#goddamnit i love women

[redwhiteandmorallygay]

just want to clarify to the people who follow me. I love women first and foremost. this blog is abt red white and royal blue AND women.

[maybeimissu]

one of the best things about charlie bradbury is that she's not just a lesbian, she's a lesbian who PULLS

[thegardengrows-infrozenrain]

being hypersexual and hyperromantic from trauma sucks like what the fuck do you mean i met this person on july 31st and immediately wanted to be their best friend and it turns out it's because i kind of want to passionately kiss them

like what do you mean i've already dreamed of exploring their body twice

what do you mean i only fall asleep with them on my mind now

what do you mean it's because i am incapable of becoming close without assuming more is expected of me

what do you mean getting hurt like that when i was twelve ruined my perception of the forms of love

[zethd]

ugh i gotta watch more sapphic movies-

missin her. wife fr.

[lxvvie]

Y'all know that whole trend that was going around social media with women calling their significant other by their full name? Yeah, that one. Yet another conversation was had, this time it was about the reactions your favorite babygurls would have if you called them by their full government name because of reasons. Maybe.

Capt. John Price - He's, uh, startled but not enough to drop his cigar this time. Does take a puff of it, though, before addressing you like it's the calm before the storm. Isn't too fazed because he heard it enough from his own mom growing up and he figures he's suave and diplomatic enough to placate you.

Gaz - Pointedly ignores you while giving you side glances here and there which is a major indicator that he's gotten into some shit. Probably. More than likely. Yeah... it was Soap's fault.

Alex Keller - Actually did get into some shit. Does not answer the call of duty.

Soap - You hear 'ah, shit', heavy footsteps, probably a crash, and Soap's peeking his head out from the other room. Has a deer-in-headlights look about him. It was Gaz's fault, goddamnit. He's so adorable. It's enough to make you giggle.

Ghost - You get a grunt. And then it hits him. He stops doing whatever it is he's doing. Fuck, he knows that tone. Simon turns to look at you and he stares into your soul or something like that. What in the hell kind of made-up middle name is that? You spend the better part of a good minute staring each other down before you're all, "I love you ♥️," and Ghost groans and rolls his eyes and goes back to whatever it was he was doing. But not before he grunts out a "Love ya, too." in return.

Alejandro - This is one of the few things that'll actually faze the man. Will damn near break his neck turning to face you to see what's wrong and his eyes will be wide. Oh, the last time he heard his full name called like that was from his beloved grandmother and he'd gotten into some shit then, okay?

Rudy - Ducks his head. Doesn't show his face; he can't bear the sternness of your voice, your gaze. It wasn't him this time, he swears; it remains, though, the way you say his name, an echo in his mind: Ro-DOL-fo. Why'd you have the emphasize THAT part of his name, huh?

König - König.exe stops working. Actually does break something trying to get to you. His eyes are fucking saucers, okay? Oh shit, what did he do this time, Schatz? Are you getting him back after that one time he snuck up on you to surprise you and you dropped dinner? Did you find out about the time he accidentally messed up the laundry and the white clothes came out pink? WHAT DOES HE HAVE TO DO FIX THIS?! Oh, you... just needed him to grab something off the top shelf for you.

Horangi - Also did some shit. Is unapologetic about it. Hits you with a nonchalant, "Yeah?"

Graves - STAYS IN SOME SHIT, OKAY? Saunters in like the smug bastard he is. Smirks and winks at you. "Haven't heard that name in a while, darlin'. What's your fancy?"

Valeria - Pulls a Uno Reverse and calls you by your full government name. Wait―

[starryjoy]

All right, let's talk about it with proof.

Recently the transandrophobia tag has gone more and more into being reactionary and believing that the enemy is indeed trans women.

I would appreciate for everyone to look at this and understand how absolutely not okay these things are.

How these things mirror the same exclusionary and separatist rethoric that created (trans) radical feminism in the first place.

No, not "all non-transmascs" hate transmascs. That's separationism. No, saying you love transfems as a little tag doesn't work if your post specifically picks exclusively trans women to say that we're causing every problem. No, calling trans women who are rude to you bitches or cunts or whatever other slur or insult will not make any situation better. No, telling trans women to shut up does in fact not mean you love them. And finally yes, goddamnit, we fucking need each other! Trans women need trans men and trans men need trans women and we all need nonbinary and intersex people and they all need us!!!

So yeah. I would like for everyone in the transandrophobia tag to be careful about we say and do and what voices we decide to reblog and boost. Because these behaviors? They are not okay.

And before anyone comes to tell me "I told you so", every single transmasc I've shown these things in isolations to has agreed that they were gross. Maybe some of these posts have been reblogged because the rest of the text had some insight that was actually important. But the fact still remains, this is not okay.

We need trans unity, now more than ever.

[ki-yomii]

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.4k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; fwb, angst w/ a happy ending, teasing, finger fucking, squirting, praise kink, frottage, dirty talk, pet names, commitment issues, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, dom!jk, idiots in love, misunderstandings ➥ summary | after being stood up one too many times, you realize you're in love with jungkook. and that just won't do. ➥ notes | istg i've re-written this more times than i care to count 💀 enjoy!

🖤 masterlist | inbox | AO3 ����

cnt make it 2nite

The text is blunt - biting. No explanation offered, and certainly no false platitudes found in the lifeless string of black letters. Rather simple and straight to the point.

As you should have expected from Jungkook. He wasn’t known for his verbosity, and even less so for his love of texting.

But as you chew the fat of your cheek, reading it over and over again in an attempt to glean some hidden meaning that isn’t there, you admit to yourself - at least privately - there’s no more avoiding the truth.

One that’s been hovering over your shoulder for weeks like a shroud; an unwelcome guest you can’t ignore anymore: Jungkook’s been avoiding you.

It shouldn’t be surprising.

Moreover, it shouldn’t hurt.

There shouldn’t be an ache in your chest every time you see his contact or the plummet of your stomach when that inevitable excuse comes through.

In the end, he owes you nothing. The arrangement between you is casual, just a little fun between good friends.

It still fucking sucks though, you think, sucking your teeth.

Night thoroughly ruined before it’s begun, it’s only a matter of deciding how to respond now. In the past you’ve used a plethora of options, but you’re stumped. Unsure how to correlate the level of hurt to the nature of your not-relationship.

Should you be petty, passive-aggressive, indifferent - or worst of all: honest?

Hah, no way. I’d rather die.

Beside you, the bartender politely averts his gaze and busies himself with polishing a stack of pint glasses. It’s a slow night, and that’s saying something as this bar’s a little hole in the wall.

