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lol-im-done · 2 months ago

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Overactive Empathy

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Nurse!Reader

Summary: A story of an ex-army doctor still haunted by his past who strives to maintain control of his emotions and a nurse with a sixth sense for the emotions of others that everyone has come to rely on- will a traumatic event force them to confront their true feelings for each other or pull them apart forever?

Tags/Warnings: age gap, yearning, too scared to admit they're in love, empath!reader, angst, panic attacks, comfort, descriptions of blood and pittfest, trauma, happy ending

Word Count: 4.3K & AO3 link

Author’s Note: This may not be everyone’s cup of tea but I could not stop thinking about writing this. I also have absolutely no medical knowledge so enjoy!

The Pitt - Night Shift

The faint beeping of monitors and clicks of the keyboard mesh with the sounds of patients and staff. The fluorescent lights aren’t the only thing landing on your skin, you feel his stare from chairs away. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable, quite the opposite, it sends a warm feeling rushing through you and when you peek up you catch sight of his silver curls twinkling in the light.

Dr. Jack Abbott can’t help it, after two years of working alongside you he doesn’t get tired of tracing the slope of your nose or watching the way you bite your lip in concentration. He stopped trying to be discreet a long time ago even after repeatedly being caught by Dr. Robby or Dr. Ellis. You’re both snapped out of your thoughts by the sirens approaching the ambulance bay. By the time the EMTs enter the Pitt you’re standing next to Jack at the ready.

“Man in his late sixties- disoriented and aggressive. He was distributing patrons outside of a nightclub and eventually someone knocked him down,” the EMT summarized as they wheeled in the man who was strapped down to the gurney. He wasn’t saying anything comprehensible, only letting out grunts as he attempted to free himself.

“Psych eval?” Jack tilts his head.

“Yup, no ID or other identification found with him. Probably homeless and off his meds,” the EMT replied.

“Give me a moment with him,” you step forward, not entirely convinced. Jack’s eyes narrow slightly at the patient who began to twist in his restraints again. Unease grows in his gut but he learned a long time ago not to question you.

“Don’t get too close to him yet, we may need sedation.”

He stands at the door watching the interaction closely, his body taut in preparation to intervene. The soldier inside him never left him, those instincts embedded into his bones.

Slowly you approach the older man, quietly assessing him. Jack watches your hand hover over the patient’s arm for a moment, but what you do is still a mystery to him.

Eventually it becomes clear to you what he needs. “You must be very tired and thirsty. It’s been a long day,” you murmur softly. This made the man go still, eyes widening as he nodded urgently. He was mute, everything he wanted to say stuck inside him at this moment but his emotions were clear.

“We’re here to help you,” you give him a reassuring smile as you back away towards the door. The moment you turn, you’re face to face with Jack. You force yourself to stay concentrated on your task and not on Jack’s handsome features. “He’s not homeless, he feels lost and he misses home. He’s also extremely thirsty, so he’s dehydrated which is why he was disoriented and acting out. He wasn’t able to ask for help because he’s mute,” you explain.

“Not a Psych case then,” he concurs, impressed once more.

“The usual tests will let us know how dehydrated he is and if there’s other underlying causes. This is a case for the night shift social worker to help with, they just need to find out who he is and where he lives. I think he has family,” you reach for the IV kit.

“Thanks Sherlock Holmes.”

There’s no malice or sarcasm in his tone, just his usual dry wit which you’ve come to love. You can see the wheels turning in his head and although he’s never asked questions, you know he keeps trying to figure out how you’re so good at reading patients.

Intuition, your grandmother winked at you one day when you asked if she had what you had. A curse, your mother declared before she had left for good, not able to handle what she was born with. Overactive empathy was what you had come to call it. It had been overwhelming at first, discovering that as you got in close proximity to someone you could identify their emotions and feel them yourself, all of them. It took many years to build up your control to a point where you felt you could be around people. Out of nursing school you spent your first few years in hospice care, holding the hand of those making their way out of this world, watching the hazy colors around them fade into nothing. Soon the time came to try something new and you found yourself standing in the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Emergency Department, hoping to make a difference and make use of your ability in a new way.

It was an open secret, the little trick you had up your sleeve. No one put a specific label on it and on one questioned it. Anytime you interacted with a patient who needed that extra level of support, with a simple glance or press of your hand to their shoulder you seemed to read their emotions to a tee. It had also helped de-escalate potentially dangerous situations, preventing many fights in the halls of the Pitt. In this world, it was all about the patient and being able to read them was an asset. Their feelings and experiences are half of the story when they walk in through the doors.

Grabbing your backpack from your locker you take your time walking back to the nursing station to clock out. It gives you time to admire Jack who stands at the counter, his blue eyes flickering across the screen. Dr. Abbot - the broody, stalwart and incredibly selfless man who captured your heart. Not that you would ever admit it, you were years younger and convinced he could do much better. What catches your attention is his posture, he’s leaning heavily against the counter hoping no one can notice his discomfort.

“Is it bothering you again?” you whisper as you stand next to him. Jack grimaces as he flexes the prosthetic foot under his khakis, internally kicking himself for showing a trace of weakness.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he grits out.

“Liar,” you muse, swiping your badge to clock out for the night.

His face turns stoic as he stares you down, intimidating as hell to others but not to you. You stare right back, waiting until one of you inevitably cracks. His dimples pop out as he lets out a hearty laugh. Several people send you curious looks, an Abbot laugh was rare.

“It's not fair if you use that trick on me,” he pretends to sound mad. Not that you would ever intentionally violate his privacy by delving further than his surface area emotions.

“It’s not like I can read minds.”

“It’s close enough.”

“I don’t have to use anything on you Abbot. It's clear as day.”

He feels that familiar swoop in his stomach at your words, forcing himself to not say anything stupid.

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here, just in case you pick up another shift,” you tease, finally starting to walk away. He winks at you and you feel like you’re floating on clouds all the way home.

The Pitt - Day Shift

Today was a never ending roller coaster and it was going to give you whiplash. Angry patients, argumentative family members, interpersonal drama, fucking rats. Then Dana had gotten punched, which had rattled all of the nurses. It had brought you to tears seeing her bruised face and bloody nose, your mentor and dear friend. She had shushed you in a motherly fashion, assuring you and everyone else she would live long enough to finish the shift as long as she had another cigarette.

It was also the first day for new residents and medical students, another layer to the never ending day. You took it in stride as always offering helpful advice and keeping an eye on them for Robby making sure they didn’t mess up too badly. Some had already latched onto you, King and Whittaker frequently asking you to join them on patient care.

You could immediately sense that today was an off day for Robby, as you assisted with his difficult cases you could see the strain behind his eyes and his increasing use of the word fuck. He also kept asking you about what the patients were feeling long after they had died. It wasn’t a good sign.

“Is he asking you about dead people again?” Dana hands you a cup of tea. You nod.

“Christ Almighty he’s a morbid one,” she shakes her head with a sad smile. “Wish Collins hadn’t left early, she knows how to get him back on track.”

....

“Do you think he feels anything? Even if he’s brain dead?” Robby asked you as you stood side by side, about to enter to give the parents of the overdose victim the final verdict on their son.

“No...he doesn’t feel anything. There’s nothing,” you replied truthfully.

“What do you think she felt while she drowned?” he asked as they wheeled the young girl's body out of the trauma room. You think back to when you had held onto her tiny cold hand as they worked to bring her back.

“She felt scared and exhausted but she also felt certain. Certain that she had saved her sister.”

Robby finds comfort in your candidness to his morbid questions, you’ve always been honest with him and a shoulder for him to lean on. He knew he was being extra hard on you today and he would apologize with your favorite snack by the end of the shift.

None of this compared to what came next.

“What’s going on?” you can feel the anxiety spike in the room as phones and pagers go off. Gloria is talking to Robby and Dana on the side in a serious manner, their faces pinching with worry. Shooting, Pittfest, mass casualties, are words that fill the air. It seems to suck the oxygen out of the room, a sobering reminder of the world you lived in. Taking a deep breath you steady your nerves as instructions are being shared to the whole team. Suddenly a familiar warmth settles next to you, calloused hands brushing against yours.

“You okay?” Jack asks quietly.

“I’m fine...but all of those people that are going to come in-,” you shudder at the thought.

“You don’t have to, you know, get too close to them if it gets too much,” he finally faces you as people start to rush around you. With his eyes trained on you it feels like you’re both in your own world for a moment.

“I know, but I want to help them. Anyway I can,” you reply, eyes filling with determination. It reminds him why he does this job, why he comes back.

Reality breaks apart your bubble as Dana calls out your name and Robby pulls Jack towards the team of doctors. Everything after that is a whirlwind, a mass casualty event hitting an already understaffed ED like a hurricane. Every ounce of training is in use as you work tirelessly alongside your colleagues to save every life that passed through those doors. It soon becomes clear there's not enough blood, medications or supplies. Only sheer willpower will get you all through this.

“Everyone please use the sedatives and morphine sparingly! More is coming but it's minutes out!” Dana shouted from the nurses station.

Following her announcement, a flurry of movement caught your attention in the Red Zone. The patient was thrashing on the gurney, arms flying around wildly as she shouted in pain, begging them to stop from pressing against her broken legs. Without hesitation you rushed over, hands slipping into the fray until they pressed against the woman’s face. Jack watched as you brought your head closely against hers, eyes scrunching tightly in concentration.

“You feel tired, so tired,” you repeated softly over and over again.

Slowly her shouts became nothing but disgruntled murmurs, her eyes closing and arms falling sluggishly at her side. No one else seemed to notice what you had done, preoccupied with her impending blood loss and shattered bones. Jack could do nothing more than send you a grateful nod before you slipped away once more to assist on the next patient.

Unfortunately she had not been the last patient you had helped calm down, dozens more streamed into the Pitt in various states of emotional distress and you did your best to keep them from overwhelming the rest of the staff. It was starting to wear you down, drain your energy reserves as you still ran from zone to zone, arms full of supplies and bags of blood. Dry blood mixed with your sweat caked your arms, and your lungs burned from the smell of antiseptic and alcohol in the air. Give me strength, you begged the universe.

You had been standing by the ambulance bay doors, replenishing supplies for the Red Zone when another wave of gurneys and patients flooded in once more. You hadn’t even had a chance to set down the IV bags in your hands when a tall man stumbled straight into your body. Blood stained hands clasped onto your shoulders with such force you could feel the bruises start to form. His eyes were wild and he kept repeating someone's name over and over. Time seemed to slow around you as his emotions flowed into your body like a dam had broken- hair raising panic, paralyzing fear, and pain that brought you to your knees. Your vision swam, all you could see now was bodies piled upon each other and hear the cries of those hit by the spray of bullets. A high pitched ringing filled your ears and your throat was suddenly raw.

Your ear splitting screams snapped Jack out of his concentration, his heart lurching at the scene before him. He barely had time to make sure Dr. Mohan had a handle on the patient before he was running full speed towards you, Robby at his side. The man was ripped away from you by Robby and one of the security guards who wrangled him onto a gurney. All you could do was cover your eyes as if that would stop the horrific visions in your head.

“Look at me, you gotta breathe (Y/N),” Jack begged as he stood in front of you, hands hovering over your shoulders not wanting to make it worse. His heart was beating a million miles per minute and he felt as if he was staring in the mirror, the traumatized medic in the throes of a panic attack staring back at him. Except now it was you.

You shook your head, stumbling backwards blindly into the wall. There was only one option he could think of at that moment. Without missing a beat, Jack grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you over his shoulder as you let out another desperate cry. The whole Pitt had frozen, shocked at the turn of events.

“Get back to work dammit!” Jack roared, making everyone flinch as they rushed to return back to the task at hand, averting their eyes.

In a few strides he made it to the end of the wing and into the empty on-call bathroom, slamming the door behind him with his foot. By this point you had gone limp over his shoulder, letting out the occasional whimper. He set you down lightly onto the shower floor, hand reaching up to the shower knob.

“I’m sorry baby but it will help I promise,” Jack couldn’t stop the term of endearment from slipping out.

You seemed to be stuck in some sort of trance, another agonizing scream slipping past your lips as you hunched over. Suddenly ice cold water flowed from the shower head hitting your body in a forceful gush. A high pitched gasp filled the air as your eyes flew open from the shock. Shivering hands immediately reached out to find Jack’s arms, needing something to ground you as the temperature of the water numbed your frayed nerves.

“Jack.”

“You’re safe, you’re in the bathroom now. You’re not there,” he assured you, hand smoothing your drenched hair out of your face. Tears swam in your eyes and you nodded numbly, trying to reorient yourself. His hand settled on your cheek, watching the water pour down your red cheeks. Even now, he thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He was only a few short seconds away from climbing into the shower with you when the door squeaked open.

“Dr. Abbot, they need you out there,” Princess frowns as she takes in your state. He gives her his harshest stare, about to protest but you push his arms weakly.

“Go,” you say. “Princess and I will handle it from here,” you look up at her. She gives a nod of affirmation.

“I’ll get her cleaned up, Dr. Abbot,” she promises, reaching for towels.

I need to stay with you and protect you, he wants to say to you. I can’t live another moment without you.

So many unsaid words stuck in his throat. Jack wishes you would just look into him and decipher his emotions so he wouldn’t have to say them out loud. It wasn’t the right time, it never was. He couldn’t stand risking everything you had just to lose you if you didn’t feel the same way. Instead of staying as his heart begged him to, he stands, ignoring the pain in his leg as he walks out without a word feeling like a coward.

Your heart squeezes painfully as you watch Jack go but you can’t stop him. By the time Princess helps you change into clean scrubs it feels like hours have passed. She stays silent the whole time, giving you space as you rebuild the mental blocks in your head. Eventually you walk out onto the floor which is still wet with blood, doctors and nurses running to and fro with urgency. Sirens blare in the distance without stopping. Smoothing your hands over your new scrubs you hoped you looked better than you felt.

“Go home,” Robby’s baritone voice is the first thing you hear.

“I don’t believe you can send me home Dr. Robby,” you glance up at him. He looks absolutely wrecked, likely the same as you.

“Dana-,” he turns to Dana who is by your side next. Dana knows you well, knows you wouldn't be standing here if you couldn’t handle it.

“I can’t force her to leave Robby. Trust that she knows her own limits,” Dana squeezes your hand. You squeeze it back in thanks. “We still have patients to help, let’s go kiddo,” she guides you back into the disaster zone, arm over your shoulder.

It’s when the emergency protocol is finally at an end and the last Pittfest patient is stabilized that you spot Robby again. Robby had been walking on a tight line today, Leah’s death finally pushing him over the edge. You had heard the terrible things Jake had yelled at him moments ago.

“Hard day yeah?”

“For both of us I’d say,” he laughs dryly, tears beginning to leak once again from the corners of his eyes.

“You’ve shouldered the burden of so much today Robby. Let me help you,” you extend your hand to him.

“I can’t do that to you,” he shakes his head, knowing what you’re offering.

“This may be the only time I offer this to you Robby. Trust me,” you say. He shifts uneasily in place before finally making his decision. He takes your hand. The colors around him darken, his frustration, grief, anger and disappointment swirling around him like a storm.

“Go home soon and sleep. It will come easy tonight,” you say. Robby feels a warm sensation run up his arm, filling his chest with a lightness he hadn’t felt in years. The tension in his shoulders visibly eases and he feels like he can properly breathe again. Before he can thank you, you’re gone.

You hand found a quiet space in the supply closet to unwind, taking advantage of the day shift and night shift switching places. Sitting in the dim room you allow the events of the day to wash over you, taking steadying breaths to settle your emotions. Then you would find Jack and hope he didn’t look at you differently like you were something that had been crushed into tiny pieces.

You hadn’t left Jack’s mind since he had left you in the shower, your screams echoing in his mind. Compartmentalizing all of his emotions and stuffing them into the back of his mind was the only thing that kept him sane for the remaining shift. The moment he finally handed off the last patient to Shen and Ellis he was on the lookout for you. Unable to find you yet, Jack makes his way up to the roof as he does after most shifts, muscle memory taking over. He’s not surprised to see Robby staring at the city skyline from the ledge.

“I think I finally understand why I keep coming back now,” Jack calls out to Robby. “It's in our DNA. It's what we do. We can't help it. Not everyone can do it, it takes a special type of person,” he says, thinking of you.

“Maybe you, not me,” Robby shakes his head as he steps back onto the roof.

“What are you talking about?” Jack’s tone is incredulous.

“You know damn well what I'm talking about. I broke. I shut down. At the moment everybody needed me the most, I wasn't there. I couldn't do it. I choked,” Robby hangs his head.

“Don’t say that you broke in there because if that was you breaking apart then that means (Y/N)-,” he stops himself, unable to finish the sentence. “You’re not broken, you’re just human. We all are.”

Robby sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’re stronger than you think. She’s stronger than she thinks. Just because you both got overwhelmed today doesn’t mean you’re broken, not even close,” Jack says. “I used to think there was a weakness in feeling too much. Never allowed myself to cry or grieve even when-,” he pauses thinking back to his time after he came back from the army, what had happened to his ex wife and her untimely death years ago.

“This is starting to sound less like a pep talk and more like you need to go find her,” Robby crosses his arms. Jack remains silent, running his hand through his messy curls as he paces back and forth.

“What are you going to do Jack? It’s been months of you pining after her. We all saw it on that karaoke night-.”

“Don’t even,” Jack scowls at the memory which makes Robby laugh for the first time tonight.

You had been singing alongside Dana and McKay, your smile infectious as you swayed your hips to the beat. Jack had scoffed at the idea of karaoke night with the team but seeing you up there, he was entranced by the lights making your skin shimmer, your smudged lipstick and sweet voice. The only thing that snapped him out of it was watching a young guy approach you with a shot and a flirtatious grin. It had taken both Robby and Shen to hold him back, dragging him back to the booth by the scruff of his neck.

There wasn’t anything more to say so they descended back down to reality, one step at a time. By the time he and Robby exit the Pitt doors, there was only one thing on Jack’s mind.

“You gonna grab a beer with us?” Robby asks as they cross the street but he already knows the answer.

“I have to do something first. Something long overdue,” Jack stations himself at the entrance of the park.

“Fucking finally,” Robby claps his shoulder. “Tell her I said goodnight.”

“I heard you’ve been asking her about dead people again, not cool man!”

“Sorry! Sorry, I’ll make an effort to stop that,” Robby throws his hands up before disappearing into the park.

Jack steels himself in place, waiting and praying he hadn’t missed you. His instincts were correct as usual, you soon appeared before him with a tired smile gracing your lips, backpack hanging off your hand. For a moment the only sound is the wind rustling through the trees. Slowly he takes measured steps closer to you, until he can see the small scar on your top lip. You take the moment to admire the freckles that adorn his nose and cheeks. You were nervous seconds ago, but not anymore.

Finally Jack speaks. “You wanna know what I see when I look at you?” he whispers, his strong hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I see the woman that I love, who makes me want to live life, not just survive it. I see a woman with the endless capacity to help others, the strongest person I know.”

“I- you saw what happened to me today. It may not always be easy,” your voice is thick with emotion.

“You know me better than anyone, it won’t be easy with me either, but we have each other.”

“That’s all I need - you.”

Lifting yourself on your tiptoes you press your nose to his, your lips hovering over one another. Electricity crackles between you, months of yearning and unspoken tension threatening to break free. His muscular arm wraps around your waist, tethering you to him.

“Come home with me, where you belong.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you whisper.

Then something blooms in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time - hope. You can see the fuzzy color around him lighten into a beautiful blue color, like the sky on a sunny day.

“Feel it with me?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, letting the mental blocks down momentarily. The moments your lips touch bursts of colors fill your mind and you feel it all. His love encompasses you, his hope for the future with you and passion makes your skin tingle.

“I love you Jack Abbot.”

“I love you more."

#jack abbot #dr. jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot imagine #the pitt fanfiction #shawn hatosy #dr. jack abbot

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bwskj · 8 months ago

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NSFW MDNI | jjk x reader

- jjk characters reacting to u asking them on call for a moaning audio -

chars: gojo, nanami, megumi, sukuna, yuuji, inumaki

notes: (text) are you; bulleted + written

tags: honestly just a lot of nsfw stuff, pls x away if ur a minor or uncomfy

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

gojo

— “baby what?”, he laughs amused, “did you just say you want me to send a moaning audio?”

