#i'm having a normal one trying to catch up with challenges

[a-driftamongopenstars]

screeblings. screebabies. screebideebies. scribbies. scribbens. screeblets.

[plutosunshine]

What changes do you need to make in your life? Uranus in houses

Uranus in the 1st house

If you have Uranus in the 1st house, life is kinda asking you — maybe even pushing you — to embrace your individuality completely. Like, not just surface-level "I'm a little different" — but deep, radical self-acceptance. You're meant to stand out. You’re not here to fit into neat little boxes or live by someone else’s blueprint. And honestly, the more you try to "blend in," the more uncomfortable and restless you’ll probably feel.

Change for you often looks like breaking free from old versions of yourself — shedding layers of identity that don't match who you actually are inside. It's almost like you have to reinvent yourself several times through life, and each time you get closer to your truest, most electric version.

Also, people with Uranus in the 1st house sometimes shock others without meaning to — just by being themselves. If you've ever felt like people either instantly "get you" or are like, "Whoa, what are they about?" — that's totally part of your magic. You're meant to wake people up just by existing. So part of the change you might need is learning not to shrink yourself to make others more comfortable. Your energy shakes things up, and the world needs that.

Basically, life is asking you to be bold about who you are. Own your quirks, trust your instincts, and don't be afraid of people who don't "get it." Your real people will. ⚡

Uranus in the 2nd house

When Uranus is in your 2nd house, life kinda whispers (or sometimes yells), "Hey, your relationship to money, possessions, and self-worth isn't meant to be traditional." Stability in those areas? It's a moving target. You might experience sudden gains and losses, or your income might come from weird, unconventional, or unexpected places — like random side hustles, tech stuff, spiritual work, inventions, or just not the typical 9-5 route.

You're not supposed to cling too hard to stuff — money, belongings, even security in the "normal" sense — because Uranus wants you to find your true value somewhere deeper. It's like life challenges you to stay flexible, resourceful, and open to change. If you ever try to "lock down" your finances too tightly, life might throw curveballs just to remind you: "Hey, you can't control this like everyone else does."

What you’re really being nudged toward is a more authentic, liberated version of security — one that's based on your own inner worth, not just how much is in your bank account or what you own. That can feel wild sometimes, but it’s where your freedom and true abundance live.

Also, with Uranus here, you probably have some super unique talents or ways of creating value — like, skills that aren't "standard issue." Part of your life path is trusting that and not trying to be cookie-cutter about how you "should" earn or what you "should" have.

In short: you’re here to redefine what stability means — on your terms. And once you stop trying to do it the way everyone else expects, the real magic flows.

Uranus in the 3rd house

If you’ve got Uranus in the 3rd house, your mind doesn’t work like everyone else's — and that’s a huge gift. You're wired to think fast, differently, outside the box. Like, while everyone else is still putting the pieces of a puzzle together, you're already looking at the next puzzle two steps ahead. Your ideas can be brilliant, futuristic, and honestly, sometimes even too "out there" for people to immediately understand.

Life pushes you to communicate in your own unique way — whether that’s through writing, speaking, tech, memes, art, whatever fits your flavor. You’re probably not here to just parrot what’s already been said — you're here to spark new conversations. It’s very "I have something different to say, and if you don't get it, that's fine — you'll catch up."

Change-wise, Uranus in the 3rd house wants you to free your voice. Don’t water yourself down just to be understood easily. You're meant to bring new ideas into the world, even if it feels like you're shouting into the void sometimes. You’re also probably here to teach or influence people in unexpected ways — even just by chatting or posting online. You might drop a random comment that seriously changes someone's life without even trying.

Also, heads up: your day-to-day life can be kinda unpredictable. Last-minute trips, sudden changes in plans, weird encounters with siblings or neighbors — that's all very Uranus 3rd house energy. The universe likes to keep your environment stimulating, because your brain craves newness and movement.

So overall, life’s asking you to trust your strange, electric mind — and share it, even if it feels like no one gets it at first. You’re a mental pioneer. 🧠⚡

Uranus in the 4th house

When Uranus is in your 4th house, home and family roots are not exactly "normal" — and they’re not supposed to be. You might have grown up in a household that felt a little unstable, eccentric, chaotic, or just different from what most people around you experienced. Maybe there were sudden moves, surprising family dynamics, or a general sense that home didn’t always mean "predictable."

At a soul level, life is nudging you to redefine what home and emotional security mean for yourself. You’re probably not meant to live a super traditional, white-picket-fence kind of life — unless you totally reinvent what that looks like for you. You're wired to crave emotional freedom as much as emotional connection, which can be a weird balancing act. You want to belong, but not if it means losing yourself.

One big change Uranus asks from you is to detach from old family patterns that no longer support who you are becoming. You might be the one in your family who “breaks the chain” — doing life differently, healing old emotional wounds, choosing freedom over stuck loyalty.

Also, you may randomly move at unexpected times, live in unusual places, have a very unique home setup, or create a kind of “chosen family” of your own. Home for you isn't necessarily one physical place — it’s more about finding people and spaces where you can breathe, be weird, and feel truly safe being yourself.

If you ever feel like your foundation is shaking, it’s usually Uranus asking, "Is this still real for you? Or are you clinging to something out of fear?" And if it’s not authentic, life will eventually push you to shake it loose.

In short: your soul's mission is to create an emotional life based on truth, not tradition — and it's okay if it looks totally different from what you grew up with. In fact, it’s supposed to. 💫

Uranus in the 5th house

When Uranus is in your 5th house, life is saying loud and clear: "You’re not here to create like everyone else. You’re here to shock, inspire, and completely rewrite the rules of self-expression." Your creativity, your passions, even the way you love — it’s all electric, unpredictable, and absolutely unique to you.

You probably get flashes of inspiration out of nowhere — like one minute you're just living your life, the next you’re hit with a wild idea that’s lightyears ahead of its time. Follow those sparks. Your soul is happiest when you’re making or doing something that feels exciting, different, even a little rebellious.

When it comes to love and dating? Yeahhh... not exactly "by the book" either. 😂 You need excitement, freedom, and real connection — not just safe, boring routines. People who try to tie you down too fast or expect you to follow some romance script might make you want to run for the hills. Fast. Love for you needs to feel like an adventure, not an obligation.

Also, with Uranus in the 5th, you're meant to experiment with joy — find what lights you up and don’t be afraid if it changes over time. Hobbies, art, passion projects, even the way you relate to kids (if you have them or ever do) will all have a non-traditional flavor.

The big change Uranus asks of you is to trust your weird, wonderful self-expression, even if it doesn’t make sense to others. You’re not here to color inside the lines — you're here to invent whole new colors. 🎨⚡

And honestly, when you really let yourself play your way, life becomes magic.

Uranus in the 6th house

If Uranus is in your 6th house, life is basically saying: "You’re not meant to do work, health, or daily life the 'normal' way — and the sooner you own that, the freer and happier you’ll be."

You probably get restless with routines that feel too rigid or boring. Clocking into a 9-5 every day doing the same thing forever? Hard pass. Your soul craves freedom in your work life — meaning freelance gigs, weird career paths, sudden changes in job direction, or working somewhere that lets you be independent or innovative. Traditional setups might feel like they drain your life force unless they give you enough space to be you.

And your relationship to health is just as unique. Your body might respond weirdly to stress, routine, diet, or even conventional medicine. Sometimes it’s like your system is more sensitive to energy shifts — so listening to your own intuition, trying alternative healing methods, or mixing different styles might actually work better for you than following the "one size fits all" advice.

The big thing Uranus pushes you to change? Let go of trying to force yourself into boring, mechanical rhythms just because you think you “should.” Find your own rhythm. Make your day-to-day life feel alive, not suffocating. It’s about learning how to serve the world and honor your individuality at the same time — not sacrificing one for the other.

Also — random note — you might suddenly shift habits, diets, or routines overnight. Like, you wake up one day and think, "I'm never eating sugar again" or "I'm quitting this job today." And if you trust those intuitive jolts (and they come from real insight, not just rebellion), they can actually be super healthy for you.

In short: build a life that lets you work and live in a way that feels electric, free, and true — even if it looks totally different from what everyone else is doing. 🛠️⚡

Uranus in the 7th house

If you’ve got Uranus in the 7th house, life is basically setting you up for relationships that break the mold. The traditional "settle down, follow the script" thing? Yeah... not really your destiny. Deep down, you crave connection — but it has to come with a huge side of freedom, authenticity, and excitement.

You might attract super unusual, eccentric, brilliant, rebellious partners — people who are totally different from what your family or friends expect. Or your relationships might start in weird, sudden, out-of-nowhere ways. Sometimes it's instant sparks, sometimes it's chaos, but it’s never boring.

One big thing Uranus asks of you is to rethink what partnership means. You’re not here to merge into someone else or lose yourself in "we" — you're here to form relationships where both people still get to be totally themselves. If someone tries to control you or box you in, your soul is gonna scream, "Nope!" even if everything looks good on paper.

There can also be sudden changes in relationships — fast beginnings, sudden breakups, on-and-off vibes — because your partnerships are meant to reflect growth and evolution, not just stability for stability’s sake. Long-term, the kind of relationship that works for you is one that feels like a conscious choice every day, not an obligation you’re stuck in.

You’re meant to experience partnership as something that’s alive, surprising, and full of breathing room — not something that clips your wings. 🪽

In short: you’re here to build new models of love and partnership, ones that are real, free, and yours — even if they don’t look traditional to the outside world.

Uranus in the 8th house

If Uranus is in your 8th house, you are wired for deep transformation, but it’s not going to be slow, steady, or easy — it’s going to come in flashes, breakthroughs, and total holy sht* moments. Life doesn’t let you stay the same for long. You’re built to shed skins, reinvent yourself, and go through some seriously wild inner changes that shock even you sometimes.

The 8th house is about shared energy — intimacy, deep trust, merging resources, death and rebirth (emotionally, spiritually, and sometimes literally dealing with loss). Uranus here brings sudden shifts in all those deep areas. You might experience unexpected changes with money you share with others — inheritance, investments, debts, etc. But even bigger than money? Emotional intimacy. You probably don’t do closeness the "normal" way. You need freedom even in deep bonds — meaning you’ll crave deep connection but also fear losing your independence if it gets too entangled or heavy.

Part of your growth is learning how to let people in without feeling trapped. And honestly? You're meant to attract people who help awaken you — lovers, friends, mentors — not just keep you safe and cozy. Relationships with you can feel electric, transformative, and a little chaotic because you wake people up, and they wake you up right back.

Also, you probably have some crazy strong intuition about hidden things — emotional undercurrents, secrets, even metaphysical stuff like energy healing, astrology, or psychic phenomena. Uranus in the 8th house often gives flashes of insight into the unseen realms.

In short: you’re here to transform, to trust your inner flashes of insight, and to live through depth without losing your freedom. It’s intense, but you were built for this kind of magic. 🖤⚡

Uranus in the 9th house

If Uranus is in your 9th house, your soul is basically wired for exploration, expansion, and truth-seeking — but in the most wild, non-traditional way possible. You’re not here to just accept what you're taught; you’re here to question everything and find your own truth, even if it’s way outside the "normal" zone.

You might have an intense need for freedom through learning, travel, philosophy, or spirituality — but you’ll always approach those things in your own way. Like, traditional religious systems? Academic structures? "One-size-fits-all" beliefs? Nah, that’s not gonna cut it for you. You need room to roam, both mentally and literally. ✈️📚

Big changes with Uranus here usually look like sudden revelations that totally flip your worldview. One day you might believe in X, the next day you're like, "Nope, it’s Y," because a flash of insight hit you so hard you can’t unsee it. And travel? Yeah — you might have unexpected moves, spontaneous trips, or a restless need to experience different cultures and ways of thinking. Even if you stay in one place physically, your mind is always somewhere new, exploring.

In relationships and life in general, you need people around you who respect your mental freedom. Anyone trying to force you into their belief system or limit your thinking? Instantly a no-go for you.

The change Uranus is pushing you toward is breaking free from inherited beliefs and creating your own understanding of the universe — one that's alive, evolving, and completely yours. You’re here to be a trailblazer in thought, not a follower.

In short: You’re meant to wake people up to bigger, freer ways of seeing life — starting with yourself. 🧠🚀

Uranus in the 10th house

If you have Uranus in your 10th house, you are not here to have a "normal" career or public life — at all. Like, truly, you’re built to shock, inspire, and change the system by just being yourself out in the world.

You might have this deep, restless urge to do work that’s different, groundbreaking, or ahead of its time. Sitting at a desk doing the same thing every day under someone else's rules? Not it. You need freedom, innovation, and the space to carve your own path. A lot of people with this placement either blow up suddenly (like, overnight success out of nowhere) or have a career path that's full of random twists, turns, starts, and reboots. You're not supposed to have a straight-line journey. You’re meant to reinvent yourself publicly over and over.

And when it comes to your reputation? People might see you as rebellious, brilliant, eccentric — maybe even a little unpredictable. Some will admire it, some won’t know what to do with you — but either way, you’re unforgettable. Your energy shakes things up wherever you go, especially in the areas of leadership, fame, career, and achievement.

The big shift Uranus demands from you is: don’t force yourself into traditional definitions of "success." You're supposed to define success on your terms, even if nobody else gets it at first. When you stay true to your weird, genius path, that's when the universe really opens doors for you.

You’re basically a walking permission slip for others to realize they can be successful without selling their soul. 🔥

In short: You’re here to change the game — not play it. 🛸🌟

Uranus in the 11th house

If you have Uranus in the 11th house, you’re literally built to find your people — but it’s not gonna happen in a typical, cookie-cutter way. You're supposed to connect with wildly different, progressive, visionary communities — the weirdos, the geniuses, the rebels, the dreamers — the ones who don't just fit in but want to change the whole damn system.

You’re not meant to just be part of any group; you’re here to help invent new movements, ideas, and futures. You might feel restless or out of place in traditional circles because your soul knows you need a tribe that lets you fully be yourself — no masks, no small talk, no shrinking.

You might also notice that friendships and group connections in your life can be sudden, electric, and sometimes unstable. People can come into your life fast and leave just as fast — but every connection usually brings some kind of awakening or shift, even if it’s short-lived.

Career and dreams? You’re meant to dream big — not just for yourself, but for the collective. Like, you’re here to push humanity forward in your own way, whether that’s through tech, social movements, arts, spirituality, or whatever wild path your heart picks. And honestly, you're usually ahead of your time — you see futures that other people haven't even imagined yet.

The big shift Uranus asks of you is: don’t cling to old friendships, networks, or dreams just because they’re comfortable. Your soul craves growth and evolution. And sometimes that means walking away when a community no longer matches your vibration — even if it’s hard.

In short: you’re here to shake up the collective, connect with your soul tribe, and dream the future into being. 🌍🚀

Uranus in the 12th house

If Uranus is in your 12th house, you’ve got this deep, electric connection to the unseen — the collective unconscious, intuition, dreams, energy fields, things most people can’t even put into words. You’re wired to sense shifts before they happen. Sometimes you’ll just know stuff without knowing how you know. It's like you have a built-in cosmic antenna — picking up on vibes, future trends, hidden emotions, even collective spiritual shifts.

But here's the tricky part: because the 12th house is so hidden, a lot of this Uranian lightning might be happening under the surface, inside you — not always super obvious to you or others. You might feel restless without knowing why, or you might have sudden awakenings that feel totally random but actually aren’t.

Freedom, for you, is an inside job. It’s about freeing yourself from old karmic patterns, unconscious fears, and anything that cages your inner wildness. You’re here to break free from invisible prisons — things like self-sabotage, outdated spiritual beliefs, hidden anxieties.

Also? You’re super plugged into the collective energy. When society goes through chaos or awakening (and let’s be real, it does a lot these days), you might feel it in your body and soul before anything even happens externally. You’re like a cosmic early warning system. 🚨✨

The shift Uranus is asking from you is: trust your flashes of insight, even if they come from dreams, meditation, or deep inner nudges that don’t seem logical at first. And learn how to ground your energy so you don’t get overwhelmed by everything you’re sensing.

You’re meant to be a kind of hidden awakener — someone whose very presence, even quietly, stirs change in others on a deep, soul level. 🌀💫

In short: you’re here to awaken not just your own soul, but the collective dream — and it all starts with trusting your inner electric magic.

[writeriguess]

I gotta say☝🏼 you are too good of a writer, I THANK YOU!!! Soo I got a request for ya! I was thinking about Katsuki having a major crush on reader(who secretly likes him too) trying his hardest to make her fall for him. He sees that showing off his "skills" just isn't enough, so he makes multiple attempts to flirt with her until he can finally see her become a blushing mess. (≧∇≦)/

Flirting Lessons

Katsuki Bakugo was many things—loud, brash, stubborn, and explosively talented. But smooth? That was a different story.

