#I am not writing all of that by hand I will be kind to my wrist. So google doc words be upon thee!!

[totalswag]

podcast therapuss ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors notes first time writing influencer!reader, i like it so far. this idea popped into my head the other day after watching one of jake’s episodes. there's no face claim for influencer!reader, i added this picture for the ideal theme.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary joining jakes podcast talking about various topics then mentioning not getting the chance to meet drew starkey. clips of you talking about him goes viral which leads him to reaching out to you.

warning(s) none!

About a month ago, your manager texted you about doing a podcast with Jake Shane, and you quickly said yes. You contacted him shortly after your managers confirmed it, expressing your excitement. Since then, you've grown closer and spent the night before the episode was filmed.

The two of you went out to dinner and got to talking about various of topics. It was a great way to get to know each other. You consider each other as friends now.

You've used social media since you were fifteen years old. You began by posting YouTube videos, and you continue to do so. Tiktok became another source of content to promote, including daily vlogs, hilarious content, and so on. Nothing would make you change it.

Everyone was getting settled before filming began. Jake started off by talking about a few topics then you came in. You were super excited about doing this.

“Welcome to Therapuss! "We've got the incredible Y/N here today," Jake says, gesturing toward you as you relax into the comfortable chair across from him. You flash your characteristic smile, which your followers enjoy. The cameras roll, but it feels natural—just another day in your life, sharing your thoughts and experiences with the world.

"Stop it!" you chuckle, shaking your head. "But seriously, Jake, thank you very much for having me. "I am a huge fan of the podcast."

"You're too kind," he replies, smiling. "So, let us dig in. You've experienced an unimaginable rise on social media. Your vlogs are really addictive, your TikToks are continuously trending, and everyone adores you. "How does it feel?"

You enjoy answering questions like this. They are your favorite because you don't always get to discuss what inspired you for doing this.

"It's surreal, honestly," you acknowledge. "I started YouTube my freshman year of high school because I wanted to look back on the moments I made. I never imagined it would turn out like this. It has been a whirlwind, but I am grateful for it."

Jake takes it all in, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. "Based on what I've seen, your content is incredibly diverse in your vlogs, TikTok, and lifestyle tips. Tell me, how do you balance all of that?" He asks, intrigued by what you do.

You respond to the question by explaining how you learned to draw boundaries over time. You prefer to keep a lot of things private that do not affect the outer world. As your audience grew, you formed a unique bond with them.

"Do you have a show you've been obsessed with lately?" Jake asks you while laughing and raising his eyebrows.

"Duh, Outer Banks pookie!" Before you laugh and toss your head back theatrically, you smirk. The statement, "I love all characters, Rafe is my favorite," leaves Jake speechless.

"Let me explain, his character is so interesting and yes, he's a psycho," you huff, putting your palms up in defense.

Jake and you keep talking about the show and his favorite show.

Jake nods in agreement. "Totally. Okay, switching gears to Pougelandia. Tell me everything."

You giggle and lean back in your chair. "Oh my goodness, that was incredible! The Outer Banks cast is as cool as they appear on television,” You gush, your excitement is evident.

Jake’s face lights up hearing you talk about the cast, “stop it that sounds so sweet, tell me more!”

You quickly point at him, “They’re so down to earth and so sweet. I got to meet practically everyone except for one person,” pouting then covering your hands with your hands.

Jake shrieks in surprise, "bitch who? "You must tell me!" He exclaims excitedly, settling into his seat.

“Drew Starkey. I was very disappointed since I'd heard he was the sweetest person, but our schedules didn't work out." you confess with a hint of disappointment. You were excited to meet him and start a conversation like you did with the rest of the cast.

Jake, of course, teased you about it, saying, “I feel like we’re setting up a rom-com here. Drew, if you’re listening, the universe is waiting.”

The remainder of the podcast you two continue to talk about various topics and even did the infamous NAME—someone will send in a question or mention something for Jake and the guest to answer the question on the podcast. There were lots of interesting questions.

A few days later, the episode is up—fans are talking about you talking about Drew and you wanting to meet him. TikTok is overloaded with clips of you talking about Drew, and your comments are full of hopeful hints about a possible meet-up.

You'd just completed editing your most recent YouTube video for your next vlog, and you were drained enough to fall asleep at your desk. The buzz of your phone buzzing from your bed, frowning but curious in who it could be.

You scream. Literally scream.

Drew Starkey followed you.

Drew Starkey sent you a message.

"Am I being punked?" Am I dreaming? "What the fuck is happening?" You ramble while holding your phone in your shaky hands and looking at the two notifications on your lock screen.

Allowing yourself to relax and compose yourself. You unlock your phone, tap on instagram, go to the messaging tab, you’re sure your jaw dropped to the floor.

Drew Starkey: Hey, I recently watched your podcast with Jake. We should get together sometime—finally make up for not meeting in Pougelandia!

What do you say?

How do you come off calmly?

Yourusername: Hi! Yes, it sounds perfect. Let me know when you’re free.

Fast forward two months later, you feel you’re still in a dream. Drew and you hung out together at a local coffee shop then went back to your place to talk more. Once you started talking you two couldn’t stop.

After hanging out the first time came more meeting ups. Drew asked you to be his girlfriend three weeks ago—you were shocked and excited all at once.

One day, while scrolling through TikTok in your kitchen, leaning on the counter, you came across the trend—wait they don't love you like I love you. You thought the trend was silly, so you decided to participate. 

You did a couple tries and posted your favorite one out of the four—not realizing Drew was in the background on his phone, unfazed about what you were doing. Your comments started blowing up.

Bestie you got some explaining to do 🤨

Causally dancing in your kitchen while Drew Starkey is walking around at the same time? Interesting

When worlds collide fr 😏

Alright where the cameras at...

I fucking knew it!!!!

⎯⎯ my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account

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[necroliberty]

So because this is amazing and because I am hyperfocusing on Gravity Falls. Let me share a bit of Amelia's long-lost sister, Kelly Ness. Okay, they aren't sisters anymore, but still.

Kelly fell on the blue grass of a random dimension. She wasn't the type to keep note. The atmosphere was different, somehow safe and dangerous at the time. But again, she didn't particularly keep a note on things like that. Kelly just made a bee line to a mailbox inside either various stickers added to the tin. Mabels had a knack to give stickers to everything. But Kelly just gave them a cursory glance as her right eye gave her the info on each. Giving the coordinate to each stickers place of creation. She should make note of getting stickers for respectives Mabels. Sometimes, it was the only thing that could tell Kelly where to actually send the damm things. Eventually, she opened the mailbox with a specific key and looked through the letters. Some were boring ads that she threw around. No one needed those. Some were Stanfords incredible writings, making sure to say exactly who and where it should be sent. Other times, it was Stanley's doing letters of his own. They were often hard to send back. Mabels were also there. It was obvious with how much stickers and colors her letters had. She practically never had to read the content to know exactly where to go. A bit more, and she was wondering if Mabels just knew the mailbox wasn't actually magic. The rarest were of Dipper and McGucket. For whatever reason, these two either didn't bother make letters or weren't the type to fall in a portal. "Or maybe they both want to be left alone?"

She blinked, and her right eye started to smoke under the intense heat. Forcing Kelly to keel over and grip her eye as the letters floated around her. Smoke from her eye, holding onto them with annoyance. Through her right eye, she could always see something the one who spied. Well, what he saw, to be specific. A mirror was right in front of the demon. A man in his early 20s with brown curly hair broke through by antlers that seemed to either spill ink or petrol from every imperfection in the wood. His eyes were big, staring down the mirror for some kind of stability. Not to mention his long tail swiping at the air behind him. His clothes were still looking like a preacher from a school play. He looked incredibly annoyed. This was a very bad day. "Vulture, do I need to remind you not to insult the likes of me so blatantly."

Kelly wanted to scream that this was stupid, and she was allowed to ask questions. But she also knew better. Days like these, you needed to placate him. So Kelly still held the expression of pain and started to add a quiver to her voice. "I am sorry, I didn't mean for my words to cause harm. I was a fool to even think it in the first place."

The demon stared at his own reflection, closing his eyes too to be able to see her. He vaguely shook his head, making some his hair made of leaves fall to the bed surrounding him. "No, not a fool, just a bad day." He looked down at his hands and feet. His hands were now made of wood, and his feet were deer hooves. He hated this form with such wrath. But his eyes told that he knew better than to take her acting as proof. He didn't trust Bill anymore than she trusted him. He finally closed his eyes again.

Kelly sighed as the pain stopped. She breathed slowly and normally not to let the right eye see her weak. All the letters she had dropped were now safely in her hands, and she looked through them again. Filing them into various pockets in her messenger bag. Making sure she didn't put a letter for the wrong timeline or dimensions.

When she was finally done, she walked away until she could find a loophole in the dimension. Leaving it behind to give letters to family and friends.

This is Kelly Ness as a Mailman. They don't get uniforms because she is the only one.

My smol mini series about the drifting stars au is here!! Ft letters to Dipper!! May do more depending on the reception~

[potchi-fics]

note: this is all i got cus im really busy this week. ill probably write them having sex soon, just not right now. listened to do i wanna know by hozier while writing this

      the warlord, ambessa medarda, has never encountered someone bold enough to stand their ground against her.

til she met you. an empress of a nation, never afraid to stand up for your people. so when you held your chin up high, chest out, gaze never wavering when you spoke to her, it sparked interest within her soul.

“pride like yours is a death sentence, general. i cannot give you what you want as it endangers my people.” not once did your voice falter, you bring your hand to gesture to your guards, “leave us. escort the general’s as well.”

a wolfish grin takes over her features, “is that your way of saying that you want me all to yourself, your majesty?” her eyes never left yours even when her men are gone, “i must say, i have some thoughts about professional entanglements.”

“arrogance, pride, egotism. thread lightly, general.” you cross your legs on where you sit, the back of your hand supporting your chin—your throne, looking down at her, “i will simply propose a contract. one that would…benefit both our nations.”

you see her raise an eyebrow, the scar above just barely stretching. “and what is that exactly?”

“resources. i know your kind, general. you desire to have power, to control, to take over, and i will not simply let that happen. i will lay down hell on you if you even dare to think of doing that to my land.” eyes devoid of warmth or life, you threaten the warlord standing before you, taking notice of her tensing shoulders, “i know that you are capable of doing that, however, IF we do come to that, i’m afraid the effects of the aftermath will last for more than a lifetime to our nations.”

ambessa’s glare sharpens, your words striking a nerve, “it is not wise to threaten me, your majesty.”

“i am not.”

“what do you call that?”

“the truth.”

      you are bold, confident, daring; it sends shivers up her spine. you are staring daggers at her from where you sit, unmoving, assessing her from head to toe. she should be insulted, but she’s not.

oh, she will have you. 

“i am in agreement with what you have proposed, your majesty.” she bows her head, refusing to kneel to you. 

      you swear on your life that you will have her on her knees for you. 

you rise to your feet, descending down the stairs to stand in front of her, she never took her eyes off of you. ambessa leans down as you signal for her to do so. gently, you take her face in your hands, turning her head to the side so that you can press your cheek against her.

her towering figure presence easily overshadows your entire frame. but you are not intimated—matter of fact, it entices you. 

your whisper caresses her ear like the wind, “wonderful. consider this a treaty of peace, general.”

      the faintest sensation of her jaw clenching against your cheek reaches you. you are playing a dangerous game; dousing a fire with fuel never ends well.

she slowly wraps an arm around your waist, her fingers lightly grazing against your back.

“careful now, lamb.”

[peachiejeongin]

A Lesson in Lust | Felix

Synopsis: You have been with Felix for a while now, and you feel like you are finally ready to advance in the relationship; however, you need some help learning the ropes, and Felix is more than happy to be your instructor.

Pairing: Felix x fem!reader

Genre: non-idol au, established relationship, smut

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (18+ Recommended), inexperienced!reader, sub!reader, soft-dom!Felix, pet names (good girl, pretty girl, sweetheart, etc), oral (m!receiving), praise, light marking, protected penetrative sex, riding, aftercare

WC: 3.8k

Notice: I may or may not have awoken on Christmas Eve with this in mind, and it may or may not be inspired by a dream I had. I have also been told I need to write more Felix stories to which I am happy to do so! Of course, it is a cliche in a sense, but nevertheless, my loves, I hope you all enjoy the fiction!

Divider By: @strangergraphics

Smut under the cut!

The glow of the bedside lamp cast a golden warmth over the room, its light flickering softly as the evening settled itself into darkness. You were curled up against Felix, your head resting on his chest and the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing comforting in its steadiness. His hand was absentmindedly tracing circles along your arm, his tocuh featherlight as if he could not help but show affection in the smallest of gestures.

You had been silent for some time, your thoughts chasing each other around in circles, each once tangling with the next. Yet, they all centered around one specific aspect:

Sex.

You and Felix had been discussing the topic as of recent, setting boundaries and getting a feel for what the other was and was not into; however, the topic of actually consumating the act was a completely different story on your end.

You had never actually done this sort of thing before; sure, you had given and received oral from previous partners, albeit in an extremely poor manner. But you had never gone fully in, nor did you even feel like you knew what you were doing from the little experience you did have.

Thus, you had asked Felix if you could wait for a little bit, just to make sure you had enough confidence in yourself in order to delve into the act. Felix, ever assuring and compassionate, understood immediately and agreed to hold off for you.

Now, as you lay beside your boyfriend, you felt ready; although, your mind was still racing with anxiety.

It was not that you did not know what you wanted; if anything, it was the certainty that made your heart race. Saying it out loud, however, felt monumental, like stepping off of a cliff and hoping he would be there to catch you.

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" His voice broke the quiet, gentle and curious. His fingers paused briefly against your arm before continuing their soothing gestures. You bit your lip, the words forming but catching in your throat.

"It's...it's kind of hard to talk about," you admitted, shifting to prop yourself up slightly. The nervous flutter in your stomach grew when he turned to face you fully, his expression open and patient, giving you all of the space you needed.

"That's alright," he responded, his voice steady and soft. "We don't have to talk about anything until you are ready."

Drawing in a shaky breath, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together for courage.

"I think I am," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "Ready, y'know, to um...go further with us. With you."

Felix's brows lifted slightly in surprise, but his reaction was far from startled or rushed. Instead, a smile, warm and understanding, spread across his face. He sat up a little more, adjusting to meet your eyes, his hand giving yours a reassuring squeeze.

"Are you sure?" he asked gently, his tone free of judgement or expectation. "I mean, really sure? I don't want you to feel like you have to rush into anything because of me."

"No, it's not that," you corrected quickly, your cheeks heating up at his concern. "I want to. I really want to. I've just never done this before, and I'm scared I'll mess it up, or I won't know what to do."

Felix's smile softened, and he shifted closer, his free hand coming up to gently cup your cheek.

"Hey, there is no such thing as messing this up," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly along your skin. "This isn't about being perfect or knowing all the steps at once. It's about figuring it out at your pace. Plus, you have nothing to worry about. I'll teach you everything, okay?"

You felt your chest ache in the best way possible at his words, the weight of your nervousness easing just a little as you leaned into his touch.

"Okay," you mumbled, giving a small nod to punctuate the word. You leaned in closer to Felix, resting your hands on his shoulders before encapsulating the boy in a tender, loving kiss. The action lingered for a little before he pulled away, a sparkle present in his eyes.

"How would you like to begin, my love?" he questioned softly, his face only mere centimeters away from yours. You subconsciously slid your hands down his chest, stopping when they perched lightly on his stomach; the action sent mild sparks through Felix's body, causing him to hold back a groan that had bubbled up in his chest.

"Well," you started, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "We could always get rid of this thing." You tugged on the material for emphasis. Felix chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes scanned your every movement.

"Go for it, Darling," he affirmed, holding his hands above his head. You took in a deep breath, hooking your fingers under his loose, white t-shirt and slowly but surely pulling it over Felix's head. You discarded it somewhere on the bedroom floor; 'a task for later,' you presumed.

Right now, all you were focused on was the marvelous sight in front of you. You had seen Felix shirtless dozens of times, but this instance felt different, more intimate, a shared moment between two lovers as they progressed their relationship.

Still, you could not deny his beauty—defined abs etched onto a golden body and strong arm muscles that carressed you with every care in the world molded into them.

Once his shirt was discarded, Felix’s attention snapped back to you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands, warm and steady, cupped your face as he pulled you into another kiss, this one searing with passion and an unspoken hunger. The kiss deepened swiftly, his lips moving against yours with a rhythm that felt both natural and electric. His hands slipped to your waist, guiding you effortlessly into his lap until your thighs settled on either side of him.

You could not suppress the gasp that escaped as his tongue brushed teasingly against yours, a bold exploration that made your heart stutter. Felix chuckled against your lips, the sound low and affectionate, his amusement laced with a confidence that only made you melt further. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips slightly swollen, his gaze holding an unspoken reverence that made your breath hitch.

"You're so precious," he muttered against your lips, his hands softly rubbing up and down your back and your waist. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fiddling with the long dark strands of hair that fell down to his shoulders.

