#you can pinpoint the exact moment that i gave up on the clothes

[thesousarasimp]

be happy

[navybrat817]

Out of My Head

Pairing: Chubby Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky feels a bit insecure during a romantic evening and you do your best to get him out of his head.

Word Count: Over 2.6k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, dirty talk, possessiveness, a/b/o dynamics, insecurities, self-doubt, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's crazy about you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. @missvelvetsstuff, @honeyglee (chubby!Bucky), and @bucksbabee (rose petals) all requested for alpha!Bucky to Go for a Swim (smut) with prompt #27 and #32 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wanted tonight to be romantic. Candles, rose petals, the works. Not for any sort of special occasion, but because his omega deserved only the best. Day in and day out. He hoped it was enough to make you feel loved and adored. It was a wonder that you were with an alpha like him.

If you looked inside his head, you’d tell him there was no reason for him to think he wasn't the perfect man for you. That he was a good partner and alpha. Had been from the start. That you loved him. And you did. You never once gave him a reason to doubt that.

If only he could push away the negative voice in his mind that seemed determined to bring him down tonight.

“Bucky?”

Tilting his head, everything around him became muted as he focused on you. Laying on your side with your naked body exposed to him, he watched the candlelight cast a glow upon your skin. Both of you lost your clothes earlier in the evening, content to lay beside each other for the time being. He wished some days that you didn't have to wear clothes at all. You and your body were made to be worshiped.

Unlike him.

Bucky almost covered himself up with the blanket. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but he was soft in places where he was once firm. While he had been on the thicker side for years, he now had some pudge to go along with it. Handsome or not, he just wasn't in the same shape he used to be when he was younger. What if one day you didn’t like that? What if you wanted someone different? Stronger?

Better?

“You're thinking too hard again,” you said, picking up one of the rose petals to brush across his forehead. He smiled when he realized you traced a heart. “I can feel it.”

He inhaled your scent to ground himself. Orange, cinnamon, honey. The aroma of you made his mouth water. It comforted him, too. He hadn't associated any kind of smell with a sense of home until you.

“I’m thinking about you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smiled, nuzzling into your pillow more as you gazed at him. “What about me?”

“Just how amazing you are,” he answered.

When he looked into your eyes the first time, he expected to see his imperfections staring back at him like they had with so many others. But the way you looked at him with kindness, acceptance, and want, everything fell into place. Pieces of himself he didn’t know were missing found their way back to him and made him while again. His heart didn't stand a chance.

It belonged to you.

Beautiful. Perfect. Mine.

How is that possible? How does a goddess want me? What the hell is wrong with me tonight?

“You know you look at me some days like I'm not even real?” You asked, reaching over to run your fingers through his hair. He moaned and turned his head to nose along your wrist. He craved your touch and scent like nothing else. “Like you're in some sort of a dream and you're afraid you're going to wake up if you look away.”

“Because you’re everything I could ever want. You occupy every single thought in my head, and every single dream,” he whispered. Even his dreams couldn't come up with someone as amazing as you. “And maybe I am afraid that this isn't real.”

Your brows pinched. “Why is that?”

He leaned over to kiss your forehead, wanting to ease the worry from your face. “I’m not sure. You just seem too good to be true and it feels like I might wake up to find you gone. Or that one day…” He rested back, swallowing hard. “You’ll decide you just don't want me anymore.”

You whined, a distraught sound that broke his heart. He wanted to take back those words, but he didn’t want to hide his feelings no matter how much it hurt to talk about them. “Bucky, I’m not going anywhere.” You shook your head vehemently as you sat up. “And I want you. I always do. Why would you ever think I wouldn't want you?”

“Because look at me.” He waved his hand over his torso, averting his gaze as if to hide his vulnerability. “How can someone like you want someone like me?”

He wanted to take the words back the moment they left his mouth when another wounded whine spilled from your lips. You placed your hands on his cheeks and brought his gaze back to you. There was mist over your eyes like you were going to cry and he wanted to chase that look away. “How can I want you? Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are? How wonderful you are?” You kept a hand on his face as the other slid down to his neck. “Bucky, look at me, please.”

His eyes slowly opened. He hadn't realized he shut them. “Doll, I’m sorry. I-”

“You're perfect. Inside and out. And don't say you aren't because you're perfect to me.” There was a hint of a growl on your tone as your hand moved lower. Well, as much of a growl as an omega could muster. You defended him so fiercely. “No one takes care of me the way you do. No one loves me the way you do. I’m the luckiest person in the world because I get to call you my mate.”

A strangle moan escaped when your hand brushed along his stomach. He never thought it would feel so sensitive, but no one else has really touched it since he got bigger. Except for you. “Omega.”

“You think you aren’t everything I want?” You tilted your head so he could see the mark he left. His chest swelled with pride. You never covered it up or put a collar over it, wanting everyone to see that you were claimed. He had a mark, too.

He was yours just as much as you were his.

“I know in my heart that you want me, I know that. I can feel that. But my head keeps reminding me tonight that I’m just bigger than I used to be and I have no idea why,” he said, shutting his eyes again. “It’s stupid.”

Why was his body such an issue this evening? This was supposed to be romantic, not a time to pick at his inner wounds. Maybe there was a reason he wasn't aware of. Maybe he needed to cut the wounds open so the warmth of your bond could slowly heal them.

“It isn’t stupid. Your feelings are never stupid, do you hear me? And you being bigger? Isn't that just more of you that I get to love?” There was no disgust or judgment as you rubbed his stomach again. Your sincerity almost made him choke up when he opened his eyes to gaze at you. “Bucky, believe me when I say that this isn’t a dream. This is real. I'm real and I love you. I’ll love you no matter what. That is never going to change.”

His chest rumbled at your declaration and he couldn't help but reach for you, needing to feel your body close. “I love you, too.”

He closed his eyes again when you pressed your lips to his. The bond crackled with your affection and care before his tongue slipped past your lips. The crackling intensified, your desire and need flowing into him like molten lava. It was going to burn him alive. He’d gladly perish that way.

Thank you. I love you. I’m sorry.

“Feel this,” you urged when you broke the kiss, putting his hand over your heart.

“Is that for me?” He asked as it raced under his touch.

“It’s only for you, Bucky,” you promised, slowly guiding his hand down your body. “Now feel this.”

You didn't stop until his hand rested between your thighs. “And that’s for me?” He growled as he touched your pussy, your slick coating his fingers.

You gasped and he half expected you to agree that it was, but you pulled away. He tried not to let his insecurities bubble back up and hoped his scent didn't change to something unpleasant. You assured him that he was perfect in your eyes. That you wanted him. And loved him. But it didn't mean you had to-

“It’s for you. Only you,” you said, turning toward the front of the bed to press your chest against it. “See, alpha?”

Bucky sat up as you raised your hips higher and presented yourself to him. He growled softly as he licked away the wetness from his fingers and eyed your twitching, slick-drenched hole. The blood that roared in his ears quickly rushed south and the beast inside snarled at the insecure voice to not say another word. You wanted him. Would always want him. You assured him of that with both your words and your body.

“Take a good look. It’s such a pretty hole for you to ruin. You want to ruin it, don't you? Ruin me?” You asked sweetly, briefly lifting your head to look over your shoulder. The blue around Bucky’s pupils shrank to a small ring, barely visible from how aroused he was at the sight of you. “Please, wreck me. Make me say your name.”

He had a hand wrapped around his cock, the alpha within him clawing to break through the surface. Biology would've screamed at any alpha to take you. Knot you. Breed you. But you didn’t want just any alpha. Wouldn't beg for just any alpha.

He was the alpha you chose.

“And you know that isn’t my instinct talking since I’m not in heat. This is me wanting you, Bucky Barnes,” you said as if you read his mind, snaking a hand between your legs. He almost wished you were on your back so he could play with your beautiful breasts, but he had all night to do so. “I’m so wet for you and so empty. I’m aching. You don’t even have to prep me. Just get in me. Take me.”

You gasped when he was suddenly behind you, his large body draped over yours. “That’s my pussy you're touching, omega,” he growled, pinning you down by the neck. “And I’m the only one getting you off tonight.”

“Yes, alpha,” you purred.

His belly rubbed against you as he raised your hips an inch higher and he tensed up only for a moment before he realized you pushed back against him, trying to take him in. He growled as he sat back and looked down at you, your body quivering from the low and feral sound. Deeply inhaling, he could taste your lust and love on his tongue from how strong it was. As much as he wanted to dive down and devour you, he needed to fill you up and leave his mark inside you once again.

“Not just gonna ruin you with my cock,” he said, brushing the thick head of his cock between your folds. “Gonna ruin you with my mouth after. Make your flood it with that sweet slick and drink it down ‘til you scream how much you love me.”

“Yes. Please, alpha. I want your cock. Your mouth. Anything,” you begged, keeping your head down when he folded over you again. You didn’t fear his size or weight crushing you. It excited you. He could smell it.

“You need me?” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Say my name.”

You whimpered when he pressed himself against your entrance. He tried to go slow since he hadn’t prepped you, but you could take him. “I need you. Only you, Bucky,” you sighed, trembling as he pushed in an inch more.

He gasped out your name, powerless to resist the pull as he sank as deep inside you as he could. His eyes fluttered when you clenched around him. Nothing felt as good as your slick cunt. Tight, but opened up for him so beautifully. And nothing else mattered or existed outside of you.

“Move, please. Don’t hold back,” you moaned.

Overwhelming pleasure flowed through him as his body blanketed yours. You embraced every part of him and he wanted to smother you with his scent. “Remember, omega, you begged for this.”

Whatever sense of control he had disappeared as he thrust, the slapping sound of skin on skin and his grunts a stark contrast to the romantic setting of the room. You couldn't push your hips back, but your pussy welcomed each movement as you cried out. Even with his vicious thrusts, it was somehow sensual when he nuzzled your neck.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Yours,” you moaned.

He hadn't known he said the words aloud, too lost in his primal haze. By the sounds of your moans and feel of your clenching walls, you were close already. It pleased him knowing how much he pleased you. He wanted to draw it out, make it last. He also wanted to bring you over the edge again and again.

“Does that feel good? You love getting fucked by your big, strong mate?” He grunted, heat pulsing through his veins.

“Yes. So strong,” you whimpered, reaching back to grip his hair. “So big.”

He groaned, raw pleasure bubbling through every part of his body. “Yeah, I'm big and you love it. And you love my cock ruining your pretty hole?”

“Yes, Bucky. I, hmm, love your cock.” You mewled when his teeth scraped along your skin. “Love you.”

He nosed along your neck again, slipping a hand beneath your body. “Then show my cock how much you love me,” he ordered, teasing your swollen clit. “Come all over it.”

You screamed his name as promised, slick gushing as you spasmed around him. He didn't stop, his hips snapping faster and harder as you shook through it. To feel you let go and hear those sounds of ecstasy as you rode out the waves was an honor. He needed to join you on the ride.

“Such a good omega. My omega. Gonna fill you up. So. Fucking. Good.” He growled the last word as he spilled inside you, panting with his release. The sensations blended with your earlier words, surrounding him in bliss. You were bliss.

Careful not to crush or jolt you, he rolled to his side and took you with him as he stayed nestled inside you. He murmured praise against your skin as you snuggled back against him. He didn't want to leave your body just yet. Not when you felt so good. Not when the terrible voice remained quiet.

About time you shut the fuck up and let me enjoy the evening with my mate.

“Better?” You breathed, looking over your shoulder with hopeful eyes.

Both of your hearts racing still, your purr mixed with his rumble, he wondered why he was so bothered before since his insecurities weren't a constant thing. Everyone had their off days though, including you. Sometimes for no concrete reason at all. That was life, but he couldn't ask for a better partner and mate to help him through the ups and downs, big or small.

“Much better. Thank you,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours. “But one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

He wrapped his arm tighter around you and didn't flinch as his stomach pressed more against your back. “I love you, too.”

Always, my sweet omega.

And should you ever doubt his want or love for you, he’d be sure to assure you the way you did for him.

Lovelies, I was TERRIFIED to post this, but I'm in love with them. Maybe we'll see them again? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[tiny-maus-boots]

Darkest of Nights pt 12

A/N: thank you @chloes-yellow-cup and @kimmania for always encouraging and reading. i love you awesome nerds.

Beca

Beca looked at her phone and sighed. Battery was beyond low and the screen had cracked at some point during the explosion and subsequent scuffle. She could still use it if she could get a charging cord somewhere at least. 

The necromancer shoved it in her back pocket and glanced around suspiciously before heading to the truck stop's convenience store. She looked a little worse for wear herself but no one even gave her a second look. It was a small blessing in a week that had little to nothing to be thankful for.

She snagged a pair of sunglasses off the rack and slipped them on her face as she continued down the aisle. There weren't many people around even in the middle of the day and she pretty much had the store to herself. Beca found the cord she needed and adapter and moved on to the first aid section. 

The door chime jingled when a rough looking woman came limping in. Her lip was busted and bleeding, her mascara running, and the tight blue sequined tube top she wore was missing more than a few shiny scales. She had the look of a woman who was used to getting roughed up. 

Beca watched her slink into the aisle to grab a box of condoms and a tall boy she didn’t wait to pay for before she popped the top and chugged it down. The woman kept her head down and pressed a few crumpled, sweaty bills on the counter before shuffling back out the door. 

Hm. Beca gave it a moment before she sidled up to the register and paid for her few purchases. The clerk eyed her up and down but said nothing when she took the bag and followed the woman out to the lot. The other woman finished her beer and tossed the can in the trash by the door. 

She found a spot to the side of the building and watched a man slink forward from the opened door of a van that had more rust than paint on it. He grabbed the woman by the upper arm and yanked her forward to snatch the bag out of her hands. 

"You stupid fucking slut, where are my smokes?"

"You didn't give me enough…"

"Bullshit. I gave you enough. You fucking got a beer didn't you?" 

She didn't have a chance to answer before he raised his hand ready to slap her down. Beca felt anger rising like lava in her chest but she didn't move because at the end of the day it wasn't any of business. The woman cowered back from him and he thought better of hitting her and shoved her toward the lot of parked semi trucks instead with a kick to her ass.

"Go fucking work you stupid whore."

The woman scuttled off, wiping her face and trying to order the locks of hair that had seen too much bleach and hairspray to do more than hang in limp greasy strands around her face. Beca cut her eyes to the man still lounging indolently against the wall. 

She eased away from the store and headed to the bike. There was nothing she could do here. She had hoped to head down the road to see if she could find a clinic or something. Maybe even find someone to trade for a different ride so they could get out of this pit stain of a truck stop. 

Chloe had said fresh blood but Beca was pretty sure any human blood would help at this point. At least until they could get further down the road, somewhere more populated. Some place Aubrey and Chloe could hunt. And when did that become okay for her? 

Try as she might she could not pinpoint the exact moment she suddenly stopped railing against the very idea of a vampire feeding and started considering helping them hunt. The tall lanky figure peeled himself away from the wall when she swung a leg over the bike and kicked the stand up with the booted heel. 

He watched her stick the key in the ignition and plait her hair in a braid before he closed the distance between them with a charming smile. 

"Nice bike, seems kinda big for someone so small." 

The comment made her hackles rise. He wasn't ugly exactly, his clothes were clean and in better condition than the woman's had been. His dark hair was slicked back away from his face and soft brown eyes she was sure had fooled many a woman into an abusive relationship with him. 

"Really, bud? That's your starter line? What the fuck is it to you?"

"Ooh you're feisty. No harm meant." He chuckled and took a few steps closer to really inspect the bike. "Just strange to see such a uh, petite lady on a bike that heavy. Nice art, do it yourself?"

His fingers caressed iron eagle art on the tank of the bike. He intended it to be a teasing stroke, intimating something much different than admiring a motorcycle. Beca barely contained her shudder and considered her options.

"Like it? I'm looking to trade out for something else."

"You sure this bike don't belong to your old man? Can't imagine anyone wanting to get rid of this beauty."

She knew what he was really asking. He wanted to know if the person she had stolen it from was going to come looking for it. Beca smacked his hand off the tank and pinned him with a cold look.

"I told you, it's my ride." He smiled and walked around the bike checking it and her out from every angle. "Look you interested or what? I don’t have all day."

"Yeah I'm interested. Walk her back there where my van is and we can talk business."

Beca slid off the bike and walked it toward the side of the building that wasn't seen from the road. She parked the bike close to the wall and turned to face the man leaning against the open sliding door on the side of his van. She eyed him warily and strode over.

"This rust bucket have a cigarette lighter so I can charge my phone while we talk?"

He nodded and gestured inside the van. Beca hesitated but climbed in to plug in the adapter and cord.

"You got the pink on that bike?"

Shit. Beca glanced over her shoulder at him as she fiddled with the adapter to get it to slide into the port correctly.

"No, but no one is going to come looking for it if that’s what you’re asking. I already told you it’s mine.” 

She looked back at the adapter and pulled it free to peek in the port, a bent, burnt, crusted roach was jammed into the back preventing the adapter from fitting in. Damnit. Beca crouched and stuck her pinky into the port to try and dislodge the debris. The man took that opportunity to climb in the van with her and slide the door shut, cutting out the natural light around them. A chill ran up her spine as his previously affable tone turned dark and throaty.

“See, the thing about that bike is that it belongs to a friend of mine. Man by the name of Duke, and that artwork, that was done special for him. By me. Now I know Duke likes him a little bit of a thing like yourself, but no way you’re his old lady. Ain’t no way you’re one of the club’s bunnies either.”

Fuck. His hand gripped the back of her head and smashed it forward into the van’s dash console. She heard rather than felt her nose crunch against the hard plastic and in the back of her mind she knew this was on her. Beca knew better than to let her guard down and yet she’d done just that thinking she could offload the bike easily. She had known he liked to put his hands on women and she had turned her back on him. It was stupid. 

Beca got her hands up to prevent another face smash and brought her elbow up and back in a vicious blow of her own. A second later the pain in her face made itself known and she cupped her hands over her bleeding nose. 

“Somabish! You broke my noth! I kill you!!”  

She let out a wild yowl like a wounded cat and launched herself at the man in a flurry of scratching, kicking, limbs. The van rocked as they struggled back and forth in the dank, dark interior. Hands clamped tight around her neck and squeezed hard. He lifted Beca and growled when he pinned her to the wall of the van.

“I’ll kill you, bitch. I’ll kill you then I’ll fuck you.” 

Beca scratched and beat at his hands trying to break his grip but it was no use. He lifted her higher, her head smacking the wall of the van. Black spots swam in her vision and she could hear ringing in her ears. Bitch. Son of a fucking bitch. The end was extremely fucking nigh if she couldn’t get herself out of this. Chloe would be so damned smug if she died 50 feet from their room right now.

She did the only thing she knew how. She reached up and dug her thumbs into the sockets of his eyes. It was gross. Oh God it was gross but she kept digging until he screamed and shoved her away. Beca fell back against something hard and rounded and reached for it blindly. Her helmet. With all the strength she had left she swung it around and crashed it against his head, once, twice…

And then the door slid open with her straddling an unconscious man, helmet held high to bring down on his head again. She blinked at the sudden light. Shit. There was no way to say this wasn’t what it looked like. 

“Oh my God is he dead?? Jimmy?? Oh Jesus fuck Almighty…Jimmy!”

Beca looked at the woman and her client and down at the man. “He said he liked it rough?”

“What the fuc….I’m out of here.”

The trucker turned on a heel and sped away from the scene as quickly as he could. Beca could understand the impulse. The woman stayed hovering at the van door, unsure of what to do. Jimmy groaned weakly and Beca lowered the helmet.

“He’s still alive? Oh Christ…he’s gonna hurt me so bad for this.”

Beca raised a dark brow and looked back at poor old Jimmy. She dug in her pocket and pulled the key out to the motorcycle and held it out to the woman. 

“You can leave if you want to. If you can’t ride, you can sell it and get some place far far away from this trash.”

The woman looked tempted and Beca cautiously held out the bloody helmet to her as an offering. The woman looked at her pimp and back to Beca before snatching the keys and helmet from her hands. 

“You should have killed him.”

“He’s not long for the living.”

