#hell I’m grown and it STILL happens everywhere

[samuraisharkie]

It’s funny how some things can just instantly transport you back to the times you felt small and helpless. Getting iced and ignored in a group/ group chat. Struggling to understand something. Feeling lonely. Getting weird looks. Being laughed at. Suddenly I’m back in elementary school wondering why everyone picks on me, middle school wondering what’s wrong with me and why I can’t make friends, high school being pushed and shoved and ostracized. And I know I’m an adult now, and if people want to act immature and treat other people like garbage then it’s their loss not mine, but it always shocks me that for all of those things I repeat to myself, for my years of working on my self confidence and growth and understanding, how quickly I can be brought low from others. The little kid that felt like no one would ever care about them is still there somewhere. Realizing the struggle will never be over is depressing

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

— i’m in love with a dying man

rating: mature. or explicit? i’m not sure. angsty study on grief in unconventional forms. (mild) smut purely for poetic reasons

word count: 4,1k

pairing: viktor x gn!reader

cw: terminal illness. several mentions of death. everyone is horny in a heartbroken way, so grab a napkin—but not for the reasons you think. and yes, you may dox me for making you even sadder after whatever happened in ep 6.

—

He licks a tear off your cheek, and it seeps in between the bumps on his tongue, all prickly salt running down your face in two glossy trails of sorrow. Stinging, when his calloused thumb swipes over a puffy eyelid, only to inevitably fall to your lip and tug, nudging your mouth agape. His desperate grip softens when you oblige and arch, letting him grunt over the slope of your throat; wheezier than you remember, raw, rhotic and ravenous. The hard shift of his lungs is palpable under your hand, ruckling heavily in his sternum. It almost breaks down to a cough when he cants his hips into you, slanting one last slow, weak slam. Spilling all his pent-up frustration deep inside you through that bitter orgasm, leaving a clumsy mess of stickiness to dry on your inner thigh. Stilling for you to hold him through that collapse, grateful for the shaky hand that you firmly fist into his hair. Not receding until at least a few kisses are strewn upon your shoulder. 

It’s always like this now. Viktor clings to you, and you cling to him, nails digging into handfuls of him hard enough to draw blood, each embrace so tight your ribs might just break if he doesn’t retreat in time. And god does he wish to let it linger, to drag it out until eternity tumbles in—even if his eternity is reduced to a question of mere months at best, even if he must crawl out of a casket to have your touch back. 

The night you almost lost him still has you in shambles. You remember it all too well—hell, it’s almost like that acute smell of hospitals and doom still coats his skin, more slimline than it ever was, its once ivory shade fading to chalk-like disaster. The utter horror of crushing verdicts, endless heaps of bloodied handkerchiefs and palms so cold that even the heat of your breath fails to make the feeling of him any less chilling. 

The dark humor of sneaky death: she’s right around the corner, the cruelest of all mistresses. Ready to snatch him away whenever your fingers ghost over his spine, stroking a languid count over each prominent vertebrae. And no matter how tight you curl up beside him, she will supplant you, and her proximity can’t be measured in miles, feet, or inches. Because death is a termite—she gnaws at his very heart. And blooms metastases everywhere you still have him. She’s inside him. She’s merged with him into one.

At first, you denied it. Knuckles drummed against the wall in a frustrated fistfight, painting that scabrous canvas bright with your frustration. White and crimson—the speckled pattern of your hysteria. You recall how bad it stung, and how shame creeped up your spine—frightening and so, so sticky. Throttling, when he tended to that self-inflicted disaster, bandaging your smashed hand in motions sick to the core with gentleness. 

And it felt so ugly. Like you’ve grown to loathe everything around you: the doctors, for their disgusting prognosis; life itself, for being hardly fair. And even Viktor. Especially him—for slowly slipping out of your pale-knuckled grip. Well, red-knuckled, more like. That angry stunt did cost you a decent injury. White and crimson, remember? 

Naturally, grief doesn’t always progress by the book. However, denial always comes first. It’s an axiom, an invariable component, and you’re sitting on Viktor’s hospital cot, hand in trembling hand, eyes snapped wide and ferocious. Wrapped up in fear while the silence rings in your ears. 

His doctor addresses the quandary. It doesn’t feel vicious—at least, not yet. Flimsy, more like. Deceptive, too. Like if you just blink it away hard enough everything will snap right in place, and you’ll find yourself at home again—where that aseptic smell of medication can’t reach either of you. 

Well, of course, there’s always a possibility of postponing the inevitable. Winning over a year or, even, two—if Viktor’s lucky enough, that is. But you both know that he’s lacking in that department.

And yet, you grab your little hope by the throat: to look into later, when your comprehension is intact again. Surely, it’s just not plausible: so what if Viktor’s cough pulls you out of sleep every night, so what if every shirt he owns has tiny blood stains on it? Yes, he spends more time in bed than he does at the lab. He’s simply tired. He needs the rest. Not in peace. 

The retraction doesn’t linger, though. It survives a few more blood tests and a lengthy, dreadful discussion of his calamity—most strikingly frightening when the doctor talks him through each option. And not a single one manages to appease you. To stop your fury from retching out and causing an ugly scene. 

So you fling the door to his room ajar and leap inside with a bitter scowl, teeth gritting hard enough to crumble into powder. Arms a tight crisscross over your chest, step wide and listless—punctuated with a muffled clack of heels. Viktor’s eyes follow your tremulous circles—a lazy, sheenless flick of pupils, each widened into a bleak void from the rancid dose of painkillers. He lays supine, with his hair ineptly slicked back, umber waves awry, loose and sweat-damp. He’s almost mellow, tongue barely a glide over his chapped bottom lip—a martyr-like stiffness, the carrion of a man. 

But you don’t look at him. You pace, and pace, and pace—in that same tiring route, all around his creaky cot. Viktor rasps something indistinct—a muffled plea that tickles the back of his throat, rupturing yet another coughing fit. You silently hand him the speckled handkerchief. 

He looks up, eyes the saddest shade of buckwheat honey—dark with remorse; seeking comfort. But you don’t have any to give. You stare past him, gnawing at your tongue hard enough to draw fleshy copper. Dodging the kiss he tries to press to your wrist—pulling yourself back and out of his loving grip, igniting a staring competition full of glassy eye-daggering. Blink slow and borderline drowsy. 

“Milackú,” he pleads. Pulls at the corner of his mouth to wipe the bloody evidence of his withering. 

Your tear catches in your bottom lashes. 

“Milackú,” he rasps again, kicking the blanket aside. Stepping one bare foot on the cool tiles and reaching for you: arms, legs, and heart—all yours for the taking. If only you consider crawling under his minty sheets again. 

You don’t. 

“Why?” It’s so meek you barely recognize it as your own. Taut throat tightens even more, and, suddenly, you’re choking on a gasp. “Why did you turn down the treatment?” 

“Please, if you could just—“ He husks, but you can’t hear him through the ringing in your ears; the room already smudged into wattery, astigmatic lumps, Viktor’s face but a bunch of fuzzy dots you’re struggling to make out. All missing jigsaws, blurry little fractions. 

“What did I ever do to you?” You yell, shielding your eyes. Turning away from the arm he extends, his weak fist clenching to grab thin air, then tumbling as he stares at his palm in sheer dubiety, upper lip trembling. 

He winces. Ceases you by the hand and tugs as hard as it gets—frail enough for you to easily nudge him away—but you don’t bother this time. Your knees ungainly bend into shaky arcs, drifting apart when he clasps around you and pulls until you finally land on the sheets next to him, your tears mingling with his cold sweat—a salty fusion of mutual suffering.

Then comes a sequence of guttural, squealing whines and you stay twined with him for a while. Lithe fingers run through your hair, spreading to untangle an occasional knotted strand—up, and down, and over your shoulder in a caress. His lips purse on your temple, sucking an indistinct kiss. His heartbeat trails off under your fingertips the second you rake them over his thin hospital gown, growing frenetic again when you tug at the fabric, demanding closure.

“Please. Please don’t do this to me.” You exhale your choked up entreaty into his neck and it pours over his skin in a rigid breath, aftertasting of stinging desperation. His hand seeks your face, taking a forcefully gentle hold of one puffy cheek, drinking in your unsightly, woebegone rebuke. Looking at you like a repentant devotee, his timid eyes meeting your fierce ones.

“This is not about you,” he wheezes, too stern for your liking. Presses his forehead against yours and holds you through yet another shudder—and there’s no avoiding his pleading stare. “I’m not trying to get away from you. I merely want to escape my conundrum.” 

“These aren’t mutually exclusive, Viktor,” you hiss, voice simmering with betrayal. 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Unfortunately?! Is that all you have for me right now?” 

“I’m afraid so.” 

He sighs like he means it. His words keep slipping away from him, drowned in coughs and ambiguous humms. You get it, though. Your semantics became sparse the minute Viktor almost died in your arms. 

You melt into one-another in a teary, sniffling twine—simply breathing, trading tense silences. His stately stance collapses into a lifeless hunch, straightening a bit only when your fingers billow over his shoulder-blades—chiseled like ones of a famished dog. There are plenty of dog-like things about him now—the pleas lodged in his glances, the newfound hunger for your touch. Especially for the way you’re holding him; every embrace like a loving headlock—and the pressure soothes him. 

“I’m tired of taking risks,” he finally whispers against your temple. “All these… labored efforts for mere fractions of peace. Decaying steadily. Constantly hurting. I’m spent.” 

“Exactly. Which is why you need the treatment.” 

His lashes shudder against your cheek in a prickly tickle. They keep fluttering when he recedes, shaking his head with a bitter frown.

“But its success is… highly improbable.” 

“Yes, but there’s still hope—“

“It’s running thin as we speak. I shouldn’t squander it on… the imminent.” 

Viktor’s irksome choice of words had you springing backwards in glossy-eyed delirium. Staring in disbelief as if he’d requested something inexorable: which he did, inherently so. 

He curses when tears slice your face again—tends to them with the softness of a man most contrite of his omission, shaky hands already catching holds of your waist, using your temporary pliancy to swiftly nudge you into his cot. Curling up close enough to have your weeps reverberate in his sternum. 

“I’m sorry,” he repents with a deep rasp. “Please, don’t cry.” 

He held you in reticence again: this time horizontally. Offered you every solace his body could provide: your fingers in his hair, fumbling mindlessly (he put them there himself). Tangled legs. Apologetic neck-kisses. His head heavy on your shoulder, its weight a welcome tranquility. And only when your last tear soaks his pillow does he commence with his explanation. 

“I don’t want to spend what little time I have left miserable,” he tells you, drawing a breath. “Yes, the treatment might win me a year—a year I would spend bedridden, nauseous, and weary. A travesty of life. An illusive salvation. I’ve had enough of those.” 

Your hand stills in his hair, nestled within unkempt strands. You’ve run out of tears, so this bitter truth is met with nothing but a piteous sigh—the only thing you can still master after crying your heart out into his skin. Now you can only stare at the ceiling, chewing on your cheek in cruel denial. 

He’s right. He always is. 

Viktor sees the shift in your face—knits his eyebrows together in tender pity, tucking himself firmly against your face. Wincing, when he feels the aching tension in your temple. 

“I know I’m asking a lot of you. Too much, even.” He’s sincere when he says that, and you can sense the gratitude in his voice—for even allowing him to utter this excruciating of a thing, for attempting to understand. 

You simply nod. Yes. It is a lot. But you want to hear everything he has to say. 

So Viktor continues.

“I would hate for your last memories of me to be tainted with despair and hospitals only for all the struggle to go to waste when I inevitably pass away. I have no desire to postpone this torture at the expense of growing indifferent towards everything that makes me feel alive.” 

“But what if we manage to cure you?!”

“That’s too much of a ‘what if’ to risk dying a grim death for. I want to die…content. I want to enjoy myself before I do. Please. Don’t take that choice away from me.”

His eyes brim at you with every ounce of guilt he possesses, big tears wallowing in his eyes like an earnest plea—tacit, weary, earnest. Yes, it’s not like you have a word in his terrific decision, but Viktor wants your blessing. It’s only right that he includes you. Even if he’s intending to refuse the treatment regardless. As absurd  a bid as that is. 

You clasp his face like it’s about to vanish. Like you won’t be able to make it out when he’s gone if you fail to remember it right this instant, your gaze frantically jumping from one feature to another, seeking to embroider the image into your very eyeballs. Roaming over the artifically-white hospital light hallowing every streak of his hair. Indulging in a bittersweet smile when you note how prettily it spills over the pillow. Lingering on the patterns in his ochre irises—almost fully swallowed by his void-like pupils. Observing how they match the insomniac, mauve shades under his bottom lashes. Tracing every convex little thing—two lovely moles, thick eyebrows, the pointy mouth. Everything you’ve grown to love so dearly. Everything his illness keeps taking away from you. 

You wince, cradling his cheeks, your thumbs dipping into the hollows of them gently. Urging him to scoot closer—eye to eye, lips on lips. Breath over shuddering breath. 

“Are you sure?” You mouth the question on his skin, barely even uttering it. Hot pressure meanders into your head like a prickly impulse. It’s timid like motion sickness—borderline nauseating, too—all murky splashes of trippy lights under your closed eyelids. And the unease is diluted only when he finally kisses you—an approbatory, guilt-ridden thing. 

He’s certain. And for that, he’s so, so sorry. 

You try not to think of it, focusing on the feeling. No tongue, no teeth: just sheer tremor and so much rawness. A soft, soothing exhalation straight into your mouth like the gentlest of placebos—and yet, it works for you, slaps your pulse out of its frantic antics, and the stiffness slowly leaves your limbs under his touch. 

When it’s over, he winces at you in that sleepy, adoring way of his. Attempts a wry, sad smile. The cold light besieges his head into an even clearer halo—a foreshadowing of what is to come, an inconspicuous little thing. But everything about him is conspicuous to you. Loving Viktor has made you wary, and you wanted to hold onto that attention to the detail before it eventually slips away alongside him. 

 “Are you sure?” You repeat, tightening the inadvertent chokehold around his neck. The grip weakens only when he pulls away to clumsily clear his throat. 

“Yes.” And you know he means it when his face turns just as solemn as when he confesses his love to you. 

“I’ve had a nice life with you,” he adds, hoarsely. “I want it to feel nice when my time comes, too—whenever that might be. Sooner than later, I presume.” 

The figurative knife in your stomach twists anticlockwise. 

“Will you stay with me?” He dares to inquire. Meek, shaky hope tingling in his throat. “For however many months I have left?” 

And when you look up at him with a hurt frown, he’s reminded not to ask you rhetorical questions. 

— 

A few days later, Viktor is discharged from the hospital and insists that you both go back to normal. Well, to the new, tainted definition of it—where one spoiled napkin less is considered an ephemeral improvement and grief is a fixed variable by your side. 

Your slow-paced, quiet life that keeps turning even more timid in a frail attempt to savor what’s left of it. Faux preservation, but he allows it—savors it just as earnestly as you do, and your weeks weave into a darling, familiar routine. With some minor, necessary changes, no less: rest comes before the lab now, all deadlines fashionably late to accommodate this newfound tempo. Mandatory hourly breaks. Weekly check-ups. Four days off for every three he spends bent over the parchment. But this time, he doesn’t protest. His body demands it, inconveniently so.

You don’t tell anyone about your horrific arrangement—not yet, at the very least. It’s all you can think about, and the words threaten to slide out every time you speak—but you’re forced to swallow them with a smile so lopsided that everyone around you can only suspect the worst. A mantra of countless ‘What’s wrong’s irritating your ears with pure sincerity. 

What is wrong with you, indeed? You’re a spectator to death—not just any death, but the one you dreaded most. And not only are you witnessing it in the making, but this decision was never forced—you handed Viktor the choice and accepted whatever he went with so obediently that it felt absurd, and it had your skin crawling every time someone vaguely mentioned anything even remotely related to his condition.

But they—whoever that refers to—could never get it. They wouldn’t know what it’s like: to be stripped of your selfishness for the sake of Viktor’s peace. Defying your needs. Forcing yourself to find relief in demise. You might’ve failed to intimidate her into allowing you to keep him, but you could still accompany him into her arms and make it glorious. Here it is. Your new, appalling reason. It’s all that you want now.

Or is it? 

There’s plenty of nobility in being his chaperone—welcoming him into bed every night, painfully aware that it can become his death one. Treating every new invention of his like a soon-to-be postmortem legacy. Mourning the living. Anticipating the inexplicable. Marking every shared kiss the last, just in case. 

But then it came—unabashed and sudden. That blurry line where mourning merges into something dubious, a confusing paradox that leaves you full of filthy carry-over somewhere within your gut. The scorch his lips engrave into the column of your neck. The way it ignites a swell you can almost convince yourself is actually tangible, running your fingers over it recursively like a tactile little prayer. The gaze he throws at you across the lab ever so sneakily—a figurative punch that feels surprisingly close to a kiss. And you never resist turning it into one. Escalating. Claiming. Indulging those ambiguous, yet-to-be-defined things and having them wash over the remnants of your decorum. 

You try to fight it when it first happens, but it doesn’t last. There’s no place for restraint in grief—not when it turns into a beautiful desire to be all over him, to take everything life has to offer before he runs out of it. And Viktor doesn’t judge you. He encourages it. He craves it, just as bad—if not more—than you do. How many more undoings can he claim before the final one absorbs him? You’ve already lost that count. So much for having your love bleed on every inch of his skin.

Tonight you let it bleed mouth to mouth—a sweaty, heartfelt thing that commemorates your hunger for him in a kiss so dizzying that he has to lean back with a silent, breathless plea for brief interlude—foggy eyes staring up at you so devotedly. Shuddering, when your arms wander over his chest to feel the rasp, pointed lips bruised full of spit-slick swell. He’s a beauty—exquisite, albeit worn-down, his lines and angles blurring together into one eager, contourless essence, and you cage him in a firm straddle—your bare thighs over his clothed ones—grinding in a whiny attempt to reach him through his pants. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, leaning back to let him breathe. He’s sprawled out beneath you, tortuous hands already busy with tugging his tie off—impatient, clumsily nervous. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” you say at last, averting your gaze almost shyly. His fingers lurch to your hip, locking it in a gentle cradle, stilling above your backside in hesitation—asking for a laze caress, pushing your flimsy limits. As if forgetting that you never set those for him. Or, perhaps, he simply likes hearing your excited ‘yes’ every time. You can’t quite figure out which it is. 

He grabs a handful of you with reverence, and yet there’s something resilient about that grip—like he dreads that you might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on possessively enough, staring up at you with his head thrown back in a curious, admiring droop. Aiming to dispose of your shirt in a nimble pull. Plotting a sequence of kisses from neck to collarbone. 