"Can we," you uttered, breaking the kiss you look at Felix longingly, "like...um..." You felt a meek feeling overtake you, a mix of the intense intimacy of the moment and the words catching in your throat.

"Hm?" Felix hummed, his voice deep yet calming. "Take your time baby."

"Can we do something I kind of know how to do?" you inquired, your voice shy and quiet. "Just so I could get back into the swing of things?" Felix's expression morphed into one of shock; his eyes widened, and he tilted his head in your direction, urging you to go further.

"Like what, baby?"

You simply responded to Felix's question with a sly smirk, moving away from his embrace and repositioning yourself to lay in between his legs. Your fingers moved towards the drawstrings of his sweatpants, untying them and keenly observing his body's responses. He let out a generous groan, unable to remove his dark gaze from you, anticipating your every move.

"I see," Felix commented, his voice falling into a hush as you grabbed the waistband of his sweats, his words faltering into shivering moans as you pulled them down along with his boxers.

The sight before you stole your breath, exceeding every expectation and flooding your senses with wonder. Felix was breathtaking, his lean, toned frame stretched out before you like a masterpiece crafted by the divine. His arousal was undeniable—longer and more prominent than you had experienced before. The flushed, swollen tip of his cock glistened with beads of pre-cum, evidence of just how much your presence, your touch, unraveled him; the simple act of your fingers working at the drawstring of his sweats had reduced him to this trembling state.

"Woah," you mumbled, your eyes blown out and fixated on the wonderous view.

"Like what you see?" Felix asked, a blend of teasing and adoration in his tone.

"Mhm," you hummed, absentmindedly taking his length into both of your shaky yet pliable hands; Felix let out a sharp, erotic hiss at the motion, causing you to slowly let go of him.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, your manner panicked. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"No, no, baby!" Felix sat up slightly, resting a comforting hand on your upper back. "That felt good. It's what you're supposed to do."

"Oh, okay..." Your voice trailed off as you reluctantly retook hold of Felix's dick, your hands gripping lightly at the base.

"There you go," Felix breathed out. "Just relax for me, okay? Take your time and go at your pace. Don't worry about me, sweetheart."

"But I wanna make you feel good," you protested quietly.

"You will, no matter what you do," Felix reassured. "I already feel amazing, and I'm just looking at you, Pretty Girl."

Felix’s words were a spark, igniting a rush of confidence that coursed through your veins like a wildfire. The tension in your shoulders began to melt away as you leaned into the moment, your gaze lifting to meet his. Through hooded eyes, you stole a glance at him, the soft curve of his smile steadying your resolve. Though your nerves still hummed beneath the surface, you let them propel you forward, taking a breath and finally beginning.

Your pace was slow, deliberate as you got to work. While one hand kept hold of Felix's cock, the other moved to tantalize his tip; your pointer finger swirled around the head and over the slit, coating Felix in his own arousal. You ran the finger down his shaft, tracing each and every prominent vein as if you were committing the image to memory.

"Fuck, baby," Felix groaned. "Keep going for me, Beautiful. Use that pretty mouth. Go slow for me."

You obliged his commands, leisurely wrapping your lips around his glistening tip and pulling him little by little into your mouth. You glanced up at him partially for approval and partially to watch his reactions.

"Yes, baby girl, just like that," Felix moaned out, moving one of his hands to lightly tug at your hair.

You took your time with Felix, sinking lower onto his shaft with a newfound desire to please him. You went about halfway down on his cock before moving back up again, continuing the motion for a few moments and eliciting sincere, hearty noises from Felix.

"You're doing so, so well, baby. I want you to use your tongue and your hands," Felix guided you with care, his instructions precise yet tender, his eyes never leaving yours. The way he spoke made your chest tighten, every syllable laced with a trust that both thrilled and reassured you. "Can you do that for me?"

"Mhm," you hummed around his tip, shooting a fiery blast of sparks through his body. Your hands moved first, stroking the half of Felix's length in which you could not reach with your mouth. As your hands worked him up, your tongue began to move in perfect rhythm; it swirled over his tip and down to other, more sensitive areas, wetting him completely as you took him in your mouth.

"You learn quickly, my love," Felix remarked, trying to sound teasing but being given away by the broken composure of his whines, the mix of sensations overwhelming his senses. "You feel so fucking good, baby."

As you suck and stroke Felix at a slightly quicker pace, he moans out into the tinted darkness of your bedroom, praying that the neighbors cannot hear how loud he is being. Your mouth is making him feel things he has never felt before, and he swears up and down you do not need him as a teacher with how well you are performing. His moans are mixed between pleasure and content.

"I've never felt this good before," Felix admits, punctuating his words with a brief giggle to keep the mood lighthearted. "My goodness, baby girl."

His praises have you unconsciously rubbing your thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction that could relieve the throbbing ache between your legs.

"You okay?" you purr around his length, sending a jolting wave throughout his body and resulting in a high-pitched, wanton moan.

"Y-yeah." Felix is more than okay; he is in a state of absolute awe that he had otherwise thought impossible. Watching you, here in this moment, in combination with knowing that he is the one that gets to have you like this hazed his mind with arousal.

His brain was increduously foggy, so much so that he does not realize when you speed up once more, bobbing your head up and down until he is teetering on the fine line of release. The sensation overtakes him suddenly, and his hands flee from your hair to grip at whatever slick material of the mattress they could grab.

He is so lost in his arousal that he absentmindedly bucks his hips up into your mouth, his prolonged thrust causing you to gag around his cock.

"Shit, baby," Felix whined, guilt overtaking him. " 'M sorry. Just felt so good, I-"

Felix is cut off by you, removing your gentle grasp around his length; before he can question why you did so, he watches as your mouth goes down to where your hands once were.

"Holy fuck!" Felix exclaims; his hips are now stuttering lightly, and his moans are coming out in higher pitches, to which you inferred both as tell-tale signs that he is close. His eyes roll back into his head, and his pleas only make you more feverish in drawing out his orgasm.

With one final, blaring groan of your name, Felix's thighs shake on either side of you as he releases thick, white ropes of cum onto your tongue. His climax is adorned by breathy groans; he swore he was on fire, melting under your precise touch.

After helping ride out his high, you release him with a wet pop!, swallowing every drop of his cum. He groans once more, with swears and other obscenities escaping from his mouth through heavy breaths.

You climbed over top of him, priding yourself in the adorable scenery; Felix's cheeks were flushed a deep shade of pink, his hands were moving up to cover his face, and his chest was heaving up and down heavily as he calms himself down from the heels of his high.

"You alright, Lixie?" you question, moving his hands away from his face and tucking a stray strand of his black, disheveled hair out of his eyes.

"I'm amazing," he responded, his voice hoarse and laced with arousal. "You did so fucking well, sweetheart." He sat up now, maneuvering you back into your straddling position as he wrapped you into a tight embrace, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

"I tried," you giggled out, feeling the rumble of Felix's chest as he laughed.

"You succeeded."

He pulled away from the hug first, his hands absently wandering down to the fabric of your hoodie, now lightly stained with evidence of the night's events. His hands slipped under the material, feeling warm against your skin as he lifted your hoodie up slightly.

"Can I?" he asked, ensuring he had your full consent before going any further. You nodded, desperate to be rid of the clothes that were making your already flushed body hotter than need be. Thus, Felix hurriedly tugged the article over your head and discarded it on the floor with the other stray items of clothing.

"Wow," he mumbled, taking in the very sight of you, from the top of your chest to the bottom of your stomach. Without thinking, his head delves into the skin just above your collarbones, kissing and sucking light marks into your skin. The small attentive action had you lightly tilting your head back, bracing onto Felix's shoulders for support. He pulled away gently, smirking at your blown-out state.

"You trust me?" Felix asks, his hands sliding up your waist.

"Always," you breathed out.

"I want you to ride me."

The words hit you like a jolt of lightning, leaving you frozen in place. Your lips parted instinctively, but no sound escaped as your heart began to pound erratically, each beat a vivid reminder of the anxiety coursing through you. Felix’s eyes flicked to your tense posture, the weight of your unease visible in the rigid set of your shoulders. Without a word, his warm hands found their way to you, kneading the taut muscles with gentle precision.

"You don't have to, baby," he followed up, his tone gentle and reassuring. "Tonight is all about you and what you're comfortable with."

"No, I want to," you quickly dismissed. "It's just, I don't know if I'll be good at it. What if I don't finish, or I finish and you don't, or-" Felix cut your inherent rambles off with a soft, soothing kiss, pulling away to look at you with pure love in his eyes.

"That's why you have me," Felix answered, his deep, Australian accent grounding you back into reality. "Like I said earlier, I already feel absolutely ecstatic, more so now that you...did what you did." Felix's words made you release a stifled laugh that you were unaware you were holding in. The sincerity of his tone, of his words gave you an unusual sense of confidence; with the rush of adrenaline, you reached down, hooking your thumbs under the elastic of your sleep shorts and your underwear, and sliding both off in one swift motion.

Felix brought you closer to him, relishing in the sight of you, completely bare before him. His eyes were wide, and his tongue subconsciously darted out as he analyzed every detail of you. He lightly took hold of your waist in order to demonstrate how to ride him.

"All you gotta do," he explained, "is bounce up and down on me." To accentuate his words, he lifted you up and down, simulating the real experience. "You can grip as hard as you need to on me for support, and if you get tired, just let me know, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, nervousness still slightly prominent in your tone. Before beginning anything, he reached into the bedside dresser drawer, pulling out a condom and rolling it onto his cock. Once he was protected, you consciously lined Felix's tip up with your entrance, getting verbal confirmation that he was ready before you did anything.

Once you were both prepared, you lowered yourself onto him, gasping at the painful yet pleasureful stretch you felt; you felt full, for lack of a better term. Of course, you knew how large Felix was, but feeling it was entirely different. Meanwhile, Felix groaned, possibly the loudest he had all night, but his noises turned into incoherant mush from the way you felt.

You stilled for a moment, allowing your body the time it needed to adjust to his size while your hands steadied on his shoulders. Once you did start moving, it was at moderate, steady speed. You mirrored the actions Felix had taught you, lifting yourself off of his dick and lowering yourself back down over and over again until you gained a rhythm to your bounce.

"Oh my God, you're so fucking tight, baby," Felix managed to grunt. "You- Oh my God- Holy shit!" A plethora of swears made their way out of Felix's mouth as he whimpered about how amazing you felt.

You moaned softly in response to his praises, quickening your motions as Felix's head fell back onto the pillows. The intensity of chasing your own high caused you to whimper, in addition to the desire you had to please and be good for Felix. The bedroom filled with sensual noises as you both became blind sighted by pleasure.

"Keep going, baby," Felix whined. "J-Just like that. Doing so well for me."

His grip around your waist tightened as he let out more slurred whimpers and groans. His body was burning, and you noticed every visible muscle, from his arms down to his abs, clenching up. The intense euphoria of it all overtook his entire being, so much so that the man could barely see straight.

"I'm so fucking close, Lixie," you groaned, burying your face in the crook of your neck while somehow managing to keep up your pace.

"Hold out a little longer for me, baby," he stumbled, feeling a knot beginning to tighten in his stomach for the second time that night. You, in response, growled into his shoulder, nipping and sucking at the skin as a way to calm yourself down. Felix's legs began to tremble once more, and his grasp around your waist limpened, his high approaching.

"Please, baby," you whined, unable to hold yourself back for much longer as you found yourself at the peaks of your climax.

"Let go, sweetheart," Felix commanded, feeling his orgasm sneaking up on him. With that, your breathing became heavier and you swore momentarily that you saw stars as you let yourself go. You released every bit of the pent-up arousal around Felix's cock.

It did not take long for him to follow, letting out a roaring groan as he was brought to his second finish of the night. He finished into the condom, rocking out a few more thrusts to calm you both down before pulling out and discarding the rubber.

You fell beside of him, breathless and messy as you called to him.

"C'mere, baby," Felix gestured for you to snuggle with him; he held you tight as if letting go would cause him to lose you for forever.

"Did I do good?" you asked, oblivious to every emotion Felix had experienced all at once.

"You did so fucking well, sweetheart," he praised, running his fingers soothingly through your hair. "Are you alright?"

"Mhm," you muttered in response, almost dozing off in his arms.

"Mm-mm," Felix tsked, lifting you up out of his embrace. "Gotta get you cleaned up, baby."

After taking a hot bath together and changing into comfortable pajamas, you snuggled into Felix's side as a movie play half-forgotten in the background.

"Thank you, by the way," you said out of the blue, "for teaching me all of the sex stuff." Your wording had Felix in giggles as he held you tighter.

"Any time, my dear."

The air was silent momentarily, you absentmindedly fiddling with the drawstrings of Felix's hoodie.

"You think we could have another lesson soon?"

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

[gor3-hound]

KISS AND MAKE UP — NAOYA + TOJI

a/n: another commission for my faveeee @nexysworld. MWAH. just a heads up, naoya is referred to as reader n toji’s cousin just cause second cousin sounded weird in writing idk.

cw: 18+ content. daddy-daughter incest (toji), cousin incest (toji/naoya-ish. naoya/reader). threats + slapping (directed at naoya). misogyny. kinda maybe brief dub-con. p in v. oral (f + m receiving). fem!reader. slapping. hair pulling. creampie.

2.8k words

Your dad has been gone for the better part of a week when he decides to wander into the house one morning — surprisingly early giving his typical track record of showing up well past midnight. You’re nursing a cup of coffee, nodding in greeting as his gaze lands on you.

“My cousin is coming over later.” Toji huffs as soon as he steps into the kitchen, lazily leaning against the doorway. Irritation is written all over his features. “Play nice, y'hear? I don't need gramps bitchin’ at me. Y'know what Naoya is like with his daddy.”

Naoya. The mention of his name alone is enough to have you scowling, your expression twisting in a similar manner to Toji’s. That only seems to annoy your father further, an exasperated sigh spilling past his lips. “N’ don’t give me that look, kid. Or him, for that matter. I ain’t dealin’ with another one of his rants about how I raised my daughter with a shitty attitude.”

“He thinks any woman who breathes too loud isn’t raised right.” You counter, huffing as you set your coffee down on your counter.

“Ain’t my problem,” your dad replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “You only have to see him once or twice a year. Suck it up.”

“How long is he even staying?”

Toji is an asshole, but he isn’t evil. He feels a little bad, considering how much you and your cousin tend to butt heads. His lips thin at your question, pressing together as he walks over to ruffle your hair and pull you against his side. “Couple ‘a days. Sorry, kid.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Naoya’s gotten at least a hundred times worse since you last saw him. It’d been a year or so since you were forced to be in his presence for more than an hour at a time, and now that he’s hit his twenties and has been getting more duties in the clan, he seems to think he’s God’s greatest gift. He’s not even a full-year older than you, and yet he loves giving you the whole ‘respect your elders, girl’ spiel everytime you so much as frown in his presence.

He’s been here for a day, and you’re already counting down the minutes until he leaves. Your dad said an important job came up — an excuse to escape Naoya, you’re certain — so you don’t even have him to try and attempt to get Naoya to ease up.

You might genuinely go insane before your dad decides to show up again. If you hear him say that you ‘missed a spot’ while making you clean up his mess one more goddamn time, you’re going to end up in a cell.

“If I’m going to cook for you,” you say in a low tone, swallowing thickly to attempt not to snap. If only to save the lecture you’d inevitably get from Naoya, then your father, and then the head of the clan when Naoya eventually went whining to his dad. “You can at least take the plate to the kitchen after.” “And why should I?” He scoffs, that insufferable grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he regards you with an icy stare. “You’re here. Isn’t this kind of thing the purpose of your… species?”

The muscle of your jaw ticks at his words. You can’t even muster up the strength to force a polite smile on your face, your hands clenching and unclenching at your sides. Better to act like a proper lady than retaliate and have him being even more insufferable than usual. Your silence almost seems to piss him off more — you’re starting to think he gets a rise out of seeing you act out.

“You know, the women of this family are disgraceful.” He continues. “Not one of you was raised with proper manners. My father is too soft on all of you. When I am head of this clan, I plan to—”

“Please. Your own dad thinks you’re an asshole. He’s just waiting for an excuse to pass it onto someone else. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” You bite out, unable to hold your tongue any longer.

Silence fills the room for a few tense seconds. Naoya just… blinks at you, shock written over his features. Shock quickly turns to disbelief, as if the thought of you talking back to him was completely out of his realm of possibility. “Pathetic. You can’t even hear simple facts without growing emotional. The audacity you have to speak to me in such a way is…”

He trails off, lips curling into a sneer as he looks at you. “You should consider yourself lucky I even allow you to speak in my presence, you insolent little—”

“One more fuckin’ word.” The cold voice that cuts through Naoya’s words aren’t your own, but it is a voice you immediately recognise. Your head turns to face your father, the man standing in the doorway with a stony expression.

