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#so she can continue complaining
nostalgia-tblr · 4 months
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u kno, idk if i said this here but "sylki" sounds like a women's shaving product to me. specifically a women's one, it'd be some pink thing that costs about three times as much as razors aimed at men but i'm not even sure if it is a razor, it might be some weird cream that doesn't work or an odd hi-tech gadget that doesn't work, but the point here is that it definitely sounds like the name of a product that a) is pink, b) costs too much, and c) is demonstrated in repetitive annoying ads by women who already lack body hair so why are they even using a sylki on that body part in the first place eh?
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yesokayiknow · 25 days
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cannot believe that in 2007 the eighth doctor adventures writers just decided to put toxic yuri in their show. they did that for me
#not me going insane over 2 minor recurring villains#but literally what the fuck is going on with the headhunter and karen#what if an amoral assassin and a normal office worker decided to become partners on a whim & now they time travel and commit crimes together#like what?????#the headhunter could not give less of a shit about other people and doesn't think karen is useful at all and yet just keeps her around#and karen's like yeah she hates my guts and also she makes me kill people. it's a laugh though can't complain#and i'm just meant to be normal about that?????? huh???????#also the way they both just flirt with lucie every time they see her is so funny#karen's like hey babe!!!! how are you!!!! do you want to join us!!!! while holding a knife to lucie's neck shdjshs#while the headhunter's like ah lucie miller the thorn in my side [saves her life] this means nothing [saves her life] you disgust me [saves-#doctor who#big finish#i've finished s3!!!! whoop!!!!#my thoughts are why does lucie miller keep getting turned evil and can it keep happening bc it's hot. who said that#my only issue with this format is that it's very adventure based. which yeah it's called the 8th doctor adventures#but i wish there was more breathing room for lucie. the doctor keeps being all sad (fair his life is awful) but lucie's going Through It#and never gets a chance to really process anything#also the retroactive continuity errors make me laugh#'i'm 900 years old' no the fuck you're not! you still have the time war yet buddy!#i like to think they're just signs of 8's swiss cheese memory#i hope there's books set in this era. i'm sure nobody will be able to tell me bc they gave up 20 tags ago agdkhsjshsjs
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Hello I have a question since I have no idea what's going on.
I finally watched Tales of the Jedi a thought it was great. Got me right in my feelings and more excited for the Bad Batch.
But there seems to be a lot of Filoni hate and I think I missed something. I mean what happened to in Filoni we trust?
Filoni happened, too many times.
TOTJ was pretty good on the whole, but what's been bothering people more and more is how comfortable he's gotten with treating Star Wars like his own personal sandbox. Characters he's a fan of get the spotlight even when they shouldn't, and he lets his biases and preferences shine through instead of sticking to the movies or even TCW s1-6. It was fine when he wasn't implicated in just about every piece of SW media that's being released, but now his vision is everywhere, unrestrained, and if you're not an absolute fan of said vision you quickly get fed up - which is what happened imo, at least in my corner of the fandom.
I don't hate the dude, but I really feel like his writing deserves all the pasta nicknames and 'Darth Felonius' jokes people can come up with.
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ragingtwilight · 2 years
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my cat when i come up to pet her: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!! MURDER!! MURDER!!!!!! STAY BACK!!! BACK!!!!! NOOOOOO MY CHIN!!! STRANGULATION!! DEATH BY STRANGULATION!!!!! THE PAIN!!!! THE AGONY!!!!!! MERCY!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOO NOT MY EARS!!!!!!!!!!!
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novadreii · 1 year
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1000-2000 of my daily steps tracked on my phone come from just pacing my apartment when I'm thinking, scrolling, watching YouTube, and talking on the phone in my free time.
