#All in

[angelnextdooor]

WTF HUH CASSIES MOM IS ALIVE??!! SHES LEADING THE CULT OF SERIAL KILLERS?? WHAT IS THIS SHIT WHAT IS GOING ON JLB OMG THIS IS GETTING SOOOOO INSANE

I guess I’m going to start bad blood now… wish me luck I’m excited but I’m also sad the series is almost over 😕

[argoscity]

Old costume references in SUPERGIRL (2025) #2 Supergirl (2025) #2 art by Sophie Campbell and Tamra Bonvillain other art by Mike Sekowsky, Bob Oksner, Art Saaf, Win Mortimer, and Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez

[kelaeri]

Nightwing #123 panel by Dexter Soy

[littledark11]

Sarah is such a sweetheart towards cranberry but the only thing I'm worried about is that Sarah going to persuade her to stay with Bucky even if he shows his true colors.

Because she was not over that choking situation.

And Bucky, can you not be a horndog for like a night especially when she's worried about her own mother.

All In 17

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You fidget again, fingers clamped around the short hem of the dress. It's nice. Pink roses on cream, a sheer layer over a thicker base; Loose long sleeves to balance out the lack of length. It both feels like too much and not enough.

"You look good. I said so. Whatcha squirming for?" Bucky reaches over to touch your hand. You let go of the skirt.

"I'm okay. Anxious. Meeting new people."

"It's just Ma." He pets your knuckles then reluctantly puts his hand back on the steering wheel. "She's excited to meet you."

"She is?"

"Oh yeah. I told her all about you. I'm kind of a dope like that," he chuckles.

You nod and look at him. He's opted for lighter colours. A muted shade of green and a white shirt patterned with leaves. Very summery.

"Then I just... don't want to let her down," you say.

"I know, baby. No way you can. I chose you," he growls. "You know that. All the girls in the world but you're the one I need."

You're breathless. Anyone would want those words said to them. They're both enlivening and defeating. You want to live up to all his expectations but the weight of them is overbearing.

"I know. I... I'm trying."

"Don't even gotta try, doll." He hums and his tongue pokes out. His cheeks dimple and his lips curl. "Like this morning. You just... you're everything."

Your cheeks tinge and you touch the side of your neck. You wince. It's tender there. You think it might bruise. Right where his thumb poked into you. As nice as everything else was, the memory of his hand on your neck has you uneasy.

"Here we are," he slows along the suburban avenue. "Ma keeps a nice house. Everything's got its place. Even me."

"Yeah? Okay," you murmur.

"And you now. I'm sure she's got everything set. Table, an extra seat." He scoffs and shakes his head. "Steve's a nice guy but he's not really brought home and girls. She'll adore you."

"He is nice," you agree, thinking of the skinny man from the day before.

"Always has my back so I got his," he kills the engine. "All you gotta do is smile and be you. It's what got me, doll." He unbuckles his seat belt and pauses, He taps the steering wheel with his index and sucks his teeth. "Better be careful with that."

"Careful?"

"I don't mind fighting off a few suitors, mind you. But you gotta realise what you do to a guy." He reaches over and rubs your shoulder. You watch him sheepishly as he leans in. You meet his lips with yours. His kiss is nice, soft but firm, and yet he squeezes so hard you twitch. "All mine."

He pulls back and opens his door. He gets out as you untangle yourself from your own seat belt. He's at your door before you can open it yourself. He offers his hand and helps you out.

The cream heels are nice but a touch high for you. They give you a few inches but not close to enough to match him. He lifts your hand high and hums.

"Doll, you look good. Tasty." He winks and licks his lip. "I gotta remember to behave. Ma isn't one for it."

He keeps a hold of your hand and leads you away from the car. He shuts the door and guides you along the front walkway. Pebbles are placed deliberately in a spiraling pattern to form a path between tall crocuses and tulips.

You get to the steps but your toe hits the first. You stumble and clutch Bucky tighter as he steadies you. You giggle, embarrassed, and keep going.

"Buck," the voice startles you. It's only then you see Steve sitting on the bench near the bay window. His hair is parted and combed neatly. He wears a plain white shirt and khakis.

"Hey, pal," Bucky says. Good to see you.

"Yeah, you too," he stands and dawdles across the porch. "Hi," he looks at you. "Glad you could make it. Sorry I couldn't find a friend for ya."

"Ah, too bad, buddy," Bucky reaches over and musses his hair. Steve grimaces and recoils, tidying his hair with his skinny fingers. "We'll find you someone. Any girl would be lucky. And I know luck."

"Ha, yeah," Steve smooths his blonde strands. "Ma's waiting. She didn't know if she needed to worry about too much meat so... she made lots of veggies."

"Always so thoughtful," Bucky preens.

He lets go of you and goes to the front door. He opens it and beckons you both inside. Steve gestures you politely ahead of him.

You enter meekly and look around. The front mat is decorated in flowers. You slip out of your shoes and put them with the rest, shuffling out of the way of the men. You look at the pictures on the wall. A cross stitch of a garden, then a collage of photos; Bucky and Steve, from boys, to teens, to fresh out of college. Steve doesn't look much different but Bucky definitely filled out.

"Aw, she's here!" She voice startles you. You jump and look around. You expect a large woman given the buoyancy of the tone but instead, you find yourself accosted by a spindly woman with greying blonde hair.She grabs your arms and kisses both your cheeks. "And she's gorgeous. Ooh!" She drags her hands down your sleeves. "This is beautiful. Stunning, like you."

"Oh, hello, uh, thanks," you flutter your lashes.

"Oh my, forgive me. I do get--" she stops and takes a step back. She puts her hand on her chest then balls it and covers her mouth. She rattles as she coughs.

Steve sidles past you, "ma." He takes a canister out of his pocket and shakes it. He puts the inhaler to her mouth as she drops her hand.

She inhales deeply several times as he rubs her back. Her cheeks are flush as she smiles at you. "Forgive me. Promise, I'm not contagious."

"They know, ma," Steve puts the cap back on the inhaler.

"It's alright. Are you?" You ask.

She tilts her head, "of course I am. You're so sweet. Come here."

You cautiously move forward, resisting the urge to look back. She takes your hand gently and pulls you with her. Her hand is frail in hers.

"You better be careful with Bucky," she tuts. "He's a rebel, that one."

"Sarah," he calls after her.

"This is a lady's chat, sir," she juts her finger into the air. "Now, he's a whole lotta bluster, let me tell you. So you're going to need to give him a firm swat now and again."

You hear a sigh and a snort. You can guess who issued which noise. Mrs. Rogers takes you down the hall and through the kitchen.

"Such a lovely day, I set us up outside. Oh, you should sit in the shade, dear. Wouldn't want you to burn." She hooks your arm through hers then opens the door, angling you through with her. "You're too pretty for him. Don't let him forget it."

"Oh, thanks, Mrs--"

"Missus? I'm Sarah, dear." She rebukes. "Tell me all about you."

She brings you to a cushioned wicker sofa and sits with you. You can hear the men come through the door as you blink against the bright sunlight. You nervously smile.

"Me?"

"Sure, dear. You know, I see Bucky on the television. He's got those pretty women hanging off of him but he never brings them home. Never. But you, I heard all about you. From him, and I know better than to believe everything he says."

Bucky sits in one of the wicker chairs on the other side of the table. You glance over. There are platters of fruits and veggies and artisinal crackers and cheese. The rest is hidden under lids.