Unfortunately for him, his usual methods of impressing people—blowing stuff up, dominating in combat, and being the best at literally everything—didn't seem to be working on you. And that was frustrating as hell.

Because, damn it, he liked you.

You were different. You didn't fawn over his strength like others did, and you sure as hell didn’t let his temper intimidate you. You treated him like a person, not just the future Number One Hero. You teased him, challenged him, and worst of all, you didn’t even seem affected by him.

He had to change that.

So, Bakugo devised a plan: Operation: Make You Blush.

Attempt #1 – The Classic Show-Off

It started with what he did best—showing off.

During training, he made sure to push himself even harder than usual, making his explosions extra flashy, his dodges extra sharp, his victories extra brutal. Every time he landed a hit, he’d glance at you, waiting for that moment when you'd look at him with admiration, maybe even awe.

Instead?

You yawned. Yawned.

“Oh wow, another explosion. Shocking,” you deadpanned, leaning against the wall. “What’s next? You breathing fire?”

“The hell?! That was awesome!” he snapped, stomping over to you. “You try pulling that shit off, smartass!”

You smirked, tilting your head. “You’re already great, Bakugo. No need to keep proving it to me.”

For a second, he forgot how to breathe.

You—wait. Did you already think he was great? Did that mean—no, wait, focus. That wasn't enough. He needed to see that flustered expression.

Time for Plan B.

Attempt #2 – The Accidental (Not Really) Touch

The next time he saw you, he made sure to get close. Real close.

It started small. Brushing past you in the hallway, lingering when he handed you something, letting his fingers graze yours just a second too long. He even "accidentally" sat too close during class, his knee nudging against yours under the desk.

But did you react? Nope. You just gave him a look and went back to taking notes.

Fine. Desperate times, desperate measures.

One afternoon, when you were reaching for a book on a high shelf, he saw his chance. Casually, he strolled up behind you, caging you in with one arm as he grabbed the book himself.

"Need some help, princess?" he murmured, voice low and teasing.

You turned your head slightly, blinking up at him.

"Thanks, Bakugo," you said simply, taking the book and walking away like nothing happened.

He stood there, book still in hand, fuming.

Attempt #3 – The Nicknames

Alright. The nicknames had to work.

He started off easy—"Dumbass," "Extras," "Nerd." But those were normal, and you barely reacted to those.

So he stepped it up.

"Oi, sweetheart, you comin’ to train or what?"

"Keep up, babe, or I'm leavin’ your ass behind."

"Damn, you look good tod—" No, too much, too much! Abort!

At first, you just rolled your eyes. Then, slowly, he started catching it—the slight hesitation in your step, the way your ears tinged pink for a fraction of a second before you forced yourself to act normal.

Bingo.

He grinned. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?"

You scoffed, shoving past him. "Keep dreaming, Bakugo."

But you were blushing.

And he saw it.

Attempt #4 – The Direct Approach

By now, he was feeling cocky. If the nicknames worked, then maybe—just maybe—he could push it further.

So, one day, after training, when the two of you were the only ones left in the gym, he decided to go all in.

"Hey."

You turned around, towel around your neck, sweat still clinging to your skin. "Yeah?"

He smirked, taking a few steps closer until he was right in front of you. "You're into me."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You're into me," he repeated, tilting his head slightly. "I see the way you look at me when you think I ain't payin’ attention."

Your face remained neutral, but he saw your grip tighten on your towel.

"Wow," you said flatly. "Humble much?"

"Tch, I'm not wrong," he shot back, crossing his arms. "So just admit it."

You stared at him for a long moment before letting out a slow sigh. Then, with a small smirk, you leaned in—close enough that he could feel your breath against his skin.

"If I'm into you," you whispered, "then what does that say about you, Bakugo? Since you've been chasing after me this whole time?"

His brain short-circuited.

For the first time, he was the one caught off guard.

You? You just winked and walked away, leaving him standing there like an idiot, face burning hotter than his explosions.

Shit.

Final Attempt – Success

Days passed, and despite his failure, he didn’t give up. He couldn’t. He just needed to hit you with something you wouldn’t see coming.

And then, it hit him.

Late one evening, as you were sitting outside the dorms, enjoying the quiet, he walked up and plopped down next to you. No teasing. No smirks. Just him, sitting there, staring at the sky.

"You're really somethin’ else, y'know that?" he muttered after a moment.

You glanced at him. "That a good thing or a bad thing?"

He scoffed. "Dumbass, it's a good thing."

Silence.

Then, softer, almost hesitant—"I like you."

Your breath hitched. This… this wasn’t his usual cocky, over-the-top flirting. This was just him. Honest. Real.

And that was what finally did it.

Your face turned bright red.

Bakugo saw it. He smirked.

"Finally," he muttered.

"Shut up," you groaned, covering your face.

"Nah," he said, leaning back with a grin. "Took me long enough, might as well enjoy it."

And for once, you let him have his victory.

[carnalcrows]

SWEET TREATS

pairing: thanos x male reader

synopsis: You and Thanos get high and make a bet.

content warnings: 18+, no actual smut, mostly crack, weed usage, semi-nudity (they stack donuts on their dicks).

word count: 0.7k (its pretty short lol)

It started out as a normal night.

You had a routine with Thanos—hang out at his place, mess around, talk shit, and eat whatever snacks one of you happened to bring. Tonight, you showed up at his door with a box of donuts, the good kind with the custard filling and powdered sugar that got everywhere.

Thanos answered the door in sweatpants and a hoodie, looking like he had just rolled off his couch. “What’s up?”

You lifted the box. “Brought bribes.”

He smirked, stepping aside to let you in. “That depends. Are we talking gas station donuts or real donuts?”

“The hell kinda question is that? I have standards.”

That earned you an approving nod as you strolled past him into the apartment. His place wasn’t fancy, but it was comfortable—lived-in, full of random shit that only made sense to him. Some game controllers were scattered across the floor, the TV was still on from whatever he’d been watching earlier, and a faint smell of weed hung in the air.

“Damn, man,” you said, kicking off your shoes and collapsing onto the couch. “Didn’t even wait for me to start the party?”

Thanos grabbed a lighter off the table and flopped down next to you. “Figured you’d catch up.”

And so, you did.

After a few lazy hits, the both of you were comfortably buzzed, passing the blunt back and forth between bites of donuts. The conversation meandered from deep philosophical debates (which superhero had the worst life) to aggressively stupid topics (could a horse wear pants, and if so, how).

Everything was good. Relaxed. Just another night hanging out—until Thanos, in his infinite wisdom, leaned forward and changed the course of history.

"Alright," he said, looking at you with a sudden intensity that was both alarming and hilarious. "New bet."

You took another bite of your donut, already skeptical. “Oh, this should be good.”

Thanos smirked. “Whoever can stack the most donuts on their dick… wins.”

A beat of silence.

You blinked. “What.”

“You heard me.”

“No, no, I did. I just—” You gestured vaguely, like the sheer stupidity of the challenge was too big to be contained by words. “You want us to—what? Balance donuts on our junk like some kind of carnival game?”

Thanos shrugged, completely unfazed. “Scared you’ll lose?”

You sat up, narrowing your eyes. “I’d win.”

“Big talk for a guy who hasn’t even tried.”

“Oh, screw you, I’m in.”

And just like that, the dumbest competition of your lives began.

What followed was a series of events that neither of you would ever be able to explain to another human being.

The concentration. The frustration. The pure, unfiltered determination.

"Dude, stop laughing," you gritted out, trying to balance another donut.

"I'm not laughing," Thanos wheezed, very much laughing.

You threw a pillow at his face. "You're shaking the damn couch, you menace!"

"Not my fault you're weak," he shot back, squinting down at his own tower of donuts with the intensity of a man trying to solve a complex physics equation.

For a moment, silence. The air was thick with tension. Your focus was absolute.

Then—victory.

"HA!" you shouted, hands flying up as the last donut successfully stacked on top of your pile, beating Thanos by one.

Thanos blinked, looking from your donut tower to his, then back to you. Slowly, his expression darkened.

"Motherfucker—"

Before he could finish, he lunged. You barely had time to react before you were wrestling like two idiots, rolling off the couch in a tangle of limbs, crushed donut remains, and wheezy, half-giggled insults.

"Take the L, loser!"

"Screw you, rematch!"

"You wanna cry about it?"

The playfight ended when you both collapsed back onto the couch, exhausted, crumbs everywhere, Thanos half on top of you. He was still grumbling under his breath about his defeat, but you could feel the laughter shaking his shoulders.

You yawned, stretching lazily. "Admit it. I'm the donut stacking champion."

Thanos huffed, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitch. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

A comfortable silence settled between you, the warmth of the room mixing with the leftover haze in your brain. Thanos didn't move off you, and you didn't make him (even though his dick was uncomfortably lodged between your thighs). You were both too tired to care.

"...Next time," Thanos mumbled, eyes fluttering shut, "I'm bringing bagels. Just wait."

You snorted, already half-asleep. "You're on."

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[artbiter]

wolf in sheep's clothing

art donaldson/reader nsfw summary: art falls for you first yet patrick gets the fortune of having you. what else is art supposed to do but play dirty? tags: stanford!art, stanford reader too, art is a borderline homewrecker, art donaldson is a SNAKE, patrick gets cucked right under his nose </3, oral, slight body worship, TBH idk note: hi this is my first time writing ff since .. 2021 .. and this is definitely a diff style from the ao3-approach i usually take to writing but please enjoy i really like art donaldson i really like challengers and i really like art taking what he wants (and i really like mike faist in blonde curls)

art donaldson is not a homewrecker, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for his chance with you.

he first meets you at one of his games, eyes flitting over the crowd and panting hard after a rather close singles win, before his gaze is magnetically drawn to your pretty face in the bleachers. smiling with your friends, you look so happy to just be watching this game, and when you make eye contact with art you wave excitedly like he's a celebrity, and whisper to your friends after he salutes back with a grin, trying to catch the breath your gorgeous smile has knocked out of him.

he wants to find you so bad after, and so he does. your friends are tennis groupies, hanging behind to flirt with any guy with a racket in hand, but you're just there for moral support. he chases after you just before you leave, just to say hi. an innocuous greeting and thanks for your support. and he sees how jealous your friends are that you tag along once with them and immediately get picked up by art freaking donaldson, but you seem to be oblivious, beaming at him and clasping your hands to your chest. you tell him he was great out there, that you've never "gotten" tennis but that you can feel he's a pro anyway. you part ways and he can't stop thinking about you.

when he tells patrick that he's met the prettiest girl he's ever seen at one of his matches, patrick thinks it's endearing and the epitome of dumb puppy love.

"did you even get her name? or were you just drooling over her?"

"nah, that would've been weird... right? oh shit, should i have? i was trying to be normal about it, i don't know." art beats himself up for not even picking up on your name in conversation, and resolves to seek out your identity and ask you out.

so when he finally has the fortune of seeing you again at a party, he's heartbroken when you smile and wave to patrick in tow.

"patrick!" you laugh and bound up to the pair. "didn't take you as a stanford party type of guy."

"i'm a plus one tonight. lucky i ran into you, huh?" patrick is eye-fucking you and doesn't even try to hide it, and art feels like doubling over in pure grief.

patrick notices but says nothing, only introducing you to art. "yeah, i'm here with my buddy art." he slaps art on the back lightly and art finds out that you and patrick met at another party before this. he remembers you from patrick's anecdotes over lunch, where patrick wouldn't shut up about the hottest chick he's ever seen who wouldn't go home with him, but has been texting ever since.

some other girl, presumably one of your friends, attaches herself to art's arm for the rest of the night, but he can't bring himself to notice or care when patrick kisses you and you lean into it.

patrick got to you first, and art hates himself for it. he won't admit it, but he feels the resentment festering inside of him as soon as patrick announces it's official.

the next best course of action for art is to play the best friend role, obviously. except like the unassuming snake art is, he's going to be your best friend, too.

he's your puppy, waiting on your beck and call — whatever you need, he's got it. your bio homework is impossible? sure, you can copy his. you got no sleep last night? he has your regular order from your favorite café committed to memory. patrick's being such a bad boyfriend? oh, tell him all about it.

"he's so inconsiderate," you whine, slumping over your pillow. "can you believe he forgot our six months? and when i brought it up, he didn't even say sorry. he was just, like, 'i didn't know we were still in high school.' i wanted to die, art, really."

art clicks his tongue in sympathy, criss-crossed on your dorm floor and nodding along to your laments. "no, he's definitely wrong here. i'm sorry he forgot something so important." for good measure, he adds in, "guys should be looking out for their girlfriends all the time. i'd be celebrating monthly anniversaries if i had a girl."

"ugh, right? i thought so, too." you flop back onto your bed, turning your head to gaze at art. he thinks you're so beautiful like this, clad in a t-shirt and shorts, bare faced with tears tinging your eyes. "you're a good guy. i don't know why you don't just date."

he doesn't want to date anyone if it isn't you, but he doesn't say this.

art watches you and patrick continue for another few rocky months, marked by arguments spawned from patrick's chronic nonchalance and your sensitivity to his perceived lack of care. and art gets the full report from both sides; patrick tells him all the time about how he's really trying to make you happy and support you, but he doesn't see why you value such small things. and you cry to art, sobbing that patrick never takes you out anymore if it isn't to fuck, that patrick is too friendly to other girls. art thinks to himself that patrick doesn't deserve you, but he rubs small circles on your back and reassures you that you need to do what's right for yourself.

(he's elated when you don't remove yourself from his touch.)

when you finally break it off with patrick, he hears it from his best friend first.

"dude, she dumped me." patrick's voice buzzes over the phone. "not gonna lie, i saw this one coming. but i thought i was doing good, seriously. fuck, what am i gonna do?"

"i'm sorry, man," art sympathizes before he hears a knock on his door. "yeah, it really does suck. take a breather for a few days. i'm sorry, but i really have to go right now." he peeks into the peephole and sees you standing outside. "let's talk more later?"

patrick is still rambling on the other end, but art hangs up and opens the door for you to immediately come spilling.

"art, i broke up with him. i really couldn't do it anymore." you tell art more things he already knows, like that you liked patrick a lot but you were just uncompatible in the end, and that you wished he listened. as always, art feeds into you, agreeing with your every word. something deep inside art tells him it's wrong to coax his best friend's girlfriend into breaking up with him, and that he's messed up for offering you his support when patrick technically should come first. but when you look up at art through wet eyelashes, sniffling and yearning for comfort, who is he to deny you?

art cups your face gently and presses his lips to yours. he doesn't miss how your eyes widen, but you don't jerk away. his heart pounds in his chest as he holds the small of your back with one hand while the other caresses your cheek. you smell so clean and warm, and your lips are so soft art wonders how patrick could ever give you up without a fight. it solidifies art's need for you, that if patrick won't make you happy, he will.

when you pull away from him, you're breathless, voice barely above a whisper. "art, i don't think we should—"

he can't contain himself from kissing your neck, relishing the soft, smooth expanse, inhaling your scent so deep into his lungs he finds it oxygen. "tell me you don't want this." he laps at your jaw, sucking light bruises onto the sides of your throat. "tell me you don't want me to treat you the way you should be, and i'll stop."

you moan his name involuntarily, and art takes it as the green light to carry you to his bed and kisses back up to your lips. "i'm sorry," he murmurs into your skin. "i'm sorry. i want you so bad."

"then show me," you sigh softly, hands rooting themselves into his blonde curls as his tongue probes your mouth.

like you even had to ask.

tugging down your sweatpants and feeling like coming just as the sight of your underwear, art immediately tears it off of you. he latches himself to your cunt, already weeping, and he looks up at you through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide. "already so wet for me, baby?"

"mmf..." your fingers, still tangled in his hair, tighten their grip as you push his head forward, and he obliges.

he licks wide stripes, feeling you convulse and twitch every time his tongue comes in contact with your clit. his dick throbs in his pants just from eating you out.

"you taste so sweet. fuck, you're delicious," he pants, making out with your pussy like it's your lips. "don't know how i survived this long without you."

you buck your hips up into his mouth, mewling and spasming as he suckles and licks at just the right places. your cunt is soaked, but neither of you can tell whether it's from your arousal or how much art is slobbering over your pussy. "right there," you squeak out, a hot wave washing over your body as you cum on art's face.

and fuck, art almosts busts on the spot with you. his mouth doesn't cease, swirling patterns all over your vulva, grazing over your clit, dipping his tongue inside of you as you lock your legs around his head desperately.

"too much, too much!" you feebly try to pull his head up from your cunt, but he's so addicted to your taste he barely notices how sensitive you are now, how your clit twitches and aches for a break.

art can only laugh softly as he pulls himself back up to you, kissing you gently as his hands roam underneath your shirt and to your bra clasp.