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edgelordtozier · 2 years
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st fans on tik tok are so incredibly dumb it’s so frustrating
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gardenhotspot · 2 years
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mothers are so 😶
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shoveitevil · 13 days
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god. why does no one care about me in this damned house
#two days of hanging out with childhood friends having the best fun I’ve had all holidays just to be ruined by my brother#my god#firstly you have a complete fucking meltdown right before we’re supposed to leave despite you having a full 6 hours to prepare while im#in a rush to get in the car 10 mins after waking up because my mum didn’t wake me up#then you make us call you because you were feeling left out despite you specifically saying you didn’t want to hang out with these people#then the next day you agree to go and immediately start insulting me for laughs and then hitting me with hard plastic when I respond#you continue to do things to the rest of us and then complain when we do the same#eventually going to mum and conveniently ignoring any part where he hit me#then you act moody the rest of the damn day watching youtube and then say all that time watching YouTube was stressing you out#then I get home after a 40 min drive of josh crying over some unexplained problem with all the “stress” on his face leaving immediately#my mum asks me why I wasn’t feeling the best and I explain all the shit that josh did to me#and then she has the nerve to stay “why have you stayed so mad about this” as if josh doesn’t constantly pull this shit#apparently she thought all the times we didn’t fight were just normal?? as if I don’t have to constantly walk on eggshells around josh#and I had to explain how I constantly had to comprise for him and how I just for once wanted to have fun with my friends#and even then we constantly invited him to play with us#and then refused to#the two hour later I decide for once in my life to be vulnerable with my dad and get on the verge of tears explaining how I’m treated by jo#and how despite doing the actual limit to what I can mentally handle to appease josh he still treats me like dogshit#and he decides to make this about him and his brother and how their relationship worked#and then told me basically that my brother will never leave my life and I have to stay with him forever#I love my mother#My father and my brother not so much#but when it’s not about josh getting a pinprick and having to cancel a 2 week holiday#it’s about mum and dad and how they are going through a rough patch and constantly have to let us know#the only time it feels like I’m paid any attention to at all is when I’m with my sisters or I get a grade back#ughhhhhhhhhhhh#vent
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laurasimonsdaughter · 5 months
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Picture this: Dragons using their caves to age cheese. Dragon Cheesemakers!!
The dragon coiled his enormous body, completely blocking the entrance of the tunnel that lead to the caves.
“No,” he snarled, smoke pluming from his nose.
The cheesemonger pinched the bridge of her own nose. “Look, I explained this to you at the start,” she tried once more. “I make cheese.”
“Yes,” the agreed, nodding his scaly head.
“Then I bring the cheese here.”
“Yes.”
“Then you store all the cheese in your cave, keeping it at the perfect temperature and humidity.”
“Yes.” He sounded particularly proud of this part.
“And then when the cheese has ripened,” she concluded. “I come to pick the cheese up again.”
A thunderous scowl clouded his maw. “No.”
“But that’s how it works!” she cried in exasperation. “I make the cheese, you store the cheese, I sell the cheese, I make more cheese!” She peered up at him. “You do realise I cannot bring you new cheese until I have sold this cheese.”
The dragon considered this for a moment. “Ah, but what if—” he began. “What if you go and make more cheese. And bring me the cheese. And I put it in my cave, with the rest of the hoard. And then I keep it there forever.”
“No,” she said flatly.
It was remarkable how much a dragon could look like it had just swallowed a lemon.
“You can’t keep cheese forever,” she insisted. “It will spoil and go bad!”
“You said it would get better and better!” the dragon roared indignantly. “And I take good care of them! With the air flow and the humidity and the temperature!”
“And that is great,” she said, trying to smile through her frustration. “But when a cheese is ripe, it’s ripe! Then you should not be kept anymore, it should be eaten.”
The dragon scraped it’s formidable claws against the stony ground and sulked.
“Look…” The cheese mongering business did not tend to require a lot of sweet-talking, but she was making an effort. “I’m sure the cheeses that aged in your cave are the best cheeses people have ever tasted. When they find out how delicious they are they will want us to make loads more. Maybe several caves’ worth!”
The reptilian eyes stared at her with disgruntled, reluctant interest. “Several caves?”
“If we’re lucky! And I could make so much cheese that I could bring you new cheese as soon as I pick up the aged cheese. Your cave would never even be empty!”
This seemed to strike a chord. The dragon lifted his head a little.
“And that would really be much better for the rest of your hoard,” she continued with fresh inspiration. “Because if you leave cheese too long, it might go bad and spoil the cheeses next to it too!”
A nervous ripple went through the beast’s scaly body, but he clearly was not convinced just yet. “But what sort of a hoard is it if I have to give it away,” he complained.
“Well! Cheese is not just any old hoard! It’s a developing creation! And you will have a hoard that is constantly developing too. Constantly changing, but, if we do this right, never shrinking.”
The dragon looked at her solemnly, wavering with uncertainty. Perhaps she shouldn’t hold it against the poor thing, it must be a difficult concept to wrap his head around.