The woman gave her a solid stare before nodding agreement. She took one last look at Jimmy and spat at him before taking off as fast as her glittered platforms could take her. The sliding door slammed shut, dropping them back into darkness. Jimmy groaned again and tried to raise himself up. Beca stood with a snarl and slammed her foot down on his head for one last blow. She swayed on her feet dangerously and scrambled to the driver’s seat. The sun visor flopped down with the movement and she got a good look at herself in the mirror.

She was bloody and bruised, her face hurt like a son of a gun and she was pretty sure at least two of her teeth were loose. The sunglasses that had fallen from her face sometime during the struggle had been miraculously flung into the cup holder. She put them on and looked at herself in the mirror again.

“Pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you, Bucko?” A slow smile crept across her face and she gave herself a small nod. “You should be.” 

And she was. Even though it went against everything she’d thought she was…she was going to feed this man to a monster. And she was going to enjoy it. Beca looked over her shoulder at Jimmy boy barely breathing in the back and frowned. You didn’t need to be a vampire to be a monster. Humans were monstrous all on their own. She turned the key in the ignition and drove around the back of the store to a parking spot right in front of their room. She didn’t think the woman would run to the cops but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t run to someone else. It was time to get the fuck out of here.

She parked and gave the man another look. Was she really prepared to do this? For vampires? No. But she’d do it for Aubrey and Chloe. She’d do it and not think too hard on the why of it. Later, much later, when she’d had a lot of alcohol to help her, she’d process the fact that she would take their side even over humans. Because she’d stopped thinking of them as the enemy and had started thinking of them as…hers.

[dreamkidddream]

HEY BB CONGRATS ON 800 :DD I'd like coffee shop au + dazai osamu from bungou strays dogs please 💖 thanks!!!

Thank you!! ❤️❤️❤️ coffee shop AUs can never go wrong 😌 reader is gender neutral!

CW: Dazai typical suicide mentions, SUPER soft Dazai too ngl

Dream’s 800 Follower Special 📖

The first time you met him, it was an embarrassing moment.

You were making a customer’s order, making small talk with your coworker when the bell jingling in the air caught your attention.

A man with dark hazel hair, eyes immediately drawing you in, with any skin peeking from beneath his clothes covered in bandages. It’s honestly a crime at how beautiful this man is, and you feel a bit of shame at how distracted you’re getting.

But you can’t help it- who gave him the right to look so pretty!-

“(Y/N)!”

You felt something wet spill over your hand, and then onto your aprons after you dropped the cup in surprise and watch the contents spread over the floor. Whoops.

Your coworker raised an eyebrow and shook her head, and you quickly speed walked to the supply closet to grab the mop- anything that could help you forget this faster and restore some of the pride that you lost. Even more so after you slipped.

Well if the shock and overwhelming dread that wouldn’t kill you, the smile and chuckle he gave you absolutely would.

—

The next time he came in, you learned his name.

You were already wiping equipment down, getting ready to close down when he came in. You were already rolling your eyes, trying to put on a sugary sweet tone to help get the customer out of her faster when you spun around to lock eyes with him.

It would be too stereotypical to say that your heart stopped, but you did stop in your tracks when you recognized the handsome stranger. Even more so when his eyes flared up in recognition as well.

“Hey, I remember you! You’re the one that-“

“Please don’t bring that up- I’m still having nightmares about that.”

He laughed, and you wanted to crawl into a hole while your stomach started to flutter.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about it. But I wouldn’t mind helping take your mind off of it.”

Your brain shut down when he grabbed at your hands, your mouth agape.

Even more so when he asked you to jump into the Yokohama river in the sake of committing suicide together- you couldn’t tell if he was joking, but the hopeful look in his eyes was a bit concerning.

And the crushed look he gave you when you told him no gave you the idea that maybe he really was being genuine. But as much as you felt you were going to die from embarrassment, you didn’t really want to- and you rather he didn’t either.

Brushing off his erratic pleas, you asked for his name.

“Osamu Dazai, at your service.” He did a mock bow, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes. But you made a mental note of it- Osamu Dazai, huh? Even his name sounded pretty when you repeated it back.

The quiet atmosphere was no more as he conversed with you, even after he got his drink. You realize now that Dazai was a rather…eccentric character, but he brought a bit of freshness into the same rotation of customers you would deal with everyday. You have to admit, it was a nice change of pace.

You weren’t ready for him to leave just yet, and you felt a bit disappointed when he finished.

“See you later (Y/N).”

You were left in a daze that he knew your name- people rarely bothered to read your crooked name tag, but he took the time to do so.

But you still couldn’t calm your heart quick enough at the sound of your name leaving his lips, and you hoped that this wasn’t the last time you heard it.

—

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Dazai to be in the shop, and you can’t pinpoint the exact moment that you realized your feelings for him.

You felt like you were back in middle school with how dumb you were acting and how easy it was to fall into such a cliche trope like this. An underpaid barista falling for a customer miles out of their league- you couldn’t tell if the universe hated you or was rooting for you.

It was like he knew your internal struggle too- he would bat his stupidly perfect eyelashes at you, utter your name in that same tone that would make you weak, and you don’t know how many times you caught him glancing at you from his usual seat.

You wanted to hate it- you wanted to hate that you were falling for Dazai. The constant feeling of butterflies in your stomach every time he’s near was annoying, but could you really despise it when your world was brighter with him in it?

It brought a new sense of coziness into the small shop, and you found his presence in your to bring some peace and excitement into your once mundane life (even if he did use most of his time to find new ways to tease you). But you found it easy to forgive him- partly due to your growing feelings, and because you knew he meant no harm by it.

But you were worried, and for different reasons.

Dazai didn’t show up- again.

You knew he was a detective, and you understood how overwhelming his job could be despite his nonchalant attitude about it. But something had to happen for him to be missing, right? Your concern for him overtook the insecurities that lingered in the back of your mind.

But at the same time, he didn’t have to stop by- he didn’t owe you anything, and you understood that. It wasn’t like you two were together but…that time spent still meant something, right? It did to you, but did it mean anything to him? Was it wrong for you to feel that way?

The sky seemed to agree with your conflicted feelings, small droplets of rain growing until you could barely see out of the window. It doesn’t matter anyway, it was well past closing time- a bad habit started after the moments spent with him after hours.

Too consumed in your thoughts and swallowing the growing disappointment in your throat, you went to lock the door-

And a sudden thud had you yelling and stumbling back, knocking into a nearby table.

Your head shot up, and chestnut-colored eyes gazed back at you.

“Wh-Dazai?!”

There he stood, trench coat drenched with downpour as he sheepishly smiled.

“Sorry…mind if I-“

You already threw the door open and pulled him inside.

“What are you doing just standing out there?! And you don’t even have an umbrella- what, are you purposely trying to get sick?! Just- wait here.” You placed him in the chair, and rushed to the back to make something warm for him.

Your mind still whirled with questions, but a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders to know that he was okay.

Even gazing at him now, water drops sliding from his hair and onto the floor with a serene look resting on his face- it fit him well, and it helped you destress just a bit from his sudden arrival (with the help of some tea).

“Goodness Dazai- you make me worry, you know that?” You wrapped the towel around his hair, doing your best to try and get him dry.

“I seem to have that effect on people.” He chuckled and tilted his head back, and you had to remind yourself to focus on his hair and not at how close you are to him.

It tuned quiet afterwards, the main unanswered question hanging in the air. It was on the tip of your tongue, but you were hesitant. It was his own personal business-

“I owe you an explanation.”

Your movements faltered for a second, “N- I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you want to.”

“I don’t mind- it’s not good to keep everything a secret if we’re close right?”

There goes that same fluttery feeling rising once again. You sat from across him as he explained his recent mission with the agency (which even from the details he left out still had you recoiling from the mental images). But you still had one more question-

“Then why stop by so late tonight? You could’ve waited.” You felt a twinge of guilt well up. Maybe you really were being selfish earlier-

You felt your hands being pulled across the table.

Dazai reached across and linked his hands with yours, his chill from before no longer present and being replaced by the comforting warmth as he gave a small squeeze.

“I don’t think I could’ve waited any longer to see you.”

Your eyes widened before you looked away from him, lightly laughing. “You can be so dramatic.” But the swell of happiness that came from his words had you feeling so light inside and ignoring the passing time- another cup wouldn’t hurt, and you have plenty to catch up on.

Dazai was someone who you would consider a close friend, and as you squeezed his hands in return, you had hope that it would grow into something more.

[pastxlscorp]

Bully! Mitsuya Fanfic (pt.2)

Chapter II: Exigence

✿ Word Count: 2.6k

✿ Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x reader

✿ Topics covered: (Eventual) Enemies to lovers trope, Mitsuya POV, tsundere-Mitsuya, bully! Mitsuya, fem. reader, manga spoilers, slight angst + smut

“You look so pretty while you’re sleeping.”

The tender voice-- so gentle, so sweet-- it began to echo within his mind. He, at first, had thought he was dreaming but that voice-- oh that beautiful voice, it tempted him so dearly. He began to chase the voice, following it through the mess of his mind, his thoughts, firmly clasping it and--

It isn’t you.

He opened his eyes, closing them instantly again as the light burned them intensely. He waited a few seconds before trying again, his eyes beginning to readjust as the light became calmer and more bearable. He was face to face with a woman-- he couldn’t seem to recognize her. Her voice, her pleasant voice… it had sounded too similar to your own, he could’ve sworn it was you, laying beside him naked with your head drooping over him as you admired him sleeping. Looking closer upon the woman in front of him, he recognized her as one of his classmates and member of his Home-Economics club. It began to come back to him slowly, how exactly he ended up here. It was just the usual after all, sleeping with women to satisfy his needs-- or rather, his suppressed desires.

He happened to only share one class with you-- of course, it was Designer-101. In this class, the professor would instruct and teach you about the most trendy styles going on, or some older styles that were coming back in fashion and how to incorporate them into your works. It was a very intricate class but you both were determined to accomplish your dreams, even if it meant passing this dread of a course. However, as hard as it might be, Mitsuya fully enjoyed every aspect of the course because it was fun to clash styles, colors, and fabrics just to accomplish the final design. He had noticed you took great pride in this class, too, and even incorporated these color schemes into your lighting and filter ideas. While he’d never admit it to your face, his heart fluttered seeing your eyes gloss over your masterpiece and grin, taking a few moments to admire your work. He rarely bothered you in this case for this exact reason, although he couldn’t help the occasional tease, just to see your squirm.

┃ “Y/N, dear, are you alright? You seem to be struggling a little bit with this embroidery pattern.”

┃ “Sorry, Professor! I’ll get the hang of it quickly, I’m sure, just a small obstacle!” You reassured him, giving him the warm smile Mitsuya mourned losing and wished he could see from the receiving end just once more.

Unbeknownst to you, Mitsuya had eavesdropped on the entire conversation table next to yours. You had attempted to choose a seat that was far away from him, but he picked up on that quite quickly and decided, just out of spite, to sit the table directly horizontal from you. Desperately yearning for a small scrap of your attention, he quickly stepped besides the Professor but composed himself before saying

┃ “Professor, if I may… since Y/N seems to be having a rough time, I can help them out. If that’s with your permission, of course, sir.” He said with that bastardly shit-eating smile that made your stomach turn inside out while wrapping his arm around your shoulder. It was the smile that captivated teachers with it’s innocence and purity-- if only they knew that it was the mischievous smile that you were accustomed to seeing after he was done with you.

Before you could offer a rebuttal, your professor smiled genuinely and nodded, thanking Mitsuya before walking off and mumbling how he was such a good kid. As soon as your Professor had made it to the other side of the enormous classroom, Mitsuya turned to you, shit-eating grin beginning to form into a devious smirk as he finally had some alone-time with you.

┃ “Hey baby~” His voice came out smoothly like butter, words falling out of his mouth as if this was the entire script planned out in his head. Little did you know, it was.

┃ “You’re only helping me figure this embroidery pattern out, that’s it, no rebuttals, nothing more. Got it?” You spat harshly, making that smirk on his face quickly turn into a scowl as you once more rejected any flirtatious opportunity he threw at you.

He scoffed, not acknowledging your question with a nod or even the common courtesy of a reply, but he moved off to the other side of the table to grab the needle that was engraved in the cloth you were attempting to sew on. Even though he moved on pretty quickly, your words had stung him deeply, as it made it clear to him any romantic opportunity he had with you had been reduced and diminished into nothing. He placed it in front of you, motioning his hand for you to continue what you were doing before folding them over his chest. You growled, assuming that this was him punishing you for not reciprocating his flirts. However, it ended up being the exact opposite, as he intently observed your stitch, attempting to pinpoint where you were going wrong. Your accuracy was fine, your hands enwrapped the needle firmly but gently as you intertwined it within the cloth and there, he had picked up on what you were doing wrong. He carefully set himself behind you, having his chest press against your back as he wrapped his arms around you to hold your hands. The surprise caught your breath and made it hitch, feeling his ice-cold hands gently coddle your warm ones, balancing out the heat. Catching on to your growing flustered state, he smirked but his voice disguised it perfectly as he explained your mistake to you while beginning to guide your fingers through the cloth.

┃ “Your accuracy, your grip, all of that is perfect, sweetheart. Your mistake is you pull the needle out too early before allowing it to catch proper depth within the cloth. That’s why the final design comes out messy.” He explains, his words sounding almost like a textbook, professional, informative, while also comforting your tensed shoulders with his velvety voice and pet names as he continued to guide your hands until you reached the end of the segment.

Subconsciously, you had begun to relax in his grip, leaning your back into his chest as you finally perfected the technique with little help from his assistance as he withdrew his hands and allowed you to continue without him, setting his hands on the table and caging you in. He took the moments of silence to indulge in the warmth of your back pressing against him, a moment that came so rarely yet drove him insane every time your skin happened to graze him. You, on the other hand-- your mind was far from relaxed. You questioned why he was being so tender with you when he was so rough with you earlier, unprovokingly shoving you to the ground and humiliating you in front of your classmates. You opened your mouth to question him, but reluctantly closed it once you realized you wouldn’t get a real answer if you questioned him. After all, after being so kind the next day he’d return to normal as if nothing happened-- as if there was no spark between you both. He awoke you from your thoughts by placing his fingers below your chin, softly lifting your face to meet his own.

┃ “Cat got your tongue? Or maybe I will, soon~” he giggled to himself, grinning down at you, this time a genuine smile that expressed pure delight.

┃ “What happened to us, Mitsuya?” You bluntly asked, causing him to tense, his smile forming into a poker face as he contemplated your question carefully.

Months-- months ago, you were standing there after school after one of their club meetings next to the campus entrance, waiting for someone as she told him. He offered to wait with you but you told him it was okay-- no, you shooed him off, giving him some excuse as to why he couldn’t wait with her. A little arrow pierced through his lovestruck heart but he nodded and walked away, however he did not leave. He remained across the street hiding in the corner, far enough for her to not notice he still remained on campus grounds but close enough to still see her patiently waiting. He insisted his duty as her club president was to watch over her and ensure her safety, of course, there was nothing special about that. Any club member would do a little spying just to ensure their kohai’s well-being. She was pushing him away, that wasn’t normal, so surely something must be wrong. That was when that little shit Takemichi came along and his mouth fell open, in shock she knew a loser like him. Hanagaki Takemichi did not attend their university, however, he was a part of Toman, which was still growing in power. Takemichi had only joined recently but he had quickly won the hearts of Mikey and Draken, therefore anyone would think Mitsuya liked him too. How far from the truth that statement was-- Mitsuya despised Takemichi. His dumbass couldn’t fight for shit-- no brains nor brawn. During the fight with Valhalla, he was tasked with saving Baji and couldn’t even do so. Thankfully, Baji had survived his stab wounds, although the doctors informed Mitsuya and the others he was very lucky to have lived. On lesser issues, Takemichi also shows no signs of respect-- going as far as to punch the recently appointed 3rd division captain, Kisaki Tetta. What the fuck were you doing with someone like him? He watched your interaction so diligently, taking every note of laughter, smiles, and nods you gave Takemichi until Mitsuya began to feel himself clutching his knuckles so tight they looked like they were about to pop right out of his fists. Was everything you had gone through for the past few months nothing more than a game? Had he misunderstood your feelings-- was there really no spark between you both? The thought of this made his stomach drop, hitting him like a truck. No no, that was clearly the case, there was no other reason why you'd giggle so much around Takemichi, smile at him so fondly, or gaze at him as your eyes began to sparkle whenever he got enthusiastic about whatever the fuck it was he was talking about.

The next thing he knew, he was yelling at you after club hours the next day, shouting about how much of a dumbass you were, and how you failed to pick up on social cues around you. Many other insults came flying out his mouth, hitting you like bricks, piling up and causing the tears to build up. Truthfully, the entire situation was an entire blur to him. All he could remember was the close proximity of your faces as he yanked your chain when you attempted to talk back, which is when he noticed the tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall if provoked any further. You were released from his grip instantly and in a calm voice, he allowed you to exit, a loud sniffle accidentally slipping out of your lips as you ran out of the room before he could see you cry. He stared at you blankly, reminiscing before releasing your chin from his gentle fingers and backing away from you as he replied:

┃ “I could ask you the same.”

You remained looking at him for a few moments, before deciding it wasn’t worth engaging with him. He watched as you carried your project back to your designated locker, locked it, and put on your backpack before asking the professor if you could leave since it was time to go. Glancing at his watch, he announced class was dismissed and you quickly rushed out before bumping into Hakkai directly outside the door to the left, who was waiting for Mitsuya. You apologized to him instantly, to which he smiled and patted your head. A conversation ensued between the two of you and as Mitusya walked out, he saw the two of you engaging and laughing. It almost identically mimicked the way you acted with Takemichi, innocently smiling and staring at him so adoringly. He envied the comfortability you both shared in your relationship, the air bubbling with chemistry. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s staring until one of his club members taps his shoulder, greeting him and complimenting his outfit.

┃ “Hey, Kashi! Love your jacket, is it new?”

Now he’s here, back at his place with one of his kohai’s as he pushes her into the wall, roughly kissing her and quickly unbuttoning her shirt as she unzips his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and soon the rest of their clothes follow. Moans and groans fill the room, although most of them are hers. He’s painfully silent throughout their session, too frustrated to really focus on her-- however, she’s too accentuated on her own pleasure to notice he’s simply using her as a stress reliever and nothing more. There’s nothing wrong with her, she’s beautiful, she’s skilled, talented, kind, but she’s simply not you. She looks nothing like you but her voice, oh god her voice, it sounded almost just like yours. Her moans made his skin heat up, imagining it was your warm silky hands embracing him, you begging him to love you more. It was enough to satisfy him for now, just enough to pretend the woman he was pleasuring so much was you. She moaned his name and he bit his lip, using all of his might to fight the instinct to moan out your name instead. His slams grew harsher and tougher, releasing all of that pent up desire and anger in single strokes. The rest of the night was a blur, as soon as he pulled off the condom he went to sleep, bored of her.

┃ “Kashi~”

He sighed, remembering his idiocy of yesterday evening and how he’d now have to gently reject this girl without letting her know he simply used her as a distraction. He spent a good minute contemplating her name before she spoke to him again.

┃ “Kashi? You alright?”

┃ “Mmh, sorry... just tired.”

┃ “Ah, it’s fine sleepyhead~ you know, yesterday was really fun, we should do it more often. How about a date tonight?.”

┃ “Awh...dear… that’s awfully sweet of you… I’m just not looking for something serious right now. I’m just into one-night stands at the moment.”

┃ “Oh… oh! Maybe we could be sex partners then?”

┃ “Ah, Sure… sure.” He privileged her with a smile of pure pity, relaxing his head back on the pillow, hoping to drift back to sleep so once he awoke she’d be long gone. The plan was if she ever reached out for sex again, he’d just come up with some excuse on how he was busy finishing a project. His mind drifted off, thinking about seeing you in class, only to remember it was a Saturday and that meant he didn’t have class with you-- in fact, Saturday’s were a relatively free day for him. He booked himself with classes every other day and decided he should have at least one day off. You know what that meant? He’d have to fucking dread it with this chick until she took the hint and left. The faster he fell asleep, the sooner this day would be over. He didn’t bother to listen to the woman as she continued speaking to him, closing his eyes as he censored her out and slowly drifted back to sleep.

tags: @haiq-trash, @blackmysticalsimp @the2ndl @bren-heron

a/n: f in the chat for anyone who thought bully! Mitsuya had healthy coping mechanisms, also you should check out @darenimo if you already haven't because she helped me proofread this chapter and gave me all of her commentary while reading it and I sobbed for a good 10 minutes straight. I love she.