You expect it when he rises on his elbows, then grips the bedframe to shift beneath you in a silly leap. Inelegant, but he couldn’t care less, releasing his hips from the hedge of your legs to make you slide up his crotch instead—a most welcome, brusque change that you adapt to in a squealing instant. Your moaning mouth agape under his grin. His hips thrusting through restraining fabric. Shaky. Erotic. With your arms tumbling astride his shoulders. 

“Don’t apologize,” Viktor insists in a lulling whisper, switching to a cautionary nip on your ear. “I’ve missed you, too,” he confesses somewhere into your hair, brushing through it with a tip of his nose—breathing you in through a tender whiff.  

Your words get lost in a deep fluster, rolling back into your throat and lingering there in a suffocating lump. They have you stiffening, heavy eyelids squeezing shut—a voluntarily blindfold to help you explore him through touch only. An invitation to feel you where he pleases. And, well—it just so happens that your whims align with his—a cohesive, welcome collateral. 

Viktor starts at the slope of your shoulder. Pulls the shirt down and traces that lovely curve—fingers first. Throws a brief, askance glance at your face to make sure that your eyes are closed, and, when met with the flutter of your lashes, gets back to his lovely tease. Tender, warm lips taste your skin with delicious, savoring sounds. Getting wetter when his tongue makes a fickle appearance—leaves a slick, capricious lick in the dip of your collarbone, fluffy hair tickling your face when he bends to tend to your chest, too—and you shiver as he sucks a plum love-stain that you’ll proudly wear under your shirts. 

“See,” he cooes. “Whatever gets into you must be contagious.” 

You give in to a half-lidded peek and find him begging for your assistance—a sweet request that you understand in half-nod. Arms up in the air and over your clouded head when he unleashes your skin from the thin garment—throws it on the floor for you to find later in the morning. 

“But it feels wrong.” You sigh. “Ever since we found out…”

“I’d rather you quit talking about that in bed, please,” Viktor reproaches, eyes heady with want. His fingers slide into your underwear, contemplating its fate—should he make it join your shirt or pull it to the side in hasty fashion? Either approach had him shivering at the thought. 

But the sudden sorrow stops the rush, rendering your urge for consolation. It wraps you around him all over again, legs locking in a tangle around his waist, drooping hands combing through his hair in a brusque, fervent tug. Seeking succor. Heart to heart and thumping an anxious march. 

“I’m afraid,” you admit, but it’s not a revelation. All shuddering shoulders under his idolatrous caress, and you pang with guilt at that, too—it’s you who should be fondling him this delicately, warm reassurance seeping into his ears—not yours. But Viktor wants to be your comfort. If anything, it’s the only thing on his mind.

“What are you afraid of, beloved?” A little shiver at the unforeign endearment—a rare occasion. His thick brows still drawn together in a concerned arc. They relax only when you rake your fingers down his body—counting ribs, toying anxiously. The hurry is gone, there’s only caution now: his enamored eyes, waiting for you to find your slippery words. 

“Of losing you before I get to show you how much I love you.” You whisper, suddenly tasting teary salt in your mouth. His thumb comes to the rescue, swiftly flicking the wet trails. So you chuckle at the affection in a silly stagger to bump sweaty foreheads together.

“Nonsense,” he insists. “You’re showing me right now.”

“Indeed.” You shrug. “But… Is this the right way?” 

And when he puts your palm over his eager heartbeat, you’re reminded not to ask him rhetorical questions. 

—

tags: @zaunitearchives @blissfulip @nausicaaandhermouth @thehistoriangirl @vyshnevska

[soleilapproves]

Ex bf Price who was your first and knows everything about your body sees you with your new boyfriend for the first time and can’t help but get jealous MDNI

Note: female reader

NSFW content - mentions of sex and sexual experiences. No direct smut

Masterlist

Price hated weddings. The unnecessary crying, large centerpieces, fancy food that tasted like nothing but cream and butter, and dancing. He hated all of it.

However, if you asked him about his opinions on weddings five months ago, he would’ve gone on and on about how he loves weddings.

Why the change of opinion? Because you broke up with him. He had been with a lot of women before but only you had managed to create large tremors in his heart and mind.

He didn’t show it but he was a complete mess after breaking up. Had a sour attitude, picked a fight with anyone within a six foot radius, and drank like a sailor. It only took him five months to finally stop associating your favorite things with you. Five months of pure torture is what the 141 called it.

The five months where hell ascended to the surface.

And now the squad was afraid it would happen again. After the break up, you happened to get very friendly with Kyle. The two of you kept close contact throughout so he naturally invited you to his wedding. What he wasn’t expecting was for your current boyfriend to be in the army as well. Just not as well known.

Price was going to lose his mind.

“I’m a grown man. Quit tryin’ to distract me. I know she’s here with someone.” The commander scoffed as Simon and Soap tried their best to hide you and your boyfriend from his view.

Of course, he knew you were with someone. He had eyes and ears everywhere including your current boyfriend’s team. He knew the bugger had quite the history with women and specifically went after you because you had little experience. Lucky for the captain, your boyfriend didn’t know that he was your ex.

Price couldn’t peel his eyes away from you from the beginning of the ceremony till dinner time. You look ravishing in your outfit. He remembered how you would always ask him to zip your dresses up and you both would end up arriving late to events because he would do the opposite.

He noticed how you wore the earrings he got you, giving him hope that somewhere in your heart you still wanted to be with him.

After the ceremony, the women gathered in their own separate area, sitting with the bride and asking her about the wedding and taking a few candid photos. The men had mostly dispersed to the bar or outside the wedding hall for a smoke break. The entirety of the 141 squad left with Kyle for a smoke, probably to enjoy his last few moments before he left for his honeymoon. But Price didn’t like corny goodbyes so he stayed behind.

He sipped his whiskey, reminiscing about his own dreams of getting married until he heard boisterous laughing coming from a group approaching his side of the bar.

It was your ex. Price knew his name but preferred to call him Dick when he thought of him. He chose his last name as Head. He could overhear Dick talk about his new girlfriend and Price immediately directed all his attention towards them. Discreetly of course. He was still facing the bartender so it seemed like he was uninterested.

“I’m telling you, mate, she is so easy to please. All I need to do fuck her and she comes. It’s fucking insane.” Dick bragged as he took a swig of his beer. Price had a small smile on his face. He knew some lousy fucking could never get you off.

“I know you didn’t come last night. Don’t lie to me.” Price said as he cuddled with you on your shared bed. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to tell you.” You sheepishly replied. “Next time you don’t feel satisfied, I want you to tell me.” He pulled away and straddled you. “Now let me make it up to you the right way, yeah?” He said as he lifted your tank top and began kissing down your abdomen.

“She doesn’t even beg me to do anything. I can do whatever I want. It’s heaven.” Price wanted to laugh out loud. You? Not saying what you wanted? Sounds like Dick was sleeping with a total stranger.

“John, please, I need you in me. I can’t take any more of this teasing.” You groaned against his neck. Price chose to ignore you and kept rubbing his fingers around your entrance. “Come on, darling, you can be a little patient.” You huffed in anger and rolled on top of him. “Either you fuck me like I asked or I’ll ride you so hard you’ll forget your name.” You snapped. Price smiled knowing that neither of you were going to wake up early the next day.

“She also hates all that aftercare shit which is good because I’m fucking beat after all that work.” This guys was a ball of grease. Price wondered how you met him but chose to find out the answer later.

You were laying on Price’s chest after a particularly rough session. His hand played with your hair as your eyelids grew heavy. You had this habit of going non verbal after sex so you could recover your mental energy as well. Price understood and respected that so he’d hold you as you regained your strength. It was your own little heaven with him. Sometimes he’d bring you warm tea and snacks to rejuvenate, other times he’d lightly massage your shoulders as you’d sleep on top of him.

It was confirmed- you did not give a fuck about Dick and he was a rebound. Price laughed loudly and all the men in the group beside him turned. He got off the bar stool and walked to Dick. He placed his hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder and held it with a firm grip.

“Hope you get the message.” He said before sarcastically chuckling and walking away.

“The fuck is he on about?” He heard Dick murmur while he headed to where you were sitting with the women.

You seem surprised to see him but walked to a corner away from the wedding hall.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you close enough to smell the whiskey in his breath. “I believe you and I need to have a conversation.”

-•-

Didn’t like Price’s character when I first learned about him and look at me now. Maybe I’ll write a part 2, idk I like surprising people.

[divinitysotherside]

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I NEED YOU , CRAZY GIRL !

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ . your favorite streamer didn’t expect you to break into his house at all, but he likes you !?

warnings . stalker!reader , stalking , breaking in , swearing , freaky suguru fangirls , part 1

.・。.・゜✭ — PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3

it was a normal saturday night. suguru just had to finish up a stream, and he’s all good to go.

money is a difficult thing to get a grasp on these days, but suguru has just found out about streaming, and he makes a lot from it.

especially because he looks good. he knows that freaks on the internet love to see quite the looker and pay a bunch of money just to watch them do somthing.

he specifically didn’t want an onlyfans, though. that was weird. what if he went viral and one of his friends, like satoru, recognize him?

he didn’t want to risk ruining his reputation, so he went for gaming instead.

however, gaming can also cause you to go viral if you have an attractive face, and that’s exactly what happened to suguru.

his name and face blew up on the internet. he was everywhere on twitter, youtube, tiktok, you name it.

he gained thousands of new subscribers overnight, and his career was definitely getting better.

however, everything has a disadvantage. this meant that he would be recognized left and right, maybe even to the point that he can’t leave his house anymore.

he has fangirls, yes. a lot of them, specifically.

he doesn’t pay them any attention, they can do what they want. as long as it doesn’t bother him too much.

satoru would come over to his house to read some comments by his freaky fangirls. it seems that satoru has grown amused to this whole streaming thing.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

in a stormy night, satoru was at his bestfriend’s place.

“‘suguru geto i will strike at midnight, and i will knock at your door in increasing numbers’, goddamn, suguru. your fans are somethin’ else!” satoru laughed, elbowing his bestfriend playfully.

“i know, they’re obsessed.” suguru scoffs, typing on his computer.

“don’t you want that? millions of people obsessing over you?” satoru asked, seemingly daydreaming of what it would feel like.

“it’s way worse than that.” suguru sighs, gaze drifting to the clock.

“hey, it’s getting late. are you not gonna go yet? your adopted son might look for you.” he mutters, eyes fixated on the clock. ‘11:57’, it read.

“pfft, that brat never learns. but i still love him, so yeah, i’m gonna go.” getting up, satoru waves at suguru before slamming the front door shut, leaving the raven–haired fella alone again.

shutting down his computer, suguru went downstairs to get a drink. right as he was going to get a drink, darkness enveloped the room.

the power went out, goddamn rain.

suguru sighs, quickly walking over upstairs to his bedside cabinet where he kept his flashlight. “i guess i’ll wait for the power to get back on.” he sighs.

knock!, he heard.

it was not that loud, but also not silent enough for suguru not to hear. he looks out of his bedroom window to check on his front door, there seeing a silhouette of a person.

is this satoru playing a prank on him?

“that bastard,” suguru huffs, ignoring the man on his door.

knock! knock!, this time, two times.

“fucking hell..” he groans, sitting on his bed, waiting for satoru to go away.

knock! knock! knock!, knock! knock! knock! knock!, knock! knock! knock! knock! knock!

“3.. 4.. 5?” suguru counts. when they knock, they pause when they hit a certain number.

knock! knock! knock! knock! knock! knock!

it was getting annoying. who is this? satoru would’ve been too busy to make a prank last as long as this.

he looks out at his bedroom window again, finding the person gone.

finally. he called it, it was satoru.

wait a goddamn minute.

“‘suguru geto i will strike at midnight, and i will knock at your door in increasing numbers’, goddamn, suguru. your fans are somethin’ else!”

what satoru said. was it that fan? or is it just satoru actually playing a prank on him?

clank!

the sound of glass shattering can be heard from downstairs. now suguru knows that this is not satoru.

somebody is in his house.

running over to the staircase, he sees a figure, perfectly illuminated by the moonlight. “shit,” he curses, rushing over to his room, locking the door.

“who the fuck..?” he mutters, grabbing his phone to call 911. his fingers shake as he enters in the three numbers, putting his phone on his ear.

“911, what’s your em—” the caller was cut off as his phone’s battery dies. “fuck, how!?” he grits his teeth, trying to find anything to call the cops with.

maybe he could escape out the window? no, that’d be too risky. but, he’s already going to die for fuck’s sake!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

he hears banging on his bedroom door. fuck, he’s so dead. he opens a window, getting ready to jump.

as his feet lifted off of the ground to jump, something pulled him. he falls to the floor, groaning in pain.

he looks up, seeing the intruder. they wore a hoodie that covers their face up. “y–you!” he grunts, attempting to stand up.

the intruder just places their feet on his chest, making him fall back to the floor.

“suguruu..?” a woman calls his name...wait, a woman?

“who the fuck are you..?” he asks, groaning.

“well..” she laughs, slowly taking off her hoodie as she leans down.

taking off her hoodie, she reveals herself to him. “suguru, good evening..” you purr, smiling down at him.

[chubbycelebs]

My Chocolate Factory Experience (pt 4 -final part)

The doors open back to the world. We hear shouting and cheering and cameras flashing. We take a step forward and the crowd gasps. “What happened in there?” “My goodness they are huge!” “Is that Declan? Bloody hell he was so skinny. Look at that belly!” “Wow Jamie has packed it on. I’m surprised he can still fit into his clothes.” The audience reactions made us both laugh. 

3 months later…

*ding dong* The doorbell rings to my apartment. “Just leave it by the door!” I shout out. I hear the rustling of paper bags as the delivery man puts down by the front door. I don’t like to be seen much since leaving the factory. It’s propelled me and Jamie into fame and that’s not what either of us want. Inescapable fame. At the start after a week or two of us leaving, I would be walking around town and I’d have paparazzi following me everywhere. Snapping photos making the front page of the next morning magazine: “Declan fattened beyond belief” “That’s what you get when you gobble down sweets!” “New clothes, same waistline”. It was relentless. Didn’t help that I hadn’t heard from Jamie at all. I thought after I’d become some lazy fatty for him he’d stay with me but turns out he didn’t want any of it. I was walking around to try and lose some weight, possibly go back to my skinny twink body but that’s gone to shit. Due to all the paparazzi and the name calling and the shaming and the ignorance of it all I decided I’d just stay in my apartment. I was cursed with now having a diet of fast food that was delivered to my doorstep 3 to 6 times a day. Obviously this didn’t help my body. As I walked to the front door I caught a glimpse on the mirror by the stairs of my body. I was stood in my underwear as this was the only item of clothing that fit me now and even then dig deep and hard into my hips. My face looked like it had melted as my jawline was now one with my fat neck. My arms were thicker and jiggled if I moved them too fast. My chubby fingers which were only good for shoving food into my fat face now. My chest was soft and slightly dropping now, my nipples growing wider and more sensitive as my chest was becoming huge moobs. My belly was really rounding out now. It stuck out far and even started to sag round the top band of my underwear. My belly button was deep and my love handles were wide and wobbled at every move. My ass and thighs filled my underwear to the point they were pretty much see through, not that there was much to see now. My fat pad had grown and my huge dick was getting smaller by the day. my thickened legs held up my fat body as I plopped around my apartment. I slapped my belly and shook it as I turned round to get my food. “Fuck me” I thought. “What have I done to my self”. Obviously once the food was in my fat piggy hands, I spent the next few minutes stuffing my face full of it all. I got enough food to feed a family of 5 and yet my belly still yearned for more. That was something I had noticed leaving the factory: never being full since. I had spent so trying to make my self full again and nothing is filling me up like it used to. It was like the food at Wonka’s had transformed me into an ever eating machine, constantly wanting to stuff my face. As I finished my meal I gave my greasy belly a good shake and let out a deep belch that made my double chin shake.

As I was laying on my sofa, sausage fingers down my underwear trying to please my self, I noticed a pink folded under my tv that I hadn’t seen in ages. It was my photo book of all the people I used to stuff before I went to Wonkas. My heart skipped a beat with excitement as I reached for it. I had completely forgotten I had this little project. I opened it up. There were photos of so many fat men that I had stuffed right here in this apartment. I would get them to pose showing off their expanded bodies. My dick pushed tight against my restraining underwear. I could feel the pressure mounting. I flicked through them and noticed a few where I would get in the photo, both of us naked and showing the contrast between my twink body and their hog like bodies. I saw how tight my skin was over my abs, my neat pecks and toned arms and legs. I looked at how my belly rolled over onto the top of my thighs and my chest now sat atop my bulging belly like a tier cake. I really had become one of my hogs. I had a mix of guilt, sadness, embarrassment but also intense proudness, so turned on and satisfied that this is what I had turned into.

*ding dong* The doorbell? It was 12am and I hadn’t ordered any food. Or I don’t think I did. It was probably some journalists who wanted to talk to me about how I’ve let my self go and what happened how did I get to be so fucking huge. I decided to ignore it. *ding dong ding dong* there was a sense of urgency now. Not only was the door bell going but they were banging on the door to be let in. Usually journalists are much more polite, like to act sweet before they poke fun at you. This was someone different. I started standing up when I heard a huge rip in my underwear. “Oh shit. My last pair” I said reaching round to feel the damage. I had split them right down my arse and round to the bottom of my balls which were now starting to fall out of my underwear and on show. I started looking around frantically looking for something that would cover my body. All there were was old clothes that were split and covered in food. That’s when I notice the huge paper bag my food came in. I sighed as I realised what I had to do. I ripped a hole in the bottom of the bag and stepped into it. I wriggled it up until it got to my ass. I had to be careful here. I didn’t wanna rip it. I sucked in and clenched my ass as slipped the huge greasy paper bag over my fat body. It barely fit my body. I knew I couldn’t breathe out or the bag wound burst. The knocking and door bell ringing was getting more inpatient. “Alright I’m coming I’m coming shit” I said waddling to the door, trying not to rip it. I unlocked the door and was met with a familiar face. “Jamie” I said with a sigh. I let go of my breath. My belly fell forwards and the bag split right down the middle. My huge fat naked body was now on full display to Jamie. “Fuck I’m so sorry come in come in quick” I said rushing to cover my nob with my hands. I was fucked now. Nothing to cover me. But as Jamie came into the light, I noticed that all he was wearing was a huge sheet of black material and it was a large sheet as well. Now in the light I could see the two was bigger than when he left the factory 3 months ago. 