“And I will tell you what,” she said encouragingly. “If business is good, I can start investing in some really good crumbly cheeses. You can keep those in your cave for five whole years!”
“That is quite a long time for humans, is it not?” he said, sounding a little more cheerful.
“Very long. Especially when it comes to cheese. Cheeses that have been aged that long are very expensive.”
In retrospect, she should perhaps have led with that. Gourmand or not, a dragon was still a dragon after all. A glittering, toothy grin appeared on her recalcitrant business partner’s shout and he moved just enough for her to move past him into the mountain.
“Tell me more about this expensive cheese that crumbles.”
She hid a smirk. “If you help me carry some of the current ones out, it would be my pleasure.”
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AU where Jason comes back to Gotham and begins his plan to confront Batman and all that. Except after only like a week the Joker gets hit by a bus and then shot by a little old lady with a shotgun and dies.
Jason’s plan is now in shambles because the dramatic climax of his plan is no longer possible. But that’s fine. He’ll think of some other suitable alternative. Granted, it’s not quite the same if he uses some other villain. Making Batman choose doesn’t mean nearly as much when it’s not about the person who killed him.
And really, is he going to try and get Batman to kill Black Mask or something? Scarecrow? Red Hood is competent; he could do it himself so why bother.
So Jason lays low continues to build his criminal empire with astounding speed and efficiency. If only he could think of a good way to announce his return. Nothing he can think of is dramatic enough.
Meanwhile, the Bats are freaking out because who is this guy that’s taken over half of the Gotham underworld in like a month? He’s obviously trained, but they just can’t seem to get any information on who he is or where he came from. It is beyond frustrating.
After a few months Jason is frustrated that he just can’t seem to find any dramatic good way of making Batman prove himself. It has to be something big! Something magnificent!
During his weekly chat with Talia he complains about his problems and she suggests he come back for a visit. He argues that he can’t just leave, but she says if he has competent enough lieutenants it’d be fine. He spends the next three weeks making sure that everything will be fine if he leaves for a week. He will not have all of his hard work falling apart and going to waste due to incompetence. Absolutely not.
So then once his lieutenants are sufficiently prepared (and the rest of Gotham’s criminal element sufficiently cowed), he heads to Nanda Parbat, only to find Ra’s on the phone with Bruce, who is demanding to know if the Red Hood has any affiliation with the league.
Oh. Oh. He can give them affiliation.
A new plan begins to form.
He’s going to be the most affiliated he can be. Jason immediately goes to Talia with his newest plan: Overthrow Ra’s and takeover the league. Talia whips out her forty step outline for overthrowing Ra’s and tells Jason she’s so proud of him.
Jason has a new goal now, so he gets to work. He checks on things in Gotham, but everything seems to be fine and there haven’t been any unplanned explosions so it should be fine if he stays here for a bit.
Taking over Gotham really was good practice, as it turns out. Thanks to Talia’s plans and previous foundational efforts the takeover happens in no time.
Meanwhile the bats are still freaking out. Red Hood hasn’t been seen in three weeks, he may or may not have league of assassins connections, and even in his absence his goons seem to be managing things competently.
Back in Nanda Parbat, Jason and Talia finish their takeover. And now, finally, he’s ready to confront Batman.
He arrives in Gotham as the new head of the league. His arrival is loud, elaborate, and dramatic enough to fulfill his inner theater kid’s dreams.
Batman is speechless. And not his usual grunts instead of words, but actual surprised speechless. Jason is alive?!?!?!?
Jason was not expecting all the tears. And hugs. And mother henning. Goodness gracious, this was not part of the plan.
Bruce is obviously struggling with Jason’s revelation that he took over the league, but the newest little birdie seems almost relieved at that(?) and Dick and Alfred both seem strangely proud. Whatever. Even Bruce seems to be at least mostly ignoring that for now.
Then someone asks him if he knows Red Hood. Jason blinks. Says that yeah, he knows Red Hood. Everyone seems to ease at that. One mystery solved. Jason quickly realizes that most of them have no idea he is Red Hood. Cass seems to be the only exception but also appears amused and willing enough to not mention it.
Dramatic appearance complete, Jason now has a new goal: see how long he can keep the bats (minus Cass and potentially Alfred) in the dark about his crime boss identity.
