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[bi-disaster-yn]

New ask game: Gimme a character and an emoji, and I’ll tell you…

⚧- Pronoun headcanon

🏳️‍⚧️- Gender headcanon

🏳️‍🌈- Orientation headcanon

🌌- Zodiac sign headcanon

🧠- MBTI/Enneagram headcanon

❤️- Otp

🧡- Everyone I ship with this character

💛- Brotp

💚- Notp

💙- Crossover ship I like

💜- Crossover non-ship relationship I like

📖- AU I’d like to see them in

❤️‍🩹- Angsty headcanon

💖- Happy headcanon

😋- Funny/stupid headcanon

🪞- Appearance headcanon

🥖- Food headcanon

🛌- Sleep headcanon

🏡- Domestic headcanon

🗡- Badass headcanon

❓- Anything else you want!

[bi-disaster-yn]

When people quote your work back to you!♥️🫶😫🥹 thank u!!!

Vital Organs

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is in love with her best friend, Bucky. The feeling is mutual but having a troubled relationship with her father means that she’s scared to risk the heartbreak.

A/N: I MAY have cried while writing this. To all the girls who, like me, have shitty dads and derive a lot of comfort from Bucky - I’m dedicating this to you. We deserved better.

“Do ya think you’d ever go on a date with me?”

Bucky’s words echoed in your brain, sending a sharp pain in your chest with each repetition. The quietness in the jet only increased the agony of that moment being replayed. Your best friend had stood before you and put his emotions on the line - something he had never afforded himself to do. Then you made him realise why.

Two of your ribs were fractured from the mission but that thought was more painful.

“So quiet, what are you thinking about?” Yelena commented, looking over her shoulder from her pilot duties to check up on you.

“Nothing.” You replied putting your hand over your ribs and resting your back against the seat.

Bucky was going to be so worried when he’d found out you’d been injured. You could see it now, him following you around like a puppy. At least, he might have done if you’d given him a better answer than ‘I don’t know’ to a date. When you left for the mission he had worn a wounded expression that he’d desperately tried to conceal as you told him goodbye.

The truth is, when Bucky had asked you that question it threw your body into a complete state of conflict.

Your heart was about to burst out of your chest, as if it was trying to escape and connect with Bucky’s. It was crying out for you to say yes to him and take everything you had ever wanted.

That was until your brain stepped in and lassoed your heart to keep it in its place. The logic had corrupted you and was determined to prevent you from getting hurt. It wore you down and drowned out the excitement of your heart. It went to work in bringing back all the disappointment and hurt caused by your father who had left you behind at an early age.

But your lungs burned. The air was trapped in them and you struggled to breathe. It felt like you were being suffocated. It was a curious and familiar feeling from when you were younger.

To be the daughter of a man who abandons you is to constantly hold your breath in fear that if you let go, you’ll fall apart.

The other organs had overpowered and barricaded your lonely heart. They left you in the predicament of stuttering and stammering in front of a very nervous Bucky which had concluded with your pathetic answer. The memory had plagued you ever since.

Simultaneously, your brain provided you with flashbacks of being a child and waiting excitedly for a a man that rarely ever came. The feeling of disappointment after every interaction with your father that somehow managed to make you feel so unimportant had returned. The lump in your throat held there with every breath reminded you of the struggle to accept that he was never going to be what you needed to him to be.

It had taken some bone-crushing strength to move on. He was your father and you needed him to be better. As his child, you believed you should be the only motivation he needed to stop being so unreliable and grow up.

Whilst you were right, that is unfortunately not how the world works.

Now the perfect man had asked you the question you deemed was only possible in your wildest dreams. But to say yes to him was to give him access to potentially do the exact same thing as your father had done.

It was just too much of a risk.

*

The jet had landed with a halt and Yelena came over to assist you with walking off. You were quietly grateful for her, trying to hide just how much pain in you were in as you grasped Yelena’s shoulder.

Sam was poised and waiting for you both. Bucky stood next to him, fidgeting anxiously in anticipation of your return. He had spent the last few days licking his wounds in your absence. He had accepted that you had only ever been so affectionate with him because you were a good friend and he’d misinterpreted it. It fucking stung, but he respected that you can’t help how you feel. Although your answer had left him unsure where he stood with you, he was eager for you to return so he could be the best friend you needed him to be.

Bucky’s face fell as his eyes landed on Yelena holding you up with your arm round her shoulders and your regular wincing.

“First of all, are you okay?” Sam asked, him and Bucky instinctively making their way over to you both, ready to take you from Yelena if need be.

“Yeah, just fractured some ribs. No biggie.” You joked but it sounded painful. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you, scanning and analysing you, processing the possibilities if this had been worse.

It made you feel weak and incompetent. The strong super soldier wanted to protect you and all you could think about is that you wished you were stronger. All of those years of having to establish your independence and leave behind weakness and vulnerability were completely discarded in that moment with Bucky’s pitiful look.

“Okay well, get checked out. No training or missions for you until you’re better.” Sam instructed, having settled into his new role as Captain America; he needed to make sure his team were in the best shape possible.

“Got it, Cap.” You nodded at Yelena to get her to take you to the medical wing of the compound. That was when Bucky stepped in.

“I’ll take it from here, Yelena.” He said and before you could even say anything, you were scooped up into Bucky’s arms and he was carrying into the compound.

“I could have walked.” You protested meekly. Being in his arms felt awkward, you didn’t allow yourself to hold on to him because then you’d stop holding your breath and you’d be done for.

“This is easier.” He retorted. For the first time since Bucky had started his recovery, he was unable to look you in the eye.

It was stony silence between you both, each of you having moments to open your mouths but no words came out. Nothing felt right. Despite being in his arms, a gap had been wedged between you and you were unsure how you’d ever be able to get back to him again.

You fixated on Bucky’s jaw which was constantly clenched, you could just about feel his teeth grinding together. His slouched shoulders and defeated expression didn’t go unnoticed by you. He was your best friend, you knew everything about him. Bucky was heartbroken.

Heartbroken, yet he still showed up for you when you needed him.

*

It was now a requirement that the compound had medical staff on hand at all times. Pepper had insisted on it in the rebuild, too many people had been lost. More preventative measures were put in place to keep the team as safe as possible.

You were thankful that you didn’t have to go to hospital but it now meant that Bucky was glued to your side as you were checked over. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, digesting everything the doctor had said to you while you lay back wishing he would go away.

Bucky being there was a constant reminder that you’d hurt him. Locked inside its cage, your heart wept at the thought, desperate for you to tell Bucky you’d been stupid and you’d love to date him, marry him, die for him.

It made your lungs tighten and your breath hitch, ready to give way. You had to be stronger than this. Love was not worth risking the pain of being abandoned. You had vowed never to give anyone the power to make you feel that way again.

When the doctor left, Bucky settled back into his chair, clearly having no intention of leaving. You settled down on the bed, feeling drowsy from the painkillers and squeezed your eyes shut like a child, wishing that when you opened them that he’d be gone.

Alas, moments later when you opened your eyes again he was still there, watching over you protectively.

“You don’t need to sit with me, Buck. I’m sure you’ve got better things to be doing.” You mumbled, looking away from him to stare out of the window.

“I am not leaving your side, need to make sure you’re okay.” Bucky responded. “And I missed you.”

His voice broke a little at the last four words, almost as though he was scared to admit it to you. It wasn’t like you were a stranger to his vulnerability but this felt different after him admitting to having feelings a few days prior. It made you frown.

“I missed you too.” You muttered. “I’m sorry about the other day.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bucky said defensively and definitively as though he didn’t want to talk about it. He was ready to pretend it didn’t happen and move forward as your friend.

But Bucky deserved the whole world. The least you could do is offer an explanation.

“No, Bucky, you deserve better than an ‘I don’t know’. In all honesty, you’re… perfect. And I’ve loved you for a long time. The way my heart skipped a beat when you asked me that question, you have no idea. But I just can’t…”

“Why?” Bucky choked out, his voice still broken. He had moved to the edge of his seat again, his eyes constantly darting between you and your fingers which you were anxiously playing with.

“Can’t risk it. I can’t risk being abandoned.”

“I’d never leave you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” You snapped at him and instantly regretted it as you could sense his posture shrink with the unsolicited harshness. It wasn’t intentional but rather instinctual. Words were empty; if a parent could leave you then there was nothing to stop a boyfriend from doing the same thing.

“You promise me you won’t leave all the time.” Bucky offered after a couple of seconds of uncomfortable silence. He was right, in all of his moments of insecurity and grief after Hydra; it was you providing comfort and reassurance. It was you by his side, being his supportive and loving best friend.

“Because I know how shit it is to be left.” You sighed and felt the painful tug in your chest. Your breathing was rapid and your lungs were aching. They were agonisingly trying to keep everything in; keeping your heart locked up and holding your breath. You’d come too far, you couldn’t let go now.

“And you think I don’t?” It was Bucky’s turn to snap now.

His words were a cruel and embarrassing wake up call. It prompted you to give him eye contact and fuck, he really was broken.

It was so insensitive: you should have known better than that. Steve leaving him behind had had a profound effect on Bucky. Rarely did he ever let people see his tears but he had allowed you to cradle him like a baby while he sobbed for his friend who had left him behind.