— you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “ah baby, well i could do that… just not for free. give me something to look at and i’ll make it, how about that?”

output: bro sends a hand held video of him jacking off while sitting on the living room couch. a part of his laptop sitting on the coffee table with your photo/video on it is shown in the upper half of the video, behind the main character that is his thick hard cock. satoru likes talking as if you’re there kneeling in front of him, pretending he’s got your face to tap his dick on before he fully wraps his hand around the girth and starts pumping. he often groans low with the occasional sharp inhales through gritted teeth. eventually, he gets to the point wherein he’s leaking so much pre-cum it’s enough to help him make big smooth strokes over his length. his camera angle ends up wonky sometimes because he’s too zoned in jerking off to you. “fuckkk baby, god you’re so��hot” and “shit… that’s mine, that fucking pussy belongs to me.” he sure loves his dirty talk, “bet you wanna ride this huh, baby? want your tight pussy walls sucking up my cock.” when he finally cums, you can tell he’s trying his best to not hold in his moans (cause ofc that’s what you’re looking for). his thighs tense, spreading apart as his cum shoots up high, loud groans with every shot that spatters all over his bare stomach. he aims the camera down at his messy torso, laying his dick on it as he swipes it across the mess around and on his happy trail. “i wanna see you lick this clean off, baby.”

nanami

—“excuse me? a what?” (you repeat yourself)

—hunched over his desk at work, he says, “honey i… don’t do that,” he sounds concerned that you would ask for such thing, “do you need it for… something?” you can imagine the stitch in his brow when he asks this.

— (you reply with a vague and teasing “maybe”) kento lightly huffs, seeming slightly bothered (?)“well, i’m busy right now… just… wait until i get home.”

output: no audio but what did you expect he was at work! not like he would do it though if he wasn’t. instead, on the way home, he’s got one thing on his mind. the thought keeps bubbling up in excitement, making him tap his foot in impatience as he rides the elevator up to your shared apartment. when you hear the jangle of his keys in the doorknob, you spring up from where you’ve been rotting. a smile immediately appears on your face when you see your boyfriend looking even more dashing with the appearance of a man who’s worked hard all day at work. “you’re home, i—“ you’re about to tell him you’ve missed him but he cuts you off when he closes the distance, leaning in and catching your lips with his. he drops his work bag on the floor as the big palm of his hand slides onto your back. he pulls you close, not giving you the chance to speak anymore as his deep hungry kiss keeps your mouth busy. you manage to make at least the sound of, “mphh.. Kento!” when his lips pull back a bit. you can tell he’s trying to hold himself back, his jaw and shoulders feeling rigid when your hands feel over them. “couldn’t wait to get home,” he mumbles when his mouth detaches for a second — basically, yea, he fucks you pretty much the whole night or until you can’t take any more. everything he does is meant to please you; he thrives on giving you, his pretty princess, what you want, feeling fulfilled when he knows he can keep you more than satisfied.

sukuna

— “the fuck? a moaning audio? why would i do that?

— he stretches his jaw, the eyes on his cheeks fluttering a little eye roll. he speaks into the mic at a low volume, “baby if you miss being dicked down just say so…”

— “uhuh yea, keep pretending you don’t want it til you’ve got this cock in your mouth, right? stay put. i’m coming over”

output: no moaning audio. he gets to your place in 10 minutes (how the fuck he got there that quick you’ll never know). when you greet him at the door, mouth ajar in surprise, you can’t stop yourself from cheekily saying, “well, isn’t somebody excited?”

“i wanna know what the bitch who’s asking for an audio sounds like when she gets what she actually wants,” he cockily spits out as he looms over you by the still open door frame.

your eyes widen at his response but you can only stutter before his hand is suddenly holding you by your throat. he welcomes himself in, shutting the door behind him while you almost stumble back into your hallway. your hands instinctively reach to grab at the back of his hand around your neck. not even a second later and his other hand grabs one of yours, tugging it and placing it over the tent in his pants. his fingers sandwiched around your neck begins to squeeze and you accidentally sound out a moan. you can feel his sharp nails pricking your nape. his hand holding yours guides you into palming him. a dark smirk is on his face. “i’m fucking hard. do something about it.”

long story short: he rails you (on your bed, in front of the mirror, doggy style or just backshots in general— he loves pinning your wrists behind you and watching your tits bounce everytime he pounds into you. when you’re on top, he doesn’t even give you the chance to ride him on your own). “how you liking this, huh? sweet little slut. you like this fat cock fucking your stomach? isn’t this better than some shit tease through the phone?”

megumi

— his cheeks warm when he hears the words through the phone, “what’s that?” He asks though he knows full well what you mean (i think megumi would be a secret tumblr user).

— you carefully explain it to him. there’s hesitation in his voice when he says, “oh, i see…”

— alarmed by the way his voice trailed off, you reassure him that he doesn’t have to do it if he doesn’t want to.

— he replies with a slightly stammered okay and the call eventually awkwardly ends with exchanged ‘i love you’s and ‘talk to you later’s

— you feel slightly embarrassed for voicing your request but it’s not long before you forget about it. it was worth a shot.

— that night, while you’re snuggled up in your cozy blanket, you receive a single voice note from megumi with no message attached

— megumi blushes as he stares at the file he just sent, wondering if he did it okay. you don’t know that he jack offed and recorded not even five minutes after your call ended.

output: when you press play you’re immediately met with the semi-distant sounds of megumi’s shaky gasps and breathy low moans. it looks like he sent you a recording of the most interesting part of his session wherein wet stroking sounds are being picked up by his phone. there’s oftentimes soft whimpers that slip through, the noise of his bed covers shifting on his skin almost overpowering it when he gets more and more into fucking his hand (or whatever he’s slotting his dick through). you have to replay it a couple times to make sure you heard right—pride blooming within you when you’re certain he’s whimpering and mumbling out your name. his moans rise in pitch and grow more rugged the closer he gets to his climax. “a-ah… mm—hah.. gonna c-cum,” you can hear the strokes getting faster and the sheets being gripped tight. when he cums, he gets even louder, noisy staggering moans falling out his mouth. you just know his throbbing dick is thrusting up while chasing his high. when it dies down, you can hear soft panting and then the sound of his phone being picked up. there’s a silent pause before his voice comes through low and crisp, “i… hope you liked that.”

yuuji

— “a what audio??”, he laughs, “you’re kidding!” His laugh fades when he realises you aren’t.

— “wait seriously, you’re into that? like those audios on reddit or something?”

— (“… you know those?” you ask curiously.)

— yuuji gets flustered, he stutters, “i-i don’t—I accidentally came across them once. kinda freaked me out, ngl…”

— (“freaked you out?”)

— “yea, i dunno, never imagined guys to be doing that for a living. and i didn’t know there were girls who especially liked that.”

— (“really… well a lot of girls actually like that. but yea, i guess you wouldn’t really know, cuz you know,” you lightly tease.)

— yuuji rubs a hand over his blushing cheek, “you don’t have to keep reminding me that you’re my first…”

— (he always reacts like this and so you remind him again [you love reminding him], “sorry my yuuji, but you know, i love being your first, especially knowing that my competition is literally THE jennifer lawrence.”)

— you can hear the smile yuuji is trying to keep down, “and your 100x better than her,” (honestly, you just tease him to hear him say this again)

— (“so what about that audio?”)

— “hm?” yuuji didn’t even realize it until now that he’s got a hand over the boner jutting through his boxers

— you quickly reassure him that he can say no if he doesn’t want to. there’s a silence that hangs for a moment in the call, and when you’re about to say something again to dismiss the topic, he starts, “could you… maybe, talk me through it?”

output: you piece together that yuuji’s turned on. “are you… hard rn?” your voice comes gentle through the phone and yuuji grabs his dick stronger through the cloth, pushing his palm against it. he shudders, “m-maybe.” your voice sounds so good.

“are you…” you trail off, but yuuji knows what you mean. he quickly replies, “is this okay? you can tell me if it’s not, i-i’ll stop.” yuuji doesn’t want to stop but he’s stiffened his hand on his dick to try to stop himself from touching further without your consent.

there’s another short pause before you say, “mm, it’s okay, yuuji… you need help?”

“mhm,” he hums, instantly resuming his hand movement. there’s slight guilt when he clears his throat and says, “s-sorry our call kind of—went in another direction, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I can—“

your laugh cuts him off, “sweetie it’s okay. i’d like to help. we’ll hit two birds with one stone since i wanted an audio anyway.”

yuuji blushes even harder. “I… I’ll try to not… hold it in.”

you grin, biting at your lip as you lay in your bed with your phone planted on your ear. “Good… you’ll give me what i want hm?”

Yuuji’s breaths are beginning to tremble as he continues to rub himself to the sound of your voice. “y-yea, for you… i’ll do what you want.”

it gets more serious when yuuji finally takes his dick out his boxers and starts pumping it up and down; it’s almost fully hard. he loves it when you ask him what he’s doing, what he’s thinking about. his moans start off quiet but when you tell him you wanna hear him, his voice breaks and he lets a louder sound come out his throat. “can you imagine your hand as my hand, or my mouth?” you ask him. at this point your thighs are squeezed together and you can feel the wetness pool in your panties. this makes yuuji moan even louder.

after a couple minutes of this teasing dirty talk, yuuji can’t take it anymore and the needy words, “fuh… i… i want to see you. c-can i?” slip out of his mouth.

it turns into a video call after the both of you move to transfer to your laptops. you can see yuuji’s tip peeking from the bottom edge of the screen. his shirt is on and it’s lightly sticking to his skin, likely because he’s starting to sweat. when you turn on your camera, your pretty face comes into view and you’re in the usual clothes you wear at home: loose shirt, no bra, panties. you can instantly tell yuuji’s back to jerking himself, though you can’t see his whole hand or his face at all.

“let me see you, sweetie,” you say, hand digging between your sticking thighs and going over your clothed crotch.

his movement slows, “shit, you wanna see me?” he sounds embarrassed. you nod. yuuji is obviously reluctant, but he listens, repositioning his laptop further so it captures his face and dick in hand. you feel yourself throb at the sight.

it isn’t long before you’re touching your bare pussy in front of the camera, tits out on display. you’re lewd and so is yuuji, now more confidently moaning as he pleases himself to you. between your own sounds, you softly say, “gosh my pretty baby. you’re doing so well,” knowing how your boyfriend is secretly a sucker for praise. yuuji groans, body jerking as his face flushes even redder. “will you come for me?” you say. you’ve got him in the palm of your hand.

yuuji’s a moaning needy mess, the hand not on his dick pinning the hem of his shirt high up. “fuugh… y-yes… yes for you. I’ll come… i’m about to—about… agh—“

yuuji’s hand pumps the tip fast and he cums strongly, head bowing as his hips thrust up and he shoots white. “Ah~ oh~,” he’s shaky and noisy all the way through his high. when he finally lifts his head up to look at you, you’re sweetly smiling (you came watching him cum but he missed it ://). you stare at one another for a moment before the both of you let out (somewhat nervous) laughter.

yuuji pats sweat off his forehead with the back of his clean hand, careful not to have the other covered in his own cum go near his bed sheets. “gosh, you’re good. i’m so lucky to have you.”

you beam. “and i’m so lucky to have such a pretty, handsome boyfriend. you did great.”

he shyly looks away, biting on his lip to suppress a smile, “thank you.”

inumaki

— you text him asking for a moaning audio (unless u want inumaki to go tuna tuna at u on call lmao)

— “?”

— “how do i make that?”

— you send him a voice note explaining what kind of audio it is, making sure to tell him he doesnt have to do it if he doesnt want to

— “…”

— “okay…”

— “i totally thought you wanted to hear me in pain and i was… concerned.”

— (“??? baby pls no?!)

— “thank god”

— there’s a pause in the chat

— “i would send if i could.”

— (“wdym? if you don’t feel comfortable about it it’s okay maki”)

— “no… um”

—(“?”)

— “i don’t really get hard unless ur here.”

— (you stare at his message before sending an “oh !”)

— “yea… nothing else does it for me. sorry.”

— (you’re both blushing and stricken by his response. “no baby don’t be sorry TT you don’t need to do this. i can always hear you in person.”)

— “sure?”

— (“yes for sure TT”)

— “:p i’ll make those sounds for you next time if you really like them.”

output: next time you see each other, it starts off as usual. a casual date outside before going back to his place for nightly cuddles and eventually… that. it’s clear inumaki remembers you’re conversation without you having to bring it up. he’s nervous at first (he’s always been pretty quiet mostly because he’s mindful of using his voice), and you see it in his eyes. “just let it out okay? it’s just me here,” you whisper when you softly kiss under his neck, a little shy as well. soon, when you’re kissing, touching, and sucking him all over, his moans are tiny sharp inhales and whimpers rising up his throat; they come out somewhat muffled because of his closed mouth. since he can’t really risk saying anything, he’ll tell you that he feels good with a hand combing through your hair or a thumb caressing your skin. he’ll buck up into your throat when he cums, his mouth accidentally opening to sound out a breathier vocal moan. when you pull up, wiping your mouth after swallowing, he doesn’t hesitate to pull your face close, kissing you sweetly. you know it’s his way of saying ‘thank you. i love you.”

—— <3

a/n: wrote smth diff today (context: i usually write leon kennedy stuff) these are just my headcanons so i’d love to hear what u guys think! xoxo i had sm fun writing this hehe

also, can u guess who my fav char is? (it’s not the one with the longest part— mb that some are longer than others, idk how to stop smtms)

2K notes · View notes

rafedarling · 10 months ago

Text

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬

pairing: drew starkey x reader

summary: you and drew have been best friends since childhood, sharing everything-until drew's acting career takes off. as odessa enters drew's life and their on-screen chemistry blurs the lines of their friendship, you feel the deepening void between you and the boy you once knew. invited to a family bbq at the starkey, you hope to reconnect with drew. however, you soon find yourself on the sidelines, watching as odessa captures all of drew's attention. a devastating scene in ‘hellraiser’—a film that stars both drew and odessa-sends you spiraling into the realization that drew may never see you the way you see him. over the course of a painful night and the aftermath, long-buried emotions rise to the surface, culminating in a heart-wrenching confrontation. will drew finally realize what you mean to him, or will you be forced to let him go for good? | words count: 7,3k (sorry!!!)

warning(s): NO HATES TOWARD ODESSA OR ANY ACTORS/ FRIENDS OF DREW! english is not my native language. severe emotional turmoil, themes of unrequited love, detailed internal conflict, intense feelings of isolation, push-and-pull dynamics, emotional abandonment, moments of painful rejection, and slow-burning angst.

au: like, reblog and comment are much appreciated. i actually listen to THIS SONG while writing this, discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @tracymbcm @drewstarkeys-world @maybankslover @akobx @rubixgsworld @enjoymyloves @xoxohoneymoongirl @rafecameroncoke @httpsdrewstarkey @tiaamberxx @wxn-drlst @ratatioulle @zizuras @flvredcas @abrmscline @noobmazter69 @wearemadeofstardust0 @xoxosblogsblog @saviorcomplexrry

The summers were always the best part of your childhood. You and Drew Starkey had been practically inseparable since you were six years old, running through the wide backyard of the Starkey home, laughing until your stomach hurt and your lungs ached from the chase. Your families were close—so close that your mothers, Jodi and your mom, would joke that you and Drew were "destined for each other."

"Y/N and Joseph," Jodi would say with a smile as she watched the two of you playing in the grass. "They’re going to get married someday. I’ve always known."

Your mother would laugh, glancing over at you, sweaty and carefree as you chased Drew through the sprinklers. "I’d be happy with that, Jodi," she’d reply, "It would be perfect."

You didn’t think much of it then. To you, Drew was just Drew—your best friend, the boy who pulled you out of the creek when you fell in one summer and got scraped knees trying to rescue you. You couldn’t imagine life without him, but back then, you were still young. The idea of growing up and getting married seemed like something distant, almost laughable.

One summer, when you were about six, you had a moment that defined your bond. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden light over the Starkey backyard. You and Drew were sprawled on the grass after an afternoon of playing tag, breathing hard but smiling at each other.

“Joseph,” you began, turning your head toward him as you lay beside him, “can I call you something else? Like a nickname?”

Drew raised an eyebrow and rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “Like what?”

“I don’t know... Drew? It sounds cooler.”

He blinked, then laughed, as though the idea of you giving him a special name was the best thing he had heard all day. “Sure,” he said, grinning. “Call me Drew.”

From that day on, the name stuck. Only you called him that, while the rest of the world called him Joseph. It was your little secret, a bond that made you feel like you shared something special. And you did.

Every summer, you counted down the days until you could visit the Starkey family. It was tradition—long, lazy afternoons spent playing outside, followed by evenings watching the stars come out. The best part, though, was the mornings.

Drew knew how much you loved watching the sunrise. Each summer, no matter how early it was, he would wake up with you before dawn, just so the two of you could sit on the hill behind the house and watch the sky change from dark blue to shades of pink, orange, and gold.

“Think we’ll always do this?” you had asked one morning, your knees pulled to your chest as the horizon turned golden.

Drew looked at you, the early morning light reflecting in his eyes. “Yeah,” he had said simply. “We’ll always be friends.”

At that moment, as the sun bathed you both in warmth, you believed him with all your heart.

When you were twelve, your family made the big move to Asheville, North Carolina, to be closer to the Starkeys. At first, it was a dream come true—you’d see Drew year-round now, not just in the summers. But as exciting as the move was, it came with its own challenges. A new school, new classmates, and a feeling of unfamiliarity that settled deep in your bones.

You weren’t exactly the social butterfly Drew was. He thrived in new environments, easily making friends with his magnetic personality. He was taller than most boys his age, athletic, and undeniably charming. He played basketball, acted in the school plays, and it seemed like everyone was drawn to him. You, on the other hand, were quieter, more reserved. Drew was your anchor, the one person who made you feel like you belonged.

Despite being in different classes, Drew always made time for you. He’d wait for you after school, leaning against the fence near the basketball courts, a crooked smile on his face as he waved you over.

“Come on, slowpoke,” he’d tease. “I’ve got snacks for us before practice.”

It became a routine—him waiting for you, you showing up at his basketball practices with snacks or a drink to keep him going. Sometimes, you’d sit on the bleachers, watching him run drills, marveling at how easily he seemed to fit into this new world. You were happy for him, of course, but there was always a small, nagging feeling inside you, something that whispered that you were being left behind.

You brushed it off. After all, Drew was still Drew—your best friend, the boy who stood up for you when some kids at school made fun of your appearance. You’d never forget the day one of Drew’s classmates, a girl from the drama club, sneered at you during lunch.

“How can someone like you even be friends with Joseph Starkey?” she had said, her voice dripping with disdain.

You had felt a hot flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, your fists clenching at your sides. But before you could respond, Drew had appeared out of nowhere, stepping in front of you protectively.

“What did you just say?” Drew’s voice was low, dangerous, his eyes narrowing at the girl.

The girl faltered, shrinking under his glare. “I— I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t get to talk to her like that,” Drew snapped, his voice ice-cold. “If I ever hear you say something like that again, you’ll regret it.”

The girl had stammered an apology before scurrying away, and Drew had turned to you with a reassuring smile, as if nothing had happened.

“Don’t listen to people like her,” he had said softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You’re worth so much more than their words.”

From that day on, you never doubted that Drew had your back. He was your protector, your confidant, the one person who made you feel safe in a world that often felt overwhelming.

When Drew turned seventeen, he became more serious about his future. You spent countless nights together, talking about his dreams, about how he wanted to pursue acting full-time after high school. It was clear to you that he had the passion, the drive, and the talent to make it big.

The day Drew landed his first acting role was a day you’d never forget. You were sitting in your living room when Drew burst through the front door, grinning from ear to ear.

“Y/N! I got the part!” he shouted, holding up a script in triumph. “I actually got the part!”

Your heart soared with pride as you jumped up from the couch, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Drew, that’s amazing! I knew you’d do it!”

The two of you celebrated that night, just the two of you. Drew asked you to help him practice his lines, and for hours, you sat on the floor of your living room, reading through the script with him. He was nervous, pacing back and forth as he recited his lines, but you were there, steady and patient, helping him work through every scene.