"I... I like to read. He got me some books. I like the older stories. Um. Jane Eyre?" You explain.

"Smart, oh yes, he needs a smart one." She praises.

"Well, not... really. I didn't... Didn't get to go to school."

"What's school?" She cooes. "You don't need all that." She pats your hand gently. "Family?"

"My mom and sister," you answer as you twiddle your fingers on the bench.

"Oh, how lovely. You'll have to bring them next time."

"Good idea," Bucky intones.

She hisses and snaps her hand like a crocodile mouth in his direction. His brows arch. "I've seen the others. I'm certain they are all lovely but it's all too showy. You have to temper him."

You nod, sweltering in self-awareness and the gaze of the man she speaks of.

"You can. I see it." She cups your cheek. "You have a witch's eyes."

You tweak your head. You've never been told that before. She cackles.

"I know it because you bewitched him!" She lets you go and guffaws as she claps. "And he's the biggest ox I've ever known."

"Ma," Bucky crosses his arms.

She laughs and rocks until she is one more out of breath. Steve offers the inhaler and she takes it. Sucking on it as she keeps a grin fixed on her lips.

"Well, I went to all this trouble," she waves her hands to the table, "don't you go wasting it."

🃏

The smell of pollen pervades as Sarah touches your ear. You look at her in surprise as she puts a flower behind your ear. The pink petals are a blur in your peripheral.

"Oh, thanks," you fold your hands.

"It suits you," she smiles. "Now, Bucky," she curls her finger at him. "Come."

He gets up obediently. He approaches and she reaches for his hand. It's giant compared to hers. She takes yours too.

"You take her away before I try to keep her," she says as she puts your hand in his. "I've got lots of cleaning up to do."

"Let us help," Bucky insists.

"No, no. I will not have it. You came and brightened my morning." She squeezes his hand around yours. "Now go. Stevie will help clean up."

Plates clink and you look over. Her son is already stacking up the porcelain. He shows his teeth.

"Oh, well, it was nice to meet you, Sarah." You stand. "Thank you for having me."

"Thank you for coming. I know old women aren't great company."

"I had a good time," you assure her.

"I'd say you're too nice but I can tell you're honest." She turns her sights on Bucky. "Don't mess it up."

"Yes, ma," he bands and kisses her cheek.

He stands and gently tugs you up. She rubs her cheek as she makes a face.

"And get rid of that beard. It's scratchy." She reprimands.

He laughs. You dip your chin down. "Thanks again. Uh, bye then."

"You'll be back," she winks.

Bucky draws you away to the back door. You go inside and down the hall. You stop to step into your shoes. His hand rests on your lower back to steady you.

"She's right. Flower's pretty on you," he swirls his fingertips against your dress.

"Thanks," you look at him.

"And what do you think?" He flicks a long strand of his hair behind his ear then brushes his fingers over his beard. "You want me to get rid of it?"

"Hm?" You turn to him fully and his hand drags to your hip.

"The beard? You like it?"

"I... I don't mind it. It's nice," you shrug.

"Oh, it looks nice but..." he leans down. "Does it feel nice?"

You squeak as your eyes round. "Bucky."

"Those noises you were making, I think so." He purrs.

"Please, I..." you try to see past him.

"Mm, what do you wanna do now? More fun? Can I get on my knees again?"

You put your hand on his arm. "Bucky," your face washes with heat. "I... I have to go see my mom. She'll be worried."

"Mmmm," he hums. "I know, doll, but I need you."

His pelvis twitches and you chew your lip. He watches your mouth and you dig your toe into the floor.

"Let me go home and I'll come back tonight."

"Tonight?" He asks.

"Yes. But I do need to see her."

"Alright," he relents. "But what about tonight? What are we going to do?"

You look side to side, "whatever you want."

He snickers, "don't say that... I said I'd be patient."

You nod and smile nervously.

"How about we go gambling?" He suggests. "We'll sit at a few tables, have some drinks, and then... we can cuddle again."

You rub your neck, once more touching the bruise he left. "Okay, yeah. Um. That's cool."

"Sounds like a plan," he frames your face and leans in. "I'll try to keep my clothes on."

[newblvotg]

[dailydccomics]

Kory being Raven's hype woman ♡ Titans #19 by John Layman and Serg Acuña

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 10

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you're finally back at the house and you need to find yourself a new normal again. you take this time to get better acquainted with the others and make sense of what you know

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

When you arrive back at the house, you start to feel sick. 

You’re not sure if it’s nerves or stress, but in reality it’s probably the events of the last few days finally starting to catch up to you. You immediately excuse yourself to your room and crash onto your bed, fighting back the urge to vomit. 

Someone knocks on your door. You tell them to go away and they do; that’s how you know it isn’t Chan. The night comes and goes and you sleep your way through it. You sleep into the morning. Well into the morning, in fact, that you miss both breakfast and lunch. 

You wake up finally, drenched in sweat and completely sore all over your body. It’s the sound of yelling outside of your door that rouses you from your sleep, your door slamming open causing you to cower under your covers. 

“Get up,” Chan says. His voice does not allow room for argument. 

“Chan, you should leave her–” 

“Changbin, I don’t fucking need you to tell me what to do right now. Y/N, get up. You’re eating dinner with us. You’re not skipping another meal,” he says. Tears prick at your eyes but you’re successful at holding them back. You are not going to cry. Not in front of Chan. 

“I don’t feel good,” you say. 

“That’s bullshit,” he says, nearly cutting you off as if he anticipated your answer. “I know I have put you through a lot these past few days, but like Hell am I going to let you wither away in my house.” You let out a squeal as you feel the covers get yanked off of your body, leaving you feeling bare. The cold air pricks at your sweat covered skin and immediately you get goosebumps from the sensation. When you look up you see him standing over the mattress with his arms crossed, his gaze boring into your features, and you roll out of bed with a sigh. You feel nauseous as you follow him to the dining room but you don’t argue. However, the blood in your skin does start to boil. 

Who the fuck is he to tell you what you can and can’t do? He’s already locked you up in this house, killed someone in front of you, and controlled just about every movement since you’ve ended up here. Is he going to dictate your whole meal plan too? God, you’re seething. 

But you also know he’s right. That’s what infuriates you. Your physical ailments are just a manifestation of your trauma and your psyche, and maybe you have been letting them consume you for the past 24-hours, but that is your absolute right to do so. It chills you that he pays close attention to your each and every movement. 

You think back to your conversation with Woojin in the warehouse. “Chan doesn’t like in the way that normal people like. He gets infatuated. He becomes obsessed and controlling and people end up dead.” You suppress the urge to shudder. You’re not sure you want to be loved or even liked by Chan. He was a passionate, attentive lover. You can only imagine being with Chan being like that, but tenfold. 

On the other hand, you didn’t quite want to be disliked by Chan. 

Besides the lack of food in your stomach from the past day, something else makes you nauseous when you sit at the table. Felix. You shoot him a smile and despise the way that your heart squeezes when he grins back at you. At this point, you can’t deny that you feel something towards the man. You shouldn’t. You absolutely fucking shouldn’t. Despite his kind treatment, he is still in the mafia, just like everyone else here. You’ve just allowed yourself to lean into your delusion that you could be something more, that maybe there’s more behind his kind actions that meets the eye. 

You pick at your food at first. You realize it’s the first time that everyone has been here at dinner since before Woojin left. That feels like such a long time ago. Now, Lee Know is finally back, and you notice that the dynamic feels just a little bit more complete. Despite the last few days being absolutely wild, dinner conversation is just about as normal as it would be. You find yourself smiling subconsciously when jokes are cracked. And before you know it, you've eaten your whole plate. You really were hungrier than you realized. 