"mm, you're so good," you gasp into art's mouth as his kiss becomes sloppier. "so good to me, art."

"it's what you deserve," he mumbles back, unhooking your bra and clumsily pulling your shirt off so your tits spill free. and even art is admired by his own self-restraint, just staring at your perfect body on display for him. he's been dreaming of this day for months now, jerking himself off late at night to thoughts of you sucking his cock, to pictures of you smiling on his phone, to the memory of your voice the day he met you. it's so wrong of him to fuck his best friend's ex fresh after the split, but why do you feel so right beneath him? "i've been waiting for this," he whispers into your neck. "been wanting to show you how much i want you. want to make you feel good. want to treat you so much better."

"fuck me, art, please," you beg him, relenting and palming at his boxers. you're so fucking easy, letting him touch you like this and being compliant as he undresses you, kisses you all over, shrugs his boxers off as you help him position his cock right at your entrance. it's not your fault that art has been nothing but kind and gentle to you. it's not your fault that he's been flirting with you since day 1, and now all his desires have culminated into head of a lifetime. and art finally has what he wants now: you.

and even when he barely pushes the tip in, he wants to cum inside of you so badly he feels dizzy. "so fucking tight, i'm gonna cum, gonna cum right now," he gasps in your ear as he unsheathes himself, stretching your warm, tight hole. "so perfect, holy shit. fucking made for me, baby, you feel so—" he can't stop himself from rutting into you, and he just about comes undone when he hears his name tumble from your lips in pained moans. it takes all the self-control in the world for art to not pour himself into your wet heat right now.

"slow down, art, fuck, you're so big," you sob, clawing at his back. he wishes he could fuck you nice and slow, the way he always envisioned his first time with you would be. he'd fantasized about nights with you full of languid strokes, making you scream his name with calculated, intentional thrusts straight to the spongy patch buried within you. but art is just a humble man, and when your walls, silky and warm, are choking his dick, he can't resist fucking into you like a jackhammer. you cry, moaning uncontrollably as your hands clutch tightly at him, letting his cock ruin you.

art's head goes fuzzy, and all he knows now is your pussy trying to milk him dry and that he can't say anything coherent besides strings of guttural moans telling you how warm, how tight, how good you feel on his dick, how your sweet cunt was made for him, how beautiful you look and sound at his mercy, how he wants you to be his so bad and that he'll do anything for you to be his. that his only regret is not claiming you first.

you keep crooning in his ear, honeyed moans that intoxicate him dizzier and dizzier as you tell him that he can have you. with a few more stutters of his hips, and a convulsing squeeze from your walls onto his cock, his head falls into the crook of your neck as he pulls out and shoots ropes all over your stomach, right as you cry out his name uncontrllably, heaving beneath him. a low, resounding grunt rips from his throat while his seed paints your abdomen, and he feels you shiver upon the warmth touching your skin.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes again like the gentleman he is. his breath still heaves at an uneven rhythm, staggering as he attempts to regain his composure, but every time his eyes fall upon you it feels like he wants to go for round 2. "i'll clean you up, pretty girl. you were so perfect." he presses his forehead to yours, sweaty and damp, and whispers, "you were made for me."

some sick sense of pride fills art from head to toe as your body trembles in an attempt to catch your breath, your hair disheveled and lips puffy, patches of skin blooming pink and red from art essentially making out with every inch of your body. and you blush when you catch him staring, covering your face and murmuring for him to come back to bed.

he did this to you. he made you such a picturesque image of ruined perfection, splayed out on his bed and stained with his cum, pleading for his embrace.

patrick would have to pry you from his cold, dead hands.

[fight-for-what-you-love]

♪You're The Reason - Victorious Cast, Victoria Justice

Now. I'm not saying Cody wouldn't learn to defend himself on his own... but... I'm also saying that couples that spend a good amount of time together tend to learn from each other. Have you ever heard of the Michelangelo Phenomenon? That's what's going on here.

Anyway, for ONCE it's not all about Noah and Cody! Alejandro and Courtney really connected last episode! They understand each other and help each other out in different ways, what with their similar drives for success and mutual understanding to get there. Not everyone understands them, though. Shame it was a double elimination.

Notes on the episode under the cut!

* Courtney and Alejandro spend the trip to China talking and getting along in first class over their wedding cake (though Courtney’s the only one eating).

* Noah and Cody are asleep in a stupid, uncomfortable looking position. Heather and Tyler comment on the absurdity of the position before Sierra gets up and walks away in silent rage.

* Cut to Sierra in the confessional. She’s racking her brain trying to figure out how this (noco) happened, and where she went wrong. She doesn’t know what to do. Someone needs to tell her how this happened.

* Noah snags the bike, but only because Cody reached Ace the Donkey first, that jerk. He doesn’t argue though, just pets Ace and tells him to be nice to Cody.

* Sierra gets the pogo stick, Alejandro gets the skateboard and Courtney gets the tricycle like canon.

* Tyler insists he can run the wall on foot. Indeed he does, and he makes it to the gong exhausted.

* Heather gets a pair of roller skates instead of the traditional sandals. She’s not great with them, so she grabs the back of Alejandro’s shirt the whole race (after Alejandro convinces Courtney that sticking with Heather can give them an extra vote).

* Heather, Alejandro and Courtney keep pace with each other most of the race. Heather notices how well Alejandro and Courtney get along and she’s filled with an anger she can’t quite explain.

* Sierra and Noah reach each other in the race, and Sierra takes the opportunity to ask him how he did it. How exactly did he get Cody’s affection so easily when she couldn’t? Noah responds sarcastically: “By being a normal human being, maybe. What a concept, right?” This prompts Sierra to hop in front of him and jam her pogo stick into the front wheel of his bike. Noah almost flies off the bike as Sierra insists on telling her what he did to "win Cody over". Noah, scowling, simply says he was his friend first. “Have you ever considered that maybe he just wanted a friend?” This leaves Sierra thinking, giving Noah the chance to bike away.

* Courtney gets got by a land mine halfway through and gets blown past the wall. Alejandro moves to help her but can’t catch her before she falls.

* Noah passes out before making it to the gong and is disqualified from the second half of the challenge.

* (The prize for winning the second half of the challenge, other than immunity, is being able to take someone with you to first class. This will continue to be the case for every challenge moving forward.)

* Eating challenge time! Their first meal is the donkey meat. Cody refuses to eat what he assumes is Ace, and gets disqualified and sent to the loser bench for it. He sits next to Noah, who pats his back sympathetically. Four remain.

* Their second meal is the live meal worms. Heather does not finish her bowl before everyone else, and gets disqualified. She notices Courtney with her mouth full on her way to sit down. Three remain.

* Third meal is the starfish on a skewer. Heather notices Courtney and Alejandro dive under the table one after the other and interrupts the meal to call them out. Alejandro tries denying anything but Courtney’s mouth is too full to defend herself. Alejandro is disqualified for cheating.

* Tyler and Sierra are the last ones standing. They get the inedible slosh as their final plate and they’re both very not into eating this. Tyler plugs his nose, closes his eyes and starts shoveling the food in his mouth. He manages to swallow a few spoonfuls. Sierra is about to take her first bite when she notices Tyler hesitate. He has a spoon and a mouth full of food but he’s not moving to swallow anymore. Sierra sees this and puts down her spoon.

* Sierra starts teasing Tyler, telling him things like “It’s so warm and gooey, it looks like someone already ate this and threw it back up, the solid chunks really compliment the thickness of the broth” etc. Noah and Cody pipe up and try to convince Tyler to tune her out and finish the bowl. There’s silence for a few seconds. The spoon rattles in Tyler’s hand. He’s shaking and sweating. He turns and pukes. Sierra wins the challenge.

* Chris counts six votes: three for Alejandro and three for Noah. A tie. But... there’s seven people, how are there only six votes? Turns out Tyler got food poisoning and made a total mess of his vote. Noah and Alejandro try to argue, but Chris cuts his losses and hands them both a parachute.

* Before they jump, Sierra tries consoling Cody, telling him how it's just soooo sad that Noah got eliminated again, but at least he'll be comfortable in first class tonight!! Cody turns to look at her. "Who says I’m sleeping in first class?" Sierra hesitates, not expecting him to talk back to her. "I... did...? I’m bringing you with me...??" Cody responds: "I’m not going to first class with you."

* Sierra insists. "But… I won the challenge. I get to pick someone to come with me, and I’m picking you!" Cody stands his ground. "I’m not going with you." Sierra starts losing her patience. "Cody, don’t be difficult-" She grabs him by the shoulder, but Cody shoves her away harshly. He stands and takes a step back to create distance. "I said NO! I’ve had enough of you treating me like I’m anything but a person, so NO. I’m not going with you! Leave me ALONE!!"

* Sierra is left startled by his outburst. She relents. “Fine. I’ll take Heather instead.” Heather’s shocked, but she’s not about to turn down first class.

* Cody turns to say goodbye to Noah, but Noah hugs him before he can say a word. "That was amazing!! I’m so proud of you!!" Noah keeps going, saying he’s made it so far already, and he knows Cody can make it to the end. Cody can’t help but smile. Before he can say more, Alejandro grabs Noah and throws him out of the plane before jumping out himself.

* For goofs and gaffs, I like imagining the post credits bit of this episode being Alejandro and Noah plummeting to the ground after jumping out of the plane. Alejandro pulls the string of his parachute, only for soup bowls and chopsticks to fly out. Noah grabs onto Alejandro and pulls his own string (which opens an actual parachute), saving them both. Alejandro comments, disgust apparent in his face and tone, how being with Cody made him soft. Noah just tells him to shut up before he changes his mind and drops him.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM Friends-with-Benefits Challenge

The following are prompts including friends with benefits/situationships!

This event is over (Masterlist here!), but you are welcome to use any of these prompts. If you would like to be added to the existing Masterlist of entries, please check out the Rules below!

🥰 Song Prompts 🥰

"Sex" by The 1975

"Too Sweet" by Hozier

"dress" by Taylor Swift

"august" by Taylor Swift

"Casual" by Chappell Roan

"Dinner & Diatribes" by Hozier

"Close to You" by Gracie Abrams

“Stuck in the Middle” by Tai Verdes

"Good Luck, Babe!" by Chappell Roan

"I Wanna Be Yours" by Arctic Monkeys

“Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?” by Arctic Monkeys

💌 Dialogue Prompts 💌

“I’m just in it for the snacks.”

“No wonder you’re single…” (joking?)

“So... what’s the stance on cuddling?”

"You deserve something real. I want us to be real.”

“We’re just friends with benefits.” // “Right, and the benefit is being madly in love.” (sarcasm?)

“We’re… friends. With benefits.” // “Without sex? What’s the benefit?” // “My delightful company, asshole.”

"I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." // "Do you want the benefits?" // "Yes—No... I'm your fluffer!" ('New Girl')

“What is up with those two lately?” // “They’re sleeping together.” // “Yeah, right. Imagine… wait, seriously?”

General & NSFW Prompts Below!

🌹 General Prompts 🌹

Someone figures out the situation. A and B try to figure out how.

A is blindsided by jealousy when someone shows an interest in B.

A and B try to be normal so no one knows. Literally everyone knows.

A is so worried about B falling for them that A fails to realize A already fell for B.

A realizes they are happier with B than any actual significant other they’ve had.

A is totally B’s type, which has never worked out before. As a result, A keeps sabotaging things.

A agrees to a situationship with B because they think it's the only way they'll be able to have them.

A reaches out to B for a hookup but gets rejected, and they each struggle with their disappointment.

A is treating the arrangement like a formal business deal. B gets tired of it and shuts them up with a kiss.

A and B used to be friends with benefits. When they meet again later, the arrangement is still appealing.

A has to leave town for a long time. They have one last night with B but don’t tell them. They’re gone in the morning and leave B wondering what they wanted to say the night before.

Anything else you can think of!

💋 NSFW Prompts 💋

A completely defies B’s expectations of what they’re like in bed.

A and B decide to hook up one last time (or maybe not the last...)

A agreed to take B’s virginity as long as B didn’t catch feelings. It seems like B didn’t. A did, though.

A and B's no-judgment rule means they're finally comfortable to ask for what they've always wanted to try in bed.

A is annoyed with B, so they start loudly complaining/joking about their situationship. Angry/playful sex ensues.

A and B have never felt truly satisfied in bed until there were no strings attached... it definitely wasn't because of finding the right partner.

Happy Writing!

[xxchumanixx]

Gotta wish you good luck

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+, mdni!, smut, blowjob, a bit of degrading talk, Bucky in control

Word count: tba as always smh

Authors note: It's really unhealthy how I'm thirsting over this man. I'm gonna add my taglist later because I'm a lazy bitch that needs to go now. This is not at all proofread, and was written in a haste so please ignore any logic gaps or repeats. Love you!

As always, enjoy.

Bucky spent a considerable amount of time in the shower, washing the tomato mess away and allowing the water to roll down his broad shoulders. When eating - or trying to eat dinner with you - he accidentally spilled half his burrito over himself. He really shouldn't have tried to read and eat at the same time.

He was aware of how bad the tomato stain on the shirt was, knowing how much he had annoyed you with it because you'd just steamed it, but his mind had been elsewhere. He was trying his best to balance his normal life with the role of a congressman, and yet it seemed to be a challenge each single day.

Meanwhile, you pulled a clean shirt on a hanger out of the closet, deciding that it'd have to do. You quickly placed it on the bed and put up the ironing board, placing the shirt down on it. You let the iron heat up, fingers drumming impatiently on the board. Fourty minutes until he'd have to be at that damn press conference. It had been a miracle he even made it home to eat with you.

Bucky stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He stood before the mirror, brushing his teeth as he eyed himself. He'd finally decided to grow out his hair - and it looked good. He rinsed out his mouth and spit, grabbing another towel and drying the droplets off his skin as he stepped into the bedroom, spotting the shirt on the ironing board.

You were slowly working the iron over it, making sure there wasn't a single wrinkle left. He had to look good for this. Not that he didn't already, but you get the gist.

He watched, admiring how dedicated you were. "What would I ever do without you?" he mumbled as he dried his hair off, walking over to you after, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You're amazing." he whispered, kissing the shell of your ear, his hands holding on to your waist.

"I know." you gave back, concentrated on ironing the shirt, even if there were no wrinkles left. But you knew he would have eventually managed on his own. He always did somehow.

After a moment, he gently removed the iron from your hands, turning it off and placing it aside. He didn't know how long he could wait, needing to leave for the press conference soon. But he knew he wanted to hold you, to touch you first. No matter how.

"I'll be gone for a while." he murmured, his lips grazing the skin of your neck. He spun you around in his arms, the look in his eyes almost begging.

You cocked a brow. "It'll be only for a few hours, Bucky." you said.

He didn't mean it would take him long to take care of the press conference, but the way he felt for you, it would take hours to satisfy and ease his longing for you. "I know. Just a few hours..." he whispered, his lips grazing yours, feeling the warmth of your lips even though he wasn't really kissing them. He loved you so entirely, he still wasn't sure what to do with that feeling, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to stop himself from devouring your mouth.

You patted his naked chest. "You'll survive, Bucky." you told him quietly. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, you decided that a quick innuendo wouldn't hurt, though. "You know what." you mumbled, moving him a step back before dropping onto your knees. "Gotta wish you good luck."

As you backed him up, a smirk played on his face. He had no idea what you were doing at first - only when you slowly sunk down onto your knees did he realize. With one hand gently cradling your cheek, he used the other to undo his towel, it slowly dropping down onto the ground. His eyes dark and full of lust as he watched you. "Doll, if only I had more time for you..." he whispered, biting his bottom lip as his eyes searched yours, one of his hands running through your hair.

"I'll be quick." you told him, smirking.

"You like to play with fire, doll." he retorted, eyes burning with anticipation as he rested his fingers at the back of your head. He wanted you badly, feeling himself harden just from watching you on your knees and knowing what you wanted to do to him.

You hummed, pressing a kiss to his rapidly hardening erection. "Maybe."

He groaned, his cock twitching in response to your warmth, his fingers running through your hair. "Doll, you're gonna be the end of me." he mumbled, biting his bottom lip. "How am I supposed to concentrate during the press conference?"

Wrapping your hand around him, you cocked a brow. "And here I thought it'd help you concentrate." you mused.

His hips jerked forward instinctively, his hardened cock pressing into your hand as his eyes darkened. "Only for about five minutes, then I'll be unable to think about anything but being inside of you." he grunted, knowing he had to leave shortly but couldn't stop himself from wanting you now. "Is this your form of payback, doll? Teasing me so you're on my mind when I'm supposed to be working?" he asked, breathing shakily as he ran his fingers through your hair.

