#Maybe I was a little busy trying to make bubbly happy conversation with you while ringing up your shit in a timely manner

[caterpillarinacave]

I would like to thank retail for allowing me the pleasure of ringing up such incredibly unpleasant, condescending, bitchy people.

[rafecameroninterlude]

Rafe visiting sweetheart pogue reader after knowing her better at her little bake shop she works at and they get to talking and she confesses its her absolute dream to open and run her own bake shop and he buys her a little cute shack to start her business off !!! 💕💕

warnings: super sweet fluff, sexual tension that rafe has to force himself not to act on

a/n: this came out longer than i wanted it to, but i loveeee writing for pogue!sweetheart!reader so much, pls send reqs for her if you’d like <3

it was a rather slow day at the icecream shop, so when you heard that little ding! indicating that someone had walked in, you were more than happy to see none other than rafe. “hey!” you chirped, adjusting the pink apron that currently hugged your waist.

“are you the only one working?” he walked up to the counter, your bright smile making his heart beat wildly in his chest. “yeah..” you trailed off, looking over to your manager’s office, “maybe i could ask for a quick break so we could talk?” rafe nodded. “i’d like that.”

he waited until you disappeared before he flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and turned the small lock on the door, so you two could converse without any interruptions. “okay!” you walked back up front. “favorite flavor?” rafe’s mind went blank as you reached for something, your skirt riding up your thighs as you did so.

“uhm- uh, rocky road is good.” you finally grasped the cups you were looking for, beaming at rafe’s response. “i love that one, too! but strawberry cheesecake has been my go to for a while now.” rafe didn’t want to make it obvious that he was staring hard, but he found that it was rather difficult when you were around him.

he couldn’t wrap his head around how someone so sweet and bubbly and charming as you are, could also be so unintentionally sexy at the same time. “rafe?” you snapped him out of his trance, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “here we are.” you walked around the counter, placing the cups of icecream down on a nearby table.

you reached behind you as rafe took a seat, your nails not allowing you to untie the knot you made in the strings of your apron. “what’s wrong?” he looked up at you in confusion. “my apron is a little stuck..” you turned, backing up until you stood been his legs. “can you untie this for me please? i just got my nails done and i did it a bit too tight.”

rafe was going insane. here you were in a mini skirt, potentially giving him a full view of everything that was underneath as you coyly waited for him to ‘help you out’. “sure, yeah-” he cleared his throat, hands coming up to fiddle with the strings that stopped just above the curves of your ass.

once he had it off, you sighed, taking the seat across from him. “where are you coming from?” rafe was still flustered when you took your spoon in your mouth, his eyes following the way your lips wrapped around the damned thing. “work, actually.” he blinked away, zeroing in all his focus elsewhere.

“really? what do you do?” now it was your turn to watch him, the veins on his arms making you lick your lips. “construction. it’s my dad’s business.” you nodded, trying to push the image of rafe all hot and sweaty from working outside, out of your head. “so you’re a handy man?” you teased, unintentionally tapping your foot against his leg.

“i know my way around.” you caught rafe looking at your lips, a shy smile taking over your feautures. “i wish i had those skills, it’d make things so much easier for me.” you raised your eyebrows. “how so?” he leaned forward. “well.. it might sound dumb, but it’s my dream to open my own little bakery. the problem is; i don’t know where to start, i don’t know who i have to get in contact with for licensing and permit stuff, and i definitely don’t know how to install any kind of kitchen appliances.”

rafe thought for a moment.

“do you have a certain location in mind?” he asked. you hummed, shaking your head. “no, i don’t care where it is. i’d just like a bigger space.” rafe nodded. “that doesn’t sound dumb by the way,” you looked up, “i think it’s neat that you want to open up your own business. the entire island will be over the moon once they find out they can get those chocolate chip cookies whenever they want.”

you had never shared that information with anyone, but by the way rafe responded, you were glad it was him that you spilled it to. rafe saw the small flash of sadness pass through your eyes before you shook it off. “one day..” just as you were about to check the time, your manager walk out of her office. “closing shop early today, do you mind helping me out real quick?” without hesitation, you got up from your seat.

“wait for me?” you gave rafe your icecream and apron to go outside with.

“of course.”

-

over the next two weeks, you found yourself by rafe’s side, whether he was following you around while you made sales, or helping you bake, you two seemed to be attached at the hip. “are you working tomorrow?” rafe currently sat on the floor of your camper, leaning against the lace-trimmed cushions of your pull out couch. “nope!” you offered him a spoon of buttercream to taste test, watching as he took his digit in his mouth.

“goddamn, that’s amazing,” rafe gave you a thumbs up, “but anyways— i was asking because i have a surprise for you.” placing the bowl of frosting on the counter, you turned. “oh?” you sat down, his head resting against the side of your knee. “i think you’ll really like it.” rafe kept his eyes down in his lap. “can i guess what it is?” he shook his head, “i won’t tell you if you’re right or wrong.”

sighing in defeat, you and rafe spent the rest of the night decorating cookies and taking turns shuffling songs until he was ready to head back home. “i’ll be here to pick you up in the morning, ‘that sound okay?” he was leaning against your doorframe, your fingertips itching to reach out for him. “mhmm, thank you for all your help today..” you stepped closer, swallowing thickly as he rested a hand in the curve of your neck.

even though rafe wanted to kiss you and feel your lips on his, he settled for a peck on your temple, which you were more than happy to receive. “goodnight, y/n.” he waved before getting in his truck and driving away. locking the door shut, you couldn’t help the pout that graced your lips at your now empty, quiet, camper.

eager to know what rafe wanted to surprise you with, you were quick to get ready for bed, forcing yourself to go to sleep before having to wake up and get ready.

“promise you’re not peeking?” you giggled, your hands resting on top of rafe’s as he guided you to some unknown location. “i promise!” finally, rafe came to a stop, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling of his body pressing against your backside.

“okay, go ahead and open.” you were buzzing with excitement, your mouth falling agape once your vision cleared. there, in front of you sat a perfect little shack, the word ‘sold’ on a red banner adorning the front. you blinked, slightly confused. “this is so cute! did you buy it or something?” rafe nodded, his mouth falling to your ear.

“it’s yours.”

you took a minute to process his words, letting go of a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. “rafe..” he placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. “a couple weeks ago you said it was your dream to have your own bakery but you didn’t know where to start, this is your starting point.” your eyes were watering now as you looked up at the man in front of you.

“i don’t think i can accept this.” you laughed, butterflies swarming your tummy when rafe wiped your tears. “you can, and you will.” you couldn’t hold back anymore, throwing your arms around him. rafe wasn’t used to this feeling in his chest, but he knew it felt right.

“it still needs to be renovated, but i talked to my dad and he agreed cameron development will cover everything.” you pulled away, dumbfounded. “i- why?” rafe’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “why not? you deserve it.” sniffling, you looked back at the shack, already envisioning the place up and running. “i can’t thank you enough, rafe.” you couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe that rafe, let alone anyone, would do something like this for you.

“we’ll get to that later,” he winked, making you laugh, “should we go pick out a paint color?”

[jesterwriting]

hi hi i saw your requests are open! can i request something fluffy or angsty maybe a little spicy with law, where you tell him that “all i want is you” fem reader or gn reader i don’t mind! thank you🩷

pairing: law x gn!reader

contents: angst, hurt/comfort, jealous!law, you're both kinda tipsy, making out to heartfelt conversation, complimenting law because he needs it, probably ooc

word count: .9k words

note: i dont know why, but this gave me so much trouble to write it was crazy. literally gator wrestled these words in a pile of mud. i got death rolled. but i'm happy with the results and i hope you are too anon <33 thank you so much for the request! :3

playlist: science/visions by chvrches

Law kissed you like you were about to disappear.

Hungry lips trailed down your neck to your collarbone where he nipped and sucked at your sensitive flesh. You sighed, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him closer. His hands were cold as they slid up your ribcage, you couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled from your lips.

Asshole. He wouldn’t think it was very funny if you tickled him mid-makeout. To keep from jamming your hands under his armpits in retribution, you busied yourself by pressing kisses to whatever part of Law your lips could reach. He groaned when you nipped at the shell of his ear, grinding his crotch against yours.

If you knew getting Law jealous would result in something so steamy, you’d do it more often. While you didn’t classify your conversation with that friendly bar patron as flirting, judging by Law’s insistence to mark every inch of skin he could find, he certainly did. You threw your head back and moaned when his teeth met the junction where your neck and shoulder met, soothing the bite with gentle laps of his tongue.

“Jeez, what’s gotten into you,” You managed to say between gasps. “Are you trying to eat me alive?”

He didn’t look up. Not a chuckle, not a glance, not even a smirk. After leaving your throat thoroughly bruised, Law moved onto your chest.

“I’ll get to that later,” He finally answered.

There was something off about Law. He refused to meet your eyes, completely single minded in his quest of turning you into a giant bruise. It wasn’t until his hands cupped your face did you notice that they were trembling. You wasted no time prying Law from your stomach, forcing him to meet your eyes. Whatever you expected, nothing prepared you for the split second glimmer of unease before it was promptly snuffed out by a glare.

“Woah, calm down, Law, you’re acting funny.”

He snorted and sat back on his heels. There was the scent of alcohol on his breath, and while you knew you indulged as well, he wouldn’t come back smelling of it from your lips alone. “Not as funny as that guy at the bar.”

Okay, he was really jealous.

“It wasn’t like that, he was telling me about the history of the town.”

Law rolled his eyes. “You were all over him.” Before the instinctual ‘was not’ was able to leave your mouth, he looked away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His next words were barely audible, grumbled just under his breath. “You never laugh like that when you’re with me.”

Oh.

This went a little deeper than petty jealousy.

Pulling your shirt down, you sat up to meet Law’s stare. He seemed to regret the words as soon as they left his mouth, teeth clenched so tight you could see the tendons in his jaw jump. You patted the space next to you on his bed. “Sit down, we should talk.”

Stubborn as always, Law stayed standing. “I should get going, I have work to get done before morning.”

He turned on his heel, and before he was able to exit the room, your arm shot out to grab him. Law didn’t pull away from you, only let out a heavy sigh as your thumb traced tender circles onto the inside of his wrist.

“All I want is you, you know that, right?” When he didn’t respond, you tugged him closer. Law only budged because he wanted to. No one alive could make him do what he didn’t want to do. So as he slowly made his way to the bed, boots heavy against the floor, and sat down beside you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You took his tattooed hand in your own, gently playing with his fingers. Law still wouldn’t look at you, gaze fixed stubbornly at the far wall. “Come on, you have to know that.”

The silence was deafening. In a desperate attempt to fill it, you nudged Law with a half-hearted smile. “You make me laugh all the time.”

“Not like that.”

That wasn’t good. You trailed your fingers along his arms where they met at his face. Tugging on his chin to manually force him to look at you, you spoke your next words earnestly. “I love you, Law. Not some rando at the bar. Yeah, maybe he made me laugh a little, but he doesn’t hold a candle to you. I love your dry wit. I love your intelligence. I love how you care for everyone on this ship before anything else. You’re a good person and a good doctor, I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

You must have gotten through to him because the tips of his ears were tinged pink. With a relieved smile, you placed a small peck to the corner of his lips. They twitched upwards, though you could tell Law tried to stifle it and keep his displeased expression.

“You can stop now,” He said, face two shades darker than usual.

“Oh, I’m just getting started.”

The rest of the night was spent with you singing Law’s praises that he consistently waved off, pretending like you couldn’t tell he liked it. Every so often, you would place a chaste kiss to the back of his hand or to his cheek, a sharp contrast to the hungry mouth that was on your mere minutes earlier. If Law really wanted you to stop, you would. All he had to do was say it.

Three hours passed with Law in your arms, and not once did the word ‘stop’ leave his lips.

[scrollonso]

Cooking — Bezquez fluff oneshot

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the large windows of the house, casting a warm glow over the rooms. A shirtless Marc stood by the kitchen counters, focused on chopping vegetables, while Marco busied himself stirring a pot of sauce on the stove, curls messily pulled back with a clear claw clip with hand-painted flowers on it. Marc had gotten it for him after Valencia, as an apology for the race. The atmosphere was filled with the comforting aroma of garlic and herbs, mingling with the soft hum of the kitchen fan.

"Are you sure this sauce needs more chili?" Marco asked, glancing at Marc for just a second before looking back at the pan.

Marc hummed, his eyes focused on his hands. "Trust me, Ricitos, when am I ever wrong about this stuff?"

Marco stopped what he was doing to look at Marc, almost always. That was the answer, the Spaniard was practically always wrong about this stuff.

"Rude." The shorter man muttered, an exaggerated frown on his face as he moved closer to Marco to put the vegetables in the sauce.

"Lo siento" Marco apologized, the smile on his face audible as he pecked Marc's lips, the frown quickly fading.

The conversations were light, punctuated by occasional laughter as they navigated the kitchen together. Despite their conflict on track, here in Marc's home, they were completely at ease with each other.

On the floor nearby, Rubik sat with his head cocked to the side, watching the two men with intense curiosity. His tail wagged slowly, as if anticipating a treat. Beside him, Stitch and Shira lay sprawled out on the cool tile, their eyes half-closed but still alert to any food that might fall their way.

The house was empty besides the pets and the couple, Alex out on a date with Gabriela so the two had the house to themselves.

Marco laughed softly, Marc's eyes locking on him straight away, the man shaking his head as he added a little more chili to the sauce. "I still don't understand how you cook for fun."

Marc grinned, reaching over to give Marco’s waist a squeeze, settling behind him. "You know you love my cooking, Ricitos. Besides, you’re helping me right now. A few months ago, you wouldn’t have gotten up from the couch with Rubik."

"Maybe I’m just trying to impress you," Marco shrugged, a smile playing on his lips as he leaned back against Marc, feeling the warmth of his chest against his back.

Marc’s arms encircled Marco’s waist, pulling him closer as he rested his chin on Marco’s shoulder. "No need to impress me. You already do."

For a moment, they stood there, wrapped up in each other, the soft bubbling of the sauce and the distant chirping of birds outside filling the comfortable silence. Marco’s hand found its way to Marc’s, their fingers intertwining.

"I like this," Marco murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just us, cooking together. It’s... nice."

Marc nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of Marco’s neck, the Italians eyes closing at the feeling. "Me too."

As the sauce simmered and the vegetables softened, the two of them remained close. The outside world, with all its noise and demands, seemed far away, leaving just the two of them in their quiet, shared space.

Suddenly, Rubik let out a small bark, breaking the moment as he stood up and wagged his tail excitedly. Marco laughed, stepping away from Marc, who whined at the loss, to give Rubik a scratch behind the ears. "Alright, alright. I guess it’s time for your treat, huh?"

Marc shook his head, reaching for the treats on the counter. "You spoil him too much, you know."

"Just making sure he’s happy," Marco replied with a toothy grin, tossing a treat to Rubik, who caught it mid-air with practiced ease. Stitch and Shira perked up as well, their eyes wide and expectant. "Don’t worry, you two're next."

As the dogs munched contentedly on their treats, Marc turned back to the stove, giving the sauce a final stir. He watched as it bubbled softly. Satisfied, he turned off the burner and set the wooden spoon aside, then glanced over at Marco, who was busy arranging plates on the counter.

Marc couldn’t help but pause for a moment, just to take it all in — the simple act of cooking together, the easy companionship, the way Marco’s curls, though messily pulled back, framed his face in the most endearing way. It was these moments, ordinary yet profound, that made Marc’s heart swell with an affection he didn’t always know how to put into words, that maybe he was too scared to put into words.

He approached Marco, wrapping an arm around his waist again, pulling him close as they both looked down at the sauce, still simmering slightly in the residual heat. "So, what do you think? Is it ready?" Marc asked, his voice soft, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the peace that had settled over the kitchen.

Marco smiled, the kind of smile that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. He dipped a spoon into the sauce, blowing on it gently before bringing it to his lips. Marc watched as Marco’s expression shifted from concentration to satisfaction, a look of approval that made Marc’s own chest warm with pride.

"Mmm," Marco hummed, licking his lips as he nodded. "Perfect." Just the right amount of everything. "Let’s eat."

Marc couldn’t help but smile, feeling a rush of happiness that came from knowing they had created something together — something so small, but something that meant so much to him. "I’ll get the pasta," he said, reluctantly pulling away from Marco’s warmth to grab the pot of perfectly cooked spaghetti from the stove.

As they worked together to plate their meal, the sounds of their quiet, contented movements filled the room — the clink of silverware, the gentle scrape of the pasta being twirled onto plates, the soft pop of the wine bottle being opened. It all felt so natural, so right, as if this was exactly where they were meant to be. Together.

Marc poured the wine, the deep red swirling in the glasses, catching the last rays of sunlight that filtered through the window. Marco handed him a plate, their fingers brushing lightly, a small, intimate connection that sent a shiver of warmth through both of them.

They sat down at the table, the dogs now curled up near their feet, content after their treats. The first bite of pasta was heavenly, each element perfectly balanced. Marc let out a satisfied sigh, savoring the moment as he shared a glance with Marco, who was equally pleased.

"This might be our best one yet," Marco said, a hint of playful pride in his voice as he twirled more pasta onto his fork.

Marc nodded in agreement. "We’re getting pretty good."

Marco laughed softly, the sound warm and familiar. "It’s because we make a good team."

Marc's smile widened at the sound "Better off track than on."

"Shut up" Marco rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the comment. He knew Marc was right, though none of that mattered now.

They continued eating, their conversation meandering through lighthearted topics — memories of races, inside jokes, and playful teasing. Occasionally, Marc would reach across the table to touch Marco’s hand, a small gesture that felt as comforting as it was reassuring. Marco would squeeze his fingers in return, his gaze full of affection that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

As the meal went on, the outside world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in their cozy little bubble. The laughter, the warmth, the love — it all flowed easily between them, like a river moving through a familiar, well-worn path.

When the plates were finally empty, and the wine glasses drained, they didn’t rush to clear the table. Instead, they lingered, enjoying the lingering traces of the meal, the soft glow of the kitchen lights, and the simple pleasure of being together. Rubik, Stitch, and Shira had all settled down, their breathing slow and steady as they napped peacefully nearby.

Marc leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting from Marco to the quiet, peaceful scene around them. "You know," he began, his voice low and thoughtful, "I could get used to this."

Marco looked at him, a smile playing on his lips. "I think we already have."

They shared another look, one filled with the kind of understanding that only comes from truly knowing and loving someone. It was in these moments that Marc realized how deeply connected they were, not just as riders on a track, but as partners in life.

Finally, as the evening began to settle into night, they stood up, their movements slow and unhurried. Together, they cleared the table, washing the dishes side by side, their hands occasionally brushing against each other. It was a simple routine, but it was theirs, and that made it perfect.

As they finished, Marco turned to Marc, his eyes bright with a mixture of contentment and affection. "How about we take the dogs for a walk before bed?"

Marc nodded, his heart swelling with love for the man in front of him. "Sounds perfect."

And so, after Marc put a shirt on they headed out into the night, the cool breeze ruffling their hair as Rubik, Stitch, and Shira trotted happily beside them. Hand in hand, Marc and Marco walked through the quiet streets, their hearts full, knowing that no matter where the road led them, they would always have this — these moments, this love, this life together.

[sailoryooons]

Suga's How-To Guide | Solo | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Camboy!Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: Min Yoongi has been a cam boy for a few years now. The work is easy, the money is good, and he has loyal viewers. When he approaches you and asks if you want to be his muse for a ‘how-to’ series, your view on the infamous Yoongi changes.

☾ Word Count: 2,112

☾ Genre: Friends to lovers, pwp

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Yoongi as a sex worker, explicit language, Yoongi being a little bit sad and confused, sexually explicit content including male masturbation, voyeurism, masturbation to a live audience, Yoongi thinking about reader while getting off, light depictions of vaginal sex and oral (f. and m. receiving) while Yoongi is imagining scenarios with reader, brief mention of female masturbation and depictions of feeling ashamed and dirty because reader's ex is sending her really mean things, very very brief POV switch

☾ Published: January 1, 2023

☾ A/N: This is a totally unplanned and unexpected update - I wanted to get something out for SH2G because it's been a while and I know people were waiting for something, and I was randomly inspired today. So here is a little Yoongi solo drabble and a little bit of a POV from him and how he is taking reader's unexpected silence. I will try to have the final official chapter 'interlude II' posted soon!

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Series Masterlist | Part of Hali’s Happy Agust | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Yoongi stares at his phone, chewing his lip tentatively. The text he sent you yesterday goes unanswered, the ‘delivered’ underneath his little blue bubble driving him wild. He has never hated a function on a phone until now, the tiny little word ruining his train of thought and driving him up a wall.

It’s not that Yoongi has never been left the morning after - he has countless times. Sometimes it hurt, but most of the time it hadn’t. Usually, someone leaving his apartment - or dorm when he was in college - before he woke up to avoid any awkward conversations was mutual and appreciated. 

Finding himself alone yesterday morning has been disorienting. He plays back your conversation from the night of Seokjin’s party, trying to sift through each word and emotion. Did he read things wrong? Did he gaslight himself into thinking you were telling him that you liked him? He isn’t sure and the longer he thinks about it, the less accurate his memory of the words exchanged is, blotted out by the dominant memory of skin on skin and the way you grow breathy when his name slips from your mouth.

Now it’s just radio silence.

Sighing, he gets up from the couch, tossing the found with a muted clatter against the couch cushion. Maybe you need time. Maybe you’re busy. He knows you got that promotion at work and yet… something in his gut is unsettled. A deep, instinctual feeling that something is off. 

Honestly, Yoongi doesn’t know a ton about you. He knows a lot, like the wines you like, or that you have a tiny freckle on your hip, or that you like breakfast sandwiches with extra runny eggs, or that you’re really good at guitar hero - or used to be. But Yoongi has no guide for the inner workings of your mind, or emotions, or anything that goes deep into what makes you, you. 

