#and its good.. its gonna be so good......

[fennelwasp]

She makes a good point

[fluffylino]

angry sex with mean!dom minho

things get heated when the two of yall decide to have a petty argument.

-contains mature themes (minho is mean but its all consensual...sir kink?!?!?)

minho's pissed.

you're pissed.

the atmosphere in the apartment is beyond unimaginable. you came back from university, in a bad mood. sometimes people merely existing made you angry.

you couldn't explain it but you weren't in a great mood at all, and you weren't in the mood to try and make yourself calm down.

minho comes home, half an hour later. quietly entering and slamming the front door behind him.

not even bothering to keep his keys on the glass table with more care. walking right past you to the bedroom.

he has that look on his face when he joins you in the kitchen. drinking the water you had poured for him absentmindedly.

"wash the glass, will you" you mutter, sighing in exasperation. you knew this would only make things worse.

"what?" and his tone gets laced with irritation.

"i had a bad day, okay and i'm not in a good mood" you say to him. leaning back on the fridge.

"yeah? you think i'm not having a fucked up day too?" he spits back, crossing his arms, ready for battle.

"i never said that. stop being so bitchy"

"fix your attitude." minho warns. looking down at his feet before rolling his eyes at your behaviour.

"stop rolling your eyes at me" pointing a finger at him in annoyance.

"don't point a finger at me"

raising an eyebrow at you with a challenging look in his eyes.

"why don't you just go pick a fight with chan or seungmin"

you seethe out, not wanting to argue. if the two of you got more time to calm your nerves this wouldn't have happened.

"pick a fight? what the fuck"

he mutters under his breath. and it makes your eyes burn with tears. now he's mad at you.

"what fucking attitude do i have. i'm sick of dealing with people"

you raise your voice, exhaling heavily.

"and you think i'm not? i just had dance practice for nearly six hours and they told me i needed to do better"

minho says through gritted teeth. running his fingers through his messy hair.

"maybe you do need to do better" you snark back. wanting to get on his nerves just for the hell of it.

"watch what you say."

he warns for the second time and you take it as a challenge.

"or what? you're going to give me a lecture on how to..."

bringing your hands up to gesture quotation marks

"...fix my attitude?"

.

🐱

.

"not gonna fight back huh." your mouth opens to curse at him. and he uses it as the opportunity to pull you back.

ramming himself deeper into you.

"fucking brat"

minho grits out, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your sides. grip strong enough to have him holding you up singlehandedly if he wanted to.

"took it too far. i'm a bitch?" his voice shakes when your arms give in. falling face down into the sheets. back arched and ass up. the position makes things more sensitive.

"answer me."

you can't. teething at the pillow while you fisted at the soft bedsheets beside you. trying to ground yourself.

the feeling of his length pushing in and out of you with slow hard thrusts. torturing himself just to torture you.

"answer." eyes widening at the way he lays a sharp slap over your cunt. all while pulling out all the way.

"me."

sliding past your swollen walls with a filthy squelch. his force strong enough to have your whole body jerk forward. gasping in ecstasy.

you shake your head. or atleast try to, eyes rolling back at the strength he uses to meanly shove your thighs even further apart.

till you're practically presenting to him.

"open that smart ass mouth and use your fucking words." his tone dropping. theres a heartbeat of silence as he gives you a few seconds to answer him.

"ah- m-minnie"

moaning embarassingly loud when he slides his hand down the curve of your back. tugging a fistful of your hair, forcing you up on your arms. till you're on your fours.

"minnie? its sir to you. you don't deserve to even call me minho."

scalp burning with a mix of pain and pleasure.

your mind buzzing when he also gets on his fours. body pressing into yours from above.

"who's a bitch now"

minho says in your ear. brushing his lips against your earlobe. it sends a wave of heat straight to your cunt. throbbing uncontrollably around his dick.

the position has you thinking of how pathetic you are. cursing him out, only to be fucked like a dog from behind.

"are you my needy little bitch" hooking his chin on your shoulder. his arms on either side of yours.

thick thighs framing your smaller ones. you feel small under him. small and weak.

"y-yes sir" whispering softly. chest burning with humiliation. he clicks his tongue. not satisfied.

"speak up, mutt."

"yes sir...m'your needy bitch"

fucking the sentence out of you, in a way that has you breathless. arms trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up.

"taking it like you're in heat."

slowing his thrusts to roll his hips into yours. hitting that spongey spot that has you keening for him.

"next time you act like a fucking brat, don't expect me to be this kind"

he warns, subtly rubbing at the redness on your sides from how hard he was gripping your waist.

you nod vigorously. quietly mumbling apologies.

"is my needy puppy gonna take me all the way in her tight wet cunt hm"

.

.

.

"if i'm your bitch, you're my bitch" you whisper, lightly smacking him on the chest.

"i never said i wasn't a bitch" minho smirks, successfully teasing you.

"y'know i love you, right baby?" he mumbles, kissing your cheek lovingly.

"you're my cute little puppygirl or WAIT MY KITTY CAT!!!"

.

.

..

.

.

tada!

[calebwittebane]

i hate that trope/fetish of person A cumming into person B's panties and person B slapping the panties back on and just walking around in the cummed in underwear on their coochie all day. its so desgustang. i can understand or be Compassionate towards a lot but this is just narsty and not in a good way. like not to get pedantic but i cant get around the fact that cum pH is bad for the pussy. its too alkaline. youre creating a hostile environment also not letting her breathe. girl the microflora. youre wreaking havoc upon her. Very Much Yeast Infection. youre giving your big titty wifey a yeastie or a bv. is that titillating? also last night i had a dream all crocodiles in queensland australia sorta melted and combined into a giant many-headed fucked up radioactive crocodile mutant. absolutely enormous. and it had like propeller engines on it too. so im just saying man theres a Giant Voracious Crocodile Amalgam about and youre walking around with khum in your underwear. like add skid marks to it too while youre at it why dont you. but also youre gonna die we're all going to die. priorities

[b1mbodoll]

GABI HOW COULD YOU POST THAT ABOUT STEPBRO JAKE YOU KNOW stepbro enha are my weakness (the thought plagues my brain ALL the TIME!!!!) and i was thinking abt it (again.. no one is surprised.. and ur post + the no doubt mv only fuelled my craziness) so. i’m gonna need to set the scene w corporate worker intern blah!jake. followed in his dads footsteps because the money is good and he’s got a knack for the math, but that doesn’t mean the job itself isn’t GRUELLING :( so when his dad marries your mom and introduces him to the sweetest little stepsister it genuinely feels like he’s been given a gift. you’re eager for a big brother to gossip with ‘n jakey’s just so accommodating and lets you sit on his thigh and babble about whatever you want as long as your pjs are thin enough that he can distract himself guessing at the colour of your panties. he can’t help himself from resting his hands on your waist and subtly repositioning you, grinning when bouncing his thigh jus’ a little has you squirming and stuttering! he definitely makes pervy comments too :( calls you his wife ‘n jokes about marrying you because coming home to you lounging in his bedroom is something that gets his slacks all tight in the front! he asks for a kiss on the cheek goodbye if you’re up early enough ‘n expects one when he gets home — you brush it off as accidental when he turns his head too fast ‘n you catch his lips instead. buys you the prettiest things and insists on spoiling you with shopping sprees that have him ruining his expensive boxers at the thought that you’re being mistaken for a couple :( like This Jake fully embodies the mean bully you talked abt in your post whenever he’s had a tough day or something you do ruins his fantasy — he likes thinking about you as his pretty little wife, not his slutty stepsister prancing about in the clothes he paid for, dolling yourself up for some stupid date! (as always, this is crazy long but i think you might expect this from me now.. also referring to me as ur angel baby did irreparable damage to my sanity gabi ‘m blushing and twirling my hair rn i cant)

— lots of love ‘n kisses, ur fairy anon

warnings: stepcest + creampies + masturbation + handjob ment. + daddy kink + orgasm denial + dacryphilia + pregnancy ment

💌: m gna eat u omg r u kidding me im so obsessed with this, my brain is melting n im drooling 😵‍💫

calls you his wife … yeah this is so… ‘m moaning. he totally would, n he’d even get u a cute little ring to wear, fantasizing about how it’d catch the light when he gets you to stroke his cock 😵‍💫 jerks off n nearly moans your name while thinking abt his cum leaking from his tip onto your ring :( maybe you’d even be a good little wife n clean them off with your tongue

god forbid you take the ring off, though! your husband stepbrother is absolutely livid when he finds out that you’ve left it on your vanity rather than keep it on for your date; n yeah its actually Very hot seein ur big brother all mad, his button up shirt undone at the top, sleeves rolled up n displaying his thick n veiny forearms, and his hair is all messed up as he plays the role of an overprotective big brother (is it in ur head or is he sounding a bit possessive?) but all you can picture is tugging on it while he fucks you, n you’re beating yourself up mentally for even thinking about your brother in that way (little do you know he needs to put a baby in you)

something you do ruins his fantasy… r u joking me.. sure this can go with the lil date idea but.. jake getting genuinely upset when you call him your brother 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 would your brother tease your virgin cunt every time he had you in his lap? or press kisses to your neck while running his hands over your thighs, daring to pull at your sleep shorts n shallowly slide in your needy little pussy? either you’re even more of an airhead than he thought, or you enjoy watching him struggle to maintain his composure because there’s no way you dont know he wants you

he would absolutely love the two of you being mistaken for a couple n jakey’s quick to speak over your denial, a sweet smile on his face as he replies with a “thank you” to every person that calls you two a cute couple <333 when you ask abt it he just kisses your cheek (a bit too tenderly to be in a stepsibling kind of way) n says its just “too much of a hassle” to correct everyone… n even asks you if it’s such a bad thing for people to think he’s ur bf… are you embarrassed of him?

when jake finally gets you desperate enough for him, he has so much fucking fun making you say filthy things n has even more fun watching you squirm at his dirtytalk.

his pace is unbearable, you’re unable to do anything but take it as he batters your cervix with his fat cock n manipulates your body, pushing n pulling your legs to feel you even deeper. “d’you like havin’ my cock inside your tight cunt? does it feel good, princess?” he questions, voice thick with arousal.

but you’re too fucked out to reply, of course you like it but there’s no way you can form a coherent sentence as he keeps up the brutal pace, his tip hits your cervix with every thrust n he’s relentless. you’re so close, so fucking close and…

oh. it’s gone. your impending orgasm fades and it has your face crumpling, tears pouring down your cheeks at the lack of stimulation. why’d he stop? why why why why wh-

“i asked you a question, angel. y’gonna be a good girl n answer me?” a sniffle from you, and then: “jakey! please don’t stop, ‘m sorry ‘m sososo sorry please fuck me! pleaseplease it feels so fuckin’ good! love my brother’s cock so much-“ he cuts you off with a harsh slap to your tit, a sneer forming on his face at your surprised gasp.

“‘m not your fuckin’ brother. god,” he laughs humorlessly. “am i gonna have to fuck you until you get it through your dumb little head?”

jake pinches your nipple between his fingers n twists it enough to cause a jolt of pain to shoot through you n make your walls clench around him. “i’m not your brother,” he thrusts into you harshly with each word. “‘n you’re not my fucking sister, got it?”

your bottom lip trembles, eyes screwed shut with pleasure as he resumes fucking you n jake’s brain is foggy, he can’t believe he’s ballsdeep in your pussy n before he knows it, he spills his deepest desire to you

“you’re my wife,” jake sighs, pressing his forehead to your own. “say it. say you’re my wife.. my sweet little wife, god look at you. takin’ my cock so well, ‘s like you were made for me”

it’s not long before your orgasm builds yet again, white hot pleasure consuming you n his words send you over the edge, pussy spasming n clamping down on his thick cock until you cream around him.

