#i just want to remind myself to update it this year

[rweoutofthewoods]

Hi Mere I don't want to imply anything but I'm worried that your new relationship stopped helping you be creative and put out updates. Is your fiance not letting you write? I'm concerned about you.

Look, i appreciate your concern and I’m sure you have good intentions but let me set you straight.

I met my fiancé through writing. we used to write together every single night. They’ve been nothing but my biggest fan, my biggest supporter, the person I can turn to for honest and kind feedback. When I was writing Youngblood and I wrote a chapter I absolutely HATED it was them who encouraged me to rework it into something I was proud of and who didn’t let me give up and just hate myself for it.

And when I said I wanted to stop writing for a while let me tell you there was a big silence and they gave me a look of horror and asked if I was okay because YEAH, it’s very unlike me.

But first I want to say, that just because you guys have known about my relationship for a little while doesn’t mean that’s as long as it’s existed. I was happily in this relationship when I was pumping out 3 chaps a week, and I’m happily in it now that I’m posting 0.

The honest truth is I’m burnt the fuck out. I don’t want to write because I have zero interest in it right now. It doesn’t make me happy, I’m not motivated or burning to do it like I used to be. I wrote nonstop through my last two years of college, through graduating, through working a terrible food service job post grad, living in constant dread of what came next. I’m just burnt out. I’ve been pumping out jegulus nonstop since 2022, ofc I was going to lose steam and move away from it eventually.

Im just busy and tired! I’m moving in a few months, I have a full time job now, I go to work at 8am and come home at 5 or 6 and I don’t want to write. I want to spend time with my family or my friends or my fiancé. In December I worked for 17 days straight without a day off, I needed a break! And when I want comfort and happiness I don’t have to turn to writing to find it.

I’m mentally at the best I have been in a very long time, and I don’t need to write like someone has a gun to my head to cope anymore. I had a very unhealthy and obsessive relationship with writing. And I always joked when people asked how I wrote so much that it was mental illness. But it wasn’t really a joke, I was unwell and coping with fanfic. So while I’m sure some of you may be sad to see my writing slow, I hope you’re happy for me because it’s a good thing!! I want to heal my relationship with writing and I want it to be something I simply do for fun, not something to fill some hole inside of me.

So while I’m sure you mean well, I just want to remind you guys that you see a very small piece of my life and my relationship. So I’d appreciate not making assumptions 🩷

[theartofcollapse]

Baaaabe this time I'm not coming with a Olivia request 🤭

Could you write a fic Rollins x Reader where reader is a new solo mom getting back in the work field and find in Rollins a village 🥹 if you can, do it with a looooot of fluffy

a/n: thank you for your request summary:read it above pairing:Amanda Rollins x female reader warnings: none word count: 866

masterlist

A Village in You - Amanda Rollins

It was your first day back in the workforce after two years of being a stay-at-home mom. You’d taken time off to care for your daughter, Ellie, now an energetic two-year-old who loved dinosaurs, chocolate milk, and sleeping exclusively in your bed. You were nervous. Excited, sure, but mostly nervous. Finding the balance between motherhood and a demanding new job wasn’t something you’d mastered yet or even attempted.

Your first day at the 16th Precinct had been overwhelming in every way possible. Meeting new coworkers, learning the ropes, and reminding yourself not to accidentally call your boss “sweetie” like you did your toddler was enough to make your head spin. But what stood out the most was Amanda Rollins.

From the moment Amanda introduced herself, she made you feel at ease. There was something warm and approachable about her, like she instinctively understood how intimidating this transition was for you. Her Southern drawl softened her words, and her easy smile felt like a hand reaching out to steady you.

“You holding up okay, Y/N?” Amanda asked later that afternoon as the two of you walked out of the precinct. She’d noticed the slight sag in your shoulders and the faraway look you got when you checked your phone for updates from Ellie’s babysitter.

“Yeah, I think so. It’s just… a lot,” you admitted, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I haven’t done this in a while. I keep worrying I’ll mess something up at work or that Ellie will forget I’m her mom because I’m not with her 24/7 anymore.”

Amanda chuckled softly. “Trust me, I get it. I’ve got two kids myself. Balancing this job and being a mom? Not easy. But you’re doin’ great. And Ellie? She’s lucky to have a mom who cares this much.”

Her words were like balm to the self-doubt clawing at your chest. You hadn’t expected anyone to notice how much you were struggling, let alone reassure you.

“Thanks, Amanda. That… means a lot,” you said, offering a shy smile.

From that day on, Amanda became your unofficial support system.

Over the next few weeks, Amanda was always there, in ways big and small. She was the one who showed you the fastest way to get through the mountain of paperwork. She had a knack for stepping in when a suspect’s attitude made you feel out of your depth. And when you had to leave early because Ellie had a fever, Amanda waved off your apologies with a firm, “Family comes first, Y/N. Always.”

One evening, after a particularly grueling case, Amanda insisted on driving you home. You hesitated, not wanting to impose, but she was already opening the passenger door for you.

When you got to your apartment, Ellie toddled over to greet you with open arms and a chorus of giggles. Amanda’s face softened at the sight.

“This is Ellie,” you introduced, scooping her up. “Ellie, this is Amanda.”

“’Manda,” Ellie repeated, grinning at the new face.

Amanda’s heart melted. “Well, hey there, sweet pea. You’re even cuter than your mom said.”

Ellie giggled harder, clearly charmed, and Amanda stayed for dinner that night. It became the first of many nights where she would join you, sometimes bringing dessert or toys for Ellie, always bringing her warmth and calm presence.

As months passed, Amanda became part of your routine. She was there for daycare pickups when your shifts ran late, quick coffee runs that turned into life advice sessions, and the occasional impromptu movie night when Ellie demanded an audience for her dramatic reenactments of The Land Before Time.

One rainy Saturday afternoon, Amanda showed up at your door with a bag of groceries and an umbrella. “Figured you could use a little help,” she said casually, though the kindness in her eyes betrayed her words.

The three of you spent the afternoon baking cookies (well, you and Amanda baked while Ellie spilled flour everywhere) and playing board games. At some point, Ellie fell asleep on the couch, clutching Amanda’s hand.

“She adores you,” you said softly, watching the scene unfold.

Amanda looked at you, her expression tender. “The feelin’s mutual.”

You hesitated before speaking again, your heart pounding. “I don’t know how I would’ve done any of this without you, Amanda. I mean it. You’ve been… everything I didn’t know I needed.”

Amanda’s gaze held yours, her voice quiet but steady. “Y/N, you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here. For you and Ellie. Always.”

Her words settled over you like a promise, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t just surviving, you were thriving, thanks to her.

It wasn’t long before Amanda was more than just a coworker, more than a friend. She became the one who reminded you that you didn’t have to carry it all alone. And in her, you found something you hadn’t expected. A partner, a confidant, and the love you’d always dreamed of.

As Ellie stirred awake that evening, blinking up at Amanda with sleepy eyes, you couldn’t help but smile. For the first time, your little family felt complete.

And it was all because of her.

[cruelsister-moved2]

my goodreads hi ignore that its insane its an old account but i only started using it again in november</3 

[wundrousarts]

Going to do a Nevermoor series reread in June + July + August ? if anyone else also wants to do a reread around that time, could be fun to have more of the fandom prepping for Silverborn

Did initially make a roadmap plan to split the books up into weeks on top of already being months, so that people could focus on specific parts and discuss each week….. but between the fact that I messed it up the first time, Silverborn kept getting delayed as I planned it, and I’m actually really bad at keeping to stuff like that (looking at you, Silverborn Countdown Challenge…) I’m deciding to just go for it at whatever pace happens.

[twicethetrouble]

Me: I'm going to get so much stuff done today!

Also me: *Plays Warframe instead*

[omanu]

a saga starts

[hubmuses]

lately been having most activity on my comics blogs here and here. ( harley quinn. @jesytr +. wonder woman @wnderwl )

[pathologicalreid]

merry christmas, please don't call | s.r.

in which Spencer pens an email to you, since you've already blocked his phone number

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: nondescript break up, described as spencer's fault, reader is mentioned to have worn lipstick, yearning, word count: 907 a/n: and the worst part is!!! that we both know!!!!! we are doing kind of an unofficial margotmas/reidmas! really i've just been building up christmas ideas for a while lol

To: xreader@gmail.com From: Spencer.Reid@gmail.com Subject: Merry Christmas

Hey,

Spencer shook his head, that was too casual.

Good afternoon,

Much too formal.

Hello,

Too rigid.

Darling,

I passed by the house that you told me you adored. It used to be your dream house; you’d always show me the Zillow listing whenever you were browsing. The owners didn’t put up their Christmas lights this year, and it looks like they’re getting ready to sell. I haven’t been online to check the listing, that was always your thing rather than mine.