And now you’re silent and he doesn’t know if things are okay and it’s driving him mad. 

Coffee doesn’t help. He relentlessly checks his phone when he hears a text come through, but it’s never you. He contemplates texting Seokjin to see if you’re okay, but he thinks that might be too obvious. Though perhaps he had made it pretty obvious the other night that he has a relentless crush on you.

Does it count as a crush if he’s already fucked you? He doesn’t know what to call it, but it is something and your silence cuts deeper than he imagined it would. 

“Fuck,” he sighs when he sees the time reflected on the stove. He has a scheduled stream tonight, just something easy and solo. He had hoped you might want to come around and watch him stream. The idea of you sitting beyond the camera with your glittering eyes watching him… well that wasn’t going to happen now.

Going about the motions of setting up isn’t the same kind of foreplay it usually feels like. Typically, setting up his bedroom with dim, focused lighting and putting out his dark sheets was its own kind of foreplay. It was a steady build toward hitting that live button, before getting to touch himself and watch the way he affected viewers.

Now the movements feel broken and disjointed. He trips on a cord for his ring lighting, he puts the fitted sheets on the wrong way, and he spells something wrong in his ‘live soon’ notification. He’s so caught up in thinking of how he wanted today to go and why it isn’t happening that when his setup is complete, he suddenly wonders if he should just… cancel. 

Yoongi originally joined his line of work because he needed the money and because he enjoyed sex. He likes exploring new tastes, and figuring out what makes his body tick. He continued his line of work because he has fun with it and because it pays well. But now, staring at a blank spot on his bedroom wall and zoning out, he knows he isn’t going to have fun tonight.

With a heavy sigh, he contemplates his options. He already said he’d go live, his room is ready, and he has nothing better to do. But there is a small weed of guilt rooting in the deepest part of him, knowing he’d be… performing more than usual tonight. That his heart isn’t in it as long as he’s emotionally distracted.

“Fuck it,” he mutters. Maybe it’ll be a healthy distraction from trying to figure out what the fuck he did wrong. 

Silencing his phone, Yoongi shakes off the thoughts and doubts surrounding you. He settles on his bed, trying not to think about how for the past few weeks, you have occupied the space here for his camera. His shirt is off and his sweatpants are pulled low, a hint of boxers peeking over the waistband. 

Before hitting live, he takes a second to center himself. Yoongi takes deep, even breaths, inhaling for seven seconds and exhaling for seven seconds. He closes his eyes, letting his hand lightly sweep up and down his stomach as though to soothe himself. The touch, though not as nice if it was someone else, does feel good. 

Letting out another long exhale, Yoongi shuffles and hits the button to go live, settling back gently. He’s practiced with his movements, dragging his fingers along the elastic waistband of his briefs where he knows he’s extra sensitive. He feels his muscles twitch as subscribers log on, the slow trickle of greetings turning into a quick flood of commenters. 

Yoongi smirks. He’s different on camera than in real life. Here, he is confident and in charge. He knows what he’s doing as his voice is low and raspy when he greets a few of his favored viewers. He chats with them and makes them feel important. Because they are important. To his income, obviously, but also they are people looking for a release or just looking for comfort in someone else.

Doing cam work long enough has given Yoongi a little bit of wisdom and experience. Sure, he knows that there are weirdos. Everyone has them. People who push boundaries and who demand things of him he will refuse to do, and people who he inevitably has to ban and take care not to have back in his chat again. 

But there are also real people there he knows who have formed a parasocial relationship with him, and he tries to be aware of that. Tries to give people his attention while he’s live, because they’ve asked for it and they need it.

That thought alone helps him slip more into his role. Helps him tease the seam of his zipper, the soft purr of metal making the muscles in his thighs jump. As he chuckles lowly at the comments, easing his jeans from his hips, he notices a new username join. 

Charmeleon93 has joined the stream

Yoongi’s movements pause, jeans stopped on his thigh. To his viewers, it looks like he’s teasing them and they flood the comments begging and sending small payments to keep going. Yoongi grins and resumes taking his jeans off, but his mind begins to race. 

It’s a strange username. And one he knows for a fact he’s never seen before because he would remember seeing a pokemon username. Most people had something filthy, personal, or at least somewhat sex-adjacent. But Charmeleon? That was different and a standout. Like someone who wasn’t sure what to pick, but thought it would be unassuming. 

And Yoongi distinctly remembers in college that you had a rare stage 1 Charmeleon card in college and that you had refused to sell it to Seokjin who had gone as far as offering $500 for it. It could be a coincidence, but it takes up a corner of Yoongi’s mind as he gently squeezes his now-hardening length over the fabric of his briefs. 

And your birthday, he thinks. He knows you were born in 93. 

Licking his lips, he greets the newcomer. They don’t say anything, a silent viewer, and there is that tiny tingle of instinct again that he follows.

Even if it isn’t you, Yoongi allows himself to think that it is. Let’s his head rest against pillows as he brushes his thumb across the sticky wet patch in his briefs. Things of how good it feels when it’s your hand taking his heavy cock out, giving slow and generous strokes. 

Thinking of you here with him comes naturally. Yoongi slides into the knowledge that it could be you watching. He feels his stomach twist from more than just the pleasure sparking as he smears precum down his shaft, stroking himself just the way he likes. The way he taught you. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, eyes fluttering. “Wish it was your hand instead.” 

Yoongi often speaks to his viewers, but now he’s speaking directly to you, messages between the lines. “Feels so fucking good when you stroke my cock, baby.” 

His comment feed is rolling so fast that he can’t read the comments. He bites his lower lip, hips twitching upward as he squeezes the base of his cock, pleasure shooting through him. He pauses his movements, leaning to grab lube. He pops the top with ease and lets it drip down the flushed, swollen tip. It’s cold, making his toes curl but as Yoongi spreads the lube with his hands, it warms nicely, making the glide between his fist heavenly. 

“Hear how fucking wet it is?” he purrs, half-lidded eyes trying to keep track of the comments as he jacks himself off in earnest now. The wet slide of his hand is vulgar and spurs him forward, hips bucking slightly when he squeezes. “God I wanna feel you wrapped around me. Wanna watch you bounce on my cock until you’re fucking crying.”

And he does want those things. With you. He manages to keep his statements broad - Yoongi never wants to gender his viewers. It’s an unusually hard task tonight, trying not to let his mouth slur out how fucking desperately he wishes it was your cunt sliding down his slick shaft and not his own hand. 

Yoongi loses himself in the memory, letting his words turn into senseless moans and breathy sounds. He doesn’t talk anymore, afraid that he’ll say something he doesn’t mean to. Afraid your name will slip past his lips because all he can think about is the warm slide of your tongue on the bottom of his shaft as he fucked your throat, and the way that you twitch underneath him and twist to the side whenever he sucks your clit into his mouth, or the way that you go boneless for him when he’s fucking into you with purpose, finger pressed right against the rim of your ass-

Orgasms rarely take Yoongi by surprise, but this one does. All at once the thought of you and the sounds you make snap in his stomach. His thighs clench as he cums, growling through clenched teeth, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other continuing to stroke himself through his orgasm, painting his stomach white with ropes of cum. 

He keeps going, forcing himself into oversensitivity, feet sliding against his sheet, breath coming out ragged. But he likes when it lasts just a little more than he can normally stand, the pleasure and pain blotting out everything for a moment. 

Then he stops, dropping his hand on the bed next to him, sticky and wet with cum. He gasps for air, looking up at the ceiling, legs still spread so his viewers can watch him catch his breath, cock still in view, visibly dripping in his own release.

Beyond the dull roar in his ears post-orgasm, Yoongi can hear the comments and tips pinging on his computer. But all he can think about as he tries to catch his breath is that things between the two of you aren’t damaged. That he didn’t ruin it by saying he had feelings or that he liked you, and that tomorrow, everything would be fine.

Because it would, right? 

-

Across the city, in the dark of your apartment, you flip over your phone, thighs shaking. Your face still feels sticky from the tears and you can feel your phone buzzing as your ex berates you. Sends more vitriol about how dirty you are. How ashamed he is of you. 

And perhaps he’s right, because there you are, hiding in your apartment, wordlessly watching Yoongi get off and in turn, getting off yourself after you left him without a word and ignored his message with no explanation. 

You’ve never felt worse. 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[elisysd]

Dandelions - Ruth B

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

tw: mention of depression, suicid*l thoughts

And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine

Charles woke up with a tremendous headache the next morning. He fumbled for a familiar presence but found only an empty bed. He struggled to sit up and opening his eyes was agony. On his bedside table were some aspirin and a glass of fruit juice, which he drank in one gulp. He could hear noises coming from the living room and tried to get up to see what Lyanna was up to. The room was swaying dangerously and he had to try twice before he reached the door. The light dazzled him and he wondered what time it could be.

Lyanna was busy getting her things together and packing her bags. The next day she was off to New York for a photoshoot and an interview with a major magazine that she had been putting off for several months. Part of her couldn't help but laugh when she saw Charles stumble into the room. She felt sorry for him and went over to him to help him onto the sofa.

“Tough morning?” she sarcastically asked.

“Don’t laugh. I feel like my head is about to explode. I’m not drinking ever again.”

“That’s what they all say. So this is true then, once 25 years old is over your body can’t handle alcohol anymore.”

“I handle alcohol very well.”

“Sure, seems like it.”

“Laugh all you want; I'll remind you of this when you're 25.”

“Still two years to enjoy then!”

She continued to walk back and forth across the apartment, while Charles watched her, trying as best he could to recover. Once she was done, she sat beside him as he let his head rest on her shoulder.

“What do you want to do today? Since it’s my last day, I was thinking we could do something just the two of us.”

“I’m in no state to go out so maybe we can do something chill?”

“Like what? Netflix? You promised me we would watch Drive to Survive together if I remember, months ago.”

“If I promised you then, I shall keep it.”

Halfway through the last season, Charles fell asleep while Lyanna was deeply into the show. She was amazed by how Netflix managed to make it overly dramatic when it was not that deep. Still, she thought that Charles looked good on camera. As if it were made for him. A shame he was such a bad actor, Hollywood would love him.

Charles's head was now resting on the young woman's lap. Lyanna ran her hand tenderly through his hair, finding him very cute like that. Her heart ached at the thought of having to leave the next day and abandon him, even if only for a few days. She would meet him again in Austin but she knew that they would only have a short time for each other. Charles had a Grand Prix to win and apart from being there for emotional support, there was little more she could do.

She was more apprehensive about Austin than she cared to admit. Deep down, she knew there would be a before and an after. This was their first official public outing as a couple and she knew the media would have a field day. She just hoped that it wouldn't be the only topic of conversation in the media and that Charles would be able to dodge questions about their relationship.

She was happy in Monaco, away from it all and with Charles. A protective little bubble just for them, far from her daily routine and her obligations. She still had a bit of trouble with the city, but she was getting used to it. She thought back to what Kika had said to her a few weeks earlier and she finally understood what she meant. It wasn't that she was getting used to Monaco or that she was beginning to like the city, it was the presence of Charles at her side that made everything better. She knew that no matter where she was, if he was near her, everything would be fine. Then reality hit her as hard as a speeding truck. She was falling in love or maybe she already was, she didn't know. She couldn't work out when it had happened, it was just there.  She had no real idea what love was or what she was supposed to feel. But this feeling of well-being, this urge to stupidly smile every time Charles broke into her thoughts, which happened far too often than she cared to admit, this desire to be close to him all the time, she knew it went far beyond simple infatuation. 

The air suddenly ran out of her. She tried awkwardly to get up from the sofa without waking Charles, but failed miserably.

“Lya? What’s wrong?” he groggily asked.

She didn't seem to be listening to him, too busy analysing what she had just realised. She was in a state of panic, pacing up and down the room in front of Charles, completely lost and wondering if his girlfriend had gone mad.

“Love, are you listening to me?”

He ended up ambushing her in a corner of the room, taking her in his arms and forcing her to look at him. She looked confused and on the verge of tears, which frightened Charles.

“Lyanna, talk to me. Please baby, you are scaring me.”

“Charles… I’m so sorry, I don’t know how or when it happened…”

“What happened love? Tell me, I promise I won’t be mad, I just need you to tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.”

“Charles, I think I’m in love with you!” she blurted out, choking on her words.

Charles's heart skipped a beat. He had imagined this moment in so many ways, but never, ever, had he thought that it would be Lyanna who would say those words first, let alone that she would be in this state when she confessed them. Charles let out a small laugh, which soon turned into a full-blown laugh. A big mistake, because it only made Lyanna panic even more, as she couldn't understand what was so funny about it.

“It’s really not funny, Charles! Stop laughing out me!”

Seeing her distraught expression, Charles stopped immediately. He approached her gently, cupping her face in his hands and resting his forehead against hers.

“You think you are in love with me? My Lyanna, I’ve fallen for you a long time ago but was too stupid pour admit it. I was waiting for the perfect occasion to tell you without scaring you away but you just beat me to it. You never cease to surprise me.”

“You love me?” she asked needed to be sure of Charles’ feelings.

“So much. You have no idea to the extent.”

“Okay. It’s good.”

He giggled while capturing her lips with his.

“It’s good indeed.”

“It’s a scary feeling for me.”

“I know. For me as well, but we will work it out and everything will be fine, I promise.”

“I’m in love.” She repeated again, seeming to fully comprehend how deep her feelings ran for him.

A long smile stretched across her lips and her body relaxed as Charles traced small circles down her back. The young woman stood on her tiptoes and placed her lips gently against Charles'. This kiss conveyed much more than her feelings for him, it was a promise. A promise that she wouldn't run away and that even if admitting she loved him made her feel vulnerable in a way she hated, she wouldn't back down.

“Don’t break my heart, okay?” she told him, pulling away and resting her cheek against his chest where she could feel his heart beating loud.  

“Don’t break mine either.” He responded, kissing the top of her head, and pressing her against him a little closer as if he wanted their bodies to become one.

They spent the rest of the day in the comfort of each other's arms whispering sweet I love you’s between kisses. For both Lyanna and Charles the day after would be hard to let go of each other.

And indeed it was. Lyanna never cried that much when it came to say goodbye and Charles had a hard time letting her go through the security’s doors. It was especially harder considering that her flight was long and they would not be able to talk to each other as much as they wanted.

Charles spent the day, brooding alone in the apartment where everything started to remind him of Lyanna. How cute she looked, cutting vegetables in his kitchen, how perfect she was in his bed when she was wearing nothing but one of his shirt, how ethereal she looked on his balcony during golden hour. He was so whipped, he knew that. He probably looked stupid behaving like a lost puppy, but he did not care. She loved him. She said the three little words. Her. To him. Not the other way around. And the thought of it made him feel like his feet were no longer glued to the ground.

On the other side of the Atlantic, after a long flight and a few hours' rest, it was time for Lyanna to get ready for her shoot and the interview that would follow. So it was with eyes ringed by lack of sleep and red from crying during the 10-hour flight that she greeted the hairdresser, make-up artist and stylist. Several hours later, she was barely recognisable.

The photo session went off without a hitch, Lyanna being used to it. When she had finished, she was ushered into a small room away from the hall where the photos had been taken, where a journalist was waiting for her, coffee in hand.

“Miss Michel, I’m Elena Doherty, it’s me who is going to conduct the interview today.”

“Pleasure, to meet you.”

Elena motioned for her to take a seat in one of the armchairs as an assistant came to bring her a cup of tea.

“You don’t mind it being recorder, right? So I’m sure the transcription of your words will be correct.”

Lyanna told her that everything was fine with her and Elena finished putting everything in place before settling down to face her.

"So, Lyanna. First of all, I'd like to thank you for your time and for agreeing to this interview. I know your words have been few and far between in recent years. It’s going to be an intimate interview. Imagine that as a journey inside the mind of a talented actress that some dare to call a once in a lifetime kind of prodigy.” Started the journalist.

“I don’t know if that would be accurate. It’s probably a bit too much.”

“But that’s what people said when it came to your performance in the last Steven Spielberg’s movie that owned you an Oscar nomination for best supporting actress.”

“To be honest, I don’t really read what the press says about me. I care about art and work well done, not reviews.”

“But surely you must be flattered to hear such things about you.”

“Well, of course. It’s always a pleasure to see people enjoying your work, especially when there are so many people involved in a project. I’m a team player, I’m never going to take all the credit for a movie. I’m proud of my work for this one, but what makes me even prouder is the effort the whole team put in it. A movie cannot be great if the team is not at 100% no matter how good the actors are.”

“That’s for sure. You were recently involved in Flowers and Crowns, a romcom that you shot in Monaco. Care to tell us a bit more about what made you jumped in the project? It was a bit bold, especially since everyone was expecting to see you aim for bigger and Oscar worthy type of movies.”

“I’ve always been someone who follows my guts. There is nothing interesting to say about it. I loved the script, I’ve never done a romcom before and I think after all the pressure from the Oscars, I needed to do something light where I could have fun.”

“And did you? Have fun, I mean.”

“I did yes. I think people will enjoy the movie. In terms of vibes it’s a mix between a Bridget Jones’ type of humour and Notting Hill with Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant. I can’t wait for it to be released.”

“Can you tell us a bit more about your character or is it still something you cannot say?”

“Well, I guess that I can tell you that from all the amazing characters I had the chance to portray, she is definitely the one who is least like me. I can't say any more at the risk of being told off by production.” She added while laughing.

“Shooting in Monaco must have been a dream though, it’s a dreamy location for a movie. Did you feel like you were working or was it more like holidays’ vibes? What was it like?”

“Well it was very different from what I’m used to, very sunny and hot if you compared it to London where I live. But of course, it’s beautiful. We had the chance to shoot in various places, not only in studios. And it was amazing for me to be able to speak French for once.”

“I can’t beat around the bush any longer Lyanna, you must know it, but there were some rumours about you and F1 driver Charles Leclerc while you were shooting the movie. I won’t ask if it’s true because I know that you are not one to talk about private matters in the media. I’m going to ask how you handled that?”

Lyanna gulped and looked at the window. When her agent asked her if she would like to the interview, her first question was to ask for the most trustworthy journalist to conduct it and to not ask personal questions.

“It was hard. I don’t have the greatest relationship with the medias, it’s not new, you know that. So seeing my private life once again being displayed and speculated for entertainment purposes was not a good feeling. It brought back a lot of bad memories.”

“For our readers that might not know what we are talking about, do you feel like explaining?”

“A few years ago, I was a victim of what we call revenge porn. I was in a relationship that did not end well and the person I was with at the time decided to leak intimate pictures and videos of me in the press. The worst thing is that all the videos and pictures had been taken without me knowing about it. And from there onwards, things started to go downhill.

 I started to get harassed by paparazzi to the point that I could no longer leave my flat since they were always outside of my building, waiting for me to come out. I’ve been called names on social media as well as in magazines. You can imagine what kind of things were said. I was dropped by brands and projects that did not want their names to be associated with mine. I lost everything to the point that I had to fly back home to hide.

I was not eating anymore, I was spending my days in bed and I’m sad to admit it, but at some point, I started to wonder why I was still on this planet. What for? And that maybe people would be better off without me since this whole thing had repercussions on my family. My mom was shamed because of me to give an example. Later I was diagnosed with PTSD and depression. And you know, the worst in this story is that I’m the one who was blamed for everything when my ex-boyfriend was able to get away with it unscathed. More than that, he was praised for it, people were saying at the time how lucky he was to have broken up with me considering that I had no shame posing for pictures. I was the victim but everyone put the blame on me. It took months if not almost a year for the truth to be told but it was too late and up until today, I’m still blamed for this story.”

“How did you get through it?”

“With the love and support of the people around me and a lot of therapy sessions. I spend the year following the event working on myself to get back on my feet.”

“And career wise, how did you manage to come back on top?”

“I thought that I would never step on a movie set ever again. I really thought it was over for me. I had to start all over again. No important names from the industry wanted me back, so I started to shoot short movies, unpaid ones sometimes, and I started to work with independent directors on low budget movies. It was an amazing experience despite the circumstances. It really brought back my confidence. I think, somehow, it saved me, and I will be forever grateful for those projects. I thought that it would be my career from now on. And the Steven Spielberg called me and who can say no to Steven Spielberg? The rest is history.”

“I have to ask the question after hearing your story, how are you today, Lyanna?”

“I’m proud and glad to say that I’m happy. Really happy. Probably the happiest I’ve ever been. I have a good support system; I work with the most trustful people and I’m not putting pressure on myself. The projects I choose are ones I truly believe into. I don’t have special career plans; I go with the flow. And I have fun, that what is the most important.”

“I’m glad to hear that. If you could change something in the industry you work in, what would it be? If there was a message you wish to pass on, what would it be?”

“I wish Hollywood would be more supportive of women for starters. And to advocate more when it comes to mental health. So many artists struggle with it and it would be nice for us to feel supported by the industry.”

“Thank you, Lyanna, for your time. I wish you the best in your future endeavors.”

“Thank you, Elena. “

When Lyanna returned to her hotel room, she felt relieved. It was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and for the first time she was looking forward to reading the article in the press. It couldn't have been late in Monaco, she knew that Charles was due to fly out soon and that he must have been in the middle of packing his bags, so she grabbed her phone to send him a message in which she told him, without going into too much detail, how the interview had gone. She was surprised to see him answering her almost immediately.

I’m so proud of you. I know how painful it must have been to relived that. I can’t wait to read it and to see you. I already miss you like crazy. I love you.

========

author's note: SHE SAID IT. Finally. I so loved writing this chapter. I just love how cute they are. Next chapter, Austin GP... I can't wait. As usual, I'm always happy to hear your thoughts and reactions in the comments, in the ask box or through DM. Take care!

