches that abuse the Legion system.

In fact, using a technique known as superclimbing, you can gain almost infinite height. While airborne, if you summon the Arrow Legion at the peak of your jump and chain jump, dismiss, and resummon them, you can repeatedly gain height almost anywhere you choose.

Superclimb clearly has potential, but another glitch known as Arrow Storage makes it so much stronger. Arrow Storage allows you to keep your Legion summoned even in areas that don't normally allow it, including the Police HQ, Hal's Hideout, on ladders, and even the character select screen in File 01.

So with speedrunners being able to essentially infinite jump anywhere they please, why can't we skip major sections of the game?

The game's structure isn't kind to major skips

Astral Chain is an incredibly linear game. As such, it relies heavily on a global story progression counter (internally "File_Scenario"), which increments as you progress through the game.

Almost all in-game logic (playing cutscenes, loading new areas, summoning enemies, etc) are done using quests, a system that not only codes red and blue cases, but also story progression and the entirety of the Astral Plane. The game loads these quests on a file-by-file basis depending on what environment you're currently in.

Inside these quests are scripts called tasks, which are responsible for the game logic listed above. Tasks are difficult to explain, but here's the gist:

Each task is made up of individual lists of code blocks called LineLists.

LineLists are made up of IF and EXEC blocks. IF blocks check a certain condition in the game (such as if enemies in an enemy set have been defeated), while EXEC blocks run game functions (such as setting flags and spawning enemies).

In each task, LineList 0 constantly loops over and over until a block tells it to move somewhere else.

Due to the structure of the game, all quests in an environment are ran at once. Basically, every quest has to individually check the global story progression counter before running their logic.

[Scratch blocks are a great way to represent these tasks!]

For example, these enemies are only loaded and unloaded when the global "File_Scenario" flag is in the correct position (between two points in File 02). This makes skipping even just a single story trigger impossible.

You can see this in game: if you try skipping over a section, like a trigger in File 07, everything after it (cases, cutscenes, story triggers) won't load, even if you stand in the areas where they should be.

This programming decision is the main reason why major parts of Astral Chain can't be skipped. The game just refuses to do anything if you're not in the right story position!

The game's environments use extremely tall, hardcoded invisible walls

If you've ever tried superclimbing over the railing on the Helipad of the Police HQ, or over the edges of the rooftop of Zone 36, you'll notice it's impossible. That's because these sections use tall invisible walls.

Like... extremely tall.

These walls are hardcoded into the game's environments. The developers clearly did not want you to get out of bounds here, so they created giant walls to keep you out.

"But we can jump over a bunch of invisible walls in the speedrun. Why are these different?" you may ask.

Walls that are temporary (such as the "no entry" police barrier you see throughout the game) is a dynamic object created by a quest. Since this barrier object is used hundreds of times throughout the game, it has a fixed (and relatively short) height to ensure they don't accidentally block something above or below.

As it is, we don't have a reliable way to clip through solid walls. So if you were looking to clip out of the playing area to skip a trigger, it probably won't work.

So how do Astral Plane skips work?

If you've ever watched the speedrun of this game, you'll notice that Astral Plane sections are broken wide open. What makes these areas so exploitable?

There are three major reasons why most skips are in the Astral Plane:

The Astral Plane is generated by quests! 90% of the Astral Plane sections in the game are just a collection of blocks fit together like puzzle pieces, in contrast to the Ark environments that are loaded from a single model file. Thus, the Astral Plane doesn't have extremely tall invisible walls-- all invisible walls used are dynamic objects and can easily be superclimbed over.

Story progression is never incremented nor checked in the Astral Plane. If you can get to the final area in an Astral Plane section, the final cutscene or portal will automatically spawn.

Astral Plane sections are often extremely nested with many exposed holes and gaps, makes traversing into areas you're not supposed to go very easy for speedrunners.

For these reasons, skipping the Beast fight and Hal sections are exploited to great extent in full-game speedruns.

Well, that's depressing. What can we do?

Not all hope is lost! It's entirely possible that there are glitches just waiting to be discovered. The quest system could have flaws that allow us to skip instructions, or we could find ways to clip through walls. There are some instances where story progression isn't checked at all-- it's possible there could be new ways to skip these that we haven't found yet.

Along with this, case-specific progression can be completely separate from the global story progression counter, so there could be ways to avoid doing the full extent of a required case.

In all, most of the tasks increment the global story progression counter rather than set it to a certain value, so it's possible we could find a repeatable quest that could rapidly advance our story position.

Outside of glitches, another ultra-skip intended by the developer would be to find the game's "Final Secret", implemented in many Platinum Games titles by inputting the Platinum Code (↑ ↓ ↑ → ← X B Y A). Although initially not thought to be in the game, datamines have revealed sound effects seemingly related to this final secret:

I guess all that's left is to find this secret, right?

- - -

Updated May 28, 2024 to add additional insights in Astral Chain quest research - we know what the story progression counters are called now!

Please let me know if I've gotten any information wrong regarding speedrunning -- this is just based off of the routes I've seen runners use. Thanks for reading ^^

[bestiesenpai]

Possession - Choso ft. Geto

Choso-nii is sweet in his own ways, we have to admit lol this is a non-curse uhmmmm I know Choso is literally like 150yrs old but just so we ALL KNOW: reader is 18+, and femme reader

Content warningssss: infantilization + dumbification, incest, slimy best friend Geto, dubcon, praise, dacryphilia, light choking, degradation, manipulation/gaslighting(i’m not sure which is the proper term for this situation so im just putting both)

Choso was lucky, being the oldest of all the siblings. He had the most life experience, the most time out of all of you to try things out and get shit right. Growing up, he tried to be there for you but he was often much too busy to dedicate the time and effort needed to properly foster a relationship.

Irregardless of that, you still looked up to him and sought him out whenever you could. Hanging out with him in little increments, somehow squeezing in alone time with just the two of you. It was no easy task with as many brothers as you had, but you managed to steal away a precious few seconds with him when you could.

Which is why when Choso moved out, you were utterly devastated. It felt like just yesterday he was helping you pick groceries for a big family hot pot and then the next he was packing boxes and moving into a trendy studio downtown to pursue an art and fashion career.

When he left with the final box you blubbered like a baby, not wanting to be comforted by him because it would only make you miss him more. It hurt him too to see you like that and to know that he could have prevented it if he just simply stayed, but he wasn’t about to hold himself back just to keep the bandaid on a little longer.

As the months ticked by, it agonized you to be left without him. Sure you had your other brothers and you loved them just as much, but it wasn’t the same without him. You texted and called Choso and made sure he kept up with the sibling group chat, but there wasn’t much you could do otherwise.

Until one fateful day, the power went out at the house over the weekend. The maintenance man had told your parents it wouldn’t be on until Monday morning and you were far too quick to snatch up the chance to be the one person that got to go to Choso’s.

“Choso-nii!” You were absolutely buzzing as you threw open the door with the spare key he had left at the house. Finally, finally, you got to see where he lived and spend more time with him. You hadn’t gotten the chance to go to his place yet despite how long it’d been since he moved out; he always said he was too busy working on a project or that he was out too late to entertain you.

Your shoulders dropped dramatically when you realized he wasn’t home. Dragging your small suitcase through the door, you let the disappointment hang on your face at being all alone. Taking your shoes off, you stepped onto the frigid hardwood and took a look around.

His place was modest, he wasn’t a starving artist but he couldn’t afford the large lofts you saw online. Immediately to your left was his small kitchen with only one full sized counter to speak of, to your left was a bathroom covered in slate gray tiles and no bathtub, and in front of you was his living room.

“He decorated pretty well.” Mumbling to yourself, you look around the room. There’s a tiny desk facing the wall shoved into the corner with his computer on top, a decently sized couch next to it and a coffee table with coffee ring stains on it. There’s an area rug your mother got him and hanging on the walls is multiple pieces of art he’d acquired. He’d shown you some when you last video called and all of them were beautiful.

Walking past the mounted TV and gaming consoles he kept was a space divided from the living room with a slatted wood wall. Right behind the wall was his bed, messily covered in blood red blankets, pillows and crumpled sheets. It was probably the biggest piece of furniture in the apartment, and the rest of the room was covered in posters and housed his clothes on open hangers.

