#ya gorl is going through ~it~

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Love Actually, 2003

Pairing: Jim Hopper x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Notes: Ya gorl is goin THROUGH IT right neyow but at least I’ve got littlest pet shops to cheer me up

There was no way in hell Jim was gonna wear a tie. Actually, there was no way in hell he was going to wear anything but jeans, but for you, he puts on one of his more relaxed shirts, the one you really like with the green and pink, the one you always say turns you on because it fits him so perfectly. Yeah, that one’s perfect. 

He knows you’re in the bathroom stressing, trying to get your hair just right, and your makeup perfect. It’s not every day you introduce your boyfriend to your family, your older boyfriend, your older boyfriend who’s the Chief of Police…. This is gonna be fun. 

He comes to lean in the doorway. You’re dressed appropriately—sorta. You’ve got on a pretty red dress. It hugs your body tightly. It was soft and silky, and he’d never seen it before now. You wanted it to be a surprise. The straps are working double time to keep you in place, and his mind wanders to the thoughts of you possibly not wearing a bra.

“You’re staring” You smirk as you finish your mascara and stand up straight to look at him, even in the matching red heels you’re nowhere near as tall as he is. 

“You look beautiful” 

You blush and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He slides his hands over your curves and holds you close to him, his hands settling home on your hips.

“You have to change,” You tell him as he bends down, and nuzzles his nose against yours. “Please, you- you have to put on something different” 

“This is the best you’re getting out of me” He kisses you softly, avoiding messing up your makeup because he knows you’ll kill him. You melt into his arms, enjoying his large hands on your body, and look up at him.

“Bet I can convince you to wear the shirt I bought you” 

“Bet you fuckin’ can’t” He smirks and you give him a sneaky little look before turning back to grab your phone from the counter. You look at the time and grin wickedly at him 

“You really wanna bet? Because you will be in that shirt” 

“Do your worst baby girl, I bet I won’t be. There’s no way in hell you’re getting me into a button up”

You step out of your heels and come over to him, holding the front of his shirt in your small hands, if there’s one thing you know about your boyfriend, he’s got one hell of a size kink. 

“Please will you…w-will you-“ You hesitate, biting your lip nervously and he cups your face, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks 

“Use your words baby girl” He coaxes you, leaning forward and kissing your forehead softly. You squirm a little, wringing your hands, and look back up at him.

“I- I need you inside me so badly Daddy, I can’t stop thinking about you filling me over and over again. We’ve been so busy getting ready and I’ve been so nervous about all of this” 

Jim's heart races at your pleading, his cock twitching in his jeans. He loves seeing you like this, so desperate and needy for him.

"Fuck, you're good at this," he groans irritably, his hands moving to grip your hips, and you giggle a little, before straightening your face again, your lip wobbling. 

He pulls you flush against him, grinding his hardening bulge against you. "You want Daddy's cum inside you, filling you up? Gonna make you walk around all day with my cum in your panties” 

He reaches down, lifting you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. You hold his face, kissing him as he walks you over to the bed and lays you back gently. His hands slide down your thighs as he pulls away from the kiss and he reaches for your zipper, pulling it down and helping you out of your dress, he lays it aside nicely, making sure to keep it wrinkle-free free and you smile. 

“Good boy” 

“I try” 

He growls as he pulls your hips down to the end of the bed, grinding his clothed cock into you. He can see the little wet patch on the front of your panties and it just serves to drive him wild. He unzips his pants, letting them fall to the floor with his boxers as he pulls his cock out, stroking it slowly before tapping your wet panties. He pulls them back and slides his cock over your folds, grinding into you. 

Your breath hitches and you let your head fall back as you spread your legs. 

“P-please” You beg and he looks at you, watching your flushed body panting 

“You’re so pretty when you’re desperate” 

You squeak as he grabs your panties, unnecessarily ripping them off your body, he knows you’re not mad by the way your eyes glaze over. He nods to the ceiling and you look upwards at the mirrors above your shared bed, he’d installed those months ago after the first time he’d fucked you at the counter in the bathroom in front of that mirror. 

"Keep those pretty eyes on the mirror, baby. Want you to see how gorgeous you look when I’m tasting you” 

He sinks to his knees, settling between your thighs. His hands spread you open and he leans in, his tongue darting out to lick a long, slow stripe up your slit before burying his face between your legs like a man starving. 

“Tastes so fucking good” 

He looks up at you, watching you staring at the mirror in awe. Your hands are on your body, kneading your breasts and running your fingers over your nipples in time with his tongue on your clit. 

“So proud of you baby girl, look at you turned on by your gorgeous body” His hips grind into the bed as he speaks, groaning deeply against your clit before diving back in. He sucks on it, and you push his face in closer, using him to get off, your breath coming out in short little pants.

“Cum for me, baby, I wanna feel you come all over my face." He sucks hard on your clit, biting down gently, and you lose it, your body arching off the bed as you grind into his face, your thighs shake around his head as he greedily laps up your juices, not wasting a single drop. He grips your hips tighter as you try to push him away, keeping his mouth over your spasming pussy. 

He gives your pussy one last kiss before finally pulling away and nuzzling his face into your thigh. 

“You ready for the main event?” He stands up, stroking his cock a few times before tapping your clit with it. You whine and try to shut your legs but he holds them open, rubbing his dick between your puffy folds.

“I-I’m ready, please Daddy I need you”

Jim’s heart races at your desperate plea, and his cock twitches in anticipation. He can't hold back any longer, he needs to be inside you, claiming you and marking you for everyone to see

"Fuck, baby, I need you too," he groans just as desperately as you had, sinking into your heat, inch by delicious inch. "Need to feel this tight little pussy squeezing my cock."

He bottoms out, his hips flush against yours, his cock buried deep inside you. 

"Shit, you feel so good. So fucking perfect."

He starts to move, slow and deep at first, savoring the feel of you, the way you clench around him. He keeps his pace steady, pulling out all the way and then slamming back into you, it’s slow and lazy compared to the way he was eating you out. His head falls forward, rolling his hips a little with each thrust as he thoroughly enjoys the way you wrap around him. 

He grips your hips, lifting them a little as he starts to speed up, that primal urge to fuck you senselessly taking over. The way he starts to pound in you is downright animalistic, he moans with you, the bed creaking underneath you with each rough snap of his hips. 

“Jesus fuck that’s it Daddy, deeper, please fuck deeper” 

You reach out for him, pulling him tight against your chest so he can thrust deeper into you, you cry out his name, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist just trying to hold onto him as he fucks you into the mattress.

He kisses you messily, all tongue and teeth as he growls into your mouth, and grabs your legs from around his waist, shoving your legs all the way up to your chest. He makes you hold them as he pounds into you, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing around the room. 

“You ready for my cum baby girl? You ready to be overflowing with Daddy’s seed? Gonna make you wear it to the party too, want my fucking scent all over you, my perfect little breeding bitch” 

The hot coil in your belly snaps again before you even know what’s happening and you cum harder than you’d already had, you let out a strangled moan, laughing deliriously as you cum around him, squirting all over his cock, he pulls out, letting it splash on his legs before slamming right back in. 

He pushes himself deep with a loud moan, his cock pulsing, his seed shooting deep inside you, painting your walls, claiming you, marking you as his. He growls as he holds his hips flush against yours.

"Fuck, fuck. Take it, baby. Take Daddy's cum like a good slut”  

He lets your legs go and collapses back on top of you, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm, his cock still twitching inside you, pumping every last drop into your poor pussy.

You gingerly wrap your arms around his neck and he rolls onto his side, pulling you with him so you can cuddle into him, and that’s what you do immediately. 

“Jesus I love you” he pants. 

“That was sinfully good” You giggle, and he chuckles breathlessly, kissing your neck as you mumble that you love him too. 

“Personally? Feel like it was one of our best.” 

You nod sleepily agreeing with him as you settle into his arms and he pats your bare butt. 

“Ah-ah-ah no naps now baby girl, we have a party to get to… and I have a shirt to iron.” 

[verynastyspoon]

Scout x Fem!reader pt 6

Summary: Scout shows off his girl

word count: 754

Warnings: A little smut

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The next day you two wake up still holding each other. Scout’s back is bright red and sore, and your hips are thoroughly spent.

Scout looks at the time. “Shit doll I gotta go to work.”

You groan in disapproval.

“I know, I don’t wanna go either.” Scout starts rounding up his clothes that were spread out this the house through the night, till he gets to his pants. “Fuck they’re covered in cum! What the fuck am I supposed to wear?”

“I might have something.” You get up and look through your drawer. “Bad news. I have shorts but..” You hold up a pair of pink booty shorts.

“What!? I can’t wear those, the guys will laugh at me!”

“Well its either that or walk around with a huge cum stain.”

“Shit.”

Scout puts on the shorts and puts his pants in a bag. He kisses you goodbye and reluctantly drives to work. Scout pulls into the base’s parking lot and quickly runs in.

He tip toes around till he realizes he has to walk through the commons before getting to his room.

“Fuck.” He whispers to himself.

He decides he will run as fast as he can by everyone but before he can, Heavy walks out and sees him. “Ha! Da Scout is wearing letal gorl clothes!”

Everyone else rushed out to come see.

“Didnt know you where a cross dresser.” The Engineer says making everyone laugh.