He will bribe Cass as much as it takes to keep her on board with the causing chaos plan, but she seems eager enough. Favorite sibling status definitely unlocked. (The whole killing thing is fought over at great length and a truce of sorts is eventually made)
David Cain is never heard from again.
Damian shows up at some point.
At least one league member has suddenly found themselves as an HR rep for Gotham criminals? They’re still not quite sure how that happened.
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omgeto · 8 months
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☆ THREE ISN'T A CROWD — SATORU & SUGURU
summary: your best friends, geto and gojo, rail you in a hotel bed. that's it. that's the fic.
cw: afab!reader, finger fucking, unprotected sex, double penetration so mdni !!
an: I wrote this whilst drinking a big fat cup of tea, and eating a packet of stale biscuits. so no angsty romance today, just two besties appreciating you in their own special way. it is 5:40 am so I did not proof read this so ignore mistakes pls <;33
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gojo and geto were mischievous on their own accords – but when together it was worse. so when you were sandwiched between them in your hotel room, since of course there was only one bed, you weren’t even surprised.
“this is not fair,” gojo mumbles, his lips curling into a mock pout as he exhales a huff of air. 
“oh don’t be a baby,” geto scolds, with a chuckle . gojo and geto bickered over who got to sleep where and after a lengthy game of rock paper scissors – it was gojo who had to face the wall. “you’ll get your turn soon.” you could feel geto’s breath on your neck as he was placed firmly behind you, his hands stuffed in your pants as his fingers caress your wet slit. 
“don’t be mean sugu,” you chastise, your hand trailing up gojo's back to his shoulder to turn him over, facing you, “there’s enough of me to go around.” gojo is needy, pressing a feverish kiss to your lips, wanting to taste all of you.
gojo didn’t think his plan would work, when he proposed it to geto he was swift in his agreement — the only thing left was you. their pretty little best friend. who they've both wanted a piece of, for years.
now that he’s got you, he couldn’t contain himself – if he wasn’t careful he knew he’d be cumming in his boxers too soon. he latches onto your neck sucking and biting his hands grabbing onto your tits, tweaking and pinching at your nipples.
“you’re hogging her,” gojo complains, as his fingers slip down to your cunt. geto adds another finger spreading your lips wider as gojo’s forces his fingers into you. they were both rubbing your pussy. your wetness making it easier for gojo to piston in and out of you and for geto to stroke and flick against your clit with his thumb.
“g-guys fuck, you’re both too much,” you whimper,  your hips thrusting towards gojo, slotting onto his fingers further. geto’s slides his tongue from your collar bone to your jaw before his hand grips onto it, his lips remain at your ears as he whispers, “you gonna cum for us baby?”
“yeah c’mon make a mess for us,” gojo adds, continuing his pattern of rubs and pushes in your pussy, its almost as if he’s committed the rhythm to memory. he was effortless in working with geto, both aiding each other to help you reach your climax. geto pinches your clint, hard, and you spray both of their hands with your cum – squirting all over them.
gojo’s eyes widen at the sight, “shit, i didn’t know you could do that” he exclaims, taking his fingers out of you, examining them as they glisten with your juices, “suguru, did she know that she could do that?”
geto ignores him, rolling his eyes at his friends over excitement, “wanna be wowed even further, taste her, i bet she’s sweet.” before gojo could comply you take his fingers in your mouth, practically choking on them as you suck off all your juices. 
“you taste good don’t you?” geto muses, pressing a kiss to your neck, you nod dumbly as you lock eyes with gojo still nibbling on his fingers. 
“hey suguru, can we try something with her,” gojo proposes, and geto nods, prompting him to continue, “i wanna stuff her. i want both of us to stuff her. 
“we can make that happen, can't we?” geto smirks, rubbing on your ass giving it a light smack, “come sit on my dick, i’ll take of you.”
“what about me?” gojo whines, groaning as you're pulled away from him and on top of geto. 
“you’ll get yours in due time, satoru,” geto scolds, taking out his dick giving it some light pumps before rubbing it across your slit. you force yourself down on him, your hands clawing at his chest as you push it down. you were already gushing at the feeling of geto inside of you, filling you whole. so the idea of having them both in you had you excited, grinding down onto geto’s dick as hard as he was thrusting into you.