It’s never overly busy, which is one of the reason’s it’s a favorite meeting spot of yours. The floors might be sticky, but the music’s decent, the strobe lights they kick on after 10 PM aren’t offensive enough to induce a migraine, and the drinks are cheap with a heavy pour.

Watching him work is impressive - and almost distracting enough for you to ignore the needle sharp ache taking root beneath your ribs, the churn of your stomach.

Humiliation burns hot, creeps up your neck to settle into the apples of your cheeks as you’re stood up.

Again.

It isn’t the first time - it won’t be the last.

But it cuts deeper than all the rest combined, harder to shake off. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. The growing distance between you throbs like an open wound, as if Jungkook himself plunged a hand into your chest.

Scooped out any tender, soft thing he could find and left you hollowed out. Drained.

Not taking his flakiness personally used to be so easy. And now… well.

Goddamnit. A palm scrubs over your decolletage roughly to soothe the throb of your heart. What the hell did you expect to happen, getting involved with Jeon Jungkook, huh?

Everything from his stupidly pretty eyes to the dangerous curl of his mouth, the thick soles of his boots to the lapels of his leather jacket scream walking red flag.

Never mind the fact his proclivities are an open secret among the group. He’s never tried to hide his distaste for commitment. Finds it too monotonous. Predictable.

An eternally free soul much preferring to flit from one experience to the next, never shackled down for long. The Icarus of myth made flesh.

He runs through women like he runs through shoes, and you witnessed enough of the ensuing heartbreak and tears to be wary.

But knowing and feeling something are two very different things.

The dichotomy throws you off-kilter and finds you abandoned in a bar, once again, to choke on a regret so bitter you swear it’ll burn a hole through your throat.

What’s going on with me, you think, this is nothing new. He does this all the time.

You used to get on so well.

Any initial misgivings faded away in the face of Jungkook’s blinding attention, his unfaltering kindness lurking just beneath that surface of grit and gravel.

Even after you fuck, he never acts any differently, as casual between the sheets as he is lounging on your couch.

It's been great, it's been enough - until now.

Just the thought of going back to your empty apartment, alone, only to wake up and fall back into Jungkook’s orbit tomorrow when he swings by with a half-assed apology on his lips, and your favorite drink in hand is enough to make your skin crawl.

Stomach twisting itself into knots, everything in you rebels against the sudden cold realization: nothing will change - least of all Jungkook.

He’ll continue to take-take-take.

You'll continue to give-give-give.

On and on you'll go; a distant star orbiting a black hole, losing little bits of itself until there's nothing left.

Then he’ll leave your life as quickly as he entered it, a blurry after-image there and gone in the blink of an eye.

Fuck, I - I can’t do this anymore, you think, a shiver rattling down your spine, Because I…

An errant thought gains teeth, sinks them deep. Refuses to budge as an awful truth - one buried so deep you forgot it was there, ever lurking in the shadows - rises to the forefront of your mind.

And then --

Oh.

It’s because I love him - because I’m in love with him.

Suddenly it hurts to breathe, your lungs burning as you drown on the air itself. The steel band cinching around your ribs threatens to crack you open.

Your heart lurches in your chest, despair following swiftly to settle over your shoulders. Moreover, there is no one to blame except yourself.

Even if you want it to, it will never work out because loving Jungkook is to love the ghost of a long-forgotten memory.

And there are too many hurts to soothe, too many disappointments to name.

I can’t believe I actually -- shit. You swipe a shaky hand over your forehead. When you swallow, a sour taste clings to the back of your tongue. Should’ve known better.

You glance at your phone, the cursor blinking back at you mockingly. Should’ve done a lot of things, I guess.

Now, you're in too deep.

Waiting without ever realizing you began to do so in the first place; a life on pause, surviving off scraps of half-measures and maybe's, what-ifs, and if only's.

Now, it's clear the only way out is through.

The time to let go is here.

You need to muster up some semblance of self, and work to untangle the threads of connection binding you together. You need space to rediscover the pieces of your heart you left with him.

How to live without the taste of his kiss, the clench of his muscles, the thrust of his cock.

A new life sans Jungkook which begins with a simple reply in place of everything you really want to say: ok.

Then you wave the bartender over.

He does you a kindness once more, pretending not to notice the tears brimming along your lower lash line. “You ready to order?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah - sorry, I was…”

His mouth twitches. You waver.

Then the screen of your phone lights up with a notification.

Refusing to look lest you cave, emotions too fresh -  scraped raw and tender, you switch on DND and turn it face down where it will remain until you go home.

You're far too fragile (and sober) to think about reading Jungkook’s reply, let alone engage with him in any meaningful way.

“I’ll take a double vodka cranberry.”

Maybe if you get drunk enough, you'll forget about the home he carved in your bones.

Bottoms up, bitch.

w8 nvm guys cnt make it

y/n?

i cn b ovr in 10

???

gn ttyt

hey, sorry. called it early.

wyd?

nothing much. you?

nm running some mtchs

cool, cool. you able to swing by today?

yeh b there in 30 :)

In hindsight, trying to have this conversation with Jungkook face to face isn’t the brightest idea. But if anything, last night showed you every choice you’ve made lately is a disaster waiting to happen.

Your life’s already a mess - and you’re hopelessly in love with a man that’ll never love you back - so what’s another mistake added to a long string of misfortune.

So what if your hands tremble and your stomach churns as you unlock the door to let him in.

So what if he leans in for a kiss and you duck to the side, his lips brushing the slope of your cheek.

So what if he pauses and gives you a long, searching look before toeing off his shoes and offering you the drink he picked up on the way.

It can’t get any worse, right?

Only the hungry, molten mixture of rage and rebellion fueling you thus far fizzles away the minute you see him head towards your bedroom with a wink.

Anguish and despair follows in its wake, nipping at your heels.

This is all you’ll ever be to him, you remind yourself as you step into the room. A fun time. Nothing serious. You have to break it off.

You shoot him a tight smile. “Did you have a good night?”

Jungkook shrugs, glancing around at the decorations littering your dresser. “Nah, not really.” His gaze slides to you, traveling from your head to your bare toes in a slow once over. “I definitely would’ve had a better time with you.”

Swallowing roughly, you rub your hands over your arms and suddenly feel far too naked - exposed in your light summer dress. “Hah,” you intone without humor, awkward and stilted. “Probably not. I was out by 11:30.”

“Mm, that’s not like you.” Jungkook hums, moving forward until he’s right in front of you. His hands reach for you, grabbing your wrists gently. His thumb strokes over your pulse point. “You’re acting weird. Is there something you want to talk about, baby?”

Of course he’d notice.

