#If you know than you know...and it was YIKES

[yeokii]

KiSS A KiTTY ⠀⠀⠀⠀🧺 a kitty for you ✿◌ֹ 𝑦𝑒𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑖 ⎯⎯⎯ 𝑚'𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗍 ִ⠀

❛ 𝗠𝗘𝗢𝗪! ❜ 🧸 ﹢﹒넌 밤하늘의 춤이 그리 궁금해 ◌ ゛𝗌𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 ─── 𝑓𝑙'𝑜 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 분홍 젤리 all you want to do is to kiss that pout away from jungwon's lips ❨ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 ❩ '

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝑙'𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑒 ── i bet she's silky smooth, and she got attitude. i don't wanna kill it, i wanna kiss a kitty! .⠀ 🎀

'⠀•⠀🧺 ──𝗄𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. ( bfwonie&fmr ) 𓈒 ◌ 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗁 fluff yikes ◞  2OO4⠀╱ 6hun : 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ‧ sulky won / 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 ⋆ ˊ ✿𓍢 𝐖𝐎𝐍 ˋ (⠀𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖽 .⠀) liek&reblog! 𝟢𝟪𝖫𝖨𝖭 ✉️ 𝝑𝝔

🐰 : was clawing my hand writing this im never doing fluff again.

it was cute, really. jungwon had this pout on his face the entire day. giving you small hmph's whenever you look at him and break into a smile. was he mad at you? you could only giggle at his grumpy face.

"baby, what's wrong hm?" you ask him, finally dropping the book you've been reading.

he shrugged, acting like he didn't have clue on what you were talking about.

"baby." you voice sounded more stern making him finally look at you. by now, you've closed the distance between you and him on your small couch.

"well, you should know what's wrong." you could only hear a mumble from him.

you cup his face with one hand and put your other on his lap. what went wrong?

what's gotten this kitty so grumpy?

you giggle at his pout, his lips looked more enticing than ever.

he finally broke, "just say you hate me."

you laughed.

jungwon looked at you in disbelief. you're laughing?

"so this is funny to you?"

not at all. the accusation brought a fit of laughter from you. it was insane that he would think you hated your boyfriend — the only person who'd check up on you whenever you felt down and who would give you endless cuddles even when you didn't ask for it.

you couldn’t ever hate him.

"baby, you’re so stupid." you were straddling him now, looking down at him with a smile. he returned a blush, his skin hot against yours.

"you’ve been ignoring me all day," he said, his hands resting on your hips like they belonged there.

"i’m sorry, wonie. i told you i was working on my project, hm?" by now, he had his face nuzzled in your neck, finally inhaling your scent which he missed all day.

"a kiss wouldn’t hurt. or two."

you ran your fingers through his hair, giggling at this needy boy. "i’d give you a million kisses if you asked."

he pulled away and looked up at you with eyes pleading. "really?"

of course. how could you not, when he was sitting there all cute, puckering his lips?

you leaned in slowly, brushing your lips against his. jungwon’s kitty eyes fluttered shut. your fingers brushed the sides of his jaw. you could hear his breath hitch. you knew he needed more. he needed you.

but you pulled away with a mischievous smile, letting out a small giggle.

"that wasn’t a kiss." his eyes opened instantly, looking betrayed and confused.

"you said you wanted one."

"that wasn’t even a kiss. that was like... cruel." chuckling at his needy behavior as he whined, your eyes kept going back to his lips—the pout he had before returning again.

"wan’ another one," he huffed.

"yeah? and what do i get in return?"

"me."

"i already have you, baby." you smiled at him.

"well, i don’t have your kisses."

cute, you thought.

"awh, well we can’t have that." you finally gave in, pulling him closer and closing the gap between you two.

his grip on your hips tightened immediately, and he kissed you like there was no tomorrow. there was no hesitation like before, no teasing. jungwon melted into the kiss, his lips moving with yours perfectly like he was made for you.

you could tell he had been waiting all day for this.

you pulled away. "happy?"

he nodded. "might need another one," he said before pulling you in again.

tags. @zuyairus @bubblytaetae @yenqa @voikiraz @miumura @haechansbbg @taejaysreads @shinunoga-iie-wa @teddywonss @naespas @isoobie @dimplewonie @jennaissantes @aishigrey @firstclassjaylee @rikislove @hynjinnnnnnnn

⠀⠀𝖺 𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗂 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖽. do not copy, repost or translate my works

[notarmedandnotdangerous]

+18 mdni! watch your mouth; a fic where bucky's your boss, and you're his secretary. he ends up getting himself into a lot of trouble with you.

cw: dom!->sub!reader, sub!bucky, slight somnophilia, use of 'sir', cockdrunk bucky, overstimulation (like 6 times), subspace, shooting blanks, slightly masochistic reader, reader has a pain kink (?), reader passes out

word count: >3k

taglist: @thigh-o-saur (dm or send ask for tags!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 (soon!)

a/n: running out of ideas for the next parts yikes (drop suggestions i am in dire need)

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it was the morning of what was supposed to be day 5.

bucky didn’t mean to disobey you, he really didn’t.

when he first woke up with you still asleep beside him, your cock was thick, and twitching faintly under your boxers. it felt like a gift, a reward. he had done well the night before, hadn’t he?

so when he leaned down, peeled your boxers off just enough for your cock to spring out, it felt right. he pressed a kiss to the head of your cock, shivering at the taste of you. it started slow, he mouthed at the tip, letting his tongue flick over the tip gently, willing you to start drip with pre-cum.

when your eyes fluttered open, there was a soft weight of a warm mouth wrapped around your cock. you barely had time to register the sensation before a slow, wet tongue traced the underside of your cock. you involuntarily let out a moan, you had always been sensitive when you were half-asleep, or tired.

