#because i have spent most of my life just shitting on myself for wanting to talk about my feelings with other people because i feel annoying

[theflyingfeeling]

fictalkfictalkfictalk

[vilelittlecritter]

If I wasn't so busy all the damn time I'd do commissions, and also the fact I suck major ass at digital and don't have a printer/scanner.

One day, one day I'll steal people's money with mediocre art.

[arolesbianism]

You see the problem with trying to talk to ppl abt oni lore is that most ppl who have read the logs are like on tier 3 while I'm on tier 7. And most ppl past that can't match my freak because of tier 6 being such a massive hurdle. And I theoretically have the power to make tier 6 stop existing and bridge the gap between layer 5 and 7 but that'd require me single handedly updating the wiki and god damn do I not want to do that

[kamileonik]

slowly realising that i think i won’t make it

[heehoothefool]

"Are cishet ace/aro men queer" holy fuck you people are just awful huh. Really just showing that we haven't moved past the Basically Straight ideology.

As a cisgender, heteroromantic ace individual myself, allow me to tell you a little bit about myself.

I spent most of my life wondering what was wrong with me. I knew very quickly that many of the people who confessed their love for me would not want me the moment they found out I was averse to sex. I would daydream of various men I'd had crushes on over the years spending time with me in ways I was comfortable, but rarely did I confess my feelings because a simple saying rang in my ears.

"You'll never find a man who will love you without sex."

And the people in my Instagram DMs who would call me baby and then ghost me after they figured out the flag in my profile picture spoke volumes to that. I was only desirable because I was physically attractive. No one wanted to love my personality, not if they couldn't also fuck me. It just wasn't an option.

I have been ostracized. I have been told I don't belong. The straight community does not want me because I do not actively desire sex. The very people you're trying to lump me in with because I'm "basically straight" will not claim me because I am not like them.

I am The Other. I am Less Than. I am Strange. I am Queer.

A person born male, who identifies as a man, and is attracted to women exclusively but only in one way (romantic) or the other (sexual) is queer.

That is a man who either does not desire sex, and is therefore Not Really A Man by society's gender standards and expectations, or does not desire a romantic relationship/wife/girlfriend and is called a manwhore dirtbag who sleeps around or is asked eternally by family and maybe partners who don't get it When He's Going To Get Married.

To be straight requires you to identify with your gender assigned at birth, to feel romantic attraction to the opposite gender exclusively, to feel sexual attraction to the opposite gender exclusively, and to only desire monogamy in that relationship.

A man, born a man, who is not romantically attracted women, but sexually attracted to them, is not straight.

A man, born a man, who is romantically attracted to women, but not sexually attracted to women, is not straight.

There is no debate. Yes, even the Demisexuals and Demiromantics. Yes, even the ones who are capable of feeling these things only under the right conditions.

They're all queer. Every single one. Because they deviate from the idea that Every Man Wants To Fuck A Woman And Be A Loving Husband By Default.

If you disagree with any part of this post get the fuck off my blog. If you try to start shit in the notes or in my asks you're getting blocked.

We're here. We're queer. Fucking deal with it.

[trashbaget]

how do people hate love?

love is such a happy warm and gentle feeling. it is quite probably the happiest emotion i can understand to possibly exist, and i do not understand how people can just detest it. 

and i don’t mean in a romance-repulsed aromantic sort of way, or even in the jokey “y’all are so sweet and lovey it’s disgusting” way. but a genuine, deep-seated hatred of love? 

how do people hear even a mere suggestion at the possibility, a damn joke about dating somebody in a hypothetical future, and say point blank, i don’t care i just don’t want to hear about it. 

just.. how can people hate love so much they insist on putting others down for talking about a feeling that makes them happy?

[biolums]

my mental state: a moodboard.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not having time to read my mutual's writing?

Met a mutual on here, bonded through fanfic, have been tight with them for a few years with pretty much no bumps in the relationship, just overall had a really good time hanging around them when I could. We both write a lot and share our writing, and occasionally we talk about that writing/workshop it in passing.

In the past few years I've gone through a ton of life changes. Most notably I went from a multi-person household to a single-person one, and I've been living alone in a prohibitively costly city for a while now working 40 hour weeks and barely scraping by. As soon as the transition started I spent the last of my free income on a shitty little laptop so I could still write, putting down words on my bus/train commutes in the morning and quite literally writing on my breaks at work because I feel insane when I can't create. I bring this up to really stress that I don't have the time for the hobby, I force myself to make the time and even then it never feels like enough.

The only thing I can really stand to do with my 3 hours of free time at night is hang out with my moots online. I'm an extrovert so being around people recharges me. If I don't have designated social time I get super depressed and can pretty much feel my soul withering away. I also feel like I should probably mention that I kinda have a slew of mental issues, personality disorders and PTSD and AuDHD and the works. Point being, shit is rough my dude, but I am a person who likes to work hard and face challenges head on and even though we strugglin, we doing it with a positive outlook.

But! I am an incredibly solution-oriented person and I have found what I personally believe to be a good balance. No one should have to live like this, but I do, and I have found a way to be happy. My writing and my social time is all load-bearing. It is not something I just choose to do on a whim, it's all planned and scheduled and I adhere to those routines very strictly because, I cannot stress this enough, I will go fucking bonkers if I don't.

I'm mutuals with a lot of writers obv, and I sadly don't have time to read their work anymore, unless I get some extra time on my days off or something gets cancelled or like, I end up taking a vacation. I carry a great amount of guilt for this, though, even though I logically know it's reasonable. I try to support them where I can, cheer them on when I see them writing and tell them how cool their ideas sound, hype them up even when I can't actually read & review.

One of the things I do is sometimes I leave a kudos on fic I haven't read. I'm not trying to be ingenuine, and if they asked me I'd tell them like 'Oh I didn't read it yet, just wanted to show support!' but to me it's kinda like ripping a paper tab off a poster so that other's feel inclined to do the same. Plus my pals get a little email and a hit of serotonin.

Except one of my acquaintances, the one I mentioned at the start here, saw that I left kudos on a couple pieces another mutual of mine wrote this year. They more or less blew up my DMs with a ton of accusatory (like, literally presented like a 'GOTCHA!') stuff about how I was selective in who's fic I read, more or less implying that I secretly held some sort of grudge or negative feeling toward them and was making the conscious decision not to read or interact with their writing because of. Something, I don't actually know what they were trying to say. They also told me they vented to their friends about this MULTIPLE times, but they never once approached me to let me know they were feeling paranoid or neglected, they literally just took the most bad faith reading of it possible and then presented that to me like it was something I intentionally did, while the whole time I was unaware.

I tried to explain to them the kudos thing, that I didn't do it to every story, just ones I caught/noticed in my busy schedule. And I laid all this out and asked, multiple times, what free time am I supposed to read with? They didn't answer, and doubled down, kept trying to show me 'proof' that I was shorting them and no one else. Once they started to realize how wrong they were they backed down, but they didn't really apologize, or admit they were wrong, and they tried to end our relationship and left every single server we were in together. Because of some other unrelated stuff going on in my life, I didn't really consider them to be a close friend, but they were someone I really held dear and would've walked through hell for if they'd asked.

I still feel like there is something I'm missing here, and that's why I wanted to ask if I'm TA. I'm a pretty good communicator but one of the things I told myself when talking down my disordered thoughts (guilt about this prior) was "no one in their right mind would use reading fanfic as a metric for friendship." Now that I've had that exact thing happen, I'm starting to think maybe those thoughts weren't so disordered. Maybe this IS a big deal, and I should think about it more, but I don't even know what the solution to that would be. I just. Don't have time to read something lovingly crafted and appreciate it for what it is. All the hours in my week are used up, I'd have to lose sleep for this and with my mental health the way it is that is not an option.

Feel free to be a brutal, my skin is thick. Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

[gguk-n]

Luxury in Love's blind spot (Arthur Leclerc x fwb!reader)

[Set up- Reader is the grand-daughter of one of the richest man in the world. Maybe Arthur and the reader are a bit of a red flags in this.]

Summary- It’s never a good idea to get into a friends with benefit situation with an attractive man. You’ll only have your heart broken

Ending

[Reader's POV]

The first time me and Arthur met was on my birthday. I was out with a couple of friends in Monaco when I met Arthur in a club; I was a little tipsy and he was cute and too attractive to not take home for the night. I was drunk and horny and Arthur was willing to entertain me.

That night Arthur and I, ended up in my bed with some of the best sex I've ever had. This turned into a proper agreement; I was literally flying back to Monaco just to fuck Arthur with some of the most expensive gifts I could get my hands on. It was how I showed my love and appreciation, I told myself. I had become exclusive to Arthur. This felt like those stupid books where the reader falls in love with her friend with benefit when they explicitly said they shouldn't. But what was I supposed to do. The only person in my life that seemed to genuinely care about me was him. He would text me asking if I had food, or how the classes were. Sometimes, I wished I was doing my Masters in Monaco and not the UK but the flight was quite short. So, I would constantly be back in Monaco whenever he was around.

————————————————————————

Arthur was in the UK due to the race. I was very happy that we would get to hang out. I had tried to invite him over to family gatherings, as a friend obviously since I realised that I had started liking him. But he had always been busy due to the race or for some other reason. I felt a little disappointed but what could I do. He had apparently never mentioned me to his family; I only found that out when I went to meet him at the hotel when he was in the UK.

I handed the keys to my Porsche, to the valet and walked towards his Hotel room with a large bouquet of flowers, a box of his favourite chocolates from Italy, a new Rolex and a separate bag with some more chocolates for his brothers. I pressed the button to his floor on the elevator which took me there. I walked towards his room; knocking the door. A shocked Arthur opened the door. "Hi!!" I greeted, I wanted to hug him but my hands were full. "Why did you come here? I told I'd meet you at your place." Arthur muttered. "I wanted to surprise you." I exclaimed. "How did you get my room number?" he asked. "You told me silly, a couple days back, remember. Now, my hands hurt. Can I put this down?" I asked. Arthur reluctantly let me in. I saw both his brothers sat on the bed and chair. I placed the stuff on the table and greeted them. They looked at me confused. Arthur stepped in and told them I was a friend and that we would be leaving now. I handed them the bag of chocolates I got for them. "This is for you, as an apology. I'm gonna be stealing Arthur away for a couple days now." I giggled. "And these are for you, darling." I continued, placing the bouquet in Arthur's hands. He pulled me away, "Why'd you get all this?" he questioned. "I always get you stuff when I visit." I mumbled. "Well, you didn't have to. Let's leave." he dragged me out without even greeting his brothers good bye.

--------------------------------------------------——

The day of my graduation is when shit hit the fan. My family couldn't make it because my younger sibling was graduating and a Master's wasn't even a big deal they said. I asked Arthur if he could come but he was busy too. So, I spent my graduation alone. Until I got a call from Arthur the next day, so instead of flying back home, I flew to Monaco.

We hung out at Arthur's place getting drunk. "You don't usually get this drunk." Arthur commented. "I just wanna forget everything" I slurred. I reached out and pressed a kiss against his lips. "Let's get you some water." Arthur said getting up from the sofa. "I only need you" I said while pulling him back down. Arthur laughed, "sure, but only when you're sober." I straddled his lap while cupping his cheeks, "Please, don't leave, like everyone does." I begged with tears in my eyes. "I'm not going anywhere." Arthur whispered. "Promise?!" "Promise" he replied. "Because I love you so much" I mumbled. "You don't know what you're saying" Arthur sighed. "Drunk words are sober thought, babe." I replied. "Let's talk about this when you're sober." he suggested. "I don't think I'll have the courage to tell you this when I'm sober. I love you Arthur Leclerc, I have for a while. Sorry for breaking the agreement. I just couldn't help falling for you when you were so nice to me. But I know you don't feel that way. I've seen the way you are ashamed to be seen with me. That's the reason you've never invited me to your races or introduced me to your family or met mine, matter of fact." I rambled. "I-I-I" Arthur stammered. "It's ok sweet heart. I would be ashamed to be seen with me too." I let out a dry laugh. The lump in my throat was bigger and my eyes hurt. "I wish you loved me." I sighed "If you ever truly cared for me for even a moment then you'll reject me. So that I can finally move on from you." I suggested. "I'm sorry, I can't love you the way you want me too." Arthur said. Those words pierced my heart like a knife, I wiped away the tears that had started falling from my eyes.

This whole conversation had sobered me, I got up and started grabbing my stuff. "Where are you going?" Arthur asked. "Home, Arthur." I replied. "It's so late, stay the night." he requested. "It's ok, my assistant will come pick me up. Don't worry about me" I said while stumbling out of the door on call with my assistant.

[punkpandapatrixk]

❣️How Abnormal Are You in Love? ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Don’t be too hard on yourself with this PAC. Everybody in this world’s pretty much abnormal anyway. We all want something that’s extremely rare in this world: Love. Sometimes, we go crazy after mistaking shit for Love. But we all heal. Eventually, we all learn to love more healthily and sanely. And really, that’s all that matters. The crazy is also part of the character development~♥︎

☆♪°・.

