Mariah 🥀🇲🇽

All the stars in the sky could see Why you're perfectly wrong for me

[simplyholl]

The Birthday Gift

Summary: All of the Avengers forgot your birthday. Loki and Bucky make it up to you.

Pairing: Loki x F Reader, Bucky x F Reader, Loki x Bucky x F Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY. Threesome. Choking. Knife Play. Mild Blood Play. This is one spicy meatball.

W/C: 2K

See my Masterlist here

*This is a gift for myself and everyone who reads, because it’s my birthday! I couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than between these two. 💖

Today had been horrible. You were having a bad hair day. You shattered your phone screen. The restaurant you ordered take out from got your order wrong. The universe was cruel sometimes, so of course everyone also forgot today was your birthday. The two people who would never forget, who could make your day a million times better, were away on a mission. Loki and Bucky, your two best friends on the team.

You take the long way back to your room, the dread of spending the evening alone setting in. You should have caved and told the girls it was your birthday. They would have taken you out for drinks at least. But you’ll tough it out, watch your favorite show, and pass out surrounded by a mountain of snacks.

When you enter your room, you’re shocked to find Bucky and Loki waiting for you. “Surprise!” Loki almost sings. A cake with lit candles and a tub of ice cream is placed between them on your bed. You squeal with delight. “What are you guys doing here? I thought your mission would last a few more days.” “We finished and rushed back to you.” Bucky says pulling you toward his bulky body for a big hug. “Blow out your candles, darling. Make a wish.” Loki gestures toward your cake. You can’t believe they did this for you.

You close your eyes taking your time blowing out each candle. “I bet the team had a big party for you. Tell us about it.” You sigh debating on lying. Bucky looks at you expectantly. “They actually forgot about it. But you guys are here, and that’s all that matters.” You glance at your feet, holding back the tears threatening to spill. “Are you still feeling down, doll?” You nod. “It’s not you. I’m happy you’re here, and this is so thoughtful. It’s just been one of the worst days I’ve had in a while.”

They exchange glances, seemingly communicating telepathically. “Don’t let them ruin your night, love. We still have to give you your gift.” Loki’s blue eyes gleam. “Where is it?” you ask scanning your room for wrapped boxes, but finding nothing. “It’s us. We’re your gift. We are gonna make it up to you.” Bucky beams at you. “Wait. What?” you question looking between them. “Get on the bed. Let us take care of you, darling.” Loki removes the cake and ice cream they brought from your bed. Bucky begins shedding his clothes.

You lay back against your mattress. Loki climbs on top of you, extracting a small, shiny dagger from his suit. He places it in front of your face showing it to you. “Is this alright, little dove?” “Yes.” You whisper. Loki’s lips curl upward. “I knew you would like this. I’ve seen you watching me while I train with them.” He lowers the weapon to the collar of your sweater. The blade rips the fabric splitting it in two as he works it lower. When it’s ripped to your belly button, Loki uses his hands to finish, pulling the torn fabric off you. He zigzags the icy point down your stomach lightly so it won’t pierce your skin. You shiver with anticipation, blowing out a shaky breath. He makes quick work of your skirt, leaving you in your underwear.

Bucky places a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “I thought we were sharing our girl.” Loki chuckles, he stands discarding his leather apparel in the floor. Bucky takes Loki’s abandoned position, crashing his mouth to yours. He reaches between you grasping the fabric in the middle of your bra. He barely pulls on it, and the material splits. He roughly snatches the unwanted garment off your body. Loki sits beside you, messaging your now exposed breasts.

He tweaks each hardened peak between his long fingers. Bucky kisses his way down your neck until he’s on your other side parallel to Loki. They both take a sensitive nipple into their mouths. Bucky forcefully sucks while Loki lazily licks. You arch up into them. Loki’s dagger dances along your breast. You hold your breath when your nipple is released and the edge brushes against it.

Loki places a stream of kisses and nibbles along your stomach. His weapon follows the same pattern. Bucky presses his lips to your neck; his tongue sweeps the sensitive area. Loki pulls your panties down your legs, tossing them on top of his own pile of clothes. He runs the dagger over your thigh. You squirm under his attention. Loki reaches for the ice cream in the floor. He places small dallops on your soaked core. He lowers his head, his tongue parts your folds, lapping up every drop. “Mmm” he moans against you. You arch underneath him bringing your center closer to his face.

You close your thighs around his head. Loki’s hands part your legs, raising up. “It seems our girl is quite impatient.” Loki shakes his head in mock disappointment. Bucky moves down by your stomach, his hands locking around your thighs spreading them wide. Loki brings his head back down, flicking his tongue against your clit. You tremble beneath him. Bucky’s grip tightens. Your helpless whimpers fill the quite room. Loki’s lips close around your clit sucking firmly.

You hope Bucky will loosen his grasp, but he never falters. You feel the bubbles of heat low in your stomach threatening to spill over when Loki abruptly stops. He nods toward Bucky. He lets go of your legs, swiftly continuing his assault on your breasts. Loki strokes the dagger over your heated skin. He presses the blade to your thigh. The loss of your impending orgasm makes you desperate. At least that’s your explanation for your next words. “Loki, will you cut me?” You surprise yourself, asking for the one thing you had always fantasized about. Loki grins wickedly. “You trust me that much, my precious mortal? You would allow me to draw blood?”

You can’t think clearly while Bucky licks at your chest. But you’re sure of this. “Yes, Loki. I trust you completely.” Loki carefully traces the tender skin on the inside of your thigh, pressing the dagger harder each time. You cry out when the blade digs a little deeper, breaking the skin. Loki sits back admiring the small cut glistening red. He brings the weapon to his lips. His pink tongue darts out to taste the scarlet drops lining the sharp edges. He hums in approval. He lowers his head, licking the blood from your wound. Simultaneously, he dips his long fingers inside you curling upward, deliciously brushing your sweet spot.

Bucky nips your collarbone, as you ride Loki’s hand. His tongue laps at your small cut while his rough palm enticingly rubs against your clit. A high-pitched moan escapes you as you climax. Loki removes his hand dipping his head between your open legs once more to lick a stripe up your center. His tongue lowers to gather all the wetness accumulated there. When he’s satisfied he has collected every drop, he pulls himself off you. “Barnes, you must taste our girl, she is absolutely divine.” You shiver from his words.