“‘m your wife, jakey! ‘m your wife, yourwife yourwife, fuck. fill me up, knock me up, jakey.” you wraps your arms around him to pull him close, pressing your lips to his ear before whispering, “‘m gonna make you a daddy.”

jake cums with a deep, guttural groan, his teeth clenched as thick, hot cum spurts from his cockhead and fills your womb to the brim. legs wrap around his waist to keep him inside you n it takes him a second to realize your lips are moving n you’re talking to him. “sorry princess, what’d you say…?”

you giggle n bat your lashes up at him, still wet from your tears, i said, “do you wanna go again?”

[majinbangus]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C9uveTQy3a0/?igsh=MW90Z3phZDkweHR5

I saw this and thought of Dog Ghost, yanking a body pillow from the reader's legs and crawling up in its stead

this is so cute and how about instead of a body pillow, it's soap? -> more here

"What the—?!" Soap scrambles for purchase, unable to get a good grip on anything as he's rudely dragged awake from his half-slumber. He plops to the floor with the gracelessness of a newborn fawn, as if he isn't the trained soldier that he is. Soap looks up from his position on the ground, rubbing his temple from the slight ache of lightly smacking the ground. He glares at the culprit of his inconvenience. "Why'd you—"

"My turn," Ghost interrupts, remorseless, and steps over Soap to where you're giggling at his antics. He shoves himself between your legs and arms, taking Soap's spot. A pleased rumble comes from his chest as you ragdoll for him, letting him position you however he wants so he's comfortable in your embrace.

Soap gets up from the floor, and glares at the two of you, crossing his arms. "Y'can't do tha'."

"I just did." His voice is muffled from where his face is buried into your chest.

Soap turns his irritation to you. "Gonna somethin' about this, bon?"

You stifle your laughter, idly rubbing Ghost's back. "But he's being so sweet."

"Sweet my arse—"

"Quit your yappin', Johnny. Thought I was supposed to be the dog."

Soap's eyebrow twitches and you bite your lip to smother your smile. He's quiet for a second, but you know from the look on his face, the gears are turning. "Fine," Soap says, suspiciously placated. He shuffles closer till he's looming over you both. You squint at him. He's gonna do something annoying. You know he is. "I'll be quiet. You won't mind if I just—?"

Before either of you can protest, he swings his body over the both of you and flops down, squishing you under his weight as he gets comfy again.

You wheeze in protest, "Johnny!"

But his eyes are already closing again, and Ghost is no help, content with the spot he stole.

"Now let me sleep."

[starboye]

starring: vinnie hacker x male reader

request: sub!vinnie hacker getting jerked off in a public place like a restaurant or something but every time he’s about to cum reader stops and then keeps going again, so a waitress walks up to vinnie and readers table and takes their order but vinnie is trying so hard not to moan but reader is enjoying this a little to well so he whispers in vinnies ear and says “be a good boy and tell the pretty waitress what you want” and he finally does and the waitress walks back to the kitchen and readers whispers in his ear again saying “thank you for being a good boy” and finally lets him cum and vinnie cums all over readers hand and reader licks it all off very seductively and he grabs vinnie by the chin and whispers to him again saying how when they get home he’s gonna get a reward

warnings: smut, public, teasing, cursing, almost caught, praising, edging, cum eating

wasn't vinnie so good, trying his best to stay quiet while you jerked him off under the table, alternating between quick strokes and agonizingly slows stroking until the man was silently begging you to let him cum already but the would be too lame now wouldn't it so every time just before he came you stopped, edging him to the point of release just to ruin it.

"please y/n i promise you can do whatever you want with me tonight just let me cum" he pleads, his hands tightly gripping the table to keep from doing something outrageous "where would be the fun in that" you tease him a little more by rubbing your thumb over his aching red tip, making him choke back a desperate moan.

just as you're considering letting him cum the waiter finally come to your table "what can i get for you gentlemen" she sweetly asks "uhm can i get get some fries and chicken tenders" you answer, the waitresses attention the directing to a lightly panting and slightly sweaty vinnie "and for you" she asks.

it takes vinnie a little bit to answer, you know with your hand wrapped around his cock and all "be a good boy and tell the pretty lady what you want "you lean over to whisper in his ear "c-can i just ge-get a water please" he says and it took every fiber of being in him not to just moan out right then and there "okay i'll have your stuff out in a little bit" she say before walking away.

"good job vin" you give him a little peck on the cheek "you can cum now" you sweetly say and in mere seconds you feel the warmth of his cum covering your hand, once he's finally done riding his high you pull your hand back to your mouth and lick off all his cum, seductively running your tongue through your fingers to get every drop, it felt like vinnie could get a hard on again from watching you.

you lean closer to him and lay a light kiss on his lips, grabbing him by the chin "you can get a better reward when we get home m'kay" you whisper in his ear "o-okay" he stammer imaging just what you might do to him.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[teaboot]

Hey! Bamboo toilet paper person here. Your response was very thoughtful-- I want to apologize for placing the onus of climate issues on individual action, haha. I work at a zoo that bills itself as being very heavy on conservation messaging, but as a non-partisan organization we're obviously not allowed to talk about the evils of capitalism. This means that in our programming, we MUST place the responsibility of stopping climate change on individual guests, encouraging them to make more environmentally conscientious decisions like buying reef safe sunscreen or reducing carbon emissions by driving less. The most "political" we're allowed to get is telling people to stay educated and vote in favor of laws that will have a positive impact on the environment. I think I've been drinking the Zoolaid a little TOO much recently, because you're totally right-- the vast, VAST majority of damage to the environment is caused by major corporations, not random people working around their own unique needs. It was also low key a little ableist of me to take issue with that ngl.

Obviously no obligation to respond to this publicly (though it's fine if you choose to do so), but I did want to thank you for your response and mention that it did get through the nonprofit mission-based-organization propaganda living rent free in my head haha. Cheers!

Hey, you work at a zoo? That is SO cool, aadsdggjjg@!!!

And hey, no worries, you totally had a good point about endless waste and trying to counter it where possible- Just from personal experience involved in the barest edge of the fashion industry, I really, really, REALLY hate the idea that, like... people can't access simple shit like plastic straws, even if they're the best, most practical, least-harmful option for them.... because a 12 year old made up some random number for a school project about plastic waste

Where, as a zoo person, I imagine you're already aware that the average sea turtle is WILDLY more likely to die from abandoned plastic fishing nets or ocean-dump grocery bags than accidentally get a straw inside it

So here we are, using paper straws!- which may be an improvement, or may not, I don't have that data, and construction emissions are their own thing- BUT WE STILL HAVE OCEANS FULL OF ABANDONED NETS

WHICH ARE OBJECTIVELY WORSE, but MUCH harder to get rid of, and as the average person doesn't USE fishing nets, it'd much harder to market as a "You, not me" sort of issue.

Cleaning up fishing nets isn't trendy. It isn't sexy. You can't troubleshoot a cute little trendy solution for it that you can market to upwardly-mobile tweens.

But a reusable water bottle? A cute canvas tote? A metal straw? That's a solution you can buy and feel good about.

Never mind that you need to use a single cotton reusable bag somewhere like a million times before the cost of its construction counterbalances the cost of a single grocery bag every time you shop- which, hey, some of us were reusing as trash liners for their wastebaskets, or bundle bags for donating clothes, or lining for our leaky winter boots!

If a better option is available, I'll take it. But as ZERO HARM is next to impossible at this time, I personally am gonna aim for MINIMAL HARM as long as I can.

...sorry, I didn't mean to ramble off again.

But hey, if your nonprofit is doing good things, feel free to shoot me a link! I can post it on my blog :D

(Link to original post for context lol)

[judesmoonbeauty]

𝕁𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕁𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕒'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: 𝔼𝕡𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕕𝕖 𝟘

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

CW: ☾. Violence ☾. Brief mentions of castration ☾. Habitual use of the phrase, "that/the woman." (Just in case some are sensitive to this phrasing).

Average daily life, time that flows peacefully, without a single blemish.

Something like that is as distant as the moon is from me.

Battered Man: Drop dead, Jude Jazza……!

Being attacked on the street in the middle of the night, is so damn common it’s no longer funny.

Before the knife could reach me, I kicked the man and broke his jaw…

Battered Man: Gah…..

As the man fell to the ground, blood gushed out from his nose and sprayed everywhere.

Jude: Ain’t no way I’m gonna be done in by some shitty, cowardly lil’ nobody like ya.

Battered Man: My business is ruined because of YOU…..

Jude: On the surface, it looked like ya ran a respectable pharmaceutical company. But…..

Jude: Ya were sellin’ some pretty dangerous stuff behind closed doors.

Battered Man: W-well….thats….

Jude: Ha, mister yer face’s so pale, that its pitifulness’s undeniable proof.

Jude: Ellis.

Ellis: Should I have him castrated and thrown into the lab as well? [1]

[1] 去勢 Kyosei can mean castration/emasculation/enervation/taming. Ellis could saying: “Do you want me to subdue...." However, in this previous event, Jude has a bunch of guys castrated by a black market surgeon prior to being sent to work. So, I opted for castrating instead of subdued.

Jude: If ya already know, then don’t ask.

Ellis: Okay, got it. If that’s what makes you happy Jude.

Battered Man: D-d-damn it…….ahhh!?

In a final attempt, the man raised his knife, but screams rang out when I stepped on his hand and broke it.

Jude: Oh, that’s feels good. All shitty people should be dropped in hell ‘n left to rot.

I left Ellis with the clean up and lit a cigarette.

The exhaled purple smoke rose into sky, coming into view of the full moon.

(….Ah, figured it was full moon ‘cause it’s so bright out.)

(Still, the moon’s so huge it’s gratin’. ….How annoyin’.)

I hate the moon.

It shines so irritatingly bright - it won’t let me forget the things I want to forget.

Even though I want to look away, instead I look up in disgust.

I exhaled more purple smoke, like it would expel these jagged feelings.

Then under the moonlight, I noticed a woman who was standing there just like me.

(Postwoman……?)

The woman looked up at the moon,

Postwoman: ….Okay, let’s give it our all tomorrow too.

Her lips etched into a soft smile, as if looking forward to tomorrow.

Then using the moonlight as her guide, she left the darkness of the back street.

(Workin’ ‘til late hours, ‘n yet bein’ weirdly optimistic, she’s suspiciously good natured…...huh.)

I wonder when I started to feel irritated with soft, and pure things.

Was it when I realized they were the ideal prey for malice and murderous intent, and can be easily trampled on?

There’s so many things in this world you’re best not getting involved with, or coming to know about.

The woman who followed the moonlight vanished, and was no longer there.

Those who live can live a carefree life, should live a carefree life.

I had complete forgotten about that night.

Until, a woman wandered into the darkness —

William: Well, if it isn’t the little robin I met this afternoon!

Kate: I…What?

As she stood there covered in blood spatter, she seemed somewhat familiar.

(That postwoman…..?)

The only thing I remember is her profile while looking up at the moon, but the more I look, the more my memories of that night pile up.

(What’s she doin’ here?)

From what was said, it seems that she was delivering mail when she carelessly wandered onto the scene.

(She ran into Crown by chance. How unlucky can she get?)

Harrison: What should we do, Will?

William: We should take her with us, of course — to the “Palace’s Reaper”.

Crown’s existence is a secret, and those who become aware of its existence are killed off.

Especially if you’ve witnessed an execution.

In other words, this woman can’t escape her death sentence.

Jude: Tch…..that’s why I toldja to lock the damn door!

The woman’s body trembled with anxiety as I clicked my tongue.

William: Come here, pitiful robin.

And thus, the woman was disposed of by Crown, the end.

— Apparently, it didn’t go that way.

At the whim of that shitty crackpot of a Queen’s aide, Victor, the woman called Kate was established as a “fairytale keeper.”

It was decided that she’d spend one month together with us.

(Whaddya mean, “fairytale keeper,” how stupid.)

It’s sounds good, but she was forced into a contract of being monitored while she worked.