“I’ve done nothing wrong.” Naoya replies, though you don’t miss the slight waver in his voice.”I was simply correcting the behaviour you refuse to address. My father wouldn’t stand for this treatment of the heir of the—”

“Apologise to my fuckin’ daughter, or I’ll send you back to your daddy in a body bag, kid.” The words aren’t an empty threat — something you and Naoya seem to realise at the exact same time. You watch closely as your cousin swallows his pride, gaze falling to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, words barely audible. It’s a pathetic attempt, really. One your own father isn’t nearly satisfied with.

“Oh, now you wanna keep quiet, huh? Known you since you were a fuckin’ infant, and I’ve never known you to to know when to shut the fuck up. Say sorry properly.” Toji snaps. Naoya opens his mouth to give another half-hearted apology, but Toji is faster as he speaks up again. “Better be a good one.”

Your dad pauses briefly to think, then he’s stepping closer. “Y’know what? I think you should show you’re really sincere. Get on your knees, and say sorry to my kid.”

Naoya does an exceptionally good impression of a fish — mouth opening and closing multiple times as he stares blankly up at Toji. “You… You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t fuckin’ try me today. I’ve had shitty luck with the races, and I’d love to blow off some steam. I’m sick of you and that old man treatin’ us like shit.”

Naoya swallows hard, slowly rising from your battered sofa. He shifts slightly towards you, refusing to meet your gaze as he sinks down to his knees on the floor. “I apologise.”

“Better,” Toji hums, moving to stand behind you, guiding you to the spot Naoya was just sitting. He’s practically kneeling at your feet now, expression indecipherable. “Sit down, baby. Let’s get him to make it up to you, yeah?”

The tone of voice makes you shiver, eyes flicking up to your dad’s face. Between his soft coo and the way he’s looking at you, you feel your cheeks heat. It’s a familiar expression, but never one you’ve received when in the company of others. “Spread your legs for me, good girl.”

Naoya’s head snaps up then, eyes wide as he looks at Toji. You’re unable to school your own expression as you gaze down at Naoya, taking in the way he’s acting. You can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, finally having him knocked down a few pegs. You swallow the lump forming in your throat, your heart fluttering nervously as you follow your dad’s command. 

“Show her how sorry you really are, hmm?” Toji purrs, all low as he takes a handful of Naoya’s dyed hair, forcing his face against your clothed cunt. He stiffens, but then he’s quickly melting against you, nuzzling closer to your heat. 

“Not so talkative now.” Toji scoffs, squatting down as he uses his grip as leverage to make Naoya rub against you more. The action draws a soft whine from the back of your throat, your head falling back against the sofa. “Got you actin’ like a well-trained dog, just from the scent of some pussy? You really have that much trouble gettin’ girls in bed, huh?”

Naoya bristles at his words, but he’s visibly more docile than usual as he allows Toji to guide him against you. You’re getting impatient yourself now, squirming against the cushions. 

“You want a taste, cousin?” And Naoya nods within seconds, eagerly opening his mouth and exhaling harshly. The hot air fans against the damp fabric of your panties in a way that instantly has heat shooting to your core. “Always bein’ a fuckin’ brat, think you even deserve it?”

Toji pulls Naoya back, and you find satisfaction in the pathetic little whine he lets out, even if you find yourself immediately missing his presence between your legs. 

“Daddy, please.” You breathe, voice a mix of needy and pleading. You instantly see the way he softens — something you only ever really get the luxury of seeing — before he lets go of Naoya’s hair. 

“Go on, then.” Toji murmurs, and Naoya doesn’t even blink before his fingers are desperately grasping at your skirt, bunching up the fabric at your waist and tugging your panties to the side before he dives in. 

A low, breathless ‘fuck’ spills past his lips as his tongue licks a long, wet stripe along your dripping cunt, collecting the wetness that had gathered there. He groans against you, nose nudging at your clit as he tongue-fucks you in earnest. His lashes flutter as he gazes up at you, the taste of you making him feel a little light-headed. 

You’ve never seen him so invested in anything. He has a lazy sort of arrogance that follows his every action, but he looks like nothing more than an over-excited puppy as he laps at you with an almost feverish intensity. His eyes are heavy lidded, fingers gripping onto your legs with a harshness that makes you think you’ll be left with bruises as a reminder of what happened. 

“Make her cum, and I might even let you have a treat,” Toji teases. Your peak is rapidly approaching by the time his voice takes your attention away from Naoya. You’d almost forgotten your dad was only feet away, watching the both of you closely. He’s clearly enjoying this — if the tent stretching his pants obscenely was anything to go by. 

Naoya is only spurred on by his words, dragging his mouth upwards until his lips suction around your clit. He sucks eagerly, tongue flicking against the swollen bud until you’re writhing and crying out beneath him. The way Toji sees it, the two of you have never gotten on so well. 

“Nao, please… need… just a little more.” You babble, hand reaching down to tug at his hair. He moans against you, tongue pressing flat against your clit. Your thighs clench around his head, body tensing as you gush all over his tongue. He keeps licking until he’s tugged away, hazy-eyed and hard as a rock. 

“My… treat?” Naoya mutters hoarsely. He’s never one to miss out on… anything that benefits him, really. He’s twitching in his trousers, leaking pre-cum steadily, and he’s just about ready to accept anything that’ll let him get off.

“Always an impatient brat.” Toji says under his breath, large hands coming down to position you on the sofa — hands and knees against the cushions — before stripping off his pants and boxers. “Think Naoya’s sorry, baby. Wanna return the favour while daddy has a turn on your pretty little pussy?”

You’re still panting from your previous orgasm, but the idea of being stuffed from both ends has your cunt pulsing. You flinch a little as your dad slides into you, whimpering softly as your walls flutter around him. You’re still sensitive, biting down on your lower lip to stifle your moans. 

“Aww, cute. Tryna be quiet, baby?” Toji coos, thrusting forward hard, just once, to make you squeal. “Naoya can help with that, yeah? Gonna let him fill that mouth?”

You nod, and Naoya considers that permission. You’ve never seen someone move so fast, his hands hastily pulling at his clothes. He slides onto the couch, kneeling in front of you. 

The only issue with his mouth no longer being preoccupied is he’s now capable of speaking again, and he makes that known to the entire room. He slowly slides his length past your lips, head titling back as the tight, wet heat of your mouth engulfs him. 

“Fuck, that’s good. I knew there had to be a reason my cousin kept you around, considering how useless you are at everything else.” As soon as the words leave his lips, the sharp, harsh sound of skin of skin fills the room. You don’t realise what happened at first, but Toji hips stutter at the exact moment Naoya lets out a sharp hiss of pain. 

Your dad hit him. Hard enough to have his cheek glowing red, his head cocked to the side from the force of the smack. You expect a tantrum, another speech. You get neither. 

His hips buck so violently his cock lodges itself deep in your throat, making you gag. Your eyes water at you look up at him, his pupils blown as a smug smile stretches across his face. 

“Weird little freak.” Your dad grunts, still fucking into you with further. His hands find your hips, pulling you back against his thrusts as you drool eagerly all over Naoya’s cock. 

“Guilty,” Naoya purrs in reply, words cocky and self-assured as he threads his hands in your hair to hold you steady, giving him the leverage he needs to fuck your face. 

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth when you’re talkin’ to my daughter, or I’ll make you sit in the corner and watch me play with her instead.” Toji growls. 

At least that seems to quieten him down, if only so he doesn’t have to give up the pleasure your mouth is bringing him. Naoya’s thighs begin to twitch at the same time his grip in your hair tightens. You work harder at licking along his length, sucking eagerly as he fucks your throat. 

“Come… coming, fuck.” Naoya hisses, forces the entirety of his length down your throat. You choke as his seed fills your throat, unable to do anything but swallow with your nose pressed firmly against his pelvis. You cough and splutter when he finally pulls out, a mix of cum and spit coating your lips and chin as he collapses in the corner of the couch. 

He watches lazily as your dad fucks you. Toji takes the opportunity to push your chest into the couch, nuzzling the nape of your neck to let you hear the quiet grunts he lets out against your skin as his chest presses against your back. His grip on your hips is tight, yanking you back to meet each of his thrusts. 

His cock hits that spongy spot inside of you that has you positively mewling with each jolt of his hips, his lips hot and hungry as he trails kisses along your skin. “Fuck, baby. So pretty. Such a good girl for me, so good… go on, cum for me, sweetheart. Show Naoya how good you are for daddy.”

His words are your undoing, a broken cry leaving you as you cream around his cock, slick coating his length and dripping down his balls. He thrusts lazily a few more times, biting down on your shoulder as he cums deep inside your trembling cunt. 

You flop down almost immediately, falling boneless against the couch. Your head falls against Naoya’s thigh, chest heaving with each panting breath you let out. 

“Might as well come up here,” Naoya hums with surprising softness, arm falling away from his side languidly. It’s about as open as an invitation to snuggle as you’re going to get. 

You shift up against his body, dropping down against his chest with a tired sigh. Toji just laughs, leaning back in his heels. “Christ. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Naoya glares at him, wrapping his arm around your waist. Your eyes are already shut, and Naoya’s close a moment later. Only moments later, you’re both passed out. 

“Brats.” Toji grumbles under his breath as he pulls a throw blanket around your sleeping forms, an unmistakable fondness to his tone. 

[voidingintotheshout]

OK, if anybody cares, my actual advice on this, something I very much struggle with, is to view it as a problem that you don’t have all the pieces to solve right now. Like I like writing short stories, but I hate editing, so I have a lot of things that are somewhat done. More than that, I am terrified of submitting my fiction. I just hate it. It’s like asking me to put my hand on a hot stove.

The best advice I can give myself is to have a lot of other things that you value, and mean something to you, that you do have the ability to make measurable progress in (that you are writing down somewhere) that you don’t have a block against doing. Don’t fixate on this one thing that you have resistance against. You’ll just end up making yourself feel like a loser who’s unfulfilled. So like, despite the fact that I am not able to edit and submit my fiction, I do have a log of the titles, Authors, and dates finished of every book I read, so I can look at that and see that I am accomplishing things even if I’m not accomplishing the hard thing. This might be a really great kind of log to keep for artists or knitters so that you have a record of when the last time you finished a crochet project and what it was so you can look at that and see that you were able to get a lot of stuff done even if you can’t get done the hard thing. 

[sandyca5tle]

Was having a semi-serious conversation with some friends, and accidentally found myself quoting RWBY in a way that actually helped the discussion at hand, which got me thinking, there's a good few lines in RWBY that are just generally good things for life, so i decided to write a post about it 'cause fuck it. Some'll have commentary some are self explanitary enough. "I'm not any one thing, I'm somewhat of a lot of things" - this was the one that actually sparked this, was talking about identity with a friend, and found this quote very applicable - you don't always have to neatly fit in a box, you can be somewhat several things at once, if that's what fits for you. "Well that embaressment, that desire to go back and tell yourself not to be so stupid, that just proves you're not the same person you used to be. And you're not done growing yet" "You don't have to look cool all the time"

"Of course you are [a real girl]. You think just because you've got nuts and bots instead of squishy guts makes you any less real than me?" - This is less a general life lesson, but more of a 'just because someone is different to you, doesn't make them/their experiences any less real'. And obviously there's the trans angle on this, not being a 'real girl' is an anxiety many trans girls have struggled with, or is something people throw at us to put us down. But just 'cause we're built a little different than cis girls, doesn't make us any less girls "Pyrrha thought that, if there was even the smallest chance of helping someone, that it was a chance worth taking" "I'd be lying if I said that it didn't hurt, that I didn't think about them everyday since I lost them. That I didn't wish I had spent more time with them. If it had been me instead, I know they would have kept fighting too, no matter how dangerous it was, so that's what I choose to do. To keep moving forwards." - Mostly putting this here 'cause it's always nice to have a talk like this regarding grief/loss, and yeah, i just think this is nice and fairly honestly reflection of how a lotta people feel when they lose someone, coupled with the adivce to keep moving forwards. "I'm not asking you to stop. Just please, get some rest, not just for you, but for the people you care about," - I like this one 'cause a) self care is important bitches! Burning yourself out isn't gonna help whatever you're trying to do and b) hurting yourself like that is also gonna hurt those who care for you, 'cause no one wants to see those they care for suffer. So remember to take a break from time to time. "You think you're being selfless, but you're not. Yeah that chameleon friend of yours got me pretty good, but I'd do it all again if it meant protecting you... and I promise Yang would say the same. You can make your own choices sure, but you don't get to make ours. When your friends fight for you, it's because we want to, so stop pushing us out. That hurts more than anything the bad guys could ever do to us," - Obviously the parts about fighting can be taken a little more metaphorically for everyday life, but I like this quote 'cause yeah, the people who are there for you *want* to be there for you, so deciding that you're a burden on them and hiding away/pushing them away is gonna hurt them because they *want to be there for you* - don't decide something for other people. "My losses, my failures, those, more than anything, are what have shaped me into who I am; showed me how I need to grow. If there's something I'm missing it's not because I've lost it, it's 'cause I haven't found it yet" - I just think this is a beautiful line. We've all wished at moments to undo the mistakes we've made, however those mistakes made us the people we are now. And yeah, I love the idea that something you're missing is not because you lost it, it's because you haven't found it yet. "One small kindness, in one small moment, lead to such a marvelous transformation, just like one act of dishonesty caused an unfortunate change" - Reminder that even small actions can mean a lot to others "What happens if I chose me?" "Then maybe, that girl is enough,"

But yeah, all of this to say I love RWBY, it has so many amazing and emotional moments and yeah, if you haven't given it a watch I would highly reccommend (and if you've heard bad things, i'd maybe give it a watch yourself first, a lotta people like to hate on the show in bad faith). But yeah, love RWBY and love all the wonderful moments and messages within it

[takes1]

i am really in love with the way you write asahi!!!! really looking forward to part 2 of tipsy playfighting with him 😊😊😊

[final part] asahi getting rough with petite!reader

hellooooo thank you so much!!! was thiiiis 🤏close to doing a daddy kink thing, chose not to because that's kind of polarizing. like... pineapples on pizza

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / rough sex / f!rec oral / asahi is the perfect dominant / submissive!reader / aftercare king / fingering / mutual size kink / playfighting kink / rough play kink / power struggle fetish / pseudo-bdsm themes / pet names / mentions of subspace / mid-sex communication / being way too loud / daichi being a great friend / 3.5k words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part one here.

'Kind of' made you stall at the top of the stairs.

The second floor, you realized, was all bedrooms. Your legs got heavy, your heart beating like a panicked bird in a cage.

It was ironic. Your ability to handle him downstairs came naturally, but as soon as you had some privacy, it all got intimidating.

Asahi paused after turning the corner. He eased back against the wall with a breath. He glanced to the staircase one more time to make sure nobody had followed you.

"There's nothin' to help with," He laughed, rubbing the side of his stubbly face, "I just- yeah, that was a super lame excuse, actually."

You stood with your hands clasped in front of you, a polite smile, trying to flex all the shivers down. Your crush on him reached its peaks and valleys throughout your years in school together. It reached a happy medium until tonight, starkly reminding you of your old, pushed-down feelings.

He was wicked cute, and that whole performance downstairs was cut too short.

A big breath led to a bigger sigh, "I really wanted to kiss you."

"Me too," You said, with almost no time to let his words settle.

Asahi covered his automatic laugh, and you shared a wholesome moment of mutual, nervous relief.

"Well, uh-," He seethed, eyes up to the ceiling, face much warmer, "If we're being totally honest-,"

The cheers downstairs cut him off. It sounded like Kageyama might have won his match, but neither of you cared.

Asahi suggested, instead, "Should we- go somewhere more private?"

Although you nodded, you weren't sure where he had in mind until he showed you into Daichi's bedroom. You raised your brow, taking in his posters, his books, the layout, feeling a bit guilty that he wasn't in here.

"Oh, I made sure it was cool with him if we- um, talked, in here," He explained.

The supportive body language from those two made infinitely more sense, but you doubted it that ended at 'talking.' You kept your excitement under the surface, for now.

"Right."

He sat on the mattress, a little invested in the feel of the sheets, by the way his hand slid and prodded over the thread count. The ache between your legs was starting to make your whole body cold.

Daichi had those glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, and you didn't want to leave it up to Asahi to fill the silence, so you tried, "How long do y'think he's had those?"

There were at least 20, you counted. When you looked back down, he was relaxed forward, elbows rested on his knees, with his face in his hands, staring straight at you. Screw the ceiling.

He cleared his throat, his eyes flickered dismissively up, "Oh, um- forever, I'm sure."

Asahi was a terrible liar. You were glad he was honest with you in the hall, because he had zero capacity for beating around the bush. His intentions were spoken for, but now they were transparent in his clouded, almost tormented eyes. He made it seem difficult to look at you without touching you.

"You said you wanted to kiss me, right?" The decision to make it easy for him was met with a huge shift in his expression, an ease you saw, earlier, that spread as he ran his hands along your sides.

A gentle brush of his thumb across your cheek, "I did."

Kissing him was simple- it didn't feel rushed, or confusing, at all. He made it all a pleasant and invigorating experience to follow his lead.

His fingers spread through your hair, at the base of your neck. A strong but soft pull brought you into the warm embrace of his body.

He smelled good- mostly like the aged liquor he was nursing most of the night, but a bit woody, with hint of cashmere. Even his scent made you feel taken care of.

