#but i was sure there had to be a product behind this and there was
Note
imagining a situation where for whatever reason you absolutely need to be sat on the ghoul’s lap (like, due to lack of space/seating or something) and he gets the sick idea to bounce his knee once after you’re sat on him for a bit. y’know, trying to make it seem unintentional/like a muscle jerk or something.
but fully knowing exactly what it may do to you, and wanting to see…he’s beyond thrilled when it immediately elicits an involuntary moan😏
Close Quarters
Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader
Word Count: 2,429
Warnings: smut (18+), thigh riding, very sweaty fucking around, mild choking, slight dubcon if you squint.
Notes: Anon, you're just like me (I am also embarrassingly into knee and thigh riding)! Thank you for the excellent submission.
Apologies for the delay in getting this out! I'm so relieved to be back at home, finally, as I wasn't able to be as productive when traveling as I'd hoped. Please enjoy.
You were going to tear Cooper a new one the second the two of you got out of here.
It had been his idea, after all, to veer off the road in your latest trek to nose around this place, which hadn't seemed all that interesting to you. Your business partner had been quite unrelenting, as in all things, despite your inability to see anything of immediate value in the area; some hulking old rusty machinery you couldn't identify, train tracks partially buried in the sand. Boxes of blasting supplies, long emptied. It appeared to be an abandoned mining facility upon first glance, but was difficult to tell, as you had barely had a chance to actually look around before things had suddenly gotten crazy.
It was his fault the two of you were stuck here now.
The old man was absolutely insistent that he'd glimpsed a deathclaw (which you'd read had a special propensity towards mines and quarries, and had told him as much just the night before) just over the nearby hill; you hadn't been looking in the proper direction to confirm when he'd grabbed you by the arm and yanked you into this...storage closet? Frankly, you weren't even sure it was large enough to pass as that, more like a coat closet with a single wooden box on the floor. The two of you were crammed as physically close as possible without touching, mostly due to the great efforts you were taking to balance yourself against the wall as carefully as you could. It was incredibly claustrophobic.
It was also unbearably hot, but apparently only for you; as you cast another unamused glance at him, the third in maybe twice as many minutes, you couldn't help but notice how his only annoyance seemed to be boredom. His eyes lazily scanned back and forth between the small holes in the wall like he was watching out for mole rats. You, on the other hand, were convinced you were about five minutes away from sweating yourself to death, your knees aching worse than they did most nights after miles and miles of walking, the pain setting deep into your bones. It was making you squirmy, your thighs and quadriceps flexing and relaxing as you tried your best to hover above your companion's leg, his body crowded so close behind yours. You'd been traveling together for months now, and he was much more comfortable with you than he ever had been, but you still wanted to respect his space...
...a courtesy which he didn't always afford you.
Something about Cooper Howard that you hadn't been anticipating when you started to grow closer was just how much of a filthy tease the man was. Despite his rather rough exterior, the old cowboy could be very charming, a side of him you saw more and more as your travels went on, and, as a result, you'd developed quite the embarrassing little crush on him. An additional heat crept up the nape of your neck as you thought on it, adding to the untenable swelter around you.
Once you'd propositioned him for sex. Once! How were you supposed to know that people on the surface didn't generally approach their casual hook ups that way? He'd laughed until you thought he'd be sick, your face red as a Nuka Cola sign the entire time.
You thought that had been that, and it was all you'd needed to assume that he simply wasn't attracted to you in that way. It stung some, but whatever, life goes on. So you'd soldiered on, trying to keep your head low the next few days to avoid making him uncomfortable, desperate to not lose his companionship due to an awkward misunderstanding, but that's when the teasing began in earnest. He took very apparent glee in crowding you in, getting into your face or into your ear, murmuring in that soft tone that made you crazy and turned your cheeks pink, only to almost immediately pull away, his demeanor as if nothing had even happened.
Whether he did this because there was any real intent behind it or simply because he enjoyed embarrassing you and making you squirm, you hadn't the faintest idea. You chastised him when he did it, but ultimately you couldn't really conceal the way the attention from him still made your heart race and your panties damp. Heck, the way the ferals seemed to be able to pick up on your scent from a mile out, you wouldn't be shocked to learn he could smell when you were aroused. Just another small humiliation to throw on the pile.
The damn space was already small in total dimension, made even worse by the fact that a shelf up top cut off a lot of the total height, forcing Cooper to stoop and bend awkwardly, the desire to stay silent keeping him hunched over you for several minutes before he slowly, slowly slid down onto the box, eventually reclining somewhat, bending his neck to and fro to peek out the various rust spots and bullet holes in the metallic siding. Your Pip-Boy didn't register any nearby movement, but that didn't always inspire confidence in situations like this.
This whole thing was miserable, but being torn limb from limb by a deathclaw would be worse, so you continued your infinite wall-lean, trying hard to remain silent as you wiped the sweat from your brow for the millionth time. Behind you, he seemed to relax a little further, his knee sliding slightly along the inside of your thigh. A shiver broke up your spine.
Eventually, your trembling, aching legs fully gave out, forcing you to allow your full weight to straddle the knee that was poking out from between your knees, pressing down directly at the apex your thighs. You tried your best to rest towards one foot or the other to keep your weight off of his thigh, but his hands quickly found your hips and stilled your movement.
The pressure from sitting this way had already begun to make your slit swell, increasing in sensitivity as the time continued to pass, but it was ignorable. Then, slowly but surely, and to your absolute horror, Cooper's leg began to jiggle, the slight movement rocking you back and forth ever so slightly until your clit began to ache. Now, you'd never seen him fidget before, but you'd also never seen the man have to cram himself into a shoe box, so you gave him some mild benefit of the doubt.
But the jiggling quickly became a problem, the heat between your legs quickly equaling the heat in the room, leaving you breathing with noticeable volume. You buried your face into your chest as best as you could to try and hide the sound of your labored huffing, but the man behind you was quick to let you know that you were failing.
"Keep it quiet, kid." he chastised you in a hushed voice, but his hands stayed glued to your hips, balancing you right back onto his thigh, shifting your weight right to where you were trying to avoid placing it. You cleared your throat as another wave of heat swam through your gut, your companion continuing to move his leg up and down as the wind and sand hissed against the walls. Increasingly, you were nervous to look at him, afraid he would call you out for deriving some sort of sick pleasure from his innocent movements, accuse you of endangering both of your lives for some fleeting sexual gratification.
However, that moment never came, only more rocking and more huffing. Eventually, you began to slip further down towards his knee, struggling to fully support your weight any longer. His thigh jerked upwards, bouncing you several inches backwards and pressing hard into your swollen bud, drawing out a high pitched yelp that made you sound like a wounded animal. If you didn't know better, you'd have thought you felt him grin against the sweaty back of your neck.
"Hush." he said, tone thinner this time, but his hands began busily working your body as he slid you up and down. Two fingers worked their way into one of your belt loops, pushing and pulling you fully; the other traced teasingly along the damp, exposed skin of your belly at your belt line, and the feeling made you moan in earnest shock.
The leather of his gloves was shockingly soft against your damp skin as he suddenly let it jump up just above your breasts, the heel of his hand brushing at your cleavage as it slipped higher and higher, firmly clasping at your throat. You were still able to breathe, since he wasn't really choking you, but the grip he maintained below your jaw meant that he basically had full control of your body, pulling you back quickly and easily until you were snug against his chest, his cracked lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear.
"If you can't keep that mouth shut, I'll find another use for it." he whispered, continuing to tug at your belt loops and your sanity. Your throbbing pussy clenched around nothing at his dirty talk, so much realer than ever before. You knew now that his teasing came from a genuine place, at least; you could very clearly feel the shape of his hardening cock against your ass.
You were tempted to test his claim, to whine out again fully and see what he would slip into your mouth. But instead you clamped your lips between your teeth so hard that you wondered if the chapped flesh would bleed, finally giving in and letting your hips cant ever so slightly against his leg as he continued to bounce his knee, the motion becoming quite exaggerated as the minutes continued to tick by.
The idea of any looming danger outside was quickly becoming lost among the static, the pretense of accidental squirming rapidly melting away; your brain felt runny, loose, and it was difficult to you to keep a logical train of thought for long, but it did occur to you that the two of you were basically fooling around in a closet. If you'd been coherent at all, you'd have wondered how he would react towards you when this whole awful, delicious thing was over, or even how it would end, but coherence was long lost to you as you barreled towards something amazing.
"Please, I...you have to stop..." you whispered desperately, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you felt the incredibly tense muscles in your abdomen start to flutter. If he didn't know what he'd been doing, he knew now, and his leg didn't stop for a single second, not even a falter in his movements as you began unashamedly moving your hips as far back and forth as you could reach, the firm muscle of him stimulating you so perfectly. A frantic little whimper escaped your lips, which your left hand jumped to cover, your teeth sinking into your palm you danced right up to the edge, your empty cunt gripping feverishly at nothing.
"Coop. Please." you begged, but you were unsure if you were begging him to stop or to let you finish.
He granted you the latter, both hands sliding right back down to your hips, pressing your weight hard down into him as you both worked your body back and forth, once, twice, and a final time as your head fell slack against his shoulder, his lips at the side of your throat as you came completely apart in his lap, limbs twitching, teeth pulling a tear in your dry lower lip as you bit down on it hard to hide your moans. Vaguely, you were aware of the feeling of him rocking his erection against your backside, his breathing almost as heavy as yours.
"Good girl." you swore you heard him mumble, but chalked it up to your overstimulated, spinning brain simply making you hear what you wanted to hear.
For maybe a minute, you allowed yourself the indulgence of resting against him, struggling to slow your heaving breaths. Slowly, you leaned forward once more, curling yourself into a half-ball with your head as far between your knees as you could manage until you no longer felt light headed. At some point, your companion regained his composure, his tone not strained or breathy in the slightest when he spoke to you again.
"Well," he said, suddenly back at his regular volume and causing you to jump slightly, "I think we can get out of here."
You twisted back to look at him, but before you could lock eyes, he was already lifting you by your hips to force you to stand on your shaky legs, pulling himself up to a crouch as he tugged the door open. You flinched, stumbling a bit as you attempted to conceal yourself behind the wall, but you peered back out when he confidently strode out past you, bending and turning at the waist as his spine let out a series of loud cracks and pops. Behind him, you struggled to stand fully upright, attempting to fix the fit of your clothing from where it had been tugged on.
"C'mon, let's go." he called over his shoulder, not turning to look at you fully as he trekked forward towards the hill you'd spent what felt like ages fearing as if it were nothing but another pile of dirt to be crossed.
"Shouldn't we try to go the long way around outta here? What if they're still over there, just not close enough to pick up on?" you called, concerned once more now that the flow of blood had generally returned to your brain. Everywhere around you, you felt imaginary danger, ready for anything to jump out from anywhere, as nothing had actually changed the whole time you'd been hidden away.
That got him to stop and turn to look back at you, an incredibly impish look playing across his face.
"I get the feeling it'll be alright." he winked before resuming his climb up the fairly steep incline, sand rolling down in little rivulets behind his retreating feet.
You lagged behind a bit, watching him go through narrowed eyes. Turning your gaze towards the setting sun, you mused to yourself that soon, the two of you would need to stop for the night. The roads through here were too dangerous to travel at night.
He would have some turnabout coming his way, you knew that for certain. Your days of being teased were about to be done.
#cooper howard#the ghoul#cooper howard smut#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#fallout tv show#fallout prime#submission
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Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt 2.2
Note: Part 2.2! The Bane Incident from Kon's POV! 😁
~*~*~
Two days later, Kon was back at Arkham undercover again. The Bats had caught Bane nearly 12 hours earlier after Red Hood showed up midway through the fight, lept off the overpass, and landed a blow directly to the top of Bane's head with a metal pipe on the way down. The behemoth of a man had crashed hard into the cement, immediately unconscious, and been taken directly to Arkham's medical facilities as soon as he arrived. He'd been checked over and cleared to head to his usual room in less than 15 minutes once he woke up the following afternoon.