Before his first day on set, Drew had come to you, his usual confidence replaced with anxiety. “What if I mess up?” he had asked, his voice wavering. “What if I’m not good enough?”

You had smiled softly, reaching into your bag and pulling out a small, crocheted keychain—a little dog with floppy ears that you had made yourself. “Here,” you said, handing it to him. “Consider this your good luck charm. Keep it with you, and I promise you’ll be fine.”

Drew had chuckled, pocketing the keychain with a fond smile. “Thanks, sunshine. I’ll keep it with me, always.”

That first role was just the beginning. After high school, Drew went off to college to study acting, and though the distance was hard, you made sure to keep in touch. Late-night phone calls, long text conversations—Drew made sure you were still part of his life, even from miles away.

And when he landed his breakout role on the Netflix series Outer Banks, you were the first person he called.

“Y/N! Guess what?” Drew’s voice had crackled through the phone, filled with excitement. “I got a role on a Netflix show! Can you believe it?”

Your heart had swelled with pride, even as a small, selfish part of you wondered what this meant for your friendship. “Drew, that’s incredible! I’m so proud of you!”

You meant every word, but as Drew’s career took off, the distance between you began to grow—not just physically, but emotionally. His life was changing, and you weren’t sure if you still had a place in it.

The first time Drew mentioned Odessa A’zion, you hadn’t thought much of it. She was a fellow actor on Outer Banks, and Drew had talked about how they had become fast friends on set. But as time passed, it became clear that Odessa was more than just a friend to Drew—she was someone important to him.

At first, you tried to brush off the feeling of unease that settled in your chest every time Drew talked about her. After all, he was bound to make new friends in the industry. But it became harder to ignore the way he talked about Odessa—the way his eyes lit up when he mentioned her name, the way she seemed to occupy so much of his attention.

The first time you met Odessa was at Drew’s birthday party. He had flown back to North Carolina to celebrate with friends and family, and you were excited to see him in person after months of only talking through texts and phone calls.

When you arrived at the restaurant, your heart raced with anticipation. It had been so long since you’d seen Drew, and part of you hoped that things would feel just like they used to. But as soon as you walked in, you saw him sitting with Odessa.

They were deep in conversation, laughing together as if they were the only two people in the room. You felt a pang of jealousy, something you hadn’t expected. Drew had always been your person, your best friend. But now, watching him with Odessa, it felt like he was slipping away.

When Drew finally noticed you, his face lit up with a smile. “Y/N!” he called out, standing up to wrap you in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

You hugged him back, but something felt off. The easy familiarity that had always existed between you was strained, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

Odessa greeted you with a polite smile, introducing herself, but the way she looked at Drew—like he was the center of her universe—only made the knot in your stomach tighten.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Drew introduced you to his castmates, and while everyone was friendly, you couldn’t help but feel like an outsider. Drew and Odessa were inseparable, their laughter filling the room as they shared inside jokes you weren’t part of.

Later that night, as the party began to wind down, Drew pulled you aside. “I need to take Odessa home,” he explained, his voice apologetic. “She had a little too much to drink.”

You forced a smile, even as your heart sank. “Yeah, of course. Go ahead.”

As you watched them leave together, something inside you shifted. You couldn’t ignore it anymore—the distance between you and Drew wasn’t just physical. It was emotional. And it hurt more than you were willing to admit.

Months passed, and while you and Drew still kept in touch, things weren’t the same. The texts were shorter, the phone calls less frequent, and every time you tried to bring up something personal, something about you, the conversation somehow always shifted back to Odessa or Drew’s new life in Los Angeles. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about his success—you were proud of him—but it hurt to feel like an afterthought, someone on the periphery of his increasingly glamorous life.

When Drew invited you to his family’s annual BBQ, you hesitated. Part of you wanted to turn down the invitation, not wanting to face him and Odessa again. But the other part of you—the part that still longed for the closeness you once shared—couldn’t say no. This was the Starkey house, the place that had always felt like a second home to you, the place where your friendship with Drew had blossomed.

The afternoon sun was just beginning to set as you arrived at the familiar Starkey home. The front porch was adorned with string lights, and the smell of grilled burgers wafted through the air, mixing with the sound of laughter from the backyard. It should’ve felt like a homecoming, but instead, all you felt was a growing sense of unease.

As you stepped into the backyard, the knot in your stomach tightened. Drew was there, sitting beside Odessa, his arm casually draped along the back of her chair. They were laughing, their heads close together as if they were sharing some private joke. For a moment, it was like watching strangers—people you knew but didn’t recognize anymore.

Before you could retreat, McKayla spotted you. “Y/N!” she called out, running over with a grin. Her hug was warm, and it reminded you of why you had come. The Starkeys were still like family, even if your relationship with Drew had changed.

“I missed you so much!” McKayla said, pulling back to look at you with a beaming smile. “It’s been forever.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, your smile softening as you hugged her again. If anything, McKayla had always made you feel welcome, like you were still an important part of their family.

Just as McKayla let go, Todd walked over, his familiar grin lighting up his face. “There’s my favorite little girl!” he boomed, wrapping you in one of his signature bear hugs. “How’ve you been, Y/N?”

“I’ve been good, Todd,” you said, your voice a little quieter now. “How about you?”

“Oh, you know, keeping busy,” Todd replied, his tone warm. “We’ve missed you around here, you know. This place isn’t the same without you.”

Jodi joined the group, pulling you into a soft hug. “Y/N, it’s so good to see you again,” she said, her smile kind but tinged with something deeper—an understanding, perhaps, of the distance that had grown between you and her son. “How are your parents?”

“They’re good,” you answered. “They’re actually in Rome right now, celebrating their 35th anniversary.”

“Ah, Rome,” Jodi sighed wistfully. “Lucky them. They always did know how to celebrate big.”

You smiled at the familiarity of their banter, grateful for their warmth, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tightening in your chest. Every few minutes, your eyes would drift back to Drew and Odessa. The easy way they sat together, the way Drew’s hand occasionally brushed her arm as he spoke—it was hard to ignore. Even harder to accept.

“Let’s get you something to drink,” McKayla suggested, sensing your unease and pulling you away from the crowd. As you followed her inside, you passed Drew and Odessa. Drew glanced up at you, a smile briefly crossing his face.

“Hey, Y/N! Glad you could make it,” Drew said, his tone casual, but there was a distance in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, even though your heart ached.

You could feel Odessa’s eyes on you, though her smile was polite. “Nice to see you again,” she added, her tone friendly but not warm. You nodded, but the knot in your chest tightened as the conversation shifted back to something between her and Drew.

As the night progressed, Drew suggested watching Hellraiser—the movie he and Odessa had filmed together. It was the project he had talked about non-stop for months, and while you had been happy for him, you had avoided watching it. The idea of seeing Drew and Odessa on screen together, so intimately connected, made you uneasy.

“I think you’ll like it,” Drew said as the group settled in front of the outdoor screen. “It’s one of my favorite projects.”

You sat between McKayla and Todd, grateful for the distance between you and Drew, but as the opening credits rolled, the familiar knot in your stomach returned.

At first, you tried to focus on the movie, telling yourself it was just another role for Drew—just a job, nothing more. But as the film progressed, your discomfort grew. Drew’s character, Trevor, and Odessa’s character, Riley, had an undeniable chemistry, one that felt far too real. Every glance, every touch between them on screen felt intimate, too personal.

And then the first love scene played out.

You had prepared yourself for it, but nothing could have braced you for how raw it felt to watch Drew and Odessa in such a vulnerable, intimate moment. The room around you seemed to fade, and all you could focus on was the way Drew looked at her on screen, the way their bodies intertwined in a way that felt too real to be acting.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you fought to keep your expression neutral, but the weight in your chest was growing unbearable. You hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to see him like this, to be confronted with the reality of how much you were no longer a part of his life.

A lump formed in your throat as you forced yourself to stay seated, but when the second love scene began, you couldn’t take it anymore. The emotions you had been pushing down for months suddenly overwhelmed you, and without a word, you stood up, muttering a quick excuse to McKayla before making your way to the front porch.

As soon as you were outside, you collapsed onto the porch steps, gasping for air as the tears finally spilled over. You had been trying so hard to keep it together, but seeing Drew and Odessa like that—so close, so connected—had broken something inside you.

“Y/N?”

McKayla’s voice was soft, and you quickly wiped at your eyes as she stepped outside, sitting down beside you. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just sat with you in the quiet, the sound of the movie still playing faintly in the background.

“Are you okay?” she finally asked, her voice filled with concern.

You shook your head, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I don’t think I can do this, McKayla. Watching them together... it’s too much.”

McKayla sighed, her brow furrowing in sympathy. “I get it, Y/N. It’s hard. But you have to talk to him. He doesn’t know how much you’re hurting.”

“I don’t think he even cares,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “He’s so wrapped up in Odessa and his career... I don’t think I matter to him anymore.”

McKayla shook her head firmly, turning to face you fully. “That’s not true, Y/N. I know my brother. He still cares about you—he’s just blind to everything right now. But you need to tell him how you feel. You deserve that.”

You wiped at your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” McKayla said softly, her hand resting on your shoulder. “You’ve been there for him through everything, Y/N. He needs to understand how much you’re hurting.”

You nodded, but the thought of confronting Drew still terrified you. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face him, to lay everything out on the table. But one thing was clear—you couldn’t keep pretending everything was okay. You couldn’t keep carrying this hurt on your own.

The next morning, you woke up with the same heavy feeling in your chest. You had tossed and turned all night, replaying the movie over and over in your mind, each scene only deepening the ache in your heart. You needed to leave. As much as you loved the Starkeys, being here—being around Drew and Odessa—was too painful.

You packed your bags quietly, leaving a note for McKayla and Todd, thanking them for their hospitality. Slipping out of the house before anyone else woke up, you drove home, your heart heavy with unresolved emotions.

Back at the Starkey house, McKayla sat at the kitchen table with Todd, sipping her coffee as the morning sunlight streamed through the windows.

“She left early,” McKayla said quietly, setting her mug down with a frown. “She didn’t say goodbye.”

Todd looked up from his newspaper, his brow furrowed. “That doesn’t sound like her. Did something happen?”

McKayla sighed, glancing out the window. “I think things are worse than we thought. Y/N... she’s been really struggling, Dad. Watching Drew and Odessa together... it’s been breaking her heart.”

Todd’s face softened with understanding, his eyes clouded with concern. “She’s been a part of this family for so long. I hate to think she’s feeling left out.”

Before McKayla could respond, Drew wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes groggily. “Morning,” he mumbled, heading straight for the coffee pot. But when he noticed the tension in the room, he paused, frowning.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking between McKayla and Todd.

McKayla exchanged a glance with her father before turning to Drew. “Y/N left early this morning,” she said, her voice heavy with worry. “She didn’t say goodbye.”

Drew’s frown deepened, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What? Why?”

Todd sighed, folding his newspaper as he looked at his son. “I think you know why, Drew. Y/N’s been feeling like you’ve pushed her aside for a long time now. Last night... watching you and Odessa on screen... it was too much for her.”

Drew paled, guilt washing over his face. “What? I— I didn’t mean to—” He trailed off, his voice cracking with emotion.

McKayla crossed her arms, her tone gentle but firm. “Drew, she’s been there for you through everything. But you’ve been so caught up in your own life that you didn’t realize how much you were hurting her.”

Drew’s face fell, the weight of his sister’s words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He had known something was wrong between you two, but he hadn’t realized how deep the hurt ran.

“I need to fix this,” Drew muttered, setting down his coffee and running a hand through his hair. Without another word, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door, determination written all over his face.

You weren’t expecting Drew to show up at your door. After the overwhelming emotions of the previous night, all you wanted was some distance—some space to breathe, to think. The moment you opened the door and saw Drew standing on your porch, his expression filled with a mix of regret and urgency, your heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and dread.

“Y/N,” Drew began, his voice soft but strained. “Can I come in? We need to talk.”

You hesitated for a moment, gripping the edge of the door, your mind torn between letting him in and closing the door on everything you’d been feeling. Part of you wanted to push him away—to protect yourself from the pain that had been eating away at you for so long. But another part of you—a much deeper part—wanted answers. Needed them.

With a reluctant sigh, you stepped back and motioned for Drew to come in.

He walked into your living room, the air thick with tension. As you closed the door behind him, you couldn’t help but notice the way he looked around, as though searching for something familiar to hold on to. His eyes briefly landed on a photo of the two of you from years ago, sitting on the mantle—a reminder of better times, of the friendship that had once been your anchor.

Drew stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, his hands in his pockets, his eyes downcast. It was clear that he was struggling to find the right words, but the silence between you was too much to bear.

“You left without saying goodbye,” Drew finally said, his voice almost a whisper. There was a vulnerability in his tone, something you hadn’t heard from him in a long time.

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Yeah, I did. I couldn’t stay, Drew.”

He glanced up at you, his eyes filled with guilt. “Why? Why didn’t you talk to me?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you looked away. “Talk to you? Drew, when have we really talked lately? Every conversation we’ve had for months has been about Odessa or your career. You barely even notice I’m there anymore.”

Drew flinched at your words, the weight of them hitting him hard. “That’s not true, Y/N. I care about you—I’ve always cared.”

“Really?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it. Do you even realize how long I’ve been feeling like this? How long I’ve been watching you slip away, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t losing you?”

Drew opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t let him. The dam of emotions you had been holding back for so long finally broke, and the words came tumbling out before you could stop them.

“Do you know how hard it’s been, Drew? To sit on the sidelines, watching you live this new life, while I feel like I’m not even part of it anymore? I’ve stood by you through everything—every audition, every role, every milestone—and when it was my turn, when it was something important to me, you weren’t there.”

Your voice cracked as you continued, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over. “You missed my graduation, Drew. Do you know how much that hurt? You promised you’d be there, and you didn’t show up. I waited for you. I waited for you because I thought, ‘This is Drew. He’ll come. He’ll be there for me like I’ve always been there for him.’ But you didn’t. And when you said you’d make it up to me, I thought maybe, just maybe, we’d have one night where it would just be the two of us, like old times. But you brought her.”

Drew’s face fell, his expression filled with regret. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“You didn’t realize because you never asked,” you interrupted, your voice trembling with the weight of all the unspoken pain. “You were so caught up in your own world, in your new life with Odessa, that you didn’t even notice I was falling apart.”

Drew’s eyes were filled with anguish, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“But you did,” you said, your voice cracking with the weight of those words. “You hurt me, Drew. Every time I saw you with her, every time you talked about her like she was the only thing that mattered to you, it felt like a knife in my chest. And I tried to be okay with it. I tried to tell myself that you deserved to be happy, that you deserved to have someone who understood your world. But it didn’t stop the pain.”

Drew took a step closer to you, his hands trembling as he reached out, but he stopped short, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t see it. I didn’t see how much I was hurting you. I was selfish, Y/N. I got caught up in everything—my career, Odessa—and I didn’t stop to think about how it was affecting you. And I hate myself for that.”

You wiped at your eyes, trying to steady your breathing, but the hurt still sat heavy in your chest. “You forgot me,” you whispered, the words so quiet you weren’t sure if he even heard them. “I was there for you through everything, and when I needed you, you forgot me.”

Drew’s face contorted with guilt and pain, and he stepped closer, his voice pleading. “I didn’t forget you, Y/N. I swear, I didn’t. I just... I got lost. I let everything else consume me, and I pushed you away without even realizing it. But I never stopped caring about you. I never stopped needing you in my life.”

You met his gaze, your heart aching at the raw vulnerability in his eyes. Part of you wanted to believe him—to believe that he hadn’t meant to hurt you, that he was still the same Drew you had always known. But the pain was still too fresh, too raw.

“You didn’t need me, Drew,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You needed her. Every time I saw you, it was like I was just... there. Like I was some ghost from your past, watching as you built a new life without me.”

Drew shook his head, his voice breaking. “No. No, that’s not true. Odessa was just... she was just a friend. I never saw her as anything more. But you—I’ve always seen you. You’ve always been more than just a friend to me.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. “What are you saying, Drew?”

“I’m saying that I love you, Y/N,” Drew said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long, but I was too blind to see it. Too blind to realize how much I was hurting you by pushing you away. But it’s always been you. It’s always been you, and I’m so sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

You stared at him, your heart racing, your mind struggling to process what he had just said. “Don’t say that, Drew. Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

“I do mean it,” Drew insisted, stepping closer to you. “I’ve been an idiot, Y/N. I let everything else get in the way, and I lost sight of what really mattered. But you—you’re what matters. You’ve always been the one who’s mattered the most to me.”

Tears filled your eyes once again, your heart warring with your mind. You had waited so long to hear those words, but now that they were finally being spoken, you didn’t know what to do with them.

“How can I believe you?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “How can I believe that you won’t hurt me again? That you won’t forget me the next time something else comes along?”

Drew’s eyes filled with desperation as he reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands. “I won’t forget you. I swear, Y/N, I won’t. I’ve already hurt you once, and I will never make that mistake again. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you’re the most important person to me. Just... please, give me another chance.”

You closed your eyes, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let go of the hurt and let Drew back into your life. But trust wasn’t something that could be rebuilt overnight.

“I need time,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I need time to heal, to figure out if I can really trust you again.”

Drew nodded, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “I understand. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for as long as it takes, Y/N. Just please... don’t shut me out completely.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, you saw the Drew you had always known—the Drew who had stood by your side through everything, who had been your rock when the world felt too heavy.

“I won’t shut you out,” you said softly, your heart aching with the weight of it all. “But this... it’s going to take time.”

Drew nodded again, his relief palpable as he let out a shaky breath. “I’ll be here. No matter how long it takes.”

With that, Drew slowly stepped back, giving you the space you needed. The air between you was still heavy with unresolved emotions, but for the first time in months, there was a glimmer of hope. A possibility that maybe, just maybe, things could be repaired.

As Drew turned to leave, he glanced back at you, his voice soft but filled with quiet determination. “I love you, Y/N. And I’m not going to give up on us.”

You watched him go, your heart conflicted but not as heavy as it had been before. There was still so much to work through, but for the first time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you and Drew had a chance to find your way back to each other.

The days after the confrontation felt different. Lighter, but still uncertain. The emotional heaviness lingered between you and Drew, but there was something else now—a shared understanding that things needed time, that rushing back into the past wasn’t an option.

Drew kept his word. He didn’t push you, didn’t try to force himself back into your life as if nothing had happened. Instead, he started with small gestures—things that reminded you of the Drew you had known before everything changed.

Each morning, you woke up to a text from Drew. Simple things, like: "I saw the sunrise today and thought of you. Miss those mornings." Or, "Found an old photo of us. Remember this day?" They were small messages, but they carried the weight of years of shared history and memories you had thought were forgotten.

One evening, about a week after the confrontation, Drew showed up at your door with coffee in hand. The sight of him standing there with your favorite caramel macchiato, looking uncertain but hopeful, stirred something inside you.

“I thought you could use this,” Drew said, offering a small smile. “And I... was hoping we could talk. Just for a little while.”

You hesitated, but then nodded, stepping aside to let him in. Drew walked into your living room, his movements tentative, like he wasn’t sure where he stood anymore.

As you sat together on the couch, sipping your coffee, the silence between you was less suffocating than before. There was still a lot to work through, but at least the distance wasn’t unbearable. Drew glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the framed photo of the two of you from years ago, taken on a family trip to the beach. The both of you were grinning wildly, arms around each other, as if nothing in the world could break your bond.

“I remember that day,” Drew said quietly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “We spent hours building a sandcastle. It collapsed after five minutes, but we didn’t care. We thought it was the best thing ever.”

You chuckled softly, the memory warming something inside you. “Yeah, we were so proud of it.”

Drew shifted in his seat, his expression turning more serious. “I miss those days, Y/N. I miss us. I know I messed up, and I know it’ll take time, but... I want to get back to that.”

You turned to look at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. For so long, you had felt like you had lost Drew—the Drew who had been your best friend, your confidant, the person who knew you better than anyone. But now, sitting here with him, you realized that maybe he hadn’t been lost forever. Maybe he was still there, waiting for you to let him back in.

“I miss it too,” you admitted, your voice soft but full of emotion. “But... I need time, Drew. This isn’t something that can be fixed overnight.”

“I know,” Drew said, nodding. “And I’m not going to rush you. I’ll take as much time as you need.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe things could be different this time. Maybe you could rebuild what had been broken.