We made our way to the living room where we both sat down on the sofa. I felt I had to be the one to break the ice as I was the one sat naked across from him. “To get it out the way, yes I have put on some extra weight. I don’t like leaving the house and I’m always hungry so yes that’s why I’ve got tits now and sat naked across from you. How bout you then huh?” I ask not hiding the fact I was pissed off that we hadn’t spoke for 3 months and then he arrives at my apartment with no notice. I can see him fiddling with his fingers before taking off the large piece of black material. I thought I was fat. Jamie was huge. That chubby boy I met over 3 months ago was no more, I was in the presence of a hog. Jamie’s chest sat comfortably atop his huge gut which stuck out far and wide. It dropped over where his waist band would be. His ass was huge and covered in cellulite that carried on down his huge legs. “Well this is me Dec. I’m huge. And I can’t stop eating.”

“Oh my god” I say my mouth agape as I’m left to look at Jamie’s huge naked body on full display. My dick almost goes instantly hard and it was on show for him to see. I can see that even Jamie was getting turned on at this encounter, even though his dick was buried under all his fat. He truly did enjoy me fat. All those nights of me stressing about my expanding body was all for nothing because he still liked me fat. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders and a smile cracked across my face. 

“I didn’t get in contact because I was scared. I was scared that whatever happened in the factory was just gonna stay in the factory. I didn’t realise that you actually like me big. But as I kept eating and growing uncontrollably because of food in the factory well I knew I had to come see you. I must say though I thought you would’ve lost some of the weight so it’s nice to see you all soft and jiggly.” Jamie moves forward towards me. I feel my heart pounding as our bellies touch, the hairs on our guts stroking each others. 

“You’re such a fucking stupid pig Jamie” I say as I wrap my arms around him and make out with him. We spent the whole night eating, rubbing, jiggling, teasing, moaning, groaning and fucking. By the time the sun started to rise we both were covered in sweat, making out jiggly rolls glisten in the sunrise. We both laid on the floor panting and rubbing our very very full guts. Yet we still could eat more. “I’m still hungry Jamie” I say between gasps for air. 

“Me too. I’ve never been full since leaving the factory. Oh what I would do to go back there.” Jamie starts to rub his belly in circles. We sit in silence for a bit before an idea comes to mind. 

“Jamie. Why don’t we go tonight when it gets dark. Wonka said we could go back whenever we wanted and if it’s dark we don’t have to worry about people seeing us.” 

Jamie rolls over and looks at me, his belly spilling forward on the floor in front of him. “I’m down.”

We thought it be best to at least have clothes to wear as we wandered the streets to the factory. We ordered some to be delivered to our house in the biggest size we could get. Once they arrived we tried them on. My clothes fit me fine maybe even a bit big in places. The round shape of my belly could still be seen and my ass still made it clear it was there but other than that I was concealed. Jamie’s clothes were filled up a bit more. His shirt covered his huge belly but didn’t hide it. He was very clearly fat still. 

Nightfall came and we left the flat. We walked through the town and to the factory at the edge of the village. We got to the front gates. We didn’t really know what to do at this point. Didn’t know how to get in at this hour but then the creaking of the gates started sounding. They both opened and lead us through to the front door. The same happened here and the front door opened for us. Here was the familiar corridor we walked down before just now without any lights on. There was no one to be seen. Not any of 

Wonka’s workers or even the man him self. We decided just to let ourselves in. We walked down the corridor that 5 of us walked down before. I thought back to the others. How they were so fat and out of shape before and now they were even bigger. It felt like I had now taken their place. I felt my body jiggling with every step and thought back to how their bodies never stood still. I had really become one of those greedy fatties. My heart started to race as we got to the end of the corridor. If I had become one of them then what could happen to me on this room now. Would I blow up to be 1000 pounds of lard. Would I expand into a juicy horny blueberry begging to be touched and squeezed. What awaits me past these doors. 

Again as we reached the end of the corridor, the doors opened. The sweet filled meadow was dark, hard to see what was inside. Me and Jamie squeezed through the door, it being a much tighter fit than I remembered. We looked around the room. We could see the trees, some bushes and rocks, hear the sound of the chocolate river that filled the room with its scent. I felt my belly shake as it rumbled with hunger and heard the same happen to Jamie. As we moved forward into the room, a large mound started to appear right ahead of us. A huge mountain it seemed like. As we moved forward and the mound came into light it was clear what it was. It was all food. It was a huge mound of just sugary food. Cakes, waffles, cookies, chocolate, rolls, pastry’s, cream and more. It was huge. Me and Jamie looked at each other. We both grinned and ran towards the huge mound. 

This is what heaven must be like. I rolled in the thick cream as I took bite after bite of the soft moist cake I rest my body on. Oh everywhere I look there was food I could fill my belly with. Finally an endless supply of food that could satisfy my hunger. I kept chewing and swallowing and stuffing my face full of the food. I laid to rest for a second on a particular soft cookie and look over at Jamie. I see the joy in his face as he stuffs his face full of food. What I also see is his brand new clothes not fitting his expanding body. Right before my eyes I saw his belly swell forward and his shirt be unable to fit anymore. His ass pushed forward and the seams were stretched thin. Whatever food we were eating it was making us fatter and quicker. I looked down at my own body and it was true. My body filled my clothes to the point they were right on me now. I grabbed a handful of cream filled cookie and shoved it in my mouth and watched my stomach as I swallowed. I saw my belly push further out slightly and felt a breeze on my lower belly as the shirt rode up displaying my gut. “Oh fuck” I thought to my self. I looked around and saw how much food we had left to eat. I felt the hunger pang in my stomach. “Holy shit we are gonna be massive” I thought as my dick got hard at the thought. I dive back in head first and carry on filling my body with creamy fat. 

“DEC DEC HELP!” I heard shouting from across the mound of food. About half an hour had passed now. I poke my head out of a donut I was stuffing and look around for Jamie. After this long of stuffing my clothes had been reduced to scraps. I was now about 450 pounds of pure lard. My belly hung down onto my huge fat thighs. My chest was soft and my nipples huge and sensitive. I had grown to a size I never thought would be possible. I waddled over to where the shouting was. I turn a corner and see Jamie. 

“Jesus fucking christ” I say in shock. There lay Jamie. Now around 650 pounds. He was a huge mound of fat now. His limps waved in the air as he tried to move around but his belly was so huge and round filled with food that he couldn’t move at all. 

“Declan help. I’m so huge I can’t move please feed me. I need you.” I heard the pleading and  pain in his voice. He needed to be fed. My fat boy needed feeding. I waddled over and started feeding this hog with all the food I could. I of course kept on stuffing my face too. Couldn’t let Jamie have all the fun. We spent hours feeding each other every food there was. The mound got smaller and smaller until the last few crumbs were left as the sun started to rise. 

The main door to the room creaked open. “Right then workers. We’ve got a lot of food to get through today so best be… holy fucking shit…” Wonka had walked through the door with a few of his workers and saw what me and Jamie had become. Jamie was definitely 1500 pounds of pure fat. His body was round it was so filled with fat. He was truly the biggest guy anyone had ever seen. And my self well I was surely 1000 pounds if not more at this point. I too was propped up by my rounded fat figure. I’m sure it was a sight to see two huge fatties sat naked covered in food inside his factory. “No fucking way. That can’t be. Can it? Jamie?” Jamie grunted in response. “And no way that’s Declan” Wonka said walking towards us. I gave him a little wave with what mobility I had left in my body. “Holy fucking SHIT GUYS. You guys were the skinniest ones here a few months ago and now look at you lard arses. SHIT you greedy fuckers.” Wonkas mocking made me so horny and I can only imagine what Jamie is feeling too. “Well to be honest you saved the job of these workers. Bought them in today to eat all the food as I was getting rid of it but turns out you pigs did it for us. Saved these workers from a similar fate to what you now have.” The muscle clad workers looked slightly disappointed that their roles of eating and getting fat like me and Jamie were no more. “Oh don’t worry boys there’ll be more food.” Wonka said noticing their sad expressions. “Right well there’s only really one place for you two. You can be our big fat taste testers. You’d like that wouldn’t you. Stuffing your face with food all day long. Sounds good doesn’t it piggies.” Just then I felt hands on my soft body as I was rolled away. 

The trip to the taste testing facility was long and I was dizzy from the spinning. I let my eyes shut as the workers rolled my huge body down long corridors followed by Jamie. I could hear on multiple occasions the workers panicking because Jamie kept getting stuck he was so fat. This made me giggle to my self knowing that I would follow his same fat eventually. 

We finally made it to the huge vast room that was the taste testing room. I opened my eyes. The room was filled with huge fat people. All these huge orbs of lard were scattered across the room with a funnel attached to their mouths with food pumping inside of them. It was insane to see the scale of this room. How many people had Wonka causes to become so unhumanly fat. “So here we are my boys. The feeding room! Because you boys have spoiled your appetite and now will be hungry for the rest of your lives it’s best just to hook you up and feed you for life. Of course side effects do include getting fatter by the second but I have a hunch you boys won’t mind that.” My cheeks plush as I realise I will spend the rest of my life becoming one of the fattest people in the world. “So first Jamie let’s get you hooked up.” I see Jamie get moved into position and a funnel gets strapped into his mouth. A worker gives him a firm slap on the arse and the food starts pumping into his body. I can even hear a moan of satisfaction as he is filled with sweet food. “Right then Declan you next. I must say I never expected you to make your way down here.” I started to get moved into position. “You were so skinny before and loved feeding up fatty over there.” The funnel was out into my mouth. “But I guess you enjoyed being fed by that fatty too much and now look where you are. I hope it was worth it lard arse.” Wonka presses a button and the food started pouring into my mouth. 

I sat and thought about all the fat boys I’d fattened up. All were so desperate to be huge and fat. Some I grew to 250 pounds others I pushed to 500. I thought how jealous they would be to see me now. How after all that fattening they could never be as big as me. I had gone from a feeder to a huge fucking feedee and I loved it. Forever fattening up for eternity. 

Well this is the end of this story series. I have spent so long doing this story. Every part I put loads of effort in to make sure there was loads of details and nothing was missed so I really hope you all enjoyed it and can see the hard work I put into it. I know it’s taken a while to do but I do hope it’s been worth it. Let me know any story ideas anyone wants to see. Might just do short stories for a while now. Thank you guys for the support!

[wintersoldiersoul]

Quit

Summary: Quitting nicotine is hard. Luckily Bucky is there to distract you.

Warnings: vaping, smoking cigarettes, smut, oral (f receiving), tiny bit of degrading, praise kink

You fumbled with your keys and drunkenly stumbled into the apartment. A night out with Natasha and Wanda always meant you would have a good time. 

“Fun night?” Bucky said, getting up from the couch and walking over to you. He laughed as he took in your drunken state. 

“So fun,” you chimed, trying to bend down to take off your heels, only to fall over.

Bucky chucked. “Sit down, sweetheart. I’ll take your shoes off for you.” After he removed your shoes, he helped you stand up. “You’re so funny when you’re drunk.” He grabbed your face and kissed you gently. But when he pulled away, his face was stern. “Y/N, come on! I thought we agreed! No more drunk cigs.” He had tasted the cigarettes you smoked earlier on your lips. “I thought you wanted to quit, hun.” He wasn’t mad. He knew how hard quitting nicotine could be. After all, he had grown up in the 40s, when everyone constantly had a Marlboro hanging off their lips, including him. Of course the way he stopped was by being brainwashed so he didn’t fully experience what quitting was like, but he still understood how hard it was.

“But it’s sooo hard, Bucky!” You whined. 

He looked inside of your purse and found the vape that you had also bought that night, your drunk mind wanting nicotine and nicotine only. He still wasn’t mad, though. He just wanted to help you quit and be healthy. “Y/N, you bought a vape?”

Your addiction was no secret to Bucky. In fact, you first met when you were standing on the New York City sidewalk, hitting your vape. You took it everywhere you went, like it was emotional support. Going from the bedroom to the kitchen? It wasn’t leaving your hand. He didn’t push you to quit. The only time he tried, you explained to him that of course you knew it was bad for you, but that didn’t mean you could just stop. Him telling you about how bad it was wasn’t any new information and it sure as hell wasn’t gonna help you stop. After that, he understood that quitting was something that you had to decide to do on your own. 

But when you approached him a couple weeks ago saying that you were ready to quit, he was ready to help. You had tried quitting cold turkey before and it never stuck, so you knew you would need a different approach. You rarely smoked cigarettes, only when you were drunk, so that was part of the deal. No more drunk cigs. The second part of the deal was that you couldn’t have your vape in your possession. Bucky kept one hidden away, in a place he knew you’d never find it. You were only allowed to ask him for it 15 times a day, which was minimal compared to the constant puffs your body was used to. Your codeword was “lipstick.” When you said the word, Bucky reluctantly gave you the vape. 

“I’m taking this, okay? You only have 15 asks per day, remember,” he said, grabbing the vape from your purse. You pouted but you knew he was right. And you were making progress. It was getting easier to stop.

The next morning, you did something that hadn’t happened in a week. The first thing you did when you opened your eyes was instinctively reach for the vape that you used to keep on your bedside table. You groaned when it wasn’t there. “Buckyyy,” you groaned.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Yes, darling?”

“Lipstick.” 

“Already?” He said, to which you nodded. “Okay.” He stretched as he got out of bed and left the room, returning a few minutes later with your prized possession in hand. You took a long inhale from the device, closing your eyes as the chemicals filled your head. 

The two of you both started your day. You did work at your desk while Bucky enjoyed having a day off and relaxing. You asked him for the vape a couple times while you worked, but you weren’t keeping track of how many times it had been. “Lipstick,” you said as you typed a report that you needed to do.

“You’re done, babe,” Bucky informed you. 

You turned your head away from the laptop. “Wait, what?”

He nodded. “Yup. That was 15.”

“Oh.” Usually, you could make your 15 hits last at least until 8pm but the cigarettes and vaping that you had consumed last night must have set you back more than you realized. You tried to focus back on your work but your mind could only think about the nicotine that your body was craving. Bucky watched you, seeing how your leg was bouncing. He knew exactly what was going on in your body. “Bucky, please,” you begged after a few minutes, getting desperate.

“No, baby. You just need a distraction. Can you take a break from your work for a bit?”

“I’m trying to work as my distraction. But yeah, this isn’t pressing.”

He got up from the couch in your office and walked over to the desk. “I think I know a more fun distraction.” He crawled under your desk.

“Bucky what are you-” Your words were cut off when he spread your legs apart, exposing the panties you were wearing under your skirt. “Oh,” you laughed when you realized his plan.

His hands ran up and down your inner thighs. Within seconds, you were overwhelmed with need. You never understood how he could turn you on so quickly by barely even doing anything but if anyone could, it was Bucky Barnes. He lightly traced his finger tip over your underwear, putting enough pressure on your clit that you could feel it, but not nearly enough to give you what you needed. “B-buck,” you looked down at him. The sight of the 6-foot tall man kneeled under your desk just wanting to please you was almost enough to make you cum. 

He looked in your eyes as he slid his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs. He hummed at the sight of your bare pussy, already soaking wet and ready for him. “God, baby,” he moaned. “This all because of me? Just because I touched your legs a little bit? You’re such a slut for me aren’t you, baby?”

His words sent your head into a frenzy. You were desperate, pussy wet and exposed to him, throbbing and clenching around nothing. “Yes, I’m your slut, Bucky!” You whined, just wanting him to do something.

“Good girl,” he growled before creating a seal around your clit and sucking. You screamed out at the sudden intense stimulation. The feeling of your throbbing clit in his mouth had you bucking your hips against his face. He turned his eyes upwards, blue irises looking at you lustfully as he thrust two metal fingers inside of you. 

“Fuck!” You screamed out. You felt him smile smugly against you at your reaction. He kept his fingers where they were, toying around with the inside of your pussy and suddenly pushing down on your g-spot. “Bucky!”

He began to thrust his fingers in and out of you, lips and tongue still continuing to devour your clit. He moaned against your cunt, the vibrations sending pleasure all over your body. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum!” You moaned as you felt the pressure in your stomach get more and more intense. He hummed again as a response, giving you permission to explode on his face. You came undone at the feeling, your juices flooding into his mouth and all over his chin and fingers.

You sat breathless as he removed his fingers from you and put them in your mouth “You taste how sweet you are, baby? Swear I could spend forever eating your perfect cunt.”

You just hummed around his fingers, still blissed out from your previous orgasm. “You still thinking about nicotine, babe?” He smirked. 

“No. Definitely not.”

[liasadventuretime]

˗ˏˋyou jealous ? :) ´ˎ˗ - neteyam x reader pt. 6

⁀➷  part six : SHOW ME.

notes : how could i not publish a chapter on st valentine’s day ! here’s pt. 6, and let me know if y’all like it ! i decided to confuse y’all a bit, so just go look at how things went ;)

words : 5,24 k

tags : neteyam x reader x ao’nung, teasing, mentions of rape but nothing actually happening, words of comfort, alluding to smut in next part.

you woke up, lazily opening your eyes. neteyam holding you with his head on your chest, his arms tangled with your waist, the same way his legs were tangled with yours. you looked at him, asleep, his mouth slightly parted.

if his friends could see the way he was tangled to you like you were his moma, they would probably make fun of him for eternity. but at the same time, he was that comfortable that he could do whatever he wants with you without being ashamed.

he’s always been the biggest brother, he had to comfort and to guide others, and take care of everything, but who was there for him ? who could comfort him and guide him ?

the responsibilities sometimes weighted too much, making him break down.

but since you two started going to the beach, to smoke and talk, get everything off your mind, his life has progressed a lot. he always looked for you everywhere.

you’re the star he looks for every night.

you were there to be that motherly person he never had in his life. neytiri was a very good mother, but she sometimes didn’t realise how many responsibilities she laid on him. sometimes even pressuring him. but you didn’t pressure him into anything. you were just there to comfort him, do what he wanted to do, without feeling guilt or shame.

you loved the way he let you see that side of him. so fragile, so pure.

neteyam is a child in an adult’s body. because all of the things he’s been through, he’s grown up to be a tall child. you didn’t even realise that in the meanwhile, you shed a tear. everyone was so hard on him, even you. you made his life hell, like it wasn’t enough. you didn’t even think for a moment about the fact that he had to leave his home, the forest, and come here, where the people are different, where everyone judged him for not being metkayina.

you were shaken by him waking up. he hugged your torso, and still laid his head on your chest. you gently caressed his hair, laying a kiss on his head. you felt his lips curl on your skin. please, please, please don’t ever take neteyam away from me.