You shrugged, tongue poking out to run a stripe up his length. "Maybe."

"Doll, you'll be the death of me... you know that, right?" he mumbled, his breath catching in his throat as he watched you, his eyes begging you to take him into your mouth. "But god, look at you on your knees." he whispered as he pulled your hair back to meet his gaze, leaning down to capture your lips with his for a hot moment, then pulling back to rest the blunt tip of his cock against your lips. He needed to be quick. Otherwise, he'd be late. "This okay?"

You hummed, kissing the tip before parting your lips to take him into your mouth.

He groaned, his eyes darkening further as he looked down at you, his fingers tangling in your hair as he watched. "Jesus... you're so beautiful like this." he whispered, pulling your hair back once more to look at your mouth, watching you take him in. "Do you have any idea how much I want you, doll? How much I want to just bend you over the edge of this bed and make you scream all night? But I can't - have a damn press conference in-" he checked his watch. "Twenty minutes, god damn it."

You chuckled in response, taking him deeper, letting your tongue swirl around him. His flavor coated your tongue, heat boiling in your belly. This was maddening for both of you.

Bucky groaned, his hips thrusting into your mouth in a need to feel you just a little bit more. "Doll..." he groaned, wanting so badly to just throw you onto the bed and take you, thrusting himself into you, knowing that if he did, he wouldn't stop and his mind would probably go blank - forgetting all about the press conference. "How the hell am I supposed to concentrate when all I'll be seeing is you doing this?" he mumbled, looking down at you. "You're gonna be the death of me if you keep this up. But god, don't stop."

You hummed, sending vibrations up his shaft as you bobbed your head rhythmically, leaving him the option to take control if he wanted to.

His hips pushed gently into your mouth as he looked at you, his mouth agape as the feeling of your hot mouth around him sent shivers of pleasure up his spine. "God damn, doll. You'd better stop now if you don't want me to fill your mouth and then make you take me until your lips are raw and you're unable to speak." He was fighting with himself to keep it together, his breathing heavy and slow as he watched you.

"Do you want that, doll? Do you want me to make you mine before I leave for the press conference, fill that pretty mouth of yours until it's dripping?"

You moaned around him, unable to nod but hoping it'd be enough to convey the message. There was always a point where his mouth began to lose its filter. You glanced up at him through your lashes, sucking him off. You loved it when he lost control over himself like that.

"Jesus, doll." he mumbled, looking down at you as you looked up at him, the sight making him moan. "Doll, I wanna fill your mouth so bad... but this is supposed to help me feel better, not distract me." he mumbled, knowing how much he'd want to bend you over the edge of the bed and make you scream. But he wouldn't have enough time.

So, he wanted to feel just a little bit of relief before having to go to the press conference. "Is this okay? Can I... take charge, a little bit?" he asked, wanting your consent before anything.

You hummed happily, more than okay with it.

He gripped your hair once more, pulling it back to meet his eyes as he stood back up straight. "Let me know if it's too much, okay?" he whispered, knowing he was a lot to take, both his length and his need to just feel you. "You look so pretty like this, down on your knees, my cock in your mouth. I wish you could see yourself, doll." he mumbled, biting his bottom lip, his eyes filled with lust. "Do you have any idea how much I want to fuck you senseless?"

You moaned in response to his filthy words, eyes fluttering shut. He could fuck you when he came back. You knew he would.

He pulled his tip from your lips, rubbing your cheek with his thumb as he bit his bottom lip. "I wish I could just stay here and wreck you..." he whispered, wanting so badly to let go and just take you as he needed. "You're so wet for me right now, aren't you, doll?" he asked, groaning, knowing himself that he was achingly hard and close. All because of you. "Would you let me?" he asked, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down as he asked the question.

"Yes." you breathed out, indeed very much turned on as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

He grunted, looking down at your mouth as he ran his thumb across your bottom lip. "God, you're so beautiful, doll." he mumbled, his eyes burning with his need for you. "Let me know if it's too much, okay?" he said again as he tightened his grip on your hair, pulling it back as he slowly started to sheath himself back into your mouth. "You're so amazing like this, doll. You have no idea how much I want to bend you over this bed and just bury my cock in your pretty little pussy right now. Just so I can think clear at this damn press conference."

You moaned around him, letting him use you. It turned you on even more, but the thought of having him wreck you when he came home from the press conference made it even better.

"God, you have no idea how I want to just use you, doll. I just want to take all of you, again and again, until you can't stand anymore. Until I'm all you can feel, and you are so sensitive to my touch that I can just look at you, and your body trembles because this is what you need. You're just my little needy doll. But I can't do that now. Instead, you're gonna make me feel so god damn good before I head out to the press conference... And then I'm going to take you the moment I get home, okay? Make you feel me inside you. Just like you deserve. You'll be a good girl for me? For me to use, for me to wreck?" he mumbled as he looked down at you, his words almost as if he was making a promise to both of you, wanting so desperately for you to say yes as his hips thrust into your mouth repeatedly. He was lost in the feel of you, his mouth doing what it wanted.

You hummed and moaned, eyes fluttering closed again at his words. God, yes. A thousand times, yes.

Bucky groaned, his hips thrusting into your mouth roughly. "Look at you, doll... so eager to please, so eager to just serve me, that you let me use you like this. You're amazing. You're perfect. You're all I could ever want. And god, do I just want to fill your mouth right now, then bend you over the bed. You would let me, wouldn't you, doll? You'd take me however I want you, and you'd love every second of it?"

Your nails dug into his thighs as you moaned and whimpered, helplessly trying to swirl your tongue around him. Fuck yes. Of course, you would. Always.

"God, doll. You're a complete mess, you look so beautiful, your lips swollen, your eyes watering, that perfect mouth so full of my cock that you can't even speak. It makes me wanna fill every hole you have, until I can't bear to use you anymore. You'd like that, right, doll? I'll just use you until you can't take it anymore. Until you're a beautiful wrecked mess. You're my good little doll, yes, you are." He was breathing heavy as he looked down at you, all sense for modesty lost as word after word tumbled out of his mouth. "You're gonna make me fill your mouth, aren't you, doll? You'd like that? You'll be so good for me and swallow every last drop, doll?"

Unable to nod, you moaned in response. Please.

"You're gonna take it all, just for me, right, doll?" he continued, grunting, looking down at you, wanting to make eye contact as he saw how much he was stretching your mouth. It was obscene. "You're gonna be my good little doll, aren't you? You feel so good, doll." he whispered as he felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, his hips snapping forward. "Doll..." he groaned. "Look at you, just taking my cock so well. You like that doll? Being used like this?"

You moaned again, one hand moving to fondle his balls. You'd let him suffocate you with his cock if he'd have more time.

"Mmn... you're so eager, I know you can't even wait till I get back from the damn press conference. You're just that needy, huh?" He groaned as he watched you take him like this, wanting to grab onto your throat just to feel himself there. His cock twitched at the thought. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd let me just do whatever I want until you can't even speak anymore, I bet you would, wouldn't you, doll?" he mumbled, running his thumb across your lip as his other hand kept your head in place. "This feels so damn good, I'm gonna have to think about it for the next time."

He was lost in the throes of his pleasure, electricity zipping up his spine. He loved you with every fiber of his being, and seeing you like this, so pliant and willing made him love you even more.

"You're a hungry little thing, aren't you? Just wanting to please me, to feel me, to choke on my cock. You're such a desperate girl, aren't you? I can tell by that look in your eyes that you just want to be good for me. You'll be so good for me, won't you, baby doll?" he mumbled, feeling how close he was. "Just stay still for me, okay, doll? Just let me take what I want. That's all I need you to do right now. Such a good little doll."

He groaned. "Look at you, taking me so well. You always look so perfect just like this, stuffed full of my cock. I wish I could stay here and just... but I can't. But god, you look so beautiful, your mouth so full of me, knowing that you'll be thinking about me the whole time I'm working, knowing you'll be just as desperate when I get home." He grunted as he looked at you. "I'm getting close, doll. God, if only I could stay here all day... I'd take you, in every way I could think about. I'd die the happiest man alive."

A deep growl rumbled in his throat. "Are you ready, doll? Gonna finish." He was close, cock twitching in the tight captivity of your mouth. "Look at you, so full of me. You're gonna take it all, aren't you?" he whispered as his fingers twisted in your hair, pulling it back roughly. "God, I'm so close, I'm gonna fill your mouth... Then I'll have you again when I get home."

You moaned and whimpered, greedy for his cum, wanting him to finish as your head spun with desire. Back then you never would have thought he'd be like this in bed. But god, if you didn't love it.

His eyes darkened at the sounds you made, his eyes on yours as he looked down at you. "Are you gonna be a good girl for me? Are you gonna take me all the way deep in your throat? All the way to my balls? I wanna see you gag. You'd like that, right, doll? And I'm gonna fill you nice and full because you're my good girl, aren't you?" He grunted, looking down at your mouth. "You're mine. You're my little doll to play with. God... I'm close, doll. I'm gonna give you that reward to keep you satisfied til I get back. I needa finish, god doll, let me finish."

Moaning once more, you tried to tell him yes, please. Because you wanted it. You needed it, so fucking much.

His eyes darkened as he watched you, pulling your hair back. "You're so pretty like, just... I don't even have words. You should always be on your knees for me. Or I should always have you on all fours, like a good little doll." He groaned, his tip hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. "You're gonna take it all, okay? I wanna feel your throat, your mouth, your tongue, Doll. Please, you're making me-" He groaned again, his hips jerking into your mouth erratically. "Fuck, I'm coming!"

You gagged around him as he pushed himself even deeper, pulsing inside your throat as he released himself with a deep grunt. You tried to swallow around him, throat constricting around his invading length as you fought for air, eyes watering. He stayed there for a moment, hot ropes of cum sliding down your throat.

"God, doll, you're such a mess. Just like I wanna have you." he mumbled as he looked at you, slowly pulling out. "Let me see." he mumbled between breaths as you tried to catch your own. "Show me how full your mouth is, doll." he said, running his thumb across your cheek. "Be a good girl."

You opened your mouth for him, some of his cum still on your tongue.

Bucky groaned as you opened your mouth, seeing his cum on your tongue. "That's it, doll. You're a good girl, taking me like this. You're gonna have me running through your mind while I'm gone, then be all ready for me when I get home, right?" he said as he ran his fingers through your hair.

You closed your mouth again, swallowing his cum as you nodded obediently.

He groaned, watching you swallow him. "That's my little doll... just like that." he whispered, loving how beautiful you looked like this. "You're gonna be thinking about this moment all day, while you're alone in this apartment." he murmured as he looked down at you. He wished he could just stay home with you like this all day. "You're gonna be touching yourself, thinking about me inside you." His fingers still ran through your hair. "But when I get home, I won't be gentle, baby." His words were a husky promise.

You hummed, smiling, more than content with it. "C'mon, Bucky." you then mumbled. "I'd hate for you to be late because of me."

He sighed, knowing you were right, but wanted so badly to just stay there with you. "Later, doll. You have no idea how much I want you right now, but yeah. Later, baby, I promise."

"Okay." you gave back, sending him a reassuring smile. "You've got this, Bucky."

He glanced at his watch, groaning. "I'm really gonna be late if I don't go now." he said. "I'll be back in a few hours, I promise." He quickly got dressed in some slacks, buttoning the fresh shirt up before he walked over to the door, grabbing the jacket on the coat rack. He turned to glance over his shoulder at you - he wanted you, that was certain. But there were responsibilities he needed to attend to.

"I'll be waiting for you." you told him, still on your knees. "Now go."

He sighed, "I'll be counting the minutes." he grumbled, sending you a half smile before leaving the apartment. Bucky was a man of a few words, but if he had one wish... It was for time to stop in that exact moment so he could continue to enjoy you. But he knew. He knew there were important matters he needed to take care of.

Work first, then comes the fun.

[always-tired-lilbitch]

Do you wanna explore your characters in depth???? Do you want your readers to really enjoy learning about them instead of having them just... infodump about themselves via description??? Okay so here's what we're gonna do:

1: Create foils for them! What is a character foil? Just another character who will contrast with the one you want to explore. Let's say you have a dark and twisted guy, a real evil little fuck, grab it and give it a lighthearted foil, someone who maybe shares their goals but swings the other way alignment-wise, and make them interact A LOT and maybe fall in love and kiss? Idk, you do you, but really, using other characters to reflect what your character is not is super important.

There are different character foils tho, and even though they basically boil down to "complement my character", each one has its own unique strengths. You can have the classic mentor-apprentice in which the foil is an older or younger version of the character (figuratively), or the rivals, who just are... the contrary but not? idk, you get it, or even the comedic relief character, don't you waste a character ever! Use them to explore what another character lacks or needs :)

2: TRIOS!!!! Comedy works in threes and so do characters. Grab the character you want the readers to know about, put them in a group of three, and let them interact! The group can diverge from its normal surrounding cast and that's even better! Let the readers see them interact with people who are fundamentally different from what they're used to. You don't interact the same way with everyone and your character won't either, and that's super important cause it allows you to show traits that haven't been as explored!!!

Get your class clown and put them in a reunion with a parent and a teacher, or your rugged warrior and put them in a hospital with a dying old person and a doctor who can't save them, or... or...... Idk, you catch my drift! Just get them out of their comfort zone and let shit happen to them.

This technique is quite useful cause you don't have to have your character interact a lot! Maybe you just want the audience to see their reaction, so the other two characters can interact between them without output from the third, who will just think or move around in the background!!!

3: Bridge traits! I'm fairly new to these cause I literally learnt about them yesterday but it's quite an interesting concept. A bridge trait let's you trick the audience into judging a character because of the first traits they show and then pull the rug from under them when you add a new trait that totally challenges the view you have of them. These are quite useful when you want a bit of subversion, cause you can get an audience to think about someone a certain way through superficial prejudices and then BOOM, they have a depth they didn't expect and also which challenges beliefs about certain traits.

Okay, but I haven't told you what bridge traits are yet, so let me get to that. Basically, we're going to want to get a list of really shallow ideas about your character. Let's say we have a grumpy guy, a really rain-on-your-parade type of gremlin, and you want to make the audience discover that, in reality, they are mourning. Okay, so first we're going to build up the "they're just assholes" idea, make them look bad through misleading portrayal. Then, as you do this, add a moment in which the character acts a specific way which can be attributed to both a grumpy fuck and someone who's really going through it; that's the bridge trait, cause when the reveal is made and the perception changes, the fact that this trait existed before will ease your readers into believing your character's actions.

Idk if I've explained myself well enough, but if there are any questions I'll be sure to try and answer them the best I can<3

tl;dr: Explore characters in depth by giving them foils, putting them in trios, and using bridge traits.

[hadaldemon]

!!NOT A REQUEST!!

How do you think the other beasts might act if they had Tako forms?

Taking that they all can't detach their own heads on their own (per my knowledge) let's say they can now because Shadow Milk pranked them. They all be shocked at first yes, but once they realize it's harmless they will deal with it or find its uses until it wears out.

Eternal Sugar wouldn't have much use of this form on its own because she already makes other cookies or sugar angels do her chores.

If she is as lazy as I think she is, she will probably lose or leave her head around and don't even bother to pick it up because, well, getting that weight off your shoulders once in a while should feel nice. She will end up waiting to be picked up by someone, specially by you... maybe losing her head around is not that accidental as it looks...

She is gonna use her new "condition" to look helpless and try to gain sympathy from you being like "oh please, please! wouldn't you lend me your help, my dear? I have been so cruelly cursed and now I'm a defenseless cookie. I really need you my sweet, please, carry me and hold me close~~" so you would carry her everywhere.

Once you pick her up she will behave like a spoiled princess, asking you oh so sweetly to do everything for her: carry her around, brush her hair, feed her, pamper her... just... don't put her down and leave her behind, not even for a moment, or she is gonna have nasty meltdown. She is your curse to carry now.

Like everyone else, she can walk with her hair but because hers is that curly she wouldn't walk, she would "jump" around using her hair as springs... but she won't get far, it will exhaust her quickly.

Also, imagine poor Pavlova seeing Eternal Sugar's head on the floor getting his hopes up thinking that the beast has been slain and... nope, no, she is just there, sleeping and still very much alive. Poor dude.

Mystic Flour... what can I say? She wouldn't care much, honestly. Meditate with or without her head would be the same. Spreading the pale plague with or without her head would be the same, maybe even faster if there are two sources.

I don't know why but I think she would have a bit of a hard time, even if she says she is fine and doesn't care. Maybe she would have trouble reattaching her head, maybe she would leave her head somewhere in the pagoda and her body can't find it... all in all, she will need some occasional help from Cloud Haetae or from you.