"So," You caught your breath for a second, taking in his face as you tucked some hair behind his ear, "Are you sure Daichi's fine with us- talking, all over his bed?"

The way his eyes lit up during his chuckle made you grin, validated and light.

His lips smushed against yours again. He was lifting you up by the waist, setting you on your back with proud effortlessness. You kept your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, getting your fill of his hair while you could.

Before he could completely forget to respond, he hummed a preoccupied, "Yeahh, don't worry about'm."

A hand pinned yours against the mattress.

All he needed was a little reassurance, and he was no longer the sheepish wimp you knew him to be. For a while, when those hot summer seasons coincided with the throws of your crush, it was fun to imagine what he might be like. Now, there was proof, and he didn't disappoint.

The growing pressure he placed on you kept you flat, and slowly limited your ability to move. It was getting familiar.

You tried to move your hand from under his, unlace it, just to touch him, but it proved impossible.

A small chuckle, a little mutter against his temple as he struck crude kisses down the side of your neck: "Can I have my hand back?"

The skin over his knuckles was tough, and his palms were leathery, firm, from all the lifting he did. His strength alone spoke for his dedication, but you felt pleased to know these intimate details about his body.

Your request was met with your other hand being taken hostage. It wasn't fast, but he did it so naturally that you didn't think to move away.

The look he gave you perfectly represented the edge under his words.

"You want your hands back?"

It was a tease-- a way of telling you 'I know you can't move, but I want to see you try.'

You grew warm under the weight of his subtle, playful pushing-- both between your legs and over your palms.

Robbed of your autonomy, but still finding yourself exhilarated by the reality of his size, and his capacity to use it well, the only thing left to do was play along with him. If he had a real thing for this, you wanted to know just how far it went, how worked up it could get you both.

A tiny attempt to pull your arms closer was met with his easy, slow adjustment to cross them instead, above your head. He kissed you through it, all warm and gentle and kind and safe-- but curiously engrossed in your inability to physically overcome him.

It sent a warm chill down your back- flexed, lingering in another ache between your thighs.

His lips were so soft, and sweet, and light, contrasted well against the slight burn of his stubble.

"Mm-," Asahi sighed, a soft peck to your cheek so he could collect himself, "You're givin' up already?"

The warm spill of his words across your face, plus the thrill of his little challenge, had you squirming, all knotted up and itching for him to give you more than just kisses.

"You--," You tensed at his slow, messy sucking along your jaw, "You-mm! Know I can't move..."

Maybe he was taking pity on you- maybe it was your whiny admission fueling a more licentious desire, inspiring him to let you go so he could start stripping you. You delighted in the chance it gave you to watch his reactions.

Soon, you were fully nude- and he was still fully clothed, with no foreseeable urgency to even the imbalance out.

Instead, he let a hand overlap your waist, eyes still busy scouring over you, "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Dunno," You mumbled, playing with his fingers as you shot a look to his fly, "Maybe you should check."

Your coquettish quip earned a hasty, rough, but amused kiss. You writhed against his weight again, this time with a justifiable anticipation at the sound of him pulling his cock out.

It was hot as it fell against your skin. A welcome feeling of closeness you couldn't get from much else, just being skin to skin with somebody else. It made you feel a bit like melted butter.

He pushed himself up to take his shirt off, all the while examining his length, pushing it down so that he could measure it in relation to your small torso.

"We'll have to, um..." You trailed, a shaky exhale at his burly, tanned physique, "Be.."

The word 'careful' fell apart on your tongue. Now he was measuring his fingers, next to his cock. One hand remained idle wrapped around the bulk of your thigh.

It was indeed fascinating how some body types probably shouldn't try to come together, like you were. Seemed like an evolutionary flaw.

Especially because the look in his eyes was nothing short of carnivorous. It was occasionally batted back by bouts of concern for the logistics of it all.

"I've got a few ideas," He smiled, real handsome, real sweet, down at you.

Curious, you watched all your favorite muscles of his work and relax again as he backed up off of the mattress, standing at the edge of the bed.

In a second, you had been pulled closer, then adjusted in front of him- it left you breathless at the simple ease of it all. You fixed your hair, a glossy and fixated admiration in your gaze up to him.

Awed, you told him in a shaky giggle, "I really like that..."

Asahi leaned over you; a timid and flattered sigh prickling up your skin, "Yeah?"

His rough hands pinched at your hips as he kissed a messy trail down your tummy.

Whispered, just as his knees hit the carpet, "I like it, too."

It was impossible to not get excited. He always stuck you as a guy with more patience than most.

Patient was a good word to describe the way he ate you out-- he may have liked to toss you around, but it wasn't out of carelessness, or negligence. It was an exploration of boundaries, a bit of power play, and this was played right into the dynamic. His performance wasn't perfect, or void of little, silly hiccups, but it was endearing and fun to discover together.

After he got you warmed up, he began slowly, one by one, pushing his fingers into you.

"How's that feel?"

It was a curious, but flirty question.

He already knew how much you were enjoying yourself, how you were trying to keep yourself quiet under your hand, struggling to not roll your hips into his hand. He just wanted to hear you.

A raspy sigh, a distracted nod, "So g-ood--,"

"Takin' me soo well," He grinned, sucking another messy kiss to you, "Y'want another?"

It wasn't exactly audible, but he was watching that sweet, desperate little expression on your face enough to know you did.

You could feel his smile spread- making your thighs flinch, your body curl at the intensity of getting stretched even further.

"You're so cute."

A mumbly admission, buzzing just right onto you. You were so full of him, reeling in how thick three of his fingers were, and dangerously close once he concentrated on your clit.

Soon you were gripping harder, twitching, then squeezing him--, "H-ah-!"

You started begging when nonverbal queues didn't get through.

"Asahi- asahi, please-ah," You huffed, starting to feel your climax rushing in, threatening to take hold of you, "I'm s-o close-!"

You thought he would stop, for favor of dragging this out longer, but he didn't slow down, nor did he let off of you. The only change was his grip tightening, gripping into your skin. A twitch of your thigh, trying to push on him, was met with a powerful pull to keep it far away, to the side and keep you opened up.

The pressure it brought only added to your rapture- he was actively getting off to watching, hearing, feeling you beg for a break. He loved it.

"Mmn-!" Pulling on his hair did you no favors, other than encouraging that slow, constant swirl of his big tongue around your swollen clit.

In the end, the harshness in your brow, in your clawing fingers, your shaky thighs, all softened under his steady hold. He felt so good taking you apart, then bringing you all back together.

Another messy kiss, so sweet- but so mean, shoved you over the steep edge.

He could feel you tighten, pulse around his fingers and filled you to the knuckle; a tipsy, crooked smile barely visible under his working tongue.

It took so long to come out of the throws of your orgasm that he was already back on top, filling the space above you. You quickly locked your legs around him, hands guiding his face up for a kiss.

His knack for multitasking never stopped. You were given so many gentle, attentive kisses as he put you in the center of the bed, where there was finally room for the both of you.

He wanted you on your elbows and knees. Numb, and tingly, and pliable, you let him adjust you the way he wanted; you kept your debaucherous smile to yourself.

You needed every second of that foreplay to take him- he was the biggest you had ever been with. Thankfully, he also happened to be the sweetest.

"Ooh my god," Your trembling was quelled by the weight of his body.

His groan was low, stuttery, at your tight pussy clenching hard all around him.

He caught his breath, a pretty moan in the back of his throat, "Shit."

His praises were loosely strung together, punctuated in little kisses to the back of your head as he placed his elbows on the mattress, at your sides. If he had been watching, he probably wouldn't have lasted very long.

It was getting rough, quickly, but you found his kind attention more than enough to keep you relaxed.

"Mm-!" You muffled a cry, fisting the sheets while he chuckled at how cute all your little sounds were, hungry for more.

In one fluid motion, he had your arms pinned; one was tucked under you, the other was extended far out in front of you. The responsive gasp was more of your body, reacting on its own, but it was an invigorating thing to consider. He was such a timid guy, so every dirty thing he said or did still took you by surprise.

It was just like how you finished your match earlier, with one big difference.

"Mmnh-aAh! Augh-ah-Mm!"

Your surprised, whiny sounds spilled free against the sheets. His cock filled every bit of you- it felt so good your breath was getting shorter, harder to catch.

You couldn't see it, but he drank that messiness up, a furrowed concentration in his brow to keep giving it to you as hard as you needed.

"You like that?" His voice was right in your neck again, buzzed.

It melted your resistance away- you couldn't even squirm, couldn't tell him yes. You were so full, so close already, that when he stalled deep and cruel, to let you think, your euphoria was barely interrupted. You cried, tearless, drooling a little on Daichi's sheets.

"You wanna talk to me, sweetie?"

The kindness in his voice right now should've been illegal. You breath was getting shaky, your vision long since useless.

"T-ell me-mm, how it feels," He muttered, still egging you on, a kiss to the tip of your ear.

His voice fell away from you, your heart pounding in your ears- you were just swimming in delectation. His warmth, his sure delivery of careful pleasure, his gravelly, well-meaning taunts. It was starting to take you far away, for the first time.

You noticed, but didn't react to his retracting hands, nor the readjustment of his weight off of you.

He was deeply troubled that you hadn't responded to him.

If Asahi had been any more experienced or confident, he would've known the clear signs of subspace-- but considering his experience ended at some casual sex, and the absence of conversation, and not understanding of either of your limits, he thought he fucked up, bad.

You were just different. That made him nervous.

Concern laced his voice quick, a sobering sound.

"Hey?" There were a couple taps to your cheek, and when you got your focus back, he was bending to try to get a good look at your face.

You gave a weak smile, "Mm?"

"You okay?"

A big stretch, an otherwise silly invitation for him to put his hands back on top of yours, "Mmmmhm..."

The way you sat back a little, pushing yourself gently onto his cock, made him take a second. A quick moment to suck in a restrained breath. Then a reserved, relieved chuckle.

"Are you- sure?" Was his last attempt. Now he was noticing the shakiness from your legs, your irregular breathing.

He put a tiny peck to your temple, fingers carefully running over your side.

You gave a close-mouthed whine and winced away at the ticklish sensation, "God-- Just fuck me please,"

When he was watching where to put his hands, he noticed your wiggly fingers, and grinned- happy to take you up on the offer, again.

He met your light pushing with stronger, steady strokes that kept you gasping- whiny, with pleasure.

Your endurance was absolute garbage, when it came to his unconventional way of treating you. Neither of you were expecting it to click so well- not as just-friends, for years, with on-and-off separate partners and countless, ill-timed crushes on each other.

It was amusing to think of how different this would make your 'friendship' now. How could you tell the team you were dating, after they watched what was essentially half of your foreplay downstairs?

This orgasm washed over you in shorter, smaller waves than the first- but it took so long to fully crest that it felt a thousand years longer.

You weren't particularly loud, this time, but now that he was paying so much attention to you, he spoke you through it with unparalleled timing.

"Good, fuck- that's good," He sighed, huffy, in your ear.

His hand quickly clasped over your mouth before you could make a sound.

Though you felt so perfect, the little scare you gave him warded off any chance he had at cumming, too. It'd have to wait for some other time. The satisfaction from getting you to this point was more than enough payoff for him.

"Good girl."

You had never felt so disconnected from your own body before. It was like you felt your climax about two rooms down the hall- and all it left you with was some invisible, heavy blanket all across your limbs.

For all that was worth, it was pretty cool.

His quiet shushing, all in your ear, was the evidence you needed that you hadn't been entirely present. You weren't sure when he started and when he stopped.

"You're okay- you're okay," He cooed, thumb gently brushing your warm cheek.

He held you incredibly still, listening, watching, for you, before pulling out.

You felt like a heavy bag of sand.

In fact, after he had shifted slowly off you and leaned closer, the way you slumped down was akin to one. Maybe more of a bag of concrete mix, instead.

It was staggering to believe your sweet, silly, nervous Asahi took it out of you, like that.

"You okay?" He was ultra-gentle, now, sliding featherlight touches over your back.

It was just enough to keep you awake.

"(Y/n)?"

You didn't realize you needed to respond. A slow, laborious sigh. You opened your eyes and were surprised to see him, once again, leaning over you to watch your face.

"Yeah..."

It didn't convince him- he looked like he was going to call an ambulance.

"I'm- tired," You went to push yourself up.

The intense quivering in your arms stopped you. Having to push back against him for so long was exhausting, and now you were completely spent. You wondered if it had anything to do with the little fight earlier, too.

He shook his head when he noticed you try to move on your own again, "Nono, I got you."

For the millionth time tonight, his ability to pick you up, from whatever position he found himself in, left you in a delighted daze. He set you so that you at least had a pillow under your head.

"You need some water? Let me go get some for you real quick."

You did feel pretty dried up. Like a dead, frail flower.

A tiny nod, and he was rushing to put on enough clothes, zipping out the door in search of water. You fell asleep in the short time he was gone, too sleepy to pull the covers over you or to roll to your side.

"Mmh..."

It had only been a minute or so.

But you felt a thousand years old, getting woken up from an ancient slumber, when a soft throw blanket was covering you- a big, gentle hand over top of it, rubbing your shoulder to rouse you.

Asahi settled to your side, watched closely as you drank, and pressed more kisses to the side of your head. He reached over you to set the bottle on the bedside table.

"Thank you," You leaned into him, then decided to give him a little edge of the blanket, too, and rested your head on his chest, "I'm okay."

"Good."

He was warm. You squeezed an arm over him.

"How are we gonna tell everyone?" You mumbled, against his tummy.

"I-... don't think we need to."

Confused at what he meant by that, you stopped trying to burrow into him, and propped up a little to look him in the face.

"Uh-," He tilted his head from side to side, a little warmth on his tan features, "We weren't...exactly...quiet."

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[treatbuckywkisses]

hello I am HERE :))

Still as alert as ever, the looming threat of danger is never something that will leave him; but he no longer needs to worry about being unsure of himself in this small bit of his routine. The cart appears right in front of him quicker than he expected, his walk seeming all too short when you’re not there to enjoy it with. - the subtle shift you've given him to be alert without being afraid is so so so so so personal to me

Everything seems to remind him of you. Lovely and nothing short of exquisite. It would be sinful if Bucky didn’t buy these– you’re deserving of something almost as telling of your effervescent glory. - I'm sick over this I'm going to think about this paragraph for DAYS

There was never a defining title placed on it, but hell if he’d let that stop him from claiming something so necessary for once in his damn life.  - this is so mushy :(( HIS GIRL im sick

Bucky could already die a happy man from the overwhelming thought of you, grabbing for the bouquet with the most precious of hands, smiling down at the soft peach petals then up at him with those eyes– like he just handed you the damn keys to every castle in the world. - this part is oh so soft to me and that is so very precious 

But you weren’t. And how was he meant to explain to a person he had no interest in revealing any part of himself to that his angel was the very strength powering the flow of the waters of the earth; the very life twinkling, lighting the night sky?– That reducing her to a “pretty special beauty”, while undeniably true for every commoner to see, was the closest thing Bucky could think to being an insult? -, paired with No. You don’t understand– she’s not… she isn’t a pretty special beauty. That’s lazy. Words can’t describe what it’s like lookin’ at her, bein’ near her. Bein’ looked at and loved by someone so divine. She’s not… there’s no preparin’ yourself for her. She is beauty. - is CRIMINAL YOU MAKE ME SICK HOW COULD YOU WRITE SOMETHING SO SOFT AND MAKE ME LIVE WITH THIS I am unwell and it's all your fault 

Maybe, his girl and all the violent thoughts he has surrounding her– how she’s the embodiment of radiance, the very definition of the most torrential depths of beauty– is just enough for Bucky. And he plans to worship the feeling of knowing your beauty for the rest of his days. - why are you doing this to me he is perfect :( 

His hand drifts up your side, caressing the figure he reveres as nothing less than shattering to capture your face. Bucky’s certain he’ll faint from the thrill of feeling you, from the need to keep tasting you– drifting, spinning, floating. It warms you both from the inside out, numbing the sound of the outside world and replacing it with the pulse of need rushing through your veins. It’s so good– forever needing more, more, more him.  - oh my God I need to be adored this way I'm so speechless this is literally just so perfect the ideal love :( mir 

Your writing is something so deeply personal and special to me I hope you always know that<3 you write so beautifully vivid and clear. The way you write bucky (especially in love) is so unmatched, nobody is doing it like you baby!!!!!! This is so mushy and soft absolutely the kind of love we deserve! Thank you so much for sharing this with me 🫶🏻❣️

I was just re-reading you deserve a soft epilogue, my love and this popped up on my pinterest home page:

https://pin.it/1gHYpch

and I thought if Bucky was roaming the farmers market by himself, these looked like the type of arrangement he’d get for you when he stumbled across them 🥰🌹🌸🌷🌻🌼💐 and if it’s in the beginning he’d be all shy giving them to you.

in layman's terms

beefy bucky x f!reader (you deserve a soft epilogue, my love AU)

warnings: slight angst, entirely too much fluff

wc: 2k!

a/n: this is the first thing i've written in months. i'm feeling a lot of emotions, i really thought i'd never share something on here again– but i'm thankful my brain let me think on the sweetest boy for a brief moment in time. and a special thank you to my Col for always encouraging me and being the best cheerleader ever <3

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 ����𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢

The uneven cobblestone streets seem just a bit more solid under Bucky’s heavy boots.