“WHY ARE YOU WEARING GIRL CLOTHES YOU SISSY!” Soldier yells in his face.

“You know what fuck you guys. I happen to be wearing this because my girl cum got on the other!”

Everyone goes silent for a moment, before busting up laughing.

“Ya right pal.” Says Sniper not believing a word be says.

“You know what!” Scout pulls out the pants. “Look at this.”

“Letal boy probably just came in his pants!” Says Heavy, and everyone starts laughing again.

“You know what I’ll bring my girl by and fuck her in front of all of you.”

Medic whispers into spys ear. “I bet you 20 bucks he’s lying.”

“Fuck you guys im gonna call her right now.” Scout diales your number and put you on speaker.

“Hey babe whats up.”

“These assholes at my work don’t believe I have a sexy, beautiful, smart and funny girlfriend.” He glares at the team. “Can you come down so I can teach them a lesson.”

“Um ya I guess I can come. I’ll be there in 10.” You hang up the phone.

“Now i’m gonna go change my pants.” Scout storms out.

“I guess he does have a partner.” says medic

“I bet shes a pig.” Spy retorts. Everyone starts laughing and goes back to the commons.

A little while later you show up and Scout walks you to the rest of the team. “Hi i’m y/n.” You smile warmly.

Everyone’s jaw drops in awe at your beauty.

“See I told you bitches I had a girl. Now lets go to my room y/n i’m gonna make you scream my name.” He pulls you by the hand and takes you to his room.

All of the team are in disbelief.

“How did he get a Shelia like that?“ Sniper questions.

“Not a clue.” Says Enigeneer.

Back im Scouts room he is ripping off all your clothes at a surprising speed. “Are you sure about this, it’s kinda embarrassing.”

Scout removes his own clothes while speaking “Embarrassing? Baby this is the biggest flex I could ever have on these bozos. Now I want you to scream my name. Can you do that for me?

You sigh “Okay but the sex better be good.”

Scout nods and slips into your still prepped pussy. He quickly starts picking up the pace.

“Jeremy.” You moan softly.

“Louder.”

“Jeremy!”

“Louder!”

“JEREMY!”

“FUCK YES YOU’RE SO TIGHT!“

Some of the mercs try to busy themselves to not have to listen but it’s too loud, others listen intently, but they all have a boner.

After you two are done fucking Scout proudly walks your disheveled self out, showing everybody what hes done. “Goodbye y/n I love you.”

You wave him goodbye and drive off. Scout walks back to everyone with his head held high. “Showed you guys right!” Everyone tries to cover their erections. “You guys are disgusting!” They all look away embarrassed as Scout walks back to his room.

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[lyriumcoloredskies]

Written in the Pages pt.2

Pairing: Bakugo x Villain!Reader WC: 2.7k Summary: In which Bakugo finds himself a little too attached to a certain public nuisance, much to the detriment of his own life. pt.1 here CW: slight angst, happy ending, therapy mention, coming to terms with reality AN: UwU the fact that I wrote this in a day is astounding bc ya gorl usual could never

Kirishima stood outside of Bakugo’s high rise apartment, hesitant and unsure of how this would go. He checked his phone to see that both Mina and Midoriya had texted him their ETA. He pocketed the phone and adjusted the case of beers in his other hand to stop the cardboard from digging into his fingers. He was glad to have backup for this and prayed to whatever gods were listening that Bakubro wouldn’t turn away a small “friendly get together”.

He wasn’t dumb, despite all the himbo attributes that tended to be pinned onto him by his rabid fangirls (not that he wasn’t grateful for their almost too enthusiastic support). He certainly wasn’t clueless when it came to his best friend. Kirishima knew Bakugo like the back of his hand. From the angry insecure boy he used to be, to the aloof and pragmatic man he had become. Rarely had they spent a day apart since starting the agency or since UA for that matter.

So it worried Kirishima when Bakugo began to become snippier, especially toward the sidekicks. After a tantrum of yelling and biting insults, he would silently come behind the storm Bakugo left to console the sidekicks letting them know it was nothing personal. He was willing to let Bakugo work through his feelings, these things tended to resolve rather quickly. Despite his rough exterior, Bakugo had gained a fair amount of emotional intelligence as he matured.

To his surprise, that wasn’t the case. More and more frequently Bakugo came in with exhaustion draping over his face, bags deep under his eyes, and his emotions like a bomb on the edge of explosion if the wrong wire was clipped. Most concerning of all was how Bakugo was doing on the field.

Kirishima could tell something was wrong with Bakubro, and Red Riot could tell things were amiss with Dynamight.

He had spent so much time alongside him that he knew every intimate detail of how he fought. Their moves a complex ballroom dance, a waltz for two. The man was sharp and calculated. Bakugo strove to be the best, and that meant he did things with frightening efficiency (if you ignored the massive amount of property damage that came along with his quirk).

But for the last few months his reflexes were lagging, the exhaustion of too many late nights showing, leading to avoidable injuries that seemed to linger for too long.

It wasn’t just him that noticed either. Midoriya had made an impromptu visit to the agency ask if things were okay with the blonde. Kirishima felt guilty to let him know that he had no clue, that the two of them were in the same boat, clueless to Bakugo and his inner turmoil. 

Then a few weeks ago during a get together with the Bakusquad at their favorite izakaya, Mina pulled him aside to ask if things between him and Bakugo were alright. She had suspected Bakugo’s continual reluctance to meet up might have been due to a fight between the two friends. He quickly let her know that it wasn’t the case and that he had been concerned too. It didn’t help that Bakugo was a masterclass in shutting down any discussion of his health, be it physical or mental. Each time Kirishima would pluck up the courage to ask if something was wrong, he was met with a scoff or roll of the eyes.

“I’m fine, drop it.” Bakugo would grit out between clenched teeth. His arms crossed in front of him defensively.

Kirishima knew better than to keep pressing lest he and the sidekicks wanted to deal with a testy Bakugo for the rest of the week. His efforts to try and get him to talk in another setting hadn’t worked either. Bakugo had pointedly been ignoring his texts, Kirishima had been lucky if he was even able to get a one worded reply. Bakugo hadn’t been very active in their group texts either. It seemed like if it wasn’t work, Bakugo didn’t care. Kirishima really tried to be a patient and good friend but at this point he knew it was only a matter of time before something happened. His friend was too exhausted, too hurt, too withdrawn. He knew the consequences of sloppiness of the field, he had witnessed it firsthand.

That was how heroes died.

Kirishima would be damned if this was how his friend would go out. No, Bakugo was a bright star - destined for more than the inky black loneliness he had decided to surround himself in.

Drawing in a breath, he steeled his resolve and knocked.

***

Bakugo walked through the neighborhood, the cold winter air biting his cheeks, staining them a ruddy color. He took in the sights of the street vendors beginning to set up their stalls as the barely peeking sun bathed the world in its soft orange pink light.

He let his mind wander back to the talk he, Kirishima, Deku, and Mina had a few months ago. At first he had felt offended, like an animal cornered and threatened. The hot coals of embarrassment turning into a roaring fire as he lashed out. How humiliating to be confronted by everything he knew was true. He knew his performance as a hero had been suffering, but to see it in front of him in the form of his friend’s concerned faces had been a slap in the face, even then it was no match to Mina’s words about how they were worried he was isolating himself. Those words froze his veins over and settled into permafrost in his chest.

How quickly had he forgotten everything he already had to turn to a siren song? He was so desperate for a love, a touch he never knew, that he was willing to forget everything he already had to plunge into the icy waters of an illusion that would never be.

Bakugo had never been one to do things lightly. His feet continue to carry him as he reminisces of the month it took to overhaul his entire life.

He packed up his romance novels, haphazardly stacking them all into a cardboard box, which he unceremoniously shoved deep under his bed, too far for him to reach. He cleaned his apartment, dusting the blinds and the ceiling fan, collecting the trash from his floors, and scrubbing the dirt off every surface. He even took a rag to the baseboards. Hours of effort would culminate into a sparkling apartment, the sight lifting his mood and settling his soul. He took it as a sign that perhaps - things would be okay.

As he settled into his couch he poured himself a glass of whiskey as a treat for his hard work today. A groan involuntarily left his lips as his joints popped and creaked when he fished his phone out of his pocket. He shot off a quick text to Kirishima, letting him know that he was going to take two weeks off of work, a rarity for him. A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he read through Kirishima's enthusiastic emoji ladden reply encouraging him to take the time to recover. 

Things would be okay.

Knowing he would have to inevitably face this, he texted his PR manager to pawn his social media accounts off to her. It felt like the right step in his detox from his addiction - from you. He took a large sip of the whiskey, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat before pleasantly settling into his stomach. The balmy feeling slowly floating into his veins, helping him feel a little number and a little better for what he had to do.

The hardest had yet to come; he knew he had to delete his account on the writing site. As he logged into his account, he stared at the bookmarks of writings he had collected over the months. Each title brought a smile to his face as he reminisced over the hundreds of lifetimes with you – too many to count, each perfect and special in their own ways - moments of utter intimacy that swept Bakugo off his feet.

Reading the various titles was like a loaded gun, ready to spray his messy emotions out into the world again. Katsuki hesitates, his finger floating over the delete account button. It would be easy to just not do it in order to preserve every memory, the emotions shared, the trials and tribulations you two had been through. He drains the rest of his whiskey and embraces the burn settling into each taste bud.