Making yourself comfortable, you waited eagerly on the couch for him to come home. You’d already whined through text at him, berating him for not being here to greet you. With the promise of a large takeout meal when he got home, you could only sit and twiddle your thumbs.

“Choso-nii!” Leaping from the couch as the door opened, you were ready to pounce on your brother and smother him in a hug.

“Hey.” He replied gruffly and you stopped short at the looming shadow still behind him. Your smile fell when a man walked in behind him, long inky black hair tied up into a loose bun and a wide stature that made you nervous.

“Hi.” The way his low voice stretched into a higher pitch as he wiggled his long fingers at you, the sleeve of his hoodie dipping down to reveal scrawling black tattoos against his skin, had a shiver going through you.

“H-hi.” Your voice was tiny compared to his and it made him chuckle. Your eyes weren’t even on Choso anymore, glued to the man who was now smiling at you with his eyes half closed.

“How was the trip here?” Choso is suddenly right in front of you, cutting off your line of sight and pulling you into a hug you quickly reciprocate to ease your mind. Your fingers dig into the soft material of his jacket and you can smell a faint trace of nicotine on him.

“It was fine, mom drove me to the station.”

“Good, good.” All too soon he pulled away, rubbing your head affectionately before turning to the guest he’d brought. “This is my friend Geto, we do business together in the fashion district.”

“Ah, this must be the little sister you told me about!” Geto’s brows rose and he let out a pleased hum. “Hi little sister, I’m Geto Suguru.” The way he called you little sister made your face burn, it was like he was mocking you.

“Tell him your name.” Choso grunted and nudged your shoulders.

“I’m (Y/N)...” Licking your lips nervously, your eyes dropped to a spot on the floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).” Sliding closer Geto pat your shoulder lightly. “You can call me Geto-nii.” Your eyes widen and snap up to look at him, clearly surprised a stranger would be so casual already. “I want us to get closer, afterall we’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other. I’m one of your brother's best friends.”

“Uhm, o-okay.” Nodding quickly, you meet his dark eyes for a moment before looking at the piercings on his ears. “It’s nice to meet you too, Geto-nii.”

“Hey, what do you want for delivery?” Choso huffs from the couch. He’s surprisingly hands off with your interaction, not even looking at the way Geto sizes you up or how his fingers are close to closing in on your wrist.

“What is there?” Rushing to the couch, you practically fall right into Choso’s lap and nuzzle into his shoulder to look at his phone. Geto stands right where you left him for a moment, taking in the sight of you cuddling up to your brother so closely, before he slinks away into the bathroom.

“Wow, that came so quickly!” Twenty minutes later you’re seated on the floor, pressed against the coffee table as you marvel at how fast the delivery came. “At home it takes at least forty-five minutes!”

“That’s what you get for living in the sticks.” Choso teases, a small uptick to his mouth as he brings the food to the table.

“Shut up!” Puffing out your cheeks, you look up at the game Geto is playing. It’s some online multiplayer shooting game you hadn’t bothered to catch the title of, but the flashing lights and the way Geto got so worked up had you intrigued.

“Fuck yeah, foods here.” Taking a quick glance down, Geto abandoned the game quickly. Tossing the controller onto the couch, he walked to the fridge and dug around. “Choso, beer?”

“Yeah.” He called back, digging out the contents of the bag and spreading it out across the table.

“Did you get me a-” Right as you were about to ask, Choso placed a cold can of soda in front of you.

“Yup.”

“Aw (Y/N), you don’t drink beer?” Geto whined, plopping down across from you with a pout. Handing a tall can to Choso, he cracked open his own and frowned slightly when you shook your head no. “Have you ever tried it?”

You could feel your brother's eyes looking right at you, curious to know the answer too. The truth was, you had experimented with both liquor and weed but you never told Choso. He always warned you not to get into any of that stuff.

“No.” Your cheeks burned as you lied and Choso’s eyes narrowed; he could tell you were lying and the curt sigh that left his lips was evidence enough.

“Really, never? Take a sip then.” Sitting up a little straighter, Choso opened his can and held it out to you.

“No thanks.” Trying to push the can away, you avoided both Choso’s narrowed gaze and Geto’s smirk.

“No go ahead, I insist.” He held the can out staunchly. “Your first time should be with me anyway.” That made your face even hotter and you hung your head, a whine threatening to bubble out of your throat.

“I don’t like it.”

“Hm, how do you know you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?” Geto added, knowingly stirring the pot and hiding his wide smirk behind his beer can.

“I just do!” With a huff your head shot up and you looked at both of them.

“Try it.” Choso said firmly, his eyes now wide and unblinking at you. The whine you’d tried to hold back came out and your shoulders bounced up and down as you spoke.

“I don’t want to, I’ve already tried that kind and I don’t like it!” There, now it was out in the open for everyone to know. Your head dropped again but you could see the way Geto bit his lip hard to stop himself from giggling.

“I thought I told you not to get mixed up with that stuff.” Sighing softly, Choso took a long sip from his beer can and the silence that hung between you was heavy, at least on your end. Your shoulders sagged and you picked up your plate.

“Sorry.” Your voice was so pitiful it made Geto coo.

“What’s done is done.” Choso shrugged and began to dish himself up. “Next time you wanna do that stuff though, come to me.”

“Yeah, your big brothers will make sure you have a great time.” Lightly tapping the table, Geto grinned widely. Digging his phone out of his pocket, he turned on some music. “Now let's eat, I’m starving!”

The air between you and Choso was stilted. He wasn’t angry or disappointed with you, he’d made sure to tell you when he caught you pouting over your food. He just wished you’d come to him first, but you couldn’t help but see past it. Choso was hurt he wasn’t your first choice, and even though he didn’t vocalize it his actions showed it.

“Hey (Y/N), come and play with me.” After dinner Geto had flopped back down onto the couch, his stomach bloated with a food baby.

“Uhm, okay.” Taking a quick glance at Choso who was sitting down at his computer, you nodded. Taking a seat a good few inches away from Geto you picked up the other controller.

“Why’re you so far away, I won’t bite!” He laughed, quickly discarding the thick hoodie he’d been wearing. Your eyes were drawn to the heavy black and grey traditional Japanese tattoos going up and down both of his arms, stopped only by the t-shirt he had on.

“Your tattoos are really cool.” Unable to take your eyes away, you slid closer to him on the couch, body dipping on the cushions as you leaned close to examine them.

“You like them? I have more, lemme show you.” Off came Geto’s shirt and you gasped loudly. He had a whole bodysuit going on, large pops of color on his chest and shoulders going down his sides and disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.

“Woah, these are so cool!” You couldn’t hide how impressed you were. Your hands ghosted over his skin, drinking in the intricate designs etched permanently into his body along with the rippled muscles underneath his skin.

“Does my little sister have any tattoos?” Geto asked, letting his hair out of its bun and letting the strands fall around his shoulders.

“No.” Choso answers for you, not taking his eyes away from his computer.

“Yeah, I don’t have any yet.”

“That’s a shame, I think you’d look really pretty with some ink.” Running a hand through his hair so he could flex his arm, Geto flicked his chin towards Choso. “I’ve been trying to get this guy to come to my shop to get some work done too.”

“Choso-nii, you should get a tattoo!” After seeing Geto’s you were hooked.

“Hm.” He grunted, casting you a sideways glance over his shoulder. “What should I get?”

“Get something like this!” You gestured towards Geto and Choso finally turned around away from his computer to look fully at you.

“You really think I’d look good with all that?”

“Yes!”

“Ah you heard her, Choso! I’ll book you a consultation with my artist, he’s a great guy.”

“Alright…” Choso’s eyes lingered on Geto for a little while longer before he turned back to his computer. “Sign me up then.” Letting out a victorious little sound, Geto tugged his shirt back on and picked up his controller again.

“Alright, let’s play now.”

It was safe to say that the kinds of games Geto and your brother played were much harder than the ones you played at home. There were far too many character controls to memorize and the speed at which you had to press the buttons was too fast and it hurt your fingers after a while.