It would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. Jungkook always pays attention to the details, makes leaps of logic based on little more than quiet observations.

You stitch together a chuckle. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins, his lip ring dimpling the swell of his bottom lip. Your chests brush with every inhale, sharing space and breath. 

“Nothing,” he agrees.

It’s torture. It’s too intimate.

The glow of your overhead lamp highlights the sweep of his cheekbones, the curl of his lashes as he blinks slow and happy. The barely there impression of his body is too much.

You shrink back, clearing your throat.

“No, don’t do that. Where are you going?”

His eyes, shimmering with warmth, plead with you to stay, his shoulders curving towards you. A large palm settles over your shoulder, sparks igniting wherever he touches.

“Stop hiding. You can talk to me about anything. Come on, I want to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Steeling your resolve, you inhale and exhale with a shudder. His expression is open, soft. You know it won’t last, and take a few seconds to commit how he looks in this moment to memory.

For all you know, this will be one of the last times you’ll be this close to him again. At least until you can beat your feelings into submission.

And then you can’t put it off anymore, unable to take the ginger strokes of his fingers. The calming caresses as if he thinks you’re something precious. Quick like ripping off a band-aid, otherwise the words will never get past the bend of your throat.

“I want to stop.”

You catch the way his eyes darken, sharpen in the dim overhead light. He knows exactly what you’re talking about, but his half-smile never falters.

Of course, he refuses to make this easy on you. To acknowledge this is happening. He’s always been a greedy man; wants what he can’t have, and destroys what he does.

“Stop what?” Jungkook says. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, baby.”

“Kook,” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “You know what I mean. I just - I can’t do,” your voice cracks, a hand motioning to the space between you, “this anymore.”

A vein throbs on the side of his neck, his jaw working in response. Muscles tense and release with every grit of his teeth. He asks, “You gonna tell me why, huh? Or are you just going to ditch me and act like it didn’t mean something?”

“Kook…”

There’s a certain grief that can’t be spoken, gnarled roots burrowing deep in your chest. A sense of loss so keenly felt it almost steals your breath.

You wish this wasn’t happening, you wish you could take it all back but this pantomime of a relationship isn’t fair to you. Not anymore. And you knew this conversation wouldn’t be fun, but Jungkook’s staunch denial still manages to surprise you.

“It didn’t mean anything though,” you say.

At least, not to you, you think. To me, it meant the world.

-- And that’s the problem.

You need to stop whatever this is between you from building. He’s already shown he doesn’t share your desire for more in a multitude of ways. He’s been avoiding you for a reason, whether he was consciously aware of your feelings or not.

Undoubtedly, you trust him with your life but not your heart.

As sweet as he is, has been, he won’t treat it gently. Not through any intentional ill-will but because he can’t contain his own commitment issues let alone make room for yours.

It’s better this way.

Let what you have - had - stay a memory unmarred by the ugliness of your hurt feelings and bitter disappointments.

Jungkook’s shoulders draw up towards his ears, his gaze glacial as his hands slide away from you. “Is there a reason you’re done with me now?”

Shadows lurk in the depths of his eyes, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Everything about him looks weighted down.

“Well, is there? I mean, shit, I think I’ve earned an answer after all the time we spent together.”

Your heart breaks for him, everything in you calling out to close the gap and offer him comfort. But you can’t. You don’t trust yourself to touch him without wanting more than your heart can bear.

“I’m not done with you,” you say. “I would never do that to you, Kook. I just - I can’t be with you like that anymore, that’s all. I need space but I’ll still be around, I promise.”

The glare he shoots your way freezes the blood in your veins. “Cut the bullshit,” he snarls. “Tell.me.why.”

You avert your gaze, arms wrapping around your chest. “Why does that - I -”

You only had one rule at the very beginning of this mess: if there’s someone you’re serious about, you stop fucking. It comes as a handy lie - a believable excuse that’ll stop any further questioning.

You don’t think you have the fortitude if Jungkook keeps pressing you, cracking under the weight of your grief and the anger in his eyes like fine china.

“I think I - I think I want to start looking for a boyfriend again.”

An expression flashes across his face, there and gone in the blink of an eye. But there’s no doubt he recognizes it for the goodbye it’s supposed to be.

This is it, you think.

You can put what you had to rest and move on, a memory on a shelf you’ll dust off years down the line when the hurt isn’t so prevalent. And hopefully, with time, you can relearn how to be friends.

Though the strange gleam to his eyes sends a prickle of apprehension down your spine, and then you find yourself being manhandled as he snaps forward like a snake coiled to strike.

Air flees your lungs as Jungkook shoves you with a firm palm, your feet stumbling over themselves as you trip backwards into your bed frame.

Wood knocks into the backs of your knees, and you fold like a stack of cards. The sheets puff out around you, the scent of your laundry detergent tickling your nose.

You blink at the textured ceiling, mouth agape as you try to process what happened.

The empty space above you doesn’t stay vacant, Jungkook quickly crowding you into the mattress with his weight as he settles over top of your body.

He molds himself to your front, his firm hips slotting themselves between your thighs. Broad palms, warm and calloused, skim your sides and ruck up the skirt of your dress as he reaches under you to grip the soft globes of your ass.

He yanks you into him, your pelvises slotting together. You whine before you can stop yourself, eyes fluttering shut at the heat of his body.

Teeth scrape along the delicate skin of your neck, the sharp pricks of pleasure-pain coaxing a shiver down your spine.

Lips brush the shell of your ear, his minty breath puffing against the side of your face as he speaks, low and husky, “So that’s it, huh?”

“What--!”

Teeth nip your earlobe, and you wince.

“My girl thinks she’s going to leave me for someone else?” Jungkook snorts. “Like I’d ever let that fucking happen.”

“I’m not your girl.”

You squirm, a bolt of awareness slicing through you as your body responds to his proximity, the weight of him over you electrifying. Liquid desire blooms behind your navel, uncomfortable and unwelcome.

“I never was.”

Blunt nails dig into the fat of your ass, and a cruel mouth latches onto the corner of your jaw. “Ah, is that right?” Jungkook asks, the rumble of his voice vibrating through your torso, your nipples tightening as they drag over the plains of his chest. “You’re not my girl?”

You swallow, and ignore the throb of your clit as the line of his cock ruts into you. “I’m not your girl, Jungkook.”

“If you’re not my girl,” he grinds into the cradle of your hips, teasing - taunting, “then why the fuck are you so wet?”

Keening, you twitch, involuntarily rocking up into the firm pressure of his shaft. The angle’s just right, spreading your folds beneath the thin cotton of your panties and giving your neglected clit the perfect stimulation.