Bakugo presses the screen of his phone.

The warmth of the alcohol seeps into him as the same time as the tingle of loneliness enters every marrow of his being.

You were gone.

.

.

.

Steadily he began filling his life with the things he loved. For the first time in months he finds himself in his childhood home to visit his mother and father. He takes in the sight of their greying hair, wondering how life had managed to go by so quickly. It had done him some good until the old hag began nagging him about not yet finding a wife.

Bakugo tries his best to ignore the cold tendrils encircling in his heart.

He starts going to his friend's scheduled hangouts again at their favorite izakaya. He would never admit it but Sero and Denki’s jokes and laughter breathe life into his worn self. He ardently denies the furling vines of jealousy from taking root as Kyoka and Momo announce their wedding plans.

He checks in on his classmates and even finds himself back at UA for a charity event. The nostalgia grips his heart as he wanders the same old halls and sees his old teachers. Aizawa-sensei is the same as ever, sleep deprived and utterly done with life, though Bakugo can spy the fondness in his eyes as he looks over his old troublesome students. While mingling, although Mina would disagree and say he was just standing intimidatingly, he finds out that Deku and Cheeks were expecting their first child.

He tries to block out the feeling of the lead in his stomach.

His shitty love life has nothing to do with their happiness so he grunts out a congrats and ignores the dopey lovesick expression on that idiot Deku’s face.

That night at UA reignites his efforts of trying to maintain a normal life and he throws himself into his hobbies. He signs up for a rock climbing gym and then sporadically adopts a small tortie kitten he saves on a total bullshit hero job (he affectionately names her Princess Explosion Murder). He starts cooking with a renewed fervor, trying desperately to ignore that he was cooking for one. He also ignores the weird tight feeling in his chest as he glances at the chair on the other side of his dining table, always empty.

Bakugo thinks he's doing everything right until he's somehow not. He brings it up to his therapist (one that he doesn't want but Kirishima bullied him into getting). That's when his therapist recommends that he “reconnect with himself” by not keeping busy, but rather listening to his "inner feelings". The phrase makes Bakugo quirk an eyebrow and internally decide that therapists are fucking quacks. His therapist bargains with him and asks him to just try it once. "What's the harm?" she says, eyes measured and too analytical for Katsuki's taste. Sure enough, two weeks ago he abandons the plush interior of his BMW and the ever present traffic of downtown Mustafu for the scenic 30 minute walk to his agency. It infuriates him to no ends that his fucking therapist was right. No wonder he paid out the ass for weekly visits. As the days he walks progresses, so does Bakugo. He decides that while the loneliness would probably never leave him, that in the context of the world, he could slowly see himself accepting that things weren’t so bad.

Things would be okay.

.

.

.

Today his feet took him to a familiar path, a back street filled with vendors that would connect to the busy main street that passed by the small café near Mustafu University, where he would pick up a cinnamon latte before taking a left to the office.

A fresh cold breeze made him draw himself closer his jacket, his feet picking up the speed wanting to get out of the bitter cold. Lost in his own thoughts and the beauty of the watercolor sunrise, he didn’t realize he wasn’t paying attention until it was too late. He collided into something solid and it snapped his attention back to reality. The soft feminine gasp accompanying a not so feminine “fuck” made him look down. He saw papers scattered, escaping a tote bag with the Froppy logo, tilting his chin down a little further he could see the shine of spilled coffee all over his camo green Canada Goose jacket. Without even knowing it his mouth bent down into a scowl. The person who bumped into him seemed fine, just a little shaken up. He knows the polite thing to do is offer a hand and tell the stranger that it was no problem, the jacket is waterproof after all, but after 2 seconds of soul searching he decided that he didn’t give enough of a fuck to be nice. He opened his mouth to release his scathing remarks to the clumsy fuckwad who ran into him until he caught sight of something that skyrocketed his pulse. His mouth dried and he felt his heart drum in his ears.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry” you said as you shakily stood up, akin to a fawn.

You reached into your jacket, fishing out crumpled napkins to help sop up the mess on his expensive jacket. He stood in silence not sure if this was an amalgamation of his own sick mind, because how many times had he imagined exactly this?

“I’m so sorry I should have been more careful!” you profusely apologize, refusing to meet Bakugo’s eyes out of embarrassment.

Bakugo takes in every detail. It was everything he remembers. Your soft bouncy hair, the floral smell (lilacs he commits to memory) of your shampoo wafting to him as you stood entirely too close to him. Though you're bundled in a winter jacket, he can make out the distinct shape of your body that had him in a chokehold for months. The skin of your hands shines, its clear that you managed to also drenched in yourself in coffee. Your hands shake as the liquid on your skin settles into a chill that penetrates your bones.

Katsuki trembles, his fist clenches in his pockets, desperately trying to ground himself. He can feel the cold winter air, he can smell the spilt coffee, and he can hear the rustle of the napkin over his jacket. This is all real.

You continue your efforts to clean Bakugo’s jacket until he places his warm hands over yours. He relishes in it, despite the temperature difference, he can tell your skin is soft and smooth. Your hands are tiny in his and he drinks up the sight, his pulse racing. His actions seem to surprise you as your head darts up, catching his brilliant vermillion eyes, like the prettiest sunrise you had ever seen. Your breath catches in your throat as the two of you stare at each other, locked in a stalemate.

“I’m sorry” you whisper, Bakugo savors the way your words escape you, the heat of your words brought to life by the winter air. Your lips are as beautiful and kissable as he remembers.

His eyes search yours for an answer, any indication that, somehow this isn’t all just in his mind- that you aren’t just an off duty villain surprised to bump into an off duty hero - that some part of what he wanted was something you wanted too.

“Let-” Bakugo rasps out, his words catching in his dry throat, “Let me buy you another coffee.”.

A beat passes between the both of you.

“Yes”, you reply breathless and airy as if anything more would break the magic spell between you two.

“I’d love that.”

[nanamishorecumslut]

The other woman

description: You and nanami are in an arranged marriage, but he doesn't love you. As for you, you do love him. Love him so much that you let him cheat on you. After some years you are miserable and unhappy, all of this is just hell. But what can you do? You love so much.

warnings: cheating nanami x fem reader!, angst, sadness, broken heart, that bitch from the bakery, bad writing, delusion(maybe), from cuquett to emo, not proofread, lana lyrics, arranged marriage(?) (some are warning some are not okey?)

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reader pov

Some people say that finding love is like the lottery. If you get lucky you'll win. And even if you don't win there's going to be a price. That's just how life works, some people win, but at what cost? They find their person, that human that makes them feel like paradise and are overall loved in every way. Sometimes your person belongs to someone else and not you.

I remember like it was yesterday, the day my parents presented me to Nanami Kento. That day our arranged marriage began, flowers, different cake flavors, dresses and so many things only I could ever imagine. Through this process Nanami seems to be interested, excited even, but one day that would all change. I remember how he looked at the girl from the bakery, it was like love at first site. After that day Nanami insisted on going more. I didn't mind because my heart was throbbing with love. Love that has developed in a very short amount of time.

Some time after the wedding Nanami spent less time at home and when he was at home we didn't cross eyes. I later discovered that he was cheating, and the girl? Well it was the girl from the bakery. I was destroyed, heart broken. I love Nanami, but he did not love me. Every song I heard, the flower from the garden, even the strawberry reminded me of him. I can't leave him. I love him so much that it hurts, so what did I do? I never confronted the cheating which I regret.

For years the only thing Nanami ever did was leaving the house with a small good bye, and at night he'll come back just to eat and sleep. I tried making conversation but it was worthless. Our time in bed was as bad. The only time we ever had sex was on our wedding night. That was the only time we ever did such an act, and he made sure to let me know that it was the only time he'll do it. I asked him why and he told me that he didn't want to do it,not with me at least.

At some point Nanami didn't even bother to go home. I was there, lonely, with no one by my side. Maybe loving him was never enough. Today some paper was on my door, it was divorce paper. I knew this day was coming, so why am I so sad, heart broken. All of this hurt me so bad but why did it feel like true love? Nanami was never home so why did I love him so much?

Love can be tricky if you don't know how to love. I hate myself for wasting so many years. Maybe I didn't love Nanami, maybe I just love the fantasy I created in my own head about this marriage. Was I even married? If only I'd known about all of this, possibly my life wouldn't be this miserable.

____________________________________________

an: damn this is sad even for me likeeeee. Also I refuse to be aesthetic cuss Im not like other gorls. Okey no I just want some of my humor in my post ya know?. This is my second time writing something and I think Im getting the hang of it (no Im not but ig I'II learn or smth)

[yukikorogashi]

“Oh, Itsuki—! There you are. I was hoping I might borrow you for a couple hours this morning . . . ?” Ryunosuke's fussing over a plethora of ingredients he's set out on the counter, mentally going through a checklist for the umpteenth time: a guarantee that he has everything he needs and won't be forced to make a quick run to the market for an outstanding item. He tests the weight of a bag of flour again, then eventually swivels to meet the girl's eyes. “You, ah . . . might already have plans”—it is her birthday, after all—“and if so, please go attend them, but if not . . . I thought it might be fun to endeavor baking a shortcake together.”

And, no, this has absolutely nothing to do with his own lacking experience in that area—! (Or the worry that an attempt by his lonesome would not go . . . nearly as swimmingly.)