‘Hey, actually, when was it that I began to realise that there’s no such thing as forever? Even so, I’m prouder than anybody else about the fact that the days we spent together were at least not a lie.

Even though it’s true that the length of time we have lived is only slightly different, just the fact that we met, that we loved, though we may never love each other again… I won’t forget.

Hey, why do I still want you by my side, thinking that I won’t do without you, even though this is hurting me so much? Even so, I became a person who could be grateful for the smallest things in life. It’s because, even the most casual of words were so meaningful between us.

Because we met, because we loved, though we may never love each other again…I’ll be fine with turning all of it into proof that I’ll survive, whilst facing all of truth and reality.

I’m just glad that we met. I’m just glad that we loved. Though we may never see each other again… I won’t forget.’

☆♪°・.

Those are words from Ayumi Hamasaki’s legendary song, LOVE ~Destiny~. At some point in Life, Ayumi said in an interview, ‘I loved one man so much that I destroyed myself.’ I can’t help but think this song could be about…it? Maybe hahah Just a vibe, gals~♡

SONG: LOVE ~Destiny~ by Hamasaki Ayumi

MOVIE: Snakes and Earrings (2008)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – What I Can’t Let Go Of, Really, Is My Pride…

VIBE: kiss by Chara

what is, Love? – 4 of Swords

Well, it seems quite obvious your past was somewhat chaotic. I think throughout childhood you felt like you were crossing a battlefield or had to fight the stormy seas all by yourself. Because of this, you deeply crave a Love that can put an end to all of those noises. In fact, it’s only fitting. Deep down you’ve always known that Love is something that’s pure, sweet and gentle; that it’s supposed to put you at ease. You understand that the world is in chaos because nobody has Love in their hearts.

You, never wanted to be like those grownups who were fighting with their own spouses. Even if you’re young, you feel like an Old Soul—the only one who seems to truly understand what Love is and is not. And you see that 99% of people literally don’t know what Love is, let alone how to love right. And you’re afraid. What if you can’t find that one person who can love you right?

Deep in your subconscious, you have these standards and ideals you desperately want to maintain. But nobody you’ve ever met seems to understand where you’re coming from. What you want is something so pure. People are rarely pure of heart, so nobody gets it. And it feels incredibly lonely. And at some point, you might’ve begun to doubt if your standards are even fair…

why do you chase, Love? – King of Wands Rx

So you grew up a bit and began to wonder what might happen if you lower your standards…a bit? You want to experience passion, right? You’re seeing all these peers around you kissing and holding each other and you crave that, too. You know very well it’s not like they’re in love—they’re just silly, infatuated, hormonal fuckers; but you wonder how it would feel to be intimate with someone. To actually have someone want you like that. To be wanted. To be held. To be kissed. To be…loved. No matter how shallowly.

Now you’re willing to look for someone passionate. You could try with a puzzling character. You like that kinda shit. Any kind of an intriguing fucker with some semblance of a mystery; making you curious to dive deep into their side of crazy. How do I figure out your particular brand of bullshit? Anybody you can’t immediately figure out would excite you to a point of insanity. And you thought this was happiness. You thought, this level of excitement surely must be happiness. Perhaps…even Love? Otherwise…

How do you explain this feeling that suddenly strikes, rattling your heartstrings, making you realise that there’s somebody in this world you’d want to care for other than yourself? Just the idea that you even fantasise about growing older with this mysterious fucker… How is this not, Love? And if this isn’t Love…what is? How else are people supposed to know happiness if this excitement alone isn’t enough?

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Cups Rx

To begin with, you’re not one to trust easily. It takes a lot for you to allow someone to see your vulnerable side. And when you go in, you go all in. It may not feel like it immediately because you’re cautious, but once you’re in…because you feel sure of someone…you’re in deep. Too deep it feels like you’re drowning in this whole situation, if anything. And you’re proud of how much you’re able to give.

And…you’re generally proud of your boundaries and the standards and ideals you’ve imposed upon yourself and others. So, the fact that you’ve given so much, revealed so much to someone who wouldn’t be there for life, is beyond frustrating. It’s world-shattering, at least. What have I been in this situationship/relationship for if it ain’t gonna last?!?! I can’t just let it die like that! Maybe I’m doing something wrong?! I must’ve! Lest none of this would’ve happened…

When Love dies, it feels so shameful. It’s a shame you trusted the wrong fucker. It’s a shame someone was able to see you that vulnerable. It’s disgusting that you thought this was The One. What was I thinking? Now everything becomes clear. It’s not the loss of that person’s Love you’re crying about. If you’re being honest now, you couldn’t care less that such a loser’s gone from your world. If anything, it’s such a relief. It was just the shock from knowing you made a mistake that made you cry… It’s OK now.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻💜

sacrifices I’d made – Green Magus (John Magus)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Ambition

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – I Can’t Tell If I’m Passionate or Just Immature

VIBE: Boys & Girls by Hamasaki Ayumi

what is, Love? – Ace of Pentacles Rx

To begin with, you’re not exactly a rational person. Not saying you’re dumb! You just have a lot of passion for something that’s unexpected or foreign. You like mysteries and you aren’t afraid to dip your toe in uncharted waters. This desire could’ve developed from having a childhood that felt constricted tho. I think you grew up surrounded by so many rules and laws and forbidden things and that’s how you developed a taste for, DANGER~

It’s exciting, from time to time, to think about throwing all your caution to the wind and breaking all rules. You want to disappoint. If you’re being honest, you’re damn tired of following everybody’s whims and concerning yourself with their expectations. What about what I want?? You want to live. You want to feel alive. There are so many exciting things outside of your everyday Life, why can’t you have any of that? At some point, you could’ve dreamt of being rescued from your Tower by a handsome daredevil of any kind of a fucker.

If that fucker happens to be handsome and rich, even better. But that doesn’t really matter. You just want someone brave enough to approach you and actually uproot you from your boring Life. Surely, Love can do that to a person…? I don’t need stability, let alone predictability; what I want is a romantic hero who’ll take me on a grand adventure of Love! And if that daredevil happens to be dumb…

why do you chase, Love? – 9 of Swords

In many ways, you’re totally not an innocent person. You want to hurt. If whoever daredevil tries to fulfil your fantasies of being rescued from your miserable Tower happens to be dumb, you’re gonna be having a field trip! XD You want to terrorise and traumatise a person, really. It’s vengeance for all the years that you were serving others. Now, it’s your time to be served. It doesn’t even matter if they don’t worship you. You’re ready to find another dumbfuck to toy with. You’re hardly ever sincere anyway~

Why bother with sincerity? Ever since you were a kid, you’ve observed that none of the adults you knew was ever sincere. What even is Love? I think you know of it conceptually. But what exactly is its purpose? What exactly is so good about it? And how? How exactly must one be in order to attain it? You don’t believe in it some days. You deeply crave it some days. You could die for it some days. You want others to die for your Love most days.

Life is confusing. Love is confusing. Sex is easy. Money is easy. Food and jewelleries are easy. Let’s live easily. Life is exhausting if you think too much about everything that could go wrong. I’m done feeling terrible about my own existence, so I want someone to spin me around and make me forget. That’s ideal. Is generally your motto when chasing… Love♡

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Wands Rx

You don’t care about it. You don’t particularly care about losing people. It’s expected. If anything, because you’re never serious with quite anybody anyway, ghosting is the best way to go about it. You’re the type to ghost, block, and you don’t even mind if you’re the one ghosted or blocked. Basically, you just don’t want any contact with someone you’ve lost interest in anyway. So that only makes it easier for you.

In many ways, I think you sometimes regret being this kind of a callous person. There are days you wonder if you’ll become someone more sincere. You’ve wondered what it would take to actually love someone. To actually be loved back. Surely that must be so nice. You want to be happy, honestly. But it feels like a distant daydream. You don’t particularly understand how two people can be happy living together. After all, you find people exhausting most of the time.

All you know is that you’ve lived with yourself for the longest time. And if you have to compromise or sacrifice anything…you’re not willing. You’ve sacrificed shit before, a looong time ago, and you got nothing back in return. You gave someone a rose and they gave you back thorns and strangled you with it. Surely that can’t be happiness. Two people who don’t know how to love can’t be happy together. Life is better lived alone.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻❤️

sacrifices I’d made – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Innocence

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Damn, Why’s Everybody Crying for Love?

VIBE: Sunglasses by Utada Hikaru

what is, Love? – 2 of Cups Rx

Uhm…you’re a comical Pile for sure. Your psychology is so complex, although it’s also super straightforward (to you), but some people are not gonna have an easy time figuring out if you’re sincere or not. Most of us have got a lot of exposure to tragical romance, right? A lot of people get deep and insane in Love. And here you are wondering why everybody’s crying for Love. Why is everybody suffering in the name of Love? That’s not Love. People are silly for falling continuously for the wrong people. It’s all a Game for them. Me? I don’t play games.

But you do! Everybody does when it comes to falling in Love, to various extents. That’s what’s really fun about falling in Love. If you could face yourself, you’d realise you have a bit of a God-complex within this context. In the sense that…because Love and romance actually aren’t such a big deal to you, and somehow, you have an almost all-too-natural inclination to attract the right people, you can’t really empathise with those who cry in the name of Love.

For some though, if the above doesn’t really resonate, you’re the type that has an innate understanding that you must protect yourself from falling into those tragical romantic setups. You have a highly developed sense of boundary and you keep high standards for what kind of a romantic relationship you want. You’re kinda similar to Pile 1 in this case, but you most likely haven’t experienced sacrificing your standards for, EXPERIENCE~

why do you chase, Love? – 10 of Wands

In comparison to certain types of people in the world, you’re not exactly a dreamy type. When it comes to relationships you think straight towards building a matrimony with someone. You’re a traditionalist in a sense. You’re the based kid who knows that a girlfriend-boyfriend relationship is a training ground for a marriage. You think long-term. You’re realistic like that. But the problem is…you’re totally missing out on the passion of Love itself.

You don’t really see your partner(s) for the person—the Human—that they are. You care only for the practical, pragmatic facts surrounding their reputation or status or whether or not their physical appearance is decent enough. Stuff like that. And the dreamy ones who look at you, look at you with a pang of sadness in their chest, for although you seem responsible and blessed…you appear to them as someone who looks at another with an eye of business.

You’re the type that thinks love is an investment. An investment of attention, affection, time and money, and all that shit. That’s not Love; that’s something to be exchanged at the market. The dating market, OMG~

‘Freedom and love go together. Love is not a reaction. If I love you because you love me, that is mere trade, a thing to be bought in the market; it is not love. To love is not to ask anything in return, not even to feel that you are giving something—and it is only such love that can know freedom.’ – Jiddu Krishnamurti

what happens when Love, dies? – 6 of Pentacles

When Love dies, you celebrate. You’re wise enough to know that Life doesn’t end just because you broke up with somebody, even in terms of friendship. You’re spiritually mature enough to know you’ve learnt from the experience, and now, you’re just going to prepare for the next big thing to experience. Life goes on without a hitch like that for you, for the most part. I can’t tell if you’re really that spiritually mature or you just don’t give a fuck about emotions LMAO

Not saying you’re a bad person, btw. It just seems like you haven’t got a lot of crazy in your birth chart or that you haven’t experienced a lot of sorrows and soul-shattering heartbreaks, so…it’s kinda just a matter of not having, PERSPECTIVE? Coupled with the fact that you take Life very unseriously seriously…? Like, you’re serious about not being an asshole and wanting to do the socially right thing, but in doing so, you become an annoying insincere jackass in the lives of those who have (or will) dated you XDD

Basically, you’re not the type to get super crazy heartbroken when a relationship ends. You’ve got all of these other blessings anyway. Why would you focus on just the negative, right? In a sense, I believe that’s an incredible spiritual maturity which others are still struggling to figure out XD But yeah…rather than this being something abnormal about you, I think it’s just that your Higher Self designed for you not to experience the dramatic highs and lows of immature romance HAHAH

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻🧡

sacrifices I’d made – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Luck

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[atlabeth]

all of me | luke castellan

pairing: knight!luke castellan x princess!reader

a/n: sooooooo i know that i said i would work on something else but this hit me and suddenly i could not rest until i wrote something for it so you're getting headcanons since i can't formulate proper thoughts. some of this is dialogue but most of this is pure stream of consciousness. im already kind of obsessed w them ?

wc: 3.7k lollll this got away from me but it was so much fun.

warning(s): parental death, fighting, normal royal stuff. fluff, angst, all that good shit

princess!reader and knight!luke

yeah

and they're childhood friends bc they grew up in the castle together

YEAH

luke is the son of a kingsguard and he wants to be just like his mom 

his father is out of the picture (booo) and his mom never really talks about him but she’s raised luke the best she can

shoutout to may castellan, she was the first female kingsguard! and definitely the first to personally guard the king 

you are the heir to the throne and the only thing you're sure of is that you want luke to be in your life

you basically spent all your time together because he was kinda the only one your parents would approve you hanging out with

most of the crownsguard don't have children and those that do have them live with their spouse outside of the palace, and your parents didn't want you spending time with the children of servants

and luke's mom is your father's closest friend because she's the king's personal knight and so everything’s basically already vetted and they don’t have to worry about you accidentally getting murdered by him 

so you and luke basically spend every moment of your free time together!! 

even when you’re not free tbh 

sometimes you beg your tutor to hold your lessons outside so that you can sneak glimpses at the knights training and luke training alongside them 

whenever he sees you, his face always instantly brightens and he will lose focus in whatever tf he’s doing because he’s only thinking about you now 

and instead of either of you doing what you’re supposed to do, you just spend the whole time making faces at each other and trying to grab the other’s attention 

after his mother tries (and fails) to get him back on track a million times and your tutor realizes that you’re never going to listen to her historical prattles they allow the two of you to talk for “FIVE MINUTES AND NO LONGER MY BOY” and your tutor is all “i ask that you do not delay our lessons any further, your highness” 

and tbf you and luke could notttttt care less. you immediately join up and you start teasing him about his form and how he was holding his sword and he just makes fun of you for having to be a princess

“Your form is horrendous, Luke! How do you expect to beat anyone holding a sword like that?” 