(Ain’t right to bind someone to an agreement simply ‘cause they accidentally witnessed an murder.)

Jude: Tch….Revoltin’.

Victor: Oh, don’t be like that Jude. You’ll have to look after her too.

Jude: Not a chance. What in the blazes ya thinkin', abusin' Her Majesty's power by kidnappin' this nobody?

As I glared at Victor, the gaze of the woman called Kate pierced me……

Kate: Thank you so much, Master Jude.

(Whatcha talkin’ to me so easily to for?)

Jude: Poor thing, gettin' kidnapped 'n forced to come here. Want me to rescue ya?

When I mockingly asked about the situation she couldn’t run from,

Kate: …Really? You’d do that?

The eyes of the woman in front of me, widened slightly with hope.

(What’s with those sparklin’ eyes?)

Jude: Obviously, I’m jokin’! What the hell’d ya get ya hopes up for, ya dimwit?

The woman’s eyes darkened, as if her fragile hope had been shattered.

(Can’t leave this place for a month ‘n it’s all ‘cause ya agreed to it.)

— Everything here now, is nauseating.

Jude: We won't have a problem long as ya work hard. Yer only other option's to run 'n get killed, o'course.

I replied coldly, turned my back and took my leave.

(The hell’s with those guys, they’re all so shitty.)

(Why’m I so frustrated at how ridiculous it is?)

The moment I took out a cigarette to light it, to hide my frustration,

Jude: …….

I spotted the moon outside the window.

The moon was shining so irritatingly bright tonight as well……

(…Ah, that’s right.)

(That woman’s sparklin’ eyes)

???: Hey — promise me something. When you get rich, take me to the moon. [2]

[2] It is not clear if “???” is speaking in the same accent as Jude. Hence, I’ll leave this written as proper English until further clarified.

(Is similar to their eyes.) [3]

[3] No pronouns are being used. Simply あいつ “aitsu” - she/he/them. No doubt it’s intentional.

Jude: ….Tch, so disgustin’.

Turning from the moon, I lit the cigarette.

There’s so many things in this world you’re best not getting involved with, or coming to know about.

And yet, the woman who used the moon as her guide, stumbled into darkness.

(If ya can live a carefree life, then ya should live a carefree life.)

(That’s why)

Jude: ……Get outta here quick, princess.

[Main Story Master List] Dividers: @.natimiles Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka

If you wish to be added or removed from my translations tag list, please let me know!

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 14

Pairings: Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 8.8k 👀

Warnings: ANGST, Mentions of brief virg!nty loss

A/N: I was gonna make this 2 parts cuz its long but it just didnt flow nice soooo your welcome 🫶🏻

Summer before senior year

“You’re not going with him!” Bucky said, standing in front of you with his arms crossed, his tone more commanding than concerned.

You frowned, crossing your arms in defiance. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“He’s no good for you,” Bucky shot back, his voice rising. “Mike doesn’t care about anything but himself.”

“Oh, and you’re suddenly the expert on who’s good for me?” you snapped, frustration bubbling over. “I’ve known Mike as long as you have, Bucky. He’s not that bad.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his blue eyes blazing with an intensity that made your heart race for all the wrong reasons. “Trust me, he’s bad enough. And you’re not going.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” you yelled, stepping closer to him. “I’m not a child, and you’re not the boss of me!”

“I’m trying to protect you!” Bucky shouted back, his voice breaking slightly with desperation. “Fine, go! But don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart, because he will. He only wants one thing.”

You glared at him, the words stinging more than you wanted to admit. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

Bucky scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Your virginity,” he said, his voice bitter. “That’s all he cares about.”

You froze, his words hitting like a slap. “And how would you know if I’m a virgin, Bucky?” you spat, your voice trembling with anger. “Maybe I’m ready to lose it. Maybe I’m tired of being the only one who hasn’t.”

Bucky’s expression darkened, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, so now you’re in a rush to keep up with everyone else? What, just because I lost mine, you suddenly want to lose yours?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Your breath caught in your throat as his words settled. “You… you lost yours?” you asked quietly, your anger briefly replaced by shock.

Bucky’s defensive posture faltered, and he exhaled deeply, his annoyance still evident. “Yeah,” he muttered, avoiding your eyes. “With Carley.”

Your heart sank, a strange mix of emotions washing over you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky shrugged, his frustration still simmering beneath the surface. “Because you’re not one of the guys. I didn’t think it mattered.”

You nodded slowly, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Noted,” you said curtly, turning on your heel and walking away before the tears could fall.

Bucky called after you, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

"Don't come crying to me, i mean it!"

The date with Mike started fine. He picked you up in his car, flashing his usual charming grin. But as he drove you to the cliffside—a spot where half the school went to make out or hook up—your mind kept replaying the fight with Bucky. His words echoed in your head, cutting deeper with each repetition.

Mike was sweet enough, but his intentions were clear. When he leaned in to kiss you, you let him. His hands roamed, his kisses became more insistent, and when he whispered, “Are you sure?” you barely hesitated.

“Yeah,” you murmured, the numbness creeping in as you tried to push all thoughts of Bucky out of your mind.

The act itself was quick, mechanical. It didn’t feel like the magical, life-changing moment you’d once fantasized about—especially not the one where Bucky was somehow involved, as stupid and childish as that fantasy had been. Instead, it was awkward and empty.

When it was over, Mike leaned back, pulling his clothes on casually. “You good?” he asked, his tone light but distant.

You nodded, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Mike stretched, glancing at his watch. “Do you want a ride home?”

You shook your head, staring out at the horizon where the first hints of dawn were starting to creep in. “No, I think I’ll stay here for a bit.”

Mike didn’t argue. “Alright. See you around,” he said with a grin, getting into his car and driving off without a second glance.

As his taillights disappeared, the weight of what you’d just done hit you. You pulled your knees to your chest, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. You stayed there, alone on the cliffside, as the sun began to rise, crying for everything you’d lost and everything that could never be.

You cried for the stupid fantasy you’d had, for the connection you and Bucky had once shared, and for the gaping hole that now seemed impossible to fill.

You sat on the edge of the cliff, the cold morning air biting at your skin as the sun’s first light painted the horizon in soft pinks and oranges. Your tears had finally stopped, but the hollow ache in your chest remained, a constant reminder of the choices you’d made and the moment you couldn’t take back.

You pulled out your phone, your fingers trembling as you scrolled through your contacts. Bucky’s name was right there, familiar and taunting. Your thumb hovered over it for a moment, but then you shook your head, blinking away the fresh sting of tears.

You couldn’t call Bucky—not after everything. Not after the fight, not after what he’d said, not after tonight.

Instead, your thumb slid down to another name.

Steve.

Your heart pounded as you pressed the call button. The line rang twice before his voice came through, groggy but instantly alert.

“Hello? Y/N?” Steve’s voice softened, concern lacing every word. “Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Hearing his voice felt like a lifeline, and for a moment, all the emotions you’d been holding in threatened to spill over again. You took a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “Steve… can you come get me?” you asked, your voice small and broken. “I’m at the cliff.”

There was a brief pause, then the sound of rustling sheets as Steve sat up. “Yeah, of course. Stay put, alright? I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, the weight of his words wrapping around you like a blanket.

Fifteen minutes later, the familiar rumble of Steve’s car pulled you from your daze. He parked and quickly got out, his worried eyes finding you immediately. His hair was messy, and he was still in sweatpants and a hoodie, clearly having rushed out of bed to get to you.

“Y/N…” he said softly, walking over to where you sat. Without another word, he shrugged off his hoodie and draped it over your shoulders, kneeling down in front of you. “What happened?”

You shook your head, biting your lip as fresh tears threatened to fall. “I… I messed up, Stevie.”

He reached out, gently placing a hand on your knee. “Talk to me.”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. But Steve’s patient, steady gaze gave you the courage to speak. “I… I was with Mike tonight....last night i guess now"

Steve’s jaw tensed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“And… and I let him… we…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, but the way Steve’s eyes softened told you he understood.

“Oh, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet sympathy. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head, wiping at your eyes. “It was supposed to mean something,” you whispered. “But it didn’t. It didn’t mean anything. I just… I just wanted to feel like everyone else for once. Like I wasn’t being left behind.”

Steve’s grip on your knee tightened slightly, his brows drawing together. “You’re not being left behind. You don’t need to rush into anything just because other people are.”

You let out a shaky laugh, bitter and self-deprecating. “Too late for that now.”

Steve sighed, shifting to sit beside you on the edge of the cliff. His arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you close. “You’re not defined by one moment, Y/N,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t change who you are or what you’re worth. You’re still you, and you’re still amazing.”

You leaned into him, the warmth of his body grounding you as the cool breeze swept past.

Friday Morning

You were running late, your thoughts a tangled mess as you walked briskly toward work. The looming reality of tonight’s bar meet-up gnawed at your nerves. Dean meeting your friends, meeting Bucky—it felt like a line you weren’t ready to cross, even though you knew you had to eventually.

Your phone buzzed against your ear as Natasha’s voice filled the silence, grounding you slightly. “Are you even listening to me?” she asked, her tone bordering on impatient.

You muttered a distracted, “Yeah, sorry,” as you pushed open the door to your favorite coffee shop. The familiar smell of roasted beans and baked goods hit you, but it did little to calm the storm in your chest. You glanced at the line, groaning softly when you saw how long it was.

Natasha sighed on the other end of the line. “Something about coffee, right? Let me guess, you’re about to be late again.”

“Yeah, the line’s too long,” you grumbled, stepping to the side to avoid blocking the doorway. “I’ll just skip it.”

Before she could reply, your eyes landed on someone by the counter, waiting for his drink. He was wearing a fitted black jacket over a plain white tee, his hair a little messy, like he’d just rolled out of bed. Bucky.

He must have felt your gaze because, in that moment, he turned. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and everything else—the bustling café, the noise, even Natasha’s voice in your ear—faded into the background.

You both froze, caught in a stare that felt like it lasted far too long and not long enough. His expression shifted, something soft flickering in his eyes before he masked it with a neutral look.

“Hello? Y/N? Are you even there?” Natasha’s voice snapped you back to reality.

You blinked, your heart pounding as you quickly looked away. “Sorry, Nat. Yeah, I’m here,” you said, forcing your voice to sound normal. “I was just… distracted.”

Natasha groaned on the other end. “Look, relax about tonight, okay? Everyone’s going to love Dean because we all love you. And Wanda’s super excited to meet him, so you’ve got her vote.”

You swallowed, your eyes flickering back toward Bucky. He was picking up his drink, his jaw tense, but he hadn’t looked away from you. You could feel the weight of his gaze even as you tried to focus on Natasha’s words.

“Yeah, okay,” you murmured, not really sure if you were trying to convince her or yourself.

Natasha exhaled, her tone softening. “I mean it, babe. Stop overthinking. You’ve got this, alright? I’ll even send coffee to your office so you’re not a grumpy mess when Dean picks you up later.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite everything. “Thanks, Nat.”

“Anytime, babe,” she said, her voice warm. “Now, go crush your day. I’ll see you tonight.”

You ended the call, slipping your phone back into your pocket. Bucky was still there, sipping his coffee, his eyes lingering on you like he was waiting for you to say something.

But you didn’t. Instead, you turned and walked out of the café, the knot in your stomach tightening. The truth was, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, tonight wasn’t just about Dean meeting your friends.

It was about seeing Bucky again—about facing whatever was still left unsaid between you.

The hours ticked by painfully slow. You’d spent the morning buried in paperwork, but your mind was far from focused. Every time you tried to concentrate, your thoughts drifted to tonight—Dean, your friends, and most of all, Bucky.

By lunchtime, you were more than ready for a break. You pulled out your phone and opened the group chat with Wanda and Natasha.

Natasha: How’s work?

You: Dragging. Can’t believe it’s only lunchtime.