. . . Perhaps a little to do with that, but the main point is to spend time together, so there's no use holding it against him.

“We can decorate it however you like,” he bolsters, a smile spreading easily across his lips. “And if it doesn't turn out perfect, then . . . I suppose we'll have no choice but to eat it before anyone else has to see.”

// happy birthday to the sweet gorl!! ;w;/ <3

❤️ HAPPY BIRTHDAY ITSUKI!!! (15th March) ❤️

THE SIGHT THAT WOULD GREET HER this early morning was just what was needed to rouse her out of her drowsy daze. And while a teensy bit caught off guard, it was nonetheless a PLEASANT SURPRISE that they would already be off to such an early start on this rather SPECIAL DAY! And so, with her curiosity piqued (And with one last gentle rub to her sleep encrusted eyes), Itsuki would look between the young lawyer, and the numerous items placed upon the countertop itself with a slight tilt of her head.

With a smile already lighting up her face, it would be through her BUDDING POWERS OF DEDUCTION-- that she would already figure out just what @tenacquity had planned this morning for the two of them. Just SECONDS before he himself would affirm it, of course~

And so, even before he was done speaking, the young one was already bouncing on over, as she took her place by his side. Taking a better gander at the ingredients spread across the tabletop itself, before grinning brightly up at him when he had ended it off with the two best things!

Getting to decorate it, and of course-- getting to eat it together right after!

"Ahhhh ah'd love to, bro! Ehehe, looks like we'll be bakin' an' gettin' BREAKFAST ready, huh?"

A SUGAR-FILLED BREAKFAST that would ruin a normal person's appetite for rest of the day-- BUT HEEEEEY, it's her birthday! So just let her have this!

And, oh gosh, he had even gotten so, SO MANY CAKE DECORATIONS to choose from. So many fruits, candies, chocolates-- and in so many flavors and colors! It really was going to be a blast when the time came for them pretty up their shortcake together! She just knows that it was gonna turn out A-MA-ZING!

Though, as she would cast a brief glance over to the rather large pack of flour to the side, she couldn't help but wonder for a moment over how the poor bro had brought ALL OF THIS over by himself! After all, even if he had carried them all over here in bags, it would still be a struggle for one person alone to do so! And all of this was just for lil' ol her, too!

And while she did have a few things to do today, they could most certainly wait until later. The bro had already pretty much called FIRST DIBS, with his polite lil' invitation in baking this shortcake together. And NO WAY, NO HOW would she be so foolish enough to reject this fun opportunity to spend some time together with him! Why, she almost already wanted to kick her ALTERNATE SELF'S BUTT for even DARING to do such a thing! ... Wherever she may be.

"Ah didn' know ya could bake, bro! Yer jus' the full package, ain't cha~?"

As they would begin to set up the bowls and utensils, Itsuki couldn't help but point this out (Not yet knowing the simple truth of it being otherwise). Simply full of GROWING ADMIRATION for the smart young lawyer, as she believed then that he had other talents that she has yet to learn about.

It really was just so sweet that he didn't just remember her birthday, but was taking time out of his clearly busy schedule to spend it with her. And so, after at least pouring out the flour and sugar into separate bowls, Itsuki would gesture to Ryuu to lean down for a moment so that he was closer to her eye level. Going on her tippy toes, as she leaned up then to peck his cheek in gratitude.

"Thank you fer this, bro~"

[xiaoluclair]

TWAG GAME.

@jussst-lurking (💚💋💫🌻❤️) as my silly little writing being the the only silly little thing i can offer rn:

rule(s): alexa play MKTO classic cos it’s ya girl post a wip snippetttt

“You fucking reek.” — Max, standing by the toilet door.

“My bad.” That gets a snort. As Oscar watches through heavy eyes, Max flicks up the lock.

Then he turns to him — the jagged, snapped spaghetti mess of him that’s been left to boil over a flame with no water, and says, “I don’t have anything on me.”

And that’s something. That’s. It sounds like responsibility or very close to. Like Max is supposed to have something — like he is supposed to help. And it’s just his stupid rut brain thinking stupid rut thoughts.

Oscar shakes his head. “Neither.” It sends something rattling around inside. Second gender, if he’s lucky — maybe it can go rattling all the way out his ear and down the drain.

There’s a large space of rumbling plumbing. It settles between them, along the floor with the mysterious wet tracks until Max says, “I have an idea,” and there’s notes in it. Mirror notes or— marinated ones. I have an idea, I’ve had an idea. I’ve been having an idea.

tagging like a broken record: @fueledbyremembering (bc i have two (2) verpastry gorls gn and the other 1 is already in this post) @cupidskissx @maxiel-jpg @7msc @sennaverstappen (icr if u write but i hope 🤞🤞❕) @charlescoded @mcl4r3n 💛💛🌷💫💞✨��🌸💛

[maeve01]

Town Fiesta Experience: A Somewhat Chaotic Story-Telling

Every year our town celebrates the birthday of the woman who was blessed among all the women, AKA Mary, our blessed mother. And with that comes the role-playing of the Padul-ong Festival. It is a retelling of the tale of how the image of the blessed Virgin Mary got transported to Borongan from portugal, and the legend of the Lady in white who frequents the Hamorawon spring where it is said that the water has the ability to heal the sick. Now, that's all I know about it. But it sure is always a lovely fiesta. Festive and vibrant as it should be.

Just a few weeks before the fiesta, everyone's been busy with all the preparation. The hanging of bandaritas around every barangay, the marching bands trying their best to out show their fellow competitors- working hard to perfect their routine, and the most exciting of it all, was the parade and the Padul-ong festival itself. I'm sure all their hard work has paid off. All the sleepless nights making all the props for the festival competition and with all the dancers sweating and dancing their asses off to give their best performance and please the crowd.

I actually didn't grow up celebrating this festival. I know, it was a bit sad, if I'm being honest. I've been missing out on all the fun. But now I get to decide if I want to celebrate it or not, because I'm old enough to decide for myself, and I'm no longer part of a cult-ish fellowship club or whatever you want to call it. I grew up really religious, you know, but now I'm not anymore. But anyway, going back to the festivities and what my experience was. It was nice... That's basically the summary of my town fiesta experience. The end.

Nah, I'm just Kidding with ya! No, but seriously it was nice, I swear. Look, I wasn't really feeling it, but at the same time it was nice to see how other people were enjoying it. I was just going through something, but I managed to show up during the Essu Nite, and was able to see some old friends, which was genuinely nice. I'm always happy to see them. Then I went home after checking in for the attendance that no one was facilitating.

Ah, here's a funny story though. It was the day before Vesper. And me and my cousin were out having dinner near the plaza. After we ate, we decided to go to the pharmacy, and as we were on our way, we passed by the plaza, and it was jam-packed because it was also "Tuklas", so there were artists like, Khalil Ramos, and Gabbi Garcia, and also Ej Falcon, but man, I was more interested with Ian Veneracion. Wuuuuuhhhoo good lawd. Anyways, we were passing by, right? So we hung around a little bit to see if we could spot Ian. And then, boom, the crowds started shrieking, and I was like, damn it must be Ian, so I ran near the backstage, had my camera ready and waited to see if I'd see a glimpse of one of my DILF crushes. And there, a man wearing a brown polo shirt came out of the backstage and I screamed for my life. My octave range went to heaven. I only saw that good-looking man for a second, dang it, and there were cars blocking my view too, but nevertheless, I was elated. So we went to the pharmacy grinning and giggling. Mr. Bodyguard was like, "kinita manda hi ate hin artista" Damn right I did, kuya.

I went home feeling over the moon, but then, as I was on the tricycle, I thought, "Wait, hold on, what if it wasn't Ian?" Because I had no idea what he was wearing, right? So I hurried home and did some digging on Facebook and damn, Ian Veneracion was wearing a denim jacket.💀

I was heartbroken.

The man that I saw wasn't Ian, but Ej Falcon.💀💀💀

Bruh, and the way that I screamed?

Gorl that was embarrassing.

Then I messaged my cousin that it wasn't Ian, and she was dying from laughing her tonsils out.

- The end

[maipareshaan]

I find the haydur nation or whatever hater community around foodie beauty and alr so fascinating, obvs there are a lot of simple reasons as to why they have a hate following, but one is that a lot of these people got too invested and then they felt betrayed used and gaslighted. Like its literally such an insane parasocial phenomenon.

Like with their diets, they'd be like we are going on a diet cuz my health is so bad like bedridden bad cancer bad diabetes bad (not sure why Chantal had to take her uterus out but that too also ofcourse we can't know how much the cancer or that is due to weight but i think when we say weight in extreme cases its also clearly a sign of health, unhealthy at every size like obvs any size person could get these health problems anyways don't cancel me lol or do whatever), so the audience is like we need to provide support bcz this person is asking for motivation and accountability which btw they explicitly do, bad move imo, ya so the audience takes responsibility to provide support because its like we will be the reason towards your positive growth and then these people fail bcz they have a food addiction and addictions are hard to beat, now there is also an insane factor of how this gets them views and money so people also feel like they are being expoited in the cycle, like someone setting up a weight loss channel and getting views and comments and thus money is not exploitation ofcourse but then failing is bcz you got money from it then didn't hold your end and also negativity bad habits blah blah, but this part of the cycle gets them money too bcz ppl like trainwrecks, now people are like is this planned, or perhaps its a matter of pull and push, did this person ask gor motivation with the intention of failing to get money which then deserves hate or the more realistic this person has an incentive to not try to lose weight one being money and they just went went that thus deserves hate, ofcourse if youtube wasn't a thing this person would go through the cycle anyways they just never had the motivation of stranger support (which will always suck like comeon why would you do that lol) or the money by giving up and doing mukbangs, which brings in another factor- the feeling like they are parataking in fat/feeder fetish without being told now the hate is for promoting fetish and obesity blah blah. Obviously like their obsession with if this is feederisn far outnumbers the anyone watching her for it like their popularity bcz of being a trainwreck outweights that aspect.