“buck..” you blinked sleepily, trying to lift your head.

when you let out that first gasp, signalling that you were awake, bucky was gone. he didn’t answer, he didn’t even pause. he hollowed his cheeks, sucked harder, and moaned like a slut around your cock like it got him off just to feel your cock twitch in his mouth. his hands were gripping onto your thighs, steady, and holding you in place as he took you down his throat. he wasn’t allowed to touch you like this, especially without permission. but his mouth was so soft, so careful, so wet, and warm.

“you- fuck, you’re going to get punished, you know that?”

all he did was hum against you, he wasn’t opposed to it. it was obvious that he couldn’t stop now. he pulled away just enough to take a breath, before sinking his mouth back down on your cock.

your fingers intertwined with his hair, and pulled him back enough just to look up at you, and speak.

“please, sir. you can punish me later.. just let me make you finish.. you deserve it.”

the sweetness in his tone was so desperate, and so real. you should’ve said no, should’ve reminded him about the rules, but with the way he looked up at you, how could you say no? you gave him a slight nod, allowing him to keep going.

bucky’s mouth returned instantly, much more determined now.

“buck..” his tongue dragged along the underside of your cock, and you forced yourself to hold back from whining. “s-slow down..”

but he didn’t hear you, or maybe he did, and he just chose to not obey. it wasn’t because he didn’t want to be good, but because his mind was fogged, full of the way you tasted, and the raw need to satisfy you.

you were pliant underneath him, legs trembling faintly, cock twitching in his mouth, and that just made him more determined than ever.all he wanted was to hear your raw moans, you didn’t seem like the vocal type, and boy were you about to surprise him.

“fuck, you’re going to-”

he hummed at just the right moment, sending vibrations running through your cock. his tongue teased, and stroked that spot under your tip, again, and again. it was getting to be too much.

“oh, god- fuck!.. mmph..” you had tried to pull back, warn him, but you came down his throat with a sharp gasp, hips twitching. it was unsteady, sudden, and intense, considering you were extra sensitive in the mornings. your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to process the overwhelming pleasure.

he swallowed your cum, moaning softly, and letting you jerk your hips into his mouth as he let you ride out your orgasm.

when you opened your eyes again, he was still in between your legs. he didn’t stop, didn’t flinch. if anything, he leaned in closer, trying to take more of you in his mouth. he looked up at you with blown-out pupils.

you were still catching your breath, when he continued his ministrations on you. his tongue teased under the head now, and your hips twitch uncontrollably. he pressed your hips down with his hands, keeping you in place,

“buck- bucky, you can’t.. g-give me a second.. ”

bucky doesn’t hear you, he’s focused. his eyes flutter shut as he flattens his tongue against your cock.

“b-buck.. you need to stop- fuck, too much..” your voice cracked as you will yourself to not moan.

bucky didn’t register it, not really, not through the thick fog in his mind. he moved slower now, less about coaxing, and more about consuming. you tried to lift yourself up, to look down, and meet his eyes, maybe even ask him to stop, but all you saw was his face slack with focus, completely, and blissfully lost. there was absolutely nothing calculated in his head now, he was moving based on pure instinct.

your second orgasm built out of nowhere, forced by his merciless mouth. you whimpered as it wrecked you. it’s messier, frantic. your voice sounded unrecognizable to you, louder, hoarser, as breathless cries tumble from your mouth without permission.

“e-enough, buck.. please..”

bucky didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. he held you down, drank every last bit of your cum, and sucked you through every twitch, every spasm, not stopping even as you gasped for breath. he was lost in the pleasure of giving, of making you pant, and moan for him. he didn’t care how much he had to make you cum to achieve his goal. two times? three? maybe five?

he let your cock slip from his mouth for a second just to breathe, before dragging his tongue from the base to the tip of your cock once more, all while you, wrecked, and panting, could only sit there and take it.

you didn’t think you could cum again, not so soon, not after two orgasms back to back.

bucky, however, wasn’t stopping. he didn’t even seem aware of what he was doing to you anymore. at this point, it wasn’t skill anymore, it was worship, in its most desperate form.

“b-buck, bucky.. you’re going to.. mm.. break me..”

the sound of your voice barely registered in bucky’s brain. he was locked in that blissed-out haze, his eyes unfocused as his lashes fluttered. he pushed your cock down his throat, just enough for you to feel the tight pulse of it around you. his tongue worked faster now, it was sloppier, but more intense.

“p-please.. i c.. fuck..” you tried your best to hold back, you really did. you had tried everything that you could think of, gripping the sheets, pressing the back of your head into your pillow, tried to breathe as deeply as you could. all your efforts were useless as his mouth was relentless. he sucked with single-minded obsession, tongue flicking at all your sweet spots just right, and it drove you fucking insane.

the overstimulation hit fast. you weren’t used to being wrung out like this, one orgasm after another. you tried to shift, tried to escape, but now his arms have slipped around your thighs, holding you steadily against him. your thighs tremble uncontrollably, either trying to clamp shut or spread wider, because your body doesn’t know if it wants to escape or take more.

it built faster than you expected, a tight coil in your gut. you were oversensitive, overstimulated, yet your cock throbbed.

“fuck, buck- bucky, i..” it was too late. the third orgasm sent vibrations going through your body like lightning, sharp, blinding, and overwhelming. you bucked into his mouth with a gasp you couldn’t contain, and he held you there, the tip of your cock bruising his throat. he swallowed around you.

it hurt, but also felt like heaven.

you were wrecked, mind blank as your cock twitched helplessly in bucky’s throat. he didn’t even pull off of you, just let your cock slowly soften slightly against his tongue.

“t-that’s enough..” you sighed, thinking that you were finally free from this. oh you were so wrong.

he started to mouth at your cock again at your cock with soft, reverent kisses.

your fingers trembled as they tried to reach for his hair, in hopes to push him back. but they barely had any strength, you weren’t in control anymore. you were shaky, and disoriented, it felt as if your limbs were loose. you could barely think anymore. your cock, unbelievably, was still hard, wet from the constant attention, red, and swollen from the relentless use of his mouth.

bucky hadn’t stopped, not even once. he licked, and sucked like it was instinct, like the taste and noises coming from you were the only thing anchoring him to the world.