“neteyam” you said in a low tone.

“mh ?” he hummed back.

“we have to get up” he sighed, raising his head. you could see he was still tired, but at least if you two got up now, you could have breakfast and spend a bit of time together before parting ways. he had to train, and you had to talk to jake. you two are supposed to help ao’nung’s father with something you genuinely had no idea of. he lazily got up, giving you a hand. you looked at him for a sec, and he immediately understood what you wanted. he sighed once again, lifting you up, you hugged him. one hand on your ass, of course, and the other on your back. you circled his neck with your arms, laying a soft kiss on his neck.

he walked to the kitchen, plopping you down on the table once again. “can you go get the food from your parents’ pod ?” you said trying to convince him.

“oh c’mon ! my mom will skin me. at least go with me.” he said dragging you to the living room to get dressed. you huffed.

“ok fine !” he left a kiss on your cheek, putting a his cloth on. you picked out a top from your wardrobe, it was a shiny one with shells attached to it. it was definitely the prettiest one you had.

you felt neteyam behind you, unlatching it. you were super confused.

“no, ‘teyam we don’t have time-” you hurriedly said, eyebrows pinched in an angry expression. what sick idea was it to fuck before going to his parents’ pod ?

“if you think i’m letting you go to my dad’s pod in that tiny shiny top after i heard what you said last night about him, you have gone absolutely nuts.” he said, killing every protest of yours. he was seriously jealous of his dad ? you laughed, but also you couldn’t stop thinking about how much you loved him. this man was hilarious.

you put another top on, it was green, leafs covering it. he gave you an approving look which made you smile. you slowly walked out of your pod, enjoying every second you guys could have before starting the day.

“dad ? mom ?” neteyam asked, getting in his pod. you walked right behind him, noticing lo’ak and kiri eating on the table. “they’re not here…” kiri said with a questioning tone, eyeing the both of you. well, especially you.

she gave you that ‘you’re telling me everything later’ look, which you only smiled to. it’s not like you had any other option. lo’ak was even more confused than her, eyeing you both.

you sat down, keeping your distance from neteyam, since you still didn’t feel a hundred percent comfortable showing affection public. he noticed, sliding right beside you, a betting expression on his face, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the two guys that were in front of you. you coughed, trying to signal him to not get so close.

they both noticed the tension between y'all, so kiri decided to just tell y'all.

“so um…” she said, catching your attention, neteyam looking at her. she definitely noticed.

“… tuk has kind of already told us everything” kiri finished almost like it was a question more than an affirmation, she told them everything this morning when her and lo’ak couldn’t help but notice that the two of you were missing. you felt heat spread in your cheeks, not daring to make eye contact with lo’ak. just the thought of TUK knowing everything embarrassed you so much, you covered your face with your hands and deeply sighed. on the other hand, neteyam almost felt relived, his ears going up. he didn’t have to be the one to tell everything, and he also didn’t have to pressure you.

“oh, thank god.” he said, pulling you to sit on his lap, hand on your stomach, back pressed on his chest. “neteyam, have some fucking shame.” you said screaming, looking at him with an angry expression on your face, a confused expression on his.

“don’t you fucking scream at me, they know ! stop stressing, what the fuck.” he replied back, you could feel his legs tense under you. his eyebrows pinched together, mouth full of food.

“ugh, at least try and be ashamed ! and close your fucking mouth !” you screamed, forcing your hands on his jaw in an attempt at closing his mouth. he placed his bowl on the table, catching your hands holding them. “keep your goddamn hands off my face, you dirty slag !” he said, offended. kiri and lo’ak laughed at the scene, recognising that the two of you didn’t change one bit.

“and what the fuck are you laughing at ? lo’ak don’t think i’m not going to beat your ass later.” neteyam said dealing with them, lo’ak’s grin immediately dropping, your cheeks super red.

“NETEYAM !” you said, kiri widening her eyes even more, jaw falling. she looked at you, realising you told her nothing about it. “BRO I SWEAR IT WASN’T LIKE THAT !” lo’ak defended himself. you all laughed, easing the mood.

you slowly tried to get off neteyam’s lap, while he talked with lo’ak and kiri about something you weren’t listening to. you heard him stop talking, and realised he was side eyeing you.

he grabbed your thighs and replaced them on his lap. “stop moving, they already know we fucked and i took your virginity , don’t worry.” he chuckled and laughed. kiri gasped, but lo’ak laughed too.

in that moment, you felt a vein in your heart hurting. you felt naked, in front of all of them, getting thrown in the air like you were a piece of meat. such a special and important moment for you, getting talked about like you were one of his whores. neteyam didn’t notice at the beginning, but kiri did. she looked at you, almost asking sorry. but why would she apologise, it’s not her fault. you felt tears getting crowded in your eyes, and now you weren’t comfortable with neteyam’s hands all over your body. you felt stared at, even though kiri was the only person looking at you, caring about you. you regretted everything. the talks, the kisses, the sex, the love, the feelings.

in that exact moment, you wish you never met him. you thought he was different, you thought he could be better, but he is just the exact same. you felt dizzy, something heavily thumping in your head. kiri noticed your absent gaze, neteyam didn’t. how much did he really care about you ?

he found himself asking that question pretty often. since the dawn of time, you were only kind of a bet to him. something to win, a prize. without the sugarcoating, he saw you as an object. a very beautiful attractive shiny object, but still. he didn’t want to see you that way, but he just couldn’t. things obviously changed a bit, but your perception of his feelings towards you didn’t.

the way he was holding you inner thigh, the way his hand was grasping your shoulder, didn’t feel attractive anymore. it felt almost… molesting. kind of rapey too. you felt unsafe.

yes, between neteyam’s arms you felt unsafe. something that never occurred with ao’nung. you felt spikes chocking you, a heavy weight in your stomach, and you couldn’t manage to keep your tears to yourself.

did you make the right choice ?

a tear slipped from your eyes, and kiri noticed. you were literally trembling between neteyam's arms and he couldn't care or notice. you aggressively wiped it away, excusing yourself to get out of the pod. you needed some air. you couldn’t even breathe anymore, and you remembered neteyam’s hands. chocking you. no, let’s use the right words.

he was strangling you.

and you felt like a slut, because of how much you liked it, not realising you probably interpreted his actions wrongly. maybe he just wanted to abuse you, and you couldn’t even notice it because your brain and eyes were fogged with pleasure. your brain and eyes were fogged by him.

“excuse me.” you said, in the lowest tone possible. you got up, not being able to ignore the way neteyam’s eyes and fingers lingered on you, feeling like they were raping you. he didn’t even notice, and smirked at you. you felt almost like throwing up. kiri couldn’t hold back anymore, and as soon as you got out of the pod, she followed you.

you felt the fresh salty air get in your lungs, healing you, getting all the fog out of your brain. you couldn’t hold your tears back anymore, you weren’t even sobbing. just quiet tears scarring your face. those type of scars that never fade away.

you called your ilu, Dah’lia, and got on her back, your legs and feet now wet, feeling the ocean hug you more delicately than neteyam ever could. your ears sprung up, hearing kiri’s voice call you. you watched her as she got on her ilu’s back too. “( y/n ) ! wait !”

she was right beside you, wind blowing on your faces, bubbles tickling your feet, waves getting more and more big. “is everything okay ?” kiri spat out while trying to catch her breath.

you watched her as she brought a hand to your chest, while you decided what to say.

should you lie, say you’re fine, get back in your pod, and get meaninglessly fucked by your so called future mate, hoping every second he would not see the scared lonely shadow in your eyes, and hoping it would end as soon as possible, to able to just go to sleep, where neteyam couldn’t hover over you. the kid you were so in love with, would’ve never done such things, but still here we are. had you outgrown eachother ? was it a miscommunication type of thing ?

were you wrong for thinking about it that, or were you possibly overthinking again ?

should you say the truth ?

“i don’t know.” you calmly said to her, which wasn't entirely a lie, your voice hiding years of self doubt and hope. but hope saved no one, not even your secret hopeless romantic soul.

kiri sighed, her hand placed between your elbow and your shoulder, caressing it. it felt very different to neteyam’s touch, that once felt so protecting but now only felt dirty and disgusting.

“it’s just…” you sighed, gaze low, staring at the bottom of the ocean, so clear and so calm. you tried to collect your words, and explain everything to her. because she was the last person you wanted to disappoint by lying or even just lightly sugarcoating anything.

“… he said it, in that monotone, cold and materialistic way… that i almost felt like an object.” you finally said, a sob threatening to escape. spikes getting more and more heavy in your throat.

“oh, dear ( y/n ).” she said, hugging you. you grasped on her like your life depended on it, lowering your head on her shoulders, letting a few other tears escape. you could feel her heartbeat against your chest, calm and low. the heat of her hug, comforting you.

you let your thought and flaws flow inside of her, feeling all the negative energy get out of your system. you recollected yourself, and brushed every tear out of your face. you rapidly smiled at her, now having to go to jake and tonowari’s reunion.

“thank you.” you simply said. she smiled at you, kissing you on the cheek, still realising that neteyam could have never kissed you that delicately.

she brought her hand up, her ilu starting to go away as she said goodbye to you. you heard neteyam and lo’ak getting out of the pod, so you rapidly went away. neteyam noticed you, his smile slowly dropping finally realising that something could possibly be wrong.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

jake saw you walking towards him, his arms opening to embrace you in a hug. he noticed your low mood, which he hates to admit has been your default these days. he didn’t want to be self-absorbed but he feared it was neteyam. you walked towards him, letting yourself melt in the hug, your head against his chest, his arms caressing your head. you felt tears prickle your eyes, but it was enough for today.

enough crying. you hugged him tighter, and he felt his heart squeeze in his chest. you felt your heart throb, and you couldn’t do anything but frown, tears threatening to fall. in this moment, you were so embarrassed about the way you talked about him that night with neteyam. you felt shame, almost like you were naked and everyone was watching you, once again.

you felt exposed, but who’s fault was it ? you were the one that exposed yourself.

you sniffed, catching his attention, him closely leaning to look at you in the eyes. you sniffed a couple more times, feeling your cheeks wet, and took a deep breath. jake looked at you with a sad tingle in his eyes. he was so wrong. he was so so wrong. but now you were knuckle deep.

he knew that even if you tried to leave neteyam, you would’ve had to kill him to actually be able to continue living your life. he was never going to leave you alone. as much as he loved you, he loved you in the wrong way. jake and neytiri recognised that, and they were not only scared for him but also his future mate.

neteyam couldn’t realise it, he was too deep in his fantasies, in his little sick world.

and unfortunately, you were absorbed in that world too.

the only way you could modify an already dried vase, is by breaking it.

you sucked in a deep breath, and smiled at him, tears still glossing your puffy eyes. he sadly smiled at you, trying to at least be your support for today.

you always thought neteyam was that father figure you needed in your life, not knowing you had the most perfect dad right in front of your eyes. maybe that’s why.

neteyam was jealous, jealous because jake treated you the way he should’ve been treated.

“why not me ?”

maybe he was overly protective and overly jealous of others, because he was scared you could find someone better. he knew there was someone better. just waiting for you to leave him, and embrace you in his arms, giving you the world and more.

he would rather see you unhappy with him, rather than happy with someones else.

because that was the last prove. he was not enough.

for you, for his dad, for lo’ak, for neytiri, for no one.

“atta girl.” he said, positioning his hand on your shoulder, comforting you.

“i love you, dad.” you slowly whispered. eyes looking up at him, you not knowing that he felt the same exact spiked in his throat, that you were feeling a bit of time ago.

“i love you too, daughter.” he said, giving you a light smile. he brought you next to him, hip to hip and walking towards tonowari’s pod. you enjoyed everything.

every breeze of wind, every ray of sun, because you never knew when it was going to be the last time, and if you only knew that that was the last time. jake got in, holding the flap for you, you entered. tonowari was seated in the centre, ao’nung next to him.

he was as shocked as you, not expecting you to be here. his eyes flashed open, his heart squeezing in his chest. he couldn’t breathe for a second, goosebumps flowing to his back.

same thing happened to you, trying hold the eye contact. god, how you missed him.

he immediately lowered his gaze, frowning towards nothing.

did it make you sad ? yes.

was it all your fault ? yes

you got out of your thoughts thanks to jake, who sat down, patting the place right next to him. ao’nung couldn’t even pretend that jake’s gesture didn’t remind him of what he did that night. of how you humiliated him. the way you ran in neteyam’s arms after everything.

tonowari looked at his son, his features softening as he saw ao’nung’s expression. he drifted his hand slowly on his back, patting it. it was going to be hard but he had to.

“so, were where we ?” tonowari said.

“oh yes, ao’nung’s mating ceremony.”

you were a hundred percent sure they heard your heart falling, because there was no fucking way. your head tilted upwards immediately, lips slightly parted, throat heavy . ao’nung’s squeezing his eyes as much as he could, just like jake.

“fuck.” was all he could think of, like things weren’t already as difficult as they could be for you. he noticed, the way your head tilted upwards, tears pooling in your eyes.

if he knew what the reunion was going to be about, he would’ve never brought you there with him. his heart thudding fast, his muscles tensing. ao’nung didn’t even think you were going to be there, tonowari knew a little to nothing about what happened between you two.

but he rapidly understood, it was much serious than he thought.

you swallowed the heavy lump in your throat. closed your eyes for a second and breathed, just like jake taught you.

“with who ?” you asked. a gasp almost leaving jake’s mouth, looking at you with a confused expression. how far did you want to go ? ao’nung looked up at you, lips parting to answer you, but he couldn’t. he physically couldn’t.

he was feeling sick to his stomach, having to pretend for the rest of his life that that woman was you. but she could never. she could never be as witty.

she could never be as caring.

she could never be as lovely.

she could never be as mean.

she could never be as evil.

she could never be as selfish.

she could never be you, end of discussion.

“Alyara.” tonowari said, softly smiling at you, which to be honest only made things worse.

you slowly nodded your head, lips pressed together.

the reunion continued, but without you. you were too lost in your own thoughts. you had lost him. at least this alyara could make him happier than you ever could. you had nothing to worry about. you suddenly felt your chest almost floating, like you were relieved. you felt… calm ?

“hey, ( y/n ), ao’nung.” you both raised your heads, recognising tonowari’s voice, ears standing up. “why don’t you go take a walk ?” he said, in a soothing voice, a smile plastering his face. ugh.

you eyed ao’nung, you didn’t mind if he didn’t mind. maybe walking a bit could give you some time alone. his gaze lifted, locking in with yours. your heart skipped a bit.

“that’s fine.” you said, getting up waiting for him. if he didn’t want to, this would’ve officially been the most embarrassing moment of your life. he got up too, looking at his dad, well more like killing him with his eyes. you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding and got out, the sound of the waves immediately kissing your ears. you closed your eyes and breathed in.

you could never get tired of it.

you saw ao’nung getting out of the pod too, you looked back at him and smiled. you actually forgot how pretty this man could be. he was much taller than you, and also much more bulked than neteyam. he had more of a lean long look, while ao’nung was a bit more toned. the shoulders to waist ratio made you literally go crazy. there was nothing that could be more attractive. his v-line soft, but his cloth a bit more down than usual.

his thighs. they were pretty big, something that neteyam didn’t have. you couldn’t stop thinking about how much different it would’ve felt to ride his thigh instead of your mate’s, feeling arousal pool between your legs. ao’nung noticed. and tried to not care as much he wanted to.

your eyes wandering all over his body. if only he knew that in the exact moment that neteyam said he noticed you watching his thighs, you actually liked ao’nung’s thighs a lot more.

“would you like to go for a swim instead ?” ao’nung asked, smiling at you. he hesitated a lot before asking you, but he thought you’re already in deep deep shit, why not swim in it ? swimming together didn’t have to necessarily mean you two were going to fall back in love, well maybe you didn’t even love him in the first place. but who cares ? everything has been done already.

you met his gaze, his smile warming your stomach. you smiled back at him. “yeah, sure.”

he grabbed your hand, goosebumps rising all over your body. you felt the same dizziness as the first time you ever smoked, head thumping loudly. you two swished around all the pods, ao’nung laughing, the only thing connecting you was your locked hands.

even when you had already grown up and lived a million moments, that one with ao’nung for some reason, had a special place in your heart. the simpleness, the genuinity, the tension.

all of those factors, made the moment even more special than it probably was.

you two suddenly stopped, reaching your favorite spot to swim. you could feel the breeze caressing your skin, the sun kissing your cheeks.

you two looked at each other, and ao’nung started counting with his hands to three. a second after, the cold water was hugging your body. there’s nothing that you loved more than a breakfast swim, when the water’s extremely cold and you can feel it everywhere.

neteyam didn’t even try to know it, but ao’nung didn’t have to. he noticed.

he noticed your love for books, tobacco, poems, the moon, the stars, shells especially those shimmery silver ones, green, the ocean, and strawberries. he saw everything.

neteyam loved you, but one day you would unfortunately have to die. ao’nung loved your soul, something that could’ve never died, that would live different lifes and discover new things. if you died, he would be jealous of the earth that could hug your body, and of the new person your soul would be inside.

you especially loved this spot because of how well you could see the life of it. all the beatiful creatures lurking in their own special place, the way the soft sand could hug your feet when you could go that deep down, the way the water was so clear.

and this was his favorite spot, because he could always see your smile here.

he submerged, catching his breath, a few braids framing his face. a few drops ran across his face to his chin, where they dropped and went back to the sea. you still had a bit of difficulty swimming well, and holding your breath. when ao’nung noticed you struggling he dipped back in, swimming right in front of you. you felt him latch his arms circling his waist and ass, bringing you up.

you hurriedly breathed, catching your breath, you arms circling his shoulder and head, your stomach against his chest. he breathed out, looking at you. he was mesmerising, to say the least.

you couldn’t ignore the way his strong arms where holding you with no difficulty, he made you feel so tiny and delicate, almost like you could break at any given time. you couldn’t even ignore the way his arms were against your ass, holding it tightly. if neteyam saw the two of you right now, the world would have probably already ended.

you had your hands on his shoulders, supporting yourself. still breathing heavily, but not because of the water. because of him. the way his eyes tingled when looking at you, your stomach flipping at the thought of you clearing that sparkle in his eyes. you hand cupped his cheek, making his stomach flip this time. he could feel his heart beating so so fast.

he slowly slid you down, your legs hugging his abdomen, your core now against his stomach. the most subtle movement of his would immediately make you moan, without any shame. your puffy bud pressed against his muscly core, could make you see stars. a twinkle in your eyes.

your hands travelled from the top of his shoulders, to his side, a bit more upward his waist. you travelled your hands along the lines that his ribcage left on his skin. him being overly sensitive because of every move you make. your finger slowly traced the lines of his abs, he whined, his core flexing, it being his most sensitive spot. your mouth slightly parting at the realisation. his cheeks flushed, as pink as they could get.

he thanked god your pussy wasn’t against his waist, or you could’ve felt the tent his dick was making in his cloth. it twitching desperately at every touch of yours. he could feel his precum leaking, marking his cloth. he rolled his eyes, sighing.

your hand trailed from his core to his v-line. he held his breath. your finger slowly tracing the lines that formed it. your finger slowly entered his cloth, his eyes now quite wide, mouth parted. you slightly pulled the string, then leaving it making it snap against his waist. he closed his eyes for a second, you could feel him holding you even more aggressively now.

you raised your head smiling at him, he looked at you tears lightly bubbling his eyes from the teasing. “girl i’m so in love with you.” if he could only have the courage to actually say it to you.