Kon found out all of this afterwards.
He was headed back to the briefing room for his nect assignment after lunch when he spotted four senior guards, Collins, Ryans, Dorr, and Miles, escorting Bane from medical to his usual cell. He stepped into a doorway to let them pass by before continuing on his way. Kon had spent a productive lunch break chatting with Jasmine "please don't call me Fenton" while she waited for Dr. Rylie before he had to head back to the guards room so he wouldn't be late. He'd have to make sure to catch up with Dr. Rylie on the way out at the end of the day instead, Kon mused.
There was a shout behind him. Two bodies slamming hard into the walls on either side of the hall. A rush of fabric sliding across fabric. Rapid pounding footsteps.
Kon spun letting out a gasp as he saw Bane grab Jasmine's upper arm and yank her hard enough to make her stumble. The large man turned to face the guards behind him as he pulled her firmly back against his chest. Kon had the dart gun in his hands and leveled at Bane before he even realized he was moving. Dorr and Ryans had also already done the same. Miles was scrambling to his feet, drawing both his dart gun and baton. Collins slid to the ground, right shoulder visibly dislocated from hitting the wall at the wrong angle but he drew his tranquilizer dart gun as well.
"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking Jasmine as emphasis. Her braid swung from the force of it.
Kon expected her to panic. He was panicking; a full grown, fully recognized superhero. Of course, he expected her to panic.
But Jasmine didn't.
Her expression smoothed out turning from barely-there surprise to blank calm in the span of a few seconds. Her breathing stayed deep and even. Her heart beat steady was steady. Was she in some kind of shock? But he had never heard of someone reacting like that to shock before.
"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie shouted to Kon and the other guards from where he had pressed himself against the wall on the opposite side from Bane. He must have been just a few steps ahead of Jasmine.
"She's my student! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie screamed again. His voice high pitched with fear for his intern.
Kon didn't know what to do. From the way Ryans and Dorr were exchanging looks, he wasn't sure they knew what the best approach was in this situation either. Of the five of them, Ryans was the most senior guard but he wasn't one of the six guards trained for hostage negotiations either. None of the scenarios they had trained for would work here. Jasmine was too similar in height to Bane for a good shot and a single tranquilizer wouldn't knock him out anyway. They couldn't possibly circle around behind him in this narrow hallway either.
Kon could practically taste the panic building in the air. The tension was rising. If he didn't think fast someone else was going to make the first move and Jasmine would get hurt and -
She sighed.
Long, heavy, and disappointed. It felt like every muscle in Kon's body locked up suddenly.
"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please. I will give you to one to comply." She said voice calm and heavy like - like she was disappointed in him?
Kon's stared at her bland expression in shock for a moment before his eyes darted back to Bane. The rogue looked momentarily stunned then started laughing.
"Five." Jasmine said, ignoring his laughter. Kon felt himself paling. His colleagues were shifting, white faced with fear as they traded glances again.
"Four." She continued. Bane snorted derisively at her.
"Did you really think that would work?" He asked. His arms tightened around her. There was no way Jasmine was getting out of this without bruises.
"Three." She said ignoring Bane's question. Holy shit. Had she lost her mind?
"What can you even do if I don't?" Bane mocked with a rabid gleam in his eye. He's going to kill her, Kon realized faintly, even if we let him go now he's going to snap her neck for this.
"Two."
"Jasmine..." Kon whispered pained and horrified by his realization. Loosening his grip on the dart gun without meaning too. She met his gaze across the hall, eyes resolved.
"One." She finished, brows furrowing slightly in concentration as her lips thinned, pressed together. Bane gave a derisive snort.
And then the massive man was airborne.
"Holy shit." Miles breathed out.
Kon stared at the crater in the floor. Collins and Dorr were absolutely silent, hearts racing in their chests. Ryans took a half step forward, heart stuttering - Kon really hoped the man wasn't about to have a heart attack because he could rush him to medical right now. Dr. Rylie was half collapsed against the wall he'd been pressing himself against a strangled sound of shock coming from his throat. Bane was embedded in the floor breath wheezing as Jasmine half knelt on top of his neck. Oh wow, Kon registered, Bane's arm is fucked.
"Now, do you know what you've done wrong?" Jasmine asked looking down at the giant.
"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out.
"Fucked with the wrong HBIC." Collins muttered under his breath faintly still stunned.
"Jasmine for president." Miles whispered back automatically.
"Boys," Dorr scolded as he half lowered his dart gun, shifting his weight at the same time.
"Won't be making her angry around that time of month." Ryans mumbled to himself softly enough that Kon was the only person who could have possibly heard him.
"What did you do wrong?" Jasmine pressed. Collins choked back an inappropriate hysterical giggle at the question. Bane appeared to panic when he realized he'd have to respond.
No wonder, Kon thought, the man literally grew up in Santa Prisca's prisons. Did he even know how to respond to -Kon choked on air - a maternal scolding?! What the ever loving fuck? He bluescreened. Stood there in the hallway, absolutely stunned, completely unaware of his surroundings as he struggled to process the fact that Jasmine was giving Bane a maternal scolding in the middle of an Arkham hallway right in front of him. Maybe I've finally gone nuts? Kon wondered.
Jasmine gestured vaguely towards the group of them without turning to look and Kon snapped back to the present.
"Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?" Oh shit, that's me she's talking about. Kon walked towards her still a bit numb.
"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane answered her. Kon watched as Jasmine stood up carefully and backed away from Bane far enough for him to pull himself out of the crater in the floor. Once he was on his feet, Kon led Bane back towards medical realizing as he did that there had been four other guards behind him this whole time.
Two of them darted forward and scooped up Collins, probably to take him to the guards medical ward along the outer wall patrol route. The other two fell in with Kon, Dorr, Miles, and Ryans. As they walked away Kon could hear Jasmine talking to Dr. Rylie.
"I'm fine, really. My mother was an extremely skilled martial artist. I've been learning from her since I started to walk." She explained honestly, trying to sooth the frazzled doctor's nerves. "I didn't know he was heavy enough to break the floor though!" Jasmine laughed.
That - heart beat uneven, vocal cords tense - that second part was a lie.
#Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist#Meta Jazz#Arkham Intern Therapist#Meta Jazz AIT#AIT#MJAIT#dc x dp#dcxdp#dp x dc#dpxdc#Jazz/Kon#Feel free to add on#Not sure if I'll continue this or not#We'll see what happens#If I do it will still be under the same tag though so if you follow it you'll still be fine.#You have no idea how hard it was coming up with all these names#Most of them are the result of auto-correct saying no lol#If there's another part it will probably be either Jazz or Tim POV#Jazz might confront Kon about his super strength because she is hardcore judging him rn#Tim because when he hears about the Bane Incident from Kon he can definitely tell his friend has a crush#Kon hasn't realized it yet#Jazz has though#If Tim's POV Danny will definitely turn up#I have so many ideas ya'll#But like#No time to write#save me
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KANG’S GARDEN ㅤ. . .ㅤ﹫ kang taehyun ★
꒰ 🧾 ꒱ farmer ! kang taehyun & fem reader, 1000 words. ㅤg fluff, non idol au, meet-cute, drabble. ㅤw brief mentions of food, revamped post from my old account.ㅤlibrary
sundays were your favorite day of the week.
it was on sundays that the town’s farmer’s market took place, where you could enjoy eating samples of fruits and organic jams. not only that, but especially talking to mrs. kang and her husband, the kind old couple that ran their family business “kang’s garden”.
the booth where they sold their products was near the outdoor market’s entrance. with a wooden sign (probably carved manually), a big plant pot, and multiple boxes, the place invited you merrily.
your shopping list for the week was the longest you’ve ever had. your family sent you alone to get the fruits and vegetables, something that you thought was completely unfair, but that’s what happens when you lose a rock paper scissors match against your sibling.
spotting the booth from afar, you clutched onto the eco bags you carried, rays of light kissing your face and feet dragging against the tall grass. as you neared the spot, the kang’s family dog came running up to you, a red bandana dangling from her neck.
“hey, apple! how is my good girl doing?” you beamed, petting the golden retriever happily. she tilted her head to escape from your affection and lick your hand. a laugh passed through your lips.
while looking up at the booth, the sight of beautifully cultivated vegetables greeted you. accompanied by it, the aroma of fresh chives and parsley filled your lungs up.
you leaned over to try to spot mrs. kang’s small frame from behind the counter, but only a tuft of cocoa-colored fluffy hair came into your view. quickly, a young man stood up with a box of tomatoes, glancing at you with wide eyes.
“oh, hello,” he greeted politely, putting the box aside. “welcome to kang’s garden. how may i help you today?”
the man dusted his hands off, fixing his dirty apron and the sleeves of his white button-up shirt, that had its collar poking out. he offered you a kind smile, faint dimples on both sides of his cheeks, just like the ones mrs. kang had. you were sure your mouth was hanging open from how effortlessly handsome the new attendant was.
he seemed a bit taken aback by your presence, though in reality, he simply found you as gorgeous as you found him.
“oh, right! i need everything in this list,” extending your arm to him, you let his calloused hands carefully pick up the paper.
his eyes traveled to each item mentioned, widening when he noticed how many of them you’d buy. “wow, are you planning on buying the whole shop?” he jested with a soft chuckle, handing back your page. “i’m sure i can give you a discount, so don’t worry about it.”
you inevitably pouted at his joke, leaving the paper on the counter, “you sure it’s not a problem? my parents went a bit overboard with the amount of food, no?”
“no, ‘course not.” the mysterious employee dismissed, hesitantly taking a small breath in. “do you want any help? i can grab the first half of the items and you grab the other half. does that sound good?”
“sounds great, thank you!” grinning at him in relief, you started picking up the carrots while he grabbed the bell peppers.
people passed by, and the sound of chatter and coins being tossed around was still booming around you two. the brunet was still fascinated by your nonchalant behavior, and how you seemed so used to being around the booth. taehyun thought he was extremely suave for taking glances at you every now and then, but you could feel his eyes on you easily.
with a last curious peek, he confidently rested his gaze on yours, maintaining the eye contact to strike up a new conversation, “do you like gardening?”
“i find it cool, but i never seem to get the hang of it.” you hummed. “the tomatoes i tried to grow died a week after i planted the cutting… what about you?”
“i do like gardening, but i don’t have much time for it since i’m always busy with college.” he affirmed before leaning back to grab a tomato from the box he brought earlier, showing it proudly to you. “i planted these, though!”
it shone bright red with the sun’s reflection on it, some droplets of water that he might’ve used to wash it dripping from the fruit, “woah, it looks so good.” you commented, not bothered by how he preened himself.
mumbling a shy “thank you”, he retrieved the tomato to its original place.
after a while of some awkward quietude, apple started sniffing you again, jumping on your side as a way to get your attention. you and the man took notice of this at the same time and called out her name — you in a playful tone, him in a reprimanding one.
as he realized you also knew his dog’s name, he frowned slightly, pausing his movements and letting the now beet root in his hand go with the others. happily, the golden retriever walked up to her owner. “you know apple?”
you got shocked by the sudden inquiry but replied nevertheless. “yeah, i’m a regular customer here, so i got to know her.”
“so you must know my parents then, right?” he laughed briefly, head turning down to resume his work.
“your parents…? you mean mr. and mrs. kang?”
he gave you a smile as he turned to you, nodding. however, his face fell and he fastly wiped his palm once again on his clothes. “i’m so sorry, i haven’t introduced myself yet,” he offered his hand to you. “i’m kang taehyun, the owners’ son.”
reality hit you with a truck when you realized he was the beloved son mrs. kang always mentioned, and the comment about college made everything click in your mind. you shook taehyun’s hand back in pure astonishment as if you had just met a celebrity. “y/n. it’s so great to finally meet you. your mom always tells me good things about you.”