Exposing your soaked core to the chill of your room as your body warms with mortification.

Jungkook hums in approval, giving the side of your neck a sloppy kiss followed by a stinging nip. “You think some nobody can fuck you better than me?”

“That’s not what I - ffuck!”

Heat pools low in your belly, blood pumping fast. You’re steadily losing control, the aborted rolls of your hips increasing in frequency.

“Answer me.”

A sharp burst of copper floods your mouth, your skin splitting open with how hard you’re chewing on it. Blood clings to the swell of your bottom lip, a ruby red bead you lick away with a nervous tongue.

Sweat dappled your brow, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the molten desire curdling your stomach.

The softness of your body knows the hardness of his, every curve has a matching divot. The heady, pleasant scent of his cologne floods your lungs with every stuttered inhale.

Your senses are overwhelmed as he surrounds you.

“Shit, Kook, please,” you plead, hands tangling in the sheets by your head.

You’re not sure what you’re asking for but at the same time, you’re not sure how you ended up here. Again.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

This was supposed to be an amenable end to a dubious affair. It’s anything but.

“I want you to tell me who your cunt belongs to.”

Fingers inch down to tease along the soft flesh of your inner thighs, and play with the elastic of your panties.

You tremble, gooseflesh dimpling the exposed skin of your arms as knuckles brush over the length of your soaked pussy.

Your clit pulses, the pressure enough to tease.

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook coaxes, working his way beneath the fabric clinging to your core, “tell me you’re my girl.”

His cock nestles into the crook of your hip, hot and heavy through his jeans as a darkened patch blooms across the denim crotch. The sticky wetness of his pre-cum smearing into your skin as arousal swells, crashing over you.

Leaving you a whimpering, trembling mess in the cage of his arms.

“You just have to say it - say you’re my girl and I’ll be so, so good to you.” His breath warms the shell of your ear. “All you have to do is say it, and I’ll make you cum so hard you see stars.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to cobble together a response, sliding a thick finger through your sticky folds and into your needy pussy just as your lips part.

All words leave you, your mind wiped clean as a low, broken cry echoes out into the room. Swallowed up by the sounds of city life outside your apartment as he works to stretch you open.

You clamp down at the sudden fullness, walls tight and fluttering around his finger like they would be around his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You always feel so soft and wet.”

Whining in agreement, you give up any pretense of resistance, letting primal desire chase away the despair, the guilt that threatens to choke you. Wiping your mind clean of any thoughts until the only thing that remains is the thrust of his fingers and the ache in your cunt.

Your hands slip, scrambling for purchase with sweaty palms. “J-Jungkook!”

Your knees tremble where they dig into his sides, air rushing from you in heavy pants as the space between your bodies heats up. You know you won’t last long, already hanging on the edge.

Never in a million years did you expect to be so turned on by Jungkook’s rough behavior. He usually treats you like something delicate.

Though he holds no such compunction now, raw in his desperate desire to make you cum.

Jungkook peppers kisses onto whatever skin he can reach, spreading your thighs wider with his torso. His knuckles strain against the fabric of your panties, stretching out the cotton and ruining them forevermore as he slips another finger into you.

Then his dark head bows, catching your gaze, and he says, “Hold on.”

Barely seconds after you anchor yourself to his shoulders, he starts finger fucking you to within an inch of your life. His forearm ripples with strength, the movements of his fingers pressing and rubbing against all the right spots. Curling up to massage at your g-spot until you’re shaking beneath him with hitched breaths.

“Shit, shit,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as your toes flex against his side, “Kook, baby, please don’t stop.”

He huffs a laugh, dark and amused. “Wouldn’t ever do that to you, baby.”

“S’good - I - I’m close.”

You sob, tears brimming along your lash line. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your pussy ring in your ears, as embarrassing as it is arousing. He’s making you gush, slick wetting your inner thighs, dribbling down your ass to stain the sheets.

“So close, gonna - hnnng - gonna cum.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, baby. Give me that squirt.”

You shake your head. “I can’t - I can’t!”

If you could, you’d suspend time so this moment never ends. The finality of your arrangement hovering just on the other side of pleasure.

In the back of your mind, you know Jungkook’s only behaving this way because he’s jealous. Angry. He doesn’t mean it, and this is a mistake.

It’ll only hurt you in the long run but you’ll take what you can get.

After all, this is the last time you’ll be together like this.

“No,” he shushes, dropping a kiss to your sweaty brow, “No, don’t lie. I know you can. I’ll make you.”

There’s no escape.

He refuses to let you escape, using his weight to keep you pinned as he spreads his fingers open inside you, twisting and fucking so deep you feel a twinge behind your navel.

And then you’re right there, crashing over the edge as the bubble of pleasure bursts, crackling through your limbs.

You cum harder than you ever have before. Nails sinking into his shoulders with a hiss as a wounded, broken wail scrapes its way out of your throat.

Your pussy throbs, gummy walls sucking him deeper as a rush of cum gushes from you in spurts. Your ears ring with white noise, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact your hands have gone numb.

For several long moments, you float with a head full of cotton, only rejoining the atmosphere when warmth dribbles down your ass in sticky rivulets of squirt.

Jungkook’s arm is curled around your waist, holding you close as his nose nuzzles into the side of your head. Tender lips dust kisses over your crown. His cock is still a heavy weight digging into your hip but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to relieve himself.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, a wave of fatigue crashing over you. Your eyes sting when you close them, a lump building in your throat. You ache all over pleasantly, satisfaction settling deep into your bones. In spite of that, a rift opens in your heart. “Jungkook, I--”

He kisses your shoulder, shushing you. “Don’t ruin it. Just let me hold you for a little while longer… please.”

The tears are almost impossible to stop. “It’s already hard enough, don’t make me -- I can’t just…”

Jungkook squeezes you gently. “I love you,” he says, “but I swear to god you can be so stupid sometimes.”

You jolt, eyes swinging up to meet his, wide and disbelieving. “What did you just  - I - I  don’t. ..Jungkook?”

“How could I not feel the same?” he asks, tone resigned and wary. “Honestly scared the shit out of me when I realized because, well, y’know I don’t have the best track record.” He averts his gaze, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I almost fucked everything up too, but Namjoonie-hyung helped me get my head on straight.”

Something unfurls in your chest, and you feel as light as air. Ridiculously buoyant with happiness. Hope.

Oh, how stupid.

“We’re kind of idiots, aren’t we?” you ask, sniffling as you shoot him a watery smile. “Like… the biggest.”

Jungkook hums in agreement, a boyish gleam to his eyes. “I mean, you said it. Not me.”