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@zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali @blueflorals @aundercover @ruleroftheuniverse @fangirlika @writerscurse @elijahmikaelsonbitch @leclerc13

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[3terna15unshin3]

Then Because She Goes

I wake up, love you, so love you, love you

★ Chapter 5 of 15, 4926 words

★ Matty Healy x Original Female Character

★ warnings: alcohol consumption

<< 4

25 December, 2018

The holidays were celebrated peacefully and with tons of food, in the Manansala family. Este’s mum and dad spent the day cooking all of her favourite Filipino food for an early Christmas dinner, then enjoyed a classic roast dinner the next afternoon on Boxing Day. 

Well-fed and happy to be back home to hang out with their family dog Dano (a mellow golden retriever, named after Este’s obsession with the film Little Miss Sunshine), she had a relaxing holiday. And, as much as the regressive feeling of staying in her childhood house sort of stressed her out, Este took advantage of her last couple of days off of work by not making many plans. 

That was until she got a message from Matty. He always hopped around for Christmas, since his own friends and family were messily dispersed between London and the north countryside. He and the rest of the band were allowed a holiday break from rehearsals, so he spent late December basking in the calm before the storm. Matty knew he’d eventually be in Manchester with some free time. So, he decided to send Este a text. 

Their conversation had graduated to iMessage after Matty suggested the idea that night in Kingston. As nice as their budding friendship had been, he found himself thinking of Este with affection. How she could make him laugh both on purpose and by accident, the way her hair sat lazily on the edges of her face, her love for books and her skill for allowing other people to experience what she feels when reading them. 

So, he considered maybe asking her on a date. But the idea of that scared Matty—the formality of asking, the possibility of rejection. When trying to assume if she felt the same way, he was coupled with uncertainty, but he reached out anyway.

Este

Tue, 25 Dec at 13:02 PM

Merry Christmas x

Free to grab coffee on the 28th? 6 ish?

I’ll be in town that evening, if u are up for it

Only a couple of messages were sent between them since the album release party. Este, of course, showered him in flattery after first listening to it, whole-heartedly impressed by his work. Since Matty’s drunk words were sober thoughts that night, he really did care about Este’s opinion of him. He bubbled with joy when reading her messages. If she was telling the truth, that is. But Matty didn’t take her as a liar.

It had been busy for both of them; Matty was doing press for the month following A Brief Inquiry’s release and rehearsing for tour, while Este, Sam, and Oliver were dealing with the pre-holiday retail craziness. With that in mind, Matty was surprised to get a fairly quick response from her.

Este

Tue, 25 Dec at 14:10 PM

28th is my first day back to work :( off at 8 as usual

But we can do something afterwards if that's not too late?

And Merry Christmas to you too x hope you’re enjoying a break from the craziness

I am thank you !

I could just come by and hang out while u work bc I love it there Lol

Unless it’ll be busy I can just meet you there after close

That would be lovely! It’s always super slow the week after Christmas anyway

Everyone’s too busy raiding the big shops for the sales

ok cool I’ll probably show around 6:30

I need to chat to ur face about the album too :P

You’ve said enough about the album Este bloody hell

I don’t think I can take another compliment

Ego been fed enough lately?

Yeah actually thanks

Trying to learn how to be humble

Thank god x

✴ 28 December, 2018

A bay of colourful spines stared at Este as she stood in the Teen Fiction section trying to help a middle-aged mum find a book for her daughter. Every fragment of her teenage memories that popped into her mind felt outdated or not the right fit for the customer. 

“I find that she’s rarely challenged with the books she reads, you know? I want her to really fall into the trance of a novel, have it leave an effect on her. I don’t think a book has done that for her yet,” the mum explained passionately.

Este thought back to the moments she felt that way for a book. One she read a couple of years ago—when she was definitely too old to do so—came up. Its heavy subject matter and vast symbolism and imagery struck her. Her hands picked the familiarly bright blue book. 

“This one’s called Challenger Deep. I read it well into my twenties, but it explores topics I think other teen fiction writers refuse to explore. A little heavy, but for the right purpose. I think your daughter would love it, if she feels really deeply, like me.”

The mother, Orla, spent another 25 minutes chatting with Este about the intensity of being a teenager in the state of the world. A phenomenon the book shop worker never got sick of was getting a peek into the lives of the people of Manchester. Este felt like every time someone new walked into the shop, she got to know her city a bit better.

“Thank you again, Este. You’ve been lovely,” said Orla after checking out the novel for her daughter. Her boots then stepped out of the shop and into the breezy evening air.

The quiet day continued, piles of books slowly getting sorted through and reorganised. Matty, of course, was on her mind. Este watched the clock as 6:30 neared, but no text came through from him yet. She was hoping he wouldn’t catch her while deep in conversation with another customer, or (embarrassingly) struggling to carry a stack of books.

Once 6:50 rolled around, Este finally heard from him.

matty

Fri, 28 Dec at 18:49 PM

Sorry im already late

Just left late tbh

Lol ur fine

Do you like bubble tea??

You realise I’m Asian right???? course I like bubble tea

and you don’t have to bring anything! I’m okay

Omg you’re asian I would have ever guessed

Shut up and tell me your order

Matcha milk tea with pearls pls

Thank you xx

Ok gonna be even more late now but u know why so

Matty didn’t end up walking through the front door until quarter past seven. “There he is,” commented Este.

He held the two bubble tea drinks, one in each hand, raising them both in celebration. “I made it,” he said, handing her the green one. “Only 40 minutes late!”

After thanking him, Este took hers to the counter to set it down and puncture the top with the pointy side of the straw. Matty did the same. She looked at his drink, taking note of its purple colour. “You like taro?”

He looked at her, confused. “Yes? Should I not like taro?”

A laugh escaped from her lips and she shook her head no. “You should. I love taro. Just surprised, that’s all,” she admitted without elaborating. 

“You’re surprised because I’m white and uncultured and should be picking, like, strawberry or something, aren’t you?” 

“I didn’t say that.”

✴

Matty carried over a metal stool from the back room to set it next to the one Este sat on. Together, they sat behind the counter, sipping on their teas and chewing up the boba. 

“Can you let me say one more thing about the album? So I can just get it out and then move on?” asked Este. Matty sat on her left, fidgeting with the spinning seat of his stool, swivelling back and forth over and over; while she sat still and faced him fully.

“Okay, fine. This is your last chance.”

She smiled, happy to be able to get her last point out. “My favourite track isn’t Love It If We Made It, like you’d think.”

“Really? What is it then?”

“I Couldn’t Be More In Love.”

Matty looked back at her for a second, shocked. “Tell me why.”

“It sort of feels like being down on your knees and screaming at the sky. And it sounds really guttural. Your voice carries with so much urgency. I love its composition too, with the twinkly 90s sounding keys and saxophone solo and key change. It has all the elements of a standard, a perfected and refined sound—that almost holds down the rawness of the vocal.”

His swivelling gradually slowed to a halt as Este spoke. She had pointed out every aspect of the song that Matty loved, while her hands gesticulated in front of her, helping her process her own thoughts. Every word she used felt carefully chosen and placed strategically. It was refreshing.

“You know,” Matty started, with a smile of gratitude hanging from his mouth. “I recorded that vocal, like, a day before I went to rehab. So there was this hopelessness to them, and to be honest I sang it better after I got out. But it just felt right, so we left ‘em.” 

“That makes me like it even more,” Este replied shortly, chewing more pearls and looking at him with admiration. She sensed he had more to say, so she let him continue. 

“And not many people know, but it isn’t about a girl or romantic relationship. I wrote it about the idea of, like, what happens if all of this disappears—when nobody cares. Getting to do this thing, writing music, and having it personally affect people and being able to keep making more. It’s genuinely the one way I make sense of the world. Not even the fact that I have that vehicle to process my emotions but just knowing that it’s there. What happens when I’m not sure it’s there anymore?”

She let the information sit between the two of them for a beat. “Things always make sense when you’re the one explaining them.” They smiled at each other. “It’s comforting. Makes me feel hopeful. Like, if someone understands themself in this way then maybe one day I will too. An understanding deep enough to remain curious.”

He laughed, swishing around the straw in his close to empty bubble tea. Setting it down on the counter, Matty’s feverish hands reached for something else to twiddle with. A stack of sticky notes was in his hands, now ripping the yellow sheets into skinnier strips and connecting them end to end to make one long piece. 

“When I listened the first time, I obviously thought it was about a relationship. So it made me think of an ex of mine,” Este mentioned hesitantly, watching Matty toy with the paper, nervous to bring up what she was about to. “It was my first time, like, actually being in love. So after things didn’t work out, it was so hard for me to grasp just not loving her anymore. When all I’d done the whole time was love her. So that whole, ‘What about these feelings I’ve got?’ thing really hit me.”

Matty paused for a second, having a quick panic internally. Is Este gay? I thought Cate was the gay one. It was embarrassing to imagine beginning to pursue someone not interested in him, let alone anyone of his gender. If that was the case, their friendship would be just fine the way it is—but his infatuation felt too far gone to reverse. 

“That’s kind of where that line came from. And what I want people to feel when they listen. But when I thought about what it means to me, it wasn’t romantic at all,” he said. “Have you loved anyone since then?”

“No. Not in the same way. The true bisexual experience is having a huge pool of humans you could be attracted to and then not liking any of them. At least for me,” Este responded, bringing a light-heartedness back into her speech. Matty relaxed in reassurance and joined her in laughter. Bi. Good. Phew, even. “Was it easy? Figuring out your sexuality, I mean?”

She got up to walk over to the door and bolt it shut, flipping the sign to read ‘closed’. “In a way. Growing up, I thought the feelings I had for girls weren’t the same as the ones I had for boys, just because I thought they had to be different. Even though I knew they were there. And then I grew up—learning more and more—and things started to make sense. But it was never fully easy, or linear. Or definitive.”

She sat back down, continuing to watch Matty fold up the ripped paper. He brought one end of the strip of paper up and around itself. Using his fingers to flatten it, a small pentagon was formed, and he took the remaining length of paper to resume folding. 

“That’s sort of what I find so difficult about it,” he admitted. “So many people over the years have taken what I say about my sexuality and construed it to mean something concrete—when that’s just not how I see it.”

His thumb nail, one by one, made small creases in each side of the flat chunk of paper to create the recognisable five points of a star. Matty set it down, now complete, on the counter and slid it over to Este. She picked it up and rolled it in her fingers, replying while studying it and bringing it close to her face. “It’s for sure frustrating when people think they know you better than you know yourself.”

Matty grabbed another couple of sticky notes to start another star. “I’m kind of envious of people like you, you know. Who have it figured out. I have such a hard time letting myself truly feel things that I find myself coming millimetres close to understanding myself in a different way than before and then I just pull away at the last minute. Just in fear of not liking what I discover, or looking stupid. Which I should stop being scared of.”

“I don’t have it all figured out, not even a little bit.” Este ripped up a few papers to try and copy him but she failed. No words had been shared between them about the technique, since they were busy conversing, so she only had the visual aid of Matty making another in front of her. She gave up, letting him just hand over the second one for her to hold. “You being aware of that fear is enough understanding in itself, in my opinion.”

They sat quietly for a couple of seconds, Este finishing her last few sips of tea and tossing the empty cup into the bin. “Is that what Sincerity Is Scary is about? That fear?”

He looked at her, nodding to confirm her question. “The stupidity of that fear.”

“Wow, I should become a music journalist or something,” she joked, shocked that she got it right.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, darling.”

Matty made more stars as their conversation persisted. He varied the width of every strip of paper to make ones of all sizes. A pile of yellow origami accumulated. Este watched, still not understanding how it was done. She found it endearing—and quite cute—to witness the attention and effort he was putting into the mundane craft. 

“You hungry?” she asked, finding a lull in their discussions. 

He glanced up at the clock, seeing its hands pointing at 10:07pm. “Always,” agreed Matty. “In the mood for something specific?”

Este remembered that she had walked to work that afternoon, after lending her car to Cate for the day while hers was getting serviced. So, she considered places within walking distance from Greenhouse. “Piccadilly Tavern does some good food. Just down the road,” she suggested. 

“Sounds good to me.”

They gathered Matty’s collection of stars into the corner of the counter, while Este secretly hoped Sam would leave them there for her to be able to collect them again tomorrow, and then put on their jackets. His bubble tea was now empty and in the bin alongside hers. 

Small clicks were heard while the two walked around the shop to turn off the lamps. Then, they were out the door one after the other, Este locking up behind them, and taking off to the pub. Matty extended his arm, bent at the elbow, towards her. She noticed—confused at first—but eventually wrapped her own around it and came close to the warmth of his body. The air sat at a chilly 5°C, but it didn’t feel that way when they had the other so close. 

As the pub neared, Matty and Este observed its packed nature from the outside window. They had both forgotten the state of pubs on Friday nights. 

“I honestly don’t think we’ll even physically fit inside,” he said as they paused before the door. Their arms were still linked. Este had to stop herself from accidentally stepping on Matty’s foot.

“I’d suggest another place, but they do a great margherita pizza here and it’s kind of all I can think about right now,” she confessed. 

He chuckled. “We can takeaway?” Matty pulled the door open, and she went in, approving of his suggestion. 

The wait for a pizza to share was only 15 minutes and Este left her number to get a call when they were ready; so they sat on the curb outside to avoid the bustling building. Despite him protesting, she paid for the food. Matty had already bought the drinks from earlier, so Este argued that it only made sense for her to cover dinner. He gave in.

“Oh, I have news for you,” Matty mentioned vaguely. 

Este was curious. “News?”

“Yeah. I finished On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous last night.”

“Go on! How do you feel?” she eagerly pushed. Matty dragged out his thoughts with silence to build suspense, making her writhe in impatience. Este shoved his shoulder with hers to try and get his words out faster. “Seriously, if you have anything bad to say about this one I might have to walk away right now. That’s a warning.” 

“I think it’s my favourite piece of fiction I’ve read in the past three years.”

✴

The pub rang Este about their ready-to-go pizza in the middle of their conversation about On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous. They talked about Vuong’s words and what made them so poignant, and Matty even claimed that her annotations benefited his reading experience (and embarrassing her by referencing some of her notes verbatim). 

Matty offered to go inside to fetch their takeaway and carried it for the entirety of the walk to her flat, after they decided it was more sensible to go there rather than camping out in Greenhouse after hours. Plus, she knew that Cate would be staying over at Georgia’s for the night, so they’d have the place to themselves. By the time they got up to Este’s door, the food was still hot, since her flat was only a short walk from The Piccadilly Tavern. 

“Must be nice to live in this area. To be within walking distance to your work and all of the shops around Piccadilly and everything,” commented Matty. 

“Yeah. It's busy, though. And it makes it too easy to just stay in my little bubble and never leave.”

She held the door open for Matty and the pizza box to squeeze through, and he set it on the dining room table. 

“When I was in my early twenties—living here—I wouldn’t have ever wanted to leave,” he admitted.

Their jackets came off. 

“Water okay with you?” she asked, jug in hand. “It’s either that or wine. Choose wisely.” 

He opened up their takeaway, positioning the pizza so that they could share it, and then took a seat. “I mean… I’ve got no plans in the morning that a hangover could disturb. Do you?”

Este paused to think and then turned to pull on the handle of the drawer beneath the microwave, pulling out a corkscrew. Matty laughed at her non-verbal answer to his question and graciously accepted the glass of red she poured for him.

Their first bites of pizza hit the spot. Este wasn’t lying when she said the Tavern did a great margherita. They spent a couple of minutes eating, with small portions of conversation squeezing between their mouthfuls of pizza. 

“So what’s next year looking like for you? Touring the world?” she asked, stopping at her third slice. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” Matty wiped his mouth with a napkin before continuing. “We start with the UK in early January, bit of a break in February. Then, hopefully the Brits—if we’re nominated. Off to South America for some festivals, then Coachella and US tour through to June maybe? Coming back over during the summer for Big Weekend and a bunch of European festivals. Summer Sonic in Japan, Reading and Leeds. Australia and then Asia—I think ending it off with more US dates. All while writing and recording the next album, too.”

Este’s mouth hung open, struggling to conceptualise his crazy schedule. A whole year of travelling? Non-stop? It seemed impossible to her. She realised that it’s Matty’s job and that he’d done it before, so it must not be as scary to him. “Wow,” was all she could mutter out. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a chuckle.

“I don’t know if I’d survive that.”

“I barely did, last cycle. Did a bunch of smack, and stuff.” He sipped his wine and laughed. The glass was close to empty now. “But it’s worth it in the end."

She dusted the powdery flour accumulating on her fingertips into the corner of the box, considering the fact that it may be the last time she saw Matty for a while. It unexpectedly saddened Este. Conversing over text was fun and friendly, but moments like that first night; sitting on the couch and sipping beers in her flat, or drunkenly shouting at each other over the music in Kingston, and making origami stars behind the counter at Greenhouse, all made her realise how great his company was. Her attachment grew. Would their connection sustain through the year he was away? Does he even want it to sustain? she pondered.

“I’ll have to write down that crazy schedule on paper to break the news to my nan that you can’t attend her party,” Este joked. 

“When is it?” Matty asked. 

She could see a glimmer in his eye. Oh god. He wants to come, she thought. “No,” denied Este. “You’re not coming.”

A smile grew on his face as he realised she was onto his intent of asking. “Come on. Tell me when it is,” he insisted, playfulness evident in his voice.

“You’ll be on tour, Matty. I’m not going to make you show up to a banquet hall to celebrate my nan and granddad’s anniversary.” 

“It’s not ‘making me show up’ if she told you to invite me and if I want to go,” Matty argued. 

Este covered her face in embarrassment, with her elbows resting on the table in front of her, in disbelief that he wanted the information out of her. She spoke a ‘no’ but it was muffled by her hands in front of her mouth. He reached forward, pulling them away to reveal her face. In a flustered state, he noticed her mouth twitching up and down to try and stop a smile from showing up. Matty’s eyes found hers. He put on the biggest, corniest smile he could; eyes squinting, cheeks flexed, all teeth on display. Este couldn’t help but let her smile escape, Matty succeeding. She let out a laugh. 

“9th of February. Saturday,” she gave in.

Racking his brain for the specifics, he realised that the 9th was when he’d be off, after the UK leg and before South America. Matty couldn’t believe the coincidence, laughing to himself in bewilderment. “I’ll be in London.”

“For a show?”

“No. Home. Off, free. Perfect time to attend a dinner and dance event held in a banquet hall.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Be serious please, Matty.”

“I am.”

Este shook her head, deciding to avoid the conversation and pouring them both another glass instead. And then she poured another, and another. It neared two o’clock in the morning, the both of them lounging comfortably on the couch together. The bottle of red was empty, a beer sat in front of each of them on the coffee table, and they were passing a now second and half-smoked joint back and forth. Crossed out of their minds, the previously deep and thoughtful conversations from earlier in the night were long gone. 

Matty found himself doing things like explaining, in detail, the (objectively, according to him) correct way to put shoelaces into a pair of Converse; which he didn’t know he was so passionate about until he caught himself talking about it for far too many minutes. Este happily listened, equally as tipsy and high as him, shooting back with random tangents of the same minuscule relevance. It was the most fun each of them had all week.

The influence in their system along with the late hour of the night forced any remaining walls between them to falter. Este reached and touched his knee in laughter a few too many times to go unnoticed by Matty. He watched her eyes linger at the ink on his forearms that poked out of his cotton shirt while he blabbered. Her hands constantly reached up to flip the gold dragonfly hanging around her neck, but she always did.

Likewise, she caught sight of him breaking eye contact more than ever before. It looked like he was looking down at her lips, but she wasn’t sure. The curls on Matty’s head were disturbed by his fidgety hands every few seconds. Este thought it looked nice when they were messy so she wouldn’t dare complain. 

“I feel like there's wet concrete behind my eyes when I try to close them and open them again,” he said to nobody in particular, obviously tired.

“That was a weirdly descriptive way to say your eyelids are heavy.”

“Yeah I know, but that’s what it feels like.” Matty clicked the power button on his phone and read the time. It was past three now. He flipped it around to show Este. “I think it’s bedtime.”

She stood up, reaching into the basket of miscellaneous throw blankets that sat in the corner of her living room and tossing one to Matty. It landed directly on top of his head and made him giggle. They were both smart enough to know that there was no way Este would let him leave this late, so she didn’t bother even asking him to stay. 

“Don’t be alarmed if you hear me get up a million times during the night. Wine makes me wee,” she warned with a slight slur to her speech. 

“Noted.” Matty untied his shoes to remove them before pivoting his legs onto the sofa where Este was previously sat, laying flat. “Thank you for the pizza. And wine, and weed. And for letting me stay over.”

“You’re welcome. Now you know what I get up to on Friday nights.” She took a cushion from the opposite end, near his feet, and then walked back to where his head sat. Standing behind the arm of the sofa, Este lifted his head to place it underneath. He looked up at her and uttered a small ‘thank you’. 

She smiled back and laughed. “Your face looks silly when it's upside down.”

He wanted to pretend to be offended but he was too tired to carry out the bit.

Este continued to potter around the flat, still wanting to clean up after their night by putting the scattered bottles and glasses near the sink and closing the pizza boxes from the table. When it was tidy, she made her way back over to Matty. “You’re okay with sleeping here? On the sofa?”

He nodded, barely awake. “Of course. Don’t worry about me, I’ll knock out as soon as I close my eyes,” he assured her. Este was about to turn towards her room when Matty grabbed her hand to stop her first. “Wait, before I forget. On Beauty and Being Just.”

She raised her eyebrows. “On beauty and being just what?”

“It’s an essay you should read. Been on my mind all night but I couldn’t remember the title and it’s only just now come back to me.”

Este promised to read it but was unsure if she’d remember what was called in the morning. Walking away, she switched off the big light, before the two of them said a final goodnight. Not bothering to change her clothes, she fell asleep soundly.

6 >>

[darsynia]

Trust Fall | Ch 24a

Story Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Tony/OC, ‘terrorists made us fall in love;’ IM1 timeline. In this chapter, Tony calls Emory up and the two of them greatly enjoy the ensuing... conversation. Sexual content in this chapter, Minors DNI!