“oh, does she?” taehyun scraped the back of his neck embarrassedly, a faint blush on his tanned face. “that sounds like her. she’s very kind to everyone.”
taehyun finished counting the vegetables and telling you the final price with the discount. as you rummaged through your wallet for the money, he realized that his mom did also mention a pretty girl who often visited the booth, and the description did match you. nevertheless, he stayed quiet, just hurriedly scribbling on a post-it note and sneaking it into one of your eco bags.
“thank you for buying with us. i’ll make an effort to be here more often and see you again.” the youngest kang gave you a toothy smile after the exchange ended, waving bashfully. apple barked right after his promise, officializing it.
“thanks, taehyun. i hope we’ll get to see each other soon,” you returned the wave and began to walk away.
“hey, y/n!” taehyun’s voice called out whilst you reached the entrance of the market. you spun around only to see him with an arm raised. “don’t forget to check if you’ve got everything in your bags!”
immediately, you opened the bags, superficially counting the food. a yellow thing caught your eye in one of them. the words you’d use to question him died in your throat, and the only sound that escaped from your lips was a quiet laugh.
“xXx–XxX
if you’re free someday, i can teach you some gardening tricks. just call me and i’ll be there :)”
⠀ ⠀ SOOV © 2O24
ㅤ𝗿𝗲𝗶’s notes ⪩⪨ feeling silly for changing the pink hair to brown!!!!!!! sorry pink tae enthusiasts 🙁🙁
#ㅤ𝓡.#tomorrow x together#txt x reader#txt fluff#txt drabbles#txt scenarios#kang taehyun#kang taehyun x reader#kang taehyun fluff#kang taehyun imagines#taehyun x reader#taehyun fluff#txt taehyun#txt#tomorrow by together
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Midori Sour pt.1 (d.f.)
pairing: dominic fike x (photographer fem! reader)
word count: 3,711
summary: you attend your friend Omar's pool party. what happens when liquid courage and a certain curly-haired boy combine to change your perspective on LA?
warnings: (18+) explicit language, alcohol consumption (second part WILL contain smut) , MDNI!
author's note: i'm back! this is the first part of a two part story. this is loosely based off of my recent endeavors as a photographer who has literally only been to LA once in her life. enjoy :)
BONUS: listen to Hit Me Up by Omar Apollo + Dominic Fike for the full experience
The sun braised down the LA street as you stepped out the back of an uber, clad in a tank top and shorts, with a matching blue bikini set underneath. A duffle bag hangs on your shoulder as you approach the front door, ringing the doorbell. Your eyes scan the scenic neighborhood around you as you wait for it to open, as you take notice of the faint music and laughter you could hear around the other side of the grand house. You were brought out of your thoughts by the front door swinging open, immediately being wrapped up in a warm hug from the man in front of you.
“Y/N!”
“Hi Omar!” You chuckled, muffled into his chest.
“Come in! Everyone’s in the back.” He steps aside, letting you in. “You can go down the hall and find an empty guest room for your stuff, there should be…at least a few.” His words slurred slightly.
“The pool party just started and you’re already drunk huh?” You smirked, closing the door behind you.
“I am the party Y/N. It was 5PM somewhere when I started drinking.” He raises his eyebrows, walking backwards towards the back door. A chuckle escaped your throat, making you shake your head at his antics.
You originally met Omar during the filming of one his music videos as a production assistant. You were new to working in LA, and he was a breath of fresh air to the hectic energy of the city, and you guys became friends almost instantly. This wasn’t the first party of his you had been invited to, but you were not the most keen on thrusting yourself into a scene full of famous people, it felt almost like you were interrupting something unspoken. You accepting today’s invitation was an attempt at getting over that hump, and trying to have a life outside of work.
You watched as he walked out, music blaring from the backyard momentarily before being muffled by the now-closed door.
You made your way down the hall, poking your head into the different doors, finding the first few were already claimed.
I wonder who else is here, you thought.
You stopped near the end of the hall, finally landing on an empty room. You placed your bag on the bed, sauntering back down the hall to meet everyone outside. You braced yourself, peeking through the backdoor, surprised at the amount of people out there. You were too distracted by the buzz and activity of it all to notice the boy standing behind you, until you felt a tap on your shoulder.
He cleared his throat, prompting you to whip your head around to meet his gaze. Surprised was too simple of a word to describe the feeling that overcame you as you realized who it was. Dominic fucking Fike. He was taller than you remember him looking when you saw him on stage a few years back, curls slightly damp and a warm tan dancing across his toned body. He was holding a few bottles of vodka in his grasp.
“Do you mind opening the door for me?” He asked, seemingly unphased by your staring and silence.
“Oh, uh..yeah! Yeah. Sorry.” You jumbled out, stepping aside to slide the door open for him.
He chuckled lightly. “Thank you so much.” He walks out a few feet. “You’re the best.” He says over his shoulder, walking over to the outdoor bar. You made your way to an empty chair, ridding yourself of your shorts and tank top. Sure, you were slowly getting used to meeting celebrities in your line of work, but you sure weren’t used to being that close to most of them half naked in such an informal setting.
You watched across the pool, watching Dominic as he joined a group of people. It was almost palpable, the amount of awe and admiration that everyone seemed to have for him, and you couldn’t blame them. He threw his head back in laughter, and if you listened close enough you could hear it faintly through the music. His eyes scanned the pool before landing back on you, freezing you in your place. You swallowed thickly as his eyes scanned over you, intensely analyzing you piece by piece, before connecting with yours again.
What the fuck. Did I just get checked out by..no. Maybe?
Just as quick as you spotted him though, he was gone.
You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, snapping out of your trance to scan the chaos for Omar, seemingly the only person here that you knew. You found him near the edge of the large pool, finishing up a conversation with a couple who looked like they were getting a little too comfortable under the water.
He turned to you as you approached him, tilting his head to the side as he caught a wave of your unsure eyes and tense body language. He unwrapped your arms from your chest, dropping one of your arms to pull you with him lightly to the bar.
“You’re way too tense, and frankly, too fucking sober.” You both arrived at the bar, and you watched as he scanned the seemingly endless options of alcohol, settling on an unflavored vodka.
“Luckily, you are just in time for shot o’ clock.” You watched as he poured you both up double shots, dancing and humming along to whatever song was currently playing.
You clink your glasses together, throwing your head back and the shot with it. As the shot begins to flood heat through your chest, you lean up against the bar, and you hear Omar yell across the backyard.
“Dom! Come here bro!” He waves his hands obnoxiously. You watch over your shoulder as the boy finally arrives, leaning up against the bar with you. “ Have I introduced you to Y/N? She’s my favorite girl everrr. She makes music videos!"
You look up at the tall man, as he turns his head to scan a gaze up and down your body, finally tracing his eyes up to meet your eyes. His gaze was low and red, the obvious red cup in his hand and joint tucked behind his ear clued you into why.
“We met in the kitchen, she helped me get the fucking booze out here. She’s a life saver.” He says, his sultry gaze not leaving your eyes. “Dominic.” He sticks his hand out for you to shake.
“I know.” You raise your eyebrows, shaking his hand.
“I forget I’m technically a, celebrity kinda, I hate that fucking word. But it’s nice to formally meet you.” He says, taking a gulp from his red gulp.
“What’s in your cup? That looks a little empty.” Omar leans over the counter, peering into Dominic’s cup.
“It’s-”
“Doesn’t matter. You made it just in time for shot o’clock.” Omar smiles from ear to ear. He dishes out a third shot cup, filling all three to the brim with vodka. You all clink them together, and you find that this shot is easier to take back than the previous, almost too smooth. You close your eyes relishing in how the base thrumming you begins to feel amazing, causing you to sway back and forth. Omar comes from around the bar, dancing with you.
Dominic can’t help the way his eyes fixate on the fluidity of your hips, and the blissed out look on your face. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he watches as the tense body language he observed across the pool earlier seemingly dissolved, now drenched in liquid confidence. A different type of heat begins to blaze through him at the sight.
-
You had finally begun to open up, taking the next hour leading up to sunset to make your way around the party. You had met a group of girls in the bathroom, thrown a bit of ass, and flirted with one person to your memory. You were at least 6 shots deep now, the anxiety from earlier nonexistent. Unbeknownst to you, Dominic had snuck glances as you made your journey around the party, and it seemed every time he had the grand idea to actually have a conversation with you, you were gone.
As time passed, the large crowds migrated, emptying the backyard until it was you, Dominic, Omar, and a few of their mutual friends left in the pool.
You all were in the water now, bouncing mindless conversation off of one another. You couldn’t help but take notice of the red head stuck to Dominic’s side that had not been here earlier. He barely paid her any mind, but she seemed completely enamored by him. It was strange to say, but you did indeed feel a sense of jealousy at the possessiveness she had over the boy, there was something about him that made you wanna talk to him and she was making it almost impossible. You caught him occasionally sneaking glances at you as you made conversation with other people. The red head also found herself unable to keep sharp glares from flying in your direction, seemingly unwarranted.
An idea suddenly came to you. “Omarrr.” You drawled on, smiling as he turned to you excitedly. “Do you have melon liquor?”
He took a moment, eyebrows furrowing in thought, before nodding enthusiastically. You made your way to the edge of the pool, hoisting yourself up onto the warm cement. Dominic’s doe eyes followed you, and specifically the curve of your ass as you made your way to your feet.
“ Who wants a midori sour?” You exclaimed, watching in amusement as everyone raised their hand.
“You know how to make those?” Omar says, seemingly taken aback.
“I’m a woman of many trades.” You joke smugly over your shoulder.
You trotted over to the outdoor bar, thankful that the roof of it provided you some shield from the intense sun that had been baking you for hours now. You bite down on your bottom lip as you focus, taking embarrassingly long to count out how many glasses you needed. This cocktail was your only party trick, picked up from a few bartender gigs in college. You began dishing out shots of melon liqueur into the cups.
“How many shots go into it that way?” A voice suddenly breaks from behind you, making you jump.
“Jesus how fucking long were you standing there?” You fuss at him.
“Not that long.” He steps off from leaning on the counter, coming closer to you as you resume your previous actions. “How many?”
“Two.”
“That looks like a little more than 2 shots.” He says, and you look back to find Dominic peering over your shoulder at the various in-progress cocktails.
“I pour with my heart, I am not bound by the measurements of man.” You say without missing a beat.
“God that’s actually fucking profound, or maybe I’m just crossfaded and easily impressed.” He continues, “Well actually, you could probably say anything to me and I’d think it was profound.”
“All I’m hearing is that you are madly in love with me.” You sigh, voice dripping with mock pity.
“You might be onto something.” He smirks, eyes burning into the side of your face.
“Don’t joke too loud, it might upset your girlfriend over there.” You say, nodding back towards her direction.
“I don’t have..who are you- oh.” He realizes. “For the record, I don’t know her. She has been up my ass all night unwarranted, keeps telling me she likes my music and my tattoos.” You scoff at the answer.
“ Don’t we all?”
“You listen to my music?” He makes his way closer, leaning his hips back against the counter that you’re cutting fruit at, looking down at you. You were silently grateful that he somehow didn't realize you meant his tattoos too.
“Here and there.” You smirk to yourself, finishing cutting up a lime.
“What’s your favorite?”
“Probably ‘Dark’, or maybe your song with Omar, I’m a little biased on the latter.” You chuckle. Your lips wrap around a lime slice, sucking gently, and Dominic thinks to himself that he didn’t know a lime could be this fucking sensual. He is so lost in the view of your face and your figure that he forgets to even respond.
“Don’t stare at me, you’re making me nervous.” You respond without looking up, eyes trained on mixing the drinks in front of you. “You have an intense gaze, you know?”
