goodstuffwhoooo

[goodstuffwhoooo]

the bullshit meter's going off here, idk. Andy needs to leave her alone. ugh, he's gonna try to drag her to that party if he has to 🤬

Jonathan being the boss makes so much sense xD seems like he's already got tabs on her comings and goings

Helping Hand 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"Andy, I'm on my way to work," you say, almost breathless as you charge across the parking lot, "you know, I gotta pay my rent, my water, my electric--"

"Not that easy, is it?" He sneers.

"Excuse me!" You bluster, barely dodging a car as you go to cross to the sidewalk embankment in front of the store, "how dare you--"

"I did you a favour. Accept it. You needed to grow up, be out on your own--"

"Why the fuck did you even call?!" You throw your hand out as you pace along the window of the store. Only he can get you like this. Good riddance, it really is a favour.

"My mom's party--"

"Oh, fuck off. I don't have time for that. I'm working overtime trying to scrape by because you gave me nothing, Andrew! You took everything and gave nothing!"

You tear the phone from your ear and hit your finger against the screen. End call. Bastard. He has you all worked up before a twelve. Probably exactly what he wanted.

You stop and force yourself to catch your breath. You can't walk in like this. You're close to tears. You don't even realise until your nose tingles and you feel the sheen threatening to spill over. You cover your face and huff.

"Oh, dear, are you alright?"

You don't move at first, hoping the voice is talking to someone else. It's too familiar. You slowly drop your hands and look at Jonathan. He must have quite the library if he's here so often. You swallow.

"Yeah, yeah," you like. You are not okay. You wasted twenty years on a man who never loved you. "I'm just about to get started."

You force a smile, cheek twitching as it bulbs. You turn to peek over your shoulder at the purple logos behind the glass. Thank god the barriers hide you from view.

"Ah, well then, shall we go in together? I'm just headed in myself."

"Uh, sure," you nod and drop your purse from your elbow to your hand, stuffing your phone inside. "Thanks."

"Allow me," he rushes ahead of you to the doors, "darling."

He gestures you in first. You precede him, hiding the chagrin that tugs at your forced smile. You see Heather, another trainee, and give her a small wave. She's behind the till doing her morning half-shift before classes.

"Well, uh, I should go put my stuff in the hub," you say over your shoulder, "I have to clock in for the--"

"Mr. Pine," Marcia, the morning manager appears from the Best Sellers display, "how are you?"

"Oh, hello," he greets her brightly, "just another check-in. Holidays are fast approaching. Any word on the truck?"

"Not yet but we're scheduling for it's arrival--"

Your head turns buzzy as you short-circuit. Pine. As in Pine Shelves, the story. He's not a customer at all, he's your goddamn boss. Oh god, as if the day couldn't get worse.

"Pardon, we'll discuss that later," Jonathan tells Marcia, "I was just speaking with this lovely employee. Always so helpful. I see training is going well."

"Ah, she's one of Giselle's, but thank you, sir."

He nods and she takes her cue. She retreats as he faces you. You can't speak. You're stupid with shock and embarrassment.

"I hate to make you late," he grins handsomely, "I wanted to tell you though that my sister loves the bookmark, no word on the book yet."

"Your sister?" You blink.

"Ah, yes, she had a birthday recently," he explains, "I must thank you for your suggestions."

You nod, fighting back the blaze behind your eyes, "no problem, Mr. Pine."

"Oh, dear, Jonathan suits me fine," he fixes his pocket square.

"Alright, um, sorry, I..." you look pointedly at the clock, "can't leave them hanging... sir."

"Hard worker," he praises, "as you will."

He stays as he is as you back away. You spin, nearly walking into the shelf of pens that stands centre of the wide aisle. You quickly skirt around it and scurry into the forest of paperbacks and hardcovers.

You get it. It was all a test. You just hope you past. Certainly, you will know once your probationary period is up. For now, you'll just painstakingly agonize over every word you said to the man.

💙

Your shift finally ends but brings with it little celebration. There is no relief in going home to an empty apartment. The rush of customers kept your mind off of the disaster of your life and now you have nothing to keep you from facing the mess.

You cross the lot, checking the time on your phone as you head for the stop right at the edge of the road. You see the orange letters of the bus banner approach. Shit, it's early.

You break into a run. Oof, you're a bit old for this. As you get to the curb, you're left in a fog of exhaust. The driver doesn't see you as he pulls away and you curse at the moonlight. Of course.

You deflate and fall onto the bench. Your feet hurt, your hips hurt, your back, neck and shoulders. Forty minutes for another bus or you could walk down twenty minutes and catch the connection.

You don't know which is better. Once more, indecisive to a fault. You lean forward and cradle your head. You can't even afford an uber or taxi home. You're better off walking for two hours.

So that's what you'll do. You get up and drag your feet down the unmaintained and crumbling sidewalk. You get to the large intersection and wade through the chaos of lights and impatient drivers.

On the other side, you head towards the light of the Walmart with several stops outside. It will at least be safer than standing in pitch black. As you come up to the edge of the large shopping plaza, a pair of headlights flash over you. On, off, then on again. Then a short toot.

You squint at the sleek black paint and the interior light flicks on. Oh god. You cringe as you make eye contact with Jonathan and he gives a small wave.

Just what you need.

He rolls down his window and sticks his head out, "need a lift?"

You shake your head, "my bus is coming." You point over him.

"Bus? Darling, I insist." You hear the locks slide back, "do get in."

You stare, a deer in actual headlights. You can't afford a taxi, so you sure as shit can't afford to tell your boss no.

[goodstuffwhoooo]

"you called me" like you weren't blowing up her phone and texting ALL CAPS over something that could've been a single text message. Andy's just lookin for an excuse to harass her 😤

Johnathan's got his eyes on her 👀👀

Helping Hand 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A week in and you’re… efficient. Rather, self-sufficient. You can’t say you’re confident but you are starting to figure it out.

The till isn’t so confounding and the customers not so intimidating. It’s easy enough to ask how their day is, if they found everything, and get the rung through. You’ve learned quickly if only to keep Giselle from rolling her eyes at you.

That day, you’re closing. Less than an hour now and you walk the floor, checking for any errant customers to remind them of the coming deadline. There aren’t many, a tall college student wandering through the history section and a couple of older men chatting over a stack of Stephen King classics.

You head down the rear all and feel the buzz in your pocket. You ignore it. Any calls you’re getting, you’re in no hurry to answer. You sigh and pass an aisle, movement twitching at the edge but you don’t bother looking over.

As you get to the next row, you hear your name. You turn back as you see the man’s head just over the top of the shelf before he turns down the same aisle. He must be the speck you ignored.

“Oh, hi,” you smile, wiping away your worries; you’re at work. “Jonathan, right?”

“You remember,” he preens, “I was hoping you’d be around.”

“You… were?” You hesitate. Your phone buzzes. A short jitter signaling a voicemail.

“Ah, yes, I was hoping for some advice,” he puts his hand on the slender wall of the shelf, “I am gift hunting and I can’t seem to pin down an idea. I thought most people love a book but I fear choosing something utterly boring.”

“Oh, well, uh, who are we buying for?” You wonder.

“She’s about your age, I think. So I thought…”

He’s married. Of course, why wouldn’t he be. You don’t know why that disappoints you. It shouldn’t. He’s only friendly and you’re a poor divorcee. Another buzz in your pocket.

“Well, you could get her a nice bookmark and maybe a cookbook?” You had loved your cookbooks. You miss them dearly.

“Mmm, she doesn’t do much cooking. More the type to order in or eat out,” he pulls his hand back and crosses one arm over his chest, bending the other to tap his chin.

“Does she sew? Or do any crafts?” You prod, searching for options. “Or maybe she likes fashion?”

“She does spend a lot on clothes,” he chuckles.

“Well, if you’d rather a novel, you really can’t go wrong with a thriller. They tend to be fast-paced and easy to read.”

He nods thoughtfully and drops his arms, pushing back his jacket as he slides his hands into his pants, “do you like them?”

“Like… what?”

“Thrillers? Perhaps you have a specific suggestion?”

“Ah, well, John Grisham. He’s always good,” you turn, “I’ll show you where they are.”

“Thank you. Always helpful, darling.”

You’re happy he can’t see your face. That last word makes your chest twinge. He’s so nice. It makes you sad to think you would never have one of those. A nice man. Your pants buzz again.

“Why don’t you have a look,” you present the books with a wave, “and I’ll be back to answer any questions you have. I just need to finish my walk through.”

“Certainly,” he agrees, reaching to trace a fingertip down the spine of a book.