“buck- bucky.. baby, please.” you reached down again, hand in his hair once more, not to guide, but to try, and pull him off of your overstimulated being. “you have to.. fuck- please, i can’t.. c-can’t..”

as usual, he didn’t hear you. the haze had taken him completely. he was drunk on your cock, lost in the rhythm he had fallen into: swallow, suck, swirl, breathe.

you let out a squeak when he slid you deeper into his throat, it didn’t even sound like you anymore.

“n-no, bucky.. fuck, stop. i mean it! please.. b-buck..” your fingers curled in his hair, tugging with whatever remaining strength you had left. your hips tried to shy away, but he followed your every move. your whole body was trying to retreat from the pleasure, but he was chasing it, chasing you.

his tongue was insistent, he didn’t realise you were at your limit, like your body was something to love until there was nothing left.

it was the fourth that finally broke you. your mouth fell open in a silent cry, eyes squeezed completely shut, legs numb, and trembling on either side of his head, hands gripping onto the sheets like a lifeline. your body slackened all at once. but he was still licking, still sucking softly, and humming around the fading pulse of your cock.

“buck, please..” you tried to reach for him, but he didn’t hear you.

bucky was drunk on it, on your taste, on the sounds that you made, on your cock. he was obsessed with the broken sounds that he could pull out again, and again with his mouth alone. he was so eager to please, but this was him going overboard, he was getting greedy.

your breaths came shallow, and fast. your cock pulsed again. then, with no warning, he swallowed around your cock, tongue pressing hard, and flat, and you came. it wasn’t sharp like before, it was deep.

you felt the world slip. your chest rose, and fell softly. it felt like your arms were too heavy to lift. your voice caught, you were too fucked out to command, to resist. the ache was gone now, swapped out with a humming warmth all throughout your body.

he hadn't even realised you were crying, not until he pulled away, and looked up. and only then does he notice.

your eyes were barely open, pupils blown wide, glassy, and unfocused. your body which was usually tight with control, is now slack.

“sir..?” he whispered, blinking slowly at you. “are you-?”

you were gone, not unconscious, but slipping into subspace. you didn’t answer him.

bucky’s stomach flips, as he finally snapped out of his trance.

“mmh..” you let out a soft noise, which almost sounded like a purr.

“i’m sorry, didn’t mean to- it just- god, you tasted so good, i-i couldn’t help it.. didn’t know you were at your limit.”

you didn’t respond, just gave him a drunken, blissed out smile.

he watched you, examining your body.

you don’t speak for a long time. your breathing evens out first, then the twitch in your fingers fade. the stillness in you was back, but this time different, you were exhausted, fucked out of your mind.

bucky was curled around you now, his hands gentle as he didn’t want to trigger your oversensitivity. he’s been whispering apologies into your ear.

eventually, you stir. there was a low hum in your chest. you blinked slowly, then again. your pupils were still blown, but they’re focused now, trying to remember where he is.

“mmph.. god, what the hell did you do to me..” you spoke, voice hoarse, and slurred from how vocal you were earlier. “d-didn’t.. stop.”

he freezes at the thought of you being conscious enough to punish him.

“i.. i made you cum a lot, too much. i didn’t mean to go that far. you weren’t answering, a-and i thought you were okay- i should’ve noticed- you didn’t stay stop.. i didn’t wanna stop, got lost..”

you cut him off with a quiet, weak huff.

“you’re not.. mad?”

you smiled at him, dazed, crooked, but sweet.

“you trying to ruin me, buck?”

bucky swallows, heat rushing to his face.

“no! i mean- not like that. i just- you were.. you tasted so good, couldn’t help myself.. i was greedy.”

“shh, it’s okay. just.. stay close.. need to feel you..”

he just held you against his chest, heart thudding.

you trembled in his arms, but not from fear. your sobs had quieted, softened into whimpery little exhales that fluttered against his skin. your body sagged in his hold, loose and pliant, boneless from how thoroughly undone you were.

but your hips still moved, just barely. it was a slow, needy grind like your body hadn’t realized it could stop, like it didn’t want to. the tears had dried on your flushed cheeks, but your eyes were still wide and dreamy, glazed with the kind of dazed bliss he had never seen before.

you were floating.

and bucky had put you there.

“still with me?” he whispered.

you made a soft, open-mouthed sound in response. it was something like a moan, something like a yes.

bucky smiled faintly, his heart aching with tenderness. he shifted, just a little, and you shivered when their skin met again.

your cock was flushed dark and spent, but he could feel the twitch of interest there, the stubborn flicker of arousal even after everything.

“god, you’re still hard?” he murmured, half in awe.

“b-buck..” you didn’t blink. your gaze was unfocused.

he leaned in instantly.

“i’m here,” he said softly, brushing sweat-soaked hair from your forehead. “i've got you, you’re okay.”

you blinked up at him, eyes shining, they weren’t just wet, but pleading. a desperate little whimper escaped you.

he thought you were in discomfort, and tried to soothe you.

but you whimpered again. then again, and again, as if something in you refused to be soothed. one of your hands reached down, clumsily, before you dragged your fingers over your own spent cock. it wasn’t to stop the pain, not to soothe it, but to feel it.

bucky froze. “no, no, it’s too much.” he reached for your hand, gently pulling it away. “you’ve already-”

then you sobbed. a full-body, keening cry.

“just… one more,” he whispered. “please.. o-one...”

his breath caught. your thighs were trembling uncontrollably, the tip of your cock flushed an angry red, dripping with more pre-cum. he could still feel the way you twitched with the last orgasm, how your whole body had gone taut. you looked drunk on it. not delirious, not gone, but hungry, masochistic, even.