He lifts you up as Bucky takes your spot on the bed. He places you on your knees beside him. “Sit on his face, darling.” Loki nudges you towards Bucky. You hover above his face placing your thighs on each side. “Good girl.” Loki croons. “Can’t wait to taste you, doll. I want you to soak my face.” Bucky grasps your hips jerking you down on his waiting mouth. Loki makes his way in front of you, kneeling. He attaches his lips to yours. You grasp his strong shoulders, while Bucky swirls his tongue against you. The scruff of his beard deliciously scratches the inside of your thighs as you wantonly ride his face. He locks his arms around your waist.

He glides his tongue through you with ease, swiping your clit with unhurried licks. Loki pinches your nipples, skillfully sucking a trail down your neck. Your fingers tangle in Loki’s black curls. Breathy moans leave your lips. You move your hips faster against Bucky’s face. He eats you ravenously. His tongue is unforgiving. He hungrily laps up everything you give him. You feel his teeth graze your most delicate spot. When Loki bites down on your neck, you shatter, a jumbled version of their names is shouted into the air. You reluctantly remove yourself from Bucky. Loki’s hands force you down on your hands and knees. He places one on your nape. The other pulls your disheveled hair into a messy ponytail in his grasp.

You clutch your sheets while he slams into you. You whimper when you feel a cold metal thumb swirl your clit. You meet Loki’s thrusts, throwing your ass back against him. Bucky presses light pecks against your neck, his vibranium thumb still working your swollen bud. Loki glances at Bucky, speaking with their minds again. Something tells you this isn’t the first time they’ve done this.

Suddenly, they flip you onto your back. Loki plunges back into you, lifting your legs over his shoulders. He latches onto your neck sucking the skin into his mouth. You whine as you spasm around him, feeling his warm seed spill into you. He withdraws himself from you. Bucky moves into a sitting position behind you. He lifts you like a ragdoll, pulling you down onto his hard erection. His arms pull your back flush against his chest. He starts thrusting underneath you.

“You take me so well, feels like you were made for me.” He bounces you on him when Loki’s thumb caresses your bottom lip. “Open.” You obey. Loki slides his thick cock between your lips. You moan when you taste yourself on him. You take him all the way in, choking on him at first. You bob your head against him, tightening your lips. You trace the veins along his length with your tongue drawing loud moans from him. Bucky fucks into you, his vibranium arm feels icy against your flushed skin as he holds you to him.

You feel Loki’s cum spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs. Bucky places his free hand around your throat, lightly squeezing. Loki’s hips snap faster lodging his cock deeper. Your throat tightens and you gag around Loki. You gasp for air, struggling to breathe. He pulls out of your mouth, Bucky loosens his grip. Bucky’s blue eyes darken, he growls into your ear “Be a good girl, and take all of him, or I’ll use the other hand. I won’t be so gentle then, angel.”

You desperately whimper. You shouldn’t be so turned on from him threatening you. You open your mouth wider flattening your tongue. Loki glides back in. Bucky increases the pressure on your neck. You dig your fingers into Loki’s hips pulling him impossibly closer. “That’s it. Good girl.” Bucky purrs. You thrust down against him. The angle perfectly hitting the spongy spot that makes your vision go hazy. You cry out, but it’s muffled by Loki’s throbbing cock. Loki palms one of your breasts. His other hand snakes down where you are joined with Bucky. You clench around him while Loki paints your clit with your arousal and his cum, still dripping out of you.

Your whole body shakes as another explosive orgasm rips through you. Loki’s large hands move to your hair, holding your head in place as he spills down your throat. Bucky tenses underneath you, clutching you closer as he cums. He lifts you off him placing your tired body on the bed beside Loki. He lays on your other side. Loki tenderly pecks your shoulder. Bucky takes your hand, caressing the back of it. “Happy Birthday, darling.” “I hope we made it memorable.” You sigh, completely spent and sure this would be one birthday you would never forget.

*Thank you @lokisgoodgirl for the Bucky threatening to choke you with his other hand idea. I love your filthy mind. ❤️

Tags

@fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @potter-puff007 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @coldnique @goblingirlsarah​ @mochie85 @wheredafandomat

[marcorossi]

Christian Yelich for ESPN’S 2019 Body Issue

[dilfgifs]

DILFGIFS 2.5K CELEBRATION: SPIN THE BOTTLE ON THE DILF ↳ SEBASTIAN STAN — Malin (@buckysbarnes)

[unearthlydust]

SEBASTIAN STAN FRESH (2022)

[sweeterthanthis]

Bad Habits

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, breakdown of a marriage, alcohol abuse, dubcon themes, fingering, derogatory language, angst, 18+.

A/N: Written for the @sweetlyscared 1k Angst Challenge. Congratulations on the milestone, lovely! I hope you enjoy my contribution! And thank you to @msmarvelwrites for the encouragement, help and support when I randomly started writing this in the early hours! And to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog and @whisperlullaby for being great hype women when I was having major posting anxiety. The prompt I chose is:

"Please don't give up on me." / "I gave up a long time ago."

You awoke with a start, the thick, heavy thumping of a fist hammering against your front door pulling you from your slumber. It was the third time that week, and you didn’t even need a second to adjust your sleepy head to know exactly who it was. 

You’d ignored him the previous two nights, and he’d left of his own accord eventually. But you couldn’t go on like this, couldn’t stand the guilt you felt over ending things, or knowing that you’d broken him the way that you had. 

Sitting up in bed, a shiver ringing through your body as you pushed back the covers and planted your feet on the hard, wood floor. Reaching for your nightgown, you pulled it over your shoulders, tying the silk cord around your waist and standing from the bed.

Your bare feet padding softly against the floorboards, you made your way to the front door - the air silent now, aside from the soft sobs echoing through the barely open kitchen window. 

Blowing out a heavy, nervous breath, and unlocking the door, you pull it open; looking down at the floor and spying his heavy, black boot peeking out from beside the plant pot next to the porch. 