“At least I’ll be on the battlefield one day. You can bore our enemies to sleep with your recounts of Aureldan history.” 

“Oh, I bet I could beat you right now. I’ve got royal blood in my veins.” 

“And I’ve got knight’s blood in mine,” he says. “I’ve at least got a sword. That’s more than you have.”

You huff. “Mother says I have to learn propriety before I even think about picking up a weapon.” 

“Do you want to hold mine?” he asks immediately, his eyes lighting up as he offers it over. “It’s just wood because Mom doesn’t want me to hurt myself, but that means it’s safe for you.” 

you do. obviously. 

You’ve got soft hands, untouched by the world, and the sword feels foreign in their grasp as you realize this is in fact the first time you’ve ever held a weapon. You cut it through the air a few times and Luke is grinning wider than ever 

“I think the role of a warrior princess suits you,” he says.

“It is nice,” you muse as you turn it over in your hands, already growing used to the feeling of it. 

“And you look great with it,” he says. “Powerful.” 

“I’d give myself a splinter before I can do anything with it,” you retort as you hand it back to him. “It’s a nice thought, though.” 

His eyes light up. “You should train with us sometime. My mom is the best at teaching— she’d teach you everything you need to know!”

You glance back at your tutor, who is very clearly eavesdropping, and you sigh as you look back at Luke. “Maybe in a few months.” 

Luke’s mother calls his name and it’s obvious that your time is over. You hug each other and promise to meet up as soon as your responsibilities for the day are over, then go back to your respective duties. 

Your tutor takes you inside because she doesn’t want anymore distractions, and you wave at each other like crazy as you’re walking back into the castle.

so yeah. you’re best friends and you have been since you first met as children, and though it is a battle for your betters to keep you on task if you’re near each other, you just light up when you see each other and it actually helps 

You’re learning dining etiquette and if you get told that you’re using the wrong spoon again, you’re going to lose your mind. 

luke is hurrying through the halls to catch up with his mother and you both catch a glimpse of each other. 

your posture straightens, he stops in his tracks, and you both smile at each other. then luke’s mother calls his name again and he’s on his way again. 

spoons aren’t that bad, you think 

you’re mulling over history books in the library that make you want to fall asleep.

luke just happens to be walking past on the way to his chores, and when he spots you, he yells out your name and waves at you. you wave back, and you both stifle laughs as your tutor shushes you 

suddenly, you’re not feeling so down.

Luke is training on his own out in the yard before dinner and he’s about ready to break his sword over his knee because he can not get this damned move right. 

he hears your voice across the way and sees you, all dressed up and with your parents about to get into a carriage. you’re on your way to a ball, he remembers you telling him earlier, and he finds himself smiling. 

You had been complaining about it, and Luke had told you to just think of the two of you hanging out whenever you were bored. You said you were already planning on it.

His smile widens. He’d be thinking of you too, wondering what it would be like for him to attend with you. Dressed in the same gaudy outfits as the rest of the court, having to go through the same dull niceties that you’d been raised on, listening to stories from other royals he couldn’t care less about. 

Standing beside you as an equal. 

Luke’s young, but he already doesn’t care for nobles and their court. But he thinks he would wear any amount of uncomfortable suits and listen to any number of dull proposals for you. 

for the rest of the night, he trains better than he thinks he ever has. 

and of course, you break the rules together. GOD HELP YOUR CHARGES YOU ALWAYS BREAK THE RULES TOGETHER 

your tutor cannot count how many times you’ve slipped out of lessons and she’s found you in the halls talking with luke, him smiling brighter than she’s ever seen as he listens to you go on and on and on 

your mother cannot count all the times you’ve talked about what you and luke did that day instead of describing to her any of the history or arithmetic you were supposed to be learning 

May always keeps watch over her son, but she’s been known to turn a blind eye when Luke thinks he’s being sneaky to go off and see you. 

and of course, sometimes you actually hang out when you’re allowed to hang out lol 

you’ve run around every bit of the palace grounds together, you ride horses together (with parental supervision of course), and once you’re a bit older, you’re actually allowed to practice with luke and the rest of the knights! 

typically, it’s a shorter session with May teaching the two of you, and typically, it ends with both of you ready to die because you’re just kids and even though Luke is a prodigy, you are sooooo bad at swordfighting. it’s honestly not even funny how bad you are at it the first couple of lessons 

But May just pats you on the shoulder and promises to work with you until you’re as good as her. 

(luke pouts and says he wants to be better than you. you forget that you’re holding a sword and just start complaining at each other) 

(“you CAN’T be better than me luke I’m the princess”) (“YES I CAN MY MOM’S THE GREATEST KNIGHT EVER”) (“SHE PROTECTS MY DAD WHICH MEANS I CAN BE THE BEST EVER”) (“THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE”) (“YES IT DOES”) (“NO IT DOESN’T”) (“I’M YOUR PRINCESS YES IT DOES”) 

(the lesson ends when May has to pry you two apart) 

but we haven’t gotten to the knight part. 

because it’s a bit sad. 

what happens to may in pjo canon is awful but 

May Castellan dies when you and Luke are sixteen. A month after your birthday, in fact. Four months after Luke’s. 

(he’s always held those three months over you, especially as you get older.) 

(it doesn’t seem to matter as much now.)  

rumor has it throughout the kingdom that she slowly went insane and then fully lost it, ultimately dying in an attack against the king during a ball that turned out to be a set-up. 

the only one who knows what really happened that night is your father as he was the only other person there at her death that still lives, but he refuses to talk about it, only saying that “Head of the Kingsguard May Castellan died a hero and shall be remembered as such”. 

Luke… does not take it well 

besides the king, he obviously spent the most time with his mother and it was obvious to anyone that she loved him with all her heart and wanted him to follow whatever dreams he may have had 

she’s given a knight’s funeral and you are beside Luke the entire time, holding his hand or him leaning against you as you listen to eulogies or even just sitting next to each other because your presence is enough for him. it doesn’t matter what—you’re always connected in some way, and no one says a single thing. 

he needs you, and you need him. it’s as simple as that. and no one dares to correct the princess when she’s icier than they’ve ever seen her.

You put on that front to protect Luke—you don’t want anyone bothering him, and you don’t want him to have to worry about you at a time like this. 

Because you know he would. He always does. 

When Luke gives his speech, barely able to hold back tears, he looks at you the entire time. he doesn’t tell you, but you’re the only reason he’s able to get through the day. 

Luke becomes a ward of the royal family. 

There’s no chance you’re letting him leave, and Luke doesn’t want to go either. The memories of his mother all around are painful, but he takes some small comfort that she’ll live on in Aurelda forever. 

Your parents have no objection to it—he grew up in the palace anyways, and he can practically provide for himself. You wouldn’t have let them say no. 

You’re thankful beyond words that Luke is still here. Because everything feels like a mess, and things are a little more manageable with him by your side. 

Someone tried to kill your father. They killed Luke’s mother instead. Both of you are broken in different ways.

Obviously, this sparks the beginnings of war both in Aurelda and in Luke’s entire being. 

but that’s a topic for another day. 

May’s death changes your relationship. 

She was his mother, obviously, but you were close to her as well. you could never forget every time she ruffled your hair and complimented your sword fighting, or every time she would acknowledge you in the midst of a crowd with a smile and a nod, or every time she would act like a mother and not a knight. 

she had the best hugs in the entire kingdom. 

But her death changes your relationship because Luke changes. 

He’s angrier. His edges have all sharpened, honed by his own spirit. He softens when he’s around you, but to the outside eye he’s impenetrable. He thinks you’re the only one that understands him. 

Others pity him, fear him, are jealous of him. 

You treat him the way you always have. Like your best friend. 

That’s all he needs. 

And so Luke throws himself into his training, vowing to become the youngest kingsguard in Aureldan history to honor his mother’s memory. He wasn’t able to save his mother, and he needs to become strong enough to protect the ones he loves from anything. 

(You don’t know it, but he thinks of you every time he closes his eyes and sees the night his mother died. He’s in the place of his mother and you’re in your father’s position, and Luke knows that he would sacrifice himself for you every single time.) 

So you don’t have as much time for each other anymore. Luke is on his kingsguard mission, and you’re starting to come into your own as the Crown Princess of Aurelda. 

You can’t sneak out of lessons anymore to go talk with Luke, because you’re starting to learn about the nuances of politics. 

Luke can’t let you interrupt his training, because he’s on a warpath and he won’t be stopped before he reaches his goal. 

You can’t neglect your responsibilities because they’re more than just etiquette or history lessons. War is going to come to Aurelda sooner or later, and you’ve got to be ready when it does.

You’re only sixteen, but neither of you are children anymore.  

But you’re still best friends. Nothing can change that—it’s just changed the way you show it. 

You take your morning walks with your mother past the training grounds, and Luke always smiles at you and salutes no matter what. You bow your head in a very refined, princess-y nod, and you continue on. 

Luke makes sure he’s always the one that gets to deliver news to you, even going so far as to make deals with other servants and messengers just to make sure he gets to see you at least once a day. 

Most of the time, you end up seeing each other at night. Just happening to end up in the kitchens at the same time for a midnight snack that results in hours of talking with each other. Bringing Luke to your balcony to look at the stars together. 

Even some midnight training has occurred together, though you always end up a sweaty mess and having to make a bath for yourself because you can’t alert your servants. Luke says he likes you best when you have that vicious glint in your eye while you’re training with him. 

Luke still has horrific dreams, and though he weathered them on his own for a while, one night he finds himself outside your door. When you open it, seeing his haunted eyes and disheveled appearance, you let him in immediately.

It’s not the first time you’ve slept in the same bed after nightmares, and you know it won’t be the last. 

(You spent the whole week together after his mother’s death. Not even your parents could complain when they saw the change in both of you.)  

And Luke does it. He completes his training, having become one of the fiercest and youngest warriors Aurelda has ever seen. Traditionally, knights are older, but an exception was made for Luke—he’s got the Castellan name and a childhood spent with the greatest knights in the kingdom to back him up.

You’re the first person he tells when he finds out, and your scream of pure joy must have echoed throughout the entire castle. You hug him tighter than he’s ever been hugged before, and for just a moment, in your embrace, he feels like you’re both kids again. 

Weeks from his eighteenth birthday, your father knights Luke Castellan in an official ceremony. 

Not just as a member of the kingsguard, though—he is sworn in as a knight, and as your personal bodyguard. 

Your father didn’t tell you beforehand, and you thank a childhood of courtly influence to keep the shock off your face. One hand tightens ever so slightly into a fist, and you let it out just as quickly. 

You can’t see Luke’s expression, kneeling and head turned downward. You would pay all the gold in the kingdom to know what he was thinking. 

“Sir Luke Castellan.” Your father’s voice booms through the hall, and a shiver even goes down your spine. “Do you swear to serve Aurelda as her loyal knight, through war and peace, through riches and debt?”

“I do,” Luke says. 

“Do you swear to protect the Crown Princess of Aurelda—” your father says your entire title, and for the fifth time you wonder how many middle names a princess needs, “—my daughter—with everything you have in you, until your dying breath?” 

Your breathing stills for the slightest moment. 

Luke doesn’t flinch. “I do.” 

The thought of Luke dying for you is unimaginable. It’s something you’d never ask of him—you don’t think you could live in a world without him anyways. You know it’s what knights are expected to do—for king and country, my life for yours—but that’s for any member of the royal family—any member of the court. 

Luke is assigned solely to your protection. 

And he doesn’t even falter when he bonds his life to yours. 

As soon as the ceremony is over and Aurelda has gained three new knights, you’re on your way to Luke. You don’t care if anyone else wants to talk with the princess, you don’t care if your parents need to tell you something—royal propriety be damned, you need to talk to Luke.

He doesn’t look surprised when you march up to him, but there’s already a different air about him. 