[staticscreenwriting]

Where the heart is // B. B.

Summary: Bucky and (Y/N) are getting a divorce because they are silly and both love the other so damn much. (Happy Ending!)

TW: Talk of divorce. Talk of potential pregnancy and babies.

A/N: Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.] 

TAGLIST: Find the link to join my taglist in my bio. Will reblog this post with the taglist attached seperately. 

Waking up from this nightmare How's your life, what's it like there? Is it all what you want it to be? Does it hurt when you think about me? And how broken my heart is

The apartment is deadly quiet as Bucky steps inside, only the rattling of his keys echoing through the halls that once seemed so warm and inviting are now but a cold reminder of what used to be.

People never really talk about these moments. The after. The wreckage. The ruins of what used to be. Sure there are movies and books and countless songs but they take the feeling and they wrap it up in beautiful words and prose and make something beautiful of it.

There’s nothing beautiful in the way Bucky feels as his feet drag him towards what used to be his bedroom, which is now hers. There’s nothing beautiful in the way he feels as his eyes wander over to the closed door behind which lays an empty room. One that is empty not because of choice but because of the shitty cards life has dealt both him and her.

There is nothing beautiful about the way he feels. Only sadness. Only hurt.

When he turns the corner and steps into the bedroom, his heart drops for a second. He hadn’t expected her to be here, not with how quiet the place is. But sure enough, there she is. Sitting on the fluffy comforter they bought together, legs tucked underneath herself. She said that comforter was the exact same shade of blue as his eyes. Now she doesn’t even lift her head to look at him, focusing only on the box resting on the bed before her.

“Hey uh — I didn’t expect to run into you.”  

“ I live here. Sorry to disappoint.“

“ I know, that’s not what I meant. It’s just so quiet. “

She shrugs but still doesn’t look up. There’s so much resentment there, dripping from every word. He can’t fault her for it. Not even a little. If he was her, he’d hate himself too. Maybe this will make it easier for them. If she hates him, that’s a straight cut. Right? Hating is easy. It’s loving that’s hard.

“ It’s like that now. You here to get some of your stuff?” she asks, looking up at him for the first time. Her eyes are red and tired. Not like they were when he left, filled with tears and sorrow. Now they’re just infinitely sad and exhausted. Like all the life and all the warmth and all the passion that he fell so deeply in love with, has been sucked out of her. He hates knowing it’s partially his fault.

“ If that’s okay with you.”

“ sure. “

The movies and the poems and the books and the songs, they never talk about this. The after. The limbo. The “will you keep this or shall I take it?”

They don’t talk about the fact that you’re supposed to pack 5 years of relationship into a bunch of boxes and figure out what to do with it.

He quietly walks into the closet, as if making any noise would break whatever bubble is currently surrounding the two of them. Sometimes he wonders if things would be different had they been different people. Had they been able to express their feelings differently. Sometimes, in the most secret part of his heart, Bucky wishes there would’ve been screaming. Maybe screaming would’ve been helpful. Sure, it’s not the most eloquent way of communication but at least it is communication. But there was no screaming. Only silence. Only feelings swallowed up to never be spoken about. To suffocate them from the inside out.

Making as little noise as possible, Bucky grabs some of his clothes and stuffs them into the duffle bag Sam gave him. He had that look on his face, the pitiful one. The one that says “sorry, man”. There’s no reason to feel sorry for Bucky. This is his fault after all.

There’s a sound coming from behind him, and for a second he really believes it’s his mind playing tricks on him. But then he hears it again, louder this time, more clearly.

She’s laughing. Maybe not a full-on laugh but a chuckle. It’s been a while since he’s heard that sound.

“ What’s got you laughing like that ? “ Bucky asks as he turns back around only to be greeted by her smiling face. God how much he misses that smile.

She looks back down towards the box in front of her and the picture in her hand.

“ It’s uh — it’s a picture of the first time you stayed over. “

His legs carry him towards the bed as if they work on autopilot. As he sits down next to he can just about make out the scent of her shampoo. The one he bought for himself last week, not because he necessarily likes to use it. He bought it because he misses the scent. Because he misses her. And if he can keep her close like this, even for a small moment, he’ll buy an entire store's worth of shampoo.

Her fingers gently grip the picture so as to not rip or crumble it. He can’t hold back the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips as he recognizes the picture. It’s a slightly less gloomy version of him, in love and asleep. Curled up on her old tiny couch in her old tiny apartment with her dog Yoda sleeping soundly on his chest. He was so nervous to stay over at her place the first time he did. Nervous about so many different things but mostly about doing something to hurt her. Physically but also emotionally. To think that now his biggest fear came true, crushes his heart even further.

“ I miss Yoda. He was a good dog,” she says as she puts the photo back into the box. Truth be told, Bucky misses him too. He was grumpy and lazy and he didn’t ever really listen to them. But he was loyal and cuddly and all in all, he was the perfect dog for the two of them. And he had accepted Bucky into his and her life immediately. As if he knew that Bucky of all people needed nothing more than a chance to prove himself to be something other than a killer.

There are more pictures in the box, alongside other clutter that Bucky can’t quite make out. One of the other pictures he can see clearly, is one of the two of them on their first Halloween. The Halloween that Bucky didn’t want to dress up for. The one he promised himself he would spend curled up on his couch watching a scary movie and not open the door to anyone, Trick or Treaters or otherwise.

He ended up going out anyway. With her. FOR her. And it was one of the best nights of his life even if it meant he had to dress up like a skeleton.

“ What is all this? “ he asks though, by the way his heart starts beating faster, Bucky isn’t sure he even wants to know the answer to that question. “ You getting rid of our pictures? “

He doesn’t want it to sound so accusatory. They’re broken up. Separated. In the early process of a divorce. She has every right to get rid of their pictures. Get rid of him. Bury the memories. Just because he can’t let go doesn’t mean that she’s grieving in the same way.

“ No, “ she scoffs and pulls out a small scrap of paper, “ this is a memory box I started when we first got together. It’s things I didn’t know where to put but that I wanted to hold on to. I had planned to give it to you for our 10 year anniversary but … well “

She doesn’t have to say it. He knows.

“ Then after the — seperation I put some other stuff in there. Memories.” 

“ Can I see what else is in there? “ he asks “ since I won’t get to see it on our 10 year anniversary.”

Bucks isn’t quite sure why he adds that to the end of his sentence. It makes him sound spiteful and mean and he can tell, by the look on her face, that it hurts her. And he’s done enough of that in the past. Isn’t that exactly the reason they are here in the first place?

She considers it for a moment and Buck can only guess the different kinds of emotions running through her then. He feels them too. All of them. They are confusing and most of them are negative. She has no reason to let him see this, relish in sweet nostalgia with him as if everything is okay and they’re not getting a fucking divorce.

“ Sure, I guess. I —�� yeah.”

She scoots more to the middle of the bed, making more space for Bucky to sit down properly. He’s perched on the side that was his. The side he fell asleep on and woke up on so many times. And she was there next to him. Always there and warm and soft. And she’d smile at him through sleepy eyes and a hazy mind and she’d rival the sun. And then she’d gently comb her fingers through his hair and say good morning and he knew it would be — a good morning.

He hasn’t had a good morning since he left.

She moves the box to sit between them on the bed and motions for Bucky to start digging in.

There’s a pile of what he realizes are old movie tickets. It's something they used to do when they first started dating. Thursdays were movie days. But while everyone went to see the new blockbusters, the two of them would pick the movies that sounded the weirdest and they’d buy a big bucket of popcorn and blue raspberry slushies and just relish in the grandeur that is bad cinema. Most of the time they were the only ones at the cinema. Sometimes things got — R rated.

“ Why did we stop doing this? “ she asks as Bucky looks up from the tickets “ going to the movies I mean. It was always my favorite day of the week. “

He tries to remember. Tries to pinpoint the moment when life changed and their Thursdays weren’t their Thursdays anymore. He can’t. He comes up empty.

Sometimes life changes in little ways, ones you don’t realize at that moment and they don’t seem significant either. It’s a broken tradition. A missed movie night. It’s slow and creeping but at some point, you stop and look at your life now and it doesn’t resemble your life then anymore. Everything has changed and you didn’t even notice. Not for one single second.

“ I have —  I have no idea. “ he has to confess.

“ Remember that movie with the killer florist ? “ she asks and her voice is laced with laughter. Something sparks up in his heart. A tiny flicker of something he’s missed. Something he hasn’t felt in a while. He can’t help but laugh along.

“ I do! Or the one where the woman fell in love with the Koi in her neighbor's pond? ”

“ Oh god! That was terrible. “

“ It was.”

She looks wistful for a moment as if her thoughts wander off to some long-forgotten memory.

“ What are you thinking about? “

He never usually had to ask her. He’d either know or she’d tell him on her own accord. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between them. One he wants to break down or climb over so badly. But does she want him there? After everything?

“ The day we saw that movie was the first time you said I love you. “

It’s true. Now that she mentions it he remembers it so clearly. It’s like he’s suddenly faced with a scene from a movie he’s forgotten about a long time ago but once someone mentions it, he remembers it in great detail. Knows every word. Every line.

“ I still don’t quite know what it was about that moment that made you say it but — “ she trails off, a smile playing on her lips.

Bucky knows. It wasn’t a groundbreaking realization back then. He’d been feeling it for months. Fell deeper in love with her with every glance, every smile, every silly movie he got to watch with her. They went to some dingy diner after the movie to grab a burger and some fries. The leather seats were old and the filling was spilling out, the air smelled of grease and air freshener, and the laminated menu cards were sticky with undefinable stains. All things considered, it should’ve been a bad date. It wasn’t though. Nothing was ever bad with her. She smiled. All she did was smile and hum along to some song Bucky didn’t know as it spilled from the jukebox. And it occurred to him then, that there was no need for a big gesture or a special moment. Every moment with her was special. Life couldn’t get any better than this. Existing was enough if only she was there.

“ Nothing. “

“ Hm? “

“ There was nothing special about that moment. I just realized that I would be okay with anything if only you are there. You — that’s all I need in life. “

She looks at him then and for a second he thinks that maybe she’ll kiss him. Tell him that they are making a mistake and ask him to come back. Tell him that she doesn’t blame him. That she forgives him. That she wants him anyway. Despite — everything. She doesn’t though. Just sighs and pulls another picture from the box.

It’s a picture of the two of them cuddled up on the couch with a tiny white ball of fluff resting on her chest.

“ Our first picture with Alpine. “

“ That was taken on the day we found him. Look, you can clearly see the scratches on my face from crawling around the dumpsters to rescue him. “ Bucky points out.

He had never thought of himself as a cat person. Really he wasn’t so much an anything-person anymore, after Hydra. But somehow that little cat had wormed his way into his heart and refused to leave.

“ Was worth it though! “

Bucky nods his head in agreement “ it was. “

“ You should — you should take him. He’s really more your cat than mine.”

“ He’s our cat.” he points out.

“ Bucky there won’t be an ours anymore. Soon.”

It breaks his heart. Over and over again. He just got used to being himself. The version he was when he was with her. How is he gonna deal with doing it all over again? He doesn’t want to be a version of himself after her.

“ I don’t have a place yet and Sam’s allergic. “

“ He can stay here until then, of course. I love him. “

There’s a lot of love there that’s being given up on, Bucky realizes. And he hates every part of it.

“ Shit, remember this? “ she chimes up again as her hand holds onto a thin receipt, the black ink bleached away and thinned out from years of being stuck in a box. From years of memories fading.

“ Is that from the —”

“ The tattoo place, yeah. “

The patch of skin on the inside of his arm grows hot as if he is suddenly aware of what is there. Something long forgotten. A small letter forever etched into his skin in black ink like the way she’s forever etched into his heart. Always there. Forever. Just like the delicate lines that write his own name onto her collar bone. James. Not Bucky. Not Winter Soldier. James.

“ Oh god, I can’t believe you kept these,” Buck exclaims as he picks a pair of bright blue knitted socks from the box. They’re made from scratchy wool and there are a million and one holes in them. It’s so her. So quintessentially her. To keep them. With their holes and their scratchy wool and all. Even if they’re a mess. Even if they’re broken. She holds onto things no matter how bad. No matter how lost and sad and broken and useless. She holds on tight and doesn’t let go. Unless you make her. Unless you force her to. Unless you break her heart.

“ Umm … you made them for me. Like you literally learned how to knit to make me a pair of socks to keep my feet warm. That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, Buck. Of course, I kept them. “

Bucky bashfully shrugs his shoulders, a tint of red dusting his cheeks. “ I’m glad you liked them. Even if they’re scratchy. “

“ I like you and Alpine and you guys are the scratchiest,” she points out. She’s not wrong.

“ Was I a good boyfriend? “ Bucky asks and while in the grand scheme of things it really doesn’t matter, he wants to know anyway. Wants to know he did something right.

“ You were the best boyfriend. “

“ I’m sorry I was a shit husband. “

She stays quiet for a moment and with every second that passes by he breaks more and more. He wonders how much of him is left at this point. How much there’s still to lose. Then again, what does it matter? He lost her and that’s all that really matters.

“ You weren’t a shit husband, Bucky. “

It’s like the world suddenly moves in slow motion as they both grab the 2 things left in the box.

Bucky holds onto the blue velvet box knowing exactly what’s inside. The last time he held it, got on his knees in front of her, put the ring on her finger, that was one of the best days of his life. A sign that the Winter Soldier was his past and that he could finally truly move on. They were younger, in love. Happy. Now he hardly remembers what happiness feels like.

“ I was so nervous to give this to you. Not because I thought you’d say no or anything. I just — I just wanted to be enough. The ring and the proposal and — me. “

“ You were always enough. “ she says and he can hear the tears in her voice. It’s thick and heavy and he knows that if he looks at her now, there will be tears in her eyes too.

But he doesn’t look at her then. His eyes fall onto the piece of fabric in her hands. It’s so small. Soft peached colored with a little bunny embroidered on the front. It’s tiny and cute and it belongs to no one. It’s tiny and it should’ve been theirs. But it isn’t.

“ No, I wasn’t. He says and shakes his head. You deserve more than I can give you. “

She throws the baby romper back into the box and gets off the bed as if someone has set it on fire.

“ What’s wrong? “ he asks as if he doesn’t know. Everything. Everything about this situation is wrong. They’re supposed to make love on this bed, not cry over memories long gone. Push away thoughts of their looming divorce.

“ I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe you can tell me. “ She calls out to him as she pulls the rest of his shirts from the closet and throws them into the bedroom. Colors of fabric flying through the air like wings of a bird flapping through the winds. Some of them she lops at him, passion and anger and wrath and sadness filling her eyes. “ Maybe you can tell me why the fuck we’re doing this. Why we’re putting ourselves through all this pain and suffering and this bullshit divorce. Maybe you can tell me why you left me to have a fucking breakdown every time I walk into my closet and see this goddamn dress, “ she cries while holding up the hanger over which her beautiful white wedding dress is draped. God, she looked so beautiful that day. Like a goddess. Like an angel. Like his redemption.

“ We were happy. We were trying to have a family. And then what — it doesn’t work and you leave? You just gave up. “

“ I didn’t give up. “

“ Yes, you fucking did! You gave up and you served me divorce papers and you didn’t even give me a fucking choice. “

“ You agreed! “

“ Because I love you and if you don’t want to be with me, then I am not keeping you. I love you enough to let you be happy even if it’s without me.”

Those words send a shock through his heart. Like an icicle. Cold and sharp and unforgiving.

“ You think I don’t love you? You think YOU are the reason?,” Bucky questions before grabbing the romper from the box and holding it up “ this is the reason. This is my fault and mine alone. It’s my fault that this belongs to no one. It’s my fault that there’s an empty room in this apartment that you can’t walk into because it hurts you too much to see it empty. You deserve to be a mother and clearly, I can’t give that to you. That’s the burden I carry but it’s not one that should be put on you. I can’t give you this but you deserve it and you should have it. So this is me letting you go so you can find someone that can give you a baby. Someone who isn’t broken. Someone who doesn't have a body that doesn’t work anymore. Not in the way it should. “

“ James, “ her words a but a whisper as his name tumbles from her lips and she lets her wedding dress fall to the floor to sit next to him and hold his face in between her hands. “ That wasn’t your fault and you are not broken. I want a family, yes. I want a child. But with you. I want a family with you and it doesn’t matter if it’s my blood or not. It’s our family whichever way we decide to do this. And if we — if we stay just us and Alpine that’s fine too. I just want you and whatever else we decide on. Together. I love you, James. I love you and I miss you and I don’t want a baby if it’s not with you. A family means nothing if it doesn’t include you. Whatever the consequences of the serum are, they are not your fault. You are not broken, James. You are you. You’re a hero. A husband. And maybe one day a father but above all, you are James Buchanan Barnes, a survivor and you are not broken.  “

He knows he should be saying so many things right then but all his thoughts get tangled up and won't find the way to his lips.

Instead, he says the only other thing he can think about right then.

“ You looked so beautiful in your wedding dress. “

She laughs through the flood of tears that leak from her eyes and trail down her face.

“ I mean you always look beautiful but that day. My god. I honestly couldn’t believe you said yes to me — of all people. 106 year old me. Wouldn’t believe it until the moment you walked down the aisle. Then I knew that this was really the start of my new life. Of my forever. “

“ I miss you Bucky. “

“ I miss you too. “

“ I don’t want to divorce you. I want to be your wife and I want you to be my husband.”

“ Even without the babies? “

“ Yes, “ she nods and brushes her fingers through his short hair. “ You are my family James and you are enough for me. Always”

“ I love you. “ he says because really, it’s the only thing he can think of. The thing he wants most. The only thing that matters.

Without another word, he pulls the ring from the box and delicately slips it back onto her finger. Where it belongs. Where it always belonged.

“ I’m sorry I was ever this stupid. I should’ve just talked to you “

“ Yeah you should have but right now can you — can you just kiss me? “

She doesn’t need to ask him twice. He kisses her once, then twice, then once again. It’s been a long long time since the last time he’s kissed her. Too long. Way too long.

He’s not gonna stop anytime soon. Never again. Never ever again.

“ Hey, “ he says “ how about you slip into your wedding dress I think for all my stupid decisions I owe you a dance. “

“ I think you might be right. “

And she’s smiling, so bright and radiant. Like the sun. Like all the stars. Like his own personal light in the darkness.

“ Don’t expect too much though. I just cried, my hair is a mess — I won’t look the way you remember me looking in this dress. “

“ You’ll look gorgeous.”

And he’s right. She looks breathtaking. She looks like a wonderful, wonderful dream. Like love captured in a person. Like a second chance. Like his home.

There are a lot of thoughts racing through Bucky’s mind as he pulls her close and they sway to the melodic tunes of their wedding song as it sounds from the speakers of her cellphone. But above all there’s love. And the knowledge that he is enough. That they are enough. Their tiny little family. Perfect and not broken or missing anything. It’s good as it is.

They don’t have to think about who gets to keep the decorative throw pillows, the records they used to collect together, the plates that were a wedding gift, the cat. Because it’s theirs. Together. Shared.

And forever.

[samsurfgreenbass]

"ENCHANTED" Sam & Y/N <3

Quick shout out to @tlexx, @ageoftambourine, and @dharma-divine for helping me along in this process. I couldn't have done it without you guys. I love you❤❤

WARNINGS: vulgar language, mentions of cheating, and crying just lots of crying

You spent the entire day in complete and utter depression.

You kept wondering what went wrong and how things could have taken such a dramatic turn.

Your mind was reeling, you couldn't focus on anything.

You tried cleaning the apartment, but kept getting distracted by the note that was still on the counter.