“please, give in.” he whispered , looking through at you through his lashes. his dick was begging to get the minimum amount to stimulation, it being left completely untouched because his hands where too busy holding you. he felt it twitch uncontrollably, he was too deep in now to stop.

you blinked a few times, not realising what he just said. you used to have to beg neteyam to get that type of words to come out of his mouth. he always felt the need to make you feel like you need him, but it was sometimes nice to feel needed.

and if he wasn’t the one to need you, then why give any ounce of your time to him ?

nobody needed more attention from you than ao’nung at the moment.

“why are you with him ? why not me ? what does he have that i don’t ?” he slowly said, a tear crossing his eyes. your heart squeezed, your palm wiping the tear away. he cuddled his head in your hand. “please.” he said.

“please give me a chance to give you what you deserve.” he pleaded and begged.

every second that passed, was torture for him. but he didn’t want to act like him.

he didn’t want to make you notice his erection, make you uncomfortable or even try to allude to anything. he was better. he wanted to treat you the way you deserved to be treated.

“aren’t you tired ?” he pinched his eyebrows, an offended look on his face. your face was sided to the left, not having the courage to look at him. he noticed, and grabbed your jaw.

at the feeling of his fingers on your jaw, you closed your eyes. but it wasn’t rough. it was the opposite. so gentle, you couldn’t believe it. he dragged your face back to him, his calloused big fingers lightly pressing on your cheeks. he saw the way you got scared at his gesture, and mentally promised himself to not let neteyam lay a hand on you ever again.

“aren’t you tired of being treated like a whore ?” he asked, your cheeks flushing at his vulgarity. your panties were soaking wet, he strangely didn’t feel anything. heat pooling between your legs, but you couldn’t squeeze your thighs together since they were wrapped around him.

“don’t you think you deserve better ? why don’t you let anyone treat you like you should ? i don’t get it.” he said. you had no idea of where this was going , but you were definitely not going to get back now.

“don’t you want to see how you could feel about being treated the way you should ?

why don’t you let me give you a chance at being happy ?”

“show me.”

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

final notes : so... yeah ! this is kind of it for today ! hope y'all enjoyed, and PAH-LEASE let me know what y'all think in the comments and what y'all want to see in the next chapter's smut ;)

tags : @xoxobabe @marcswife21 @rubyworld96 @klarolinefanatic @giftfromthemoon @k4tsukiis @rainehatepage @neteyamsbbgfr @miapanticc @iixyia-deactivated20230123 @astasblacksword @ghoulfac3 @buttercake2234 @mashiromochi @avatarslut0 @chanyeolsbeloved @regulus-black-223048 @isabelcor3 @grierpilots @neteyamsmate4life @beyoenisbalfart @severenswife @lady-in-gold @luvagirlsworld @bealone-prm @hafutoru@jyoungmom @soxfix @thatgoodvibescloud @aalyara @abbersreads @neteyamsw @strawberryys-stuff @ilovestargirl @meivap @neteyamsullyswifee @erenjaegerwifee @slutforavatar @athenachu @ghostjoohoney @tsamiaxo @arminsgfloll @hirokosoul @strawberryclouds22@girlkissersco@spoonlord7 @fromthedeskofjoii @loverwonie @chrys018 @rea-zxv @taleiak @shartnart1 @lilprettypetite @dakotali @moeb11us @momfucker-nyct @irisskies @reialuvb @ilikeblue-aliens

[peaches2217]