"Lee," you sigh, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand, "we've been through this already. You can't just come on out here in the middle of the night no more."

You wince as he knocks over a smaller plant pot, sending it crashing to the floor as he pulls himself up; still dressed in his Deputy uniform and his black, leather jacket. 

You roll your eyes as you spot the small bottle dangling by the neck from his fingers, the stench of cheap whiskey permeating the air as he nears closer to you. 

“Why not? Got someone else warmin’ your bed already?” Lee drawls, his liquor laced voice stammering a little with each word. 

Exasperated, you reach for the door knob, unable to deal with the state he’s gotten himself in; the reason you’d asked him for a divorce in the first place. 

He’s quick on his feet, even as inebriated as he is, his palm slamming against the wood as you move to close it in his face. 

You don’t frighten so easy anymore, don’t jump at the sound of flesh hitting wood, never flinch when he raises his voice. You’ve dealt with it long enough, you’re almost conditioned to expect it now. 

“Lee, go home.” 

“Home?” He scoffs, without so much as a beat. “Home. You mean my office down at the station? I had a fuckin’ home, and you-” he gestures with the bottle towards you, “you kicked me outta it.” 

You don’t fight him. There’s no point. 

Letting your hand fall from the doorknob, hanging limply by your side, you turn, walking to the kitchen sink and pouring him a glass of water. He won’t drink it. Never does. But you do it all the same. Because somewhere, deep down in the pits of your soul, you still love him. 

You feel his whiskey soaked breath on the nape of your neck, a chill running through your bones as the stench burns in your nostrils. His hand grips the counter beside you, the moonlight catching his wedding ring as it streams in through the kitchen window. 

“Miss you s’much, darlin’.” He whispers, the tip of his nose brushing behind your ear, your chin wobbling just a little as you stand stark still. “Just lemme come home. I can do it this time, swear it.”

Your fists clench by your sides, heart battering in your chest as the memories of a thousand broken promises flood your tired mind. 

“Pour the whiskey down the sink, Lee.” 

It’s a simple request. One you’d made plenty of times before, and one that he’d never come through on. There wasn’t even the smallest part of you that expected him to anymore, but it didn’t stop the disappointment that sat in your gut each time he let you down.

“This is bullshit." His palm thuds down hard against the counter beside you as you duck out beneath his arm and move towards the table - out of reach of his frustrations. 

He’d never hit you. Not a single time. And you didn’t think he was about to start. But fuck, you were mad. Mad that you’d wasted four years of your life hoping he’d change. Your shoulders shook at the weight of the regret you carried, nose scrunched with disdain, and your body tense. 

“Bullshit? This is bullshit?” You rage, gripping the wooden chair with your fingers, knuckles white. “I’ll tell you what’s bullshit, Lee. Watchin’ you drink yourself half to death every fuckin’ night.” 

You lock eyes with him then, for the first time since you threw him out, his eyes bloodshot and the remnants of tears lingering. It makes your heart clench, your chest tighten, and the breath in your throat hitch. You watch as his jaw twitches, his grip on the bottle tightening so hard, you think it might shatter in his palm. 

“Look at you, Lee. You’re pathetic.” You spit, a lump in your throat as you do so, those lingering feelings of love and empathy prickling at your skin. But you can’t help yourself, can’t stop your mouth from running. “You can’t even pour that fuckin’ shit away, not even for your wife. You know, I’m glad we don’t have kids Lee. Because if we did, well fuck, they might’ve ended up just like you.” 

You hear the oxygen escape his lungs, like somebody just punched him in the stomach, his mouth falling open in reaction to your harsh declaration. You knew how important growing a family was to him - but as he’d already proven, it wasn’t important enough. 

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t utter a single word. Simply looks down at the half empty bottle in his hand, and then back at you. For a moment, your heart swells just a little, hoping maybe this is the day he sees sense. But he lets you down again, just like he always does. 

Lifting the bottle to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours, he drains it in five urgent gulps - and your heart shatters all over again. You push it down; can’t let yourself feel it, can’t let him see what he’s doing to you. 

“Get the fuck out of my house, Lee.” 

He wipes his drenched lips with the back of his hand, tossing the empty bottle to the kitchen floor and taking a step towards you as it shatters and you take a step back. 

“I’ll call the police, I swear I will.” You threaten, not registering how ridiculous that sounds. He clocks it though, a dark chuckle emitting from his throat as he stalks towards you. 

“The police? You gonna call the police, sweetheart?” He smirks, one hand on his hip as he nears closer. “Go right ahead. I am the fuckin’ law. Or did you forget that already?” 

You feel yourself shrink slightly, your shoulders hunching, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as he slinks closer to you across the humble sized kitchen. 

“You beginnin’ to realize you’re outta options, sweetheart?” Lee taunts, shattered glass crunching beneath the weight of his boots. “What’re you gonna do now, huh?” He coos, closing in on you, the bottom of your spine digging into the edge of the kitchen table. 

Your hands gripping the wood behind you, you lean back; trying to put some distance between the two of you as his gaze wanders down to your chest, the silk robe parting slightly, the curve of your breast peeking out. Lee reaches for the knot tied around your waist, his fingers toying with it, his intentions clear. 

“I missed this body, darlin’. Missed those pretty tits.” You shudder, the pit of dread in your stomach growing warmer, heat spreading throughout your thighs, scowling at yourself in disgust. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout all the pretty noises you make for me.” 

He closes the gap between your bodies, tugging the cord gently, just enough to make you wriggle with discomfort, his knuckles dragging across the hollow of your throat; ass resting on the edge of the table as he parts your thighs with his own. 

“You remember the sounds I can get outta you, sweetheart?” With one final tug of his fingers on the cord, your gown comes loose, falling open and giving him an eyeful of what he’d claimed to miss so much; your nipples pebbling from the breeze rushing in through the front door. “Yeah, there they are. You’re tremblin’, honey. Can pretend all you wan’, I know you missed me.” 