“Geto-nii, I don’t like this!” You groaned, slumping against him and the couch cushions as you lost another round of the online game.

“Poor baby, is it too difficult for you?” Geto pouted at you and pat your thigh. Choso had slipped a pair of headphones on, oblivious to the way Geto was speaking to you.

“It is.”

“Here, we’ll go do a practice round and I’ll teach you how to play.” Flicking through the options, Geto found what he was looking for. “Your little brain just needs to take things slow.”

“S’not little.” Pushing his shoulder with a huff, your cheeks burned as he laughed. “Your games are just stupid.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” Drawing out the y, Geto loaded up a practice game and hooked his arm around your shoulders, putting his hands over yours on the controller. “Now just try to remember how I do it.”

His arms tightened around you, pushing your chest nearly flush with his as Geto pushed and pulled your fingers insanely fast, pulling off stilted combo moves with your hands. You could barely keep up with what was happening on screen let alone the buttons he was pushing.

“You think you got it?” His mouth was now right against your ear, his voice a low and rumbling whisper. A tiny, strangled noise comes from the back of your throat and Geto can feel you tense up slightly. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you all night if I have to.”

Chuckling darkly, his lips ghost along the ridge of your ear before starting up another game. Your face is on fire and Geto knows, he can feel the heat radiating off your body much stronger than it was before. The subtle shift of your thighs and the way they squeeze together isn’t lost on him, and it only makes him draw you deeper into his lap until you’re sitting pretty on his stretched out legs, head nestled gently on his shoulder while you try in vain to keep up with him.

“Alright I sent the final sketch to Gojo and-” Choso tosses his headphones off and turns around, body stretching and extending up and out, bones cracking and popping loudly in his ears. He stops speaking, gravelly voice suddenly caught in his throat when he sees the two of you together.

It’s been so long since he’s been cuddled up to you like that that the sight of you in his best friend's lap like that makes his mind go blank. Cuddled up with another man, you’re not even playing the game anymore, having given up a long time ago just to simply watch and lightly nap while you wait for your brother to give you attention again.

“Hm? Oh, that’s great.” Geto replies, giving a quick glance to Choso and then to the clock on the wall. “Fuck it’s already 2am? I missed the last train.”

“You know it’s not a big deal for you to crash here.” Choso shrugs and begins to turn off some of the lights that are beginning to burn his eyes. He can’t stand to look at you any longer or the creeping jealousy in his chest will bubble to the surface.

“Choso-nii…” With a big sleepy inhale you arch your back off Geto, pushing your weight into your hips as you stretch and rub your eyes.

“I shoulda had you get ready for bed earlier, you must be beat.”

“Mhmm.” Nodding sleepily, you stand up with help from Geto, his hands placed low on your hips and fingers splayed out on your body. “I’ll be quick.” Shuffling to your suitcase, you take out your sleeping clothes and bathroom essentials before blindly walking to his bathroom.

You can hear a low murmur in the living room as Choso and Geto also get ready for bed. There’s a few chuckles, and you hear Choso snap at Geto for something, and they’re definitely saying your name at parts, but by the time you come out the conversation is done and over with.

“Come sleep with me, little sister!” Geto calls from the couch where he’s set up a makeshift bed and taken all his clothes off except his underwear. There’s a blanket not yet put over his body right next to him, and your eyes are staring right at the tattoos that dip under his waistband and finish on his ankles.

“C’mere.” Choso huffs, snatching your wrist and pulling you into the bedroom. Your eyes follow Geto as you walk and you can feel the way he stares right at your bare thighs in your sleeping shorts.

Pushing you onto the bed, Choso climbs in after, flicking off the last light left on and engulfing everyone in a shroud of darkness and city light peeking through the curtains. Frustrated, Choso tosses and turns in the bed and throws the blanket around both of you.

“Goodnight.” You say loud enough for Geto to hear.

“Good night little sister.” He calls back.

“Yeah, night.” Choso grunts and finally slaps his head against the pillows before stilling completely. Slowly, you slide your body closer and closer to him, the touch of your fingers to his bare chest making you shiver.

“I love you, Choso-nii.” You whisper in his ear, wrapping your arms around him and curling a leg right against his sweatpants.

“Love you too.” It takes him a few seconds too long to reply but when he does it makes a delighted grin spread across your face. Hooking an arm around your back he pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head and squeezing you tightly before loosening up. “Now go to sleep.”

Sleep comes easily to you, after all you’re in the arms of your brother that you love so much. You used to sleep with him when he still lived at home, crawling in at night after you’d been forced to watch a scary movie and cuddling into him. He could never say no to you even if he was exhausted and just wanted to pass out, he always made time to cuddle you.

Choso was having a much harder time going to sleep. He remembers what it was like sleeping in the same bed at home and he doesn’t remember it being this much of a problem. Sure, he woke up with a half hard cock some mornings that he was able to force away before you woke up, but somehow this felt different.

You were at his house not at the family home. There were no other brothers to barge in and demand breakfast, no parents to poke and prod at him to get up and go to work - this was his space, somewhere he had complete control over and could do whatever he wanted and that included fantasizing about rubbing your ass while you slept and touching himself.

Eventually forcing himself to sleep, Choso was thankful when he woke up to the sound of his alarm and no hard cock. Blindly turning it off, he stretched as much as he could with your body laying on half of him. Slowly inching out of your hold he was greeted with the slimy, sticky feeling of cum soaking the insides of his thighs and smeared along his sweats creating a big wet patch on the front.

“Someone had a nice dream.” Geto said quietly into the early morning darkness. He could just barely make out Choso’s cum stained pants as he walked past the couch and into the bathroom.

“Shut the fuck up.” Choso bit back, ears burning red. Geto fell back onto the couch with a soft laugh under his breath.

When you woke up it was well after Choso had left. The digital clock he used flashed bright red numbers at your bleary eyes, telling you it was now ten in the morning. The bed was cold on the side Choso slept on but you rolled over anyway and breathed in the scent of his pillow.

“Oh my god.” When you got up and out of the bed you weren’t expecting to see Geto still in the apartment on the couch in his underwear wrapped up loosely in a blanket.

“Good morning, sleepy girl.” He hummed over a cup of black coffee, his long hair still tussled from sleep.

“Where’s Choso-nii?” You fidgeted with your fingers, looking anxiously around the room for a hint that he was still here.

“He had to go in early for a project, it’s just you and me.”

“O-oh.” A sickening grin spread across Getos face the longer you fidgeted. “Uhm, I’m gonna use the bathroom!” Rushing past him, you tugged your sleeping shirt down, attempting to hide the goosebumps rising on your thighs.

“I’ll make breakfast!” He called out, helping himself to Choso’s kitchen. You took as long as you could in the bathroom, waiting until he was done cooking to come out. “Hope you like eggs, little girl, because that’s all I know how to make.”

Taking the plate from him, you let Geto place his hand on your lower back and guide you to the couch. The TV was turned on low to some random morning news talking about the weather, and Geto’s hand stayed on your thigh the entire time you ate.

“Thank you for the food.” You said quickly, standing just as fast and going to the kitchen sink. Cleaning up the few dishes left out, you gasped and nearly jumped out of your skin feeling Geto press against your back.

His hands come to rest against the countertop, trapping you between it and him. His broad chest pushed against your back making you bend to accommodate the added weight, pushing your ass into his growing cock.

“G-geto-nii?” Another gasp came from you as his lips pressed against your ear, skimming around it and the sound of his breathing ringing in your head. Planting a soft kiss behind your ear, one of his hands came up to grab your jaw.

“You really are such a cute little sister, you know that?” Bringing your head back and up, Geto kisses your cheek a few times. His fingers splay downwards, grabbing onto a bit of your throat as he kissed the corner of your lips.

Squeezing your eyes shut, a little whimper comes from the back of your throat when he kisses your lips and forces your mouth open with his fingers. Getos tongue slides in effortlessly, like you’d invited him in and told himself to make your mouth his new home. Gliding his tongue over your teeth, his coffee flavored saliva started to drip down the corner of your mouth.