Length: 3,310

Taglist: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @themaradaniels @starksbf @chickensarentcheap @tiny-anne

Excerpt:

Emory sounds so harried when she answers that Tony can’t help teasing her a little. “Hey, gorgeous. Why do you sound like you’re dying? You’re not dying, are you? I have a strict ‘no dying’ policy.”

Emory rolls onto her back and lets her limbs splay out in relief that it’s Tony. For a split second she’d worried that the call would be from Fury saying the mission was on that night. If he did, she could at least swing the ‘physically debilitated’ part!

“Hey, Tony. No, not dying. Looks like everything is happening early today, though. My withdrawal pain is six hours sooner than normal.”

“Are you going to hang up if I make a ‘everything comes early today’ joke?”

Chapter Twenty-Four: Sundial

Thirty Minutes Earlier

“For the last time, Director, how involved was my father in your agency!?”

Things weren’t supposed to get this adversarial, but Tony’s in deep now, and he’s sure as hell not going to back down. Fury was already in high dudgeon when he called, and when Tony’s sales pitch didn’t land very well, he’d drawn on the Stark legacy.

It… hasn’t gone well.

“That’s a question better answered by your business partner,” Fury says with icy annoyance.

“That’s a deflection, not an answer.”

“Some would say ‘enough,’ others would say ‘not enough.’ Keep your ass out of our upcoming affairs, and we’ll keep out of yours. That would make a good start.”

With that, the man hangs up.

In frustration, Tony throws his phone onto a couch, then throws himself alongside it. He’d at least gotten some of his offer conveyed to the SHIELD director, but it’s hard not to feel like the man is judging him based on who Tony was before Afghanistan.

Happy walks in, pointing behind him toward the kitchen. “Hey, you hungry? I’m thinking about having a late lunch.”

“It’s two forty-five,” Tony says, frowning. “I ate lunch at lunch.”

“I was just seeing if you’re hungry.”

“No, because I’m not a hobbit, Gimli,” Tony says, laying on the sarcasm.

“Call didn’t go well, then?”

“Damnit, Happy!” Tony gets up, suddenly angry.

“You’d feel better if you ate something, I’m just saying,” Happy points out, defensive.

“You think I don’t know that after three months of getting one meal a day, tops? Maybe you’d feel better if you minded your own business!”

“You are my business!”

The two of them glare at each other for a long moment, and Tony realizes he  crossed a line. He holds both hands up in a surrender gesture, wincing, and Happy lets out a slow breath and nods. It’s not an apology, but it’s the best Tony has to offer right now. 

“Something wrong with the company? More than the stock loss, I mean?” Hogan asks, after a moment.

He rubs a hand over his face, digging his thumbs into his eye sockets to relieve the pressure of a sudden headache. “Miscommunication on stopping production. I’m handling it.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle it. You’re the CEO, if you tell them--”

Tony is hit with a powerful sense of regret for lashing out at his friend. Happy basically spent the last decade and a half taking care of him to the exclusion of practically everything else. He doesn’t deserve this.

“Hey, thanks.”

The other man’s brows crease. “For what?”

“For not blowing up at me just now. For putting up with my shit. For looking after Pepper so she didn’t lose her mind trying to keep things together while I was gone,” Tony says. More things are bubbling up; maybe if he can get them out, there’ll be more space in his head to think about his bigger problems. So much comes up at once that he turns mute, instead. It’s probably just as well.

His friend looks down at his feet, but Tony can tell that he’s pleased. “It’s part of the job,” Happy says, then looks up quickly, holding a hand out like he’s erasing a misspoken word or phrase. “Not the Pepper part. That wasn’t about you. That was… well. Brewing for a while,” he says, almost shyly. “Just got easier to get up the courage, when you weren’t around.” Happy’s eyes widen, and he looks horrified. “Not-- not that I would--”

Tony makes a T with his hands. “Time out, I get it. Do me a favor, will you, Casanova? I need some peace and quiet. You want to tell her you talked me into giving the two of you the evening off?”

“You promise you’ll eat, later?” Happy dangles, but Tony has him, and they both know it. Hogan nods and heads off to gather his things.

Now that he’s got this armor, Tony wants to get out there and do something, but he still needs more data. He blows out a frustrated sigh and heads down to the lab to hit ‘run’ on a program he’d created to snoop on what Obie’s doing on his work computer. He’s at least been able to use his recent sexual frustration like currency to work on Emory’s suit, but all of the other issues hanging over him makes release more important than motivation. He pulls out his phone and dials her number. 

Emory sounds so harried when she answers that Tony can’t help teasing her a little. “Hey, gorgeous. Why do you sound like you’re dying? You’re not dying, are you? I have a strict ‘no dying’ policy.”

Emory rolls onto her back and lets her limbs splay out in relief that it’s Tony. For a split second she’d worried that the call would be from Fury saying the mission was on that night. If he did, she could at least swing the ‘physically debilitated’ part!

“Hey, Tony. No, not dying. Looks like everything is happening early today, though. My withdrawal pain is six hours sooner than normal.”

“Are you going to hang up if I make a ‘everything comes early today’ joke?”

She bursts out laughing. “Tony! No, but--”

“Good. A little birdie told me that you’d have the apartment to yourself this afternoon.” He sounds smug, which should not be sexy, but Emory’s past caring, at this point.

“Oh really? What are you going to do about it?”

There’s a noise on the line as if he’d dropped the device and caught it against his clothing, which makes her grin. “Nice,” Tony says. His voice seems to have lost its teasing tone as well. “I’m in. What’s the setting here? Lab or bedroom? Should I go upstairs?”

Emory bites her lip. It’s really happening. “Well, I can picture your lab, since I’ve seen the one in--”

“HELL yes. Done,” Tony interrupts. “Ironically this one has opaque walls. In Malibu it’s all glass out to the stairwell.” Emory can’t even imagine, but Tony laughs a little, and says, “I can see you hiding your face from here! Don’t worry. My house is empty, your apartment is empty. Put your phone on speaker.” The note of command in his voice is warm and pleased, and the words travel across her body in an aural caress.

“Done,” Emory tells him. “It’s a shame I can’t risk putting your picture on your contact, as per SHIELD’s orders.”

“The pictures I’m going to plant in your mind would violate every professional norm that agency has,” Tony says, his voice rich with promise. Emory sucks in a breath, and he chuckles. “I heard that. You’re on the bed, aren’t you? I’m in my desk chair, ready to take my shirt off. Nothing underneath it today.”

Tony knows how much she loves his tank tops, so she feels particularly cared for right now. He’s also right, everything he’s about to do would get a regular office worker fired. Might as well add on. “Are you going to tell me to take my shirt off too, Mr. Stark?” Emory doesn’t make the question coy, but she still regrets her phrasing as soon as she says it. She doesn’t want to roleplay. “You’re going to have to earn your name, make me forget myself and say it,” she adds, throwing in a quick fix to her implication of a boss/subordinate scenario.

“Just when I think I have a handle on this, you turn me upside down again,” Tony says roughly, sounding surprised and pleased. “Yes. I bet you’re wearing another red bra, aren’t you? Months ago, years ago you bought them for me. You just didn’t know.”

Emory sits up and pulls off her shirt, flooded with anticipation that overcomes her natural reticence for activities like this. Tony is including her in his self-centric view of the world, and she’s here for it.

“This one has see-through lace,” she admits aloud. “It turns satin right before my nipples.”

“No air conditioning in there, right? Probably hot as hell, but they’re hard, aren’t they? Just like I am.”

“Classy,” Emory teases.

“That’s a yes,” Tony crows. In a pitched-down voice he ‘Mmms’ and continues, “You want classy? Too bad. We screwed up housekeeping staff here since I got to NYC so I’m almost out of clean clothes. I’ve got on tight jeans and novelty silk boxers with Einstein on them, and every time I MOVE I just want to drive down to D.C. and say ‘fuck the mission, let the tabloids burn,’ just to touch you.” He sounds rough and desperate. The words make her burn. She pulls her knees to her chest, the stretch of the fabric putting pressure on her core. “I’m going to unzip, are you wearing pants or a skirt? Please say pants,” Tony says.

“Pants. Leggings. I would have thought you’d like a skirt, though.”

“No need for easy access if I’m not there. I’m picturing you pushing them down. You’ll be all tangled up in those pants, your movement restricted, a begging mess on that bed, your hair spread out everywhere,” Tony rumbles. “Fuck, I can see that. Can you see me? I’m about to tear off these damned jeans and pull my cock out. Yeah, I said it,” Tony says, a commanding note in his voice. “Don’t hang up on me or I’ll fly down there.”

“Sweet doesn’t mean innocent, you know,” Emory says quietly. Above her, the ceiling fan has started to spin. She usually uses it as an outlet for her power, instead of spending electricity to make the blades turn. “Anyway, I’m not sure that’s going to work as a deterrent with how much I want you here with me. My locked door wouldn’t even matter, would it? You’d break in and catch me taking off my pants.”

Her heart is pounding, but Emory lifts up so she can tug the leggings down. She almost pulls them off completely but stops, remembering what he’d said about being tangled up. Instead, she lets them flip inside out as she pulls her legs out, the hems still clinging to her feet, twisted up and restrictive. The way the pants hold onto her makes her picture Tony’s hands there instead. The heat that’s been gathering deep inside spreads out like whiskey in her veins.

“I can’t decide if you’re wearing red silk panties or granny ones,” Tony muses, dragging her mind out of one gutter and into another. “I guess it depends on whether you bought any new ones on SHIELD’s dime. I’d love either. There’s something so innocent about cotton briefs on a woman.”

“Excuse you! What makes you think I didn’t already have matching red lacy silk for all of my red bras?” Emory demands.

“Even better,” he says, undaunted. “Touch yourself on the outside of those panties and tell me what it feels like,” Tony instructs. “They’re wet, aren’t they, Em? Mmmm.” Emory can hear his chair creak, and she imagines him leaning back, fully naked now, soft leather, warm skin, and glowing metal reactor. “Just thinking about that made me stroke myself. I was going to wait, but--” Tony trails off in a ragged groan that drags one from her own throat in response. “That’s right. Tell me, beautiful.”

She slides her hand down from her stomach to her panties. The front is silk against her skin but lace on the outside. Emory slides her hand lower, letting her fingers dip and press.

“Wet, yes,” she says, barely a whisper. She can’t say ‘I’m,’ but this is enough. “Smooth, warm, soft.”

“My fist is moving. Take them off?” Tony’s voice is equally hushed.

She readily pushes them down, but the damp cloth can only go so far. “Right,” Emory mutters.

“Tell me.”

God, the rasp of his voice is doing things to her.

“I left the pants tangled up like you said. I probably look debauched,” Emory admits.

“If it wouldn’t HURT to put that damned suit on right now I’d do it. I’d make you stay on the phone with me the whole flight there. Fuck, Em, I want to show you everything,” Tony tells her, his voice vibrant with longing.

“You’ll get to,” Emory says. She doesn’t add the (variously ridiculous, depending on her self-doubt for the day) second part, ‘for as long as you’ll still want to.’

“Good. For now, close your eyes. Picture me in the room, in my desk chair, one foot up on the bed, facing you. What do you see?”

My god, she thinks to herself. “Your eyes pin me to the bed,” she says softly, seeing him there in her mind’s eye. “You’re the picture of confidence, and no matter what I say or do your hand moves at the same pace on… on yourself.” 

“I want you so bad right now. You are good at that,” Tony says, sounding shaken. “You’re wrong about my concentration, by the way. My rhythm’s all over the place. That’s a compliment, I’m usually-- yeah.”

“I remember,” she says, thinking about what he’d said about having greater focus when he’s aroused. She presses her legs together, picturing him, slowly rocking her hips against the gathers of the blanket underneath her.

“Show me how you like to touch yourself,” he tells her.

She’s not sure she can do that! “Tony, I--”

“Yesss, there’s my name. I can see you, Em. Blushing, wanting. Do you remember my mouth on you? I do.” He’s barely audible, like he’s whispering in her ear. With her eyes closed, she can almost feel his lips right now.

Emory can’t help it, she slides her hand down and starts circling her fingers. It’s that or conflagrate. “God, your voice,” she moans.

“You speak or I speak, sweetheart. Your choice.”  

“I’ll pick you, every time. You know that, right?”

“It’s not like I mind. My voice is inevitable, just like the clench of your orgasm under my tongue,” he murmurs, the words barely audible sibilants that brush across her nipples on the way to driving her fingers to thrust inside herself.

It’s like you’re whispering in my ear,” she murmurs. “Everything I see and hear and feel is you right now.”

“Tell me,” he whispers. Right at the end of the words he lets out a small groan and she can completely picture him touching himself, head bent down, his body taut, transfixed by pleasure.

“Just imagining you here has me about to fall apart,” she says, and it’s true, but she can sense that he wants her to describe what that looks like. “I’m sideways on the bed,” she tells him. “My hair’s stuck to my neck with sweat,” she pants, her hips circling under the movements of her hand. “All I’m wearing is that red bra, with my pants and panties pushed down to tangle at my feet. Tony, it feels like you’re holding them down,” Emory says in a rush of realization. “God, just imagining that--”

“Ahh, Em -!” The barely-coherent words trail off to a groan and she just knows he’s coming. She tries to spread her legs more and dig her heels into the mattress to give herself leverage, but she can’t, because of the phantom hands gripping her ankles. It feels real, like he’s stubborn and inexorable, forcing her to get herself off on display for him without so much as touching her skin himself. It’s generous and selfish and sexy as hell and he’s not even in the room.

Emory’s orgasm strikes her on an inevitable wave of sensation, aided by a roll of hot air that sweeps from the ceiling down across her body from her legs up, blowing her hair back from her pleasure-arched face.

“Those noises are going to set me off again. Fuck, Emory, I need you. I need you HERE. Not just to touch, for everything, I--” he falls silent, and she shakes through a speechless aftershock.

“I didn’t realize I was making any noise,” she admits, touched and overwhelmed and, though she’s too shy to say it aloud right now, completely in love with him. “And I-- yes. Yes to all of it.”

He chuckles ruefully. “Shit, that’s the first time in forever that I didn’t make any attempt to prevent a mess. And I DEFINITELY can’t walk. Luckily, I’m a genius with robots!” She can hear him call over for one to bring him a towel. 

Tony’s amused emphasis on ‘definitely’ is just as adorable and endearing as his impassioned words a minute earlier. The first time she’d said she loved him, she was angry, and Emory’s realizing she’s never said it since. The words coalesce out of the joy she feels from hearing him being so thoroughly himself and how empowered she feels about what they’ve just done.

“Tony, I--”

There’s an abrupt, shocking knock on her bedroom door. “Hey, Emory? I’m home early, was thinking of getting groceries before the weekend rush, you got a list?”

“Shit!” Emory yelps, looking down at herself. She grabs at the phone and tries to turn it off speaker mode. The fan above her is rattling. She’d spun it too fast with her power slough, and her nakedness is a huge liability right now, as are the tangled pants.

“Is that Barton? Tell him you need whipped cream,” Tony laughs into the phone, sounding louder than he had just the minute before, now that someone else is listening.

“Is Stark in there with you?” Clint asks, still standing right outside.

“Speakerphone, and I’m hanging up on him right now!” Emory calls out to him, successfully swapping the audio back to internal sound. Then, into the phone, she hisses, “Tony, I swear--”

“Go clean up, I’ll just be sitting here getting hard again, picturing that. If you do go out, just-- take the phone with you, okay? I’ll feel better about your safety if you have a way to get help.”

Emory wraps herself in her blanket and sits up to detangle her pants. There’s no pulling them back on, she’ll need new panties at least. It was worth it, though. It takes a full minute and a half and some grunting to get them all the way off.

“Okay those noises were adorable. We need to get you through this fucking mission and out to Malibu,” Tony remarks. “Go find my pants, DUM-E. Don’t give me that, I know you can do it!” Emory smirks as she stands up and finds the hamper. There’s zero chance she’ll ever put the phone on speaker with Clint in the house again, but dressing is going to take some creative phone holding. “Em, are you sure you don’t want to just chuck SHIELD and let me find this guy for you?”

“You don’t even know where he is!” she argues, grateful that Barton hadn’t heard that, just in case. “They’ve got a good plan, Tony. I trust them.”

“You shouldn’t. I’ve been seeing some things. Something’s wrong, something systemic.” Before she can respond to that, he goes on, “Even a general location would be good, so I can mentally prep for missing our new scheduled sex talk every… what? Three days? Two days? It’s necessary for mental health. I could get someone to write that on a note, if you need me to. Just let me be there when you hand it to Fury.”

“All I know is Sokovia. There might be something on the paperwork Yinsen had at his house, but I have no idea where the paper he wrote his address on went, or the bra I’d been carrying it around in,” Emory says.

“Hmm,” Tony says, sounding distracted.

“Well, I should--”

“Yeah. It’s been a literal pleasure, Emory Autumn,” Tony says.

“It was,” she admits, face flaming again. “Bye.”

Next chapter, Tony flies to California to get some of the suit parts manufactured, and Emory learns that even Nat and Clint know about SHIELD's plans to keep her working for them.

[lys1]

Congratulations! You waited so patiently <3 This is another Asra x fem!reader for you. NSFW. 5218 words. 

Playing With Potions

—————

The late spring morning air was warming up to be a balmy 75 degrees. You had your skirt pulled down and up, tucked in the back of the waistband, forming makeshift shorts. The shop was somewhat quiet, yet the din from the streets made its nimble way through the open windows.

You descend the ladder to the box of ingredients you were unpacking. They had come in the previous evening and Asra had promptly asked you to “organize them later”. Of course you said yes, the two of you shared this shop after all, and the work that came with it.

Asra himself was bustling behind the counter, sweeping the wooden floors free of the dust and fallen ingredients. He stops momentarily to pick up his cup of tea and take a long sip. The jasmine tea's steam billows into his face as he sighs with content pleasure.

The floorboards creak as you step down and Asra looks over at you, gaze soft. "How's the supplies look, dear?" He asks curiously, returning the cup to it’s coaster.

"Ah," you muse, counting the small containers in your hands. "Looks like we will be all set on lizard toes for a while, I think our supply captain read 1000 instead of 100." You can't help but chuckle, it couldn't be helped, at least you wouldn’t have to order more for a while.

Asra's eyes open a little wider, "oh my." He laughs, "I suppose we won’t". He sets his broom to rest against the counter and bare feet pad over to you, his deep-purple eyes examining the products.

You feel his hand settle on your waist subconsciously; a side effect of being close to one another. You breathe in lightly, smelling the sweet scent of coconut and honied biscuits wash over you. Asra's breakfast choice was apparent.

"Mm," you say, turning so the two of you were face to face. "You smell delicious."

Asra smiles, box in his hand now a little less important. "Care for a taste?" He teases, eyes falling to your parted lips. He sets his lizard toes aside and joins his other hand at your waist. You look up at him through your eyelashes and nod.

He is a mere millimeter from sealing the gap between you when the bell of the shop jingles merrily.

"Ah jeez," you huff good in good nature. "I forgot we have jobs and responsibilities."

Asra laughs at your obvious disappointment and steals a small peck. "Unfortunately, we have to eat somehow." He then turns away and walks back to the counter to greet the customer.

The man is short and has a little round face. He looks extraordinarily nervous, and this catches your attention. Yours and Asra's shop is well known in the city and the townsfolk trust their magicians. You hadn't seen anyone come in here looking so nervous, and maybe even a little embarrassed.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Asra asks charmingly, resuming his position behind the counter. Briefly you let yourself admire how nice he looks, comfortable in his shop and expertise, before turning back to the box you were supposed to be dealing with. Not, however, letting your ears miss the conversation.

"I," the man starts, already fumbling with his words. "I, well look. I need help." He finishes plainly, nervously clutching his shirt between his pudgy hands.

Asra smiles kindly, "many do." He says, tilting his head and examining his new client. "Are you here for a card reading? Need to get some answers?"

The man groans as though he is already exhausted with the conversation. "No, I already know what I need. I have the answers. I've heard about this place. The ways you can help people. I live an hour out of the market and I made this trip just to see you."

"We're flattered, for sure." Asra says calmly, you can hear slight annoyance in his tone from all the ambiguity. The visitor is none the wiser though. "To help you though," Asra continues. "I'll need to know what you need."

"Alright I need a potion," the man finally reveals. "One that will help me... with performance." His cheeks are redder than a bell pepper in the sun.

Asra raises a white eyebrow, "performance? Are you an actor?"

"No!" The man's voice came out in a strangled whisper, obviously trying to keep it down. You roll your eyes, chancing a glance over your shoulder. The shop floor wasn't that big, of course you were going to hear everything.

"No," he said again, this time a little more composed. "What I mean is... my sex life performance." The truth comes out. Your visitor wipes his forehead with a dirty rag from his pocket. "My wife and I well.. we've hit a slump," he explains. "And I've heard of potions that can help with that kind of thing. Stuff that will completely change the game." His eyes are shining now, imaging life post-performance potion.

Asra looks uncertain at best. "I see," he starts, shooting you a glance. "That.. does exists. But it takes awhile to make. And the price isn't cheap either."

You shove the last of the crow feathers into their designated drawer while listening. You have never heard of such a potion, but you were also still learning. Asra sounds a little unsure though.

"Price isn't an issue," the man sounds desperate. "I'll pay anything."

Asra sighs, he feels bad for the man wringing his hands before him, practically crying for a cure. "Alright," he finally concedes. "I'll make it, but you'll have to come back in the morning. This kind of thing takes all evening to brew."

Your customer nods vigorously, "I can wait." He says. "Tomorrow morning, yes! I'll be here!" His excitement apparent, he bows a few times while backing out of the door, tripping over his own feet.