“what?” his voice cracked with disbelief. “baby, you just came five times. you can’t even see straight.”

you only shook your head, weakly, lips trembling like you couldn’t believe he didn’t understand.

“i don’t care,” you breathed, voice breaking. “it hurts, but it feels so.. good. just.. just one more. I can take it.”

the way you spoke sent a deep, confused ache twisting through his chest.

he swallowed thickly.

he shouldn’t. he shouldn’t.

but you were sobbing, his beautiful, perfect secretary now so ruined you could barely speak, clinging to him with tear-streaked cheeks and shaking legs, as you pleaded with the sweetest desperation. and bucky? he couldn’t bear it. he couldn’t watch you cry and not give you what you needed.

his heart broke and swelled at the same time. he couldn’t say no. how could he? not when you were crying, twitching, helplessly whispering 'please' again, and again like it was the only word you remembered how to say.

his hands hovered over your body, uncertain. he should say no, he knows that you weren’t made for overstimulation, let alone ask for more. you were so far gone, drunk on sensation, hardly yourself.

but then you moaned, soft and keening, hips weakly, and barely rolling up into the air, chasing a touch that wasn’t there. you had resorted to begging with your body now.

"please," you whispered. "please, please-"

it shattered bucky’s resistance.

he slid his tongue down again, barely touching, just enough to feel you shudder and sob. the broken sound that spilled from your lips fueled his ego.

“f-fuck, mmh..” you gasped like the heat of his mouth alone was too much, but didn’t move away. your hands clenched the cushions as his mouth returned, tongue and lips teasing your overstimulated skin.

“yes,” you whimpered, your voice was high-pitched and desperate. “yes, please- i wanna feel it.. make me- fuck, sob on your tongue. want to feel every nerve fry- want it raw, please..” you were rambling now, begging for pain like it was paradise. you sobbed again, the pain laced with pleasure had your body arching despite the twitching, despite how sore you were.

bucky kissed the base of your cock, which was soft, swollen, and aching. even when you moaned from the sting, even when your whole body bucked from the contact, even as you fucking sobbed, he still pushed your cock into his mouth. he sucked gently, taking you in slow, and you broke.

“god, b-buck.. bucky..” your hips were twitching, lips parted on a soundless cry as your head fell back, overwhelmed all over again. you tried to rock, to fuck his mouth in desperate, shallow jerks, while tears streamed down the sides of your face. you were lost in it, totally undone, trembling apart and still trying to feel more.

he swallowed around you, coaxing the pleasure from you like he could give you exactly what you wanted, no matter how close you were to breaking.

“oh my- fuck..” you choked, eyes squeezed shut, wet lashes sticking together. “h-hurts so good.. i love it- buck, i love it, please don’t stop.. just fuck me through it, make it worse- i want it to fucking burn..” you were delirious, lost, while your cock was soft, twitching helplessly, too spent to do anything but leak and ache.

and bucky tried to hold you still, even as you writhed beneath him. he looked absolutely stricken, pulling away just to speak.

“fuck. you’re so gone, look at you.”

you couldn’t look, couldn’t see anything but the bright edges of sensation, couldn’t feel anything but the way he kept giving you exactly what you needed.

“don’t stop- please, please hurt me more- fuck, b-bucky.. it hurts.. don’t you dare fucking stop” even as you sobbed, even as you whimpered and tried to escape, deep down, you didn’t want him to stop.

and bucky didn’t. he couldn’t. he felt the need to give you exactly what you want, to please you.

you were trying to push back into it even as your hips jerked away, body fighting itself in real time. every suck lit your nerves on fire. you were completely undone, but you loved it. you needed it. you were crying like it was torture and grinning through the tears like it was heaven.

“thank you-” you gasped, voice wrecked and face sticky with tears. “thank you, thank you- fuck-” and then the pain hit. you came for the seventh time, with a soft, shattered whine, twitching hard under his hands. you were limp one second, convulsing the next. you shook like a live wire, spasming through it. white-hot. brutal. perfect. it was too much, it was everything. you wailed, fingers clawing at the sheets, body instinctively trying to twist away, bucking, trembling under the weight of it. but you didn’t want to get away, not really.

when you looked down, there was nothing, no cum, just that gut-deep clenching, the flutter of muscles trying to give something that wasn’t there anymore.

“no- no, no..” you choked out, tears spilling harder now. “it’s gone. i-i can’t.. please- please-” you sobbed, not even sure what you were asking for anymore. “more- no, fuck, it hurts. keep going, please..”

bucky held onto you gently as you trembled, the sobs breaking through your chest in soft, shaking gasps.

“it doesn’t feel the same,” you whispered, almost ashamed. “it hurts now. i c-can’t-my body’s too full, but there’s.. mmh, nothing left, it’s not fair…”

he smoothed a hand through your slightly damp hair, pulling you in close as your whole frame shook with overstimulation and the desperate ache of a dry orgasm that didn’t soothe, only teased.

“i know,” he murmured against your temple. “you gave me everything. you did so good, don’t have to take any more.” he kissed your thighs, your hips, your stomach, all while whispering praise in your ear.

you were crying, yes. but you were also blissed-out, and safe.

your breath came in shallow bursts, chest rising and falling even though he hadn’t touched you in minutes. your thighs trembled, splayed open, while your skin flushed a deep pink, a sheen of sweat glistening over your shoulders, and the bridge of your nose. your cock was soft now, finally. just the bare twitch of it against your belly made you shudder, overstimulated to the edge of pain.

still, you tried to move, tried to buck your hips into nothing.

bucky caught you immediately.

your fingers curled into his forearm. “i’m not done,” you slurred, eyes glassy but stubborn. “i can.. can give.. you more..”

“you can’t.”

“i want to,” you snapped, voice hoarse. “i can take it-”

“no.”

you blinked hard, like you were trying to force your eyes to focus.