Beating a fist against the counter as you start to get too lightheaded, you’re gasping for air when he lets you fall back, crumpling to the countertop with ragged breathing. Smoothing a hand down your back, Geto goes down past the hem of your sleeping shorts and pushes his hand up under them.

“Geto-nii!” Curling your fingers into the granite, a loud squeal erupts from your chest and you force your body upright.

“Such a perfect fucking ass.” Geto groans, groping your flesh hard. “And no panties? Who knew you were so naughty while you slept.”

“M’not- not naughty!” You pout, turning over your shoulder and shaking your head at him.

“Such a naughty little sister I have.” Taking his hand out of your shorts, Geto lets you turn around and face him. Briefly biting his lip, Geto grabs you by the jaw again and kisses you, this time fully slotting his mouth against yours.

Immediately your hands fly back to catch yourself, the force of his kiss enough to almost make you fall over completely. The hand not holding your jaw snakes under your shirt and goes straight to your breast, giving it a rough squeeze that has your hands going to grip his upper arms.

“Sensitive, are we?” He pulls back slightly, licking his lips and yours and squeezing your breast again.

“It hurts.” Tilting your head back with a whine, your nails dig into his arms.

“Sshh sshh, you can take it, can’t you? Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me?”

“No.” A heavy pout is back on your lips, but you’re not sure it ever truly left. Geto’s brow quirks at your answer and he smirks.

“No? Why not? Is it because I’m not Choso?” He pauses and the silence that fills the air is all the answer he needs. “Didn’t I tell you last night I was your big brother now too? Hm?” As he speaks with slightly forced words his hand drops to the base of your throat and gets a tad tighter than you’re comfortable with.

“Y-yes but-”

“But nothing.” Geto cuts you off with a sharp press of his fingers against your pulse. Releasing your hold on his arms your hands fly up close to your throat, nerves on edge for what could happen next.

“Be a good little girl and let your big brother take care of you (Y/N).”

“But Choso-”

“Do you think Choso wants an inexperienced little baby who can’t handle having her tits groped a little?” Cocking his head to the side, Geto gives you a look. “Well, what do you think?” You’re at a loss for words and he can tell, a slight uptick to the side of his mouth when you lick your lips nervously.

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“Exactly, you don’t know. You don’t know any better, so just let Geto-nii take care of you. I’ll get you nice and ready for Choso, baby, don’t you worry.” Closing in on you once again, he kisses you softer this time, lets you ease into the feeling of his lips on yours.

He goes back to touching your breast just as hard as he was before, tugging on your nipple and making you cry out. You tried to tug his fingers off your nipple but it only made it hurt more. Bundling up Geto’s shirt in your hands, you stood against the counter and whimpered as he moved to the other breast.

“Aw, the poor baby’s crying.” He feels your tears on his face before he can see them and when he pulls back he laughs a little. A soft hiccup catches your throat and you unhinge your fingers from his shirt to wipe at the tears that are falling.

“Cause it hurts.” You mumble, a fresh wave of tears springing forth at the same time a warbled cry does as Geto palms both of your breasts roughly. Standing on your tip-toes you try to shimmy away from the overwhelming sensation.

“Who knew you were so sexy when you cry?” Geto isn’t really looking at you, he’s looking at the tears going down your cheeks. It’s making his cock harder by the minute and he leans forward and darts his tongue out, catching the salty stream and running his tongue up your cheek.

“Ew!” Jerking back with a cry, your hands pushing at his bare chest are useless to stop him. Kissing you right at the corner of your eye, Geto finally relents and stands up straight. Furiously wiping your face off, your lip curls in disgust at the feeling of his drying saliva on your cheek.

Planting a hand behind you, Geto shoves his other hand down your shorts. Cupping your sex in his palm, his fingers tentatively prod at your entrance and spread your lower lips with his fingers. His breathing is heavy and right in your ear, heavily entranced with touching your cunt.

Your legs spread of your own accord to let him find your clit easier. You’re still sniffling, a few tears are still welling in your eyes, but a heady feeling is taking over you. The smell of nicotine and a woody body wash roll off Geto in waves, filling the tight space between you and making you flush.

“What a perfect little cunt you have.” Geto groans, his fingers finally catching your clit and lightly pinching it.

“Geto-nii, please.” Your thighs clamp together around his hand when he does it again, the pleasure shooting up your spine almost painful.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Leaning his forehead against you, Geto shoves your legs open again and puts two fingers on your clit. He goes slow at first, savoring the feeling of touching your cunt. There’s a gentle buck to your hips every time he rolls his fingers just right and your fingers are back to gripping his shirt tightly.

Working up the wetness between your thighs, Geto goes down further and nudges your entrance, collecting the slick and bringing it back to your clit. He does this a few times until there’s a distinct wet sound in the air.

“Have you ever had fingers as big as mine in you?” He asks softly as he works his fingers into your cunt, the squeeze of your walls making his head spin.

“No.” That’s the truth and it makes you burn with shame. The only fingers that had been inside you as of late were your own, and even when it was someone else it wasn’t nearly like the stretch you were getting now.

“Right to the fucking knuckle.” Geto grunts, staring right down your shorts at his fingers buried inside you. “You’re so tight I’m surprised you took it all. What a good girl.” He presses a kiss to your temple and pulls his fingers out, stretching the fabric of your shorts as far as it’ll go.

Slamming them back in, Geto wastes no time in fucking you on his fingers. He’d been nice enough to go slow while he played with your clit, but he was tired of it now. He needed to feel your cunt clamp down on his fingers and see you lose yourself from just them alone.

Your mouth hung open dumbly, a gasp caught in your throat at the sudden change of pace. Looking up at him with wide eyes, you couldn’t get any words out as he pounded your cunt. The knuckles of his fingers rubbed against your clit with every stroke, making your legs twitch and threaten to collapse beneath you.

Your orgasm comes before you even know what’s happening, head falling forward and a loud moan finally spilling from your mouth. Grinding your hips down onto his fingers, a jolt goes through you when Getos thumb comes to rub your clit.

“What a good fucking little sister!” He all but cheers for you, grinding his hand on you and pushing in as far as he can to feel every inch of your spongy walls pulse around him. His chest swells with a bit of pride at getting you to cum and he withdraws from your shorts when you relax. Bringing his fingers up to your face, he spread your slick around his fingers. “Look at how messy you are.”

A muffled groan comes from him as he sticks his fingers into his mouth, savoring the flavor of your cunt and rutting against you slightly. It’s a taste he knows he’s now addicted to and his chest gets even bigger at being the first to taste you - something he’s going to hold over Choso’s head for ages.

Just as he’s cleaned his fingers and is about to shove his impossibly tight boxers off, Geto gets a phone call.

“Fuck, right now?” Gritting his teeth he leaves you to slump against the counter as he bounds over to the couch and grabs his phone. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck you!” He rants at his phone before straightening up and clearing his throat. “Hey, what’s up?”

The switch in his tone catches you off guard and your knees knock together when he looks over at you with scarily wide eyes. His nostrils flared as he listened to whoever spoke, he was clearly worked up and being interrupted wasn’t something he was taking lightly.

“I’ll be there in twenty.” Hanging up his phone right after, Geto let it fall from his hands and clatter onto the floor. He didn’t speak any further, only letting out an angry and frustrated groan as he began to collect his clothes.

“What’s going on?” You whispered hesitantly, watching him quickly gather his hair into a bun.

“Fucking work. Fucking- ugh, stupid fucking creative director just had to call a god damn meeting. Doesn’t the bitch know I’m fucking busy?” Getting the last of his things, Geto nearly storms right past you but catches himself at the last moment. “Hey.”

“Hm?” You look at him just in time for him to plant a heavy hand on the back of your neck and kiss you one last time, hard enough to leave your head spinning.

“I got your number from Choso’s phone, make sure to text me back, little sister.” The words rush out of him as he pulls away and you barely understand them but nod all the same. Slipping his shoes on, Geto opens the door and turns to you one last time. “See you later, little sis.”

“B-bye Geto-nii.” You wave goodbye, cheeks flushing at the bright smile he sends you before slamming the door closed and running down the corridor.