Regarding a Certain Panda's Nightmares

AO3 Link!

~~~

“I just… I keep having these nightmares, y’know? Real stupid stuff.” Po scoffed and tried to pass it off as a laugh, as if that alone could convince Tigress — maybe himself, too — that those dreams were as meaningless as he wished they were. “It’s always the same. Like… it’s snowing, but there’s fire everywhere, and I hear screaming all over the place, but I feel fine. I’m not cold if I touch the snow and I don’t burn if I touch the fire.”

The smile he gave Tigress was empty, and his eyes, though glancing between the cabinets, the table, and her, were somewhere on the other side of China.

A part of him truly did die there, she found herself thinking, though she forced the thought from her head at once. 

“That’s, uh, that’s usually all there is to it.” Po propped an elbow on the table in the unlit kitchen and rested his cheek on his fist, looking over Tigress’ shoulder at an ever-darkening nothing. “Sometimes it ends pretty quickly. Sometimes I see bodies and, uh, blood ‘n’ stuff. And sometimes I just hear the screaming, and then eventually I don’t hear anything anymore.” He shrugged. “But tonight’s the first time I actually…”

He swallowed heavily and tried half-heartedly to hide it behind his cup of tea. It was still full, but it had long since gone cold.

Tigress glanced down at his paw as he set it back on the table. His claws had grown out. Nothing drastic, and nowhere near as sharp as hers, but the usually blunted tips were reaching a point. He used the tip of his index claw to trace meaningless patterns into the birch.

“She, uh… she recognized me. Called me her little lotus flower. Said I’d gotten so big. But it was like, right in the middle of the, uh… the attack. So that was weird.”

Po looked down at his teacup, maybe observing his reflection in the cooled liquid. He looked so tired. Not the kind of tired brought about by a single sleepless night; no, this was just one of many in the past three weeks. 

“Tried telling her to run. Tried getting her to run with me, y’know, but… she said that, uh, well, my story didn’t have a happy beginning, but she was… uh, she was happy with the way hers ended. Told me she was proud of me. Then I woke up.” He blinked a few times, then his shoulders lifted, like his departed soul was returning to his body. “Just a real stupid dream, y’know? Borderline wish fulfillment. I mean, who would say something like that, right? I know she wouldn’t say that.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know, but like… how do you die and then say you’re okay with it? I wouldn’t be okay with dying like that, especially if it was because…"

And his eyes grew glossy again, going someplace that Tigress, try though she might, couldn’t reach.

“Y’know, I-I don’t know how many… I mean, dozens? Hundreds, thousands? However many, it’s too many. And they’re all, uh, they’re all dead.” Po smacked his lips and shrugged again. “Because of me.”

“Po. You were a child. Nothing you could have done would have stopped it.” 

Tigress kept her voice low, in part to ensure she didn’t wake their teammates sleeping just a few rooms over, and in part so that he didn’t startle and back down. Any semblance of judgment or any suggestion that he had upset her with his words, and Po would apologize and thank her for listening and go back to his room to feign sleep until the morning gong rung. 

For someone so hell-bent on being open and friendly with everyone he met, he was fiercely self-reliant. That much they at least had in common.

“Well,” and Po smiled ruefully as he spoke, “maybe if I was never born…”

Tigress bit her tongue so sharply she tasted blood, because that was all she could do to keep from shutting him down. No, scolding him for such harmful thoughts would get them nowhere, not yet, not right now. “You think things might be different then?” she ventured instead.

“Can’t wipe out all the pandas if you never get told a panda’s gonna kick your butt one day. And that can’t happen if the panda who’s supposed to kick your butt doesn’t exist.”

Tigress averted her gaze to the tabletop as well, breathing as deeply and steadily as her cracked ribs would allow. Though Po had always, to some extent, carried feelings of resentment towards himself, they had never run this deep.

Or if they had, he’d simply never told her. Tigress preferred to think the former was the truth.

“Fate works in odd ways,” she said at last, slowly, thinking and then re-thinking each word before they left her mouth. “We can’t stop it, and we can’t control it. I’m inclined to believe that your absence wouldn’t have changed anything.”

For a moment, Po didn’t respond, just kept staring blankly at the table. Were it not for the minute shifting of his eyes, Tigress would have thought he hadn’t heard her.

“...you think?” Something in the way he asked it, maybe the way his voice fluttered or his brows lifted and scrunched, suggested that he was really considering her words. That was a good sign, at least.

“If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else.”

“But it wouldn’t have been me.”

“People would still be dead, but the Valley wouldn’t have its Dragon Warrior. That would just ensure even more deaths.”

“Maybe the other panda woulda been the Dragon Warrior. Beat Tai Lung, brought peace, kept everyone safe.”

“But we’ll never know, will we? Because you were born, and this life is yours alone.” 

At that, Po nodded, though his face betrayed his despondency. 

I wouldn’t be okay with dying like that, he’d said only minutes earlier. But Tigress knew better. If given no other option, he’d happily die to protect others, especially the ones he held dear.

A tickle in the back of her throat made her cough, lightly, but enough to send a sharp pain through her chest.

A death wish in exchange for the safety and happiness of their loved ones. That was something else they had in common, for sure.

“For what it’s worth…” Tigress mulled over her thoughts for a brief moment. Would someone just like him have come along had he never entered the world? Perhaps. Perhaps the days at the Jade Palace would still be made lighter, and perhaps the meals they shared would still be just as flavorful, and perhaps she would still have found comfort and joy when she had long since given up on such things being part of her life.

But it would still be a world without Po. And such a world was a world Tigress didn’t want to think about, much less be a part of.

“I’m glad that you were born,” was what she finally decided on. “And I know for a fact I’m only one of many who feels that way.”

Po smiled down at his paws. It was small, barely enough to be called a smile, really. But it was warm, genuine, almost alien yet achingly familiar.

“I’m… I’m glad you were born too.”

At that, Tigress smiled in turn.

They didn’t really say much after that. They sat in shared silence until the darkness lightened with the impending dawn, at which point Tigress suggested they at least try to rest, if only for an hour or so. And though these all-nighters had become routine over the past weeks, when Po bid Tigress a good night (“Er, uh— good morning, early morning, I guess”) and ducked his head in thanks, she noticed he looked less tired than he had since they’d returned to the Valley.

It wasn’t some miraculous recovery. But little by little, her best friend was returning.

The thought dulled the pain of her broken bones and quieted her racing thoughts, and it made an hour of sleep feel like a slow and blissful eternity.

[adoresia]

Hello!! I saw you were taking requests for jjk this is my first time asking for anything but I was wondering if you could write something angsty for reader x Choso? It can be anything I’m just craving angst 😣😣

— 5 STAGES OF GRIEF

⋆.˚ WARNINGS : none it’s just sad ig 😅

⋆.˚ SYNOPSIS : In which Choso loses the love of his life

⋆.˚ SIERRA SPEAKS : I feel like I disappointed with this one I’m ngl😭 I kinda wrote it in Choso’s pov and got a bit to carried away, y/n is more read through his eyes if that even makes sense. Yeah I’m just gonna post it and see what happens cause idek atp. I hope I didn’t 100% disappoint you😔

Here we go again. The same reoccurring theme of death had once again pierced Choso’s heart, and this time it was unbearable. Even for a half cursed spirit like himself. The amplitude of his heart beats had grown heavier and heavier until it was consumed in sorrow, hatred, and most of all, anger. A feeling in his heart that wasn’t foreign, but is or was so intense that for the second time it felt like the furnace of hell had possessed his whole Existence .

But there he sat, bargaining with a pool full of his own tears. Yet again, over the loss of someone that he would’ve thought he could never lose. Someone he thought he would never lose, and yet he did. Again. In a house that was meant to reside the both of you. You and him, united, for the rest of eternity now only contained one.

And that was how it was going to be, even if he couldn’t come to terms with never feeling the warmth coursing through your veins. Even if it meant he could never again feel your precious heart beating exclamatively with love for him. Even if it meant he could no longer deny how softly you peered into his love-struck eyes, unraveling the story of what they told. Only because you could, because you were the only person who could.

Instead of you being there to tell him that everything would be okay, the stuffed panda that was poisoned with your scent was all he had left to comfort him. And although your aroma breathed through the stuffed animal you left behind purified senses, It would never ever be enough to purify his now eternally Brocken heart. Because without you anymore there was no point in his heart, there was no reason to live.

The space you once shared was now depressingly vacant. Everywhere he looked he was met with a soul shattering image of you, and it broke him even more that now your death was what he was forced to remember you by. Instead of the time he pointed up at the blanket of stars that stretched to infinity with you by his side. Everytime it replayed in his mind you had now become his very own hand-crafted star in the sky, now forever having to point up at you, it pained him that no matter how far he reached you were to far gone for him to bring back.

“Oh y/n. How I wish you were still here with me.”

[questionableratatouille00]

hello beloved!! I have a possible request if it interests you at all: how do you think Bucky would react to finding out the reader struggles with nightmares of their own? hopefully its not too vague, and i hope you are well!

ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇꜱ (ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend finds out something that only brings the two of you closer.

Warnings: ptsd, nightmares, Hydra Themes, nursing, ER/Hospitals, shrek (he’s totally a warning), blood, graphic(?) description of blood, reference to injury, gore, let me know if anything else needs to be tagged!

As the credits of Shrek 2 played, you stretched. You tilted your head back in a yawn, wiping at your eyes.

“I think that’s one of the best movies of our time.”

Bucky just shook his head, laughing. “I don’t really get it, but I trust you on that.”

You glanced over at your microwave, reading the time. 11:06 PM.

“You can stay here, y’know.” You hummed, looking over at him.

“It’s fine. I don’t live too far, anyway.” He replied, but you shook your head.

You’d been dating for around a year at this point, and he’d never stayed over at your place. You understood he had some struggles with physical intimacy due to his past, and you’d never pushed. But sometimes you felt that him not wanting to stay over was really a reflection on you, rather than his own anxiousness.

“Babe, it’s 11 at night. I’m not making you walk home at night in the middle of winter. Just stay here.” You tried to reason.

“Doll—“

“Bucky.” You cut him off. “I’m obviously not going to force you to stay here. But just know that you can.”

“I know, babe. It’s just..” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced away from you. You took a few steps closer, and he held his hands on your waist. You rested your hands against his chest, looking at him.

You waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

“I have..nightmares. And it’s stupid as hell, I know, but I don’t…I don’t want you to see me like that.” He made eye contact now, though it was clear he didn’t want to.

“Babe..that kind of thing will never change how I see you. Ever. I love you. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. Nothing will change that. Not nightmares, not flashbacks, not anything PTSD related. I promise you.”

“You haven’t seen what it’s like.” He huffs out a laugh, looking away.

“Maybe not. But I know that no matter what it’s like, I’ll still be with you through it.” You slowly moved your arms to wrap around his neck.

“I’m gonna believe you on that.” He hummed.

“Aw, c’mon, when have I ever lied to you?” You chuckled.

“Remember when you told me you didn’t finish my leftovers that one time?”

“Well—that’s—listen—“ you sputtered, and he just laughed.

He grew serious again after a moment. “Seriously though. I’m a grown adult, and—“

“Bucky, grown ass adults get nightmares too. Especially ones with trauma.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. “It’s not even always real memories. Sometimes it’s just made up things based on those memories. It’s so fucking annoying. But the memory ones are worse. By far.” He huffed, his eyes slightly widening to show his annoyance.

“I get them too, y’know.” You revealed. His eyes widened and his brows shot up at that. You nodded along at his surprise as he waited for you to explain.

“You know how I was a nurse before the blip?”

He nodded, aware of that fact.

“Sometimes I still get stress nightmares from working in the ER. It’s not as often, but they happen from time to time.” You confessed.

Your nightmares always played out in similar ways. You had the idea that your feet were killing you from walking around all night. Then to ere would be some emergency, and you’d be led into a patient’s room, and it would be a gory sight.

Some of these made up patients would be covered in wet, dripping blood that would just get everywhere. It would have the same consistency of water, and even if you never even touched them in your dream, you’d always see your blood soaked hands, the red drops dripping off onto the white tile below.

“They’re sometimes really stupid and nonsensical, but I still get them. And I didn’t even go through 70+ years of shit.” You finished your statement.

He leaned down to press his forehead against yours. “They’re bad, dollface.”

“I’m sorry, hon.” You murmured.

“And I never knew you had nightmares. You never said anything about it.” You could tell that this was his way of saying ‘knowing this makes me feel closer to you’.

“I thought you’d think it was dumb.” You chuckled.

“Clearly not.” He laughed a little, before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

A/n: I feel like I forgot how to write lmao, I dont know what happened with this one. Sorry for taking so long to get to your request! Sending lots of love, and happy holidays, beloved!!!

[stinkybuttwipes]

Lie. Part 1

Context: You and piccolo have known eachother since the World martial arts tournaments when he was still evil. You guys had grown to feel and love for eachother when he was first training Gohan and got together after the fall of Namek. you guys have now been married for 2 years and fight together, Always..But piccolo has kept a secret from you.

Piccolo x Gn! Saiyan!Reader

Warnings: small Angst to fluff. Reader gets mad at piccolo, comfort, sweet. Post Super Hero

It’s been a few months since Piccolo came back roughed up from what he claimed was “training” but of course you know that’s not true.

3 months earlier

“Piccolo!? What the hell happened to you? Your gi is ripped and you have wound’s everywhere!” Piccolo looks down and back at you “training with gohan” Damn it, that same excuse to get him out of trouble with you “Again? But I thought he was stuck up in his work?” Piccolo silently walked passed you with his antennas drooped. He walked to the bedroom to change from his ripped clothes “Gee kinda rude” you help him and tend to his wounds before forgetting all this happened..Until now.

Present day

*it’s been 3 months since Piccolo came home beaten up and you haven’t questioned what happened since*

You find yourself babysitting Pan again while Piccolo is out meditating per usual so your stuck watching cartoons with Pan in Your shared House.

(The same house Piccolo has but much bigger inside and outside.)

You stare at the TV in front of you as Pan lays in your lap asleep. Eventually your phone rings and you try not to wake Pan as you reach for your phone, it’s from Gohan.

————————————————————————

Gohan: Hey (name) I’m on my way to grab Pan, sorry we always have her on your backs all the time 😅

You: No worries Han it doesn’t bother me, you have work besides its not the first time I’ve babysat a kid before.

Gohan: Lol, Thanks, I’ll be there in 10!

You: I’ll have her ready by then. See you.

————————————————————————

You wake up Pan from her slumber and get her ready to go. Gohan arrives on time and knocks at the door.

You open the door and see Gohan’s smiling face as usual. Pan runs to him hugging his legs. “Thank you for taking care of her again, like I said I’m sorry for being a burden all the time, I’ll buy you a the plushies you like since piccolo ‘hates’ them now.” He reaches to hold Pan “Don’t worry about it Kiddo, and I’m sure Piccolo is just embarrassed to admit he really likes the stuffies you guys get us.” Gohan chuckles at your words “You know him he’ll never confess something embarrassing to him that’s how he’s always been.” You reply “He’s a stubborn one alright.” Gohan thanks you again before looking around him like he’s looking for something lost.

“Something the matter Gohan?” You ask him “Oh! Yeah I just was wondering where piccolo was at. Usually he’s with you or Atleast with Pan.” You think to yourself “You know your right I haven’t seen him at all today actually, I’ll go looks for him later.”

And you did just that, You look around your surroundings as you soar in the sky looking for Piccolo. “Damn it where the hell is he!?” You start to panic worried something might have happened to your husband.

Until you see a orange light flash in front of you. “Agh! What the heck was that!?” You observe around you but see nothing. “Weird?” You tell yourself until you look beneath you.

“Piccolo?” You think. But it couldn’t be you’ve never seen him orange before none the less red eyes and a power lever stronger than yours. You land safely and find a place to hide. Behind a tree you stare at the namekian in front of you who is shooting off beams and new attacks you’ve never seen before.

Did he just now learn this? Did he just now grasp a new power up? You keep yourself hidden and try to put the pieces together.

Eventually You decide to make yourself known to him and come out behind the tree your hiding in. “Honey?” Piccolo flinches at your words “N-Name?!” You look at him confused “How long have you been there for?” He asks “long enough” you walk closer to him so that you look up since he towers over you.

“What’s with the new look? You seem pretty familiar with it.” You grew suspicious seeing how calm piccolo is considering this is the first time you’ve seen this form of his.

“I..um..” usually he never stutters but this time he looks nervous, “Piccolo?, How long have you been hiding this from me?.” You calmly but obviously furious at him. He doesn’t answer and avoids your eye contact.

You grab his chin to make him look at you “I asked how long you’ve had this for.” He looks at you with a form of anger “3 months.” You let go of him “3 MONTHS?!” You scream at him “You’re telling me you’ve had this for 3 fucking months Piccolo and never told me about it? Nonetheless told me how you even got your new form!” He turns back to normal and looks at you annoyed “I kept it from you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worry about what!?, what more is there!?.” He sighs “I’ve been keeping something from you, I fought against Cell max, a creation of Dr.Hedos and Magenta, And Pan and gohan were involved in the fight.” You stare at him in shock. “We all agreed to keep this from you because I know you would go after Dr.Hedo or Gamma 1 if you found out about it, so I’ve been hiding it from you.” Piccolo holds your hand in his but you snap away and scream in anger “Damn it! You promised not to lie to me! You never should feel like you should ever lie to me!” He yelled back at you “You don’t understand! Your a saiyan who’s always looking for fights and your way to obsessed with me to understand anything, all you ever care about is fighting and me you don’t care about anything or anyone else!.your just like Vegeta..”

Piccolo Huffs at you and turns away. Your left in tears as he flys away from you.

He left you, alone, speechless.

You feel hot tears run down your face “he thinks of me that way?..” you try to soak up the “truth” he spilled.

You made a decision to not return to your shared home tonight and stay with your sister in law Bulma. You assumed that Piccolo didn’t want you with him after that and that he wouldn’t care.

____________________________________________

You quickly pack your things and leave a letter on the table before Piccolo returns, and then you take your leave.

You arrive at Capsule Corp the home of your brother, his wife, and his kids. You slowly knock on the entrance door and wait.

You start to think no one is there so you start walking away until your hear a rattle.

The door opens to an associate greeting you, “Hello Mrs.Name what brings you here today?” She lets you in and you thank her.

“I’m here to see Vegeta or Bulma please”.

[theradicalscrivener]

The Little Spoon Part 3

After the events of their previous experiment, Felipe sets to work figuring out what is causing the cumulative effects of his potions.

(P.S. Ya boi's got Linktree and Bluesky now)

[First Chapter] || [Previous Chapter]

                Caleb sat on the edge of the table while watching Felipe hard at work. Even though Caleb’s build was as broad and muscular as ever, Felipe’s old clothes now hung loosely on Caleb’s much-dwindled frame. During the past year, Caleb had taken a few doses of the shrinking serum. Each time, the loss of height had been more significant than before.  Now, the once towering 6’3 stud now stood a meager 4’6.

                Caleb was now shorter than his “little lover” by several inches. Not only had Caleb dropped so small, but Felipe had also shot up a few inches himself. It was this recent growth spurt that Felipe had enjoyed that was why Felipe was now rushing around the kitchen brewing several pots full of various concoctions.

                Every burner on the oven was running as well as a few hotplates. Even the coffee pot was doing double duty as a potion brewer. Everywhere he looked there were pots and carafes full of various colored liquids in various states of boiling.

“You’re so hot when you’re in nerd mode,” Caleb said sweetly.

Felipe looked up from the pot that he had been stirring to flash a smile at his shrunken boyfriend. He looked more like a chemist than a witch in his current getup. He had large, plastic, protective goggles over his eyes, and a large, white lab coat over his clothing.

“Thanks. You look cute as hell yourself. I never thought I’d see you in my old hand-me-downs,” Felipe said with a laugh. Felipe flashed a playful wink at his boyfriend. When he did so, his gaze lingered for a moment in Caleb’s thick, sculpted pecs. Thanks to the plunging V of the oversized shirt Caleb was wearing, Felipe was given a clear line of sight to a lot of cleavage.

“So, what exactly are we doing here?” Caleb asked.

“The potions have been having a compounding effect. That’s not supposed to happen,” Felipe explained.

“Yeah, but we’ve known that for a while. Why are you turning our apartment into a chem lab? I feel like we’re going to get a house call from Walter White,” Caleb said.

“Right. So, the other day, when I grew, it wasn’t just my height that changed,” Felipe explained.

“That was so hot. When can we do that again?” Caleb replied.

Felipe smiled. “I love that you loved it, but I only took a height potion. The whole thing with the dick was not supposed to happen,” Felipe explained.

“But I’m glad it did!” Caleb cheered.

Felipe reached over and playfully ruffled Caleb’s hair. “Oh yeah. I had a blast too, but it completely destroyed my theory,” Felipe explained.

Caleb tilted his head to the side like a curious puppy. Felipe’s smile grew wider at the sight. It was still hard to believe how Caleb managed to be so hot and beefy and still look adorable at the same time.

“At first, I thought that with each dosage, the body got better… primed? For change. Like, think of modeling clay. It’s hard as a rock when you first get it,” Felipe said.

“I know the feeling,” Caleb replied.

I know you do,” Felipe said. He flashed Caleb a wink and playfully rubbed a hand across Caleb’s sculpted abs before quickly shifting back into nerd mode.

“As I said, imagine clay. It’s hard when you get it. You have to play with it a bit before it gets soft,” Felipe said.

“I know the feeling,” Caleb replied.

Felipe rolled his eyes and threw a nearby washcloth in Caleb’s face. “Focus, children…” he chided in a playful, sing-song voice, but despite his protests, he was stifling a laugh.

“So, the clay…” Caleb replied.

“Right. The more you warm it up, the easier it is to sculpt. So, each dose, your body got a bit more pliable… at least that’s what I thought at first,” Felipe explained.

“So, that’s not what happens?” Caleb asked.

“If that were true, my dick shouldn’t have grown last time. So, maybe there’s something that stays in the body and just lies dormant until reactivated,” Felipe said.

  “You’re trying to figure out what is getting reactivated?” Caleb asked.

“I’m less worried about that and more curious about what is causing the dormant stuff to reawaken. I’ve worked with potions long enough to know what causes which effect, but I have never heard of old effects getting restarted,” Felipe said.

“Did you talk to Mr. Yen about this?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah. I mean… I didn’t tell him about you, but I mentioned how my dick grew when I used the height potion last. He’d never heard of this happening either,” Felipe explained.

“How’s he doing, anyway?” Caleb asked.

“He’s enjoying his retirement. He stops by every few weeks to check on the shop, but he seems pleased with how I’m running things,” Felipe explained.

“It’s weird to think of him retiring. He was old as balls when you met him, right? I just figured a dude like that doesn’t age,” Caleb said.

“Like most things, age for him is malleable. When I say “retiring” I mean he’s changing personas. He’s got enough of a nest egg to take it easy for at least a decade even with the godawful inflation, and a young, hot body so that he can actually enjoy having time and money in his old age,” Felipe said.