The weeks that followed were a slow process of healing and reconnection. Drew made an effort—an effort you hadn’t seen from him in months. He started texting you every morning, checking in to see how your day was going. The texts weren’t long or overly sentimental, but they were consistent. They were proof that he was thinking about you, even in the midst of his busy schedule.

Some days, the texts were simple:

"How’s work going? Thought of you when I passed by the old park today."

Other days, they carried a heavier weight:

"I’m sorry again, Y/N. For everything. I just want you to know that I’m still here."

And as time passed, you found yourself replying more. The walls you had built up around your heart began to slowly crumble, brick by brick. Drew wasn’t just making promises—he was showing you that he meant them. He wasn’t rushing you or pushing for more than you were ready to give. He was patient, and that patience made all the difference.

One afternoon, Drew surprised you by inviting you to lunch at the café you both used to frequent when you were younger. It had been years since you’d been there together, but as you sat across from each other, sipping coffee and talking about nothing in particular, it felt like you were slowly returning to a version of yourselves that had been lost.

The conversations were lighter, more comfortable. Drew listened intently when you talked about work, your hobbies, the things that had filled your life in the time you had drifted apart. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t competing with Odessa or his career for his attention. Drew was fully present, and that made all the difference.

A few weeks later, Drew showed up at your door with something unexpected—a small gift bag in hand, looking both nervous and hopeful.

“I, uh, thought I’d bring this over,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I know it’s not much, but I saw it and thought of you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious, and took the bag from him. Inside was a small journal, the cover embossed with the words “For Every Sunrise.” Your breath caught in your throat as you pulled it out, your fingers tracing the delicate lettering.

“I know how much you love watching the sunrise,” Drew explained, his voice soft. “I thought maybe... you could use this to write down your thoughts. Or even just to keep track of the sunrises you’ve seen.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you looked up at him, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness behind the gift. Drew had always known how much sunrises meant to you—those quiet moments when the world was still, when everything felt possible. And now, here he was, reminding you of those moments in a way that felt so personal, so deeply connected to the history you shared.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s perfect.”

Drew smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I’m glad you like it.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were being seen. Not just as someone in Drew’s life, but as someone important. Someone who mattered.

As the weeks turned into months, you and Drew continued to rebuild your relationship—slowly, carefully. There were still moments of doubt, moments when the hurt resurfaced and threatened to pull you back into the past. But Drew was patient. He never rushed you, never pushed you to move faster than you were ready for. Instead, he met you where you were, showing up for you in the ways that mattered most.

One day, Drew suggested a walk through the old park you used to visit as kids. It had been years since you had walked those paths together, but as you strolled through the park, side by side, it felt like you were reclaiming a piece of the past that had been lost.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” Drew said as you walked, his voice quiet but steady. “About how much we’ve been through together.”

You glanced over at him, your heart tightening at the vulnerability in his voice. “Yeah, me too.”

Drew stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His eyes were filled with a kind of determination you hadn’t seen in a long time. “I don’t want to take you for granted anymore, Y/N. I’ve been thinking about everything, and I know I hurt you. I know it’s going to take time to earn back your trust, but I want to be the person you can count on again. The person you deserve.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you—it was different now. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty. He meant every word.

“I want that too,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I need to know that this time... this time, it’s real.”

“It is,” Drew promised, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear, Y/N, it’s real.”

And in that moment, as the sun began to set behind the trees, casting a golden glow over the park, you knew that maybe—just maybe—you and Drew were finally on the right path. It wasn’t going to be easy, and there were still wounds that needed time to heal, but for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could trust him again. Trust that he wasn’t going to let you down.

Months passed, and the slow process of rebuilding trust continued. Drew didn’t let up on his efforts—he made time for you, prioritized you, and showed you in small, meaningful ways that he was committed to repairing the damage that had been done.

The two of you began to fall back into an easy rhythm. Movie nights, long conversations over coffee, quiet walks through the park—it was like rediscovering an old friendship, but with the added depth of everything you had been through. The love you had for each other was still there, but now, it was stronger, more resilient.

One evening, Drew invited you to his house for dinner. It was just the two of you, and as you sat together on the back porch, watching the sunset, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a peace you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the future,” Drew said softly, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

You turned to look at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Yeah? What about it?”

Drew’s eyes softened as he reached out and took your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. “About us. About what we want.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening at the intensity of his gaze. “And what do you want, Drew?”

“I want you,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I want you in my life, in every way. I don’t want to lose you again, Y/N. I love you. I always have.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words washed over you. It had taken so long to get to this point, to rebuild what had been broken, but now, sitting here with Drew, you knew that it had all been worth it.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I don’t want to lose you either.”

Drew smiled, his eyes filled with relief and happiness. “Then let’s not waste any more time. Let’s be together.”

And as he leaned in to kiss you, the weight of all the past hurt and pain seemed to fade away, leaving only the promise of a future—together.

THE END!!

i was thinking about writing a drabbles for this, hehe maybe their future together, if you have any suggestion, ask box are always open!! and i hope you all enjoy this imagine 🖤

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey #drew starkey x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey blurb #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey angst

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meo-eiru · 11 months ago

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🌸Welcome🌸

⋆˚✿˖° About me °˖✿˚⋆

I'm Meru, she/her, 19 years old. I mostly draw my original yanderes. I'm still new to writing instead of telling my stories purely through art so please bear with me :D

⋆˚✿˖° Commission Info °˖✿˚⋆

Please read my TOS before commissioning!

⋆˚✿˖° Rules °˖✿˚⋆

‼️Minors DNI‼️

🚫Stay away from my blog if you use and/or support the use of generative AI🚫

🚫Do not repost my art without credits, if you want to share it on tumblr or twitter just reblog/retweet and if you want to do it on another site give a link to the original post and write my name🚫

‼️This account contains yandere and non-con content, if you are uncomfortable with these topics please block me‼️

‼️I only draw and write female darlings but I'm fine with male or gn darlings being used while creating fan-content of my characters‼️

While I am ok with most things I won't be answering asks that are too personal. While all traumas, coping mechanisms, sexual identities and experiences deserve being recognized, I'm not a professional and can make mistakes handling certain topics.

I read every single ask I get, sometimes it's hard thinking of an answer for them or something similar has been asked before so please don't take it personally if I fail to reply to you. Also while I sometimes reply to certain asks about my OCs with drawings, I don't take requests so please don't request me to draw a certain type of character.

I'm ok with you making fanart, fanfic or other fan content of my characters as long as you credit me and you are free to tag me if you want me to see it!

Please don't send me asks and/or dms just saying "hello", talking about how your day went or how you are feeling.

!!Before you send an ask about Silas or Elias!!

🌸Masterlist🌸

The app and brushes I use for drawing

⋆˚✿˖° Have fun! °˖✿˚⋆

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m4fios0 · 5 months ago

Text

introductory / important post : )

‹ “ here we go, folks. ”

;; basic rules, ›

no nsfw. flirting is okay, but i'm not okay with heavy shipping/implications; mafioso isn't interested in anything relationship wise :).

^ no pregnancy asks. didn't think i'd have to clarify, but please don't bring it up. i'm uncomfortable with the topic.

you don't control him; please don't act stuff out on my part.

don't overdo things- you can be a dick, but don't overplay it .

magic anons are okay! just don't flood our inbox with them.

don't force ships onto us! we're okay with light flirting (as stated prior), but nothing overboard? we're not comfortable with it if we don't know you well/at all 😓.

if we don't reply to an ask you sent, please don't resend it/send in further asks about it. we either haven't gotten to it or don't want to respond. we'll block you if you do.

don't vent to us. you won't get an answer

‹ “ you won't live to see the next day. ”

;; general info, ›

mod is a system! this blog will be run by a mafioso fictive.

mafioso's name on the blog is ettore (mainly maf/mafioso). modmaf goes by either maf or faust. : )

i am sex repulsed. please don't bring up anything related to the topic. lightly suggestive is fine.

bodily a minor . how i act on blog =/= how i act in-sys . i'm quite nice, i swear ! i don't !!bite !

we'll probably give fairly inconsistent replies, but asks will always be open!

anything nsfw won't be tolerated and you will be blocked.

again, this is run by a fictive, and not everything will be canon adjacent/accurate. especially considering that it's partially an au.

"ic" text, or rp responses to an ask, will look like 🐇 ;; “ this! ”

actions will be indented, but will always look like [ this! ]

mod responses won't have anything attached 2 them!! theyll probably have a tag or smtn saying who it was from though, we try to signoff as much as we can.

how i feel about. almost everyone i've talked with/recurring characters,

how i feel about the other killers :)

favorite types of asks!

poll post (so we don't forget it!!!), ignore !!!

‹ “ I feel no pain. Can you say the same? ”

;; extra things! ›

– misc. info : )

our main is @battery-enthusiast ! it's totally epic. and awesome. i swear. we don't bite (lie)

our roblox user is T04ST3ER , display is the same as our main ! feel free to add or join us ! our discord is jonahmarshall77. if you don't clarify who you are beforehand, we might not accept it..lmao

– about the blog itself!

– it's (partially) a survivor au! i'm not classifying myself with the other killers - the ones who do it mindlessly (john doe, 1x, you get the point).

– i'm still a killer by definition; i'm still doing my job as a debt collector and killing those necessary, but nobody else. i think that'd be a passive killer ?

we have . fairly inconsistent answers , but we'll try to get to your ask as soon as we can !

i'm not bald. please i swear i have hair. nor am i a bunny , or british , , coughs

PLEASE don't be afraid to tag this blog! it's always lovely to see art people made of me. i'm not that scary , i'd say i'm nice. : )

— tags... ough

– walkspeed override! ;; ic posts (unrelated to asks).

– you won't live to see the next day. ;; ooc/mod posts

– just shut up and ragequit. ;; ooc asks/mod responses

– i see one of them. ;; ic ask responses

– i love knocking out teeth. ;; both ic and ooc reblogs

— art people made for me :)!!

by @/littlefuckingthing

by @/scratchingheads

by @/its-yer-boi-cleetus

by @/scrambled-nightmares

by @/spectrum-studios

by @/grey-washere

by @/pastelpurpled

— tags masterlist

^ we're also. not tagging miscellaneous reblogs solely because we'd probably wrongblog it so badly,

also! if you're a constant recurring anon/blog, we might just. make you a tag

counts ^_^

kill count; 4

magic anon effect; can't lie

magic anon effect duration; 10 asks

claimed anons; ^_^ , 💚📼 , 🍌💜 , 🦷 "mantisshrimpspecies" , 🌟 (?) , "starvedanon" , 📃🎉 , 🎸 , "jackie" , "midas" , "3anon" , "AICH_7913" , flower anon , 💫 , 🖤 , 🩶 , 🪶 , C.H.O.T.R.D.C , killbot / kb , 1x , tick , tock , possibly injured anon , clone anon , ⏰🩸 , 📝🎀 , watchful anon , 🍔 , 🐋 , killer bunny anon , 💮 , sharkbnnuy , copy-paste anon , 🍕 anon , hat obsessed anon , F3llow Anon💥 , an0n In w0nderland , mx hat obsession , 👻 anon , G , "Celeste (oc)" , anon.as , bug anon , dino anon , jester anon , radioactive anon , J.D. , narwhal guy , centipede anon , bananon , M. , 🫒 , Lost Hope anon , hairstylist anon , NYX =) , Timer.. , 🔔 , potential askblog anon , impulsive anon thoughts , unavowed , 🌧️ , 🍰 , bug anon , [💛💙] , raven anon , 🐦‍⬛🚂 , panon 🍳, catanon , 🍔👾 , 🌙🦴 , jfcsthu (ues) , 💥🌈 , green tv, ladybug/🐞 anon , 🦆 , 🦭 , robot , 🟣🌟👤/goop anon , sundowner anon , -💐🍀🌷/bouquet anon , 🎲🥀 , ■. , 🧣 , cat anon. Car. 🐱. , m!a (🔮✨) , weird Oreo Lover , 👾💞 , spider enthusiast , songbird, bowed wing anon🎀🪽 , -Mr.1234💚💜, 🧇waffle anon🧇, [An▫️n], 🐰❣️❣️🫰, plushie anon, bunnyanon, Zilly Anon

oh my god ? hi ?? ↑

things given to mafioso; cheesecake, a leaf, cheese (?), a tooth, some screws, mac and cheese. lots of it, "one million diseases" , lavender in a pot, a bunny pin, a bunny, an orcaling, avocado toast, lemon tart, a lemon, emotional support brick, a singular mushroom , AN ENTIRE LEMON TREE (???) , a bat (as in the animal), a mountain of chamomile, seven bees, a grub, a crochet bunny, bag of sunflower seeds, two baskets of muffins, a noli bean, a jar of jelly beans, dead rat, bag of sour patch kids, lilies of the valley bouquet , a truck sized banana, pocket watch, a necklace, a drawing of a bunny, bunny sticker , three beetles , yellow rose, 15,000 studs, a jar, a cricket, care basket, "totally not a glitter bomb" , "pink" , a few bags of marbles , the entire state of florida?? (although redacted . soon replaced by jacksonville specifically), the STATE OF FUCKING ARKANSAS????? , washington , colorado , texas , luxemburg , sweden, california , taiwan , city hall of winchester indiana , tennessee , iowa , zimbabwe , a ddr machine , slugcat , police baton , a raccoon , a comic book, bunny plush, duck plush, a whole pack of monster energy, giant gubby plush, bunny beanbag, ohio, vegas, north Carolina , Apollo plush, shedletsky plush

↑ i'm not counting bunnies nor flowers anymore. god knows how many we've gotten. nor pizza. we got, a LOT .

death counter: 0.5

draw 25 count: 2

uno cards in the metaphorical deck: 50

bricks thrown at me: four

reference made by yours truly. know who you're talking to! : )

updated last; 4/7/25 , marsh

#– walkspeed overdrive!#– you won't live to see the next day.#– just shut up and ragequit.#– i love knocking out teeth.#//#ask blog #forsaken #forsaken roblox #mafioso #mafioso forsaken #homicidalporkchops #roblox forsaken #forsaken mafioso #Spotify

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rootedinrevisions · 7 months ago

Text

Five More Minutes

SUMMARY: You and Jake are headed to The Hard Deck to meet the daggers, but a few things risk making you late.

A/N: Thank you to the person who sent this request in! I apologize that it's taken me a month to get it written. I hope it's worth the wait! I'm working to get requests done as I have time and the inspiration is flowing! Hope you enjoy! xx

WARNINGS: None, smut is implied but none actually happens.

WORD COUNT: 767

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

Jake sprawled on the edge of the bed, bouncing his knee impatiently as he watched you at the vanity. He glanced at his watch for the fifth time in the past ten minutes before letting out a dramatic sigh. “Babe, come on,” he drawled, leaning back on his palms. “We’re gonna be late! We were supposed to be there by nine!”

“Five more minutes,” you called over your shoulder, carefully applying the last bit of mascara. Your voice was calm, but Jake could hear the teasing lilt in it, and he knew you weren’t in any rush.

“Five more minutes?” he repeated, raising a brow and letting out a soft laugh. “Sweetheart, you said that twenty minutes ago. You realize they’re all gonna roast me for this, right? Phoenix is gonna have a field day.”

“Phoenix already roasts you,” you shot back, swapping the mascara for your lipstick. “I’m just giving her more material to work with.”

Jake groaned, flopping back onto the bed in defeat. “I knew you’d be trouble the moment I laid eyes on you,” he muttered, though his tone was light and full of affection.

“And yet, here you are two months later, and still with me” you replied, smirking as you caught his reflection in the mirror.

He propped himself up on his elbows, his green eyes narrowing as he watched you smooth a hand over your outfit.

“Here I am,” he agreed, his smirk matching yours. “Sittin’ here, waitin’.”

“You wouldn’t be waiting if you hadn’t joined me in the shower,” you shot back, not even looking at him as you adjusted an earring in the mirror. Your knowing look in the reflection caught his eye, and Jake’s smirk widened into something that made your stomach flip.

He sat up straighter, feigning innocence. “Now, I don’t recall you complainin’ about that,” he drawled, standing and taking slow, deliberate steps toward you.

You met him halfway, tilting your chin up as he closed the distance. “I wasn’t,” you admitted, your voice softening just a little. “But we both know that’s why we’re running late.”

“Not sure what you’re talkin’ about,” he murmured, feigning innocence as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips found the spot just below your ear, brushing against it in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

You sighed, trying to maintain your composure as he trailed soft kisses along your neck. “Jake,” you warned, though your tone lacked conviction. “We’re already late.”

Jake pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his smirk now bordering on devilish. “Five minutes,” he said, mimicking your earlier words as he leaned down again. “Hell, I only need two.”

You raised a brow, fighting the urge to smile. “Is that so? Pretty sure I remember you needing a lot more than two in the shower.”

“Let’s give ‘em a real reason to wonder why we’re late.” His mischievous grin returned, and he started tugging you toward the bed.

You raised a brow, laughing as you dug your heels into the floor to stop him.

“What happened to you trying to rush me five minutes ago, huh?” you teased, your voice light and playful. “Weren’t you the one whining about how we’re gonna be late?”

Jake stopped, turning back to you with that signature cocky smirk you both loved and hated. “I realized I had my priorities all wrong,” he said, his tone smooth as honey. His hands slipped to your waist, pulling you closer. “A little late never hurt anybody. But missing the chance to keep you in my arms a little longer? Now that would be a crime.”

You rolled your eyes, your heart doing an embarrassing little flip at his words despite yourself. “Wow, you’re really laying it on thick tonight,” you said, though the corners of your lips twitched upward. “But we’re still not skipping out just because you’ve got no self-control.”

Jake leaned in until his forehead rested against yours, his grin never wavering. “No self-control when it comes to you, sweetheart. Guilty as charged.”

“Okay, Casanova,” you said, gently patting his chest and stepping back. “Let’s get going before your squad decides to start placing bets on whether or not we’re ever showing up.”

“Alright, alright,” he relented with a chuckle. “Just know, sweetheart, that the second we get home, you’re mine.”

“And you’ll still only need a few minutes,” you quipped, grabbing your bag and heading for the door.

“Keep talkin’ like that, darlin’,” Jake called after you, grabbing his jacket with a chuckle, “and we’ll see who’s beggin’ for more time later.”

#Top Gun Hangman #Top Gun Hangman Fanfiction #Top Gun Hangman Fanfic #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin Fanfic #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Hangman x reader

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charles-leclerizz · 4 days ago

Text

driver diaries : collection #3 when you're shy

models : CL16, CS55, MV1, LN4, OP81

VIP guest's in the front row : [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon, @lorarri], [@dallaavv, @nichmeddar, @sisinever] IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE SEND IN AN ASK, AND MUTUALS LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE REMOVED ON PRIV !

availability : pre-dating with all drivers

designer's comments : she's backkk. missed this series I cannot lie to you all <333. this was requested ! so so sorry I took eons and eons to reply, hopefully it was worth it, if it wasn't (ok stone cold bitch) feel free to request again <33.

Charles Leclerc 16 thinks he did something wrong

You’ve always been a little shy around Charles. It’s not that you don’t like him - God, if anything, that’s the problem. He’s too much. Too pretty, too charming, too aware of how his smile lands like a punch to the chest.

So, you tend to shrink back a bit when he talks to you. Glance down instead of meeting his eyes. Keep your hands in your lap and your words short, because you're scared that if you say too much, it'll be obvious how badly you're trying not to fall for him.

Charles notices. Of course he notices.

But he doesn’t read it for what it is. He sees the way you flinch slightly when he sits beside you at the team event, the way you freeze up when he compliments your earrings, the way you laugh politely but never quite look at him. And after a few days of it, the light behind his smile starts to dim.

He starts keeping a little distance. Stops seeking you out with the same warmth. Doesn’t sit next to you anymore. When you speak now - quietly, nervously - he just nods, gives you a polite smile, and turns away.

You don’t understand what changed. You start thinking maybe he just never liked you in the first place.

The breaking point comes one afternoon at the track. You catch him alone in the hospitality tent, scrolling through something on his phone. He barely looks up when you sit beside him.

“Hey,” you say, softly.

“Hi,” he replies, not cold, but… not the usual Charles.

You hesitate. “Did I do something wrong?”

That makes him pause.