You smile and rush away. You’re just going to turn your phone on silent and deal with it later. As you peek at the screen, you see the same name, over and over. What could he want?

You scroll through the onslaught of Andy’s messages. It’s just like living with him. It never stops. His last text is all caps; CALL ME.

You reply, ‘working for fifteen more minutes. Can’t.’

“You didn’t get too far,” Jonathan startles you and you quickly slide your phone away, “what do you think of this one?”

He holds up a copy of The Whistler. You nod, “it’s not bad. Main character is a woman, so probably a good choice for them.”

“Wonderful, and you suggested a bookmark?”

“Yes, er, over here,” you beckon him onward and take him to the swiveling rack of bookmarks, “these ones are especially nice, I think.”

You point to the thick leather bookmarks with the tassel strings attached and a few charms at the end. He leans in and examines the different colours. He clucks, “I really can be indecisive. If I recall,” he unhooks the same style you suggested, “she was preferable to pink.”

“Great,” you declare, “perfect gift.”

“Hope so,” he agrees, “I’m sorry, am I keeping you? You’re eager to be rid of me.”

“No, not at all, I didn’t mean to hurry you,” you assure him, “I’m sorry. It’s been a very long day and–”

“And you’ve been on your feet. You must be tired,” he suggests, but not in a sarcastic way. “I forget it is so late.”

“Really, it’s okay, I didn’t mean to come off as sharp.”

“Relax,” he taps his knuckles on the book, “you’ve been a wonderful help. Really. I’ll be sure to put your name on the survey.”

“Uh, thanks,” you swallow, “have a good night.”

“You as well,” he raises his handful and nods before striding off.

You groan, cringing as your chest threatens to cave in on itself. Why are you so awkward? You’re so bad at this job. Like everything else.

There’s a scratchy noise. It catches your ear and you swear, it sounds just like your name. Shit! You pull out your phone, the timer is ticking. You must have pocket-dialed. You bring the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello!” Andy booms, “Christ. We have something important to talk about.”

“Right, I told you, I’m at work–”

“You called me. Don’t waste my time. My mother’s birthday–”

“Andy, we’re not married anymore.”

“I know that. She asked me to tell you she wants you at her party. She always liked you. For whatever reason.”

You don’t take the bait. You don’t have to please him anymore. He filed for divorce, he made that choice.

“I’ll check my schedule–”

“Who were you talking to?” He interrupts.

“A customer,” you keep your voice down, “speaking of, I need to get back–”

“You were real nice to him, weren’t you?”

“Good night, Andy.”

You hang up. You don’t know how he’s still paranoid when you’re not even together. Jackass.

[goodstuffwhoooo]

[goodstuffwhoooo]

gosh he's so mean!! 🥺🙈 I can't imagine how this'll change their office relations going forward 😏🫠

stupid little girl

18+

as the newly appointed ceo, you're desperate for your employees to like you. but you're young, dumb, and out of your depth - at least according to bucky barnes, who hates you more than anyone.

content warning: bucky x ceo!f!reader, reader is a nepo baby and bucky despises her for it, age gap (bucky's like 20 yrs older), enemies to fuckers, sexual tension, hate fucking, penetrative sex, cream pie, rough sex, man-handling, bucky takes all his anger out on you and doesn't care if he leaves bruises while doing so, dubcon, DEGRADATIONNNNNNNNN, mean mean mean bucky, no fluff!

You timidly sip on the Pornstar Martini in your hand, scanning everyone as your eyes dart from left to right. Are they having fun? Are they glad you planned this? Is this the best team day they've ever had?

"This is the best team day we've ever had, ma'am," Peter says eagerly as he smiles up at you, his big brown eyes wide and desperate.

With an eye-roll, you sigh. "Go somewhere else," You order, which he quickly obeys.

If only they could all be as infatuated with you as Peter is. But ever since you were appointed as CEO of one of your mom's companies, you've felt a little out of place. You need them to love you, but with little experience as a boss, you have no idea how to win them over.

"What's Jerry talking about?" Your most outspoken employee, Bucky Barnes, suddenly calls out from beside you.

Looking up at him, you frown, pushing your sunglasses up onto your head. "Excuse me?"

Bucky hates you. It's no secret. Before you were given this job on a silver platter, the board was close to giving him CEO. The fact that he lost out to someone as young and stupid and inexperienced as you has left him bitter, and he doesn't bother hiding that from you. The nepotism dripping from your every move makes him seethe, but you do your best to pretend you don't notice.

"Jerry just said he's off the second week of December," Bucky iterates with a glare.

You tilt your head. "Yeah, so what?"

"So, what?" He repeats with disbelief, rage dripping from his tone. "That's three people in senior positions you've allowed to take time off just weeks before Christmas - are you insane, or just absolutely fucking stupid?"

Appalled by his words, you gasp. Nobody has ever dared to speak to you like that in your whole life. You let out a shaky breath, but before you can respond to him, he storms off inside the resort. With a huff, you stand up and race after him, preparing yourself to rip him a new one before firing him.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" You yell as he turns into the changing rooms.

"Fuck off," He huffs, taking you aback.

"Stop taking to me like that!" You exclaim as he turns to face you.

"Or what, sweetheart?" Bucky asks you condescendingly. "You'll fire me?"

"Fuck yeah, I'll fire you!" You shoot.

"Too late. I quit," He spits.

"Are you forgetting who I am?" You ask with a dry laugh. "Who my mom is?"

He clenches his jaw and storms over to you before grabbing your arm. "I think about it every fucking minute," He reveals lowly. "I think about the fact that you're only in this job because your mom got fucked raw twenty years ago and didn't know how to raise a decent human being. You're only here because you didn't have enough brain cells to get a job your damn self. You were in college for all of six months and you spent that time getting spit-roasted by frat cock, trying your best to feel some kind of self-worth, to bring some kind of value to society - newsflash, honey, being a whore doesn't disguise the fact that you have next to zero worth. You are nothing more than a pretty face in high heels, and you're gonna run this company to the ground - but Mommy won't give a fuck because she's got a hundred others just waiting for you to bulldoze over."

Stunned, you say nothing. Your bottom lip quivers as you shake.

He lets out a scoff. "Fuck's sake. You gonna cry now? You can't tell me you've only just realized what a dipshit you are?" He asks you with a raised brow, before tightening his grip on your arm and pulling you closer and pulling at your bikini top. "Look at you. Just fucking look at yourself. Parading around in this tiny bikini, trying to make them like you. The only reason those guys show you any kind of respect is because they wanna fuck you. They wanna use your body because your mind sure as fuck ain't worth shit. No, don't cry about it, dummy. It's just the truth- and deep down, you know that. You know you're only worth anything when your holes are being used."

A whimper escapes your mouth.

Bucky brings his face closer to yours as he looks your body up and down. His eyes darken. "Mmm. You might have fucked up my career, but maybe I'll still get some use oughta ya," He grumbles, making your legs quake. "Yeah. Stupid little girls like you are only good for one thing; taking cock."

"James, what-"

"Shut the fuck up," He cuts you off coldly, before spinning you around and bending you over one of the benches. "Here. You should be grateful; I'm putting you to use. Giving you a sense of self-worth, huh?"

"You can't do this!" You exclaim, though you can't deny the notion of getting fucked by him excites you.

"Sure I can," He replies casually while pulling down your bikini bottoms and running his fingers through your folds. "Look at how fuckin' wet you are and I've barely touched you yet. Does it turn you on when someone reminds you what a worthless whore you are?"

He pins your hands behind your back and soon slips his cock into you with no warning. You let out a cry as it slightly pains you to be filled without preparation, but he doesn't let up.

"Fits perfectly," Bucky mutters to himself as he starts sliding in and out of you.

"Bucky," You cry out, half in pain and half in pleasure, as much as you hate to admit.

"That's it, you stupid little girl," He says gruffly. "Take my fucking cock like the dumb slut you are. I deserve this - you know how much fuckin' money I could be making if it wasn't for you, you cunt?"

Loud moans and yelps leave your mouth as he rails you, fucking in and out of you hard. He doesn't care that it probably hurts you to be pushed against the wooden bench, he's too far gone. Pure rage has taken over and the only way he can let it out is on you.

He spanks your ass repeatedly, not satisfied until he leaves a mark. "Look at how fucking pathetic you are," He says, snapping his hips as he fucks you harder. Wrapping a hand around your throat, he pulls you up so you're standing up against his body. "That's it, take it, take it. That's a good little fucktoy."

The praise makes you preen as you let out a singing moan, making him smirk while he rips apart your bikini.