Walking swiftly through the once frightening streets of Bucharest, his careful gait grounds him steady along the known trek, and the low bun laced with your hair tie bounces against his neck as an annoying reminder of the heat– just a couple more errands and he’ll be home with you. A few loose tendrils tickle his skin as his feet briskly carry him towards a cart he remembers you stealing glances at, several times, during your countless walks together.

The smell of honey and loaves of fresh bread swirl by him as he strides past more meaningless produce and knickknacks alike, pondering why you’ve never asked to grab a quick bite and stop to actually admire the flowers now directly in his line of sight.

The crowding of somewhat blurry and familiar faces doesn’t seem to bother him the way it used to– no reason to cause him to cower, to keep his head down with the threat of being seen.

Bucky has you to turn to, to encourage him when he needs reminding of who he is. He has you to go home to. He never imagined walking so weightlessly.

Still as alert as ever, the looming threat of danger is never something that will leave him; but he no longer needs to worry about being unsure of himself in this small bit of his routine. The cart appears right in front of him quicker than he expected, his walk seeming all too short when you’re not there to enjoy it with.

The sun beats down on him with a cool breeze, kinder than it’s been in a very long time– maybe, that’s why a faint smile has been stretched across his lips since he left his apartment. Maybe, that’s why he doesn’t pay any mind to the kids playing a rough game of tag or the loud arguing of the people just behind him. He feels a calm kindness meant for him; Bucky breathes along with it.

The breeze follows his content steps and at the prospect of one of your “secret” joys– one where he finds himself alone and able to indulge in his own selfish desire of loving you–, the flowers and stems you always gleam at, bustling with their vibrant hues of corals and luxurious creams, immediately caught his eye.

The blush of the petals reminds him of the sound of your honeyed laugh; the ghostly whites nestled between an almost neon green array of garnish indulge him with the fuzzy feeling of melting inside your sweet embrace.

Everything seems to remind him of you. Lovely and nothing short of exquisite. It would be sinful if Bucky didn’t buy these– you’re deserving of something almost as telling of your effervescent glory.

Even now, walking alone, the small walkways between seas of overbearing people and bruised fruit now sound of only delicate fingers held tightly in his; of soft whispers nestled just behind his ear only for him to hear; of those hidden kisses teasing at his neck, crashing against the life of his pulse.

Bucky reaches for the arrangement without a doubt in his mind.

“And who might these be for?” the smirk rests playfully in the florist’s brown eyes before Bucky even notices someone standing right there, watching him. It wasn’t meant to be patronizing, but embarrassment and something naggingly familiar floods his chest. The sudden swell is all too warm and somehow, anxieties of being questioned by an unknown person aside, it’s welcomed.

Almost as if he was a 14-year-old boy again. Almost as if he felt his ma’s voice taunting him while she stood over the stove, stirring his favorite afterschool soup in her dented pot and prodding him about the crush she heard him and Steve giggling about.

“My girl. Uh, well my gir– she…”

Girl? His girl?

Did he really say that out loud?

But that wasn’t what had Bucky’s brain diving headfirst 100 miles per minute into the depths of his chest trying to revive the unrelenting muscle.

No, it wasn’t girl. It was the two-letter guarantor of possession sitting right before it.

My.

What were you? Surely, he was yours– wholly and completely.

But what were you?

Looking at the delicate velvet petals brush against his glove– a lot of things, Bucky realizes.

Sunrise and sunset. Understanding. Fresh air. Relief. The bundle of pale petaled softness tucked safely within his black leather gloves. An angel. His angel– his girl.

There was never a defining title placed on it, but hell if he’d let that stop him from claiming something so necessary for once in his damn life.

“They remind me of my girl. And she’ll love ‘em.” His confidence hardly surprises him– these flowers reek of you. How you lay nestled against him at 3 in the morning under cream sheets with the pale white of the moon dusting the tops of your cheekbones, your hands tracing shapes along the scars of his back. How your eyes crinkle looking right at him and that calming, gentle sound that fills the air as you tell him all about your dreams, your fears, your joys.

Bucky could already die a happy man from the overwhelming thought of you, grabbing for the bouquet with the most precious of hands, smiling down at the soft peach petals then up at him with those eyes– like he just handed you the damn keys to every castle in the world.

“Must be a pretty special beauty then, huh?”

Bucky could feel the boyish pink flooding his stubbled cheeks, out of his control and entirely too revealing. And for once, his flustered state doesn’t deter him from looking an intrusive stranger in the eye.

Maybe if you were there with him, that blinding light and stunning glow that seemed to follow you and infiltrate every last molecule of the very air he breathed, he’d find his words.

You’d be there, looking up at him while he stumbled through the sludge of muddled thoughts and feelings, gracious fingers stroking soothingly at the nape of his neck as he laid his heart out for you and only you.

But you weren’t. And how was he meant to explain to a person he had no interest in revealing any part of himself to that his angel was the very strength powering the flow of the waters of the earth; the very life twinkling, lighting the night sky?– That reducing her to a “pretty special beauty”, while undeniably true for every commoner to see, was the closest thing Bucky could think to being an insult?

With a quiet sniffle and a shake of his head, Bucky’s tearful smile told the kind stranger all he couldn’t seem to articulate with words.

No. You don’t understand– she’s not… she isn’t a pretty special beauty. That’s lazy. Words can’t describe what it’s like lookin’ at her, bein’ near her. Bein’ looked at and loved by someone so divine. She’s not… there’s no preparin’ yourself for her. She is beauty.

His ma would be out of her mind with emotions– Bucky knows now, looking into the knowing eyes of this stranger. It’s all she ever wanted for him.

The florist only smiles, handing Bucky the perfectly paper-wrapped bundle with a quick “It’s on me, hope she enjoys them.”

His walk home has an extra incentive of speed in his step. The colors of garments people wear blend together in a frantic flurry with the elements of nature around him, everything a blur but the ingrained compass guiding him home– the promise of his girl waiting there for him.

Milling over every possible way he can present these flowers to you, the most pathetic attempt at showing you a fraction of the way you plague his every breath– there’s no right way to hand these to you.

No. Bucky wishes he could piece together his thoughts eloquently enough to offer his love in the way he so desperately wants to. If he could place his words as well as he’s learned to with his emotions…. Maybe, between the distant scribbles of things he quickly jots down as fleeting memories of a distant time, Bucky could find himself writing the words this beauty of his has gifted him.

Feeling.

Bucky’s no poet, not much of a talker, either. But you make him feel things with the clarity of crystal glass.

Delicate, fragile, sparkling things. Maybe, feeling is just enough.

Maybe, his girl and all the violent thoughts he has surrounding her– how she’s the embodiment of radiance, the very definition of the most torrential depths of beauty– is just enough for Bucky. And he plans to worship the feeling of knowing your beauty for the rest of his days.

The gods above only know the tenderness your soul has granted him. The understanding that there’s more to life than pain; finding that self-healing he’s been able to strive towards with your patient encouragement.

Bucky has no more time to think about how he’ll offer these to you. You open the door the second you hear his hurried and frantic stomps bypassing the elevator, rushing the many flights of stairs 4 steps at a time.

“Bucky what’s–”

“I love you,” never have words been so easy, so heavy and at home in his chest. He exhales them so certainly, hoarse and breathless forming so perfectly between the pink plump of his lips. “I’m so in love with you. And I saw these and needed you to have ‘em.”

He never gets the chance to bashfully feel the weight of actions, doesn’t get to admire the love swimming in your eyes, the tears threatening to spill with that gaze you know there’s no controlling when it comes to him– you rush forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that nearly launches his anxious heart straight into the sanctuary of your palms. Breath escapes him for more reasons than one, melting under your honest passion and the need to have him– to love him as he is. His metal arm latches around your waist, pulling you as close as you can get while standing in his small doorway trying to protect a bouquet of flowers from being crushed.

His hand drifts up your side, caressing the figure he reveres as nothing less than shattering to capture your face. Bucky’s certain he’ll faint from the thrill of feeling you, from the need to keep tasting you– drifting, spinning, floating. It warms you both from the inside out, numbing the sound of the outside world and replacing it with the pulse of need rushing through your veins. It’s so good– forever needing more, more, more him.

How is it never enough?

Cradling his world between his fist, Bucky tilts your head, his restless lips hungrily breathing in you despite the fact you’re both dizzy, on the verge of collapsing and only still standing because of the other. His gloved-metal thumb swipes away the few tears that have fallen, brushing tender strokes into the high point of your cheek.

Soft moans rumble low in his chest, rising and rising to plead for more– the need to always feel your soft lips move so desperately against his, warm tongues claiming the unbridled desire to never stop– he’ll tell you he loves you with every breath he breathes, or the ones only you could steal from him so sweetly.

When you reluctantly break away his lips move to chase yours, and the red flush staining his flustered love-dazed face is enough to make you cling tighter to the back of his neck, pulling him back down to press kiss after kiss over his shy, boyishly babbling face.

“Bucky… they’re absolutely beautiful, baby.” Oh, he knows. He knows all too well– and the breathless way your voice calls for him, those eyes rendering him the most helpless-in-love man of all time– well. He’s an earnest devotee of this fate.

“You’re the beauty in life, angel.”

💐

[snoopyhq]

TYPE: Viktor x GN Reader

GENRE: Fluff

SCENARIO: Adopting a cat with Viktor <3

WORD COUNT: 797

SETTING: Modern day, essentially

A/N: Hi chat! So first post here for this silly little sideblog of mine, hehe. First time writing an x reader too, lowkey kinda nervy. This is very much a self-indulgent, impulsive 1 AM kind of work, so I hope you enjoy, Viktor Nation ⚙️💛 Requests are open! I pretty much will write whatever, within reason, so go wild <3 :3

BONUS! Picture of my kitty Delilah at the end <3 !!! I love her :3

“Are you excited? I am,” you said, killing the engine.

“Me too. Whichever we decide on, I know we’ll both love the creature,” Viktor replied.

In front of you was a quaint building tucked between two other shops in Uptown Square. It was the same building you both had been wanting to visit for quite a while, and today was the day.

The two of you have been talking about potentially adopting an animal, and now that life has fallen into a livable routine within your apartment, it was time to make the crucial decision.

You both quickly figured you were cat people, and it was easy to agree on going to the one of local cat cafés to meet your future pet. Piltover Paws had a section in their website that showcased which cats were available for adoption, as well as brief descriptions of each one.

Lovey, a beautiful black-and-white kitten, had immediately caught your attention. Viktor, on the other hand, was drawn to Prism, a calico with a missing eye.

Even then, you were both open-minded to see how all the cats would intersect with you both.

The café staff were kind in their greetings. After rules were explained, you two were led to the cat room, which was separate from the café area. A chorus of curious meows immediately greeted you, and there were a couple other people who had booked the hour there too.

Viktor sat on one of the many plush couches scattered around the room, and you went off to mingle with some of the cats in the play area.

All the kitties were wonderful. You tried to remember which was which based on the photos you saw on the sight. Lovey, of course, had you wrapped around her paws immediately. Her purrs and chirps melted your heart, and as she batted at the toy you held out for her, you looked up at Viktor. He met your eyes and smiled softly. The sight of you melting over such an adorable critter would be one of his favorites for the rest of his days.

While you kept busy with Lovey, Viktor was observing Prism. The calico was hiding in a corner, away from the other cats. He was clearly shy, and nervous to approach. So Viktor waited. His patience proved fruitful, because Prism had slowly begun emerging, curiously sniffing at Viktor’s cane. He laughed to himself, letting the feline acquaint itself with him.

“Good kitty,” he whispered.

Slowly, he reached out his head towards Prism’s right side.

“You’re like a little puzzle piece of me,” he murmured. Prism allowed Viktor to gently pet him. His fur was soft as can be, his good eye closing halfway in contentment.

Soon, Prism had decided Viktor’s lap made the perfect napping spot. He was stuck to his seat, but he didn’t mind. When you walked over with Lovey trailing behind you and weaving in between your legs (the little troublemaker), a mutual agreement passed. You had to adopt both these kitties.

The application was filled out. The team explained they would be in contact with you two shortly to go over some general housekeeping and to ensure your home would be suitable for the cats.

The date was set.

You went home and began waiting with bated breath. While Viktor went to his study, you decided to pass some time to read some more of a recent novel you’d checked out.

It was around 6:30 when the call came through. Ten minutes conversing with the volunteer, and your adoptions were approved! You could come pick Lovey and Prism up anytime between 9:00 and 3:00 tomorrow, and you were eager to get there quickly.

By 9:30 the next morning, you two were well on your way home with the two new additions to your growing household. Prism remained quiet in his carrier, while Lovey chittered at every corner, much to your and Viktor’s amusement.

“Talkative, isn’t she?” he inquired.

“It was in one of her descriptions. Glad to see it’s true outside the café,” you answered.

“Much like you,” he teased. That earned him an annoyed huff, but the affection in your eyes dispelled any actual grievance.

“They’ll do well adjusting,” you said after a while.

The city was behind you now, the sounds of Piltover fading away. The carriers were set down and slowly opened.

Viktor watched Lovely immediately went sniffing around the living room, ducking beneath the couch. Prism slowly followed suit, making it a few steps before finding his way back to Viktor, nudging at his leg.

“I think they will,” he nodded, leaning down to pet him. “They’ll look lovely in future postcards, wouldn’t you agree?”

You couldn’t help but snicker at the thought. Holiday cards to Jayce and Heimerdinger, and any other friends, with photos of your cats in holiday gear and cheer? It was perfect.

“Absolutely.”

•• ━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━ •••• ━━━━ ••●••

here she is! my little diva 💜

[gothicxreylover]

I'm a big fan of your writing so I want to request a Yandere hashira au (except muichiro unless aged up) when s/o abusive and toxic ex (husband/ wife or betrothed) comes to the hashira's and tries to take them back forcefully. Stay safe

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Hello!Thank you for your request and I am here to deliver! I wrote all the hashiras and in Muichiro’s story instead of a romantic relationship you have a toxic friendship and it’s implied that you and Muichiro take on a more platonic bond than Romantic. Anyways that’s all and I hope you enjoy!

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

(Forgot to state but toxic ex is switched genders around in some stories)

Kyojuro Rengoku

The tranquility of the Rengoku estate was shattered when your abusive ex-husband arrived, yelling your name and demanding you return to him. You instinctively stepped back, fear washing over you, but Kyojuro’s firm, protective presence moved in front of you immediately.

“Ah, so you’re the one who hurt them,” Kyojuro said, his voice steady but laced with quiet fury. “You have no right to be here.”

“They’re mine!” your ex barked, glaring at Kyojuro. “Get out of the way!”

Kyojuro’s expression didn’t waver. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No. They are not yours, and they never will be again.”

When your ex tried to shove past him, Kyojuro moved with blinding speed, grabbing their wrist and twisting it just enough to make them yelp in pain. “Do not mistake my kindness for weakness,” Kyojuro said, his voice low and filled with restrained anger. “If you ever come near them again, I will ensure you regret it.”

The sheer intensity of his gaze made your ex retreat, muttering curses as they fled. Kyojuro turned back to you, his expression softening as he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“You’re safe now,” he said warmly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again. You’re my responsibility, and I’ll protect you with my life.”

Gyomei Himejima

Your toxic ex-fiancé showing up at Gyomei’s temple was a mistake they would soon regret. As they shouted and demanded your return, Gyomei’s calm, towering presence made them falter.

“You’ve already caused them enough harm,” Gyomei said, his deep, rumbling voice steady as he clasped his hands in prayer. “Your actions have no place here.”

“They’re mine!” your ex hissed, trying to shove past him, but Gyomei’s massive frame didn’t move an inch.

“You mistake possession for love,” Gyomei said, his voice filled with quiet disappointment. When your ex tried to push harder, Gyomei grabbed their arm with one hand, his grip firm but not cruel. He effortlessly pinned them in place, his expression calm but unyielding.

“You will leave now,” Gyomei said, his tone as immovable as a mountain. “If you do not, I will ensure you cannot harm anyone ever again.”

The sheer power in his words made your ex flee, their bravado crumbling. Gyomei turned to you, his eyes soft with concern. “Are you unharmed?” he asked gently.

When you nodded, he knelt before you, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “You are safe here. I will not let anyone take you from this place of peace. You deserve love and protection, not fear.”

Muichiro Tokito (Toxic Ex-Best Friend)

It was an unexpected and unpleasant encounter when your toxic ex-best friend showed up, shouting about how you’d abandoned them. You froze at their familiar voice, but Muichiro’s protective instincts kicked in instantly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Muichiro said calmly, stepping in front of you. His usually dreamy expression darkened, his sharp eyes locking onto your ex-friend.

“They’re my friend!” your ex-friend yelled, trying to push past Muichiro. “They owe me! They promised to always be there for me!”