“Lee, get the fuck off m-” he stops you in your tracks, gripping the underside of your thighs and jolting you back further onto the table, his bloodshot eyes taking in the sight of your bare chest, roaming down your body and settling between your thighs. Your hands fly out to grip the collar of his shirt, a combination of confusion and lust clouding your brain. 

“Come on, lemme remind you why you married me in the first place, huh? Lemme touch you, baby. Wanna feel that sweet cunt 'round my fingers again.” 

He drags a solitary fingertip over your nipple, eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips, his own pressed against your forehead. An unusually soft gesture as he toys with your tits, gentle for a moment, before kneading them, one after the other, hungrily in his palm. 

“Yeah, I missed ‘em. Guess what else I missed?” Lee hums, his splayed out palm gliding down your torso, down over your soft belly to the damp curls between your legs. You shudder involuntarily, despising yourself for allowing him to touch you - for allowing yourself to want him to touch you. 

“Lee, please,” your hand gripping his leather clad wrist, his fingertips hovering over your cunt, “this isn’t helping anybody. You- you need to leave.” 

“Oh, you want me to leave?” He smirks, hooking a finger beneath your chin and tilting your head up just a little, his whiskey breath fanning your face. It made your stomach churn, your eyes watering from the strength of it on his tongue. He yanks his hand from your halfhearted grasp, cupping your pussy and humming when he finds it soaked. “She don’t want me to leave, sweetheart. Quite the fuckin’ opposite.” 

He presses a palm against your chest, shoving you back, your elbows supporting your weight on the wooden table top beneath you, silk robe falling from your shoulders and pooling around your wrists. 

“You givin’ in, sweetheart? Well, damn. Went from tiger to kitten in no time at all, huh?” 

You grit your teeth at his taunting, seething as you blow heavy breaths through your nostrils. But the way his fingertips dance, featherlight, over your pussy lips; you couldn’t find it in yourself to revolt. 

“Look’it this.” He drags a finger through your sloppy folds, your cunt clenching as he probes your tight hole with the tip of his digit, spreading the wetness he finds there up over your clit. “Tellin’ me you didn’t want this? That this ain’t helpin’? Cunt’s fuckin’ drenched for me.”

He slides a finger inside, walls fluttering around it as he curls it up against that spot inside you that he knows sends you dizzy, your head lulling back a little as your objections die on your tongue. 

“S’my perfect, tight little cunt. Mine.” He growls, pinching your nipple firmly between his fingertips, hand pressed up against your core as he slides another finger in alongside the first. “You feel that? Shit, your squeezin’ em so goddamn tight.” 

“Please,” you pant, your hips rocking down against his hand, shamelessly seeking more contact, more pleasure, “please, Lee.” 

“Listen t’you, beggin’ me like a cheap whore.” Shame swirls in your gut at his derogatory words, but your pussy throbs at the statement, his thumb finding your swollen clit. And you just don’t care, the way hes fucking you with his fingers, the filthy words dripping from his whiskey-tainted tongue. You just want more. “Gonna come all over these fingers? Yeah, I bet you are. Always did love it when daddy played with that spot, didn’ you?” 

Your eyes roll back as he slips in a third digit, stretching you out around them, pushing down firmly on your g-spot and stroking it back and forth. “Yeah, right there. That’s the one, sweetheart.” 

The intensity of it, the rush, the heat blooming in your belly - it’s too much.

Too much, and yet nowhere near enough. Grinding yourself against his touch, his fingers knuckle deep inside your cunt, you can’t help but mewl and whine. Garbled words falling flat on your lips as he works you towards your orgasm, your cheeks hot and your abdomen tight. 

“Fuck.” You cry, a feral edge to it, halfway between a shriek and a snarl. 

“Yeah, you’re so fuckin’ close.” Lee chides, one leg raised over his shoulder and the other dangling limply beside him. “Come all over my fingers, darlin’. Gimme all of it.” 

He drives his fingers into you at a pace that has you visibly shaking, you can barely take a breath, the pressure in your core threatening to burst wide open, toes curling as he quickens his ministrations on your clit. 

“Yeah, yeah there ya go,” he chuckles, watching as your face contorts in bliss, your heartbeat thumping in your eardrums, that first, unforgiving wave of pleasure crashing into you at brute force as he drawls his words, slow and dirty, “good girl, good fuckin’ girl.” 

Your body wracked with the force of your climax, you fall back against the table, your cunt gripping his fingers wildly, your release coating the leather of his sleeve, animalistic whimpers singing from your throat. 

“Fuck, I sure as hell missed this part.” You can barely keep your eyes open, but you feel him withdraw and try to watch anyway as he raises his fingers to his mouth, inhaling your scent as he sucks them clean. And you hate the way you want him more than ever before right there in that very moment. “Like fuckin’ honey, darlin’.”

It’s as if someone dumps a bucket of ice water on you, the way in which you pull your robe across your chest, sitting forward and shoving him backwards. 

He stumbles, not expecting it, eyes wide and perplexed; that sardonic smirk nowhere to be seen. 

“Get the fuck out of my house.” You seethe through gritted teeth, wiping the perspiration from your forehead with the back of your hand. “Take your booze-ridden ass and get the fuck out.” 

Lee holds his hands out in front of him in mock defense, shaking his head from side to side as he chuckles darkly. Tilting his head towards the shattered glass on the kitchen floor, he speaks. “Best clean that up. Don’t want’cha to go hurtin’ yourself now, do we?” 

You grab the closest thing to you, a portable radio, and launch it in his direction. It misses him by a hair's breadth, but he backs away all the same, making his way to the open door. He takes one last look at you, your knees pulled up to your chest as you hug them tight. 

“I can’t quit you, and I’m not even gonna try. Keep fightin’ me, darlin’. I ain’t givin’ up on this. Please, don’t give up on me.”

The softness in his tone makes you weak, but you push it down all the same, vitriol rising on your tongue as you spit your retort. “I gave up a long time ago, Lee.” 

He simply stands there, hand on the doorknob as he pulls it to, huffing a laugh at your spiteful words. 

“We’ll see ‘bout that, Mrs Bodecker.” 

[ifyoufeelit-chaseit]

AU Meme: Reader is RDJ’s daughter, and in an interview he praises her, while talking about the marvel guys crush on her.