You thought playing some music would help to drown out the negative thoughts, but no luck, all the albums were ones that Sam and you had picked out together and would dance around the living room, so that definitely didn't help.

You finally decided to just sit in silence on the couch and reflect on the past months to try and pinpoint the EXACT moment Sam and you had changed.

Buzz Buzz Buzz

Your phone woke you up, you looked at the clock

HOLY SHIT! it's 11pm

You had no clue when you had fallen asleep, but it was must've been awhile cause your coffee that you had warmed up was cold, and you had sleep lines across your face from the sweatshirt you had put on.

You looked at you phone, Sam's picture lit up the screen. You hit the green button.

"Hello?"

"Hey...did I wake you?" Sam asked

"Mmm no, I was just watching Marley and Me and was crying, y'know how I get whenever Marley and Me comes on" You replied. You didn't want him to know that you had spent the majority of the day sleeping because you were so stressed last night to get any sleep.

Sam lightly chuckled, "yeah you always cry and end up eating a gallon of ice cream"

You laughed "I DO NOT! That's you dummy"

Then you heard it. His laugh. It gave you the feeling of walking into a warm house with a fire going to save you from the blistering cold. It had become one of your favorite melodies.

The both of you were silent, when Sam spoke up,

"Hey-um, so I'm not going to be home tonight, the guys and I had a busy day, so I'm just going to crash with Danny at his place. I'll be by in the morning to shower and change."

"Sammy, you know I don't mind you staying at Danny's but I think we need to talk" you rushed the words out quickly so you wouldn't chicken out.

Sam sighed deeply, "Alright, we can talk in the morning"

You frowned, "ok, well I guess I'll see you in the morning. Good night, sweet dreams"

"Uh huh, yeah you too" then the call ended

Something was DEFINITELY wrong

...

(Next Morning)

After you had dumped the coffee and rinsed the cup, you changed into your sleep clothes and went to bed.

The morning came so quick you barley had time to shower, brush your teeth, put on clothes and shoes before Sam came through the front door. When he saw you emerge from your room with grey sweatpants, wearing his forest green sweatshirt with a white M embroidered on it, your white Converse, and your hair dripping wet, he knew you had gotten less than a restful nights sleep.

"Hi" you said

"You woke up late huh?" He asked

"...yeah, didn't get much sleep last night. It was weird not having you in bed" you said

"I had a rough time getting to sleep too, I had to tell Danny to quit snoring and when I woke up and didn't feel you by me, I kinda panicked" he confessed

You couldn't help how his words made your heart swell and beat 10x faster.

"Want me to make us some coffee and crepes, while you go shower?" You asked softly

"Yeah that sounds nice" he smiled and headed towards the room

You put the coffee maker on, and started cooking, by the time he was out, you were already plating the food. He grabbed your favorite mug and filled it with the cinnamon flavored brew and made it just the way you like.

You both sat down and ate in silence for a few minutes until he spoke up,

"So what did you want to talk about?"

You were caught off guard that you needed to put down your fork and wipe you mouth before answering.

"I wanted to know why you've been distant lately and why you seem snippy with me. Like last night, you didn't want to-y'know, be intimate" you said in the best calm way you could

Sam just nodded his head and peered at his coffee,

"I wasn't snippy, I just didn't want to do it. I was tired, and you don't like the smell of smoke anyway" he said in a matter-of-fact tone

"Sam...please don't do this. Don't act like I'm the only one who's acting sensitive. What's the matter, you've been distant for months and I want to know why" you looked at him with a silent plea to just come clean

He took a deep breath then finally looked at you dead straight in the eyes

"The guys and I are going on tour for 8 months, we're going to be in Europe and I just didn't know how to tell you"

There. He said it.

You were happy, but also sad

"Tour? Sam that's amazing! I'm so proud of you. When do you leave? Maybe we can go celebr-"

"Tomorrow. We leave for the airport tomorrow" he cut you off

"Tomorrow?" Then it hit you. He only came back to tell you he's leaving.

"How long have you known about this tour Samuel?" You asked with a firm tone

"About 4 months" he said

'That's about the same time he started acting distant' you thought

You couldn't help it. You started to cry.

"You've known for 4 months and didn't have the balls to tell me to my face? What the hell is wrong with you? You think you can just tell me and that I'll smile and say 'Ok Sammy, I'll be here waiting for you when you get back', do you think that little of me Sam?" You looked at him with tear stained cheeks

"What!? No of course not, I just couldn't find the right time. I wanted to tell you but you were always busy with school, or we were having fun and I just didn't want to hurt you. I thought it best to keep it a secret and tell you so that way it wouldn't hurt as much" he replied

You couldn't believe it, how could he do this to you? To YOU? Of all people.

You had to ask him, or you'd just combust

"Is the reason why you haven't been intimate with me because of another girl?"

He was silent

"Sam" you spoke

Nothing

You got up from the table and paced in the kitchen

"For fuck's sake, tell me!" You raised your voice

"Yes!" He yelled back "Alright is that what you wanted to hear?"

You stopped pacing, grabbed your plate and threw the food away. You started to make your way to the living room

Sam didn't like how calmly you were being about his confession

"Aren't you going to ask who it is?" He asked you

You stopped, turned around, and said

"No. If you think you can do this to me and I'm going to sit back and take it, then your sadly mistaken. I hope she was worth it. Have a good time on tour. When your done eating, please put your plate and mug on the counter and get the hell out of my apartment. I'll send your stuff to your parents" you replied

He couldn't believe it, you were breaking up with him. He had actually fucked up BIG TIME. There wasn't any girl, he just said it out of frustration and desperation. He wanted you to be happy that the band was touring but he also didn't want to leave you. He was having an internal conflict and couldn't decide what to do. He knew he should've told you sooner but didn't want tell you for fear of hurting you. He knew you would've told him that you guys would make it work, and it would have! You both weren't the best at communicating but it was far better than any other relationship he had been in. You were it for him. You were THE ONE. And now...that was gone. He had lost you.

You went into your room and didn't make a sound, you heard the chair scrape across the floor, you heard his footsteps as he threw away his food, pour his coffee down the sink, and walk put the door.

When you came out of the room, you saw that he had placed the dishes in the dishwasher. 'The one time he decides to load the dishwasher is when he's walking out the goddamn door' you thought.

As you looked around your apartment, you began to see all the memories of Sam and you and how happy you two were. You fell to the floor and cried so hard that you began to shake.

You were alone.

For the first time in 2 years, you were alone.

Taglist: @ageoftambourine @tlexx @dharma-divine @gretavanwinkle @greta-van-fics @urmindisastreamofcolors @garbagevanfleet @jakekiszska @ghostly-luck @arcaneblaine @joshkiszkasgirlfriend @jokiszka @flowervanfleet @flowerpoweranthem @weightofdreams-gvf @weightofstardust

If you want be added or removed from the taglist just let me know:)

[whythinktoomuch]

attempt #37

This was the 52nd formula that Lena had come up with, the 45th solution that she had to wait several hours to synthesize, but only the 37th time she was injecting her shoulder with the resulting concoction. 

It was bright green this time, which only made it seem all the more promising.

There’s a rush and some mild nausea that Lena had come to expect with the experiments, but everything else felt the same. For now. Setting the syringe aside, Lena called out, “Hope, think of a number between one and a million.” 

Then, for the 37th time, Lena tried. She cleared her own mind, practiced the meditative mantras, stared intently into Eve’s eyes, bright blue yet blank with Hope’s quiet disinterest, and... nothing. Not a single digit came to mind. 

No matter how hard Lena tried, the only thoughts in her head were her own. 

With an exasperated sigh, Lena rolled her sleeve back down and directed Hope to log their latest attempt as yet another failure before storming off to start her day. 

// 

Lena emerged from the laboratory with wrinkled clothes and dark circles sunken around her eyes, which was probably why the first thing she heard as she stepped out of the elevator was her personal assistant’s hushed commentary of, Oh sweet Jesus, she looks tired. 

“Oh, I’m well aware, Hector,” Lena said, lofty and without much malice. “Nothing a little coffee can’t fix though.” 

Hector stared at her blankly. “I’m sorry, Miss Luthor?” 

“Never mind,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. She took the outstretched coffee in question as she walked by the assistant’s desk. “Just hold all my calls until the afternoon, please.” 

This time, when Hector grumbled under his breath about wow, she must be grumpy too, Lena ignored it. There were better things for the CEO to tackle, after all; as for example, some fitful sleep on her couch, perhaps? 

Hours later, Lena was relatively well-rested, so she pored over her notes again, trying to pinpoint the exact variable she must have overlooked in her carelessness. Because by all accounts, the formula should have worked—Lena had been certain of it. But then again, she’d admittedly thought that of almost every attempt thus far. 

When Hector walked into her office at some point in the late afternoon with a handful of contracts to be signed, Lena felt no closer to the solution and a slight headache coming on.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” 

“Another coffee would be great,” Lena said, as she sifted through the documents. 

“Oh my God, if she takes in any more caffeine, her heart’s going to literally explode...” Hector muttered to himself. “Well, maybe she won’t notice if I get her decaf instead...?” 

Lena dropped the papers onto her desk with a scoff. “You know I can hear you, right?” 

Hector appeared startled, which seemed rather appropriate until he slowly said, “So... was that a yes on the espresso?” 

“What?” 

Hector maintained his slow cadence, carefully enunciating every syllable as if he were repeating himself, “Did you want to stick with your usual order... or maybe go with an espresso... because it’s a little stronger?” 

But in a normal cadence, also in Hector’s voice and somehow clear as a bell in Lena’s head came, “If this woman doesn’t get another nap in pronto, she is going to drop dead, and everyone’s going to think I poisoned her coffee, because she’s always in—” 

Absolutely stunned, Lena continued to stare up at Hector in silence, eyes narrowing as the assistant’s slightly panicked voice droned on and on in her head. Until a louder remark broke through the reverie. 

“Whoa, did she just fall asleep with her eyes open?” 

Lena blinked quite obviously, and her mild shock was accompanied with a loud and clear, yet unspoken Oh, thank God! from Hector. 

But the Hector standing before her hadn’t moved his lips once, only watching the bewilderment play out on Lena’s face with some polite concern. 

“The usual’s fine,” Lena interjected before her assistant could press again. “Or the espresso, or whatever. I don’t care, as long as it’s still hot and caffeinated.” 

“You got it,” Hector said. 

“Definitely getting her decaf,” Hector thought as he turned to leave, but Lena hardly minded. She was too busy restructuring the rest of her day around this most exciting realization. 

After some quick bit of arithmetic in her head, Lena set a timer on her watch for five hours, which was presumably the amount of time it would take for her body to break down the serum and render it useless. Then she logged on to her private interface and happily directed Hope to re-record attempt #37 as a success. 

//

The ability to read minds was, quite simply, quite the advantage. 

Though it wasn’t so much “mind-reading,” as mind-receiving. The serum seemed to have granted Lena access to the loud and active thought processes of everyone around her—their inner monologue, if you will, everything put into words but left unsaid. 

Lena had been hoping for more, to be able to break into other people’s minds so as to hack secrets, determine why supposed close friends would ever betray her, and the like. Maybe that would come with time and practice. 

But as it turned out, there was rather plenty to be gleaned from the forefront of someone’s mind, as people often thought about the things they weren’t supposed to say before choosing more palatable means of expression. Which made the rest of Lena’s workday somewhat informative, if not a little fun. 

For one thing, Lena found out that a lot more of her employees enjoyed working for her than she had thought. All of them respected her, several feared her, and quite a fair few entertained invasive thoughts about her décolletage before swiftly directing their attention elsewhere. 

She also found out there was one board member in particular who liked to fudge the numbers during meetings, and that his face took on a very unappealing shade of off-white when Lena could inexplicably confront him with the actual results of his findings. 

But most importantly of all, what Lena found out was that... she actually enjoyed this heretofore inaccessible sense of control this ability afforded her. She had taken on the experiments for a very specific purpose, but now, it was difficult to even imagine going back to how things were, even after the fact.  

// 

Lena walked into the DEO, and for the first time, the outpouring of distrust attached to the Luthor name was all but imagined. The disparaging thoughts followed her, even as the people who had them smiled or averted their eyes as she passed. 

Nothing she wasn’t used to though. 

Alex’s voice slid into Lena’s head in a whisper—... the hell?—one whole minute before she actually greeted her, “Lena, hey... Well, can’t say that I was expecting you.” 

“Yes, that’s what it sounds like,” Lena mused, and Alex gave her a slight frown. 

“So, did you need something?” 

“Where’s Kara? I want to talk to her.” 

Alex’s carefully composed face betrayed no emotion, but her thoughts sighed heavily, “Of course...” before ebbing away into something entirely indistinct and indecipherable.

Lena blinked. She hadn’t encountered anyone whose thoughts weren’t immediately accessible to her before. But here Alex was, giving directions to Kara’s current whereabouts, all the while muttering some underlying commentary in tones so hushed that Lena couldn’t quite make out any of it. 

“... Is there something on my face?” Alex swiped her sleeve across her forehead. “What are you looking at?” 

“What? No, nothing,” Lena said brusquely. “Thank you for telling me where Kara is. Bye.” She turned on her heel, headed for the hallway that would eventually lead to the training room. 

“Well, that was weird...” Alex’s voice drifted after her, a literal afterthought. “But I mean, I guess she has a nice ass, so—”

Lena shot a dirty look over her shoulder, but Alex was already back on her computer, mind rattling off coordinates and running through tactical drills like a well-oiled machine. 

// 

Kara was wearing short shorts and a sports bra, panting, and absolutely drenched in sweat when Lena stepped foot into the training room. She looked over at Lena, her skin glistening against the dimmed green of the kryptonite-lined walls, and smiled wide. 

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” Kara asked, giving the punching bag one last jab before tugging her gloves off. "Did something happen or...? I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you, of course.” She flashed Lena another bright grin before pressing a towel to her face and neck and chest. 

It was enough to stop Lena in her tracks, and almost enough to put a damper on her plans. Almost. 

“I need to talk to you,” Lena said evenly, eyes glued firmly to Kara’s forehead. 

“Yeah, sure! Jeez... I’d give you a hug, but I’m like sweating in places I didn’t even know existed. Alex says that this is the only way to learn proper form and all, but wow. I can’t believe there are humans who actually do this for fun—” 

“Kara,” Lena cut in, lips pursing in exasperation. “I’m serious. We need to talk right now.” 

Kara blinked, then slowly nodded. “Okay, yeah, let’s talk... You wanna sit down?” 

“I prefer to be standing.” 

“Okay.” Kara remained standing as well, towel now crumpled in her hands. “So, what’s going on?” 

Lena took a deep breath, quickly running through the meditative techniques meant to keep her mind clear and open, then asked, “Why did it take you so long to tell me that you’re Supergirl?” 

Kara’s shoulders slumped. “Lena, I...” 

“No, why did it take three years? Why didn’t you trust me?” Lena continued, her pace steady and firm just like she had practiced. “I trusted you. I trusted you with every part of me, which is extremely difficult for me to do, and you just... didn’t care, I guess.” 

“Of course, I care. Lena... I never meant to hurt you,” Kara said insistently. Her voice was loud, emphatic, and at the moment, the only thing Lena could hear.  

“Don’t!” Lena snapped when Kara started to approach her. “Don’t come any closer. And stop talking! Just listen.” 

Kara exhaled sharply through her nose and raised her hands in tentative surrender in absolute, utter silence. Lena even paused for a beat or two, just to see if any of Kara’s thoughts would breach the surface, but none did. 

“Why couldn’t you just trust me, Kara?” Lena asked, and regrettably her voice trembled on the last syllable. “Why did I have to hear it from Lex?” 

Kara’s eyes widened. “Lex? Lex told you before I did?” 

“Shut up. Do not talk,” Lena hissed out, waiting for Kara to snap her jaw shut before continuing with a bitter laugh, “Do you, do you even trust me now...?” Kara stared, gaze hardening. “And how do you expect me to trust anything you have to say for yourself now?” 

Lena’s questions—all of the above and beyond—were met with silence, strained only by the sound of Kara’s heavy breath and Lena’s own thoughts. 

Scoffing, Lena threw up her hands. “Do you even care that you hurt me?” 

“... Can I talk now?” Kara demanded, seething like she had any right to it. But when Lena shook her head furiously, she held her tongue and apparently everything else as well, because Lena couldn’t hear a single damn thing. 

When the alarm on her watch went off, Lena left, slamming the door on her way out. She contacted Hope through their private channel and had her re-log attempt #37 as just another failure. 

Back to the fucking drawing board. 

(next part here)

[kyotakumrau]

2021.09.04 DIR EN GREY at CLUB CITTA' -a knot only- report and setlist

00 SE

01 輪郭・Rinkaku

02 人間を被る・Ningen wo kaburu

03 鴉・karasu

.

04 Devote My Life

05 CLEVER SLEAZOID

06 赫・Aka

07 てふてふ・Tefutefu

.

08 滴る朦朧・Shitataru murou

09 Ranunculus

.

10 HYDRA-666-

11 Rubissh Heap

12 T.D.F.F.

13 落ちたことのある空・ Ochita koto

14 詩踏み・Utafumi

ENCORE

en15 朧・Oboro

en16 VINUSHKA

en17 Followers

en18 朔-saku-

Another rainy day but a rainy day with a concert. However I was held hostage in bed by my cat so I only arrived in Kawasaki at 4 and at the venue past 5.

Ticket exchange was very smooth and I was inside very quickly. There was a bit longer queue for goods but I didn't wait longer that 10 mins. Today's sticker design has Shinya.

Then (well after the loo run) I was at my seat waiting for the concert to start. It was weekend so the schedule was 30 mins earlier than the previous day. This time they started almost on the clock.

The sick people in the SE video were also representing people with mental conditions. There was 'RIP AMERIKKKA' on the US flag, another sign (road sign/informative sign?) had a longer text that included something about disabilities.

The band members started to come out and fans greeted each of them with clapping.

Shinya's new haircut is quite nice, he wore the cream jacket. Die had a long vest and black sleeve kinda things (they accented his arms in a very nice way). Toshiya had the jacket with gold embroidery. Kaoru a suit with thick black and white stripes.

Kyo had a white shirt with frill front and black fitted vest. He wore special make up that looked like a fool clown mask - the white paint covered most of his forehead but from the eyeline down started to narrow, so it really looked like a mask. The overdrawn lips went outside the white.

SE finished with the burning letters forming the tour title. Then they were replaced by DIR EN GREY that looked like it was made of ice.

Rinkaku was a good song to start with. The silence after MINERVA but with all hands in the air.

Then with NwK the energy levels were really high.

And then I heard the first notes from Karasu Love the guitars there, Kaoru was so interesting to watch.

But Kyo was easily pulling my eyes back! He kept such a good contact with audience today😭❤️

Yet one more stolen moment during Karasu: Toshiya got his bass close to upright then reached for the mic stand, basically using it to play for a moment like an oversized bow (he didn't lift the stand just leaned it toward the bass).

And I can't pinpoint the exact songs but he went to the right side of the stage few times today, also came to the stage edge many times.

And by then Kyo's make up was already starting to melt and drip with sweat which really just added to the performance.

Aka had Kyo using the mic cord to create a loop.

Which song was it with the war scenes? There were many dates from the European theatre of WWII but it at some moment showed a medieval battle. And they also added more scenes from Middle East.

One more video I can't place is zombie subway game.

D.T.F.F. aka the song you will want to experience live at least once, I promise you. IT IS A LIVE 'let's have the audience go crazy' MASTERPIECE.

I can't write about each song, they were all just so raw and hitting at all right places. I was headbanging, jumping, fist-pumping, rocking basically non stop (thank you my aisle seat that gave me space allowing to reasses the definition of 'excessive headbanging'😂).

But one thing that changed for me for sure, yesterday I could still feel very keenly the loss at not being able to sing and scream my heart out, but today it was gone. I felt more confident that we can communicate our feelings and reactions to them even without it.