It takes far too long for you to push yourself away from the counter after his footsteps have disappeared entirely. The realization of what just transpired hit you, a dull ache throbbing between your legs as you walked to the couch. Your chest tightened up at the memory of how Geto treated you and the feeling of his hands lingered on you.

Checking your phone, there’s a few messages waiting for you. One from your mother asking how your day was going, a few from your brothers and one from Geto.

(Geto): I miss your pretty pussy already little sis

Attached to the message is a picture that makes waves of embarrassed heat go over your body. It’s taken in a bathroom stall at the closest station, the harsh fluorescent lighting casting weird shadows on Getos body. But that’s not what your focus is on, not at all.

What you’re looking at is his hard cock, flushed a deep angry red at the tip and sticky with precum. Geto hiked his shirt up and shoved his pants down on his thighs, the selfie just catching the way his shirt is tucked into his teeth.

He sends you another message, a video this time with a dark thumbnail. You click on it with no hesitation, heart thumping loudly in your chest and ears ringing as the video comes to life.

“Fuck, look what you did to me baby girl.” Geto’s gruff voice is low and hushed, the sounds of other men coming in and out of the bathroom drowning out his soft groans. The camera is held from a down angle right by his head, directed straight at his hand working his cock over in his fist.

There’s a faint wet clicking sound and you can see the way Getos cock glistens in the light. With his mouth right by the receiver you can hear every little grunt and whimper that leaves his mouth and it makes your thighs clench together tightly, cunt aching to be filled by his fingers again.

The hard muscles of his stomach were shuddering with every downstroke, a slight rock to his hips beginning to take form the longer he went. Geto was very wound up, the playtime with his new little sister cut far too short.

“Wish it was you touching me, I’d cum so fast.” His words come out a hushed whisper and the camera shakes as he begins to really fuck his fist. “Just want your cute little mouth wrapped around me-” Geto’s voice was getting higher strung the more he spoke. “Your cunt felt so good around my fingers- want it- need it on my cock-”

Geto nearly dropped his phone as he came, angling his cock up so it shot onto his stomach, painting his tattooed skin in a sticky film of white. A long moan left him and you could practically see him squeezing his eyes shut tightly, fucking his fist through his orgasm until his cock started to get soft.

The video ends without anything else, screen turning black the second he lets go. You don’t realize how tightly your body has wound up from the video, thighs clenched tightly together and a breath caught in your chest.

(Geto): you like it? I bet you’re touching yourself right now, huh?

(Geto): I’m getting on the train now, hopefully Choso will let me come over again tonight after I tell him how good you taste

(Y/N): no don’t tell him!

You frantically send that message a few times but Geto doesn’t respond, just leaves you on read as soon as the message is sent. Despite the heat between your legs your heart starts to pound for a different reason, hands shaking with fear that Geto really will tell Choso what he did to you.

An hour has passed of you sitting on the couch stewing in worry and the sound of the door opening is what brings you out of your stupor and you almost fling your phone across the room in shame. Choso appears in the doorway with a somber expression on his face, giving you a long look as he toes his shoes off.

“Still in your pajamas I see.” He comments, voice low and even. You nod, still unable to speak with the image of Geto milking his cock still fresh in your mind. Walking further into his apartment Choso stifles a sigh and runs a hand through his hair.

“Why’re you here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” You avoid meeting his steeled gaze, instead focusing on your phone and trying to hide your guilty expression.

“Came home early, thought we could have some lunch together in a cafe before I head back.” Choso’s words are casual but his body language is anything but. With a tight jaw and arms crossed over his chest, you can tell he’s upset.

“What’s wrong?” Your blood begins to run cold as you ask and Choso scoffs, brow quirking in annoyance.

“Why don’t you tell me?” He’s staring directly at you with an unmistakable fire in his eyes. No air fills your lungs as you’re locked into staring back at him, but dread drips slowly down your back. Geto must have told him, that’s why he’s making that face.

“I-I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shaking your head, you move to stand. “I’ll go get changed.” Choso watches you almost run to the bedroom and once you’re there he makes his move.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, huh?” He leans his body against the wall, blocking you from leaving.

“I don’t!” Your voice is getting more defensive by the minute. “I have no idea, Choso-nii.”

“Did he tell you to lie? It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend anymore little sister.” Walking chest to chest with you, Choso stares down his nose at you.

“I’m not lying!” You can feel yourself breaking down, the tension in the air enough to make a painful burning prick behind your eyes and tears threaten to mist your lashes.

“I thought you loved me? Yet you won’t tell me the truth.” Narrowing his eyes, Choso’s hands curl into fists. “Or do you love Geto-nii more now?”

“I don’t love him!”

“No, you must love him otherwise why would you let him touch you like that? Just tell me the fucking truth (Y/N), you care more about Geto now that he made you cum.”

“I don’t-”

“Shut up yes you do. I can’t believe you turned into a stupid little slut who lets anyone touch her.”

“Choso-nii!” Now tears are welling in your eyes the longer you look at him.

“Don’t call me that anymore, I don’t want a little sister like you anymore.” Those words stabbed you right in the heart and Choso could tell by the way a choked gasp came from you. “When I moved out you told me you’d wait for me but I guess that was a lie.”

“I’m sorry!” Tears are falling down your face with no remorse, snot starting to drip out of your nose as well. Gripping Choso’s hoodie in your hands, you refuse to let go as he gives you a hard push. “B-big brother, please!”

“Geto’s your big brother now, not me.”

“No, no he’s not! You are! You are and I love you and I’m sorry!” Bouncing your toes, you wrench your arms around his neck and force him against you. “I didn’t mean to- to do all that.” Choso manages to fling one of your arms off of him and you let out a screech. “No, please!”

“What a good act you’re putting up right now.”

“Big brother!” Burying your face into his hoodie, your nails are nearly clawing through the fabric to feel his skin underneath. “I-I’ll do anything, please don’t do this!”

“You’ll do anything? Is that what you told Geto?”

“No!” Pulling back with horribly blurry vision, you blink fat tears down your cheeks. As your gaze slowly focuses on Choso you’re met with his hollow blank expression. Your chest is heaving as you try to calm down, try to find some other words to say to convince him not to abandon you.

Face unbearably hot and mind clouded with emotion, you lurch forward and push your lips onto his. The kiss is awkward, the angle at which you came at him making your noses bump together uncomfortably.

“Please, please, please.” You beg against his lips, your tears staining his face from how close you are. “Don’t be mad, please.” Kissing him all over his face, you don’t feel his expression change.

“Tell me where he touched you.” Choso says, effectively pushing you away from him in one go.

“What?”

“Tell me where he touched you.” He repeats, pushing you to the bed. Your knees buckle as soon as they meet the mattress and you fall down across the messy sheets. Stripping off his hoodie and pants, you can see the outline of his cock when his shirt moves.

“He…” You begin, but stop as Choso sinks both knees into the mattress and straddles you.

“Go on.” He grabs your chin and forces your head to tilt up.

“First he kissed me.” One of your hands comes up, gesturing to all the places on your face where he kissed you.

“With his tongue, too?” Choso’s eyes dart around your face and he grimaces when you nod. “Bastard.” Gripping your chin harder, Choso leans down and kisses your wet cheek, the tip of his tongue lightly grazing your skin to drink in your tears.

“Choso-nii!” Squirming as the slimy appendage follows along with his lips, you yelp when he gets to your ear and licks there too.

“Geto was right about one thing - you’re fucking hot when you cry.” Blowing cool air over your ear, he goes back to your lips. They’re much drier than Geto’s but you like it, let his tongue in immediately when he pushes it in.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer. Your mouths slot together, drool beginning to drip down your face as Choso pushes more of himself on you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, he ruts into your shorts, his cock coming to life.

“Where else?” His voice is raspy when he pulls away and he doesn’t go far.

“Here.” You shake your shoulders side to side, making your breasts move under your shirt. Choso hikes your shirt up over your breasts, your nipples already hard and waiting for him.

“Look at you, my pretty little sister.” With an unwavering gaze, Choso smooths his palms over your breasts. “Geto really touched you here with his dirty hands?”