Maybe it’s because in these past couple of years he’s absolutely shot up in height, maybe it’s because his insane training regimen has toned every part of him, maybe it’s because he’s done what no one else has done before, or maybe it’s just because he actually accomplished his goal. 

But when he smiles at you, that crooked slant to his lips that always meant mischief when you were younger, it’s enough to make that train of thought immediately shut down. 

“Princess,” he greets. “I think we’re going to be spending a lot more time together, these days.” 

“Yeah,” you say, the warpath you’d intended to be on fading away almost immediately with his words (and that goddamned smile that will certainly be the death of you someday.) “Maybe this is our way to make up on all that lost time.” 

“...I’d like that,” Luke says. 

“Can I hug you?” you ask wryly. “Or is that unbecoming of a brand new knight?” 

“I don’t think anyone will tell the princess she is doing something wrong,” Luke says. 

So you do. You hug him, and he immediately wraps his arms around you, and you hate that you had any doubt that he would. You’ve always felt safe in his embrace even since you were children, and now that he’s four times as strong and much taller, you feel it more than ever. 

He truly does look the part of a perfect knight. You remember the days of wooden sword fights and afternoons by the lake, wondering what your future awaited, but sure you would be together no matter what. 

You feel like you’ve aged a century since then.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” you say as you pull away. “You’re incredible. I mean— you always have been, but this… It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. So I’m proud of you.” 

Luke brushes his curls out of his face with a gauntleted hand, his smile turning a bit more genuine. “It means the world, princess. You are… one of the main reasons that I even made it up here. So I have you to thank.” 

You feel your cheeks heat. “I haven’t done anything.” 

“You’ve been you,” he refutes. “You’ve stood by my side through everything, and you’ve always been there when I need you no matter what. You’ve done everything.” 

You’re thankful for the sheer sleeves of your gown, because now your entire body feels warm. And maybe that’s why you practically blurt the question out, but it���s been burning in your mind since the moment it happened. 

“Did you know?” 

He frowns. “Know what?” 

“That you would become my personal guard,” you said. “You’ve wanted to be a part of the kingsguard since you were a child, and now…” 

“Princess,” Luke says, “I asked your father for the honor.” 

That throws you off. “What?”

“Do you think he would entrust your wellbeing to just anyone?” he asks. “It’s part of the reason I’ve been training so hard—I wanted to prove to him that I was worthy of the position.” 

“Luke—” you start, but he shakes his head.  

“War is coming to Aurelda whether we like it or not,” he says. “All I want is for you to be safe. This way, I can ensure it.” 

“You said you would die for me,” you say. “You vowed it.” 

“That is generally how knighthood works, yes—” 

“Luke,” you interrupt forcefully. “I don’t want you to die for me.” 

“The goal is for nobody to die,” he says wryly. 

You cross your arms. “You know what I mean.” 

“Your safety is my number one concern, princess,” he says. “That’s all you need to know.” 

You stare at him. He stares back. 

You win, because Luke sighs and shakes his head. “We don’t have to worry about that at the moment. Right now, you have to get back to change before you sit in on an advisor’s meeting with the king and queen.” 

You frown. “How do you know?” 

“I’m your guard,” Luke says. “It’s my job to know.” 

“You were just sworn in!” you protest. 

“And I am always prepared,” he remarks. Luke holds his hand out in a gesture towards the door. “After you, princess.” 

You shake your head as you start walking. You hear Luke’s footsteps start soon after, much heavier than yours in full armor as opposed to your ceremonial dress. “You are ridiculous.” 

“Which is also my job,” Luke muses.

and so luke becomes a knight, but not just any knight.

your knight.

good luck handling that crush on him you've harbored since childhood now.

[leidensygdom]

Continuing my post about why I'm tired of TERFs: Come the fuck on. I spent most of my life back when I thought I was a cis girl being made to feel like shit because I had to get repeated surgeries on my breasts because of a chronic condition. It was other women who told me to reconsider if I wanted to "ruin my tits" and "mutilate myself" and if I couldn't just put up with the unbearable chronic pain it caused.

It was also women who told me I should consider plastic surgery if I ever needed to get a mastectomy, which is something I'll need sooner than later. I was a MINOR when I got told this.

It was ALSO a woman who told me that even if my condition has a 4% chance of turning malignant, I should not get the mastectomy that could reduce that to almost a 0%, because "So many women regret it later".

Now I decide that feminity is not for me, that I'm tired of putting up with it after being told a thousand times about how I'm doing it bad, and now I'm betraying womanhood. I have to hear how they keep talking of any breast surgery as mutilation and "ruining a perfect healthy female body" but I'm the evil one for finding that being non binary suits me better.

All while TERFs repeatedly show they'd rather work with the far right to take everything from trans people, the same groups actively also harm women. They devote their entire existence to harming trans women, who are some of the fiercest fighters for women's rights, and then go silent when pro-lifers fuck up bodily autonomy.

Who in the actual fuck is actually betraying womanhood here?

[partycatty]

was requested to write interviewer!reader by this lovely post so here we are. @super-ssimp

johnny cage > interview

you, a reporter, have some questions for the hollywood heartbreaker. he just can't seem to focus on your questions.

notes: heheheheeggeheegehehegeh he's so fine in the gif i'm gonna shit everywhere

[ masterlist ]

• a box-office smash hit dropped after a long quiet period from hit star johnny cage, back stronger than ever with a movie that blew audiences away with its storytelling and casting. you had to squeeze in an interview with the director, cage himself. you were a part of a big company, front lining with interviews and now face to face with probably one of the most attractive men you'd ever worked with.

• johnny sat in his chair across from you, adjusting his hips ever so slightly in his seat as he holds intense eye contact with you. you return the stare, as hard as it is while a makeup specialist tidied up the powder on your brow.

• "you look great, doll," he's quick to charm, pointing a finger with a grin. "don't sweat this. you'll be fine."

• "i know i'll be," you return his affirmations with your own confidence, a beaming grin on your features that makes his breath hitch. "i've been in this job for nine years, mr. cage. we just haven't met."

• "what.. a.. shame," his voice is teasing, somehow his flirtations come off as honey smooth rather than sleazy. you scoff playfully, earning a laugh from the both of you. two assistants clip microphones to your tops, testing them quickly and hearing a full go-ahead to begin the interview.

• "i'm here with johnny cage, director of the new smash hit 'mortal kombat,'" your voice is smooth, experienced. "i suppose my first question is; what inspired such a story? it's unlike anything we've seen in films."

• the question seemingly didn't register at first, his faraway gaze blocking his thoughts. realizing his flaw, johnny snaps into celebrity mode, "oh, hrm — the ideas that came to me were because of a massive arc in my life. uh — without getting too into it, i was at a low point in the last year, running myself into the dirt. something changed and i wanted to be the new, young, and pretty one behind the camera for once rather than in front of it. i spent the entire summer writing and consulting some friends of mine and we were able to pull this film together based on our relationships and experiences. you won't see anything else like it because there isn't anything else like it. i was inspired by my life, and there is no other johnny cage in this timeline than the one you're talkin' to."

• you nod and agree, face hot at the way his expression lights up with passion as he walks you through his process. "right, and this was after a long hiatus, was it not? there were, rumors, so to speak—"

• "my divorce?" he cuts you off with a glint in his eye as he toys with his ring. "no need to dance around it, i suppose. yeah, different life paths, but i'm a changed man. single and ready to mingle as soon as me and my team crank out some projects we've had in the works."

• "so you confirm yourself to be single? confirming the rumors?" you clarify, leaning forward in interest — whether it was for your own or for the public's, you wouldn't disclose.

• "why?" his question catches you off guard. johnny rests a hand on his chin, tilting his head as he squints. a large grin creeps up onto his lips. "you interested?"

• you tense up, nervously giggling as your eyes dart around the small production team who is trying equally as hard to not laugh at your position. you were trained and professional and yet this man turned you into a blushing mess for all cameras to see. "that's not my question, mr. cage—"

• "—johnny," he interrupts you, pose unmoving. "the pretty ones get to call me johnny."

• what was he getting at? your notecards feel unreadable and your brain's fuzzing from the sudden attention. he was a pretty man, that much was sure, but was he really flirting with you or pushing his behavior for attention? it was hard to tell, his affections were dizzying enough.

• he chuckles at your blank, sweaty stare, your lips opening and closing like the dumbest fish in the tank. you'd been hit on before by interviewees but johnny took the cake without a doubt, from his veiny arms to his touchable hair, all the way to his tight, round—

• "earth to interviewer," johnny's teasing fingers wiggled in your face, grounding you back to the rickety wooden chair and blinding lights. "too much, or not enough?"

• "neither," you lazily protest as you come to. "just didn't... expect all of that." the interview proceeds as normal, with johnny's clicks and compliments littered to keep you flustered right when you regained your composure. it must've been a game to him, how long you're heated over a simple compliment. but it wasn't the compliment necessarily, it was the person giving them.

• it wraps up just as quickly as it started, and the production was being wrapped up the moment you delivered your outro. johnny's suspiciously large, dreamy grin was plastered onto his face for a strangely long amount of time.

• "it was nice working with you," you try to be cordial, it's hard when that smug look is looking back at you, like he's planning something. before you could stick around to figure it out, you spin on your heel with a beet-red blush on your cheeks.

• johnny visibly startles at your sudden turn, reaching forward to grab your wrist before you could fully face away. he flinches at himself and his abruptness, too eager to give away his desperation for just a little more time. he pulls away, scratching his neck.

• "sorry, doll," he gestures toward your wrist, a confused frown on your lips burying his ego for a moment. "just... hey, listen."

• "i'm listening," you cock a brow, stomach flipping at the out-of-script interaction.

• "me and you," he starts with a groaning sigh, struggling to find the words you stole from his throat from one look. "just us two. no cameras, no questions, no divorce — wait —" his slip-up makes you giggle. "no, no, really. lets go out sometime. gimme a shot, whatdya say?"

• "out?" your tone is teasing, a smirk of your own forming on your lips. "you flatter a lowly reporter."

• "you're not lowly," his voice drops down, more serious with a heartfelt smile. "you... make it hard to focus." he's silent for a moment before jumping into his playful attitude. "pick a different career, you're distracting me! but seriously, dinner? movie? not one of mine, i swear!"

• "only if you swear," you grin up at him, feeling far more human with johnny than you had in the interview.

[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Part 8: Time For Something New

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: You give Sy your answer and take steps into the future.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, ANGST, FLUFF. The porn part of this chapter got away from me y'all. I was as surprised as Sy. Angst, fluff, passion. Sex in committed relationship. Mirror sex, fingering, clit slap, Sir kink, Mrs. Kink, dirty talk, cream kink, size kink, raw p in v, oral sex (f receiving), praise/degredation kink, command kink, Sy in the workplace, hard hat kink, toxic construction worksite, jealous Sy… omg.

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the eighth installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

-------

“I am asking you to marry me, Buttercup.”

Sy summoned all of his military discipline for this moment. He had to stick this landing because he knew you were shaky. All of his heart and soul was tied up into this one moment.

You stared at Sy, then at the ring, then at Sy again. 

You saw that he was so sure of you and this love, and it took all that was inside you not to sob. You cleared your throat as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Deep down, I knew that everything was leading to this if I got back in with you this weekend, and that’s why I spent most of our time together trying to run from it. You terrify me, Sy.”

Big, fat tears rolled down your face as Sy’s eyes telegraphed an apology.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, but love me and try to let me know how much. But it is the scariest thing in the world when I’ve had your love ripped away and never thought I would experience it again.

You took a shaky breath as Sy listened to you. 

“I think I always knew that you still loved me though, no matter how much time had passed or how far away we were from each other.”

Sy nodded and smiled ruefully at you.

“After I left Scott, I decided that the safest bet would be to be by myself, to never be dependent on anyone else for my happiness. And I felt safe being alone. No one could disappoint me, or hurt me but me. When I decided to come back here for the reunion, I prepared my armor against you.”

Sy brought the ring down to his lap and looked down on it, his eyes suddenly wet. He tried to just let you get it out, but his heart was in a free fall. You reached out and grasped his chin, bringing his watery eyes up to yours.

“But you are my one weakness. And I can’t deny that, no matter how much I tried. I can’t let myself get in the way of this love.”

You took a deep breath as you tried not to sob.

“I have always, always loved you, Jacob Allen Syverson, and I always will.”

You nodded as the tears spilled from both of your eyes. You leaned forward to meet him halfway, both of you pressing  your lips together in a wet, salty kiss. Then you pulled back and got on your knees with him.

“It’s time for something new. Time out for playing it safe. I’m not going to give up this second chance at love. So, yeah, I will marry you Sy. If you will marry me.”

You laughed as Sy tackled you and lifted you up on the couch, bear hugging you so tight that you couldn’t breathe.

“Shit, Buttercup, you had me thinking you were going to drop me like a hot potato, but you’re stuck with me now. Forever.”

You kissed his mouth until his smile melted into yours, and you let his fingers put the ring on your hand. You admired it for a second then looked up at Sy, giving him a sweet kiss that affected your entire body as he enveloped you in his arms again. 