“Is that so?”
“Mhm” You take a sip of one of the drinks, face scrunching up at the burn making its way down your throat. “I think…I think that most people, including me, are afraid of being perceived in a vulnerable way. You look at people, you look like, through people in a way that’s very…heavy.”
“Does that bother you?” He questions. You finally turn to meet his gaze, tilting your head to the side in mock thought as you peer up at him.
“Hm. In a strange way..I like it.”
“Get a room for you two! Where are the cocks?” You suddenly hear Omar yell from the pool, snapping you two out of the unofficial staring contest you two had begun.
You and Dominic jokingly groan simultaneously. ‘Please never refer to cocktails as cocks again!” You yelled towards him, stifling a laugh. “Wanna help me?” You ask, referencing, to the now done drinks on the counter, unknowingly flashing your doe eyes up at the man.
“I’d be a dick if I didn’t return the favor.” He chuckled, lifting several drinks into his hands effortlessly. Somehow, you made it back to the group without tripping over your own feet.
“I will warn everyone that these drinks are mostly midori and the tiniest bit sour.” You admit, handing out the drinks until everyone was sipping on one. Dominic and you found yourselves sitting close together now, sitting on the edge of the pool. You couldn’t help the way your eyes wandered across his body, now being painted by the vibrant sunset. It didn’t matter what he was saying, his pink full lips kept you on edge, practically making you squeeze your thighs together at the tension beginning to flood your shared eye contact.
The smallest smirk found its way to your face as you noted the scowl painted on the red head’s face at the lack of access to Dominic. Was it petty to relish in the misfortune of others, sure. Were you stopping anytime soon tonight for her? No chance.
One of Dominic and Omar’s friends suddenly exclaimed, “Drinking game!”, to which you all joined in agreement.
-
It started off tame, with a few cheeky questions/ dares. Now, here you were, preparing for Dominic Fike to take a body shot off of you. If someone asked you what 6 months ago you thought you’d be doing now, having one of your favorite musicians do a body shot off of your half naked body at another celebrity’s mansion was not in the cards. To be fair, it was neither of your ideas. Little miss redhead, who’s name you learned was Ana, asked Dominic to take a shot off the most attractive woman, most likely assuming it would go in her favor, and had inadvertently set you up to do perhaps the most insane thing you had ever done since moving to LA.
“Relax your stomach, you’re messing up my base.” Dominic whispered to you.
“Sorry, this is just fucking insane.” You sighed, trying to steady your breathing.
“Do you want me to stop?” He questioned, genuine concern lacing his voice.
“Yeah cause he can do it off me if you’re too scared.” Ana snickered.
That attitude sent a visceral courage through you. Turns out spite and alcohol was a beautiful combination for growing a pair.
“No. Go.” You spat out suddenly.
You gasped as his warm tongue came in contact with your stomach, soaking up the midori sour that was poured onto you. The rest of the group gasped and giggled like children at the sultry action, cheering for you both as Dominic finally sat up, smiling and cheering along with them.
A chill ran through you at the downright tantalizing look that overcame his already enticing gaze. It took everything in you not to hop into his lap and ride him, company and all. You squeezed your thighs together at the thought, returning your attention to the rest of the group in an attempt to sooth the tension building in your core.
“Damn Y/N, you got fucking balls. That was probably the hottest shit you’ve done since you touched down. I promise you.” You smiled cheekily at Omar’s praise, gulping down more alcohol.
The game continued, testing the boundaries on how intrusive you thought a game like this could get. While everyone was too distracted over a debate about hookups, Dominic pulled out his phone.
“Look up.” He whispered to you. You looked up, to find his Instagram story camera open. You both simultaneously flashed a middle finger. “Tag yourself.” He stated, passing you the phone.
“You know your fans are fucking psychos right?” You raised an eyebrow.
“Who cares.” He says matter of factly.
You tagged yourself and watched as he immediately posted. In a strange way, it was an ego boost. You weren’t the most consistent on Instagram outside of work, but you knew he barely posted, especially so directly. It was intimidating but thrilling knowing exactly what type of attention this would garner. This was a consequence for tomorrow morning’s Y/N and Dom.
“Holy shit I already follow you.” He remarks.
“No way.” You say, leaning over to look.
“Yes way. I see your shit all the time, it's dope. Small world huh?”
“Very.”
“Wanna make it smaller?” He quips.
Your eyebrows furrow at the question, undeniably a little nervous at whatever idea he had.
“How so?”
“Put your number in my phone.” You looked up at him, tracing his eyes for a joke.
“You’re insane, you know that? I could be like a crazy serial killer stalker.” You say matter of factly.
“Maybe you are, yeah. I’m okay with that as it stands for now though.”
You slowly took the phone back from his hands, typing your number in, and adding a cheesy picture of you in the moment. You passed it back, smiling up at him, you noticed that when he smiled back, a dimple popped out of his cheek.
Hm. I never noticed that.
“Who’s ready to take the shenanigans inside.” Omar slightly slurs.
You all gathered your belongings, wrapped yourselves in towels, hissing at the cold contrast of the AC against your wet skin. The house was empty save for the 6 of you, and you all split up to go shower, agreeing to come back in 30 minutes to eat and pick a movie to watch.
You settled on pajama shorts and a tube top, too tipsy to care about your nipples attempting to peek through.
You meet everyone else out in the living room, everyone looking refreshed and maybe a little tired.
“What’s everyone craving?” Omar asks, eyes low and scanning the room.
“Taco Bell.” You all say in unison. A collective laughter breaks out in the echoey room at the coincidence. Omar placed a group order, and as you waited for your order, you all found your place on a couch. You and Dominic smushed together onto a loveseat that was certainly made for one person, but neither of you dared to move.
“ Someone’s cold.” Dominic snickers in your ear, taking notice of your nipples reacting to the AC. You jokingly rolled your eyes. “Want my hoodie? I have a shirt underneath.”
“Um..sure.” While the cold wasn’t too uncomfortable, you weren’t gonna pass up the opportunity to wear his hoodie. You’d be stupid to say no. He pulled it off of him, and as you put in on his cologne flooded your nose.
“It looks better on you than me.” He chuckles, scanning down past the hoodie, down your legs that were curled up near him.
“Maybe I’ll make it mine then.” You smirked up at him, breathing catching as his eyes lingered on your lips too long for comfort.
Omar suddenly clears his throat. “Are y’all done eye fucking so we can pick a movie.” Your heads snap to him.
“I’m good with anything.” You both say in unison, snapping your heads back to each other.
Dinner soon arrived, and for the next hour you all ate and one by one people began heading to bed. You watched as Omar headed to bed with his friend you didn't even realize he was flirting with. It was just you and Dom. Though it was a little past midnight, and with all the alcohol in your system, you should be utterly exhausted. But you’re not, and it seems neither was he.
You began cleaning up outside and a little in the living room. You know Omar has hired a cleaner, but if you were gonna be up, might as well make use of it. Soon after, you and Dom made your way down the hallway, finding that your rooms were right across from each other. You paused, silhouettes lit dimly by the light coming through the window shade.
“We should probably go to bed right?” He asked, peering down at you, looking like he wanted to do anything but sleep.
“Yeah-um. Yeah we should.” You respond. It takes everything in both of you to pull away from each other's gaze, and you both walk backwards until you hit your respective doors.
“Goodnight.” He says, smiling softly at you.
“Goodnight.” You return the smile.
-
You had spent nearly 15 minutes tossing and turning, unable to find a tired bone in your body. You laid flat on your back, huffing in the dark room at the lack of anything currently happening. It was no surprise that your mind began to wonder to the boy across the hall.
Right across the fucking hall.
It seemed he was thinking of you too, because soon after blue light flooded a small part of the room from a text, an unsaved number.
It read: “Can’t sleep. Come watch tv with me?
-
look out for part 2 soon! Muah.
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i was already kinda suspicious of the new face massage trends that i’ve been seeing over and over on social media. like at first it seemed obvious what the product was: those “gua sha” rollers, but then i stopped seeing them. all i got were videos of women talking about massaging your face with your bare fingers and how that had taken 3944858 years off them in a few weeks. but what was the product? i was too skeptical that this magical technique had just been discovered and everyone just wanted to share the knowledge.
but today i found out, it’s oils. you’re not supposed to do them on bare skin so they’re promoting special oils to massage your face with.
#i don't think it's necessarily like a SCAM#though it's probably unnecessary#but i was sure there had to be a product behind this and there was
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when ppl get too caught up in the accuracy of situations in fanfiction or if things are super realistic or as they should/would be in real life etc etc im like. my tumblr user in christ. it's fanfiction.
#ff writers don't get paid to put hollywood level research into their stories lol#also keep in mind ff writers don't have professional editors either#ALSO i've read a lot of published books and watched massive scale high budget production tv shows/movies that have put way less#effort into researching n making sure things are cohesive n legit compared to some fanfics i've read#js thinking ab a m00tie who had an anon come for her for something like this n i'm still pissed ab it#just enjoy the fic you're getting to read for free#like obv i think realism makes for a great story and is part of what good writing entails#but?? it's ok to bend the rules in some places?? it's a STORY#that's like getting pissed at a fantasy book for having dragons cuz they don't exist irl#just say u have a bad imagination n go#the author's pen is the will of the world in the story perioddd#either accept them or dont. but don't make fun of or criticize authors if you're not fuckin w it when ur just sittin behind a keyboard#also sometimes i just wanna read stories that don't remind me of the harsh truths of reality lmfao like get outtaaa heeerreee#just writer things
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listen if iceado gets cancelled ill ultimately be Fine itll be ok its fine
#.txt#thru gritted teeth#cant miss out on smth that never happened#alas!#if nothing else i just want News yknow like i wanna know for sure... it just sure is disappointing#if that leak is true i wonder how kubo and sayo feel#can only imagine it feels terrible#but also like.. i do wonder why... why cancel it? had such high sales and was widely popular#couldnt have been a popularity thing.. mayb production was more expensive than initially intended/realized?#or some other kind of behind the curtain issue? hopefully not a censorship thing
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Pennyworth (2019-2022): A Review
*messages temple* so anyway, i'm dropping the show at second episode.
Pennyworth is a good competent execution of a forced, subpar story really. The aesthetics, the visual storytelling, the narrative transitions are very clean and pleasing and wonderful, pains me to say it truly— but it's far better editing than the majority of Gotham TV.
And that execution still doesn't save it. The story feels cliche, vaguely vapid and inconsequential. really, good directing and good OST wasted on a lukewarm story. it's nonthreatening, "occasionally weird and flirty" is the best it gets, and it tries so hard for plot, but there's none, and what little there is to look for, it just can't make you care about it. The whole story is trite and unsure of itself, flimsy at the edges. And none of it matter at all to the characters or to you as an audience.
And another thing is— the story feels so uncomfortably detached and standalone-ish for a narrative that cannot stand on its own two feet. It tries to individuate from the common Batman [and more particularly GothamTV's] interpretations while establishing such willy nilly relationship with its preceding narrative and ultimately Alfred's characterization falls flat on its face somewhere inbetween Gotham's and Pennyworth(2019)'s story. "Pennyworth" miraculously leaves out everything that made the Gotham!Alfred interpretation distinct and captivating —It leaves out the uncomfortable weirdness. Pennyworth!Alfred feels too hip, too trendy, too effortlessly sly, too acceptably proper, too sanded and smoothed all around the edges. Which is such shame really, because the cinematography, the atmosphere, the music, it's all done so tastefully, so well executed, but the narrative pace and the story is so forced and too fast and too insincere and cliche.