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

💬 I’d love to put Pin and Joel in a compromising position (as innocent or as spicy as you like) where someone walks in on them. Specifically either Ellie or Tommy. Someone that will make Joel burn bright red with embarrassment as they rib him mercilessly. And even though Pin would normally be mortified seeing Joel squirm is so endearing and hilarious for her.

(P.S. huge fan girl of your writing ♥️)

Rookie Mistake

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 590 words | warnings: rated a very light E, making out and touching in a semi-public place | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

This is an extension of Hallow'seams, following immediately from the end of that drabble. I recommend a re-read it before diving into this one!

Joel knows it’s a rookie mistake. It’s embarrassing, really.

But when it comes down to it, it’s your fault. All the blood from his head rushes south once he spots that little costume of yours, until the only thought left is to hold you to your invitation.

‘And what does my champion demand as punishment -'

He never thought much of the toolbelt, a hand-me-down he picked up at the local shop in his first weeks in Jackson. 

But on you, it’s something else. Gripping the well-worn leather, he manhandles you across the small space of the bathroom to press you against a waist-high cupboard, and you take the smack on your ass as a cue to hop onto the surface with a grin.

And with that, he’s fucking throbbing for you, straining against the cheap, fake leather gladiator skirt. He knows not much can happen here, but the sound of the party just outside the flimsy door lends an excitement that makes his breath ragged.

Tipping you back so that you’re leaning against the wall, he pushes your legs apart to stand in between them. He pulls roughly on the toolbelt, prompting a gasp from you when he jolts your hips into his, rasping, ‘How am I supposed to look at that from now on, huh?’

‘Let’s just hope Tommy doesn’t borrow it,’ you sass back.

He growls at your retort, as if he can get any harder than he already is. ‘I got half a mind to tell you what to do with that smart mouth, sweetheart -’

Grabbing the scruff of his cape, you pull him in for a hard kiss, the boldness coaxing a deep groan out of him as he presses into you, big hands palming your ass and pulling you flush against him, hips rolling, rubbing his clothed cock between your thighs, chasing friction through the layers -

‘Holy shit!’

It takes Joel a second to pull back from you, the beer in his system rendering him slow to respond to the sudden interruption. But still, his first instinct is to shield you from whoever it was that showed up at the door.

That whoever turns out to be his little brother, in a baker’s costume (Maria is the oven with the bun, get it?), with a shit-eating grin on his face, leaning on the doorframe like the cat with the cream.

‘Get the fuck out of here, Tommy!’

‘I don’t know about that, big brother. Looks like you need me to rescue you from the big bad contractor trying to get under your skirt,’ he grins and waves at you over Joel’s shoulder. ‘Hey, Pin!’

Going beet red, fists clenching, Joel spits out, ‘Goddamnit, I mean it, fuck off Tommy!’

‘I wish I could, but Maria needs to pee. You know how pregnant women are.’

Breathing a frustrated breath through the nose, he grunts. ‘Fine. We’ll be right out.’

The door closes with a thud, and with an embarrassed groan, he presses his forehead to yours. ‘Sorry my brother’s such a dick, sweetheart.’

‘I heard that!’ comes Tommy’s indignant reply through the door.

You laugh, combing a hand through his tousled hair, but your glazed eyes tell him that you’re no happier at the disruption than he is. ‘What else are little brothers for?’

Making room for you, Joel catches you when you hop off the cupboard, and just so you know that the night is far from over, he slants his lips over yours in a heated kiss.

‘So - your place or mine, sweetheart?’

Note: Thank you for this request @pedroacrossthestreet! It was so fun to revisit Hallow'seams, and I absolutely had to have Tommy walk in on them, you know that man would give Joel shit for months to come 😉

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the divider.

[zethd]

go follow me on tiktok if u have that hellish app

[animentality]

I've been on a sports anime binge for the last month and I'm reminded of why I will always love sports anime better than any other kind of anime.

1) Male dominated cast like most anime but at least there's a justification for it. Also, barring a few exceptions, there's more fanservice for women than men since it's a bunch of sweaty guys in locker rooms, with like one token female manager here and there. feminism.

2) Male dominated relationships but it's fine because it's justified. Also gives them the opportunity to be gay as fuck, and it's justified because sports are gay as fuck. gay rights.

3) no goddamn love subplots because it's sports, goddamnit. fuck your romance subplots. we ball.

4) it's an action story without stupid dimension warping world breaking super powers that get yanked out of someone's ass when the author writes himself into a corner. now they still pull shit out of their asses but at least it's just some new dumbass pass or whatever.

5) no one fucking dies, they just lose the game and come back to narrate the next game.

6) because it's centered around sports, there's no threat of the author running out of ideas or fucking up their plot by going the wrong way. you either do the tournament arc or character development. either way, it's hard to fuck up.

also addendum: I love character focused stories more than anything. sports anime might focus on the sport but it's also very much about the characters and their relationships to each other and the sport.

so.

< sports anime >

built better. I'm not taking questions or comments at this time.

[bobbeshwar]

kenji sato x reader

Sort of fluff | Kenji x sort of mean fem!reader | Love me some Kenji

I saw a TikTok that said if Kenji found out how many fangirls he has he would eat that shit up. Like I feel like he would def flex on the regular about it, he's so conceited. You cannot convince me otherwise…

Anyway, I'm like imagining him with a reader who is a little mean and intimidating and you guys just got into an argument. Y’all need to see the vision, he needs someone that can humble him!!

It's practically the middle of the night, Emi snoozing soundly in her little capsule, your shared home quiet save for the two of you yelling. Your arguing is bound to wake her up soon.

"Out, Kenji." You said firmly, an effort to end the argument. You’re seated at the edge of the bed, legs crossed in your silky pajamas. You nod your head towards the half-open bedroom door with a glare that tells him you’re not looking for a response.

“I’m not the one in the wrong here.” He scoffs, stalking towards you, “If anyone is leaving, its should be you.” He ignores the anxiousness slowly growing in his chest, the slight fear of what you would do or say in response, but if there was one thing that Kenji Sato didn’t do, it was backing down.

You stood up, craning your neck slightly to look up at your partner’s face. Most times, the height difference between you and Kenji comforted you, but now it irritated you to no end. It wasn’t hard to get the reigns on Kenji, you were walking him like a dog ever since you started your relationship, but right now you couldn’t be more pissed off. He was in the wrong goddamnit.

“Are you making me repeat myself, Kenji?” You seethed, feeling slight delight at the way his hardened expression sort of faltered as you peered up at him.

He let out a loud sigh before grumbling and walking away from you to his side of the bed to snatch a pillow, you rolled your eyes at the sound of his little mumbles under his breath.