“Y-yeah, he was too rough. It hurt a lot.” Choso nodded as you spoke, running soft fingers over your nipples and taking them gently between his fingers.

“Geto is a big meanie, hurting my baby like that.” He chided and leaned down to plant a kiss between your breasts. “I told him to be gentle too.” Choso begins to pepper kisses all over your chest. “He promised he’d wait until we got back home from work but the bastard just couldn’t help himself, huh?”

“What?”

“Geto and I wanted to give you a gift tonight but it seems he was unable to wait.” Cupping your breasts, Choso flicked one of your nipples with his tongue making you jump. “I told him he had to wait for me to be there, I know how rough he can get with girls. And it seems I wasn’t mistaken.”

Kissing you before you have the chance to really think about the words he said, Choso gropes your breasts softly. It’s a stark contrast to how rough Geto had been, when Choso rolls your nipples between his fingers you don’t try to get away.

Littering kisses down your neck, Choso sucks on your nipples gently, grazing them with his teeth and running his hands up and down your sides. With every pleasurable wave that goes through you, you buck your hips up into his, the feeling of his hard cock brushing against you making you more excited.

“He touched you here too, I know that.” Choso says with his mouth pressed against your chest, his hand pushing between your bodies to cup your sex through your shorts. “Was he rough here, too?”

“A little.”

“Geto-nii really is just a big jerk, isn’t he?” He asks you with a soft smile, running his other hand over your face and cupping your cheek.

“Yeah, a big meanie.” You pout up at him, nuzzling your cheek into his hand.

“I’ll make you feel all better, don’t worry baby.” Unraveling his body from yours, he nudges you up the bed. “Take your clothes off and put your head on the pillow, get comfortable for me.”

You immediately do as he says, stripping yourself bare in record time. Choso steps back to take his clothes off as well and his cock slaps against his stomach when he takes off his underwear.

Crawling back onto the bed, Choso falls face first between your legs, catching himself on his elbows. He’s directly facing your cunt, his nose is so close he wouldn’t need to lean far at all to put it on you.

“Choso-nii.” Your head falls back with a sigh against the pillows as he runs his hands over your inner thighs, spreading your lips and exposing your leaking cunt for him.

“What a pretty fucking pussy you have, Geto was right about that too.” Blowing air onto you, he chuckles softly when your hole clenches around nothing. Leaning forward, Choso places a gentle kiss on your clit and your thighs nearly clamp around him.

“Choso!” A hand flies down to grip his hair as his lips wrap around your clit, his thumb pulling back the hood. The action is enough to make your thighs wrap around his head, your hips bucking high off the bed the longer he runs his tongue over you.

Choso doesn’t mind the squeeze, he welcomes it in fact and wraps an arm around your leg, pulling you closer to his face. A series of heady pants leave your mouth, eyes rolling back when he gives a brief, sharp suck.

Letting go of your clit, Choso pushes his face deeper into your cunt and worms his tongue inside you. Lapping at your walls Choso groans as you tighten around his tongue, your essence flowing into his mouth that he swallows eagerly. There’s drool beginning to pool on his lower lip, dripping down the crack of your ass and staining his bed.

Getting drunk off the taste of your cunt, Choso ruts against the bed as he fucks you with his tongue. More groans come from deep within his chest and when your hips buck up into him he rides the motion, encouraging you to do it more.

Going back to your clit, Choso wiggles two fingers between your legs and pushes them deep inside you. His fingers aren’t as long as Geto’s but they’re thicker, stretching you in a way the other man simply could not. The rough calluses on your brothers fingers served him well, the extra friction on that special spot inside you making you keen.

“Go ahead and cum, (Y/N), use me for your pleasure.” Choso’s breathless as he speaks, forcing his head up from the vice grip you’re holding him in.

“Choso-nii, please-” Your entire back is arched high off the bed, your hips canting up to fuck yourself on his fingers. Choso bites his lip and watches your face contort for a moment before diving back down and honing in on your clit.

His fingers inside you go slower than Getos, milking the feeling of your walls around him for as long as possible. The pace is almost unbearable and not enough, but his mouth on your clit makes up for it.

As you cum the hand grabbing Choso’s hair tightens, pushing his face deeper into you as you ride out the waves. A loud, unabashed moan comes from you, whatever neighbors are home next door have definitely heard it. Choso fucks you through your orgasm, mouth going down to catch your release.

When your body finally relaxes is when Choso comes up from between your legs. His face is smeared with his spit and your slick and he wipes it off on the back of his hand, catching his breath as he moves over you and hooks your legs back around his waist.

“Are you ready, baby?” The tip of his cock is dragging up and down your slit, making the growing fuzziness in your head even stronger. You nod, eager to have him inside you. “Use your words.”

“I’m- I’m ready.” You speak with a heavy tongue, arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders in an attempt to get him closer. Satisfied, Choso pushes in with little resistance, his cock gliding in easily with the amount of slick you have.

“Fuck-” He chokes as he bottoms out, a delicious shiver running through him. Chosos cock is thick like his fingers are, stretching you out and making you squirm. Panting and heaving, he draws out halfway and pushes back in with the wet squelching of your cunt around him.

“Big brother!” Your nails dig into his back, hips rising to meet his slow thrusting. His back bows deeply, trying to keep as much control as he can over himself. All Choso wants to do is sit back and pound into you, make you cream all over him and maybe even squirt.

But he takes his time, working his cock into you at a nice and even pace. He has a point to prove, that he’s better than Geto and that he’ll treat you better. He knows he will, knows he can, but he needs you to know it too.

Digging your feet into his lower back, you huff. Being fucked by Choso is better than you could ever imagine, the veins on his cock dragging across your walls wonderfully, but you need more. This slow pace can only keep you satisfied for so long.

“Getting impatient?” Choso chuckles, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. Curling his fists into the pillow beneath you, Choso snaps his hips into yours. “I’ll give you what you want, don’t worry.”

Choso slowly increased the speed of his hips, the slapping of wet skin against skin getting louder and louder. The control he had was slipping away with every thrust, his lip caught tightly between his teeth as he watched your eyes roll back.

“Choso-nii, ah- ah-” The moans coming out of your mouth were so pretty Choso held his breath to be able to hear them better. He tried to keep his head upright to stare at you, but the drag of his heavy cock inside you was making it impossible.

Dropping his head to rest in the crook of your neck, Choso kissed and sucked on your flesh as he fucked you. Your body rocked with every thrust, a moan spilling out every time he bottomed out and nails dragging down his back.

“Take my cock so fucking well-” Choso panted, grabbing under your ass to angle your hips higher. “My lil sis so good to me-” His head was clouding up from pleasure and his words dissolved into babbles.

Chosos teeth scraped against your neck as he spoke, adding to all the sensations washing over you. You moaned right along with what he was saying even though half of his words didn’t make it to your ear, muffled by his mouth pressed against your neck.

A squeal ripped through you as Choso clumsily rubbed your clit, making you tighten around him even harder. He growled deep from his chest, it was becoming almost impossible to drag his cock out of you.

“Choso-nii! I’m- ah-” Tears pricked your lashes you squeezed your eyes so hard together. The pleasure was coming to a head, making your ears ring and mouth fall open in a perfect O. Strained moans broke through, echoed by sharp gasps of air you forced into your lungs.

At the sound of you coming undone, Choso came as well. His hips went even faster, chasing the high for as long as he could. Your cunt gushed around him, mixing with the seed he was pumping into you and creating an even bigger mess on his sheets.

Choso slammed his lips onto yours, desperate to take as much as you could give him. His fingers didn’t stop moving on your clit until you feebly pushed his hand away, and that’s when he knew he could slow down.

“I love you.” Choso says immediately after he stops moving, his body buzzing with happy hormones and a drunken smile is on his face.

“I love you too!” You reply quickly, still trying to catch your breath. Choso stays buried inside you until his cock goes soft and then he pulls out slowly, watching his cum string along his cock and keeping the two of you connected.

“You did so well for me.” He mused, falling to your side and closing his eyes. He’s already pulling you into a side hug before he can even think, throwing the blankets over the two of you to keep the chill from evaporating sweat away.