“Buck, I’m so sorry.” You mumbled, feeling like a fool with your carelessness. Twice now had the tight leash you had kept on your lungs resulted in your words hurting Bucky. It was becoming more than you could bear.

Bucky shook his head lightly, waving off the comment and wiping the slate clean again. Nonetheless, he held your eye contact in search of further elaboration.

“It’s just I used to get all that crap from my dad about never leaving me and he did. It means nothing to me anymore. What if I’m not enough for you like I wasn’t for him?” Tears has trickled from the corners of your eyes and spilled down on to your face and the sheets.

Bucky wasted no time in getting up and sitting on the bed next to you, pulling you into his chest. The remaining pieces of the puzzle formed in his head. He had known before that any mention of your dad made you extremely uncomfortable and he had always changed the subject. Bucky understood all too well what it was like to be left behind, but not by a parent. Not by one of the very few people in this world that actually owed you something. He cursed himself for not considering this beforehand but quickly turned his focus to comforting you.

This time you didn’t protest to being taken in Bucky’s arms, you just wept into his t shirt as he stroked your hair and pressed loving kisses to the top of your head. Your brain was too fatigued to provide you with reasons why you should push him away. You just needed him.

“I need to protect my heart.” You asserted finally, trying to explain yourself further.

“Sweets, you’re breaking your own heart.” Bucky sighed as he pulled you in closer to him.

Just as you had cradled him when Steve left, it was his turn to do it for you. Engulfed in those strong arms, he rocked you gently and carefully. It felt safe and warm and like home.

Now that your brain had called surrender on this pointless fight against your feelings for Bucky, it played a different film in your head than memories of your dad.

You remembered Bucky teaching you to ride a motorbike. He had put your helmet on for you and let out a hearty laugh at the goofy grin you’d given him. Everything he did that day was with extreme patience as he’d put his hands over yours on the handlebars, explaining what everything was and how it worked. The praise he’d given you when you did something right had encouraged you to keep trying. Conversely, when you got something wrong or made a mistake; Bucky was calm and reassuring, compelling you to try again.

Or the time you’d gotten sick and were bedridden for days. Bucky made it his personal mission to take care of you. He was out of his depth, sure, but he had just tried to mirror what you had done when you comforted him after nightmares. Your cup of tea was never empty, you were never left without enough blankets, you never had to wait for your medicine. Bucky was attentive, caring and there.

Even today, you knew that based on his stoic face that you’d hurt him. But he still turned up for you. He was nothing like your father.

Bucky had proved already that he could be there. He was right: you were breaking your own heart. The trauma of abandonment had caused you to deny yourself a love that felt like home. You had been judge, jury and executioner in your own trial and had made a mistake.

Then it happened. You stopped holding your breath.

Your lungs expanded as fully as possible and then shrunk dramatically again. This process continued over and over as you inhaled as much air as possible and then exhaled in deep, incredible breaths.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, looking down at the powerful heaving of your chest and listening to your breathing.

You nodded in response, unable to offer any words. Without realising, you had clutched on to his t-shirt and balled up a bunch of the fabric in your fist.

It was exhausting after having kept your lungs in tension for so long but it was so liberating to let go safely. Focusing on the thudding of his heartbeat in his chest, it grounded and secured you.

Your own heart was screaming in her cage, knowing her rightful partner was close and she needed to be near him. You had set your brain and lungs free, it was time to do the same for your heart.

With some slow coaxing from Bucky as he rubbed your back and continued to kiss the top of your head, you started to calm down. Your lungs adjusted to regular breathing and seemed content in their new routine of being used the way they should always have been.

Your head was rested on Bucky’s chest, still finding comfort in his regular, clockwork heartbeat. The fabric of his shirt that you had grasped before had been let go and was left wrinkled and misshapen.

“You know, Doll,” Bucky began. “I understand why you feel like that, but I’m not your dad, okay?” He took a moment to look at you and ensure that you weren’t too upset or triggered for him to continue.

“You say you love me, so can you trust me? Can we give this a go?”

You looked up and met the adoring gaze of his ocean eyes. Instead of answering him with words you pressed your lips against his. It was soft and gentle, his flesh hand moving to hold your face. Even with his eyes closed, he’d studied your face enough to know where to run his thumb so it was along your cheekbone.

It was the key to unlocking your caged heart. She leapt from her shackled prison and lunged for Bucky’s heart to connect with him. The hearts embraced with the deepening of your kiss and formed an unbreakable bond.

When you finally pulled back for air - which your lungs were well accustomed to now - you couldn’t help but give each other a chuckle. Your foreheads met as your hearts worked in unison to pull you as close to each other as possible.

“Is that a yes then?” He asked, with a cheeky smile stretched across his face.

The insecurity and fear of being left was still there. You accepted that it always would be on some level. On the other hand, you’d had enough of constantly being on your guard and having to be so strong all the time. No longer would you send your vital organs into mortal combat over an irrelevant man when the man in front of you just wanted to love you.

“Yes.” You decided. “Yes it is.”

[bi-disaster-yn]

Thank you so much for including Tread Carefully!!🫶

2022 tumblr wrapped (fic recs)

so since today is the last day of 2022, i’m gonna make a list of all my favourite fics from this year and also because i saw @inklore do this and i wanted to do too (lol love you bestie <3). also i might put together a list of my favourite fics that i wrote this year so keep and eye out for that. anyways, go check out these fics and the writers and i highly encourage you to reblog their work to support them <3

fics marked with a ✦ are my personal favourites that i could never stop thinking about.

**this is your warning that some of these fics contain dark/taboo themes

marvel cinematic universe

what a world (steve rogers) by @onsunnyside ✦

tread charefully (peter parker) by @bi-disaster-yn

without you i would die (wanda maximoff) by @galatially

salacious desires (bucky barnes) by @junipermuses ✦

diplomacy (bucky barnes) by @mypoisonedvine

chris evans characters

flamingo king (ari levinson) by @onsunnyside ✦

the night (andy barber) by @misshoneybee

sweetest devotion (ari levinson) by @evansbby ✦

fearful hearts (ari levinson) by @junipermuses

little fears (ari levinson) by @onsunnyside ✦

discretion (ransom drysdale) by @inklore

he can be my mister—yum! (johnny storm) by @hansensgirl

backfire (ari levinson) by @hansensgirl

sweet dreams (jake jensen) by @sidepartskinnyjeans

crybaby (curtis everett & jake jensen) by @onsunnyside

misc.

monster cuddles (eddie munson) by @frankieetaylorr

eyes like fire (geralt of rivia) by @darklydeliciousdesires ✦

untitled (eddie munson) by @wndalovebot

anchor (theo raeken) by @buckyseddie

love will tear us apart (eddie munson) by @andvys ✦

you can also find more fic recs under the tag <3

© 2022 honeybloomss.

[bi-disaster-yn]

I loved your Female Rage fic. As a woman I often find myself crying and screaming at the thought of it, of being a woman, of how I love it and hate it at the same time and how the world treats us. I hiperfixate on topics to research, and in Spain there’s this very famous Instagram influencer called ‘Bebi fernandez’, she’s anonymous and works destroying women trafficking rings. She has written books and novels, two poetry books, two novels, one book of tales. The poetry books are extracts from her diaries from 16-21 years. And the novel, Memorias de una salvaje, I wish it was an English version and you could read it, it’s about a girl who’s father was in a prostitution mafia and when he’s killed she has to work as a receptionist in one of the buildings they sex traffic women to pay debts. It’s raw, visceral, enraging. It’s also real. The story of every single woman in that book, they are inspired in real life. And there’s millions out there, everywhere, women being kidnapped, orphans being stolen, baby girls taken from their mothers. This world is a continuation of crimes, terrible crimes committed against women and it doesn’t change. It never changes. I can’t help but scream, yell, cry desperately. Sometimes I write in my diary about it but I end up getting frustrated and ripping off the page, throwing the notebook against the wall and crying my eyes out. I feel useless most of the time. But in a very spiritual way, I wouldn’t want to be anything else but a woman. I love women, so so much.

Thank you so much 🥹 the raw anger you clearly feel is exactly how I feel all the time and tried to channel it all into Female Rage. I think it’s the one I’m most proud of. I get that about wanting to rip the page out - at one point during the fic my eyes were streaming with tears but I kept going. Sending you big big big love anon <3

And I really wish there was an English version as well, that sounds brilliant!

[bi-disaster-yn]

Thank you my love!!🥰

Tread Carefully

Pairing: neighbour!Peter Parker x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is used to being led on and then let down in love which leads to her not quite believing just how much Peter likes her.

Set after the events in No Way Home! As always, Peter is aged up to be in his early-mid twenties.

A/N: This one goes out to the all the girls who have been made to feel crazy when they’ve been led on by someone who suddenly loses interest. You are valid and you deserve so much better (and someone like Peter in this fic <3)!!

Feedback & reblogs are always appreciated <3

Whilst others seem to fall into love quite easily, for you it was always like trying to catch fire in a jar. Never successful, getting burned in the process and eventually the jar melting with all the exposure to further render your attempts useless.

Such carelessness with your emotions had led you to a solitary existence. The mere suggestion of reciprocated feelings had made you strategic and forceful, putting pressure on every encounter with a prospective lover in hopes that one day you might secure love.