As you clean your plate and slide it into the trash, you run right into Felix. Literally. His warm hands find their way to your waist to steady you and you don't meet his eye. Your face warms up at the action and you turn away from him, suddenly nervous. 

“Hey,” he says, voice laced with surprise. “I haven’t seen you in a bit. You doing okay?” 

“I’m… better now, I guess. Thanks. The past few days were just…” 

“A lot?” 

“Yeah,” you reply, daring a gaze to his softening eyes, a warm brown hue. “A lot.” 

“If you’re feeling up to it, we could train some more?” he asks. His eyes are searching your face as if to confirm that you’re in a well-enough state to do so. You hope he doesn’t notice the blush that spreads over your features just from talking to him. You think back to the motel, and how his lips had gotten dangerously close to brushing against yours. You could feel his warm breath on yours, and if you had moved even just a centimeter closer you would have kissed, and there 

would have been no coming back from that. Can you trust yourself  to train with him? To not allow yourself to develop further feelings, or to act and cross that unreturnable line?

“No thanks,” you tell him as politely as you can muster. “I’m… still not feeling too well, physically. Still kind of nauseous, you know? Raincheck?” 

“Yeah, of course!” he says. It’s at this moment when you realize his hands are still on your waist from when he steadied you from your near-fall. If your face wasn’t red before, it certainly is now. Great. As if he’s realized this too, his hands fall from their place on your body and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I hope you feel better! Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” 

Felix is too polite and heartfelt for his own good, you think. It’s the quality of his that catches you the most off guard, the one that makes you forget so easily that he’s supposed to be dangerous. 

As you walk back to your room, his touch a hot remnant on your waist, you try to remind yourself of all the times that Felix has proven himself to be more dangerous than he lets on. The night you escaped, for example, he threatened the men that had cornered you with a gun. Felix punching Woojin in the nose after he touched you, another example. Then there’s the night he brought you to the hotel. He had shown up with blood covering his white stained suit, though you had never asked about it. So yes, he has proven himself to be a dangerous, strong man. Why hasn’t that deterred your heart from yearning after him, though?

You sigh once you’ve returned to your room. You realize that you will need to get a new book from Hyunjin. You decide to put that off for now, however, and opt to leave the room. You know you will need to shower the sweat off of your clammy skin from your excessive sleep anyway, so you might as well go to the gym while you’re at it. Without Felix, this time. You almost feel bad that you lied and decided to go to the gym without him, but it’s not for lack of a good reason. You pick out a pair of clothes from your wardrobe that are loosely-fitting, easy for movement, and throw your hair up into a ponytail. 

On your way to the gym, however, you realize there’s something that doesn’t feel right. A nagging feeling in your stomach. It’s at this time that you find yourself seeking out Chan, walking to his room for the first time since you moved in. There’s much you need to talk about, and it’s probably best to do so alone. 

The door at the very end of the hall. It’s the only one besides Chan’s office that is characterized with a big metal deadbolt, almost comical in nature. Before you can plant a seed of doubt in yourself, you’re rapping on the door three times, hard. You don’t realize that it’s already late to begin with, so you hadn’t considered the option that he might be asleep until you’re met with silence. Hesitantly you turn around putting pressure on the balls of your feet to walk away before you hear a click, the door creaking open. Your heart beats fast for a second, and you’re met with the sight of Chan before you can consider running away. 

He looks at you, confused. He obviously was not expecting you to be on the other side of the door. You wonder if he was expecting Hyunjin instead. You notice that he’s freshly showered, his dark hair falling in messy curls around his head and this kind of throws you off guard. In front of you, Chan has only ever looked neat and put-together, hair straightened and meticulous in his appearance. Even when he found you in the abandoned warehouse, he looked the embodiment of perfection, still in his suit from the gala. To see him in something so casual, sweats and a loose t-shirt after dinner… You almost forget for a second that the man in front of you is Bang Chan, one of the most dangerous men in the country, leader of the mafia. Almost. 

You clear your throat. “We need to talk,” you say. You feel triumphant for once, that you’re the one taking him by surprise, that you’re the one with the upperhand, but that’s all forgotten when he opens his door wider and invites you into his room. 

Well. You weren’t exactly expecting that. But you clear your throat and follow him inside. 

The first thing you notice about Chan’s room is how large it is. It makes sense, really, that the leader of the mafia would have the largest room in his own house. You’re sure there’s a reason why it was deadbolted shut, that there’s things in here that aren’t meant for just anyone to see. 

His bed is king-sized, placed in the middle of the room thoughtfully with a black duvet. The whole room matches, really, dark mahogany hardwood floors and black furniture. Even the walls, though sleek and elegant in feel, give a more gloomy yet modern feel. It’s very minimalist, you notice, no picture frames or paintings hung on the walls, though that feels very on brand for the man in front of you. 

Chan motions for you to sit on his bed. You do, trying to hide your hesitation, crossing your legs as you watch the man cross the room. He stands in front of you, arms crossed and looking down at you where you sit. Mindlessly, you smooth your hands over the duvet, neatly made and cold to the touch and probably more expensive than anything you’ve ever owned. 

“Yes?” He asks. He has a blank expression on his face and you curse yourself momentarily for being unable to identify what he’s thinking, but then you remember why you’re here. 

“Right,” you say. “I wanted to talk.” You take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves. 

He makes a noncommittal gesture with his hand, as if to say ‘so talk, then. What are you waiting for?’ 

“The gala,” you gulp. “That was… um, a lot, obviously. It’s just…” you try to think about where to even start and how to phrase what you had to say without offending him. As much as you want to curse him out, then and there, offending the man that is currently guaranteeing your safety probably isn’t the most wise decision. “Before we went inside, I told you about how nervous I was to see Jungwon. And you said… you promised that nothing was going to happen to me. I just can’t help but wonder, Chan. Was it a lie? Did you hand me over to them as a tactic? I know I don’t mean much to you guys, and at the end of the day you really have no reason to protect me. I just… I don’t want to think that you lied, but–”

“That’s enough.” When you meet his gaze you see how utterly pissed off he is. Shit. The words had spilled out of your mouth faster than you intended, but to be fair you had the right to know. Had he intentionally put your life in danger for the sake of getting his revenge on Jungwon? It really hadn’t come to your mind until now, but once the thought infiltrated your brain you couldn’t get it to leave. “I don’t fucking lie, Y/N,” he practically spits at you. “I thought you would know by now that I value honesty and loyalty above all else. What happened at the gala, as much as I hate to admit it, was out of my control. We should have prepared for it, but when we saw Woojin was there things got out of hand fast. The safety of one of my team members was in danger, so my priority was ensuring Minho’s safety. I hate feeling powerless. I fucking hate it, that they had the upper hand on us, but I thought that I made it perfectly clear after you got taken that they were going to pay for what they did to you.” 

You nod your head, solemnly. “I’m sorry, I just–”

He shushes you sharply. You can tell he’s not finished speaking and he’s still full of irritation so you let him continue. “I don’t want to hear you say that we have no reason to protect you. That’s bullshit and we both know it. Sure, at first, the only reason you were allowed to stay with us was so we had the upper hand on Yang Jungwon. But I think you and I both realize that you’re something more to us now. Something more to me,” he says. “Jungwon is dead now. I protected you. Give me a chance to protect you again, Y/N. Let me kill Lee Heeseung and show you that you’re safe, and that you belong here. Nobody will ever hurt you again,” he ensures. 