Kyo gave us 'let us hear your heart voice' just as they were starting Utafumi, and during the song hitting his chest with the mic. It was🔥🔥🔥

And then the main part was over and we were clapping and clapping and clapping👏

They came out for encore in different clothes. Kaoru had a black tshirt without sleeves, Toshiya a black blouse with the flower piece from the day before, the string kind of tie is actually part of the piece I think. Shinya also wore a black t-shirt, same as Die I think (not 100% sure).

Kyo had a white piece with black straps that was almost like a white version of the alice uaa piece he wore for Androgynos, but it was asymmetric, one side was sleeveless. He wore the same (I think) wide cropped pants underneath it as with the black piece.

Oboro had the video in the back.

Vinushka had more current scenes added to the video, it could be Afganistan but definitely some scenes from a conflict in the Middle East. Kyo definitely reached very deep into us.

Followers after Vinushka was a genius decision. The energy again was just❤️

And then before saku Kyo started announcing last song, screaming 'LAST! LAST! GUYS!! GIRLS!! Let us hear your heart voice!!!! LAAAAAAST!'

During saku all members were going to other side of the stage, Toshiya went to play in front of Shinya for a bit as well. And Kaoru was for a moment headbanging with Die. Kyo moved around his stand coming to the edge of the stage and kept looking at the fans as we were headbanging and fist-pumping.

Then when the encore was finished Kyo stayed on the stand, the emotions on his face😭😭😭😭😭❤️

He then stood up and pointed at the audience, from his eyes to the audience and again and again. He waves us goodbye before leaving.

Shinya left very quickly, Toshiya came to the edge of the stage before leaving. Kaoru took one pick and saluted us. Die waved as he was walking off.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

[searidings]

Kara moving in with her best bud Lena for Reasons (maybe her apartment is temporarily fucked up?) and now Lena has to watch her exercise/weight-lift/do yoga in a sports bra in her apartment

It’s already been a capital D type of Day, full of misogynistic potential investors and minor workplace explosions, when Lena opens her front door to the sight of Kara Danvers in a perfect-form downward facing dog on her living room floor.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she mutters, dropping her keys noisily onto the kitchen counter and making a beeline for the booze cupboard.

“Did you say something?” Kara asks angelically, transitioning smoothly into a cobra that very delightfully and extremely unhelpfully causes her biceps to flex like a Greek goddess. Her eyes, bluer than ever against the vast expanses of smooth golden skin on display above the sinfully tight cerulean sports bra she’s wearing, flutter angelically. She beams beatifically up at Lena from her yoga mat as if there’s any possibility her superhearing didn’t pick up on Lena’s words. As if she isn’t just trying to make Lena repeat herself for her own amusement.

“What are you even doing?” Lena asks a little more sharply than she intends, jaw clenched as she wills herself not to so much as glance in the direction of Kara’s exposed abs. She treats herself to a heavy pour of scotch, pauses to consider, then adds some more. “It’s not like you need to exercise. Like, at all.”

“Surely I get to indulge in whichever recreational activities I choose in my own home,” Kara replies cheerily, avoiding Lena’s carried-home-after-a-shitty-day snark with practiced ease.

“You gave up that privilege when you moved into my home instead,” Lena deadpans, Kara’s irrepressible affability in the face of her own bad moods beginning to chip away at her steely CEO armour. “That’s what you get for letting a flea-infested mongrel into your apartment—”

“Hey, Toto couldn’t help having fleas—”

“And not only that, letting it all over your couch, your bed—”

“He was cold! He just wanted to snuggle—”

Lena shudders. “You snuggled with that monstrous thing? I hope to god you burned the clothes you were wearing. And maybe the whole couch too.”

“Toto was not a thing, he fit perfectly on my—”

“And isn’t Toto usually the name of a small dog?” Lena asks incredulously, throwing back the scotch in one smooth swallow and pouring herself another. “That beast was almost taller than you!”

“Being a lap dog isn’t about size, Lena. It’s a state of mind.”

“A state of mind that’s meant your entire apartment has had to be fumigated. Twice.”

“And I’d do it again,” Kara says resolutely, pushing up into a high plank and inadvertently flexing her shoulders in a way that has Lena’s fingers slipping around the tumbler in her grasp. “Toto was homeless. He needed someone to take him in and love him, and I did.”

She drops to her knees and pushes back into child’s pose, tilting her chin up to gaze at Lena from between her extended arms. “Just like you’ve done with me.”

And Lena curses Kara and every one of her ancestors right back to the dawn of time for how endearing she is in this moment. For how physiologically incapable Lena is of maintaining her façade of annoyance in the face of those earnest eyes. God, when had she gotten so fucking soft?

But any thoughts of the blonde as cute or adorable evaporate into thin air as Kara pushes back up into downward dog, lifting one leg straight above her in a graceful arch. Her forearms flex as long fingers grip into the soft mat and Lena chokes a little on her next sip of scotch, eyes unfortunately, deliciously glued to the jut of Kara’s hipbone through her yoga pants and the toned lines of her tightened thighs.

“Seriously though,” Lena manages, turning away from the sight and congratulating herself on the fact that her voice is only slightly higher than normal. “Why do you even bother? It’s not going to tone you up any. Not that you need it,” she mutters into her scotch glass, tipping out the dregs of the bottle and reaching into the cupboard for a fresh one.

When she turns back to face the living room Kara’s cheeks are flushed, almost as if she’s blushing. Or maybe all the blood is just rushing to her stupid, unfairly attractive head.

“Yoga is about more than just muscle tone, Lena,” the blonde says disapprovingly, her gaze fixed on her mat. “It’s a mind-body connection. Mindfulness. Inner peace. It’s doing wonderful things for my stress levels.”

“It’s doing terrible things for mine,” Lena mutters, knowing Kara will hear her but finding herself increasingly uncaring as the scotch warming her throat begins to course hot through her veins.

“Then maybe you should get down here and join me,” Kara murmurs, voice low as she switches legs.

The blonde’s tone is practically a purr and Lena chokes for real this time, spluttering out the scotch attempting to find its forever home inside her lungs. Kara is behind her in a second, hand hot through the thin material of Lena’s blouse as she rubs gentle circles between her shoulder blades.

The offending appendage doesn’t withdraw, however, even once Lena’s regained full use of her airways and is wiping the tears from her eyes. In fact, it’s joined by a friend, and both of Kara’s hands slip up and over her shoulders quite without Lena’s permission, fingers kneading into the tight muscle.

“Wow, you are tense,” Kara murmurs, thumbs doing something absolutely sinful to the knots in Lena’s neck. The blonde steps closer, bracketing Lena against the cool marble of the kitchen island with her hips and it takes every single shred of self-control Lena possesses not to sag back into the hot body hovering against the length of her own.

Lena shuts her eyes and bites down on her lower lip, hard. Anything to keep from focusing on the warmth radiating off Kara’s oh God partially clothed body like a furnace.

Long dextrous fingers dig delicious into the tense set of Lena’s shoulders and she barely manages to hold back the breathy sounds of pleasure she’s fairly certain she should not be making at her best friend’s touch. Kara, if anything, seems spurred on by Lena’s restraint, fingers slipping inside the collar of Lena’s blouse to press firmly against her bare skin and oh God Lena is not going to survive this.

In fact, she can actively feel herself giving in to the pull, to Kara’s ineffable magnetism. She sways backwards just slightly, and Lena swears she’s not the only one who sucks in a sharp breath when their bodies fully connect. The frame pressed to her back is warm and firm and God, Kara is solid against her in a way that has all the blood in Lena’s body migrating south with pinpoint precision.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join me?” Kara whispers, her breath ghosting the shell of Lena’s ear and making her shiver. “I could walk you through some asanas. Might help loosen you up.”

Jesus fuck.

“Nope!” Lena squeaks, cheeks aflame, pushing away from Kara and snagging the bottle of scotch on the way to her bedroom. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Enjoy your practice.”

The quiet sounds of Kara’s chuckles follow her all the way down the hall.

Lena spends the first five minutes of her shower staring unseeing at the tiled wall, mind blank but for the image of Kara’s washboard abs over the waistband of her yoga pants, the firm press of her body against Lena’s back.

The second five minutes is spent in intense silent conversation with herself, administering an internal pep talk worthy of a high school spirit rally and trying to convince her racing heart to resume its regular rhythm.

The third interval consists of Lena shampooing her hair in mounting despair, trying desperately to foresee a way of surviving the next three days of cohabitation until Kara’s apartment is deemed safe and fume-free if the blonde is going to insist on doing distracting activities and wearing distracting sports bras and just generally being distracting the whole time.

It’s only by minute sixteen of Lena’s long indulgent shower that a plan begins to form in her mind. She steps out onto the bathmat, appraising the various towels slung over the heated rail until she finds one fit for purpose. Tucks it snug round her body and pulls her dripping curls over one shoulder before making her way back out to the living room.

She can pinpoint the exact moment the blonde notices her entrance because the quiet room is suddenly filled with a rubbery tearing sound as Kara, on her hands and knees for a spine stretch, rips the mat beneath her hands clean in two.

Lena bites her lip to hold back a smirk, watching as blue eyes track slowly up the expanse of her bare legs, unimpeded by the towel that only barely reaches to mid-thigh, and then up to follow the droplets of water tracking their way down Lena’s chest until they disappear into the soft fabric.

Kara’s mouth is hanging open, arms and legs splayed wide where they rest on either side of the torn mat, and Lena relishes the thrill of victory that zips up her spine like a firecracker. Two can play at this game, that’s for sure.

“I was going to ask if you were ready to order takeout for dinner,” Lena says, letting her own voice drop low as she quirks an eyebrow. Her gaze falls pointedly to the sad remains of Kara’s yoga mat and this time she can’t hold back her smirk. “But it seems your mind-body connection might still need some work. I’ll leave you to it.”

Satisfied, she turns on her heel and saunters back to the bedroom, Kara’s eyes glued to her swinging hips like a physical weight on her body.

Cheeks pink, heart pounding, she drops onto her bedspread as a heady combination of relief and pleasure courses through her veins. Lena hasn’t had a roommate since boarding school but maybe this cohabitation – temporary as it may be – will end up having a few unanticipated perks.

[kyuuppi]

vegetable stew

Pairing: Kenma x Reader (f)

Contents: hurt/comfort; angst and fluff; body dysmorphia; eating disorder (negative thoughts, fat shaming, insecurity, mentions of starvation)

Word Count: 2.1k

Kenma has always been observant.

It was a large part of his success as a setter and even now his keen observational skills contribute to his career as a professional gamer. He tends to notice things others don’t and lately that means noticing how you’ve changed.

The more he thinks about it the more difficult it is to pinpoint the exact starting point of your behavior. Haven’t you always preferred baggy clothing?

He remembers the pretty blue sweater you used to treasure back in high school, wearing it every chance you got as soon as the weather report hinted at anything lower than 10°C. He loved that sweater too—not just because of the cute sweater paws it gave you or how it almost completely covered the shorts you wore beneath, offering an unobstructed view of your shapely thighs—but instead he relished in the way it seemed to make you feel. The confidence and joy in your expression was clear as day when you wore your favorite outfits and early on in your relationship he had quickly learned that somehow your happiness was synonymous to his own.

Hence Kenma’s current frustrations in seeing that spark of joy and self-confidence gradually diminishing in the past several weeks.

Although that particular sweater had long since left your wardrobe within the first few years of university, as well-loved and worn out as it was, the more recent favorites of yours have also seemed to have gone lately. It had been a while since you had worn the short yellow polka dot dress you had been so eager to show Kenma the first day you got back from the mall with your roommates. Every pair of shorts and colorful tennis skirts had also left your weekly rotation, leaving behind only dull sweatshirts with childhood cartoon characters and baggy joggers.

Objectively, Kenma hardly cared about what you wore. If fastening a potato sack around your form made you happy, Kenma wouldn’t bat an eye—the problem stemmed from the fact these clothes didn’t make you happy. Moreover, the bland clothing brought with them their own slew of behavioral changes.

You no longer wished to go out and you avoided taking pictures of yourself, your social media suffering from an obvious lack of cheeky selfies or “outfit of the day” posts as of late. However, the most concerning change of all was your refusal to eat.

Kenma had a habit of forgetting to eat himself. He rarely felt the mild twinges of hunger, his attention generally hyper-focused on something else whether it was a game, a video needing editing, or a class project he had pushed off for far too long. It was only when his own stomach growling would startle him or the hunger pains got unbearable that he would acknowledge the human requirement of sustenance (not that the instant ramen in his cabinets provided much nutrients anyhow).

You were much more in tune with your body and, unlike him, you looked forward to eating; scheduled your days around it, even.

Your mornings began with a balanced breakfast—a meal Kenma was rarely even awake in time for—followed by a generous lunch break in which you would intentionally put everything on pause. Regardless of how much work you had to do you always made time to put everything down and have a decent lunch. It was good for your soul, you would say. A time to live in the moment and relieve yourself of stress.

For dinner you often made it a point to eat with others, whether it was going to a rowdy Korean BBQ with some friends or a dinner date at home with just him, you enjoyed sharing a meal surrounded by the people you love. On top of it all, you frequently had snacks: small bags of crackers, slices of fruit, or a few cookies you made yourself.

You loved cooking almost as much as you loved eating; most of the times he invited you over you brought a large bag with you filled to the brim with ingredients he wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. You would chastise him about his awful eating habits, grimacing at the ramen and chip wrappers overflowing in the kitchen trash can before you diligently prepare a meal for you both, healthy and flavorful, full of the vegetables he hadn’t had since the last time he went home to visit his mom.

You made him look forward to meal times too, if only to see the way you light up when he compliments your cooking or the pure bliss when you take the first bite of your favorite side dish. Eating with you became one of his favorite parts of the day.

And so that last time you made him dinner—a steaming plate of curry with shrimp tempura—the normally delicious food suddenly turned sour on his tongue when he realized you had only made him dinner.

“I’m just not very hungry today,” you had assured him with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Foolishly, he hadn’t said anything at the time.

Maybe you had a large lunch, maybe you had a stomach ache, maybe you just didn’t want curry today—at that point in time he had no reason to think there was something seriously wrong. He had no reason to think you were starving yourself.

It wasn’t until weeks later when all the evidence stacked up, the many different signs piecing themselves together like a puzzle until it was impossible not to see the picture, even if a few were still missing.

Your baggy clothing, your refusal to eat anything, your off-handed comments about how the female characters in whatever fighting game he was playing had such nice figures—it became crystal clear what you were doing and it made him feel sick.

Kenma doesn’t generally care about others’ looks; he tends to worry more on how he is perceived than how he perceives others but he is confident that he rather likes your body as it is. He would rather die than admit how often he finds his gaze wandering when your legs are bare or how his eyes naturally trace the curve of your waist down to the width of your hips his fingers twitch to touch—he has had many thoughts about your body, none of which have ever been negative.

Even so, he doesn’t mind if you want to change yourself. He isn’t foolish enough to think he has the right to dictate how you decide to present yourself to this world, but he refuses to allow the reason for your change to be one that stems from low self-esteem or insecurity.

When you step into Kenma’s apartment, weary from a long day of classes and the extra hours spent at the gym, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by the scent of some type of stew, warm and hearty. Your stomach clenches longingly but you quickly reprimand yourself—you already reached your tiny caloric limit for the day.

You have hardly made it into the living room when Kenma comes out from the kitchen, dyed hair tied in a low bun but messy, several strands poking out and sticking across his sweaty forehead. A dark blue apron is tied around his waist and his right hand holds a ladle, the perfect image of a frazzled housewife. If you weren’t so shocked by the scene you would have laughed.

“Welcome back,” he greets softly.

“Are you...cooking something?”

Kenma looks slightly embarrassed by your incredulous tone but not offended. In all the years you have known Kenma you have never seen him in the kitchen for longer than the three minutes required to heat up a bowl of noodles. Him slaving away in front of the stove for a bowl of homemade soup is nearly unfathomable to you.

“Vegetable stew...it’s my mom’s recipe,” your boyfriend explains sheepishly.

The mental image of Kenma shyly FaceTiming his mother as she patiently walks him through chopping up carrots and mixing spices makes your lips twitch upwards and you make your way past him to curiously survey his work.

“You didn’t have to go through the effort, I could have cooked you something, y’know,” you comment as you lean over the large pot on the stove.

The contents are a rich brown color with hints of potatoes, carrots, and onions peaking out. You’re gifted another pang of hunger and you quickly step back as if it would prevent you from falling into temptation.

Kenma quietly slips into the kitchen directly behind you, his chest nearly brushing your arm as he speaks.

“It's okay, I wanted to cook for us this time.”

You freeze.

Immediately, you break into a cold sweat, the prospect of eating sending you into a state of anxiety. You can’t eat—you don’t deserve to eat. Not when your arms are so flabby, your waist so undefined, your inner thighs so close to each other—

“I appreciate it,” you start.

Your voice sounds unnaturally high even to your own ears.

“But I’m not hungry—I had a really big lunch.”

Turning, you try to offer him an apologetic smile but his face looks off. His lips are pulled into a slight frown and his eyes seem to be looking through you, as if he knows you’re lying.

“Y/n...I don’t like what you’re doing.”

You attempt to laugh but it comes out hollow.

“I’m not doing anything bad, just dieting a bit.”

“I think you’re being a little extreme.”

You huff, starting to feel defensive. You don’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever.

“Kenma, I’m totally fine, I promise.”

“I’m worried about you,” he insists.

“I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about, I’m being safe.”

“Skipping meals isn’t healthy.”

“Kenma, being this fat isn’t healthy!”

The words escape before you can think to stop them and you can already feel the shame pricking at your eyes as you turn away. You don’t want to see your boyfriend’s look of disgust once he realizes you’re right, once he realizes how fat and unattractive his girlfriend is. Kenma is skinny, he deserves a petite girlfriend who is just as tiny, a girl with slender legs that look cute in shorts and a stomach that lays flat regardless of the time of day. He deserves the sexy girls in his video games, in shape from years of training and perfected suited for tight leather bikini tops.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until Kenma wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into the side of your neck. He lets out a shuttered sigh and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s crying as well.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin, “and I don’t like seeing you hurting yourself. If you want to lose weight, I’ll help you. We can make healthy foods together and eat them together and exercise together—just please stop skipping meals.”

Your throat feels like it's stuffed with cotton so you can only nod in agreement, raising one hand to weakly wipe at the hot tears staining your cheeks.

The two of you stand like that, huddled in the middle of the kitchen, for several long minutes until the last of your tears have gone before Kenma gently pushes you to sit down at the coffee table. He prepares two steaming bowls full of vegetable stew for you both and you silently eat as Kenma tells you how low calorie the broth is and how many nutrients his mom said were in the vegetables he used. He tells you about a new fitness game on the Nintendo Switch that you two can play together. By the time you finish your meals, Kenma has already promised to wake up early to go jogging around the neighborhood together even though you know he absolutely hates waking up early and exercising when he doesn’t have to.

Your chest aches with how much he loves you, how far he’s willing to go just if he thinks it will help you and make you happy.

A small part of your mind begs you not to listen. It insists you’ll be fat forever if you don’t starve yourself; no pain, no gain. But the more rational part of you gazes into those soft golden eyes, filled with concern and love as he rambles on about the best sources of protein—all stuff he had learned from his professional volleyball player friend Hinata—and you know your answer.

Kenma loves you, he would do anything to see you happy and healthy and you would do anything to please him.

You love him more than you hate yourself.

[junova]

↬ 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 | 𝐫. 𝐝𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

abstract — the one where ransom gets a taste of his own medicine, but you happen to be so much sweeter than he’s ever been. 

pairing — ooc!ransom drysdale x fem!reader 

wc — 4.1k+  im so sorry lmao 

warnings — cheating (if u squint its very vague), angst, fluff, slight self deprecation, ransom is kinda nice idk, i want a soft!ransom drysdale now pls, this is also very messy so read at ur own risk!

[m blabs] — howdy howdy! first time ransom fic. woot woot! still kinda finding my voice w writing so i hope you like it! <333 

His mouth set in a hard line as you continued to curl into his chest, the span of your confidence seemed to be wiped away with a nightmare from the past. Part of him was upset you hadn’t told him anything, the blind leading the blind, as you stepped foot into his family event. Seeing the last person you’d ever thought would be there. 