"You like that, huh?" He asks you smugly. "Like it when you fulfil your role as a fucktoy? Like making men like me happy? Being nothing but a human sexdoll for dirty old men like me, you slut?"

"Yes, Sir."

"That's it," He says with a grin, pawing at your tits as he continues fucking you. "There she is. That's a good little dummy, just like that. This is what you were made for, ain't it?"

"Yes, Sir," You reply obediently, officially cock drunk. "Made for you, Sir."

"That's it, dummy, such a good girl for me," He says between grunts while bringing his fingers down to your clit. "Don't you fuckin' dare cum. Got it?"

"I won't," You promise as bursts of electric pleasure coarse through you.

Suddenly, you hear a thump from the left. You turn with a gasp to the doorway to see Peter standing there wide-eyed as he watches the scene before him.

"Hey, Parker," Bucky says with a smirk, not stopping his thrusts. "Come to watch me fuck this dumb bitch's brains out?"

Peter's speechless. Between your naked body and Bucky's utterly disrespectful words, he's thrown for a loop.

"Don't be so scared," Bucky coos teasingly as he squeezes one of your boobs. "Wanna come and suck on her tits while I fuck her brains out, huh?"

Terrified, and incredibly turned on, Peter quickly spins on his heel and rushes away.

"Not that you have any fuckin' brains, anyway," Bucky adds bitterly, slapping your tit. "You're just an airheaded bimbo, absolutely nothing going on up there, huh?"

Incoherent moans are all you can let out, proving his point. He chuckles smugly, pulling on your nipples while fucking you harder. Slowly, he lowers one of his hands down to your stomach.

"Feel me right there, dummy?" Bucky asks you. "Feel my big cock filling you up? Say it, you dumb slut."

"I- I can feel your-"

"Louder," He booms.

"I can feel your cock filling me up, Mr. Barnes," You say as clearly as you can.

"That's right," He says as his thrusts become sloppier. "Fuck. You're such a good little fuckdoll, gonna make me cum so quickly. You ready for it?"

You suck in a sharp breath as your core tightens. "Can I-"

He grabs your chin harshly, shutting you up. "Don't be stupid, dummy," He utters lowly. "Fuckdolls don't need to cum. All you need to do is shut the fuck up and take my seed. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir," You let out with a sob, desperate to reach your orgasm. "Please."

Bucky tuts. "Aw, poor thing," He chuckles cruelly. "Tell me how badly you wanna cum right now."

"Please, Sir, I need to cum so badly," You cry as he continues driving his cock into your cunt. "I'm so close, so close."

"Fuck," He utters gruffly. "Take my cum, dummy. That's it, take it all."

With a loud groan, he spills into you, filling you with his cum as he continues to pump in and out. You fall forward and he lets you fall onto the bench with a soft thump.

"Oh, fuck," Bucky mumbles between heavy breaths, rubbing his face. "Shit. Came so fucking hard."

You're left a frustrated, whimpering mess, letting out weak begs for him to let you cum.

Bucky simply pulls his trunks up and slaps your ass one last time before turning and walking towards the exit. "Finish yourself off, slut," He says lowly before leaving you alone.

bucky masterlist

follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications so you know when i post 📫

buy me a kofi <3

[goodstuffwhoooo]

omg 👀 this should be interesting 😅 i'm excited, here we goooo

Helping Hand 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The computer beeps at you again. That shrill offensive chirp that makes your heart zing. You hold your fingers above the keyboard and cringe. You can’t seem to get through one transaction without error. 

You try to back out but a pop-up shows, asking for manager approval. You give a sheepish smile to the customer and apologise. You could point to the trainee sticker on your name tag or tell them it’s only your third day, but you won’t make excuses. The two other associates you started with are doing just fine.

Giselle comes over as you look behind you searchingly. She snaps the gum in her mouth and rolls her eyes, “what is it this time?”

“Sorry, I–”

“Back out of the sale,” she snips.

“I tried, it won’t let me,” you gesture to the screen.

She doesn’t even read it and puts in her pin. You bite your lower lip as the total screen finally shows. You ask the customer cash or card. They say card but you hit cash. When you try to go back, you get the same sirenesque chirp. UGH!

Giselle doesn’t say a word as she keys in her pin again, huffing before she storms off. You blame yourself. You’re not good with technology. You didn’t grow up with a computer lab in your school or a cell phone in your back pocket. You were a bit too early for that.

It all just passed you by. Like everything else in your life. Your career, your marriage, your hopes. You gave up the first for the second, and let the third shrivel away to regret. You definitely never expected to be starting over again at this age. To be a retail slave in your 40s. Divorced and depressed.

You get the customer checked out and bagged up. You hand them the paper-sheathed books and give a smile. There’s a tick of impatience in their cheek. You don’t blame them. Andy always said you were too slow. Clueless. Well, he’s gone now, you don’t have to worry about his opinions. And you won’t get to prove them wrong.

“Go sort the sale tables. They’re a mess.” Giselle orders as she checks her manicure, “I’ll take the till.”

You nod. It’s probably the best idea. You’re not much of a salesman so you don’t often walk the floor, but you’re good for grunt work. You always were in the background, making sure everything looked just right. 

You push through the waist high door that closes out the general public from behind the counter. You surpass the queue of customers waiting and head through the small homegoods section towards the bargain floor. You go to the first table and sift through the mess of cookbooks and crafting manuals.

The next is history. Mostly military and the like. Hollow eyes of soldiers staring through you, men in armour on horses, and tanks rolling over mulched up dirt. You reach for a book on the Battle of Britain but it’s swept up out of your grasp.

You look at the man as he examines the cover. His blonde hair is tidy, his blue eyes gleam as they scan the book, and his grey suit is cute precisely to his figure. You fold your hands over the nearest stack and muster a smile.

“Hello, sir,” you greet, “am I in your way?”

“Not at all,” he lifts his head, an amiable expression softens his features, “browsing.”

He sets the book exactly where it belongs. You slide your hands off the book, keeping them clutched in front of you. You’re not sure how to proceed. Right, customer service.

“Can I help you find anything?” You offer.

“I know my way around, pretty well,” he assures you, “pity,” he takes another book and puts it in its place, “people come and make such a mess. Leave you all this work.”

“Well, it’s what I’m paid for, I suppose,” you grab a book too and another identical one, collecting three before finding their slot.

“Still,” he steeples a hand on the nearest book, dragging his fingers thoughtfully. “Do you read? Hmm, that sounds rather… presumptuous. I mean, do you read any of this? History?”

“Um, some, admittedly I’ve devoured a few biographies of Princess Diana,” you shrug, “but nothing more bloody than that.”

“Ah, yes, war, terrible thing. No wonder it’s all on sale,” he chuckles, “what kind of person would subject themselves to such savagery?”

You want to shrug again but it seems rude. Almost dismissive. He’s talkative but not annoyingly so. He is charmingly casual.

“I’ve not seen you here before,” he considers you, eyes flitting up and down, “ah, I see, trainee. You are new.”

You part your lips and pause before you collect your wits, “uh, yeah, I started on Monday. You must come here often?”

“Now and again,” he arches his brow as if telling a joke.

Suddenly, you’re self-conscious. You must be older than this man, if even by only a few years. And look at him, he’s established, confident, and he knows exactly what he wants. But you, you’re just muddling through until you can return to your bachelor apartment and TV dinner.

“I’m certain I’ll see you again,” he winks, “Jonathan,” he touches his lapel subtly, then sounds out your name with a deadly lilt. His voice hits a timbre that plucks in your chest, “it was very nice to meet you.”

“Oh, you as well,” you eke out, “if you need anything else, I’ll be around, sir.”

“I’ll be sure to look for you,” he smiles and the tension dissipates at that simple gesture. “Have a splendid night.”

He taps the stack of books under his hand and pushes away. He fixes his tie as he passes you, strutting off with no special urgency. You fight not to watch after him. He is suave and admittedly handsome. But you are you; middle-aged and painfully average.

[goodstuffwhoooo]

omg I just read all of this instead of sleeping 💀

this kid makes me so mad but I love them. also the little bonding between them and paz was very sweet

Catalyst - Masterlist

masterlist • ao3

summary: When the streets of Nevarro can no longer satisfy your desires for adventure and belonging, you run headfirst into the Mandalorian—taking you on a journey that will change the two of you forever.

characters: din djarin (the mandalorian) & foundling!reader (gender neutral)

includes: canonical-type violence, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mentions of trauma

general rating: G

CHAPTERS

Chapter 1: The Stowaway

Chapter 2: The Ugnaught

Chapter 3: The Encampment

Chapter 4: The Child

Chapter 5: The Deal

Chapter 6: The Mudhorn

Chapter 7: The Truth

Chapter 8: The Covert

[goodstuffwhoooo]

Make Me Sorry

Written for @fvckingavengers writing challenge! My prompt was “If I have to stop what I’m doing, you won’t be able to walk for a week. I’ll make sure of it.” 