She would be very grateful to you and Cloud Haetae when any of you help her return her head to her body. She really would try to not be a burden but... if you are the one carrying her she wouldn't be able to help herself but feel... joy... and silently wishing that you could keep holding her for a little bit longer but she won't admit it.

So, sometimes, when you are carrying her head and trying to bring it to her body she would try to guide remotely and hide her body away from you, extending that little stroll you both are taking together a little longer.

Even if you catch on what she is trying to do, from time to time just play along alright? let her be a little bit selfish and childish sometimes, I think she needs it.

About her walking style while in tako form... err... god, this gonna sound cursed... she would stand on her two tassels and walk like normal. If she lets her hair down she would walk, of course, like a spider.

Burning Spice is gonna take this as a challenge! How much carnage and destruction he could bring to these lands using just his head, he will wonder excitedly.

He will get the hang of it pretty quickly and I'm sure he will find its advantages for battle, like: grapple fleeing enemies with his teeth and bring them closer to his body using his hair as rope, do a one-cookie pincer movement, use his head as some kind of flail, throw his head at enemies so it gets tangled on their legs and slow them down...

Basically, he would behave the same, even with you. He would still demand you to spar with him, would still be your secret guard dog, would still boldly ask you to tend to his hair when he wants to relax for once... the only difference it's that he is now just a head... his body would still be spreading devastation or hunting some poor soul down witches know where, so efficient!

However, in that form, he would now also ask you very enthusiastically to use him as a weapon. Use his head in any way you see fit, be rough, be messy, whatever, as long as he is helping you eviscerate your enemies he would be overjoyed. He would encourage you more and more as the battle progress to be more reckless with him: "Come on! I will show them our power! I will prove my might to you once more! Throw me at them with all your strength! Hahahaha!" as if he was an overly excited grenade.

As only a head, he could walk with hair but I guess he would prefer to roll around like some devastating black ball full of thorns, smashing and wrecking everything that stands on his way.

Silent Salt... who said they don't have some kind of tako form already? I say this because sometimes I headcanon that Silent Salt is a hollow possessed armor entity. All will be exactly the same if that were the case.

Because of I'm writing this when they have not been released yet I don't know what they usually do or behave after they have been released from their confinement. Despite that, I believe they would be your knight in ebony armor, protecting and following you closely whether you like it or not.

Perhaps, after seeing their beast companions in their new state, they would get new ideas about how they could shield you from danger, for example, wearing their helmet.

What better way there is to safeguard you than literally wrap you with themselves? Maybe wear the rest of them while at it, nothing will stand between you and them that way. They would have never guessed that this complete and intimate act of your preservation would feel so... fulfilling... at the price of your freedom. Yeah, because ,basically, you would be wearing some kind Fallout's power armor but you are not the one piloting it.

Regarding how their head/helmet would get around maybe they could shape their ponytail like a hand and crawl around like The Thing from Adams Family. Another alternative, since they are possessed armor, maybe all their armor parts can split up and float around just like how it's shown in this youtube video about dark souls.

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part five)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : In present day, the reader and Bucky get closer - will one of them finally slip up? We also see what happened in 2018, during the battle in Wakanda.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, Bucky dealing with ptsd, brief mention of violence, language

word count : 2.1k

main masterlist ▪︎ series masterlist

📝 a little bit of an explanation on the timeline : 2016 - Civil War ▪︎ 2017 - post Civil War / Steve and reader on the run ▪︎ early 2018 - Infinity War ▪︎ 2018 to 2023 - the lost years / post-snap ▪︎ late 2023 - Endgame / Steve's departure ▪︎ 2024 - present day / Falcon and the Winter Soldier period ▪︎ 1950s - where Steve went back

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

You win. Again.

By now, you're convinced Bucky is actually letting you win in Battleship. Each guess he made had been wrong, so it must be deliberate.

"James Buchanan Barnes," you sigh.

His lips form a sly smirk. He isn't even trying to deny it.

You reach across and lightly shove his non-vibranium arm. "It's no fun if there's no challenge."

He shrugs, "Maybe I like the way you react when you win. You get so... expressive." Another smirk. Damn him.

What could possibly be so amusing about the way you practically screeched and stuck your tongue at him the first time you won?

"Yeah, but you let me win four times in a row."

"Deal with it, doll."

"You suck."

He grimaces, "Suck?"

Right. You keep forgetting he is an very old, very ancient centenarian.

"It's an expression."

Something flashes across his face, and you can't really make out what it is. "Do you suck, too?"

"What?" you exclaim. "I just said it's an expression. It means you're annoying."

He holds your gaze for a moment, before laughing, eyes visibly crinkling at the corners. "I'm messing with you, doll. I know what that means. I'm old, not unaware."

Damn him again.

And damn the way the rare instances of his laughter is slowly growing to be a thing you yearn for. Bucky has a playful side, you've come to realize. You get this feeling of lightness, because you're proud of him. The more it comes out, the more it shows how much he has healed.

You blink at him, shaking your head, before bursting into laughter yourself.

Damn it all to hell.

It takes a beat for you to collect yourselves.

Then for a second, it's there. That fleeting shift in his expression. A pinch in his eyebrows giving way to a look of shame. Just for a moment, his mind drifts back to the long list of names in his notebook. To Yori's son. To the crimson in his ledger.

You notice, and you don't hesitate in taking his hand, squeezing gently. "Hey," you say, catching his attention. "I'm glad we get to do this."

I'm glad I have you.

Glancing down at your hand wrapped around his, he smiles, slowly, like a sun rising and casting its glow over the horizon.

"Let's play one more time," Bucky says as he begins rearranging the pieces on his side.

You were about to protest, but then he adds, "I won't let you win, I swear."

Fifteen minutes later, you do indeed win again. He laughs at the incredulous expression that must be plastered on your face.

You take it. Because maybe you did win, fair and square.

Or maybe because his laughter feels like winning.

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The days have blurred into weeks and into months.

It feels like time is passing quickly, every second feels less and less like the lash of a whip, reminding Bucky of past pains. Of loss. Of all his sins.

Life almost feels normal. The kind of normal he is afforded in his life, at least.

Sessions with his court-mandated therapist. You. Dinners with Yori, desperately unable to tell him the truth. You. Sleepless nights, glimpses of his darkness haunting him. You. Sleepless nights, tempting images of you.

Behind all the laughter and the times you would spend playing Battleship on the floor of his barely furnished apartment, Bucky gets a sense of something gnawing at him. Something not unfamiliar, but unwelcome all the while.

It's fear. He has something to lose, once more. A friend or a kindred spirit. Whatever else you will find in each other. It's there and it's real, and it makes him feel like Bucky again.

He doesn't want to lose it, whatever it is. He's already lost Steve.

He's not going to lose you too.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

early 2018, Infinity War

After you and Steve left the cabin, it's like the universe was sent a go-ahead signal of some sort.

The world slowly descended into chaos, and the Avengers were needed back into the fold.

Your group had to rush to Scotland to rescue Wanda and Vision. Then it was back to the Avengers compound.

"You think all is forgiven?" Senator Ross asked, the threat evident in his tone. "You think you can just walk back in here like nothing happened? Romanoff has been leading my team on some wild goose chase - "

Natasha merely scoffs, unamused.

" - and Huntress has been actively aiding and abetting her fellow fugitives around the globe."

You were about to say something snarky, but Steve had already taken a step forward, partially shielding you from Ross' view.

"We're not looking for forgiveness, and we're way past asking permission," Steve declared.

In that time, life became drastically different from your days in Alaska. You barely had a moment of repose, worried about the fate of the world.

But you found comfort in the blonde super soldier who was constantly hovering over you. His eyes would meet yours before a decision would be made. His hand sometimes pressed at the small of your back as you walked beside him. Time and again, you found him watching you, a silent question in his eyes. You'd nod back, I'm okay.

You didn't notice, but in one of those moments, Wanda had witnessed the exchange.

And she felt it. That something. Much like what she has with Vision.

But it just wasn't the right time.

It is a bit hard to face the truth that you might be in love when the whole world is burning.

"I guess this is our normal, after all," you wistfully remarked to him one evening, after everyone else had left. The plans were laid. You all were to go to Wakanda the next day.

Steve felt a sense of bitterness arising from him upon hearing your words. It really isn't fair. He has always done everything right, but he's losing count of how many joys he's had to sacrifice.

He lost everyone once. His mom, his sister, Bucky, his fellow soldiers, Dr. Erskine, Peggy. He'd buried himself in ice, only to wake up again in a world that wasn't his anymore.

What else does he have to lose, who else, before he is finally allowed to be happy?

His smile was pained when he replied, "I think I figured out the kind of normal I want."

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled back and curiously asked, "Oh yeah?"

Steve hopelessly tried to commit you to memory. The lilt in your voice, the shape of your lips. That undying spark in your eyes, which remained even when everything was cast in gloom.

Just in case he would wake up one day and find his whole world taken from him once more.

"Yeah," he finally said.

The world is ablaze, but he's grown used to it. He knew he would lay his life down on the line again if that means it would be saved.

But everything be damned, he allowed himself one selfish thought when he confessed, "We never should have left that cabin."

I'm in love with you, were the words caught in his throat. His heart screamed it, yearning to be heard.

And you did.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It was a cruel twist of fate. But Thanos deemed it destiny.

Was it always meant to happen? Were they always meant to lose?

Steve didn't know how long he stayed on the ground next to the pile of ashes that used to be his best friend.

Bucky was gone.

Steve barely heard the screams. Anguished voices calling out the names of their friends, still searching.

All that would have been unbearable. The sounds of distress enough to drive one mad. But Steve heard nothing. He had nothing.

It's not fair. Inside, he felt like that sickly kid who was always dealt the worst hand. It does feel like he's a kid again, petulant and angry. It's not fair, he thought over and over, I don't deserve this.

Bring Bucky back to me.

Maybe it was all his fault. Maybe if he never took that damned serum... maybe... maybe...

"Cap," he heard someone break him out of his haze. Rhodey stood to the side. "Steve," he repeated, pleading, but Steve still could not find the strength to get up.

Then from the distance, he heard Natasha calling out for you. He stumbled to his feet, his head spinning. Casting one last glance at the spot where Bucky vanished, he turned and started running.

He found Natasha immediately, but not you.

"Where is she?" Steve growled, and his voice sounded rougher than he's ever heard before. Natasha would have recoiled in surprise, if she didn't possess nerves of steel.

"I'm looking," Natasha snapped impatiently. You would have been her loss too.

Steve felt as if he had already scoured through the whole field twice, his body threatening to just give in and crumble to the ground once more, as the hope of finding you dimmed.

Then he heard your faint voice, weak and weary, standing out among all the others.

"Steve?" There you stood, your face half-covered in dried blood and soot. "Did we lose?"

He swiveled around and took you in, a deep breath of helpless relief exiting his lungs. He was angry and defeated.

He wanted to throw Captain America to the wind, and surrender everything.

He wanted to hear his mother's voice singing to him again. This world is cruel, and he wanted to go back home.

But there you were.

There you were, and Steve knew he had not lost everything.

"How did it happen?" you asked as he approached. "Steve, what do we do? There must be something - "

His mouth crashes into yours with such bruising intensity that it makes you stumble backward, but his arms were quick to catch you.

He was right.

You never should have left that cabin.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

The nightmare is different.

It's worse. Much worse.

Bucky bolts upright on the floor of his living room, having chosen to bypass the comfort of his bedroom. He thinks this is because he needs to keep his TV on in the background, something to muffle the noise in his mind late at night.

Another reason, one he hasn't confronted yet, is how comfort feels so foreign. It feels wrong, like he doesn't deserve it.

Perhaps that is why he can't find comfort even in his dreams.

It flashes before his eyes, like a broken montage.

It's almost the same every time. He's the Winter Soldier. He's on a mission. There are faces swarming around him, bodies either racing to attack or running away. But he doesn't see any of them. He doesn't feel anything as he makes every single one of them crumble.

But it's different this time. The Winter Soldier does not so much as falter or show any hesitation as he wraps his metal fingers around your windpipe.

The Winter Soldier coldly watches as you expire. Bucky helplessly watches, unable to stop as he loses everything.

Thankfully awake, in this world where he still has you, Bucky's chest feels like it's about to implode.

So much for being a superabled freak.

The clock reads 3:13. It's late, but he needs some air.

He walks for 10 minutes, aimlessly. Then for 20 more, his mind having made a decision on its own. He soon finds himself standing in front of a familiar brownstone building, where your apartment is situated on the top floor.

You don't seem confused when you answer the buzzer. It wouldn't be the first time he has shown up unannounced.

"Can't sleep either?" You're a welcome vision when you greet him at the door, cheeks flushed by the white wine you usually drink at these hours.

She's still here, Bucky reminds himself. The only comfort that he won't deny.

Instead of walking past you, straight into your apartment like he always does, he takes one step closer.

And then another.

He shuts the door behind him.

You watch him carefully, scanning his every movement. There's something here, something different. He takes another step and he has you pressed against the wall.

His eyes betray the storm of emotion brewing inside. He has to remind himself that you're here, and he has you.

"Bucky," you whisper, and it's all he needs.

He leans in and finally touches his lips to yours.

Read part six here ~

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @kyoquixote @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer @integers @torntaltos @imthebadguyyy @iidear @blackhawkfanatic @smhnxdiii

My emotions!!!!!! Hahahaha this chapter is a whole mess and so are our protagonists 🔪🫀

yes yes, expect that the next one is 18+ --- but I still won't say exactly with who --- maybe it's a trick? Maybe it's neither of them? Oh well, honestly some of you have got it bang on already 🤷🏻‍♀️

As always, I am keen to hear what you guys think!!

[storiesfromafan]

Insecurities - Benny x Plus!Size Reader

A/N: I feel it was time I gave writing for a plus size reader a go. And Benny gives me the feeling he'd love a plus size girl 😅

Can say this was a small challenge. As when I write for a reader i usually lean for them to be smaller/thin. And i can honestly say I am a fat girly, who wishes I was how I described the plus size reader in this haha.

Hopefully this isn't too bad. I'm already working on a follow up, which will be steamy/smuty 😂😅

Also forgive if this feels like my other one-shots were the reader meets Benny 😅

Warning/s: reader is plus size, reader is down on themselves, low self-esteem(?), spelling/grammer mistakes

You’d always been treated differently due to your thicker build. As a teenager your frame was always different to the girls around you that were petite and slender, while you were curvier and stockier. Coming into womanhood you found you were thick, and not fat. With dresses you could blend in better, but jeans and slacks always showcased your wide hips, thick thighs but accentuated your smaller waist.

During your school days the boys, which is what they were, didn’t bat an eyelash at you. Opting for the smaller girls. With age, you found a fair number of men interested in you. But it never panned out. Either it was your own insecurities that held you back, or their insecurities arose, usually from their male friends making fun of you, or the guy for dating you.

Having moved to Chicago, you were lucky to find a place to live, becoming roommates with an interesting woman named Kathy. At first, you were unsure of her. As she seemed like a lot, but after weeding through her way of talking and her no beating around the bush approach, she grew on you. A week after moving in was when Vandals, men from a motorcycle club and their old ladies, started to hang out at her house.

Work had been stressful and disheartening, from the helping treat the sick and injured, to the few losses of life in the hospital. And knowing this, Kathy was persistent on taking you out tonight to Grand and Division. Not your typical haunt, but it was nice of her to include you. So with a little twist of your arm, you agreed to go with her. You looked forward to a few beers and being a wallflower, because rarely any man wanted you.

Arriving at the bar, you were greeted to the smell and sight of smoke floating around the bar. The space filled with bodies, but mostly men. Who seemed to notice Kathy and you, as you crossed the room to the tables at the back, you were surprised to have your behind slapped and grabbed. Of course Kathy said that was normal for these animals. She said to just ignore it as best you could. That was the worst they’d do, otherwise Johnny would have words with them. You figured this Johnny had to be high up or the head of the club.

Soon you both were joined by other Vandal women, which even brought you both beers. They were Betty, Gale and Debbie. They were warm in welcoming you, and had a blunt kindness to them. Just like how it had been with Kathy, you found them refreshing. A comfortable conversation surrounded the five of you. Each woman telling you an outrageous, yet true story. You were laughing and having a fun in no time with them.

You sat back, taking a moment to look around the bar as you took a sip from the bottle. The pool table caught your attention, and the group of men huddled around it in conversation and a game. You saw Benny for the first time standing with Cal, deep in conversation and taking a drag of his cigarette. His messy blonde locks catching every so often in the low light. He was pretty but rugged, like James Dean but with more facial hair. His muscular arms on display as the sleeves of his t-shirt were rolled up. He oozed sex appeal without trying.

It was stupid to stare at Mr Good-looking, but how couldn’t you? That was when you noticed the other women near him, doing exactly what you were doing, ogling at him. You didn’t stand a chance against most of them. They were thin and pretty. You couldn’t compete against them.