Do you remember the house? It had four bedrooms for our kids to sleep in and a library with stained-glass windows. You always told me the stained-glass windows were your favorite feature of my apartment. I keep it covered now; the colored glass just serves as a painful reminder of you.  

Emily called me last week. I suppose no one told her that we weren’t together anymore because she asked what our holiday plans were. I haven’t made any since you left. I’m finding myself hopeful that we get called on a case over Christmas so that I don’t need to be surrounded by the world celebrating while I continue to wallow in the memories of you and me.

That’s all I have now: memories. We made so many of them over the course of three years that I don’t know what to do with them. I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that having an eidetic memory is a curse just as much as it is a blessing, but with you gone, I know it’s more of a curse. I see you when I close my eyes as if your features have been permanently tattooed on the back of my eyelids, but when my eyes are open, everything is exponentially worse.

You left in such a hurry, so you were bound to leave a few things behind. When I went to make a cup of coffee and found one of your mugs in my cabinet, JJ and Penelope had to practically scrape me off the kitchen floor. There was still a lipstick smudge on it, a piece of our history the dishwasher couldn’t quite wash off. Your necklace was on the bedside table, though maybe that was left behind on purpose. I wish we could go back to the day I gave it to you, you could wear the same green dress, and maybe work wouldn’t get in the way. If I could, I’d call you to ask why you left it behind, but you’ve blocked my number.

There was no need for you to leave me things to remember you by, how could I ever forget you?

I’ve been finding myself grateful that you got so close with Garcia during our relationship, she doesn’t give me any explicit details on your life when she updates me. I never ask, but she knows I want to hear.

It’s a rather odd phenomenon to have once had someone who you shared everything with, only to one day find they want nothing to do with you. I always find myself reaching for my phone to send to a message, or leaning over to show you a line in my book, but you’re not there anymore. I don’t hold any malice in my heart for you, even after you called it all off. My biggest regret is that I couldn’t be the boyfriend that you needed, and I’m proud of you for realizing you wanted someone better. I’m sorry I couldn’t be better.

Maybe I still have some growing up to do. There might be some sort of emotional stunting as a result of my less-than-orthodox upbringing and education, which makes sense when you consider two of my most common nicknames, “boy genius” and “kid.” One day I could find myself in the same place you were, ready for more, but maybe then I’ll be with someone who is ready for the same things as I am. She’ll never be you though. You’ll always hold that special place in my heart.

Speaking of my upbringing, my mom keeps asking about you. Each time we talk on the phone, she asks if she can talk to you, but I’ve been telling her that you’re still working or are otherwise preoccupied. I know I shouldn’t lie to her, but if I tell her, she’ll inevitably forget, and I’ll be forced to recount the story of how I lost the best thing to ever happen to me forever. That would be my eternal damnation. There’s Sisyphus and Tantalus and Spencer Reid, slowly becoming nothing but a myth. I wonder if I’m a story that you tell your friends at O’Keefe’s.

I go there sometimes, just to see if I can catch your gaze, but you’re never there.

I know this is your favorite holiday, and I don’t intend to ruin your holidays with my message. I suppose I just needed to see if you still dream about that house. To see if you still dream of me the way I dream of you.

Merry Christmas,

Spencer

He clicked send nervously, ready to snap his work-issued laptop shut when it chirped with a notification. Surely you hadn’t responded that quickly. Spencer opened his inbox once more, checking the latest email.

To: Spencer.Reid@gmail.com From: mailer-daemon@googlemail.com Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)

Message blocked.

Your message to xreader@gmail.com has been blocked. See technical details below for more information.

[starkwlkr]

it’s nothing new | sebastian vettel

part 1 part 3

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

update: i decided to make this into a series, thanks for reading! you can read it here!

“hello?”

“mark, hi.”

“y/n? it’s been a while. how are you?” the aussie asked. it had been years since you spoke to mark, but he always kept you updated. he sent messages about how everyone in the paddock was doing, which you appreciated him for.

“i . . i’m okay. is this a bad time to talk to you?” you asked. you suddenly remembered about time zones.

“it’s alright, i always have time for you. what’s going on?” he questioned.

“so i am at my sister’s house and i didn’t want to sleep the whole flight so i decided to read your book.” you replied. “it’s a beautiful book, mark.”

“thanks.” he knew there was more you wanted to say. “are you mad?”

“mad about what?” you asked. “what you wrote about sebastian and i? is that what you’re talking about?”

“well yeah. i tried to contact you several times. you wouldn’t answer my messages so i assumed you changed numbers. seb told me he didn’t care if i wrote it in—”

“mark, i’m not mad. i’m far from it. i just want to know if it’s true. did he tell you everything? the night he won the title, i mean.” you asked. you remembered that night clearly. you didn’t finish the race, but that didn’t stop you from celebrating with sebastian.

“he would never lie about you, love. i told him to tell you, just to get it off his chest but he wouldn’t. you were with someone else, it was wrong.” mark explained. “you know the day you announced your engagement, he hated himself for not telling you sooner. maybe things would’ve ended differently if he had.”

maybe . .

“does he hate me?”

there was always that possibility. but when it came to sebastian, he would rather die than say he hates you.

“he could never hate you even if you did throw a shoe at him and call him a cunt.” mark chuckled. “he still loves you, you know, he asks about you all the time and i have no idea what to tell him.”

“well maybe i could tell him myself . . do you have his phone number?”

after you were given seb’s number, you noticed he never changed it. you weren’t sure why, but you decided to text him instead of calling.

y/n

hi seb, it’s y/n. i know it’s been so long and i’m sorry for how things ended. i hope you’re doing great. i’m not doing too good right now. my marriage is ending so i have that going for me. i’m staying with my sister and her family. anyways, i hope you don’t mind me messaging you. mark gave me your number but turns out i still have it saved. speaking of mark, i read his book on the flight, it’s very interesting. i’ll leave you alone now, thanks for caring about me all these years.

after you sent the message, you didn’t expect a reply. it was as if he was waiting for a message this whole time.

seb

hi y/n. i hope you know i never forgot about you after all this time. i’m sorry about your marriage, i really am. i don’t mind at all that you message me, i never changed my number in hopes that one day you would. as for mark’s book, i hope you’re not mad, but if you need to know, it’s all true and i wouldn’t change anything. being with you made me happy and everytime i hear your name, i’m reminded of the joyful memories we shared. i have something to tell you, only a few people know. i plan to retire at the end of the 2022 season. it would be nice if you would come to abu dhabi for my last race. i understand if you can’t make it. take care and i love you always. (it’s nothing new at this point)

@hc-dutch @lightdragonrayne @multiplefandomwritings @woozarts @jggykhug09090 @neivivenaj @kissesandmartinis @barnestatic @avythef1addict

[darkestcorners]

Hi guys👋🏼….It’s been a while hasn’t it? ( like 2 years give or take heh)

I want to start off by saying that I am in fact alive and yes, I WILL be finishing Polarity. If anyone still cares about it I hope? 🤞🏼 fingers crossed. I know it’s been so long and I’m sure lots of you have lost interest and I completely understand trust me, I did end up committing the old carnal fanfic author sin of falling off the face of the earth after leaving y’all with a cliffhanger 🙂‍↔️

But I just want to let y’all know that an update is coming this week! As for why I’ve been gone, to keep it short and simple, I went through something really traumatizing and I really didn’t have the headspace for anything other than getting myself together and my job . I quite literally haven’t logged into this account since 2 years ago. I’m overwhelmed by the amount of messages you guys have sent me and I’m in awe of how many of you have expressed your love for my works. I have been reading through them all day and I’m still close to being finished heh, it reminded me of how much I’ve missed your messages. ❤️

I want to also apologize to all of those who were genuinely concerned about me, I hope you can understand I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that. I appreciate all the sweet messages you have sent me, I will try to reply to as much as I can. So much has happened, I had to reread my own work because of how much of a blur my life had become and how even this site felt like a fever dream. But I am also working on a new fic, which was what pushed me to ultimately come back and pick up this hobby that I had not even thought I would be able to fully enjoy again. I have such great timing dont I? considering it’s coincidentally Jungkook’s birthday lol.

But anyways, I won’t bore you anymore. Thank you all so much for being here and enjoying my stories. Hopefully you can enjoy the upcoming update of Polarity ! :) ❤️❤️

[catboybiologist]

Hey it's a life update that probably no one cared about or asked for

tl;dr: I'm likely quitting my PhD via mastering out, and leaving my program in June.

sappy, overly emotional vent/explanation:

I'm wrapping up my first quarter as an out-of-the-closet trans woman. I've had some serious conversations about where me and my work stand. This was always my intention after coming back from my summer hiatus/social transition: see how "reentry" works, and then assess from there.