“Hope you have a good night.” You knew it was rubbing salt in the wound but you couldn’t help it.

Kenji, who was seconds from opening the door and leaving turned to you, “Yeah, I’m gonna have a great night! There are plenty of women online who would be happy to share a bed with me!”

You turn your head so fast it might as well break and fall off, “What did you just say to me?”

Kenji’s eyes widen at the sight of you, “N-Nothing, good night!” He says weakly before shutting the door behind him.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: A Tragic Romance

King: gosh joanne sure has been trending a while on twitter King: like, for almost a week straight Poe: oo Poe: er Poe: that's King: yeah that's not good Poe: that's very bad Poe: i don't think it's healthy Poe: it does things to you

Vladmir Nabokov: ok i got a story Nabokov: but i'm only gonna tell it if you all promise not to be mad at me Poe: we promise Nabokov: you promise? Nabokov: you all have to say it Poe: we all promise King: sure we promise Barker: promise Nabokov: swear i

Vladimir Nabokov: ok this is the story of the guy who raised his own child bride Piers Anthony: why would you say something so controversial and yet so brave

King: wow jeez um Nabokov: but before you all get mad at me Nabokov: keep in mind that the narrator is unreliable King: i dunno this really seems kinda... Nabokov: unreliable, goddamnit! unreliable!

King: wow this story seems pretty out there King: and you endorse this kind of thing? Nabokov: unreliable, dammit! i said unreliable! King: cuz i don't think we can approve of this Nabokov: oh my GOD

Nabokov: you had a baby clown gangbang King: WHOA now you're taking that scene WAY out of context vladimir and you know it

Nabokov: you all can't understand this! this is REAL literature JK Rowling: exactly Nabokov: see? she gets it Rowling: a beautifully tragic love ssstory Nabokov: yes a bea Nabokov: Nabokov: what

Rowling: yeah i thought it was a wonderful love ssstory King: Poe: Koontz: Lovecraft: Barker: Rowling: why are you looking at me like that? Rowling: iss it becausse you hate women?

Rowling: i know i know, you're all thinking Rowling: a romance between a middle aged man and a child?? Rowling: but don't worry! Rowling: they're both their assssigned at birth genderss Rowling: sso it'ss all ok

Rowling: humbert humbert ssufferss greatly in the purssuit of romance sso when lolita sstartss looking elssewhere for attention, humbert will carry her off on a desperate cross-country misadventure all in the name of love Rowling: in National Lampoon's Cross State Line Vacation

VC Andrews: i don't think that's much of a romance Rowling: oh yeah??? well what would YOU know? Andrews: funny you should ask Andrews: i do have some ideas about that

VC Andrews: [singing] i have a secret recipe Andrews: concocted with much skill Andrews: and once you've tried my special dish Andrews: you'll Andrews: never Andrews: get Andrews: your Andrews: filllll Andrews: TAKEEEEEE Andrews: ten terrific blood relatives...

Rowling: tell them, vladmir, it's a romance right? Nabokov: no it's about how i heard these scientists taught an ape to draw Rowling: Rowling: Rowling:

Nabokov: ironically the ape only drew the bars of its prison Nabokov: makes you think Poe: i have no sympathy Poe: that ape can rot for all i care Barker: yeah edgar has strong feelings about apes Poe: ROT, i say

[sissylittlefeather]

Kinktober Day 15: Porn Watching

Pretty, Pretty Baby

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, SMUT, mentions of drugs, mentions of erectile dysfunction, mentions of body insecurity

Word Count: ~1.5k

Kinktober Masterlist

You wake up in the cold dark room and reach out for Elvis in the bed. Wriggling around under the electric blanket, you finally come to the conclusion that he's not in the giant bed. This has happened for the past three nights and tonight you're not going to let it slide. You miss him. The last couple nights he's assured you he was in the bath or the kitchen, so you start in those two places. No Elvis. You wander around the big house in your scandalous little nightie and pray you don't run into any of the guys. But it's 5:30am; no one is awake yet. 

Finally, you stand at the top of the stairs to the basement and listen, avoiding walking down there if you can help it. You hear a woman moaning and your blood turns to ice. How can he be cheating on you?! He assures you all the time that he loves you, despite the women that still throw themselves at him, even if he is 40 now and doesn't look how he thinks he should. You don't care. He's as sexy as he ever has been and you do everything in your power to prove to him that you feel that way, but sometimes he just doesn't believe you. But now he's having sex with someone else? 

You stomp down the stairs ready to throw a bitch out of what you think of as your house, but you're shocked to find him alone. He's got some kind of skin flick on the projector and he sits on the couch with his hand wrapped around his cock. He pumps himself kind of half-heartedly, but you're still a little jealous. He's pushed you away all week. And now here he is with some movie and his own hand. 

What you don't know is he's desperately trying to get hard and stay hard for you. He hasn't felt up to it in a while and he thought a little practice might help. He's been doing this for the past couple nights in an attempt to make something happen for you on your anniversary on Saturday. 

"Elvis Aaron Presley. What are you doing?" You ask him once you've had enough. He jumps and covers himself quickly. 

"Goddamnit, doll! You scared me. What the fuck are you doin' down here instead of in bed?" You walk over and plop down next to him on the couch, the naked women still moaning in the background. 

"Woke up and you were gone. I miss you." You try to cuddle up on him and he pushes you away. He's desperately embarrassed that you found him in such a compromising state. "Fine then. Can I watch with you if I stay all the way over here?" 

"Honey, this is not the kinda thing a little girl like you oughtta be watchin'."

"Elvis, I'm 28. I've seen porn before." He cringes a little, first at how young you are and then at how easily you say the word "porn". Even in 1975, he's not used to women who own their sexuality. 

"Still, baby, you don't need to be watchin' it with me." You turn and lean against the pillows, running your feet down across his lap, massaging his thighs with your toes. 

"Please, daddy." You pout at him and he melts. He never can resist you when you're like this. 

"Alright, fine. Just for a little while." You squeal with excitement, mostly just happy to spend a little time with him. 

"I don't mind if you... y'know... while we watch." You don't say the words, knowing how he hates it when you're crude. 

"Naw, honey, I couldn't with you down here." You pout again, but he still shuts you down. 

After a few minutes of watching, you feel yourself become aroused. It's a pretty good porno and you've always been turned on by pretty girls. There are plenty in this film and they're all touching each other, so you start to get a little hot and bothered. You look over at Elvis and he seems to be trying to purposefully ignore you. When you realize he's not going to look at you, you huff and slide your soaking wet panties down and off. You toss them into his lap. It takes him a minute, but eventually he figures out what just happened. He looks over at you to find you with your legs spread, fingers rubbing your clit as you bite your bottom lip and moan softly. He's entranced for a few seconds watching you and he feels his cock twitch in his pajama pants. Still, he can't let you carry on like this. 