[bucky-at-bedtime]

A List of  Names Sam Calls Bucky

A very important list - because we stan one (1) bromance

Cyborg

Terminator

Buckaroo (Because why the hell not)

Robo-cop 

C-3P0 (This is a stretch) 

Cable (is this too obvious? Same universe? lmao)

Furiosa (“Joke’s on you, I’ve seen that movie, she’s a badass!”)

Iron Man (Tony: “Dude that’s my name”)

Barnes and Noble (Sam: “Get it? Because your name’s James Barn-” promptly gets cut off when a book is thrown at him.)

Starbucks (Sam: “Get it? Because you’re name’s buck–” promptly gets cut off when an entire iced coffee is thrown at him)

Tinman

Man of steel (Bucky: “It’s vibranium!” Sam: “‘Man of vibranium’ doesn’t have the same ring to it”)

(Please feel free to add more if you have any! I’m totally gonna refer to this post for future fics.)

[lets-do-get-help-deactivated202]

I apologize if this has been done before but it popped into my head when I was rewatching Spiderverse

[blckwidowbucky-deactivated20210]

attention | b.b

SUMMARY: Bucky has been too busy to give you the attention you’re craving, so you take matters into your own hands.

PAIRING: bucky barnes x female reader

WORD COUNT: 6.2k of pure smut lol

DISCLAIMER: i do not own any marvel characters

WARNINGS: SMUT (minors DNI or you will be BLOCKED,) oral m+f receiving, fingering, daddy kink (whoops), spanking, choking, rough sex, what i will call *light* degradation, unprotected sex (please use condoms, they were invented for a reason) dom!bucky, sub!reader, fluff in the form of aftercare (if there are any that i missed please don’t hesitate to tell me.)

A/N: ummmm… so this was supposed to come out a WHILE ago but it took me a very long time to write because i kept getting additional… inspo lol. shout out to my literal favorite @sunflowerxbarnes​ for being the baddest bitch and helping with inspo and just listen to me ramble about smut and then not post said smut lol. (ily you’re the best) this is the first thing i’ve posted in a HOT minute so please… be gentle. feedback is very much appreciated, i hope you enjoy :)

-

You love Bucky more than you could ever say, and you’re so proud of what he does every day. Taking out horrible people and saving countless lives is an extremely admirable thing that causes an enormous sense of pride to swell up in your chest whenever you think about it. But, sometimes, working as hard as he does makes him exhausted, and sometimes, as a result of this, you get, well, needy.

It’s going on ten days since Bucky had last touched you. Of course, he’s cuddled with you, held your hand, and kissed you, but it’s been ten days since he’s really touched you. In the way that makes your breath catch in your throat and heat surge through your body. In short, you haven’t had sex in ten days and you just wanted some attention.

Of course, you know he doesn’t do it on purpose, he’s not truly neglecting you and realistically, ten days is definitely not that long and you certainly aren’t angry at him. You can’t blame the man for being tired. But that irrational part of you, the insatiable part of you, was filled with need.

Keep reading

[angrythingstarlight]

Ride Me, Sweetheart {B.B.}

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: Bucky shows you there’s more than one way to ride his motorcyle. 

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Bucky/fem!reader

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 2.5K

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴:Smut, 18+, oral (f reciving), cum eating, vaginal sex, cockwarming on the motorcycle

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘢’𝘥, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 (𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵)

Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work.

Check out my Masterlist and Taglist!

A/N Do not try this at home, this is fiction!

Bucky prides himself on taking care of his things. Not that he has much that he actually calls his own, but the little he has, the little that he can claim as his own, he takes care of.

Blame it on the era he grew up in or his time spent being someone one’s else property. Maybe it’s a combination of both along with the fact that when he managed to get his own little apartment stuffed with his mishmash of belongings, it was stolen from him too. Most of his things were confiscated by the government.

Now, he treasures everything he gets his hands. He could never express enough how much it means to him when you wonder around yard sales with him, both wearing baseball hats and glasses, and let him pick through stuff. Although you both know that he really doesn’t need those extra sets of tools or that he will never fix that game system.

His latest score is that broken music box he snagged while you were talking with the owners of the house. He plans on having it fixed up for you before Christmas.

It gives him a sense of normalcy that he doesn’t get very often in between missions.

But with you, hand wrapped around his, nudging him away from the VHS tapes, he finds himself slipping more and more into the Bucky he was before, the Bucky would have swept you off your feet the minute he met you instead of lurking behind you for three months before finding the courage to ask you out.

You never pushed him further than he could go, yet somehow brought him closer to himself than anyone else could. More than Steve, Sam than anyone.

When he bought his new motorcycle, you were the first person he showed. Your excitement matching his own.

He had never gotten so hard in his life, bordering on painful, watching you straddle his bike, touching the handles. When you looked over at him, flashing that exquisite smile, he almost came in his pants.

He knew then what he needed to do, what he wanted to do with you.

And tonight he wants to show you how much he appreciates you. That out of all the things he has, he treasures you above everything else. And he’s going to start with giving you a night you won’t forget.

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[angrythingstarlight]

One More Set

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: : You assist Bucky with his morning routine. He’s promised to give you a through workout.

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Bucky x fem!reader

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 1.8K

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Smut, 18+,

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘢’𝘥, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 (𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵)

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Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post any of my work.

Sweat trickles down your spine, each breath clawing its way through your aching chest. Heat radiates from you, thick and slow warmth pulsating through every fiber of your being. Your hands flutter above your glistening thighs, dragging your eyes open, you try to speak; the words clinging to your throat, they slide back down when he moves up.

Swallowing once, twice you try again, a litany of words fight their way back up. Only one makes it out.

“Please,”

The thready whine agonizing to your own ears.  

You don’t care. You need it so bad. God you want him, you need him to move faster, deeper, just fuck you. He has to, he has to give you need, Bucky just please.

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[angrythingstarlight]

Take a seat {B.B.}

Summary: Wanda and Nat give you a pillow with Bucky’s face on it. He decides you need to sit on the real thing instead. 

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, Oral (fem receiving) 18+, what plot?

Word count : 800

A/N: Based on this post. 