Wanda: That bad, huh?

You: Yeah, but at least I have tonight to look forward to… right?

Natasha: Exactly! You’ve got this, babe. Everyone’s gonna love Dean.

Wanda: Especially after we interrogate him, obviously.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your shoulders relaxing slightly.

You: Please be gentle. He’s nice, I promise.

Natasha: Nice doesn’t cut it. He’s gotta be great if he’s dating you ;)

Wanda: Agreed!!! <3But don’t worry, we’ll be on our best behavior. Sort of....

You rolled your eyes and switched over to your chat with Sam and Steve.

You: How’s the day going for you guys?

Sam: Busy as hell. Just got out of a meeting and I’m already over it.

Steve: Same here. But at least it’s Friday.

You: True. You both coming tonight, right?

Sam: Wouldn’t miss it. Ive been thinking about hot wings all damn day.

Steve: Of course. Wouldn’t want to miss meeting Dean…

You paused for a moment, then typed:

You: Thanks, guys. I know it’s weird with everything going on, but I appreciate it.

Sam: Hey, we’re family. No matter what, we’ve got your back.

Steve: Exactly. You’re stuck with us :)

The warm reassurance from your friends eased some of the anxiety that had been building all morning. You set your phone down, took a deep breath, and tried to refocus on your work.

But even as you typed away at your computer, your mind kept circling back to one thing: how tonight would change everything.

You were about to set your phone down when a familiar name caught your eye in the messages list: Bucky.

Your heart stopped. Beside his name, a small gray bubble appeared, the telltale sign that he was typing.

You stared at the screen, your breath hitching. He was going to say something. Maybe something important. Maybe—finally.

The bubble lingered for a moment, and you held your breath, waiting. But then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished.

No message.

Your heart stuttered, a sharp pang in your chest as you watched the screen, hoping the bubble would return. But it didn’t.

You blinked, trying to shake the feeling. Why now? Why would he start typing and not send anything? You bit your lip, your mind racing. Was he going to apologize? Say something about tonight? Or was it just another reminder of the messy, tangled connection between you two?

You let out a shaky breath, locking your phone and setting it down on your desk. But the damage was done. The small flicker of hope—unwelcome but undeniable—had lodged itself firmly in your chest, refusing to be ignored.

Even when you forced yourself to get back to work, your mind kept drifting to that empty chat bubble.

The end of the workday couldn’t have come fast enough. By the time you got home, Natasha and Wanda were already at your apartment, rifling through your closet and chattering like old times. It was grounding in a way—familiar, comforting, a temporary balm for your nerves.

“Okay,” Wanda said, holding up a soft cream sweater. “This. It’s casual but still shows you put in effort.”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “Pair it with those high-waisted jeans and your ankle boots. Perfect mix of cozy and hot.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Cozy and hot? Is that what we’re going for?”

“Yes,” Natasha said firmly. “You’re seeing Dean, but you’re also seeing Bucky for the first time since… everything. You want to feel confident.”

You sighed, letting them guide you. Once you were dressed, Wanda pulled out a simple necklace while Natasha fixed your hair into loose waves. The whole process was lighthearted, filled with little jokes and the kind of banter that made you forget, even for a moment, about the knot in your stomach.

When you were finally ready, Natasha gave you an approving nod. “Okay, you’re perfect. Wanda and I are gonna head to the bar now, give you and Dean a little entrance moment.”

“Thanks,” you said, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “You said the guys are already there?”

Natasha hesitated for a beat, then nodded. “Yeah. Bucky’s there too. That okay?”

You swallowed, trying to keep your expression neutral. “That’s fine. I mean, he’s part of the group, right? And I said I want things to be normal again.”

Natasha gave you a searching look. “If you change your mind, say the word, and I’ll drag him out so fast his head will spin.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, it’s fine. Really. Better to see him with everyone else around. He’s part of us, part of me. Gotta get it over with, right?”

Natasha’s eyes softened, and she pulled you into a hug. “You’re stronger than you think, you know that?”

Wanda joined in, squeezing you tight. “We’ve got you,” she said with a warm smile. “Always.”

“See you in a minute,” Natasha said with a wink before they left, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The quiet settled over the apartment as you paced for a moment, nerves bubbling to the surface. Your phone buzzed, and you grabbed it eagerly.

Dean: Hey :-) I’m downstairs whenever you’re ready.

You checked yourself one last time in the mirror, smoothing your sweater and adjusting your necklace. Then you grabbed your bag and headed out. As you stepped into the elevator, another message came through.

Natasha: He seems to be in good spirits. Gave me a hug and everything. It’s gonna be okay… Oh, by the way, he doesn’t know about you bringing Dean. Sam pulled me aside when I got here.

You stared at the message, your stomach twisting.

You: Great.

Shoving your phone into your bag, you took a deep breath as the elevator doors opened. Time to face the night.

As you stepped out of your apartment building, you spotted Dean leaning casually against his car, his hands in his pockets. He looked effortlessly handsome in a dark denim jacket and a simple black shirt. When his eyes met yours, his face lit up with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft but laced with excitement. “You look amazing.”

You felt your cheeks flush slightly. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckled, opening the passenger door for you before you had a chance to protest. “Ready for this?”

You took a deep breath, glancing at him as you got in. “Yeah, as ready as I’ll ever be.”

The ride to the bar was short, filled with light conversation and the kind of laughter that made you momentarily forget your nerves. But as you neared your destination, Dean’s tone shifted, becoming more thoughtful.

“So,” he began, glancing over at you at a red light, “anything I should know? You know, to make a killer first impression with your friends?”

You laughed softly, appreciating his effort. “Well, they’re all pretty easygoing… but they’re also insanely protective.”

“Noted,” Dean said, smirking. “Who should I be most worried about?”

You hesitated, your mind immediately going to Bucky. But you didn’t want to say his name just yet. “Natasha,” you said instead, half-joking. “She can be… intense. But it comes from a good place but im sure you already know that”

Dean nodded, clearly taking mental notes. “Got it. Be charming but not too charming.”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling. “Wanda’s super sweet, so you’re safe there. Sam’s a joker, so if he starts teasing you, it’s a good sign. And Steve… well, Steve’s like the group’s moral compass. If he likes you, you’re golden.”

Dean let out a low whistle. “Sounds like a solid group.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Something like that.”

As you pulled up to the bar, the knot in your stomach tightened again. Dean must have sensed it because he reached over, his hand resting lightly on yours. “Hey,” he said softly. “Relax. It’ll be fine. And if it’s not, we’ll just make a run for it.”

You chuckled despite yourself, squeezing his hand. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Anytime,” he said with a wink as he parked the car.

The two of you stepped out, and as you approached the bar’s entrance, your heart started to pound. The familiar sounds of laughter and music spilled out onto the street, and you could already see your friends gathered at your usual corner table. You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what was to come.

Dean held the door open for you, his expression calm and confident. “Let’s do this.”

The moment you and Dean walked into the bar, your eyes immediately found your usual booth. Sam, facing the door, was the first to notice you. His grin widened, and he nudged Steve beside him. Both men stood as Sam made his way toward you.

“Hey! Look who’s finally here,” Sam called out, pulling you into a warm, familiar hug. “You didn’t get lost, did you?”

You laughed. “You wish, Wilson.”

As Sam stepped back, Steve was right there, his soft smile as steady as ever. “You look great,” he said, pulling you in for a quick, friendly hug.

“Thanks, Stevie.” You tried to keep your voice light, but his comforting presence was already easing your nerves.

Dean extended his hand to Sam, his posture relaxed but confident. “Sam, right? It’s great to meet you. Y/N’s told me all about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Sam said, shaking Dean’s hand with a grin. “Sam Wilson, resident funnyman.”

Dean chuckled. “Only the best things. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“And I’m Steve,” Steve chimed in, extending his hand after Sam stepped aside. “Glad you could join us.”

“Likewise,” Dean replied, shaking Steve’s hand firmly. “Y/N’s been hyping this place up.”

After Dean waved at Natasha, who gave him a knowing smirk, and shook hands with Wanda, your focus inevitably drifted to the end of the booth. Bucky sat there, his back to you, his head slightly down as he sipped his drink. The sight of him made your chest tighten, and you hesitated for a split second before Dean spoke again.

“Hey,” Dean said, extending his hand toward Bucky. “You must be Bucky.”

Slowly, Bucky turned, his blue eyes locking onto yours for a brief, intense moment before shifting to Dean. His jaw clenched, and after a pause, he stood and shook Dean’s hand. His grip was firm, deliberate.

“Bucky,” he said, his voice low and measured.

Dean smiled, unfazed. “Nice to meet you. Y/N’s told me you two go way back.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to you, then back to Dean. “Yeah. Something like that.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze even after he sat back down. Dean slid into the booth beside you as everyone shuffled to make room. Now, it was Natasha next to Wanda, then Steve, Sam, and finally you and Dean, directly across from Bucky.

The waiter came by to take your drink orders, and the usual buzz of conversation began. Sam, ever the storyteller, launched into a tale about his latest misadventure at the VA, complete with exaggerated gestures and dramatic pauses. Laughter erupted around the table, even from Dean, who seemed to be settling in easily.

Everyone, that is, except Bucky.

He sat back in his seat, his drink in hand, his gaze sharp but distant. Every so often, you felt his eyes on you, a heavy, unspoken tension lingering between the two of you. It wasn’t lost on Dean, who kept glancing between you and Bucky, his curiosity evident but unspoken.

“So, Dean,” Sam said, leaning forward. “What’s it like working with Nat?”

Dean grinned. “It’s great. She’s a force to be reckoned with. Keeps everyone on their toes.”

Natasha raised her glass with a smirk. “Damn right I do.”

“And what exactly do you do again?” Steve asked, his interest genuine.

“Security consulting,” Dean replied. “Risk assessment, crisis management, stuff like that.”

Sam nodded appreciatively. “Sounds badass.”

Dean chuckled. “It can be. Keeps me on my toes, for sure.”

Dean then turned to Bucky, clearly making an effort to include him. “And you, Bucky? Y/N mentioned you both work in publishing.”

Bucky’s fingers tightened around his glass as he gave a short nod. “Yeah. Reviewing manuscripts, editing, making sure everything’s ready for print.”

Dean nodded, his tone still friendly. “That’s awesome. Must be great working alongside your best friend.”

Bucky’s jaw ticked, and his eyes briefly met yours again. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s… something.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and you felt your stomach twist. Dean, sensing the tension, tried to steer the conversation back on track, but before he could, Bucky abruptly stood, grabbing his empty glass.

“Be right back,” he muttered, heading toward the bar without another word.

You watched him go, your heart pounding in your chest. The knot in your stomach tightened, and you forced yourself to focus on the laughter and conversation around you, even as your thoughts remained with Bucky.

The laughter at the table was infectious, the kind that made your cheeks hurt. Sam was recounting some ridiculous story about a mishap at work, complete with exaggerated impressions of his coworkers. Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop giggling, and even Wanda had to wipe away a tear from laughing so hard.

You tried to stay present, chiming in here and there, but your eyes kept drifting toward the bar. Bucky was leaning against it, nursing another drink, his back to the room. His shoulders were tense, and you could tell—even from this distance—that he was deep in thought.

Steve, ever perceptive, caught your glance. He gave you a subtle look, raising an eyebrow as if to say Want me to check on him?

You hesitated, then gave him a small, grateful smile. Steve nodded, sliding out of the booth with ease.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he said casually, patting Sam on the shoulder as he passed. “Don’t let them order wings without me.”

“Not making any promises,” Sam called after him, grinning.

Steve made his way to the bar, his presence steady as always. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he approached Bucky, leaning on the bar beside him. Their conversation started low, and Bucky glanced over his shoulder briefly, his expression unreadable.

Natasha leaned over, nudging you playfully. “You okay, babe? You seem a little… distracted.”