The door closes with a sharp bang and the bell rings furiously. Asra blows air out of his mouth so that itf ruffles the curls between his eyes.

"Well," he says after a moment. "A sex performance enhancing potion was not what I was expecting to make today." He rubs his temples, eyes closed and looking thoughtful.

You grin at him from the shelf as you pick up the empty shipping box and rest it on your hip. "That's quite the name, I've never heard of a potion like that."

Asra laughs and opens his beautiful eyes to look at you. "Yes, you'll have to forgive me for not teaching you that kind of magic, it's not the.. safest." He ends uncertainly. "I don't even know how this guy found out about it. It's not talked about much amongst us magicians.. and it's certainly not a common one."

Immediately more questions than your mouth can keep up with flood your brain. "So how did you find out about it? And why isn't it safe?" You ask the two more important ones, eyes following Asra as he finds a piece of paper and quill to use.

He dips his quill in the register's ink well and starts scratching down what you presumed to be ingredients. "I've been studying magic for years, my love." He says simply, "and before you ask, no I haven't used it on myself." He looks up at you, mischief dancing in his pretty eyes. "I'd like to think my sex game is up to par." He adds innocently, licking his lips seductively when your ears tinge pink.

You brush imaginary dirt off your shirt sleeves and huff. "I suppose it's pretty good." You mumble. It almost feels like a lie to just describe it as "pretty good" but Asra doesn't need you to stroke his ego right now. You do that enough falling to pieces beneath him every night.

Asra is well aware of your attempt to keep him humble and laughs lightly. "And to answer your other question," he says, turning back to his ingredient list, "messing with ones body like this can be dangerous. You have to be very precise."

You nod as he explains, it makes sense.

Potions are always brewed in pots over a magic fire so you put yourself to work, removing a medium sized iron pot from a hook on the wall and carrying it to a fire stand. Asra is busy himself, opening various drawers and adding seemingly random ingredients to a basket he has looped over his arm. Iris petals, newt eyeball, and some shimmering gold flakes. You smile watching him, your gorgeous magician; smart and able.

In no time at all Asra has a bubbling pot of sweet smelling liquid stirring before him. You stand beside him, observing curiously.

"Why are you wearing gloves?" You ask, taking note of the large leather gloves that clad all the way up your lover's forearm.

Asra continues to stir and looks over at you, happy to hear your eagerness to learn. "I can't risk even a drop of this touching my skin. It's so strong, and will immediately absorb into anyone's skin, leaving them..." He shakes his head and trails off, amused. "That's why it has to brew so long, to burn off some of the potency."

Your mouth opens in amazement, taken aback by the idea. This is the real deal you decide, stepping back a couple inches in precaution. After watching the potion bubble for a couple more minutes you stretch and grab the watering can sitting by the floor of the door.

"I'm going to water the plants," you inform Asra, waving your hand briefly until the can is full of cool, crisp water. Gods knows there are at least three dozen inside and outside of the shop.

Asra is humming in confirmation that he heard you as you open the shop door to the plants hanging outside. You don't get very far before you're blindsided by a streak of purple darting through your legs.

Escape!

"Faust?!" You yelp, dancing around the squirming snake as she winds her way under and into the open shop. A loud, booming bark makes you jump again. This time a large hound dog is rounding the tight corner from the side street and barreling full speed towards you.

All hell breaks loose. The water can is up in the air, crashing wildly into the side of the building. You are thrown back onto the dusty floor and a mass of fur and teeth race past you, paying no mind to your yelling.

Help!

Faust is racing around the floor, narrowly avoiding the jaws of the angry dog she seemed to have aggravated. There's a large crash from inside and you cringe, hearing bottles break and wood crunch. You look back, scared at what you might find.

The shop is a disaster, papers strewn, vials broken, and potion pot toppled. Asra is groaning on the floor, obviously doing no better than the rest. You glance at him worriedly, taking quick notice of the potion he had been making spilled everywhere, even on him.

You snap your fingers and the dog's growl, who was cornering Faust by the bookshelf, turns into a whimper as you lift him up with your magic. "I'm sorry pooch," you sigh, "but we can't have you eating our friend." With a wave of your wrist the hound is out the door and down the street in an instant. The hinges creak and bell rings as the door is once again closed to outside.

Thank you!

Faust wriggles happily, red eyes glowing in relief. You guess she got up to some trouble with the local fauna. She slithers up the stairs quickly, leaving you to look around at the ruined shop.

"Ah, fuck," Asra's words cut through your thoughts like a knife. He's laying flat on the floor, chest heaving as though he just ran a marathon. Sweat glistens on his tan skin, covering him from head to toe.

You step over the broken bottles and kneel at his side. "My love?" You ask, unsure of what to do. It was obvious what had happened, it didn't take an expert. The potion that was supposed to be for your customer was now soaked into Asra's glowing skin.

Asra opens his eyes and you swallow hard. You know that look, and it nearly makes you start trembling where you sit. Lust is prevalent, clouding Asra's eyes until they're a dark amethyst color.

"You-" you start to speak but are cut off by Asra sitting up abruptly. His face is close to yours and his breath washes over your lips, hot and wanton. He looks positively desperate, just the sight of you sitting before him doing wonders.

"Please," Asra's voice comes out low and husky, he watches your chest rise and fall quickly as a result. "Can I please have you, right now."

You could almost call him asking like that soft and innocent, if it wasn't for the raw, hungry look he was giving you. His eyes were traveling everywhere across your body, leaving an invisible line that you could almost feel burning into your skin. Your lips parted and you let out a soft gasp, the power that kind of look had over you was astonishing. You shifted your legs under you subtly, feeling the result of the hot atmosphere low in your stomach.

"Tsk, tsk," you had to tease for a moment. "Closing the shop at midday for some fucking?" You reach up and cup Asra's cheek, feigning uncertainty. His skin on your fingertips burns white hot and you have to hide your amazement.

Asra's eyes narrow, he knew you too well. With a quick flick of his wrist you hear the deadbolt on the door slide into place. It's only a second later and both of his hands have found a place on either side of your hips.

"Why do you torment me?" he asks, pulling you close so your legs straddle him. "Can't you see I'm getting enough of that from this damn mistake of a potion?" His words are almost shaky, as though he can barely speak anymore. He presses his hips up to meet yours, and a soft sigh escapes his lips as he finally gets a little friction.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and gasp, the feeling of Asra so obviously in need is enough to make anyone go wild.

You can't resist grinding down lightly and Asra's eyes practically roll back at the sensation. "How can I say no to such a pretty face," you whisper, completely in love with his reaction.

That was enough for Asra and without added words he gathers you up in his strong arms and lifts you both. Your head falls back pleasurably when his lips find your neck. It only takes a few quick steps on his part to bring the two of you into the plush back room.

The purple cushions lining the cozy futon sink in gently as your back hits the mattress. The room has a slight pleasing haze as sandalwood incense burns at the table. The smell washes over your senses and a new wave of sensuality comes over the room.

Asra's hands hold you firmly as his lips continue to press lovingly into your skin. He hovers over you, one leg pressed between your legs, causing your hips to involuntarily move along his thigh.

"I need you out of these clothes," Asra groans, lips being stopped at your chest where your shirt has suddenly become a hindrance. He's already tugging at the hem, untucking the loose fabric from your waistband. You raise yourself to your elbows and help him pull the shirt over your head. At once it is thrown over Asra's shoulder and his eyes are set on your bare skin, drinking in the sight of his lover.

You smile at his admiration and lay back again, stretching your arms above your head and arching your back. You feel his hands on your stomach, traveling up to rest on your breasts. Your skin prickles with desire, flesh lighting on fire from his ministrations.

"How did I get so lucky," he breathes out, looking down at you with a look filled with love and passion. He rests the tips of his fingers on your nipples and swirls them lightly, leaving you to twist in torturous pleasure beneath his touch. "Everything about you is beautiful." Asra continues to flatter, lowering his head so his curls tickle your stomach. He licks a long line from the dip of your hip up to the valley between your breasts.

After a few moments of tasting your supple skin he moves his hands to the top of your skirt and tugs. You lift your hips in compliance and the fabric slides down your legs easily. Asra licks his lips as your body is finally fully presented to him.

"I could feast on you," he announces, voice lowered with need. "And I wouldn't go hungry in a lifetime." These words he whispers into your inner thigh, they tickle your skin softly.

You watch with bated breath as the man before you adores his lover. It's hard to keep your moans controlled as you feel his sinfully good tongue lick you in a way that can only be described as ecstasy.

Asra shifts into a more comfortable position, lying on his stomach and he brings your legs to lay comfortably over his shoulders. You shudder as you feel his hot breath flutter over your dripping slit. He doesn't waste anymore time and lowers his face to enjoy you.

Your thighs squeeze his head lightly as your body arches in response. Asra is devouring you as though you were a feast and it was the only meal he is to have in a lifetime. He grips your legs tightly to keep you from moving and covers your slit with his mouth, sucking for a moment on the tight nub at the top. He groans happily into your skin before moving down to lick your hole.

"Oh please, yes," you run your trembling hand through his hair and raise your hips up to meet his greedy mouth. He laps short, quick strokes first, stimulating you into madness.

After a moment he slows his tongue down to swirl languidly, looking up at you. You make eye contact and groan at the erotic scene of him eating you out. "That mouth of yours is too skilled for its own good," you whisper, fingers digging into his scalp, trying desperately to savor every swipe of his tongue.

Asra smiles against your folds. "I live to make you feel good, my dear." He says, pausing a moment. "You intoxicate me. Your smell, your taste. I couldn't get enough even if I had all the time in the world." He presses his lips on each one of your thighs with hot, open mouth kisses.

You blush at his words, feeling amazing under his praise. "Come here," you command softly, pulling on Asra's hair lightly to guide him back up your body. He kisses every inch of skin he passes before finally reaching your lips.

"Mm," he hums, taking your face in his hands. "But these lips, are like the finest honey in Vesuvia." He lifts your head so your mouths meet. It's a hot and feverish kiss, full of staggering amounts of love.

You press your body into his and relish in the feeling of kissing Asra. Your mouths are opened to one another and your tongues meet in fiery unison. While you enjoy the kiss you allow your hands to roam. Your fingers find his shirt buttons and you start to undo them as best you can, only a little distracted. It takes just a minute and you sigh happily into his mouth when you finally remove the annoying clothing.

You part a moment to admire the divinity of his body; prostrated before you. He was calling himself the lucky one, but you could probably make a pretty good argument for it being the other way around. He looked absolutely glorious in the hazy glow of the room.

As you reach for the waistband of his pants and rest your fingers playfully on the skin above it Asra breaks out in goosebumps at the fluttering feel of your touch.

"Ah," he breaths out, raising himself to his knees and closing his eyes. Clearly, he's enjoying the attention finally being on him.

"You are the one with the potion affecting them." You say, drawing a line from one hip to another. "It'd almost be criminal to ignore you for any longer." Your eyes fall to the bulge straining under Asra's pants, just begging to be free. A smile plays across your lips as his breaths quickens significantly.

"I.. wouldn't complain." He finally manages to say in a strained tone.

You smile, maybe a little too satisfied, and hook your fingers under the band. "I know." You chuckle, pulling. The trousers catch a moment on Asra's hardened length before slipping down to his knees. You take time to admire the sight before you, licking your lips. Asra is panting slightly, looking down at you lustfully as your eyes graze over him.

He grabs your head on either side and looks into your eyes. "Please," is all he can croak out.

You swallow thickly and you feel yourself dampen even more at his begging words. “I’d like nothing more" you say; need dripping heavily from your words. You lean forward and kiss the tip of his leaking slit lightly. Asra's body shivers with pleasure when your soft lips meet his aching shaft.

You take a breath before closing your mouth around his tip. Your cheeks hollow and you suck in deeply, enjoying the small sounds of pleasure emitting from Asra's lips. He groans even deeper as you finally swallow down his whole length, tip sliding down the back of your throat.

"Ah fuck, baby," he stutters through gritted teeth, fingers threading through your hair. He thrusts into your mouth without hesitation, reveling in the way you feel around him. The pace is fast and vicious, leaving no time for extra room for breathing.

You choke back your gasps and feel the involuntary tears prick at the corners or your eyes. Your hands fall to your sides as you let Asra use your mouth how he pleased. Licentious noises ring around the room as he sinks his member into your mouth relentlessly, moaning at each stroke and the salacious feelings that come over him.

His grip tightens in your hair as he pounds into your face. You open your mouth as widely as you can and take him in, ignoring the slight pain of labored breathing. The feeling of being used so mercilessly is intoxicating, and you close your eyes, enjoying the pleasure that overtakes you.

With a loud pop he pulls out of your drooling mouth, leaving you to be the one groaning in disappointment.

"I'm sorry love," he huffs dazedly, need heavy on his features. "But if I don't stop this now I'm cumming in your mouth."

"That doesn't sound so bad," you complain, sticking your tongue out so Asra can view how much you want it. His eyes darken considerably and he looks ready to break.

He takes a breath in sharply, steadying himself before holding your face gently in his hand. "As much as I want you fuck your face, that pussy of yours I know is dripping for me and I have to comply." He chuckles, running his thumb along your lip.

You whimper at his words, practically climaxing at the suggestion. You meet his eyes in a needy manner and nod. "Oh, Asra," you start, already seeing excitement flit across his face at the mention of his name. "I want you more than I can even describe to you."

To this Asra inhales sharply, thumb still hooked in your mouth. "Tell me how you want me," he says, barely able to contain his own desire.

"I want you to fuck me from behind," you begin, knowing exactly how to please his ears. "I'm going to cry and moan, and beg you for relief but you will know better." His eyes widen in ecstasy but you continue anyway. "I want you to give everything you can to me, without holding back."

Asra seems to snap right in front of you. His features immediately seem to plead for consolation. "You'll get what you ask for." He growls, fingers tightening in your mouth. You lick his thumb seductively and the action throws him over the edge.

Asra's hands fly to your waist and hold you firmly, you're flipped over; ass to the heavens greeting him. He swallows at the sight and digs both palms into the flesh, enjoying the feeling immensely. "So needy and ready for me," he groans, finger finding your entrance and slipping in easily. You gulp at the warmth of having fingers enter you. Asra is unrelenting and curls them cruelly against your walls.

"Just fuck me already!" You cry, unable to hide your desires anymore. You hear Asra laugh behind you, yet despite this you know he is dying to sink himself into you.

"Alright, alright." He concedes, taking your hips in his hands. "If you insist."

You feel his tip slide against your slit and shudder, craving the feeling of him inside you. It doesn't take more than a moment before you feel him start to enter you. You lay your head down, turning your face so you can watch Asra take you from behind.

His lips are parted in a silent moan as he relishes in the feeling of your walls around him. You sigh softly as he fully sheaths himself in you, a small tremor passing over your body from the pleasure. One moment, two moments pass as you both bask in the feeling of being connected.

"Give me your hands," he commands, slowly sliding in and out of you, giving no care to his agonizingly slow pace. Soft gasps are falling from your lips as you try to register his request.

Carefully, you cross your arms behind your back. It's no use to keep the blush at bay as you take in the dirty scene. Your face is pressed to the pillows, unable to move much as Asra takes your wrists and pins them to your back. Your ass is raised in the air to meet his rhythmic thrusting.

Asra grips one of your thighs with a free hand and quickens the pace a little. Your eyes shut tightly as your body responds. You can feel his tip hit deep inside of you with each snap of his hips. It's unrelenting and you have to catch yourself from begging for more.

You feel the fingers around your wrist tighten a bit as Asra's breathing speeds up behind you. You know that he's set on giving you as much painfully slow torture as he can manage himself, but you also know that potion is working against him. There's nothing he wants more than to let go and pound you into the mattress.

"Baby," you choke out, words bouncing along with your bodies. "I know you want to fuck me so good right now." Your voice is deep with seduction. "Please just fill me up like I know you want to." You finish your plea, watching his face with satisfaction. His eyes are darkened with desire. He takes just a few more strokes before slowly to a stop inside you.

"You asked for it," he warns. He only takes a moment to let go of your wrists and flips your body so you're facing him. He cages you in on either side and licks his lips as he stares into your eyes. His hungry mouth meets yours in a kiss full of fire. You can melt into it for only a second before you feel him grab your hips and pull you flush against him; Your cries drowned by his lips as he sets an erratic pace, skin meeting with loud slaps.

"Fucking hell," he groans, still kissing you between words. "You feel like heaven on earth. You're so hot, and I can feel your insides squeezing me." He explains, hot breath falling over your face. Your cheeks burn at his descriptions.

You loop your arms around his neck and press your chest into his. Your skin meets, shining with sweat and burning from love. Asra presses back, savoring the feeling of your nipples brushing against his.

You start to feel that familiar blossom of unreleased pleasure pool in your lower stomach. Asra's shaft is hitting you just right, sending jolts of satisfaction right to your core.

"Oh-" you stop and whine pleasantly when he shifts angles. "Fuck. Please yes, don't stop!" Your arms drop and nails dip into his biceps and you grit your teeth from the hot delight searing through your body.

"I couldn't even If i wanted to," Asra answers, words strained as his grasp on himself starts to crumble. His breath is leaving his lips in short pants now and you can almost see the resolve to hold on slip away before your eyes.

He falls into you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and thrusts into you with all of the strength he can muster. You bury your face in his neck and take hold of his hair. You can feel Asra's body shuddering to not let go.

You bring your lips to his ear and bite his lobe. "Won't you come for me sweetheart? Please empty yourself in me." You whisper.

Asra takes in a sharp breath and you hear him choke at your words. They were enough to push him over the edge and he rams into you with a low, strangled cry.

Your head falls back and your mouth opens in a silent scream as Asra lets himself go in you. Your legs shake violently of their own accord as you feel your orgasm wash over you, leaving your body in euphoric fire.

Asra's lips immediately find yours as you ride out your orgasms together. You kiss him passionately, all of your senses in overdrive. His kisses are soft, and sweet, a clear declaration of his love. Happiness rushes in like a flood as you enjoy the afterglow. After a minute Asra removes himself from you and joins you in laying down, sides still heaving from the activities.

"My dear, how I love you." He says with a smile, running his fingers in slow, soft circles on your stomach.

You turn on your side and look into his eyes. He looked content, and his cheeks were dimpled from his growing grin.

"I love you too," you return, hand falling into his. His skin was still warm. The two of you lay there for a while, out of breath and simply enjoying the presence of one another.

Eventually, Asra sits up and looks down at you with humor in his eyes. "Well, I think I can tell our buyer that we did an extensive review of his product and it does, in fact, work."

Your face breaks into a smile and you laugh at Asra's words. "Oh goodie, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear all about it."

[demonicheadcanons]

Obey Me Brothers + Little Affections

AN: Keep thinking about the little things each brother would do to express affection. Some warm fluffy stuff because we all need it. Enjoy!!

The hair drying one on Lucifer’s sparked this entire thing thanks

Lucifer

- Washing and drying your hair. You know if you get your hair washed at a hairdressers and they just. Go to town with a towel drying your hair? He finds it hilarious and loves doing that. You’ll hear him chuckle, unable to see him because your face is covered by the towel. He’s softer towards the end but initially when trying to get most of the excess water his only concern is not actually hurting you. He’s also genuinely trying to help, just having a little fun with it at the same time.

- Continuing on from this, Lucifer will ruffle your hair. If it doesn’t really upset you, he loves to make a mess of it, and he grins at you, your hair sticking out every which way.

- The second his brothers aren’t around, he seems to canonically love holding your hand under the guise of keeping track of you or comforting you. Its partially true - the MC gets into trouble easily, so its good to keep a hand on them. However, the comforting affect goes both ways.

- Sharing information with you implies a close bond (or at the very least, a strong curiosity, like when he hints at where Mammon’s card is / when he talks about the album) and it means Luci cares about you a lot. He likes to talk about his interests and introduce you to things he cares a lot about. A lot of the time this comes in the form of music, because it’s something he’s able to enjoy whilst still doing his work.

- Doing origami or other paper crafts together? Really relaxes him. It’s so peacefully intimate and cosy. You sit together at his desk, work documents hidden out of sight for now, and make whatever you can out of colourful little bits of paper. He likes making flowers, although he’d never say it out loud, but he makes you countless crowns with paper flowers of all different kinds. You walk in one day when he’s taking a break from work and he’s got paper cranes lining the entire length of his desk. He calls you over and puts one on your head for absolutely no reason before acting like it never happened.

- If no one else is around and he’s feeling a bit daft, he’ll sweep you up into his arms with no warning and just hold you like that, staring directly into your eyes with a daring and loving smile on his face. This happens most when it’s late at night and all the coffee he’s had is starting to wear off and he feels a little more relaxed and open. He’ll carry you to his room to cuddle, too, if you don’t have anywhere else you need to be. Just pray none of his brothers encounter you two because he’ll set you down on your feet immediately and he won’t help you up if you fall.

[[Other Brothers under the read more]]

Mammon

- Fist bumps!!! He passes you and holds his fist out, and pouts if you don’t immediately bump your hand into his. Do the snail or turkey thing once and he falls in love with it. Lucifer, tired and stressed after a lot of work, decides for once to go along with giving him a fist bump because he’s too tired and no one else is around, and Mammon does the snail thing. The look on Luci’s face is worth everything that happened after. But when its you, Mammon just smiles and beams at you. He’s really happy.

- Sitting so close together that you can’t possibly move without disturbing the other. Sides fully pressed together even if he doesn’t have an arm around you or your hand in his. He likes the constant contact, it’s healing. So heavily invested in whatever you’re watching that the two of you simply don’t realise how close you are until the episode ends and you realise you’re leaning your full weight against him and his face is red but he’s smiling so softly you can’t bring yourself to move.