#can't fucking believe my eyes for real on this one like#somebody made most of GothamTV's integral plot points work and it sure as hell wasn't Bruno Heller#he fumbles so bad the moment he leaves Gotham TV's writing team behind like#Gotham!Alfred is magnetic. He's offputting and a force of nature and his relationship with other characters is electric#compared to what Gotham achieved with Alfred Pennyworth!Alfred is a constipated baby goose#and i'm still fuming at the mouth because godddd. if Gotham TV had half the production value of Pennyworth (2019)#everyday i wake up and i'm mad about how little budget Gotham got#and how it'd have been a stratospheric story if it had gotten the cinematography it deserved#but alas. i gotta contend with the good stories+ lacklaster editing combo#over Pennyworth's competent cinematography+ nonsensical narrative combo#Pennyworth (2019)#Batman#alfred pennyworth
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So the broken pipe situation is mostly fixed, but until my asthma stops being on such a hair trigger I'm not going downstairs unless I am wearing an N95 mask, and even then limiting my time down there, so I've been spending a lot of time in my craft room/work from home office. Y'all, I have gotten so much done it's a little ridiculous. Today so far I have:
- sewn together batting to make a piece big enough for a baby quilt
- quilted the baby quilt
- trimmed it down to size and added the binding
- washed the baby quilt
- did some unpacking
- found a skein of yarn in a box I was unpacking, got distracted, and knit an entire hat
- cut out all the pieces for a pride bee for one of my 2022 MTH auction winners and got most of the seams sewn (only two machine sewn seams left, then it's just stuffing it and handsewing on the eyes, wings, and antennae)
- tackled some of my scrap batting pile, getting it sorted into "large pieces to sew together to use in quilts", "this one rolled up piece that is somehow the perfect size for the coasters my friend wants", "pieces to cut 2.5 inch strips out of for future baskets", and crumbs, then diced up the crumbs into smaller confetti to use as pillow or stuffed animal stuffing later
#the person behind the yarn#not sure what is going on but I will ride this wave of productiveness while I can!#I wanted to make the winter soldier bear#but the gray fleece did not make it over in the same box as the rest of the bucky bear fleece apparently????#I have all the other ones I use for bucky bears in their own section on the shelf#and the gray is just not there. Which means it is either in a bag of fabric I have yet to unpack#or (more likely) in my 'general fleece storage drawer' in the living room console table thing#but that's downstairs and I have used up my downstairs time today washing dishes#console table is not the right word but idk the right word. table for living rooms that is not coffee table#it had a drawer in it that was empty I had fleece to store the drawer is no longer empty#today I have also played just like so many neopets games (I am very glad they got so many games updated)#and put my music on shuffle and sang along a lot#I am resisting the urge to cast on another hat but I am not resisting it well
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went to a real dispensary and got real weed like a big kid today
#i was only shaking a little#it was insane it was soooooo. the bougie gentrified silicon valley vibes...#like it looked like an apple store inside#they had their website and menu up on multiple huge tablets around the store#so like u walk in#get carded and then go through another door#and then they were suuuper busy so the line wrapped the edge of the whole room#and the middle of the room had glass display cases of products#and like consistently more ppl showed up behind us#so i took a few minutes to look over the menu and put in an order and then got on line#and when i got to the front they confirmed the order and then sent someone to put it together#and then showed me everything to confirm again#and then gave it to me and i left#so it was really easy!!!#but the menu was HUUUUGE#like we went specifically for vape carts joints and edibles#and the options for each were endless.#10+ pages#it was craziness#thinsg that would break a medieval peasants brain for sure#so i got some gummies and things#i've always ordered online bc the closest dispensary is like 20 minutes out of the way#and its been so intimidating lmao#i wanted like cookies or whatever but thats a lot more expensive than gummies#and i could make my own at home if i really wanted ig#but anyway!!#and we have a friend visiting rn#and my room is clean#and everyone is happy and safe#and i love u all
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Hello "use Firefox" entities. If anyone would have fun expanding upon the suggestion, my phone came with like 20 google apps and I would prefer to have 0. I'm doubt that is 100% possible because there are very few default programs. Example: no default calender or photo app--just google calendar and google photo. But good lord there are too many of them
Is there a "use Firefox" suggestion for email/calendar/map/file viewer/anything?
<3
#i almost got a plain flip phone to avoid Advertisements but the cheapest was like....$100.... so i got a $200 smartphone and its#moderately adequate. i am still figuring out how to answer calls. you swipe to do it but if you dont swipe with a specific velocity it just#wiggles things around. im not sure how im supposed to lock my phone bc the lock button is also the “reads your fingerprint and unlocks your#phone“ button. so ill lock it and then it immediately registers my finger (which i need to use to press the button to lock it???) and then#it unlocks.#humans are not designed for this. we are crafty and clever and cunning but this is beyond my established skill#i miss my first “phone.” everything customizable. app. font. brightness. scheduled volume changes to silence my phone#during school hours. keybind any key to anything. double-press volume-down to pause audio without looking#i had a “swipe down menu” before they were default :3 i picked exactly which options i wanted in it. i remember my first#real phone had the swipe down menu. i was kinda mad because i knew the original designers and programmers hadnt been#compensated. it was open software. but its different when apple uses the programming in hundreds of billions of dollars worth of products.#gah and then they took SOME of the ideas and locked them behind subscriptions 🙄 like when youtube decided that you#had to pay for Youtube Plus or it pauses media if you turn off the screen. why does this app even know if my phone is locked or unlocked?#its annoying... i stay very far away from any work-arounds that could have consequences. so im stuck hopping#from newly-found method to the next. they vanish as soon as the wrong person discovers it and someone codes it out of existence#i love my little mp3player. no wifi. no bluetooth. no google. the few features it has require non-intuitive button pressing.#but....no ads. just music. purchased music! no subscription. it has a headphone jack. fits in my palm. the exterior isnt glass lol.#wow sorry i am raaaambling. oh well. its my post lol.#sorenhoots
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Courtesy of https://twitter.com/FandomSpongebob/status/1554514570324201477
#here we go again with the whole catdog is so mean-spirited crap again!#i mean sure catdog had it's flaws but saying it's mean-spirited is not only a dead horse but people who say this sound like broken records!#catdog#micah wright#nickelodeon#90s Nickelodeon#nicktoons#90s nicktoons#1990s nicktoons#behind the scenes#production#twitter#animation#spongebob squarepants#spongebob#Peter Hannan#catdog merchandise#merchandise#stephen hillenburg
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the sense of having any lore about the ancient [ten to thirteen years ago] of marble hornets times like granpa granpa tell us a greentext story....the only hitch is not having stories and instead having "i guess you had to be there" tales from the fringes, unless instead of a hitch you frame this as a bit
#like what's crucial info from then? who knows. smthing neat abt mh is its iterative resurgences apparently lol. got a wavelength#from the start it was always [queer fans queer fans trans fans trans fans] etc to be sure#by ''thee start'' i mean i showed up a couple of months? weeks? before s2 started. i think amnesia: the dark descent was partly to thank to#i mean of course it is in all things no matter the topic. and i feel manesia the dark manscent in this chili's tonight#one of the more [umm] first true spikes in New Ppl was when that game with the pages got streamed a lot#not a lot to work with there re: [you are already at mh hq] but brought ppl in like umm yea it's a little youtube movie here....#Back In Those Days...when youtube had a Reply feature for videos which i would have forgotten was anything if not for tta really....#the saga of [we didn't have any crisp behind the scenes pics of tim's mask for a while so deciding what its design seemed to be was tricky]#or [lucky that alex's striped hoody had both the inner seam highlights & the patch on the waistband] re: identifying it....#the hoody was already Out Of Production lol the base masks were from michael's crafts which i hear has recently discontinued them; pensive#paper mache cosplays here we go....#anyways nothing makes a good story. one time i sprinted to beat everyone on unfiction to solve a scrambled dvd cover#i managed to post it first (here on tumblr) And Then on unfiction; where it was also first lol. this was ignored#(one reply did a nominal shoutout like ''[other user] and others'' lmao)#i blog to this day....where's unfiction (rhetorical)#they were great for crowdsourcing codes but the Analysis(tm) left many things to be desired (i mean on tumblr too sometimes of Course)#unfiction would be like ''why is this entry delayed [thinking emoji]'' & truly the answer like ''they explained the behind the scenes reaso#in this linked facebook post here (the funy saga of joseph losing the distinctive out of print hoodie before its Part Two appearance)''#and the unfiction thread would continue apace like ''hmm guess we'll never know'' yeah apparently not#unsurprisingly my best Retro Tales From Behind The Scenes would be like; that fun mh viewing party commentary bit live event....#that there was overlap w/my first coming out transly times & probably had my Best Experience w/that from the mh creators lol#that thesis simply Is the tale. the bit abides
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{Hero Archetypes: The More... something version}
The Fallen Hero
You are the Fallen Hero, a tragic embodiment of betrayal, vengeance, or perhaps a heart-wrenching love story turned awry. Whether exposed to corrupting influences, manipulated by deal-makers, brainwashed, extorted, blackmailed, or witnessing the destruction of sacred bonds, your descent into darkness is marked by profound sorrow and loss. You might have turned for the sake of greed. Yet within, a lingering spark of hope remains, compelling you to reluctantly extend assistance to the newcomers. Motivated by the sincere desire to shield them from the same tragic fate you endured, you find yourself driven to guide and protect, despite the shadows of your own past.
tagged by: @tarnishedxknight
tagging: anyone!!
#quiz#((*taps fingers together* I have;;; thoughts on this#so this isn't. quite accurate for Gylfie as she does have morals and does act for what is good#which is going against Vayne and fighting for all of Ivalice instead of continuing to blindly go with Archadia's expansion#because she knows Vayne will destroy Ivalice in his constant need for power and Archadia will devour herself before she's full#so Gylfie never fell in the sense of turning on what is right and following Vayne without question#or continuing to believe that it was the destiny of the Empire to conquer all#with that all said - I can see her having a corruption arc and I think that'd be fun to explore heh#but also this is accurate with how Gylfie sees *herself*#I really should write a post about this at some point lol#but Gylfie doesn't believe herself to be a good person whatsoever. She used to believe Archadia was the best of the best for *years*#and felt it appropriate for the Empire she loved so much to continue her expansion and that Rozarria was 100% the enemy#and... never thought twice about the smaller kingdoms caught in the warpath#her mother's criticism of Archadia slowly began to chip at that but she wasn't disillusioned until Nabudis because *that*#was something she absolutely couldn't get behind no matter how she felt about the Empire. it was a horrific and brutal act that greatly#disturbed her and really snapped her out of it#also Ffamran leaving did make her start to question things a bit but not quite enough#anyway my point is: Gylfie doesn't believe herself to be a good person. she believes herself to be a *product* of war#to be too much like her father to be a good person#and that she's done so much harm that there is no room for her to be good#with that said she doesn't necessarily see herself as a horrible person but. definitely not a good one#and ABSOLUTELY doesn't see herself as *any* kind of hero - she'd honestly just laugh if someone called her one#but she had been brainwashed essentially and she had witnessed destruction of sacred bonds#and she has acted selfishly and she has done horrible things in the name of the Empire#but she also tries so hard to do *right* despite it all. she *wants* Archadia to be better#she *wants* Ivalice to remain whole and she does what she can to see Vayne defeated and Archadia changed for the better#her goal of becoming Judge Magister changes from her believing it was her birthright to her wanting to be one to make sure Archadia#stays on track and continues to do better under Larsa's rule because she knows he'll make the Empire *better*#and she's willing to do whatever she can to protect him and protect Archadia's future#but with that she may have to do things that wouldn't necessarily be considered *good*
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Bigger Than He Was
Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT
Request by @littlemiss-yeehaw: jealous!Bucky, fake dating, handjob.
Summary: Bucky pretends to be your new man when you run into your ex in public. However, the little act of pretending sparks something inside of him that he didn't know was there.
Warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption, handjob, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight size kink, jealous!Bucky, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 7.8k
A/N: The first request I wrote from the smut menu had to be from my Tumblr best friend. Not only does she pre-read nearly everything that I post, but she keeps me from deleting my blog on a near daily basis, and she keeps me sane. I hope you all enjoy it as much as she did. If it wasn't for this girl, my blog would've been deleted before Needs & Wants was ever completed lmao.
You’ve decided that no one in the world looks more out of place than a super soldier in a grocery store. Specifically, a super soldier in the produce aisle of a small local market. He looks like a bull in a China shop as he scours through a bin of tomatoes to find ones he approves of. He holds one tomato in each of his leather gloved hands as he compares them carefully, acting like choosing between the two is every bit as difficult as deciding whether someone lives or dies in his usual line of work.
“They’re pretty much the same, Bucky, and we only need two. Just put them in a bag.” You say with a sigh, resting your elbows on the handle of the shopping cart that you’ve been pushing as you’ve trailed behind him. Though you’re the one carrying the team’s grocery list, Bucky’s been the one pulling things off of the shelves and setting them in the cart. You originally suggested each of you taking half of the list and splitting up to get the shopping done faster, and to avoid the pointless arguments and annoyances you’d face in each other’s presence, but Bucky’s only response to your idea was a furrowed brow and silence. So, you’ve been following him around with the shopping cart safely between the two of you.
Bucky starts to put both of the tomatoes down and pick two different ones just to bother you, but he takes the high road and bags the two he’s already holding instead. He’s usually assigned to grocery shopping with Sam, which he definitely prefers, but with Sam off to visit his family this week, he ended up being stuck with you.
“What’s next?” Bucky asks, setting the plastic bag of produce in the cart and then casting you a sideways glance. You cross tomatoes off of the small piece of paper in your hand before moving on to read the next item.
“We’re done with food items, next is ibuprofen, melatonin, and some feminine products.” You answer, lifting your gaze to meet his as you tap the pen against the piece of paper absentmindedly. Bucky nods curtly and starts leading the way down the aisle, knowing all of the aisles with medication, first aid, and toiletry type supplies are on the opposite end of the store. You follow a few feet behind him, missing your usual shopping buddy, Wanda. Though it’s a menial task, you always seem to have a fun time when the two of you are on the grocery schedule for the week. Bucky is a stark contrast to your far more bubbly, lighthearted friend.
You’re lost in thought as you turn a corner and enter the pharmacy aisle, not paying any attention as Bucky looks through various types of over-the-counter medications. It isn’t until you hear a voice one aisle over that you straighten up and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The voice sounds familiar, so familiar that you find your ears straining to hear it better so you can identify it. Is it an old friend? Someone from SHIELD? You can’t be sure, but you’re starting to think it isn’t a friend by the way your nerves seem to be rising with every incoherent word that they mutter. You leave Bucky standing at one end of the aisle as you walk ahead, trying to get closer to the source of the voice. You’re nearly at the opposite end of the aisle when suddenly, the front end of another shopping cart appears and quickly turns in front of you, almost colliding with the front end of yours. You stop abruptly for two reasons. The first reason being so you don’t cause a pileup on aisle thirteen. The second reason being because you now see whose voice was causing your heart rate to elevate and your stomach to twist into a knot. Your fucking ex-boyfriend.
“Oh, wow, hey!” The man before you extends the greeting so casually, as if he didn’t waste a year of your life with meaningless words and empty promises. He raises a hand to rub the back of his neck, his eyes darting over his shoulder just as a pretty blonde woman steps into view. Oh. “This is uh, this is my girlfriend.” He gestures to the woman before looking back at you with a wary glance, clearly trying to gauge how you feel about him committing to someone new so soon. The woman offers a small smile and wave as she introduces herself by name, but it all goes right over your head. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, unable to tear your eyes away from the piece of shit behind the cart full of organic produce and a questionable amount of wine.
Bucky’s watching everything unfold from a few yards behind, acting as if he’s still deciding between a name brand bottle of ibuprofen and a generic version of the same. He gives you a few seconds to soak in the obviously awkward social situation as his eyes analyze your body language. You’re tense, your grip on the handle of the shopping cart is so tight that your knuckles are turning white. It’s been ten seconds since the woman introduced herself to you and you still haven’t uttered a word. Bucky glances to his right and notices the selection of condoms, lube, and pregnancy tests spread over the shelves next to the medication section. He only takes a second to weigh his options: let you continue to flounder in front of your shitty ex and his new victim or offer you an easy reprieve while simultaneously sending your ex into a mental spiral. His gloved hand wraps around a couple of boxes of pregnancy tests and he pulls them off of the shelf, signifying he’s chosen the latter.
“Oh, trying for a baby?” Your ex jokes when Bucky approaches from behind you and drops a handful of pregnancy tests into the cart.
“No, it’s just smart to have a few of these on hand when we only ever fuck raw. Do we know you?” Bucky’s tone is calm and even, like he’s just said something completely within the ordinary. It breaks you out of the trance you were in and you blink your eyes as you feel the heat from Bucky’s body enveloping you in warmth. He cages your body between his and the cart, his chest brushing against your back as he places his hands on either side of yours on the shopping cart handle. You don’t see the way his lips curve upward into a shit-eating grin as your ex’s face falls at both Bucky’s unfiltered words and the public display of affection he’s witnessing.
“Aren’t you…” The man addresses Bucky with slightly widened eyes and an unsure voice. You almost laugh at the effect Bucky has on the poor guy’s demeanor, and the fact that Bucky towers a few inches over the man is just icing on the cake.
“Bucky.” Your ex has just realized that not only are you grocery shopping with the Winter Soldier, but you’ve also been letting him fuck you.
---
Your week has been full of unexpected moments, but two stand out in particular. The first moment was when Bucky so calmly chose to play the role of your fake boyfriend at the grocery store three nights ago. Nearly every waking moment since then has been spent replaying it in your head, wondering why he decided to step in and do that for you, why he decided to take such a blunt approach and tell your ex that the two of you prefer unprotected sex, and how the hell he acted as if nothing happened immediately after the interaction was over. The second moment is unfolding right now. Your eyes are locked in on your phone screen as you mull over the text that’s displayed there.
Are you free tonight? Would love to sit down and catch up, want to talk about things.
You don’t have the number saved in your phone but you know exactly who it is. It’s the same shitty ex you ran into two nights ago, the same one who now thinks you’re fucking the Winter Soldier. Before you’ve even considered responding, a second message from the same unsaved number rolls in.
I’ll be at the bar we used to go to, the one off of 83rd street, in an hour. Hope to see you there.
The way your face scrunches up in confusion at the sight of the two texts on your phone screen piques Bucky’s interest as he steps off of the elevator and uses the collar of his t-shirt to dab sweat off of his neck. He’s just finished a pretty strenuous workout and had every intention of heading straight to his room to shower and spend the rest of the night in there, but he can’t ignore the feeling of some kind of invisible string tugging him in your direction. It was only two nights ago that he pressed himself against you in the grocery store and pretended like he knew what it’s like to have you in his bed. It was only two nights ago that you became a near constant thought in the back of his mind.
“Don’t tell me he texted you.” Bucky’s voice catches you off guard. You lift your gaze from your phone screen and lean back into the couch cushions, attempting to look perfectly at ease in his presence. Truth be told, you’ve been a little on edge around him since the night in the grocery store, but you don’t know why. Maybe because he saw you in such an embarrassing and vulnerable moment, in your own personal hell.
“He didn’t text me.” You lie, watching him carefully as the elevator doors close behind him and he takes the few steps across the room to reach the sectional you’re currently lounging on. It’s odd to see him sink into the opposite end of the piece of furniture so comfortably, like he’s such a normal guy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him sit in the living room of his own free will, and it’s a sight to see.
“You’re a bad liar.” Bucky huffs. His expression turns thoughtful as he thinks back to his encounter with your ex that night. The corners of Bucky’s lips curl up into a smile when he remembers the way the guy practically shrank when he heard that the two of you like to fuck raw. “What does he want?” Bucky seems to have a sixth sense about this shit, so you decide to go with it and tell him the truth, see where it gets you.
“He said he wants to catch up and talk about things.”
“Right after seeing you with another guy.” Bucky points out, hoping you’ll see where this is going. You shrug your shoulders and cross your arms over your chest.
“I guess so, or maybe it’s unrelated. People break up and then discuss it later for closure sometimes, it’s a thing, Bucky.”
“So, you’re going?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” You answer honestly. You watch as Bucky nods slowly, as if he’s digesting the information and deciding what to do with it. He uses the collar of his t-shirt to wipe a bit of sweat away from his neck again, drawing your gaze down to the flexing of his bicep. You’re quick to avert your gaze back up to his eyes, but the satisfied smirk on his face tells you that he caught you looking.
“We’re going.” Bucky decides, sitting up a little straighter on the couch and running a hand through his sweaty hair. The bewildered look that takes over your face says it all.
“What the hell do you mean we’re going? There’s no we here, it’s just me.”
“I meant exactly what I said, we’re going.”
---
You stand in the garage of the compound, where everyone’s various vehicles are stored away safely. Your fingers pick at the frays of your black jeans absentmindedly as you lean against a concrete pillar, waiting for Bucky. You know you should just get in your own car and leave without him, there’s absolutely no good that will come out of letting him tag along for this. Yet, something in the back of your mind is tugging at you to stay and wait for him, to see what might come of this. Looking up at your reflection in the car window a few feet away from you, you take in the sight of your little ensemble. You’re wearing dark jeans paired with a tight little long-sleeved crop top that shows the tiniest bit of your midriff. You wanted to wear something fairly plain yet something that showed a little skin, so this is what you settled on.
Unbeknownst to you, Bucky’s outfit for tonight will go well with your own. He’s wearing dark jeans as well, but with a dark t-shirt and black leather jacket. As the elevator carries him down to the lowest floor of the compound, he has a brief second of clarity where he asks himself what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. First, he went against every rational thought in his mind when he pretended to be your boyfriend in a damn grocery store. Then, he spent two nights thinking about what it might’ve been like if he actually had been fucking you raw like he’d told to your ex he was. Those two nights ruined him. You ruined him. It took less than 48 hours for his mind to become completely preoccupied with you.
When the elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open to let him into the private parking garage beneath the compound, his eyes fall on you instantly. Fuck. One look at you and he’s immediately decided that you’re not taking a car, no, you’re taking his bike. Hell, you’re dressed near-perfectly for it. The only issue is that bit of smooth skin you have showing beneath the hem of your little top, he’s not going to take you out on his bike and risk ruining that perfect skin of yours with road rash.
The ding of the elevator draws your attention to your right, where Bucky is stepping into the parking garage looking totally different than when you saw him upstairs half an hour ago. His messy hair has been washed and dried, his flesh and metal biceps are hidden within the sleeves of his leather jacket, and his neck is no longer glistening with a sheen of sweat. You’re unashamedly focusing on the way his jeans are accentuating the muscles of his thighs when he starts stripping off his leather jacket.
“Put this on.” He says as he holds the jacket out to you with one hand, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans with the other to fish out the key for his bike. Your eyes widen as you stare at the jacket in his outstretched hand. Shaking your head, you take a step back from him.
“Why?”
“Because you’re not riding on the back of my bike with skin showing, it’s not safe.”
“The back of your bike? Bucky, we’re taking a car.” You say defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest. Bucky can’t ignore the way your breasts are slightly pushed up by the action, a hint of cleavage peeking out over the lowcut neckline of your top. He quickly averts his gaze back to his motorcycle that stands a few feet in front of you both, a sigh leaving his lips at your stubbornness.
“Just put on the damn jacket.” He says, looking over at you one more time, but this time with a softened expression. You don’t know why you comply and take the jacket from him, but you do. It’s warmed from his body heat when you slip your arms into it and the way it engulfs you and pulls down on your shoulders with a bit of weight is almost comforting.