“are you seeing this?” geto asks gojo, gesturing to the way your head was thrown back and your lips were clenched in your teeth, “the way our pretty friend here is all strung out on my dick?”
gojo’s eyes were focused on the way you bounced repeatedly on his best friends dick, furiously pumping his as the sight. the way your grabbed your tits and played with your nipples, moaning to the beat of geto’s thrusts, he knew he needed to be inside of you. 
he gets out of the bed, coming to kneel behind you, peppering kisses along your spine. “i think theres room for me, isn’t there?” he jests, slightly pushing you forward, eyeing the way geto’s dick slides in and out of you. 
you take a shark inhale at the feeling of gojo entering you, “you’re good,” geto reassures, “you can take us.” and you moan as you get used to the feeling of the both of them, their dicks rubbing together as they drive into you, instantly finding a rhythm. 
“you feel so fuckin’ good, w-way too good,” gojo moans, holds you from behind, his chest presses against your back, his hands cupping your boobs as his head rests on your shoulders. 
“‘m close,” geto mutters, smirking at the sight of you, the feeling of you. “you gonna let us cum inside of you? really keep you filled up.” you moan out in agreement, your head felt so foggy with the feeling of them both charging into you. geto gives gojo a knowing smile, and as if on cue, they both load into you showering you with their cum. you finish at the same as them with a high pitched moan, releasing onto them, feeling stuffed with all their cum, and yours, resting inside of you.
“now that,” gojo pulls out of you, pressing an appreciative kiss on the corner of your lips before collapsing on the bed with a blissful smile, “was fucking magical.”
“yeah i guess it was good,” geto chuckles, still inside of you, kissing you on your forehead, his hand slinging over your ass, as you slump on top of him, “how are you feeling?”
“you two are exhausting,” you joke with a smile, “but i can see why i kept you around as my friends.” although this was something that you yourself didn’t plan, you weren’t gonna deny that being freshly fucked and laid up with your two best friends wasn’t all that bad.
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AN: I think you can see my heavy bias for geto come thru in this fic but oh well DIVIDERS BY @/CAFEKITSUNE I wrote this more for time than anyone else tbf BUT TELL ME WHAT U THINK since I am iffy on my smut skills
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queers-gambit · 8 months
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Curiosity Killed The Cat
prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.
pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Marvel
word count: 5.1k+
note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.
warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.
browse the Clingy Baby collection masterlist here
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Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.
You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.
Rooted.
But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.
You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.
This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.
You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?
Curiosity, indeed.
Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...
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"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."
"And the jalapeños?"
"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."
"Cream cheese?"
"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."
Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."
"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"
"Lemme pick you up."
"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."
He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"
"Let's do a white tonight, please."
"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "
"Hang on," you pleaded.
"What's wrong?"
"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"
"We haven't been to Paris in months."
You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."
Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."
"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"
"So, is that a yes?"
"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"
"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"
"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."
"I'll bring the camera."
"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"
"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.
"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"
"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"
There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "
"It's 15," he growled.
"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."
"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "
"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."
"Don't hurt her - "
"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."
The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.
He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).
For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.
"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."
You sniffled, unable to respond.
He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"
You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."
The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."
"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."
"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."
You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.
At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.
"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.
"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"
You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.
Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.
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And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.
You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.
Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.
Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.
So now... To hear this... You were devastated.
You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.
You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.
"She's different, man."
"How so?" Sam wondered.
"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "
"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.
"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."
"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.
"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."
"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."
"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"
Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"
"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."
"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."
"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.
"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."
"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."
"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"
There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.
So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."
"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"
You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.
"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.
"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"
"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."
"Peach - "
"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.
"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"
"Sure."
Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"
You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.
Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.
Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?
You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"
"Out with Nat," you eased.
He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"
"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."
His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."
"I know."
"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.
And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.
When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."
The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.
You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.
Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.
Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.
Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.
After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.
"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.
"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.
"What?"
"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"
"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."
"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"
"About...?"
"Me."
"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."
Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.
"Huh?" Nat wondered.
"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.
"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."
Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"
"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"
"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."
"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.
"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."
"Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."
"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."
"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."
"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."
"They can take it."
"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"
"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.
"Bucky," she growled.
He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."
"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."
"Why lie, then?"
"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."
"No shit."
"Well, did you get into a fight?"
"No."
"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"
He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."
"You had to do something."
"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."
Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"
Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."
"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."
"I didn't mean - "
"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."
Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"
"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"
Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.
The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.
Clingy...
You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...