- You’ll have to start the habit, but, tackle hugs. You see him in the distance somewhere and sprint over and tackle him full force. He’ll act mad at first, especially if he trips and falls over or he’d been talking with someone else, but he holds onto you tightly and his face is beautifully flushed. After a while he’ll do it too, although he’s a lot gentler, but if you hear him call your name you need to turn around quickly and hold your arms out. He’ll lift you up into the air and twirl you around once or twice before just, going on with his day as normal. You hear his laughter as he walks away, bright and bubbly and confident, exactly as he should be.

- The absence of insults is important for Mammon. He’ll tolerate it if it’s every now and then but he’ll really notice if you’re always kind to him, he pays attention and holds tightly on to every compliment you give him. When he feels low he finds you and holds you in his arms, fingers playing with the loops in your jeans, as he recites off every nice thing you’ve said to him, hoping you’ll reaffirm them. Did you mean it when you said he was one of the most caring people you’d ever met? When you said his eyes made you feel at home?

- He likes feeding the crows with you. It’s something he does without telling anyone, but one day he takes you out along with him and the crows take a liking to you instantly. He likes how you look with his crows standing proud and confident on your arm, your hair a mess from their flapping wings as you laugh and try to get the last bits of food out from the bag.

- If you style his hair and put random accessories in it - anything from silly plastic hair clips to flowers to feathers - he’ll keep them in all day. He doesn’t care who sees because his MC spent their time doing this for him, and he’s happy to tell anyone who dares criticise him.

Leviathan

- He’s awkward with any affection at first, but he actually builds up to quick tight hugs when he’s really happy. If he’s incredibly excited - just won tickets for something, or some idol liked his comments - expect to be tackled in a hug. He gets flustered after, but if you hold tightly onto him he won’t let go immediately.

- If they even vaguely relate to his own interests, Levi will try hard to be invested in anything you really enjoy. For example, he’ll watch your favourite shows with you or try and read things you enjoy, etc.

- At the same time, Levi will share his interests with you. It’s not something he can really avoid doing as it’s ingrained in him to ramble about his special interests, but it will come in seemingly smaller forms - for example, he’ll hand you his headphones one day, blushing, and ask what you think of this song, or he’ll show you a paragraph in a TSL book that has particularly good rhythm or evokes a lot of emotion. If he lends you his books or DVDs it’s practically a proposal.

- You two have full conversations with Henry as he swims about in his tank. About silly and pointless things or very serious topics, from jokingly scolding him to venting about the future and about school and such. It warms Levi’s heart.

- Horn pats. When he’s in his demon form, pull him down to your level and pat his horns. He’s so flustered he can’t move the first few times, but one day he’ll start coming up to you and asking you if you want to do it. He likes being able to be in his demon form, and likes that you’re comfortable with him even when he doesn’t look as human.

- When he’s very comfortable with you, he likes to wrap you up in surprise hugs and laughs if you try to squirm your way out of his grip, a brilliant mischievous glow in his eyes, any self-consciousness long forgotten.

Satan

- I’ve said this before on another post but Satan likes to pet your hair and run his thumbs over your palms, pressing into them gently like he’s touching the pads on the paws of a cat. He traces circles and presses kisses into your palm and over each finger tip and knuckle, like it’s his own form of worship.

- It takes a long time to build up the confidence to do so but I can see him like. Playfully nipping at your skin if he presses light kisses against your shoulders or neck. If it makes you laugh or blush he smiles against your skin.

- If you fall asleep somewhere he’s the first person to go get a blanket to throw over you - he’d rather just let you sleep if you’re somewhere safe instead of disturbing you to lift you elsewhere, and risking waking you up. Occasionally he’ll kneel down beside you and stay there with a book until you wake up, and he’s fallen asleep like that once or twice.

- Just. Talking. Laying down together and going from topic to topic, saying whatever crosses your minds with no filters and no judgement. Letting time pass by with the comfort of the other, laying on your back in the planetarium or library or in his room, wherever there aren’t books piled up. No responsibilities except to listen to the other, and every now and then you laugh and he feels like maybe this could be home.

Asmodeus

- Sharing things, whatever it is. Food, clothes, jewellery. Taking a necklace off and putting it on him because “this would go so well with your outfit,” or holding out your fork and telling him to try some of your food, it tastes heavenly. Perfume, as well, is a must - he wants the two of you to smell the same.

- Like Mammon, he likes to have some kind of contact with you at all time - holding hands, an arm across your shoulders, anything. But the main point of contact he truly adores is if he has his hands on the skin of your stomach or back, even in the most innocent way possible. If his arms are around you and you’re comfortable with it, he’ll tuck his hands under your shirt and trace shapes against your hips, stomach, back, lower ribcage. Wherever he can. It’s something he’ll do absentmindedly without everything thinking about it, and it recharges him when he’s low on energy.

- He actually really likes working alongside you, whether it’s school work or something related to a part time job, or a potential business idea. He’s smarter than anyone would give him credit for and he loves how you look when you’re deep in thought, trying to solve something, and how your eyes light up as you figure it all out. He’s not one to just give you the answer to things, so if he knows something and you don’t he likes to hint at it like it’s a game. When you guess the answer right he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose and beams at you.

- Late night phone calls where you talk about whatever’s keeping you awake. He doesn’t mind who’s calling who, he wants to ramble or listen to you at any given moment and he’ll give up his sleep if it means you can get something that’s bothering you off your chest. Similarly, there is no greater comfort for him than getting to complain to you about something or other, something that’s genuinely bothering him and that’s stuck in his head. He feels like it only disappears when you take a hold of it for him for a little bit.

Beelzebub

- Sharing food, obviously, means a lot to him. Feed him bites of your food, give him anything you don’t want, and he’ll love it. He especially loves if you share food that’s important to you in some way, and you’ll find him giving you little bites of his food too the closer you two get. It means a lot to him when people embrace the fact that he eats so much, instead of scolding him for it or making jokes about it.

- He really likes holding hands. Your hands are so small in his and yet you trust him not to injure them as you pull him along. He feels possessive sometimes but isn’t outwardly affectionate enough to do anything about it, and the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable. It’s the perfect thing for him.

- Stacking random things on the other. Sitting cross-legged in a park, pulling daisies out of the lawn that’s about to be mowed anyway and gently placing them into each other’s hair, on the other’s shoulders and laps. If you’re laying in his bed he’ll take random light objects off his night stand and place them on top of you. There’s no purpose and no intention, and yet it makes him smile and gives him butterflies, and he laughs if you glare jokingly up at him but let him continue.

- Run your hands through his hair, down the sides of his face, under his jaw. Anywhere. He melts in an instant, mouth slightly open as you poke his cheeks or tickle his neck and shoulders with feather light touches.

Belphegor

- Nap. On. Him. Any time, any where. Snuggle up to him, lean your head against his shoulder or bury your face into his neck or lay down on his lap and just rest. He blushes every time and it takes him a second to recover. Sometimes he’ll angle himself so he can lean against you two and he’ll fall asleep as well.

- He likes those kind of monkey hugs where you wrap your entire body around him and he can bury his face in your neck and hold on as tight as he wants. He’ll walk around like that until you get to the attic and he can throw you into his pile of pillows and blankets, and he flops down on top of you and clings onto you again, trying to hide his face because he’s smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

- He loves playful, back and forth banter. He’ll tease you constantly, loves if you pout at him, loves it more if you retort with something and keep it running for a while before the two of you start laughing.

- Being childish. He’ll stick out his tongue at you or pull a sudden face and he expects you to do it back immediately. If you don’t he’ll poke and tickle you, telling you how disappointed and hurt he is.

- Headbumps! But not too hard. Gently bump your head against his shoulder to get his attention and he’ll pat it. Bonus points if you nuzzle into his hands then - he’s hard to fluster but you can hear him swallow as he starts to go red. You’ll immediately have all of his attention to yourself.

- Belphie is the king of silent conversations. The tiniest gestures, nods, tilts of the head. He can pick up on all of them, knows exactly what you’re trying to say without you saying it, to the point where sometimes you won’t even realise you’re not talking aloud.

[loopy-froots]

Childhood Friends

Brahms Heelshire x afab!Reader

Author: @loopy-froots

Word Count: 3261 (WOW wtf…)

Slight request by @leahromanof : small age gap (Brahms is 26-28 and the reader is 20)

Summary: The Reader grew up very close to the Heelshire family, as their parents were business partners with them. However, after the fire incident, Brahms and the Reader took some space from each other. While the Reader knew Brahms was still alive, they didn’t know under the circumstances he was. When a sudden tragedy strikes their family, the Reader is left with no home. The Heelshire family offer their home with welcoming arms, but much has changed between all of them since they have last seen each other.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, swearing, slasher x reader, smut, virgin/unprotected sex (masc and fem), abusive parents (fem), insecurities (on both parts), slight age gap (6ish years?), a slight size kink (if you squint?), etc.

Author’s Note: I wasn’t too sure what to write for the age gap so I hope this is good enough!!! I also threw in a lot of personal needs I’ve been having, so I hope y’all don’t mind! Feel free to let me know your thoughts!!!

~~~

*2nd Person POV*

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You were finally going to see your beloved childhood friend, Brahms Heelshire, again after close to ten years of separation. You wished this was not under these circumstances, as you never intended to cause your family such turmoil.

“Y/n! Come in, why don’t you?” Mr. Heelshire exclaims as he opens his front door. He must have seen you walk up their driveway. You can see Mrs. Heelshire inside, but she shares a concerning expression. Trying to brush it off, you step inside and am greeted by the warmth of the house. It was a terribly chilly winter day, and the walk there exhausted you.

“Come, dear! Let me get you a cup of tea to warm you up! You look rather frozen!” Mrs. Heelshire snaps out of her funk and laughs al0ng with her husband. Their jovial attitude makes you feel rather welcomed and loved.

“I cannot thank you enough, Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire… I… I’m terribly sorry that this all happened… especially so suddenly…” You look down with embarrassment.

“Nonsense! We’re always happy to have you, Y/n! Our home is yours!” Mr. Heelshire smiles at you, but you get a somewhat urgent vibe from him. You’re not sure how to feel about it, but you figure since they’re being ever so kind you were in no position to question.

“Now, dear… why don’t you tell us exactly what happened… Perhaps we may help with your parents’ situation?” Mrs. Heelshire gently suggests, but you shake your head in disagreement.

“Unfortunately, I’m not sure that’s possible… you see, I recently came out to my parents as non-binary… they’ve never been overly supportive of that kind of stuff, but I knew I couldn’t hide myself any longer…” You explain shamefully.

“Oh my… that is a rather difficult predicament, hm? However, we want you to know that we fully support you… in fact, our own Brahms considers himself genderfluid,” Mrs. Heelshire shares, which honestly makes you feel less alone.

“Really? I… I had no idea… Thank you, but speaking of which… where is Brahms…? Does he still live with you?” You wonder.

“Oh, um… yes… he does, but he’s grown to be rather… timid… so he doesn’t always come out when people are visiting…” Mr. Heelshire explains swiftly, and you try to understand. You don’t fully know what he’s been through, so who are you to judge his social anxieties?

“That’s alright. Well, I just hope he knows how excited I am to see him again…” You confess, causing a surprised reaction from the Heelshire couple.

“Really? Well, that’s certainly wonderful! I’m sure he'll become more open to meeting you after he gets used to you being in the house…” Mrs. Heelshire states with a gentle smile, and you nod your head in agreement.

With that, you are then taken on a tour of the house. You’re shown areas you can and cannot wander to, and you mentally note each location that’s off limits. You’d never want to make the Heelshires uncomfortable, despite how curious you were. They show you to your room, which you immediately recognize as Brahms’ childhood room.

“Oh wow! This looks exactly how I remembered it!” You giggle.

“I’m glad you’re fond of it still, as Brahms insisted you take his room for your own… comfort…” Mr. Heelshire shares, but something tells you he’s not entirely being honest. However, you ignore the feeling bubbling up in your stomach.

“Well, feel free to unpack your things dear. As we mentioned before, we are planning on going on a trip within the next few days. So it will be just you and Brahms for a while…” Mrs. Heelshire reminds you, and you shiver slightly for some reason.

“Oh, yes… Well, I hope the two of you enjoy it!” You politely respond.

~~~

“Goodbye, dear! And remember, follow the rules and you’ll get no trouble from our dear Brahms!” The Heelshires bid you farewell and leave in their cab. Closing the door, you sigh in relief.

“Alright, follow the rules… I can do that… it’s the least I can do since they were so kind as to let me stay for a while…” You motivate yourself.

“Y/n…” A sudden familiar, childlike voice echoes through the house. You looked around to see who it came from, but you saw no one. It had to be Brahms, right? Who else could it have been, but where was he?

“B-Brahms?” You sheepishly call out. You hear no answer and suddenly feel quite stupid. Maybe you just heard the shifting of the house or imagined someone was calling your name?

“Alright, focus… first things first, making some lunch… hopefully he’ll come down to eat with me…?” You hope. You could’ve sworn you heard another childish giggle somewhere, but you try to shake the skittish feeling building up. You quickly make whatever you feel like for lunch, desperate to finish so that you can call Brahms down to eat.

“Um, Brahms? I… lunch is done… if you want some?” You yell throughout the house, but you hear no answer. Finally feeling defeat, you turn back to the kitchen and notice that one of the plates of food has disappeared.

“How did he get to it without me noticing?” You ask out loud. Every instinct within you tells you that something was wrong, but you tried your best to give the man some time to adjust to the new living situation.

“Y/n…?” In the middle of eating, you hear a now more adult version of the voice you heard earlier. You drop your fork in surprise and frantically look around for the source. You then see a tall and scruffy looking man standing at the end of the dining room. He was holding the plate that is now empty, and you figure that must be Brahms. He was very odd looking, in all honesty. He wore a porcelain mask that resembles the type of little dollies you used to keep as a kid.

“Oh, um… h-hello, Brahms…?” You try to be friendly towards him, despite the creepy feeling you got from him already. However, him not answering causes the suspicion to form again.

“Um… did you enjoy the meal I made for you?” You try to spark a conversation, but Brahms nonverbally nods in response.

“That’s good! I’m… glad…” You smile awkwardly at him, but his masked face remains expressionless. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, and Brahms notices the tense state you’re in. He begins to step closer to you, and sets his plate on the table. Sweating profusely, you wonder what he’s doing. He steps closer and closer to you until he’s directly in front of you. While you sit, he towers over you. You’d never admit it, but he’s very intimidating. However, you try your best to be polite.

“Is… everything alright, Brahms?” You ask innocently. He just stares at you, though, never saying a word. When you were about to get up and try to walk away, he grabs your arm and pulls you into him.

“B-Brahms…?!” You exclaim as he squeezes you in his broad arms. He’s rather warm, but trembling. Your heart relaxes when you realize he only wanted a hug.

“Y/n… nice to see you again…” He finally peeps out. Your cheeks heat up, but you lean into the embrace. The two of you just hold onto each other for a few moments, enjoying each other’s presence.

“Good to see you, too! I was worried you were upset with me for coming back after such a long time…” You try to pull away and look him in the eyes, but his grip keeps you there.

“Mm, no… not upset… lonely…” He breathes into your ear, sending a chill down your back. He was… lonely? That makes you feel bad… really bad… how could you leave him like you did after the incident?! It wasn’t completely your fault, as you parents were the main reason you stayed away. They told you what a dangerous person Brahms was, and they forbid you from being influenced by him in any way.

Additionally, your parents never liked how fond the two of you seemed towards each other, despite the slight age difference you had. Brahms was only six years older, and to you it didn’t matter for terms of friendship. However, your parents saw the attraction Brahms had towards you right away. As children, it only developed into a little crush, but the older the two of you got the more obvious it became, to the adults at least. You seemed quite oblivious to his attempts to woo you, as you had just thought he was being friendly.

“I…I’m sorry, Brahms… I should’ve… I wish I’d have… I’m sorry…” Tear well in your eyes as you look down from his gaze. Your focus then shifts to the ever growing bulge in his pants that you hadn’t noticed before.

“It’s alright… happy you’re here now…” Brahms strokes your hair with his free hand, and he leans into you. You feel him stroke your neck with his nose, seemingly trying to get a reaction out of you. Completely frozen, you felt unsure of what to do. All of the sudden, your head’s ideas clicked and made you realize the years of yearning he’d been doing for you.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t still have feelings for the boy you grew up with. You always admired how protective he was of you. You never admitted your affection towards him, though, as you thought he might react negatively. To you, the age difference acted as a barrier, but to him, it seemed he didn’t mind in the slightest. All he’s ever known was his love for you, despite the age gap. However, is this still the same boy as before? You probably barely knew him anymore. Then why were you getting so flustered over this simple interaction?

“Brahms?” You look back into his eyes with a curious glint. What was he planning with you?

“Hm?” He nonchalantly answers.

“Are you…?” You start, but then feel too embarrassed to finish.

“Yes,” He agrees without needing you to explain. You feel him jerk his hips into your stomach softly, desperate to get some friction between the two of you. As intoxicating as he was being, you still felt unsure of your stance with him.

“I’m not sure I want to… I mean, this is so soon… don’t you think?” You try to reason mainly with yourself to try and stop this from happening. With that, Brahms stops and pulls away from you with a pout.

“No?” He questions with sweet eyes.

“I… yes…?” You try to stand your ground with yourself again, but it’s no use. Brahms’ heartfelt pleading turns you to putty in his hands.

“Please?” He begs. With that, you finally agree, and he’s onto you. Groping all up and down your sides, front, and back, he feels every inch of your body as if he’s desperate to find something in you.

“Brahms… wait…?” You stop him again, realizing you hadn’t seen his actual face yet. You politely ask him to remove his mask, but he visibly slumps.

“Why…? You… don’t want to see me…” Brahms insecurely explains, but you shake your head.

“I do! Please…?” You whine as he continues to feel up your back. Brahms hesitates slightly, then agrees. With that, he slowly removes the porcelain from himself. This leaves his bare, burnt, and uncertain face into your view. You’re unsure of what to say at first, as your feelings are conflicted. However, you quickly decide to go with what your heart felt.

“You’re so handsome, Brahms…” You confess with a sheepish smile. He doesn’t respond, though, almost as if he’s debating what to say as well.

“Mm!” You moan through a sudden kiss he placed on your lips, making Brahms smile to himself in the kiss. He loved the way you reacted to his touch. He quickly realized you were feeling the same towards him, and that gave him the confidence to continue. You rapidly grew a certain heat in your pelvic area, but the feeling was still unfamiliar to you. Only on the rare occasion did you allow yourself the pleasure, but you felt guilty for it every time.

“Slut… whore… useless daughter…” Your parents’ past words radiate in your head, and a panic washes over your body. Brahms senses your inner conflict again, and stops once more.

“Y/n…?” He gently asks to see if you’re alright. Tears well up in your eyes as the guilt of disappointing your parents consumes you.

“I’m sorry, I just… my mom and dad would be so upset… I just feel so… lost…” You admit, and Brahms wipes your cheeks with his calloused hands.

“Mm, screw them…” He chuckles darkly.

“But…” You try to argue, but he shushes you instead.

“They’ve never been good to you, Y/n…” Brahms shares, and it confuses you at first. They’ve always given you food, shelter, and anything else a child would need.

“But they… they mean well…” You try to reason it out, but he still disagrees.

“I’ve been watching, listening to how they treat you your whole life, Y/n… the way they scream at you, gaslight you, disappoint you… that’s not love… that’s abuse…” Brahms whispers with a broken heart for you. The pain of realization hits you, but you try to muffle your cries with your hands over your mouth.

“I’m so sorry… I know how hard it is… but I… I want to love you… really love you…” He kisses the top of your head sweetly. His words fill your heart with hope that you might not be miserable the rest of your life.

“Really…? I mean, I would love that… but I don’t want to force you into anything…” You self doubt yourself.

“Absolutely. I mean, hell… why do you think I was doing all of this?” Brahms wonders, and you suppose he’s right.

“Yeah, true… I’m sorry, I just feel bad… but thank you, I’d love to… y’know…?” You admit with a shy grin, which he immediately returns.

“Good,” He smirks and kisses you again. This time, the kiss was much more desperate for the sweet result. Brahms shows no mercy for you this time as he begins biting your lips. Your little gasps invoke a strong sense of pride within him. He was making you feel this way, and he alone would make you feel good.

“Hm,” His deep voice rumbles in his chest. Your eyes flutter open and shut, unsure of how to go about this situation. Squirming around awkwardly, you then feel Brahms grab your waist as he lifts you up and onto the table.

“Ah! Brahms...?!” You yelp in surprise.

“Take off your shirt, Y/n.” He demands, already sliding his hands underneath. You timidly follow his instructions, removing your shirt and bra from your body. Brahms looks down from your face and onto your breasts. He adored them, so he ran his hands over them as he gave each nipple a cheeky pinch.

“Oh, Brahms…” Your eyes close in bliss, but he snaps your attention back to his eyes.

“Look at me,” He suggests sternly.

“O-okay…” You do as he wishes and stare deep into his icy eyes. He’s tender and gentle, but he still makes you feel so small next to him.

“You’re so pretty, Y/n… I’ve always loved you…” Brahms brushes a stray lock of hair out of your face, giving him a better view at your beauty.

“I have loved you for the longest time, too, Brahms… I just never knew how to tell you…” You try your best to express your feelings, but your past experience with doing so has never been easy for you. Each emotion you shared ended in an argument with your parents.

“I’m so glad… please…” Brahms pleads, leaning his forehead against yours. He didn’t have to finish for you to understand what he wanted.

“C’mere…” Your sudden burst of trust hits the two of you like a train. Brahms roughly attacks your neck with his lips and teeth, nipping at all your sensitive areas. Exploring each and every inch, he scopes out which areas you like best.

“Mm, Y/n…” He whimpers, rubbing his needy cock against your body. You had neglected it for far too long, and you wanted to give it some love too.

Lowering your hand down to his member, you stroke him through his pants. Pre-cum leaks from his tip and soaks through his underwear slightly. His moans fill your ears with sweet misery. The lack of being inside of you was killing him, but he wanted to take things slow for you.