Naturally, the pressure would snap any cord of bond you might have with someone and there you were, left again without any recourse. A scorned woman.

This wasn’t always your fault. Often, you’d bestow your emotions upon someone unworthy. Gaslighted with a promise of something real, you’d pursue these people only to be bitterly disappointed with a frank conversation where they confessed that you were great but all the same, not good enough.

Enter Peter Parker, your sweet neighbour who moved in next door a few months ago and brought with him a little spark that had you giddy.

The day he had moved in, he just seemed so out of his depth and alone. With the door open, he’d stood in the middle of his apartment looking round at the admittedly small number of boxes he had. Nevertheless, he looked entirely overwhelmed and frozen, struggling to even take the first step to open any of them.

You’d just finished grocery shopping as you walked past, peering in quickly when you came across the open door. From where you were standing, viewing his slumped shoulders and helpless face, it looked like he was going to cry. He looked so lost and you were sure that your help was exactly what he needed.

So, you came to the rescue. Announcing your presence, you offered your help which he reluctantly accepted. One by one, you worked your way through the boxes and worked together to set out his things the way he’d like them. At first, he was wary of you but grew more comfortable as you took things at his pace, never pressuring or hastening him.

You cooked him dinner, noting that his fridge hadn’t been stocked up yet. He asked you for coffee the next day as a thank you.

Coffee dates became dinner dates which naturally slipped into taking turns to make dinner for each other every night. He was so convenient being next door and had explained being new to the area that he had no one else really. Naturally, he gradually began to intertwine himself within your plans until you had become inseparable. Not that you minded, you hadn’t been this infatuated in a long time.

You did everything “right”.

You nurtured your feelings, trying to keep them on a leash to prevent them leaping out of control. You were calm and collected around him, allowing yourself to freak out about him after you said goodbye for the night. You made allowances for him in your plans yet didn’t hedge your bets on having to actually plan around him.

Yet, you still expected him to let you down. Some dark, twisted and nasty corner of your brain still told you that you were holding on to false hope. You had let people in before only to have them ridicule you for ever thinking that something could happen. For all you knew, Peter could be - and probably was - just the same as the rest of them.

Although, surprisingly, he hadn’t let you down to date. He always turned up on time when he said he would, except for that one rare exception that he had to cancel. Even at that, he was following up with you to reschedule and even planned and paid for the whole date because he felt so bad about having to miss your plans.

He let you touch him and he allowed himself to touch you. When your thighs lingered as you sat next to each other, he didn’t move away or sit in clear discomfort. Contentedly, he’d continue his story while you sat, completely mesmerised by the fact he’d allowed you a crumb of intimacy with just a simple gesture.

When this inevitably went downhill, it was going to kill you.

***

Winter had taken over the city. The restaurants and shops below your apartment had started to decorate their storefronts with festive lights which teamed up with the streetlights to create a cosy light in a cruelly cold and dark night.

It was Peter’s turn to cook that night. He stood at the stove making mac and cheese in plaid pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt that although oversized, still managed to show his muscular shoulders.

You sat on his couch flicking through Netflix to find a suitable Christmas movie for your night in. As the snow began to fall outside, you wrapped the blanket round you tighter and excited yourself with the idea of cuddling up to Peter to keep warm. Peter hummed as he plated up the food; it was his Aunt May’s recipe and he’d raved about it for weeks, insisting he would make it for you.

You tried not to read into the fact he was letting you into something he’d shared with his aunt who had been more like his mother. Nor did you read into the fact that the blanket wrapped round you was one you hadn’t been able to stop touching in the store because of how soft it was. He’d bought it so he could see the big grin on your face as you smoothed your hands down it.

“You really love that thing, don’t you?” Peter commented with a sweet smile as he handed you the plate.

“It’s just so soft! How did they make it so soft?” You beamed in response.

“I don’t know, but you look really cute with it wrapped round you.” He smiled, facing the TV and taking a bite before saying the all too familiar yet equally dreadful sentence.

“I think we should talk.”

It was so out of left field and so unexpected. The horrible yet familiar feeling of dread sat deep in your stomach and destroyed your earlier appetite for a home cooked meal. Setting your plate down, you took a deep breath in anticipation of what he was going to say next. You had to give it to him, ending this over his beloved aunt’s recipe was a new low in your experience of rejections.

“Sure.” Was the only response you could muster without it sounding like you were dying inside at the very notion Peter could end all of this.

“Well, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, right?”

Oh God. This really was it. Now was the time for the usual chat. He’d come out with some drawl about how even though you had spent every day together, ate together, slept together, treated each other like boyfriend and girlfriend, that it was of course, casual and you were irrational to think anything different. In the heat of the moment, frenzied by embarrassment, you’d agree and tell him you’d even prefer to be friends. Then over the coming months, the dejection would slowly eat away at you as you’d overanalyse the memories and consider what you should have looked for to ascertain that this would never be a serious relationship. Good enough for a fling, but not quite enough for a substantive commitment.

It was going to be a long and lonely winter.

“Yeah, two and a half months to be exact.” You stated, as if for a court record to build your case on just how much of your time he had wasted before he was about to throw this genuine and beautiful connection away. Peter merely chuckled at your matter-of-fact manner, oblivious to your serious tone.

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to be my girlfriend?” He asked nervously, watching you with a hopeful smile.

Admittedly, your reaction was in fact, irrational.

“Sorry, WHAT?!” You yelled back, so taken aback by the question. It was what you wanted to hear but not at all what you expected.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Peter tried to explain, clearly self-conscious by his choice of timing and now considering what seemed to be a real possibility of you rejecting him. “I just thought that I really love what we have and I wanted to make it official but if you feel differently then-“

You cut him off before he could go any further by lunging over and wrapping your arms round his neck tightly. You held him like he would disappear if you let go. The longer you held on, the more tangible his question became and the more likely you were being validated that this whole thing wasn’t just a one-sided and bittersweet liaison, doomed to fail from the beginning.

Peter chuckled, managing to set his plate down on the coffee table, despite you clinging on to him like a koala. He settled back against the couch, rubbing his hand up and down your back soothingly while you sat still, completely incapable of letting go.

“So… is that a yes?” Peter asked with slight concern in his voice as he tried to measure how long you had been silent for.

“Of course, it’s a yes! I thought you were going to end this!” You confessed. Peter frowned at your response, unsure where you could ever have gotten that idea from. He had tried so hard to not be one of those asshole guys and not lead you on. He started to question whether he should have done anything differently.

“Why would you think that?” His question came with a sweet kiss to your temple. Despite you holding him hostage with a cuddle, he seemed quite content.

The heat of embarrassment claimed your cheeks causing you to nuzzle your face into his neck. This should have been a really happy and carefree moment between you both, and hopefully the beginning of many years together. Yet, your insecurities and past emotional injuries had tainted this.

Perhaps, sharing your intense fear and feelings was going to be too much for Peter. Still, if he was going to be in a relationship with you, he ought to know the truth.

“I just…” You began, sitting back to look him in the eye. “I just never get asked that question.”  

Peter looked at you with a mixture of surprise and sadness. His eyebrows furrowed in contemplation and he let out a silent “oh”. At first, you thought he was pitying you but then you came to realise that he was just appreciating how big of a deal this was for you.

“I always seem to be the practise run or the casual fling. I never seem to be enough to be the girlfriend. You know?” At this, Peter nodded silently and reached his hand out for you to hold which you gladly took.

“And with you, I’ve been trying so hard not to get overexcited or put too much pressure on you but I really like you, Peter! I’ve been terrified that you’ve wanted to end this for a while now.” You explained further, watching him get confused.

“What did I do that made you think that?” Peter mumbled, his own fears and guilt setting into him. He had been trying so hard to let people in and to think that he was potentially failing was more than a tough pill to swallow.

“Nothing.” You said simply, because it was the truth. He had done nothing wrong.

“It’s just, I let you into my apartment, which was supposed to be just mine. I talked to you about Aunt May, which was really hard for me but I trusted you with it. I… I fell asleep on you. I felt safe enough with you to sleep soundly. I just don’t think I could have done anymore to let you know I was interested.”

The lump in Peter’s throat was evident with his words. This poor, sweet boy had no idea that this was so much bigger than him. It was an injury to your very being that had attached itself to you for all time coming. In truth, Peter had opened up to you and had let you in. On the other hand, all of those boys had done the same thing. They fed you with private and emotional insights then cut off the supply when you dared tried to establish a deeper emotional connection. How were you to tell the difference? 

“Sweetheart, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just, not all guys are as genuine as you. They mess with our heads and then call us crazy.” You explained calmly, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles lightly. The words took purchase in Peter’s body and he nodded at you, slightly embarrassed.

“I am sorry you’ve been through that. I just really liked you and wanted to let you in. I have meant it all and I’d really like for you to be my girlfriend.” He smiled, reaching his other hand out to caress your cheekbone. An excited and surprise giggle escaped your lips.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Peter.” You leaned in and kissed him deeply, putting your hands on his cheeks. His hands found your waist, pulling you to sit on his lap. You gladly obliged, not once breaking the kiss. It wasn’t catching fire in a jar. Rather, it was gathering water that easily streamed into the jar – filling it up and adapting to the shape of its keeper without any threat of burning or melting; secured simply with a screw top lid. It was different, fresh and easy.

