Nerd!Armin who got his tongue pierced and as soon as it healed spread your legs open and devoured you.
Nerd!Armin who has an oral fixation. Always wanting to kiss you and make you feel good.
Nerd!Armin who is still so shy around you even though you guys have been together a long time
Walking in the door before I can even set my bag down Armin has me pinned up against the door. His lips on mine as his hands are making their way under my shirt.
“Can I?” He asks as he’s trailing his lips down my neck. I nod as I go to help take off my shirt and unclipping my bra in the process. His lips traveling further down my chest as he latches on to my nipple. His tongue piercing swirling around my sensitive bud. “Fuck Armin” moaning as I become fully aware we are still against our door. “Ngh-let’s go to our room”
He pulls away and his face is flushed with a sheepish look on his face. “I’m sorry I got carried away”
because we were all called gifted kids and now we're gay illiterate fucked over touchstarved exhausted disappointments you do realise you made a post about like 90% of tumblr dot com
Sometimes I have to draw comics to cope with things. I read about this a while ago and it still breaks my heart. They smashed her eggs with a brick and she died of grief. The only message I have here is don’t be cruel.
summary; Bucky keeps running into you on the street, until you both end up at the place he hates most.
warnings; angst, fluff, grumpy yet curious bucky, ptsd mentions, sort of meet-cute, shy reader, undefined age gap, awkwardness.
word count; 2,395
a/n; this fic was actually requested! it’s going to be my first series. enjoy part 1 <3 - stellie
He’s seen you four times.
Once near the bakery, another by the library, and twice in the park.
Every time, he looks directly at you, or maybe it’s just your botched imagination. Something about him is vaguely familiar. You’ve never had a chance to investigate.
He usually wears all black. The part of your instincts that you wish you could get rid of tells you that means he’s trying to fit in. There has to be something wrong with him, maybe a secret agent or one of those crazed CIA mongrels. You look more suspicious than you’d like, and this is New York, it’s no surprise they already have someone out looking for you.
If they do, all you have to do is tell your lawyer.
You don’t think the city is the best place for someone who was formerly on the Most Wanted list, but you need to be monitored. It’s a condition of this and a condition of that, living in a one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn and reading every book in the library to pass the time.
When you die, you’ll finally be free.
For now you’re stuck, walking to the office complex that you dread every week. It’s something that you have to do, or else you’d be in prison.
You open the door to the plain, white waiting room, the little old lady at the secretary’s desk greeting you as always.
“Checking in for an appointment with Dr. Kiersten?” She chimes.
You nod and sit down in a chair nearest to the corner. You’ve always liked a close exit.
“She’ll be with you in just a bit, sweetie.”
The tips of your shoes tap the floor anxiously. You do this before appointments. The lady’s demeanor changes when the front door opens, letting the air conditioning out of the room. You think she’s going to ask you to stop tapping your feet, but she just looks over to the door with a hesitant expression.
“Mr. Barnes,” she clicks her pen. “Dr. Raynor, yes?”
“As always,” he murmurs as his heavy boots continue to slam the linoleum floor. He sits down two seats away from you, face slightly hidden.
You’ve seen him before.
He pulls a small notebook out of his jacket pocket in gloved hands, it’s only about the size of his palm. There must be something important in there, because he’s looking at it with creased eyebrows and a slightly scrunched nose.
“The hell are you starin’ at?” He snaps.
You fidget with the rip in your jeans and pretend you don’t hear him. It’s not like you’re obligated to talk to a complete stranger.
He flips the notebook closed and puts it back in his pocket. “Sorry,” he slumps his head against the wall.
“It’s okay,” you take his apology with a grain of salt, knowing that if he’s sitting in this office, he’s probably just as messed-up as you are.
“You look young to be in here,” he leans forward to get a better view of your face.
It would be easy to get up and walk to the other side of the room, to just sit in another empty chair. For some reason you just don’t feel like it.
“So?” You shrug.
“Are you a vet? Most people that come here for therapy are veterans.”
His eyes are a piercing shade of blue, and you just know you’ve been met by that unique color in your recent memories.
“Not necessarily,” you squinted at him. “I wouldn’t call myself a veteran.”
He smoothed his dark hair back. “Me neither.”
“Dr. Kiersten will see you now,” the lady at the front desk gestured to you.
You didn’t have things to gather, you weren’t a fan of possessions or purses. You just stood up to walk away before your mysterious, blue-eyed acquaintance interjected.
“I’m James,” he pointed to himself. “See you around?”
sunnydale butcher delivering their 8th mass order of blood and strange animal organs to various weird warehouses around town this week: huh ... weird. anyway
sunnydale high school students when they pass by the library and see that freaky blonde girl doing martial arts sparring with the librarian: huh ... weird. anyway
sunnydale residents seeing That Leather Jacket Guy regularly running around town covered in a burlap blanket that smells like fire before jumping into the nearest sewer: huh .... weird. anyway
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