He sets his phone down and looks at you, expression unreadable. “No. Not at all.”

You twist your fingers together in your lap. “You’ve been… distant. I thought maybe-”

“I thought you were uncomfortable around me,” he interrupts, voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “You never really talk to me. You always look away. I didn’t want to make things worse by pushing.”

Your eyes widen. “Charles, no. I’m not uncomfortable.”

His brows pull together. “Then… what is it?”

You swallow. “I just- I get nervous. Around you. You’re... you.” You gesture weakly, blushing. “And I’m not good at this kind of thing. I didn’t want to come off weird.”

He blinks. “You’re nervous because of me?”

You nod.

And then he laughs - not unkindly, just like something’s clicked. Like relief is flooding through him.

“Mon dieu,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his curls. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t!” you say quickly. “I… like you. That’s the problem.”

He grins then - the real one, the one that lights up his whole face. And it knocks the breath out of you.

“You should’ve told me,” he says, voice warm again. “I wouldn’t have pulled away.”

You’re still a little pink as he reaches out and takes your hand.

“I’ll be patient,” he says, threading his fingers through yours. “But you’ll have to look me in the eye eventually.”

You do. And this time, you don’t look away.

Carlos Sainz 55 he thinks he makes you uncomfortable

Carlos is observant - but not always when it matters. And with you, he just can't figure it out.

You’ve been around the paddock for weeks now - part of the extended PR team, quiet and composed, never in the way. Always polite. Always smiling. Always… distant.

At first, Carlos thought you were just shy. But then came the way you step back when he gets too close. The way your voice goes faint when he greets you. The way your eyes drop the second he compliments you or calls you guapa under his breath.

And suddenly, it stops feeling like shyness and starts feeling like discomfort.

So he backs off. Stops lingering near your workstation. Cuts the jokes shorter. No more smirking comments, no more casual touches. It’s like he’s folded himself in - tighter, quieter - and now you miss it more than you thought possible.

You don’t understand why it hurts. You weren’t trying to act cold. You were just… shy. Intimidated, maybe. And yeah, he’s gorgeous - of course he is. But it’s not just that. It’s how warm he is. How bright. How hard he makes your heart thump just by looking at you.

So the silence feels sharp now. And you're the one who's confused.

It all comes to a head when you’re cleaning up the Ferrari media lounge after a promo shoot. Carlos walks in to grab something, sees you, and does a half-turn like he’s about to leave again.

You panic and blurt out, “Did I do something wrong?”

Carlos stops halfway through the door and turns. He looks at you - really looks at you. “No,” he says, slower now, more careful. “I just… thought I did.”

Your brows furrow.

He sighs, crossing his arms. “You seemed uncomfortable. Around me. I didn’t want to push.”

Your heart sinks. “Carlos- I wasn’t uncomfortable. I’m just-” You pause and shrug. “Shy. Especially around people I… like.”

He blinks. “Like?”

You feel your cheeks go hot. “Yeah. Like.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then he laughs, soft and a little sheepish. “You’re shy?”

You nod.

He crosses the space between you in two long steps. “And you like me?”

“I said that didn’t I?” you mumble, fiddling with your fingers as you watch him approach you.

He’s smiling now - soft and golden. “I thought you hated me.”

“You’re too nice to hate.” You glance up. “Too nice to handle sometimes, maybe.”

He touches your arm gently. “You should’ve told me.”

“I thought I was being obvious.”

Carlos smiles, eyes flicking down to your lips. “Next time, maybe say it with words.”

And then, when you don’t flinch away, he leans in - kisses you slow, patient, sure. Like he’s waited a long time to know where he stood.

Max Verstappen 1 he thinks you don't like him

Max isn’t good at mixed signals. He likes directness - clean lines, no guessing, no mess. He prefers it even. So when you start shrinking around him - going quiet, keeping your arms folded, never quite meeting his eyes - he files it under one thing: you don��t want him around.

Fine.

He doesn’t take it personally. At least, that’s what he tells himself. You’re shy, sure. Quiet. Polite. But there’s a tightness to it around him, and he’s not dumb. He can read a room - especially when he’s the one dimming the light in it.

So, he pulls back. Keeps things curt. Efficient. He still greets you when you pass by the garage, still nods if your eyes meet - but the warmth is gone. The teasing, the charm, the slow smiles he used to throw your way like skipping stones? All gone.

And it breaks your heart a little.

Because you do like him. So much it sometimes feels stupid. He’s just… a lot. Intense. Beautiful. And impossibly hard to act normal around. You don’t mean to be distant - you just don’t want to embarrass yourself by being obvious. But now? Now it’s like you’re strangers.

It gets to you one day. You’re both stuck in a driver’s lounge before a media block, alone, quiet. He’s scrolling on his phone, leaning against the far wall, not even sparing you a glance.

“Did I do something?” you ask, soft but sharp with worry.

He doesn’t look up. “No.”

“Then why are you being like this?”

His eyes flick to you, guarded. “I thought you were uncomfortable. Around me. So I backed off.”

Your mouth parts slightly. “I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

Max scoffs, just a little. “You flinch every time I speak.”

“I flinch because I like you.” You surprised yourself with that one.

The silence goes still. His eyes lift.

You swallow. “And you kind of… scare me. Not in a bad way. Just… you’re Max Verstappen. You don’t exactly make it easy to think straight.”

His brows crease. “So you’re shy.”

You nod.

A long pause. Then, a faint huff - amused, almost. He sets his phone down and walks toward you slowly.

“You should’ve said something.”

“I’m saying something now.”

He stops in front of you, hand reaching out to trace a light touch down your arm. “I won’t back off again,” he says, voice low.

And when he leans in, the kiss is softer than you'd imagined. And everything clicks into place.

Lando Norris 4 he makes you nervous

You’re shy - painfully so - and the worst part is, Lando notices. Of course he does. He’s the sun in every room he walks into, and you’re just a shadow in the corner, trying not to catch fire.

You laugh too softly at his jokes. You look away every time he leans in. You wave awkwardly, never quite speaking first. And the more he tries to get you to warm up, the more your nerves clamp down, making you feel like a walking malfunction.

Lando thinks it’s his fault.

The teasing stops. The goofy smirks fade. He gets quieter around you - still nice, still polite - but less… Lando. No more little nicknames. No more playfully asking if you’ve missed him. No more light bumps against your shoulder as he walks past.

You think he’s tired of you. He thinks you’re creeped out by him. It’s chaos. Silent, unspoken, and spiraling.

It all unravels in the worst possible place: McLaren HQ, the sim room. You’ve been helping run logistics, and he’s just finished a long session. He brushes past you without a word.

That’s the final straw. “Did I do something wrong?”

He freezes. Turns slowly. “What?”

“You’ve been... weird. Avoiding me.”

He blinks. “You avoid me. Every time I talk to you, you look like you want to bolt.”

Your throat tightens. “I don’t want to bolt. I’m just... not good with this stuff. I get nervous.”

Lando stares at you. “I make you nervous?”

You nod, miserable. “You’re Lando Norris. You make a lot of people nervous.”

A beat of silence. Then- he laughs. Relief spreads across his face like sunshine. “I thought you thought I was creepy or annoying or something.”

You shake your head fast. “No! You’re just, hard to talk to because I like you, okay?”

His mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. “...Wait. What.”

You groan into your hands. “I’m going to jump out the window.”

“Don’t. I like you too.”

You blink.

“And I’m very into flustered,” he adds, stepping closer. “So, if you keep blushing like that, I’m going to kiss you.”

And he does - right there, with your heart in your throat and the sim computer humming behind you like a witness.

Oscar Piastri 81 he just ... gives you space

Oscar isn’t loud. He isn’t showy. He notices things in silence.

Like how your eyes never quite meet his. How your voice gets quieter when he walks into the room. How you always seem to smile at everyone but him.

He assumes he makes you uncomfortable. So he gives you space. A lot of it. He’s polite, respectful, kind - but distant. Detached. Careful not to make you feel boxed in.

What he doesn’t realise is that you feel boxed out.

You don’t mean to shrink away from him. You just… don’t know how to be normal around someone you’ve been quietly crushing on since the first time he looked up from his phone and asked if you wanted the last packet of crisps. That small. That stupid. That unforgettable.

And now he’s cold. Or not cold exactly - but quiet in a way that hurts. You miss the version of him who caught your eye across the garage with a flicker of a smile. The Oscar who made jokes under his breath and bumped your shoulder when he passed by.

You think maybe you broke something. And you don’t know how to fix it.

It comes out when you’re stuck helping pack gear after a long shoot. Just the two of you. Silence thick enough to cut.

You can’t stand it anymore.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask, your voice thin.

Oscar glances at you, surprised. “No. Why?”

“You’ve been… different.”

He hesitates. “I thought you needed space.”

You frown. “Why?”

“You never really talk to me. You seem tense when I’m around. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Your chest tightens. “Oscar, I’m not uncomfortable. I’m just... shy.”

His expression shifts slightly - not dramatic, but you see it. A flicker of oh.

“I thought I’d done something,” he admits. “So I backed off.”

“I was scared I was being obvious.”

“Obvious about what?”

You blush. “That I like you.”

He exhales, almost a laugh. Then steps closer.

“I like you too,” he says, and it’s so simple, so steady, that you almost miss it. “And for what it’s worth… I like the quiet. I just don’t like being a stranger in it.”

You meet his eyes. “You’re not.”

“Good.”

And when he kisses you, it’s gentle - like everything else he does. Like he’s promising you’ve been understood now.

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 month ago

Text

WE’LL BE ALRIGHT

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.5k

SUMMARY:

Two truths and a lie:

1. You swiped right on the Tinder profile of JB, 33, only to discover that it was the profile of Bucky Barnes.

2. Bucky Barnes stole your heart then ghosted you all in the span of a single year.

3. You are totally and completely over him.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

bucky barnes has had me in a chokehold since 2011 and it really took me all this time to write something for him smh. anyway, big thank you to @chaotic-mystery and @dindjarinslegs for letting me scream about this. and i’m coming for bob reynolds next, mark my words.

WARNINGS/TAGS:

fatws!bucky AND thunderbolts!bucky, mild thunderbolts* spoilers, second chance romance, alcohol consumption, mild angst, declarations of love, pet names (doll/sweetheart/baby)

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact): kissing, dirty talk, nipple play, oral (f receiving), choking, unprotected p in v, multiple positions (missionary/prone bone), cream pie.

LINKS:

main blog | masterlists | ao3

Then

It’s Friday night and you’re on the couch, flicking through Tinder profiles to the soundtrack of a shitty reality show playing on your TV. You’re two glasses of wine deep and you’ve stopped scrutinizing most of the profiles and have settled for swiping right as long as they’re not holding a fish, a flag, or a baby.

You’ve had a shit week and you’re hoping to find someone to help you de-stress. If not, you’ll have to take care of things yourself (again) and while your vibrator is reliable (and doesn’t ask you questions about your investment profile like it’s foreplay), you’re craving something more. The weight of someone on top of you, the feel of them between your thighs, the rush of something new and exhilarating and hopefully satisfying.

The app dings, announcing a match between you and JB, 33. A message comes through shortly after.

JB: Are you okay?

You frown. Weird thing to ask in the first message. Surely it’s better to wait for the third date to ask something so personal.

Yeah, why?, you reply.

JB: Your profile says, “I need to be taken out. On a date or by a sniper.”

Don’t worry, it’s a joke. My therapist didn’t think it was very funny either.

JB: I’m pretty handy with a gun.

You snort.

Is that a euphemism for your dick?

JB: No, actually.

What a shame.

JB: I thought I wasn’t supposed to talk about my dick on here.

You click on JB’s profile and swipe through the pictures. He looks familiar and it takes your wine-addled synapses a few tries to make the connection but when it clicks you realize you’re looking at pictures of Bucky Barnes. As in, Captain America’s best friend, American prisoner of war turned Soviet assassin turned Avenger. You frown. There’s no way the Winter Soldier is on Tinder.

Swiping back to the chat, you begin to type.

You’re right. It’s much safer to talk about your gun.

JB: That sounds like sarcasm.

It definitely wasn’t sincere.

JB: Anyone ever told you that you have a smart mouth?

Anyone ever told you that catfishing people on Tinder with pics of an Avenger is a stupid idea?

At least pick someone who isn’t famous.

JB: Those are my pictures.

JB: And I’m not an Avenger.

Sure they are.

JB: Why would someone lie on their dating profile?

That does sound like something a 100 year old would say.

JB: 106.

You can’t help the laugh that bursts free, the sound bouncing off the walls of your tiny apartment.

If you’re really Bucky Barnes, then prove it.

JB: How?

Send a video of you waving in the mirror.

With the metal arm.

He doesn’t respond and for a while you think it’s because you’ve backed him into a corner. Whoever JB is can’t send you the requested video because he’s not Bucky Barnes and that’s the end of your excitement for the evening.

But then your phone pings with a new message from the app.

A video.

From JB.

You click play and the camera shows a tile floor before panning up to reveal a man’s reflection. His face is hidden by the phone but then he moves it a little to the right to reveal a chiseled jaw covered in stubble and pretty blue eyes, thick brows drawn together in either confusion or concentration.

He lifts a metal arm up in a wave and suddenly you’re desperate for the Earth to swallow you whole (maybe you shouldn’t say that — given the shit you’ve been through as a resident of New York, you can’t rule out the possibility of that actually happening).

You’re really Bucky Barnes, you finally manage to type.

JB: In the flesh. And metal.

So you are good with a gun then.

JB: I am. But I think I’d rather pick the first option.

You bite back a smile.

You want to go on a date?

JB: Isn’t that the whole point of the app?

You’ve got me there.

I’m free tomorrow.

JB: It’s a date.

Bucky asks you to meet him at a nearby bar the following night and you spend the day alternating between feelings of giddy excitement and nauseating anxiety.

You arrive a few minutes early to a quiet bar you never noticed in the years you’ve lived in your shoebox of an apartment a few blocks over. It’s all dark wood and moody lighting with booths along one wall and a stately bar taking up the other. There’s quiet jazz playing through the speakers and the bartender has an impressive handlebar mustache.

You choose one of the empty barstools and the bartender floats by to place a cocktail napkin and menu in front of you. You’re looking over your options when the door opens you look up to see Bucky entering the bar. He’s wearing a t-shirt that stretches across his impressive chest, highlighting his trim waist, a leather jacket and dark jeans that hug his legs.

He smiles when he sees you, a quick flash of teeth before he ducks his head and approaches you, taking a seat on the stool to your left. The bartender returns with another menu and napkin.

“Hey,” you say, voice cracking. Smooth. So smooth.

“Hi,” he replies. “Did you, uh, have any trouble finding the place?”

“No, not really. I’ve never been here, though. It’s nice.”

“Did you order already?”

“I was waiting for you.”

As if summoned by the conversation, the bartender returns to take your orders. Bucky opts for bourbon and you choose one of craft cocktails from the menu because you’re a sucker for a well made drink and Mr. Handlebar Mustache looks like he can deliver.

After one sip to calm your nerves (you were right, the man can make a damn good drink), a second for confidence, and a third for luck, you turn slightly on your stool, knees bumping Bucky’s beneath the bar.

“So,” you say, drawing out the single syllable. “I have to ask. Why are you on Tinder?”

He laughs. “Starting with the hard questions?”

“If you consider that one hard, I have bad news for you.”

“My therapist suggested it,” he admits. “Something about getting out of my comfort zone.”

“Well, they’re right about that. Nothing comfortable about online dating.”

“Right?” He takes a sip of his drink. “I’ve seen…a lot of shit and somehow I’m still surprised by some of the messages I got.”

“What’s the worst one so far?”

“A woman asked if the metal arm vibrates.”

You try not to laugh at the look of utter disappointment that flashes across his face. “Well? Does it?”

“No,” he deadpans. “But it is waterproof.”

“You might call that,” you wiggle your eyebrows, “handy.”

Bucky laughs and you watch him, the way he tips his head back and his shoulders shake with the force of it.

He has a nice laugh.

“That was terrible,” he tells you, but he’s wiping at the corner of his eye.

“Guess I won’t be quitting my day job to pursue my comedy dreams anytime soon.”

The rest of the evening is much the same, easy conversation and even easier laughter from you both. You steer clear of certain topics — superhero activities and pardoned war crimes among them. Your one drink turns into two and then you switch to water because Mr. Handlebar Mustache has a heavy hand and you don’t want to end up drunk enough that what little filter you have disappears entirely.

The bar has gotten a bit busier and you’ve drifted closer into Bucky’s orbit, your legs now tucked between his as you lean in close to be heard over the hum of a dozen conversations. You’ve caught him staring at your mouth with half lidded eyes more than once and it makes warmth pool between your thighs.

“It’s getting a little loud, do you want to head out?” You ask, a hand on his thigh, just above his knee. He nods.

Bucky takes care of the bill despite your objections and follows you out of the bar with a hand low on your back, just barely touching. On the sidewalk, he gently pulls you to the side, out of the way of pedestrians.

“I had a good time,” he says. “Best date I’ve been on since 1943.”

“Oh, yeah?” You step a bit closer, chest to chest. His hand grips your waist. “How did dates used to end back then, old man?”

He rolls his eyes. “Smart mouth. First, I’d walk you back to your apartment. Like a gentleman.”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Then what?”

“Then, you’d give me a kiss on the cheek.”

You tilt your face toward his, pressing your lips to his cheek. “Like that?”

“Just like that. But then, when you’re about to pull away—“ he reaches up, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck, “I’d pull you right back.”

You’re so close that you can feel his breath on your lips. “And then?”

“I’d kiss you.”

“You better start walking me home, Barnes,” you tell him. He smiles.

“Lead the way.”

The walk to your apartment is quiet but the tension between you is damn near corporeal and you’re practically buzzing with anticipation by the time you reach your building.

“This is me,” you tell him as you turn to face him. “I had a great time, too, you know.” You loop your arms over his shoulders. “In fact, I’m not sure I’m ready for it to end.”

“That so?” He asks, boyish smirk tilting the corner of his mouth.

You shrug. “If that doesn’t offend your delicate sensibilities.”

Bucky leans in and your eyes flutter shut just before his lips touch yours. The scent of leather and bourbon wraps around you and the rush of your blood in your ears drowns out the late night noises of the city around you. The kiss is sweet, gentle, until his teeth nip at your bottom lip and you gasp, giving him the opening to make it deeper, hungrier, an edge of desperation in the way his fingers curl against your neck.

He pulls away first, tongue darting across his lips like he’s trying to capture the faint taste of you on them.

“Wow,” you mumble. “That was…do you want to come upstairs?”

“But my delicate sensibilities,” he says, laughing as you smack him on the chest. He kisses you again, though it’s less of a kiss and more the two of you smiling against each other. “I’d like that.”

Bucky carves himself a place in your life.

His toothbrush next to yours on the bathroom counter. The coffee that he likes in your pantry. A book he’s been trying to read for a few weeks on your nightstand. A side of the bed that you consider his.

He brings you flowers from the farmer’s market and your favorite snack from the bodega down the street when he knows you’ve had a rough day. He makes you laugh so hard that your muscles ache with it.

You are so in love that your chest hurts just to look at him.

And then he disappears.

Now

Running into an ex-boyfriend at a coffee shop is already an uncomfortable enough experience. Add to it that your ex-boyfriend is Bucky Barnes, the devastatingly handsome face of the New Avengers, New York’s newest batch of superheroes, and you’ve got a recipe for the most awkward situation imaginable.

He’s waiting by the pick up counter, metal arm covered by his jacket and wearing a hat that you think it meant to act as some sort of disguise though it falls short of being effective, considering he has one of the most recognizable faces in the nation. You shuffle over to the same spot, keeping your head down and attention fixed on your phone, hoping he doesn’t notice you.

Despite the fact that he was there before you, the barista calls out your name first, placing your drink on the counter. Bucky lifts his head and looks around, a furrow between his brows. Then, as if the universe is playing a sick joke, another barista sets a second drink next to yours and calls out, “James!”

He doesn’t immediately reach for his drink and you just know he’s waiting to see if hearing your name called was just a coincidence. So, with a desperation for your caffeine fix and a healthy dose of feminine rage, you square your shoulders and march up to the counter, taking your drink without looking at him.

Bucky steps in front of you just as you’re about to make your escape and you look up into his familiar blue eyes, mouth going dry and stomach plummeting to the ground.