“Okay,” Peter chuckled as he finally pulled away from the kiss. “Can you please let me know if I made a good job of dinner?”

“Sure thing, boyfriend.” You grinned, giving his lips one last peck before leaning back and retrieving your neglected plate from the table. It was starting to get cold but that didn’t matter. You were going to give it a glowing review anyway.

You draped the blanket over the two of you and cuddled into him, no longer afraid to show him just how keen you were. He hummed happily at this, turning to gently kiss your temple. Your mind and body relaxed, content in the knowledge that you need not tread carefully around your Peter.

Finally, someone genuine.

[bi-disaster-yn]

Thank you for including my Rhaenyra fics!!!♥️♥️

House of the Dragon Masterlist

This Masterlist includes all of the House of the Dragon fan fiction I have reblogged. Enjoy.

Updated: 01/01/23

Masterpost

Keep reading

[bi-disaster-yn]

A… a… a masterpiece?🥹🥹🥹 angel thank you so much for including my fic!🥰

A couple days late, but the final rec list of 2022 is here! I wish you all the best in 2023 🎉🎉

To all the writers - I love you and I appreciate you so much!

To all the readers - please, share the fics you read and love. The reblog really makes the change! It’s the least we can do to show our gratitude.

Also, please, mind the writers’ warnings!

12 days of christmas by @familyvideostevie

↳ mix of christmas fics with steve and eddie, each one is so good 💕

🎆EDDIE MUNSON🎆

she drives me crazy by @jobean12-blog

↳ one-shot, enemies to lovers aka the most superior trope to ever exsist

gold rush by @marvelsswansong

↳ one-shot, childhood friends to lovers, slowburn, pining, amazing story 💙

knocked up by @whoahoney

↳ one-shot, surprise!!! they're having a baby 👶

a special surprise by/@/whoahoney

↳ one-shot, 18+, this is so hot i can't even

🎆STEVE HARRINGTON🎆

no good at waiting by/ @/familyvideostevie

↳ series, 18+, a farmer's market au, enemies to friends to lovers, bit angsty and so bloody good!

let the kisses linger by @stevebabey

↳ one-shot, just thinking about this fic makes me go screaming crying throwing up, i love it!

hearts on the telephone line by @t-lostinworlds

↳ one-shot, hurt/comfort, i just wanna hold my babey steve and never let him go :')

dead wrong by @lucasnclair

↳ one-shot, best friends to lovers, 10/10, will be reading again 😌

this fic by @sanguineterrain

↳ one-shot, in the end we're all just feral little things who have the hots for one steve harrington

starry eyed smile by @luveline

↳ one-shot, christmas fic, friends to lovers, a pleasure to read 😌

stevie, baby by @roanniom

↳ one-shot, 18+, this is the literal dream

itty bitty pretty by @//t-lostinworlds

↳ one-shot, 18+, i lost my mind at some point while reading this and i haven't seen it since 🤷‍♀️

🎆ROBERT 'BOB' FLOYD🎆

king of my heart by @croimilis

↳ one-shot, pilot!reader, pining friends to lovers, idiots in love, i love everything about this!!

fall by @demxters

↳ series, childhood friends to lovers, i swear they only reason for bob floyd to exist is so people can write friends to lovers fic about him. and i will read every single one of them. especially those as good as this one!

candy by @bussyslayer333

↳ one-shot, 18+, barista!reader, i am in love with cute glasses guy and i am in love with this fic

office christmas party by @//notroosterbradshaw

↳ one-shot, this is so fun 😁😁

make it proper (part 2) by @rassvetsky

↳ two-shot, this story is a proper banger

perfect by @footprintsinthesxnd

↳ one-shot, pregnant!reader, just a lazy morning with our fave baby 😌

this fic by @rhettabbotts

↳ one-shot, he's just too adorable for his own and our good

🎆BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW🎆

steady by @callsignvalley

↳ series, bartender!reader, slow burn friends to lover, this is a sequel to a great jake series tailspin, i highly encourage you to read both!

golden hour by @//callsignvally

↳ one shot, 18+, Mae back at it again with a bloody banger 😌

g.u.y. by@notroosterbradshaw

↳ one shot, 18+, whenever i see Cass' url on my dash, i drop everything i'm doing and go read. i may be a tad bit obssesed but these stories are just so good

this fic by@//notroosterbradshaw

↳ one shot, 18+, CAUTION! content is hot

looking for somebody (to love) by @//bussyslayer333

↳ one shot, 18+ i am just looking for somebody (bradley bradshaw) to love (please i am begging)

and so it goes by @laracrofted

↳ one shot, 18+, delicious 😚

nice list by @youlightmeupfinn

↳ one shot, wife!reader, i sure hope santa can't read my mind cause my thoughts about this man are anything but nice 😈

concerned neighbour by @mothdruid

↳ one shot, 18+, it's really important to have a good relationship with your neighbours 👀👀

(christmas) baby please come home by @gretagerwigsmuse

↳ one shot, 18+, such a good fic!

november air by @fanboygarcia

↳ one shot, i am okay, i swear :')

i'm obssesed with you by @simpforrooster

↳ one shot, jake may be a little shit but he has good intentions!

🎆JAKE 'HANGMAN' SARESIN🎆

sugar and spice by @wombtotombx

↳ series, female OC, enemies to lover, slow burn, i don't read many OC fic but i loved this with everything i have

have you heard the good word? by @sebsxphia

↳ one shot, 18+, this man is gonna be the death of me i swear. but what a way to go

🎆MICKEY 'FANBOY' GARCIA🎆

my cup runneth over by @rae-gar-targaryen

↳ one shot, i love that guy so much 😭😭

🎆PETER PARKER🎆

3:00 am by @thegirlintheswivelchair

↳ one-shot, what does a girl gotta do for peter parker to be her human teddy bear??? asking for myself

white lies, red & blue tights by @//t-lostinworlds

↳ one-shot, college!au, we love matching halloween costimes <333

tread carefully by @bi-disaster-yn

↳ one-shot, neighbour!peter, this is what i like to call a masterpiece 😌

bloody love by @parkerpeter24

↳ two-shot, tasm!peter, my poor little heart :(((((

can we always be this close? by @writingwithbee

↳ one-shot, tasm!peter, just AHHHHHHHHH

🎆BUCKY BARNES🎆

uptown boy by @viperbarnes

↳ one-shot, 18+, 40s!bucky, what a great piece of work that was!!

we fell in love in october by @buckycuddlebuddy

↳ series, farmer!bucky, imagine putting on your fave sweater right after wash, still smelling of clean laundry and then sitting under your cosiest blanket, that's what reading this series feels like

strategic fit by @indyluckycharlie

↳ one-shot, 18+, corporate!au, coworker!bucky, AND I OOP-

steal blue by @//rassvetsky

↳ one-shot, 18+, exes to lovers, can you hear me scream???

🎆STEVE ROGERS🎆

almost by @neonovember

↳ one-shot, 18+, is it hot in here or it it just this fic 🥵🥵🥵

love on the brain by @anika-ann

↳ series, criminal minds crossover, THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER I LOVE THIS SO MUCH PLS GO READ IT THANK YOU

🎆TOM HOLLAND 🎆

it's (a) november baby by @//t-lostinworlds

↳ one-shot, 18+, no nut november fics will never be not funny

you're in love by @userholland

↳ one-shot, best idiot friends to lover, i need tom to be my wedding date and by that i mean i need to wife that man up

happy hollandays 2022 by @//userholland

↳ series, different christmas related fics with various aus, each one better than the last one!

🎆NATHAN DRAKE🎆

maron by @toms-gf

↳ one-shot, go ahead rip my heart out :')

🎆RHETT ABBOTT🎆

to the nines by @bradshawsbaby

↳ one-shot, childhood friend!reader, this>>>>>>>>

the christmas gift by @//bradshawbaby

↳ one-shot, wife!reader, this is crazy how i claim i don't ever want to have kids but i would pop out a soccer team for this man if he asked

🎆AARON HOTCHNER🎆

love, an abstract concept by @luveline

↳ one-shot, this is so wholesome i love this so very much!!!

🎆RANSOM DRYSDALE🎆

merry christmas by @anika-ann

↳ one-shot, 18+, my love Anika really knows how to make me all merry 😁

[bi-disaster-yn]

Bro don't delete the See you in Westview fic, it was actually one of the most epic crossover, and really did enjoy the read

Okay angel, I won’t delete thank you for enjoying it!

Just don’t think I’ll finish it or be doing any writing at all for the foreseeable tbh!

[bi-disaster-yn]

https://at.tumblr.com/onichangiri/sebastian-stan-interview-at-europafm-likewtf/99fflwvrak7k

can you make something based off this. Like seb goes in for an interview and brings reader along. This question gets asked and she starts blushing. And he turn to her and ask isn’t tht right baby or something like tht

Sorry, love. I don’t take requests.

[bi-disaster-yn]

Thank you so much🥹🥹

Female Rage

Paring: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky thinks it’s a success when the team manage to uncover a Hydra human trafficking operation targeting women and girls. Reader knows it’s only a drop in the ocean of patriarchal violence towards women.

A/N: This was very cathartic for me to write. I carry around all these feelings and fanfic allows me to outlet them. Thanks for being part of it <3

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ This fic discusses systematic issues around violence towards women and has mentions of trafficking, sexual violence, domestic abuse and murder.