There is also the conspiracy aspect, the decoding is she doing it for the feeders, is she trollin, did she even plan to lose weight, is she lyin, is she showing her true diet and then they are like we are being GASLIGHTED. Gorl they are so ridiculous jeez, imagine crying about how a mentally ill food addict on the internet that you can fully avoid is gaslighting you for years, gorl i think you deserve it if you can' close the tab and keep falljng for it for YEARS.

Anyways with Chantal there was also another cycle, the cycle of abusive relationships, we have her chat, and i stress, LITERALLY SENDING HER MONEY SAYING SHE DESERVES BETTER PLEASE LEAVE HIM, sending 2 or 5 dollars to write motivational self worth messages, asking her what does he give her that we don't, that is so insane, imagine asking a stranger who shares her life online what does the guy you fuck give you that we don't, WHATTTTTT, God Nader era you will always be peak shitshow peak insane you will never be topped as far as reality tv realm goes, anyways, obvs same problem, she comes online venting, i can't remember her ever directly saying she needs support for leaving but i sure she has said she's done but she's happy she has them aka the people in her chat, she even said if she said the word 'paperclip' a word she asked them to decide as the safe word to call the cops if her 'bf' storms in her house, anyways promoting abuse, giving an abuser a platform, romanticising abuse yadda yadda. Kinda similar. Again the batshit thing remains monetary value in keeping the rollercoaster up, getting money by airing it out, getting money from concerned viewers who feel like their message will be read if they give money and that will change her life, her then using this money to spend on Nader, Nader being with her for the youtube money, the youtube money coming partly from people begging her to not be with him. Amazing.

Personally i think they go through the cycle as one normally does and then give up and they know they will earn money from it so do exploit it but that pretty much their attempts are genuine, is it possible they are like views are low let me plan a cycle, sure i think its a bit unlikely given how in real life the cycle is always ongoing, like why would someone do this to themselves and what are they glorifying, perhaps its just showcasing the ugly reality of how hard addiction and depression is and how spaces for fetishes exist but most of their views and their popularity comes from fascination of it. Cope and avoid. Not a fan of i am healthy and i feel great, like that kind of lying is ehh but anyways that's atleast for the most part not the problem with them. Ya its about spaces, and i can't say i am fan of them but the whole i am being gaslighted thing is so idiotic.

[ronearoundblindly]

Update: I did not survive this. I was correct. You owe me a resurrection, or...there's a dick joke in there but we'll spare poor Steeb's heart, I think...

WHERE THIS IS GOING? I WANNA BE THERE.

Gurl, lemme just first tell ya that no matter how much of this you 'spoil' me for before reading the full thing, I get floored every single time. It's just spectacular, pure genius to make these two morally and sinful duke it out for the exact same thing which just so happens to be wanting each other to win.

You said it best: MONUMENTAL DICKHEADS.

I'm gonna bribe you with most of the shit I own in order to winkle the next deets out of you because you are torturing me more than you're torturing Bucky in this.

“Roll that back. You think that stuff could turn me as horny as the two of you?”

I mean, technically I hate that Bucky uses/can use the example of stepping aside to let Steve and Dee have feelings for each other as proof that he’s a better human. I don’t want him to associate being happy and following some emotions with weaponizing himself. That’s what flawed thinking does to people, though, so the misplaced 'blame' makes sense. Still sad.

Gorl. GORL. This part about how Steve might be able to smell Dee 'bout knocked me to the floor with excitement... to. the. floor.

I hope and pray that that man ran right back in and jerked off again after the elevator..and I hope Bucky heard him that time lol. I'm living vicariously through my homeboys over here, if it wasn't obvious.

I'll admit, too, that the whole almost drugged again thing just had me whatwhatwhat the whole scene, and then WHAT!!!

The next chapter: WE NEEDS IT, PRECIOUS, WE WANTS IT!!!

Shipping and Handling | Ch 2: Urgency

(Stucky x Reader slow burn, Steve x Reader fast burn, Friendship all around)

Summary: There’s a chance you and Steve aren’t the only people dealing with the strange chemical bond from Mistress, so you agree to submit to daily tests that should help Dr. Banner figure out what’s happening, and maybe how to stop it. The problem? Seeing each other every day brings a new set of side-effects that both of you hide from each other and Banner until things come to a head– not just for the two of you, but also for the man who has to deal with you: Bucky Barnes. Length/Warnings: 3,028 / sexual situations Prompt: @allcapsbingo April Adoptable: Sex Pollen ((I know, right??))

Tags: @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan @brooke0297 @caplanreblogsfics @hails270105 @venusfalling @zzz000eee @eralen @mrsevans90 @myinconnelly1 @thorinsmistress @cjand10

Excerpt:

Steve’s expression turns sheepish. “I was trying to persuade him to walk you out.” 

“Let me guess, he was doing the same?”

He nods. The elevator protests the doors remaining open, and he murmurs some kind of command that changes the red color to green.

“You could escort me down?”

“That’s probably a bad idea,” Steve says solicitously. There’s a light in his eyes that sends a thrill along your spine, and you almost wish you could push him to change his mind-- but then you remember how important it is to figure out what the hell Mistress is doing to the many people exposed to it every day. Encouraging Steve Rogers to take an elevator ride so you can stand near him and wish he would kiss you is probably not furthering the cause of science.

Chapter Two: Urgency

In retrospect, inviting you over for dinner has clearly made things more complicated, not less. Bucky had figured you’d show up, they’d order food, and then the three of you would have an uncomfortable but necessary conversation (one he’d get to enjoy observing, which would make up for the awkwardness).

Instead, he’s barely holding in his amusement at the way things have devolved into an R-rated I Love Lucy episode.

In a strained voice, you observe, “The connections are hopelessly stretched. You’ll probably need a whole new stove.”

Bucky just nods.

“It’s actually kind of impressive, the way the metal crocheted with the cotton in this tea towel withstood the stress like that.”

He clears his throat to cover his need to laugh, but the sound ends on a wheeze.

“Damnit, what?”

“You practically knelt down in front of him. Take pity, will you Doll?” 

Bucky only realizes the endearment after he’s said it aloud, and to minimize the damage, he clenches his jaw and twists his lips into an inconsequential smile.

It doesn’t work.

“You’ve never called me that before,” you say, your lovely eyes lit with surprise and something else, something he shouldn’t be looking for. 

Gruffly, he says, “Really?” It’s a shut-down tactic, because people are much less likely to elaborate on something they’re uncertain over. He maximizes its effect by leaning down to examine the oven door, which is indeed fucked.  

“Really. I liked it, don’t worry.” Your voice is soft. “Looks like you’ll be needing these menus, I doubt the stove is kitchen rated with the door off! Come on, I’m sure Steve is going to be hungry when he shows back up.”

Are… you joking about what Steve’s doing in his room right now? Bucky lunges over to block your way out of the kitchen. The shirt you’re wearing smells like the detergent he and Steve use, and something about smelling Steve on you sends heat straight to his groin.

He really should’ve punched Banner, too.

“What?”  

“Are you sure you want everything out in the open?” You look at him, uncomprehending, and Bucky’s a hypocrite, because there’s no way any of what he’s been thinking about lately can be in the open.

You’re shaking your head at him. “I don’t--”

He grips the doorframe so tightly it gives a little under his metal hand. “Steve is jerking off in there. He’d only do that while we’re waiting out here because he has to. If he comes out here and you make a comment like that, he’ll feel guilty for--”

“--weeks. Maybe forever. Shit.” you interrupt. He pushes off from the door to let you pass, and you continue; “Banner seemed certain that the… intensity was because we’d spent those two weeks apart, but this is--” You break off and drop the pile of menus on the dining room table with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m really worried it’s going to be untenable, but then I remember all the people out there this could happen to, you know?”

Bucky nods toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms, where Steve is probably touching himself right now. “Is that the ‘untenable’ you’re talking about?”

Your face wrenches in embarrassment, eyes closed, and you nod.

Because he doesn’t want to go through this whole ordeal without some amusement at his own expense, he says, “There are two bedrooms, if you need to borrow mine? You know where it is.”

Your eyes pop open, and you suck in a breath, tightening the blue shirt enough that he can see your nipples are hard. Then you smack him hard on the right arm.

“The look on your face! Stop fake-leering at me, asshole, I was already worried about that!”

That was close. “Worried about what?”

“Well I got to thinking, it’s not like the combined pheromones are inert, right? So anyone who spends time around the two of us could get hit with them. Hell, maybe even the solo ones we were making might be able to--” You retreat to the other side of the table like you need the fortitude of distance. “You’ve still been able to achieve-- I mean… Have you?”

“Roll that back. You think that stuff could turn me as horny as the two of you?”