For those that don't know, PhDs in the US take 5-7 years. Oftentimes, however, they either give you a master's along the way, or give you an option to quit halfway through with a master's. I'm in my 3rd year and have more than enough to use that option. I've toyed with this idea before, but it feels a bit different now. Last year, I was burned out from science, my project was failing, and I was under constant stress of boymoding and remaining in the closet. Now, I'm out and proud, and I deeply love my project and find it exciting. I fixed some things.

Unfortunately, I have a recurrent problem. Whenever something goes wrong in my life, the first thing to drop off is my ability to drive forward my own thesis project in a coherent way. What the actual problems are vary, but that motif stays the same. I could list off what's going on right now, but I think y'all can assume a bit of what a mid-20s, broke, recently transitioned trans woman in the US is going through at the moment. There's a lot of specifics, of course, but I'm not at liberty to say most of it.

So I'm looking around and realizing I have scraps of half finished projects, I've given support and help for other people's projects.... and then made little progress on my actual thesis. It's enough to pull together into a master's thesis, and maybe even another paper or two, but.... not a PhD.

And then there's the other side of it. The nicer reasons. Could I stay here, buckle down, maybe add years to my degree, and get through it? Probably. But honestly? I don't really want to put myself through that now. It used to be that academics was all I had. It was all my failures and all my successes. It's what I threw myself at, because I genuinely had nothing else going on. Since transitioning, the world seems so much more beautiful and rich, so much more complex and vast, with so much more to do in it. I've even had more negative experiences unrelated to academia, and while they've sucked, they've shown me that life is so much bigger than it was before.

To be blunt, to experience more of my life... it helps to have money, and it helps to have career stability. It's not the only factor by far, but certainly one defining moment when making this decision was trying to create a timeline and budget for transition related surgeries, and realizing that its near impossible in grad school.

Not to be dramatic, but I've also had a couple extremely jarring experiences in the past year that are reminded me that life is short. And I want at least some time to enjoy it.

My heart is honestly broken here, and I'm feeling extremely emotional about this. I love my lab, my colleagues, the environment of doing research, and my project. But I'm realizing that it might not be viable, or what makes me the happiest at the moment. I'm genuinely a bit distraught, and I've been crying a lot for the past few days. A lot of me feels like this is what I am, and this is what I'm good for. That I'm failing myself and every mentor that got me here. Some part of me knows that isn't true, some part of me can't let go of those feelings.

But, I know this doesn't mean "never". So many of the people in my program are significantly older than me, coming back later in life to get their degrees. I'm honestly almost positive that I'll come back to a PhD someday if I quit now. In my 30s or beyond, I think that I'll be able equipped to handle it much better.

So what's next?

Obviously, nothing is decided, and I'm just spitballing here. But I'm honestly shocked at how many viable options I have, in a very good way. A cursory scroll of Indeed was honestly therapeutic. As I said, I still love the academic research environment. I just need more money and stability, and would prefer to have a slightly different relationship to the work I do than a thesis project. Ideally, I would want to be a staff researcher in an institute or academic lab. That lets me keep a lot of the things I like about what I do now, while also making literally 2-3 times the money and having a more stable position.There's positions out there that maximize the contexts I'm the strongest and happiest with, while still being more steady and paying more. Hell, even if my responsibilities were identical, but I had more pay, I could probably more effectively address the personal problems I'm going through right now. I'm gonna stay in California for a lot of reasons, and I'm lucky that there's so many options within the state.

I have a bit of an oddball set of experience. I'll actually have two nonoverlapping master's if I do this. I already have a MS in bioinformatics, which was granted by a CS department. But my current program is in more "pure" molecular and cell biology. I'll have 5 years of grad school, 8.5 years of research experience if I include undergrad research, and instead of a PhD, 2 MSs. Which is kinda funny. But it think it helps represent my experience for what it is. I like to consider myself a "full stack" bioinformaticist- someone who can do both the experimental and analysis portions of experiments that produce large data. Hopefully I'll be able to put that to good use.

I have a lot of professional contacts that I'll slowly be reaching out to over the course of the next 6 months while I tie things up. I know this is a wildshot on tumblr of all places, but if anyone has any recommendations, advice, or contacts, I'm all ears- both for professional and job hunt related things, and also the emotional state I'm in right now.

Thank you to everyone that's made up this wonderful community we have online. I hope I'm not letting anyone down. I'll still be a biologist, I'll still be my trans self. I just won't be "Doctor" anytime soon.

[presidenthades]

Early holiday present for myself and my readers :3

(Also, I’m planning to update Compromise this weekend, assuming I don’t get struck by a sudden catastrophe.)

I loved my Velargirls artwork by @shripscapi so much that I went and got the Targbros done too!

Details I want to gush over:

Aemond

His sapphire! I imagine in-universe people asked him if he would prefer to wear his eyepatch for the portrait, but by this time in his character growth he went “fuck it, I have a sapphire eye, just show it in the painting.”

Embroidery details on his collar! They’re based on traditional Greek motifs which remind me of waves.

Dragon scale pattern on his shirt! The jade green color is an homage to Vhagar, who is supposedly jade green (according to official sources) even though she looks brown on screen. 🧐

Breastplate and stance are supposed to convey that he’s a military man. He has that sapphire blue sash for a bit of pizzazz. Overall we didn’t want him being too fancy and ostentatious, because that isn’t his style, but we still wanted him to look princely.

His sword is Siren Song, as described in Compromise. So he does get his hands on it again eventually. 🤧

Aegon

Jace 100% picked his outfit for the portrait (to coordinate with her own).

Red is a prominent color to emphasize his Targaryen-ness. I also wanted gold for Sunfyre and themes. But I was afraid of red and gold being too Lannister, so we added some white into the mix.

Big chain! Aegon is contractually required to wear chains in fanart. 😂

Aegon’s outfit is the fanciest of the brothers, because as the consort of the future queen he has standards to uphold. #trophyhusband

The flower crown was shripscapi’s idea! Originally I wanted him holding a wrapped gift intended for Jace but wasn’t sure how to convey that. So shripscapi suggested a flower crown that matches the rose Jace is holding, to imply that Jace plucked her flower from the crown. 🥰 Aegon isn’t one to participate in tourneys, but he might be tempted for the chance to crown Jace as Queen of Love and Beauty. 🌹

Daeron

Face reference is Jack Cunningham-Nuttall, who was one of the actors theorized to be Daeron before S2 crushed our hopes and dreams.

We went for a more scholarly appearance for Daeron, who spent a few years studying and training in Oldtown. The robe he wears is apparently a style prevalent among scholars historically.

He isn’t planning to be a septon, but he is fairly devout to the Faith so he wears the seven-pointed star pendant. His book is also supposed to be the book The Seven-Pointed Star.

Cobalt blue is his dominant color, along with some copper accents like the pendant in his hat, because Tessarion. He also wears a bit of red to coordinate with Joff. We wanted the boys to coordinate with the girls because…

Tadaaa! Look at them, they’re all so gorgeous. 😭 Jace and Aegon match the most. Luce and Aemond share a whole spectrum of blues and greens. Joff and Daeron contrast the most without clashing; also, I love their polar opposite books.

And now the whole group. 🙇🏻‍♀️

[my-my-my]

KINKTOBER DAY 3 - Orgasm Denial (+ age gap): Ryuken Ishida x Female Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: Dr. Ishida was a brilliant doctor, earning the praise of all those working at Karakura Hospital. His dedication to his work inspired you to become a doctor yourself, leading you to work at the same hospital. Years have gone by, and the staff continue to praise the Head Director's work, but how little do they know how much control he seeks, especially with you.

TW: MDNI! Slight age gap between Ryuken and you (but you're older than Uryuu), orgasm denial, use of sex toys, oral sex (male receiving), dirty talk, slight hints of a dom/sub relationship.

Word count: 1849

Read on AO3 here.

You made your way through your unit, conducting your regular rounds to visit your patients. Reviewing patient chart, after patient chart, and listening to the worries and concerns from your patients’ loved ones, you were weary by the time you reached the nursing station.

But as exhausted as you were, you worked hard for this career and loved being a doctor. You thanked the staff for their hard work today. One of the nurses wanted your consultation on the next steps of a patient’s discharge plan, when Dr. Ishida, the head director of the Karakura Hospital entered the ward.

You bowed your head politely but continued your discussion with the nurse. The charge nurse informed you on the general updates of their unit to him. You didn’t pay close attention to their conversation but noticed him walking away to the next unit.