You blinked, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… you know, first time bringing someone into the group. Kinda nerve-wracking.”

Dean, catching the tail end of your comment, smiled warmly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Everyone’s been great so far. I mean, Sam’s a riot.”

Sam raised his glass. “Damn right I am.”

“And Wanda,” Dean continued, gesturing toward her, “she’s been keeping me on my toes with all her quick-witted remarks.”

Wanda smirked. “Gotta make sure you can keep up, Dean.”

The table laughed, and for a moment, you felt a little lighter. But your eyes drifted back toward the bar. Steve was saying something to Bucky, his tone calm but firm. Bucky looked down at his drink, his jaw clenched.

Natasha followed your gaze, her smile fading slightly. “They’ll be fine,” she said quietly, her voice just for you. “Bucky needs to cool off, and Steve knows how to handle him.”

You nodded, taking a sip of your drink to steady yourself. “Yeah. I know.”

At the bar, Steve leaned in slightly, his voice low. “Alright, Buck. Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Bucky sighed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Nothing. Just needed a breather.”

“Sure doesn’t look like nothing,” Steve said, his tone gentle but probing. “You’ve been brooding since they walked in.”

Bucky scoffed, shooting him a sideways glance. “Didn’t know you were the feelings police, Rogers.”

Steve chuckled softly. “You know me, always looking out for my friends.”

Bucky didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the counter. After a moment, he muttered, “It’s weird seeing her with him.”

Steve nodded, keeping his tone neutral. “Yeah, I figured. But she seems happy.”

Bucky’s grip on his glass tightened slightly. “I know. That’s the problem.”

Steve tilted his head. “You want her to be happy, right?”

“Of course I do,” Bucky said quickly, his voice a little too sharp. “It’s just… he’s not one of us. He doesn’t get her the way we do.”

Steve studied him for a moment, then said, “Buck, if you’ve got something to say to her, you can’t keep waiting for the perfect moment. Life doesn’t work like that. Trust me i know" He smiled sadly.

Bucky’s eyes flicked toward the table, where you were laughing with Sam and Natasha. His expression softened, but there was still a weight behind his gaze. “Yeah… maybe.”

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “Just think about it, alright? And if you need to vent, you know where to find me.”

Bucky nodded, finishing the last of his drink. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Anytime,” Steve replied, standing upright. “Now, come back to the table before Sam eats all the wings.”

Bucky let out a small chuckle, setting his glass down. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.”

As the two of them returned, the dynamic shifted slightly. Bucky slid back into his spot next to Wanda, his demeanor a little more relaxed. You caught his eye briefly, and though neither of you said anything, the tension seemed to ease just a bit.

Steve slid in next to Sam, who immediately started teasing him about missing the best part of the story. Dean, oblivious to the undercurrents, leaned in toward you, his hand resting lightly on your knee beneath the table. “See?” he whispered. “Told you this would go well.”

You smiled, hoping he couldn’t sense the turmoil still swirling beneath the surface. “Yeah,” you murmured. “It’s going great.”

The table was a flurry of activity as the wings arrived, piled high on multiple platters. Everyone dove in with gusto, the smell of tangy barbecue and spicy buffalo sauce filling the air. Drinks were refilled, and the conversation flowed easily.

Sam leaned back, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Man, I’ve been waiting all week for this.”

Natasha smirked. “Yeah, well, don’t eat too fast. We’ve got plenty of time to enjoy it.”

Dean chuckled, taking a sip of his beer. “I can see why this is a regular thing for you guys. It’s nice.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth of the familiar setting, even with the subtle tension still lingering under the surface. Everyone seemed to be making an effort to keep things light, and for the most part, it was working.

A few drinks later, as the laughter died down for a moment, Dean glanced around the table, his curiosity piqued. “So,” he began, his tone casual, “is anyone else seeing anyone? Or is this the final group count?”

The question lingered in the air, and you noticed a subtle shift in energy. Wanda raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as she reached for her drink.

“Well,” Sam said, grinning, “I’m playing the field. Gotta keep my options open, you know?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “By ‘playing the field,’ he means he’s been flirting with the bartender at our usual spot for months and hasn’t made a move.”

Sam held up a finger. “Hey, I’m working on it.”

Everyone chuckled, and Dean turned his attention to Wanda. “What about you, Wanda? Anyone special?”

Wanda shook her head, a soft smile on her face. “Nope. Too busy trying to keep my plants alive.”

Dean laughed. “Fair enough.”

He looked over at Steve next. “And you, Steve? Got someone in your life?”

Steve, who had been quietly nursing his drink, looked up, his expression calm but unreadable. “Not at the moment, got some stuff to sort through” he said simply, his eyes flicking briefly to you before he focused back on his glass. “Just focusing on work.”

Dean nodded, clearly not picking up on the subtext. “Makes sense. You seem like the kind of guy who’s got his priorities straight.”

Steve gave a small smile, but he didn’t respond, his fingers tapping lightly against the side of his glass.

Finally, Dean’s gaze landed on Bucky, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, mostly focusing on his food. “What about you, Bucky? Anyone special?”

The table fell silent for a beat too long. Bucky set down his wing, wiping his hands deliberately as he leaned back in his seat. His expression was neutral, but his jaw tightened slightly. “Nope,” he said, his voice clipped. “No one.”

Dean, oblivious to the tension, smiled. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours for the briefest moment before he shrugged. “Guess I’m just picky.”

Natasha snorted into her drink, and Sam quickly covered a laugh with a cough. You felt your cheeks heat up and reached for your own drink to hide your reaction.

“Well,” Dean said, clearly trying to keep the conversation light, “picky’s not a bad thing. Just means you know what you want.”

Bucky didn’t respond, his gaze fixed firmly on his plate. The silence stretched, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

Sensing the awkwardness, Sam jumped in, raising his glass. “Alright, enough about our love lives. Let’s toast to Friday nights, good food, and even better company.”

Everyone raised their glasses, and the moment passed, but you couldn’t help the way your heart raced every time Bucky’s eyes drifted in your direction, even if only for a second.

The bar was bustling, the low hum of music and chatter creating a comforting buzz as you waited for the bartender to line up the shots. You were trying to focus on the drinks, the simple act of getting them back to your friends, but your thoughts kept drifting—Dean’s question about relationships, the tense exchange between Bucky and him, and now, the weight of Bucky’s silence.

You felt him before you saw him, his presence unmistakable as he slid up beside you, leaning on the bar. His scent—faint cologne mixed with something distinctly him—sent a rush of memories flooding back. You glanced up, but he didn’t say anything at first, just watched as you picked up the first tray of shots.

“Need help?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You gave him a small smile, trying to keep things light. “No, it’s okay. I got it. Thanks, though, Buck.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening slightly as he shifted his weight. But then, after a beat of silence, he spoke again, his tone more serious. “He’s not right for you.”

The words hit you like a jolt, and you froze, your hand hovering over the next tray. Slowly, you turned to face him, your brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief. “What?”

Bucky’s blue eyes locked onto yours, intense and pleading. “Dean. He’s not right for you.”

You let out a soft, incredulous laugh, shaking your head. “And how exactly would you know what’s right for me, Bucky?”

“I just… I know,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “You think he gets you? Think he knows you?”

Your chest tightened, the familiar ache surfacing. “That’s not fair, its new-- im trying,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

Bucky’s hand clenched on the bar, his knuckles whitening. “You think I don’t see it? The way he looks at you? Like he’s just waiting for the right moment to get what he wants, its like Mike all over again…But it’s not real. Not like—”

You froze “Don’t you bring that up James.." Your voice low "And not like what?” you shot back, your voice sharper now. “Not like us? Newsflash, Bucky: there is no ‘us.’ You made damn sure of that.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he was struggling to find the right words. “You act like you’re the only one hurting,” he finally said, his voice low but cutting. “But you’re not. You hurt people too!”

Your heart sank, your throat tightening. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered, his frustration giving way to something rawer. “You hurt me, you have been for years! You just dont see it...” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “And you hurt Steve.”

“Steve?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper. “What about Steve?” You mind reeled back to how off he’s been lately.

Bucky let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You can’t tell me you’ve never noticed. He’s been madly in love with you for years, and you just… what? Pretend not to see it? You think that doesn’t hurt him?”

The weight of his words hit you like a freight train, and your eyes instinctively darted across the bar. Natasha and Steve were standing together, both of them looking your way. Natasha’s gaze was sharp, assessing, while Steve’s was softer, a mix of concern and something deeper. Your stomach twisted as you saw the truth written plainly on his face, a truth you’d somehow managed to ignore until now.

You turned back to Bucky, your voice trembling. “I don’t know who you are anymore.”

His face fell, a flicker of pain crossing his features, but he didn’t say anything. You grabbed the tray of shots, your hands shaking as you carried it back to the table. Natasha’s eyes followed you the whole way, and Steve’s expression shifted into something unreadable as you set the tray down in front of them.

Dean grinned, oblivious to the storm brewing. “Finally! Thought you got lost at the bar.”

You forced a smile, sliding into the booth beside him as you handed out the drinks. “Just took a little longer than expected.”

Natasha shot you a questioning look, but you shook your head subtly, letting her know now wasn’t the time. As the group raised their glasses in a toast, your eyes flickered back to the bar, where Bucky still stood, watching you with a look that sent a fresh wave of heartache crashing over you.

Summer before Senior year

The summer heat clung to the air, thick and stifling, as Bucky sat on the porch steps of Steve's house, bouncing his leg anxiously. He'd been quiet for most of the afternoon, his thoughts circling like a storm, the tension building with every passing minute.

Steve leaned against the railing, arms crossed as he watched his best friend brood. Finally, he sighed, breaking the silence. "Come on, Buck. When are you gonna go talk to her?"

Bucky's jaw clenched, and he shook his head. "Why does it have to be me first? She's the one who walked away."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, you didn't exactly give her a reason to stay. You basically pushed her away"

Bucky's head snapped up, his blue eyes filled with frustration. "I told her the truth, Steve. I warned her about Mike, and she didn't listen, if he breaks her heart thats her problem not mine."

Steve pushed off the railing, stepping closer. "You think this is just about Mike? Buck, she's hurting. And trust me....she needs you."

Bucky scoffed, his tone defensive. "If she needed me so bad, she'd be here."

Steve exhaled sharply, clearly losing patience. "She's not here because she's scared, because she feels alone, and because she thinks you don't care anymore."

Bucky's throat worked as he swallowed, his gaze falling to the ground. "I can't believe she went out with him," he muttered, more to himself than to Steve. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "That guy's a piece of shit."

Steve stepped closer, his voice low but firm. "Bucky...She...they..."

Bucky's head shot up, his eyes wide with realization. "She..?"

Steve nodded, his expression grim. "Yeah. And he just left her there."

The weight of Steve's words hit Bucky like a punch to the gut. His mind raced, his chest tightened as anger and guilt warred within him.

"Where?" Bucky asked, his voice low, almost a growl. "Where did he leave her?"

Steve hesitated, then said, "The cliff."

Bucky didn't wait for another word. He bolted from the porch, his heart pounding as he made a beeline for your house. His feet pounded against the pavement, but before he reached your street, something caught his eye in the open field nearby. A group of guys were playing flag football, laughing and shouting-and among them was Mike.

Bucky's blood boiled as he altered his course, heading straight for the field. The laughter died down when the players noticed him, their gazes shifting uneasily.

"Hey, Buck," one of them called, wary. "What's up, man?"

Bucky ignored him, his focus solely on Mike, who stood in the middle of the group, smirking as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"What do you want, Barnes?" Mike asked, cocky as ever.

Bucky didn't answer. He just strode forward and, without hesitation, drove his fist directly into Mike's face. The sickening crunch of bone and cartilage echoed as Mike stumbled back, blood immediately streaming from his nose.

"Stay the fuck away from her," Bucky growled, his voice dangerously low.