Surely by now, he thought you would trust him but it was more than evident you still didn’t. You persisted on hiding everything from him, anything you were sure might tick him off. 

Well, Ransom wasn’t necessarily known for biting his tongue.  Although, in your presence, he was learning what to say and where to say it. 

It really surprised him. Not one woman had been able to tame him, not since he’d be fucking everyone in sight. His desire was endless and not one single individual would be enough for his fill. 

Then, he found you drunk and sobbing on the concrete, right outside of the bar he was exiting. To this day, he still couldn’t tell you why he stopped for you. He never really paid attention to anyone if it wasn’t to his own benefit. Ultimately, meeting you was, even if he wouldn’t realize it then. 

You flinched from his touch when he patted your shoulder, gently asking if you were alright. If anyone asked him, Ransom would surely deny he felt you pull at the strings of his heart in an instant. 

He just knew. 

Maybe it’s why it took him so long to accept it, to believe in what he felt for you. Definitely not because you did nothing but be the most wonderful human he’d ever met. More had to do with him. 

Ransom dropped you off the first night you met in your small apartment downtown, definitely on the rougher side where he thought his Rolex sporting his wrist may get stolen. 

A cute little thing like you living in a neighborhood like this — didn’t make much sense to him. Then again, it certainly checked out with his privilege why he didn’t. 

Truly, Ransom didn’t realize how fortunate he truly was. Of course being a trust fund brat gave him the ignorance to live in an unmatched state of bliss. 

He still remembers the moment. 

Watching as you fumbled with your keys, finding it more than difficult to open your front door. It was cute, with your tongue poking out between your lips in concentration. Now, he wondered how he’d forgotten why he’d gone to get hammered at the bar in the first place. 

“Here, let me help.” New to Ransom, he offered a giving hand. Grabbing the key from your jittering fingertips before unlocking your door. He tried to hand you back your keys, but you pulled him so close, your chest touching his own. Dragging two rapid hearts through your apartment. 

“You smell like him.” A dopey smile on your face lighting every dark sight of Ransom, not that you’d know it did. “I smell like who?” 

“My ex-boyfriend.” Your hands cupping his cheek, but you were too drunk to realize how Ransom flinched from your touch. 

He didn’t push you away either. 

“But he definitely didn’t look this good.” Defying all laws of his own nature, Ransom let you stay in close proximity to him as you felt him up. Your hand resting on his chest, traveling lower stopping at his stomach. “Definitely didn’t feel this good.” 

He watched as you sighed, your puffy eyes were only slightly swollen and the mascara was still staining your skin with the rest of the makeup you wore. If anyone had asked him, you’d looked like a wreck but he still found you alluring. 

Ransom always liked his women looking more than fucked out, usually from gagging around his cock. Not crying over a broken heart. Nope. He definitely did not like dealing with a woman's sorrow. 

“He never let me touch him though. Guess that should have tipped me off.” You let your hands travel back up, wounding themselves around his neck before they applied more pressure — pulling him into you. 

Ransom found you pretty confident for not even knowing anything more than his first name and the car he drove you in. You were definitely craving attention and maybe he’d be more than happy to oblige but the little voice in his head Dr. Shoal told him to listen to was being a pestering, little bitch. 

What did Ransom want? 

Right now he wanted to drown himself in some sweet ass pussy. He knew you would give yourself easily to him, especially in your drunken state. Clinging onto him like he was a vine. 

The smaller part of him, the better part, knew you were drunk out of your mind. Absolutely plastered, but you had to stand there looking like a goddess. 

He didn’t really know why he was letting you touch him, maybe in hopes the deeper, darker side of him would win like it always did. Ransom knew better, even if he tried to hide it from everyone including himself. 

He liked you. From the very first moment, he knew he’d have to get you. Whether it cost your own sanity or his, Ransom didn’t care. 

It’s why he left you drunk and alone, safely tucked into the comfort of your sheets with his number left in your phone. Even taking the liberty of texting himself from it. 

He could never be too careful. Letting you slip through his fingers was simply not an option. 

Thanks to him, you didn’t forget about him. 

The next morning your memory only held vague images of a handsome stranger helping you home, thankfully he seemed to be nothing more than a doting gentlemen. The first for you to ever come across. 

Until later in the afternoon the following day, Ransom introduced himself and checked up on you, worming his presence into your life. 

Then he kept talking to you everyday, surprising even himself in the matter. Truly, he couldn’t help it. Part of him loved how gently you spoke to him on the phone. No one ever talked to him with such a level of care. 

He always warranted yelling, usually he was the one who stirred the pot. He enjoyed it, and thrived in a chaotic environment. It’s what he grew up in. Ransom was more than comfortable with his own family yelling and cursing him out until the sun came up. He did just the same. 

So, whenever you sweetly asked him how he was, it threw him off guard. 

Not a single soul even cared or bothered to ask him anything. Truth be told, Ransom was a sack of shit treating everyone like they were the gum beneath his shoe. It didn’t matter who talked to him — Ransom was simply more superior in every conceivable way. 

He would succumb to not a single soul. Paving his own way through life, with only the money from his trust fund of course. 

Then the two of you fell into each other and he could pinpoint the exact moment he did. 

The weeks and months blended together. He couldn’t really tell you why he was still lingering around, while he got nothing in return. You did get him off once or twice, but he wasn’t fucking you like he really wanted to. 

Maybe it was the innocence in your eyes pulling his soul into the very little good he still had left within him. Or maybe it was the way your thumb dragged over his cheek when you thought he was in slumber, blissfully unaware of your touch. 

More importantly his favorite thing, the way you let him hold you when the two of you cuddled. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, bouncy cheeks pressed into whatever knit sweater he decided to wear that day. 

It was all the little things, unknowingly making him fall in deep like he never had before. 

Unwelcoming to him, his mother came barreling in one Sunday afternoon, while you slept in his arms. Even as Linda screamed his name, you never jolted, out like a log. Safe in the peace he kept you in. 

Linda looked annoyed, irritated he even had company in the first place but not surprised. What truly shocked her was they both had clothes on.  Not truly believing Ransom was capable of such a sinless interaction. 

He knew what she wanted; he didn’t even have to move from his position to continue a private conversation. Not that it would get him off the couch, and out of your embrace in the first place. 

“I said no. Don’t know why you bothered coming here.” Linda angrily sighed. “You should at least show up.” 

Ransom didn’t notice, but subconsciously continued to run his fingertips up and down your spine. Linda did. She noticed that he didn’t even care she was judging him, but let you remain unbothered sleeping in her son’s embrace. 

“It’s for Walt. You need to be there.” She stepped closer, hoping the increase in her volume would wake you. “I expect you to grace us with your wonderful presence as does the rest of the family.” 

The sarcasm dripped, attempting to coax him out of the four walls he never seemed to leave. Not recently, anyhow. 

“I already told you, I can’t.” Now Ransom was irritated and he really wished she would calm the fuck down. It was one day, one event. There would always be another, that much wasn’t lost on him. “I have plans. Send him my best.” 

Assuming it was the rumbling of his chest when he spoke, you moved jolting yourself in his arms, before remaining still again. His heartbeat continues to soothe you. 

“You have plans? What else could be more important than your family?” The louder Linda’s voice grew the more you stirred, pissing him off. 

He really needed to change his locks. 

Even if he had no intention of going, he needed his mother to leave. Really for your own sake — trying to save you from Linda giving you a cold shoulder followed with a third degree burn. 

“Fine. I’ll go. Can you just leave?” She accepted Ransom’s submission, before looking at your figure. Sound asleep and clinging to her one and only, sinking your claws into him. 

She really didn’t like the way Ransom was looking at you. Linda was positive he would never be able to care about someone other than himself, but here he was, holding you close to his chest. 

Almost like his life depended on it. 

“Who is she to you?” With a raised eyebrow, eyes narrowing to you before meeting back with Ransom’s cerulean blues. 

“I don’t know yet.” Ransom paused looking down at you, so beautiful. Holding a light so pure, so radiant; he hoped no matter how cruel he could be, he’d never act like that towards you. “Maybe someone I don’t deserve, but want to be better for.” 

His rough, calloused fingers drawing mindless patterns on the exposed skin of your waist. He didn’t know what Linda said next or when she left. 

Time seemed to stand still, his confession hitting his chest fiercely. He let himself sit with it for a moment, before you woke up. Enjoying a moment where he didn’t have to deal with anything, he didn’t have to say a word. 

He could just enjoy the moment without eyes judging him or you questioning why his eyes seemed to shine just a bit brighter whenever you were around. 

It was the first of many. Moments where he felt small pieces of himself chipped away into your care. Planes of existences within him no one had ever scratched the surface of. 

Much like right now as you cried into his chest, begging for mercy. 

Because you were afraid. Terrified you had made the worst mistake, an unforgivable one. You lied about your past and to Ransom it felt like more than a betrayal. More accurately he felt a dagger in his heart placed strategically with your murderous hands. 

He’d never felt such empathy and pain at once. Maybe he’d never been empathetic a day in his life at all. 

Until now. 

To make matters worse, he knew his entire family was watching the whole scene from the window. It wasn’t from worry or concern for either one of you. Mainly all of them enjoying pain being inflicted on Ransom. 

Linda of course wallowing in her ego, he could practically see her bask in her own pride. Another thing she’d been right about checked off the list. 

The rest of the family watched the two of you fight with shiteating grins permanently stamped on their face. They’d never seen Ransom care about anyone but you. To watch the relationship he held so close to his heart blow up so publicly, only fueled the fire to Ransom’s rage. 

Except Harlan. 

Even through his hot, beating anger Ransom was trying his best to comfort you. To calm you down even if you had been the one to be caught red handed. Harlan couldn’t believe it, someone Ransom seemed to care about more than himself. 

More than any of his family. Not that Harlan was offended. Well, maybe a little, but more so he was thrilled his grandson finally found someone he had to grow up for. Someone he had to earn, not buy. 

No bribes. No schemes. No games. 

Just you. 

“Hugh, please talk to me.” How could he? It’s not like he had much to say. Maybe he did, he just wasn’t sure how to get the words out without hurting you or himself. 

“I know I lied and I fucked up, but please — we need to talk about it.” Soft hands reaching for his own, but he brushed them off, his hands snaked higher on your waist. “We should have talked about this the moment you met me.” 

Dead silence is all you were met with as he walked the fine line of pushing you away, leaving you behind and pulling you closer than he ever had. 

“You’re right. I should have told you the truth but can you blame me?” He met you with solemn eyes and his own heart beating rapidly. “Yes I can.” Ransom was trying to act cold and distant but the two windows to his soul told a different story. 

“That’s fair.” Even as he was holding you, Ransom still felt like he was a galaxy away. He was withholding himself from you like a turtle retracting into their own protection. A year ago, before he met you, he knew he would have never even recognized it. 

Now, you made it possible for him to be aware of just how much he had changed. He broke old habits of his own just to please you so when you disappointed him, this unreachable high standard he held you to, it shattered his sense of self. 

“Did you still love him?” Ransom questioned you. “I did. At the time, he’s all I ever really knew. I thought that’s what love felt like. The only image of love I had was the one he gave me. So, I ran with him and it crushed me.” 

Ransom had to pretend the words you were speaking didn’t split him into you two. The image of you falling in love with someone else was enough to make him wanna strangle your ex. 

His friend. 

“Then we just got into one really big blow out. Right in the bar in front of all of his friends I had met for the first time that night.” You reached for a chunk of his sweater, clenching the material in your hand, like you were trying to convince yourself to let the words fall from your mouth. 

“He told me how much I’d been irritating him and I couldn’t help but notice every girl he flirted with and touched right in front of me.” You tested the waters, placing both of your hands over his chest, the beat of his heart calming you down. 

“Then I just cracked. It was only one of the many fights we’d been having over the course of the past few months. Everyone single argument pushed me closer to the edge, until the last one actually did.” You sighed, watching as he frowned. 

“I ended things that night, before getting thoroughly plastered and soon enough crying on the cement. Wasted and lonely out of my mind, until I met you.” You moved your hand from his heart, cupping his clean shaven face. 

“You made me realize I never knew what love really meant or felt like.” This piqued Ransom’s interest. 

You said love. 

Could a tragedy bring out the words Ransom craved to hear more than anything in the world? 

Maybe you cared about him, more than anyone ever showed him. But loved him? How could someone be as hateful as him be worthy of someone like you? 

Even if you had broken his heart, he’d done far worse to more people than he could count. He wasn’t really in a place to judge but it didn’t change the fact it still hurt. A lot. 

“Hugh.” You heard him gulp rather loudly. “Yes?” His tone came out as more of a question than a response. 

The silence he gifted you was unsettling at the very least. “You've barely said a word.” He was surprised he didn’t scurry off in his beamer the second he saw the guilt reach your eyes. 

He was surprised he hadn’t let his anger take over and let the rage he felt inside body take it all out on you. 

He was surprised he somehow couldn’t inflict a single hateful word towards you, even as you sat with his heart in your hands. 

In pure bliss of just how much you owned him. 

“I hate it. This fucking corner you’ve back me into. Not to mention for the prying eyes of my entire family to watch the show.” The sharp tone he uses sensoring you. “You used me just to get back at him.” 

“Like I was some pawn in your game and I really even shouldn’t be mad.” He paused, trying to choose his words as carefully as he can. “I’ve done the same thing to so many different women. Used them and threw them out at my earliest inconvenience.” To your surprise, even Ransom’s, a single tear left his eye showing you how much you really meant to him. 

You hated yourself for letting it get to this point. 

“But you? I could never even think about hurting you. I could never live with myself if I treated you like everyone else because you’re so much more than that to me.” The tears continued to roll. The dame Ransom kept shut his entire life, opened because of you and he just wanted to make it stop. 

He would give anything — even you. 

He just wanted to not feel like a piece of shit for once in his life. For a moment, he thought he might have a chance to be something more than the picture he portrayed in everyone’s mind. You showed him maybe it was more complex than it seemed. 

“I just assumed I was that for you.” You sighed in frustration, softly wiping his tears away. “You are, though. You are more than that.” 

“Then how could you be so okay with lying to me?” The crease between his eyebrows only created more of an indention as he felt the anger trying to escape out of him. 

You let the tension get to you first. 

“Because I-I was scared if I told you the truth, you’d never tell me.” You puzzled him once again. You softly reach up between his furrowed eyebrows, the pad of your thumb smoothing it out. 

“Tell you what?” His mind was clouded with the possibilities of what he could have missed. 

“I can’t spell this one out for you.” You were tired of being the one to do everything first. Even if your intentions weren’t free from fault once you realized who he was, your feelings for him were anything but. 

“I don’t know what you want from me. You only let me fall for you because you knew how much it would hurt him.” He bit back, growing impatient and tired. “Any other time, I would have cared. Probably would have been more than happy to assist. But you made me-” 

Then Ransom cut himself off, jumping out of the swing and away from you. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I thought I could.” He literally sprinted to his beamer, but you chased him. 

You were hell bent and just as crazy as he was. Maybe it’s why it worked for as long as it did. 

“Hugh! Get back here.” You were running, thankful you’d gone for a more casual outfit today, the sneakers supporting your feet far better than the heels you’d usually wear. 

Maybe if it was someone with a normal childhood upbringing you would have just cut your losses but this was someone who chose to be called Ransom. 

This was someone who chose to run away from love and care because the only affectionate way he knew how to treat someone was to throw money at them. 

This was someone who had the communication of a ten year old because that’s when his own mother didn’t bother to mess with him anymore before sending him off to boarding school. 

This was someone who didn’t know how to love — and to be loved. 

By the time you caught up to him his was digging for his keys, but he couldn’t fucking find them. 

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale.” Your tone was sharp and he knew you meant business. “For once in your life, stop running away.” 

“Why not? What good has it ever done for me to stay?” His back was facing you, his broad shoulders stilled with the rest of his body. Almost like he was ashamed of what he was hiding. 

“I can’t speak for everyone else. I can’t speak for your mother or for Richard. For Harlan or for anyone else you thought might abandon you and really did.” You inched you way closer until you knew he felt how close you were to him.

“I can only speak for me.” Giving yourself, the final piece of you to a man who might run away from it. 

You were so close he felt your breath on his back, and it made him tremble. He was shaking, terrified of it all. You didn’t let him be for long. 

Intertwining your fingers with his, as he kept them at his sides, rubbing your thumb along the palm of his hand. 

“I’m sorry for the way I hurt you. Lied to you. You never deserved it. Never.” You thought it would be easier if he didn’t have to look at you while pouring your heart out to him. A theory proved to be right as he gave your hand a squeeze. 

“You’ve done nothing but treat me like a princess. You’ve done right by me, more than anyone else I’ve ever met in my life. It made me feel inadequate. My dark secret, always looming over us like a dark cloud of my own personal doing.” 

“I’m sorry I haven’t done the proper thing by us and made you feel like I used you. You had every right to feel it because I did.” You took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to face whatever the future held for the two of you. 

“I never expected to fall in love with a trust fund, playboy brat.” You felt him take a deep breath, like a breath he’d be holding all his life could finally be set free. 

“I love you, Hugh.” The next thing you knew he had you pushed up against the car, lips hungrily attacking your own. 

All forgiven because you love him. You actually were in love with him. 

He couldn’t fathom it really because you’d been the first. To accept him just as he was. The first to refuse to call him Ransom because you like the way Hugh rolled off your tongue better. 

You liked how he felt on your tongue, too. 

The first to tell him Fran and Marta should call him Hugh because you wanted to be the only one who got to. The first woman to cook for him, willingly and not attached to the Thrombey payroll. 

The first woman he had ever fallen in love with. 

The first one he’d stick around and not run away for. 

So, he kissed you. Hard. Softly whispering how much he loved you into the kiss, because maybe he wasn’t ready to say it outright. Loud and proud. 

Yet, he felt it with every bone of his body — no longer lost in the blues.

taglist: @tonystankschild @parkastoria @tinylumpiaa @brattycherubwrites

[euphoricsunflowers]

my one and only — yoo kihyun

a/n: here she finally is!! i hope you guys like it!! especially you fairy joo anon!!

word count: 2.9k (i know!! it’s the same length as the other two combined!!)

content: sub!siren!kihyun, dom!fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), pegging, hints of choking(?), yep just like in the first one you do almost die and yes the other siren is wonho, this is also one of those pieces that is only partly smutty, the whole piece is romantic and cheesy and i'm in love with it <3

summary: overwhelmed and dazed with thoughts of a certain siren, you learn that if you call out for the siren that’s fallen for you: he’ll answer.

part 1 | part 2

it’s been so long since you went back to the beach. you’d say that you had almost forgotten your proposed date with a certain siren, but that’d be a lie. he hasn’t left your mind since you first heard his voice, saw his delicate yet sharp features. you were completely enamoured with him, though unsure if you loved the siren or if you’d truly just fallen for a boy with a soft heart and a cheeky smile.

but you do know that that unforgettable little siren is the reason you’re at the beach once more. it’s cold and dark out, so you’re 100% sure this is a bad idea, but your heart is calling out for him, and there’s no not doing this. you take your first step into the water, flinching at the frigid temperatures, but continuing on, forcing yourself to keep going until you could completely start swimming, swimming out to the exact same spot.

your entire body feels frozen like an icicle, and it’s hard to pinpoint just how much time you have left until your body completely succumbs to hypothermia. maybe this was incredibly irrational, now that you think about it, because it absolutely was, and it feels like you’re going to die because this siren’s got control of your head.

that is, until you hear a faint humming, the sound soothing you, turning the cold surrounding you from painful, sure death to a comforting blanket wrapped around you, the hum is enough to completely relax you. it’s at this point you’d be worried about drowning, but the humming becomes soft singing, it just won’t stop and you just feel so relaxed, there’s no reason to worry about it.

but that voice doesn’t sound like him. it’s softer, it’s lighter, and it’s clearly not kihyun. kihyun’s voice is sharper, it’s powerful and overwhelming, the kind of voice you get addicted to instantly, willing to die if just to keep hearing it. this voice was almost hesitant, shy, the kind of voice to fall for, it’s pretty and it’s cute and it’s not kihyun.

kihyun, please, your mind begs as you start to feel lightheaded, come to me.

arms wrap around you, keeping you from thrashing around more and trying to swim to the surface, to save yourself like you did once more. the voice keeps singing, still soft and hushed, like a whisper in your ear, it’s dizzying and makes your head spin.

you suddenly feel the arms release you, and you take the opportunity to snap out of it and swim to the surface, you barely make it, but you do. the burning in your lungs hits you all at once, but slowly dies down as you breathe more and cough up all the water.