Once he was out of earshot, some of the nurses and residents gushed about him, “Dr. Ishida is so handsome.” One said, followed by someone else chiming in “he’s such an incredible doctor, his patients seem to adore him.” Comment after comment, praising him for being a talented doctor and leader for the hospital.

The nurse who you were speaking with quietly asked you, “I mean, isn’t that why you decided to work at this hospital, Doctor?”

“I mean, who wouldn’t want to work with Dr. Ishida?” A fellow responded, laughing loudly.

The small group laughed, with you joining in. Once the laughter died down, you shared with the group your reasons for working at the Karakura Hospital. You had long admired the work of Dr. Ishida, and you had seen his bedside manner and care for a distant relative of yours while you were in high school.

You had always been driven to become a doctor, but he set the standard for you on how a doctor should be. He was thoughtful and driven.

But people have always said “don’t meet your heroes.” You worked hard during medical school, during residency and your fellowship, and you achieved your goal for working in Karakura Hospital.

But how would the staff react to knowing their wonderful Dr. Ishida, so dutiful to medicine and his patients, was dating one of the much younger doctors?

When the two of you had begun dating, he was strict, as if he was compartmentalizing his feelings for you and his duty to the hospital as a medical professional. You would see this in action with Ryuken’s own young adult son, a man a few years younger than you. Ryuken was cold with his son, the few times the three of you would have dinner together, but tried to be patient with Uryuu nonetheless. And in private, would talk about Uryuu with a gentle tone in his voice.

From what you had seen about Ryuken, from work to his personal life, control was of upmost importance to him. If there was one thing you knew for certain about the man, he hated rumours and gossip. You never felt as if he was ashamed of his relationship with you, but more so that there was a distinction between romance, work, and everything else in his life.

The nursing staff would be aghast as to how he was like in the bedroom though, you laughed to yourself. The nurse you were speaking asked what was funny, “oh nothing, I was just reminding myself of what the fellow said earlier.” You gave a gentle smile. “If there’s anything else I need to review, please bring it to me, or else I’ll be heading out now.” You said to the attending nurses.

It was your day off, a rare event in your life. You had already planned out your day – reading, reading, and more reading. You wanted to be up to date in your field, learning and understanding any new research that had come to light.

But Ryuken had other plans. The man was never one for texting, but rather call you, leaving you a voicemail stating he would be visiting your place for lunch.

You weren’t particularly fussed about lunch, making something simple, yet filling for the two of you. You also knew Ryuken hated being too full at work.

Ryuken had brought you a coffee, and a shopping bag from a store you didn’t recognize, but he left it alone for the entirety of lunch. Lunch was quiet affair, as he asked you what you had done so far during the day. You shared with him interesting articles you had read, discussing with him new techniques and technologies on the way. Ryuken smiled at you softly, watching the way you lit up sharing these things with him.

The hour went by quickly, with Ryuken preparing his leave, but just before he left, he gave you the shopping bag. “I made a reservation for dinner, and I want you to wear this.” He said, his tone even as he quickly checked his tie in the mirror by your door.

“Thank you? But I have plenty of dresses I could have worn.” You said, carefully peering into the bag.

“I know, but I saw this on a mannequin in store and thought of you when I saw it.” Ryuken remarked, his voice cold, as if he were telling you the time. But you knew he was sincere in his actions. Gifts from him were truly thoughtful matters.

You smiled at the bag, seeing white fabric inside, “I’m happy to wear it.” You kissed him on the cheek, smelling the faint scent of cigarettes, and watched him depart for the hospital.

Ryuken had bought you a simple, cream-coloured maxi dress with billowy sleeves, yet fairly form fitting at the top, nipping you at the waist. It then fell to a floating skirt below. The sleeves had little accents of blue and grey, which reminded you of some of the clothing Ryuken wore, leading you to question if had truly bought it, or had it custom made.

Either way, you adorned yourself with simple jewelry, make up and footwear, waiting for Ryuken to arrive.

As soon as you had finished getting ready, Ryuken was at your door, but he didn’t usher you to leave with him just yet.

“It fits you like a glove.” He remarked, inspecting your figure. “But it’s missing something.”

Confusion spread across your face as he pulled you to your bedroom. He pushed you on to the bed and looked down on you. His face was stern, as if he were assessing you for something. You were nervous.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, as he looked straight into your eyes.

“Yes, of course? But what’s wrong?” Confusion echoed through your voice, wondering why he was acting this way. He was usually very direct, so matter-of-fact in his words and actions.

“You ignored me yesterday,” Ryuken remarked, pushing your legs apart. The familiar drop of arousal came with it, as the skirt of your dress began to ride up your thighs. You shuddered from his touch as he coldly stared at you.

“You were busy, I didn’t want to interrupt.” You whimpered out, as he pushed your skirt past your underwear.

You had decided to wear a nude thong, worried that the dress was a bit sheer. Ryuken clicked his tongue in approval of your choice.

“You won’t be needing this.” Ryuken said, with an indifferent tone, as he pulled your thong off your body.

“But what about our reservation?” You shrieked, “won’t we be late?”

“I cancelled it.” Ryuken calmly explained.

It was then he pulled something out of his pocket. It was a remote-controlled vibrator you were curious about. That was so long ago, you thought. You were casually browsing an online sex toy shop at Ryuken’s home, and he asked what you were looking at it. You made a passing comment about how you thought the vibrator looked fun but paid no mind to it. But Ryuken certainly did.

Ryuken’s warm fingers spread your pussy lips apart, with his thumb circling your clit. You moaned softly as his thumb rubbed against your clit gently. Soon Ryuken’s finger was circling your entrance before he pushed it in. He pumped his finger out of you, your pussy growing wetter with each motion, before he pulled his hand away.

You whined at the sudden loss, until you felt something unfamiliar gently stretch your pussy and something else grazing your clit.

It was then, Ryuken got off the bed and watched over you, his phone in his hand. As soon as you tried to get up, an intense pulse came from the snug toy inside your pussy, followed by a whirring of something pressed against your clit. You screamed at the intensity, writhing as Ryuken toyed with the different levels of the toy, a satisfied smirk appearing on his lips.

The vibrations were relentless, as you felt tears prick your eyes. Your pussy clamped around the toy as its clit portion pulsated at random intervals – you couldn’t discern its pattern.

“I’m going to cum!” You shrieked, as you gripped your bed sheets.

Then the vibrations stopped. Ryuken immediately grabbed your face in one hand, his eyebrows knitted, “you know better than that.” He sneered, to which you whined in response. You needed to cum so badly. Ryuken’s hand flew to your hair, grabbing a fistful, forcing you to look up at him. “You’re not allowed to cum unless I say you can. Did you forget that?” He ordered, the grip on your hair tightening.

You sobbed as you felt your pussy throb from being so close to relief. “I’m sorry sir, please let me cum.”

Ryuken smirked, “good girl”, letting go of your hair. He kneeled next to you, unzipping his pants and pulling out his soft cock. “But even better girls please their master before cumming.” As he pulled your head to his cock.

You began to lap at his tip, feeling him twitch and harden against your mouth. You sucked his tip, feeling the taste of his precum on your lips, before working your way down.

It was then you jolted, as the vibrator worked its magic again. You moaned around Ryuken’s cock, with his steady hand back on your head, slowly forcing his cock down your throat. Tears pricked your eyes, as you felt your pussy throb and spasm, but you couldn’t cum. You tried to steal your resolve on sucking Ryuken off, as you bobbed your head on his cock.

The vibrations were relentless, with Ryuken giving a cold stare at you, watching you struggle to keep your pace. He narrowed his eyes, as he pulled you off his cock, a string of your saliva linking your mouth to the tip of his cock, “you’ve been slacking off, slut.” Ryuken coldly explained, as he gripped his cock, gently tapping your face with it. “But we have all night, so open your mouth.” Flashing you another smirk as the vibrator increased in intensity.

Your eyes rolled as the vibrator continued to whirl around you, while your mouth was stuffed with Ryuken’s cock.

This was going to be a long night indeed.

Thanks for reading! This mini-fic was set to Hidden Face's "White Carousel."

[nonsensical-pixels]

i went overboard again, didn't i? @theonlybegottensim wanted a top-only update of this bella dress by @veranka-downloads, but it looked lonely on the preview. so i went crazy and instead of just 1 bella-themed dress, you get three - plus 2 hairs! 💃

included are:

4t2 conversion of @simcelebrity00's bella goth mini hairstyle (animated, 12k polys, in afterglow naturals)

4t2 conversion of @simcelebrity00's bella goth mini flower clips (accessories, 0.7k polys, 4 swatches)

4t2 conversion of @simcelebrity00's bella goth mini dress and gloves (all morphs, 4k polys, 8 swatches)

4t2 conversion of @joshseoh's bella hair maxis match (animated, 7k polys, in afterglow naturals)

4t2 conversion of @dogsill's nostalgia isabella dress (all morphs, 2k polys, 9 swatches)

and as requested, a top-only edit of @veranka-downloads' 4t2 dress ruched party (all morphs, 2k polys, 7 swatches)

all dresses are top-only with all morphs for yf-af only; all hairs are animated & smooth-boned and for yf-ef. please reach out to me if you encounter any issues!