“Um, bathroom?” You asked, feeling the need to escape. Even for a few minutes.

Kathy gave you a look, which you just smiled at her, before she pointed towards the back. “Just past the bar, down the hall".

Nodding your head you got up and made your way to the women’s restroom. Once away from the people and majority of the noise, you took a few deep breathes. Settling your fast beating heart. Sometimes taking a moment is all you need to quiet your head. Looking over yourself, taking in the casual beehive do Kathy did for you. Paired with your light make up, you fixed your lipstick before straightening out the sleeveless button up shirt you were wearing. Along with dark jeans and flats, Kathy’s suggestion so that you’d fit in better. Though you wished you’d wore a dress, which would hide your body better.

But when Kathy said you looked perfect, you believed her. That woman always said the honest truth, even if it hurt. Exiting the restroom you straightened up before heading back to your table. You put on a smile as you took your seat. Questioning what you’d missed. Like those insecurities of yours never arose.

What you had missed was the moment Benny had seen you, walking back to your table. He was lining up his shot when you came into view. At first, he had seen your (colour) hair and beautiful face, before he noticed your body. Your curves were all he could look at. Your waist smaller which lead to your shapely hips and thick thighs. You had a womanly body that most men craved. And Benny was no different. When you smiled, he almost accidentally took his shot, but was able to stop himself. Fixing himself, Benny took the shot, sinking a ball and then moved to his next shot. All the while taking glances at you, the one he now had his sights on.

Benny had to play the game out. But he made sure to keep an eye on you. He watched how you drank your beer, how you laughed and smiled. You looked so sweet. But he chalked that up to this being your first time at Grand and Division. Kathy had told him about her roommate, that you were a nurse. How considerate and kind you were to her. As well as the ideal roommate. But not once did Kathy mention your heavenly body. The moment the game was over, Benny was off to introduce himself to you.

Kathy and Betty saw him before any of the other women. When he dropped into a backwards seat next to you, his arms crossing over the back of the seat, his stormy blue eyes were on you, and only you. And you were surprised to see Benny beside you. The way he smiled at you could have had you a gooey mess on the floor. But you kept it together, as best you could.

“Hey" came his gruff, deep voice. “I'm Benny".

You blinked a few times, trying to wrap your head around this gorgeous man sitting next to you and staring at you. “H-hi...”

The women around you all shared an amused look. Accompanied by a small laugh. “This is (Y/N), my roommate" Kathy informed for you.

Your face flushed as you turned to look at Kathy, who wore a smirk on her lips. She found your lack of words funny. As you generally never have an issue talking. But I guess put a good-looking man in front of you, and you are like the rest of the women who get tongue tied. Benny then noticed the other women, giving them a greeting. Yet his eyes landed back on you. He knew that the women around you knew why he was here. When he saw something, he liked, Benny would always come around.

Yet, you seemed nervous. And opting to look at the other women or your beer. Benny chalked it up to being shy. But really it was your self-doubt. Such as, why would Benny be interested in you? No man openly wants someone like you. Despite your attempts to not look at him, you kept taking little glances. Which Benny noticed, and would smile at. He even began to strike up a conversation with you, with the help of Kathy.

She had seen it coming. Kathy had seen the way Benny looked at you when he approached the table. And she was all for this pairing, so long as he didn’t hurt you. Kathy didn’t want to lose the best roommate she’s had, nor a dear friend who was like a sister. Plus she knew you needed someone. Benny could be that someone. He might look rough, but he had a good heart and cared about those close to him. You would be in safe hands.

“Wait" you piped up during Kathy telling you about Benny's recent run in with the law. “You’re the Benjamin Cross that caused the police chase through town!?” You were so surprised.

Benny smirked, “yeah".

You sat back in your chair, eyes locked with his. “Do you know how crazy that was? It was all the nurses were talking about for days!”

He chuckled. “Yeah”.

“Don’t be fooled by his bad boy nature" commented Kathy with a laugh. “Benny’s one of the good ones. He just can’t think right sometimes".

The other women laughed, but agreed he was a decent guy. Soon both Betty and Gale excused themselves, their partners were beckoning them over. And then Debbie left to see a few other girls nearby. Leaving just the three of you. With less people you felt more self-conscious. But you pushed through it. When you and Kathy had finished your beers, Benny offered to get the next round. Reluctantly leaving you to do so. As soon as he was gone you turned to Kathy with a worried face.

“What is he doing?” You quietly asked her.

She smiled. “What do ya think? He’s flirtin’ with you!”

You shook your head. “No, that can’t be. Men as good-looking as Benny, don’t go for women like me!”

Your roommate blinked, not believing the words that came out of your mouth. “Like you? (Y/N), you are gorgeous. Any man would be a lucky bustard to get you! And Benny, he knows what he likes. He will always go for it".

You didn’t believe her. How could you? Your track record said otherwise. You sighed. “Kathy, men might want me...but they don’t always want to be seen with me”.

Reaching over, Kathy squeezed your hand. “Trust me. Benny ain’t like the idiots you’ve dated. In fact, the Vandal men aren’t like those idiots. A man will always want to be seen with his woman, trust me".

With one final squeeze, Kathy withdrew her hand. While you were left with some hope, choosing to believe her. Even just a little bit. To be fair, when you entered the bar, you were groped and slapped on the behind, as well as the many looks you got. Maybe there was some truth to her words. These men were rough but they were just that; men. Sure many looked like they needed a good scrub, or had belly’s, they were a stark contrast to the squares and pretty boys you’ve dated.

Benny returned with beers, which he handed to both you and Kathy. You both thanked him, which he waved off. He sat next to you still, those blues of his still on you, while a thousand-watt smile crossed his full lips. The three of you continued to talk, many stories being told by Kathy of Benny and the Vandals. You were amused and laughed at some of the funnier and outrageous things that had happened. Benny defending parts of her stories. You could see their friendship in this moment, and it was nice. Being included felt good.

The night wore on, and the spark between you and Benny seemed to grow. He was so fixed on you, that you couldn’t believe how he ignored the other women around you both. Kathy’s words stuck with you, and you started to really believe in them. Benny moved his arm to rest on the back of your chair as he looked back to both Johnny and Brucie. It looked like they were silently communicating to each other, before he turned back to you with a smile.

“Looks like it’s time" he said with a bright smile.

“Time for what?” You questioned in confusion.

Benny didn’t say a word, just got up and went over to the two men. Leaving you even more confused, you looked to Kathy. She shrugged, not sure herself it seemed. Soon Vandals started to make their way out of the bar, women following with laughter and giddiness. That was when Kathy understood, she got up with her bag before telling you to follow.

“What’s going on Kathy?” You asked crossing the room.

She smiled. “They’re goin' on a ride".

You didn’t fully grasp her answer, but remained quiet and just followed. Exiting the bar you watched as the men took to their bikes, women getting on behind them. You saw Brucie and Gale get on his bike, they looked so comfortable and at ease. Then Johnny and Betty exited the bar, Benny along with them. Johnny looked to you and Kathy, saying something to Benny before leading Betty over to his bike. Benny then found you, watching you as he walked over.

He stopped before you, a small smile on his lips. “Come on sweetheart, let’s go for a ride".

Your heart skipped a beat at the nickname. Before reality sat in, and your insecurities came forth. You on the back of Benny's bike. You with him. You weren’t built to be on a bike. You stepped back from Benny, an awkward laugh leaving your lips while shaking your head.

“O-oh, that’s alright. I’m good” you managed to get out. “You should take Kathy. I’ll just get a cab home".

The smile dropped from his face, Benny's eyes drawing in on you. That was the first time he saw a flash of your self-doubt. And he didn’t like it. You had just as much right to be on the back of his bike, just like any woman. You were perfect in every way. Stepping forward, Benny grabbed your hand and began to pull you towards his bike, but you dug your feet down. Which stopped him. Kathy was doing everything to tell you to go, you’d be fine. But you weren’t sure of it.

Benny moved to stand before you again, never letting go of your hand. “What is it sweetheart? What’s stoppin' ya from riding with me?”

The way he looked at you, eyes honest and pleading. It almost had you tripping over your words, but you managed to quietly say, “wouldn’t I be too heavy for the bike? Wouldn’t I effect the ride?”

Benny couldn’t believe his ears. He figured you were self-conscious but this was more then he thought. Whoever did this to you deserved a serious beating, and he’d gladly put his hand up to do it. Squeezing your hand, Benny leant closer to you, never breaking eye contact.

“Sweetheart, hear me when I say this" he paused, making sure you were indeed listening. “You are perfect the way you are. Leave the bike to me, I want you and your arousing body on my bike. Up against me”. His tone was low and raspy, like Benny was holding himself back.

You blushed, your cheeks feeling warm at his blunt admission. Which no man had ever done before, not like Benny anyways. When you remained silent, he once more began to pull you towards his bike. And this time you let him lead you. Looking back you noticed Kathy wasn’t there, no doubt slipped away while you were caught up with Benny. You did eventually see her on the back of another Vandals bike, and she gave you a bright smile.

Upon reaching his bike, Benny let go of your hand before swinging his leg over the bike. He made quick work of starting it up, the roar of it coming to life made you jump, not expecting such a loud noise. Once ready, Benny looked to you, offering his hand. You hesitated a moment, before throwing caution and those damn insecurities to the wind. As soon as your hand touched his did Benny grasp it firmly, his way of saying he’s got you. You swung your leg over before resting behind him. There were cheers and hollering coming from around you. Other Vandals had been watching you both, enthusiastic about Benny's girl.

“Better wrap your arms around me, baby" Benny said with a gentle tone. “Don’t want nothin' happening to you".

Slowly you moved your hands to his waist, before sliding them around to rest against his toned stomach. Benny had to hold back the groan that rose in his throat. Just the feel of your hands against his clothed body was driving him crazy. He moved one of his hands back and grabbed your thigh firmly, he needed a moment to ground himself but he’s been wanting to do that all night. His touch seemed to relax you, and you moved closer. Front pressed against Benny's back. Which didn’t help him any more than before.

“You’ll be the death of me" he muttered to himself.

Pulling away from the curb, Benny followed Jonny with Brucie beside him. Gale shot you an enthusiastic smile and a chuckle. You only blushed more, even moving to press your face into Benny’s back. The denim of his colours rough against your face. But you still found yourself smiling. Picking up speed the group of bikes made their way through town, before hitting the expressway.

You pulled back when you entered the expressway. Looking around and behind you, you were amazed by all the Vandals and their bikes. The awe and amazement hit you in such a great way. The wind in your hair, and Benny's body, felt so good, so freeing. Riding around felt freeing. For it was something you never thought you’d do, and wouldn’t have done if Benny hadn’t been so determined.

The ride felt like forever. And you wouldn’t mind if it never ended. Enjoying the moments with the Vandals and Benny. How he took care of you. His gloved hand reaching back to grab your thigh from time to time, which only made your stomach flip. But it had to come to an end though. Separating from the group, Benny began the journey back to your house. The streets were quiet, the noise of his bike filling it nicely.

Pulling up out the front of your shared house, he cut the engine before putting down the kickstand. Of course he helped you off first, before following suit. Silently you looked at the other. You looked at him in curiosity, while Benny looked like he wanted pull you in close. But he was behaving himself, for now.

“W-well...thanks for that" you said breaking the silence. “And thanks for bringing me home...”

Looking down and then back up, a small smile on Benny’s face he said, “no problem sweetheart. With me, I’d always take care of you".

Your cheeks heated at the double meaning to those words. And the smirk to take over Benny’s face told you he knew it too. He stepped closer, moving some stray hairs from your face. His hand slipping to hold your chin gently. Then Benny leant in, his lips coming in contact with your own. His kiss was soft, closed lipped, just to get a taste. You of course were shocked and surprised, unsure what to do. Pulling back, Benny looked you into the eyes, silently hoping he could do that again.

You didn’t pull away or say a word, your eyes told him all he needed. Leaning back in, Benny’s lips collided with yours again. This time he pressed harder, hand moving to hold your neck. You closed your eyes, taking in this moment, the start of something. Benny’s free hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer. His tongue moving along your bottom lip. Without a thought in your brain, you opened your mouth. His tongue darting in, mapping out its new territory. Your tongues met, caressing the other, all the while Benny held onto you.

Finally he pulled back, you both breathing heavy while taking in oxygen. Slowly your eyes opened, brain trying to process what just happened, and why did it feel so good. Benny watched you, gaging your response to the kiss. His thumb caressing the skin of your neck, hoping to keep this soothed side of you. When you met his gaze, he could see this blank yet content look in your eyes. Which was better than panic or anger. One step closer to the bigger picture, you being his girl. And you would be his, he knew it. Even if he had to fight those insecurities of yours.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 1

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Your therapist warned you about superstitious thinking. You've been working on it. In fact, you've been very good at catching it, challenging yourself to relax, and letting things go. Even before this big work trip, you consciously avoided the "unhelpful" rituals and reminded yourself that the little ones were just to make you feel secure, not to actually influence the future across an ocean.

"I'm very nervous," you had told Señor Snuggly two weeks ago. Your worn out stuffed lizard hadn't said anything back, of course. "That's normal, because it’s an international flight. So I'm going to give you a hug good-bye, and you're gonna stay here to watch the house. I know it's not going to change anything, but I'll feel better knowing you're here."

At the airport, you realized that you had forgotten your toothbrush. It had satisfied the part of your brain that was looking for one (1) thing to go wrong. Superstitious thinking, but the kind that helped you to relax and listen to music until you boarded.

Now, forced to sit on the floor, surrounded by shouting men with guns, your brain is stuck on your lopsided stuffed animal and blue toothbrush. Of all the things that could pop into your head, why those?

You almost let out a nervous giggle at the mental image of Señor Snuggly using your toothbrush as a shiv to save the day. And then the idea of what would happen if you started laughing right now almost startles you into another burst of giggles. You clap your hands over your mouth and curl into yourself a little bit more.

Next to you, your boss throws you a sympathetic look. "You okay?"

"No talking!" The nearest assailant yells in heavily accented English. You're pretty sure the attackers have been speaking Russian, but you could be mistaken. He brandishes his gun. "You want to die?"

"She needs to go to the restroom," your boss answers.

"No, I don't," you protest. You really, really do, and have for the last two hours. But being escorted out of the room alone seems like enough of a Bad Idea that your bladder can wait.

"No, she does not," the man confirms. "Shut up. Do not talk."

You meet your boss's eyes and try to silently convey, Why are you trying to get me killed?

His doughy face says back, I am a white man who goes to the gym once a week, and I really like the John Wick movies. I have delusions of being a hero. If one man takes you to the bathroom I have the mistaken belief that I can overpower two men with guns to save everyone. Also you're a black woman, so don't you have super powers? I believe in you, queen.

You may be projecting.

Ten minutes later, just as you're wondering if you should suggest a group field trip down the hall to the bathrooms, a series of gunshots rings through the building. The energy in the room goes from nervous to frantic in an instant. Your bladder shuts up. The Russian men start shouting and waving their guns, apparently too agitated to speak English. Two hostages start crying because no one else speaks Russian, just English, French and your half-forgotten, informal, Mexican Spanish.

Another three Russians come bursting in the room, snarling something you can’t understand. They grab at a couple of people, force them to stand at gunpoint and gesture to the rest of you. And then everyone is up and kind of moving in the direction of the door. But you can’t get out of the door because they’re blocking it, but they’re really agitated that the room is still full of hostages. And then some people are being pushed back down to the floor. Your boss ends up sitting back down again. A hard hand closes on your arm before you can get down, and you and four others are dragged out.

The leader says, “You all are dignitaries, yes? Your embassies will send money or they will watch you die.”

This is, potentially, the worst possible scenario. None of the five of you are even remotely important, let alone dignitaries. You’re not 100% sure about most of the others, but you’re an aid. An aid to an aid, really. The blonde woman with the remarkably sharp bob is a personal assistant. Today’s conference was about health data management, of all things.

You decide you’re not going to die with a full bladder. You look to the man holding your arm in an iron grip and point to the upcoming door on the right. “Can I please go to the restroom? I’ll be quick.”

He asks the leader something in Russian, and then you’re being shoved through the bathroom door. He doesn’t follow you into the stall, but it’s still so awkward to pee knowing that there’s a man with a gun waiting for you. You’re so glad you aren’t on your period - opening the wrapper on anything right now would feel louder than it has since middle school.

The door to the restroom opens just as the toilet finishes flushing. You hear a scuffle, an aborted shout, and then something heavy hits the floor. You freeze, heart racing. But then there’s no more sound.

You wait for what feels like an hour but must only be a minute before calling, “H-hello?”

You don’t get an answer. Unlocking the door and easing it open, you peek out and stifle a gasp. The man who had escorted you is on the ground, a pool of blood growing around him. His gun is gone.