“Man, I want to do that. Imagine being twenty-something and rich,” Caleb said.

“Maybe someday. I kind of want to try getting old with you before we hit the reset button, though,” Felipe replied.

“When you put it that way…” Caleb murmured and looked away to hide his blushing cheeks. Felipe clocked it instantly, though.

“I think you’ll look great with some grey,” Felipe said and ran his fingers through Caleb’s hair. 

“Wait. Does that mean you have the recipe?” Caleb asked.

“Yes,” Felipe replied, but the way he said it gave Caleb pause.

“How did you manage to say that with an asterisk?” Caleb asked.

“He gave me a copy of his old notes, but they are still mostly in… I don’t even know what language this is. It may just be his personal cypher. It will take me a while to translate it all, but it’s not my main concern right now,” Felipe explained.

“Yeah. For now, we need to cook,” Caleb replied and gestured to all the beakers.

“Speaking of which… try some of this,” Felipe said and handed Caleb a beaker.

Caleb gave the contents a sniff and said, “oooh. Smells alcoholic. I’m in.” and took a sip, but he almost instantly began gagging.

“Now I know why you’re not a bartender. What is this shit!?” Caleb whined.

“It’s called a tincture. It’s mostly water with a little sugar and alcohol boiled in. It’s a common potion base,” Felipe explained.

“So, it’s cough syrup. Why were you asking me to drink this?” Caleb asked.

“As I said, it’s the basis of a potion. The plan is to slowly add less benign and more exotic ingredients as we go and figure out which part is causing the reaction,” Felipe explained.

“Can we use an alcohol that doesn’t taste like paint thinner for it?” Caleb asked.

“That adds way too many variables, and as we add more to the mix, you shouldn’t be able to taste the base as much anyway,” Felipe replied.

“What are all these other ones?” Caleb asked.

Felipe pointed to beaker after beaker after pot of bubbling concoction and listed off each one. “Base. Thickener. Activating agent. Shrinking agent. Stabilizer. Flavoring. Coloring. And those… are just filler if I’m being honest.”

“Filler?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah. A giant cauldron’s worth of mixture only nets you a droplet or two of usable potion. That’s really all you need to get the desired effects, but people don’t want to buy a dropper’s worth. You’d be surprised how much marketing goes into this gig. People expect to buy their potions in three-to-six-ounce vials or stoppers, so the rest is just for presentation. I’ll do a bit of castor oil or some coconut milk depending on the thickness or cloudiness I’m looking for. Then I dye it red for health or blue for mental acuity. All that fun stuff,” Felipe explained.

“And here I thought you said you weren’t a snake-oil salesman,” Caleb sassed.

“I must have misheard you. It almost sounded like you were not asking me to make you smaller,” Felipe sassed back.

“I’ll be good,” Caleb muttered apologetically.

“Of course you will,” Felipe chided playfully. He once again ruffled Caleb’s hair and then handed him another bowl to sip from. “Here. Try this,” he said.

Caleb took a sip and once more grimaced. It didn’t taste as bad, but it was far from what he would call delicious.

“How long do we have to keep doing this?” Caleb asked.

“Until we figure this out. I’m basically distilling a potion one ingredient at a time and then letting you taste the in between steps,” Felipe said.

“Since this tastes bad, you owe me something that tastes good afterwards,” Caleb replied.

“Sure. What’d you have in mind?” Felipe said.

“How’s steak sound? We haven’t gone out in ages,” Caleb replied.

“Sure. Maybe if you shave before we go, you can order from the kids’ menu,” Felipe teased.

Caleb looked ready to tease back, but his expression went from impish to contemplative and then to understanding. “That might actually work,” he said.

“Great. It’s a date! Now, drink this,” Felipe said and handed Caleb another tester.

This process went on for hours. Felipe tried mixture after mixture and every time the result was the same – absolutely nothing. Eventually, they had tried everything except the shrinking agent and the activation agent.

“Ok. Now try this. Don’t drink too much because this is where things could get weird,” Felipe explained.

Caleb nodded and took a small sip from the bowl. They waited for a moment, but it soon became apparent that nothing would happen. Felipe then handed Caleb a different bowl to try. Caleb took a sip, but the result was the same – nothing.

“That was both the shrinking and the activation agent. We’ve tried everything shy of giving you a fully prepared potion, but given how volatile the shrinkage from that would be, I don’t think that’s a good idea… Although… the fact that you didn’t shrink at all is weird. I did the catalyst last because I figured that would make something happen. Apparently, the cumulative effect is completely separate. There must be a second catalyst…” Felipe muttered.

“Does this mean we won’t be going out tonight?” Caleb asked.

“No. We’ll still do that. I just need to go back to the drawing board… And I should probably clean up in here beforehand. Grab a snack while I clean up. This will take a while,” Felipe said.

“Is any of this stuff edible?” Caleb asked, gesturing towards a few jars of unused materials.

“Not really. None of it will hurt you, but that’s the filler I was talking about. Some generic herbs and roots and different kinds of oils and plant milk,” Felipe said.

Caleb reached into one of the jars and pulled out a thin root that looked a lot like ginger but a strange shade of grey. “How about this? This smells good,” Caleb said, but he didn’t wait for an answer. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the root went in.

“Don’t…” Felipe began, but he could see that Caleb was already chewing. Felipe let out a sigh and shook his head but made no real effort to intervene.

Caleb chewed on the root for a moment. His nose scrunched up a bit like he tasted something bad, but he kept chewing. It wasn’t terrible… but it wasn’t good either. It had a faint earthy taste kind of like a radish but with hints of sawdust and cardboard.

“It’s fine. You can spit it out,” Felipe said.

Caleb was about to, but he changed his mind. It was silly, but he felt the need to save face. He had done something dumb, but it was better to take his licks than admit it. Caleb swallowed audibly and shuddered slightly as he did so. He then flashed his best, cheekiest grin and said, “needs salt.”

“Cute,” Felipe said and rolled his eyes.

“It’s actually not bad once you get past the initial flavor. Nice aftertaste,” Caleb said.

“You think? Maybe I can try it in a stew sometime,” Felipe said.

“What is it anyway?” Caleb asked.

“Some new age bullshit. Nornroot is what they are selling it as. The crystal bloggers are nuts over it. They say it aligns your chakras and all that,” Felipe said.

“Does it?” Caleb asked.

“Fuck no. Someone found it on a walkabout in the tundra and decided just because it’s hard to get to it has to be special. They brought some back, propagated it, and it’s now being added to herbal remedies everywhere,” Felipe explained.

“Neat. So why do you have it if you hate it so much?” Caleb asked.

“I don’t hate it, but I don’t think it deserves its reputation. I just sprinkle a bit in my ‘premium’ potions and then charge a markup. As I said, the new age retro hippies love it,” Felipe said.

“Cool. Well, I’m famished so let’s get cleaned up so we can go get dinner,” Caleb said.

“Sure. Try not to snack too much while I finish up here,” Felipe said.

“As if I’d leave you to handle it all by yourself,” Caleb said.

“As if you could reach the counters to help,” Felipe teased.

“I’m not that short!” Caleb sassed back. However, there was an unspoken “yet” in there that both boyfriends seemed to pick up on.

Felipe rolled his eyes and set to work cleaning out the used beakers and pots. Meanwhile, Caleb slipped the last bit of the root he had been nibbling on into his mouth and hopped down from the countertop.

Felipe looked up from his cleaning when he heard a crash and a “Fuck!” from around the corner. Felipe peered over the counter to check on his boyfriend and saw Caleb picking himself up off the ground.

“Babe…? You good?” Felip asked.

“Yeah. I just misjudged the distance,” Caleb said and then let out a little cough and grumbled, “That last bit almost went down the wrong pipe…”

Seeing that Caleb was fine, Felipe let out a sigh of relief and went back to cleaning up, but there was a silence that steadily grew more awkward by the moment. Finally, Caleb was the one to speak up.

“Hey, babe… have you ever used this root in potions you’ve given me?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah. Don’t laugh, but put it in my ‘premium’ potions, and I wanted the stuff I give you to be special. Wait, why do you ask?” Felipe said.

“… I can’t see over the counter,” Caleb replied.

“What!?” Felipe yelped. He quickly rushed around the corner and stared down at his shrunken boyfriend. Felipe’s formerly loose hand-me-downs now were now hanging off of Caleb’s dwindling frame. Mere moments ago, Caleb was only a foot shorter than his boyfriend. Caleb’s was about chest level with Felipe. Now, however, he barely came up to Felipe’s midriff and was still visibly shrinking.

“How small do you think I’m going to get?” Caleb asked, trying and failing to hide the excitement in his voice.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if the extra shrinking agent you drank earlier will have an impact nor do I know how much of the root you ate,” Felipe said.

Caleb nodded and stared down at his body in awe. He was wearing Felipe’s old tunic like a toga. The shirt was hanging off of his dwindling frame and only barely managing to hang off of his shoulder.

Caleb glanced back up at his boyfriend. His jaw dropped at what he saw. He now stood eye level with Felipe’s crotch. Caleb’s already chubbing cock gave a lurch of delight as a thought flashed through his brain. Felipe’s cock had to be massive at this size!

Felipe stared down at his dwindling partner and ran the numbers in his head. “This is slower than before. I don’t think this is the normal potion effect, so I don’t think we’ll see a rebound effect,” Felipe said.

“What’s that mean?” Caleb asked. He stared up and up at his towering boyfriend. The top of his head now only came up to Felipe’s mid-thigh.

“I think you’ll reach a size and stop,” Felipe said.

So whatever size he reached, that would be his new permanent size!? Caleb was simultaneously freaked out and bricked up. This was what he wanted, but he didn’t like not knowing how small he’d get. Would he stop at Barbie sized? Action figure sized? Maybe he’d dwindle down to the size of a green army man! Maybe he’d keep shrinking until he was a spec of dust to a spec of dust!

The shirt reached a point where it was just too heavy and awkward to keep up. Caleb let the enormous garment slide off his shoulder and pool in a pile around his ankles. His rock hard, pre-drooling cock was openly on display. Caleb was now as naked as the day he was born and not much taller. He was now so short that he only came up to Felipe’s knees.

Caleb stared down at the gigantic clothes that now clumped around his ankles. He had just shrunk out of these clothes, but if he didn’t stop, he’d soon shrink back into them. 

Caleb glanced back up at his boyfriend. Felipe now towered over him like a titan. Caleb had definitely shrunken even more, but not by as much as before. Caleb was now only a hair shorter than Felipe’s knees.

“Oh good. It looks like you’re stable,” Felipe said with a sigh of relief.

“Woah… how am I going to explain this to my boss…” Caleb murmured in awe.

“I don’t think I can reverse this any time soon, so for the time being, try to use your sick leave. Maybe they’ll let you work from home,” Felipe said.

“You want to reverse this!?” Caleb yelped.

“You were the one worrying about work!” Felipe protested.

“That doesn’t mean I want to grow back!” Caleb said.

Felipe gripped the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Right… ok… we’ll figure that out later. I don’t think we’ll be getting steak for dinner tonight, though,” Felipe said.

Caleb shrugged and looked up at his towering boyfriend and said, “Take-out is fine with me.”

[First Chapter] || [Previous Chapter]

[fairsexynasty]

—DIFFICULT THINGS

jamie tartt x lasso!reader

ONE. TOWNIE

summary: lucy moves to richmond with a memory that doesn’t quite forget what her dad did to her. however, ted is as happy as a goldfish.

warnings: cursing, unlikeable female protagonist, father issues, abandonment issues, resentment

a/n: welcome to this very new series i WILL finish. my love for this show has overtaken my time and i am very excited to be writing this. this chapter is set during “two aces.”

——————

Leonard Cohen once said, “There’s a crack in everything; that’s how the light gets in.” But my world has been infused with the darkest of shadows. Everywhere I search is covered by a dark spot. It seeps into my life from my dreams, nightmares, and memories. I don’t think I was delivered by the hand of God, nor will I be expecting any blessing in the near future. It’s the hope that kills you.

I had that epiphany when I turned seven. No one had ever seen a child so jaded, so self-aware. When I learned that the father I wished for wasn’t that interested in fully being in my life, I accepted it entirely, for what it was worth. He’s popped in and out, coming in as quickly as he leaves, only sticking around for moments he deemed essential to me.

And the worse part is that he’s a good man—a good man with a daughter who felt evil.

I used to wish something terrible would happen to me. A broken collarbone. A car accident. Cancer. If something like that happened to me, I thought he’d return and stay for good.

But those things never happened. I’ve never broken any bones. I’ve never crashed my car into a tree. I’m perfectly healthy. And after all this time, Dad has moved on.

I have a half-brother. Thirteen or fourteen years my junior, it’s disgusting how I’m not too sure about the gap. I’ve never met him, nor do I want to meet him. I envy a child who cannot understand the weight of the word ‘father’ because he’ll always take it for granted.

When I crawl through my memories, I can see Dad crystal clear. He showed up to every one of my birthdays until age sixteen. That’s probably because my brother was old enough to ask and understand why Dad was leaving him. Dad came to my first dance, a father-daughter dance. It was one of the nights I honestly felt pretty. He and I danced the night away, stuffing our faces with candy and desserts and drinking our weight’s worth of soda pop. Dad taught me how to ride a bike. Although it ended with scraping my knees, he helped me up, cleaned my knees, and kissed each one. Dad drove me to my first day of high school. The morning went by quickly, but I can still remember the smile on his face as I waved goodbye to him and walked through the school doors.

I want to be thankful for what I’ve gotten from my dad. But he could have done so much more. Am I not worth the effort?

And it hurts to hate my mother as much as I do.

She could clean up her act for Dad, but once he was on his way home, she’d finally ease into consciousness. We would fight. She’d accuse me of not appreciating her. She’d belittle me and never congratulated me on my accomplishments. She’s manipulative. Controlling. Narcissistic. Evil. I know I’m no good, either. But women like that love confrontation. And she got the best of me every single time.

But I’m a grown woman now. I’m twenty. I have a life. A freedom I’ve never known. I’m trying to be honest, to prove I am everything Mom never thought I’d be. I’m trying to make Dad proud of me. Because everyone else is sure as hell proud of him, he’s Ted Lasso: a simple man with a simple plan who was pulled to spread his kindness in Richmond, England, by coaching their god-awful team. I watched the news with a frown as soon as they announced his new endeavor. If he got a new beginning, why can’t I?

And that’s why I decided to pack up my things and move to England.

I’ve been here before. My mother and I moved around due to her line of work. Whether it was Shanghai, Princeton, Kuala Lumpur, or Rome, I could never call those places home. I feel like Richmond is going to be different. I’m not hopeful. Just curious.

——

The park seems comforting. There appears to be a rhythm that compliments the people. Kids playing soccer, and shops opening for the day.

I sit and watch the world awaken. People pass me by as I sit on the bench, not one of them stopping their routine for me, except one.

lHis greetings were met with responses of “Wanker,” a word I found oddly endearing. He continued down the park trail, saying ‘good morning’ to me mindlessly.

I replied with a deadpan “Wanker,” which surprised him, given my American accent. He turned back, his eyes lighting up in recognition.

“Oh, my lordy-lord,” he muttered, smiling as he said my name, “Lucy.” He looks at me as if I’m a fucking unicorn. His eyes soften, and the smile that always reaches his eyes is suddenly on his face. “ Lucy !” he breathes out as if he’s too scared to say it louder like I’ll run away and leave.

“Hi, Dad.” He pulls me from my seat on the bench and envelops me into the biggest bear hug I’ve ever gotten from him. And those hugs are grizzly and unrelenting.

He lifts me off my feet and holds my head to his shoulder. “Oh, how I love you, Lucy girl. I can’t believe it!”

I groan, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Dad, please put me down. I'm not as tiny as Henry is," I say with a laugh. He puts me down with a smile, but there’s a flash of a solemn look on his face. I guess my mention of Henry has filled him with some semblance of guilt. I can’t tell if that satisfies me or not. "I think you're wondering why I'm here," I say, the false smile still on my face. "And the only reason is because I wanted to see you, Dad. I missed you," I add, trying to perfect the role of the doting daughter, even though it doesn't come naturally.

“Oh, I missed you too, Pumpkin. I’m glad you’re here.” He spots my luggage standing against the bench. “Looks like you’re gonna be visiting for a while, huh?”

I nod slowly, my gaze briefly shifting away. "Yeah, I am. Needed a change of scenery for a while," I admit, hoping he won't probe further into my true reasons for being here.

Dad nods, but I spot him scanning my face for any information I won’t outwardly tell him. Perhaps it’s a parently instinct, or maybe it’s just a Ted Lasso thing. The smile on my face doesn’t falter.

“So, how’s your mom?”

The question hangs in the air, and I can sense the curiosity in his eyes. I clench my jaw and roll my eyes in annoyance. "I really don't want to talk about her right now," I say firmly, hoping to steer the conversation away from a topic I'd rather avoid.

Dad gives me one of those fatherly smiles, understanding my need for privacy but also indicating he'll inquire about it later. "Alright then. How about we get you settled into my place? Don't care if you've found one already. I got you here with me, and you're not going anywhere, missy. I hope that's alright with you," he adds, his face hopeful as he waits for my response.

I acquiesce to his requests. It’s the least I can do. “Sure, Dad. I’d love to.”

He cheers with a fist pump, then wrangles me into yet another bear hug before I tell him he’s crushing my ribs, and he dramatically lets me go with a pout on his face.

I follow him down the streets to his apartment door. We enter, and it’s pretty lovely, yet it feels so hollow. There’s an opened jar of peanut butter on the island. I can tell he radiates joy as we unpack my things into an extra bedroom. I wonder how lonely he’s been without his son and wife.

Yeah. This is the least I can do.

——

After unpacking and settling in, Dad practically begs me to come to Nelson Road with him, and since I’m already feeling a bit guilty, I come along with him.

Upon entering, some guy with a full beard and eyebrows that make him look perpetually constipated looks at me. Well, it’s more of a glare. He walks up to Dad and me, not once taking his eyes off me. I narrow my eyes in response, shooting him a cold glare of my own. “Who the fuck is this? Don’t tell me Rebecca hired another fucking American.” His voice is deep and rumbling and full of snark.

"Seriously, do all British guys walk around with a stick up their ass?" I quip, but my remark falls on deaf ears. I catch the man clenching his jaw at my question. Ah, it seems he doesn't take kindly to being disrespected. One jab at his masculinity, and he's ready to go to war without a second thought.

"Roy Kent, meet my daughter, Lucille," Dad introduces, but I quickly interject, "Lucy to you." I emphasize my preference, not one to stand on formality. "Who the fuck are you, Roy Kent?" I ask, gauging his reaction as he looks between me and my dad, clearly trying to figure something out. I decide to clear the air, "Yeah, my mom isn't Michelle," I clarify, hoping to put any confusion to rest.

Roy's response is a simple "Oh," followed by a grunt as he exits the scene. My dad remains unfazed and carries on, guiding me towards the locker room with his arm casually draped around my shoulder.

"Coach Beard! We've got a new cast member!" Dad announces to the room as we walk out together, seemingly excited to introduce me to his colleagues.

A man with a book and a golf hat turns his chair around and observes us. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the fussbudget,” he says. “Hello, Lucy. I’m Coach Beard. I’ve heard all about you.”

I can't help but snort at the situation. "That's impossible," I retort with a snarky tone. Coach Beard finds my reaction amusing, letting out a chuckle, while my dad gives a slight frown, but I know a few jabs won't easily rattle him.

Suddenly, a strong voice breaks the chatter, announcing, "Ayo, the gaffer's got another kid!" The rest of the men turn their attention to me, their eyes filled with wonder and intrigue. They excitedly chat, asking if they saw what they think they did.

Exiting the office, we step into the open room where my dad proudly introduces me to the team. "Fellas, I'd like to introduce you to my daughter. This is Lucy, everyone."

The players greet me with waves and hellos, except for one guy sitting on the bench, engrossed in his phone, occasionally laughing. I point him out, asking, "Who's that?"

"Jamie Tartt. Hey, Beard, what's the deal with Jamie?" my dad inquires, and seemingly out of nowhere, Jamie appears beside us without making a sound.

Beard responds, "Says he can't practice today. Says he's hurt."

I observe my dad's face dropping with disappointment as he turns to walk out the door and over to Jamie, concern etched across his features.

The whole situation was intense, and I couldn't recall ever seeing my father this angry before. It seemed like there had never been an opportunity for him to get this worked up until now. Watching him unleash his frustration on Jamie reminded me of my mom, who had her share of heated moments. While my dad appeared to be justified in his outburst, Jamie's disrespectful behavior only reinforced my 'British men suck shit' theory.

Feeling overwhelmed, a tingling sensation crept into my head, and my heart raced with the familiar signs of an impending panic attack. I needed to escape, so I swiftly turned on my heel and walked out of the office, trying to distract myself by fiddling with the rings on my fingers.

Wandering aimlessly down the halls, I searched for a private space to catch my breath and calm down. Passing a laughing man, a short guy carrying a laundry bag, and a stunning blonde woman who seemed out of place here, I stopped in my tracks when I heard my dad's name mentioned in a hushed conversation.

"Rebecca, I don't think Coach Lasso will be too thrilled about you trading Jamie away.”

“Higgins, listen to me. I don't care if Lasso is trying to get through to Jamie or if he begs him to come back. Jamie is not returning, and that's precisely what I need," she asserts before abruptly changing the subject, "Now, let me go hunt down my biscuits. They're late."

Realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Dad is being sabotaged. All this time, I believed he was here to make a positive impact on the team, but it turns out they see him as nothing more than a joke. Stepping away from the door, I attempt to make a quick exit, only to collide with a statuesque woman who towers over me.

She glances down at me, exuding power through her stature and fashion, but I'm not intimidated. "Why, hello there, whoever you are. Are you lost?" she inquires.

Ah, this must be Rebecca. The woman who plans to screw my father over. I can't help but roll my eyes at her. "No. Just looking for the bathroom," I retort.

Rebecca gestures towards the sign, displaying her passive-aggressiveness. "Well, it's just around the corner. Right where the 'bathroom' sign is," she points out.

"Cool," I respond nonchalantly, not letting her faze me. "Oh, and by the way, my name's Lucy. Thanks for hiring my dad to coach!"

I catch a flicker of terror in Rebecca's eyes before I walk away, grinning to myself. Drama seems to follow me wherever I go, even in Richmond. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

——

After my quick trip to the loo, I wander over to the dog track, where Dad and Beard stand, closely observing the team's training session. I can't help but chuckle at Jamie's predicament as he wears a penny and sets up cones.

Dad notices my arrival and playfully calls out, "Oh, there you are, Waldo! What were you doing?"

His attempts at humor fail to catch me off guard. While I understand his references, I refuse to engage in the corniness. "Nothing, just using the bathroom," I reply with a mischievous grin, not willing to spill the beans about Rebecca's scheming ways. "Oh, and I met Rebecca. She seems nice," I lie sarcastically, well aware of her conniving nature.

Before Dad can respond, a rather handsome player approaches us gracefully. "Hello there. Sorry, Coach Lasso, but I couldn't continue practice without introducing myself to our guest," he says with a charming smile. "My name is Sam Obisanya. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lucy. The other players and I were wondering if you'd care to join us on the field for a few minutes. We'd like to have some fun at Jamie's expense. Is that alright?"

I return Sam's smile and reply, "Uh, sure. But I haven't played in years, dude. Not sure I'll be any good among you professionals.”

Sam brushes off my concerns, reassuring me, "Oh, that's alright, Lucy. I'm sure Thierry will let you score a couple of goals. Come on!" With that, he guides me towards the field, announcing to the team, "She said yes, you guys!" Their enthusiastic cheers fill the air.