DOWNLOAD: SFS | MF 🍷

credits go to @veranka-downloads for the original iconic 4t2 conversion of dress ruched party; to maxis, @dogsill, @joshseoh, and @simcelebrity00 for the gorgeous original ts4 meshes & textures; to @paluding for the sim tattooer; and of course to @antoninko for the afterglow hair system! 💖

THINGS TO NOTE

The simcelebrity Flower Clips do not come with the Bella Goth Mini Hairstyle; they are separate accessories in the glasses category and layerable.

The joshseoh Bella Hair Maxis Match was originally 20k plus polys! It's so low because I went in and deleted nearly all of the strands. See below (mine, original):

BLENDER PREVIEWS

in order: isabella dress, bella goth hair maxis match, bella goth mini hairstyle + flower clips, bella goth mini dress + gloves, dressruchedparty

swatches are included in the download; no close-ups in-game because my game is going crazy pink for some reason, gaaaahh!!

friendly reminder that i make everything i release for free, for myself. i share my creations with others because i genuinely love this game, not because i care about 'clicks and likes'. if you feel threatened by that maybe you should consider why you're trying to get social recognition without pay for a 20 year old game. appreciate cc creators, y'all.

if there are any issues that you find with this set, please don't be afraid to let me know! happy simming, and when you download this, do keep in mind,

[strang3lov3]

Under the Table

Roman takes you to dinner. You eat pasta and he eats you (4k)

Tags - smut, stepcest, stepdaddy!roman, age gap, dom!roman, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), public sex, teasing, emotional boners, you make daddy blush and get all bashful so he reminds you who calls the shots, like Dennis Reynolds, Roman has feelings again but he’s still disgustinggggg, does he want to be your father or your daddy, oh he is getting so soft. But someone else is too 🫵 implied almond/alcoholic mom + other mommy issues,,,planting some seeds here don’t mind me,,, Fic help - @beefrobeefcal thank you for brainstorming with me and for giving me your eyeballs! @endlessthxxghts, ditto!! A/N - yeah I wrote a birthday fic for my birthday to my birthday party on my birthday with a birthday gift. shut the fuck up about it. I love you. I think next time we see him he’ll fuck your ass maybe. I don’t know. Someone jump into my inbox and tell me something gross they should do because I need to cancel out this goddamn sweetness. Rotting the teeth right out of my skull smh. also, I know we waited a while for more stepdaddy. I appreciate your patience more than you know 🩷 updates may continue to be slow this month because we’re getting down to the wire with school and all that stuff.

Stepdaddy!Roman Roy

7:34 AM. You wake to texts from old friends and relatives wishing you another happy year around the sun, don’t party too hard and so on and so forth. It does warm your heart to know that people are thinking of you. Your past birthdays haven’t felt much like the birthdays you had when you were younger, when you were so excited to celebrate your day you couldn’t sleep. 

You pull on a sweatshirt over your thin pajamas and head downstairs to make yourself a bowl of cereal, and find Roman in the kitchen. “Morning, sunshine. Go sit down in the dining room.”

“Mm,” you grumble, voice gravelly from sleep. Your eyes are droopy and you still look tired, barely conscious. 

Roman eyes you as you sit down. You rest your head on the table, and you’re wearing his sweatshirt. He’s not entirely sure how you wound up with it. He doesn’t say anything, though, only smirks to himself. 

Roman goes back into the kitchen to plate some blueberry pancakes he made for you, just like he’s done since you were young. Roman’s not much of a cook, but this is one meal he can make and that he can make well. He wouldn’t do it for just anyone, but you asked him once when you were a kid and he didn’t have it in his heart to tell you no. Roman remembers how crappy that first batch came out, but how you didn’t complain. Honestly, you probably didn’t even notice with your pancakes covered in so much butter and syrup and whipped cream. You probably couldn’t even taste the blueberries. But thus, tradition stuck, and Roman’s blueberry pancake game vastly improved over the years. He liked making them for you as much as you liked eating them.

Roman returns to you with the plate of blueberry pancakes and sets it down in front of you. “Voilà.”

You lift your head up and grin when you see the pancakes Roman made for you. It’s straight out of a commercial, melted butter and syrup dripping down the edges with a dollop of whipped cream right on top. “Aww. You remembered,” you beam. You didn’t ask Roman for the pancakes this year. 

Roman blushes, and he feels his heart beat harder. It’s been so long since you’ve smiled at him like that, and it makes him nervous. “No. I made them for myself, actually, but I was feeling generous. This is my good deed for the week.”

“You still remembered.”

Roman ignores the accusation. “I gave you all the fucked up ones, just so you know. And I spit in the batter.”

“Mm. Tasty.”

Fuck. Your eyes are sparkling, your smile is so warm. Roman can’t stomach it, how you make him feel sometimes. “Oh, shut up and eat your fucking pancakes, birthday girl,” he snaps, contorting his face to fight his smile. “I hate you. You’re welcome.”

You roll your eyes and eat your pancakes, humming at the delicious flavor. Roman grabs your favorite mug and sets it down next to you, then fills it with the coffee he made. Before you can thank him, the clattering of high heels on the hardwood floor interrupts you. Your mom is on the phone and stops briefly in the dining room when she smells the pancakes Roman made for you. She leans over your shoulder and takes your fork from your hand and cuts off a bite for herself. “Mom,” you complain. 

“You can share,” she scolds, covering the mic on her phone.  

Roman speaks, “Wait, don’t. I made those special for -”

Your mom smiles and kisses Roman on the cheek before he can finish his sentence, and then she’s out the door while still talking with Erica. 

Roman looks to you for your reaction, and your face falls. That beautiful smile on your lips just moments ago, snuffed out like a candle. “I don’t think she remembered,” you tell Roman, defeated. 

“Oh no, I don’t think that’s true,” Roman lies. “I’m sure she just - I don’t know,” he sighs, resigning to the reality of the situation. You can expect some mushy and emotional text from her later, probably tomorrow. “No, you’re right - that was bullshit.” Roman squeezes your shoulder affectionately and tells you he’s sorry. 

Roman means it. He knows exactly how it feels to have a parent forget your birthday. His dad only remembered a handful of times, and every present always felt empty. It’s part of why Roman’s always put effort into making your day special each year. He never got the birthday he wanted or deserved, but he could give that to you.

“Listen,” Roman says, “I gotta run to work now. Don’t party too hard. Or do. I don’t care. It’s your day. Just don’t snort coke in my bathroom, okay? Anywhere else. And don’t do it before, like, four in the afternoon.” Roman pats your shoulder. “Just basic human decency.”

“I’m not gonna do coke in your bathroom, Roman.”

“I just feel the need to say it after the Uncle Ken incident, you know?” You laugh at that, though you shouldn’t. Roman continues, “Anyway, I want you to eat up all of your highly nutritious breakfast and when I come home tonight, you better be in your favorite dress.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m taking you out.”

“You are?” 

“Duh, genius. Like me and you always do on your birthday, remember? Or are you forgetting as you approach your crone years?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off. You’re closer to senile than I am. Pushing fifty there, aren’t you, Roman?”

“Maybe. I’ve got some years left, so watch it,” he warns, then kisses the top of your head. “I fuck like I’m thirty, anyway.”

-

The rest of the day drags on, truthfully. You finish your pancakes, then go upstairs and treat yourself to a bubble bath, your vibrator joining you. Afterwards, you dress yourself in comfortable clothes and drive yourself around the city, picking up birthday freebies from different stores and fast food restaurants. When you come home, you do your hair and makeup in the way that makes you feel prettiest, then look through your closet for your favorite dress, just like Roman said. 

Your favorite dress. It’s not an easy decision. You have a favorite dress that’s comfortable, a favorite dress on your body, a favorite patterned dress. You slide the hangers across the closet rod, contemplating, contemplating…until you come across that one purple dress. 

You remember Roman pulling the zipper of that dress up your spine, his warm hands on your waist. How he fucked you in that closet, bent you over the vanity and split you open. You watched him in the mirror as you gushed on his cock. You wear that dress tonight, then pick out some shoes to match. 

Roman presses his horn repeatedly to call you outside. He’s fucking obnoxious, but you laugh. You rush downstairs and out the door, and when Roman sees you he gets out of the driver’s seat and rounds the front of his car to open up the passenger side door for you. “Look at you, birthday girl,” he says, chewing minty gum. “You look so grown up.”