“just.. just a little more- let me show you.. i swear i can-”

“you’re shaking,” he said, drawing his thumb gently across your jaw. “you’re slurring your words. you’re not even all here right now.”

“i am-” your protest cracked halfway through. your fingers twitched like you were trying to gesture something. maybe to pull his hands, and mouth back to your cock, and then you stilled again.

“if you try to argue again, i’m going to lay you down and hold you still until your brain catches up to your body. do you understand?” bucky pulled you up, letting you lay with your back against his chest.

you were trying to form another word. something needy, maybe even defiant, but your brain can’t keep up. your limbs go slack, trembling. your chest rises like you’re about to sob, or scream, or beg, and then you just slumped into his chest.

your eyes roll halfway back. your head droops backwards onto bucky's shoulder. there was no warning, no dramatics. you were just out. your body isn’t limp like sleep, it’s spent. the kind of collapse where bucky immediately realizes: ‘he’s gone'.

“god damn stubborn." he murmured in an annoyed, but affectionate tone. and in that moment, he knew that he had to be the one to say no, because you wouldn’t stop yourself. he kissed your temple and held you closer, lowering the both of you into the bed.

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part 7

[soupsontheside]

Category is Hange vibing with creachers again

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @kellynickelsgirl00 @dixonsbridexx @yikes-myguy @blackwidownat2814 @euqsia @lliteratii @imadisneyprincessiswear @satata @smashleywow @misspendragonsworld @captain-shannon-becker @i-doutt-it @bookies16 @brianna-merlim @staley83 @oceanticspace @insaneintheemembranev2 @dummylovewp @xmiaacxio @meyukoo @grilka @itsgivingdepression

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TW: walkers (zombies), mentions of starvation and thirst, eating of domestic animals (for survival reasons) character death (mentioned once, offpage) storms, mentions of 'turning blue' in relation to cold.

Part 27

Dead Weight - Part 28

The asphalt stretches endlessly ahead, shimmering with heat mirages that promise water where none exists. Your feet ache in your worn boots, each step a reminder of how many miles you've walked since dawn.

The group moves like ghosts along the roadside, silent except for the occasional cough or shuffle of tired feet.

It's been days since Eugene's confession shattered what little hope the group had left.

Days since Abraham's fists connected with the lie that had driven you all across state lines, chasing the promise of a cure that never existed.

The memory of Eugene's terrified voice still echoes in your mind.

"I'm not a scientist. I don't know how to stop it."

You walk between Carol and Maggie, close enough to feel the heat radiating from their bodies in the oppressive humidity. Maggie's face is a mask of grief and exhaustion, her green eyes hollow with a pain that goes deeper than physical discomfort.

You'd told her about Beth, she deserved to know the truth about what happened at the prison. How Zak had turned first, how Beth had tried to help him, how quickly it had all gone wrong.

"I should have been there," Maggie had whispered, tears cutting tracks through the dust on her cheeks. "I should have protected her."

Now she walks like a woman carrying the weight of the world, each step heavier than the last.

Ahead of you, Rick moves with military precision despite his obvious fatigue, Carl at his side scanning the tree line for threats.

Behind you, Abraham mutters curses under his breath while Rosita tries unsuccessfully to lighten the mood with quiet observations about the landscape.

Tara stays close to Eugene, as if proximity might somehow make his lies retroactively true.

But it's Daryl who worries you most.

He's been disappearing for hours at a time, slipping into the forest that runs parallel to the road with nothing more than a gruff "gonna look for water" or "checking for game."

Carol has offered to go with him multiple times, her maternal instincts picking up on his distress, you'd offered too, but he's rebuffed every attempt.

"Ain't safe for two," he'd said this morning when she'd tried again. "Stay with the group."

The dismissal had been gentle by Daryl's standards, but it was still a dismissal. And Carol, who perhaps knows him better than anyone, had simply nodded and let him go.

Now, as the sun beats down mercilessly and your water bottles sit empty in your packs, Daryl materializes from the trees like a specter.

His crossbow hangs from his shoulder, unused, and his hands are empty of both game and water containers.

"Anything?" Rick asks without much hope.

Daryl shakes his head, not meeting anyone's eyes. "Creek bed's been dry for weeks. No tracks neither."

You watch him as he takes his place in the group formation, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch toward phantom cigarettes.

Since Eugene's lie, he's been different. Quieter, if that's even possible. More prone to those long disappearances into the wilderness.

"We need to find water soon," Glen says quietly to Rick, his voice hoarse from thirst. "Another day like this..."

He doesn't finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to. You've all seen what dehydration can do, how quickly the body begins to shut down.

Carl's lips are already cracked and bleeding. Judith's cries have become weaker, more infrequent.

You fall back to walk beside Carol, matching her steady pace. She glances at you with knowing eyes, reading the worry in your expression before you even speak.

"He's not looking for water," you say quietly, keeping your voice low enough that the others won't hear.

Carol nods slowly. "I know."

"Then what's he doing out there?"

She's quiet for so long you think she won't answer. When she finally speaks, her voice carries the weight of the years you'd shared watching Daryl struggle with demons he won't name.

"Same thing he's always done when things get bad," she says. "Running. Just not far enough to leave us behind."

The truth of her words settles in your chest like a stone.

You've noticed it too—the way Daryl disappears whenever the group stops to rest, the way he volunteers for every dangerous scouting mission, the way he seems to be testing the boundaries of how far he can go before someone calls him back.

"I'm worried about him," you admit, the words barely a whisper.

Carol's hand finds yours, squeezing gently. "We all are."

Ahead of you, Rick suddenly stops, his hand going up in the universal signal for the group to halt.

You crane your neck to see what's caught his attention and feel your heart skip when you spot it—plastic water bottles, dozens of them, sitting in the middle of the road like a mirage made real.