You wince. “Promise me you’ll tell me if anything changes? For science?”

“I promise,” Bucky says. He is affected, but nothing whatsoever has changed.

“And you can still…”

He raises his eyebrows and pretends not to understand.

“Bucky!” Your exasperation is not a deterrent at all.

“Just spit it out.”

“Can you come?”

He cannot resist. “Come where?”

“Oh my God, I cannot believe you!” Instead of stomping off to cool down, you march right up to him and grab the loose sides of the dress shirt he’s wearing on top of his tee. “I am asking you if you can orgasm, you monumental dickhead!”

Maybe the pheromones you and Steve are emitting are doing something, because a number of inappropriate things leap immediately to mind.

He chooses the least offensive of the five. “Pretty sure I can, but I’m willing to go try right now, if it’s that important to you.”

Steve speaks up from the hallway before you can vocalize the affectionate fury Bucky sees written all over your face. “Everything okay?” 

Steve’s hairline is wet, like he’d stepped into the bathroom to splash his face with water, and his own shirt is untucked. By now, Bucky’s used to steeling himself against his attraction to Steve, but he’s not used to being so close to someone who can figure out what he’s thinking before he shoves it away. Your hands tighten on his shirt, and when he looks back at you, there’s understanding in your eyes.

Understanding and guilt.

Carefully, you reach up to adjust Bucky’s collar as if that’s what you’d been doing all along, patting at his chest maternally before stepping away. “Starting to think you had Steve help you dress before you’d show up at the restaurant for those 40’s nights,” you tease.

Shit. Shit. Are you trying to-- Shit.

Across the room, Steve’s body language is stiff, and he adopts a false joviality that has Bucky screaming in his own head at the multitude of misunderstandings.

“Are you kidding? He snuck out! Probably didn’t want me to ask why he was wearing all that leather on a weeknight.” A second later, Steve waves his hand in embarrassment and comes over to the table. “That came out like I was implying he dresses in leather on the weeken--”

“Stop!” Bucky groans. “I’m starving and the two of you are nuts. Pick something and order, would you?” He walks off toward the window and hopes that you and Steve will mix pheromones so much you’ll completely forget what you think you just saw.

The need to stare at each other (and feed him) seems to be enough to preoccupy the two of you. Bucky looks out at the bustle of rush-hour traffic and tries to tamp down his panic. Of all the struggles he’d faced in the past year, he’d never have picked ‘caring too much about his closest friends’ as the one to give him the most trouble. It’s an unfair thought on its face, because the burden of all his other shit has been lifted by having you and Steve around.

It’s not just caring, though, and as much as he wants to lie to himself, it’s not just physical, either. If there was any way to reassure you about the pheromones, he would, but if Bucky’s honest with himself, he’s glad you’re worried about that. It gives him cover.

He sighs. A thought that had occurred to him a few nights ago pops back up. To have friends is one thing, to want someone is another thing, but to know better than to act on it? To step aside for the sake of the people he cares most about in the world… that’s a sign that he’s more human than weapon. It’s cold comfort, but he’s used to the cold.

The knowledge of what Steve had been doing and why is burning through your insides. It looks like it’s burning through him too, but from embarrassment, since he’s just worked through his other discomfort.

Steve clears his throat and reaches over to scatter some of the menus. “Any preferences?”

“Let me see what we’ve got,” you say, and he nods, loosing a lock of wet hair that flops onto his forehead.

It suddenly occurs to you the reason why it’s wet-- he went to wash his hands, and just in case that wasn’t enough, he washed his face, too. Because he’s a gentleman, despite what it was he was doing. You feel such a rush of pure affection for him that it shakes your ability to stand. To cover it, you drag out the chair you’re standing near and fall into it, reaching for the brochures.

“Do you, ah…” 

He falls silent, and when you look up, he looks supremely uncomfortable. You lift your brows.

“Do you need to…”

You are completely baffled-- until you aren’t. “Oh, God, thank you, but no. I’ll--  I’ll manage.”

His nod is anxious, so you hand over the menu you had your eye on and do your very best not to worry that you should have taken him up on it. After all, you weren’t able to change your underpants, but if there’s a world where you have to ask Captain America if he can smell your arousal, you’d rather just disappear into the NYC sewers.

Dinner goes surprisingly well. You already knew that Bucky and Steve got on well, and over the course of the evening, you can tell that your rapport with Bucky is reassuring to Steve. Instead of making you uncomfortable, the simmering heat you’re afflicted with seems to keep you on your toes, a constant reminder to be careful about what you say and do, lest you awaken the same banked fire in Steve. 

You let the two men run the conversation, and at times they almost fall over each other to share anecdotes. When you’re ready to leave, you step away to use the bathroom and come out to Bucky and Steve deep in a serious discussion, almost an argument. Maybe it’s your full, happy stomach, maybe it’s your sense of impishness, but instead of alerting them to your presence in the room, you sneak over to the door and make it to the elevator before Steve catches up to you.

“Making me feel like a failed host,” he says, jogging over to hold his hand over the just-opened doors.

“Not at all,” you smile. “You two looked like you were having an important conversation.”

Steve’s expression turns sheepish. “I was trying to persuade him to walk you out.” 

“Let me guess, he was doing the same?”

He nods. The elevator protests the doors remaining open, and Steve murmurs some kind of command that changes the red color to green.

“You could escort me down?”

“That’s probably a bad idea,” Steve says solicitously. There’s a light in his eyes that sends a thrill along your spine, and you almost wish you could push him to change his mind-- but then you remember how important it is to figure out what the hell Mistress is doing to the many people exposed to it every day. Encouraging Steve Rogers to take an elevator ride so you can stand near him and wish he would kiss you is probably not furthering the cause of science.

“Good night then, Sir Knight,” you tease, dipping into a curtsey. Your skirt is tight along your thighs, but you’re able to use the tails of your borrowed blue shirt to aid in the look.

When you lift your head, the elevator doors are closing, and Steve is nowhere in sight. It’s not a big deal-- you’ll be seeing each other once a day for the foreseeable future anyway.

Not that you’re looking forward to that, or anything.

Steve and Bucky had agreed to show up at the performance the next day, to satisfy the proximity requirement. As expected, the 90’s crowd is different from the 40’s one, but the energy is high, and you end the night on a literal high note. The plan is for the two of them to come over after the set to spend a few minutes physically close by, but as usual, the band is crowded by admirers who ‘just want to chat a few minutes.’

You can see that Bucky’s temper is flaring by the way Steve’s fingertips whiten on his friend’s shoulder, so you try to hurry. The last person to push through to speak to you is carrying two of the restaurant’s signature ‘flagon’ beer glasses, and he enthusiastically thrusts one into your hands before you can stop him. The action sloshes the liquid over onto the back of your hand.

Before you can formulate a polite refusal, the restaurant’s bar bouncer Benji throws a collegial arm around the man’s shoulder and guides him away.

“Saved a life, right there,” Steve says in a low voice beside you. You actually slump over into him for a few seconds in relief, feeling him initially stiffen at first contact before his arm comes around to support you.

“What do you mean?” you ask, lifting your hand up to lick off the alcohol. 

To your surprise, Steve spins you the few steps out into the dance floor. The ballad currently playing means that the couples around you are slow-dancing in the ‘modern’ style, hands on hips or shoulders, swaying close with little to no artistry. His hand at your wrist is an inexorable band as he positions your palm flat on his chest, his other hand grasping the small of your back in defiance of convention.

“Okay, clearly you have panicked,” you say, blinking up at him. Your other hand is holding onto the lapel of his suit jacket as if for dear life, because holy god, the man sends your senses reeling.

“Inside pocket, Mistress test tabs. Swab your hand,” he whispers hoarsely.

Your steps falter, and you nod. Testing has become second-nature at this point, so you don’t even need to check the box for the color key. 

“Orange,” Steve says, when he sees the strip. His hand at your back sweeps you closer. Orange is more than the yellow or green of faint traces. 

The drink was dosed.

“On it,” Bucky husks as he brushes past the two of you, plucking the test strip from your fingers on the way. Because of Steve’s close stance, you’re helpless to stop him-- a point Steve makes very clear by spreading his fingers at your back. The possessiveness of the action works like napalm in your bloodstream, but the pressure of each fingertip against your skin sends a very clear message: you may not follow.

There’s napalm, and then there’s napalm.

Fixing your eyes on his chest, and with a bright smile hiding that your teeth are clenched, you hiss, “Steve, if we weren’t in my workplace, I would be pitching a fit right now. You are not in charge of what I do or say, do you understand me?”

The pained sound from his throat drags your eyes up to his. Steve looks stricken, and you realize you’d offered the man who tried to deliberately drug you with Mistress more grace than the one who dearly wishes he hadn’t. Your apology dusts in your mouth when he starts speaking.

“I couldn’t protect you when it counted. I can’t protect you from me. I will damn well protect you from everything else!”

As he speaks, Steve moves the two of you off of the dance floor and back past the bar into the alcove Benji usually stands in. He’s shaking, and you’re overwhelmed, the fear of what you’ve just dodged only prickling the edges of your consciousness. The only thing you can think of to defuse the moment is Bucky’s gripe about Steve’s reticence for swearing aloud.

At the very last second, you realize you can’t use the phrasing you’d meant to, because this man’s mother has been dead a very very long time.

“You kiss your lovers with that mouth?”