"Doll, just what do ya think you're doin'?" He asks, his eyes still glued to your hand on your pussy. 

"Nothin' just... mmm... makin' myself feel good." You moan softly as you slide one of your fingers up into yourself. 

"Now, baby, that's not somethin' you should do down here. Or at all really." He says the last part quietly, like he doesn't really believe it. He still can't look away from your hand. 

"Daddy, if you won't touch me I'll just have to do it myself."

"No ma'am, little girl. You stop it right now." You can't quite tell if he's angry or playful. He seems to vacillate between the two so quickly these days. You decide to go with playful. 

"Or what?" 

"I'll have to bend you over my knee and spank ya a bit. Teach you a lesson." You look at him mischievously. 

"You promise?" You move your fingers faster, feeling your orgasm gather in your hips. "Mmm daddy, it feels good." 

Now you're just taunting him. 

"Damnit, doll, cool it. Or I'll-" He stops suddenly when he tries to move and realizes he has a raging hard-on. 

"You'll what, daddy?" He brightens instantly. 

"I'll come over there and make you stop. Put this cock inside you. Is that what you want?" You moan, remembering how he used to fuck you on this couch before the pills got to be too much and his weight started to really bother him. You look him dead in the eye. 

"That's exactly what I want, daddy." He grabs your calf and yanks you towards him, grabbing your hips and pulling you up to straddle him. You pull his pajama bottoms down just enough to let his rock-hard dick free and he bucks his hips to give you better access. Without another word, he guides you as you sink down onto him, groaning as he fills you up. A lot of things about him have changed, but his cock, when it's hard, hasn't. 

"Fuck, baby. Your little pussy is so good to me." He whispers in your ear and kisses your neck as you begin to bounce and roll on him, pushing him deeper and deeper. 

"It's because she loves daddy's cock." You whisper into his ear and begin to moan with the actresses on the projector. It's been a long time since he's actually fucked you. Normally, he just goes down on you, makes sure you cum a couple times, and then tries to go to sleep. But not tonight. Tonight his cock is fully functioning and he plans to enjoy it while it lasts. 

"Lay down, baby." He whispers to you and you quickly rearrange as he climbs on top of you, praying he stays hard through the position change. And he does, pushing into you as you wrap your legs around him. 

"Yes daddy... I'm gonna cum!" You moan as he hits your g-spot repeatedly. His dick always was perfect. "Fuck!" 

You holler and shudder as your release washes over you, crashing into you like so many salty waves in the ocean. He feels your walls flutter and pulse around him and grunts. 

"You want a baby, honey?" He asks, like he always does when he's fucking you so deep. You answer the way you always do, despite being on the pill. 

"Yes daddy. Cum inside me!" That's all it takes for him to rut into you, shooting you full of his release. His hips stutter into you and you hold him tightly on your chest until he comes back down. 

"My pretty, pretty baby." He mumbles as he kisses your chest, fully spent. You run your fingers through his hair and whisper to him affectionately. 

"You know I love you, right?"

"I know baby."

"Will ya quit bein' so melodramatic about all this then?" Elvis shakes his head. 

"I can't make any guarantees, babydoll. But right now I'm happier than I have been in months." You lie there together for a while, silently, as you stroke his hair. Eventually you realize that his breathing has evened and his body is relaxed. He's asleep, finally. 

You burrow into the pillows and make sure he is comfortably wrapped around you. He always sleeps best after you make love. Before you drift off, you kiss his forehead and whisper. 

“I love you with all of me, you silly man.” To your surprise, he grumbles against your chest. 

“Thank you.” And you know that in this moment, that means more than any “I love you too” ever could. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @your-nanas-house @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

[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.

[beforeimdeceased]

ELECTRIC LADY… 💋📺🚬

pairing: 70s!ellie x reader

synopsis: today is nothing like yesterday.

author’s note: whipped this up kinda quick while watching ash asylum.

part one. > part two. > part three.

⋆˚✿˖°

“and more on the shocking news we covered earlier tonight, the man found dead was 36 year old Benson Standold. not much on the fugitives that killed him, but a witness has disclosed that they saw two young women running away from the scene—“

the radio whirrs as ellie turns the channel.

“got on board a westbound 747…”

“dammit shit fuck!” you scream. she’d pulled the cigarette out of her own mouth and handed it to you, the unkept ashes falling onto the skin of your thigh. you wince, taking a drag. “what have we done?”

“listen, he was gonna hurt you. and you didn’t do anything, i was the one holding the knife.”

you shake your head, holding back a river of tears. “weren’t we just two kid in love yesterday?”

you’d both gone to get breakfast and were on your way back, when ellie noticed a car following in her rear view. she took a couple harsh lefts, sharp rights, and stopped over to the side when it was still there. she’d gotten out to confront him when he threw a string of slurs at her. hollering about his perverse thoughts. hollering about you.

he went to attack her and she fought back. ellie fought to win, nothing less. this was something he’d been forced to learn the hard way. now you were speeding off to god knows where with your things still at the hotel. a small sum of money, gum, and a pack of cigarettes on your person.

“that was yesterday, doll. if you ain’t noticed already, things have changed.”

you bite your lip. “what if we just tell the police what happened?” ellie chuckles. “we ran. and they wouldn’t believe me anyway. listen, we can play this like i kidnapped you or something? murderous frenzy? way outta my mind? that might work.”

you stare at her like she actually is way outta her mind. “goddamnit ellie! i’m not letting you go to fucking jail for me! now shut up and keep driving.”

⋆˚✿˖° 7 years prior

you were dazzling in the low light of the bar. the music seemed to flow through you, overtaking your body. your movements, effortless but enchanting. hauntingly beautiful. hypnotizing.

ellie had up and gone and come back about 20 times (if you were counting right) and you were sure you were the reason she kept returning. never a moment in her reappearance had she missed the chance to sit and talk with you. smiling at you with so much love in her eyes you thought it might change your mind about her. about not getting too attached to a balloon that was facing the wind.

you’re startled by another presence, and by the change in music you can tell it’s her. she never fails to come back with a present. pretty key chain dangling on her index finger while her thumb points to the booth. how could anyone say no to that smile?