“Hey,” he says. “I thought that might be you.”

“Hi,” you reply tersely. “I knew it was you.”

He flinches slightly. “That’s…that’s fair. Uh, how’ve you been?”

“Pretty good. Well, except for that whole bit with the,” you wiggle your fingers near your head, “weird cinematic loop of traumatic experiences.”

“Right, right. That wasn’t great.”

“I’d ask how you are but I’ve already seen the headlines.”

Bucky sighs, taking off his hat to run a hand through his hair. “Look, I know—“

“Motherfucker,” you whisper, ducking your head down. Bucky frowns.

“What—“

Someone calls your name. Well, okay, not just someone. Your boyfriend, David, enters the coffee shop, walking up to you and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I thought I was early enough to beat you here but I guess not,” David says, nodding toward the drink in your hand. He glances at Bucky, then does a full on double-take. “Holy shit, you’re Bucky Barnes.” He sticks his hand out toward him. “I’m a big fan.”

And Bucky, asshole that he is, looks you dead in the eye as he shakes David’s hand and says, “Thanks, man.”

“People used to tell me I looked a lot like you,” David continues, digging your grave of embarrassment deeper and deeper. “When you had short hair.”

“Is that so?” Bucky asks. “Yeah, I can see the resemblance.”

Which, okay, you understand how this looks. David does kind of resemble Bucky. He’s got blue eyes and a strong, square jaw and dark hair but it’s not like you went looking for a boyfriend that looked like Bucky.

You just have a type.

Besides, David was shorter than Bucky. There are definitely differences.

“I’m going to grab a drink. It was great to meet you,” David tells Bucky, shaking his hand again. “Be right back,” he says to you, leaning in for a kiss. You turn your head, his lips grazing the corner of your mouth.

“He seems nice,” Bucky says when David has taken his place in line across the room.

“Shut up,” you hiss. “You don’t get to judge.”

“I’m not judging.”

“You’re definitely judging.” You cross your arms. “Don’t you have superhero things to do?”

“I’m on vacation.”

“Nice to hear the New Avengers offer a robust benefits package.”

“You still have a smart mouth,” he comments, voice dropping low. Your brain short circuits and in your moment of weakness he reaches for the phone still in your hand, plucking it from your grasp with ease.

“Hey—“ you start to protest, but he’s handing it back before you can even finish the sentence. The screen is open to his contact information and it looks like he’s updated his number. “What’s this for?”

“If you need me,” he says easily. “I gotta get going. It was good to see you.”

Bucky leaves with the last word. You curse his existence even as you watch his broad shoulders disappear through the door and out into the wave of New York pedestrian traffic. David returns with his drink in hand, looking at you curiously.

“What?” You ask.

“How do you know Bucky Barnes?”

You shift your weight from foot to foot, searching for the right response. “We have…history.”

“History,” David deadpans. “Platonic?”

“Well—“

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he interrupts. “You dated an Avenger?”

“He wasn’t an Avenger at the time!”

“As if that makes this any better!”

“Why is this an issue?” You ask with a groan. “It was two years ago!”

“Are you only dating me because I look like him?”

“What? No!” You lower your voice. “Can we please just talk about this later.”

He seems to realize that you’re both still standing in the middle of a coffee shop, a dozen curious stares turned to you. “Fine,” he acquiesces.

You leave together, shoulders brushing on your walk to the nearby park where you planned to have your coffee that morning before everything was interrupted by a ghost from your past.

Things with David only get worse. He digs for more details about your relationship with Bucky and you snap at him to leave it alone. He grows tired of asking and you grow tired of avoiding until finally, inevitably, you get a phone call from him a week later.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he sighs. “I think we should just call it quits.”

“Fine,” you reply. “I’ll get a box of your stuff together for you to come get.”

“Seriously? That’s it?” He asks. “You’re not even going to ask me why?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Because you’re insecure that I dated Bucky Barnes and won’t go into excruciating detail about my sex life and how you compare to him.”

He sputters indignantly before finally landing on, “You’re such a bitch.”

“Charming,” you reply. “I’ll text you when your shit can get picked up.”

You hang up before he has the chance to respond. Tears of frustration prick at the corners of your eyes. You’re not upset about the relationship ending, not really, you just hate that somehow, Bucky Barnes managed to be the reason.

You call your best friend and she makes the appropriate noises of sympathy, followed by empty threats of bodily harm to David, before suggesting the two of you go out to get your mind off of the breakup.

You probably should have declined the invitation and stayed home because now you’re staring into the mirror of the bar bathroom, clutching the sink like it’ll make the world stop spinning (it doesn’t). Your friend is nowhere to be found and you’re ready to go home but the thought of calling an Uber in this state makes your stomach roll.

You pull up your contacts, finger hovering over Bucky’s name. Before you can change your mind or drop your phone in the sink, you tap the call button.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Barnes,” he says. His voice makes your breath hitch.

“Hey…it’s me,” you reply, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Are you okay?” He asks immediately. You huff a laugh.

“I’m okay. Just…I’m a little drunk and I think my friend left and I could really use a ride but if you’re busy, I could call an Uber!” You’re rambling. Bucky, thankfully, puts you out of your misery.

“Where are you?” You give him the name of the bar. There’s a shuffling noise and then he’s telling you, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You wait outside the bar on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around yourself. A blacked out SUV pulls up to the curb and Bucky steps out, turning heads as he rounds the front of the car to the sidewalk and looks around for you.

You take a tentative step forward and his gaze snaps to you, softening from mission mode in a way that makes your head feel fuzzy. He opens the passenger door for you, holds a hand out to help you into the seat, still a gentleman.

Your breath catches when he leans over, tugging the seatbelt across your chest and buckling it into place. He smells the same, you think, like leather and metal and mint. No bourbon, this time.

When you’re buckled, he shuts the door and walks to the other side of the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. You tilt your head back against the headrest, letting your eyes fall shut. It’s good to be sitting.

“You okay?” He asks.

“You already asked me that,” you reply, keeping your eyes closed. He sighs.

“Why didn’t you call Daniel?”

“David,” you correct. “We broke up.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

You turn your head, opening your eyes slightly. “No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not.”

And that shouldn’t make your heart beat faster, shouldn’t send warmth coursing through you but it does because it’s Bucky. You close your eyes again. This seat is very comfortable.

“You still in the same apartment?” He asks. The question sounds fuzzy.

“No,” you mumble. “Moved.”

“Can you give me the address?”

But you don’t hear that last question because you’re already asleep in the passenger seat.

You wake up in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar (but extremely soft) bed, tucked beneath unfamiliar sheets. Your mouth is dry and your head hurts a little bit but not nearly as much as you deserve given how much you drank. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand and a bottle of Tylenol. You crack the lid and pour out two capsules, throwing them into your mouth and chugging down the water until the glass is empty.

You slowly get up and make your way across the room, checking to see if one of the doors leads to a bathroom. You’re thrilled that you’re right and that there’s even a conveniently placed towel, unopened toothbrush, and new set of clothes waiting for you on the counter. You briefly wonder where the clothes came from but given the opulence of the bathroom you’re standing in, you imagine anything is available at the press of a button.

By the time you’ve finished in the bathroom, you feel about ninety five percent human. The other five percent is the part of you dreading the conversation to come.

Because you know Bucky is somewhere beyond the bedroom door and the thought of seeing him in the light of day, after calling him to come to your rescue, fills you with dread. You give yourself a pep talk in the mirror and lift your chin, ready to face what’s beyond your bubble of safety.

You peek outside the bedroom door and find the hall clear. There’s soft music playing from somewhere further in the apartment and you follow the noise to the kitchen, where you find Bucky at the counter, his back turned to you. He’s in a tank top, which gives you an open view of muscles that you haven’t seen in two years but definitely remember. In vivid detail.

Bucky turns to face you when you’ve stepped into the room. He has two mugs of coffee in his hands and he slides one across the counter separating you. He’s already made it the way you like.

Asshole.

“Morning, doll,” he says.

“You don’t get to call me that.” You take a sip of your perfect coffee.

“You used to like when I called you that.”

“That was before you made me fall in love with you and then you disappeared,” you tell him. “And the next time I saw you was on TV, announcing your run for Congress.”

He at least has the decency to look a little chagrined. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like that.” You raise your eyebrows but say nothing. “I was ready for normal but I keep getting dragged back into fights.”

“Are you dragged or do you answer the call?” You ask. He stays quiet for a minute, thinking, the muscle of his jaw ticking beneath the stubble on his chin.

“Both, probably,” he admits. “I’ve done so much bad that it’s hard to pass on the opportunity to do something good.”

A tiny fracture forms in the wall you’ve built. “If not you, then who, I guess. Right?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Something like that.”

Silence settles, thick with what needs to be said and, worse, with what should have been said two years ago. He abandons his mug on the counter, coming around to stand in front of you, close enough to touch. His dog tags hang in the middle of his chest and you reach up to tangle your fingers in the chain, like you used to. He smiles, a tiny, uncertain twitch of his lips.

“I missed you,” he says quietly. “You have no idea how much.”

“You could have called,” you tell him.

“I didn’t know what to say.” His hand catches your. “You loved me?”

“I did,” you admit. “Still do, if we’re having an honesty hour right now.”

Bucky laughs, low and warm. God, you missed him. You didn’t realize the depth of it until he was within your reach.

“I did, too.” He wraps an arm around your waist. “Still do.”

“Yeah?”

He leans in close, lips ghosting across yours. Barely a kiss but every nerve ending lights up at the contact, making you feel like a live wire. He smiles.

“Can I call you doll now?” He asks. You act like you’re considering it, like the answer isn’t an immediate yes.

“Only if you’re going to make it up to me,” you tell him.

“How would you like me to do that?”

“Well, you are really good with your gun—“

Your response is cut off by your yelp when Bucky picks you up, one arm supporting your back and the other under your knees. You laugh as he marches back to the bedroom you woke up in, kicking the door open and tossing you on the mattress. You bounce slightly with the force of your landing.

“Someone’s eager,” you tease, lifting yourself up on your elbows. He smirks, crawling toward you on the mattress.

“You have no idea, doll,” he says, wrapping his metal hand around the back of your neck and pulling you in for a kiss that’s hungry and messy, a borderline desperate creeping in as he settles more of his weight on your body, hips cradled between your own.

His teeth dig into your lower lip, hard enough to make you gasp. He takes the opportunity to kiss your jaw, stubble dragging across your sensitive skin. He drifts lower, down your neck, sucking the skin over your pulse and making you squirm.

“So sensitive,” he teases, his hand working its way beneath your shirt, warm palm sliding up your belly. He pinches a nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, making you whine. “And so needy.”

Bucky pulls away, just enough to get both hands on your shirt to lift it up and over your head. Both hands cup your breasts and you arch into the sensation. You’ve always loved the difference in sensation between his hands, soft flesh and unyielding metal but the same reverent touch. He bends forward to pull one nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it until you’re writhing beneath him.

He drags his mouth lower, down your belly, until he reaches the leggings he left for you. His fingers curl into the elastic, dragging the fabric down your thighs until he can pull them off and toss them to the floor. You’re left in just your underwear and Bucky smiles beatifically at you.

“Already soaked,” he says, settling on his stomach between your thighs. He drags a thumb over your clothed pussy, circling the digit lightly when he reaches your clit. “All for me, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

He kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other, before slipping his fingers beneath the gusset of your underwear and yanking the fabric to the side. He drags his tongue from your entrance to your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with broad, flat strokes.

“Bucky,” you moan, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair and pull. He groans, the vibration adding to the delicious torture of his mouth. “Oh, fuck.”

You lose the ability to speak shortly after that as Bucky lavishes you with attention. Two of his metal fingers join his tongue, sliding into your wet heat with ease.

“Christ.” He tilts his head against your thigh to watch you as he pumps his fingers in and out of you with an obscene noise. “Fuck me,” he groans, dragging out the syllables.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please, Bucky.”

“Not until you come,” he says, curling his fingers and dragging them across that sensitive spot inside of you. “Come on, sweetheart.”

He slips a third finger inside of you and the stretch borders on painful, a slight sting that makes you feel like you’re on fire, ready to burst. When he returns his mouth to your clit, you’re a goner. Your orgasm crashes over you as you moan his name, grinding yourself up against his mouth and down onto his fingers.

Bucky eases you through it, waiting until your hips drop to the mattress before pulling away. The scruffy hair on his chin is shiny with your release, his blue eyes are dark with lust, and his hair is a mess from your hands.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, reaching up to slip his soaked metal fingers past your lips. “Clean ‘em real good, doll.”

You do as he says, keeping your eyes fixed to his. When he’s satisfied, he pulls his hand away and settles it at the base of your throat.

“You missed this, didn’t you?” He asks, squeezing gently. You smile up at him, bringing your hands to his forearm. “Yeah, you did. Bet you thought it about when those other guys fucked you, too.”

He releases your throat and gets off the bed only long enough to shove his pants to the floor. You get a brief moment to stare appreciatively, taking in the chiseled muscles and the old scars that you once had memorized.

“You’re so beautiful, Bucky,” you murmur. His expression goes soft as he crawls back onto the mattress and settles his weight above you, his cock dragging through the wet mess he’s made of your thighs.

He kisses you deeply, thoroughly, like he’s trying to erase any lingering memory of anyone who came after him. His hips flex against yours and you hitch your legs up, changing the angle of your body enough that the head of his cock dips inside of you, just slightly, just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. He pulls back, staring down at you as he sinks deeper, stretching you in the most perfect way.

“That’s it, baby,” he says. “Just like that, huh?”

The only answer you can give is a desperate noise as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, his chest against yours. He starts an achingly slow rhythm that has stars bursting in your vision, your belly tensing with the first signs of release.

“You have no idea,” he mumbles against your neck, “how much I’ve missed you.”

“I think I have an idea,” you whisper, bringing a hand to his jaw. “Missed you so much, Buck.”

He bites at your pulse and moves his hips faster, driving you to the brink before pulling out completely. Your responding whine is cut short by his hands gripping your hips, twisting you beneath him until you’re flat on your stomach and he’s sliding back into you, the new angle making you feel impossibly fuller.

His weight settles on your back and he slips his metal hand around your neck, using it to lift your head up from the mattress. He squeezes your throat as he drives into you mercilessly, hips smacking lasciviously against your ass.

“You’re going to come on my cock, sweetheart,” he growls into your ear. “I need it so bad, come on, baby, finish so I can fill you up just the way you like, okay?”

Your second orgasm hits you like a lightning strike and your mouth drops open in a silent scream as your muscles tense and you squeeze around his cock. He moans a broken prayer of your name as his hips stutter in their rhythm and then go still as he comes, warmth pulsing inside of you.

Bucky collapses on the bed, careful not to drop his full weight on you. He gathers you up in his arms, holding you with your head on his chest. You listen to the beat of his heart as it slows from a frantic pulse to a smooth rhythm.

You tilt your head to look at him and he smiles. The whole scene reminds you of your first night together and a bubbly feeling blossoms in your chest.

“This won’t be easy,” he murmurs, bringing a hand to your jaw. His thumb rubs against your cheek. “I’m still fighting.”

“I know,” you reply. “As long as you come back to me after the fight, I think we’ll be alright.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging or commenting — I love hearing from you!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #thunderbolts bucky barnes #tfatws bucky barnes #thunderbolts bucky #new avengers #x reader

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nyoomerr · 11 months ago

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Luo Binghe Shimeji (Extended Version!)

a couple years ago, riladoo created an adorable binghe shime! he could be picked up and tossed around your computer screens, climb around on all your windows, multiply, and all the other cute things that come in the standard base shimeji set.

more recently, i reached out to riladoo with a commission request - more action sets for binghe! over the past couple months, riladoo has worked hard to make some adorable binghe art, and i've updated all the source code and config files to accommodate the new actions! 🎉

the extended action set includes: - a 'sit and eat' idle action - two 'head patting' actions when the mouse hovers over him - a 'fall and cry' action for when he falls from tall heights - a 'land nicely' action for when you place him down gently

the original binghe shime listing on riladoo's gumroad has been updated to have all these new actions, so go grab him now!! he's free / pay what you want! 🥰

i've put more details about the new action sets + general shimeji setup tips below the cut, but otherwise -- LET THE BINGHE COMPUTER INFECTION COMMENCE !!

**these extended actions only work on windows, not mac. sorry ;w; the original shime set has a mac version, though!

Extended Action Set Details

when you download the files from riladoo, you're looking for the .zip file labeled "Updated Shime code" !

sit and eat this is an idle action that will trigger randomly the same as any other idle action. if you want to trigger it manually, you can right click the shime -> 'set behavior' -> 'sit and eat'

head pats these are 'stay' actions that will trigger automatically when you hover your mouse over the shime. i recommend hovering your mouse over his head for maximum head-pat-effectiveness! unfortunately, this action won't play if the shime is actively climbing a wall/ceiling - maybe in the future this can be extended further, but for now there are only head patting actions for sitting and standing poses :>

falling variations (crying / default / land nicely) there are now a total of 3 'falling' actions. to see the 'fall and cry' action, allow binghe to fall from the top half of your monitor. to see the standard/original 'fall and trip' action, allow binghe to fall from the low-mid range portion of your monitor. to see the 'land nicely' action, gently place binghe down at the bottom of your monitor. this means you're rewarded for catching binghe when he falls off a window - if you catch him and set him down, he lands nicely, but if you let him fall normally, he'll start crying!! 🥰

Shimeji Installation Tips

if you've never had a shimeji before - don't worry, they're super easy to install! i recommend following this video tutorial created by the person who originally created the source code for shimeji. you can skip the parts about downloading the shimeji itself - you'll get that from riladoo's website :>

if you install everything but opening the shimeji executable does nothing, download jarfix to resolve this issue.

if you follow the tutorial and update the 'interactive windows' but the shime still doesn't stand/climb on the specified windows, restart your computer to resolve this issue. alternatively, make sure you don't have any 'unexpected' monitors plugged in - a friend of mine had their shime constantly falling down through their monitor onto their screen drawpad, which was confusing until it got figured out!

if you are on mac instead of windows.... i am so sorry i actually have no idea how to help 🙇‍♂️ the original/default binghe shimeji set DOES have a mac os folder in with the downloads, but i've never tested it (don't use mac), and even if it works, it won't include the extended actions (i didn't build an executable for mac with the new code).

More Questions???

feel free to hit me up! in the replies of this post / through DMs / send an ask - whatever is best for you. i'll tag any asks i get about the shime with #binghe shime chronicles so they get archived nicely. i got very familiar with all the source code / config files to get this lil guy set up with his extended actions, so hopefully i can answer any questions you have! 💪😤

that's all!! i am so happy w how the new actions turned out - the art riladoo did for them is SO cute! - and i hope y'all will be, too!

#HAVE FUN WITH HIM!!!#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #luo binghe #binghe shime chronicles

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wndaswife · 1 year ago

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turn a blind eye | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Something strange is happening in Westview, and your wife is adamant about soothing your frustrations.

Word count: 2390

Tags | MDNI: smut, a bit angsty in the beginning, some fluff at the end, tiny mood switch because wv wanda is scary but also just the cutest, manipulation, implications of magic usage (this is up to your interpretation), fingering, cunnilingus, mommy kink, dom!wanda maximoff

“I spoke with Norm,” you said, nervously massaging the pads of your fingers against the handcloth that hung from the kitchen sink. Through the window ahead of you, you could see Wanda turn as she continued to clean up Tommy and Billy’s toys, a quizzical expression flickering over her face in the form of furrowed eyebrows and a skeptical look in your direction.

Casually, she replied, urging you for more details, “Oh?”

You were never one to start arguments with your wife nor cause conflict, but there was something that scratched at you from the inside, pressing you to ask her — pressing you to accuse her.

Why had she done all this?

With a bundle of nerves weighing you down within the pits of your stomach, against your chest so you were forced to take shallow breaths, and around your throat so you found it difficult to speak at all, you turned to face your wife, gripping the edges of the counter behind you. “I unearthed the man’s suppressed personality and spoke to him free of your oversight,” you forced yourself to say.

Even in uttering the words, you felt as though your breath was being pushed back into your lungs, as if your very body had been trying to unspeak the words as they were being spoken.