His words send a shiver down your spine. His words are so blunt and to the point, and if you weren’t listening carefully you would have almost missed the confession laced between his words. It scares you, this overprotective and controlling aspect of the man in front of you, the one who watches your every move. Chan, who makes sure you’re eating and taking care of yourself, Chan who loves too deeply, Chan who will make sure that nobody will ever lay a hand on you again. 

You don’t know what to say. It’s overwhelming, and unease settles in your gut. “He’s dead,” is what you settle on, surprising even yourself. 

“He is,” Chan agrees. “I’m not going to apologize for it.” 

“I didn’t ask for you to,” you reply. “It’s just… does it get any easier?” 

“Seeing the dead bodies?” he clarifies. You shake your head. 

“Losing the people that you love,” you say just above a whisper. You know he hears you. He grimaces. 

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “I haven’t… I haven’t loved in a very long time. And I don’t intend to lose anybody anytime soon.” 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment. His words sit heavy in the air, swirling around before falling heavily upon your shoulders. You look at him with a grimace to match. 

“I’ve been having nightmares,” you admit. 

“You’ll be okay.” He reaches his hand out to guide you up, off of the bed. You take it, standing, trying not to think about how he invalidated your statement. You’re not sure what you expected from him but it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Your brain flashes to Felix, a day or two prior that comforted you in the motel bed as sobs racked through your body. Felix, who let you lay your head on his chest as he soothed you to sleep and actually made you feel like everything would be okay. You shake the thought from your head. Chan is not Felix. 

With a small smile you acknowledge the man and thank him. He surprises you when he brings you in for a hug, your head resting on his shoulder. He smells vaguely of rain, you think, though you think the man is more befitting of a storm, angry and all-consuming. You push yourself weakly out of his grasp, muttering a small ‘goodnight’ as you leave the room. 

You can hear the deadbolt click behind you and you let out a shuddering breath. You can’t help the way your skin pricks up at Chan’s every touch, though the man also leaves you feeling uneasy. 

It’s time for you to go to the gym. 

With an exasperated sigh, that’s where you end up. It’s late at night now, so you don’t expect anybody to be here when you arrive but someone is. You hear them grunting and breathing heavy before you see them, and you almost turn around and head back to your room before you change your mind. 

You need to relieve your stress right now. 

You never thought you would be the person to say that, let alone use working out as an outlet for your stress, but here you are. The last few weeks of your life would bring most people to the brink of madness, after all, so if going to the gym and finally becoming strong was your new coping mechanism, fuck it. 

You swing open the door and try not to make eye contact. Please don’t be Felix, you think. I don’t think I can emotionally deal with that situation right now. 

It seems luck is in your favor, for once, as Changbin is the one that turns around when you enter. You give him a small smile, as you are feeling pretty relieved to see him. 

You don’t spare him a second glance, however, as you turn on the treadmill and start running. You wish you had a phone in moments like these, a way that you could listen to music so that you could just turn your brain off. Felix would always play music off his phone when you went to the gym together. Fuck! If your brain could stop thinking about Felix for one moment, his flowery-yet-musky smell and his beautiful, fair hair and fae-like features, things would be so much easier for you. 

“Dude,” you hear. “You good?” 

You almost stumble on the treadmill, slamming the stop button to turn around and glare at the man behind you. 

“What?” you say, more venomous than deserved. 

“You okay?” he repeats himself. A thick layer of sweat coats his skin, and you notice the ridiculous amount of weight he has set on the barbell. Makes sense. As the bodyguard of the group, he is ridiculously in shape. You must be stupid or blind to not admire the muscles he has likely put a lot of time into. “You’re like, slamming your feet into the treadmill and you’ve been sprinting for a good 15 minutes.” He’s right. You hadn’t even noticed how effortlessly you had run almost two miles. 

“I’m fine,” you sigh. Neither of you seem convinced. 

“You seem pissed,” he points out. 

“I am pissed,” you finally agree. So much for being elusive and shoving away your feelings. It doesn’t take much for you to cave. “It’s been a long couple of days.” 

“I can imagine,” he sympathizes. “What can I do to help?” His words take you by surprise, as he seems genuine in offering his help. You ponder his question as you try and catch your breath. 

“Spar with me?” You ask, finally. You’re not too sure you want to go to Felix about this anymore. 

“I can do that,” he replies with a smile. 

After wrapping your hands up and getting ready, you take a defensive stance. Changbin looks like he’s been taken by surprise. 

“What?” you question, confused by his reaction. 

“Nothing,” he answers quickly. “It’s just… your form is good! I thought I would have to teach you some of the basics.” 

You preen a little at the compliment. Your form is actually good? That means your hard work is paying off! “I’ve been practicing with Felix,” you admit. 

A look of realization flashes over him. “Ohhhhh,” is all he says in response. “Are you ready?” You grunt in approval. 

Changbin does not go easy on you, to your surprise. He immediately goes on the offense, attacking with hit after hit. He’s not using his full strength, thankfully as you probably can’t take it just yet, but the man is fast. It’s also interesting to see how different his fighting style is from Felix’s, though you notice some similarities. 

Like how he plants his feet firmly after each right hook. Like how he leaves his left side open and unprotected after he bends his leg to connect his knee to your abdomen. He isn’t expecting your kick or the force behind it and it knocks him backwards. He regains his balance quickly and doesn’t completely fall, much to your chagrin, though the look of shock that crosses his features tells you all you need to know. You’re starting to get good. 

“You’re observant,” he points out. “That’s really good. That will make up for your lack of strength. Fighting is equal parts brain and brawn, you know. You’re good at using your brain to your advantage.” You remember that Changbin is one of the best fighters in the house other than Felix so you don’t take his praise for granted. 

“Thanks,” you say. “You’re strong, you know.” 

“So I’ve been told,” he laughs. “It’s a part of the job. I haven’t always been like this, though.” You try to think about a younger Changbin, weak and scrawny and you almost laugh at the thought. There’s no way. 

“Any reason why you decided to bulk up? Besides the job, obviously. It’s just, your physique isn’t something that someone would get for the sake of a job,” you smile. 

“What can I say,” he shrugs. “I had people to protect. I was weak and people took advantage of that, so I became strong. I wanted to become feared, let people know not to mess with me or the people I love, and what better way to do that than to look the muscular, intimidating part?” You ponder his words, not missing it when he said he had people to protect. You wonder where they are now. You wonder how he got here, even, but you don’t ask. You think there’s a lot more to Changbin that meets the eye. “Are you done already?” He asks after a beat. 

“No, I don’t think so,” you say, changing the subject. “Felix was starting to work with me on self-defense tactics to get out of a restrictive hold. Can you help me?” He quirks his brow in surprise. “Shouldn’t Felix help you, then?” 

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m not here with Felix right now, I’m here with you.” 

“Fair enough,” he mutters. You give him a small grin. Somehow, your stress has melted off of you in waves and you’ve almost forgotten what has gotten you so worked up in the first place. Changbin does a good job of making sure your focus is entirely on him, no distractions evident when he pulls you into a chokehold from behind. It’s not tight or malicious, but effective in its purpose as a demonstration. “This is one of the most common restrictive holds,” he explains. “Tell me, when I pull you in from behind and my hands are wrapped around your neck, what is your first instinct?” 