The motorcycle ride to the bar, however, is anything but comforting. The only other time you’ve ever been so close to Bucky was that night at the grocery store when he cozied up behind you for show. But this felt different. This involved your chest pressed against his back, your inner thighs brushing against his hips, and your arms wrapped around his torso. This felt intimate. It felt the same way to Bucky and he couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard he tried. When he stopped at a redlight in the city, you let your hold around his abdomen relax for a moment. Your hands slid down to rest on the tops of his thighs as you remained pressed against his back, and he was praying for the light to turn green again before one of your hands had a chance to shift and find out how hard he was beneath the fabric of his jeans. He can only blame himself for the torture, since he was the one that insisted you take the bike.
When you turn onto the right street, you’re quick to tap Bucky’s thigh with your hand, completely missing the way he tenses up beneath your unexpected touch. You use that same hand to point to a small parking garage across the street from the bar that you’ll be heading into, and Bucky gets the signal. It’s only two minutes later that he’s parking his bike on the third floor of the garage and trying to keep his eyes off of you as you stand beside the bike, removing your helmet carefully. Some part of him can’t help but think that you’re being so careful because you want to look your best when you waltz into the bar to meet your ex, and he fucking hates it. He has the sudden urge to mess your hair up and send you in there looking like shit. But that urge only makes him think about all of the ways he could mess your hair up. He could grab you by it and pull you against him, he could run his hands through it and rake it into a ponytail while you’re on your knees for him…shit. He just volunteered to drive you to the bar to meet your ex. He can’t do a damn thing.
You hand Bucky your helmet and immediately start smoothing down your hair, seeing the look of disdain he gives you but choosing to ignore it. He had no obligation to be here with you tonight, but he insisted, so he has to put up with it.
“You don’t have to go in with me, I can do this on my own.” You say, hoping Bucky will choose to wait for you in the parking garage rather than go inside the bar with you.
“What are you planning to do?” Bucky asks, swinging his leg over as he dismounts the bike and joins you on the concrete floor. He stands in front of you, slipping his gloves off and resting them on the seat of the bike before reaching under the chin of his helmet to undo the strap there. Your eyes drift to the veins on his flesh hand and golden accents on his vibranium hand as you formulate a believable response.
“Hear him out, give him closure or whatever he’s here for.”
“Whatever he’s here for?” Bucky repeats your words almost sarcastically, scoffing beneath his helmet. When he pulls it off and rests it on the seat next to his gloves, you can see he’s scowling. “Why are you playing dumb? He’s here for you.”
“No, he isn’t. He’s with someone else now, and he thinks I am too.” You point out. A low chuckle rumbles past Bucky’s lips as he runs a hand through his hair and starts toward the concrete staircase on the other end of the floor.
“That’s exactly why he’s doing this, because he thinks you’re with someone else and he can’t stand it.” Bucky sounds so sure of himself, as if he’s experienced something like this before. In fact, he sounds so sure that it makes you wonder if he really has experienced this before.
“You think he’s jealous? You saw the girl he was with, didn’t you?” You question, falling into step next to Bucky. His leather jacket still sits heavy on your shoulders but giving it back to him hasn’t even crossed your mind yet. Bucky’s hoping you’ll forget about it and keep it on when you walk in and sit down across from that piece of shit ex you’re here for.
“She doesn’t have shit on you and he knows it.” His words leave your lips parted and your eyes widening in surprise as he reaches the staircase and starts heading down in front of you. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. For the most part, you’ve only ever heard him talk about you with an air of annoyance or indifference, but you could swear that what he just said was almost complimentary. If you could see the grimace on Bucky’s face, you’d know you were right. When he saw the blonde in the grocery store, he wanted to laugh at the way the guy had downgraded after losing you. She was pretty, sure, but you glow like the fucking sun even on your worst day.
“So, what should I be doing here tonight then?” You ask, knowing Bucky probably has a plan in mind if he came all this way just to witness what’s about to go down.
“Showing him that you don’t need him, that you’re better off without him.” You reach the bottom of the stairs and step out onto the sidewalk across from the bar. Bucky turns to face you as you scan the area for a crosswalk.
“And how do I do that?”
“For starters…” Bucky says, stepping closer to you and grabbing the front of his leather jacket that you’re still sporting, “keep this on.”
---
Bucky’s been standing at the bar for the last fifteen minutes, nursing both a beer and an aching jaw. The ache is from how hard he’s been clenching his teeth together since your ex strolled in and took the seat across from you at a little two-seater table across the room. Of course, the guy showed up without his new girl. And, of course, he’s been trying like hell to get you to smile and laugh at whatever half-assed jokes he’s been cracking since he sat down. Bucky knew the guy wasn’t after closure.
He watches with a less-than-pleased look on his face as the guy leans his elbows on the table and rests his hands a little too close to yours, but you don’t pull away. You’re sitting facing Bucky’s direction, yet you haven’t once let your eyes flit up to meet his. It’s infuriating. Bucky strains his ears to pick out your conversation through the din of the usual bar chatter around him. He listens intently as the guy tells you that it was nice to run into you at the grocery store, that he didn’t know if he’d ever see you again, that he missed the way you laughed. What a fucking ass. If Bucky remembers correctly, from overhearing gossip among the team, the guy had you nearly head over heels for him, and then one day he pulled the rug out from under you in and instant. He never even gave you much of a reason why. He simply called you up, ended the relationship over the phone, and a week later you heard through the grapevine that he’d met someone else. Why you felt compelled to meet the guy here tonight, Bucky will never understand. He doesn’t think the prick deserves even a minute of your time.
“So, you’re really seeing someone else now?” The man’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Bucky’s sensitive ears, but he continues to focus on your conversation anyway. Bucky has to know how you’ll respond. He watches out of the corner of his eye as you push a stray lock of hair back over your shoulder, over the shoulder of his leather jacket, and then you blush. Why are you blushing? Bucky’s heart starts to race in the slightest because he can’t figure out if you’re blushing at the idea of you and him being together or at your ex prying into your personal life.
“Yeah, he uh…at the grocery store, he…” You stutter through your answer. Like Bucky previously said, you’re a bad liar. The pink showing through the skin of your cheeks darkens another shade as you look away from your ex. Your eyes finally land on Bucky, who’s now standing at the bar facing you head-on. He holds your gaze assuredly and gives you a small nod, letting you know that you’re saying the right things. Somehow, just making eye contact with him and getting that small nod of approval calms your nerves.
“Right, I remember. I guess I kind of thought that was a joke.”
“A joke?” You ask, a bit offended at your ex’s confession. He rubs his hand across the back of his neck and lets out an awkward laugh before leaning back in his chair comfortably and taking a sip of his drink.
“Yeah, I mean the guy said you only ever fuck raw. You never once asked me to fuck you raw. It just didn’t sound believable.” Huh. You’re silent for a moment as you sip on your own drink and let your gaze float back to Bucky once more, unaware that he’s just heard every word that the man said. The two of you stare at each other with some kind of…tension in the air between your table and the bar. Honestly, if you and Bucky were actually together in some alternate universe where you didn’t find each other incredibly annoying from the start, you think you would love to let him fuck you without protection. Something about it just sounds so filthy and enticing. But when you imagine it with the man that’s currently sitting in front of you, the man who promised you a lifetime and then kicked you to the curb like a broken piece of furniture, you cringe. No, you never asked him to take off the condom, and you probably never would have. Truthfully, that should’ve been a sign.
Bucky’s eyes analyze the two of you as you put on a tight-lipped smile and then relax in your seat, fiddling with the zipper of the leather jacket draped around your frame.
“It didn’t sound believable?” You ask softly, looking up through your lashes in a way that makes Bucky’s cock twitch, and he’s not even the one you’re looking at. When you do flit your eyes over to him, he can sense the change in your demeanor instantly. You’re not coming off so lighthearted and timid now, you’re giving off an air that says you-don’t-know-who-the-fuck-I-am anymore. “When I look at you, I can’t even fathom the two of us having unprotected sex. It never once crossed my mind to ask you for that. But when I look at him?” You let your gaze travel over to Bucky once more, and this time your ex catches on. He turns in his chair, scanning the bar behind him until he sees the super soldier leaning against the bar with a smug smile on full display. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.”
---
Bucky’s leather jacket weighing on your shoulders, his body warmth seeping through his t-shirt and offering you reprieve from the wind that’s hitting you both head-on, his right hand reaching back to grip the side of your thigh as he weaves his bike skillfully in and out of traffic on the way back to the compound. All of those things are mixing and swirling together to create a near suffocating tension. You’re focusing on keeping your helmet from bumping into the back of his and even more than that, on keeping your mind out of the damn gutter. What you’d said back at the bar, the final thing you’d said before your ex realized he had no chance at getting back together with you, it was true. When you look at Bucky, you can’t stop imagining him fucking you without anything between your body and his. You don’t know when that started or when it might end, but it’s true. So, you left with him, climbing onto the back of his bike much more willingly than you had earlier in the evening. Not because you wanted to be close to him, but because you wanted to get home as fast as possible so you could get the hell away from him. Where on earth did this new found attraction come from? Why was your mind betraying your body with every single glance in his direction? Fuck physiology.
Bucky can almost hear you overthinking behind him as he turns off of the interstate and onto a quiet, private road leading up to the compound. Hell, he’s overthinking too. He heard what you said at the bar, and he saw the look in your eyes when you said it. Had you been thinking about him the same way he’d been thinking about you since that night at the grocery store. No, there’s no way. If you really had been, then you wouldn’t have wanted to meet up with your ex tonight. Bucky lets out a breath and slows the bike as he nears the entrance to the parking garage. Neither of you said a word when your ex stormed out of the bar, nor did either of you when you made the walk across the street to the public parking garage and started the ride back home. It’s been silent, unbearably silent for too long.
When Bucky finally parks the bike among the various vehicles owned by your friends and colleagues that reside upstairs, it seems as though you can’t get away from him fast enough. You swing your leg over and dismount the bike quickly before slipping your helmet off and taking a few steps over to the wall to set it on the shelf it originally came from. You’re halfway to the elevator when Bucky speaks, stopping you in your tracks.
“The jacket, sweetheart.” He says coolly. When you turn around, you see him still sitting on the bike, looking down at the helmet he holds in his hands. It almost bothers you that he isn’t looking back at you. He can call you sweetheart but he can’t lift his eyes to your face? You let out a deep sigh before walking back over to him and standing a foot away from him and the bike. You strip off the leather jacket a bit reluctantly before holding it out to him. You have to admit you feel a bit like you’re missing something without it on now. Bucky takes it without glancing in your direction, and as soon as you turn on your heel to walk away, you can hear him dismounting the bike and setting his own helmet on the shelf. You’ve just hit the button to call the elevator down to the garage when he decides to speak once again. “You’re a bad liar.”
“What?”
“You’re a bad liar. I don’t know much about you, but I know that.” Bucky says. You stand in front of the elevator but you can’t tear your gaze away from him when he’s speaking so ominously. You watch him carefully as he turns away from the shelf and faces you, but still doesn’t lift his gaze to meet yours. Instead, he smooths out his leather jacket before laying it over one arm and tucking the keys to his bike into the back pocket of his jeans.
“What does that have to do with anything?” You question, crossing your arms over your chest. Your eyes dart back to the screen above the elevator. It’s still so many floors away from reaching you.
“I knew you were lying when you told me he hadn’t texted you. I don’t even think your piece-of-shit ex believed you at first when he asked if you were really seeing someone new, you couldn’t even get a full sentence out. You’re a bad liar.” The words pour out of his mouth with ease, as if he pre-planned the entire speech. When you don’t say anything, he finally lifts his eyes to meet your narrowed stare. A shiver runs down your spine, but you blame it on the fact that you’re no longer wearing his jacket. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.” When Bucky repeats your words so perfectly, you can feel all of the color draining from your face. “When you said that, you didn’t stutter, you didn’t hesitate. You weren’t lying.”