Warnings for a slightly more… aggressive? But not really aggressive Steve… So…

I hum as I wipe the sweat from my brow, using the towel to hide my eyes. Steve Rogers has always been gorgeous- stunning when he had no business being that way. When we’re alone in the gym, I try to focus, but when he keeps going, back and forth between areas soaked in sweat, making his already tight shirt even more like a second skin…

He makes it damn near impossible to focus.

“If I have to stop what I’m doing, you won’t be able to walk for a week. I’ll make sure of it.”

I blink, looking up into Steve’s cool eyes. “I- What?”

“You heard me.” He steps even closer, chests almost touching as he stares into my eyes.

I swallow, daring to move the last inch closer. “I don’t think I did, Captain. Maybe you should tell me again.”

He grips my arms, pushing me back against the punching bag I was working on to keep me in place. “I said, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

I swallow, meeting his eyes. “I’d like to see you try.”

He moves, kissing me harshly and cupping my face in his strong hands, growling as I dig my fingers into his shirt. “Always causing trouble, aren’t you little one?”

I whimper. “Steve-”

“Ah,” He smacks my rear once in warning. “I didn’t say to speak. I told you I’d make sure you couldn’t walk, not that I’d let you whine through it.” He hoists me easily over his shoulders, carrying me to his room. “Now, you’re going to take it like a good girl, and maybe I’ll give you a treat.”

[goodstuffwhoooo]

Unexpectedly Yours: Part 1

Fandom: Ted Lasso (Regency AU)

Pairing: Roy Kent x F!Reader

Summary: Lord Roy Kent still has yet to marry. He hates the notion that marriage is a way to ensure your status in society. You have delayed your debut to society for years because of the same idea. So what happens when two people who hate the idea of marriage are constantly drawn to each other?

A/N: inspired by my post here. probably gonna be 2 or 3 parts max mini series.

You thought you'd have more time. You thought you'd be able to enjoy your youth for just a bit longer, but your time is up. Now five and twenty, your parents can no longer let you delay your debut to society any longer. Tonight, your debut ball, is probably going to be the worst night of your life.

__________________________

Lord Roy Kent wasn't too keen on moving from London to the small town of Richmond. However, after his brother-in-law's passing, he understood his sister's need for a change of scenery. So he bought an estate in Richmond for him, his sister, and his niece to live in.

Not long after their move, the Roy and his family were already being invited to take part in society, albeit, a small portion of it, but still a notable population of it.

"We should go," Lord Kent's sister, Clara, insists after viewing the invitation over her brother's shoulder.

"Why?"

"We should socialize, Roy. We didn't move here just to be holed up in the house all day. Come on, it could be good for us." Lord Kent groans, and Clara nudges him, "Fine. Don't go. Phoebe and I will go ourselves. I'm sure there will be some children there she could befriend."

Hating the idea of his sister and niece going by themselves gave Lord Kent the push he needed, "Fine. I'll go."

Clara beams at her older brother, "Wonderful!" she plucks the invitation from her brother's hand, "I'll send back a reply that the three of us will be attending."

_________________________

The day of the ball, your mother was fussing in a way you have never seen before. You and your young cousin, Cecelia, watch your mother flutter about ordering servants and cooks in a very frightening manner.

"I don't like who auntie is right now," your eight year old cousin whispers to you.

You snort, "Just wait until you debut, I'm sure it'll be just the same. Maybe worse."

Cecelia grimaces and then sighs, "Do you think other children will be attending? I've made sure all of my dolls look pretty if they do."

"I'm sure a few will come, Cece."

"Is Keeley coming? I like playing with her."

You softly smile at Cecelia, "Yes, but she won't be able to play with you, darling. She has to socialize with everyone and, most importantly, keep any potential suitors away from me," you give your cousin a joking nudge.

Your attention is suddenly on your mother as she starts scolding one of your handmaidens. You rush over to them and step in-between them, "Mother, what happened?"

"The flower arrangements are all wrong! They don't look how I want them to. They-"

"Mother," you place your hands on her shoulders, "Breathe." You then nod to your handmaiden and she scurries away. You guide her to a nearby bench and sit beside her, "I've never seen you so stressed before. You've planned balls prior to this."

"Yes, but this is especially important. This is your debut. The time for you to finally find a husband. Potential suitors will be here and everything needs to be perfect! Most importantly, Lord Kent and his family will be attending."

Your brows shoot up in surprise, "Really?"

You've heard news about the new lord and his family. They moved to the small town of Richmond due to Lord Kent's sister's husband passing away. She has a daughter around the same age as Cecelia.

Lady O'Sullivan, Lord Kent's sister, and her daughter, Phoebe, have been seen out, but there have been very few sightings of Lord Kent. He's, essentially, an anomaly, a mystery that everyone is trying to solve.

You? You have no particular interest in him at all, even if he is attending the ball held in your honor.

"Mother, I'm sure however the flower arrangements turn out, it'll be fine. Everything will be fine."

_____________________________

When Lord Kent, Lady O'Sullivan, and Phoebe arrive, there are already many guests present. As soon as they step foot into your home, your mother is rushing up to them.

"Lord Kent, it is an honor to be your host for tonight."

Clara steps forward, "Thank you so much for the invitation, Lady L/N," she thanks your mother with a curtsey. She then gestures to her brother, "This is my brother, Lord Kent and my daughter, Phoebe."

Your mother curtsies to Lord Kent and smiles at Phoebe, "Hello Phoebe. My niece is upstairs with other children. If you go to Jane," she points at the woman at the bottom of the stairs, "she can take you to them."

Phoebe looks up at her mother and when she receives a nod, she hastily rushes to Jane, ready to play with other children.

"I hope you enjoy the ball," your mother says, "My daughter, Y/N, is somewhere here, either mingling or hiding," she gives a sorry expression and then moves to greet other arriving guests.

Lord Kent groans as he enters the ballroom and Clara elbows him, "Behave. Go converse, mingle." Lord Kent slowly turns his head and glares at his sister, who then snorts, "Or stand in a corner and look menacing." She leaves her brother's side, heading for the h'orderves.

Lord Kent assumed his intimidating stature. His hands clasped behind his back as he walks around the ballroom. It was much smaller than ones he's been in when he lived in London. Still, it was impressive for a home in a small town.

"Sir?" a servant offers a tray of drinks and Lord Kent takes one. He sips the beverage, still wandering around the room, a looming and intimidating presence.

__________________

Your dance card had filled up quick. Left and right were you pulled around the dance floor by different prospects of men. They were all so...boring.

After another dance, you drag your body to the corner where Keeley and her fiancé, James, or Jamie as he liked to be referred to, stood in the corner talking and drinking.

"So?" your best friend asks with hopeful eyes.

"Just as boring as the last," you say as James offers you a drink, "Honestly, I don't understand how you dealt with this for years until this numpty finally turned himself around," you gesture to Jamie.

Jamie shrugs, "I'm just lucky she was willing to give me another chance," he kisses Keeley's cheek lovingly and you inwardly sigh. You always hoped to have a love like theirs. Yes, it was rocky at the start, but Jamie had changed himself around to be the man Keeley deserved.

"Yes, well," you lift your now empty glass, "I'm going to get another one of these." As soon as you turn around, you bump into a man, causing his drink to spill over him.

Your eyes widen, "I'm-"

"Watch where you're going," he rasps out.

You're taken aback, "Excuse me?"

"You need to be more aware of your surroundings," the man says with a frown.

You scoff, "Well I didn't know you were right behind me, so maybe it's you who needs to be aware of your surroundings and not stand so close to people!"

The man's brows furrow and just as he opens his mouth to retort, your mother appears by his side, "I am so sorry about this, Lord Kent. I'm sure this was an accident, right, Y/N?"

"Yes, an accident," you say, glaring at Lord Kent.

"We will happily pay for a new coat," you mother says and you roll your eyes.

"It's fine," Lord Kent mumbles and turns on his heel, going back in the direction he came.

Your mother turns to you with a stern expression, "You best hope you didn't upset Lord Kent too much."

"It was an accident, mother. Besides, he stood too close to me. How was I suppose to know he was right behind me?"

__________________________

After the ball ended, you were so exhausted. The dancing, the mingling, all of it was too much. Several men had asked to call upon you, but you had declined, to your mother's dismay.