“To try to pry your hands away from my neck,” you respond. 

“Good,” he praises. “That’s what you want to avoid. Think about my body, behind you right now. What do you have open? What do I have open that you can attack?”

You mull his words over for a second, becoming hyper-aware of his body behind you. If both of his arms are around your neck, that means his torso is free. You could easily swing an elbow back and try to make contact with his ribs. Thinking about a previous lesson with Felix, you consider the more vulnerable areas of the body. The face, the neck, and the groin. 

“My legs are free,” you answer. “I could swing up a leg from behind and hit you in the groin.”

“That’s right,” he says. “Anything else?” 

“Your face? If I swing my head back hard enough, I should be able to smack you right in the nose. That’s enough to throw anyone off guard.” 

“Are you sure you even need me to show you how it’s done?” he teases. “Let’s practice now.” 

You’re not sure how long you and Changbin spend in the gym, but you feel thoroughly spent by the time you’re through. Your muscles ache, you’re dripping with sweat, and you’re out of breath so you decide to call it a night. As you leave, you have a lingering question you decide to share with Changbin. 

“What do you know about knives?” you ask. 

“Knives?” he questions, his brows furrowing and causing a crease to form on his forehead. 

“Yeah, knives,” you respond. “Daggers, blades, stabbing–” 

“I know what you’re talking about, smartass,” he interrupts. “Just… why?” 

“I’ve been thinking about learning how to use a weapon,” you explain. 

“Yeah, I don’t think knives or blades are a good idea, then,” he tells you. 

“What? Why not?” you all but shout. “I thought I was making some serious progress!” 

“I’m not denying that,” he argues. “Your skill definitely exceeds what I would consider a beginner, and that’s amazing given how little time you’ve had. It’s just that knives make for a horrible beginner weapon. For one, you need to get close and personal with your target. That’s not ideal; if you hesitate, they can easily overpower you and stab you instead. Second, stabbings are messy. You can’t half-ass shoving a knife into someone–you have to do it with as much force as you can and into a vital spot. If you’re using a knife to protect yourself, you need to do it with the intent to kill. Best case-scenario, you’ll need to stab them multiple times in order to really do some damage. Not to doubt your capabilities, but do you really think you can do that?”

You blanche. You suppose he does have a point there. 

“You’re better off learning how to use a gun. Sure, if you’re really in a pinch a knife will do the trick, but you’re better off shooting and giving yourself the opportunity to run. That stamina you’ve been building up doesn’t have to be for show, you know.” 

“So you’ll teach me how to use a gun?” you question, trying not to seem too hopeful. 

“Me? God no,” he laughs a little too loudly. “I prefer to use these as my weapons,” he says, flexing his biceps and kissing them to further prove his point. You can’t help the laugh that escapes your chest at his actions. “If you want to talk to someone who knows guns and weapons, you’re probably better off talking to Jisung about them. He knows a little bit about everything. Plus, he definitely has the best aim. He’s your man,” he tells you, closing the door to the gym behind him. He wishes you a goodnight and leaves you in the hallway. You decide it’s too late to talk to Jisung about it now, and instead decide to grab a cup of water from the kitchen. 

As you reach the cabinet to grab a glass, you see a shadowy figure that nearly has you dropping the glass and jumping out of your skin. 

“Fuck!” you whisper-shout, clutching your chest. As your eyes adjust to the light switch that has just been flipped on, you’re met face-to-face with Seungmin. 

“Hey,” he greets nonchalantly. 

“You scared me,” you accuse. He shrugs his shoulders as if to say, ‘whatever, not my fault.’ You’re reminded of the fact that you haven’t exactly had ample opportunity to talk to the man. He’s just sort of been around. 

You turn on the faucet and fill up your cup, trying to even out your breathing. 

“He’s going to be upset, you know,” he says. He sips on his own cup of water, staring at the floor and for a second you’re sure you misheard. Did he actually just speak to you?

“Who?” you question. 

“Felix,” he answers without missing a beat, like it’s obvious. 

“What? Why would Felix be mad?” The stress and anxiety has already come back, bubbling inside your chest. 

“You went to the gym without him,” he says. “With someone else, actually.” Confusion spreads across your features. So… not only does he know that you were just at the gym with Changbin, but he’s also aware of the fact that you’ve been practicing with Felix? How does he know so much!? You scoff and turn around, water in hand as you pay him no mind.  

“Felix can be quite jealous,” he adds as you leave the room. You roll your eyes. 

The world seems to be plotting your demise, you think. Of course you run into Felix on your way back to your room, spilling your water on him in the process. 

“Shit,” you cry, face flushing up in the process. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” he says. “No worries.” You don’t look at him and push past politely, trying to open your bedroom door when he calls after you. 

“You went to the gym,” he says. It’s not a question, merely a statement that he has observed. 

“I did,” you confirm. You think about Seungmin’s words and consider leaving it at that, but you decide to try to confirm his statement. “Changbin was just helping me spar.”

You hide a smirk when you notice Felix freeze. “You went… with Changbin?” he asks, distaste laced in his voice. 

“Yes,” you say, deciding to push him further. “Is there a problem with that?” 

“Not at all,” he says, feigning a smile. “I’ll take it you’re feeling better, then?” 

Right. You had told him that you were still feeling ill, so it probably comes across as rude to turn around and immediately go with someone else. 

“I tried to rest,” you tell him. “Sorry. I was feeling antsy and didn’t want to bother you. Changbin just happened to be there.” You don’t want to tell him that you really didn’t want to spar because the thought of close proximity to Felix made your heart flutter against your better judgment. 

“I see,” he nods his head in affirmation. “Next time, feel free to come and get me. You know where my room is, right?” You realize you don’t know where his room is, and he must recognize your hesitation. “Look–I’m three doors down. Do you see that white door on the right side of the hall? That’s me, so next time make sure you come and get me, okay?” You confirm that you will and you close your door, slumping up against it as it shuts. 

He did get jealous. Maybe Seungmin is more observant than you had realized. 

You fall asleep quite fast after your shower. That ugly feeling you worked so hard to work off earlier remains stagnant in your gut but you do a good job of ignoring it. You sleep through the night, body sore but full of food and content with the progress you’ve been making. You don’t have any nightmares, though your sleep is interrupted in the morning by a rapping on the door. 

It’s daytime by now, evident by the light shining through your windows but you still groan nonetheless, swinging your legs over the bed and letting your body carry you to the door. Swinging it open, you’re surprised to see Jisung standing on the other end of the door. Wearing a blue and brown striped sweater with large, thick-rimmed glasses, he looks very domestic which catches you off guard. 

“Morning,” he says with a smile. 

“Morning…?” you answer back, stretching into a yawn and rubbing sleep from your eyes. 

“I came to get you for breakfast,” he says. “Chan sent me.”

“Of course, Chan sent you,” you say with a sigh. “Give me one moment.” You close the door behind you, getting ready by changing into more presentable clothes and washing your face. You brush your hair back and suppress a yawn, thinking that coffee might do you some good. Opening the door again, you see that Jisung has waited for you. 

Walking to the kitchen together, you decide to talk to the man. “I have been meaning to ask you something,” you tell him. 

“Oh?” he asks, eyes shooting open and mouth widening into a small ‘o’ shape. He looks reminiscent of a chipmunk and it’s quite endearing–you find yourself wanting to run your fingers through the curly locks on his head that further drives the image. 