Muichiro didn’t move, his stance as unshakable as a stone. “You’ve done nothing but hurt them,” he said softly, his tone devoid of emotion but carrying an undercurrent of danger. “That’s not what a friend is.”

Your ex-friend lunged forward, but before they could get close, Muichiro’s sword was out, the tip hovering inches from their chest. His expression remained calm, but his voice was icy. “Leave now, or I’ll make sure you can’t come back.”

The sheer coldness in his tone made your ex-friend hesitate, their confidence crumbling. They muttered something under their breath and turned to leave, shooting you a final glare before disappearing.

Muichiro sheathed his blade and turned to you, his gaze softening slightly. “You don’t have to deal with them anymore,” he said quietly. “You’re my family now. I won’t let anyone hurt you, no matter who they are.”

Mitsuri Kanroji

The soft hum of the Butterfly Estate was interrupted when your abusive ex-fiancé barged in, shouting your name and demanding you come back to them. The sound of their voice made you freeze, but Mitsuri’s protective instincts kicked in immediately.

She stepped between you and them, her usual bright and cheerful demeanor replaced by a fierce determination. “How dare you come here after everything you’ve done to them!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak.

“Get out of my way, you stupid woman,” your ex spat, trying to push past her.

But before they could get close, Mitsuri’s whip-like sword lashed out, the tip cracking against the ground just inches from their feet. Her green and pink hair swayed as she straightened, her eyes blazing. “You’re not taking them anywhere,” she said, her voice firm despite the tears pooling in her eyes.

Your ex faltered, sneering, “What can you do?”

Mitsuri’s grip on her sword tightened, and her voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone you’d never heard before. “I can make sure you regret ever laying a hand on them. Now leave before I lose my patience.”

The combination of her unyielding stance and the deadly glint of her blade was enough to send your ex retreating. Once they were gone, Mitsuri dropped her sword and turned to you, wrapping you in a tight embrace.

“You’ll never have to deal with them again,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’ll protect you. I love you too much to let anyone hurt you again.”

Shinobu Kocho

Your abusive ex-husband showing up at the Butterfly Estate was an unwelcome surprise. He barged in, yelling about how you belonged to him, but Shinobu was quick to intercept him, her ever-present smile masking the storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Oh my, what a rude intrusion,” she said lightly, stepping between you and your ex. “I’m afraid you’re not welcome here.”

“They’re mine!” your ex snapped, trying to push past her.

Shinobu’s smile didn’t falter, but her hand subtly tightened around a vial of poison she kept hidden in her sleeve. “Mine? That’s an interesting way to describe someone you treated so poorly,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

When he tried to grab your arm, Shinobu moved like lightning, her blade pricking his hand just enough to draw blood. “Careful now,” she said sweetly, her voice soft but laced with venom. “You wouldn’t want to get hurt, would you?”

Your ex recoiled, clutching his hand. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he hissed, backing away.

Shinobu tilted her head, her smile widening. “I could ask you the same question. Now, I suggest you leave before I decide to test one of my newest poisons.”

He stumbled out, cursing under his breath. Once he was gone, Shinobu turned to you, her expression softening as she reached out to touch your arm gently. “Are you all right, my love?”

When you nodded, she smiled, but this time it was warm and genuine. “Good. You don’t need to worry anymore. I’ll make sure he never comes near you again. You’re safe with me.”

Giyu Tomioka

The quiet peace of Giyu’s estate was shattered when your abusive ex-husband stormed in, shouting your name and demanding you return. You instinctively shrank back, but Giyu stepped forward, his expression as cold and unyielding as the edge of his blade.

“Leave,” Giyu said simply, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana.

Your ex scoffed, glaring at Giyu. “This has nothing to do with you. They’re mine, and I’m taking them back!” He tried to shove past Giyu, but before he could lay a finger on you, Giyu drew his sword, the sharp edge gleaming in the sunlight.

“You won’t touch them,” Giyu said, his voice low and calm, but there was an undeniable threat in his tone. “You’ve already hurt them enough. If you try again, I won’t show mercy.”

The man hesitated, his confidence faltering under Giyu’s piercing gaze. With one final glare, your ex turned and left, muttering curses under his breath.

Giyu didn’t lower his sword until the man was out of sight. Then he turned to you, his expression softening just enough to show his concern. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

When you nodded, he stepped closer, his presence steady and reassuring. “You’re safe here,” he said firmly. “I won’t let anyone take you away. Not ever.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi had been working out in the courtyard when your toxic ex-wife arrived, screaming insults and demanding you return to her. The sound of her voice made your blood run cold, but Sanemi’s reaction was immediate.

“The hell do you think you’re doing here?” he snarled, stepping between you and her.

“They’re mine!” your ex spat. “She belongs with me, not with some psycho like you!”

Sanemi’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “Belongs with you? You’ve got some nerve saying that after what you’ve done to them.” He cracked his knuckles, his eyes blazing with fury. “Touch them, and I’ll break every bone in your body.”

Your ex didn’t take the warning seriously and lunged for you, but Sanemi was faster. In an instant, he had her pinned against the wall, his hand gripping her throat just tightly enough to make her understand her mistake.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” Sanemi growled, his voice dripping with venom. “Next time, I won’t hold back. Get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”

She stumbled away, coughing and glaring, but she didn’t dare look back. Once she was gone, Sanemi turned to you, his expression still fierce but tinged with worry.

“You all right?” he asked gruffly, his hands reaching out to check for any signs of harm.

When you nodded, he exhaled sharply, muttering, “Good. I’m not letting anyone hurt you again, got it? You’re mine now, and no one’s taking you from me.”

Tengen Uzui and His Wives

Your toxic ex-fiancé had the audacity to arrive at Tengen’s estate, shouting about how you belonged to them and demanding you return. You froze, fear paralyzing you, but Tengen’s sharp laugh broke the tension.

“What a pitiful display,” Tengen drawled, stepping out with his wives flanking him. Makio had her daggers ready, Suma clung to his arm for dramatic effect, and Hinatsuru stood calmly with her bow in hand.

“You’re no match for us,” Makio snapped, glaring at your ex. “Get lost before you regret it!”

Suma added, “How dare you show your face here after what you did to them?!” Her voice was shrill, but the protective rage in her tone was unmistakable.

Hinatsuru didn’t waste time with words; she nocked an arrow, her eyes cold. “If you don’t leave now, I won’t miss.”

Tengen stepped forward, smirking. “Listen, unflashy pest. You think you can take my spouse back? That’s ridiculous. They’re part of my family now.”

Your ex lunged, but Tengen’s reflexes were unmatched. In an instant, he had them pinned to the ground, his blade at their neck. “You’ll leave and never come back. Or do I need to make an example of you?”

After your ex scrambled away in terror, Tengen turned to you with a broad grin. “See? No one messes with what’s mine.” His wives surrounded you, pulling you into a warm embrace. “We’ll always protect you.”

Obanai Iguro

Obanai’s obsession with you was a quiet but suffocating thing, his protective instincts always on high alert. So when your toxic ex-wife appeared, demanding to take you back, his first reaction was fury.

“How dare you show up here?” Obanai hissed, Kaburamaru coiling tighter around his shoulders. He stood between you and her, his mismatched eyes narrowing dangerously.

“They’re not yours,” your ex spat, moving to grab your arm. But before she could touch you, Obanai’s katana was drawn, its tip hovering millimeters from her throat.

“You’ll leave now,” Obanai said, his voice low and deadly. “If you try to take them from me, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Your ex tried to argue, but Kaburamaru hissed, and Obanai stepped forward, forcing her to back away. “Don’t come near them again,” he growled, watching her retreat.

Once she was gone, Obanai turned to you, his demeanor softening slightly. “You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.” He gently wrapped his scarf around you, a symbol of his devotion. “You belong with me. No one else deserves you.”

[emmg]

wip wednesday

tagged by my enabler @heylittleriotact hehe who has already also tagged some of my faves so I'll just add @lavenderprose @mindtrove @seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana and fave Raphael provider @adinfernumadinfinitum

This is, uh, from that Emmlich x Rook creepy one-shot I'm sort of playing around with whenever I feel like it lol. Still trying to work out the intricacies of lich sex (what a weird thing to write lmfao) because while it may not be 100% my thing, I think it's important to address the change in intimacy. But while I think that through, here's whatever this is.

Under the cut for waking up next to a fucking skeleton

Not all moments are beautiful.

Once, she wakes in the ink-black hours of night, disoriented, floating somewhere between dream and memory. Her hand reaches out instinctively, searching for him, because surely, he must be there. Shouldn't he always be there? That’s what lovers do when they share a bed. They remain.

And yes, he is there. He is always there. Emmrich does not sleep; he merely keeps her company through the hours when she drifts and he does not. But her mind is thick with the fog of waking, her thoughts unwritten, and in that brief, horrible moment, she forgets. Everything. The color of her hair. The sound of her name. And him—him most of all. She turns her head, and her eyes catch on his face, his real face, in its eternal, grotesque stillness. And she screams.

She flings herself away, blind with panic, and chaos follows her. Her temple cracks against the nightstand; the edge of the floor kisses her forehead; her nose blooms with pain as it meets the ground. A wetness spreads across her face, metallic and hot, and she tastes it—the blood—before she understands anything else. It coats her lips, slides over her teeth, drips slow and thick down her chin.

Somewhere above her, his voice unfurls, trembling at the edges, full of apologies that she feels she does not deserve. “Oh, dearest... Hush now, it’s all right, all right, I am so sorry, so terribly sorry...” His hands are upon her, impossibly light, as if afraid that any pressure might shatter her further. One rests between her shoulder blades while the other lifts to hover above her broken nose. A faint, flickering heat flows from his fingers, a quiet, mending magic that knits her back together as though nothing had happened.

“I forgot,” she whispers through the haze of shame and iron on her tongue. “I forgot—I didn’t—oh, Emmrich, fuck, fuck, I wasn’t awake, I didn’t know—I just saw—I love you, I love you—it was just so dark, and—and—and— ”

“Enough,” he says, gently cutting her off. “It is nothing, my love, nothing. You are safe. Hush now.” His hands work steadily, mopping the sticky, congealing blood beneath her nose with a handkerchief. It is a small and useless luxury from a life he no longer has need for but keeps anyway, because perhaps some objects are anchors in a sea of unbeing. “My poor darling... Perhaps I should keep a candle lit. Yes, that would be wise, don’t you think?”

She nods, quickly, furiously, her hair falling into her face. Yes, a candle. That would be good. Very good. She almost asks for something more. Almost begs him to keep his glamour, the sweet illusion of his past face, always in place, but she swallows the words, tasting their bitterness as they go down. It wouldn't be kind to him.

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 10

Chapter 10: adamant Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: depictions of a panic attack. PLEASE AVOID if that would end up harming you i beg !!! dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. I am being serious when I say that arthur is bad at handling this situation. he does not think he has done anything wrong. if youve been reading so far you know that that is BAD. please do not read if you can't handle it, im putting a giant RED FLAG on this WC: 4753 SNOW ANGEL DROP TN??? everybody say thank you to @emerald-ranch CHAPTER 10 !!! we did it !! it took me a while to churn this out and get it to a place that i liked. im still not even sure i like it LMAO thank you for all of the lovely little niche questions i get about my strange snow angel arthur, he is everything to me and i love to speak him into existence. first time writing angst soooo Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol You and Arthur clear the air.

“Caught me a little bunny, pretty one too,” you can feel his excitement behind the fabric of his pants, his belt digging into you uncomfortably. Arthur’s features, although covered in shadows from the dusk drawing in, still reflect his anticipation. He takes his hat off, his hand drags his hair back, damp with sweat, darker than the usual lighter brown. Some of it still flops over into his face anyway. 

Your hands push at his shoulders weakly, whining as he dips down to kiss you, the warmth of his breath fanning over the roundness of your cheek, you can feel the scrape of his stubbly hair on your face, the dimple at the tip of his nose brush over you. 

“Arthur, please, I just- I wanna go home, you won, you got me,” he hums, running his tongue over your neck, his arms prop his body up over yours, keeping you warm in the cold chill. He covers you well enough, shields you from the winter with his frame, wide and heavyset. You can feel the rumble in him when he says ‘you’re damn right, I did,’.

The sky is a pretty shade of purple, a little like lavender. You look up, feeling his body tilt to one side, held up on his elbow, his other takes the opportunity to roam over your body. “We can go to our home, Arthur,” you try to pull at his desires, but he won’t have any of it. 

“Wanna see my prize first,” he says between puffs of air, his tongue pacing over the delicate skin of your neck. His hands tug your skirt upwards while you try and keep your legs closed. His hands grip the fat of your thigh, dipping under the dainty fabric of your stocking. Between his legs is the rather stiff press of him and his arousal. You don’t like how easy it is for your body to respond to just the notion of him taking you like this, like an animal.

His rough fingertips skim over the mark he left on you, the one your mother saw. 

“All you had to do was say you liked it. I know you did. You like everything I do,”

“I-No, I…I couldn’t-” You couldn't make it stop. Couldn't make your body stop reacting to him is what you want to say. But to say so would admit that some part of you liked what he did. You snap your mouth shut like a coin purse. You can’t bring yourself to say such a thing. Not that his ideas deserve to be validated. He gives you a knowing look which sends a tremor down your spine, your legs shifting nervously. 

“Quit your lying’, girl, you ain’t fooled me yet. Shouldn’t be ashamed, sugar; I might be a bastard but I ain’t the worst thing coulda happened to ya,”

“I’m not trying to…I told her not to say anything,” you whine and push again at his shoulders but he doesn’t budge. 

“Mhm, how come I don’t believe that for a second,”

Either way, he drops his mouth to your neck, sucks another painful mark just under your ear, the sensitive skin tingles with sensation, pulling pain from your nerves. You tilt your face away, you can’t get him to stop. You can hear the wetness of his tongue moistening your skin before he's sucking a deep red mark, which will be another bruise on your skin. You pull at his hair, but you’re held down just as easily while he nips away.

Your back arches, your skin tingles. A lewd whimper is all you have to offer, keening for him. The quiver inside you isn’t mindful at all. Pure reaction, pleasure rising to the surface. 

 He gives you more than one this time, leaving them at his leisure. He's ripping your blouse open next, so he can leave more on your breasts. The soft flesh is alight with nerves, rippling desire through you. 

“Think you’re starting to like it, angel,” you still your body, disconnected from its actions, which until then was moaning, clutching his shoulder for dear life. The tide of your emotions rises higher though, ice cold water crashing down on the pleasant warmth gathering on your lower belly.

Like you’ve stepped in front of a wagon train, the panic sets in, more than any other time before now. A shameful part of you; an awful desire that burns for Arthur somewhere inside of you, wants him to keep going. To make good on all of his promises. But it’s too difficult to indulge that part of you. The shock of what happened in your family’s home is too much. It drops on your head like an anvil or a blacksmith's hammer. You’re entirely too aware of how your father’s blood dripped over his own fingers. Your mother crumpled to the ground as she watched Arthur take you away. 

“I don’t-don’t want to do this right now, please,” It’s maybe the first time you cry at his insistence. And the first time you’ve been utterly clear about what you do and don’t want. In the most explicit terms possible. You feel the tears well up in your eyes. You cried like this when he first told you what he wanted. They drip down the sides of your face. You hadn’t been able to stop him on the first night. And after he made you all too aware of how things work between a man and a woman, you hadn’t tried to, overwhelmed with how good he was at dragging pleasure out of you. But now, it’s like the world has come closing in and there’s nothing that can stop it from swallowing you whole. Not after what he did, simply because your father thought to stop him from taking his only daughter away. 

Your breathing comes far too quick. Your head feels like it's full of air and it begins to hurt. The cold stings your finger tips. You have no regard as to what your face looks like, letting it bunch up in what is probably an unsightly expression of your reactive sobbing.

“Hey, hey, I-” He’s no longer using that husky tone with which he usually addresses you when he gets like this. It’s trying to be soothing but a certain panic underlines his words. You can see him take his hands off of you, as if he’s burning you with every touch. But he still keeps you underneath some of his weight, his mouth opens as if to say something else, furrowed brows 

“Get off…Get off me,” you push at his shoulders and at first he doesn't move an inch. When you don’t immediately feel his weight move from pinning you down, your sobbing becomes volatile. Struggling to breath through your tears and your desperate wails, you inhale faster but it still feels like it's not enough. Thrashing mindlessly at him, uncaring of his anger or his punishments, is what makes him ease off of you a little. 

“Woah, easy,” he tugs your skirt down, shielding you from the cold as much as he can without touching you but you can’t stop yourself from being consumed by the physical reaction your shock evokes from you, wrenched from you. Like a child and their toys infected with scarlet fever. 

His soothing does work a little, now that you know he’s stopping, that he’s covered your legs. You sniff and writhe, your fingers grip at his upper arms. You can finally blink through your tears to see his expression, worry clouded with something you’ve never quite seen. The pull of his mouth tugs towards a guilt he’s never shown you before. 