“my love,” you hear, and you almost cry out of relief. that’s his voice, that’s him.

“kihyun,” you mumble in response, so close to passing out, it's amazing you’ve stayed conscious this long, “kihyun, kihyun…”

“it’s me, it’s me, just relax. i’ll bring us to shore,” he whispers, and it’s easy to just reach out for his hand that he’s extending for you, and that’s when you lose consciousness.

—

you awaken with a dangerous fit of coughing, looking around in the dark blurrily. you’re not awake enough to process what he’s saying, but kihyun, suddenly in a more human-looking form, doesn’t seem super thrilled with you, “i can’t believe you came for me at this time, when it’s this cold, wearing this, i know me being a siren can make people irrational, but god you’re dumb.”

“hehe, and you’re really cute when you’re mad,” you mumble, touching your fingertip to his nose, making a ‘boop’ sound when you feel his skin. his cheeks are always flushed-looking, but you’re sure it flusters him, you can see it in the way he coughs at the awkward moment and can’t meet your eyes.

“oh god, i don’t know what to do, you’re clearly going to die from the cold water if i don’t get you a jacket, maybe even if i do. and i don’t even know where i’d get you something to wear,” he mutters frantically, but you weakly reach your hand up to cup his cheek (obviously temperature doesn’t bother him) and he cups his hand over yours, kissing the inside of your palm, “stay with me, my crazy and irrational love.”

“crazy over you,” you flirt with a wink, which doesn’t exactly help the situation, and he’s not amused by your antics, too worried for you, “there’s a lost and found by the pier, maybe you’ll find a jacket there.”

he nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead before running off, trying to be quick. you lay there, on the sand, shivering and half close to death, until he returns with a long jacket and some boots for you. he’s also fully clothed now, and you realize he was probably naked the whole time you were dying, “is there somewhere we can go to get you warmed up? where do you live?”

“i walked here, help me up and i’ll guide us there,” you say, and he does just that, helping you, but before you can start walking, he cups your hands, trying to blow hot breath on them to warm them.

“i just wanted to say,” he starts, genuinely looking so small and vulnerable and in love like this, “despite how dumb and irrational it was, thank you for coming back for me.”

ha, that’s what i should be thanking you for, you think, but you smile, holding his hand as you lead the way.

—

you sit with him in front of the fireplace, drinking hot chocolate as he hums in your ear, lulling you into a more calm state, all the anxiety and fear over the fact that you nearly just died leave you body.

“i'm sure this wasn’t what you had in mind for our date,” he mumbles, chuckling with a hint of sass in his words.

“nonsense,” you respond, reaching out to grab his hand, holding it in yours as you speak, seeing the way he eyes your hands, “we can still have an amazing date! do you want some hot chocolate too?”

“i’ve never tried it…?”

you facepalm dramatically and he chuckles at your antics, “oh! right! you’re a siren! you’ve probably never tried a lot of things...uhm okay...i bet you’ll love it though!”

“then yes, i’d like some,” he smiles charmingly, and you make a cup of hot chocolate for him too, making sure to put a lot of marshmallows just for him. he won’t know how much of a declaration of true love that is, the fact that you gave him more marshmallows than you’d even give yourself. he doesn’t need to know that yet.

you give him the hot chocolate, and he seems to really like it, drinking it quickly like the temperature doesn’t even bother him, “this is really good! please make me more,” he smiles with some chocolate dripping down his chin.

“don’t move,” you murmur as you lean in, licking the chocolate off his chin and leaving a peck on his lips, smirking. you don’t leave his space, staying so close that you can feel his nervous breaths against your face, cupping his cheek while you adjust yourself so you’re on top of him, “kihyun,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him again.

he groans, breaking the kiss slightly, as your hand fondles his chest, flicking at his nipple just to get a reaction out of him. your kisses move down from his lips to his jaw and settling on his neck. you nibble and suck gently as he tilts his head away from you, giving you as much access to his neck as you please.

“you ready to repay that favor?” you murmur in his ear, feeling the way he shivers underneath you.

“thought i did that when i saved your life,” he responds cheekily, smiling with those pretty eyes dimples that you want to kiss and kiss until your lips are blue. he’s always so unintentionally distracting.

“kihyun,” your tone is warning, and he caves instantly, immediately becoming much more docile and puppy eyed.

“what do you need me to do? i'm afraid i’m a bit.. inexperienced…” he mumbles the last part, almost seeming ashamed, but you press a kiss to his forehead, getting off of him and sitting back down on the couch.

“sit on the floor, between my legs, my kihyun,” you motion for him to move, and he does, slipping off the couch, onto his knees in front of you in an instant. his movements are so graceful and gentle, it’s like everything he does entrances anyone around him, “here, i’ll take off my pants and underwear,” you say as you do just that, “alright, now, lean in, kiss my inner thigh just a bit.”

he says he doesn’t know what he’s doing and yet he easily throws one of your legs over his shoulder and leans in, doing exactly as you instruct, leaving gentle, wet kisses as he gets closer and closer.

you guide him through every part of eating you out: teaching him to suck on your clit, how to use his tongue just right, but the thing affecting you the most is his groans and moans that you can feel deep inside, the sound and feeling of him being ten times as overwhelming like this.

you tug him around by his hair if only to make him more vocal, keep him whining and whimpering against you, “c’mon ki, be useful and make me cum,” he keeps doing just as you showed him, but honestly it’s more you grinding against his face as you got close that set you over the edge.

you breathe heavily, still reeling from the orgasm, as he falls back on his hands breathing also quite hard, “i haven’t cum that hard in so long,” you smile as you catch your breath, watching the way he seems nervous, adjusting himself to cover an obvious erection, “oh is kihyun needy too?”

“yes, he is,” he groans dryly. you motion for him to come closer with your finger, and he does exactly that.

“then you’re gonna like what comes next, baby,” you whisper before you lean in to kiss him once more, pulling him up so you’re both standing, and leading him to your bedroom.

you push him onto the end and he’s left dazed as you go through your drawer, pulling out a pretty pink strap-on and a few other things. you can see how he gulps, seemingly nervous as you come closer.

“are you okay with this, baby?” he nods without a bit of hesitance.

“absolutely, i just— is this going to hurt?”

“no, no no i promise it won’t. and if it does, we’ll stop immediately. this is all for you,” you reassure, and he takes a few deep breaths before letting you pull him onto your lap. the borrowed pants and boxers that don’t exactly fit his body come off so easily and he whines as your lubed-up fingers prod gently at his hole.

“m-my love,” he whimpers, gently holding onto your shirt, “it feels too good, you feel too good.”

“yeah? then i can’t wait for what you’ll feel like when it’s my strap-on in you, baby. don’t you want me to fill you up like that?”

“mmm, yeah, i know you want to ruin me, so do it, my love,” he groans as you start to finger him, keeping going until he’s completely comfortable and then adding another finger, stretching him even more, “i know i'm irresistible, i know i’ll make you feel better than anyone else, i know my voice ruins you, so ruin all of me, won’t you?”

you almost growl at his words, ferocious in the way you handle him, “you shouldn’t talk like that.”

“why?”

“because i truly won’t be able to control myself anymore,” and in an instant, he’s lowering himself onto your strap, his mouth hanging open as he adjusts to the size.

“y-you’re so big,” he mumbles, closing his eyes as he gets comfortable, wiggling his hips around experimentally, moaning cutely. one of his hands goes up to cover his mouth, but you pull it away, holding both of his arms in place so he has no choice but to moan freely for you.

“you say that but you’re already fucking yourself on my strap, baby,” you giggle, holding him close, his back to your chest, “keep riding me, ki, show me how desperate you can get.”

he does exactly that, pleasing himself as you sit there, listening to his angelic moans, like they’re almost hypnotic. instead of using them to silence himself, he reaches his hands back to hold onto you, and you let your hands wander, one touching his aching length and the other wrapping gently around his neck. his breathing halts, even without any pressure from your hand.

it’s almost ironic, how it’s him that can’t breathe this time. your kisses on the side on his neck leave him weak and he loses rhythm on top of you. you help him by gripping his waist and forcing his body to keep pace, “baby,” you murmur in between pecks.

“y-yeah?” his stuttering, breathless voice and the ache for more in his words makes you groan, gripping his neck tighter, and he throws his head back onto your shoulder.

“tell me how good my cock makes you feel, baby,” you lazily stroke his length, using the leftover lube from when you fingered him to easily get going.

he whines, which is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard in your life, “you— you stretch me out so good, my love. please, please, it feels so good, i’m already so—” his pleas echo in your head. they’re disorienting and entrancing and you can’t get enough of them.

“i’ll make you feel even better than now, watch this,” you forcefully pull him off of the strap, keeping your grip on his waist and you flip him over, pressed against the bed as you enter him again in an instant. he moans even louder in this position, even with his voice slightly muffled as he turns his head to the side. it’s like music to your ears, “feel free to get all your cum all over yourself and on my bed, i’d take it as a compliment.”

he cries out as you thrust into him, keeping a pace you know overwhelms him with the intention of pushing him over the edge, filling him with bliss, “o-oh! fuck! oh my god, you—”

“you shouldn’t curse, pretty angel, you’re too perfect and innocent for that,” you can see and hear just how close he’s getting, all the rocking back and forth giving more stimulation to his cock, “although, i do somewhat doubt your innocence, seeing as i’ve got you moaning like a whore,” he groans at your words, but he can’t think of a sassy response, the words not forming in his head, “i can’t get enough of you, my sweet kihyun. cum for me, let me hear how angelic you sound, will you?”

he does, cumming and almost screaming loudly, hypnotizing you with his gorgeous voice, trembling and shuddering with absolute bliss as the high fully racks his body. he breathes so heavily, unable to catch his breath until you slow down and eventually pull out, letting him recover from it all.

“are you okay? was that okay?” you ask him, leaning forward to play with his hair. he flips himself over, lying on his back, as he breathes and keeps an intense eye contact with you.

“that was… incredible,” he whispers, loud enough for you to hear. “you’re incredible. you’re amazing, you’re so perfect.”

his words almost make you flush, the sudden compliments take you by surprise, so you ruffle his hair a bit and run your fingers through it in a calming way, “thank you, ki. you did really well, my perfect boy.”

he smiles, his eyes fluttering closed, “hey uhm, can you tell me something?” you hum affirmatively, “tell me your name.”

you laugh almost incredulously, “you’re still hung up on that?”

“i mean, you know mine, and i know it’s hard to trust a siren, i know it’s not super safe to give your name away, but please. i’ll do anything to prove myself worthy of it,” he begs, sweetly reaching out to grab your hand.

“okay,” you sigh, “i’ll tell you,” he smiles, listening intently, kissing your knuckles as a ‘thank you’, “it’s… y/n.”

his smile is so sincere and adoring that there’s no reason to not trust it, and he whispers in between kisses to your hand, “beautiful. every part of you, even your name, is beautiful.”

you smile back, pulling your held hands to your lips to kiss his knuckles in return, “remember when i asked you if you even knew what love was?” he nods, and in that moment, you realize you probably didn’t even know either, “is this it?”

“yeah, i think this is.”

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiast @feelslikelove @maknaeronix @multidreams-and-desires @mellowriting @foenixs @sunflowerkeen @vanillaknj @yr-domxfantasies @treasure-hwa @fleurshopsub @rubyscloud9 @silencefavarchive @nct99 and always feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist <3

[writtenjewels]

More

Dorian took in a breath and turned to the man beside him. Cullen had his back to the mage and was presumably still asleep. If Dorian left quickly and quietly, he may not have to face whatever words of regret would likely come out of the commander's mouth. He eased his way off the bed and started hunting around for his clothing.

“Dorian?” He swore under his breath and turned to face Cullen. The man had rolled over onto his back and propped himself up on an elbow. “Up already? I always thought you were more of the sleeping in type.”

“Yes, well, there's work to be done and you don't want to have me sleeping above your office.”

“Why?” Cullen raised an eyebrow. “Are you likely to snore?” He was being strangely calm about all this. Could it be he didn't regret last night? Dorian watched him uncertainly. “Right,” Cullen sighed. “To work.” He threw back the sheets and got to his feet. Dorian stared despite himself. The man looked good in the morning light.

“Right.” Dorian tore his eyes away to resume dressing.

“You're being quiet,” Cullen observed after a moment. “Was last night not good? You gave the impression you liked it.”

“It was... good.” It was what I've wanted for a long time. Dorian couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he wanted Cullen that way. When he saw the commander's smile? When they played chess together for the first time? Watching him in the training yard? Dorian was not subtle at all about his desire last night.

“Let me help you with that.” Cullen's hands reached out to fasten some of the clasps on Dorian's clothing. He stood still and absorbed Cullen's features. Last night was heat and passion and so much sexual frustration finally being released. This morning he could truly appreciate how Cullen looked without his armor. There was something almost intimate about it.

Cullen finished with the clasps, his eyes flicking up to Dorian's face. A smile tugged on his scarred lips. “You're blushing,” he observed. “Last night I had you on your hands and knees fucking you, and this is what makes you blush?”

“This is unexpected,” Dorian admitted. “Relieving some built-up stress, sating your curiosity... it's understandable. But things look different in the morning light.”

“I'm insulted you would think so little of me,” Cullen huffed. “I don't do this sort of thing just to relieve stress. If that's what it was to you, we can part ways here and continue as before. But...” He paused to gently curl his fingers around Dorian's chin so he had no choice but to look in Cullen's eyes. “I want more.”

“Oh.” Dorian could feel his body tingling. “How much more?”

“As much as you will give me.”

“Oh,” Dorian said again. “And what will you give me?”

“As much as you want.” He felt lips brush on his and he responded greedily, hands diving into Cullen's hair. “Back to bed?” Cullen suggested.

“Yes,” Dorian gulped. “I want more.”

[lilliagradiewrites]

evermore (jj maybank)

Summary: Y/N is in a depressive state, but refuses to tell her boyfriend. After she walks out on a party, JJ realizes that something is off, and rushes to comfort her.

*based off of the song “evermore” from Taylor Swift’s new album!!

WC: 2.2k

WARNINGS: Mentions of depression/ symptoms of depression, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, mentions of suicide/ death. (The reader is at a very low point during this. Please proceed with caution of mentions of depression triggers you.)

A/N: Hey my lovelies! I have a new piece for you. This is a one- shot, and is on the shorter side. If you don’t know, Taylor Swift released a new album on the 11th. I have been so obsessed with it, and one of my favorites from the record is the title track “evermore.” I knew i had to write something based off of that song! This is inspired by that song, and I encourage you to listen to it while you read.

Much love to you all, and happy holidays! I hope you enjoy!!