Sy was like a man possessed. All he wanted to do was to inhale you, to taste you, to feel you around him. He wanted to lose himself in you. His mouth was on your mouth, your neck, your forehead, every piece of exposed skin he could reach, and his hands were everywhere, pulling on his t-shirt to expose as much of you as he could.

Then, a thought entered his head and he slowed down, palms rubbing the skin of your hips slower now, more deliberate.

“Let me show you exactly how much I love you… how much you mean to me…”

Sy’s mouth rumbled against your throat. 

“Sy, you’ve already–”

He pulled back so that you could see his eyes. They were glowing with love and with need.

“Buttercup, you don’t understand. You’re going to be mine. I have to try and show you how I feel about that.”

And then he swept you up in his arms, bridal style, as you clung to him and got lost in his eyes, letting yourself be carried away on the short journey down the hall to the bedroom.

You were divested of the shirt and panties, laying back as Sy took stock of your body, his eyes and his mouth christening every inch of your body, from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet. 

“Love you, love you so much Buttercup. Soon to be Mrs. Syverson…” 

It was a constant litany as he ignited the entirety of your skin. 

“Need you, Sy…”

He was still clothed and that didn’t seem fair. You reached for his pants, and he moved away from you and stood at the foot of the bed. You sat up on the edge, watching the show he was putting on for you.

“Love how you look at me Buttercup. Make me feel like I’m the man.”

Sy’s heart was pounding as he reached behind him and pulled his t-shirt off, the way you bit your lip and dragged your eyes up the length of him making him even harder than he was before.

“You are the man, Sy. You are so fine. Make me wanna touch myself to the sight of you.”

Your hand was on your knee and you started trailing it up your thigh as Sy pulled his sweatpants down, causing his unclothed cock to slap him in the abs as he stood back up. He licked his lips.

“As much as I want to watch you do that, baby, some other time. Right now, like I said. I got something to show you.”

You raised your eyebrow. 

“Oh? You gonna give me a show?”

Sy’s smile and blush sent you. 

“Maybe later, Buttercup. Right now…”

He quickly moved to sit behind you on the edge of the bed, enveloping you in a warm embrace. Sy held you between his legs in front of the giant mirror on the wall across from the foot of the massive king sized bed. The hard rock of his cock poked you in your back, but you settled against him as he spoke into your ear.

“I have so much to let you know...”

He nuzzled into your neck as his long, thick fingers slowly skipped along your collarbone, and your chest. He traced the hills of your breasts to the stiff peaks of your nipples, and into the valley between them down your stomach.

“When I built this house, it was always with you in mind. Had this mirror especially made. You need to see how beautiful you are. Always. Need to feel what I feel when I look at you, Buttercup. Watch.”

You were quaking at his words and his touch, almost overcome and your pussy weeping rivulets onto the duvet.

One of Sy’s hands went to your trembling lips, tracing them and then descended toward your throat, gently grasped your jaw and turning and tilting your head up so that you were staring straight into the mirror. His other hand dipped into the patch of dark hair between your legs and his fingertips dipped to the crease of skin where your thigh tucked into your torso next to your wet folds. 

“This bit of skin here, just here. Feels like silk. Love it. Love to run my fingers, my lips there...”

Your eyes met his as you gasped and remembered that each time Sy went down on you he would linger there, but you didn’t single it out as you were too caught up in your own pleasure. Your eyes flicked downward as Sy played with his favorite part of you and extended his fingers, brushing against the stiff clit that was peeking out and yearning for his touch. He pulled your thighs apart, eyes sparkling as you caught his glance and his lips curled into a sexy smirk.

“Look at yourself, Buttercup. So wet for me. Always. I am such a lucky, lucky man.”

You watched as Sy’s fingers circled your nub and then traveled down to dip into your wet heat. His other hand traveled a path to your stiff nipple and expertly pinched it just as you arched into his hand.

“See how beautiful?”

He reached down for your knee and brought it up so that your foot was on the bed now, having you brazenly displaying your most intimate parts and your wanton movement at his ministrations to them. You gasped as you closed your eyes and felt a sharp slap on your pussy.

“Make sure that you keep your eyes open. Don’t want to have to punish you again.”

“Oh my god...Please, Sy…”

You didn’t know what you were begging for, was it punishment, or mercy?

Sy’s cock pulsed behind you as he dipped his head and sucked a spot on your neck that made you keen. His voice was a bit gruffer as he replied to you.

“Not tonight,” His tongue soothed the hickey he’d made. “We’ve got time for that, Buttercup.”

His naughty promise made you arch in his grip, your ass meeting his balls and your breast shoved further into his hand. His voice turned back to velvet, and it seemed that you needed just a modicum of stimulation to have you hurtling over the edge.

Your palms were resting on his thick, hairy thighs as you sunk into the solid planes of his chest and abdomen, but they moved to the duvet cover as he and hooked both of your legs over his and widening his spread, splaying you open even more to the light of the bedroom.

The thought entered your head that you should have been embarrassed, but then you chased it away with the next thought that entered your head, and that you uttered.

“‘M soo wet and ready for you Sy. Only you, future husband…always ready for you, baby.”

A low groan rumbled past his lips as he stopped teasing and shoved two fingers into you, swiftly filling you up and causing your mouth to form a wide O.

“There she is. My beautiful little sexy wifey.” 

You watched as Sy finger fucked you, your cunt sloshing and swallowing his digits as they pumped in and out. Sy felt how you wrapped around his fingers and he realized that he was sliding his leaking cock against your spine. 

“Damn, so fucking wet and tight for me, baby. I’m trying to hold out, but you make it hard,” he pressed his erection into your back. “Literally.”

You felt the coil tighten in the core of you as you took his thumb in your mouth and fellated it as if it were his dick. He groaned again.

“What did you say the other day? Wanna be my what? My what kinda slut?”

“OhmygodSy!”

You couldn’t breathe.

You arched your back and tried to pull away, to run from the impending doom that watching him fuck you like this was creating, but he held you fast, making you watch him bury his now three fingers knuckle deep inside you again and again.

Sy kissed the tip of your ear as he leaned down to whisper conspiratorially to you.

“What was it again? What kind of slut you wanna be? What is it you need? What do I love to see you do? Wait a minute… let me think…”

Sy was commanding you to hold it the smoothest way possible, and when your eyes started rolling into the back of your head was when he relented.

“I remember now. Cum. Cum for me baby. I’m such a cum slut for you, too, Butterup…”

His hand squeezed your breast and pinched your nipple simultaneously as you hurtled over the cliff.

“O- Ohhhhhhhhh!”

“Thaaat’s right. Take it for me Buttercup. So fucking hot.”

You obeyed his order as the sensation washed over you and your pussy clenched around his fingers. You try to run again as Sy didn’t stop, but gradually slowed down as your pulses subsided and the wetness of your arousal increased. He held your face forward for you to watch as you slumped against him.

“Fuck… Sy…that was… shit…”

You felt him poking you in the back and you reached behind you as you craned your neck up to receive his tongue in your mouth for a sloppy kiss.

“Hmm, Buttercup. Not done with you yet.”

Sy took your hips in his hands and pulled you onto the bed, your hips presented to him, with your head still near the foot of the bed. You wiggled your ass as Sy kissed each of your cheeks and then licked a stripe up the middle of you and then dove in for more.

He destroyed your soul for a minute and then stopped, causing your eyes to snap open and meet his in the mirror. He straightened up and you tried to push back, onto his hard and leaking cock, or his thigh, anything that would give you that feeling you so desperately needed at the moment.

“I need you to watch me as I clean up this mess I made back here. Taste so fucking good. Keep your eyes open while I eat you out.”

You shivered.

“Yes, Sir.”

Sy raised his eyebrow; he felt like sinking deep into you. And so he did, stretching you out like it was the first time and causing you to bite your lip.

“Fuccckkk! Just can’t control myself no matter how hard I try, Buttercup.”

He looked down at your cunt swallowing his cock and he couldn't take it. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“So gotdamn hot and so fucking tight. Take me so well.”

You watched the look of agony/ecstasy on his face as he held your hips and drilled into you like a mad man, bearing his teeth and going all out, his feral look causing you to spasm your way into another orgasm.

He fucked you through it and then pulled out, causing you to scream in protest. Sy looked at you in the mirror and laughed, shaking his head.

“No ma’am, this is not how this is gonna go.”

Sy’s heart was pounding out of his chest despite his denial. His plan to make slow, sensuous love to you was ruined, because you were ruining him. He had to calm down. Then he saw the cream you’d left on his dick and his eyes rolled.

You practically came again as Sy grabbed his wet cock and stroked it as he looked at your upturned ass. Then he stopped and looked at you. Your mouth was open and you could tell that he was squeezing the base of himself and clenching his jaw.

“Give it to me Sy…give me your cum… please.”

He looked down at your pussy clenching on air and started jacking his cock again, a man possessed. Sy felt like he was going to die if he didn’t get back inside you right away. He shook his head, growled, slapped your ass and plunged inside you.

“Well ain’t that a daisy. Turns out…holy fuck…I can’t stop. Gonna give you this cum. Fuck fuck, holy fuck! This pussy is so good.”

You leaned down and delivered the perfect arch for him and he roared. He felt as if cum came spurting out of him like never before as he pounded you out.

“Jesus! Cum with me Buttercup!”

“Yesss. YesssssfeelssogoodddddSy!”

Sy sounded emotional as you cried for it, yelling in approval as his hot cum splashed against your shuddering walls.

You collapsed with Sy on top of you, his weight a comfort as you felt him soften and your mixed fluids leak out of you. You stayed that way for a few minutes listening to your breaths subside until Sy stirred and then tilt your head up so you could look at him in the mirror again.

He kissed your cheek then raised his eyebrow.

“Now. Like I said. Watch me as I clean up this mess I made back here.”

You gasped, scandalized.

“Sy! I have to get up for my interview–”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it so you get a good night’s sleep, Buttercup.”

And all you could do was watch as he fulfilled his promise.

—-

You did sleep like a log after a few more orgasms which involved the shower, but you popped right up to get ready for your interview in the morning.

Sy was up as well, scheduled to go into work for the morning while you met with the team at ReHome, and you smiled as you brushed your teeth together in the double sink in the master bath. You also allowed yourself a minute to admire him cleaning up his beard with his clippers. 

You could get used to this.

You dressed in a form fitting pencil skirt and flowy blouse with the attached tie that conveniently hid the hickey that Sy gave you the night before. You grinned at your hair and makeup as you admired the look in the mirror. You felt like a queen.

The whistle that your fiance gave you as you entered the kitchen boosted your confidence even more.

“Holy Shit, Buttercup. You look competent as hell.”

You laughed at Sy as he handed you a cup of your favorite tea. He’d bought a half a year’s supply when you pointed it out at the store the day before.

Yeah. You made the right choice.

“Thank you Sweetie. I feel good.”

Sy raised his eyebrow at you.

“Sweetie? What has caused this sudden turn of a pet name?”

You held up your hand.

“I’m wifey, remember?”

Sy feigned forgetfulness, “Oh yeah. That.” 

He grinned as he pulled you into his arms and gave you a quick peck, releasing you so that your clothes didn’t wrinkle.

“We’ll talk about that more later. Right now, we need to get you downtown.”

30 minutes later, your heart started to pound as you walked into the ReHome building, and you turned and waved at Sy before he drove away in Betty. Then, you lifted your head and walked inside, reminding yourself that you were fucking spectacular at what you did, and that they would be lucky to get you.

—

Sy was on a construction site, a complex of sliding scale rate apartments, trying to get his drywallers in line because two young bucks decided to bring their beef from the strip club to work. He had Cole by the collar and was holding Joe back with another hand as as he tried to prevent them from fighting. 

“You two need to keep this shit off my fucking worksite and get back to work before I bang your fucking heads together, ya gotdamn neanderthals…”

Suddenly, he felt the crowd of workers' attention shift, even the two idiots he had in hand. Billy, his foreman emitted a low whistle and muttered something under his breath.

“…a look at that piece of…”

The hair on Sy’s neck raised as he turned his head to see you walking toward him with a hard hat on. It was sexy as fuck.

He watched as Mike Ackerman walked close to you. Funny, he used to like the guy, but a strange feeling of possession and something else he couldn’t name rose within him when he saw him next to you.

“….you’re choking me….”

Sy remembered himself when Cole gasped, and he released both him and Joe and then turned to threaten Billy.

“Watch what the fuck what you’re saying, William. That is if you wanna live to take another breath.”

Billy shut his mouth as Sy straightened up and walked toward your group.

—

The interview had gone swimmingly.

The first thing you did was to disclose your relationship with Sy. The director of ReHome, Mike Ackerman, and his board chair, Nancy Christiansen, didn’t flinch.

The rest of the time went so well that Ackerman barreled ahead off script (you could tell at his secretary’s flustered reaction to his requests) and asked you about salary, moving logistics and start dates, even though you hadn’t formally accepted the job yet.