You lay quietly together, catching your breath and sharing soft kisses together. Your heart is absolutely full of love for Choso, and a smile threatens to never leave your face. It strains your cheeks and makes them ache but you don’t try to push it away.

“How about we get some lunch now?” Choso asks after twenty minutes.

“Okay.” Nodding softly, you make no move to get up from his hold, instead curling into him even more and staying there for another few minutes.

“Alright, let’s really get up now.” Rocking back and forth, Choso rolls on top of you for a moment before rolling completely off the bed. “I’m fucking starving.”

You get dressed after Choso cleans his cum from between your thighs, giving you soft kisses on your stomach and hips as he does so. He keeps an arm around you the entire time, never letting you stray too far from him as you walk to the front door.

“Oh, and (Y/N)?” He stops right as you open the front door.

“Yes?”

“Give me your phone, I’m blocking Geto’s number and deleting those fucking nudes.”

[bigbearpartnersblog]

11 Trends Transforming the Future of Human Resources

As we move further into the 21st century, the field of human resources is changing faster than ever before. With new technologies and shifting demographics, the way that businesses recruit and manage employees is rapidly evolving. Here are 11 trends that will shape the future of human resources:

Data-driven Decision Making: Companies are increasingly turning to data analytics and artificial intelligence (AI) to make decisions about hiring, training, performance management, and compensation. Businesses can use AI to quickly gain large amounts of data to identify trends and insights that can help inform their decision-making processes.

Automation: Companies are increasingly turning to automation to streamline and simplify processes like payroll, scheduling, recruitment, onboarding and more. This allows HR departments to focus on higher-level tasks and strategic planning while ensuring that all processes run efficiently.

Digital Recruiting: Traditional methods of recruiting like newspaper ads and job fairs are becoming less popular as businesses turn to digital tools like job boards, social media and video interviewing. This makes it easier to connect with a broader range of qualified candidates faster and more efficiently.

Flexible Work Schedules: More and more companies are embracing flexible work schedules that allow employees to work from home, come in late or leave early, take extended vacations, and more. This shift is a response to the demands of the modern workforce for greater autonomy, balance, and control over their lives. This trend is allowing companies to access a larger, more diverse pool of talent while also saving money on overhead costs associated with running an office.

Increased Emphasis on Soft Skills: Companies are looking for employees with more than just technical know-how. Soft skills such as communication, problem-solving, and critical thinking are now essential qualities that employers look for when deciding who to hire.

Talent Acquisition Strategies: Companies are focusing more on their talent acquisition strategies to ensure they’re recruiting the best and brightest employees. This includes initiatives such as targeting specific educational institutions and professional networks in order to find the most qualified candidates.

HR’s Role in the C-Suite: In the past, human resources often had no seat at the table when it came to strategic decision-making. However, with a greater focus on employee engagement and retention, HR is now seen as a key business partner that can help drive innovation and growth. As such, more companies are bringing HR into the C-Suite and involving them in important strategic planning discussions.

Performance Management: Companies are shifting their focus from simply tracking employee inputs (like sick days and vacation time) to measuring their outputs (such as productivity and engagement). This includes using data analytics to monitor performance, setting up feedback systems, and employees based on their results.

Human-Centered Approach: Companies are beginning to recognize the importance of treating their employees with respect and compassion. This includes providing opportunities for professional development, creating a positive work culture, and investing in initiatives that prioritize employee health and well-being. By taking a more human-centred approach to HR, businesses can create an environment where employees feel valued and inspired to do their best work.

Agile HR: Companies are embracing agile HR principles to design and implement changes quickly and efficiently. This involves understanding the needs of employees, rolling out initiatives in small increments, and taking feedback seriously to ensure that the changes being made are meaningful and effective. By taking an agile approach to HR, companies can stay ahead of the curve when it comes to adapting to a rapidly changing world.

Coaches, Mentors, and Leaders: HR is no longer solely responsible for enforcing policy and procedure. Instead, HR professionals are playing a more active role in developing their employees, fostering innovation, and driving positive change within the organization. 

By embracing these new trends in human resources management, businesses of all sizes can create an environment that attracts and retains top talent while ensuring the success of their organization for years to come. With the right strategies in place, businesses can create a competitive advantage by leveraging the future of human resources.

Website : https://bigbearpartners.com/sb/11-trends-transforming-the-future-of-human-resources/

[aries-writingblog]

Whatever It Takes

Summary: When Sam gets injured on a mission, YN will do anything to fix her mistakes. While she worries about fixing Sam, Bucky picks up on her guilt. Picking up the pieces of herself she dropped in her frantic efforts.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2322

Warnings: panic/ anxiety, mentions of blood and character injury

AN: This was one requested by the lovely and wonderful @cherry-season who gave me so much inspiration to write! I hope I did it justice. Happy reading!! GIF is not my own, credit to original creator.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, threatening to break free of its skeletal cage. Anxious adrenaline flowed in her veins as she paced. Hand rubbing across the back of her neck, impatiently waiting for answers.

It had been an hour since she and Sam returned from their mission. The mission that went completely and horrendously wrong. It started off fine- it started normal. Then it got twisted in a way YN couldn’t even comprehend.

She had been watching his back. She always watched her partner’s back. So what went wrong? What went so off rails- what did she do? How could she have let this happen?

“Miss LN?” YN’s head snapped to the source of the noise. A doctor- still in their surgery gear. She took a shaky inhale, her nerves were decimated. “Why don’t you take a seat- just… try to relax a bit.”

“How- how, where is Sam? Is he okay?” She demanded, moving a step toward the doctor. The woman eased her backwards, gently settling her into a chair. Latex covered fingers pried in between her own glove covered hands. Unclenching the tightly wound fists she had created.

The doctor gave a small, apologetic smile. It quickly fell, giving way to a pressed line of condolence. YN’s stomach plummeted, nausea crawling across her organs. Turning her stomach. Bile rising in her throat. She knew that look. It was the one she had to give to victims when they weren’t going to make it.

“There’s been a slight complication.” She reported quietly, her gaze soft as she studied the agent before her. She was unraveling and quickly. Hands shaking, goosebumps raising on her arms.

“I don’t understand,” YN swallowed, throat aching as her nose burned. Eyes watering from unshed tears. Blurring her eyesight. She blinked them back roughly. “You said you would fix him- what complication?”

“Both kidneys were compromised during the mission- he made it here just in time for us to stabilize him but he is going to need a rapid organ donation to survive.” The doctor informed steadily, keeping her voice even and low. YN’s fingers curled again, trapping her hands between her own. The doctor didn’t blink, unfazed by the strength in her grip. “It’s a difficult task but we have everyone we can working on finding at least one quickly. It’s more complicated due to his blood type- we haven’t been able to find anything available nearby.”

YN sniffled, her nose stuffing up as water slipped down her cheeks. She bit down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood. The coppery taste coating her tongue.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It had been an easy mission- what did she screw up? Why did it have to be Sam? It should’ve been her, she should’ve-

Her eyes snapped up, meeting the doctor’s concerned features. She could still do something. It wasn’t too late. YN released her hold, wiping across her face. Erasing the remnants of her distress. Her bottom lip trembled but she forced the sentence out anyway.

“What’s the type?”

“He’s O positive.” The doctor didn’t hesitate in a response.

A heavy weight began to lift from her chest, she swallowed back the rough, scratchy feeling in her throat.

“I’m O negative- does that work, can that match? I’ll give whatever he needs.” Her words tripped over themselves, rushing out. Any way to compensate. She was the one who got Sam hurt, she was responsible. She should clean it up.

The doctor’s face brightened almost instantaneously, her eyebrows lifting. Eyes wide.

“It can-“ She cut herself off, pulling YN to her feet. “We need to run a tissue sample test to make sure that you’re compatible. While it’s running, fill out the paperwork just in case.”