The sirens, the flashing blue lights, and all of the people around you overwhelmed your senses. Your body became a mere vessel which moved without any control or instruction. A part of your soul had died but you had to keep going.

All around you were women and young girls who, just an hour prior, were being held in a lorry and were being trafficked to a covert Hydra base. The purpose of the operation was an early stage attempt to revive the Red Room but with a team of you, Bucky, Sam and Yelena you were able to put a stop to it.

Having managed to track the lorry down to the specific coordinates, you infiltrated the mission. They had been driving on a long and quiet country road, seemingly hidden by the cascades of giant trees in an extensive woodland. A nasty fight with the Hydra agents ensued when you and Yelena caught up with them in an Audi, while Bucky met them head on with a motorcycle and Sam flew in and took the roof. It concluded with them being hauled away in handcuffs but you wish you’d killed them.

Then came the aftermath.

The scene seemed to be carrying on around you without any of your input, as though you could disappear and nothing would have changed. Government officials, policemen and ambulances had arrived to assist in getting these women to safety. You were supposed to be directing them to safe points, instructing the paramedics and police officers on what to do next but the more you tried to focus, the harder it got.

Each time one of the victims thanked you, it sent an ugly shudder down your spine. An abnormally large shaped lump swelled in your throat, rendering a response impossible. All you could offer was a solemn nod, which somehow, they managed to receive your true meaning. An unspoken understanding that could only be shared between women endured throughout all of your exchanges.

Bucky and Sam were still capable of focus as they liaised with officers and helped women, offering more words of encouragement than you or Yelena ever could. Every now and then, Bucky flashed you an encouraging smile, clearly proud of what you were able to achieve today. It was something you couldn’t return.

Ringing in your ears persisted and you flinched as more sirens arrived. You moved without purpose, trying to point in different directions to aid the girls to paramedics if they needed medical attention, and to a police officer if not. Even then, a peculiar feeling churned in your stomach as you stared at the officers, who were all men and mentally cursed that no one in the police department had thought to send any women to this scene. Effectively, it felt like you were passing these girls from one evil, male-dominated organisation to another.

A strong sense of injustice built up tension in your body, harbouring an overpowering reaction, which you were unsure if you could suppress for much longer.

The match in the powder barrel, however, was witnessing a girl who couldn’t have been older than 14 sheltering and comforting two little girls who were terrified and crying for their mother. At first glance, it appeared as though the little ones had no relation to her whatsoever. Yet, this girl had adopted this maternal role which she was far too young to accept. As soon as you saw them safely situated in an ambulance, you decided you couldn’t take this anymore.

Passing by everyone and ignoring calls from Sam, you stormed into the woods, descending deeper and deeper into the trees and the natural beauty of Mother Nature.

You couldn’t remember when you started crying, you just knew that tears streamed down your cheeks. The combination of the tears and the intense headache they brought blurred your vision. You brought your hands to your head and wailed, knowing that no one would hear you.

You thought about how those girls had now secured this trauma and although the Hydra mission hadn’t been completed, this ordeal would alter the courses of their lives forever. This would manifest itself in different ways in all of their lives. They’d never be able to live without the memory of this ever again, tainting their experiences, putting them on their guard, making them cautious of the world and what monsters harboured amongst the humans among them. Honestly, you preferred your chances against Thanos than the men that walked this Earth.

That very concept made you angry. No, not angry. Incandescent.

The lump in your throat was surpassed by a bloodcurdling scream, the sound of which was so terrifying that the birds from the trees desperately flew away in a flock.

It was the only sound that could be heard for miles. All your rage was buried deep inside these woods like it had been in your body for years.

At this moment, this is all you were capable of. You continued to scream despite the scratch it created in your throat, or the fact it had worsened your headache. There was just so much rage contained in your body and you needed to get it out of you, no matter what it took. It was a fury so specific; so intertwined with womanhood and the female experience that no cisgender man could ever comprehend it.

It was female rage.

You were in so much pain. While yesterday you had been wrapped up with Bucky under a blanket, watching TV, eating food, having sex, doing all the normal things one does in a relationship; somewhere else at the same time, this operation was starting. It wouldn’t have been the only one. You were having a carefree day with your boyfriend while elsewhere in the world, men were committing atrocities against women – whether at a systematic level or a domestic one.

You squeezed your eyes shut in aid of your screams. Still without any control, your limbs moved on their own as you started to violently kick and punch one of the trees. Any injury sustained from this frantic display didn’t matter to you. The harsh bark of the tree broke the skin of your knuckles and soon it was decorated with your blood. 

The screams and cries persisted as you channelled this anger into the assault of the tree. You were picturing those Hydra agents with the smug grin on their faces. You pictured the man that groped you in the club without your consent on your last girls’ night. You pictured the images of those incels you had curiously watched interviews with but had to turn your laptop off halfway through. You pictured the men who had refurbished the compound and had stared at you as you trained in the garden. You pictured every man who had ever questioned your ability to keep your emotions in check as a female Avenger.

You pictured them all and you desperately wanted them all to know how fucking helpless and infuriating this all felt. You wanted them to feel the weight of the world just as you had done from being a little girl.

Without warning, some force had pulled you back from the tree and had hauled you close into a smothering embrace. In spite of your blurred vision and your relentless howling, you recognised Bucky’s smell immediately as he held you close to his chest, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly together with his vibranium hand and using his flesh one to put your face in his neck. You struggled against him, feeling suffocated and not having abolished nearly as much fury as you needed to.

“Please, doll, please stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Bucky mumbled against your forehead, pressing several gentle kisses to it. 

Nevertheless, you still fought against him. But Bucky was too strong for you and even in the arms of your beloved, you were still trapped by a man.

“Bucky. Let. Me. Go.” You shakily told him with gritted teeth.

“I’m scared to, sweetheart. Your hands… look at them.” He sobbed back, clearly in distress. A quick glimpse at your hands validated his concern. The skin round your knuckles had been torn open and in amongst the blood and mangled flesh lay splinters and chips from the tree.

It wasn’t sore, but the rest of your body was.

“I don’t understand, doll. Did something happen back there to upset you? You saved those girls. We wouldn’t have been able to do that mission without you.” Bucky said gently, loosening his grip only slightly to cradle you lovingly, rather than to protectively restrain you.

It triggered a scoff and even further anger from you.

“That’s not the point! The point is it keeps happening! We saved those girls today, sure. But somewhere out there, another one of those operations is starting and more girls will be hurt. Those operations are going on round the world, Bucky! They want us to be slaves to them in any way they can think of – whether that is to be used as a weapon or for sex or as working mules!

And these men, they’re so fucking clever! They’re making this untraceable! And we won’t be able to save them all. It’s never-ending, we’re trying to scoop up water from the ocean!”

Whether you intended it or not, the words came out as a yell and Bucky let you go. Clearly, none of this had ever occurred to him and your fury scared him. Meanwhile, your hand gestures went wild as you spoke, your facial expressions became more animated. This was only the beginning as your thoughts continued to spill out to the unassuming and gentle man you loved so much.

“And this? This is worst case scenario! Every single day women are subject to the violence of men! We’ve saved those girls, right? And we’re gonna do what? Give them normal homes so they can walk about with their keys in their hands?! We handed them over to fucking police officers who themselves have a history of being violent towards women. The cycle repeats itself!

That’s not the end of it though, these men are in our homes with us. They are beating us, raping us, killing us. We can’t escape them. The good ones aren’t signposted – we just have to trust you and it is the biggest and deadliest risk that we all take.”

Bucky nodded along with you, processing your words and affording you as much space to speak as possible. At first, he was just relieved that you hadn’t resumed your beating on the tree. Then, he began to really listen to you and consume your words and your fury. It horrified him.

In truth, he always appreciated that there was a disproportionate tendency in violence to women and that the world existed on a patriarchal system and that some men were just sexist pigs. Admittedly, this had gotten a lot better than things were in the 40s. However, he had never truly really given it much thought or considered how to change any of it. That was just the way things were. How does one go about revolutionising an entire system? Especially one that appeared to be changing over time as he had suspected.

He took a step forward, holding his arms out for you in case you needed some sanctuary. It was an offer you refused, standing awkwardly and wiping away your tears with the sleeve of your mission jacket. Attempts to comfort you at this point were futile.

“I’m sorry, doll. I have never thought about it like that. I guess it’s because I’ve never had to.” Bucky began with a sympathetic look. “But you can’t do this all by yourself. You did something so good today and you should be proud of yourself for it.”

You sank to your knees, planting your palms in the dirt below you to try and restore some strength to your frail frame. He was right, but he’d never truly understand.

“I just feel so helpless, Bucky. I feel like I’m drowning and every time I put my head above water, someone pulls me back down again.” You explained with fresh, stinging tears. “I’m a fucking Avenger and even I can’t stop this.”

Bucky knelt on the ground in front of you with a sigh, knowing that no matter what he did, he couldn’t make this better for you. It killed him to see his girl so heartbroken and defeated while he could do nothing about it.

“Those girls we saved are going to tell you their stories and you’re going to be upset and you’ll cry for them because you know what it’s like on a human level to be captured and forced to do something you don’t want to do. But you will never understand this pain and fear on a systematic level like I do! To know that you’re inherently in danger just because you were born a woman. I need to stop it. But I don’t know how.”