A week later, you thought you would have a break from your mother's meddling in your future. However, you were very wrong.

Your mother had called you in and surprised you with a guest.

"Lord Kent?" you look at him confusedly and then give your mother a questioning stare.

"Lord Kent accompanied his niece, Phoebe, here so she can play with Cecelia."

"How...thoughtful," you clear your throat and smooth out your dress, "Well, I'll let you two talk while I go back to reading," you move to step out of the room, but your mother stops you.

"Wait, darling, can you keep Lord Kent company for a moment? I just need to check in with the kitchen for lunch. It'll be only for a moment." she looks at you expectantly. You know exactly what she's doing and you don't like it one bit. She's already been on you about rejecting several suitors. A part of you regrets that now because, maybe if you hadn't, you wouldn't be forced to sit here with Lord Kent.

"Very well," you slowly lower yourself onto the bench beside your mother.

Your mother jumps to her feet excitedly, "Lovely! I will be back shortly!" you watch her scurry out of the room but not before giving a nod to your handmaiden.

You sigh and turn your attention to Lord Kent whom is sitting up straight, face void of any expression. His dark brown eyes staring back at you.

You wiggle in your seat, slightly unnerved with his gaze, "So, are you enjoying our little town, Lord Kent?"

He gives you a grunt and after cocking a brow at him, he speaks, "As much as I can. It's very quiet. Society is still just as nosey here."

You snort, "You have no idea." You clear your throat again, "Have my parents bought you a new jacket to replace the one I ruined?"

"No."

"Oh? Why not?"

"I told them not to. The jacket wasn't very important to me to begin with."

"Seemed rather important enough for you to snap at me," you can't help but say the statement with a little disdain.

"I...apologize for my behavior. I had a distasteful encounter with someone prior that made me upset. I'm not excusing my behavior, but providing some context to what led to it."

You nod, accepting his behavior, "Who did you encounter? Was it Lady Radcliffe and her daughter, Lavinia?"

Lord Kent rises a brow at you, "How did you know?"

"They always stir trouble. I told mother not to invite them but she didn't want to look bad for not," you shake your head, your nose scrunched up, "All that family cares about it maintaining a higher status."

"Doesn't everybody?"

You shake your head, "Not me. I don't care about any of it. I dislike how dishonorable and ingenuine people become when they find out you have a high place in society. I know I'm privileged to have enough money to live comfortably, however, I don't like the theatrics of it all."

Lord Kent leans forward, resting his elbows over his knees, "You sound very passionate about this considering you just held a ball to do just that."

You scoff, "Please, as if that was truly what I wanted. I've pushed my debut back for years. I couldn't delay it anymore."

"No one caught your eye last night then?"

"Not anyone in the slightest," you sigh, "What about you then? I imagine many ladies throw themselves at your feet because of your status. Doesn't it get tiring? Doesn't it feel like you're being used?"

Before Lord Kent can answer, your cousin and Phoebe are rushing into the room, "Y/N, we need your help!"

"With?"

"We want to play princesses and dragons!" Cece answers excitedly.

"You want me to play the dragon?"

"No, you're playing the princess, we're playing the dragons, and Uncle Roy will play the knight that rescues you!" Phoebe replies, pointing to everyone and giving them their roles.

"Oh, um," you glance at Lord Kent, "I don't think your uncle-"

"Let's go," Lord Kent says as he stands to his feet.

"Really?!" Cece looks up at him with excitement.

"Really?" you ask him in surprise. He shrugs, causing you to then stand, "Alright. Let's go."

"Yes!" the two young girls cry out as they rush out of the room and up the stairs to Cece's play room.

You and Lord Kent follow at a much slower pace. Lord Kent, walking besides you, leans in and whispers, "Phoebe's been struggling to make friends since we've moved. I'm happy she found a friend in Cecelia."

"I can't imagine how hard it must've been. Losing her father and moving away."

"It hasn't been easy, but I've been doing my best to see to that her and my sister are well taken care of."

You place a hand on Lord Kent's arm, "You're a good brother and man, my Lord. I don't know many men who would do the same."

Lord Kent, glances at your hand and then you pull away, mumbling a 'sorry', before rushing to Cecelia's play room.

Lord Kent proceeds to follow you at the same slow pace. His fists clench behind his back where he clasps them. There's a fluttering in his chest that he's never felt before and he's sure he's going to have a heart attack.

[goodstuffwhoooo]

Bubblegum Bitch (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, attempted sexual assault, dumb!reader, bimbo!reader, kook!reader, underage drinking

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ ​​

summary: …because you’re just too dumb to look out for yourself, Rafe takes matters into his own hands.

Keep reading

[goodstuffwhoooo]

just coming back to reblog this again because it popped into my head while watching star wars clips and 🤯 my brain short circuited lol

genuinely the most memorable poe dameron series I've read

Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22.5K DONT say shit alright just don’t

Warnings: Okay. There is degradation in this, some name calling and heated interactions. There is a LOT of smut, dirty talk and rough sex. If these things offend you, please do not continue reading.

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

It actually might be your favorite part.  Granted, alarm bells ringing and thousands of jumpsuits scrambling in all directions is never typically a good thing, but there’s also an inherent rush about it, a thrill in launching up the metal paneling as quick as you can and suiting up to provide aid.  It’s a side-effect of camaraderie, of being surrounded by like-minded individuals willing to do everything they can to help.  You never feel like you’re going to your death, even though that’s often the grim reality for at least one of you on a good day.  There’s always a roaring in your ears while you do it, adrenaline sharpening your senses and preparing yourself for conflict, not thinking anything beyond gogogogogo—

But getting out of the x-wing is… not great.  At least for you.  It’s sluggish.  Your body is always completely drained and you never come out of it feeling the same way you went in.  Even in times of victory, there’s a somberness inside you after battle.  As much as you tell yourself you’re fighting for good, for prosperity against an evil machine hellbent on enslaving the galaxy, there’s only so many explosions lighting up in front of your eyes and screams cutting out through your comms you can take before winning just doesn’t really feel like winning anymore.  Most pilots are able to handle it better than you are, but since you joined the Resistance, you’ve never truly felt the desire to celebrate.  Not even when you serve a massive, glaring defeat to the other side.  There’ll always be at least one missing x-wing, one empty seat at the table, one person not here to celebrate with you.

You came back in one piece this time.  Barely.

Keep reading

[goodstuffwhoooo]

Kinny i have embarrassing news that would probably be a good drabble, so awhile ago i gave my friend my old phone and like I swear i deleted everything on it but he told me he somehow found some ✨spicy pics✨ of me on it and i wanna DIE. Anyways feel like it would be less embarrassing if i gave my old phone to cocky!bestfriend!bucky OKAY BYE I LOVE YOU CONGRATS ON 10k FOLLOWERS!!

art imitates life or whatever so here we go

separation anxiety

18+

content warning: semi-dark!frat!bucky x bestfriend!reader, mature themes, fluff, sexy pictures, bucky is a perv but are we surprised? he's also an annoying finance bro in this but we can look past that, smut (DUB!CON, CNC, daddy kink, mommy kink, forced breeding kink), fluff.

the smut got a lot darker than i planned oops

"And there you go," Sam says proudly, handing you your new phone. "All set up and ready for you."

"Thank you so much!" You exclaim, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "I'm so glad; I had my old phone for half a decade."

"Speaking of your old phone," Bucky begins, sitting at the breakfast counter. "You got it with you?"

You stand up and walk over to him, digging through your jacket pocket to pull out your old phone. It's in relatively good condition for a 5-year-old, but you were bored of it. "Why do you want it, again?" You ask him with a raised brow.

"I'm sick of using my phone to keep up with stocks," He tells you, taking it from your hand. "This way, I can keep it all separate."

Rolling your eyes, you shrug. "Alright, Wolf of Wall Street, have fun."

"Come on, sprinkle," He groans with a smirk. "You know how hard it makes me when you call me that."

"Freak," You mutter, hitting his shoulder before making your way back over to Sam on the couch. Steve and Wanda are making out by the speakers, Natasha's in the kitchen making nachos, and Thor and Peter are playing video games on the other couch.

"We should do this more often," Sam suggests. "You know; instead of stupidly big parties, just hang out and chill."

"You're right, Sammy," You agree as you rest your head on his shoulder, looking around the room at your friends. "A lot less clean-up, too."

"And nobody's trying to have sex on my bed," He adds bitterly, still jaded from the last party.

Coming over to sit on the other side of you, Bucky sighs. "I don't know; I kinda like when everyone's having sex everywhere," He chimes in. "Makes it more fun."