“Ew. Don’t, please.”

“So that’s your favorite dress, huh?”

Knowing Roman recognizes your dress makes your cheeks warm. “Yeah,” you mumble softly. 

“Mm. Mine too,” he whispers, then shuts the door. He gets back into the driver’s seat and presses buttons on the screen until his car’s Bluetooth connects to your phone. “I think your birthday earns you DJ rights, yeah?” Roman pulls the gear shifter into drive. 

“I’d say so,” you agree, picking out your favorite playlist on Spotify. Roman puts his hand on your thigh, inching it up and under your skirt. He doesn’t do more than an occasional squeeze, and tapping his fingertips on your skin. Still, it excites you. 

Once at the restaurant, Roman takes your hand and helps you out of the car. You read the sign of the restaurant, Adalina, and Roman leads you inside. You notice he’s holding a little gift bag. “Reservation for Roy,” he tells the host, who then ushers you both to a corner booth. The lights are dim, tables covered in floor-length white cloths. There’s people chatting at tables and at the bar, someone softly playing piano. Once seated, the host lights a candle at your table. 

“Your uh - your boy toy from a while ago. Is this where he took you? I thought you said something about not liking it,” Roman asks, unfolding his napkin and placing it on his thigh. 

You shake your head. “No,” you answer. “I’ve never been here.”

“Good, that’s good…you guys still talk?”

You shoot him a look at the same time your server comes by to place a plate of bread and oil at your table and to pour water in your glasses. “Can I start you off with some wine, something else to drink?”

You look at Roman, who shrugs. “All you,” he says. 

“I’m fine with water.” 

Roman says the same. He figured you’d forgo drinking tonight, even if it was just one little glass of wine. That’s why he had you make the decision - he doesn’t want you feeling pulled in either direction. You’re not much of a drinker, with your mom being the opposite. It makes sense. 

Your server leaves to give you a little while to browse the menu and pick out appetizers and dinner. Roman places that gift bag from earlier in front of you. 

“For me?” You reach for the bag. 

“For you,” Roman replies, mocking your tone. 

You pull the tissue paper out of the bag before pulling out the gift itself - it’s…you don’t know what you’re looking at. It’s some bizarre figure of a frog dressed as a cowboy, riding…a bearded dragon? Baffled and wearing a smile, you turn it over in your hand. You wonder where on god’s green earth Roman even found something like this. 

“I thought of you,” Roman says. “Has your name written all over it.”

“Oh Roman,” you sigh dramatically, “You shouldn’t have.”

“I know, I know.”

You examine the weird little toy some more, giggling at all of the details. Roman’s fucking with you, but you do love the figurine. He knew you would. 

Roman reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a fancy leather box, then slides it across the tablecloth quietly. “What..?”

“Shush. Just open it.”

You put down your figurine and open the box, gasping at the sight. A gorgeous, multi-stone sapphire pendant sparkles above black velvet. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, the design very intentional. Unique. “Roman…”

“Umm,” Roman hums nervously, hovering over you to point at the pendant, “They’re sapphires, so blue- they’re like blueberries,” he stutters, gesturing to the multiple round-cut stones. “‘Cause of the pancakes I make you…uh…sometimes.” Roman points to the little diamonds between the sapphires, “And the diamonds, I don’t know. I thought it was a nice accent sort of thing. And you’re a girl, you know. You like sparkles.”

You’re touched. Not only is the piece gorgeous, but the thought Roman put into it warms your heart and makes it all the more special. There’s no way he just walked into a jeweler’s and picked this out of the display case. He thought up the design and had it custom made, probably weeks or months ago. Had to have. Carefully, you remove the pendant and its box chain from the box. 

“If you don’t l-” You put the piece of jewelry in Roman’s hand and turn your back to him. Roman smiles to himself. He puts the necklace over your chest and brings the chain around your neck, his nervously shaking fingers tickling your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “God, fuck - sorry, hang on,” he whispers, losing and finding his grip on the small clasp before successfully securing it. “There.” Excitedly, you pull out your phone and turn on your front-facing camera to admire the pendant on your skin. 

You turn off your phone and put it in your purse, then fling yourself at Roman, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. Roman freezes at first, then hugs you back gingerly, before finally squeezing you just as tightly, chuckling quietly at your palpable excitement. You pull away from the hug just enough to kiss him quickly on his lips, startling both yourself and Roman. “Yeah, so…” He rubs the back of his neck and blushes wildly, his cock quickly hardening in his pants. Roman coughs and adjusts his napkin over his lap, still feeling the pressure of your lips on his despite their absence. “Happy birthday, kiddo,” he whispers. 

“I love it. Thank you.” You look at Roman with sparkling eyes, pupils blown wide as you beam at him. It makes him blush even harder, his ears and neck turning red too. 

“Stop it, don’t - quit looking at me like that,” Roman scolds, avoiding eye contact. “It - it’s nothing.”

“I don’t know,” you reply, “I think it’s something.”

“Yeah, of course you think that. Because that’s the problem with your generation. You put labels on everything and think you’re all so special. Snowflakes,” he rants. “God, I can’t stand you people. You especially. I’d get that necklace for anyone.”

Defensive. He’s so fucking comically defensive, and it tickles you. “Hey, Roman,” you purr, in the mood to tease. 

Roman looks at you wearing a seemingly permanent smile on your lips as you touch and toy with your pendant. “What? What now?” he asks, flustered and impatient. 

“You’re kinda pink.”

“I’m not…pink,” Roman mumbles.

“You are. You’re blushing.”

“Shut the fuck up. I am not blushing.”

“No, you’re totally blushing. Your cheeks are all rosy.”

Roman buries his face in his hands and groans, eliciting a sweet giggle from you. The way you look at him, how you’re acting and making him feel. Tripping over his words, his heart hasn’t stopped pounding, cock achingly hard since you pecked his lips. You make him feel weak, and you’re not supposed to. Not like this. 

Your server returns then. “Are we ready to order?”

“Yes,” Roman quickly answers. “I’ll have the…fuck. One - one sec.” Roman raises a finger as he browses the menu. Sorry, you mouth to the server. “Entrees, entrees…” he mumbles.

“It’s right here,” you whisper, pointing to the entree section of Roman’s menu. His large bulge catches your eye, and you smile mischievously. When did that happen?

“Okay. Yeah. I think I’ll have the charred fil- fuck.”

Your server’s eyes widen at Roman, who quickly apologizes. Your hand is on his bulge, squeezing him through the fabric of his pants. 

“He wants the charred filet,” you cut in, answering for Roman. “I’ll have the gnocchi. Thank you,” you smile sweetly at the waiter, stroking Roman’s bulge over his pants. Silently, Roman gives the man a thumbs up and waves him away. Roman bites his lip as he waits for him to go back to the kitchen. “Alright, fuck this,” Roman snaps, squeezing your wrist and forcibly removing your hand from his lap. “You’re out of line.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’re being weird. Are you feeling okay?” 

“We’ve had a nice night, you know. Do you really wanna do this?”

“Do what?”

“Cute.” Roman wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his side. “I give you an inch and you take a mile.” 

“You’re still so flushed,” you tease. This time, Roman doesn’t smile bashfully. Instead, he wears a frown and puts his hand on your knee, under the skirt of your dress. His palm slides up your thigh until his fingers meet your panties, and he teases you over the fabric. “Ooh. Look who’s wet,” he mocks, feeling your sticky dampness. Roman hooks his fingers under your panties and pulls them, sliding them down your thighs. “Lift up. They’re coming off.” 

“What are you doing?” you hiss. You hold his forearm in both of your hands, attempting to pry his hand away from your lap. His muscles flex beneath your palm as he fights against you. Roman’s taking this much farther than you did.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You have to stop. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Not like this, not here, not - Jesus Christ.” Roman tugs your panties down to your knees, then lifts your legs over his lap so he can remove them the rest of the way. It’s not long before you’ll be soaking through your dress.

“You’re not behind the wheel anymore.” Roman stuffs your soaked panties into his pocket and spreads your legs wide, one of your thighs still resting on his. “Shouldn’t have been in the first place.” You’re completely exposed right now, anyone could see what Roman’s doing to you. What you’re letting him do to you. He wriggles his fingers underneath the skirt of your dress and presses his thumb against your sensitive clit, causing you to gasp and jerk your body, hitting your free leg against the table. The utensils on your plate clatter loudly, and Roman’s glass of water spills over and onto the tablecloth. Another guest at the restaurant looks at you, and you force a smile at them. “Ooh, nice one,” Roman taunts.