As we assemble for a quick game, a guy with a buzzed fade named Isaac addresses me, confirming my name, "Alright, Lucy, is it?" I nod, and he explains the teams, "We're gonna split into five and five, and you're gonna play with the lads who ain't got a kit on."

"Sounds good," I respond with enthusiasm. I turn to the guys without kits, and each extends a hand for a handshake. I go down the line, shaking hands with each one. There's a short man with curly hair, Bumbercatch, followed by a tall fellow with a broad smile, Jan Maas. Then, a highly energetic man named Dani Rojas greets me, not wasting any time to exclaim, "Football is life!" right in front of me. The last guy, a mousey brunette named Colin, completes the line-up.

Quickly getting into formation with my newfound teammates, they place me front and center for the play. I'm facing off with Sam, who gives me a friendly smile. At the sound of the whistle, we both dash for the ball, but I swiftly take control and dribble it down the field. Roy Kent charges towards me, determined to tackle the ball away, but I outmaneuver him with a quick juke, causing him to land on his ass. The guys react with astonishment, and suddenly, the game shifts from Sam's gentle start to full intensity.

Isaac rushes towards me, sporting a determined expression, but I pass the ball to Dani Rojas, who's open and ready. Dani drives it down the field, but as soon as he spots an opportunity, he passes it back to me. With precision, I shoot the ball into the goal, leaving the goalkeeper stunned as it whizzes past him.

The entire team stands in complete silence, including my dad and Coach Beard, who are both staring at me with their mouths agape. The momentary hush is broken by Jamie Tartt, who teasingly remarks, "Ay, wanker's kid just got you real good, lads." He winks at me, provoking a gag from me followed by a flip-off.

Isaac can't contain his excitement, exclaiming, "Shit, bruv! You just broke Roy Kent's ankles!"

Roy growls behind me, clearly not pleased with being outplayed. "You got fucking lucky, kid," he grumbles.

I don't back down, confidently replying, "Luck's got nothing to do with it. Either you're cursed or you just ate shit, Kent."

I have to admit, Richmond has exceeded my expectations thus far, but I won't let it get the best of me just yet.

[f1nalboys]

Memory - Sinclair Brothers

fic based off of this little idea i had <3 just the boys when they were younger!

WORD COUNT: 3050

WARNINGS: angst, general sadness underneath happy moments, abuse mention/slight description, emotional/physical/mental abuse, neglect, young!sinclairs, pre-movie, not a warning but vincent signs but idk if i make it super clear all the way through it, dead animal mention, animal cruelty? the animal is dead but just incase, underage drinking, things could be ooc but they’re kids so, twins are 13 about to turn 14 and lester is 8

Vincent sat at the edge of the forest, chin resting on his knees, arms wrapped around his legs. His mask was off, placed gently beside him on his jacket to keep it off of the ground, and his hair had fallen into his face. It stunk of his house, of his mothers perfume, and he swore it was smothering him just like she was. “Vincent!” Lester’s voice calls out for him from within the forest and he looks up from his shoes (Bo’s old ones he had given to Vincent after he grew out of them) and couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

His younger brother, a whopping eight years old since yesterday, comes sauntering out of the forest covered head to toe in dirt, a big gap-toothed grin on his face. “Hey, Lester.” Vincent signs slowly, grinning wider at the intense look Lester has while watching his hands move. Lester was starting to get the hang of understanding Vincent’s signing so long as he kept it slow. Vincent can remember just a few years ago when Bo and Vincent would fight in sign at night as to not wake their parents and Lester would sit perched on the edge of the bed, hands clasped together in his lap and his mouth open in awe as he watched how quickly the boys hands’ moved.

“Hiya!” When he’s a few feet from Vincent, Lester takes one final large hop, landing just in front of his older brother. Gravel goes everywhere and Lester giggles, kicking at the rocks under his feet slightly. Vincent notices the hole beginning to form in the front of his shoes and makes a mental note to find a pair around the house for him. “Where’s Bo? Up at the garage?”

Both boys turn their heads to the right, looking over at the garage further down in town. They couldn’t see anyone but Vincent knew that’s where Bo was because that’s where he always was these days. Vincent couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous of the time Bo spent with Charlie, the mechanic. He had grown used to his brother being by his side, kicking and screaming and hollering every second, and his absence was noticed immediately. To some, like his parents, his being gone was good. But to Vincent, it wasn’t. He knew Bo, knew that he wanted out of this town and out of this life.

He wanted to get away from it all and that meant Vincent too.

Not that Vincent blamed him; quite the opposite, actually. He grew up in close quarters with Bo, saw the way he was strapped to his high chair for hours on end until his wrists bled only for it to happen the next day and then the next. He saw the bruises and cuts that littered his body when he’d get ready for bed. He heard the things his parents said about Bo to his face and he sure as hell heard what they said when he was gone. He wanted Bo to go, but not without him.

“Knew it!” Lester says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “What’s up with ‘ya, Vin? Thought you was with momma today?” Vincent cringes at the reminder and Lester instantly stops moving, sensing it. The kid had a good read on people’s emotions, always ready to listen or help when someone, even his mom or dad, were feeling down. Vincent can’t remember the last time he did that for Lester. “Somethin’ happen?”

Vincent nods and Lester flops down in front of him, sitting criss-crossed. Lester waits for him to sign and, after shaking away the feeling of being silly, he does. “Momma got mad because I’m still not good at the sculptures. She’s getting weaker and she needs me to help her but I can’t. I’m bad at it.” His face scrunches up slightly, head tilting down further. He was embarrassed.

Here he was, 13 going on 14, telling his problems to his little brother, a kid who doesn’t need to know about how mom threw Vincent’s sculpture of her against the wall of the basement, shattering the wax into a million shards in tune with his already broken heart. He doesn’t need to know the details, he decides as his hands fall back into his lap. Lester had been spared from both their parents' rage (for the most part) thus far but only because they were too preoccupied directing that anger at him and Bo. Especially Bo.

“Well, that ain’t true, Vin! You’re awesome at all that stuff!” Lester says and Vincent knows Lester believes that, but he also knows it’s not true. He was alright at art, at sculpting things from his mind, things he had seen in movies or read about in books, but he wasn’t good at the realistic stuff, not like his mom. “Is it ‘cause of the… real stuff?”

“You know about that?”

“Yeah,” Lester is sheepish as he admits it, looking away from Vincent and down to the dirt ground underneath him. “Snuck down one night while momma and daddy were talkin’ to you and Bo about it. I ain’t telling anyone, don’t worry!”

“Lester,” Lester wonders for a brief second how Vincent was able to get his disappointment across as well as he did without speaking, but he simply thins his lips into an apologetic half-smile. “Don’t tell them you know.” There’s an unspoken sentence there that hangs in between them both. Or else they’ll hurt you. Lester holds his pinky out and Vincent’s lip curves upwards as he does the same, hooking his around his little brothers. “It was about that.” He signs when he lets go and Lester nods, eyebrows furrowing together.

Vincent can practically see the gears turning in Lesters little head and he can hear the ‘ding!’ of a lightbulb go off. “Oh, I know! Why don’t you practice!” Vincent waits for Lester to elaborate, not moving a muscle even when Lester jumps up in excitement. “C’mon! I gotta show ya’ somethin’!”

Lester holds his small hand out to his older brother and Vincent takes it, following behind him into the woods without a single question. Even if this was nothing, which Vincent was seven hundred percent sure it wasn’t, the distraction would be nice. He hadn’t been out here in a while.

The last time he had, it had been with Bo. It was a year or so ago, back when Bo and he were attached at the hip, as if the surgery hadn’t worked, and they had gotten grounded and sent to bed with no supper. Bo had suggested they sneak out and Vincent agreed; he’d follow Bo anywhere. That ‘anywhere’ ended up being the middle of the woods, just beside the creek. “I go here when I needa get the hell outta the house.” Bo had said to Vincent, his voice quiet.

The woods had been dark and it had seemed like every noise was amplified, making Vincent’s skin crawl. The flashlight he was holding wasn’t strong enough, just seemed to make the shadows jump out more, make them take the shape of the bullies at school and at home. “Bo, I’m scared.” Vincent had signed to him and Bo had just laughed, slowing his pace down to walk beside his brother.

“Ain't nothin’ to be scared of, Vince.” He said when they finally made it to the spot by the creek that Bo had set out for. “You and I are the scariest sons of bitches these woods have seen. I’ll protect ya, anyways. Just like I always do.” Bo then showed Vincent the bottle of whiskey he had stolen from their fathers a few weeks back and had grinned when Vincent took a sip without a fight. “See! You’re a man!”

It only took another small swig of the liquor to have Vincent feeling different and he stopped there, remembering how his dad got when he drank too much. Bo stopped too, tucking it back into his backpack and hiding it underneath his jacket. Then they sat there, staring off back into the town, the lights from houses flickering off as the minutes ticked by. Vincent had tapped Bo on the shoulder and when he looked at him, he started to sign.

“I’m sorry for not protecting you.”

“What’re you talkin’ about, Vince?”

“From mom and dad.” Bo’s jaw tightens but he doesn’t stop Vincent and he’s glad because he keeps going, whiskey running through his veins. “I should stand up to them for you. It ain’t fair the way you get treated, the way they make you out to be bad. You aren’t bad. You’re better than me, that’s for sure.”

“Now, stop that.” Bo says dryly. “You know I ain’t better than you. Everyone knows it.”

“You are,” Vincent emphasizes, almost like he’s desperate for Bo to really understand him. “You take care of people. You don’t have to defend me from the kids in school but you do. You don’t have to take the blame for me so mom and dad don’t hurt me. You don’t have to make sure Les and I are taken care of.”

“You’re my brother.”

“And you’re mine.”

Bo huffs but through the dimmed flashlight beam Vincent can see his words have struck him. He hopes its in a good way. “Guess I am pretty cool,” He deflects, grinning at his brother. Vincent smiles back; he’d take what he could get from Bo. Bo looked back over at the town, now completely dark. “Imma get us outta here, Vince. You, me, Lester; we ain’t getting stuck in this rotten place, not if I have anything to do about it.”

After that night, Bo seemed to change. He was quieter, more subdued. He stayed out at the garage, learning about cars and how to fix them, how to drive them. It was a part of the plan to get them all out of there but the longer it went on and the longer Bo would stay out, the less certain he was about his brother's intentions on taking them with him.

He knew who he was without his brother. He was a freak. He was the one to target, to pick on and make cry and make hurt. He was the thing to point and laugh at because there was no one around to defend him.

Without Bo, Vincent was nothing. It was selfish to want Bo back and he would end each prayer he made asking for Bo to stay with him with an apology. To whom exactly, he wasn’t sure. Maybe God for bothering him with such requests. Maybe Bo for asking for it knowing how it would hurt him. Maybe himself for not believing in his own abilities to survive.

Every prayer and apology went unanswered.

“Here we are, Vin!” Lester’s voice brings Vincent barreling back to reality. He was no longer in his bedroom, waiting for the creak of the floorboard to signify his brother's return, but instead deep in the forest, just by the creek. He recognizes the surroundings immediately. Swallowing hard he walks over to Lester who was standing a few feet away, shifting his weight foot to foot in excitement. “Lookit!”

Vincent finally reaches his younger brother and looks down at where he was pointing and tilts his head. There was a dead squirrel. “A… squirrel? You wanted to show me this?” He knew Lester was into dead animals and roadkill, knew he had a strange fascination with them, but he had never dragged him twenty minutes deep into the woods to show him one before.

“Yeah! Its not all mangled, not like the ones I find out on the road!” Lester waits for Vincent to understand and when he gets nothing but a shrug of the shoulders he deflates slightly. “I…I figured you could use it to practice. Y’know, momma surely didn’t start with people, I figured if you had something smaller to work on, you could get the tech… technique down, right?”

“You know what, Les?” Vincent bends down, grabbing a stick just next to him and using it to carefully lift the corpse of the squirrel up, surveying the damage. He swallows down the bile rising up his throat and the goosebumps raising on his flesh at the sight of it. Vincent looks up, dropping the stick and looking into Lester’s hopeful eyes. “I think that just might work.”

--------

It didn’t look right. His mother had gone to bed early and his father was surely drinking himself to death, so when Vincent and Lester got back to the house as the sun was setting, they had the basement all to themselves. “Can I watch you, Vin? Oh please, please, let me! I wanna see how you do it!” Lester had pleaded, hands clasped together and bottom lip jutted out. Vincent laughed at the sight of Lester fluttering his lashes at him and had agreed.

Hours later, well past both boys' bedtimes, Vincent had finally finished the last layer of wax, had smoothed it out carefully like he had done to his own figures hundreds of times before. It looked off, though. Too thin in some places, too thick in others, not enough detailing here and there and almost too much in other parts. Vincent grunts, arms folded tightly across his chest. Lester stood beside him, head tilting side to side like an art critic in one of the movies Vincent had seen before.

“It looks so cool!” Lester finally says, looking up at Vincent with a large grin. Vincent shakes his head, lifting his hands to begin to tell Lester everything that was wrong with it, when Lester shakes his head. “Can I keep it, Vin? It’s awesome! It looks just like a wax sculpture but you’d never know the real thing was underneath!”

“You really wanna keep this thing? I could try to make a better one…” Vincent questions and Lester nods quickly, eagerly, hand reaching out to drag along the tail of the squirrel lightly. “Well… if you’re sure you want it, then yeah, go ahead.”

Lester hugs Vincent tight, his little arms barely wrapping around the broadening frame of his brother and Vincent hugs him back, heart swirling with warmth. “Oh, thank you Vincent! You’re the best big brother ever!”

“What about me? Am I chopped liver or somethin’ Les?” Lester and Vincent turn, still hugging each other, and see Bo at the bottom of the steps, leaning against the walls with a fake frown on his face. He was wearing mechanic overalls a size too big but his name was embroidered right there on the front pocket. “I see how it is, kid.”

Lester giggles, letting go of Vincent and running over to Bo, grabbing his hand and pulling him over to the table where Vincent’s sculpture sat. “Lookit! There's a real squirrel under this, ain’t that cool Bo? Don’t touch!” Bo gasps in shock when Lester swats at his hand. “You’re all greasy! I don’t want this to get messed up! Vinny made it for me, he’s lettin’ me keep it, can you believe that?”

“Don’t hit, you little brat!” Bo says but there’s no venom behind his words. Vincent watches with bated breath as Bo leans down and tilts his head, much like Lester, as he looks it over. Vincent can see every damn flaw on the thing and he’s sure Bo can too. Bo looks over at him with a cocked eyebrow. “You made this with a real squirrel?”

“Yeah,” He signs sheepishly. “Lester thought it would help me get better if I practiced with this stuff.” Bo nods, eyes trailing off towards the corner where most of Vincent's current projects sat and he hones in on the shards covering the floor. His eyes darken when he looks back at Vincent. “It was momma. I messed up the sculpture.”

Bo sucks his teeth harshly, lips thinning into an angry line. “Sure as hell ain't true; your shit’s better than momma’s half the time and that squirrel ain’t an exception.” Lester gasps at the swear word and Bo stifles a laugh with a cough. “Sorry, Les, forgot you were here. Don’t go repeatin’ that now, alright? Not till you’re older. Now,” He picks Lester up and the young boy yawns, resting his head onto his shoulder and Bo nods his head for Vincent to grab ahold of the squirrel. “Let’s all get to bed before we get in trouble.”

After tucking Lester in his bed and placing the squirrel on his small bookshelf beside the small collection of animal bones he had begun to collect, Bo and Vincent silently settle into their own beds. “Vince? You up?” Bo asks in the darkness and Vincent lets out a soft grunt in acknowledgement. “I meant what I said about your shit being better than mommas.”

Vincent doesn’t know what to say, so he remains quiet. Bo sighs, turning over in bed so his back was no longer turned from his brother and he stares at him, waiting. “Thanks, Bo. She’s really good, though. I’m not good at the…stuff she wants us to do. No one else knows about it but us.”

“I know.” Bo hates it too, but he knows better than to disagree with his mom. He’s quiet for a minute and right when Vincent thinks he had fallen asleep, Bo starts to talk again. “I’m getting a car fixed up. Gonna be able to leave soon.”

“Really? All of us, or just you?”

“All of us.”

A million questions run through his head. Where would they go? What would they do? Where would they stay? What would happen to their mom and dad? Bo knows the questions he has but he doesn’t have any answers. Vincent grunts again and the two boys fall silent. They could leave. Really leave. He could make his own art, Bo could learn about music, Lester could do whatever he wanted. They could figure it out. They could get out from the iron rule of their parents and be who they wanted to be, do what they wanted. They could be free.

All three boys fall asleep with smiles on their faces. All three boys dream of a fire in the House of Wax.

[bookishtheaterlover7]

Booky, you’re such a sweet person. I know it’s probably hard for you to be a fan and see stuff that annoys you, but remember that it’s probably happening to other fans with celebs they like.

Those poor Henry Cavill fans - though I don’t even think his gf is that bad. Lol.

And as for the Jeff Conway person…

lol. First of all he’s very very cringe. I’ve rarely seen an interviewer editor be this thirsty to repost his own articles and also be so unbelievably tacky as a grown man. But hey.

That being said, he was the one who wrote the Forbes article for Chris and his jinx thing at the end of December, right?

He was also one of the writers who wrote a people article of them going public. Somebody should check back those archives because I’m almost positive Jeff started following fish the night before or around the time they went public.

He also interviewed Chris the day Chris said his long term partner was his dog 🤣 - I wonder if he told Chris that 😭 and gave him a very cringey shirt “my dog is my soulmate.” A grown ass man.. giving another grown ass man a shirt like that. And then repeatedly bragging about it on twitter. How is he not embarrassed by himself?? (Jeff)

My personal thought is he goes where he has an assignment. I sometimes have to write really cringe social posts for work but thankfully they’re not attached to my name. He was probably instructed to hype her up because tbh, I still believe they’re trying to make her happen.

Think about how the kardashians, TikTok influencers, and other random ass “Celebs” pop up and start being placed everywhere and nobody is asking for them and the comments are filled with hate. But do these outlets ever stop? Really think about it. Step back from the fishbowl and observe the other industry ppl who have basically been shoved into our faces without our desire. I think the media knows Fish is DOA but she’s here and unfortunately here to stay for awhile. I think people can and will continue to ignore her so that’ll be pretty funny to watch.

I’m also sure fish wasn’t rude to Jeff because I doubt she’s like openly a rude person. I’m not trying to defend her because I know people on here will feel how they feel about this girl, but she’s not going to be a brat to everyone just because people want to hate her. I do think it’s interesting that post had Jeff hyping her up and then just mentioning Chris was also there. As if he’s her plus one and not the other way around.

I feel like she’s getting way too much attention for being virtually nothing and a nobody. The general public simply does not care about her.

I think someone just posted up TMZ posting celebs at the parties and they posted Chris alone and cropped her out. If true, LOLLLLLL TMZ 😂

Just Jared has written at least 600 articles at this point and they’re still getting her name wrong.

By the way, in my line of work, we have to proofread our articles before submitting them to post. So does every single outlet just accidentally miss fish’s last name?????

I’m starting to feel like it’s intentional.

🥹 Thank you, Marketing An🫶n!

It must suck for everyone, but it's good to know that what I'm feeling is definitely not just me. Makes me feel less crazy. 🙂

Good Lord, Jeff seems to be overselling and overdoing it, a little. But, as you said, it's a thing that needs to be done.

And you've got a point about celebs we DIDN'T ask for, just popping up. And it causes quite a stir. Which is effective for their reasons.

No, they do not. Hell, she's simply known as Chris Evans' wife. No more, no less. Imagine that as your only title. It's sad.

I hope it's intentional, because that's too many typos, and almost (I'm assuming they did this at least once) zero edits... 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Thanks for talking with me, Marketing An🫶n. It's really a highlight everytime you're here. So thank you ❤️ and it seriously means a whole lot. 🥰🥹

Until the next one...

[topaz-mutiny]

I’ve been thinking about the Deanna’s Commune scene from e64 a lot, because I think, for once, it has a lot more nuance than the “are the Gods worth saving” rhetoric we’ve seen ad nauseum beforehand. And I appreciate that!

First, Deanna’s a cleric. One with a complicated relationship with her patron diety, but still a cleric.

She is also direct, to-the-point, and no-nonsense when she gets miffed. Which first happens when she finds out the other half of Bells Hells did some rather disturbing stuff, because of some distrubing stuff perpetuated by her diety.

So of course that’s the first question she asks. I’m paraphrasing here, but “hey, is working with these people gonna help because I just heard some fucked up shit” is kind of important as the first question asked. It implies she still wants to help out, but some of the group’s actions seem to be counterintuitive to helping.

The “uncertain” response she got felt a bit rude to her, but on the sidelines here, it’s interesting. Either the Dawnfather is unaware that half of BH was involved in the killing of a Paladin, a Judicator, and an Angel and ousting his influence from a leyline nexus point, or he is aware and his uncertainly about whether they’ll help or harm the gods has some fascinating implications, such as the Dawnfather seeing BH as not a direct threat despite what they did. If he is aware, he probably is upset that they did that, but based on his answer BH isn’t in “it’s on sight” territory.

So with that out of the way, Deanna moved to the second thought on her mind - the disturbing stuff she heard was done in the name of the Dawnfather. And she received a “it’s for the greater good” response. The “I’m not going to outright say ‘yes’ directly, but sidestep and try to be truthful without actually saying ‘yes’” response.

The cast say “ooh, wrong answer”, but I don’t think it’s because there is a fundamentally correct or incorrect answer to that question (D&D alignments aside, moral greys are everywhere, including in the gods) - I think they say that because it was the absolute worst thing to say to Deanna specifically. She encouraged the temples of Uthodurn to help people when and wherever they could, and encouraged the diarchy of the same, and here is her own God telling her that his people did some harm to some people, but “for the greater good”, which I think is something Deanna seems staunchly against.

This is important, because I think that influences how Deanna’s final question is framed. And I think the final question might have been different altogether if the Dawnfather had answered differently.

“Are you worth saving?” is the question Deanna asks after hearing someone she (essentially) works for, admit to doing something that would piss her off. Based on everything that happened, “Are you worth saving” seems way less like the high-concept philosophy we’ve all grown to get annoyed at, and more like a deliberate, sharp, beautiful reprimand.

Deanna says this, and I think she means “I don’t like your tacit approval of forcing your influence into places where it isn’t wanted. I don’t like good normal people having their lives disrupted because your followers did something shitty and you never told them to stop. I think it’s wrong, I think normal people should be cared about just as much as our followers, and if you keep acting this way I can and will Karen you about it.”

But of course, this is the Dawnfather, and she came in to that Commune intent on matching the intensity of the sun. Which is why I think her final question came out like the sharpest barb in the universe, rather than lengthy nuance.

Maybe Sunny D will start thinking about it, maybe not (he is kind of a dick, so...), but it is now established that one of his own followers admonished him for his shitty behavior (and then he kicked her off of the call, lol). And I think that’s neat.