Hearing the front door slam, you glance frantically around the room, cursing Nat and Wanda in your head. Holding the pillow to your chest, your heart pounds hearing the slow thud of his boots coming up the stairs.

“Hey Doll, where are you”. Bucky calls out from the hallway, two loud thunks telling you he’s kicked off his boots.

“Uh, I’m in the office, but I’ll be out in a sec”, you reply, opening your desk drawer, you try to shove the pillow in there but it’s too big.

Bucky smiles and heads down the hall, “Hey, so I was thinking we could have tacos for dinner”.

You curse under your breath hearing him get closer. “Yeah yeah that sounds good”. You try to shove it behind the potted plant but it sticks out too far. Why the fuck is it so big, who buys a giant pillow. Nat. Wanda.

You’ll have to worry about revenge later, right now he’s so close. “Bucky just give me a sec okay”.

Bucky stops outside the door, the slightly out of breath quality to your voice making him tilt his head. “What are you doing in there?”.

“Noth-nothing, Ill be right out”, you stumble over to the window, you’re unlocking it when the door swings open.

You shove the pillow behind you, turning around to face Bucky. “Hey Bucky”, you smile brightly.

He stares at you, taking in the large stuffed pillow you’re failing to hide behind your back. “Watchu doin’ Doll”.

You shrug, “Just working, finishing up my work, you know the work that I have to work on”, you ramble. Snapping your mouth shut, you squeeze the sides of the pillow in, angling your body to hide more of it.

“Come here”, he demands, unbuckling his leather jacket. When you don’t move, he raises an eyebrow, “Now”.

Biting your bottom lip, you walk slowly over to him, trying to squish the giant pillow behind you. He holds out his black and gold hand, after a minute of staring you down, you hand it over with a sigh.

“Why is my face on here?”, he asks, turning it over in his hands.

You shrug, chewing on your lip, there is no way you’re going to tell him.

When you don't’ answer,  he looks over at the open box by your desk, the card from the girls sitting open. The bright gold sparkly words leaping off the white page.

So you have something to sit on when Buckys’ away. Xoxo.

Bucky looks back down at the pillow, his face staring back up at him. A slowly cocky smirk spreads across his bearded face. His blue eyes lighting up, “You wanna ride my face, Doll”.

Your eyes glance up, “huh”.

He tosses the pillow on the ground, stepping in front of you, he takes your chin between his cool fingers, “Oh you heard me”, he taps your chin with his finger, “Matter of fact”, he murmurs to himself.

He stoops down, grabbing the pillow, on his way up he takes you by the waist, tossing you over his shoulder. Ignoring your shocked squeals, he jogs down the hallway and  kicks open the bedroom door, setting you on the bed. He flops beside you, pulling you in for a slow, deep kiss.

When he breaks away, you’re breathless. He hands you the pillow and places his hands behind his head. “Now have a seat”.

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[angrythingstarlight]

Here is a fun task for your Monday morning 😆🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a thirsty thot about one of your favorite fictional babes. Go on and spread those shameless hoe vibes and your legs 😘❤️

A thot of mine: Stucky adores you, Steve is more the disciplinarian, while Bucky lets you get away with everything. But you broke a rule and now your teddy bear is angry with you.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Steve x Reader

Warnings: Smut, spanking, oral (m receiving), cocky Steve, bondage, dom/sub

A/n: Written on my phone, will correct mistakes later.

----

You've beencooped up in the compound for the past three months. Some up and coming Hydra agent had threatened your life. Steve and Bucky have always been protective of you, but when Steve saw your pictures on the walls in the Hydra base, the threat scrawled across it in blood.

He lost it.

You were half asleep on the couch, binge watching Bridgerton when your door flew open, Steve stormed in and brought you to the compound.

He had FRIDAY monitoring your every move even in the bathroom much to your embarrassment.

Bucky, your sweet pushover, does anything you ask Bucky tried to play mediator between you and Steve.

All you wanted was to go outside. A little fresh air. Sun on your face. Five minutes but Steve said no.

Bucky could never tell you no.

You waited until Steve left to go to the grocery store and begged Bucky to let you walk around the grounds. He gave in after a few kisses and promises to do that thing he likes later.

You had been outside for not even 10 minutes when Steve came back. He didn't even say anything, just threw you over his shoulder. You reached for Bucky as you were carried upstairs. He muttered "I'm sorry doll".

Steve stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed over his broad chest, face impassive while you screamed and yelled about being kept prisoner.

Every point you made, he shot down. After a while, you gave up deciding to ignore Steve and cuddle up to Bucky.

You had your face tucked into his chest, inhaling his comforting scent, his large hand rubbing your lower back. Steve tried stroking the back of your arm with his knuckles, sighing sadly when you pulled away, mumbling into Buckys chest.

Bucky cant stand his favorite people hurting, the look of despair that crossed Steve's face broke his heart. He stepped away from you, "Let me talk to Steve, okay", he kissed your forehead. He took Steve into the kitchen.

While trying to listen to their whispered conversation, you noticed the front door was open. A devious thought crept into your mind. Before you could stop yourself, you were in the hallway. You waited outside the door. No alerts, no warning bells.

You made your way out the front, making eye contact with a smirking Tony as you found one of his cars with the keys still in the ignition.

You had only planned on going to your favorite restaurant, getting food for you and your boys.

You had picked up your food and stepped outside when you saw Steve leaning against the black SVU parked outside. His blue eyes boring into yours.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Bucky round the car. You ran past Steve flinging yourself into his arms. "I'm so sorry", you cry, hugging him tonight.

Bucky shares a look with Steve, " Its alright doll, let's go home and talk".

You smiled up at him knowing he won't let Steve punish you too bad. Bucky takes the bags from your hands, taking a whiff before guiding you into the car, he puts your seat belt on. He cups your face, his thumbs stroking your jaw, "I love you, remember that".

Before you can answer, he released you, closing the door. Its a quiet ride back to.the compound. You keep looking at Bucky, his soft smiles making you relax. You ignore the muscle ticking in Steve's jaw.