“when do you leave again?” you ask, conflicted on how you should react to the answer. she was doing what she’s always wanted to, but not seeing her was killing you inside. you couldn’t get over all the love you had for her. she tosses a toothpick around her mouth, then smirks showing that damn dimple. “in a couple days. you free?”

it was never just sex, though the sex was incredible. she’d take you on sweet little dates. she’d show you things you that you wouldn’t even know to go looking for. she’d talk to you about how the city was her heart but you were the blood running through it. how much she…

“want you there with me, but i know that you love this little shithole town.”

you scowl at her. “don’t call it a shithole. i love this place.”

“i know.” she sighs. “that’s why i keep coming back.”

[diagonal-queen]

HELLO LOVELY! I saw your tank top thingy and am now inclined to request this. Could you do a fem. s/o that wears nightgowns to bed for dazai, ranpo, and fyodor? bonus points if you add your favorite characters :)

Now im not talking about those skimpy, lacy, lingerie ones. nono, im talking about the long vintage ones. kinda like in peter pan, what wendy was wearing, but white. think cottage-core vibes.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/955248247/vintage-white-women-long-nightgown-lace

you don't have to do this if you dont want to! but just remember, have fun! and stay hydrated! ❤️

GOOD DAY!! This is a very interesting req anon! I quite like it! I’d be lying if I said I never wanted one of these nightgowns that you’re referring to lmao. They’re just so graceful and pretty 💖💖 also you're very sweet thank you!

Reader who sleeps in a nightgown

♡ pairing: Dazai Osamu, Ranpo Edogawa, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Mykola Hohol, Edgar Allan Poe x fem!Reader

♡ synopsis: How do these boys react to a reader who wears a nightgown to sleep?

♡ cw: A couple of naughty words, suggestive behaviour (goddamnit Dazai and Fyodor specifically)

note: You said I could add faves so I threw Mykola and Poe in there for the funsies (was gonna put Oda too but I could not think of anything for this poor guy I'm sorry) 🌸 Apologies for errors, hope you enjoy :)

Dazai:

At first he probably teases you and says you look like a curtain or a ghost or something T-T

But he's not a complete jerk. He does think you look like an angel and he tells you as much eventually (I feel like he would lowkey be into old-fashioned romantic stuff sometimes especially if it involves you wearing a pretty nightgown <3)

Constantly quizzing you on how you're able to comfortably wear something like this to sleep because to him it looks kind of uncomfortable? When you try to tell him that it's fine and you think it looks pretty he drops the subject but lowkey still worries about it

Plays with your sleeves or the skirt of the nightgown while he's lying next to you

From then on if you guys ever watch old fashioned movies ft. women who wear similar nightgowns, he always points it out. He's like 'That's like the one you have! You look better in it though'

He's a charmer for sure this guy

Though he does think you look lovely, he is still a bit of a pervert. It's rather possible Dazai might try to feel you up through the nightgown. Damnit Dazai

Ranpo:

Ranpo is honestly probably a little confused at first. Like this is the 21st century, why are you wearing this?

THAT BEING SAID he is actually rather happy to sleep with you while you're wearing an old-fashioned nightgown. It's like being wrapped in your own little silky blanket!

He fiddles with it when he's bored and rubs his face against it just because he's kinda weird like that (lovingly)

Probably asks Yosano/Fukuzawa about it because let's be real, as smart as Ranpo is he doesn't understand why you would wanna cover yourself in so much fabric when you go to sleep (autistic things 2.0 <3)

Otherwise he does think you look very elegant. He also thinks it's cute that you care so much about always looking nice even if you're just hanging out in bed with him

But at the same time he's like 'Well how are you supposed to eat snacks in bed if you're wearing something that isn't supposed to get dirty??/??????????'

Actually does make an effort to not get any crumbs on you though because he knows that you care about your nightgowns <3

Fyodor:

He already thinks of you as an angel- so why not look like one too?

Fyodor is relatively old fashioned (at least in my head), so he's happy with what you've chosen to wear. It's mature and modest, but it's also so ~pretty~ that he can't keep his hands off you

Somewhere in his fucked up little brain spouts a twinge of possessiveness because you're just so enchanting and you look so innocent! Why should anyone else get to see you in your undergarments (even though it's basically a dress)? They shouldn't, end of story

Tbh he probably gets turned on if he thinks about it too long -_-

Fyodor sometimes likes to fondly watch you while you're sleeping, so the nightgown really adds cuteness points for him

He's always praising you for looking beautiful even in your sleep- probably compares you to Sleeping Beauty because he's messed up like that <3

He always holds you gently while you two sleep and presses soft kisses to your neck because that's like the only part of you he can access lol

Overall he acts very calm but is lowkey just a little TOO into it

Mykola:

Mykola is so dramatic about it. He's like 'MY EYES HAVE BEEN BLESSED BY AN ETHEREAL BEAUTY FROM THE HEAVENS' or something else dumb like that

But the thing is, he actually means that. He's just very theatre kid-esque in his delivery which makes it seem like a mockery lol

He just thinks you look so cute! He spins you in his arms and pinches your cheeks

Asks you to give him a couple twirls in the same way that your mother does when you're trying on a new outfit

I believe that 'yangoliatka' is a term of endearment in Ukrainian that means 'angel'? If so then he would ABSOLUTELY call you that (I'm so sorry if that's wrong- I don't speak Ukrainian T-T)

Picks you up bridal style 'to practice' because you kinda do look vaguely like a bride. When you get shy he just laughs (menace behaviour)

You know those noir films with those really drawn out but trying-to-be-romantic sex scenes (where the girl inevitably wears one of those fancy nightgowns?) Yeah he'd try to recreate one of those because he thinks it's funny

Poe:

Yeah uh. He was absolutely the one who bought it for you in the first place.

He's just an old-school romantic boy and thought you would look beautiful in a nightgown! (spoiler: he was right)

Poe thinks you are ethereal, gorgeous, stunning, exquisite, graceful, elegant, ravishing, all of the above

In short he's totally enamoured with you and lets you know how beautiful you look even though you are wearing pyjamas

He's a gentleman and asks if you're alright with him cuddling you in case he creases it or something (plus he's also very much content to just sit beside you and admire you)

His heart is beating so fast as he pulls you into his arms because in his head is probably some insane paranoia about how perfect you are and how unworthy he is or something

He probably starts spilling all this poetic prose about how you outshine all of the beautiful women in history (y'know like Aphrodite, Cleopatra, Helen, and also Annabel and Lenore duhh)

He will be buying you more of these in different colours and styles for sure

Before anyone comes at me- yes I am doing the asks out of order. Sometimes ideas come to me much faster for one prompt than they do for the other, but I promise I am doing my best to complete all of them. Also imagine being Poe’s sugar baby awhhh maybe I should write it