“Yes, Changbin was telling me that you might be able to show me how to use a gun?” you ask, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

“Absolutely,” he says. You try not to look too surprised–that’s it? He’s not going to ask why or what for? “Want to stop by my room after breakfast?” 

“It might be closer to lunch, but that would be great!” you tell him. You actually have a busy morning planned out: a meeting with Hyunjin to pick out a new book, and training with Felix. You feel hopeful now, though, that on top of all this strength and stamina you’ve been building up, you won’t be so defenseless after all. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Your plans get foiled pretty quickly, as Felix tells you he can’t help you train today. He’s getting sent out with Hyunjin and Seungmin for a mission, one that he can’t fully disclose to him. You don’t give him any signal that you’re slightly relieved, unsure how to deal with all the tension that’s been building up. 

But that also means that you won’t get a chance to visit Hyunjin for your book. So, Jisung it is. After breakfast he’s kind enough to lead you to his room, seeing as you weren’t exactly sure where it was anyway. 

You’re not super surprised to see that his room is messy, as you sort of get that vibe from him that it would be. Piles of clothes are strewn about, some water bottles and dishes piled on his bedside table. He opens up a large wooden armoire with no clothes in it, instead filled with a large metal safe. He takes a moment to make sure you aren’t looking before inputting a code, the metal door whirring and swinging open. 

Guns. Lots of them, though you probably couldn’t identify which kinds there are, there are many of varying lengths and sizes. Some look more expensive while others are covered in grime and rust. 

You sit and watch as Jisung explains the very basics of even using a gun, including how to load it, how to hold it, and what not to do with it. He tells you to always act like a gun is loaded, even if you know it isn’t; you should also never aim it at someone unless you’re doing so with the intent to shoot at them. He talks for a bit about basic shooting techniques, as well as how to handle the recoil of a gun after shooting it with a good-enough stance. You honestly feel like your head is about to explode from this overload of information but you’re grateful for it nonetheless; you definitely feel like you know more than enough about how to shoot after your conversation with him. 

“You’re smart,” you tell him. “You know so much about guns. That’s awesome.” 

He blinks at you owlishly. “I guess so! I wouldn’t call myself smart. I’m useful. Minho’s always been the smart one,” he laughs. “When you have nothing good going for ya, you kind of have to find a way to the top. Make yourself useful somehow. I’m not book-smart, so this? This is what I’m good at. It’s all I’m good at.”  The statement settles uneasily in your stomach. This is all he thinks he’s good for? Nobody has ever told him otherwise? That can’t be right. That’s probably how he ended up here and your heart squeezes, but before you can pry further or refute his claims, he’s speaking again. “So, did I do a good job? You think you sort of understand what you’re working with now?” 

“I’m more of a hands-on learner,” you explain to him. “Is there any way I can practice shooting?” 

“Oh yeah, for sure!” Jisung exclaims. The two of you walk outside and you see the makeshift shooting range he has set up. He sets up a stack of cans on a table and guides you to stand about twenty feet back. 

He presses the gun into your hands, cold and foreign to you even though you just sat through his entire demonstration. You have half the mind to think he’s far too trusting of you, but you know realistically he could disarm you faster than you have the mind to aim and pull the trigger at him. 

He walks through the basics with you again, showing you exactly how to stand and posture yourself. He makes you unload and reload the gun a few times as well, that way you’re comfortable and familiar with the mechanics of it. 

You miss the first few times. Maybe the first twenty times you shoot. But Jisung is surprisingly a really good teacher–constantly correcting you or giving you helpful feedback. The first time you hit a metal can, you practically shriek with joy. 

You hang out with Jisung for a few hours. By the end of it, your ears are ringing despite the earplugs he encouraged you to wear, and your arms are worse for wear after holding the weapon. 

You take a nap at about 4pm but wake up in time for dinner. You’re hungry due to the exertion of the day and you decide to indulge yourself at dinner, eating more than your share. If Chan notices he doesn’t say anything. 

That night you hear when Seungmin and Hyunjin return from their mission. You listen for the low timbre of Felix’s voice but you don’t hear it. You want to see him, you decide, only for your peace of mind. You come up with the excuse of wanting to train despite it being a bit late and your body still sore from your earlier activities, but your body carries you down the hall to the white door only three doors down. Your knuckles wrap softly against the wood and you shift nervously from side to side waiting for his answer. 

When Felix opens the door you find yourself blinking and ogling. His hair is sweaty against his skin, pulled up into a messy half-up half-down ponytail. He dons a white tank top, showing off his beautifully well-built arms. 

“Y/N?” he questions. He leans against the doorframe, tilting his head to the side to look at you. “What’s up?”

“I… uh, I was wondering if you wanted to train? Me? Train with me?” you say, stumbling over your words. He cracks a small grin. 

“I’m not feeling the best at the moment and I was hoping I could rest for a bit, if that’s okay. Rain check our rain check?” You nod, looking him up and down before you realize something–he’s clutching his side. 

Felix moves his body slightly out of sight so that you can’t see but you push into his room. He doesn’t stop you. 

“Felix, what’s wrong? Show me,” you demand. Sighing in defeat, he lifts his hand away from the spot on his side. You notice the blood seeping through the fabric, staining his hand when he pulls it away. “Felix, what the fuck? Is that your blood?” 

“Don’t freak out… but I may or may not have gotten stabbed.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: next mini-member chapter this wednesday, and it's one of my favorite ones so far hehe (sorry about the cliffhanger)

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[saccharine-dreamer]

All-In 2025 Autumn/Winter Collection

[seijorhi]

"probably" nooo ushijima 😭

Do you think reader would fear him the most out of the three? since his first assault was so sudden and arguably the most brutal

(btw been reading this as a bedtime story for a few days now, am i fucked)

lumping these two together cuz they're kinda on the same lines.

honestly, there are no good options here. outside of a rut ushijima isn't quite so brutal, but he is still fucking huge. he might be more conscious of making sure the reader's prepped and he's not hurting her or going too fast or too hard. once he's actually inside her, however, he tends to... forget that. oops.

semi can be cruel. semi likes to be cruel. overstimulation, hauling her back onto his knot when she tries to get away. he fucks her knowing it hurts, she's not ready, she's already had too much. chokes her on his cock and threatens to knot her mouth, just to see those pretty, teary eyes go wide with panic.

tendou is a beast of his own. never satiated, he's obsessed with marking her – with teeth and cum that drips from every abused hole. he'd rub it into her skin like lotion, mark her clothes with it. actually, if he had it his way (and he does) he'd eat her out and wear the scent of her pussy like cologne. it takes very little to set him off and have him bending her over to rut into her like a man possessed. filthy animal <33

[vc55bughead]

HONEY.

LOVE.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 16

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: Back again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You fall back on your elbow, your other hand entwined in Bucky’s hair. Your spine curves and your heels dig into the bed frame. You pant and pout around pathetic whimpers. The sensation coiling at the tip of his tongue has you frantic. 

You’ve never felt anything like this. Raw, rattling, almost ravenous. It’s both too much and not enough. Your nerves scatter and your skin tingles. Your arm collapses and you reach for him with both hands, clawing at his thick tresses. 

He brings your legs over his shoulders and drags you closer. He buries his face between your legs, the shirt crumpled up along your stomach. As you writhe and whine, his hand crawls up your torso. He slips his fingers between two of the buttons and covers your tit. He teases your nipple with his roughened fingers, adding to the storm brewing in your core. 

You tense as your breath traps in your chest. You buck suddenly as you unfurl. Your hips twitch on their own as you shove his head down instinctively and squeeze him between your thighs. You rock through the intense eruption of hot and cold. 