The group moves forward as one, desperate hope overriding caution.

The bottles are clean, the caps intact, the water inside clear and inviting. Your mouth waters at the sight, your body's desperate need overriding the rational part of your brain that whispers warnings.

"Wait," Rick says sharply as people begin reaching for the bottles. "Just wait."

"What's wrong with it?" Eugene asks, his voice cracking with thirst.

Rick kneels beside one of the bottles, examining it without touching. "It's too convenient. Too clean. Someone left this here."

"Maybe it fell off a truck," Tara suggests hopefully.

"Maybe," Rick agrees. "Or maybe someone wants us to find it."

Abraham steps forward, his face flushed with heat and frustration. "We're dying of thirst, Rick. Maybe it's time to take a risk."

"Not this risk," Rick says firmly, standing up. "We keep moving."

The groans of disappointment are audible, but no one argues. You've all learned to trust Rick's instincts, even when they conflict with your most desperate needs.

But as you walk away from the water, leaving it sitting in the road like abandoned treasure, you can't help but look back longingly.

By late afternoon, the group has stopped beside a cluster of abandoned vehicles, seeking what little shade they provide.

You sit with your back against a rusted pickup truck, trying to conserve energy while the sun beats down relentlessly. Your tongue feels swollen, and the constant headache of dehydration pounds behind your temples.

Carol sits beside you, both of you too tired to talk. Across the small circle your group has formed, Carl leans against his father, Judith quiet in Rick's arms.

The baby's silence is more frightening than her crying had ever been.

Daryl crouches at the edge of the group, crossbow across his knees, scanning the horizon for threats that may or may not be there. He's been back for an hour now from his latest disappearance into the woods, and you can see the frustration written in every line of his body.

"Dogs," Tara says suddenly, pointing down the road.

You look up to see a small pack of wild dogs approaching cautiously, drawn perhaps by the scent of humans or simply following the road as you have been.

They're thin, their ribs visible through patchy fur, but they're meat on four legs in a world where both are increasingly rare commodities.

Rick's hand goes to his gun almost automatically. "Sasha."

Sasha nods, understanding the unspoken communication.

Her rifle comes up smoothly, and she takes aim at the lead dog. The shot echoes across the empty landscape, and the dog drops immediately.

The others scatter, but not before Abraham manages to bring down a second one with his sidearm.

"Meat's meat," Abraham says pragmatically as he approaches the carcasses. "We can cook them properly."

You stare at the dead animals, feeling your stomach rebel despite its emptiness. They look too much like pets, like the dogs you remember from the world before.

The thought of eating them makes bile rise in your throat.

"I know they ain't what we're used to," Daryl says quietly, appearing beside you as if materializing from thin air. "But Abraham's right. We need the protein."

You look up at him, taking in the concern in his blue eyes, the way his jaw is set with determination. He's trying to take care of you, you realize. Trying to make sure you survive even if it means doing things that go against your nature.

"I can't," you whisper, wrapping your arms around your knees. "I know it's stupid, but I just can't."

Daryl crouches beside you, his presence solid and comforting despite the circumstances. "Ain't stupid," he says softly. "But you gotta eat something. Been days since we had any real food."

"I know," you reply, your voice barely audible. "I know you're right. I just...can't."

He's quiet for a long moment, watching as Abraham and Glen begin the grisly process of field dressing the animals.

"Let me cook it. Won't look like nothin' you recognize when I'm done with it."

There's something in his voice that makes you look at him more closely. An urgency that goes beyond concern for your immediate well-being.

Like he needs to do this, needs to take care of you in this small way because there's so little else he can control.

You nod slowly, not trusting your voice. Daryl's hand finds yours, squeezing gently before he rises to help with the preparation.

An hour later, you sit around a small fire Abraham built in the shelter of the abandoned vehicles. The smell of cooking meat fills the air, and despite your earlier reservations, your mouth waters involuntarily.

Hunger, it turns out, is a powerful motivator.

Daryl hands you a piece of meat wrapped in a mostly clean cloth, the meat cooked beyond recognition as promised. "Small bites," he advises quietly.

"Been too long since you ate. Don't want y'gettin' sick on me."

You take the offering, noting how his fingers brush yours as you accept it. The contact is brief but warm, a small anchor of human connection in a world that seems increasingly inhuman.

The meat is tough and gamey, nothing like the meat you remember from before, but it's protein and calories and life.

You force yourself to eat slowly, following Daryl's advice, while around you the others consume their portions with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Not bad," Abraham says, though his expression suggests he's trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

"Better than nothing," Maggie agrees, though she only picks at her portion.

As you eat, you become aware of Daryl watching you, his own meal seemingly forgotten.

There's something in his gaze that makes your cheeks warm despite the circumstances—concern, certainly, but something deeper too.

"You need to eat too," you tell him softly.

He nods, finally taking a bite of his own portion, but his eyes never leave you. Like he's memorizing this moment, storing it away against some future need.

The first drops of rain begin to fall just as you finish eating.

At first, it's a blessing. Cool drops on overheated skin, the promise of water to refill your empty bottles. The group scrambles to set out every container they have, to position themselves to catch as much of the precious liquid as possible.

You tilt your face skyward, letting the drops hit your parched lips, your closed eyelids, your tongue.

Around you, the others do the same, a moment of shared relief and gratitude.

But the relief is short-lived.

The drops become a steady drizzle, then a downpour, then something approaching a deluge. Within minutes, you're soaked through, your clothes clinging to your skin, your hair plastered to your head.

The temperature drops precipitously, turning the blessing of rain into a potential death sentence.

"We need shelter," Rick shouts over the sound of rain on metal. "Now."

Lightning flashes across the sky, followed by a crack of thunder that makes everyone flinch. The storm is directly overhead and showing no signs of moving on.

"There's a barn," Daryl calls out, pointing through the rain to a dark shape in the distance. "Maybe quarter mile back."