Once you're in the apartment, you run into the bathroom. You figure you'll give Bucky some time to calm Steve down. When you finally come out, Steve has a living room chair by the dresser. He's eating out of one of the containers, his legs crossed at the ankles.

"Steve, I know you're upset but I needed to do something--", you stop when he waves his fork in the air.

He raises his brow, swallowing a mouthful of food, "oh sweetheart I'm not mad," he cooes, looking over your shoulder, "he is"

You spin around and your heart drops to the ground. A wave of fear and arousal almost knocks you to your feet.

Bucky is glowering at you, his cold blue eyes burning with rage. His brows furrowed, lips pressed together. Without a word, he walks over to you. His hands hovering over your arms. "You've been very bad," he says, his voice thick with desire, angry and something borderline dark.

You shiver, this Bucky is furious. And its all directed to you. You glance over your shoulder at Steve, pleading with your painfully wide eyes. He laughs, "dont look at me"

Bucky yanks you up by your arms, tossing you on the bed. Its a quick flurry of ripped clothing as he strips you down.

You crawl across the bed, "wait, Bucky I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Steve tell him," you screech. Bucky pulls you back by your ankle, flipping you onto your back.

You hear the slap before you feel it on your skin. The stinging heat making you gasp. He orders you to count, switching between his flesh and metal hands. By the time you reach 15, your ass is on fire.

He flips you back over, the sheets dragging across your sore ass when he pulls you down the bed.

His hands slide up your legs, parting your thighs. "Such a fucking brat," he snarls "shes soaked Steve".

You pout, they know how much you love being spanked.You slide a hand down your stomach, squealing when he grabs it, pining both your hands above your head.

Any thing you might have said in protest is knocked out of you when he sinks into your body, your slick walls enveloping him. His bruising pace making you incoherent. "Is that what it takes to make you behave," he grunts, "you need a cock in you huh"

Overwhelmed with taking every thick inch he's giving you, pleasure swirling up from your cunt, you can only sob his name.

When he feels you getting close, he stops. Stops. You wail you were almost there, your orgasm painfully fading away. You would rather have the spanking, you're begging him to move. His cold sneer letting you know that you have no say in this.

He turns you around, your head hanging off the bed. His cock bobs in your face, thick, long and covered in your juices. He slaps your lips with his shaft, shoving himself down your throat. "You know what happens to stupid little girls who don't fucking listen," he grunts, "you get punished". He props one leg on the bed, as he fucks your face, using you for his pleasure. You gag around him, the weight heavy on your tongue, tasting yourself with each deep thrust.

Steve leans forward watching your throat bulge. He takes another bite, enjoying the sounds your making. "Cmon Bucky you can do better than that"

Bucky nods, leaning over to snap his hips even faster until tears stream down your face.

"Thats how you do it," Steve groans, setting his plate aside. He palms his erection almost erupting in his pants when Bucky cums in your mouth, his seed spilling out the corners.

Bucky pulls out, before you can finish swallowing, you're flipped again, pushed up the bed, bouncing on the bed. Your eyes widen when Bucky lifts your ass up, your toes barely touching the ground.

"By the time, I'm done you won't be able to run anywhere"

[angrythingstarlight]

Lessons in Knife Play {B.B.}

Summary: Bucky has a knife kink and by the time he’s done with you, you’ll have one too. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.K

Warnings:Inappropriate use of a knife, inappropriate use of a mirror, hint of  a pain kink, semi public sex, Bucky Barnes. Smut, Minors DNI

Check out my Masterlist and Taglist

Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work. 

He kneels before you, his hands raised in front of his shoulders. The curved edge of the blade presses along the slope of his neck. When his eyes glance up at you, this is not submission and you are not in control. He tilts his head, pushing into the tip of the blade into his skin.

“I dare you”

One week earlier.

The overhead lights bathe the kitchen in a soft yellow glow, the curtains above the kitchen sink pulled shut by a yawning Sam. You shuffle in behind him, stretching your arms behind your back.You grumble a quick good morning, listlessly pushing buttons on that too fancy coffee machine of Starks.

“I’ll make breakfast if you grab the reports,” Sam offers, opening the fridge.

Inhaling the burgeoning scent of coffee, you agree. You never turn down a Sam special, you would fight anyone, even Nat, for his food. Scratching the back of your arm, you walk back to your room. You take a quick peek in your bedroom, Bucky is splayed out on the bed, his head on his vibranium arm, dark green boxers clinging to his firm ass, the covers twisted between his legs.

After long missions, you only wake him to make him eat and drink some water. It’s a struggle but you manage to get the blanket from under his legs, placing it over him, brushing his hair away from his face. After another minute or two of watching him sleep, you grab the files out of the homie office.

Making your way back to the kitchen, you hear Sam asking FRIDAY to play music. The soft tunes fill the kitchen, followed by Sam’s smooth voice. You dance your way back in, cheering on Sam who’s singing into his spatula. You hop on the counter, folding one leg under you. Opening the file, you review the information, you and Sam discuss the mission while he cooks.

By the time he’s done, you’re almost ready for the debriefing later. You ease off the counter, tossing the file on the kitchen table. Sam plates the food while you grab mugs for the coffee. As you’re searching for Bucky’s favorite one, a glint of silver catches your eye. Pushing the remaining cups to the side, you see one of his daggers on its side behind the Happy Birthday Capsical mug Tony had made a few years back.

“Bucky,” you groan. You had made him promise to stop stashing weapons around the compound after a tour group found one of his smoke bombs. He was salty that Tony confiscated it which led to you helping him steal it which led to you having to listen to Iron Man drone on and on about responsibility when you got caught.

In fact, he still owes you for that.

Sam snorts when he sees you hold up the dagger. “How many do you think he has in the kitchen?”

You both look up when you hear a muffled “eleven” from the vents. You roll your eyes before inspecting it, only kinda paying attention to the debate occurring between Sam and Clint.

An intricate design carved into the long black handle, the blade reflecting the lights as you turn in your hand, the serrated curved side ending in a point. It is a gorgeous knife, you know he has a few more like it. You push down on the button, watching it snap back into the handle. When it springs back out, the weight shifting in your palm, you start to understand why Bucky likes these things so much.