“Ah, Y/n…! Please! I’ll be a good boy!” He begs you to allow him entrance, and you agree. Instantaneously, he pulls his clothes off and prepares his painfully hard cock to slide into you.

“Oh! You feel… so tight…!” He didn’t tell you, but this was his first time as well. The first feeling of being inside of someone, especially when that someone is you, was the best feeling he’s ever felt. He couldn’t help himself but pump in and out of you. He tried his best to go slow, but his selfish excitement got the better of him. However, you were far from upset by this.

“Ah! D-don’t… stop…!” You plead with him, and he obliges. Slapping his body into yours in a rhythmic motion causes you to quickly feel that coil in your stomach tighten around him.

“F-fuck…! You’re gonna make me…!” As quickly as it started, your love making ended. The two of you came together simultaneously, and everything felt perfect to you. However, Brahms felt a wave of guilt.

“I… I’m sorry… I wish I had lasted longer… and I shouldn’t have pressured you into this…” He goes on and on about all the things he could’ve done better, but you then stop him with a chaste peck on his lips.

“You were perfect. Thank you,” You lovingly look into his eyes. He searches for any sort of regret, but when he finds none he settles into your arms.

~~~

MY REQUESTS FOR DRAWING AND WRITING ARE STILL OPEN!! FEEL FREE TO SEND AN ASK/MESSAGE WITH YOUR IDEA!!

[muite]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PLATANITO !

» angst with kokonoi hajime ; here's my granito de arroz in platanito's birthday event ♡

"you won't be coming tonight?

"I'm sorry baby, I've been really busy and that's actually a really good thing for the company"

"oh nevermind, I was thinking we could go out and have a nice dinner" smiling at him through the phone "I thought you could use it"

"hm, I don't think we can y/n"

"why not?"

"I'm gonna be busy tomorrow too"

"oh.."

"but we can go out the day after tomorrow baby, don't be sad ok?"

"yeah, don't worry about it"

"ok, I'm gonna go now, take care, don't sleep with your feet outside the sheets"

laughing softly at this demanding tone you answered "take care haji"

hearing the beep from the device pressed against your ear you sighed this is the third time he cancels our plans, not wanting to be suspicious of him you started preparing dinner

he's not like that.. he's not

how many nights had passed since he touched you or slept with you in the same bed?

he must be really busy and tired

but how did come inui was able to take breaks and keep his relationships with everyone normal and without any problems?, the sudden thought of inui rememberd you of a conversation with him a little while ago when he asked when the two of you would get married and have little babies running around

I ask myself the same

thinking that he must be really tired and that he probably will dismiss eating properly you decided on making him his favorite, you can bring it to him later to work, if he didn't have time to see you because of it you would go see him instead

an hour had already passed and you were ready, dressed nicely and simple, carrying the food in tupperware containers, utensils and two drinks in the biggest lunch bag you could find

excitement bubbled up in your chest, you hadn't seen him in over a week and missing him so much was making you go crazy

will he shout my name in surprise?

the thought making you giddy, laughing softly at your silly ideas you open the door of his apartment, sliding softly through it, it already late, the only source of light coming from a room at the back

walking towards it your mouth parted excited to say something like "delivery!" or anything that would make him laugh for sure

but instead you're met with his pleading voice

"please, I'm not asking for much"

"don't you have a girl at home koko?"

"she doesn't mean anything!"

it didn't take you long to understand that you were that supposedly 'girl at home' and that koko had just admitted how you didn't mean anything

you didn't want to, but with all the quietness you could get you poked your head out, trying to take a look at what was happening there

first: you saw your boyfriend's body and another one of the same stature Infront of him, who you guessed was Inui for the light color of his hair

moving your eyes up to catch a glimpse of koko's face your eyes made contact with Inui, said individual already looking at you

ducking your head you hoped he didn't tell koko, his earlier proclamation of how you were nothing still not settling well in you, and wanting to keep listening at what he had to say hoping that it was just a misunderstanding

I'm in denial aren't I?

"she doesn't mean anything koko?"

"you know she doesn't Inupi! just... please" a heaved breath coming from koko resonated in the room "please... I just want to see akane again"

the sound of your heart breaking together with every thought in your mind was all you could hear

"that's really low"

"I stopped caring about that a long ago" koko shuts his eyes closed "i'm getting desperate"

"then why don't you tell me what y/n means to you?"

your eyes widened at Inupi's request, he knew you were listening, did he want to break you even more?

"she's just warming my bed while I get akane back" he felt like he's going to regret this, but if the outcome of this mess let him get back with akane then it would be worth it "I really liked her at first, she was sweet and the perfect idea of a girlfriend but I was just fooling myself"

"how so?"

"I liked to think that the news would reach akane and she'll try to get back at me"

for a moment everything was silent, your poor little heart had been stepped on, pissed on and just thrown to the side like it was nothing, you felt numb all over, thinking to yourself if a human was capable of surviving a heartbreaking pain like this

"well, you have your answer y/n"

"ha?"

"you can come out now"

you wanted to go and scream, kick koko, slap him, but you couldn't, the life was slowly eated away from your eyes, soulless orbs took place where your had shining lovesick eyes before all changed with the sudden force of hatred

he said so himself, you were just a bed warmer while he was your first in everything, if koko didn't see any value in you how would you see it for yourself? tossed aside like trash you felt like it too, you didn't want to hate him but the state your mind was currently in wouldn't allow yourself to keep on loving him

removing your stupid big lunch bag and the contents inside you left as quickly as your feet could carry you, you didn't want any of them to look at how pathetic you had become in just a few minutes

and just as koko came outside of the room to see who was outside the room you had walked out the door

I didn't want to love you, you taught me how hate you

and now as you walked out of his life you wondered if you would be capable of loving someone again, you wondered where are the children you never had with him

maybe in saturn

[huhustuff]

an imagine where the reader is a famous music artist and her and JJ have been interacting on social media teasing a collab. when they finally get to perform together, they hit it off pretty good and maybe some smut to end it off? I dont know haha, I hope you can do something with this :)

‎

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜-𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙗___𝙆𝙨𝙞 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Thank you for requesting and being so kind with helping me sweetheart <33!!

___________________________________________

‎

When your manager introduced you to the idea of doing a collab with KSI you only had a brief idea of who he was. You knew he had won some boxing matches some time ago and that he had started his career from YouTube, as you related to the last one your manadger thought that the collab would be a good idea.

"He wants to make song with you and i think it's a good idea. You'll get lots of new audience from the collab, also people would love to see two people who came from youtube and made it big in the music industry do a song together" your manager, Zach explained while toying with a black ink pen in his hands.

"Okay, sure" you nodded and received a content smile from the man across the dark oak table.

Even though JJ had suggested the collab in the first place the two of you never met on real life before the filming of the music video for the song. Mostly because of yours and his busy schedules clashing.

During that time you decided to learn more about him. You watched a few of his youtube videos and were suprised by his comical humor, but also his personality. After getting a little more familiar with him you were even quite sad that you didn't get to spend some time with him in the recording studio.

The upcoming collab was often teased by the both of you. From tweets to moment in youtube videos. So when the public announcement the fans were extremely happy to get the collab they had looked forward to for quite a while.

"Today is the day that we'll be filming the new music video so i had to wake up extra early today" you held up your vlogging camera, voice still a little tired. You always loved filming music videos. It was just so exiting, from the extravagant outfits to the movie-like sets, you loved it all.

As one of the assistants lead you past all the expensive equipment that had been rented for the shoot, the exitment of finally meeting the rapper was starting to bubble in your chest. You saw him from a far and realized that you weren't the only one who had been waken up too early. JJ's face reflected the same tiredness that you had felt since you woke up.

"Oh hey, it's so nice to finally be able to meet you" JJ smiled and put his hand out for you to shake. "Same here" you mirrored the smile and shook his hand. A moment of silence occurred and you senses that he was somehow tense. 'Was he nervous?' You questioned yourself after quickly analyzing his body language.

You were just about to break the silence when your manadger interrupted you: "Here you are! I've been looking for you Y/N! We're behind schedule. Now hurry up, you need to get your makeup done as soon as possible". The man rambled and drugged you away to the hands of your makeup artists.

"I was in the middle of a conversation Zach" you whined as the man sat you down in sable black chair. "Sorry, but like I said, we're behind schedule. You'll get to talk to him after you finish here". And with that Zach left you to the hands of the makeup artists.

The first scene was located in a makeshift abandoned mental hospital and included the both of you. "I'm sorry for leaving like that before" you started the conversations again. "Nah, it's cool." After saying that JJ's mouth went dry. It was weird, him and you knew each other, but also didn't at all. And to be honest he was nervous, especially since he had no idea what to say.

"I really liked your singing parts in the song" he said with a subtle smile. "Thanks, your rap parts were good too. To be honest I was quite surprised when you wanted to collab with me" you chuckled. JJ's mind hadn't even fully processed the compliment yet when he asked in suprise, "Really?". As a response you nodded and let out a light "Yeah".

"Well i thought you had a nice voice and i was impressed by all the genres that you explore with your music" the man explained, slowly getting more used to your presence and breaking out of his shell.

"Thank you again. Umm, well that's why i love producing this much. I can always play around with different sounds and always create something new" you spoke as JJ grinned at the passion in your voice.

"Well, it's sad that you couldn't take much part of the production of this song then" pursed his lips and you shrugged. "I'm glad to be apart of the song with even just my vocals".

"Yeah, I respect your music a lot though. I always try to avoid staying in the same lines with my music, because i don't wanna just stick to the same font for a every song. But you take that to a different level and pull it off very well too" JJ rambled while the crew in the background was getting ready to start filming the first scene of the day.

"Enough of chit chat now, we're going to start with the first scene" the director screamed as his assistant handed him his black coffee. JJ and you giggled as your conversation had been interrupted once again.

"And we're interrupted once again" you laughed. "Yeah, but would you...Want have a meal after the shoot maybe" JJ requested and bit his lip in the moment of uncertainty. "Like a dinner?" you questioned. "I mean yeah, if you'd like to" he continued, grin getting a little cockier.

"I'd love to" you answered and looked into his dark brown orbs, with an exited smile.

‎

[waitimcomingtoo]

Evans

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom gets jealous after he witnesses a moment between you and Chris Evans

Masterlist

As much as you loved filming the movies, your favorite part about being in the MCU was going to the conventions.

You loved getting on stage with your cast mates and answering questions. You especially loved when you got to attend the conventions with your best friend Tom. Your fondest memories with him were made during nights following a convention. You’d always get a joint hotel room and stay up late, too buzzed on adrenaline from the panel to fall asleep.

Going to conventions with Tom usually opened up a whole new debate on the nature of your relationship. Snap chats and Instagram stories made from the same hotel room always set off more theories that you were dating. You weren’t, but you didn’t mind the theories.

The current panel you were at was no different from the others. The whole cast stood in a line, with you sandwiched between Tom and Mackie. You listened along to all the questions asked until you heard your name.

“Chris, you and Y/n worked together in the past on Scott Pilgrim vs The World, where you played one of her evil ex boyfriends.” The journalist said to Chris Evans. “How did you react when you heard she was joining the MCU cast?

“I was really happy about it.” Chris said into his mic. “I’ll admit, I had a bit of a crush on Y/n when we were filming Scott Pilgrim so I was very excited when she got added to the cast.”

Tom felt his ears turn pink when he heard Chris’s confession. It was no secret that he liked you, but he had no idea Chris liked you too. He looked to you to see your reaction, mouth going dry when he saw the shocked smile on your face.

“Are you serious?” You laughed in surprise. “I had a crush on you too.”

Tom turned away a little, suddenly feeling a sick feeling in his stomach. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“What?” He raised his eyebrows. “How did I not know?”

“Because I was awkward and shy and didn’t know how to talk to you.” You said sheepishly as you pressed a cold hand to your face. “But I swear, I told Michael and Anna all about it.”

Tom lowered his microphone so the crowd couldn’t hear him gulp. He didn’t know why it bothered him as much as it did to know you and Chris had feelings for each other. You had filmed Scott Pilgrim a few years back, so the feelings were long gone by now. Still, it sent a white hot jealously through Toms veins as he watched you and Chris smile at each other.

“I can’t believe you never told me.” Chris chuckled. “I actually remember being upset that we didn’t have a kiss in the movie. I was like, how am I playing one of her boyfriends but we don’t get to kiss?”

“Aw.” Tom forced a laugh. “Poor you.”

The audience laughed at his joke, but you never took your eyes off Chris.

“I was genuinely upset about it at the time.” Chris continued. “I think I called my mom to complain.”

Tom watched with a tight jaw as you held your hand over your heart and beamed. You were obviously loving the attention from Chris while Tom was hating it.

“Hey, I didn’t write the script.” You shrugged. “I definitely would’ve thrown one in there if I had.”

“I think the movie is perfect as it is.” Tom cut in, earning a few laughs. “I don’t think there needed to be a kiss. Kisses are stupid anyway.”

“Wait a minute, we almost kissed in the last movie too.” Chris remembered. “To like hide our faces from HYDRA agents or something.”

“That’s right.” You gasped. “They took it out before we ever shot it.”

“Such a shame.” Chris clicked his tongue as he shook his head. “Missed you twice now.”

The reaction from the audience made you hide your face in embarrassment, feeling your face hot to the touch.

“I promise, you’re not missing much.” You laughed shyly.

“Yeah, well.” Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “I bet I was.”

Just when Tom thought it couldn’t get any worse, he saw an idea pop into your head.

“Wait, hold my mic.” You said as you handed your microphone to Anthony.

Tom could only watch as you walked across the stage and put your hands on either side of Chris’s face before pulling him into a kiss. The audience was deafening as Chris kissed you back. It didn’t last long, but it was long enough to make all the color drain from Toms face. You both pulled away laughing, Chris with his signature hand over his left side. You clapped your hands as you laughed before walking back to your spot.

“Well damn.” Anthony said into his microphone. “I didn’t get to kiss her either.”

“Yeah.” Sebastian teased. “Do we all get some of that?”

“Shut up.” You laughed shyly as you fixed your hair. “There. Now you got your kiss.”

“Thank you.” Chris laughed into his microphone. “I was not expecting that.”

“Neither was I.” Tom mumbled, his microphone hanging limply at his side. The rest of the panel went by without any further flirtations, but Tom wouldn’t have known if there had been. He had completely zoned out, too upset with what he had seen to focus.

~

You unlocked the door to your shared hotel room and saw Tom sitting at the kitchen table. His face was buried in his phone and he skimmed through the endless amount of tweets about the kiss from earlier. It was only making him more angry to see thousands of gifs and pictures of it, as well as all the messages from fans saying what a cute couple you and Chris made, but he couldn’t stop. He was too busy scrolling to hear you come in.

“Hey.” You smiled at him as you set your stuff down. “You did such a good job out there. I swear, you always get the most laughs. It’s not fair.”

“Hm.” Tom nodded, keeping his eyes on his phone. “Thanks.”

“Is everything okay?” You frowned when you noticed his standoffish behavior. You walked over to him and reached out to touch him, but he moved away.

“Yeah.” He shrugged unconvincingly. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“I didn’t ask if we were fine.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “Are we not fine?”

“I said we were fine.” He held up his hands in annoyance. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” You rolled your eyes a little. “Sorry I asked.”

Tom gave you a sarcastic smile and went back to his phone, completely ignoring you now. You didn’t know what his problem was, but you knew you didn’t want to fight.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something? You can pick this time.” You offered, trying to offer an olive branch.

“Actually, I’m kinda tired.” He said faintly. “I think I’m just gonna turn in.”

“Really? It’s so early.” You checked your phone and saw it was only 8 pm. “And I’m bored.”

“Yeah?” He finally looked up at you. “Then why don’t you go see what Evans is up to? I’m sure he’d love to finish what you started on stage today.”

You jutted your head back in surprise, not expecting that to come out of his mouth. He looked partial to guilty for snapping at you, but his anger was the most prominent emotion.

“What?” You laughed in shock. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you kissing Evans in front of all those people.” He snapped. “I didn’t even know you liked him like that.”

You laughed again, thinking he had to be joking. You never said it out loud, but you assumed Tom knew you liked him. After all, you were the only cast mates sharing a hotel room.

“I don’t.” You said, unsure where that accusation came from.

“Yeah?” He cocked his head. “Cause it kinda looked like you did.”

“I don’t.” You repeated. “I used to when we were filming Scott Pilgrim a few years ago but I stopped before we even wrapped.”

“Then why did you kiss him?” Tom asked, his voice wearing thin.

“I don’t know. We were joking around.” You shrugged it off. “It was for the fans, if anything. You know how much they love that stuff.”

“They would’ve loved it just as much if you had just blown him a kiss.” Tom said. “You didn’t have to kiss him.”

“Who cares?” You asked. “Everyone loved it.”

“Not everyone.” He stated, keeping his eyes on the ground. You looked at him for a moment, realizing you had never seen him act like this.

“Why are you getting so upset about this?” You asked calmly, still not understanding.

“Because what you did upset me.” He shouted as he gestured to himself.

“Why?” You raised your voice as well now. “It was just a stupid joke. It had nothing to do with you.”

“It wasn’t a joke to me.” He shook his head. “Watching you practically run across the stage to kiss him in front of all those people was not a joke.”

“I didn’t run across the stage.” You said, starting to get annoyed. “I walked to him and kissed him. That’s it. It’s not a big deal.”

“Did you like it?” He asked with an unreadable expression.

“What?”

“Did you like kissing him?” He repeated as he let out a shaky breath.

“You know how it feels to kiss other actors.” You shrugged. “It just felt like lips on lips.”

“You must have some sort of feelings for him to kiss him like that.” He said, his eyes looking glassy.

“So what if I do?” You retorted, angry with him now for yelling at you.

“What?” His voice came out in a whisper. “Do you?”

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying? I don’t have feelings for Evans. But if I did, it wouldn’t be any of your business. Because maybe you haven’t realized this yet, but you’re not my boyfriend.” You yelled, making him retreat into himself.

The silence that followed was deafening, making you feel guilty for what you said. You felt like you popped the happy bubble that you and Tom lived in, the one where you never confronted your feelings for each other but understood that they were there. Tom sucked in a sharp breath and let out a long sigh as he looked you in the eyes. He gave you a sad smile and nodded his head as if he was reluctantly agreeing with you. You opened your mouth to speak, but Tom was already moving past you. His shoulder brushed yours as he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

You stood there in shock, unsure of what just happened. You felt like you had just broken up with someone you were never actually with. You covered your mouth with your hand, ashamed with what you had said to him. You hit him where you knew it would hurt him and now he was gone.

~

Despite sharing a hotel room, you didn’t see Tom until the next morning. He was eating breakfast at the kitchen counter, not looking at you as you made coffee. You sighed and sat down next to him, knowing you had to make things right before you went out to do press. You didn’t want to spend a full day doing interviews with him without resolving the fight.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you yesterday.” You began as you watched his face for his reaction. “It was mean of me to tell you you weren’t my boyfriend like that.”

“It’s okay.” He mumbled as he stirred his tea. “You don’t have to apologize. You were right. I’m not your boyfriend.”

“We need to talk about yesterday.” You said softly as you looked at him. You could tell he was still bitter about the kiss.

“I don’t want-“

“We have to.” You cut him off. “We had a fight and now we need to talk about it.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes before slumping in his seat.

“You start.” You said as you put your folded hands on the table.

“I don’t know where to start.” He mumbled.

“Just tell me how you feel.” You suggested. Tom sighed as he put his words together in his mind, wanting to make things right just as much as you did.

“I didn’t like it even you kissed Chris.” He said softly, keeping his eyes on the table.

“I got that part.” You tried to joke. “Why?”

“Because he’s older and taller and bigger than me.” Tom listed off.

“And?” You were confused.

“And I can’t compete.” Tom whispered, hanging his head in shame. The fragility in his voice made your heart break and you realized he was never angry with you.

He was heartbroken.

“Tommy, you don’t have to compete with anyone.” You said softly as you stroked his cheek with your thumb.

“I didn’t think I had to.” He continued. “I thought I had you. I know we don’t really talk about…us, but I thought we had an unspoken agreement that we liked each other. I know I liked you and I thought you liked me back until you…”

“Until I what?” You asked.

“Kissed another boy.” He laughed sadly. “Sorry. A man. Captain freaking America.”

“You were jealous.” You realized, trying to fight back a smile. “That’s why you threw your little tantrum.”

“How could I not be?” He looked up. “Have you seen how broad his shoulders are?”

You had to laugh, which made him crack a smile. The tension had disappeared and you had entered new territory, so you decided to keep going.

“And have you seen the way I look at you?” You teased him. “Or the way I immediately go to you in a crowded room? Have you seen how I’m always finding a way to touch you? Does any of that sound familiar?”

“Yeah.” Tom smiled sheepishly. “It does.”

“I like you too.” You admitted. “Of course I like you too. But I already told you, that kiss was just a joke. It was just for the fans.”

“I know.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “It just shook my confidence, you know? I figured if he wanted you too, I didn’t stand a chance.”

“I don’t want him.” You assured him. “I want you.”

Toms lips curved into a smile, a proud look coming across his face. He reached over and put his hand on top of yours, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“I never should have yelled at you.” He said quietly as he stared at your hands. “I just hated that he got to kiss you before I did.”