When Mr. Ackerman suggested you go to a work site of a current project where Castle Builders were working, you jumped at this unexpected chance to see Sy in his element. You had an hour before Sy was scheduled to pick you up and you decided to save him a trip.

When you pulled up to the site, you deftly donned the protective head gear and did not let your heels stop you from striding confidently through the construction debris. As you rode the service elevator to the fourth floor of the structure, you heard raised voices and distinct profanity as you got closer.

Hearing Sy’s voice above the fray made you feel some kind of way. 

“Well, you’ll get to see Sy handle problems in real time, Ms. YLN.”

Mike smiled at you as Nancy shook her head and smiled, and both of them advanced toward the ruckus. You were shook.

There was Sy, in a hard hat, sleeves rolled up, veins popping, a look of pure dominance on his face and handling two grown men as if they were rag dolls. Damn he was hot. You hoped that everyone couldn’t see that your nipples were hard.

Everyone but Sy.

Someone whistled and everyone saw your group approaching and separated, while Sy whispered to a man at his side, looking none too pleased. Then, he turned to you, his countenance that of an angel.

“Look what we have here. VIPs.”

You couldn’t tell how Sy was feeling about it, but you smiled at him angelically.

“Hullo Sy,” Mike drawled familiarly, “I hear that you know Ms. YLN?”

Sy sideyed Mike, smiled at Nancy, and then gazed at you, taking you all in as if he hadn’t seen you this morning. He didn’t miss the look on your face or the way your tits sat all perked up for him in that shelf bra he saw you put on today. He wished you weren’t getting on a plane in a few hours.

“Yes, Yes I do. In fact, we go way back.”

Sy paused and looked around the space.

“And we’re about to go real far into the future.”

“Yes, I hear congratulations are in order for you both.”

Mike still had an inscrutable smirk on his face.

“Holy shit. This your girl, Cap?”

Billy had a sinking feeling that he was toast.

Sy wasn’t going to kill Billy, but he was super annoyed.

“This is YFN/YLN. Architect for ReHome and my future wife. She’s a woman. And a professional, so act like you’re one too, before I relieve you of your profession.”

Cole and Joe were whispering and laughing together, their beef forgotten at the revelation of Sy’s relationship. 

“Get back to work, you’ve all wasted enough time as it is. We better be on track when I come back this afternoon.”

Billy was all business now.

“Sure thing, Cap. Back to work.”

Sy smirked at you quickly before his face settled back into his professional persona.

“You all need a tour?”

You could be a professional. Just like Sy.

“Mike thought it would be a good idea to see the work site as part of the interview.”

Ackerman cleared his throat.

“Yes, I wanted to get Ms. YLN’s opinions on the construction…”

Sy tried not to zone out as the idea that he would so love to hear his last name at the end of yours, but he gleaned enough to get the gist of the conversation.

“Sure thing, let’s head over this way– Watch out for those nails there- we’ve done something a little different…”

Your brain short circuited as Sy’s hand touched your back to steer you away from a construction hazard, but you got back on track pretty quickly.

—-

45 minutes later, you were waving at Mike and Nancy as they drove away and headed toward a small trailer at the edge of the construction site. Sy’s ‘field office.’

You entered the small space which was mostly occupied by two desks, two file cabinets, a small refrigerator, and a coffee pot was a quarter full of coffee. You heard Sy closing and possibly locking the door as you noticed saw some drawings of the construction on one desk and you leaned over to look more closely and sighed contentedly.

“I’m so excited, Sy! That went so well. I think this job is a sure thing.”

Sy walked up close behind you and pressed the steel bar in his pants into your expensively clothed backside.

“Me too, Buttercup. And I’ll tell you what else is a sure thing.”

“Jake Syverson…”

———

Reblog if you liked it!

Next part here.

[cherriesformatt]

birds of a feather || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: reader is having a hard time but she knows she can come back to her safe place every time

warnings: none just fluff and bit of sadness

word count: 1,3k

a/n: hope you like it kinda put my heart in it

Have you ever just thought that you are done? Like you can't deal with shit anymore and there is nothing that will give you motivation? I felt like this for a long time until I met Matt. Matt started to just be there for me. First as a friend then as a partner. We met in high school when both of us started ditching class because we didn't feel comfortable in school. We would just give each other weird glances and walk different ways until our paths met in the park. We would spent hours hanging out by the Fresh Pond. We talked and had lunch together few times a week. I was waiting for this time because I wasn't able to talk to anyone like I could talk to Matt and I knew he understood me.

I didn't realize I loved him until he came to my house to say goodbye when he and his brothers were moving to LA. I wasn't mad at him, he was chasing his dreams with two most important people for him. They were already successful on YouTube by that time so I understood they wanted more. I was proud of him but I was also dying inside. I didn't want to tell him about my feelings also knowing he broke up with his girlfriend to only focus on their career.

As it turned out not only I realized the strong feeling for one another. But it took us months to confess to each other. I was scared to move away from home but I knew I could do everything for him. So I did. I took everything I had and moved to LA. Got shitty apartment, part-time job and started attending Uni.

Here we are now. Two years in. I had a shitty job, better apartment and best boyfriend and my best friend by my side.

"Ur do wrong about it" I rolled my eyes putting pieces of legos together.

"No, I am not" He said trying to figure out how to connect pieces.

"I do not understand what in your head tells you not to use instructions" I said looking down at him. He was laying down on the blanket while I was sitting cross-legged next to him.

We were in the park near his house on a little lego date. We just came back from Boston few days ago and since that I didn't see him. I was busy with going back to work life after vacation and he as well had stuff going on. And today was a day we finally were alone. Because all of Boston trip we were with friends, his family or my family or I was alone because he had a boys trip. It has been a long time since we could just spend day together and I missed just talking to him.

"Because I know I can do it by myself" He said and I just shook my head and put my finished piece on the blanket.

"Here I am done mr.I can do it by myself" I smiled showing off my lego Pokemon.

"Oh shut up will you?" He laughed and took the instructions. Because of course I was right.

I laid down so my head would rest on his legs. I watched the sky.

"I need to quit my job" I said first time out loud what was on my mind.

'Well...I told you that already, you're not happy there and I know you could to so much better than that or just noting and stay with me?" He looked at me and started to play with my hair putting legos away.

"Matt... you know I do not want you to be my sugar daddy we already talked about this. This is not an option for me. And yes I know you told me that but.. I do not know I feel like my boss is even worst after I took my time off." I said.

"Did something happened?" He asked me clearly concerned.

"Nothing major, you know how I only usually did computer job and prepared meetings for others and for him. Well... he made me be a leader of the meeting...I had a stomach ache for the rest of the day and throw up when I got home because I was so anxious but in the same time I did it and it went well" I said and took a deep breath.

"Why you didn't say anything?" He asked me softly squeezing my hand.

"You were streaming and I didn't want to interrupt" I said.

"I would pick up the phone anyway, you know that.. And about this... he is an asshole but honey... I am so proud of you for doing that I know how hard it must have been for you. Remember my first tour show? I thought I couldn't do it. But you knew I could. And I also know you can do more than this job y/n." He said looking at me and smiled.

"You think?" I asked.

"I know. You have a brilliant ideas and all the time someone else is taking credits for them because you are to kind and you give them away for others to present. Sweets I know you could do that yourself and take all the credits. Of course few first times will be hard but then it will get better and I know you can do it...You deserve so much better than what you are doing now..." He said and I smiled.

"Thank you..." I said and I leaned to peck his lips.

"You do not have to thank me...I will always believe in you" He hugged me.

We talked more until sun was setting down and we came back brining dinner home for everyone.

"Hello! did you miss me already?" I said walking into the leaving room where Chris and Nick were doing something on their laptops.

" Not really I had my Pepsi all to myself for 4 days" Chris smiled at me and I smiled back.

"Yes we did, the only sane person in this household, hi" Nick waved at me and I smiled at him as well.

I was an only child and I was beyond happy that with Matt came two of his brothers, well three but Justin wasn't leaving with him. I felt like I had brothers my own thanks to that and I knew that they cared about me as much as I did for them.

We spend some time with them and then we went to Matt's room.

"I know you had a lot on your mind today so..." he walked to the nightstand and took out our journals.

I smiled and sat on his bed. He gave me mine and took his as well. I rested my back on the headboard and open my journal. I took one of the pens he put between us and just stared to write. I loved that we could just do this together in silence. I rested my head on his shoulder after some time.

"Matt... would you still love me if I was a worm?" I asked.

I moved away a little and sat on my knees so I could look at him.

"Yes? But you would have to forgive me if I squeeze you. You know how wiggly I am in bed when I sleep" He said deadly serious.

"You are so stupid I swear to god...." I laughed looking past him.

"Dear diary... he said he would still love me if I was a worm ❤️" I wrote and closed my journal and throw it across the bed.

He smiled at me and put his journal away as well and he pulled me so I would straddle his lap.

"Til I rot away, dead and buried...." We both said in the same time and I just laughed and kissed him resting my forehead on his.

[howdoyousleep3]

Prompt: Sex with a Stranger

Pairing: Shrunkyclunks (Modern Bucky Barnes/Captain America Steve Rogers) Word Count: ~6K Tags: shrunkyclunks, strangers to lovers, awkward flirting, stranger sex, public sex, car sex, blow jobs, anal sex, unprotected sex, clothed sex, porn with little plot, dirty talk, come as lube, size kink, feminization, multiple orgasms, coming untouched, Author's Note: I was truly planning on throwing my whole ass into Kinktober, but life totally and completely dragged me down lol. Hopefully I can contribute more because I have all the plans to, but I don't want to jinx myself. For now, here is a prompt I've been working on for years that hopped in my inbox a few years ago. This is for you, nonnie. 😉 Read here on Ao3

“I think this might end up being one of the greatest moments of my life, Cap…”

It was just supposed to be coffee. 

It was a simple and innocent enough request on Tony’s part, a cheerful inquiry about how Steve’s morning was going, how productive his run through the city at dawn was, which led to an invite for coffee. And coffee sounded damn good, as did the time spent away from the Tower, spent away from himself. 

Tony offered to drive, and although Steve barely fit into the passenger seat of the vehicle Tony chose to take— “They didn’t build this thing with your shoulder span in mind, buddy…”—  it seemed like a lovely way to spend an hour of his morning. 

But then Tony started talking about bikinis and broads and Steve had to stop and clarify—

“You asked me to go get coffee with you, Tony. Not...not a place with nudity or—” 

“Oh, my dearest Steven. You’re about to have the best coffee of your too-long life.” 

Steve goes through what he knows, filters through the limited 21st Century knowledge he carries and builds upon each day. 

He’s been to a few local places, ones that are open late at night that he has popped into when sleep doesn’t claim him. He is aware that Starbucks is incredibly popular. He’ll never get the sizing correct and has been told it is somehow both the best and the worst, but he thinks they have pretty decent coffee. Then again, he’s from a time where coffee’s intended purpose was to stimulate you enough to keep you awake for long working hours. 

Coffee is viewed very differently now.

Steve is about to tell Tony to turn around, to pull over and let him walk home because he really isn’t in the mood for any shenanigans, when Steve sees the sign— 

Java Juggs.

And then another sign of—

Bikini Baristas.

“Tony…” Steve warns, voice stern but it’s no match for Tony’s charming smile, his feigned innocence with a light, “Yes, Steve?” 

“Surely you are not taking me to a coffee shop where the women serving patrons their coffee are dressed in only their bikinis.” 

Tony nods his head, continues driving and follows the arrows painted onto the pavement of the parking lot that guide cars in the direction they should be driving, surely necessary only here given the...distractions. 

“Right, of course. Why would I do that?” Tony asks, tone serious, but when Steve takes one look out towards the incredibly small, standalone building merely the size of a shed, he has his answer. 

“Goddamnit, Tony.”

The women are indeed clad in bikinis. Steve has absolutely no idea how this business is legal, but he’s found out a lot of shit about the 21st Century is unexplainable and this must be one of those things. Steve is aware that a normal drive-thru window is small, coming up to most people’s chests, mid-torso, but these windows are much larger, dropping easily down to hip level. 

That has to be because of the baristas and their attire. 

There are only three baristas in the establishment that Steve can make note of. As they wait for the car in front of them to receive their coffee, Steve finds himself respectfully managing to take their appearance in while also not gawking. He will admit— these women have every reason to show their bodies off in the way they are choosing. They’re voluptuous and curvy, of varying shapes, two choosing to indeed wear a bikini. 

The redhead has chosen a white ensemble, complete with a bikini and a wrap of sorts around her lower half that makes it look more like a skirt, one that hugs her hips. The curvier brunette opted for a black bikini, also simple, and not a skirt per se, but Steve assumes it gets the job done. It looks like fishnets, hugs her lower half, stops right below the curve of her bottom. Steve can’t see the third barista but he can only assume she is dressed in the same kind of attire. 

“This is the best place in the city to come and get coffee,” Tony explains, and Steve is quick to furrow his brow. 

“Really?”

Tony scoffs. “Absolutely not. Come on, Cap.” 