Without discussion, the group begins moving toward the structure, hunched against the driving rain. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, but it's already soaked through, providing no warmth or protection.

Within minutes, you're shivering violently, your teeth chattering so hard you feel you might bite your tongue.

The barn, when you reach it, is a godsend. Old and weathered, but structurally sound with most of its roof intact.

The doors hang slightly open, creaking in the wind, but there's no sign of walkers or other occupants.

Rick and Daryl clear the interior quickly while the rest of you huddle just inside the doorway, water streaming from your clothes to pool on the dirt floor. The barn is empty except for some old hay bales and farming equipment covered in rust and decay.

"We'll wait it out here," Rick decides, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "Get dry, get warm. Storm's got to pass eventually."

But even inside the barn, the temperature continues to drop. Your wet clothes feel like ice against your skin, and the shivering that started as an annoyance has become painful, your muscles cramping with the cold.

You find a spot against the back wall, trying to curl in on yourself for warmth, but it's no use.

The cold has settled into your bones, and you can feel your body temperature dropping dangerously.

Carol, ever maternal, gives your arm a gentle squeeze. “C’mon. Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”

You nod, following her and Maggie to the far side of the barn where the group has dumped their packs in a heap—somehow, between the three of you, you scrounge up some worn shirts and pants sweats that might not be the best fit but will at least keep people dry.

Around you, the others are in similar states—Rosita wrapped in Abraham's jacket, Carl pressed close to Rick's side, everyone seeking warmth wherever they can find it.

Across the barn, you see Daryl duck into one of the old animal pens, carrying a handful of dry clothes, his crossbow slung across his back even now. Always armed. Always watching.

When Daryl returns, he’s drier but rumpled, flannel sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He doesn’t look at you at first, just shrugs off the weight of his bow and glances around the quiet corner where you've settled in your own dry clothes, your hair still dripping despite you having squeezed out most of the moisture.

"Hey," Daryl's voice is soft, concerned, as he settles beside you. "Y'turning blue."

You try to respond, but your teeth are chattering too hard to form words. Daryl mutters something under his breath—probably a curse—before making a decision that would have seemed impossible months ago.

"C'mere," he says. "Body heat. Only way to warm up."

You don't hesitate, moving into his embrace without a second thought. His body runs warm, and the heat of him seeps through you gradually.

His arms come around you tightly, one hand rubbing up and down your back to generate friction.

"Better?" he asks after a few minutes, his breath warm against the top of your head.

You nod against his chest, finally warm enough to speak. "Thank you."

Around you, the others have formed similar clusters for warmth—Carol, Maggie and Glen huddled together, Rick with both his children, Abraham with his arm around Rosita. Survival trumps social conventions in times like these.

But there's something different about the way Daryl holds you, something that goes beyond simple necessity.

His embrace is protective, possessive almost, like he's shielding you from more than just the cold. One of his hands has moved to cup the back of your head, fingers tangled in your wet hair, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

"Storm's getting worse," Glen observes, looking toward the barn doors where rain continues to pour in sheets.

"We might be here all night," Rick agrees grimly.

The prospect should be daunting—a night in a strange barn, shivering from cold, with limited supplies. But wrapped in Daryl's arms, listening to the rain on the roof and feeling his warmth gradually chase away the chill, you find yourself thinking it could be worse.

Much worse.

"Get some rest," Daryl murmurs, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "I'll keep watch."

"You need sleep too," you protest quietly.

"M'fine," he insists, though you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. "Just sleep."

You want to argue, but the combination of warmth, exhaustion, and the steady sound of rain is making your eyelids heavy. Despite everything—the hunger, the thirst, the uncertainty of tomorrow—you feel safe here in Daryl's arms.

As you drift toward sleep, you're dimly aware of Daryl adjusting his position to make you more comfortable, of his hand continuing to stroke your hair, of the way his breathing gradually synchronizes with yours.

[little-miss-cherry-cola]

Okay okay, I know the whole “doll” thing is big in Bucky Barnes fanfic. Some people love it. Some people hate it.

I happen to love it. Not only because I love pet names—within reason. none of that baby cakes shit eek—period, but because LISTEN.

“Nobody actually says that.”

It depends where you live because I live in the US south (yikes, I know), and I have ABSOLUTELY been called *doll, sweetheart, sugar, darling, etc. very regularly. Not by handsome men who are saving my life, mind you, but by the generations who would have been flirting in the mid to late twentieth century.

Now, I’ve never been to the northeast, so I can’t say for sure how accurate this is for New York. However, I have also lived in northern California, and while it’s not as prevalent there as it is here in the south, it was definitely still a thing. And given that norcal is even farther than New York, I’d say there’s a decent chance.

So yeah, I’d put money on a guy from the forties—especially one who made an active effort to flirt and now probably tries to hold on to whatever good memories he has—using those specific terms of endearment.

*and its derivatives dolly and dollface

[firstelevens]

wip whenever

tagged by the homie @philtstone for a wip wednesday, but what is time, really? next chapter of the d&d au is kicking my butt so instead here's a bit from a silly F1 AU entry that exists mostly because I mentioned the idea to Emma in passing and they went 'okay but you do need to write that tho' and then it was law no pressure tagging @sambambucky @sesamestreep @iasmelaion @abarbaricyalp @yikes-homie

When Bucky comes downstairs, he's expecting to hear any number of things: Sam singing along to the radio while he dances around in front of the stove, Riley excitedly naming everything he can see in the kitchen, Freddie asking for a special breakfast since she doesn't have school today.

What he isn't expecting is for Sam to turn to him, clearly mid-phone call, and ask, without preamble: "Hey, how do you feel about us hosting a wedding?"

His voice is almost casual enough to get away with it. The ‘sounds fine’ is just about to come out of Bucky’s mouth when he stops and absorbs Sam’s words for longer than a second, and then twenty years of being intimately familiar with Sam's shenanigans makes Bucky narrow his eyes in suspicion. "Us hosting a wedding when?"