Roman’s rubbing you in circles now, using his free hand to tug your dress up and look at your bare pussy under the warm light of the candles at your table. You look at him with pleading eyes, begging him, “We shouldn’t be doing this, Roman. Not here. Not like this.”

“Yes, here, and yes, like this. Don’t fucking argue with me.” Roman buries two fingers into your cunt, pushing them in and out of you slowly, collecting your arousal. “You didn’t think this one through, did you?” 

He drags his slick fingers up and down your folds, feeling you becoming wetter by the second. He circles your clit lazily, rubbing it gently, listening closely to the wet noises you make. Your waiter returns with your meals, and just like you did to Roman, Roman keeps his hands on you. “Better keep it together,” he murmurs in your ear, pulling your skirt back over the front of your thighs. 

Your server sets Roman’s filet in front of him, then your gnocchi down in front of you. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Yeah, actually,” Roman answers. His demeanor has totally shifted. He’s cool, he’s back in control. “What are your desserts tonight? This one here has a pretty severe sweet tooth.”

“Dessert specials,” the server repeats. “I have to think. They change them up on us a lot.”

“Oh, take your time. We’ve got all night. Don’t we, kiddo?” 

“Mhm. Yep.” 

Roman takes a spoonful of his mashed potato side as your waiter thinks. “Tiramisu, of course,” he says. 

“Oh, well. Naturally.” Roman’s fingers slide down until he’s pressing them right against your slick little hole. 

“We have a cookie plate, too. A chocolate and hazelnut mousse cake. And a pineapple angel cake. And gelato.” 

Roman slides his fingers into your tight pussy, pressing them up to search for that spongy spot inside of you. “What flavors?”

“We have caramel butter cake, chocolate cashew raspberry…” 

The server’s voice becomes distant as he recites flavors. You squeak when Roman reaches your g-spot, swallowing your moans as he curls his fingers repeatedly against it. 

“We have sorbets, too.” 

“What sorbets?” Roman asks.

“Mango calamansi, cantaloupe, and lemongrass.” 

“Quite a dessert menu. Well, what do you think, birthday girl?”

“Tiramisu,” you mumble. 

“I didn’t catch that,” the server replies. “What was that?”

Roman answers for you, “She says she wants tiramisu. She’s just shy sometimes. Aren’t you?”

You glare at Roman, who smiles at you, flashing those perfect little teeth of his. His fingers stop suddenly - he has an idea. He cocks an eyebrow when your hips follow his hand, bucking into his palm, “Interesting,” he says, smiling fondly at your desperation. Your face feels hot and you feel out of your depth here. Roman was right to warn you about getting into this, about it being a nice night.

It worries you to see Roman scanning the room and biting his lip. He’s thinking, which is never good. “Roman. Whatever you’re thinking of doing - don’t.” 

Roman ignores your warning. “Keep telling me no and watch what happens,” he warns, then slides under the table with seamless ease. Once under the table, he pushes your thighs apart and pulls you close to the edge of your seat, putting one of your legs over his shoulder. 

He licks your inner thighs, his scruff abrasive against your damp skin. Roman licks you higher and higher, pulling you closer to his waiting mouth where you can feel his hot breath against your core. His head bulges a bit under the white tablecloth, and then you feel it - one long, fat lick of his tongue up your seam. “Ohhh my god,” you moan, garnering a look from someone at a nearby table. You smile and take a sip of your water with shaky hands. 

Roman starts small with little licks, sucking your labia into his mouth. First one side, then the other. His hands rest on your thighs, hot against your skin and squeezing your flesh. He licks over your clit next, then sucks it between his lips. He alternates between those two actions, stopping and starting all over again and again. You want more and less of it, of Roman, all at once.

Roman gently tugs the hood of your clit up, exposing your most sensitive part of yourself to his lips and tongue. He slides his two fingers inside you once more, fucking you on those digits as he sloppily licks your clit. You arch into his touch and reach under the table to hold his head and tug on his hair. “Roman,” you whimper. 

He coaxes release from you effortlessly, patiently using his tongue to draw steady circles on your clit as he curls those long, bony fingers inside you. You bite your lip so hard it breaks skin, squeezing Roman’s head with your thighs and whimpering softly as you feel the beginning of your climax begin to take over. 

Fuck. Your server is back with the tiramisu Roman had ordered for you. “The tiramisu,” he says, placing it on the table. “I apologize, I forgot to ask - do you and your date want coffee to go with dessert?”

“N- nah- no-” you stutter, though it comes out more as a moan as Roman fucks you with his tongue through your orgasm. Roman slaps your thigh and you jump in your seat, earning yourself a strange look from your server. Wrong answer. “Sor - yeah - yes. Yes.” Roman kisses your inner thigh in approval. 

Your poor fucking waiter. He nods wordlessly to go back into the kitchen and retrieve coffee for you and Roman. At the same time, Roman emerges from under the table with his cheeks flushed and his hair mussed and out of place, which is entirely your fault. “Fuck,” you whisper. Hastily, you finger-comb his hair into place. 

Roman grabs a spoon and takes the first bite of the tiramisu. “Mm,” he hums. “Sorry, birthday girl. Dad tax.”

Roman scoops up another bite of tiramisu, then brings the spoon to your lips. You take the bite, your cheeks warming when you taste your arousal on the metal. 

-

It’s quiet in the house when you and Roman come home. He stops briefly in the kitchen to put your leftovers away, then follows you up the steps and into your bedroom. “Need help with your zipper?” 

“Mhm. Please” 

Roman pulls your zipper down your back, then turns you around. Before you can think, he cups your face with both hands and kisses you, really kisses you. It’s no accidental peck on the lips, no. It’s intentional, deep and deliberate. His lips are soft, his tongue melding perfectly together with yours. When he pulls away, you look at him with knitted brows.

“You kissed me first, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but–”

“Then it’s on the table.” 

Roman kisses you once more, then pulls away again. His eyes are dark and sparkling, and warm, too. He touches the pendant on your chest, holding it between his fingers before rubbing his thumb across the stones. It’s so intimate, and it leaves you breathless and confused. “Good birthday?” 

You nod. Roman smiles at you. 

“I’m glad. Goodnight, kiddo.” 

tysm for reading!! please scream nice and horny things at me if you enjoyed ♡ reblogs, comments, and asks are so appreciated and keep me motivated to write for you guys

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[ultralightpoe]

Chaos - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: terribly written but I'm clearing out my drafts

Warning: mentions of abuse

Word Count: 2340

Part One Here

Enjoy!

“What the hell happened?” Cho snaps, moving to the gurney being pushed in and surveying the amount of blood that was spilling. “Back up! I need room, someone page Stark immediately!”

The lights of the tower flicker under the storm, and Steve watches as Cho’s team wheels the gurney away quickly, his hand shaking heavily. Panic claws at his throat as the scene from earlier unfolds in his mind once more, turning slowly to the redhead beside him. 

“Steve-” She starts before he shakes his head. 

“Nat, this is not a conversation you want to have with me right now.” He sighs, bringing a hand up to pinch his nose before he realizes it’s coated in blood and pulls it back sharply. “I need to shower.”

He storms off, shoulders squared as he thinks about all the reports he is about to fill out. 

- 

“We won’t have much time, in and out as fast as we can. Everyone has their tasks?” Steve asks, making sure everyone nods back to him before making eye contact with you. “Y/n, I know this will be your first mission-”

“We should go before the storm gets any worse.” You interrupt, fixing your headset and moving to the bay of the quinjet, grabbing your bag before being the first to leave the ship and rushing to leave them behind. 

“Slow down Y/n.” You hear Bucky warn in your earpiece, and normally you would turn around to wait for him. But he wasn’t your partner on the mission today, so you didn’t turn and kept the same pace. They could catch up if they wanted. 

Bucky stops in his tracks when he sees you march off, not bothering to turn to him, his heart thundering in his chest. Normally you would slow down for him, normally he would have your back during missions. 

It was a slow realization that you would be alone. 

“Maybe we should-” He starts, feeling like a fool as Sam turns to look. 

“We gotta go, come on man.” He mumbles, watching as Nat takes lead. 

It was going to be a simple mission, in and out, Bucky reminds himself. Taking a deep breath before following the rest. 

- 

“We need a report,” Tony sighs, tracing through the footage of the mission, eyes widening at the fight. “I’ve never….”

“Tony, I’ve never seen it before. And it’s my fault.” Nat sighs, rubbing her hand across her face. “I got involved.”

“How?”

“I got in Bucky’s head a bit. I was just worried-”

“Worried about what?”  

“About Bucky and- I just remember coming out of the red room and being so attached to Clint. I had no family, no story, no morals. I was just pain. I was in pain myself and I inflicted pain onto others.”