Bucky had dragged himself from bed when he smelled bacon.Very few things will get him out of a deep slumber, pretty much you and bacon. He had rounded the corner when he heard you say his name. A wide smile on his lips, he trotted to the kitchen, eager to kiss you good morning.

What he saw when he reached the doorway made him stop in his tracks.

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[twelvesarchive]

Lost In Japan by Shawn Mendes (2018) Lost In Translation dir. Sofia Coppola (2003)

[brianc521]

Ruined Stunt

His face is squished into her pillow, his mouth open as he snores softly, curls a mess as he sleeps so peacefully in her bed.

She sits at the small table, the folded setlist under the right peg so it would stop wobbling every time she moved to write something into her calendar. Her coffee cup is full, and sealed to her lips as she checks emails and her work account to make sure everything is on track.

Her glasses are pushed up her bare face as her hair is in a sloppy bun done up on the top of her head.

She’s so entranced, reading the notes a coworker sent her from the conference called she missed while on the flight to LA, that she doesn’t even notice that his snoring has stopped.

He sits up at bit, looking around and finding her seated in her pajamas, his shirt from the day before and her sleep shorts. He stretches his back and hums softly when he raises his arms above his head.

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[goldenhemmings]

Stealing Second | Baseball!Shawn

Whew. If you know me at all, you know I am a sucker for any AU scenario where Shawn is an athlete, so naturally I’ve spent the last three days neglecting all of my academic responsibilities to crank out 8.3k words (!!!) of Baseball!Shawn. I tried to keep the jargon in check, but here’s a little study guide of the things I wrote about in case you’re not super well versed on all things Major League Baseball: 

MLB teams are divided into two leagues: American and National. Each league has slightly different rules. The Toronto Blue Jays are in the American, and their home stadium is Rogers Centre. Rookie of the Year is an award given by each league to the best first-year player. Players often wear compression sleeves over their throwing arms because it reduces soreness, and eye black under their eyes to reduce the glare of the sun or stadium lights so that they can see better. If you have any more questions please ask, and without further ado please enjoy Baseball!Shawn!!

When you got the call from “Greg with the Toronto Blue Jays” that you had been selected from a field of over two-hundred applicants for one of the team’s few coveted internship positions, you almost stopped breathing. The sun was making its descent as you sat at the kitchen table of your quaint suburban apartment, having just finished the leftovers you’d microwaved a few minutes before when your phone sounded its familiar siren. It was an unknown number, but the Toronto area code immediately made your stomach flip. It was a straightforward phone call, Greg simply offering you a congratulations and saying you started at Rogers Centre in two weeks’ time, but to you it meant the entire world. You managed to breathe out a “thank you” as you hung up the phone, eyes blurry with tears and hands shaking as you struggled to dial your mother’s phone number–the only person you could think to call.

You cried as you talked to your mom about how all of your hard work had finally paid off; four years of suffering as a double-major student to obtain two bachelor’s degrees, almost entirely giving up sleep and a social life as the price for your scholastic success, and eight months of waiting tables post-graduation to (barely) sustain yourself while you looked for a job. The sports industry was harder to find a place in than you’d thought, and you couldn’t believe the opportunity had finally come. Your mother was beyond proud, and after the phone call you sat at the kitchen table and cried because you didn’t know what else to do.

You’d wanted to work in sports your entire life; the love had been ingrained into you by your parents when you were young, and it never faded as you’d grown. You’d sent your resume to every sports franchise with availabilities, prepared to emigrate to the States for your dream job if you had to, but with this internship for the Blue Jays you thankfully only had to move an hour or so away.

Moving, however, caused you great stress. The ballpark was in the heart of downtown Toronto, which meant that every apartment or condo within a reasonable distance of the stadium would be exceedingly out of your price range; not to mention that the deadline of two weeks only added to your panic. You expressed this concern to your mother the next morning when you were level-headed enough to hold a steady conversation, but the words your mother spoke were enough to send you spiraling down yet another path of overwhelmed emotions: your mom and dad would help you pay to live downtown until you were financially stable enough to take the reins on your own. You had paid your own way through college, and your parents didn’t want further financial struggles to stand in the way of getting your foot in the door of your dream industry; they’d let you pay them back whenever you were able. With a cushion of temporary aid from your family, finding a place to live was a breeze; you settled on a one-bedroom apartment about a twenty-minute walk from the stadium. It had a perfect view of the Toronto skyline, and you could already imagine yourself sitting on the small balcony at night just watching the city lights twinkle before you.

On a Thursday in May, not three days after getting the phone call, you and your parents loaded the contents of your tiny apartment into the back of your barely-running sedan. You sighed as you realized how out of place the old car would look juxtaposed to the sleek vehicles that surely filled the streets of the city. Oh well, you thought. I’ll probably be walking everywhere, anyways. You shut the hatch of your trunk and smoothed over your favorite Blue Jays player’s jersey–a parting gift from your mother–before hugging your mom and dad goodbye. You took one last look at your small apartment complex and climbed into the driver’s seat before reversing out of your designated parking spot and driving away in the direction of your dream life.

As you merged onto the 401 and the Toronto skyline came into view, you had to turn your music up even louder in a desperate attempt to distract yourself and therefore control your pounding heart, an exhilarated smile unable to keep itself from spreading across your face. You were finally here. This was finally happening. You pulled off the highway and drove into the parking garage of your new apartment, awestruck at how tall and sleek the building was. You went into the lobby to get everything sorted, and you were all set when the manager handed you a key to your door and sent you on your way with an enthusiastic “Welcome!”

You made your way back out to the parking garage, popping the trunk of your car and beginning the grueling back-and-forth process of taking the boxes up to your apartment one by one. You made your way back down to the car for what felt like the hundredth time, sighing in relief when you saw that there were only two boxes left. You pulled the larger of the two out, which was exceptionally heavy, and as you tried to shut the trunk while still holding the box your balance completely failed you.

“Fuck!” you cried, as the contents of the box went tumbling onto the ground next to your car. You sighed as you knelt down to place the box upright when you heard a voice echo from behind you in the parking garage.

“Do you need some help?”

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