LET’S DO IT!

~~~~~~

The night was cold as you walked quietly down the street, the old cardigan your best friend gave you wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You weren’t dressed for the mid-october weather, your shorts and tank tops providing little warmth on your shivering body. As much as you hated the cold, it felt good to feel something again.

November was approaching quickly, and as you walked down the street that cold october night, you realized that you hadn’t had a true spark of happiness since that July. Of course, there were moments of joy, but it was never consistent, and lasted a day at the most.

You couldn’t seem to pinpoint the exact moment where everything went wrong, no matter how many times you’d tried. Countless times, you’d retraced your footsteps to find the moment your despair began. Unfortunately, this only resulted in distant memories from better times becoming fresh in your mind, pushing you deeper into the dark hole you were trapped in.

For a while, no one noticed a difference. Your group of friends, whom you adored, didn’t bat an eye when you left a party early because you were ‘tired’ or ‘not in the mood’, despite the fact that you loved parties. It hurt a little that they didn’t see a problem, and that only made the problem worse.

The first person to notice was JJ, your loving boyfriend. The blonde boy was the light of your life, but as your own issues began to overtake you, you found yourself pushing him away unintentionally. He would send texts, asking you to come over and see him. He'd invite you to come out to dinner with the pogues at The Wreck. He’d beg for your permission to show up at your house because he missed you so damn much.

Time after time, you replied with perfectly crafted excuses that left him concerned, but with no questions. That’s all you needed to accomplish, really. If he didn’t ask any questions, then you’d be fine.

The routine was working out pretty well for you in the beginning. JJ and the rest of the group would accept your excuses and go along with what you told them, even if they found it slightly suspicious.

But, after a while, your constant absence finally hit them. It was concerning, especially when it came to someone like you. Your parents weren’t strict, so it wasn’t an obedience thing. You loved parties, and were quite social, so it wasn’t a social anxiety thing. They wondered at their hangouts what could be wrong, but none of them could come up with a viable explanation.

Texts from your friends were lighting up your phone at a constant rate, but you trained yourself to ignore them. Your mind had convinced you that all of them hated you, and were only messaging you as a joke, or because they felt bad.

Though your brain tried to tell itself that JJ didn’t love you either, you were fighting hard against that idea. Even the slightest notion of your boyfriend no longer being interested in you broke you down into tears, so you tried to allow the thought to cross your mind as little as possible.

He texted you every day, asking if you were okay and trying to make plans. He texted you good morning, and goodnight, as well as a few other times throughout the day. He was a wonderful boyfriend, and you appreciated him, but you didn’t have the energy to show him the attention he deserved. You texted back for a while, but eventually gave up, leaving him on read almost every single time.

For the last few weeks, JJ had been broken up with worry. He worried that you were mad at him, that you hated him. He worried that you were leaving him. So, he showed up at your house.

As soon as he walked in your room, he could tell that something was incredibly off. You were normally a somewhat neat person, but your room was in complete disarray. Clothes littered the floor, empty plates and half-eaten bags of chips tossed absentmindedly to various locations.

And you. You looked like you hadn’t changed or bathed in weeks. Your hair was messy, and your face looked as if you’d been crying for years.

When you saw his face, your mask slipped on without a second thought.

“JJ! Hi, babes!”

“Hi, angel.” He replied, concern evident in his voice as he spoke. “I haven’t really seen you in forever. Are you okay?”

You nodded immediately, concealing your true feelings. “I’m okay. I’ve been taking up extra shifts at work because I need money for college soon. I’m trying to save up early. I’ve been so busy and exhausted, I just haven’t had the time or energy to see anybody.”

Lie. You got fired from your job a month ago because you called out ‘sick’ too many times.

JJ was still suspicious, but went accepted your story just as he had many times before.

“Alright, babe. I just miss you a lot. Take a break soon. Are you working tonight?”

“No.” You couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him again.

“Well, then, you’re coming to hang out.”

You shook your head quickly, pulling your hands away from his. “No thanks, JJ. I had a late shift last night and I’m exhausted. Plus, I have an early shift tomorrow morning, and I refuse to go in hungover.”

JJ took your hands back into his, meeting your eyes. “You don’t have to stay late, and you don’t have to drink. Just come for a little bit. Like, literally for an hour. We all just miss you so much.”

When he was looking into your eyes like that, you couldn’t help but say yes. Though you knew you’d come to regret it, the smile on his face after you agreed made it all seem worth it at the time.

“Yes! Okay, my love, I have to go deliver some stuff for Pope’s dad. The party starts at ten, so I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty.”

You didn’t say anything, simply nodding to indicate that you’d heard him and understood what he said.

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” It was barely a whisper, but it seemed to be enough for JJ. He gave you one final wave before exiting your bedroom and closing the door in his wake.

When he had gone, your anxiety began to cover you. You had come to hate gatherings and parties, despite the fact that they used to be your main source of happiness and excitement. How were you going to make it through this party?

Sighing, you turned to your bedside table, moving around empty cups to peer at the time on your alarm clock. It was hard to read due to the tears in your eyes blurring your vision slightly. After a moment, you were able to decipher the numbers on the screen. 8:06 PM. You had approximately an hour and half to get ready before your boyfriend would be there to pick you up.

The first half hour, you decided, would be used for praying you were able to make it through this night.

---

About 70 minutes after your boyfriend’s visit, the clock on your bedside table read 9:12 PM. You sat at your vanity, brushing on small amounts of makeup. You didn’t want anything too crazy like you used to do; it just didn’t feel right anymore.

The same thing applied to your outfit. After almost an hour of trying things on, you went for something simple. A sage green tank top, your favorite blue jean shorts, and a basic oversized white cardigan kie had given you. The outfit was basic, but cute nonetheless. You completed the look with your pair of slip-on vans that were so beat up they could barely be classified as white anymore.

Your hair, which you normally would curl or style for parties, had been brushed through and left down. That was all you had the energy for. The party hadn’t even started yet, and you were already exhausted.

At least you had showered. It had been over a week since you last bathed, and this party gave you incentive to take care of yourself. That’s the only thing you were grateful for when it came to this party.

As you finished getting ready, you promised yourself that you would try your best to enjoy the night.

JJ had come to pick you up as he told you he would, at nine-thirty on the dot. He was always careful to be very punctual when it comes to you. He said you looked pretty when you got in his car, and the small compliment warmed your heart significantly.

The party was smaller than your normal ones. The pogues were all there, and they were all happy to finally see you again. You greeted them kindly and took your seat beside JJ, wanting to make the night go by as quickly as possible. You had hardly even arrived and you were already anxious.

As the night went by, your anxiety only got worse. You began to zone out, not paying attention to the conversation. You snapped back to reality when the whole group laughed at some joke someone told, and you just chuckled nervously along, hoping nobody noticed you weren’t being attentive.

A few hours went by, slowly but surely, and you decided that you had to be done for the night. You had been on the brink of a panic attack for the last hour, and it was getting harder to fight it off.

“Alright, guys, I’m tired. I’m probably gonna head home. I’ll see y’all later.” You announced, standing up from your seat. Immediately, JJ stood up with you, leaning into your ear.

“I’m too drunk to drive, babe. Do you think you can wait a little longer for me to sober up?”

You shook your head lightly, pushing him away. “No, it’s ok, babes. I’m just gonna walk. I don’t want to pull you away from the party anyways.”

A look of concern took over the blonde’s face. “I don’t like that. You can’t walk by yourself at night, it’s not safe.”

“I’ll be fine, J.” You assured him. “I live, like, a five minute walk away from here. We’re super close to my house. It’ll be okay.”

JJ continued to insist that you wait, but you insisted on leaving. You reassured him multiple times that you’d be alright, kissed him, grabbed your cardigan and left.

That’s how you ended up in your current position, sobbing into your cardigan sleeve as the night grew colder and colder. You were still walking along the road to your house.

You hadn’t realized how cold it was when you left. Maybe it’s because you;d been sitting up against JJ, his body heat mixing with yours to help keep the both of you warm. Now, you were all alone, with nothing but your thin cardigan to protect you from the chill of october night.

As you walked, and cried, you wondered what it would be like to just stop breathing.

Your thoughts were halted by the sound of footsteps pounding the pavement behind you. Immediately, you tensed up, suddenly scared. Who was running on the streets late at night, besides her? Who had a reason, other than kidnapping or killing someone?

You turned slowly around, and your body relaxed as you realized you recognized the person barreling towards you.

A familiar blonde boy was running in your direction, seemingly desperate to catch up with you. You stopped walking, giving him time to meet you.

“JJ?” You were talking as soon as he was close enough to hear. “What are you doing, babe? You’re supposed to be at the party.”

“I’m walking you home. I’ll go back once I know you’re safe.” He explained. He looked almost triumphant at the fact that he’d caught up with you, but his expression changed to one of concern after he got a good look at your face.

“Y/N… have you been crying?”

You shook your head, almost in instinct, but he saw right through you.

“Yes, you have. Baby, what’s wrong? Did one of us say something? What happened?”

As you looked in his eyes, those beautiful blue orbs as rocky and deep as the ocean, you felt your mask begin to slip.

“I’m not okay, J. I haven’t been for a long time.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, and the tears came almost immediately after you’d finished.

JJ took you into his arms and held you close, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there on the side of the road.

JJ let you sob for a little while, just holding you and murmuring sweet words to you. Eventually, he pulled away and looked directly into your eyes.

“I’m here for you, okay? We’ll get through this, my love. I don’t know exactly what’s going on yet, but we’ll figure it out. Together. I promise. I love you so much, Y/N. So fucking much.”

He pulled you back into his chest, and in that moment, it dawned on you.

This wasn’t the end. This pain wouldn’t last for evermore. It would pass, and JJ would be there with you when it did.

So, for the first time in a while, you finally felt okay.

~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs are super helpful and super appreciated. LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!

Happy holidays! - Lillia

[howdoyousleep3]

one look and i couldn’t breathe

Summary: “You know what you’re doin’? You ever been fucked before? ‘Cause that’s what I’m gonna do to you.”

Rating: Explicit 

Pairing: Andy Barber x Male Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Tags: Age Difference, Light Dom/Sub, Dom/Sub Undertones, Feminization, Blowjobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty/Forbidden Thoughts, Crying, Verbal Humiliation, Breathplay/Choking 

Author’s Note: I couldn’t resist. I wanted Mr. Barber to get all dark and demanding and dirty with a younger guy. Written as I tend to write the other “reader” stories-- no first person or Y/N. Reader is of age. None of that here. Enjoy! 😘🙈

It’s impossible for him to pinpoint an exact moment when he knew he was done for.

It could have been the way Mr. Barber’s grip tightened on his hand when Jacob introduced them, the way his friend’s father eyed him a little heavily as he said, “Mr. Barber, nice to meet you, Sir.”

It could have been when he was coming home from his morning run, Jacob skipping out on him again. He had been trying to catch his breath in the kitchen, using his removed shirt as a towel to wipe the sweat off his face, guzzling down water from a cup. He had been clumsy, spilt water down his chest some, but hadn’t cared because it felt incredibly good on his flushed skin. Maybe it was then, when he turned around to find Mr. Barber leaning against the door frame donning a suit and tie for work, watching him.

“S-Sorry, Mr. Barber I—”

“No worries, kid. No worries at all,” he had said in a tone that left the younger man questioning what was hidden behind it and his own reaction to the way Mr. Barber stood too close as he worked his shirt across the mess on his chest.

It could have been all the lingering looks, the heavy gazes, the ones he was afraid to break, the ones where as soon as he did, he knew Mr. Barber’s eyes were still on him.

It could have been the night they were watching a movie all together and he found himself sitting on the couch with Mr. Barber while Jacob took the floor, felt that heavy hand creep up his knee, high on the inside of his thigh. It could have been then when his breath hitched and his dick got hard, the way he had to choke down his pitiful noise when Mr. Barber squeezed the back of his neck tight when he bid them goodnight and went upstairs.

Looking back at the plethora of moments and it could have been any of them, and as different as they all were, they all shoved him head-first into the same realization—

He wasn’t going to leave and go back to college without getting fucked by Mr. Barber.

That was the realization he came to a week ago, one that has been simmering under his skin for days, one that has felt like both shame and arousal. It was a realization, a conscious decision at this point, that he knows has serious consequences, ones that could be life-altering or permanent. He thought about those consequences and repercussions for days, they kept him up at night, thought about them when Mr. Barber’s gaze was heavy and thick.

Those consequences mean fuck-all when he’s finally put in the position to act on the tension, act on his dirty thoughts and wet dreams that have been building and building.  

Mr. Barber’s, “How’d your first year of college go?” small talk after Jacob left them on the couch to turn in morphed into a casually spoken, “Surely you sucked a lot of cock with a mouth like that.”

Which naturally led to a “C’mere,” to a handful of whimpers, to a shove to the floor. The older man had tapped a finger under his chin, kissed him once and chastely before he settled back into the couch, movements confident and natural. Mr. Barber talked after he ordered him to pull his cock out of his pants, a thrill ran down his spine at the sharp order from the older man, hands trembling in forbidden anticipation.

“You know what you’re doin’? You ever been fucked before? ‘Cause that’s what I’m gonna do to you.” The wave of arousal that moved through his limbs as he worked was heavy and hot, molten, made him whine on the next exhale, nod his head. Mr. Barber told him what he was going to take, didn’t even ask, and he’s ashamed at how much that made his dick hard. 

“Uh-huh, yeah yeah,” he breathed out, but Mr. Barber’s hand was on his chin, a hard grip, right as he pulled his friend’s dad’s cock past the waistband of his pants. Fuck, it’s the best cock he’s ever seen in person, arguably ever, but that could have just been the pent-up arousal he’s had brewing for weeks, for days. A little extra girth, heavy in his hands, a little extra length; he’s certain he won’t come across a cock like this again.

“Hey, hey don’t get stupid on me, listen,” Mr. Barber demanded, shook his chin in his hand to help him focus, “Don’t lose your manners now, kid. ‘Yes, Sir,’ and answer all my questions, don’t just start beggin’ to get fucked.”

Mr. Barber had felt divine in his hands, but he felt even better in his mouth, so good he couldn’t help but whimper around the fat head of him as soon as he wrapped his lips around it. He had told Mr. Barber that he had fucked around, said, “Y-yes, Sir,” when the other man had asked him if he was “a little slut”, but the truth was different. The blowjobs he had given were rushed and full of that youthful energy, sloppy and inexperienced. He had a favorite dildo and had fucked around at a few frat parties, but nothing that should have been considered experience.

None of it compared to having Mr. Barber’s cock in his mouth, to sucking someone off who was much more experienced and mature than he was. Mr. Barber knew what he wanted, told him what to do with his tongue, where to put his hands, to “look up at me as you suck my cock, boy.” His naive little thoughts of impressing his friend’s dad were tossed to the side as soon as Mr. Barber’s hand was tight in his hair, a chuckle of, “Oh, sweetheart. You must have been messin’ with boys in college.”

He had standards, unspoken rules, kept him in line with bitten-out guidance, sharp noises, and tugs of his hair. The older man pushed him past his comfort zone, but it felt good, felt right when the encouragement he took as praise washed over his shoulders and down his spine.

“Come on, you’re hungry—show me. Show me you can take it.”

Mr. Barber used him. He took what he wanted while somehow only moving his hand. The younger wasn’t used to having his mouth so full, so thoroughly used, the lewd sloppy noises coming from him making him feel shy and embarrassed, but fuck were they hot. They sounded like the ones that pushed him over the edge when he was watching porn, slick wet sounds. He found himself sputtering and choking a handful of times, Mr. Barber thick in his throat, hitting the back of it brutally, but he was forced through it, guided into it.

“You’ve been gaggin’ for it for weeks now, kid. Open your throat, come on now, there ya go, that’s nice, sweetheart. Keep that up.”

And he did, let himself be coached through it, listened to Mr. Barber’s words, relished in his heavy exhales, the sharp licks he gave his bottom lip. There was no time to pause to breathe let alone to consider how genuinely overwhelming this moment was. His jaw was sore, his eyes watery, he couldn’t stop the little hiccups and sobs and whimpers from falling into the hot steel of Mr. Barber’s erection. But Mr. Barber kept pushing, kept pulling and guiding, the perfect balance between rough and mean and encouraging and genuine.

When he finally had a chance to breathe, torn between truly wanting to and missing having his mouth so full, Mr. Barber had bent down, licked into his mouth with vigor, hot and wet.

“Get your ass upstairs.”

There was absolutely nothing that could have prepared him for Mr. Barber fucking him. He had the time downstairs on the living room floor to gain an understanding as to what Mr. Barber was about and how to be good for the older man, but even that was not enough time to prepare. He felt like he was on uneven ground, like every move and decision Mr. Barber made was one that reminded him of their differences.

They were active decisions that made him remember, made it move to the forefront of his mind, that this was one of his closest friend’s father, that he had such little experience compared to the older man. His movements were shaky as he worked to shed Mr. Barber of his clothes as directed, the other man’s eyes hot on his own naked form, his movements. Mr. Barber towered over him in every fashion, even when he had been sitting on the couch, but as he stood over him finally free of all clothing and backed him into the edge of the bed, he had never felt smaller.

“Maybe one’a these days soon I’ll get my mouth on that boy cunt’a yours and treat you right if you deserve it,” Mr. Barber had murmured into his neck as he pushed his backside down onto the bed, “But tonight isn’t that night. Tonight is when I show you what it’s like to be properly fucked. You might cry, it might hurt at first, but you’re gonna be so good for me and I’m gonna make you come so fuckin’ hard that I might have to carry you back to bed.”

Mr. Barber’s fingers felt vastly different than his own felt inside of him. They’re larger, thicker, took the breath right out of his lungs as he held the backs of his knees, Mr. Barber shoving them to his chest and telling him to hold them. The other man purred as he fingered him open, digits slick with lube as they glided in and out of his trembling hole. Mr. Barber commented on how tight he was, how pretty he was, and it made him light-headed, made him let out feminine whine after feminine whine. Mr. Barber told him to hush, smacked the back of his thigh, and fuck that shouldn’t have made his dick jump in the way that it had.

The older man spent the bare minimum amount of time needed for him to be prepped and ready. He was just beginning to feel like he had been hit by a train, eyes half-rolled back into his head and mouth slack, when Mr. Barber’s fingers slipped from his hole. He felt like he was underwater, vision a little hazy, more than a little breathless. Mr. Barber yanked his hips to the edge of the bed, stood there slicking up his fat erection, smacked it and smeared it across his ready asshole.

“You be quiet now. You understand?” Mr. Barber had commanded and before he could barely get out a “Yes, Sir,” Mr. Barber was pushing past his rim, sliding that terrifyingly beautiful cock inside of him a good few inches and it’s—

“Oh, fuck.”

He tried to not make noises, genuinely tried to stay quiet, but the whimpers flowed into whines and slipped out his mouth on their own accord, biting his lip doing nothing to contain them. Just as Mr. Barber guided him through a blowjob and being fingered, he guided him through taking the older man in his ass, his cunt, as Mr. Barber liked to call it.

“Come on, honey you can take it, you can take it. Breathe, hey—look at me. Breathe. There ya go, look at that,” and Mr. Barber’s voice had been so low it felt like a hot whisper, hot on his ear, hot on his neck, on his lips. The encouragement and praise felt like a physical thing, delicious and soothing, and he had found himself nodding his head in response. Mr. Barber stroked big hands down his sides, let a hand squeeze tight at his balls, brought and hand up to wrap around his neck.

“Yeah, there ya go, lemme in. You’re takin’ it. You takin’ it?” The hand around his neck had squeezed, came together right at his pulse points under his jaw, made him practically squeal out, “Yes, Sir m’takin it, fuck,” to which Mr. Barber growled out a, “Yeah y’are.” By the time hips met ass his thighs were quaking against his chest, back of his knees sweaty, neck lolled and arched as he completely gave into Mr. Barber’s touch.

There was no pause, no point in waiting for a period of adjustment, just a heavy groan and an even heavier roll and grind of the hips. One hand on his neck became two, Mr. Barber cupping either side of it, holding him in place as he towered over him, fucking into him. Just as his mouth had never been so full, his ass had never been so full either. Even when Mr. Baber pulled out to push back in, he felt like he was bursting at the seams with cock.

Every thrust made every breath he could manage to produce be punched from his chest, all focus and sensation directed down south, at his core. The times he had been fucked in the past had been uncoordinated and fast, and while this was fast paced, he knew Mr. Barber could fuck him for hours.

“Sweetheart, hey—look at me. There ya go. Wanna see those pretty tears as you take my cock. Knew you’d cry, fuck, just knew it.”

He hadn’t even realized he had been shedding tears until Mr. Barber pointed them out, moved a finger up to swipe at his cheek, smeared it over his lips messily. Sure enough he could taste the salt, feel the wetness, hadn’t realized that his sob-like noises were actually sobs. Before the other man’s hand goes back to his neck he gets a few generous taps on his cheek, gets the reminder of, “Even though you’re cryin’ you better stay quiet. You can be loud another night, let you scream some other time, shit.”

He found it ironic that he was being told to quiet down when the sound of skin slapping against skin bounced lewdly off the walls, was deafening in his ears, but he wasn’t about to mention it.

From the first full thrust Mr. Barber gave him he knew he’d never experience anything like this again, would never find anything like this when he went back to college. He’d think of this moment, of Mr. Barber’s cock heavy in his cunt and his hands around his throat and the way he so intently watched his face as he fucked into him, every other time he went to bed with someone else in the future. He’d beg to be fucked like this again, would come home with Jacob on every break if it meant a chance at getting Mr. Barber’s cock again.

From the first full thrust Mr. Barber gave him he knew he was going to come embarrassingly fast and from the older man’s cock alone. Time was entirely incomprehensible but what wasn’t slipping through his grip was the way the heat built in his core, pleasure searing, making every other part of his thighs join in on trembling and shaking. He couldn’t do anything to warn Mr. Barber, tried to slur a few words out, but they only came out as wails.

Luckily, he was either transparent enough or the hysterical signs of an impending orgasm were easy enough to discern because Mr. Barber had leaned down over him, his thighs coming to rest on broad shoulders.

“A cock ever make you come by itself? Huh? Anybody ever fuck the come outta you before without even touchin’ your dick?” With his hands free he had reached for Mr. Barber’s bearded jaw, his face, without even realizing it, but the older man let him dig his fingers in, scratch at it.

“No…n-no, Sir, oh fuck, oh,” he had squealed, voice going hysterical as a set of hiccups wracked his chest, his lungs. Everything built, everything added to the feeling of being so thoroughly taken apart he knew he was crying then, had been actively aware of how overwhelmed he had felt. He could feel Mr. Barber’s balls smacking against the bottom of his ass, could feel his own tighten up.

“There’s a first time for everything, sweetheart,” Mr. Barber had told him, voice gruff and gravely, and he couldn’t help his feral reaction of turning his head and digging his teeth into the older man’s chin, biting at it hard as he moaned. Mr. Barber had chuckled darkly, had dug his bent knees into the bed harder, had let go of any sort of restraint he had been holding onto.

When he came, it felt like his entire being had split apart into a million different pieces, hadn’t even realized that Mr. Barber had smacked a hand over his mouth until he went to close his lips to gasp and it was there. The noises hitting his ears at a rapid pace were entirely too much, grunts and gasps and slick sounds of skin, and Mr. Barber didn’t stop fucking him, kept going and pushing and guiding.

“Yeah, fuck yeah look at that, shit you’re shakin’ oh, honey.”

His body had been so wound tight and with each wave of unprecedented pleasure he felt himself unravel bit by bit. He felt foggy in the head, the jarring jumps of his body not helping that much. A smack to his cheek cleared the fog enough to understand that Mr. Barber was telling him to hold his own legs open again, “to your chest, kid”, half kneeling, half standing at the edge of the bed.

“Put your fingers through that mess on your chest, yeah, eat it, put it in your mouth, oh fuck, baby.”

Mr. Baber choosing to come on his own spent dick made him feel completely and entirely owned, like Mr. Barber knew exactly what it was he was doing to the other man—ruining him. He watched through half-lidded eyes as the other man jacked himself off, broad chest shaking, muscles in his arms shifting like something out of a wet dream.

He wrung out every single drop he could, making sure to direct it all towards his own messy dick, hot on his skin and searing into his brain. The older man’s groans made his toes curl, made him want to hear them again and again, made him attempt to count the days left in the summer right there on his back covered in come. By the time Mr. Barber had finished coming, the only sounds left were their collective labored breathing. The syrupy headspace was still present but now was also the time for regret and realization to kick in.

Neither really left him stunned in the moment.

Mr. Barber smacking his cheek again, his ass, exhaling roughly as he settled down next to him in the bed did leave him a little stunned though. The feeling of surprise was stretched into the next moment of Mr. Barber tipping his chin up, kissing him for what felt like the first time, hot and lingering.

“Next time I’ll show you what it’s like to have your ass eaten; you’re gonna love it. Now, am I gonna have to carry you back to bed or are you a big enough boy to get there yourself?”