Time stands still for a long second as you regard each other. Then, Steve’s head tips to the side, eyes locking onto your mouth. His lips part, and the sigh he releases seems to release the angry tension he’d been holding since pulling you close in the first place.

“You tell me,” he whispers, releasing you and holding his hands up like a man being held hostage. In a way he is. You both are.

You can’t recall wanting to kiss someone more than you do right now. To hell with absolutely everything else! you think to yourself, reaching your hand up toward the side of his face.

The wetness on that hand reminds you, and you draw back. “Shit. Shit, Steve! Mistress!”

He looks at your lips again, then your hand, then your chest, and then dashes off into the crowd of people only to reappear again impossibly quickly with a damp washcloth from the bar. Without asking, he scrubs at your hand-- but you bite your lip at the sensations. Even that small amount of the drug is affecting you, having soaked in while you were distracted by the undercurrent of desire you always feel around Steve.

“Thanks,” you murmur, your voice low. 

He makes a little noise in response, then puts a hand on each of your shoulders. “We need to get to Banner. If what I’m feeling is related to the Mistress in your system--”

“Oh God,” you whisper.

Steve’s grip on you tightens, and he snaps his head back like he’d been about to lean in for a kiss before his instincts kicked in.

Your instincts are affected by Mistress, but you don’t give a shit. You reach up with both hands and cup his face. “In the cab.”

“Stark sent a car, actually. I sent a distress call.”

“Even better.”

To be continued...

[femme-is-my-gender]

Okay. Just journaling on the world wide web ignore me

But when S and I moved to ATL I agreed (and was excited) to go even though that meant quitting a job that was my passion. I really loved my previous jobs and have a real passion for primates and there's just... Nothing where we are for me. Theres the zoo, which I would have to volunteer and beg and MAYBE get a position. And there's rehab centers around for wildlife but I pigeonholed myself into such a tight niche. I kind of don't have relevant experience for anything but what I was previously doing. And now I'm working at a vet office and the Dr likes me he wants to make me clinic manager but I don't like the job Im super depressed I knew it would be hard to find a relevant job here but I didn't know how hard it would affect me to not be doing my passion . And the primate blog was supposed to be a filler for that so I could fill my passion while I find my next big thing but it just makes me sad now and I can feel myself forgetting details of animals I loved and it feels like grief. Idk. We are talking about kids in the next few years and I want to be near family so our kids can feel connected to family bc I didn't as a kid but.. I also don't want to be where they are.

We are going back to tx and I'm going to volunteer at my old jobs and I know it will be so cathartic to see the animals again and s mentioned maybe me staying here for a while so I can work my passion while I keep applying to jobs in ATL but that makes me feel so guilty to quit my current job with no notice, leave S and our dog, and my family who were all so excited I moved back home. It would totally throw a huge wrench in our plans but it does sound really enticing. I would be alone here tho living with his family who are good to me it would be fine but it would be strange too. Going into this trip with very very strange feelings. Bittersweet and the trip hasn't even started yet.

[funkyllama]

“Talking With A Toddler” Pose Pack

6 “poses” (+2 sims each = 12 total).

Place teleporters in the center of a dining chair.

Made for my lovely friend @nexility-sims go read their story, plz and ty.

Note : Adult (”A”) thumbnail model has the buck teeth, I promise you their mouth is open normally.

made with custom rigs, since I’m layzee they will be characters in my story, read the most recent post here.

have fun! and tag #funkyllama if you’d like, I’d love to see them used by ya!!!

DOWNLOAD : Sims File Share or Patreon (always free!)

@ts4-poses @emilyccfinds @maxismatchccworld

[ofcowardiceandkings]

id like to stake my claim as BotW Zelda Defense Squad team leader i have the Credentials and a Big Mouf

[hausofmamadas]

So like ….. i know you didn’t write this for an exchange but by god if this doesn’t feel like a personalized fuckign gift to me, okay. i am sobbing

═

✷ Was it painful? Sure. Should she have seen it coming? Most definitely. Because that’s how it always ended for her.

OHHHKAYYYY COME👏🏽THRU👏🏽 WITH THAT INTERNAL MONOLOGUE BC YOU KNOW I LIVE FOR THAT SHIT

✷ It always ended before it even truly got started. There was such a specific brand of pain in that.

The way I am reading this like pulled up my lawn chair, got an obscenely huge sized popcorn, chewing on it like a squirrel as if this is a gift just for me bc like the way this just matches my entire hc for her SOOO HARDDDDN LIKE IM JUST VIGOROUSLY NODDING YES INTO MY PHONE

✷ Being shot down in business or in romance was one thing. But managing to get shot down in business and in romance, by the same person at essentially the same time, was another thing.

And somehow it had happened to her twice.

When I tell you I gay-gasped and clutched my pearls for JYEEESUS bc I’m like, twice gorl??!????? Who?????? Who besides Dina is it?????

✷ It felt almost sickening to think about how wrong she had been about him. “El último hombre decente en México.”

FUUUUUCKXIISISKSKSKSK AND THEN YOU HAD TO COME UP IN HERE AND SLAP ME IN THE FACE WITH THIS “El último hombre decente en Mexico” A PING PONG PADDLE bc like I was just asking who else besides Dina and ofc, like it’s so obvious I actually forgot about it and then to see that line after we all know what happenns is juuuusjdjdjejejeje and also can we all pls moment of silence at how effectively you’ve dropped in a line directly from the show. Like we all do it bc it’s fanfic, but I feel like knowing when and where to quote from the source is an art in fanfic, in itself and I may say you are mastering that art perfectly, okay

✷ Fucking Miguel. She’d given him too much credit back then, too much of her time, her attention.

SKSKSKSKKSKS IM HOWWWWWLINGKSJDN bc isn’t just the most meta thing of all time sksksks like I’m shaking my head just thinking, “gorl, same. Ya perdimos el tiempo con ese pendejo, tú lo sabes.”

✷ The best she could do was not waste any more time on him. Not give him any more brain space.

NO OKAYYYYSKSKSKSJ BUT I swear I didn’t read ahead sksksksksn when I was just talking about wasting time on him. No, you’re just actually tapping into my braincell and running with it THAT WELLSKSKSKSK

✷ The ache that was familiar to her now had felt so new and debilitating back then.

GODDDDDD OKAY but this????????? THIS IS SO FUCKING REAL???? Like I don’t wanna say it’s the most real thing you’ve ever written bc you’ve written so many real things but like this ranks amongst the top ten bc like that is e x a c t l y what that first, new heartbreak feels like!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Like it shatters your soul so much you feel it in your body but the older you get, the more room you make for it so like every heartbreak after, even if it’s deeper and more profound and actually hurts more, it can’t match the sheer shock of that first one UHGHHHFHHDHD AND IM FEELING IT WITH HER AND IM SHAKING YOU BY THE SHOULDERS FOR MAKING ME FEEL IT WITH HER BC HOW VERY DARE YOU (affectionate)

✷ Miguel was so far in her rearview at this point that he wasn’t worth being in pain over anymore.

ES LA NETA, MI MANA!!!!!!!!!!! PUES NO NECESITAMOS ESA VERGA, Y QUE SE VAYA ALASHINGADA👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

✷ Besides, all of that shit with Miguel paled in comparison to the hole that Dina had put through her chest.

GODDDD OKAY ONCE AGAIN IM— bc that betrayal reallt was like as a viewer, so. fucking. crushing. for me. Like they were really going for it and doing all the things better than any of the men in the show, I might add. Maybe not money-wise but operationally, in terms of like efficiency and lack of bullshit drama/work dynamics. Like they were a fucking well oiled machine compared to Miguel’s operation at that point sksks

✷ There were plans and paperwork but there were also shared smiles and cigarettes that Dina insisted on lighting for her.

AND CIGARETTES THAT DINA INSISTED ON LIGHTING FOR HER????????????? I MEAN— I AM— CAN YOU EVEN STAND IT???????? CAN YOU STAND HOW THAT’S SOMEHOW THE MOST FUCKING DINA THING IVE EVER HEARD AND IM MAD I DIDNT THINK OF IT AND IM SAD FOR ISABELLA BUT IM HAPPY THIS EXISTS JUST IN THE WORLD AS A CONCEPT

✷ To an outsider looking in, it would’ve been impossible to tell what was tears and what was water from the faucet, but Isabella knew.

YOU REALLY ARE ON A WARPATH WITH THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE because I shit you not, I can actually feel the sensation of like knowing the difference between the hot tears and the cold water from the faucet bc like, let’s be honest, we’ve all been there before

✷ It all looked so dramatic—tears and running makeup and the deep pout she was sporting. All that flair and it still wasn’t enough to encapsulate how she was actually feeling.

NOOOOOSTOOOOPPPSNEJEJ bc once ahead you’ve just unscrewed the lid on my skull and plucked out the braincell labeled “Isabella Bautista hc” bc somehow this is like?????? almost my entire thesis for her as a character, like it’s so easy to get distracted by her looks bc can we moment of silence for actuallt how stunning she is but there’s so much more even under the surface and no one bothers to look and idk what it is about this that encapsulates that but it really does

✷ Not to mention that it wasn’t as though Dina was at home shedding any tears over her in return.

Skskskksksn not me cackling evilly to myself all just, “if I was writing your love story, she would be. Don’t worry girl” KEKW

✷ What she was feeling wasn’t that loud. It was quiet, and heavy. It was real and honest in a world where honesty didn’t pay.