Mike wiped the blood from his face, grinning like a maniac despite the pain. "What's the matter, Barnes? Mad I deflowered your girl? Because you were too pussy to do it yourself?"

Bucky's vision went red. He punched Mike again, harder this time, sending him sprawling to the ground. The other guys started to step in, but one glare from Bucky had them backing off.

Mike groaned, but he still laughed, his teeth stained red. "She tasted so sweet," he sneered, his voice taunting. "So tight. A perfect little notch on my belt. She was desperate for it, practically begging-"

Bucky didn't let him finish. He turned on his heel and sprinted toward your house, his heart thundering in his chest. His mind raced with fury and panic, the image of you sitting alone at the cliff, broken and hurting, driving him forward.

He had to get to you. He had to make this right.

The bar buzzed with laughter and music, the energy high as your group settled deeper into the booth. Drinks flowed, wings were shared, and the conversation had turned to teasing stories from the past. You felt the warmth of familiarity, even with the slight tension still lingering from earlier.

Dean excused himself to take a phone call, offering you a soft smile before stepping toward the back exit. You watched him go, feeling the comfort of his steady presence, even as your thoughts wandered to Bucky. He’d been quiet all night, his usual sharp wit dulled by whatever storm was brewing inside him..

Needing a moment, Bucky stood, stretching as he made his way toward the bathroom. He passed the back exit and froze when he heard Dean’s voice, low and smooth, just around the corner.

As he made his way toward the bathroom, Bucky caught sight of Dean. He hesitated, the urge to confront gnawing at him, but he kept walking—until Dean glanced up and caught his eye.

“Bucky,” Dean said with a slight smirk, slipping his phone into his pocket. “You following me now?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t realize I needed to. Just taking a walk.”

Dean leaned casually against the wall, crossing his arms. “You’ve been watching us all night. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah? And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Dean chuckled, his tone light but pointed. “It means you’re not exactly subtle, man. You’ve got this look every time she laughs at something I say, like you’re ready to tear me apart. Jealous much?”

Bucky took a step closer, his voice low. “Maybe I just don’t think you’re good enough for her.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, his smirk unwavering. “That so? Funny, because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’m the one who’s actually here for her. You had your chance from what i’ve seen, and you blew it. That’s not on me.”

Bucky’s chest tightened, and his fists clenched at his sides. “You don’t know a damn thing about me or her.”

Dean’s smirk faded slightly, his tone dropping. “I know you’re hung up on her. And I know she deserves someone who’s all in, not someone who’s just been dragging her through the mud for years because he’s too scared to step up.”

Bucky’s blood boiled. “You think you know what she needs?” he growled, stepping even closer. “You don’t know half of what we’ve been through.”

Dean shrugged, his expression calm but unyielding. “Maybe not. But I do know this: I’m here now, and you’re just a guy at the bar, staring like you’re waiting for permission to act.” He straightened, his gaze sharp. “She’s amazing. She deserves more than being someone’s regret.”

That did it.

Before Dean could react, Bucky’s fist connected with his jaw in a swift, hard punch. Dean stumbled back, holding his face, but his composure didn’t falter long. He let out a humourless laugh, wiping his mouth as he straightened.

“Well, that’s one way to admit you’re still in love with her,” Dean said, his tone sharp but surprisingly calm. “Too bad you’re a little late.”

Bucky took another step forward, but Dean held up a hand. “I’m not doing this,” he said firmly. “You’ve got your own demons to sort out, Bucky. Don’t make her collateral damage.”

With that, Dean turned and walked back toward the table, leaving Bucky seething in his wake.

Dean leaned against the table, his face composed but red blooming across his jaw. Natasha’s eyes narrowed immediately, her gaze darting between Dean and the direction of the bar. “What the hell happened?”

Dean exhaled, tilting his head slightly as if trying to shake off the impact. “Your buddy hit me.”

You choked on your drink, eyes wide in disbelief as Sam quickly leaned over, patting your back. “What?” you managed to get out, your voice hoarse with shock.

Dean nodded, glancing around the table, his eyes lingering on Natasha before meeting yours. “Yeah. He’s got a hell of a right hook.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. “That idiot,” she muttered, already pushing to get out of the booth.

Dean raised a hand to stop her. “No need to escalate. It’s handled.” He looked at you, his expression softening. “Can we talk for a second?”

You blinked, still processing what just happened, but you nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

The others watched as you slid out of the booth, your gaze flicking toward the bar. Bucky stood there now with Sam and Steve, both of whom were leaning in, their expressions serious as they talked to him. Bucky’s shoulders were tense, his head tilted down like he was bracing himself.

You turned away and followed Dean outside.

The cool night air hit you, a stark contrast to the warmth and chaos inside. Dean led you a few steps away from the entrance, giving you both a semblance of privacy. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes soft but resolute as he turned to face you.

“Look,” he began, his tone gentle. “You’re incredible. You’re smart, funny, beautiful—everything any guy could want.”

Your heart sank at the way his voice carried a finality you weren’t ready for. “Dean—”

He shook his head, giving you a small, sad smile. “Let me finish.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want drama. I don’t want fights and complications. And as much as I like you, I can’t ignore what I saw tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, though deep down, you already knew.

Dean’s eyes searched yours, his voice soft but firm. “You and Bucky. Whatever it is between you two… it’s not going away. I can see it in the way he looks at you. Hell, I can see it in the way you look at him, even if you don’t realize it.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt the sting of tears threatening to surface. “Dean, I—”

He shook his head again, this time with a sad chuckle. “It’s okay. I get it. But I can’t be someone’s second choice—not when I’m putting them first.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and unyielding. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. What could you say? He was right, and deep down, you both knew it.

Dean reached out, his hand gentle as he cupped your cheek. “You deserve to figure out what you really want without me in the middle of it.”

You nodded, the tears finally spilling over. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled softly, leaning in to place a tender kiss on your forehead. “Don’t be. I’m glad we met.” He stepped back, his hand slipping away. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

You nodded, unable to speak as he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing down the street.

You stood outside for a moment, trying to collect yourself. When you finally re-entered the bar, the weight of Dean’s words still lingered heavily on your heart. The noise hit you again, but all you could focus on was the booth where your friends sat. Natasha and Wanda were deep in conversation, their eyes occasionally darting toward you.

Sam and Steve were still by the bar with Bucky. Sam’s hands were on Bucky’s shoulders, clearly trying to talk him down, while Steve glanced toward you, his expression unreadable.

Your legs felt like lead as you walked back toward the booth, the reality of the night sinking in.

This wasn’t just about Dean leaving. This was about everything that had been building for years. And now, it was all unraveling.

You returned to the table with heavy steps, the weight of the night pressing down on you. Everyone’s conversation fell silent as you approached. Without a word, you sat down, grabbing your nearly empty glass and downing the last of it. Then, you reached for the shot in front of you and knocked it back too, the burn barely registering.

The table was tense, eyes flicking between you and Bucky, who had just returned from the bar. His jaw was set, his arms crossed as he leaned against the booth, avoiding your gaze.

But you weren’t done. You grabbed Steve’s half-finished drink and swallowed it in one go, slamming the empty glass on the table. The tears started to well up, and you didn’t care who saw anymore.

Finally, you turned to Bucky, your voice shaking but steady. “How could you do this to me?”

Bucky’s eyes snapped to yours, wide with sadness and guilt, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” Your voice rose, breaking slightly as the tears began to stream down your face. “Why do you keep hurting me? For what, Bucky?! What do you get out of it?”

“Doll, I—” Bucky started, his voice low, but you cut him off.

“No! Don’t ‘doll’ me. I don’t get it! I don’t get you! You’re supposed to be my best friend, the person I can trust, but all you do is make me feel like this!” You gestured at your tear-streaked face, your chest heaving with the weight of your emotions. “And I can’t do this anymore. I can’t feel like this anymore!”

Bucky’s face was a mixture of hurt and panic, his mouth opening as if to say something, but the words seemed to get caught in his throat.

You stood abruptly, grabbing your bag, your chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I’m done, Bucky.” Your voice dropped to a near whisper, broken and raw. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Without giving him the chance to respond, you turned and stormed out of the bar, ignoring the concerned voices of your friends behind you. Natasha called your name, and you heard Sam mutter a curse under his breath, but none of it mattered. You pushed past the door and into the cool night air, the weight of everything crashing down on you as you kept walking, your tears blurring the city lights around you

[charlott2n]

kids in kid world would go to the candy bar! and adults in adult world would just cryy and cryy all day because of how sucks it all is. and you can take that to the bank but theyre out of money so its no good. the money hasnt been born yet is all. the tellers are still moneypreg is the thing. thats all it is theyre in their third trimester though so you can hang out a little and wait maybe but once the money comes slip sliding out thats it! youre collecting that bullshit and you gotta go my friend its over for you at the bank once the tellers give birth to the money. this is adult world and nobody give a fuck about the bank because the tellers havent given birth to the money yet. thats important okay? the bank sucks and the tellers are moneypreg. im gonna throw up

[greyswaren]

POOR UN-AMERICAN GIRLS, rafe cameron

summary. When you're offered the chance to be a part of a foreign exchange program at Kildare County High School, you take it, no questions asked. Getting to experience an american high school AND the island life? Yes, please. A small piece of advice though, watch out for that Cameron boy.

contains. foreign exchange student!reader x rafe cameron (smau)

navigation. part ii part iii part iv

kiaracarrera

liked by youruser, topthornton, sarahcam and 120 others

kiaracarrera ✌️☀️

view all comments

jjmaybank good posr cause im in it

→ heypope shut up ho

→ itsjohnb middle finger

→ kiaracarrera mmmkay

cleooourrr she’s glowing ✨ ✨

→ kiaracarrera stooppp it i love u!!

user fav girl!!!

user omg who's that in the last slide ???

→ kiaracarrera my girll @/youruser

sarahcam MY BEST FRIEND YALL

sarahcam wifey wifey wifey

→ itsjohnb ??

→ sarahcam @/itsjohnb sorry babe

→ kiaracarrera wifeee

youruser stopp i got a feature 🙊

→ kiaracarrera well duhhhh

→ jjmaybank the only tourkookon ever 🫡🫡

→ youruser @/jjmaybank wait no what does that mean

youruser stunna!!

→ kiaracarrera UNO REVERSE 🔄

your phone

new notification! topthornton started following you on instagram

jada's note. rafe introduction next chapter trustt 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ this is gonna be sloowww burn so buckle up baes... also, i swear i gotta make the texts longer but ITS FINE!! trust!! (send help) they take up sm time to make im actually dying 🫠

taglist. @ilovefiction4lmen @drwstarkeys @unclecrunkle @wearemadeofstardust0 @emmaaas-posts @mbella607 @emotionsmgcbabe @aariahnaa @xoxo-ada (let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!)

[luvyeni]

( drabble ) photo ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 钟辰乐 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ chenle getting horny after you stumble across a nude photo of yourself ヾ

boyfriend!chenle・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・fucking while he has underwear on, dry humping, dirty talk‎ wc ・ ‎0.6k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. he's laying with yn and he's the big spoon, chenle grinding on yn, both with clothes on he then takes yn's clothes off but he stays in underwear, and start to fuck her through his boxers…

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you like it <3 !!!

scrolling through your phone while his chest was pressed against your back, hands wrapping around your waist as he watched your phone. “when did you take this?”

you chuckled at the photo you took of him knocked out drunk on your couch. “you looked so cute.” you smiled. “i almost choked on my own tongue that night but im glad you think i looked cute.” you rolled your eyes, quickly moving on to the next photo. “see happy? you no longer have to see it.” he was in shock at the photo in front of him; a nude photo you took of yourself just because. “i don’t have this one , why don’t i have this one?” he stared down at the photo.