“You think I was being honest?” The question leaves your lips with a hint of anger edging each word. Bucky merely shrugs in response, tilting his head to the side as he waits for you to answer your own question, since it’s obvious that he thinks you were being honest. “You think I look at you and imagine you fucking me raw?”
“Do you?” Bucky taunts, licking his bottom lip before drawing it between his lips and pressing his top teeth into it. Your gaze darts down to his lips against your better judgement, and when your eyes settle back on his, all you see is a reflection of what you’re sure your own eyes are showing. Lust. He thinks about it. He thinks about fucking you raw. In this moment, you’re sure. In fact, he’s thinking about it right now.
Your feet start moving before you even have a moment to consider the action, they’re carrying you straight toward him, ignoring the elevator that’s just arrived to take you away from him. When you stop a few inches in front of him, he’s staring down at you with a raised brow and building anticipation. He wants your answer.
“Yes.” You breathe the word out. In an instant, Bucky’s dropping his jacket to the floor and tangling his flesh hand in the hair at the nape of your neck as his pulls you into him, crashing his lips against yours. It’s a kiss that takes your breath away and fills your lungs with a fiery burn, yet you don’t want to break for air. You kiss him back, moving your lips to suck along his bottom one as you tilt your head to the right to give each of you better access. Bucky languidly drags the tip of his tongue along your top lip before snaking it lower and letting it delve into your mouth. God, he might’ve imagined fucking you but truthfully, he forgot to imagine kissing you. He never would’ve thought it could be this good. His vibranium arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you closer into him until his body warmth begins sending tingles across the surface of your skin. Once he has you flush against him, that same cool metal hand begins unwrapping from your back and traveling down until it’s in place to grip a handful of your ass, hard. When you gasp into the kiss, Bucky pulls back and bites down on your bottom lip. Fuck. If you don’t stop him now, he won’t be able to stop himself from having you right here in the garage. As if you’re reading his mind, you place both hands on his chest and pull your head back until there’s an inch of space between your mouths. While your eyes are focused on his pink nose and swollen lips, your mind is focused on what you feel pressing against your thigh. He’s fully erect, his cock straining against the front of his jeans just from kissing you. You could overthink this, let your mind weigh all of the pros and cons of what’s happening right now, and then convince yourself to be responsible and go upstairs to your own room, pretending this never happened. But for some reason, your right hand is already coasting down his chest, over his abs, and sliding between your lower bodies. You find yourself palming the outline of his cock, offering him such a perfect amount of pressure and friction that he can’t help but lean his hips forward and press his cock further into your touch.
“If you don’t stop now…” Bucky rasps, but his eyes flutter closed and he bites down on his lower lip before he’s even finished the sentence, your sensual touch getting the better of him.
“If I don’t stop now?” You encourage him to say what he wants to say, but you can’t fight the teasing smile that’s beginning to play on your lips.
“If you don’t stop now, you won’t be able to return all of those pregnancy tests on your next grocery run.” You laugh lightly as you lean in and press a soft kiss against Bucky’s jawline, continuing to rub his erection through the taut fabric of his jeans.
“Are you thinking about fucking me raw, James?” You tease. Bucky groans before opening his eyes and pulling you away from his jaw by your hair. He doesn’t stop you from slowly sliding your hand back and forth along the outline of his cock, but he makes sure you’re looking right in his eyes before he speaks again.
“Right here in this damn parking garage.”
Without a single thought in either of your minds, Bucky lets you push your palms flat against his chest and walk him back until he stumbles onto the seat of his motorcycle. In one swift movement, you slip your hand past the waistband of his jeans and boxers and the warm skin of your hand comes into contact with his hard length, without anything between the two of you. Bucky lets out a heady groan and his hands begin moving all on their own, working to unbutton and unzip his jeans to give your hand as much space as possible. As soon as he has his pants undone, you shift your hand and wrap it firmly around his cock, giving it a slow stroke inside of his boxers. When you near the head of it, a bead of precum drips onto the side of your thumb and you smile to yourself as you spread it back over the smooth tip of his cock. What is it about having a man this way that makes a woman feel so damn powerful? Bucky looks at you with a mix of annoyance and awe at the way you’re working his cock so effortlessly yet turning him into putty in your hands. He’ll let you have your fun for now, and then he’ll show you that he can have the same effect on you.
The moment your eyes lock onto his, he slides his right hand along the side of your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss, the taste of your lips and the feel of your hand stroking back and forth along his hard-on is nearly enough to send him over the edge, and he inhales sharply, tugging his lips away from your own.
“I’m not going to have much use for those pregnancy tests if we keep going like this, am I?” You ask jokingly, as you remove your hand from Bucky’s pants and raise it up to your face. Bucky runs a hand through his hair as he blows out a breath and watches you intently. Your thumb, still a bit shiny and wet from his precum, ventures dangerously close to your mouth. You keep your eyes trained on Bucky’s as you use that same thumb to tug down your bottom lip before sliding it into your mouth and sucking.
“Oh, fuck.” Bucky groans, his rationality fleeing as his own flesh hand delves into his pants and begins mimicking your actions from a moment ago. The way your eyes follow his movements, your pupils blown wide with lust as you watch him touch himself, it’s too damn much for him. He grabs you by the hair once again, in that desperate, needy way that you’re quickly growing to love, and pulls you against his chest, kissing you as fervently as the first time. However, this kiss doesn’t last. He pulls away from you in an instant and suddenly, his hand is on your shoulder, pushing you down to your knees. Before you reach the floor, he uses the toe of his boot to slide his discarded leather jacket across the floor to cushion your knees. So fucking thoughtful.
Bucky stands up with you on your knees in front of him and his bike resting on its kickstand behind him. His eyes never part from your face as he pushes his already undone pants and boxers down his thighs just enough to free his cock from their confines. Your breath hitches in your throat as soon as you lay eyes on it, as soon as you lay eyes on the sheer size of it. Bucky doesn’t make a move to stop you as you reach up with both hands and take hold of his length, using one hand to begin stroking it from the base to the tip while your other hand grips his thigh. Your eyes widen at the way it looks even bigger in your hand, which is a mental image that Bucky will probably be recalling every day for the rest of his life. You’re more than ready to lean in and take him in your mouth, to experience every second of what it’s like to suck him off, but his gentle touch halts your movements. His flesh hand softly cups the side of your face as he lets his thumb caress the skin over your cheekbone.
“You’re so much bigger than he was.” You whisper, your eyes traveling up Bucky’s torso until you’re getting lost in his gaze. It’s true. Your ex was…well below average in this department. But Bucky? God, Bucky is so far above average it’s actually making you wonder if you can even fit half of him in your mouth. Bucky chuckles lowly before tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, and then copying your earlier move. He slips the pad of his thumb between your lips and watches with hooded eyes as you eagerly accept it, sucking on it gently. Fuck. He’s so ruined. Only a moment later, he’s standing there with his head thrown back and a string of curses are falling from his mouth as you bob your head back and forth, letting his cock slide along your tongue and brush against the back of your throat repeatedly. He’s fully lost in the pleasure of your mouth. He’s so lost, in fact, that when you grip his thighs with both hands and lean into him as far as you possibly can, letting your nose brush against his lower stomach and your throat tighten around his shaft as you gag, he lets out a groan that reverberates through the parking garage and sends a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.
“Fuck, do that again.” He rasps, finally looking down at you as you pull your head back until only the tip is resting on your tongue. A smile plays behind your eyes as you dare to look up at him. He can’t help himself. Both of his hands move to run through your hair, encouraging you to do exactly what he just said. You repeat your actions, moving your head forward and taking his entire length in until you gag a second time. But this time, Bucky holds your head still there for two seconds. His eyes squeeze shut as your throat grips his cock tighter and tighter, the sensation bringing him so close to the edge that he abruptly pulls back and leaves only half of his length for you to taste. “Just like that, shit.” Another minute of your mouth doing exactly what Bucky wants and he’s fighting with every cell in his body to delay the inevitable. He wanted to fuck you raw, truly, it was his intention from the moment you admitted you thought about it. But having you like this? Having you on your knees for him, telling him that his dick is bigger than the last piece of shit you were with? God, he’s so close to cumming in your mouth that it almost hurts.
“I’m so fucking close.” He groans the words out as if he’s in pain, as if he’s holding back because he doesn’t want to cum in your mouth. That just won’t do. So, you release him from your mouth with a pop and start working him with your hand as you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze.
“You don’t want to cum in my mouth?” You ask innocently, looking up at him through your lashes. It’s the same way you looked in the bar earlier and he feels his last bit of resolve crumbling. He could easily cum in your mouth, but that’s just not what he needs right now. In that desperate, needy way that you love, Bucky grasps your hair and pulls you to your feet. A whimper leaves your lips as his cock slips out of your hand.
“No.” Bucky says calmly, turning you around and pushing your back forward until your hands land on the seat of his bike. “I’m going to give you a reason to use one of those damn pregnancy tests.”
He’s swift in pulling down your jeans and panties with both hands, and then lining his cock up with your entrance and making you think he’s going to fuck you. But no, Bucky lets the tip of his cock gather the wetness that you’ve been sitting in since you left the bar, and then he begins chasing his release with his own hand. You let out a needy whine, pushing your hips back against him and hoping his cock will just happen to notch inside of you and slide all the way in, but Bucky isn’t going to let it happen until he’s ready.
He has a plan. He’s going to fill you with his cum first, then use his fingers, his tongue, and his cock to fuck it back into you after. The next time your run into your ex, Bucky wants you to be so fucking pregnant that the guy loses his goddamn mind.
There will be no tag list for the smut menu requests.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x you#mcu#marvel#the winter soldier#winter soldier
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The Boeing Whistleblowers Weren't Assassinated
Anyone who looks into this past a few memes and headlines realizes that it's not actually much of a conspiracy.
The first whistleblower, John Barnett, did his whistleblowing back in 2017. The legal proceedings he was in before he died were related to a defamation case against Boeing, who "he claimed deliberately hurt his career and reputation because of allegations he’d made of grave safety breaches on the aircraft company’s production line."
He was suffering from PTSD and Anxiety Attacks from the length of the case, which shows the unjust levels of stress you get form being a whistleblower, but which also are not surprising comorbidities from suicide. Add to the fact that his wife had died a little over a year before, and it's a lot less suspicious that he would kill himself.
He did not tell his family "If I die, it wasn't suicide". The alleged witness was a friend of his mom who claimed he said it. That's not something we should treat as solid evidence.
The second whistleblower, Joshua Dean, got the Flu, then pneumonia from the Flu, then got MRSA in the hospital. These are very common diseases that also have C-grade death rates: Only ~30% of patients die of it, so it hardly makes sense as an assassination weapon.
Boeing has 32 whistleblower complaints, which is shocking but if they're going around killing whistleblowers they sure seem to be behind the fucking curve on it.
In both cases these deaths came long after the initial complaints, such that killing them doesn't get rid of the complaints, and given the 32 other cases it sure doesn't seem like they're trying to scare off new ones.
And beyond that, killing off whistleblowers is a strategy that only makes sense if you think of Boeing as a single organism and not an abstraction made of thousands of people. Yes, it's theoretically better for Boeing's bottom line if whistleblowers die, but the executives responsible for the fuck-ups these whistleblowers are pointing out? Won't go to jail for them. They will go to jail if they're caught hiring an assassin, something they would have zero practice doing and would be highly likely to fuck up like they did the company if they tried, and that risk isn't worth a little extra bonus on your stock options or whatever.
I really do not want this "Boeing killed the whistleblowers OMG" shit to stick around because it's blatantly unsupported and it will scare off future whistleblowers if this becomes common bullshit wisdom.
#copying this from a comment I made so it's not attached to a long post people might skip over#Boeing#Whistleblowers#1k
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