Wanda’s fingers froze around the toy truck and she eyed you in a way that was not exactly cold nor threatening, but calculating, as she thought over what to say next. She was careful with you, always, treating you like the delicate and sensitive thing she knew you were.

Hearing you say those words that implied accusation was a grave shock, and simultaneously, she wanted to find the proper way to respond to you.

“Honey, you don’t sound like yourself,” she spoke softly, releasing the toy truck and rounding the island counter at the center of the kitchen to stand in front of you.

As she approached, you felt as though you ought to have been frightened, but you weren’t — not of Wanda.

Not of your wife.

She placed her warm hand against your cheek, stroking her thumb against your cheekbone and meeting your eyes tenderly. “Let’s go to bed and forget all this nonsense by the morning. Come on, sweetheart,” she urged sweetly, a gentle smile on her face as if you had simply been speaking from fatigued delirium.

You looked away from her and at the kitchen floor, swallowing before hesitantly uttering, “You can’t control me like you do them.”

“Baby…” Wanda whispered, her hand sliding down your cheek slightly so she could hook her pinky under the ridge of your jaw and tip your head up so you were looking at her. You met her eyes and she leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

When she pulled away, your eyes met again, her very gaze permeating your body and sending chills up your spine. But her hand was so warm against your cheek, and she laid her hand on top of the one you had gripping the kitchen counter.

With her lips brushing against yours as she spoke, she whispered, “Can’t I?”

It wasn’t a threat, or at least it didn’t feel very much like one, but rather a reminder — Wanda didn’t have to control you at all, for there wasn’t a thing in the world you wouldn’t do for her.

“I’m scared, Wanda,” you said quietly.

Her gaze softened and a brief look of hurt flashed across her features. It took one silent moment before she interlaced her fingers with yours, and a few several more before she spoke. “Do you really think I’d hurt you? Or the boys? Do you really think I’d… hurt anyone intentionally?” she asked.

She was at the mercy of your impending response, and you detected fear beyond green irises.

“No,” you answered immediately — truthfully. “I wouldn’t believe that for a second.”

Wanda smiled. “Then there’s nothing for you to be scared of, Y/N.”

“Besides…” Her eyes flickered down to the buttons on your blouse, removing her hand from your cheek and hooking a finger around them, tugging down slightly. “Haven’t I always taken care of you?” she asked, looking back up and meeting your eyes. She stepped forward so her hips were pressed against yours.

When you parted your lips to answer only to find that all you could utter was a medley of incoherent stutters, Wanda urged you further, grinding her hips gently against yours and making you throb.

“Haven’t I?” she asked again, gazing at you through her long eyelashes.

You swallowed and all but squeaked out, “Y-You have — always.” You saw a glimpse of Wanda’s grin before she dove in for your neck, pressing long, gentle kisses there. You tipped your head to the side as her hand moved between your breasts, down your stomach, to the zipper of your pants.

“Mommy’s always taken care of you, honey,” she whispered. “Isn’t that right? Mommy knows how to take care of her girl.”

You nodded and muttered, “Mommy…”

You released your hands from around the kitchen counter and found your wife's hips through the fog of your daze. Your hands ran up her gentle curves and Wanda groaned softly into your neck in approval as your fingers brushed against her ass.

Growing impatient, Wanda pulled your blouse out from beyond the waistline of your pants. She raised her head from your neck after nipping at your skin, sure to leave a mark, then took your chin in her other hand and brought you into a passionate kiss.

You whimpered into her mouth when the tip of her tongue ran over the top row of your teeth before she dove in further, running it along the roof of your mouth and across your tongue. She pulled away and gave your lips and quick peck, then tilted your head down so you could watch how she unbuttoned and unzipped you.

“Beg mommy for her fingers,” she told you. She rubbed the pad of her thumb against the corner of your mouth. “I wanna hear my girl be sweet to me.”

Tantalizingly, Wanda’s fingers danced around the waistband of your panties, her fingernails scratching ever so slightly at the area just below your stomach.

“Please, mommy,” you begged, “I want you. I want your fingers inside me.”

“Is that so?” Wanda teased, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You want me to make you feel good, honey? You want mommy’s fingers inside you?”

You nodded quickly and made Wanda smile, seeing how eager and desperate you were for her. She felt her chest flutter at seeing how you begged her with your eyes, felt how your hands gripped tenderly at her hips.

It made her own desire climb and her breath quickened at the sight of you. Even she couldn’t keep herself from you any longer.

Her fingers slipped past your waistband and Wanda kept her eyes on your face as your breath hitched in anticipation. You shuddered at the feeling of her cold fingers meeting your warm cunt.

Wanda’s lips parted to release a warm exhale that you felt against your chin as she watched your eyes squeeze shut in pleasure while her fingers rubbed carefully through your slick folds in just the way she knew you liked, over your throbbing clit, dipping in and out of your pussy when she advanced downwards, pushing her digits deeper inside of you each time she repeated and reached your opening again.

You began to release tiny whimpers as Wanda nearly reached her second knuckle with her index and middle fingers. She nipped at your jaw and placed a kiss there before she pushed her fingers’ entire lengths into your opening.

You held back a yelp lest you wake the boys and Wanda laughed at your need for self-restraint.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” Wanda cooed, her voice so, so gentle and sweet. Her fingers moved in and out of you in careful rhythm, her thumb drawing lazy circles against your clit.

“Mhm…” you replied languidly.

“You feel so warm around mommy’s fingers, baby,” she purred into your ear, running the tip of her tongue up the shell of your ear teasingly. “So tight.” She pressed a kiss to the corner of your jaw.

Gripping tighter at the kitchen counter when you felt yourself getting closer, a tight coil developed deep within your lower stomach. “W-Wanda, I think I’m…”

“You can come, Y/N,” she permitted with a soft whisper, and your back arched away from the sink and against your wife, to which Wanda wrapped her arm around you as you came around her fingers and whimpered into the crook of her neck and soft orange hair.

As you panted against her shoulder, Wanda carefully removed her fingers from inside you while she rubbed your back soothingly, whispering gently into your ear about how good you did, how safe you are with mommy, how taken care of you are with her.

“Shh, it’s alright now,” she cooed. “You don’t need to worry about a thing, darling. Mommy will take care of everything. You’re safe with me.” She pressed a kiss to your temple.

Wanda was right — she’d always take care of you, and you’d always be safe with her. You didn’t have to worry about anything as long as you had her.

“I’m not done with you just yet, Y/N,” Wanda whispered when your breathing steadied. She parted from you and took your hands, steadying herself as she got down on her knees. She looked up at you and you swallowed, your heart beginning to pound as she grinned seeing your expression struck with nerves.

She let go of your hands and hooked her fingers around the hem of both your pants and your panties, pulling them down torturously-slow while she kissed your thighs as they became exposed.

Once your pants and underwear pooled around your ankles, Wanda had you step one foot out of them so she could part your thighs with her hands. The way she ran her eyes over your sticky cunt made you throb. She circled her hands around to your ass, moving your hips forward to allow her access to you.

She met your eyes briefly, nearly making your breath catch in your throat had it not been for how she dove right in between your thighs just a moment after.

With her hands against your ass pulling you against her face, Wanda’s face was obscured between your thighs and the mess of her orange curls, her tongue working diligently at running through your folds. She pressed her lips to your cunt in forms of gentle, pleasurable kisses, dipped her tongue in and out of your opening, nudged her nose against your clit as she flattened her tongue against you and licked upwards.

She devoured you, moaning at your flavor and at how your pussy felt against her lips and tongue as if getting as much pleasure from eating you out as you got from being eaten out. She was making a mess of you; you could feel the inside of your thighs begin to coat with your slick as it spread across Wanda’s chin and the sides of her mouth.

You tipped your head up and tried to steady your breathing and keep yourself from making too much noise, only to find you couldn’t bear to be without the sight of your wife on her knees for you, her head between your thighs with her beautiful curls on display.

“Wanda… Feels so good,” you whimpered, reaching down to entangle your hand within her soft hair.

She groaned in response and reached up to remove your other hand from the counter and intertwine your fingers with hers. She brought her hand back to your ass, still holding yours. She gave your hand a supportive squeeze.

Her tongue picked up speed, for a few moments focusing on teasing around your sensitive opening before she shifted her attention to your clit, running a flat tongue up your cunt and applying more pressure when she came up to your sensitive bud.

You could hear every wet movement of her tongue against your sticky cunt, feel her hot breath against you, feel the vibrations of her moans against your clit.

Shivers ran up your body and you inadvertently tightened your grip around Wanda’s hair.

Wanda loved having you crumble for her. It was even better that you had to watch your volume, for you’d been a mess of whimpers and breathy sighs.

“Ah-” You squeezed your eyes together and took your bottom lip between your teeth. “A-Ah… Wanda… I’m gonna come again…” you told her.

“Come for mommy, angel,” Wanda rasped against you.

It took everything in you not to cry out, for Wanda’s tongue was relentless, lapping against your clit as you came. She moved her hands from your ass and took hold of your hips, bucking you against her and forcing you to ride her tongue as you shuddered and climaxed into her mouth.

The sheer pleasure sent a hot tear down your cheek and you swiped it away as you caught your breath.

Suddenly, the both of you could hear soft padding down the staircase, and Wanda removed herself from between your thighs to make sure she was hearing it right.

You quickly offered her your hand to help her up and she rapidly helped you put your pants back on. With your fingers, you wiped her chin, lips, and cheeks free from your orgasm, eliciting an amused smile from her which you shared when she looked up at you after zipping and buttoning you back up. She pecked your lips.

“Moms…” A drowsy bed-headed Tommy padded into the kitchen. “Can you say goodnight to me again? I had a nightmare.”

“Of course, honey,” Wanda replied, smiling at her sleepy son. “We’ll be up there in just a moment, okay?”

He quickly ran over to give both of you a sleepy hug and Wanda scratched soothingly at the back of his head before he went back upstairs to wait for the both of you.

“Wash your hands,” Wanda then ordered, turning on the tap.

You replied as you lathered your hands in soap, “Wash your face.”

She nudged at your shoulder playfully.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #elizabeth olsen

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seraphicloves · 11 months ago

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𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞

⊱✿⊰ summary: your family wants to protect you but its impossible with the life you all lead

⊱✿⊰ warnings: kidnapping, minor torture, it will be angsty, almost dying, spitting on your face, the joker deserves his own warning tbh

⊱✿⊰ notes: this is for skye because she wanted some angsty batfam stuff and here we are. I am just shitting on the page and hoping words form at this point. I hope you enjoy and feel free to send me requests. Also this is a platonic fic sorry if you were hoping for romance action

⊱✿⊰ tags: @kozumesphone @fizzywashere87 @fashionablysouly @witherwallflower @goldierey

@finleyforevermore @baecakie @gergthecat @mqstermindswift @anyas-shitposting69 (comment on this or send me an ask if you want to be added to my DC taglist)

"Well, well, well. Looks like baby bird got caged." The clown sneered, leaning close to your face. You scrunched your nose and tried to scoot away despite the ropes scratching your wrists raw.

The Joker's finger runs along your cheek, a horrific grin on his face as he stared at you. You tried to keep a brave face, you tried to act like the domino mask over your eyes was really a shield. You tried to act like your dad, Batman.

Maybe it was your fault you got kidnapped. He said you weren't ready to go out and patrol with your family, but you went away. You stole one of Damian's mask and put on the most costume adjacent clothes you owned.

"Where should I start, little one?" Joker asked, breaking your train of thoughts. Placing blame would be set for another time. Not now, its not time yet. "Should I give you a smile that matches mine? Should I turn you into a firey decoration before dear ol' daddy bat gets here?"

You winced, trying to prevent the ice filling your veins and the fear weighing your stomach down. The Joker grabbed a knife from his table that had numerous weapons littered on top. Carefully the cold metal of the blade brushed against your skin, not harsh enough to cut just yet. He wanted to scare you first.

•───────────•°•❀•°•──────────•

"I am going to kill that son of a bitch." Jason growled as soon as he heard the news. Bruce gathered the family in the batcave, and explained the Joker had kidnapped the youngest of the family- you.

"Jason, I understand your frustration but we can't act with haste. I won't let her face the same fate you did. I won't make the same mistake twice." Bruce replied, already dressed as Batman. He was doing his best to stay professional despite his fear being ever present.

"I don't want to wait too long either." Dick added, crossing his arms over his chest. Everybody was tense, wanting their sister to be safe once again.

"I'll find where that stupid clown is keeping [Name]." Tim said, standing up and rushing towards the computer before anybody could even reply. Barbara silently followed, knowing she would be the most help to Tim.

Bruce looked at all of his family and nodded, "We'll find her and get her back."

•───────────•°•❀•°•──────────•

Your throat was hoarse and tears had dried on your face. There was no point to fighting it anymore, you only hoped he would kill you soon.

"Aw but doesn't the bird look good with her wings marked?" The Joker chuckled, slicing yet another line into your arm. The cuts were deep, sure to scar, and they were deliberate. You could only guess what he was spelling on your arms.

With the amount of blood flowing down your arms like a red river, it was to no surprise you were fading in and out of consciousness. That would be nice, at least you wouldn't be awake while he tortured you.

You almost settled into the pain, eyes fluttering close to let yourself rest, when you heard a crash. Glass was broken and there was yelling everywhere.

The Joker grabbed your face with his hand and forced you to look forward, where you saw your family (the only thing disguising their horrified looks were their masks)

"Looks like they showed up in time for you, baby bird." He grinned, spitting on your cheek. You were too tired, too fragile to even bother being disgusted. It was better than the cutting.

"Let her go and I'll think about not crushing your head into the wall." Red Hood barked out, already aiming his gun at The Joker. You tried to pay more attention but you were fading slowly,, ready to force your body to rest.

The Joker dropped your body like it was nothing, your face smashing into the concrete. It hurt, pain forming in your forehead but it was a distraction from the blood oozing out of you.

Despite your best efforts, you finally blacked out. The last thing you saw was your family lunging at the Joker, rage thick in the air.

Light flooded your eyes, fresh air blasting your lungs. You were laying down on something soft and warm, contrasting against the mildly scratchy fabric on your skin. You blinked your eyes a few times, forcing them to focus despite the dull ache pounding in your head.

"You're awake." Damian said, apparently sitting beside you. It took a little while but you realized you were in the personal hospital at the manor. He had a few scratches and bruises but nothing as horrific as the scars on your skin (and in your brain.)

"Wha-what..happened?" You croaked, throat feeling like sandpaper. Like magic, Dick appeared with a glass of water you gratefully took. The liquid in your throat was almost heavenly in the way it made you feel infinitely better.

"The Joker kidnapped you and we rescued you." Your father explained calmly, not bothering to add details. Which was probably good for you, the devil's in details.

"I'm glad your back, sis." Jason said, making you suddenly aware of his presence in the back of the room. Your entire family seemed to be in here, ready to see your betterment. Despite he general aversion to touch, Jason wrapped you into a hug.

Of course, everybody else joined in (forcefully or not) for a big group hug. You laughed, despite the hollow of your heart, watching as Tim was pushed into the hug by Dick.. It was ridiculous having a group hug after a traumatic event...how family sitcom could you get?

But somehow, it felt good to be in the arm's of your family. It felt like home.

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sleepinghypnos · 1 year ago

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The Creed...

Chapter 1 - Penthouse

Genre: Smut

Tags: F/M, F/F/M, F/F/F/M, Facefuck, Throatfucking Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Harem, Self-degradation, Masochism/Sadism(?), Cum Play, Piss Play

(The things in the tags will be present when the time needs for it.)

Disclaimer: This work is a fan-fiction and does not depict the person/people mentioned in the story.

A/N: You can self-insert if you want...

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

"What is it? I'm preoccupied, so make it quick." Vlad answered the call.

"Fine. Just send them to my house... but I will not be responsible if something happens to them." He replied with his slightly deep voice and end the call.

*Silenced Gunshot*

"Blame your competitor, not me." Vlad immediately packed up his sniper rifle and fled the scene while remembering what one of his close associates in the entertainment industry said few moments ago, he begged him to accommodate a number of female K-pop idols for the purpose of strengthening the bond between idols through a experimental project wherein they live together as Tenants, cameras will not be present just them living together and at the end of their time as tenants they will do an interview regarding the way of life living with other k-pop idols aside from their respective members. In this way, the fandoms of each k-pop group will stop fighting over trivial things on the internet and support other idols.

Vladimir Creed was a 26 year old Half-European and Half-American man. His parents died in a car accident when he was still a child and only his grandfather is his only family left. He's living a lavish lifestyle full of money, expensive cars and women...

His family or more like his grandfather founded a huge company in America and owns many stocks in the entertainment industry in Korea and since Vlad is not someone who actively makes himself noticeable or well-known, he parties without revealing his true identity to anyone with a few exception of course, he has few actual friends and all of them are also young masters of their own families just like he was and he rarely expresses his emotions so he has a hard time managing it.

In his typical days, he spends most of his time just relaxing in his penthouse, in which he bought himself with his own money. though it may seem strange since he parties every chance he get, he has a very unique talent and that is being a hired gun that even his grandfather didn't know.

And while relaxing, he usually goes naked after a shower because there is no one in the house, It's is personal space after all. His maids and butlers will only come if they were asked for and he cooks for himself.

His penthouse is in a small island near the coast and there is only one bridge connected to it. So, guests who'll visit the island can use the bridge without the need of boats.

...

Vlad arrived at his house but welcomed by cars parked near the main gate. "What the fuck is this?" He said to himself, he got out of his car to check what's going on then he remembered Eunseok, one of his close associates said few hours ago. "Now it makes."

Then he called one of the guards to let him pass, and so they did. He drove and the people blocking the path dispersed and he got in smoothly.

"Let them in, they are going to live here indefinitely." Vlad announced to the guards and went inside to change.

Most of the people outside the penthouse are already inside the living area, he saw the k-pop idols waiting for the master of the house.

"I'm Vladimir Creed, but you can call me Vlad. I'm the owner of this house, my friend already told me what you guys are going to do. So feel free live here." and he looked at managers of each of the group "There are places in the house that is not available, I don't care if they used the swimming pool, drink at the bar." Pointing at the wet bar near the kitchen. "Or anything, but, all of third floor is off limits because that's where my room is located."

The producer nodded and introduce the idols that will be living with him in the house.

He extended his hand for a handshake to ITZY's Yuna and Ryujin, Aespa's Karina and Winter, (G)-Idle's Soyeon and Miyeon, Red Velvet's Irene, Seulgi, and Joy, and Twice's Sana, Mina, and Nayeon which they received with a smile.

One day has passed, the girls are eating lunch in the long refectory table since they woke up late just like Vlad was and the maids and butlers were there to assist them.

After lunch, the Red Velvet and Twice members were gathered in the backyard, enjoying a beautiful sunny day by the pool. They were relaxing and chatting about their recent performances, when they suddenly heard a splash from the pool.

Curious, they all turned to see Nayeon filling up a water gun and aimed at them. Panic set in as they scream and run around the pool to avoid getting wet since they just want to enjoy the sun.

Running made them exhausted and they decided to have a friendly water fight. Joy and Seulgi teamed up against Sana and Mina, Nayeon and Irene. Laughter and screams filled the air as they chased each other around the pool, trying to get each other wet

In the living room, Ryujin and Karina were sharing a bucket of ice cream while watching a romantic K-drama. They were joined by Soyeon and Miyeon, who couldn't resist the delicious smell of the popcorn. They all cuddled under a blanket, enjoying the show and teasing each other about their favorite characters. Yuna and Winter are busy doing some tiktok challenge.

As the sun set, the members of ITZY, Aespa, and (G)-Idle joined their sun-kissed Seniors in the pool. They all gathered around the pool, sharing stories, and having a heart-to-heart conversation. For a moment, the backyard was filled with the sound of their laughter and friendship.

As the night came, they all gathered in the living room to watch a movie together. They munched on some snacks and cuddled on the couch, enjoying their time together. It was a perfect day off for all of them, a day filled with laughter, bonding, and memories that they will cherish forever.

Karina asked the butler where Vlad was and she was led to the study where he spends time if he's not doing anything.

When Karina entered the study, she was met with a tall, imposing figure staring at her from behind a large oak desk. Vlad's dark hair was slicked back, and he exuded a sense of power and mystery. Karina couldn't help but feel a pull towards him, she already know that this man is handsome the moment she land her eyes on him earlier in the morning.