“You went through something terrible-”

“THEY WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TERRIBLE! Bucky went through 70 years of it and the experiments they ran on Y/n….. I just wanted them to safe. I didn’t want them to get hurt.” She sighs, picking at her hair. “I love them both and I just wanted them to take a break. Maybe they would see how much they needed each other, and they would finally admit it to each other.”

“You should know by now that Barnes never thinks the way we do.”

“He thinks he is going to ruin everything he touches.”

“I know someone like that.” Clint interrupts from the door, giving Nat a small smirk. “Let’s just take a night to rest, Cho will update us if need be.”

- 

It had turned into a mess too fast, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. The rain covered most of your vision as the walls of the compound seemed to be closing in quickly, the others screaming over the intercoms as they had been ambushed. 

You had been tasked to get the files from the lower levels of the compound, and you had planned to get it done quickly. You had not planned, however, to be locked in the basement as it began flooding. 

“GUYS!” You should, tears springing from your eyes as you cling to the door, the water reaching your ankles at the top of the stairs. 

“They blew up the dam-” Sams voice cuts through, half static half radio. “Steve, to your right-”

Gunshots could be heard in the background, Natasha cursing and you truly did not think they could hear you at all anymore. “Shit.” 

Instead of clinging to the door you turn to survey another way out of the room, eyes scanning over every inch of space to find your exit. The intercom in your hear rumbles with static before your name breaks through, Bucky’s voice sounding panicked. The next thing you know the intercoms have a sharp ringing through them that makes you gasp out and tear it from your ear quickly, dropping it in the water and diving in to find a way out. 

- 

Bucky curses as he tears the intercom from his ear, dodging a bullet quickly and diving behind a wall as Nat stays covered by her own, making eye contact for a second as she tears her own comns out.

First the heavy explosion that shook them down, the dam breaking and water beginning to flood, Hydra soldiers attacking them and now their comns were down. Worst of all Bucky could not find you. 

Heart thundering through his ribs as he bites at his tongue to keep from grunting in pain when he realizes he had been shot, but right now that doesn't matter. He had to find you. 

“I have to find Y/n!” He shouts, watching Nat nod before he dashes to the exit that you were supposed to use. Just as he reaches the metal door something loosens in his chest, knowing you would were near and he could find you. He would never let you go he swore to god. 

He pulls the door, desperate to get to you, only to find it sealed shut. So his metal hand takes charge, bending into the metal as he grunts out, doing his best to get it off. A shout of pain fills the air as Sam comes into view, moving to help Bucky tear the door off. 

They make eye contact for a moment, the rain beating down on them before a blast of light blows them to the side, heat covering their bodies as they ram into the wall. 

Bucky’s head slams into brick, he hears Steve shout and Sam scream out in pain before it all goes blank. 

He would never see the chaos erupt. 

- 

Steve is up the second the sun filters through the curtains, happy to finally get to leave his room and check on his friends' health. 

Nat is already waiting for him in the front hall of the med bay, a nervous look on her face as Steve walks past her to speak with Cho.”Any update?”

“He’s breathing.” She sighs. “And he was so lucky Y/n was there.”

- 

You could hear the explosion from under the water, and in a panic you swam back up, only to find that the water had flooded to the roof and your face was pressed to the ceiling to catch your breath. 

Taking a moment to breathe as you hear Sam scream in pain, there was a pain in yoru chest that you couldn’t explain. It felt like a panic attack but worse, you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t stop crying. 

“PLEASE!” You scream, hands pressing to the ceiling as the water gets worse. 

“Stop crying!” A voice breaks out, and you whip your head to find your old boss, the man that had thrown you into your first cell. The man that had ruined you. 

He was standing in the center of the room, and you had to blink for a moment to realize that there was no water, and you were completely dry.

“W-what?”

“Stand up!” You listen to him immediately, just as you used to, the tears still streaming down your face as you look around the room. It was different now, when you had come in it had looked like a simple office, now it was your cell. 

Or had it always been your cell?

Who was screaming?

“I SAID STAND UP!” Doctor Cornell shouts, stomping forward to drag you up himself, a slap tearing across your face as you cry out. 

“Where’s Bucky?” You gasp, the pain in your cheek fading away quickly. “I want to find Bucky.”

“You think he wants you?” Cornell laughs bitterly. “No one wants you, I’ve made you a fucking freak.”

“I want b-” Before you can finish your sentence you remember Bucky ignoring you, avoiding you….. And then you realize why. Cornell was right, he had made you a freak. You were a monster. 

A sob racks through your chest, and the painful feeling explodes. 

You try to scream out, only for your lungs to fill with water and more panic to take place. 

- 

Steve could not believe his eyes, holding Sam's abdomen tightly in an attempt to stop the blood, watching as vines burst from the basement and travel across every surface faster then he ever thought possible. 

“Is that……” Steve starts, looking to where Nat was trying to get Bucky up.

“Y/n.”

Sam gasps out as the vines wrap around him, tightening around his wound and glowing a deep golden color as some of the blood stops, the vines traveling further and wrapping around the Hydra soldiers tightly to stop them all. 

Now that Sam's wound is being taken care of, Steve dashes to dive in the water, swimming down to try and find where you were. Only you were nowhere to be found, whatsoever. 

By the time he comes back up he is panting for air, watching as Bucky kneels by the water with blood leaking down his face and panicked eyes looking at his friend. “Where is she?”

“She’s not down there.” Steve gasps. 

“STEVE WHERE IS SHE?!” Bucky snaps, the water reaching his waist as Nat moves to snatch him back. 

“The vines are dying, Y/n can’t hold them off forever. We gotta go.” She rushes out, snatching the back of Buckys vest. 

“NOT WITHOUT Y/N-”

“Bucky. Y/n is holding them off but we have to get Sam out of here. Please.”

- 

“Any word on Y/n?” Bruce asks, coming into the surveillance room where Clint is deep diving into the footage. 

“I can’t find her.” He admits, eyes never leaving the screen. “I would love some help.”

“You got it.”

“Lock the door before Barnes comes in and bothers me again.” He sighs, watching Bruce lock it. It was a joke, but he knew that Barnes was hurting. He could understand that. 

- 

Bucky woke up in a startled panic, reaching to your side of the bed quickly, sitting up to find you when he doesn’t feel you. “Y/n?”

His voice is scratchy, a mix of all the screaming from yesterday, and he slowly realizes you aren’t there as the memories resurface.You weren’t here, you were gone. They weren’t able to find you yesterday. 

A knock sounds at the door and Bucky jumps up, excitement filling him as he rushes to answer, hoping to see your face on the other side of the door, only to find Steve on the other side. His heart plummets to his stomach as his friend looks at him softly. 

“You found your way to her apartments then?”

“I think I came here immediately yesterday.” He answers truthfully, letting Steve in before looking around the room, seeing all the dead plants. “How did her plants die in a day?”

“Buck…..” Steve starts, and Bucky tenses, fists clenched as he turns to his friend. “It’s been…. It’s been a week.”

“What?” Bucky laughs, flinching as Steve turns on the light. 

“It’s been a week. You came here the night we brought you back and you passed out, I think because of the head injury-”

“If it’s been a week then where is my doll?”

“We…. we can’t find her Buck.” Steve sighs, rubbing between his eyes. “I think it’s time you and I talked about some things-”

“Talk about things? I can’t talk I have to go find her Steve-” He moves to pass his friend but Steve shoots his hand out to catch him. 

“I think it’s time to admit you love her.”

- 

Freak freak freak freak freak. 

Your mouth was dry and your feet hurt, this was the only thing you could comprehend. 

The lady in the market was staring at you wildly, looking terrified as she reached a hand towards you, concern flashing through her eyes. “Are you okay?” 

She had a heavy accent, one that reminded you of someone, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. What was it…..russian?

“Do you want me to call someone?” She asks, rubbing your shoulders. “What’s your name?”

“I…..I’m….” Who were you? You blinked slowly, trying to remember who you were. All you saw was a flash of someone with a metal arm before you were met with a bald man in a lab coat. “I… don’t…. Who am I?”

- 

Bucky finds himself in the med bay the next morning after a long lecture from Steve, staring at Sam as his friend runs on the treadmill. 

“I… I am so confused. Steve said you were in critical condition?” 

“He was.” Cho answers in amazement, reading the stats that Sam is sending through the tech pad in her hands. “But he is completely healed.”

“How?”

“Y/n, there were traces of her vines left in the wound. It’s completely healed now.”

“Her…. she’s never done that before.” Bucky mumbles, a tight feeling in his chest. “What do you think it means?”

“I think we need to find Y/n, as fast as we can. That was way too much energy used.” Cho answers, a grim expression on her face.

Bucky could do that, he would tear apart the world to find you.

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