YN rushed after the woman, hurrying through the hallways. She could save Sam. The guilt burned in her chest, sinking to meet the rising anxiety in her stomach. Creating a turbulent, vile mixture of self loathing. It had to match… this has to work. Otherwise… she would forever be known as the person who killed Sam Wilson.

~~~~~~

The first thing she became conscious of was a tense pressure on her hand. Then came a muted, muffled noise. It was familiar, albeit distorted and distant. A small groan fell from her lips. In response, the pressure became more intense. A firmer hold. Her eyes blinked open slowly, her head felt light, as if it was floating a thousand feet above her body.

“There she is.” YN turned her head as far as possible, which wasn’t much distance, eyes cutting the rest of the way. She tried to clear her vision, blinking to wear the groggy remnants of sleep away. “How you feelin’?”

“Like shit.” She groaned, throat scratchy and dry. Bucky released his hold, standing to pour a glass of water for her.

“Well, it’s to be expected.” He sighed, stepping closer to her bedside. He grasped her chin gently, angling the lip of the cup to her mouth. Tilting the glass slowly, allowing her time to swallow the water down greedily. “Unlike a major surgery cause, there’s no need to tell the people you love you’re having surgery. Especially not if it’s emergent.”

YN’s lips quirked at the corners. She hadn’t really been thinking of anyone but Sam in the moment. It all happened so fast, the whole day seemed to have been but a blur in her memory. She couldn’t recall details, her thoughts crashed against a hazy wall as she glimpsed back.

“Sorry… didn’t really know what was happening until it did.” She spoke slowly, words felt like molasses on her tongue. Bucky didn’t seem to mind, gently brushing her hair back before returning to his previous seat at her bedside. He pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, giving a quick squeeze of reassurance.

“I understand…” He told her, a soft smile playing on his features. There was a melancholy glimmer in his irises. They betrayed him, as usual. “I was just scared that you… left.”

All Bucky had received was a phone call from the medical wing. Just that he was written down as YN LN’s emergency medical contact and that she had been in surgery. Granted, it had mainly been his fault- he didn’t listen any further for more details. The phone dropped from his hand and he bolted from their shared apartment. Rushing frantically toward her. Panic sloshing, ripping into his chest. Shredding his last hopes of sanity as his thoughts raced.

YN moved her fingers up to his wrist, the bass of his heartbeat thumped prominently into her own body. In response, Bucky’s fingers curled over her wrist, searching for the same feeling. It was slightly weakened, her heartbeat, but it was there. She was alive. A gentle, sleepy smile appeared on her lips. Eyes almost closed again.

“I’m never leaving.” She promised, applying pressure to his wrist. Bucky returned the smile and the gesture, the knot of emotion in his throat unraveling in steady increments. Allowing him to breathe easier.

He reached over, tugging her blankets back up with his free hand. Over her torso in an attempt to contain some of the heat the flimsy hospital sheets provided. He sniffed, clearing his throat. Turning his face away from her view.

“Get some rest, daredevil.” Bucky instructed, sliding his chair closer. Head resting beside their entwined hands. His blue eyes twinkled with tears he had kept bottled away. All YN wanted was to reach over and brush them away but she felt unconsciousness creeping up from behind. Waiting to drag her back into the darkness. Her mouth wouldn’t open, tongue wouldn’t move. Her eyes drifted closed; her last picture was Bucky’s beautiful face resting beside her.

~~~~~~

Bucky sighed gently, curling closer into the warmth she provided. They couldn’t sleep like they used to. He was accustomed to wrapping around her like a vine, keeping her body close to him. The weight, the pressure and warmth, kept him present. Kept him calm. Even if he awoke in a panic, which had eased in the past few months, the feeling of YN’s figure pressed to his always seemed to relieve his frazzled, frayed nerves.

But now, after the surgery, he couldn’t hold her the way he wanted. He couldn’t provide the comfort he craved to give her. And she needed it. He wasn’t blind. Bucky knew exactly why she had rushed into that surgery. The blame that she had placed on herself was too vast. Much too heavy for her to bear alone.

So he tried to convey the comfort in other ways. Helping her to the bathroom and to the shower. Making her meals and sitting with her while she ate. Reading to her, going through as many pages as it took for her to fall asleep. Keeping her distracted from her bed rest. Bringing her presents, mostly just notes that Sam had written and asked Bucky to deliver.

Sam didn’t blame her. Especially not after she saved his life like she did. Bucky had visited when he woke up, explained the situation. How she felt, how it was eating away at her. And he couldn’t get out of bed yet- he was still being heavily monitored by the medical staff. So, for the past few weeks he had resorted to video calls and notes to her. An attempt to cheer her up. Bucky was relieved to see it was working.

“Buck?” YN’s voice was muffled by their shared comforter. He hummed in response, not fully committed to the idea of waking up. His senses were still slightly dull, lulled into submission by the warm body at his side. “Your arm is really heavy and I really have to pee.”

Bucky grunted, shuffling to slide his arm away from her hips where it had lain. YN shimmied over to the edge of the bed, groaning as she pushed her weight over the side. She stumbled, her hand pressed to the gauze padding on her abdomen. Bucky scrambled out of the bed, sheets tangling around his ankles.

“You’re not suppose to do it on your own.” He grumbled, his tone was sleep- laden. His eyes weren’t even fully open yet. YN scoffed, accepting his arm anyway. Together, they crept toward the bathroom slowly, most of her weight against his side. “You coulda asked, doll.”

“I can handle going to the bathroom by myself, Bucky.” YN insisted, her side glare was fatal. Eyes narrowed and full of frustrated fury. “You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot.”

“But I want to.” He replied simply, leaning against the doorframe, gazing into the bedroom to give her privacy. He didn’t need to, he had already been witness to every inch of her skin. Every mark on her skin, every freckle and scar. But he figured she would appreciate it none the less. Give her a controllable amount of autonomy. “I like doing it.”

It was the honest truth. Bucky reveled in the fact that every ounce of his attention was placed on her and her alone. He liked to care for her. He liked making her coffee and meals, helping her up and down. It was something he knew the old Bucky did often. The old Bucky took care of Steve when he was sick, and Steve’s mother when he could help. When his sisters were under the weather. It was something engraved in his bones: caring for those he loved. Providing comfort.

“It’s rotten work.” YN’s voice was quiet, the running water almost drowned the words out. But Bucky heard them. He turned slowly, giving her a hand towel to dry her hands. Her eyes were down, staring at the fabric between her fingers. Taking her time, hoping he would move past her sentence.

“Not to me,” Bucky responded. His fingertip brushed against her cheekbone, wisps of her hair passing through his fingers. He tucked them gently behind her ear before tilting her chin up. Persuading her watery eyes to meet his. He smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes portraying the overflowing kindness he couldn’t vocalize. “Not if it’s you.”

YN chuckled, a weak smile on her lips. Shaking her head, she carefully shuffled forward. Wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his chest. Bucky’s response was instant. Instinctively holding her delicately to his body. Molded against the other. He inhaled deeply, the smell of her shampoo overwhelming his senses. YN pressed closer, the swell of his chest was achingly comforting. His t- shirt soft against her cheek.

“What do you say, I steal a wheelchair and we go up to Tony’s floor. We can bribe his chef to make some of those pancakes with the…” Bucky’s nose scrunched, brows furrowing. His fingertips that had been tracing shapes on her back stilled as he wracked his brain. Mouth twisting with frustration when he came up blank. “What’s the… those color things, again?”

“Sprinkles?” She suggested, pressing her chin to his chest. He glanced down, their noses almost pressed together. Bucky grinned, leaning forward to smack a kiss to her nose.

“Those. How bout we get some of those and we can meet Sam for breakfast?” He asked, squeezing her hips lightly. She nodded, successfully distracted from her thoughts that had been rampant in her head.

“Can he eat those yet? Isn’t he on, like, a hospital diet or something?” YN inquired, wrapping her arm around his waist.

Bucky hummed, helping her hobble out of the bathroom. He had tried carrying her places but she vehemently disagreed. Claiming she would never get better if she didn’t exercise. Eventually, as always, she would get tired and most of her weight would be on him anyways. He didn’t mind it.

“That sounds like a Sam problem.”

“You’re ridiculous, James Barnes.” He grinned at her laughter. His fingertips digging into her side teasingly.

“It’s all for you, sugar. All for you.”