"Um, Sir? I just want to asked if we can have some of the liquor in the wet bar." She asked while slowly approaching him.

"Didn't I told you girls that you can do whatever you want with the wet bar?" He answered and walked to towards her. "And you're asking me when you already half drunk."

Karina got embarrassed but it faded when a faint smile appeared on Vlad's lips, she was mesmerized. "Are you sure that's the reason why you're here?" he was close to her, Karina needs to look up just to meet his eyes.

Karina pulls him for a kiss and reciprocated it with the same intensity. It started as vanilla kissing until in turns into something like animals in heat and eventually began to make out with insane passion. Vlad grab her waist to pull her closer, her hands were hugging his neck.

He noticed she wanted more and so he obliged and brought one hand to feel up her breasts which made Karina moan between their kisses.

Their kiss was passionate, Vlad keeping her in his arms while she let herself be consumed by him. It lasted for few minutes until they both stopped quietly staring at each other.

"D-did you like it?" Karina said while catching her breathe.

"I did, your lips are sweet with a hint of whiskey... you really were half drunk." Brushing his thumb on her lips. "Want me to lead this time?" he asked her while caressing her face.

"Yes, please." Karina said.

“Do you think could handle it?” Vlad responded seemingly showing concern.

Karina nodded. “I did have my own few boyfriends before...”

“I won't doubt it but... I get rough. Really rough. I'm sure it's something you haven't experience before..."

“You are worrying about me and that's sweet but I think I'm gonna be fine... please don't hold back and just give it to me.” She said while making a serious face.

Vlad's hand roam towards her neck and stayed there and slowly gripping it. Her cunt throb as they kiss again and slowly stripping each other’s clothes off, his hands still in her neck slightly choking her.

As their bodies got liberated from their clothing, Vlad immediately attacks Karina's big breasts making her moan, her hands couldn't resist to push his head closer. His other hand goes to Karina's precious treasure and starts invading it.

"This fucking slutty tits of yours keeps leering people on." Vlad said while groping her breasts and assaulting them with his tongue...

"Fuck! Yes! It feels good, sir." Karina said.

Which made Vlad riled up even more. "Sir?" He stopped groping her breast.

"You don't like being called like that? I'll change it." She said while pleading to continue to pleasure her.

He doesn't like getting called Daddy/Oppa. The women he's been with keeps calling him that and he got bored by it, now he prefers to called by his name but this time around is different.

Sir? of all the things that someone can be called... Sir is the one getting him riled up.

"No, keep it that way... now get on your knees whore." Vlad said with a commanding aura. “I’m going to use your mouth as a fleshlight. Pull my cock out.”

Karina didn't expect the monster hiding beneath his pants. She could see the bulge of his massive cock. Now she knows why he said 'Something she haven't experience before.' because it's true. He is much bigger than the guys she's been with. So much bigger. She feels hotter and hotter than usual.

Vlad's dick stands proud at 10 inches and is almost girthy as a water bottle.

“You are so massive, fucking massive!” Karina said as she freed his cock and hit her in the face. She stare at his huge member mesmerized by it.

“My god! Why are you so big? Can you even use this?” She said as she grabbed his cock with with both hands. "And you're going to use my mouth with this thing?"

"What? Are you scared? I told you I'm rough and I mean it." He said seriously. "You are going to take every inch of my cock in your throat whether you like it or not."

Karina got nervous but her lust towards him is much heavier.

She showered his cock with kisses, admiring every inch, as if she's worshipping his massive member.

"Suck it." And she did, she gives him a slow and sensual blowjob, keeping her eyes on him.

"You came in her just to do that?"

“What do you mean, Sir?”

He grabbed her by the hair she opened her mouth and swallowed as much of him as she possibly could.

COUGH COUGH COUGH

Relaxing her throat as she let his girthy cock push through her throat. She struggled for a minute and he's watching her giving herself to him.

Vlad guides her and she bobbed her head up and down to see how deep she could take him over and over and over again. Her eyes were tearing up, saliva dripping down as she takes his girthy cock in her throat.

She taps his legs but Vlad ignored her protests and stayed in her throat. "I told you, I'm rough... you don't know what you get yourself into."

He is fucking her throat with reckless abandon and not caring if she can still breathe. Few seconds more and he let go and she breathe hastily. "Sh-shit! I almost passed out." She coughs. "Fuck!"

"Just accept your role as my slut from now on." He slaps her face with his massive heavy cock.

He forced his cock back into her throat. She gives in, letting this man use her mouth and throat as a fleshlight. Her eyes were rolled back into her head.

GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK

Her moaning and gagging sounds filled the study, the moonlight touches her silky white skin enhancing her beauty further while her throat is getting violated. Even though she already accepted her fate, she still needs to breathe and she tried to struggle for air but failed.

“MMMPPHKKKK!” She resists and got ignored.

“Just stay there, don't regret your decisions now.” Vlad said and spent another three seconds before letting Karina go.

She chokes and gags even though she's already freed from that monster of a cock. “Did I... do a good job, Sir?” She asked noticeably exhausted. She then received another batch of throatfucking and this time, it's much easier but it still hurts.

GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK

She's taking it like a good little slut, moaning and groaning every time Vlad thrusts too deep in her throat. Karina became accustomed to the massive rod destroying her tight throat and she slowly but surely loving the way he manhandle her without any care about her well-being.

"I'm cumming you little slut!" He said and starts speeding up in his assaults. After all of this, he gave her some leeway and pull his cock out of her mouth. "Want to drink it?"

“YES! T-thank you, feed me your c-cum! Please sir, I'm begging you!!!” She said before he shoved his cock back into her mouth again.

Vlad reached his climax and poured it all in Karina's throat, he releases an obscene amount of cum like he's been holding it for long while. She willingly swallow every bit of it. Few ropes of his cum left in her mouth, she put on a show by gurgling, swirling her tongue cover of his cum then swallowing it.

“Oh my god... fucking hell... that was heavenly!” She said as she crawled over to him and started to lick his shaft cleaning it. “I need to be treated like that again, Sir. Please! You are right, I never experienced that before..”

"Oh, That's only the beginning little slut." He said while grabbing her in the neck and pulling her up.

A/N: Another Series that I might abandon but... oh well. I planned on doing the Bodyguard EP. 6 but idk when to actually do it.

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fic #itzy smut #aespa smut #kpop #red velvet smut #twice smut #(g)-idle smut #karina smut

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hoshinasblade · 1 year ago

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second best |1| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART THREE

DISCLAIMER: this fic has a detail that hasn't been mentioned in the anime yet. it isn't a big give-away but if you are sensitive about that kind of thing, please do not proceed. pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 3K trigger warnings: author's note: this fic has two parts - part 2 will be posted a week from today :) likes, replies, and reblogs are always appreciated but please do not repost or steal my writings. this is quite long, but i gotta make you guys work for it. i have also set up a taglist for the second part and the other fics or drabbles, please sign up if you wanna be tagged! as always, feel free to let me know what you think or give me a prompt by sending me an ask here!

hoshina soshiro can claim with extreme conviction that he rarely regrets the decisions he has made so far in his life.

from the time he has set his sights on taking the aptitude exam necessary to be recruited in the anti-kaiju defense force, to following captain ashiro mina to support her as the vice-captain of the third division, to religiously adhering to his daily routine of working out even during his off days so he can stay in peak condition - everything he's done is driven by soshiro's lone motivation: to rise and come on top.

unfortunately, as he sees you walking in the hallway of the training building with his brother, soshiro realises that this is one of those rare occurrences where he hopes he gets a do-over.

it was barely 6 in the afternoon so there was still light from outside; the rays of the setting sun penetrating the transparent windowpanes cast an orange glow to the furniture in soshiro's office. it made him remember how he used to always be assigned as the student to clean the classroom back in junior high school: he would sweep first then rearrange the chairs before closing the windows and drawing down the curtains. he would rush up to the rooftop, in time to watch the sun dip below the horizon. he would stay for a few precious minutes, dreaming of a chance to get out of their town. he was fifteen then.

soshiro shook his head a bit. he decided that today - of all days - will not be when he will have a trip down memory lane. yes, despite the number of times he would get reminded of his past today, he refuses to get sidetracked.

the floor is eerily silent, save for the momentary opening and closing of doors; soshiro is aware that almost everyone has left, flocking to the local izakaya not too far from the base to celebrate. he had half the mind to prompt himself to hurry up in order to make it to the get-together on time. the long and gruelling application process took three months before the vetting could begin, but finally, the third division of japan anti-kaiju defense force honoured its new officers that morning. as the nominated head of the selection committee, he oversaw the entire thing, and at the end, he could not help but to feel confident that their force would become stronger from here - this year their roster of applicants boasts high-profile names like that of the very daughter of jakdf's director general and the young master of the prestigious izumo family.

okonogi, sitting in front of him at his office, was sorting the personal forms of the recruits, a big stapler in her right hand. "i can take care of this, vice-captain", she said to him, "they cannot miss you there."

soshiro smupled to his swivel chair, obviously fatigued by the task he and okonogi had been trying to finish for half an hour already. fighting and defeating kaiju is the main part of the job, but handling the paperwork proves to be as challenging. "right, make sure the headquarters get this by the morning along with the report of all their numbers -" the sound of footsteps nearby interrupted soshiro's train of thought.

there were three loud knocks and the door opened, a man with the same eyes as soshiro peeping inside. even okonogi glanced over her shoulder to identify who the intruder is. soshiro stood up.

"just wanted ta drop by before i head back ta himeji", hoshina soichiro's undeniable accent dripped. spotting the huge pile of forms littering the desk, he commented, "seems like ya are a little preoccupied though."

"hoshina fuku taichou, good evening." your voice was firm yet jovial as you greeted him, the kansai inflection rolling off your tongue. you appeared beside soshiro's brother, still wearing the same standard-issue uniform you wore during the event several hours ago when you were sworn in as a new defense force officer. the outfit is snug on you - soshiro had noticed at the ceremony earlier, but up close the top looked almost skintight, the skirt coming up a little above your knees. soshiro can be a high-ranking official within the force, but he is also a man. if only briefly, he stared. "aren't ya going ta the party?"

taken aback that you would drop by his office, it was out of his mouth too fast he couldn't stop it - "how about ya? what are you still doing here with him?" soshiro responded pointedly at you, throwing you the same query but not answering what you asked him. it was too late to take it back; he sounded like he was interrogating you about your presence with the captain of the sixth division. soichiro winced; soshiro pretended not to see. "i- i was just thinking ya went with the officers on the way there", he added, calmer this time.

"oh, i was just catching up with hoshina-kun", you replied without missing a beat. soshiro doesn't know if the accidental force in his question just seconds prior did not intimidate you at all or you simply ignored his tone. "i mean with soichiro-kun. considering ya are hoshina too", you chuckled. soshiro stole a glance at the man at your side while maintaining an empty expression. he found his brother smirking at him; soshiro willed himself not to picture soichiro as an ugly kaiju with a butt for a face.

okonogi who is now attentively eavesdropping on your conversation caught your attention. "pardon for the bother, hoshina-san. we'll be off now."

for an instant, it looked like you were waiting for soshiro to say something in response. to say what, he doesn't know. the eye contact between you and him held up for a moment but broke as quick as it began. tension prickled in the air briefly then ebbed as you turned away from soshiro. "i'll see ya at the party, vice-captain", you gave him a bow before exiting the room. soshiro wanted to stop you; he didn't.

soichiro sighed. "it was nice seeing ya, 'lil bro", he addressed soshiro, his hand patting the latter's shoulder once, twice. "i have paperwork ta worry about too so as much as i'd like to, i won't be able ta attend your division's party. just in case ya want ta know." soshiro didn't look like he had a crumb of interest to know about his brother's occupational responsibilities; he shrugged soichiro's hand off.

soshiro saw you standing outside, leaning on the wall, when he ushered his brother out. "i'll be driving her to the izakaya though", soichiro informed him. "ya should visit our folks when ya have the time. ya should come home sometimes", soichiro continued, a hint of concern evident in his voice. when soshiro did not respond, surprisingly the older hoshina did not look a tiny bit disappointed. instead, soichiro put on a charming smile and waved at okonogi. "okonogi-chan, see ya around!" he tossed a playful wink at her.

soshiro merely watched as you and soichiro walked together, your pace matching his. a few meters away, he saw you listening intently to something soichiro was saying - he is too close - and although he is not within earshot to hear what is being said anymore, he knows it is another one of his brother's bad jokes. it looks like you were trying to suppress it, but a smile was about to dawn on your lips. soshiro felt sick to his stomach all of a sudden.

the party was already in full swing when soshiro arrived - everyone is hungrily feasting on the expensive wagyu beef, drinks flowing endlessly from the bar. everyone is enjoying themselves; even captain ashiro mina can be seen having small talk with the newly sworn-in officers who were eagerly taking notes from her.

you had easily made friends with the other rookies who are now sitting next to you; it was thanks to your group that this event was planned - after enduring long sessions of strenuous physical training every day of every week, you all deserved a night of everyone just gathering to have a good time. soshiro seems to be exempt from the festive atmosphere though.

he picked the seat next to his captain, who greeted him with a curt nod. he proceeded to grab the mug of beer served to him; the first sip registered a sharp bitterness through his mouth but soshiro relished on the flavor as it overtook his senses.

"everything alright?" captain ashiro from his side asked without lifting her gaze from her own drink. "you are being -" she paused, carefully searching to find the right words, “uncharacteristically quiet.”

soshiro picked the glass of beer again, and when he was about to put the lid on his lips, he could sense someone’s intense stare locked on him. years of being the vice-captain gifted him with equal parts instinct and paranoia so he could not help but scan the room, only to find you, sitting across the room, watching him with a curious expression.

a rowdy group of rookies surrounds you; they are high-fiving each other, laughing at their silly pranks, not minding that all of you are squeezed together at a crowded circle. soft music in the background swelled as everyone cheered and clinked glasses.

soshiro's eyes remained fixed on yours, lasting for what he felt like forever. the buzz of chatter dulled to a distant hum, fading into an almost white noise. his heart raced as he felt his breath catch and his mouth go dry. the corner of your lips curved into a smile and maybe it is the alcohol in his system, but he is certain his cheeks are flushed now.

"huh", captain ashiro lowly exclaimed. soshiro quickly snapped a glance at her. "you talked to her yet?" she asked him. ah, she caught his little moment with you.

soshiro was on the verge of playing it cool and putting on an act; he was about to outright lie to his captain by saying "talk to who?" as if he had no idea what she was referring to. he settled with silence. he was grateful his non-response only earned him a sigh from the captain who did not press the topic any further.

"to you newbies, congratulations!" captain ashiro raised her glass, still half-filled with alcohol. her voice rang out over the place, everyone's conversations immediately falling quiet. "may the third division always be victorious in our battles to come", she recapped her speech.

the party showed no signs of slowing down. hibino kafka, a recruit in his thirties has been the centre of intrigue that has spanned for weeks now. hibino ossan - as what the others nicknamed him - had revealed in a bathroom conversation with other male rookies that he grew up with captain ashiro. ashiro mina likes dried squid; ashiro mina used to raise pets in grade school - everyone consumed any and every tidbit of trivia hibino disclosed about the usually stoic and serious third division commander. soshiro was among those invested in the rumor and you knew why. for a while, you also wondered how he would react once the rest of the troops learned about your own past with their vice-captain. would he deny it? or would he brush off any potential gossip that may arise from the revelation? if everyone discovered your shared history with hoshina soshiro, would it make him want to reconnect with you?

“you lot will start duty monday next week, but tomorrow will just be another workday for vice-captain hoshina and i”, captain ashiro said, having stood up from her seat, preparing to take off. “no, you can stay”, she said to some of the newbies who have started to get up too.

“nah, captain, why don’t we bring them along to help us file all the tedious paperwork?”, soshiro interjected in his familiar upbeat tone. the crew bursted into snickers; captain ashiro gave soshiro a perplexed look, obviously puzzled about the sudden shift in his mood. testing her theory, she looked at your direction.

captain ashiro couldn't make out why, but you were giggling at whatever your seatmate had said, elegant hand covering your mouth, eyes crinkled. she understood soshiro then - she was not foreign to feeling uneasy inside when she sees someone so physically near someone she cares about after all. "let's go, hoshina", she tucked her pity for the vice-captain away.

"do you guys think they are dating?" a particularly tactless rookie sitting at your table had asked immediately after captain ashiro and hoshina were out the sliding doors.

"i bet they're not", you blurted out a little too soon, a little too sure. you did not mind clipping your accent, your kansai-ben thick and heavy. your fellow officers looked at you, expecting an explanation for your outburst. "i mean -" you stuttered, "that would be awkward, i guess."

"you know to think of it, you're from himeji too, right?" a few more recruits have started to listen in on the exchange. these people can smell the truth off me, you thought. you wanted to smack yourself in the face.

"we went ta the same high school together, that's all", you admitted, feeling backed in a corner. tomorrow when you get questioned for this imprudent behavior, you can probably blame it all on the alcohol. "and grade school", you continued, loose-lipped now.

you still liked wearing pink bows in your hair when you met him. an only child of kind parents, you never experienced having to ask for something you like; you were doted on and spoiled so you were reasonably upset when a young hoshina soshiro did not give you the time of his day. your family has just moved to hyogo shortly before that, and you were anxious to make friends; since your early age, you had made it your mission to make soshiro acknowledge you.

"you dun wanna play with me, because ya are stupid", you told soshiro-kun once. "oka-san said all boys are stupid", you had the nerve to elaborate after he pouted at you, his unkempt bangs sticking on his sweaty forehead, his clothes dirty from training all day.

"yer pretty", he responded and you felt the blush crept up on your cheeks. "pretty annoying."

"come on, spill some tea!" someone's palm connected with the table, jolting you out of your trance. "we have another hibino-senpai situation on our hands!" they declared, grabbing you by the arm and shaking you a bit. if it was meant to encourage you to tell more childhood tales between you and the vice-captain, it worked really, really well.

"he's always had that haircut even as a kid", you said, misinterpreting the kind of story your companions wanted you to tell, judging by their disappointed looks. “i- i don’t know what else to tell you guys”, you held up your hand in surrender.

“do you have a crush on him?” you choked on your drink, caught off guard.

vexed at his absent-mindedness, soshiro was walking back to the izakaya place alone when he heard the commotion. he is going straight to bed once he gets back to the base, but he would have to retrieve his uniform jacket first from his seat earlier.

“you totally do, don’t you!” it stopped sounding like a question and more of an accusation you could not deny. “you like hoshina-san!”

“i -i do, yes... but what of it, huh?" he couldn’t see you but he would recognize the soft timbre of your voice anywhere. soshiro felt like a victorian gentleman getting a glimpse of a woman’s ankle for the first time listening in on the uproar of cheers after your confession.

“the three of us attended the same high school, soichiro-kun was a grade ahead”, you said. soshiro froze. you are talking about his brother. “he has always been good at everything, t'was hard not ta like him.”

soshiro closed his eyes, attempting to steady his breathing. he always had his suspicions - for the ceremony earlier his brother even took a day off his busy schedule as the commander of the sixth division to attend as a guest. he should have known.

last year, soshiro’s squad fought a lizard-type kaiju with a fortitude of above 8. like the reptile, a cut made on any of its limbs was useless due to advanced regeneration. a fractured rib, extremely bruised arms, and a dislocated shoulder were what it costed soshiro to win against the monster. his bitterness threatening to consume him, he cannot believe that you confirming his worst fears would hurt more than that fatal experience.

of course, he said to himself. it’s not like he can fault you for liking soichiro - everyone did. as the firstborn son, their father always had favored him. soichiro has been the more skilled swordsman between them; he was the golden child, charismatic and talented with an effortless charm - like moths to a flame he would attract people, and even in his silence he would overshadow soshiro.

soshiro didn’t stand a chance against his own flesh and blood.

he was a teenager when he dreamed of running away from the constant but inevitable competition he had with his brother. scouted for the third division, he relished on the freedom. but how do you escape the reality of the one you love loving the one person you could never measure up to?

#hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina #hoshina x reader #kaijuu 8 gou #kaiju no. 8 #kn8 x reader #kaiju #hoshina #dont worry guys #i will make them kiss in the end #hoshina soshiro fic

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