Steve should just get out of the car and start walking home. 

“It isn’t terrible but, come on— it’s allowed to be shit. Look at ‘em!” 

Steve reaches for the door handle as Tony rolls the car forward, approaching the window, and that’s when he sees the third barista. 

Oh.

“Well look what the cat dragged in. Girls, your fave— Tony’s here.” 

“Hello to you too, Buckaroo. How are my favorite baristas doing, hmm?” 

Oh God.

Buckaroo is gorgeous. 

Since coming back to this life, Steve has not once been struck by someone’s beauty so suddenly as he is with the man at the window. 

It hits him in the very center of his being, feels like every inch of his skin is electrified where he sits cramped in this car. The man’s beauty punches him right in the dick, and he almost makes a noise, one Tony would surely hear given the compactness of this goddamn car.  He gets so hard so fast it knocks the air out of his chest but this is something more, something deeper.  

Where Steve was respectful with his eyes towards the two female baristas, he is anything but as he drinks in this other beauty. 

This man is young, his chocolate hair pulled up into an artful bun, the skin of his neck, of his entire body, making Steve need to damn near sink his teeth into his own fist to calm down. Steve just knows he’s soft, knows his skin has to be the most tender thing to press his fingertips into. And that thought makes him ache to touch this man. 

How inappropriate of him to have these filthy thoughts about a stranger.

But Steve can’t help it, damn him. 

He too is wearing a bikini, but his is crocheted into the pattern of two small, crimson stars that cover his nipples and are brought together by mere strings. His jean shorts are tiny, sit on his full hips low enough that the matching strings of the bottoms of the bikini sit high up on his hips. 

Steve finds himself wanting to bury both of his hands down the back of those shorts, to get two handfuls of what’s sure to be a ripe peach of an ass. The kid has to have an ass that matches the rest of him, one that Steve imagines himself sinking his teeth into even though he’s not once done that to anyone. 

Steve’s lewd and feral reaction brings a flush to his cheeks. He digs his fingers into the denim of his jeans. Is he sweating?

The stranger seems to be tall from where Steve is looking up and over at him, lithe and graceful and supple, and when he ducks his head, bends and rests his elbows on the windowsill, he knocks Steve out with one curl of his plush lips and a smack of his bubblegum.

“Who’d you bring along with you, Tony?” 

Steve feels his flush creep down his neck, one that is pronounced and intense. He adjusts where he sits, wiggles even. 

“Oh, right of course. This here is Steve! Told him I’d show him where to get the best cup of coffee in the city. Steve, Bucky. Bucky, Steve.”

“Oh yeah? Mr. Captain America himself? And you brought him here?” Bucky teases with a wink tossed easily in Steve’s direction before he purrs, “Heya, Stevie.” 

Steve is in love. 

He’s so in love he trips over his words, feels his blush darken impossible further and he makes an unexplainable gesture with his hand that he thinks will pass as a wave. He isn’t even sure if the words he uses are English, are ones Bucky can understand, but whatever he ends up saying makes Bucky giggle, face lighting up in a way that narrows all of Steve’s focus down to the way Bucky’s nose crinkles up cutely as he does so. 

Steve is really in love. 

“You want your regular, Tony?” one of the women within the stand asks with a holler and Tony nods, turning his curious gaze away from Steve to confirm his order. 

“Yeah, sweetheart— ten shots of espresso and then your Rainbow Unicorn blended drink.” 

Jesus. Steve doesn’t have enough time to be horrified before Bucky is speaking to him.

“What’ll you have, Mr. Captain?” Bucky asks, and Steve didn’t know it was possible for someone’s voice to sound like sex. In another life, one where Tony wasn’t mere inches from him and one where he had more instances of human interaction since coming out of the ice, he’d have a flirtatious response, one that would make it crystal clear for Bucky the direction of Steve’s thoughts. 

“I’ll uhh...do you guys have...have lattes?” is what he stumbles through instead. Tony immediately giggles, scoffs, but Bucky just smiles at Steve sweetly. 

“Yeah, big guy. We’ve got lattes. You want something sweet in that?” 

You. 

One word, just one word, that’s all he needs to say. Steve nods. 

“I’ll uhh...I’ll let you decide.” 

So close.

But Bucky hums, bites his lip, doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Too bad I can’t put a little bit’a me in your cup, huh?”  

Oh Christ.

Steve gulps, cheeks immediately flaring red, but he’s tired of fumbling over himself and his words, his wants. He ducks his head and looks right back at Bucky, mustering up just enough confidence to give him a solid once over before replying, “Yeah, that’s too bad.” 

Steve chooses to ignore Tony’s squawk and instead focuses on the way Bucky grins, the way Steve swears he sees Bucky’s cheeks glow pink. His stomach twists up pleasantly, butterflies joining in alongside the curl of heat. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt such validation before, especially that in the form of flirting. 

He floats through the rest of their interaction, eyes tracking Bucky as much as he can. He wishes to burn the various sexy images of Bucky into his brain, wants to pull them up later when he has time to himself with his fist and his cock. He doesn’t feel like as much as a pervert as he did minutes before, not with the way Bucky’s eyes meet his at every turn, a constant onslaught of further validation. 

He isn’t sure why he doesn’t ask for Bucky’s number before they drive off. He later blames it on the haze and heaviness of such an intense interaction, how he felt like he was wading through molasses in his mind as he watched Bucky wink at him as they drove away, still trying to memorize anything and everything he could about the brunette. 

He barely heard Tony’s chiding, his boisterous words that surely consisted of shit-talking him into the ground for his embarrassing behavior. He had no energy to dish it back, to stand up for himself in any way, especially when Tony mentions Bucky usually works tomorrow’s morning shift as well. 

“We’ll come back tomorrow morning and try that again because that was pitiful. Not only am I shocked you swing that way, I’m shocked at your absolute lack of flirting skills. I mean, could you not have at least…” 

Tomorrow morning. 

He’ll come back tomorrow morning, without Tony and with a clear head, all lack of self-confidence and pathetic attempts at flirting washed down the drain alongside his cum. Because there’s no way he’s spending the rest of the day doing anything but jerking off to images, thoughts, and scenarios of Bucky. 

Bucky, the curvy barista with the tiny red bikini and pinkest lips, the one who insinuated he wished Steve could eat him for breakfast. 

Fuck. 

Steve isn’t even ashamed in the slightest as he pulls into the drive thru the next morning, steady rain and darkened sky and all. 

After a day spent sitting on the shower floor alone with his hand and his dick, he spent too much of his night tossing and turning thinking about the way Bucky would feel under his hands to have any sort of shame this morning. Yes, he’s here to see Bucky; of course he is. Does it matter what kind of coffee he’s going to order? It does not. Is he going to ask Bucky out on a date or get his number? He absolutely is. 

He’s here without Tony, is alone without any added pressure, he’s thought of what he’s going to say— 

He’s going to do this. 

His planned out words are forgotten the moment it’s his turn to pull up to the window and he sees Bucky’s smile, bright enough to threaten to push all the rain out of the forecast.

He looks as ethereal as he did yesterday, glowing and angelic and delicious. Today he’s sporting a football jersey that is quite short, cropped and sits just below his chest, another g-string high on his hips that stands out because of his tiny denim shorts. 

Steve’s mouth waters at the same rate his dick turns to stone. He has to busy himself with putting the car in park so he doesn’t reach out his window and grab for Bucky right away, especially after Bucky purrs, “Heya, Stevie. Just had to come back and see me?” 

Steve takes a deep breath. He’s gotta start off strong. 

“Of course I did. How are you, Bucky?” 

His voice is perfectly confident. It’s strong and sturdy and smooth as he leans as casually as he can on his rolled-down window. Bucky meets him in the middle with his own lean against the open drive-thru window, cocking his hip and tucking his chin. 

“I’m good now that you’re here. My latte was that good, Captain?” 

Steve hums. He doesn’t even recall drinking the coffee Bucky made for him the morning before, but he knows it was perfect. He is more than intentional with the way his eyes wander before he answers quietly. 

“It was delicious, doll.” 

It’s the forwardness he was wanting from himself and the exact reaction he was wishing to get from Bucky. The tension between them finally snaps into place with strength that is so startling to Steve it has his heart hammering against his chest. He would be worried, would be backtracking and reeling himself in if it weren’t for the molten and seductive look Bucky is sending his way. 

“You want the same thing? Or do you want somethin’ a little different today?” 

Go in for the kill, Rogers. 

“Think I might want something even sweeter this time around,” he starts, pausing momentarily to watch Bucky’s tongue run along his bottom lip distractedly. “When is your shift over? How about I take you somewhere to grab something to eat?” 

That’s what people do, right? That’s not weird at nine in the morning? 

Bucky barely reacts to his proposition, but Steve can see it, the excitement of his words behind Bucky’s gaze and cool facade. He doesn’t even hesitate, doesn’t pull his eyes away from Steve’s when he raises his voice to speak over his shoulder. 

“Darcy! Can I take off early? You owe me.” 

Steve should have known Bucky was going to surprise him, to one-up him. He doesn’t hear what Darcy says in response, is far too focused on the way Bucky’s ass fills out his shorts as he gets quite the eyeful when Bucky turns around. He wants to take the strings of Bucky’s underwear that are resting on his delicious hips and suck them between his teeth. Steve hopes Bucky can tell where his eyes have been as he turns back around with a grin on his face that Steve can’t quite decipher. 

“I’ve got a hankering for somethin’ that isn’t food, big guy.” 

Steve doesn’t know what that means but has a sneaking suspicion it is alluding to something extremely sexual. He hopes it is. Steve’s mouth dries right up when Bucky hops up onto the window, throws a leg over it and straddles the window ledge with unbelievable grace. Steve doesn’t even respond before Bucky is peeking into Steve’s own window, looking into his car. 

“How big is your backseat, Captain Rogers?” 

Steve has ascended. 

He has once again left this life and instead of plummeting into frigid ice, he has been swept up into a flaming inferno. 

He thinks it’s all worth it now. Every shitty and bizarre thing that has happened to him in his life, both of them, has now been deemed worth it as he looks down between his spread thighs and watches Bucky suck down his dick like it’s the best gift he’s ever been given. 

Steve could have never guessed this is how his morning would go, that he’d end up in this random parking lot with Bucky pulling him into the backseat of his car and sitting himself right in Steve’s lap. Don’t get him wrong, it’s the ideal situation, everything Steve eventually wanted, but he thought this is what he’d get after a few dates, after some sort of courting. 

“I’m sure I’ll have some sort of appetite after I bounce myself in your lap the way I’ve been thinkin’ about for twenty-four hours now.” 

Steve had no objections whatsoever. Whatever Bucky wanted. 

“Knew I was gonna love suckin’ on your cock,” Bucky murmurs, voice like sex, dripping in arousal as he mouths at Steve’s cockhead before holding onto the base and smacking Steve against the flat of his tongue, then his cheek. “This isn’t a dick though— this is a cock. Look how big you are, Steve. Just big and pretty all over, aren’t you?” 

Steve’s intended scoff comes out as much more of a garbled whine than a huffed noise. “Right. M’not sure I’m the pretty one, kid.” 

Steve is reminded that he has never seen someone so beautiful in his life actually. He knew it after pulling up to that godforsaken coffee joint, but his realization is driven home in this moment, in watching Bucky suck him off like it’s a privilege, like it’s his only purpose. Even in this vulnerable, subservient position where he is threatening to suck the soul out of Steve’s dick, he’s breathtaking. 

Bucky’s eyelids are heavy with arousal, the curl of his mouth is the most sinful thing Steve has been witness to, and when said mouth is full to the absolute brim of Steve, he moans, makes the sweetest of noises like he’s lost in it. 

Steve almost wishes he could draw Bucky like this and he hasn’t felt compelled to draw with his heart in months.

 Maybe another time. 

“Don’t flatter me, Captain,” Bucky murmurs with a grin, flicking his tongue and mouthing at the crown of Steve’s cock in a way that has Steve’s vision swimming. 

“Steve,” he hears himself breathe, hand coming down to messily stroke a few fingers across Bucky’s cheek. “No Captain, not here. Not with you.” 

Steve’s insides feel all sorts of rearranged with the way Bucky looks up at him, with the seemingly nonstop stream of eye contact he gifts Steve with. He watches as Bucky’s eyelids flutter as he moans, dips his chin and wraps his lips around Steve, sucks. 

“Steve,” Bucky husks out sweetly before he’s swallowing Steve down again, letting him feel the back of Bucky’s throat. 

Bucky sucks cock like he’s a professional, like he’s an expert and he damn well knows it. He’s noisy with it, that perfect edge of sloppy yet succinct, complete with filthy wet noises that go right to Steve’s balls. Bucky moans around his mouthful, throatful, moves his hand in time with his mouth as he does so, slipping together so beautifully Steve has no choice but to drop his head back as he groans. 

The pounding of the rain on the hood of his car barely drowns out his noises. 