You’re starting to breathe way too much, all of the air makes you dizzy and the cold still burns your lungs but you don’t care, letting the pain ground you. Your arms wrap around yourself to cover your breasts, trying to fix your ruined shirt to no avail. The frustrated fumbling of your fingers has Arthur softening more, but his voice still intonates with his natural authority.

“Sweetheart, you need to slow down. Jus’ breathe, you’ll be alright,” his commanding voice controls you more than you thought it would. He sits back on his haunches, hoping the distance might do you some good, crowding you isn’t in his best interest. You gasp for air, sitting up a little with the space he’s afforded you.

Arthur comes closer to calm you when he notices you can’t seem to do it all on your own. He’s slow, shushing you, his hand pets your hair, down behind your ear, to the side of your neck. He keeps his eyes low, the warmth of his hand helps you a little, so does his own rhythmic breathing, slow and steady.

He doesn’t say much for a minute or two, a ‘that’s my girl,’ tingles your ear, warms you up. You sigh, trying to regulate your breathing, appreciating his help but still feeling frightened and confused. Especially when you consider that he is the source of all your troubles. Arthur is close enough so you feel body heat, his fingers brush your tears away. Sweet in this gentle moment. How could you stand to take comfort from a man who shot your father? Who could have missed, who could have killed him? As always, you doubt that you’re right in the head. Something must be broken within you.

It’s hardwired though. Arthur is all you have left now. The only one here with you.

He doesn’t seem excited in the same way he was before. The adrenaline from his chase dies in your blood, leaving behind the residue of stress, a headache forming. The pace of your heart does slow down now, the puff of the air in your lungs. He watches you with an odd expression. Glad that you’ve calmed down but still disappointed. Perhaps with you, having ruined his plan of taking you, of spreading your legs in the snow, burying himself inside of you. If things hadn’t gone so wrong today, you might have let him.

The thought makes more shameful tears drip down your face. Despite any calm summoned from you, you still feel the curl of disgrace, laying in your tattered shirt underneath this man, shrinking away from his stare.

“What's wrong? Did I hurt you?” You can at least appreciate that he is worried about you, even if he has no clue why. You can see a fear in his eyes that he tries to hide from you, a fear that he’s caused you real pain. At least you know now that if you had done more screaming and crying, he might have stopped that day. You didn't think him to be so thick as to not understand why you are as emotional in this moment as you are. 

“Arthur, no, no, I just- I don’t want- I want to go home…now,” You had wanted to come away from this moment, maybe just a bit touched at how he had helped you through your foolish hysterics. But as always, some part of Arthur balances it out. 

“Just tell me why you was cryin’. I know that ain’t all of it,” He narrows his eyes. Your jaw drops, unable to hide your outrage. Your anger, which you keep in check most of the time, pushes at the lid of the pot you stuff it in. Every single grain of it threatens to spill out. Your fingers scrunch, your face does too. 

“Shooting my father and then hunting me like an animal; pushing me in the dirt for- for your desires- that’s not enough?” You realize now that dusk is here and it’s colder in this dark valley than it was before. You move to stand, he’s upright before you and he does try to help but you refuse him. Unfortunately, your anger hasn’t been honed into a point sharp enough to cut. It’s only wet and girlish, it makes you cry and tremble, your throat thickens unpleasantly.

“You did what you wanted with me, like you always do. But my family… I never wanted-” You wobble onto your feet, closing his coat in front of your chest. You should never have indulged him. You should have bitten and chewed and snarled and spat until he left you alone. 

You aren't sure why you didn't. You suppose it felt nice to have a man notice you, to call you pretty. To want you in some way other than to just ignore or to leer at disgustingly like the lonely trappers at the trading post, even when they were friends of your father. How pathetic of you. 

Yet, nothing about what he did felt disgusting. It was the expectation on you as a woman to reserve these affections for marriage that lashed against the inside of your ribcage. That whispered that it was wrong; it was anything but the pure and gentle lessons you received as a girl. Opening your legs so willingly for a man because he called you pretty, called you all sorts of saccharine praises, was tearing away at you. You hadn't fought him harder and at first you thought it was because there was no point, that he was too strong anyway so why waste the energy? But now, you aren't so sure of that resolve. 

He was handsome in his own way and he didn’t seem like all the boys your mother told you to keep an eye on in case you should marry one day. Lanky and thin, sparse hairs on their chins which they stroked like great beards. He wasn’t a drunken fool or witless boy.

Arthur was a man. He acted like one, he smelled like one, looked like one. He wasn’t afraid to muck stalls, to cook. And he acted like you were married already, like you loved him and he loved you. Perhaps you liked the idea of having a man such as him, a man who didn’t need you to replace his mother’s duties, a man who wanted you to simply be with him. And those glittering moments where you played house with him, sat on his lap and let him kiss you. You could have stayed with him there forever, buried in the snow. You would have been happy if spring’s thaw never came. But now, he stands, with an almost resentful look at your accusatory tone.

Everything has dissolved into a coagulated mess, like spoiled milk. 

“I do what I want with you? The hell does that mean?” He’s more upset now, at the insinuating circumstances. 

“Arthur,” you recoil at the anger in his voice. You don’t even know what you meant particularly but Arthur fishes a meaning out from your words, even if you hadn’t put too much stock into your own words. 

“You’re sayin’ that I violated you, is that it?” his hands rest on his hips as he moves to keep staring you in the eye, you’ve never seen him like this before. Really angry. 

“I didn’t ask to do that with you, I told you to…” It’s like he can sense how noncommittal you are with your own sentiments. Your own certainty doesn't linger with you. As much as you would like it too. He sniffs it out like a bloodhound, throwing the truth in your face. 

“You know what I think? I think- fact, I know. You’re one of those gently reared girls, think they’re better than this, above any of this low down ruttin’ us sinners do. You can’t even say it, can you? All that we got up to. That’s called fuckin’ , sweetheart,” The word curls into his vicious smile. You’re scandalized, can feel how your hands pull his coat even tighter. You don’t think you’ve heard anyone talk like that to you. It’s a dirty word but you suppose that is what it felt like to be with him. Dirty. But that rush, you can’t deny that. The one that shoots up your spine when you remember how it made you feel. 

 “Can’t say you ain’t like it, can’t say you did; and I get it. Ain’t the first time I met a girl like you. But you can’t lie to me,” 

You ignore the hind-brain jealousy that pokes your mind. His words are truer than you want them to be. You said stop once or twice, although you can’t recall too well about things you said. Instead, you told him you belonged to him. You had meant to endear yourself to him. It worked far more than you wanted it to. 

Pretending like you didn’t want him to do what he did protected your own self important image as your father and mother preferred you, not how things really were. And now that you don’t have them anymore, what use was that image? You try to cling to the truth of your old life, crumbling to pieces around you. 

“It’s not just about that. I…I didn’t say yes…I thought you would hurt me, you told me you didn’t want me to fuss. When you told me I had to stay…” you stun him, he seems like he hardly remembers doing that. In that low voice, his startling command. It scared you to the bone then, but it did shake something awake. You had never felt so wanted in your life as that day. Both of you are some type of wrong, you think. Maybe he recognized the same kind of wrong in you.

Carefully, he mulls over what you said. It affects him, you can see how that same guilt settles in the creases of his face. It roots around his eyes, the harsh lines soften. How his boots scuff against the ground. One of his hands scratches at his beard. But all too soon, it’s gone and a resolve hardens on his face, like he’s dashed the guilt away. Made room for something else. 

“Am I just supposed to believe you was lyin’ when you said you liked it? I don’t make you talk, darlin’. You might be pretty as a doll,” He looks over your features, over your hair and your pouting lip. “But you ain’t no string puppet. Wouldn’t hurt you, honey, not like that, not how you’re meanin’. It’d do you some good to remember that ain’t true ‘bout most anybody else,” He lets his body naturally intimidate yours, looking down his nose at you.

You don’t know how he can have such a prideful stare. Like he knows he’s right. He pushes the memory of your father, kneeling and gripping his wound to the front of your mind. 

“You didn’t have to shoot him. Heaven forbid my father from trying to protect me from you. Wouldn’t be the first time a father tried to keep his daughter from marrying you. Arthur, why exactly is it your first instinct to go waving a gun around when something goes wrong? I don’t understand what drives someone to do the things you do,” He chuckles darkly, as if you told a morose joke at a funeral. He does let a quiet frustration come over him, a glare gets leveled at you. But he holds himself tightly in his own restraint. Your retaliation against him; he treats it as a minor slight. You cross your arms while he brushes it off. All too good at letting insults slide off his back.

“That makes the two of us. I ain’t been a good man most my life and I ain’t sure I’ll ever be any good at it. I try to be good to you, I do, but maybe it ain’t enough. That’s just fine with me,” He steps closer to you, sensing your shock at his words. He’s back to that prowling wolf from before. His demeanor changes on a dime. He bends at the waist to grab his gloves and hat, dusting the bottom of the brim casually against his coat before placing it back on his head. His gloves are shoved haphazardly in his pocket. “I don’t know if I need that from you, some fairytale love story, where your Pa hands you over to me and I bring you up to the altar dressed like a government boy,” You’re almost afraid of him, how he carries himself. There's a dread hanging in the air around him, a foreboding poke in the back of your head. 

“Used to be an outlaw, around New Austin, Heartlands, all over…” you look at the cold look in his eyes. Colder than the snow that dusts the ground. Frozen stiff like a corpse, but you tremble anyway. He shifts his legs, widening his stance and placing one hand on his belt, next to the shiny revolver. “I’ve killed people, robbed them, or both…done things I wasn’t always proud of. I ain’t too proud of what I done with you neither. Tellin’ you that is…just about as good as bein’ married. Can’t let ya go wanderin’ off knowin’ the truth, now,” Arthur raises his arms in something like a shrug. The nonchalant air about him has that wet anger rising in your throat again.

“You ain’t goin’ back home. Least the home you had. Me puttin’ a bullet in your Pa don’t change that. I’d advise you to make your peace with the fact. I keep havin’ to tell you. I hate repeatin’ myself,” You continue to stare, eyes wide with the realization of his truth. An outlaw. You must be the most unfortunate girl in the state. To walk into the home of a killer. Your thoughts trail back to how he disposed of the body of the man who had tried to rob you. The cold and careless manner of dealing with death was telling then. It screams at you now.

“I-I’m not some belonging for you to collect, for you to hang on your wall. To put up on top of your fireplace, Arthur,”

“No, you’re much more than that,” You aren’t completely sure of his meaning. But it’s something that entails you being with him how he wills it. No better than being chained to his bed, really. He nears you and you do take a wary step backward, a little afraid of the neutrality on his features. He schools his reactions, tells you of his past with no remorse. 

“If you care for me, care for me at all, wouldn’t you- wouldn't you let me go?” you ask but you know his answer, when he finally closes in on you, drags one finger down the curve, the roundness of your cheek. His thumb rests on your lips, his other fingers curl around to almost the nape of your neck. His hand makes you feel entirely too small in his hold. Guides you to look up at him, as your fingers clutch the fur of his coat tightly around you. 

“See, that’s the problem right there,” he has a strange twist to his voice, a light lilt while he smirks down at you, the darkness dipping the shadows across his face into an even darker tone. “I care about you too much. Maybe it ain’t right, can’t say I give a damn either way,” the fragility of this moment isn’t broken until he puts a kiss on your lips that’s a thousand times lighter than the precarious air of this conversation. But you should have known being so restrained isn’t permanent with Arthur. 

A strong hand closes on your hip, drags you into the front of him. His breath quickens, it flatters you how much he likes you so near to him. Your hip aches pleasantly as he squeezes it. Your heart swells, you wish you could will yourself into rejecting him.

“Tell me you don’t want me, honey. Tell me to leave you alone…” You’re stiff as an iron rod when he pulls you to him. You brace yourself on him, hands compelled naturally to lay flat on his chest. Something about the full form of his body is so pleasing to you, the breadth of him against you. The warmth you feel and the strength lying in wait. The smell of him, leather and hide, tobacco and mint. It closes you in. You open your mouth to say something. Anything. 

“Arthur, that’s not fair,” you whine. Your anger might have caused you to lash out at him for once. But you’re back to the docile thing he liked to chase around, too occupied with his body so close to yours to realize that you’ve dropped all pretense of that strong front, that you haven’t answered his question. You wish you could continue being the kind of person who could tell someone like Arthur what he's asking. Strong willed, not so swayed. But you’re moved in the opposite direction by whatever is inside of you, some deep buried want of yours. And the constant tone of knowing that he’s bigger and stronger than you. It’s always there, rain pattering on the roof in autumn. He had no trouble chasing after you like this, in the encroaching dusk. It was more a game than any real challenge.

“Just say it, you keep tryin’ to, don’t ya?” you look away. Why can’t you say it? When he’s inviting you to rebuff him. You look up at him. A knot gets tangled in your insides. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. What is wrong with you?

“You can’t cause you don’t mean it, not when this little pussy gets wet when I touch you, when you kiss me back. You don’t remember when you was touchin’ all over me? Those kisses you put on me?” he teases you, a more smug exhale is what you get. The night weighs on your shoulders like a heavy blanket and so does his reality check. He has a sigh and a faint groan, as if thinking of all that you’ve done with him in the privacy of his home. 

You think to defy him, to spite his words but you can’t when he gives you another kiss. The dryness he licks away. This one is a wet sloppy mess, it doesn’t last long but he’s as right as he knew he was, you melt into it, grab onto him, tilt so he can kiss you deeper. His teeth nip at your soft lips, his tongue rubs over yours. A warm shame fills your belly and crawls up your face. You can’t bring yourself to hate his stupid smug lovesick look, the way he rubs the scar on his chin as he pulls away.

“You like me, don’t you, sweetheart?” He’s mocking you now, he knows the answer just as well as you do but he likes to feel like he’s wrenching it out of you. He’s caught you and he’s holding you up by the ears while you dangle uselessly; a rabbit caught in the hunt. You stare up at him, caught in his pretty blue eyes, the little nicked scar on his nose bridge. You have a very reluctant almost imperceptible nod. Despite the raging heat in you at such an admittance. You like the man who locked you in his home, who wants you to marry him while hardly knowing him, who used to be an outlaw. 

“Even after I shot your daddy? You’re somethin’ else, girl,” he revels in your reaction but with his own version of pity, an endeared expression at your warbling chin and heavy sniff.

A bad feeling curdles in your belly, you bite your lip. You shouldn’t do this. How could you ever do this to your family? Turn your back on them like this? But you didn’t see another choice. Tears bead on your lash line. He has to rub his inevitable victory in your face. You don’t know how you’re going to continue. How you can even stand the sight of Arthur: of yourself. Now that he’s twisted everything out of shape to suit his needs. You should spit on him. Curse him until he gets struck down by the powers that be. 

But you don’t. You aren't sure there’s any end to that. You hope to never repeat this cycle again. Where you try to pull against his control and he overpowers, strong-arming you into doing as he pleases. He gathers your tears, brushes them away. Rough calluses over the little sensory hairs on your skin. 

“C’mon, sweet thing, it’s time you get what ya want, huh? Time to go home.” 

UGH this arthur gets on my fucking nerves but i am so weak for him i hate his corny ass. god dark arthur is just too much for me lmaooo feedback is more than appreciated, please let me know your thoughts im begging wahhhhh

[stars4noah]

HALLEY'S COMET- six.

{WARNINGS}: swearing, mention of a bar

w.c- 2,038

a.n- i'm gonna be so honest, chapter five was originally going to be the end of this series but i was driving and i had a crazy idea. enjoy more chapters because i don't think this story will be ending any time soon.

{TAGLIST}: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @chey-h @rumoured-whispers @oobleoob @dontwantthemoney @n0n3xsisting

"i'll love you forever." he said softly.

"and always?" i asked

he laughed softly, nuzzling his face in my hair.

"and always, my love."

"[y/n]. dude, come on. wake up." nicholas' voice broke through my hard slumber, jolting me awake. i furrowed my brows, sitting up slowly and looking around. i was on the tour bus. but why? i had just been on the couch with noah..

i ran a hand over my face, trying to gather my thoughts. we just finished a show. noah and i got into another argument. but this argument was different from the one in my dream. and then i left. no.. that part was a dream. i fell asleep.

it was all fake.

the music, the new album, the sex and the kisses and the 'i love you's. it was all fake. as much as i hated him, i felt a strange sense of disappointment down in my gut. it hit me like a train. this perfect life had been built up in my mind in the course of just a couple hours. was that really what i wanted? who was i kidding, of course it was. it was all i'd ever wanted in life. to be in love. to be happy. to be able to live out my dreams freely.

even though i definitely wasn't interested in the music industry.

"what, is she still sleeping?" i heard noah's voice getting closer, and i rolled my eyes as i jumped out of my bunk. "no, asshole. i'm awake."

"oh, she lives!" he said. "what were you even dreaming about? you've been tossing and turning and talking for the past 30 minutes." he said, his arms crossed.

"fuck off, noah." i grumbled, searching for some clothes for the show tonight.

"not until you learn how to do your job right."

i rolled my eyes, retreating to the bathroom to go and get ready.