OH FUCJ OFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF, OKAY????????????? IT WAS REAL AND HONEST IN A WORLD WHERE HONESTY DOESNT PAY????? Like I’ve written about characters being stunned stupid, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually been stunned stupid until now I’ve been plenty just stupid, but no, not stunned stupid

✷ Maybe that was the whole problem. She was trying to be transparent with people who wouldn’t ever be capable of returning the favor, in business or in their relationships.

And once again, just completely nailing every thematic target in my head while also making me :woahdeeby: at the sheer articulateness of the prose bc she’s nothing if not an articulate asf woman

✷ People didn’t change that way. Or, at least, they didn’t change that way for her.

OHHHSKSJSJSJSJSBWB STOOOOPPP bc I read this and was immediately “I’d change that way for you. A whole legion of fans/viewers would change that way for you” and then immediately after just *cough* Chepe *cough* he would change that way for you

✷ She knew that the longer she stared at herself, the more she would spiral, trying to make sense of people who had proven to her that they weren’t worth the effort it would take to try and piece them apart.

I swear to Jesus Christ on the actual cross, you’re trying to send me to an early grave with this shit “people who had proven to her that they weren’t worth the effort it would take to try and piece them apart.” Like it slaps so hard and I never expected to die by slap but like if it is in fact my time and i do feel very near death at this point then wow, what a way to go y’know

✷ She knew that the longer she stared at herself, the more she would spiral, trying to make sense of people who had proven to her that they weren’t worth the effort it would take to try and piece them apart.

AND NOW WE KNOW WHY SHE’D RATHER HAVE A MAJESTIC, BEAUTIFUL, GIANT-ASS, GERMAN SHEPHERD BC ALL YALL MOTHERFUCKERS HAVE DONE HER SO GODDAMN DIRTY IM FUCKIGNKSKDJDNS INCONSOLABLE RN

✷ It was always so easy, when she crawled into bed this late at night and finally shut the lamp off, to feel like her house, her room, her bed were all too big for just her.

IN👏🏽CON👏🏽SO👏🏽LA👏🏽BLE, DO YOU HEAR ME????????

✷ And she was about to do it again when she finally thought better of it. Sitting up, she grabbed and tossed a few of her pillows from the bed to the floor, not caring where they landed in the darkness ... finally allowing herself to take up as much space as she wanted, as much space as she could, right in the center of it. Laying on her back, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, she took the first easy breath that she had taken all night, and finally let her eyes close.

I mean I— like I don’t evennnnnn know where to begin bc truly this ending feels like you wrote it just for me bc I can make everything about myself soooooooiiiii well like as someone who’s single, who lives alone with two majestic, beautiful, not-giant-ass cats who’s spent the last year sorting through the mind-fuck of ending a five year relationship and figuring out like all the subconscious stupid mostly gendered but not always expectations that I didn’t realize were playing a part in the breakdown of that relationship and realizing like actually what’s mine, what do I want vs what others have made me think I should want but don’t actually, inherently want, like the entire metaphor of taking up space in her bed, deciding to just spread out like that bc fuck it, this is where we are. Like I’m literally about to go to sleep and I’m going to do the exact same fucking thing bc I’ve never done that before, and why shouldn’t I and GODDDDDDD TAY YOU REALLY JUSTJSJRIRJIEISJDISJSIIWN

The Same Mistakes

An Isabella Bautista fic

For Day 4 of @whumpril 2023: ache

Warnings: 18+, language, angst

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: dedicated to my fave isabella stan @hausofmamadas. Thank u for inspiring me to write this 😌💞

Narcos Mexico Taglist: @narcolini @garbinge @ashlingnarcos @purplesong1028 @cositapreciosa @southotheborder @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

With each tear that sprung into her eyes and proceeded to trickle down the side of her face, Isabella continued to chastise herself. Was it painful? Sure. Should she have seen it coming? Most definitely. Because that’s how it always ended for her.

It always ended before it even truly got started. There was such a specific brand of pain in that. It felt foolish to say, but she swore that she could actually feel the ache in her chest when she thought back on it all.

Maybe it hurt because the endings, the rejections, were always two-fold. Being shot down in business or in romance was one thing. But managing to get shot down in business and in romance, by the same person at essentially the same time, was another thing. It was a much worse thing.

And somehow it had happened to her twice.

She shook her head at herself, ignoring the tears for a moment as she rewound it all in her head. It felt almost sickening to think about how wrong she had been about him. “El último hombre decente en México.” Just the thought of saying those words now put a knot in her stomach and bile in her throat. Fucking Miguel. She’d given him too much credit back then, too much of her time, her attention.

There was no getting any of that back now. The best she could do was not waste any more time on him. Not give him any more brain space.

The rejection and betrayal of Miguel had hurt in the moment. The ache that was familiar to her now had felt so new and debilitating back then. Now, though, she felt more anger towards him than she did heartbreak. Miguel was so far in her rearview at this point that he wasn’t worth being in pain over anymore.

Besides, all of that shit with Miguel paled in comparison to the hole that Dina had put through her chest.

That was something that had snuck up on her. It hurt in a different way, maybe because it mattered more. Maybe because there was business, of course, but there was also the way that Dina would look at her. There were plans and paperwork but there were also shared smiles and cigarettes that Dina insisted on lighting for her. There was work, because there had to be work or else it wouldn’t have been Dina. But there was more—there was the two of them.

Or, so she had thought.

She’d been wrong, again, and this time it hurt so much more. Her chest felt like it was going to cave in on itself as she washed the makeup from her face. To an outsider looking in, it would’ve been impossible to tell what was tears and what was water from the faucet, but Isabella knew.

The last few traces of mascara trailed down her cheeks as she cleaned it from her lashes. It all looked so dramatic—tears and running makeup and the deep pout she was sporting. All that flair and it still wasn’t enough to encapsulate how she was actually feeling.

Not to mention that it wasn’t as though Dina was at home shedding any tears over her in return.

But also maybe it wasn’t enough simply because it wasn’t right. What she was feeling wasn’t that loud. It was quiet, and heavy. It was real and honest in a world where honesty didn’t pay.

Maybe that was the whole problem. She was trying to be transparent with people who wouldn’t ever be capable of returning the favor, in business or in their relationships. Of all the mistakes she’d made, her biggest one had been thinking that either of them would be different with her. People didn’t change that way. Or, at least, they didn’t change that way for her.

She splashed some more warm water on her face before patting it dry. No lipstick, no long lashes—this was a different kind of transparent. This was the side of her that neither of them had gotten to know. They could’ve. She would’ve let them. But they didn’t want to. And she had to somehow learn to be alright with that.

Pushing her hair back behind her shoulders, she did her best to take a deep breath and convince herself that she was going to be alright. It wasn’t as though she really had another choice at this point. Despite the radiating pain in her chest, she repeated it to herself over and over again: She wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again.

She could still see the tears lingering on the rims of her eyes, begging to fall. She raked her teeth over her bottom lip before shaking her head at herself and reaching over to turn off the light in her bathroom. She knew that the longer she stared at herself, the more she would spiral, trying to make sense of people who had proven to her that they weren’t worth the effort it would take to try and piece them apart.

The bathroom door clicked shut quietly behind her as she walked out. The soft sound was the only noise in her otherwise silent house. She had turned on the lights as she walked through her home, leaving a trail in her wake. Now, though, she repeated the same process over only this time she was turning all of the lights back off and sending her whole house into darkness.

The only light that was left on in the house came from the lamp beside her bed, bathing her mattress and sea of pillows in warm yellow light. She stared at her bed for a moment before finally taking another deep breath and pulling the blanket back on her side of the bed. Although, really, both sides were her side because she couldn’t remember the last time that someone had been there to occupy the half opposite of her.

It was always so easy, when she crawled into bed this late at night and finally shut the lamp off, to feel like her house, her room, her bed were all too big for just her. It was so easy to get lost in the thoughts of having someone else there, feeling like she should have someone else there. Maybe that just came with the territory of missing people.

So many nights she’d spent curled up on her side of the bed, making herself smaller in a mattress that felt too large for just her. And she was about to do it again when she finally thought better of it. Sitting up, she grabbed and tossed a few of her pillows from the bed to the floor, not caring where they landed in the darkness. With the pillow that she had left, she situated it in the middle of the mattress, finally allowing herself to take up as much space as she wanted, as much space as she could, right in the center of it. Laying on her back, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, she took the first easy breath that she had taken all night, and finally let her eyes close.

[wiltedthrone]

if u have sent me an ask and i haven’t answered it i promise im not ignoring you or your muse i’m just an idiot who hordes memes /: 

[some-nonbinary-freakdeactivated]

Underverse-out-of-context!

Boi… u need some help?

Cross’s close up!

Gorl…. stAhP…

Ohhhh… somebody… ohhh… he need some milk…

There is an asteroid going through your head ma’am… are u ok?

*cricket noises*

oH~ EllO AiR! *shreck noises continue*

SlAyyY~ wAhT Ya WanNa SlaYYYyyyY~

Ooh shaoadows!

Gorl… u good?!

Oml… 😭

NOW, SANS BEING SANS:

That was, SANS BEING SANS!~

Underverse/Art by: @jakei95

:)

[dev-fiction]

wrow