"Perv," You mutter while Sam grimaces.

"You love it," Bucky mumbles, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer to him and away from Sam.

"Oh! He did it again!" Nat calls from the kitchen, pointing at you. "Steve was right!"

Pulling away from Wanda, Steve grins and says, "Told you fuckers. Thor, you owe me twenty bucks."

"Fuck's sake," Thor grumbles.

"What are you guys talking about?" Bucky asks them, utterly baffled.

You throw your head back over the couch, shaking your head as you smile.

"Sprinkle?" He utters lowly. "What are they talking about, huh?"

Sam leans forward, smirking triumphantly. "Steve pointed out a few days ago that you cannot handle anyone else touching Y/N," He reveals. "And you always have to be touching her yourself."

"That's not true," Bucky argues with a frown, keeping his arm around you nonetheless. "It's just... comfortable to hold her. To hold anyone. I do it to Nat all the time!"

"No, you do not," She counters with a smirk.

"It's true, J," You tell him with a shrug. "You're sorta obsessed with me."

With a scoff, he just pulls you even closer to him. "And? You're my best friend; I basically own you."

"Woah!" Thor and Peter call out with wide eyes.

"Not in a weird way," Bucky clarifies, though you aren't so sure. "Sprinkle's my best friend, so I can do whatever I want to her."

"I'm not sure that's how consent works, Barnes," Wanda says with a raised brow.

"It's fine, guys, he's harmless," You assure them, before turning to him. "I know what you mean, J."

"See?" He asks the others pointedly.

"You have severe separation anxiety, man," Sam comments, standing up. "Since you met her, what's the longest you two have spent apart?"

The two of you look at each other with a frown, each trying to figure it out.

"So... met on the first day of college three years ago," He mumbles. "There was that time in second year when - no, that was only two days."

"We had that week you went to Portugal with your parents," You add. "That's probably the longest we've gone."

"Oh, that was horrible," He whines, resting his face in your neck.

"You guys even make a point to see each other during the holidays," Steve points out as he and Wanda walk over to join the rest of you. "Even Wan and I haven't spent Christmas together, yet."

"Well, maybe you don't love Wanda as much as I love sprinkle," Bucky says with a shrug, causing everyone to burst into offended groans.

"Jamie, you cannot say that!" You scold him, hitting his shoulder.

"I'm kidding," He swears between laughs, resting his free hand on your thigh.

"Prick," Steve mutters, wrapping his arm around an irritated Wanda and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Whatever," Bucky says bluntly. "You guys are just jealous-"

Peter groans, "Oh, don't pull that card-"

"- that sprinkle and I are close," He finishes proudly. "And you virgins wish she loved you as much as she loves me."

"Virgins?" Sam repeats with a sputter. "You're one deluded son of a bitch, Barnes."

"You're such an idiot," You mumble to him between laughs, before the others continue to rip into him.

You glance up from your notes to look across the room at Bucky, who's currently playing around with your old phone.

"Having fun there?" You ask him.

He nods, "Mhm."

"Can I borrow a red pen?" Wanda requests, leaning towards you. She takes the pen from your outstretched hand before looking over at Bucky. "What are you doing, Barnes?"

"Setting up the phone," He mumbles in response.

You try to get back to work, but you can't stop staring at his concentration face. It's too damn adorable to look away from, so you carry on staring at him as he types and scrolls. A few moments later, his eyes widen and his lips part. He takes in a quick gasp before swallowing thickly. His eyes glance up at you, an unreadable glint in them.

"Buck?" You ask with a frown. "Everything okay?"

He slumps down on the couch, staring down at the phone. "Yeah. Yeah, everything is absolutely... amazing," He breathes out before biting down on his lip.

"Did you win the stock market, or whatever?" Wanda asks him with a bored tone.

Smirking, he continues scrolling. "Something like that, Wand. I've just come into some incredibly valuable goods."

"Yeah?" You ask, sitting up. "Anything interesting?"

"Ugh, no finance talk, please," Wanda begs. "I'm sick of work and I'm sick of numbers. Can we talk about something else?"

"That's a great idea," Bucky replies, sitting back. "Why don't we talk about boys?"

Snorting, you raise a brow. "You want to talk about boys with us?"

"Sure," He says with a shrug. "Let's start with you, Wan. How's Steve?"

"As I'm sure he's probably already told you in more-than-necessary detail, Steve is absolutely perfect," Wanda replies smugly.

Bucky nods slowly, before his eyes flicker over to you. "And what about you, sprinkle?"

Putting your notes to the side, you give him a smile. "Uh, there are approximately zero romantic leads in my life right now," You admit. "Why the interest?"

He keeps his eyes trained on you. "Y'ever wear lingerie for Steve, Wan? Take sexy pictures for him?"

With a look of disgust, she stands up. "Okay, you're in a pervier mood than usual, so I'm gonna go before you do or say something that Steve would beat your ass for," She states before gathering up her stuff and storming out of your apartment.

When the door slams behind her, Bucky stands up with a sigh. "Finally, am I right?"

"Don't be mean," You scold him, watching as he comes over to sit next to you. "You get me to yourself every day; it's nice to have a little girly company now and then."

"Not right now, though," Bucky says, placing his hand on your thigh as he smirks at you. "Have you ever worn lingerie for a guy?"

You think it over, resting your head on the back of the couch. "Yeah, a few times."

"And... y'ever send sexy pictures?" He pushes, leaning closer to you with a wry grin.

Narrowing your eyes, you push him back. "Stop being weird, James."

"One last question," He promises with a cocky look before lowering his voice. "Have you ever forgotten to delete those sexy pictures before giving your old phone away?"

Slowly, realization dawns on you. Surely not. Your face drops, along with you stomach, as you feel a rush of embarrassment. "What?"

Lifting up the phone, he chuckles. "Thanks for the surprise, sprinkle. These are gonna help me out so much tonight."

You immediately attempt to grab the phone out of his hand, but he stretches his arm out, making it impossible for you to reach it.

"James Barnes!" You yell, hitting his shoulder. "Give me the phone, now!"

He pushes you down onto the couch before straddling you, the cocky smirk never fading. "Oh, but I can't give up these pictures now, my little sprinkle," He claims lowly, slotting himself between your legs. "Not when you look so fuckin' sexy in them."

"Stop being such a perv, for one minute!" You cry, trying to push him off of you but failing terribly. "Those pictures aren't for you!"

Bucky pouts playfully at that, grabbing your wrists in his hand to keep you subdued. "No? Then who are they for, sprinkle?"

You say nothing, struggling against his hold.

"Who were they for?" He asks, lowering his voice as he leans closer to you. "Who'd you take these pictures for, sprinkle?"

Shaking your head, you keep your mouth shut.

"Aw, you don't wanna tell me?" He coos teasingly, letting his crotch press against yours. "But you tell me everything, bubba. I'm your best friend. Who did you send these to?"

You swallow thickly, knowing he won't let up until you tell him what he wants to know. "They... I sent them to Sam."

His face drops and he clenches his jaw. Rage clouds his eyes, making you shiver.

"It was last year," You reveal. "We just... we fooled around, a little. It was nothing serious."

"Nothing serious?" He repeats with a mutter.

"We didn't even have sex," You tell him truthfully. "It was just a little bit of fun, and it was all over the phone. Nothing in person."

"How did I not know about this?" Bucky asks you gravely.

"You were too busy with that girl that worked at the cafe," You tell him with an eye-roll. "Cathy, or whatever."

"Callie," He whispers, before raising a brow. "You were jealous, hmm? Not getting enough attention from me, so you went and got it from Sam?"

"Maybe," You mumble bitterly, before pushing his chest. "Now, will you get off me?"

"I can't, my darling sprinkle," He says with a sigh, grinding his hips against yours. "I have separation anxiety."

"Jamie-"

"Shh, baby," He hushes you softly, slowly thrusting against you. "It's alright. Don't you wanna feel good?"

Your heart is racing as your pussy throbs through your clothes, your breath hitching in your throat.

"Don't you wanna make me feel good?" Bucky adds with a smirk.

"This is- we shouldn't do this," You warn him. "We're best friends, Buck."

"Exactly," He chuckles darkly, bringing his lips to your ear. "And that means I can do whatever the fuck I want to you."

"Bucky, stop," You utter, unable to hold back the whimpers as he grinds harder. Shit, that feels good.

He lets out a low groan, bringing one of his hands to your throat. "Fuck, baby, makes me so hard when you tell me to stop," He mumbles, brushing his lips against yours. "You don't really want me to, do you?"

"Jamie," You cry out, arching your back. "I- please."