“because this one's for me and me only.” you said. “any nudes you take should definitely be run by me.” he said, he could feel his cock hardening in his pants. “fuck you look good, how many nudes have you got hidden from me?” his hands tightening on your waist as you pressed the secret album. “a whole album dedicated to your gatekept nudes.” he said. “im hurt.”

“you don’t seem hurt , you’re currently grinding against me and you’re hard.” his hand came up to your boob squeezing it. “chenle.” you sighed, letting him grind against you, your panties becoming soaked. “fuck.” he groaned , the feeling of his underwear being wet by his precum. “chenle just fuck me already.”

he slapped your ass, you yelped as his hand hit your bum. “so greedy girl.” he pulled your shorts down. “you kept those pretty pictures from me, now you’re talking back and being impatient.” he let out a tsk sound with his mouth, pulling your panties down as well , throwing them to the floor. “should punish you for real.”

you could feel the softness of his underwear against your cunt, you moaned in delight, phone dropping next to your pillow as you tilted your head back. “ta-take your clothes off le.” you stuttered ready to turn and face him, but he stopped you. “no face that way.” he said, hands on your back pushing you into a arch on your side. “don’t worry im gonna fuck you.”

you were confused, until you felt his clothes cock entering you despite him still having his underwear on. “oh wait fuck chenle.” you moaned out, the fabric slowly being pushed inside of you. “fuck this feels good.” he moaned, fully seething himself inside you. “fu-fuck why does this feel so good.” he slowly pulled out, thrusting himself back inside you.

the feeling of his underwear being inside you was something different, but not uncomfortable; you were mostly focused of his fat cock working its way in and out of your hole, dragging along your walls. “yo-you like this baby? so nasty baby.” you nodded. “so-so fucking much chen.” he fingers today with your nipples. “fuck le im gonna cum.”

he began to speed up, your ass slapping against him. “fuck fuck princess , im gonna cum.” he moaned. “gonna fucking cum.” you bit down on your neck. “fuck me too.” his hands coming down to your bud— rubbing your clit. “cum with me baby , want you to cum with me.” you let out a pornographic moan as you came, clamping down on his cock. he let out a hiss as his cock twitched and he came inside of his boxer. “shit.” he cursed, it was so different cumminginside a condom. or even cumming inside you which he normally did.

he pulled out of you, his boxers covered in your orgasm. “fuck lay on your back.” he finally rid himself of his boxers, cock still hard. “sh-shit.” he stuttered, stroking his length, positioning it at your hole. “still so fucking horny.” you felt the warmness of your cunt. “fuck , chenle!”

“need to fuck you again.”

©️LUVYENI

[petalsonmoon]

you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon.

"it's ridiculous." then he leaned his body foward, his fingers meeting his toes. an elongation you would take embarrasingly months to be able to do that flawlessly.

"and really fucking stupid" he proceeds his thoughts.

"oh please, do go on." you look down to your notes and continue to write your ridiculous ideas.

the sun was far too bright and where its glow met the leaves of the large number of trees around you they were gleaming, like they were immensely happy.

"i hope your little notebook accidently burns to ashes."

"kind of you to say accidently."

"yeah no problem at all"

you glance up to find that he has his knee bended to his chest and quickly look back to the pen in your hand. quite misteriously your hands are stained from it.

"you making the walking sleeping bag one too?" his voice is raspy and angry and very clear. how does he sound so good while doing post training stretching?

perhaps you're looking too much into it. your crush makes you a bit giddy, idiotic in a lot of senses. makes you feel a child just like the word itself is infant. crush.

you sigh heavyly.

"still deciding" you draw a little explosion on the corner of the page.

"might as well do it for class b too."

"if i got a penny for every dramatic sentence that came out of your mouth-"

he had his back to you but he insisted on turning his head to you to send you the most chilling glare for exactly 3 seconds. that's his stupidity. his eyes were already too pretty in your eyes for you to feel an ounce of that anger.

"-only today i'd have like," you scrunch your nose "the amount of money equivalent to the ferocity of all might's powers."

he doesn't bother to look at you again and you smile.

"would you look at that. i should look for the person with this quirk."

he growls. loud. and you're smile is genuine.

he sits up straight, his back to you and starts leisurely move his neck. that's the sign he's almost done.

"putting too much money for those idiots.”

"it's not that much" you reason. "don't feel that way for too long, you're getting one too."

with that, it's over.

he turns to you and when those red eyes meet yours the trees are for sure shinning somewhat brighter.

the response for your affirmation it's a furrow between his eyebrows. his skin glowing a bit but that's not your absurd heart speaking, it's just his sweat.

"uhum" now you're messing with the grass. it estabilizes you. "yours is actually the only one that i drew and painted myself. the other ones i made with suna from the support course"

an ant crawled into your point finger.

"but don't tell them that." you whisper.

the ant made it to your pulse when you feel a literal body falling on top of you.

"you motherfucker! you are drenched-"

"that shitty little brain of yours-" his face on your neck. his words and breathing warming your whole body. you are exploding on the inside. how ironic.

"-and your stupid handmade keychains for the whole class" and then he lighly bites where your neck meets your shoulder.

his hands trails your arms, his fingers are burning pathways in your skin until they meet your hands and they interlock with your fingers. then he finally lifts his head and looks at you and what you're feeling is something words can't understand.

"i was gonna wait unti graduation."

"tomorrow, you mean."

he bites your chin and you're so fucking certain you'll melt any second now. "because of that fucking tone i'm going to burn all of your little gifts."

you smile at him trying to match his damn audacity. his charm? his mind blowing handsomeness? "i'll murder you."

you blink and feel his breath on your neck again. "do it now, cupcake." then. his maddening warm and soft lips leaves a kiss under your earlobe. you close your eyes. "you have the power to."

"don't wait until tomorrow."

he lifts his head again and there's a smirk with a softness in the corner of it on his face. "or?"

"i might die." you whisper. it is serious to you. you need his lips on yours this very second. with his eyes on yours, telling you every adoration you thought about him for the last couple of months before going to bed, you think might. actually. die.

"who's the dramatic one now, brat?"

[cvnntagious]

:: virgin!chris only wants you to touch him

chris was quick to slide his pants off for you as soon as his brothers had left for the store, both his mom and dad at work. the two of you were completely alone, chris' face reddened at how embarrassingly hard he was in his boxers. "what d'you want, chris?" you asked softly, hand sliding up his shirt to caress his toned abdomen.

he caught your hand in his tender grasp, pulling it down from his shirt as he looked at you beside him. there was a surprising innocence in his eyes for someone who was aching so intensely for you. "touch me," he replied softly, running your hand over his bulge.

"anything else?"

he shook his head, a few of his brown curls falling in front of his eyes with it. "not yet— no," he answered, eyes searching yours for disappointment. "if that's okay..."

you weren't disappointed, though. you were perfectly content with allowing him to ease up into being comfortable in such a vulnerable state with you. for now, you were just happy to be making him feel good.

his breath hitched when you shoved your hand in his boxers, feeling the warmth of it taking ahold of his length. head instantly throwing back when your thumb brushed over his leaking tip, he shivered at your touch. he was so sensitive—you liked it.

maybe it was the intense reaction from such soft touches, or the small pants escaping his parted, pouty lips, but you couldn't help that sense of pride from washing over you. it urged you to make him feel good; better than he already did, really.

you freed his length from the confines of his boxers, taking a good look at it in all its glory. the slight pause made chris want to tell you to stop so he could cover himself up, probably even kick you out and act like nothing ever happened - like you didn't see his dick. he didn't though. as much as he wanted to, he wanted you more. needed you.

when your hand finally started pumping his length, completely unaware of all the anxious thoughts running through chris' mind, they all dissipated immediately. all he could think about now was how good your soft hands felt, body tensing when you made eye contact with him.

his heart started pounding when you opened your mouth slightly, allowing the saliva you'd collected in your mouth to slowly drip onto his already wet cockhead. "a- oh fuck," he breathed, body tensing at the warm fluid being spread and stroked up and down his length.

the pleasure he felt was palpable, and he found his movements becoming more and more involuntary with each slow glide of your hand up and down his length. the agony was almost unbearable, feeling his high so out of reach. "please," he began, hips now starting to jerk up for friction he wasn't able to get with your languid movements.

you smiled at him, causing him to shift uncomfortably under your gaze. "faster, hm?" you asked, picking up the pace with each stroke.

chris nodded, lips pursing as sweet hums of pleasure filled his room. "need- need to... fuck, gonna cum," he warned, abdomen flexing and legs tensing as he moaned louder than intended.

when he felt your soft thumb brush over his now aggravated tip, it sent him over the edge. his head flew back, mouth making an 'o' shape as he fucked your hand, orgasm crashing over him. groans escaped his lips, and he felt his face flush red with embarrassment, allowing you to milk him dry of his sticky fluids.

his head lifted again as soon as your strokes on his length slowed, gaining the courage to look at your cocky grin again. that was, until he was met with your tongue hoovering over his cum-covered cockhead. it practically begged you to leave it alone, judging by the way it was almost red in color under all his white semen.

"wha-" he started, only to be cut off by his body spasming when your tongue met his sensitive tip, a long whine following it.

w/c : ?? a/n : gonna be taking a small break from writing soon, but i'll still answer asks, so send em on in. divider by issysh3ll

[do-you-have-a-flag]

text of the above screenshots:

Some further clarification about things people were asking in the comments.

Tina spoke fluent English without an accent. She's either native or has been speaking it since very young.

We'd also spoken early that morning when she arrived, over the phone (woke me up where I was sleeping upstairs, but whatever, I'd rather too much communication than too little), because she wanted to clarify about the squash. She specifically acknowledged the concept of squash, and asked if it was near the kale she was seeing. I said that sounded right, and that it should be labeled. She said okay. I reminded her that if she couldn't find it, to ask my roommate for help.

The rats were on the top shelf of our freezer-top fridge so that you'd have to be leaning down to even see it, and no kale would be in its vicinity. Three people live in this house, so it's always full. Lots of options if you're gonna go rogue.

She didn't know I had snakes, unless she'd seen them in their bins in the living room, which is possible (it looks like a filling cabinet with clear plastic drawers and sometimes they come to the front). They're very quiet pets and don't even count with my landlord, so sometimes I forget to mention them when people ask about pets, as they usually are asking due to allergy concerns. So when the agency asked, I was focused on our cats. They know now, of course. But Tina had no reason to think she should be preparing a pet's meal. That was never established as something among her duties when I met with her and an agency nurse the day before to go over everything.

Also, snakes can't eat cooked meat, even if it's safely prepared. It will make them sick. So they could not still be used.

The discovery: storytime

If you want to see video evidence: investigation

UPDATE (added here since the sub automod was being weird):

Apologies for the late update. As I’m sure you can imagine, the last week was exhausting.

This is just to give what closure I can and go over how my last conversation with Tina went, the day after the incident.

When I was on my way to the cafe to escape the house last Tuesday, she actually texted me with an apology, saying “I’m so sorry, I feel so stupid and bad, this never happened before,” and offering to pay me back for the rats and the dish as I had mentioned the rats were expensive. Which is honestly more than I was expecting, but, “never happened before?” Well I sure fucking hope so! Though that begs the question, why now? Why me? I don’t know if there’s a good answer.

We agreed that she could come by the next day in the evening with the money ($15 for the rats, $30 for the dish). She declined doing Venmo or something similar. Possibly didn’t know how to use things like that, since I estimate by her comment of her grandson being my age, she had to be at minimum in her late 60s, probably older. I admit I was hesitant to have her return to the scene of the crime when it was still so unclear what her motivations had truly been, but I wouldn’t be home alone, and she had seemed sincerely contrite, if a bit defensive over the degree of my outrage.

Before the appointed time, she called me to tell me she was on her way, and then made, of all things, a request of me. She would be bringing by her time sheet, and could I sign for the two days she’d been there? I was baffled. The audacity of asking me a favor when our meeting was about her making amends, claiming that her time with me should count as doing her job, AND implying that her paying me back was to get something from me. Maybe that was why she wanted to do cash?