You sigh and squirm as he slows his tending, spreading his tongue wide and drag it up your folds. Your grasp falls away from him and you brace the bed as you heave. He lifts his head from between your legs, petting your thighs as you tilt your chin to see him. 

He licks his lips, his beard shining and wet. You gasp and try to sit up. He keeps hold of you as you babble. 

“Oh, gosh,” you realise how exposed you are. 

You reach down to cover your pussy and he nips at your hand with a snarl. You recoil and he presses a kiss to your tuft of hair. He winks as pulls away again. 

“That’s mine, baby,” he snarls. “All mine.” 

You squeak and prop yourself up on your elbows, your thighs clench again. You are overly aware of your body and his control over it. Even down on his knees, he has all the power over you. 

You look around, your mind foggy as the heat slowly dissipates. You try to sit up but can’t as he keeps you trapped. He purrs and nuzzles your pelvis again. 

“Bucky, I... I should go--” 

“Doll,” he rests his chin just below your stomach. “Aren’t you comin’ today?” 

“Coming... where?” 

“Aside from on my face?” He chuckles and you put a hand over your face to hide from him. 

“Don’t--” you squeal. 

“You taste sweet, baby,” he growls. “Like those strawberries you smell like.” 

“Please--” 

He sighs and flutters his fingers down your legs. He gently unhooks them and moves off his knees. He sits beside you and tuts as he tugs down the tails of the shirt. He keeps his hand on your pelvis. 

“You said you’d come meet Mrs. Rogers. She’s a nice lady. She’ll like a girl like you,” he drawls. 

You sit up and plant the heels of your hands in the mattress. You look up at him, “when... uh...” 

“He’ll want to be at it early.” 

“Oh, but... my mom. She won’t have seen me.” 

“Tell her you doubled back. Home after her, gone before her,” he caresses your cheek. “You gonna leave me high and dry?” 

“Well, uh, no, but...” 

“But you got your family and a big heart in that little body,” he tickles along your neck. “Well, doll, I don’t think you realise, I’m asking you to come meet my family. Steve and his ma, they always took care of me.” 

“Oh, well, uh, of course, I don’t want to... I just...” you look down at the sleep-wrinkled shirt. 

“Don’t you worry. I always get you something nice to wear, don’t I?” He purrs. “I take care of my baby, just like she takes care of me.” He curls his finger over the top button of the shirt. He tugs it away from your chest and peeks down it. You gasp but don’t stop him. “You wanna take care of me?” 

You bat your lashes in shock. After what he just did, it doesn’t feel right to say no. But you’re scared. The only time you ever saw a man like that, a whole lot of trouble happened after. That reminder makes you shudder. 

“You want me, don’t you, doll?” He asks. 

His tone makes your heart crack, just a little. How can you not want someone like him? You should, right? You should be grateful for every single thing he’s given you and he hasn’t asked too much, has he? 

“I do, Bucky... what—what do I do?” 

He grins and bites his lip, “wanna hop in the shower?” 

You nearly choke. The shower? That means... you’ll be naked. 

“Together?” You squeak. 

He laughs and angles his head with a smirk, “well, yeah.” 

Your mouth falls open. You’re speechless. You sit up and touch your cheeks as they scald. 

“Look, doll, I’ve been—I'm being patient. But you gotta give a little. Starting to feel a bit... like you hate me or something.” 

“No, that’s not it,” you reply sharply. “No, it’s just... you can’t laugh at me.” 

“I wasn’t laughing at you like a joke, baby.” 

“That’s not—when I... if I’m naked, you can’t...” 

“Laugh?” He blurts out. “Why would I laugh?” 

You nibble your lip, “because, er, because, I... I’m not... not a model or whatever. I got... I got... marks and stuff.” 

“Marks? Ah, doll, no one’s perfect. How many times I gotta tell you that I want you. Every part of you. Marks and stuff and all.” 

You look down and shrug. You want to believe him but there’s parts of yourself that not even you can accept. It’s a lot to ask of him. 

“Alright, I’ll go first,” he swings up to his feat easily. “Look--” 

He rips down his boxers and you nearly scream. His... thing bobs up, hard and rigid, and he puts his hands on his hips. He doesn’t really have anything to be ashamed of. His entire body is toned and perfect. 

“Sorry about him,” he looks down. “He won’t stop but he likes cute girls.” 

You giggle, out of embarrassment and genuine humour.  

“Well, er,” he exhales, “do I just stand here until I’m thoroughly humiliated or...” 

You hold your hand up. You can’t speak. You have to put all your focus into what you’re about to do. 

You push yourself off the bed and look him in the face. That lasts for a split second before your gaze falls to his chest. His perfectly buff chest. 

You pinch the top button of the shirt and unhook it. You quiver and do the next. Then the next. All the way to the bottom. You clasp the fabric and steel yourself. 

You strip off your sole layer of defense. You let the sleeves fall to your wrists and blanch. Before you can cover yourself, Bucky grabs your arms. 

“Don’t, doll. Let me have a look...” he breathes. “You’re perfect.” He brushes up your shoulders. “You get that? Everything about you, perfect. For me.” 

You try to smile but it’s brittle and shaky. You shiver and let the shirt drop to the floor. He slips a hand down your arm and takes yours. He tugs you with him. 

He takes you to the bathroom and draws you inside. He lets you go and reaches into the large shower to twist the faucet. You keep your eyes on the tile as you resist the urge to look at him. 

He nudges you in ahead of him. He pulls shut the transparent glass door behind him and traces his fingertips up your back. He turns you to him. You stumble and collide with his muscular stomach. He cradles your face and bends to kiss you. 

He crushes your lips, then your cheek, your forehead, and back around. He rains down on you like the hot water. Steam rises around you as his touch creeps down your throat. 

His hand stretches across your neck as he keeps you close. He smothers your mouth and his tongue invades. He growls into you as his thumb presses against your throat. You feel fragile in his grip. 

His other hand finds yours and he brings your palm to his stomach. He urges it down and angles it around his dick. You flinch as he closes your fingers around him. He doesn’t let you go. He backs you up against the wall and slides your grip up his length. 

He brings it back down as he detaches from your lips and rests his chin on your head. He puffs as he leads you up and down, from tip to base, shaking with each stroke. You press your other hand to his chest as he uses your touch. 

You stare at the rivulets of water dripping down his torso. You feel yourself getting slick at the reality of what you’re doing to him. He squeezes your throat until you can only get a wisp out. You latch onto his wrist and whimper. What is he doing? 

You’re terrified. If he squeezes any tighter, you won’t be able to breathe. He’s choking you and he didn’t even ask. 

He grunts and his hips jerk. Your eyes flick down as he quakes and ribbons of cum erupt from him, streaking down his length and your hand, a little up your arm, even a fleck on your stomach. You rasp in his grip as you struggle to draw in air. 

He slows your motion and ease his hold on you. His hand slips down to your chest and he fondles your naked tits. He drags his thumb down to wipe away the cum just beneath and he snarls. 

“Let me clean you up, doll.” 

You can do nothing. You still feel the weight of his grasp on your neck. You’re sure he just got carried away, that he didn’t mean to do that, but you feel as trapped in your own body as you did his grip. 

He moves you away from the wall. He grabs an ivory scrubby from a hook and uncaps the shower gel. He starts with your neck, spreading the lather to your chest. He pays careful attention then draws the curves of your sides and swirls around your stomach. You waver but don’t move. 