You’re halfway through washing your hands before you realize you’re on autopilot.

It takes everything in you to fight down the urge to freeze in place and make yourself inch around the body to the door. When you poke your head out, the hall looks so normal that it makes you dizzy for a second. You try to decide what to do through the anxiety fog. You can’t hide in the bathroom with a dead body, and you probably can’t go back to the big room with everyone without getting shot. You have no idea where the other faux-dignitaries were taken. Apparently, there’s at least one person going around killing people in bathrooms.

You try to think of what your therapist would say in this situation. All of the options feel bad, she would say. So you can’t not do anything because it feels bad. Thank the anxiety for trying to keep you safe, then try to pick the least awful course of action.

“Fight, flight, freeze, fawn,” you whisper to yourself. Fighting is right out. “Flight, freeze, fawn.” There’s a body pouring blood right behind you. “Flight, fawn.” No one is around to appease. “Flight.”

Another gunshot and shouting. It sounds like it’s coming from the left, so you head right.

You shuck off your sensible kitten heels and fervently wish your otherwise sensible pantsuit wasn’t pastel purple in this very beige hallway. Not that a thicker-than-European-average black woman mincing around in a Swiss hotel and conference center would be inconspicuous in a black suit, your mind counters itself. You try to force your brain to shut up, with mixed success.

You wander a good five minutes, reminding yourself not to panic at every locked door you try. The halls are so quiet that you half convince yourself that you’ve gotten out of immediate danger. So of course, right as you’re about the round the next corner, one of the Russians appears, reeling backwards. And then he collapses, a knife sticking out of his neck.

You can’t really worry about that, though, because right after him comes one of the largest men you’ve ever seen. He must catch sight of you out of the corner of his eye, because his head snaps to look at you. You barely register the assault rifle in his hands because his eyes bore into you through the top half of a human skull.

Oh, I’m glad I already peed, you think, staring into the eyes of Death.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” the man says, growls really. “What are you doing here?”

“I… bathroom? Please don’t kill me. I’ll cooperate.” you squeak out. Oh, fawning! Cool.

“Price, I’ve got one of the hostages,” he says, nonsensically. “I’ve cleared the east wing.”

You jump when his walkie-talkie - of course it’s a walkie-talkie - squawks back an “Affirmative. Status?”

“She’s up and walking,” the man says, not taking his eyes from yours. “Seems uninjured.”

“Stow her somewhere safe.”

“Negative,” Death says. Before you can panic because what the fuck does that mean? he says, “Bringing her back with me.”

“Copy.”

When he takes a step toward you, you stop breathing. Everything in you is screaming RUN and DON’T MOVE at the same time. His second step in your direction results in a full body twitch. You get the impression that the gun is pointed at the ground, but the only thing you can really see is bone white over a black mask and what might be really pretty brown eyes, but the shadow from the overhead light really makes it hard to tell and your vision is going a bit darkaroundtheedgesandohI’mstillnotbreathingthat’snotgreat.

You’re shocked into gasping when a gloved palm touches the side of your face. The rough material helps you settle into your body, just in time to start hyperventilating.

And that’s when things get weird, because Death says, “Easy, lovie. Settle, f’ me, yeah? Deep breaths, like we’ve practiced.”

Your brain latches on to the familiar command to settle before you can even question why it’s familiar. The way the man makes a long, low shushing noise makes you so suddenly weak in the knees that you stagger where you stand.

And then it clicks. Holy shit. You know this voice. You know these commands. You’ve been listening to and learning them at least once a week for the last six months. He doesn’t even sound that different from over the phone or on a video call.

“There you go, that’s good,” Simon, the dominant you’ve been seeing online, tells you through his skull mask. “Keep breathin’. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

It’s the second time in your life you’ve been surprised out of a panic attack. “W-what the fuck? Si?” you gasp. “What are you doing here? Did you kill that guy?”

“Questions are gonna have to wait,” he says. “Keep breathing. In for four, hold for two. In for two, out for eight. Can you do that?”

“Why are you in Switzerland?”

“Breathe,” he rumbles. “Settle.”

“No,” you hiss, even as your shoulders relax another fraction. The corners of your eyes start prickling with tears.

“This is a double red light situation,” Si says, staring into your eyes. “I know you’re scared, but I’m going to get you out of here. You trust me?”

“You are wearing a skull on your face.”

“And you’re wearing a purple suit,” he answers. “There are people who want to shoot both of us. You get one more outburst, then you’re breathing and following me. Acknowledge.”

What the fuck? “This isn’t a scene!”

His eyes bore into yours. “Might surprise you, but I’m aware. Acknowledge.”

A distant shout makes you flinch. You relent. “Acknowledged. Four in, hold two, two in, out eight. Follow.”

“Good girl,” he says, patting your cheek once. “Stay behind me.”

[lis-likes-fics]

Drivin' Me Crazy

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 3.2k Kink: Daddy Kink/Spanking Warnings: NSFW, daddy kink, spanking, fingering, blowjob, p in v, car sex, unprotected sex... A/N: I managed to write this in a few hours (it's almost two in the morning). I'm still behind but at least I can try to catch a little bit now. Thank you for your patience!

You closed your door as you set the beer case you were holding in the backseat of the Impala. Dean’s door closed after, doing the same with his own case before starting the ignition and pulling out of the gas station. You both sat in relative silence for a while, the only exception being the normally blaring music playing softly in the background.

You glanced over at Dean, the side of his face turned to you as he stared harshly at the dark road illuminated by Baby’s headlights. You sighed gently, reaching over and setting a hand on his knee to ease his attention toward you.

“What’s wrong? You seem tense,” you wondered quietly, casting him your gentle concern.

He glanced at you and sighed. “Nothing.” His deep, gruff voice proved otherwise as he continued to glare out the windshield, the dark night passing by him on the way back to the motel where Sam was waiting for the both of you.

“Baby, talk to me,” you urged gently. “I know when something’s up, and something is up. What’s wrong?”

He shrugged, clenching and unclenching his jaw. He ran a hand down his face quickly, sighing. “Just tired.”

“And?” You raised a brow.

He turned to you a little more. “Why?”

You straightened up, turning your body to face him with a slight warning in your tone. “Don’t you dare. I’ll kick your ass, Dean Winchester. You know I’m only asking because I care about you.”

He simmered down, knowing better than to challenge you like that as he nodded and glanced away. “I’m sorry. Just frustrated.”

“About?”

“All these damn hunts,” he huffed. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s just how it is. The family business, but damn it.”

You nodded, understanding his issue. You, Sam, and Dean had been on the road for well over three months on constant hunts, going from one state to another as more and more issues kept popping up out of nowhere. It was a call from a hunter one moment and suspicious activity in a newspaper the next. He was getting tired, so were you and Sam, but Dean was so much more pent up—especially when the two of you couldn’t let out that steam with Sam so close all the time.

“Is there any way I can help?” you asked gently.

He looked at you, switching his hands on the steering wheel and humming as he set his own hand on your knee. “You’re always helping.” He smiled a little, moving to grab your hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of your palm. “You do enough.”

You smiled a little, moving your hand from his as you placed it in his lap, easing it a little closer to his crotch. “Can I do a little more?” He looked at you knowingly, a little smirk teasing his lips. “Sam isn’t here, and when is the next time we’ll have the opportunity, hm?”

He sighed. “You’re right,” he lifted a brow. “I love it when you’re right.”

“I know you do,” you muttered as you pulled your seatbelt off so you could move closer to him. “We’ll have to ask Baby’s forgiveness later.” You slid your hand over his crotch as you moved to undo his belt. Dean gripped the steering wheel as you undid his pants with too much expertise and pulled him from his jeans.

He was half hard already as you looked up at him. “Been needing this for a while, huh?” you asked.

He licked his lips and shrugged, “You think you can help me out? My hands are a little full…”

You shook your head lightly, chuckling. Taking his cock in your hand, you stroked it slowly with special attention to his tip. He clenched his jaw, forcing his eyes to stay open to watch the road.

You adjusted in your seat as you shifted to lay across it and his lap. Dean was going to lose his mind as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, sighing when you took the head of his cock into your mouth, your tongue laving over it. You continued to pump the length of him in your hand, feeling his cock stiffen as you suckled gently around him.

One of his hands found the top of your head, tangling his fingers in your hand as his thumb stroked your head. You sunk a little deeper onto him, taking him farther into your mouth as you enveloped his cock in your warmth. You hummed lightly, the vibrations rushing through his spine. You could taste the precum seeping from his tip and onto your tongue.

“Shit, just like that, baby,” he grunted.

You swirled your tongue around him, suckling gently some more as you pumped the rest of him. After a while, your jaw began to ache, but you kept going until he was hard and thick and stiff. You pulled off of him, licking at his tip and using your saliva to keep stroking him.

“Pull over,” you breathed.

He didn’t argue with you, pulling off to the side of the vacant road and turning off the engine. He was on you in a moment, his lips crashing down on yours and his hands roaming every inch of your body, dipping underneath your shirt to pull it over your head.

“Been driving me crazy all day,” he grunted, attacking your lips again before heading down to your neck. “You and these tight fucking shorts.”

His hands reached down to grab a handful of your ass, gripping at the shorts in question that just barely covered your ass. “I was wondering when you’d get the hint.” You sighed deeply, moaning lightly when his teeth grazed your flesh.

He pulled away from you, his eyes, usually candy apple green, were a deep forest. “You little brat,” he shook his head, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in again as you shifted yourself to sit in his lap. You straddled him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you let him devour your lips.

You ground your hips into his lap, his hard cock pressing against your clit through your pants as you sighed. He dipped his hands underneath your shorts to grab handfuls of your ass, kneading the flesh in his palms. “Fuck. Dean, I need you,” you moaned.

His lips grazed the skin of your neck, sucking on the flesh there in a desperate quest to mark you up. He hadn’t done it in forever, and it was well past time for it. “Yeah?” he mumbled in between kisses. “You need Daddy to fuck you nice and deep?”

You ground your hips down on him again. “Yes.”

He pulled his hand out of your shorts to smack the side of your thigh. “Say it again,” he ordered sternly.

“Yes, sir,” you corrected. “Need you to fuck me nice and deep, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” he said. “You know what isn’t good?” You moaned your reply. “The fact that you’re not wearing any fuckin’ panties.” His rough voice made you shiver.

“Like I said,” you breathed. “I was wondering when you’d get the hint.” He smacked your thigh again, harder this time. You whined.

He pulled at your shorts, undoing the button and helping you get them off your body. You kissed the side of his neck, dipping into his shoulder as his hand cupped your pussy. He dipped his finger into you, and you moaned as he massaged it inside of you. He curled his finger, adding a second when you were wet enough for it. You ground your hips into his hand, wanting so badly to feel more friction as he pleasured you.

But he just smacked you a third time, this time landing a heavy blow on your ass. “Be still,” he reprimanded.

You mewled. “But I need you.”

He grabbed your face, puckering your lips to make you look at him. “I think it’s been too long since we’ve done this. Someone needs to remind you of the rules, huh?”

You whimpered, nodding lightly. “Yes, sir.”

Dean eased you out of his lap to lay you over it instead, your ass on full display as he smoothed his palm over it. “Rule number one.”

You bit your lip, letting out a heavy sigh as you squirmed in his lap. His hand came down on you and you winced at the blooming pain. “Stop moving,” he grunted. “First rule.”

“Speak when spoken to,” you whimper.

He spanked you again. “Again.”

“Speak when spoken to, sir.”

“Good girl,” he rasped, smoothing his palm over your ass again. “Rule number two.”

“Always address you as Daddy or sir unless you say otherwise, sir,” you answered as quickly as possible.

“Good girl. Number three.”

“Do as Daddy tells me–” His hand came down on you again, gripping your cheek roughly before smacking it a second time, just because he could. You cursed under your breath.

“That’s number four. What is number three?”

You could feel his cock pressing into your side, turned on by this and you. “Tell Daddy when it’s too much,” you moaned. “He doesn’t wanna hurt me.”

“No, he doesn’t,” he nodded. He stroked your ass as he leaned forward to press a kiss to the side of your head. “Number four.”

Your head was swarming with lust. It had been too long. “Do as Daddy tells me to do.” He rewarded you with a light pat to your side, stroking you again.

“Number five.”

“Brat’s get punished, sir,” you huffed. “Don’t be surprised when Daddy takes advantage of that.”

“Good girl,” he groaned, thrusting two fingers inside of you and spreading you apart with a little squelch. You moaned deeply, your eyes fluttering as you felt the pleasure spread. He pulled them out of you. “But I’m gonna have to punish you anyway. Count to ten for me, baby.”

You dropped your head into your arms, nodding as you spoke, “Yes, Daddy.”

Dean gripped your ass in his hand before raising it up and delivering a harsh smack to it. You yelped at the feeling, squirming in his lap and trying not to as you spoke quickly. “One, sir,” you moaned. He did it again. “Two, sir.” And again, faster this time as he enjoyed the way you responded. “Three, sir.”

And he just kept going like that, one blow after another until a couple of tears bubbled out of your eyes and you were sure your ass would be sore after. When you reached ten, he smoothed his hands over your ass and smiled, dipping his fingers back inside of you as reward for behaving so well.

“Good girl. Doin’ so good for me. You love it when I punish you, don’t you?” he spoke.

You whimpered. “Yes, Daddy.” He just shook his head and chuckled, pulling you up to sit in his lap again. You winced at the feeling of your ass against his lap, especially after he’d just smacked it so much that you were sure it had changed colors.

“You want me to fuck you now, baby?” he asked, his hands caressing your sides.

You nodded quickly. “Yes, Daddy. Please, Daddy. Please fuck me.”

He pushed his pants down his legs the rest of the way, leaving him in his shirt as his jeans pooled around his feet. “Daddy’s gonna give you what you want, sweetheart.”

He took his cock into his hand, pumping up and down the length of it with a deep groan before he positioned himself at your pussy. “I wanna hear you beg one more time.”

You whined, grinding your hips against him as you obeyed. “Daddy, please, fuck me. Please, sir, I need you to fuck me so bad. Needa feel you inside me.”

He gripped your waist tightly as he listened to you, his cock bouncing a little at the high praise. “Such a good fucking girl,” he mumbled before pulling your hips down as he thrust himself inside of you to the hilt in one go. You moaned loudly, settling in his lap with a slight swivel of your hips as you clenched around him to get used to how thick he was.

“Fuck, Daddy,” you moaned. “Feels so good.” “Yeah?” he hummed. “You’re dripping all over me, and we haven’t even started yet.” If he hadn’t already started, you were in for a good fuck.

He held you tight as he started moving your hips to grind against his, grunting roughly as he slowly built up a speed. He lifted you off his lap just until you were left with the tip of his cock inside of you before slamming you back down onto his lap.

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all day. Hell, all week,” he groaned as he began to bring you down on his cock hard and fast. You threw your head back, moaning as he fucked up into you. You helped, lifting yourself up and falling back into his lap with his rhythm as you let his thick cock fill you up until you were nice and full.

“Just like this,” he continued, grunting in your ear. “All desperate for me. Taking Daddy’s cock as fuckin’ hard as I give it to you. He fucked into you a little faster, his kiss-swollen lips falling open as he stared up at you. Your chest rose and fell quickly with heavy breaths that stuttered out of you with the pace of his cock.

He smacked your ass again, making your yelp fade into a moan as you took it in stride. He felt so good inside of you. You thought you were going to lose your mind as he fucked you hard and deep, the sound of your skin smacking against his amplified by the arousal dripping all over his lap.

His fist tangled in your hair as he pulled gently, tilting your head back so he could devour your throat. “You’re clenching around me so tight, baby. Drivin’ me crazy.”

“More,” you gasped. “Daddy, I need more.”

“You need more of me, baby?” He leaned back a little, shifting just enough to be able to thrust some more into you. “I’ll give you some more.” His hips smacked into yours with the desperation of a starved man. You clenched around him, moaning and whimpering his name as he fucked you.

You held onto his shoulders tight, moving your hips to meet his insistent thrusts and crying out when the head of his cock pounded into the deepest spot inside of you. His thumb came to rub circles into your clit, tight and fast ones that built you up as he continued to thrust into you.

“Ahh, Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you mewled, seeing stars. You whined when he hit you again.

“No, you’re fucking not. You gotta wait for me.” He said, his deep voice deeper and rougher, his heavy command filling you up as he did what he wanted with you. “Gotta wait for Daddy to tell you, you can cum. You understand?”

A couple of tears streaked down your cheeks. It had been too long since he fucked you like this, hard and desperate. You were gonna blow soon. “I can’t,” you moaned weakly. “I can’t hold it.”