This kid doesn’t care that his chin is covered in spit, that his hand is coated in it as well, isn’t afraid to pull off and dive down to mouth at Steve’s sac, first one ball and then the other. Two seconds after Steve lifts his head up to look down at Bucky, he’s right back to dropping it back again, the feeling of Bucky’s tongue slipping behind his balls enough to make him damn near shout towards the roof of the car. Bucky huffs, whines as if he’s on the verge of a climax simply from making Steve feel pleasure he’s never once felt in his life. 

“I wanna make you come, wanna swallow your big load, Steve,” Bucky pouts, voice nasally and desperate in a way that has Steve gritting his teeth. It’s like he can’t bear the thought of pulling his mouth away from Steve’s dick, rubs his cheek against it, moans open-mouthed as he kisses at it between words. “But I want you to come inside of me more, wanna feel this fat cock fill my ass up.” 

Steve gasps, brings his hand down to Bucky’s head once more, this time with an edge of eagerness. He nods his head feverishly as he cards his fingers through Bucky’s chestnut hair, messing up his picture perfect bun as he guides Bucky to wrapping his lips back around his cock. Bucky obliges so gorgeously and eagerly Steve can’t help but moan appreciatively.

“Can...can come more than once. Can stay hard,”  Steve bites out, and he isn’t halfway through his choppy explanation before Bucky is moaning happily, damn near squealing around his mouthful. “You want both, Buck?”

He doesn’t need a verbal answer— Bucky gratefully sputtering and gagging on his dick is enough. 

It takes Bucky but sixty more seconds to make Steve come, embarrassing for him but something Bucky should most definitely take pride in. He sends Steve to the back of his throat, slide after slide, opening his mouth to not muffle the wet and filthy noises of his mouth working Steve over. 

When he comes, he feels his orgasm in his core, pleasure so sharp that it immediately leaves him struggling to take air into his lungs. He forces himself to not shove Bucky’s head down, to not take what little air Bucky has in his own lungs away from him. He fights through waves of his orgasm as he watches on as Bucky drinks him down, as he moans and swallows, moans and sucks, moans and bobs. 

Steve thinks he’s part of some sort of erotic show when Bucky spits bubbles of his mouthful of hot cum back onto Steve’s still- hard cock, whining pitifully when he goes to suck it off again, but Steve is beginning to think this is just Bucky. 

Bucky likes sex. 

Steve likes Bucky. 

Steve thinks he likes sex if it’s with Bucky.

His cock is still covered in his own cum when Bucky moves with pointed determination and a wet mouth from his spot on Steve’s floorboard. To say Steve is surprised even though he knows what’s happening is an understatement. He shakes his head uselessly. 

“It’s…do we…do you have a—” 

“No,” Bucky mumbles with a smile as he fumbles with his shorts. “No condom. I want you raw. I wanna feel you. I promise I’m clean, Stevie. Lemme feel you bare. If I get one chance with Steve Rogers; I want him bare.”

Steve is too overcome with the force of newfound arousal, a wave hot like fire, to reassure Bucky this will not be the last time they see one another. 

He manages to nod his head though, watching through hazy vision as Bucky moves to straddle him, reaching back to pull his excuse for underwear to the side. 

“Know you probably want me to keep my panties on, the way you’ve been eyein’ them. I’ll let you take them home when we’re done here. How ‘bout that?” 

Steve can’t stop his groan as it tumbles from his lips, and all he can think to say is, “But it’s…I’m messy,” as he feels about the cum still coating his erection.

Bucky moans, reaching behind for Steve’s cock, cum-covered and all. “It is messy, baby. But that’s the way I like it.”

Steve reaches another level of ascension when he hears those words, when he feels Bucky press the tip of his cock against his hole, when Bucky doesn’t so much as flinch as he begins to sit on him. 

Maybe it’s because he’s drunk on sex, maybe it’s because he can’t remember what sex felt like before this, but he feels the urge to confess his love for Bucky right there, back seat of a car in the pouring rain and all. He feels like he’s under a spell as he looks up at Bucky, as he takes in his flushed cheeks and glazed eyes, as he watches Bucky get lost in the sensation of being speared open by Steve’s cock. 

“Oh my god,” he hears himself slur, voice dripping in awe, and Bucky smiles— smiles— as he nods his head and lowers himself further onto Steve’s dick. 

It’s impossible for Steve to not reach for Bucky then, for him to not sit up with Bucky in tow and wrap an arm around his tiny middle. It brings their faces impossible close, forces Bucky's hands to come out and scramble for any kind of purchase as he continues to slide down onto Steve’s cock. When they land on his shoulders and then his face, his arms winding themselves around Steve’s neck, the intimacy nearly cuts off Steve’s air supply.

“Oh my god, sit on it.” 

“Steve…!” 

  “Oh baby, c’mon. C’mon…” 

They work in tandem to settle Bucky fully onto his cock, to make him as comfortable as possible with being split open. With the way Bucky bounces and sinks himself into Steve’s lap, it’s clear that he is experienced with sex. But there’s no doubt that Steve is incredibly well-endowed. In fact, Bucky tells him so, to Steve’s utter disbelief. 

“Steve,” he whines into Steve’s open mouth, voice so sweet it makes Steve’s bones ache. “Steve, you feel so big.” 

“I am big, baby— I am. But you can take it, right? Oh, you can take it.” 

He’s not once been one to talk dirty, not once been vocal in any past sexual encounter, but it feels natural with Bucky in his lap. 

Bucky nods his head frantically, wide eyes locked onto Steve’s as if hypnotized. “I can take it.” 

The fingers of his free hand come up to squeeze at the meat of Bucky’s ass cheek, smacking at it when Bucky all but squeals, encouraging him when words become hard and his vision blurs yet again. 

When Bucky’s ass settles flush against Steve’s lap, when he’s left gasping with how hot and tight and wet of a grip his cock is fully wrapped up in, they both share a set of moans, lips smearing messily against one another’s in an excuse for a set of kisses. 

Steve doesn’t even hesitate when he tastes himself on Bucky’s mouth. In fact, his cock pulses at the taste coupled with the reminder images of how Steve’s cum got into Bucky’s mouth in the first place. 

He’s coming to find he enjoys messy if it involves Bucky. 

What he expects to happen next is for the two of them to need to get used to the feeling of Steve inside of Bucky, for Bucky to need to wiggle and roll his hips to adjust to Steve’s size. 

He should know better by now that Bucky is set on surprising Steve at every turn. 

Because what Steve doesn’t expect is for Bucky to moan and press himself fully into Steve’s lap, chest to chest, , to spread his legs around him further and to pout, “Oh, my pussy’s gonna be feeling you for days, Stevie. Stretch it out so good.” 

Holy fuck. 

He lifts himself up in Steve’s grip, an arm around his waist and hand on his ass, and begins to give Steve the best ride he’ll ever have in his life, this one or any cursed one that comes after this. 

The way Bucky sucks cock is nothing compared to the way he rides one. His hips move like water, smooth but with ferocity that can only be compared to hunger, bouncing and rocking in a dizzying tandem. Steve gasps when Bucky adjusts and rises up on his knees, pulling his cock out of his ass and sliding back down onto it, repeating the motion with a guttural and cheerful moan. 

Between bouncing and rocking, Steve isn’t sure if he’ll make it out of this backseat alive. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. Does it feel good? Does my pussy feel good?” 

Yeah— they’re going to have to carry him out of here on a stretcher. 

Steve’s thighs shake with the force of Bucky’s bounces, the sensation of the car swaying underneath them adding to the eroticism of the moment. He grits his teeth in an attempt to ground himself, yet all he can hear are the lewd noises of his cum slicking up Bucky’s pussy, easing his bounces and making it easier for Bucky to fuck himself down into Steve’s lap and onto his cock. 

He knows his grip on Bucky’s body has to be too tight, knows that if he isn’t actively thinking about his strength it can get away from him and cause great harm. 

But Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, not with how loud and how eagerly he fucks. The way his body moves, the way it bounces and jiggles in his lap and in said grip, warrants a tight hold. Bucky squeals against Steve’s mouth as he rocks his hips back and forth in Steve’s lap forcefully, finding his rhythm and that sweet spot deep inside of him. 

“Steve,” he all but begs, gasping and tugging at the hair at the back of Steve’s head. “Does my pussy feel good?” 

Validation. Bucky wants validation. Steve can do that. Moving to dig his fingers into the skin of Bucky’s hips, relishing in the shock and pain of Bucky tugging on his hair while his ass squeezes the life out of his cock, he growls through gritted teeth. 

“Pussy feels so goddamn good, Buck. Sweetest pussy v’ever fucked.” 

Bucky’s moan is different this time, more frantic, more emotional. It tugs at Steve’s balls. 

He wants more of that. 

He grabs a hold of Bucky’s ass cheeks this time, two overflowing handfuls that he spreads and spurs on, using his strength for good as Bucky shows more and more signs of his own climax. 

“You like how much my cock stretches your pussy out? You like bein’ stretched out like that?” 

Bucky’s movements become messier, less expertised, as if he’s been waiting for Steve to take over in order to feel. With Steve holding onto him the way he is and with him able to use his strength to fuck Bucky in his lap, Bucky winds an arm back around Steve’s neck, burying his face into the opposite side of it. 

“I love it,” Steve barely hears Bucky slur out. “I fucking love it.” 

“You love the stretch of me or you love hearin’ me talk about it?”

“Both. Both,” Bucky moans, messily sucking on the side of Steve’s neck as he continues to use Bucky’s body, his hole, like a toy. 

That’s all he needs to hear to push past his insecurities of being inexperienced. He lets the words flow, presses them right into Bucky’s jaw.

“Pussy’s so tight, Buck. Fuck. Never had a pussy as good as this. Squeezin’ the hell outta me. Bet it’s so pretty too. You didn’t even show it to me.” 

Bucky’s noises sound like garbled hiccups. Steve is hotter than hell for them. 

“That’s alright though— you can show it to me after this. Bet it’s even prettier all swollen and full’a my cum. Bet it’ll taste even better.” 

Bucky sobs.

“You filthy, bastard. I’m gonna come. Make me come, fuck me harder.” 

Yes. 

He picks Bucky up by the ass and pushes him back down onto his cock faster than humanly possible yet with ease, over and over again until Bucky’s noises are a constant stream, garbled and nonsensical. Being able to use his strength, the vice-like grip Bucky’s pussy chokes him in, the sweet noises Bucky lets out now into his mouth; it sends him all but sailing into his climax. 

“Come in my pussy. Use it for what it’s made for, Steve. Come in it, come in it. Come in my pussy. Fill it up and—” 

Steve blacks out. He isn’t sure if the ringing in his ears is from how hard he comes or from how loud Bucky’s fucked-out noises are, but the first spurt of his second orgasm has him blacking out. 

When he comes to, Bucky is writhing in his lap, wiggling against his front and in his grip, whining about his sweet pussy as he makes a mess of them both between their stomachs. Even through a seemingly watery haze Bucky is beautiful when he comes, free of touch and from Steve’s cock alone. Flushed cheeks, flushed neck, half-lidded eyes and a wet mouth; Steve’s never seen anything more bewitching. 

He can hear himself groaning, can feel the noise of it against the skin of Bucky’s neck when he pulls him close again, sliding his hands up and under Bucky’s cropped jersey. His skin is impossibly warm, impossibly soft. He turns and lets his teeth sink into the skin of his flushed neck, following through with his wish to do so when he first saw Bucky in the drive thru window.

Once he begins to touch Bucky, he can’t stop himself, his hands wandering and rubbing wherever he can, stopping briefly to play with the strings of Bucky’s g-string. 

He breaks the silence by clearing his throat and whispering gruffly. “I do think I want to take this home with me.” 

Bucky’s giggle is immediate and joyful. He pulls his head back, the effort of the movement obvious and sparking a deep sense of satisfaction in Steve. 

“I’m so happy you’re a freak too,” Bucky mumbles, voice raspy and fucked-out. “I was worried I would scare you away.” 

Steve slides his hands back down to Bucky’s ass, kneading at it and moaning at the still pleasurable feel of being inside of someone. 

“To be fair, I didn’t really know I was a freak. You brought it out of me.” 

Bucky purrs happily, squeezing at Steve’s chest and kissing his clean jaw. 

“Good. We can capitalize on that. Hopefully.” 

Steve’s heart soars happily, butterflies such a foreign feeling to him. He squeezes at Bucky further, getting another happy moan out of him. 

“We absolutely can.” 

To Steve’s pleasant surprise, Bucky seems to be in no rush to move from their entangled spot or from Steve’s car. With the exhaustion from using their bodies and the patter of rain falling from the dark sky, it becomes obvious to Steve that they could easily fall asleep here. 

And then Steve can’t help but recognize that he hasn’t felt this at ease with someone, this safe, with someone else since he rejoined this world. 

His grip on Bucky tightens at that thought. He’s unable to stop himself from turning his face and pressing his lips to Bucky’s neck. 

Bucky hums, rocking himself slowly in his lap. 

“Can you come more than twice in a row or…? How long between rounds?” 

Oh yeah— Steve likes sex and Steve likes Bucky.