He gets to your toes and makes you turn around. He comes up your legs and jiggles your bum in his large hands before scrubbing it. He goes up your back as your skin speckles with goosebumps. 

He brings you to face him again and pushes the loofah into your hand. He lifts it and puts it along his neck. He steps even closer. 

“Your turn, baby,” he lets you go and pets your sides.  

You move your hand mechanically as he pets and prods you as you clean him. You work over his thick arms, his muscled chest and torso, watching how he tautens and breaths. You get to his pelvis and pause for just a moment. He’s twitching again. 

You wash him without thinking. He turns and you make quick work. As quick as you can. Then he lets you rinse off.  

“Doll?” He grits as he rinses, brushing his hands over his chest. “You okay?” 

You flinch, keeping from touching your throat, and nod. “Yes, Bucky, I’m... fine.” 

He sighs, “was that too much? Baby, I’m sorry. I just... needed you to touch me.” 

“No, it’s... it’s not,” you lie. “It’s only... my first time doing that.” 

“Mmm, I’ll slow down. Alright?” He comes closer and cups your chin. “You want me to do some more to you instead?” 

“Let’s just get ready,” you murmur. 

He lingers. His hand stays on your chin and your pulse tempos in your throat. Right there. He could do it again. 

“Not until you look at me,” he says. 

You do as he bids. You look at him and force the tension from your expression. You reach up and wiggle your fingers to hide the tremble in your hand. You touch his bearded cheek and make yourself smile. 

“Sorry, Bucky,” you stand on your toes. He bows and lets you kiss him. 

He pulls away and chuckles, “Sorry? For what? For being too sweet to resist?”  

Your hand drifts down his neck and falls away. You lower your lashes, “I just don’t want you to be unhappy with me.” 

“Never. As long as you’re with me, as long as you’re mine...” he rasps. “I’ll be the happiest man alive.” 

You turn your face away and let the water pour over you from the large shower head. It’s a welcome distraction from the anxiety boiling in your stomach. You didn’t believe him before. You didn’t listen to him. Everything he said over and over. It still seems so ostentatious, but you can’t deny what’s right there in front of you. 

He’s saying it and now you’re hearing it clearly. You’re hearing him and all the times he didn’t hear you say ‘no’. You really aren’t like the others. He isn’t going to let you go like the others before you. 

And unlike them, you don’t have the power to resist him. 

[downrightbooks]

Jennifer has heard my prayers

I’m screaming, crying, throwing up 🤩

WE FINALLY GET THE NATURALS IN HARDCOVER

AND ITS A SPECIAL EDITION AHHHH!!!!!

[bloodwrittenletters]

FALL IN LOVE

pairing . . . michael townsend x fem!reader

the cassette playing . . . i told you things! gracie abrams

the letter reads . . . comforting the boy who owned your heart turned out to be harder than catching a serial killer.

warnings . . . tiny bit of angst, mentions of blood and injuries, one curse word, some suggestive comments.

a/n . . . sooo... I know I should be posting something else, but this lovely boy has been consuming my thoughts, so for now, michael townsend everyone!! I love him so much. I just had to write this, this sorta contains spoilers (?) so if you haven't read the naturals, be aware!! i tried to make it as tiny as possible, but yeah, it's still a spoiler 🫡🫡 enjoy! 🫶

@reidsglasscs shout out to the angel who told me to pick the series, i love you so much my lovely girl

it seemed almost impossible how he couldn't stay still. michael had been hurt, like, seriously hurt. his body had been home of two bullets for what seemed— at least to you, years.

you weren't even there to witness the whole thing, but the moment you had catched a glimpse of your boyfriend's body with blood leaking out you had been hysterical.

in a snap of a finger you were breaking down, trying to fight away every single person who got in your way to find michael, and cursing every single person that ever wronged your boyfriend— because it seemed like the most rational thing to do in your breakdown of desperation and worry.

that had been almost five weeks ago. now, your brain was worried about him not staying still for a moment.

"michael, please, lay down," you tried to coax him into the bed, following him easily through the house as he limped.

because he refused to use the dammed crouches.

"oh, please, dove, i'm gettin' sick of laying down," he threw you a smile, stopping for a moment before turning to the stairs.

"michael alexander thomas townsend, don't you dare!" your voice was loud and threatening, yet this only amuses michael.

he stops in his tracks and glances you through his shoulder, and your eyes catch on the almost invisible amused smile.

how mean of him.

"what? you gonna spank me for being bad?"

the brunette boy laughs when a pink hue invades your cheeks at his comments, and he almost, almost turns around to listen to your order.

he is one step closer to the first floor of the house when your voice stops him again.

"go back to your room, townsend."

there was a beat of silence where michael's actions twitched, like he was doubting if it was wise to listen to you.

"... no."

"michael," you pressed more firmly this time. "go back to your room."

he sighs. "yes, ma'am. going to my room."

he hops the step back and extends his arms towards you, asking for help. you huff, before walking until he hugged you tightly, his arms falling and melting around your body.

"you're taking advantage of this."

"yes, i am." michael's head dropped to your shoulder. he gave you an apologetic smile before kissing your cheek and taking back the arms that tangled around you, his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing gently over your nape as he helped himself hop back with your body.

"you shouldn't have left your crouches aside," you complained, hugging his waist close as the two of you slowly moved back to michael's room.

"i gotta get used to not having them," he sighed, leaning down to have his face closer to yours. "i can't depend on them forever."

"you're being stubborn," you huffed. "your wounds aren't even healed yet. you don't need to limp and hop around like a bunny with a hurt arm and leg to seem tough."

michael huffed, holding you a little more tighter, resting his chin on the crown of your head.

the two of you got to his room and pushed inside. when you tried to leave michael back in the safety of his bed, he dragged you down with him. making you lay under him, only to lay his head in your chest.

his ear listening closely to your beating heart.

"don't pout, tough guy, y'know you can be yourself around me," you said gently to him, one hand going to curl into his hair and the other to caress his back. "you don't gotta act cool, i know when you're bothered by things."

michael's eyes trail up to meet yours. his hazel irises make you melt. he smiles.

"you're not angry at me," his fingers play with a strand of your hair. "ya love me."

"of course i do, silly." you sighed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "but—"

"you worry too much," michael grumbled, dropping tiny kisses around your chest and shoulder. "hmmm, yeah, you're getting frustrated."

his thumb rubbed the tiny frown in your forehead, trying to ease it as he teased.

"don't you read me," you grabbed his hand and pushed it away, intertwining your fingers. "idiot."

michael giggled, shifting to lay fully atop of you, mocking the little gasp your body crafted. "i'm wounded, dove. you can't call me an idiot when i'm wounded."

"yet you can worry me? that's not fair."

michael rolled his eyes, pushing your hair away from your face.

"life's not fair, dove. grow up."

you scoffed, and before you could speak, he took the words from you.

"tut, tut," he stopped, tapping your forehead with his index finger. "you don't get to fight me right now, pretty girl. suck it up because i am deeply hurt."

"michael."

"hush, buttercup," he smiled devilishly. "the only reason i can heal is from kisses from my sweet dove!"

"you don't listen to your sweet dove," you hissed.

"yada, yada, kiss."

you sighed before cupping his cheeks and bringing his lips to yours, melting into his embrace.

you pulled away. michael pouted.

"you give me one more and i start using my crouches again."

"deal."

[cowboyshit]

[notbbyaj]

#need