This time, when Bucky took you in his arms, you let him. The early exertions had exhausted your body and now you were ready to bury your face into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent and feeling safe. The venting had alleviated some of the pain but it still persisted, bubbling discreetly under the surface of your skin, ready to boil again when you were next pushed.

Bucky pressed a loving kiss to the top of your head. He appreciated that there was nothing he could say to make you feel better. Instead, he offered himself to you as comfort to take from him what you needed. The real effects of your headache and bloody knuckles came into fruition and you clenched your fists to deal with the physical pain while Bucky rocked you in a comforting motion.

“Promise me one thing, sweetheart?” Bucky asked and took your hum as permission to keep talking. “Promise me that no matter how tough this all gets; you don’t let it consume you. You are the best person I know and I will follow you into any mission, battle or war for this. But please don’t hurt yourself over it or try and deal with it on your own. I love you, please let me help. Tell me how I can be better.”

You held him so tightly that you might crush him, grateful for his support and his pledge of allegiance to your cause. Blinking away tears that threatened to fall you nodded against his neck so that he knew you had understood him.

“I promise. And, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Just know that all this anger and hatred I have towards men and how they treat us never applies to you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Bucky held you there in that spot in the woods for what felt like hours until he eventually carried you home. Fatigue had overpowered your body but your brain was still active, already plotting and planning what you were going to do next and how you were going to use your Avenger status as an advantage.

You wouldn’t change the system overnight but you were going to do everything in your power to rally up as much support as possible. The pain and anger that was deep rooted inside you was converted to raw energy and you had the appetite to make a difference.

Female rage is a powerful thing.

[bi-disaster-yn]

Holy FUCK I am shaking

Spit. Hopper. Smut. I want this man to spit in my mouth while railing me.

SPIT

18+ explicit content

Thank you! :)

You wondered if the bed was going to break. Hopper had fucked you hard before, but he seemed especially…driven, tonight. Hungry, even.

Sweat was falling off his face and onto your back with every thrust as he railed you, not caring that he was being rough, because your sopping cunt didn’t seem to mind his brutality. You seemed to grow wetter by the second, slicking his thighs and moaning like a porn star, and that was all he needed to keep going.

Hopper closed a hand around your throat and tilted your head so your chin was pointing up, head pulled back, hair dusting your ass as he bent you backward. Your eyes met Hopper’s, his skin ruddy and damp; and as he held you by the throat, he looked so handsome it would have taken your breath away if his hand hadn’t already.

“Open your fucking mouth,” Hopper growled through his teeth, and you obeyed without a second thought. His spit hit the inside of your bottom lip, and your eyes rolled back. Hopper had never done that before and it was so unexpected, so different, so dirty, that you came almost immediately.

As he continued taking you from behind, Hopper would occasionally tilt your head back again so he could watch his spit drying on your bottom lip as he railed you…

[bi-disaster-yn]

It 100% works for Steve Harrington though!! Switch out Tony for literally any ST character and there you have it

Y/N: For years, we made fun of Steve for saying he wants a vacuum for Christmas every year, but we finally got him a nice Dyson and you know what? He’s walking around, vacuuming every room, muttering “this is a game changer”. Say what you will, but the man knows what he wants.

Y/N: Tony would always insist, “No, no, no, we have to get him something he’ll ENJOY” and this is frankly humiliating for him. He just discovered the “max suction” setting and he’s happier than he was when we defeated Thanos.

[bi-disaster-yn]

Y/N: For years, we made fun of Steve for saying he wants a vacuum for Christmas every year, but we finally got him a nice Dyson and you know what? He’s walking around, vacuuming every room, muttering “this is a game changer”. Say what you will, but the man knows what he wants.

Y/N: Tony would always insist, “No, no, no, we have to get him something he’ll ENJOY” and this is frankly humiliating for him. He just discovered the “max suction” setting and he’s happier than he was when we defeated Thanos.

[bi-disaster-yn]

Bucky: Being bi isn’t a choice.

Bucky: It’s a competition and I’m winning.

Bucky, pointing at Sam: I mean, have you seen my boyfriend?

[bi-disaster-yn]

Hnggggg! Thank you for this delicious Christmas present !!!

Hopper volunteers to play Santa for the kids and reader is an elf.. and things get spicy (once all the kids are gone for the day of course...). I got Violent night Santa look in my head and it's living there. :)

I'm not sure what I've done here but...either I'm sorry, or you're welcome.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), mean!Hopper, costumes, oral (m! receiving), p in v, brat taming, no aftercare, semi-public sex (no one is around), age gap (reader is 21, Hop is in his 40s), degrading language

A/N: Divider credit to @firefly-graphics. Thanks to @trashmouth-richie and @corroded-hellfire for their feedback and patience <3

At some point in their lives, everyone fantasizes about someone they shouldn’t. For some people, it might be their teacher; others may think about a friend’s parent or their boss. 

You? You couldn’t keep your imagination from running wild with dirty daydreams about Jim Hopper: full-time Chief of Police and current Starcourt Mall Santa Claus.

A scowling boy hoists himself onto Hopper’s lap, mouth and fingers sticky with lollipop residue. “Santa!” he barks, tugging on his beard. “Last year, I asked you for a new TV, and you didn’t bring me one. You suck!” He sticks out his tongue and blows a raspberry. “This year, I want a Sega Master. Got it?” The kid jumps off and stomps over to where you’re standing off to the side in your ridiculous elf costume. He holds out his hand and stares at you expectantly. “Um, hello? Candy cane!” You roll your eyes but oblige, placing the candy in his palm as he skulks over to his mom.

“Good riddance,” you mutter under your breath, just loud enough for Hopper to hear you. The usually humorless man snorts lightly, but quickly regains his composure as the next spoiled tyrant demands a list of toys they just need to have.

Tonight is Christmas Eve, which means it’s the final night for you to make your move. For the past month, you’ve been eyeing Chief Hopper, doing your best to discreetly obtain his attention. Rolling your skirt at the waist so he could get a better glance at your ass when you leaned over, wearing a push-up bra so the top of your cleavage was visible to him, or seductively sucking on the leftover candy canes at the end of your shift. Yet every night ended the same–he smoked a cigarette before grunting a goodbye, speeding away in his old Chevy.

You’re determined to make tonight different, and you put your plan into action the moment the last kid leaves.

“Think that’s the last of ‘em,” Hopper announces, stretching his meaty legs from the plush velvet seat. His eyes are tired after a long day of fake smiling and half-listening to whining rugrats. He cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, groaning. “This is the last time I let the guys on the force convince me to do this shit. ‘Giving back to the community,’ my ass.” He pulls a pack of Camels and a Zippo from his Santa suit pocket and lights up, taking a long drag.

“Actually,” you say, sauntering over to him, “I think there’s one more person who needs to tell you their Christmas wish.” You gingerly sit on his lap, fluffing out your skirt so that only your green tights and lace panties separate you from him. “You see, I’ve been a really good girl this year, and there’s only one thing I want.”

 “Let me guess,” he mumbles, taking another puff from his cigarette, “a diamond necklace? Shiny new convertible?”

You shake your head and use your forefinger to tilt his head towards yours. “I’ve always had a thing for you, Hop,” you admit, unhooking the fake beard from his red-and-white cap, unveiling a thin line of stubble along his jawline. “The way you walk like you own this shithole town, commanding authority wherever you go…it’s really fucking hot.”

Hopper laughs gruffly, nudging you from his lap. “What are you? Twenty?”

“Twenty-one, actually,” you retort, repositioning yourself so you’re now straddling his waist. “And unless you have another pack of cigs in your pants pocket, I suspect you’re into me, too.”

He snuffs out his cigarette on the arm of his chair. “And I’d suspect that you’ve never had a man turn you down. Isn’t that right, princess?”

“You’re not about to be the first, are you?” you ask, pouting as you press your chest against his. “Because that’s not a title I’d wear proudly.” You lean in to kiss his neck, but he turns slightly. “What’s not doing it for you, hm? Tits not perky enough? Body not tight enough?”

Hopper rests his head back and chuckles meanly. “Now, princess, you know that’s not the problem.”

“Then what is it?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’m more than twice your age, I’m your coworker–”

“Not after tonight,” you remind him pointedly, moving his arms down to your ass. To your surprise, he doesn’t move them. 

“Right, yeah,” he sneers. “Well, that doesn’t change the first part. And I have a reputation of keeping order, and I’m not about to tarnish it by fucking you in the middle of the mall.”

“Interesting,” you purr, pressing soft kisses along his throat. “Because I have a reputation, too. But mine is for getting what I want, when I want. Now, Chief,” you grind slowly against his burgeoning erection, “if you tell me to leave, I’ll leave right now. But I have a feeling that’s not what you want, is it?”

Hop’s eyes flicker to your heaving chest, and you feel him start to cave. His strong hands grip the flesh of your thighs as he bites his lower lip. “I’m no good for you, y’know that?”

“I know.” You kiss him hungrily, brushing your tongue against his. He tastes like smoke and peppermint, and you moan into his mouth. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this…needed this,” you amend.