Sam gives him a sheepish-but-regrettably-still-cute smile and pours a cup of coffee, holding it out to him. “Have some coffee, baby; you must be tired.”

"Sam," Bucky says. "When would this wedding be?"

"You want some cream for that?" asks Sam, like he didn’t hear the question. "We remembered to buy half-and-half, right?"

Bucky doesn't look away from his husband. "Samuel."

Sam sighs. "Tonight. The wedding would be tonight." Then, like he somehow doesn't know that Bucky would do just about anything for him, he adds, "It's for Ty and Tandy. The FIA's giving them a hard time, and now they're making noises about non-fraternization paperwork and negating points because of a conflict of interest, and Tandy may have said something in a meeting about being engaged, and now they need a reasonably real-looking wedding as soon as possible."

Bucky closes his eyes and slowly exhales, then opens them and turns to look at Freddie. "It's a good thing we love Daddy so much, huh, Honeybee?"

Freddie giggles. "Uh-huh," she says, fervently nodding, then echoes the sentiment that Sam and Bucky repeated to her a thousand times when she was younger. "What would he do without us?"

"Throw weddings all by himself, apparently," says Bucky, and stands there patiently as Sam throws a triumphant fist in the air and presses a smacking kiss to Bucky's cheek.

[fastfists]

Honestly, as someone who owns a lot of the Archie comics (one day I'll go through them and sort them proper), anytime Pender wrote for any character was yikes. The ladies especially.

[genshin-impact-updates]

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[misspermitted]

I’m on board with the “Adar was/is Celeborn” theory purely because I want this crack exchange -

Adar/Celeborn: You cheated on me with Sauron!

Galadriel: Well you also cheated on me with Sauron so the scales are balanced

Adar/Celeborn: What?? In what-

Galadriel: You left me, your wife, for 1000 years, to have a family and children with him

Adar/Celeborn: Okay, well, you fell in love with him. Which means you weren’t even in love with me in the first place. Which is worse

Galadriel: YOU LITERALLY HAD HIS CHILDREN

Adar/Celeborn: You married me for all eternity wiTHOUT EVEN BEING IN LOVE WITH ME

High King Gil-Galad, to Elrond: Still think he’s fake and they’re not married?

Elrond: Oh no, I take it back, they’re definit- oh my god Galadriel do not challenge him to a duel there is nothing wrong with your womb gods above

[madtomedgar]

I think it would be just and proportionate and funny for a Mexican director and producer to make a campy movie musical about social issues in France, include no French people in the production at all, write the movie in Spanish and then have someone translate it into French, and then cast like. Someone from Belgium or the French speaking part of Switzerland and someone from Senegal for Authenticity, and film the entire thing in Mexico except for the 50 establishing shots of the Eiffel Tower.

[ingravinoveritas]

wtf is that all she has to say about her boyfriend michael fans praised him more than. so is this her saying the show phenomenal or her boyfriend cos honestly this chick don't make sense what ur thoughts on this post

Hi there! And oh, wow. I've had a little time to process this now that I'm home, and I think the biggest thing that comes to mind is how this Insta story feels so...obligatory, and the bare minimum. As you said, it's not clear whether Anna is talking about the production itself or Michael's performance, and there is hardly any energy or enthusiasm to the post, especially not compared to the multiple posts AL made about Photobombing Michael J. Fox at the BAFTAs.

It becomes even more noticeable when you look at it next to the Insta story that Georgia posted:

Georgia and David didn't even attend the show tonight, and yet they hyped Michael up in a way Anna did not. You can feel the warmth and silliness and love in how they're rooting for him and cheering him on--David, in his manic Scottish way, and Georgia in her more sarcastic/dry English way--and how they seem genuinely excited for Michael. Yet I got absolutely none of that from AL's post.

All of the above is augmented by the choice of pictures in the post, with David and Georgia's photo centering Michael, literally and figuratively. He is the focus of the picture and of their attention, and the message there seems to be that Michael is what David and Georgia are most excited about. In contrast, the picture AL used is of a nearly empty dimly lit stage with a hospital bed on it, and I do not think that is by accident.

As I have said previously, my reaction is never to any one post in isolation, but to the continuation of a pattern of posts/comments from Anna over the course of several years. The same thing happened when production photos were released of Michael as Prince Andrew a few months ago, and when he played Chris Tarrant in Quiz in 2021:

AL hated the wig then, and my feeling is that she hates the wig Michael is wearing now, as well as the pyjamas that are his costume for a significant portion of the play and how he looks in them. I think that she does not care at all about the play itself or its significance to Michael, and has no desire to hype him up because his appearance in Nye is not what she considers "attractive." In addition, a fan posted stage door pictures on Twitter, including one with AL, and it seems to very much echo the lack of enthusiasm in her Insta story.

So yes, I think AL's post seems very generic (at best). It makes her come across as disinterested and somehow "removed" from both Michael and the show itself, again in contrast to David and Georgia's picture that conveys the exact opposite.

Those are my thoughts, at any rate, and I could be completely off the mark, but as always I'd be glad to hear from my followers about what you think. Thanks for writing in! x

[thats-how-i-like-it]

hi, here's a little vijinx - another love (tom odell) edit (feat. caitvi)

[bisexualalistairtheirin]

Genuinely, shit like this is why blame can't be solely put on EA's doorstep for how the game turned out

I've already seen people defend this as "he misspoke" and this is just not true. I was scared they would do this to Davrin as soon as I saw Assan and the hype about what a cute little critter he was... well, apparently he was given more care and thoughtful consideration than his caretaker.

[kookiecamera]

Please please please can we get the three of them in more scenes together. Marvel I am in your walls😳

[tonicitaa]

post jesus christ superstar depression...

[front-facing-pokemon]