"i swear, it's like he lives to piss me off. doesn't he have anything better to do? like, i dunno, hook up with girls? make music? write lyrics? instead of fucking with me. it's annoying." i rambled to nicholas as i set up my camera, him standing beside me.

and then he suggested the most absurd thing ever.

"i dunno, [y/n], maybe he likes you."

i choked on nothing, my eyes widening. "are you insane? him? like me? never in a million years would that happen."

nicholas laughed softly. "i mean, the way he talks about you when you're not around says otherwise. it's always [y/n] this, [y/n] that. don't you see the way he stares at you when you're not looking? or how he put extra effort in when he knows you're gonna be closer to the stage?"

i stayed quiet. he kind of had a point. i never heard him speak about me or felt his stares, but i could tell that he always dressed nicer or sang better when i was closer.

maybe..

no. hell no. just because i had that stupid dream doesn't mean a thing. i hate him, he hates me. and that's final.

"you're delusional." i said.

"you're in denial." he retorted, walking off to go get ready for the show.

as i continued to set up, i felt a pair of eyes on me. i looked up briefly, noticing noah looking at me before he quickly looked away, going to talk with some girl.

why was i jealous? it's not like we were together. not like i liked him. not like i imagined a future with him every time my insomnia kept me awake at night.

whatever. it didn't matter.

NOAH'S POV.

i finished up my conversation with some random girl whose name i couldn't even remember. i didn't know why, but some part of me just yearned to make [y/n] jealous. to make her wish i was giving her all of my attention instead of giving it to others. i needed her to know how i felt. how i looked at her, how i yearned for her.

what am i saying? i don't like her. at all. she's cocky and stuck up and beautiful and funny and-

fuck.

i watched as she walked around the arena, humming to herself as she adjusted the settings on her camera, not paying a lick of attention to where she was going. a couple more steps and she would-

CRASH!

"ow! fuck!"

i scoffed, walking over to where she was sat on the ground, rubbing the back of her head.

"you good there, princess? looks like you fell." i smirked.

she rolled her eyes, pulling herself up to her feet. "i'm fine."

"you sure? you took quite the fall there." i said.

she smirked. "aww, are you showing actual human empathy for once?"

i scoffed. "keep dreaming. i can't afford to lose my photographer right now. do your job." i said, walking away.

the lights dimmed as we took the stage, the crowd's energy palpable. i stepped up to the microphone, my intense gaze sweeping over the audience. among the sea of faces, my eyes locked with hers, an unfamiliar spark igniting between the two of us.

"the sutures in my head keep getting ripped out. these open wounds are the thoughts i can't stop thinking about. digging for purpose, feelings resurface. and involuntarily my system gets nervous."

there was a crowd of people in the arena. our first sold out show ever. we just released our album Finding God Before God Finds Me a couple months ago, and for our first sold out show of the tour, i decided to add a couple songs from our very first album.

"tell me tonight that you'll be by yourself. cause something bad will happen if you are with someone else. i'm just all fucked up, and i really need your help. i really need your help."

i looked at [y/n] in the front row, snapping pictures. when she was so close to the stage, i always felt like i performed better. seeing her smile at nicholas, hearing her sing along to our songs. it gave me motivation. i closed my eyes.

"there's a lotta hollow souls out there all alone, and they're waiting for you to invite 'em back into my home. they touched and they took what was rightfully mine. now i'm the devil, and their souls just went up in price."

images of her face filled my mind as i sang. her smile, her scowl, her tears and her laughter. every part of her was gorgeous. every part of her made me fall in love deeper and deeper every day. why couldn't i admit these feelings?

"set me free, i think i'm giving up. don't wait for me, i think i've had enough. set me free, i think i'm giving up. don't wait for me, i've had enough, enough now"

right. i had bailey. my girlfriend. i wondered what she was doing right now. maybe sleeping or shopping or watching tv in our bed at home. even though i had her, part of me felt off. it didn't feel like she really loved me. everyone always tried to convince me to break up with her. but she's my girl. the love of my life, the woman i wanted to marry one day. right?

as we got back onto the bus, i came to a realization.

one, i wasn't happy with bailey. she was toxic, manipulative, and i was pretty sure she was cheating on me.

two, i was utterly, hopelessly in love with [y/n].

i laid on my bunk, wide awake with my thoughts swarming in my mind. i was in love with her. i was in love with another woman. what the hell was wrong with me?

"there's a thousand voices in my head. i just hope it doesn't take a rope around my neck to put them all to rest." i hummed to myself, scrolling on my phone.

"noah?" [y/n]'s voice spoke from her bunk, her head peeking out of the curtain. "i thought you went for drinks with the others."

"nope." i said. "i'm not in the mood."

she raised an eyebrow. "that's weird. why?"

i shrugged. "i'm thinking."

"about?"

"none of your business."

she rolled her eyes, mumbling something under her breath before retreating back to her bunk.

it was quiet for another moment before i spoke.

"hey, [y/n]?" i said quietly, not wanting to disturb her in case she had fallen asleep.

"what?"

i bit my lip. "what do i do if i'm in love with someone.. but i'm in a relationship?"

she peeked her head out again, raising an eyebrow. "break up with the girl, duh. don't lead her on if you're not interested anymore. that's a dick move." she said. "wait, don't tell me you're breaking up with bailey?"

i shrugged again. "i dunno yet."

"jesus, finally." she said, and i frowned. "first of all, don't say that. second, i said i don't know yet. i'm thinking."

she sighed. "noah, you know she's a shit person. she literally abuses you. she's a toxic, manipulative asshole. and if you're in love with another woman who you know can give you the love that you deserve, shoot your shot. don't sit there and suffer just because you don't want to hurt someone's feelings."

i wasn't sure why, but a small bit of rage filled my body at the way she spoke about bailey. "don't talk about her like that. that's not true. she's just doing what she knows is best for me." i said, and she scoffed.

"whatever you say."

"you're just jealous." i crossed my arms.

she raised her eyebrows. "of what? cause its definitely not her behaviour. or literally any aspect of her personality or life."

i laid back down, ignoring her for the rest of the ride. i knew she was right, but i hated to admit it. i loved bailey. she was all that i had.

when we first got together, everything was great. i swore that i would marry her one day. and then she started going out more and staying out later and sometimes i didn't feel like i could trust her. but i let it slide because bringing it up would just lead to arguments. i didn't want arguments.

but as her behaviour continued and i saw my friends in happy, loving relationships, i realized it wasn't normal. being treated like this wasn't normal, and it wasn't what i wanted. i wanted to be happy. feel loved.

i wanted to be loved by [y/n].

with a sigh and a slightly heavy heart, i texted bailey a long message.

'i want to start this off by saying i know what you did. i know what you've been doing behind my back for longer than i'd like to admit. i loved you bailey, i really did. but we can't be together anymore. i want things that you can't provide me. i know you've been cheating on me, and i let it go because we all make mistakes. but this is more than a mistake. please don't try to fight this, just accept it. you would rather sleep with multiple other men than be with me, and that's okay. i can't be what you need, and you can't be what i need. we weren't made for each other. this is goodbye.'

with tears in my eyes, i put on my headphones and put my phone on silent, blasting some music as i washed away these feelings that i didn't want to hit me at this moment. i hated being vulnerable. i'd cry it out when i was alone.

i sat in my bunk for the rest of the night, trying to fall asleep but i couldn't. instead, i drew in my notebook and wrote down the occasional lyric that popped into my mind.

'i'll flip it with you and me inside.'

'heaven know's i ain't gettin' over you.'

'thought you were somebody else.'

'no way to right these wrongs, either way i'm feeling, it might just cost something in the millions. i know that i can't resist.'

fuck. this was going to be good.

[daughterofthesunlands]

@small-carbon-lifeform omg 🥺💗 thank you for tagging me!!!

This is the first time ever I am learning about WIP-Wednesdays and wow! What a great idea!

I just read your WIP excerptand I cannot wait to read all of it.👀❤️‍🔥

Well ... I literally just panicked and ravaged through my drafts to find something postable 👀

And I found something.👀

It's unfinished, I started it in October last year right after S2 ended (i was foaming at the mouth about Elrond - I have calmed down and gotten the rabies antidote in since then)

So here goes the premise and excerpt (I hope it's not too long)

The scent of garden flowers

Narwen, a King's servant Elrond had taken a liking to for many years is randomly tasked to bring the Herald a new set of scrolls to prepare Ereinion's speeches.

When she enters his chambers, he has just finished his afternoon bath.

Still, the water is warm. He refuses to let it go to waste.

It's basically smut. But there is no smut in the excerpt yet. Enjoy :)

Excerpt:

"Forgive me for intruding my Lord. I-" She tried to look him in the eyes but she couldn't. Had she been able to, she would've seen that the Herald too, had slightly blushed. And she would've seen that faint smile on his lips. His brown hair was only half dried, wet strands of curls still hung into his face. He wore black tights, cut off right above the ankles. "You do not need to be forgiven." He cleared his throat, looking at the floor. "I should've answered you when you knocked," his tone in turn seemed apologetic. "... Narwen. Is it not?" his voice was gentle. It was what made her look up and lock her big brown eyes with his. She nodded shyly, earning a look of fondness from the Herald. "I should've waited, knowing that you were otherwise occupied. Please forgive me." Elrond looked at her, silently for a moment before he hummed gently, removing the towel that hung from his shoulder. He stole a glance at her, before he smiled faintly, the blush never leaving his cheeks. "You've gazed upon the page I see." "I didn't mean to my Lord." Narwen said, slowly kneeling down to drop the parchment. She stole a quick glance at him in turn, looking away quickly as her eyes could not help finding their way from his eyes to the rest of his body. He was tall, lean but his shoulders and arms were strong. His figure athletic, and his skin even. Not a scar was to be found. She rose up again, still keeping her gaze low. "What...do you think?" he asked timidly, mustering her as she turned her head to look at the open page. "I cannot seem to find the words." He watched as her dark hand reluctantly brushed over the page and her eyes wandered from verse to verse. He admired her beautiful profile. Her small but round nose and her full two toned lips. When they wandered off the page, he diverted his eyes, afraid she'd catch him look at her. " I was... attempting to describe the scent of garden flowers. But it seems I know not enough of them." "...My Lord, I had not thought you the kind to write about flowers." she whispered, smiling faintly. "Why not?" she could hear his smile by his tone of voice. She felt a warmth spread in her chest. "You seemed too busy to study garden flowers." Elrond hummed. "I make time," he said, looking down. "to write." "I did not think you a poet, my Lord." Narwen said, humbly. "...At least you thought of me."

_________________________________________

That's all you get 😏 for now.

I nominate @marshmellin @grrrlsubrosa @sailon-ishmael @dilettantefeminist @fantasyquests

I apologise if you've already been tagged. No pressure ❤️

WIP Wednesday

🥰 Reviving the ancient and time-honored tradition of "WIP Wednesday" tonight!

✨Tagging @saintstars @gracefallingart @gauntletgirlie @melkor-did-nothing-wrong @sauron-kraut @althanair @privatebooth @just-an-elf-with-the-socks @trash-ainu @winds-of-zephyr416 @barbex @midnightprelude @aidanthecryptid @spaaacecarrots @teine-mallaichte @pinkfadespirit @spicywarl0ck @kaerwrites and @glowing-blue-feathermage ✨

...and everyone else who wants to play! ✨

💜As always, NO pressure and, since it's quite late already, NO need to play today, just play tomorrow or next Wednesday!

❤️ Tonight, I'm sharing a little Angbang WIP ❤️

It was not what I had intended for him when I called him to my side. I say I called him, and it amuses him greatly, you see. Like the master hunter calling the bird of prey to return to upon his outflung arm. In truth, I did call him for him. What came to me was not he but an answering cry, like birds in high-arching flight screeching and hunting for and finding one another.

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

С Hello, hello, dear author, I am so addicted to your works that I can fully say that you are simply the best writer I have ever seen, I simply melt from your works related to Baldwin,Seriously!I would like to read something sad, so I would like to ask you to write something sad, where Baldwin and Y/N They are married, everything is fine with them, but one day Y/n became terribly ill with some kind of disease,it soon becomes clear that this is a dangerous disease and unfortunately Y/n dies, and Baldwin is saddened and broken.

)(English is not my native language, so I apologize for the mistakes and thank you in advance author!)!!

♧ Everything Is Worse Now - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello dear Sevina!! I am so greatful for your support and your such kind words, you have no idea how much they mean to me🫶. Thank you so much for this beautiful and sad request, it was a pleasure to write and I hope you enjoy it!! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

P.S. Im sorry this is so short, I wanted it to be more like a uhh poem kind of I guess?? Like short and sweet yk?? Idk if I'm making any sence but I hope you all enjoy!! Also SORRY FOR ALL THE ANGST. Next one will be fluffy I prommise 😭😭

TW: Death, Disease, Leprosy, Not a happy ending

It was an abnormally cold evening when it began.

The queen's condition had been faltering for a few days now, but she merely brushed it off as fatigue. Things had been stressful with the threat of invasion any day now, it was only natural to feel exhausted at times such as these.

Nevertheless, the young king was deeply concerned about his wife.

“Please my love, I need you to see one of my physicians. It could be serious-”

“Darling, I can assure you that I am perfectly fine. Truely, there is no need to fret, you have enough to be worried about. Please don't let my condition weigh on your mind” she had told him, taking his hands in hers with that gentle firmness that he so adored.

It only became worse from there. Baldwin had been attending a meeting when he received news that y/n had collapsed while walking the gardens.

He abandoned the meeting in a second and used every ounce of his strength to climb the stairs to the royal chambers where he was met with the horrific sight of his beautiful wife, pale and weak, laying atop their shared bed with physicians working at her side.

He staggered to her side, about to collapse himself, and took her hand pressing it to the cool metal of his mask.

The familiar sensation caused y/n to open her eyes to look at her husband.

She smiled weakly.

“Perhaps I should have been checked out sooner hm?” she chuckled.

Baldwin couldn't help but smile sadly. Even in the darkest times she always managed to make him smile.

Naturally, the young king assumed the worst possible scenario: That his vile disease had been passed to his beautiful wife.

He could barely think of the possibility without breaking down right there and then so he attempted to keep his mind away from the idea.

“My lord?” a physician spoke gently beside him.

Baldwin looked up at the young man expectantly, “may I speak with you a moment?” the physician asked.

The king nodded, giving y/n one last look before walking towards the door.

“Do you know what could be wrong?” he asked, his voice trembling with fear.

“We have a fair idea, my lord. Her symptoms match that of the flu. It is a European disease, this is all we know so far”.

Baldwin's heart sank and felt relieved at the same time.

On one hand, his worst fear had not come true and his perfect wife had not been tainted by his vile flesh. But on the other hand, she was still very ill with a disease he had only read about in books.

He felt light headed but was determined to stay on his feet. He had to be strong for her. 

---------------------------------------------------

Her condition worsened further from that day onwards, as did the rumours in the castle.

Guy was of the firm belief that Baldwin had contaminated the queen with his vile disease and all of his followers and friends were of the same view.

Baldwin himself avoided everyone and everything that wasn't y/n.

Despite the warnings from the physicians that she may pass her disease onto him, thus killing him faster, he didn't care.

“I'm dying anyway, what's the point in avoiding it if she’s not going to be by my side in a few weeks” he told them.

They spent every moment together, taking in their last few days by each other's sides. Y/n could barely move and her fever made her weak but Baldwin could not care any less.

He read to her, prayed over her and spoke of his days to her, even if she didn't have the strength to reply.

This was exactly what she had promised to do for him in his last days, it didn't seem right to be the other way around. They even continued to sleep side by side. Just as if nothing happened at all.

When y/n would wake in the night, brought to consciousness by the low grade fever, she would admire her sleeping husband.

“I’m so sorry” she would whisper.

“I'm so sorry that I have to leave you. It wasn't supposed to be like this”.

---------------------------------------------------

It wasn't until another abnormally cold morning that Baldwin opened his eyes to find her stiff with the icy touch of death.

He sat up and wept at the sight until physicians came to take him to another room. Baldwin was simply inconsolable and he stayed that way for days.

He became a shell of a man. Refusing to leave his chambers or even eat.

“You must snap out of this and tend to your kingdom” Sybilla had told him.

“The land will be in ruins if you continue like this-”

“I care not for the land any longer!” he snapped.

“Let your foul husband have it to himself for all I care” he said with a wave of his hand as he began to cry again.

Sybilla put a hand on her brother's back, “just because she is gone doesn't mean you must go with her” she said gently.

“I see no use in living if she can't be by my side. I'm dying anyway Sybilla, the future of the kingdom matters not to me. Let Tiberias take care of my duties while I am here. Just go and pretend as though I am dead already” he looked at her through the holes in the mask, those blue eyes that used to be so filled with happiness when he was a child were now empty and red with tears.

“I can't leave you like this Baldwin” she whispered, pulling him into a hug.

He closed his eyes and for a moment imagined that it was y/n hugging him instead.

“She would have wanted you to be strong and go on. To lead the kingdom as you did when she lived” Sybilla said, not knowing if her words were even getting through to him or not.

Baldwin sighed.

“I'll do my best, dear sister”