"Say it again, baby," He mutters in your ear. "Tell daddy to stop."

You feel your panties soak at his words as your eyes roll back. Weak moans escape your throat as you buck your hips up to meet his. "We- you shouldn't be doing this, daddy, stop."

He lets out a low groan, thrusting faster. "Fuck, baby, you're so fucking hot," He says, before pulling up your skirt and pulling down your panties. "Such a fuckin' slut, getting so wet for me."

You gasp as his fingers slip inside your entrance, opening you up for him. He curls them inside you, brushing against your sweet spot as you cry out in pleasure.

"Yes, daddy, right there!" You cry, digging your nails into his shoulder.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of you for a few more moments before pulling down his zipper and taking out his throbbing cock. It rests heavy on your thigh, making your cunt clench around his digits.

"Want daddy to fuck you, baby?" He asks you teasingly. "Want my big, fat cock inside you?"

"Daddy," You breathe out, eyes wide. "Kiss me."

With a smug smile, he complies, leaning down to press his lips against yours. The kiss is messy and hot, and he slowly brings his dick to your entrance. Just as tip inches in, you pull away from the kiss, gasping.

"Too big," You whine, shaking your head as his girth stretches you out. "Hurts, daddy."

"I don't care if it fuckin' hurts, baby, you're gonna take it all," He tells you coldly, clenching his jaw as he continues sinking into you. "You're gonna be a good little slut and take it all for your daddy."

You hold your breath as he bottoms out, his cock sitting in you and pulsing against your walls. A weak cry escapes your mouth as he slowly begins to fuck in and out of you.

"Pussy's so fuckin' tight," Bucky grunts as he lifts up your legs and folds them against your torso to fuck you deeper. "Fuck, baby, I've dreamt of this so many times."

"Jamie," You begin, running your hands through his hair. "Feels so good."

"Yeah?" He asks with a smirk. "Been wanting to rail my little girl for so fuckin' long. You know how crazy you make me?"

You do nothing but moan as he slams in and out of you, making your core burn with delight.

"Sending pictures to Wilson, as if that fucker deserves them," He rants through gritted teeth, wrapping his hand around your throat. "He couldn't fuck you this good if he tried, baby. But you're daddy's little slut, now, so he'll never get the chance."

"All yours," You promise him, feeling weak as he squeezes your neck. "Use me, daddy, I'm yours."

"Shit," He grunts, bringing his free hand down to rub your clit. "Who knew my little girl could be such a filthy whore, hmm?"

"I want..." You trail off with a squeak as he rubs your clit faster.

"Tell me, baby, what do you want?" He asks you gently. "What does daddy's little girl want, hmm?"

"Want your cum inside me," You manage to get out, feeling weak. Your mind swirls until all you can process is Bucky and the pleasure he's serving you with.

He chuckles darkly at your words, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "You'll get my cum, baby, you'll get all of it," He promises. "Gonna get you fuckin' pregnant."

Your heart skips a beat at his words and your eyes light up. That's the sexiest fucking thing you've ever heard.

"Tell me you don't want it," He orders you darkly. "Tell daddy not to fuck a baby into you."

A whimper leaves your mouth as you cup his face in your hands. "P- please, daddy, I can't get pregnant," You tell him, putting every bit of your remaining energy into the act. "Please don't cum inside me."

"You don't want to carry my child?" He asks you softly, moving his hand up from your throat to your cheek.

You shake your head, feeling your heart race. "No, daddy, I don't want to," You whimper.

"Well, that's too bad," He growls, fucking you harder. "'Cuz I'm gonna fill you up, gonna give you a baby, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Daddy," You whine as your legs shake and your pleasure almost reaches its peak.

"That's right, baby, you're gonna make me a daddy," He tells you arrogantly. "And you're gonna be the prettiest little mommy in the world. Gonna make you my wife, gonna be mine forever."

You let out loud moans at his dark promises, feeling your orgasm arrive.

"Cum for me, mommy," Bucky orders you, slapping your clit repeatedly. "Cum, now."

Obeying him, you let go, feeling the sharp hit of pleasure as you cum all over his cock. Your pussy tightens around him, making him groan.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum," He tells you, slamming into you faster. "Tell me to stop. Tell daddy to stop."

"Daddy, please stop," You cry, wanting nothing more than for him to continue. "Please don't cum inside me, daddy, stop."

"Oh, fuck," He growls as he shoots his seed deep into you, moaning loudly with each thrust. "Take it, baby, every last fuckin' drop."

You shudder as you feel his cum inside you, your chest heaving with every breath you take. Bucky falls forward to rest his head in your neck, catching his breath as he strokes your hair.

"Oh, my God," He mumbles weakly. "That was fuckin' incredible."

With a deep breath, you let out a laugh. "Jamie, I.. I didn't know you were into that kind of sex," You admit, still taken aback.

"Ditto, you little freak," He chuckles between breaths, lifting his head up to look at you.

"If I knew, we'd have fucked a long time ago," You tell him honestly.

"Well, then," Bucky begins with a smirk. "I guess we have a lot to make up for."

"I guess we do," You agree with a giggle.

"Also," He begins, raising a brow. "Sam? Seriously?"

"It just happened; I wasn't expecting it either!" You exclaim. "It was like, a week of phone sex and nudes."

He narrows his eyes. "And he didn't ever try to fuck you?"

"Nope," You answer truthfully. "He was too scared of you. Said you'd never forgive him."

Bucky raises a brow at that, nodding. "He was right. Smart man."

"Tony, on the other hand-"

"Don't you dare even go there, sprinkle," He warns you coldly. "I'd rip his head off, and you don't even wanna know what I'd do to you."

"Maybe I do," You whisper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "What would you do to me, daddy?"

He clenches his jaw, bringing his hand up grab your chin. "I'd chain you to my bed and keep you as my baby-making machine," He tells you lowly.

"That sounds great," You tell him coyly. "I wanna be your housewife."

"Yeah?" He asks, his eyes darkening. "Wanna be my obedient little wife, cooking and cleaning for me?"

"Anything you want," You promise, playing with his hair. "S'long as you fuck me every day."

"Oh, baby," Bucky grins, kissing you deeply before pulling back. "I'm never letting you go."

"Never?" You ask with an expectant look.

"Never, my pretty little sprinkle," He promises with an arrogant smile, stroking your cheek. "I've got separation anxiety, baby."

bucky masterlist

side blog for update notifications: @kinanabinksupdates

buy me a kofi <3

[goodstuffwhoooo]

uhh...... yes please lol

How would Jefferson react if you dressed up like a playboy bunny?

Jefferson would go feral, nonnie.

*****

You wonder for a moment if you look ridiculous in the outfit, but Luna convinced you it would be fun. It fits you like a glove. You chose purple since you always associate that color with Jefferson. And looking at yourself one more time, you have to admit the costume doesn't look bad at all. In fact, you look good.

"And curious Alice turned into a bunny," you tease yourself, placing the ears on your head.

"And we know what happens to curious bunnies, don't we?"

You spin around, almost losing your balance as you find yourself face-to-face with your Mad Hatter. For a moment you're tempted to grab something to cover yourself with, but the intense look in Jefferson's eyes stop you. You feel the shift in the air as he tilts his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He wants to play. Your abdomen tightens as he grins maniacally and brings his face close to yours, breathing out one word.

"Run."

*****

Might expand on this. What do we think?

Love and thanks! 💜

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what?? 🥵🥴😫

idk why i thought this would have a doctor kink element 😅

I loved it! love it love it love it! ✨💖💓🥳

Please Doctor | S.S x F!Reader

Summary: Strange doesn’t take too lightly when you talk back to him and acting like a brat.

⚠️Warnings: smut ahead. Oral (f receiving), fingering, brief male masturbation, slight voyeurism, daddy kink, mild degradation kink, unprotected p in v

@tom-whore-dleston​​ asked: “it’s hot when you talk back.” with seggsy ass Stephen Strange 😛💦

Word count: 1.5K

A/N: I don’t even have a title for this because it’s just my brain rot. Please enjoyed this self indulgence fic that i manage to write in such a short time. No beta, so any mistakes are mine. If you liked this, please do comment and reblog. It helps me a lot and i really appreciate it so much!

** Do not repost, copy, or translate any of my works without permission.

A low drawn-out moan slipped from your lips. The sweet smell of red wine lingered on your breath. Your head buzzed, eyes rolled to the back of your head. Never before have you known such rapture as your back arched forward, pushing yourself even more as Stephen Strange devoured you hungrily.