But at this point, I just wanted the whole thing over and done with, and it’s not like I was the one who’d be paying her, just my insurance. It was also confusing because…did that mean that she was still employed?? Surely if she’d been fired, she’d be less willing to play nice with me, would probably be blaming me more for how it affected her. At the very least, she seemed like the kind of person who would bring it up to make me feel a little bad. But maybe she wouldn’t, I don’t know. It was also strange because out of the three (now four) HHAs I’ve had at two different companies, none have ever asked me to sign a timesheet for them. Maybe some of y’all more familiar with the inner workings of these companies can shed some light here.

I was nervous when she showed up. There's something about seeing someone do something so truly unhinged that shatters the basic trust that this fellow human won’t do something else crazy, maybe something more harmful than running one out of the house. So I checked her hands through the window before I opened the door. She had two plastic bags half-full and bundled up to hide their contents under each arm. Strange choice for a weapon, so I chose faith.

There was no more apology upon greeting, she mostly just seemed in a hurry, civil but brusque, like she wanted this behind her as much as I did. While she was rummaging, I asked how she’d disposed of the dish (the follow-up to I made a video about linked in the original post if you want to see, you sickos). And as expected, the first thing she brought out was her timesheet. Sure enough, there was a place for patient signature, and as I took it and the proffered pen and set it against the doorframe to sign, I said, “We said $45, right?” just to confirm.

The look she gave me as she reached into her jacket was SO offended, and her civility evaporated. Like I was questioning her word, and how dare I. “I’m gonna pay you, I said I would.” Calm down, paranoid, was the tone.

It took all my self-control not to respond with, “You also said you’d cook the squash.” Like, yeah, lady, wonder why I would want to triple check anything we agreed to at this point. My bad.

But she did in fact hand me the wad of bills (after I’d handed back the timesheet and she’d checked it), and then she left in a bit of a huff. I just told her to take care of herself to her back.

At this point, after interacting with her again, I am of the opinion that this was simply from some form of psychosis, either a mental health thing or senility, I don’t know. Even talking to her, things were just a little off. Hard to describe, but it was like part of her attention was always somewhere else. I do not believe this was malicious or “weaponized incompetence” as many were saying in the Tik Tok comments. She had nothing to gain from this, and clearly she wants to keep her job. At this point, after the shock and horror has worn off, I just feel kind of bad for her. She clearly shouldn’t be in this profession (which, btw, she said she’s been in for thirty years??), so I more blame these companies for not being more thorough in their hiring and training process. Psych evals should be par for the course, surely.

And I know I probably shouldn’t have, it’s none of my business, but it was eating at my conscience to not express my concern. Because I don’t know what’s going on in her life. When it comes to things like reality breaks and changes in behavior, it can be really hard to see for ourselves, and maybe the people in her life aren’t saying anything, and so she’s not seeking the help she needs. So I texted her a little while after she left.

I thanked her for taking responsibility, acknowledged I was butting in, and then brought up how she said this had never happened before and how she’d seemed confused about how it happened. And that if this was a new kind of thing or there’d been other weird things happening, it might be a good idea to talk to a doctor, just in case something else is going on that needs to be addressed, as gently and non-judgmentally as I could think to say. And I ended it with “But if I’m way off base and out of line, and you’re just used to people eating like that, I apologize and wish you the best.” After a day of silence, she sent two texts, copied here:

“K thank you people make mistakes”

“God bless have a good day”

That was and I’m sure will remain the last I heard from her. I’m sorry I can’t recount some detailed confession about how it had all been a nefarious plot by some vengeful ex who’d had their aunt impersonate an aide to poison me. That would have made for a much more satisfying story.

As for my current aide situation, I’m still working with the replacement they sent to me, but have already requested a new one. She’s sane and competent, but alas, it would seem she much exaggerated her English fluency to my coordinator (who sounded resigned to such a deceit). In any other service context, I wouldn’t care, we have translator apps, but I think we’ve seen how critical clear and easy communication can be when one person is relying on another to meet their needs while sick. Others have told me how long it can take to find a good fit, so I guess I’ll just have to keep spinning the revolving door until I do.

Also, I have put in a request for the agency to reimburse me the takeout I had to get myself that day. And the oven has been cleaned and sanitized to within an inch of its life and seems okay now? I dunno, asking for a replacement or suing anyone seems like a lot of hassle (especially when I already have a medical malpractice case in the works).

Thank you to everyone for taking an interest in my harrowing experience and for your support. It legitimately turned this into something more light hearted that I can laugh at now, where it would have remained traumatic otherwise.

May your squash always be squash.

§ § ----==---- [🐀🐀🐀]

Text recounting of the full events below but oh my god please watch this person explain the wildest thing happening to them

[image text]r/trueoffmychest post by CptnSpaceCase

Today my aide cooked what should not be cooked

I have to get this out, because today feels like an actual nightmare I keep expecting to wake up from.

I'm disabled, and need help with stuff around the house. Today was the second day with a new agency and new home health aide, "Tina." I set it up so she would come by in the morning while I'm sleeping (insomnia is killer), and I texted her last night what I would need done today.

One of those things was to roast some precut squash I'd gotten so I could have it with my salads and pasta. I was very clear in my instructions: what it looked like, where it was in the fridge, how to use the oven, how to cook it. I also have a roommate who was up and told her she could ask them for help if she couldn't find anything. Or come get me if truly necessary.

Now, I have three pet ball pythons. They eat rats that I thaw from frozen in the fridge in a reusable plastic bag. Yes, that's where I'm going with this.

Tina couldn't find the squash, and so, obviously, that meant she should roast the first other thing she could see that was technically also encased in plastic, in a completely different area of the fridge. The FUCKING RATS. In butter and salt, in my nice baking dish.

And like, that's insane all on its own, but if you're going to cook any animal, you should at least clean and skin it first, right??? Like, do the crazy, disgusting thing properly so I can respect the effort, instead of sticking them in as is. Fur and guts and all.

And the smell. Good God baby Jesus the SMELL. It woke me up and had me gagging the moment I opened my bedroom door. Definitely not squash. Or food-smelling for that matter. At first I thought the squash had spontaneously rotted overnight and she'd tried to cook it anyway. That would have been slightly less insane and much preferable.

I had to pull it out of her what she was cooking instead when she said she couldn't find it (it was in plain sight), had to open the oven and see my snakes' dinners in place of my own and still couldn't process what the fuck was happening, what I was looking at and smelling. I don't like yelling at people and generally avoid it. Today was a day for exceptions. And at the end of my half-crazed, dissociative rant, I told her to get the whole dish and its contents and herself out of the fucking house. And to not come back.

Suffice to say, I've contacted the agency to report it and am requesting a new aide. Now I'm sitting at a cafe trying to calm down and eat something despite the scent memory that's taken up permanent residence and turning my stomach. The whole house reeks like musty, sewage-dipped pork that had been left out for a whole day before being cooked in rancid oil, and I'm not sure Febreeze is gonna cut it. I don't want to go home. 🫠😭

[gamblersdoll]

spit, wlw, scissoring, dildos, slapping, hair pulling, multi hcs, blindfolds, smoking weed.

a/n: i am seeing so many clips of s2 of arcane and all i wanna do is beat my meat and cry. HELP.

𝒱𝐼 (𝒱𝒾𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓉)

vi was a switch, at times becoming so needy when it was ovulation week and her clit throbbed from basically every and anything you did— (smells, taste from your lip gloss, how you did your hair), and she became more loose when it came down to the t.

but with vi? she could be impatient, the leaning dominance from her spilling from her actions and kissing your lips like she would die soon. moreover, her knee would always end up between your thighs. “cmon, baby,” she always whispered when she wasnt getting what she wanted. she cupped your jaw, essentially forcing your tongue out to lick a flat line up yours and to feel your folds— that were more than drenched, pulsate when she moved your hips back nd forward. “can feel her talkin to me..”

“vivi..” you moaned, surprised by how she knew where your specific body parts were at. you feel the back of her blind fold, to see if possibly it cane loose— yet, it was still tight. “cheater.” you chuckle, she does too. “want to taste you.. is that okay?”

“sounds good.. wanted you to for so long.”

once she was on her back, it was all over when your lips met her clit. she jumped a little bit, not having anyone other than caitlyn and her prison wife touch her.. it felt so surreal all over again, and to have her pierced nipples be tugged softly and played at.

she feels everything, especially with the christina that she pierced herself.

but— she feels it all, how many taste buds you had, how many nerves you know you could feel. “like that, vi?” you asked so softly for her, looking up to see her blindfolded head nod so eagerly. that was until the needy shit pressed your head down to force your tongue in her pulsing hole. “mmff!”

“savor it all— please, don’t go.” she muttered, her hips thrusting up to your mouth by accident. her hands move for her, softly slapping your cheek to egg you on. “sorry..”

“shh, shh.. its okay, mama.”

𝒥𝐼𝒩𝒳

jinx was almost like you, being so far gone when it came to your sessions and how heated the both of you get. she sees you as some big mistress that always called shots.

when in reality, you were a bottom that loved being pleased and to be used.

so all she knew to do was get a double ended dildo, to please herself and to please you. it feels even better doing it with someone who was eager for her, for you. because when you moved simultaneously, rhythmically, in sync— your clits bumped together. and when you pulled away? you could feel each others slick separate in despair.

“hnng..!” she squealed in her throat, a hand covering her mouth and she squeezes a breast of yours. “you— you look so pretty, sweetie.” she mumbled, a red hue across her face from the heat, and from the fact shes got a dildo inside both herself and you. she moans softly, tweaking at your nipple and her own.

“jinx..” you mewled, feeling your legs spread open moreover to have jinx get deeper— to get closer to you. and once she does— her slender body leans up to yours and her plump, yet slightly chapped lips press against your fuller and darker lips. “feels so much better with you this close.”

she nods eager, her pretty pinkish purple irises that look like does eyes in this moment staring at you. “your.. your not gonna deny me a—“ you try to ask, but she rolls her hips faster at a desperate pace. “jin—xx!” you say in surprise, eyes becoming heavy and lidded by time when you feel her tongue lick up your throat.

“want this forever, yknow?” she asks, sucking on your neck and holding your hands.

𝒮𝐸𝒱𝐼𝒦𝒜

sevika was a bitch when it came to sex.

shes a brute, never faltering her ego when it had you on your knees and having her look down at you. she beckons you over with two fingers, “crawl,” she reminds you to do. you slowly press one knee before the other, becoming in between her thighs and she tilts your head up. “open,” she commands, slightly pulling at your hair.

“spat!” she spits in your mouth, keeping her grip on your hair as she pulled her jeans off. she was also a weird one, not really wearing drawls when it came to jeans specifically. she steps out of them, pressing your mouth to her brown clit. “thats my girl,” she mumbled, smacking her right hand against your cheek.

“ ‘vika..” you moan with her clit in your mouth, tongue dancing around it for her to pull her lip back by her teeth. “feel good, baby?”

“my favorite girl, being so good.” she praises, sitting down and spreading her legs in a man spread. “hop back to it, if you desperately want to come.” she reminds you, you getting back between her thighs and suckling at her folds. “suck harder, you know how to do this.”

you did, but she keeps slapping your face— and landing blows on your ass. “thats better, behave.” she muses, leaning forward slightly and slipping her ungloved fingers inside your aching walls to your smaller body. “vikaaas..” you moaned, her body getting goosebumps from the vibration. “want you so bad, mama.”

she takes a pull from the joint, drawing a long hit. she keeps the smoke in her mouth, the taste becoming slightly bitter— pulling your head up by your hair with her robo arm to sigh smoke into your mouth. “vika! you know i get more sensitive when im high out’ta my mind!”

“quit yer whinin’, you love that nasty shit you get when youre high.”