“You’re gonna have to, or I’ll have to punish you again,” he grabbed your face and turned your head to look at him. “Do you want me to punish you again, baby?”

“No, sir.”

“Then wait for me to tell you when you can cum for me. You understand?” he asked.

You nodded, “Yes, sir.”

His thumb picked up the pace again, purposefully building you up closer and closer to your release to torture you into having to hold off on it. He grunted and groaned and growled as he fucked you, needing so badly to fill you with his cum.

“Gonna have you fuckin’ screaming for me, my little slut,” he muttered. “Been so good for me.” You kept grinding down on him, accepting each and every thrust with a moan. As you swiveled your hips, his sounds shifted slightly. “I’m gonna cum, gonna fill you up nice and deep, baby.”

“Please, Daddy,” you begged. “Please fill me up.”

His head fell back a little at your pleas, addicted to the way you sound all fucked out on his cock. He cursed again, the word falling from his lips insistently. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you as he got closer to his release.

“You ready, baby? Daddy’s gonna fill you up now,” he said.

You nodded again, desperate. “Fuck, yes. Please, let me cum.”

His thrusts became sloppy, his hips faltering but slamming into you just as hard. He grunted lowly, “Fuck, cum. Cum for me, baby. Fuckin’ squeeze my cock and cum for me.”

The coil snapped, and you cried out as you followed his orders. You clenched tightly, gushing around his cock as you came with the shout of his name. “Oh, Daddy, yes!” you exclaimed. “Fuck, Daddy.”

He rolled his hips into you as he followed after, you squeezing around his cock so hard shoving him over the edge as he came with a shout. He growled in your ear, pulling you down on him as deep as he’d go as he spilled inside of you.

You could feel him begin to relax, his hips bucking into you a couple more times before he calmed with a long grunt. “There’s my good girl,” he sighed. “Fuck, so good for me, aren’t you?”

You leaned forward, resting your head against his shoulder as catching your breath as he continued to hold your waist. His thumbs brushed circles into your sides, soothing you as you both came down from your highs. One of his hands traveled up the length of your back as the other buried into your hair. He groaned when you ground your hips against his a little, trying to bury him deeper.

“Fuck,” he whispered. He pulled you back to brush his thumbs over your cheeks. Your eyes drooped, a lazy grin finding your lips as he watched you.

“I love you, Dean,” you muttered, a secret between the two of you as he held you close.

“Yeah.” He smiled, wondering how he got so lucky. “I love you, too.” His hands fell to your waist, and you whimpered when he pulled out of you with a grunt. He opened the glove department and pulled out some tissues to wipe you down with. You were messy, and the mixture of your cum was beginning to drip onto his lap.

He helped you redress before he set you back in your seat, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling you in for another kiss. He rested his forehead against yours, kissing you quickly once more before starting the engine once more. You settled back against the seat with a sigh, closing your eyes for a moment and resting as Dean reached a hand over and squeezed your thigh.

When you both finally made it back to the motel, you grabbed the beer from the backseat and made your way to your room. You pushed it open, waving at Sam on your way to put the beer in the fridge. He cast the both of you an annoyed, almost disgusted look.

“Those seats better be disinfected before I step foot in that car again.”

You flipped him off, and Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Sammy.”

He scoffed. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Tag yourself here...

[thezombieprostitute]

The Sweater Incident

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: mistaking an elegant holiday fete for an ugly christmas sweater party

A/N2: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Angst, Lots of angst. Let me know if I missed any!

"I still can't believe your parents are hosting an ugly sweater party," you chirp at Ransom.

"Me either," Ransom tells you. "Normally they do that whole fancy schmancy thing."

"Huh. I wonder if they're trying to be 'cool' or 'normal' or whatever."

"Possible," Ransom shrugs.

"And thanks, again, for letting me do the shopping for it. I picked a few couples sweaters that I think you'll like."

"It's not a problem," he smiles at you. "I know you always find the best sweaters. Just look at my closet."

You giggle as he holds you close and kisses your forehead. "Now pick out your favorites for this thing."

After looking them over a few times Ransom finally settles on the couples sweaters that say "I Come in Peace" and "I'm Peace". You can't say your surprised he went with the most tawdry of sweaters. It's gonna be a great way to get his family riled up.

You realize what's going on a few seconds too late. Ransom walked you in with an arm around your shoulder and his trademark shit-eating grin. The first few people you see are his parents and his cousin Meg, all dressed immaculately.

Linda's jaw drops and she immediately starts yelling at the two of you, mainly you.

"Richard! Look at this!" she screeches, jamming her finger at you. "Do you see what this degenerate is doing our son?!"

She turns to Ransom, "how did she convince you to do this? I know she's gotten you into pulling pranks! Is that what this is?"

Richard starts joining Linda in the screaming and yelling but you don't hear any of their actual words. Tears are clouding your vision and you're having trouble breathing. You run back out the front door and the sobs start coming.

You hear Ransom calling after you but you just keep moving. When he catches up to you, he grabs your arm and you try to pull away.

"What the hell? What's wrong?" he yells.

"You tricked me! You embarrassed me! You---" your crying cuts you off.

"I thought you loved pulling pranks," he rebuts. "You always say we're partners in crime with this stuff."

"Exactly, Ransom! PARTNERS! If you'd asked me to do this with you, of course I would have, but you decided to pull this prank on me as well as your family!"

"I thought you'd get the joke!"

"I get the joke on your family, but not on me!" you scream at him.

"Oh, so I'm never supposed to pull a prank on you?" he argues.

"You can do that, of course, just not ones that embarrass me in front of your family! I've already got the worst relationship with them that this is just...it feels cruel."

That makes him stop in his tracks. You know Ransom doesn't always understand the limits so, between sobs, you try to explain.

"Your family already hates me, Ran. But we both know that and so when we're in on a prank together, it's like I've got someone at my side against the unstoppable rampage that is your family's disdain for me. When you do something like this, it adds to their perception of me and it's no longer me and you against them. It's you and them against me."

Ransom blinks a few times, unsure of how to proceed. You step away from him and pull out your phone to get an Uber home.

Back at your shared apartment, you're curled up on the couch, wearing what Ransom had dubbed "your angry hoodie". It was an oversized hoodie that you could curl yourself up into, pull on the drawstrings, and shut out the world. You've stopped crying, but you're still, understandably, miserable so you don't hear Ransom entering with several bags. It's not until you catch the scent of your favorite takeout food that you perk up and start hearing Ransom. But you're still so angry and hurt you're not leaving the security of the angry hoodie.

Ransom recognizes what you're wearing and respects your desire to not be touched or talked to. Instead he moves the coffee table over to the couch and starts setting up a veritable buffet of your favorite foods. You hear him open up a can and you're pretty sure it's a can of your favorite soda. He sits on the opposite side of the couch and turns on the TV, selecting one of your comfort shows to start playing.

You wait for him to say something but Ransom continues to respect the rules of the angry hoodie and doesn't say a damn thing. Even as the food gets cold and the drink gets lukewarm.

You open the hood just enough to let yourself see him on the couch. He looks chagrined. You can tell he hasn't been able to sit still, fidgeting every second he's been on the couch, but he's staying silent with his hand to his mouth, like he's thinking.

You open up the hood a little more, "I'm not gonna forgive you so easily."

"Wouldn't expect you too," he admits. "But at least I can start trying to make amends."

You nod and adjust the hoodie just enough that you can start dishing yourself up some of the food. Sure enough, everything on the coffee table is one of your favorites. An assortment of all the different restaurants and food types that you love. You enjoy your food and the show Ransom selected, sitting for a long while before you realize Ransom hasn't eaten anything yet.

"Are you going to eat?"

"I got this for you. Not gonna eat it without permission."

"Thank you," you nod, opening the hoodie up a bit more. "You may eat." Wordlessly he makes himself up a plate.

It takes a few more episodes of your comfort show for you remove the hood, indicating you're ready to hear Ransom out.

"I know I fucked up," Ransom says. "And, thanks to your explanation, I know how I fucked up. I can't undo what I did, but, again thanks to you, I know that there are things I can do to make amends. Starting with promising you that I'll never do anything like it ever again. You're the last person in the world that I ever wanted to hurt and I'm genuinely very sorry about this whole thing."

You sniffle a little, remembering the burning embarrassment you'd felt. "I'll accept your apology, but you've still got a lot of amends to make."

"I understand," he nods.

"For now, I'm going to congratulate you on handling your first real emotional fight as part of a couple. Specifically for not running away. You came back, you faced me, while respecting my rules, and I appreciate that." You see Ransom's shoulders significantly relax at that. "And as soon as you're done eating, you're giving me a foot rub."

He huffs, "anything for you."

Tagging:

@alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness;

@lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[jweekgoji]

can u write some Yandere TFO Darkwing x Cybertronian femme reader, who is a miner but Darkwing ends up getting her pregnant and forces her to be his conjux

Yandere!Darkwing/Femme!Reader [TFO]

tw: dubcon, yandere/dark themes, unplanned pregnancy, toxic relationship, supervisor/subordinate, power imbalance, size difference, mentions of past abuse, sickness, description of trauma, hurt no comfort, no happy ending. word count: ~1780 a/n: I wanted to keep it short, but somehow it leads to this. I guess this is for 5 Darkwing fans? imo, he has good himbo potential. also writing for Elita was fun...now i wanna write some Optimus and Elita/Reader fics once i'm done with requests.

How could you let this happen?

The same question runs in your head over and over again. It seems that no matter how hard you try to forget about it, you always see that familiar face right next to yours. Dwarfing you, making you feel so small and fragile. It probably wouldn't be too far from the truth. With your smaller, weaker body, nobody would even notice if you were gone.

You should be used to it by now. Countless cycles of mining, the same routine seems somehow calming despite having no signs of progress in any near future.

Energon, sleep, energon, sleep. What kind of life is that? Was that really all you're good for? Your endless purpose until you break one day?

Primus, why did he make you suffer?

“Hey!” you hear a rough, commanding tone from your captain right behind you. “No slacking off until we finish our job! Come on, keep up!”

You blink once, then another few times, optics quickly concentrating on the wall in front of you. How long were you staring at this wall…? Doesn't matter.

Elita-One gives you a glare; she is too preoccupied with leading her group safe; of course, the mines are too dangerous, and every single wrong move could lead to a series of disasters. You usually have no problems with following her orders, but everything now is just too much. Too much stress, too many orders. You're so exhausted.

Reluctantly, you continue working on collecting energon once again. The heavy equipment makes your frame tremble from the weight; you never once struggled with it, despite the drilling machine being almost the same weight as yours. Now, every single minute feels like a challenge. Focus, focus, focus— you can't just pass out during your work! If it didn't kill you first, then Elita-One certainly would after you screwed her chances of promotion.

You shook your head, as if somehow all the thoughts about the pain—the non-stop aching shooting down your back. It makes you want to bend down and wrap your arms around yourself; maybe, just maybe, it will all go away, and you'll be back to normal.

The soft whirr of your cooling systems gets louder. The poor mechanism overworking itself to cool down your frame. You barely notice how the buzzing sound of the drills seems quieter now, changing into the ringing in your head.

The loud clank of the metal against the ground quickly catches Elita's attention. A frown etched on her faceplate, the immediate ‘...by the name of Solus Prime, what's next?’ she quietly grumbled under her breath, turning her attention to the source of that sound.

Your boss was ready to scold you again, another lecture about the importance of teamwork and how it affects the whole squad—but all the annoyance quickly changes into panic the moment she sees you. Close to falling on your own knees and forehead pressed against the wall as you lean against it.

She quickly approaches you, placing her servo on your shoulder to turn you over so you can face her. Your frame is so warm, no, too warm it's almost burning hot. Your spark beats so hard she can practically feel it under her palm. The signs of sickness are obvious, and she cursed her luck yet again that now she has to explain the situation to the supervisors.

Elita helps you to lean your frame against her own instead, holding her arm around your waist, asking countless questions about what the pit you were thinking, and starting your shift without telling her about your well-being. She's the leader of your group! She has to know everything! It doesn't help with her concerns that you barely say anything, too weak to even open your mouth.

She is so annoyed with you, at everything right now. Great, just great, now she has to— a pause. Her optics widened for a mere second. Elita-One looks down at you with a mixture of confusion and a growing shock. The beating of your spark. Twice as fast, too unusual for any cybertronian even if put under the stress. Her servo reaches to your chassis, hovering over the spot where the spark chamber is. You're sparked up.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Quiet, too quiet, perhaps. The first thing you notice before finally opening your optics. The soft light of the room makes you want to go back to recharging again. Another innocent dream will be a good place to escape the harsh reality, until the slow realization creeps into your mind.

“It wasn't my fault, how could I—” the distant sound of Elita's voice is heard outside the room you were in.

“It was your job to lead the group and make sure everything goes according to the protocols. Just like ensuring that every bot in your squad is in the right shape for work,” you don't have to check twice to understand who it would be. Darkwing.

You can hear Elita trying to defend herself again. After all, it wasn't really her fault. You never wanted to tell anyone about it. But what choices did you have? How can you explain being sparked up? By who?

Now you feel guilty. Shame. She got into trouble because of you, and knowing how hard she worked to reach her position...You're so, so sorry.

You slowly move to sit up on the berth in the...what was this place exactly? It reminds of the infirmary, but surprisingly, any medic is absent today. Ratchet? Lifeline? First Aid? Completely gone.

As the door opens, your optics meet Darkwing's own. It was always hard to understand what exactly he was thinking about when he looked at you. The visor, the battle mask, it seems like every single thing in him has a purpose to make you self-conscious. Nervous and scared. Unlike him, you never had the chance of hiding.

Once you two were alone, he's fuming. He breathes heavily, trying to suppress the anger burning inside his chassis. If you were any other miner, another speck of dirt under his pedes, he would have disciplined you without thinking twice.

But you're no ordinary miner now, are you?

“You hid this from me, on purpose,” Darkwing looks down at you, servos clenching into tight fists. “And this is how I find out about it. Do you have any idea what you just got yourself into?”

The mere idea of him being together with  some nameless miner? Ridiculous. He never planned it to develop into something more. Just a one-night stand, nothing more. He would have forgotten about it by the next day if it wasn't for something, making him think about you since then.

The perfect size, fitting in his servos just right. A tiny toy to play with and use however he wants. A cute one too; isn't this a great deal? The curves, the shape of your frame...if you had a cog, what kind of alt mode would you have? A jet like him? Maybe a car? A boat?

Any other of his fellow supervisors would have left you immediately once they found out. If any bot gets to know about it, he's screwed. Darkwing, who claims to despise every single cogless bot? And now he's having second thoughts about whether he should let you be on your own or...participate?

You lowered your head, as if in shame. There's no fight in you left, not after Darkwing personally stripped you of your dignity. Now the only thing left is a sense of responsibility over that sparkling inside you. You're not even sure if your body can take it. The slowly growing little thing takes up a good half of your energy, and with the energon portions you receive, it is hardly enough for the two. You might die from starvation if this keeps up.

Just standing next to Darkwing is a struggle. You wonder, if he even understands what he costantly puts you through, or maybe he finds some sick pleasure in it. Watching you suffer. Is that what he wants? While you live with the responsibility that he put on your shoulders, nothing ever changes for him. This is so unfair.

You will be no surprised if he drags you to the mines to continue working just to please Sentinel Prime right now.

“Can't even look at me. You miners are only good at one thing,” another taunt. His servo reaches to cup your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

The touch is gentler, not the usual roughness you started getting used to. You learned that whenever he is near you, the pain should be expected the next. That's why it's hard not to flinch every time he gets a little too close. This time, it's something different. Your optics closed, as if expecting a punch, a slap, or another bunch of degrading words?

Nothing.

Trembling in his grasp like some sort of wounded animal next to their predator. Obedient, quiet and timid, the cycles he spent to shape you into a perfect doll to play with. But you're carrying his sparkling, the part of him is soon to be born in this world. It is too late to get rid of it, even though some time ago the sound of it seemed tempting. No, even a useless doll like you deserves a second chance to prove yourself. From some faceless miner, you can grow into something more. Better. A carrier.

He can't let you go back to that place; it would be too cruel even for someone like him to let the carrier of his sparkling to continue this. The best thing is, no one would even suspect you were gone. A tragic event, one of the miner bots neglected their health until it was too late.

Sad, sobbing story, but don't worry, being stuck with your ex-supervisor is not too bad. By the all old rules, it's a shame not to claim a carrier of your sparklings as your conjunx.

“You should be grateful that I have better plans to use you, cogless,” Darkwing's hold on you tightened just for a fraction. To make sure you listen and understand his intentions. No other options but to obey. His words echo in the back of your mind.

The act of profference.

Gifting you a freedom, something you wished for and craved so deeply supposed to make you happy. If only it wasn't the same day you lose it.