“I like this better when you don’t talk,” he snarls, and you nod obediently, fingers flying over his coat buttons as you undo them. He’s wearing nothing but a ratty undershirt, and you whimper at the tufts of chest hair that peek through. He’s a real fucking man, not one of those idiot frat boys that plague your college campus. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it my way. Got it, princess?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you whimper. 

“On your knees,” Hop commands, and you scramble to get on the floor. He pulls his cock out of the confinements of his velvety pants, hissing at the release. He’s so thick, with veins straining along the shaft. You’re unsure how much you’ll be able to take, not that you’ll admit that to him. 

He grabs a handful of your hair as he guides you to his length. Precum is already beading at the tip, and you have to bite back a smile at the confirmation that he’s just as turned on as you are. You hollow your cheeks as you suck him off, gliding your tongue back and forth from tip to base and back again. 

“Bet you’re used to callin’ the shots,” he growls. “These dumb guys falling at your feet, beggin’ you to make them feel good. You’ve never had to beg like this before, have you?”

“Mm-mm,” you manage with your mouth full of him.

“Thas’ right,” he slurs, pushing your head down to the thatch of curls near his pelvis. You sputter and choke when his tip hits your gag reflex. “Am I more than the princess can handle?”

“I can h-handle whatever you g-give me,” you whisper hoarsely. You start to make your way back down to his cock, but he stops you, tugging you by your hips back onto his lap. He rips open your tights and pushes your panties to the side, and you gasp at the sudden chill.

“Only good girls get to make me cum with their mouths,” he states, wrapping his palm around your neck with one hand and rubbing himself against your wet folds with the other. “You said you were a good girl, but you seem like a brat to me.”

“Wanna…wanna be a good girl f’you,” you moan breathily. “Do anything for you, sir.”

“That’s better.” Hop smirks. He lines himself up with you, teasing your hole. “Sit on it, princess.” His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head as you take him in, inch by inch. “Pussy’s so tight, so damn good,” he mutters, and this time, you can’t contain your satisfaction as he starts to crack.

“Am I more than you can handle, sir?” you shoot back, eager to use his own line against him.

Hop’s eyes turn sharp at your reply, and he tightens his grip on your throat. “Watch it,” he warns, “or I won’t let you cum.”

“‘M sorry, sir.” You have no time to feel any sense of shame before he’s bucking his hips into you, groping a costume-covered tit roughly. He’s hitting your sweet spot rhythmically, sending shockwaves through your body each time.

“Not good enough,” he scoffs. “Need to hear you beg me to let you cum. An’ you better do it fast, b’cause I’m close.”

“Please, sir; please let me cum. ‘M sorry for being a brat. I’ll be a good girl; I’ll listen to you, I promise. I just need to cum, need you to make me cum.” The pleading ripples past your throat, and you realize you’d promise anything just for an orgasm from him.

“Move your fuckin’ hips for me.” It’s his way of forgiving you, and you snap your hips back and forth. He’ll leave a necklace of bruises with the grip he has on you, and you’ll wear it with pride.

“I’m gonna cum, sir–if you’ll let me,” you plead one last time, desperate for his approval.

He nods, moving his hand from your throat to your hips, stifling some of the pressure as you ride him. “‘M gonna fill you up and leave you dripping with my cum, princess. Want you to see how I fuckin’ ruined you.”

You squeak out an mhmm as your orgasm washes over you, finishing while he thrusts harder. His own release comes just seconds later, and though you thought his cock felt perfect, nothing compares to him spilling into you.

There’s no cuddling or sweet nothings whispered into your ear; Hop simply pulls you off of his softening cock like you’re weightless. His cum drips down your leg and, always determined to get the last word, you scoop it up with your middle finger and lick it off. He cocks an eyebrow.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he says with a shake of his head.

Your tongue pokes out between your teeth as you fix your panties and adjust your skirt. “Am I a good girl yet?” you question, feigning innocence.

Hop lets out an incredulous laugh, lighting another cigarette. “Go home before you get yourself in more trouble.”

“Not too much trouble that the Chief of Police wouldn’t bail me out of though, right?” You bat your eyelashes at him.

He blows out a cloud of smoke and tucks himself back into his pants. “Merry Christmas, princess.”

[bi-disaster-yn]

not to out myself as someone who has read copious amounts of marvel fanfic from the years 2015 to 2018 but it really is kind of baffling how large the gap between the quality of the (mcu) source material and the quality of the fan created content is. i think black widow was given like two vaguely compelling lines throughout the captain america trilogy, none of which i remember, but ive had the phrase “natasha was five foot nothing and colossal inside” tattooed on the inside of my brain since i first read 4 minute window like 7 years ago

[bi-disaster-yn]

Hehehe thank u! You guys know I’d never leave Bucky & Reader in a break up!!

Sunflowers

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: When Bucky and Natasha are assigned a mission to go undercover as husband and wife, Reader can’t help but worry that their feelings from the red room will resurface.

A/N: I really missed writing for Bucko! Also, if I had to hurt my own feelings thinking about this then you all need to feel it with me. (Happy ending though, don’t worry).

They say that sunflowers move so that they may face the sun. Despite the earth and dirt, they move to change their position; always finding a way to look up at their maker and bask in its glorious sunlight. They call it ‘sun-tracking’, and if you could look past the science of it then you might actually find it to be romantic and poetic.

It had taken Bucky a long time to find the sun and feel the gorgeous warmth revitalise him. He had spent his whole life trudging through the mud until he met you, his own personal sunshine.

Even now, when he was dressed up in a wedding suit and forced to pose next to Natasha, he was sun-tracking as he looked around for you in the swarms of people pretending to be his wedding guests.

Bucky did not want to go on this mission. He did not want to have to pretend to be married to Natasha. He did not want to have to stay in a house with her and play the role of the dutiful husband to his neighbours. He did not want to go anywhere that wasn’t with you.

He knew from the minute that this mission was proposed that it had hurt you. It was like a hole had been punctured in your chest that day in the briefing room and you had been drawing inward to yourself ever since. You kept Bucky at arm’s length for the days that followed, scared to admit to him (and even yourself) just how sore this whole thing was. It wasn’t a surprise that you didn’t come to the fake wedding, when he’d woken up that morning you were already gone and so were the training clothes you had laid out the night before.

The worst thing about this whole endeavour was that it caused you pain. It made Bucky flinch every time he thought about the forlorn expression you wore as this mission plan was detailed, rather insensitively, right in front of you.

There were, however, a few reasons why he felt like he had to do this mission.

Firstly, Steve had asked him to and Bucky felt like he owed Steve a debt. Afterall, Steve put himself and his friends’ (including yours) lives on the line to save and protect Bucky. Whilst he was eternally grateful to the Captain for his salvation, it meant that Bucky felt like he could never deny Steve anything.

Secondly, the reasoning behind the mission was to lure in Hydra so that they could be intercepted and have their plans foiled. Steve knew that if Hydra had caught word that their Winter Solider had shacked up with someone in a normal neighbourhood, seemingly defenceless, then they would stop at nothing to get him back. Bucky liked the idea of those dingy Hydra agents thinking they could get to him when really, he had the upper hand.

Thirdly, and most importantly, the reason Steve had picked Natasha rather than you was because you’d complicate things. The mission was essentially offering Bucky up as bait and Steve knew that if you were involved then his friend wouldn’t be able to focus for fear of your safety – and you wouldn’t be able to focus for fear of his.

Natasha seemed the next obvious choice, given the history her and Bucky had in the red room. Adding her to the mix would give Hydra added incentive to track down the couple and try to bring them in. Likewise, Bucky and Natasha were able to work together professionally, without triggering a protective instinct in each other.

So there Bucky found himself, posing for a fake wedding with his ex and a bunch of strangers he didn’t know with the intention that their covert house could be decorated realistically.

They had shot Natasha’s 30th birthday party that morning and a couple of Christmases. The wedding was the hardest part though. Bucky couldn’t help but feel like this was wrong, that he was in some way being disloyal to you. Distracted, he fumbled with the prop wedding band on his vibranium hand and sighed deeply, wishing he was anywhere but here.

***

In a distant part of the compound, you were knocking lumps out of a punching bag in a desperate attempt to expel the jealousy and anger that racked your body.

With every punch, you tried to reason with yourself about the logic behind this mission. That’s all it was: a mission. It was Bucky’s job and you couldn’t deny it was a pretty good plan which would probably work. Even if Steve would have let you do it with him, Natasha did make the better choice because of how they were both known to Hydra and their relationship had gotten them in trouble during their captivity. Natasha, whilst expressing no interest in Bucky anymore, was believable.

The problem with logic is that it does not counteract the pain one feels in spite of it. It doesn’t soften the blow or heal the bruises. It just exists uselessly, mocking you for being so upset over something that has a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Fuck the strategy.

This whole situation had made you feel like you had been ripped from your body and you were watching it from above. Your body moved through life apathetically, doing everything absentmindedly and with no care whatsoever. But inside you were being asphyxiated; weighed down with the endless and horrifying imagery that monopolised your brain. Your chest tightened with every new possible outcome of this mission that your mind conceived of. At this point, it was like it was trying to score points against you as it laboured to find the most hurtful scenario to torment you with. The mission had torn Bucky and any sense of self away from you.