His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.
When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"
You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.
He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."
"I'm here."
"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.
"What's wrong?"
"You. You're what's wrong."
"What the fuck does that - "
"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."
You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.
"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "
"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."
"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."
You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "
"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."
You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."
"It's not."
"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."
He nodded, "What else can I do?"
"Nothing - "
"Peach."
You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"
"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.
"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"
"All right... Sure, okay..."
"And face masks."
He sighed, "Okay."
"And mani-pedis."
"Baby."
"You said you were making it up to me, right?"
He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."
"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."
"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."
"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."
"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."
You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.
Felt okay.
Appeared okay.
And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.
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requesting rules and masterlist
Marvel masterlist
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rafeandonlyrafe · 26 days
Text
sleepover
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words: 700
warnings: 18+ only, smut, handjob, mentions of blowjobs, best friends brother
“am not.” you complain as rafe tells you you’re too little for what feels like the hundredth time.
“yes you are baby.” he coos out, laughing as you pout.
“you’re like barely older than me.” you argue, grinding your hips down.
“three whole years.” rafe reminds you. the same age difference between him and sarah, afterall, you were her friend first.
“but im not a kid!” your eyes flutter closed as you bounce your body up and down, hoping your movements are enough to entice rafe.
“maybe you need to get your behavior in check before i fuck you.” rafe strokes his cock slowly as you’re sitting on his lap, one of his fingers buried inside of you.
“so im not too little?” you question, gripping rafes thighs as you lean back, body moving in waves as you feel his finger push into you.
“eh.” rafe shrugs. he doesn’t have a good reason why he won’t fuck you yet, why he teases you by making you ride his thigh or suck him off. he likes seeing you impatient and needy, teasing you until you both finally break and rafe fucks you.
“you’re so mean.” you pout, eyes opening to watch rafes hand glide up and down his cock.
you pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you reach forward, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock before grasping it and adding to rafe strokes.
“not gonna get me to fuck you.” rafe smirks, laughing slightly when you wiggle your body as a complaint, clenching your pussy around his finger in an attempt to entice him.
“at least add a second, please.” you wanna prove to rafe that you can take it, that you’re able to fit his cock inside of you.
“whats the point of opening you up when im not gonna be inside of you?” rafe questions, dropping his hand away so you can continue stroking his cock.
“raaafe.” you whine. he laughs at you, but adds a second finger inside your cunt, making you moan as you really do feel the stretch, his fingers pushing against your walls as you grind against him.
“make me cum and i’ll touch your clit too, baby.” rafe huffs out. you sit forward, letting out a gasp when rafes fingers curl inside of you, but you don’t let the rush of pleasure distract you from gripping his cock with both hands, working him up and down near frantically.
rafe wishes his digits weren’t currently thrusting into your cunt so you could bend down and take him in your mouth, but he’ll settle for cumming all over your tits and stomach.
“almost there.” he grunts out, chest heaving up and down as you begin to moan with every push forward of his fingers, your hands tightening on his cock as it swells, and then suddenly rafe is cumming, painting your torso as he groans out.
before his orgasm is even finished, his hand turns so his thumb can rub against your clit, not bothering to be gentle as he rubs harshly against your bud.
“i- shit.” you curse, hands falling away from rafes cock the second it stops pulsing as you lean forward, gripping rafes shoulders.
“cum for me, pretty.” he coos out. “don’t you think sarah is getting suspicious of where you disappeared to?”
you let out a moan at the mention of sarah, hoping she hears and you get caught, wanting to quit hiding what you have with rafe. 
“yeah.” you nod. “yeah-i-im close.” 
rafe is unforgiving with his fingers, pushing them so deep inside of you that your orgasm is suddenly ripping through your body as you cum with a loud shout of his name, slumping forward against his bare chest.
“shh, thats it. i got you.” rafe rubs your clit gently through your high until you’re whining and oversensitive, thighs clenching closed.
“you’re gonna fuck me next time, right rafe?” you question.
“when is your next sleepover with sarah?” he questions, as if you don’t spend every weekend at tanneyhill.
“friday.”
“perfect.” rafe helps you sit up, pressing a kiss to your lips. “sneak out and come to my room.”
“you’re gonna fuck me?” you sit up straighter, excitement evident in your voice.
“no, but you can suck my cock.” rafe chuckles while you let out a frustrated groan.
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