A deep growl reverberated from his chest and straight through your sobbing pussy, creating a slight vibration that made you whimper softly. Your legs draped over his broad shoulder, your fingers bunched at his once-perfect hair. One minute you were eating dinner, and the next you were being eaten. 

Oh, how the table has turned. 

Keep reading

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That's 👏 Not 👏 Her 👏 You 👏 Selfish 👏 Asshole 👏 Wake 👏 The 👏 Fuck 👏 Up 👏

Shangqi is aboutta be so confused 😭 don't get mad fluffy boi, it's not her!!! 😭😭😭

The DRAMA tho, I love it, I live for it 💖

A Wish Fulfilled

A/N: This takes place late in this series of one-shots. I haven’t written in so SOOO long. THis is just a quick drabble I put together. IDK if this will go anywhere, but that’s why this is jsut a series of one-shots. IDK, might lead to the Crumble!Verse

Okay. So this is in my Stark!ReaderVerse! Feedback, as awlays, extremely appreciated and desired. ​

Pairings/Characters: Shang-Chi x Stark!Reader, Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader

Warnings: swearsies, Minors DNI none of my stuff bc I said so

Summary:  You want to know what else is out there, while Steve’s wildest dream has come true.

WC: 1,779

Shangqi didn’t have to be a mindreader to know something was wrong. You had been in your lab for most of the last three days, and while he didn’t necessarily feel neglected about this because he himself was off on a mission with Katy, it was knowing that you were locking yourself away to work that had him worried about you.  So when Shangqi returned from work and realized that you were, once again, stuck in your lab, he sighed and stared up at the ceiling to think about what he wanted to do.

“Wednesday?”

“Yes, Shangqi?” Your AI responded. “Would you like me to order dinner again?”

He cringed, “Are you mocking me for constantly ordering takeout?”

“No, I am simply picking up on your habitual ordering,” she replied. “What may I do for you?”

Keep reading

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aww this was so sweet 💖

Forever love you, no matter what.

Summery : Reader is having trouble coming out to her brothers. She finally tells Sam, who insists on her telling Dean. She’s afraid they’re going to be judgemental. Will they be ? 

Warning : None ? 

A/N : Hiii, you guys are welcome to tell me what yall think. And to the Anon who requested this, i hope you asked for a gay reader and not a bi one, I accidently deleted the request 😂😂😂. 

——

“Sam! if i’d wanted to tell him i would have !” 

Earlier that day, you’d just been waiting for Sam to come back to the motel to grab him by the wrist and drag him to the dining table, where you sat him down and positioned yourself in front of him. 

His tilted head and frowned eyebrows displayed his confusion, you hadn’t said a single word to him since yesterday morning. And now you’re rushing him over like this ?

You gulped hard, forcing that stupid lump in your throat down as you tried your best to hold back your tears. Your mind was racing with millions of words, phrases, sentiments. All while adrenaline rushed through your body. You had to do it now ! You ha-

“What is i-”

“Sam, i’m gay.” 

Your heart skipped a beat and a quick wave of relief flowed down your body before anxiety settled in. 

Your hands covered half of your face. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it. 

“Y/n..I-I-I” Sam stumbled over his words. He was still processing. But Impatience was eating at your guts. You were afraid he was going to hate you. He wouldn’t, would he ? 

“Please say something.” you begged, your voice barely audible, realizing that you weren’t going to be able to hold back the tears anymore. 

Your brother apologized, causing the start of a sit of sobs. He wrapped his arm around your neck to pull you into his chest. 

“Do y-you hate me ?” 

Your head was pulled back while you wiped at the tears. “Hate you ? No, dummy. I’m sorry for making you wait.” Sam chuckled lightly, shaking his head at you as he waited for the sobbing to die down. So all that crying and stress was for nothing ? 

“So you…”

“I still love you no matter what, honey. You really think i care about what gender you fall in love with ?” 

It took you a moment to process his words. But when you did, relief started flooding your body. You breathed in and a smile appeared on your face. 

You could finally look up at your brother. “I’m happy you told me, Y/n.” Sam acknowledged. But his eyes kept darting away from you, indicating that something was wrong. 

You cocked your head to the side in a questioning manner. 

“He has to know too, Y/n.” Sam’s voice was so low you could barely hear him “You can’t hide this from him.” 

“No,he can’t and Yes,i can.” You got up from the chair and crossed your arms over your chest defensively.

“Yes, you have to, Y/n. It’s his r-”

“No, it isn’t.” You cut him off, knowing how much he hated that. He got up from his chair too, towering over you. 

“Yes, it is. He has the right to kn-”

“Sam, if i’d wanted to tell him, i would have !” 

“Honey, he d-”

“But he’ll judge me !” Taken aback by your own words, you fell silent. You were ashamed of yourself, of the fact that you couldn’t trust your brother’s judgement. Yet all you could do was worry that his perception of you will change. 

“Judge you for what ?” 

Your body jerked in surprise as you spun around, to find yourself facing Dean. He was standing by the door frame, a bag of groceries in one hand and a pack of beer in the other. 

You couldn’t see his face as all the light was beaming from behind him. But you could hear the dissapointment in his voice. When did he come ? How didn’t you hear him ? How could you let that happen ? 

You turned your head to Sam,pleadingly. But Dean already knew you were going to do that. “Don’t look at him.” He ordered, taking slow commanding steps towards the table, that you unconsciously stepped away from. “Tell me what ?” 

You could feel that bump in your throat again. But you were unsure of whether you could swallow it down this time. You clutched your belly as it started to hurt. 

This was it. You had no other choice but to tell him. 

“Do i have to ask ag-” 

“I like girls.” The words came out of your mouth effortlessly, this time. And while you just stood there, fighting to keep the sobs in, Dean just shook his head. You wondered what was going through his mind, but really, you preferred not to know. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The merest laugh unconsciously escaped your lips, followed by a sob. Did he and Sam plan this ? 

“Did i just force you to come out ?”

You laughed again, through the tears. Was he trying to lighten up the mood, or was he avoiding the subject ? 

“I…I apologize, buddy. I thought you messed up someway and i…I’m sorry.” 

“Avoiding the subject, Dean. You don’t have to say anything. Just pretend like i didn’t say anyth-”

“Hey ! Hey, i haven’t even said anything yet.” Dean defended himself, making the small few steps that seperated you from each other. “And honestly..I don’t know what to say.” 

You quickly glanced up at him, your eyes begging for some kind of compassion from him. If he was going to hurt you, it had to be done softly. 

“Y/n, I don’t know whether to be angry at you for thinking that i would ever judge you or treat you badly, or whether to be happy that we can all start betting on who’s gonna get that girl first.” Your brother reached his arm out and swung his hand to the side dramatically, as if he was displaying a title or a sign. 

Muddled with emotion, you just stared at him until you both burst into laughter. You waved your hand at your face to cool it down from all the anxiety and the crying. Finally taking a new breath of fresh goddamn air. 

“You are red.” Dean wiped your cheek, smiling reassuringly at you. “We will forever love you, no matter what. Okay ?” 

—–

Angst inserted successfully ?? You tell me, anon. Enjoy ❤❤❤🌹🌹🌹

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wow wow wow wow wow

"Don't you dare do that" oh my god she's gonna do it

My heart breaks for these two seriously, they're so good for each other, i love them so much 😭 just let reader have her mom 😭😭 💖

Always

A/N:  Feedback. Reblogs appreciated, thanks!

Pairings/Characters: Peter Parker x Reader (Andrew Garfield’s Peter)

Warnings: Swearing, daddy issues, violence, possible character death, Tony being annoying

Summary: Hate was a strong word, so it was safe to say that Obadiah Stane despised you.

This is definitely post-college, adult Spider-Man

Previous Chapter: The Stark Playbook

WC: 5,230

Your life was now an annoying hell. All those schools that had rejected you were blowing up your phone constantly, trying to entice you to say that you weren’t rejected, but that you just didn’t want to go so that they wouldn’t look bad for taking bribes and denying a promising student entrance to their school. Even the many, many companies that you had applied to were scrambling now, trying to offer you positions within their company so they could say they had a living, breathing Stark in their midsts. Your current place of business? Well, their stock skyrocketed and was definitely leaving that ‘startup’ status with every passing second.

The responsible thing for a person to do would have been to send those SHIELD guys a very direct e-mail containing all of Obadiah’s misdeeds, and how he was engaged in trade with terrorists against the very people the company was supposed to be supporting and keeping safe with their weaponry.  The responsible thing would have been to send this to the proper authorities to deal with things quickly and quietly.

You didn’t really do the responsible thing.

Keep reading

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the first imagine blog i ever followed lol 💖

Submitted by anonymous.