Perhaps, this was nature’s way of telling you that Bucky and Natasha were better suited. Maybe she understood him better than you ever could. Following on from that briefing, you could not help but read into every single interaction they had whether that be an exchange of banter or a knowing look. It was like an inside joke that you were firmly excluded from.

What if, despite Steve’s rationale, he had selected Natasha because he believed her to be better for Bucky than you?

Your arms ached with the ferocity of the punches you were throwing at the bag until eventually you gave up, putting your head in your boxing gloves and sobbing.

With your shoulders shuddering and the warm, stinging tears streaming into the worn leather of the gloves, your wailing and crying was the only sound in the empty training studio. It echoed off the walls, trapping in that room the emotion that you could only emit now you were alone.

When the “wedding” was over, Bucky quickly discarded of his tuxedo and set off to find you, craving your warmth. He was wrestling to remove his tie which he was certain was suffocating him when he heard your cries from inside the training room.

Instinctively, he rushed to find you, almost breaking the door down in the process. He didn’t stop until he had reached you and had pulled your body against his chest, shushing you and pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

Once in his arms, the intensity of your emotions only deepened and you managed to get louder. You buried your head in Bucky’s chest and you howled as though it was going to evacuate the agony from your body which was incapable of storing it any longer.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight back his own tears at seeing you in so much despair and held on to you tighter.

“Doll, please tell me what’s wrong.” He pleaded.

“You’re going to leave me for her.” You choked out in between sobs, your voice raspy and broken from all your crying.

“What?” He whispered, evidently hurt that you could ever accuse him of such a thing.

You stood back from his hold, unable to look up at him. It didn’t escape your notice that your tears had soaked his wedding shirt.

“Your feelings for her are gonna come back and you’re going to realise you don’t want me anymore!”

“No, they won’t!” Bucky protested and tried to search your face for a chance to look into your eyes so that he might show you he was being genuine.

“Oh, come on, Bucky!” You snapped. “It’s Natasha! If I had to sleep next to her for months then I might be fucking tempted by her too!”

Bucky opened his mouth to speak but no words emerged past his lips. Sometimes he truly resented his inability of expression. All of these feelings were trapped inside him but he always found himself unable to communicate them properly and provide you with the comfort that you were so desperately craving. As a soldier he hadn’t been afforded the luxury of being able to feel.

When you feel nothing, there is little to talk about. For weeks since the announcement of the mission, you had been carrying around these feelings of envy and grief and Bucky was incapable of voicing to you any reassurance of his true feelings.

He wished could create a hole in his head so that you might peer in and see exactly what it was that he was thinking.

“I don’t want you to go on this mission.” You stated simply, folding your arms and trying to regain your posture and confidence. It looked forced and out of place because of your puffy and tear-stained cheeks but you tried to fight the embarrassment of that.

“I can’t say no.” Bucky mumbled, now presented with eye contact from you which suddenly made him nervous and he dropped his head to face the floor.

“Can’t or won’t?” You challenged, trying so hard to claw back your strength that had been decimated when he saw you crying, frail and broken.

“Doll, I don’t want to go!” Bucky insisted. His flesh hand trembled as he aggressively used hand gestures as if that would assist with getting his words out. “I’m scared in case I have a nightmare and you’re not there! I don’t want to do this; I don’t want to go!”

“Then tell Steve no.” You basically growled at him despite how clearly distressed he was. Your mind was racing and had already overtaken Bucky. Sure, he was upset now but once he’d gotten into the domestic routine with Natasha, a life they had dreamed of but weren’t permitted to have, he’d forget all about this moment.

Bucky was sobbing now, his face turning red as he wiped his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “You know I can’t do that.”

The depths of your mind taunted you with the concept that this wasn’t really about being able to refuse Steve, but that on some level, Bucky wanted to go on his mission. Regardless of his protests, maybe he wanted that snapshot into what life with Natasha could have been.

You couldn’t compete with that and decided the best thing for you to do was to take yourself out of the situation. Bucky’s short performance was the only time he had expressed any emotion to you about this mission since the briefing weeks prior. It was all the evidence you needed that this was only ever going to end badly.

It was far better to die a quick death than a slow one.

“Well, I am not going to wait around for you to hurt me. I am asking you to stand up to your friend and tell him you won’t pretend to be married to your ex. And you can’t even do that for me.” You sighed. “It’s over, Bucky.”

Bucky immediately stopped crying and shot you a look of complete and unwavering despair. The realisation widened his eyes and the panic set in, sending his trained brain into survival mode. He shook his head adamantly, pushing away the very notion that you could end this.

“No, you can’t leave me. Please, baby. I need you.” Bucky implored you. “I need my sunshine.”

“I won’t spend months agonising over you sleeping next to your ex in your house that had been decorated all nice and pretty for you both. And you won’t refuse to go. So, something has to give. And I guess that’s us.”

You left him with that thought and walked out of the training room, only allowing yourself to cry once you had reached the safe haven that was your old room.

Bucky had stood, paralysed and unable to fight back. His body failed him. The words wouldn’t leave his mouth, his hand didn’t reach to take your arm and make you stop. You had left and he had been unable to do anything to stop it. No wonder you thought that he would leave you.

Fixed to his spot on the floor, Bucky sank to his knees and wept, unsure if he was ever going to be able to make this right.

***

The day that Bucky and Natasha were due to set off for their mission was bleak. The grey clouds seemed even more ominous when partnered with the thunderous crashing and unrelentless rain. It was the perfect setting for them to start this horrible façade together.

The past few days you had slept in the room you had once inhabited before moving into Bucky’s with him. You had barely spoken to him and had avoided him at all costs, trying to adjust to this new and unfamiliar territory that was life without him.

Bucky continued his heliotropism during this time as he searched for you endlessly. He still didn’t have the words to explain to you how sorry he was but he hoped if you could see his despondence then you might change your mind. But you were too clever for him and manged to keep yourself hidden from his advances, terrified that you might allow yourself to fall back into the trap.

You did, however, take a souvenir of his while packing up a few things from his room; his kevlar mission jacket. He wouldn’t need it for a while, having been kitted out with a new wardrobe by Tony for this mission.

It was what you were wearing on that fateful day on the jet waiting to go on your own mission with Sam. This was probably Steve’s own peculiar way of making it up to you about what happened with Bucky, by giving you something to distract yourself with.

You sat with your elbows rested on your thighs, playing with the cuffs of Bucky’s jacket. It still smelled like him and it was a cruel type of torture every time you inhaled. Whilst you had been so strong in standing up for yourself and refusing to let Bucky and Natasha hurt you, that didn’t mean your heart wasn’t broken. To have loved and lost Bucky Barnes was agonising, so you held on to his jacket to keep at least one piece of him with you.

Just as you were beginning to think that Sam had forgotten the flight time for your mission, you noticed a figure in your periphery coming towards the jet. You looked up, expecting to see Sam’s usual swagger but instead laid eyes upon Bucky who was jogging towards the jet, shielding himself from the rain.

Your lips parted in disbelief, standing up slowly and finding your way into the middle of the floorspace to come face to face with him. Instead of the suit that had been picked out for him, he wore his usual mission gear: a black t shirt, cargo pants with holsters, combat boots, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

It was such a gorgeous and familiar sight: he had come back to you. He looked up at you with the ardour that one reserves only for their true love.

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart,” he said when he reached you and pointed to your jacket, “I was actually looking for that.”

“What are you doing here, Buck?” You asked, fearful for the answer and conscious that he could still make the start time of his own mission.

“Well, I hope it’s okay but I spoke to Steve and I am taking Sam’s place in this mission. I figured that Natasha is probably enough to lure in Hydra, or at least the Red Room… and if she was married to mine and Steve’s best friend then they’d probably try to get to me through her. So, I asked Steve if Sam and I could swap places.” He explained nervously before letting out a light chuckle. “Sam was easily convinced; Steve took more work though.”

A choked sob escaped your throat and without thinking you flung your arms round his shoulders, holding on to him so tightly that it might smother him. Bucky immediately encircled his arms around your waist, pulling you as close to his chest as he possibly could. If you had held each other any tighter than you might have moulded into one person, unable to separate one from the other but after days of being apart it was what you both needed.

The feeling of his spiky stubble and soft lips against your neck sent shudders down your spine as you remembered how much you had adored holding him like this. In fact, it was a reminder of just how much you loved him and how painful it was to have been separated from him.

“You don’t mind, do you?” He asked. “It’s just with everything you said the other day-“

You cut him off by placing your hands on his cheeks and pressing your lips to his. The kiss was tender and inviting and like home. You internally cursed yourself for thinking that you could ever have went the rest of your life without this. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed that this was real and you wouldn’t wake up from a bittersweet dream.

When you pulled back and opened your eyes, your Bucky was still stood before you. A laugh escaped your lips, so overwhelmed with the fact that he had stepped up and actioned what you needed him to.

“I don’t mind at all, Buck.” You said, your hands still on his face and your thumbs lovingly caressing his stubbly cheeks.

“Okay, well, you’re gonna have to make do with the fact I can’t fly like Sam.” He chuckled.

“I’m sure we can manage.” You replied, giving him another soft kiss.

The rain poured ferociously, battering against the jet at breakneck speed. Bucky didn’t mind at all. Like a sunflower who moves to meet the sun, he kept his eyes fixed on you, determined to never risk losing you again.