“I get that.” You nodded. “But you can’t flip out and yell at me when you get a little jealous. You have to be okay with me being close to other people.”

“I know. I’m sorry that I got so jealous.” He shook his head at himself. “I’m not that guy. I don’t want you thinking that’s who I am.”

“I know who you are.” You leaned over the table and tilted his chin so he would look at you. “Why do you think I like you as much as I do?”

“I like hearing you say that.” He mumbled, keeping his eyes on your lips.

“I like saying it.” You smirked at him as you began to lean in.

Before your lips could touch, his phone buzzed, making both of you jump. Tom sighed and picked up his phone to see what the interruption was.

“Shoot. That’s Rachel.” He frowned. “She wants me down at hair and makeup. Can we talk about this later? This is really important to me and I don’t want to rush it.”

“Of course.” You nodded. “Go get your hair done. We’ll talk later.”

Tom gave you an apologetic smile before getting up and putting his cup in the sink. He moved to the door but you stood up.

“Tom, wait.” You called, quickly walking to where he was. You put your hands on his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek, letting it linger until you felt his cheeks heat up.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You told him, making him feel better about missing out on the kiss. He smiled softly and nodded before leaving the hotel room. You left to get your own hair and makeup done, an idea forming in your mind as you sat in your chair.

~

After getting hair and makeup done, you walked down to the lobby and went into one of the conference rooms. You saw the rest of the cast standing in a circle and went up to to them.

“There she is.” Anthony clapped as you walked up to the group. “Mrs. Evans.”

“Don’t start with that. You’re just mad it wasn’t you I was kissing out there.” You teased him, making him laugh.

“Maybe. I have a feeling I know who else is mad.” He said as he nodded his head to gesture to something behind you. You turned around and saw Tom approaching, a smile taking over your features at the sight of him. He gave you a knowing look and stood next to you as he joined the group.

“Hey guys.” He greeted, shooting Chris a quick look.

“There you are.” You smiled a little before grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him into a kiss. You felt his wide eyes flutter shut, eyelashes tickling you as he closed his eyes. He stepped forward to get closer to you before bringing his hand to face. The cast exchanged knowing looks right before you pulled away, a smile on both of your faces.

“Woah. When did that happen?” Scarlett nudged you.

“I thought it’d been happening for a while.” Anthony snorted. “Was I the only one?”

“No, I definitely saw something there. That’s why I was so surprised about yesterday.” Chris chuckled. You felt Tom tense up when he mentioned it, so you gave him a look. He relaxed and nodded, reminding himself he had nothing to be jealous of.

“I was surprised too.” He said, keeping his tone playful. “So don’t let it happen again.”

“I won’t.” Chris held up his hands. “Dodger and I are very happen on our own. He’s not willing to share me with anyone.”

“He and I have that in common then.” Tom said as draped his arm around your shoulders.

“Whats that?” You asked as you looked at Tom. He gave you a soft smile before pulling you closer to kiss your forehead.

“I don’t like to share.”

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[4joonkookie]

24 Candles

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Words: 2.6K

Summary:

A smutty, 24-hour diary of Jungkook's 24th birthday.

Also, Jungkook has feelings.

You play with JK’s butt in this one. Find butt-free fics:

Here Here Here or Here

Tags/Warnings:

SMUT, BUTT STUFF, Happy Birthday to the LOML, 50 shades of JK, dom!JK, sub!JK, oral sex, quickie sex, desperate sex, unprotected sex, creampie, spitting, spit kink, conversational sex, butt plugs, toys, JK is deep and complex, JK has feelings, y/n is very in touch with JK’s emotions, strength kink, body worship, JK loves ARMY, JK loves you, fluff, angst, painstakingly canon compliant, not beta-read, trying to tame my shame but, WOW, also I am deviant trash.

*****

03:57 AM

You awaken to moonlight blinking through the living room curtains. The sound of a bag dropping and feet shuffling wake you where you lay on the couch.

He comes around to you right away. He kneels down to the floor beside you and pushes his forehead against yours. He leans up to kiss you as you take in his familiar scent.

“I told you not to wait up,” he scolds, gently. Seeing where you’d set up camp to wait for him to come home in the living room.

“I didn’t wait. I fell asleep,” you reply, coaxing yourself into awakeness. You look at the clock, almost 4 am.

“Happy Birthday,” you whisper and kiss his forehead.

He doesn’t say anything. He just leans into your neck for a greedy inhale.

“You smell good,” he says, hovering above you and squeezing your waist at his words.

You giggle at the tickling sensation on your neck. “Aren’t you tired?”

Still kneeling by the couch, his hands glide up under your loose sweater. He grips hard, pulling at your nipples with both hands. He latches his mouth to one of them and pulls his lips away until it pops.

“I was,” he says, dark and low. On his knees and pressing you to the couch, he sinks teeth to your neck, promising a mark.

You’re taken a bit aback at his rough nature but remember it’s been a few weeks, he’s probably pent up. His pace reminds you that you are too.

Soon, your gestures escalate from clumsy and quick to activated muscle memory, moving in fast forward.

You urge him to remove his shirt and toss it across the room. You can hardly see his face but the moonlight reflects off of him. You feel him angle your hips at the edge of the couch, pull off your panties and watch his silhouette lean down between your legs. The sensation of his warm spit spills down your folds, caught only by his fingers sloppily pushing into your opening.

You shudder at the intrusion. He spits again, this time audibly and more, your body not quite caught up to where his mind is.

“Missed you, baby,” he mewls.

He sucks and licks and laps at you, reacquainting himself with your pussy after a long time away. He uses 2 fingers to rub a path over your clit before they sink inside you. He repeats this, over and over, satisfied little groans fall from his lips before he removes his fingers and leans up to kiss you, desperately. Tongues and teeth bang together while hurriedly you tug at his belt and free his cock.

You use the lowered fabric to pull him to the couch, mounting him. He slides you onto his length and you both groan.

You grimace being stretched open by him after so long. Strong arms smash your laps together, Jungkook pushing up and grinding into you.

“Did you miss me?” he pants, between thrusts.

You keep your rhythm, circling hips around his cock.

“I missed you, Jungkook,” you say, tugging back at his hair with both hands.

He chuckles, enjoying the sound of his own name. Your bodies continue to move tantrically, shaking and panting, skin slippery with sweat. Feeling your orgasm coming, you start bouncing on his lap, trying to take in more of him.

He leans back to watch you, hands on your hips. He watches as you envelop his cock with every thrust.

When he feels you pulse around him, he grunts and groans and spills inside. When you catch your breath, you stand on wobbly legs.

He’s exhausted. You can see the sleep taking over his body. You urge him to follow you to the bedroom to clean up and sleep.

1:48 PM

It’s nearly 2 and Jungkook is still fast asleep.

They always do this to him. They work him to the bone until he’s so spent, they can’t get another day out of him. By the time he gets home, he sleeps for days.

You mindlessly scroll on your phone, occupying yourself next to him. You’re just happy to be with him. His side of the bed is so often empty.

He finally stirs.

“Hey you,” you say, dropping your phone to the bed.

He lets out a groggy groan and looks at his watch. “Ugh. I’m sorry,” he says, regretful about how long he’s been asleep.

“Don’t be,” you say before kissing his lips and brushing hair behind his ear.

He’s tired but it’s more than that. He looks rough and truly worn out, his typical brightness is dulled.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask. Although, you already know.

He says nothing.

He was devastated when they cancelled the tour. He told you over the phone and you could tell he was upset when it happened but the toll it’s taken on him now, is apparent.

“I’m sorry,” you offer.

“It’s just…,” he starts and sits up, wringing his hands, emotions bubbling. “I’ve always been tired.”

You sit up and face him, setting your undivided attention. “Yeah?” you encourage.

“I’ve always slaved away on choreo. We’ve always been busy.” He looks off, wrapping his arms around his knees that are still tucked under the bed sheet. That compromise is… for them. But, now, I can’t even see them. I don’t know when I'll see them again. I miss them.”

It’s heartbreaking. All you can do is continue to listen, allow him an outlet for these feelings. He continues.

“It's like I don’t know what it's all for when it’s like this. I knew before, when we were performing, it was very clear.”

He shakes the emotions from his head. “Sorry, I'm in such a sour mood.”

“Shhh... “ you kiss his forehead. just wishing there was something you could do.

“Thank you for telling me. I wish I could help.”

“I know.” He grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours.

You change the subject. “What do you want to do today?”

He positions himself so you’re face-to-face, sitting on the bed. He takes a deep breath. “First, I think I'll go to the gym. Clear my head. I'll make it quick”.

You shrug. “Take all the time you need.” You know it helps him.

The both of you stand up by the same side of the bed.

“And then...I’d really like to lounge around here with you if that’s ok?”

“I like that idea,” you reply.

“Maybe we can order in and…”

He kisses your neck.

“mmm...What do you have in mind?”

He presses his open mouth to yours, pressing his tongue inside.

“Some of that,” he teases.

You stand to your tiptoes and wrap arms around his neck, not wanting to let him leave again.

“And what else, birthday boy?”

This question, he opts to simply hold you tight. He hugs your body tight against his, inhaling at your neck again, planting a kiss on your lips.

“Maybe some toys?” He aims his gaze at the bedside table.

Your stomach flutters. “If you’re up for it,” you reply with a raised eyebrow.

He kisses you once more and heads out the door.

When you hear the door close, you collapse, flat on the bed and stare at the ceiling. You always look forward to when he gets home. But then you have to catch up with weeks of emotion, wishing you could’ve been there for the duration.

You can really feel the awfulness now. He was devastated when they postponed it 2 years ago. Now, after 2 years of holding on to hope just to have it cancelled and all other performances postponed indefinitely? He’s heartbroken.

When it was canceled you silently celebrated, knowing you’d have more of him to yourself. It’s not worth it if he feels this way.

On the other hand… concerts haven’t been happening for 2 years but the boys stay busy with packed schedules.

He always says it’s not the same without them. Jungkook has always been a bit more attached to fans than any other member, leaving his family at such a young age. Without ARMY, he seems very lost.

4:00 PM

Jungkook returns home in better spirits, wiping sweat with a towel from his forehead. He pecks your lips, walking through the kitchen.

“I'll take a shower and be right back,” he says, sweaty hair, clinging to his forehead.

“Can I join you?” you offer, as he walks by.

“I'll be quick.” he says, continuing to the bedroom.

You try not to think too much of it and shower in the other bathroom.

By the time you get out, his shower has stopped running.

You dress for your introverts-night- in in one of his t-shirts and perfume, nothing else.

The delivery food comes, you set it up at the kitchen counter and pour drinks.

4:30 pm

When he hasn’t come out in over 20 minutes, you lean your ear to the bathroom door and knock, concerned.

“Are you ok?” No noise is coming from the bathroom except his voice.

“Yes,” he replies, calmly.

“Do you need help?” you ask.

“No!” he exclaims, immediately. “I’ll be out soon.”

You return to where you sit at the kitchen counter wondering what he's doing? Is he hurting himself?

He follows behind a few moments later, casually kissing your lips before he sits at a nearby barstool.

“This is a ton of food,” he comments.

You say nothing and he gestures to clink your drink glasses before he starts eating.

You watch as he silently ravages. It always went this way too. He’s starved when he comes home. Most of the time when he’s working, he avoids eating altogether or can’t find the time.

He relaxes. You eat, drink and have conversation. He’s in better spirits, having taken some time for himself and away from work.

He seems comfortable, but squirms slightly in his seat.

He’s TOO comfortable.

You have a sneaking suspicion, now. One that’s not tied to his tough feelings about a cancelled tour.

“What’s up with you?” You query.

“What do you mean?” he asks genuinely. “Like, what we talked about this morning?”

“No.” You scan him. “You look like you’re up to something. Like you’re hiding something.”

Your tone is more serious but you try no to be accusatory.

“It’s nothing,” he insists.

You nod. “Ok,” settling. You continue eating though, conversation is lulled.

Out of curiosity, you open the app on your phone. It shows the plug is powered on and the vibrations are off.

You turn the vibe on, Jungkook nearly stumbling on his barstool. You approach him and he grabs the phone from you.

“I knew it!” You kiss him, standing between his seated legs, then, pulling back with sudden realization.

“That’s what you were doing in the bathroom?”

“Yeah. What did you think I was doing?”

You shake the thought from your head. “You got yourself ready without me?” you whine, disappointed.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“That’s so hot,” you begin to kiss his neck, no longer thinking about food.

“Well, can we finish dinner?” he says, with a mouthful of food.

You’re embarrassed by your own haste. “Of course.” You sit down calmly, patiently, and allow him to finish.

“What?” He questions as you eyeball him.

“Nothing. Just letting you finish,” you reply, sincerely.

He laughs and drops his utensils. “What, you can’t wait? You’re such a horndog!”

You scoff. “And who’s wearing a butt plug at the dinner table?” you tease, approaching to get your hands on him again.

“It hasn’t even been in for_”

“_So I’ll finish getting you readyyyyyy,” you interrupt, nearly pouting.

You slide your hands up his thighs, standing between them.

He hides a smile, you know he’s already caved in. Then, he lifts you up and you wrap legs around his waist.

He carries you to the bedroom, dropping you to the mattress. He undresses.

“Let me see?” you whisper, sitting up.

He slides face down on the mattress, burying his face. Your gaze follows his body. You straddle his legs from behind, caressing his back and groping at his muscled ass cheeks.

You pull his shy legs apart to expose the toy. You let your fingers drag over it, tugging lightly.

“You did this for me?” you ask. Ideas of what he was doing to himself in the bathroom flood your horny mind.

He nods, still mostly into the mattress.

“So pretty, baby.” You tug at the plug, sitting tight inside. You use the manual switch to set the vibe on. The low setting, like he likes.

You move the toy slowly at first until it glides in with ease.

“Is this what you did?

“Yes,” he moans.

“When you had yourself bent over the bathroom counter?” you assume.

“Mm-hmm,” he verbalizes and You push faster. He bucks back against the toy and your hand, his hole finally sliding open.

You settle him to his back, pillow propped underneath his hips and continue sliding the toy in and out of him.

He’s sufficiently opened, looking perfect.

He lays with legs spread, knees bent, eyes fluttering closed with every pump of the toy.

He fumbles your hands and pushes it all the way in to hold it in place and shudders, taking exactly what he needs.

You work the toy a little harder now., twisting and turning it along his walls, pressing against his prostate. Sweat drips over his body. Cum drips down his shaft and onto his abs. You lap at the cum on his body, cock and balls bouncing with each pump of the toy.

You make attempts to stroke him with your free hand and use your mouth on him but he shudders away each time, too close.

You’re not even thinking about coming, entranced in how beautiful he is.

He rolls you to your side, bracing a hand on your hip and slides inside from behind. He sets a pace and squeezes his own cheeks together on every thrust, clenching around his toy.

He buries his face in your neck and whines, his arms wrapped around your torso, tight.

He rolls you over and fumbles on top of you to pull another toy from the side drawer, powers it on, and holds the bullet to your clit while he pumps into you.

Precious ‘ah’s’ fill the air when he comes, pushing into you deep, feeling vibrations through his prostate and lower body. You buck against him when you come, too, shoving the toy away when it’s too much, but letting the waves flow through you.

Your bodies slow and Jungkook pulls the overstimulating toy out of himself. You drape your legs over each other, bodies tangled, and doze again.

03:52 am

He’s already gazing at you when you wake up.

You yawn and stretch, taking a hand and running fingers through his hair.

“Were you happy when you found out?” he asks, plainly, about the MOTS tour.

“What?” you stutter, suddenly awake. Guilt surges through your body. You hadn’t properly considered how it would make him feel the first time you heard the news. It’s different now.

He must understand that. It’s different now.

“I don’t want you to feel this way,” you start. “ I would do anything if you didn’t feel this way.”

He nods. “I know.” He grabs your hands in his. “Were you happy?”

You hang your head. “Yes. At first.”

“Good.” he caresses your cheek, lifting your chin. “I’m glad you were happy.”

The both of you doze again.

[mindofharry]

In which bucky and you are hooking up and he doesn’t appreciate you until you’re gone.

angst!! so much angst!! swearing, bucky saying stuff he doesn’t mean and a whole lot of crying. feedback is welcome as always <3

roughly based around the time the falcon and the winter soldier meet up again :D enjoy, lovers!

losing you masterlist.

You met Bucky just after he moved into the apartment block. He looked pretty lost and you, being you, decided to lend a helping hand and help out a neighbour.

You did not expect him to end up in your bed the next morning.

It was unexpected and kind of childish, but he made your heart pound and your lips to as red as a cherry. Bucky barnes had you wrapped around his finger before he even knew your name, he just had that kind of charisma. You wanted to be around him all the time, be more than just the causal hook up. Not just someone he calls when he needs to let off steam. You want to be it for him. Bucky is unpredictable and stubborn, but you were sure you could fix him or at least help him onto a better path.

He just wouldn’t let you in.

You’d have sex, and then he’d kick you out. He wouldn’t even let you stay the night. Which at first you didn’t really care about as he would always greet you with a smile and walk you to the local bar. Bucky would have actual conversations with you, that was only for a week. The sex got more hot, more steamy and a lot more fucking rough. He didn’t greet you in the morning, not even a smile and he most definitely didn’t walk you to the bar anymore. He said it was a waste of his time.

You’re a confident person, you don’t usually let people like bucky barnes hurt you this much.

But he was so much more than a hook up to you, you loved him.

It was wednesday, so that means when bucky is done with his lunch he’d text and you’d meet him at his apartment. That’s what happens every wednesday and you never question it. Why would you? A strapping man like bucky wants you in some way. You’re not going to let it go because you have feelings for him.

It might be a little selfish, but you loved him too much.

You made yourself something to eat and watched some downtown abbey to calm yourself down. Bucky liked it when you were chill and not your usual bubbly self. You’ve changed yourself completely for this man. You hope it’s all worth it in the end.

After eating and relaxing for a bit, you decide to shower and get ready for buckys. You want to look nice, show him what he’s missing.

You wash your body with multiple shower gels, and decide to shave your legs - which really, you didn’t want to it’s a lot of effort and you’re just not in the mood today. But if bucky likes it, you’ll do it.

He mentioned once while you were in bed that he loved how smooth your legs are. So you shaved them before every hook up.

“You’re amazing” You reminded yourself, putting on your mascara. The make up will only come off, but again you want to make a good and lasting impression on him. You never used to wear makeup, just a bit a blusher and the occasional gloss. But bucky likes it. It’s always about what bucky likes and dislikes. Your mother would be so disappointed in you.

You shake your head to get rid of those thoughts and walk into your room. This time you pick something you want to wear. Opening up your closet you pull out your flowery, summery, dress that got at a marker in spain. Your family flew there and spent the summer in a nice little villa. It was the only bit of a peace you felt. When you came home, it felt like everything you left behind came crashing down.

Maybe that’s why you depend so much on bucky. You never wanted to be that person, but bucky makes it so hard. And you’re definitely not blaming him for you becoming so attached, you’re definitely the one to blame. But bucky is just, he’s just this great guy.

Or at least he was.

You get it, he lost a lot of people in the blip and after the blip. You lost people too. But it obviously affected him more, so you’re cutting him some slack.

Even if he doesn’t really deserve it.

After getting dressed and making yourself look some what presentable you text bucky to let him know you’re on the way to his apartment - it was only a 30 second walk, but you know he liked his privacy, so you warn him each time.

There was no response. As per usual, you thought rolling your eyes. You strolled down to his apartment taking your time, the weather looked nice enough. Maybe you’ll go for a walk after this, you know you won’t be staying long in buckys home.

You knock on the door, looking down at your phone. Still no messages. Now this, was surprising. Even if he didn’t text he’d always let you know in some way if he couldn’t make it. Bucky may be a dick, but he’d never leave you waiting.

You wait outside for a minute and contemplate leaving, but your hear footsteps walking towards you. You look over and see the man you love.

Bucky Barnes.

And he did not look happy. Angry, frustrated and confused maybe, but not happy. Usually he’s in a good mood after meeting up with his little friend for lunch. Did something happen? You don’t want to pressure him, but you need him to know you’re always there for him.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when bucky stepped infront of you, his eyebrows furrowed and scowl on his face.

“What are you doing here?” He asked fishing out his keys. You start to get annoyed, this man is really testing you. But you push that feeling down and put a smile on your face, placing a hand on his shoulder. Bucky shrugged it off, the smile fell off your face. Bucky noticed, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m busy today” He said putting the key into the door, trying to open it. He obviously put the wrong one in, frustrating him even more.

“We always meet up on wednesdays, and i did text you. But you never replied so i just assumed” You said, messing with the hem of your dress.

You wish he’d compliment you.

“Well you assumed wrong and i need you to leave. Got a date tonight” He said finally opening up his door. Your heart broke, it actually felt like it shattered into a million different piece. A date? With another person? Fuck, you didn’t think this far ahead. You thought that one day he would just realise. That it’s been you, you’re the one he wants. But obviously you were wrong.

You were wrong about a lot of fucking things.

But you put a brave face on and walked into his apartment, closing the door behind you. Again, you didn’t want to intrude but you needed to know how serious this date is. You need to know if this is the end of you and bucky.

Bucky sighed as he saw you standing in his hallway, he looked exasperated. Like you were a chore he forgot about or had been putting off. He looked at you like you were exhausting. Maybe you are. You should’ve never agreed to this hook up, friends with benefits shit. It always ends badly.

“Y/N, i said you need to leave” Bucky said placing a hand over his eyes. You nodded and instead of leaving you sat beside him. Bucky looked over at you and you’ve never seen him angrier.

“Are you deaf?” he asked and you flinched at his tone. “I have a date, and i need you to get the fuck out of my house” Bucky said and you sighed standing up.

“You’re an asshole” You mumbled and bucky stood up as well.

“You don’t say that when i’m balls deep in you” He replied, placing a hand on your cheek. He wasn’t rough when he grabbed you, but it did scare you a bit.

“This was just sex Y/N. Nothing more. You’re not my type, you’re too exhausting and tiring for me. I’m not interested in that sort of shit. Get the hell out of my home” Bucky said sternly letting go of your face. You searched his eyes for any sign of remorse or guilt, but nothing. He looked proud of himself really.

You sighed to yourself and wiped under your eyes. This is it. Fuck, ok don’t cry Y/N.

“I hope you enjoy your date” You said walking past him.

“Oh, I will” he smirked, watching as you left his apartment. You held back a sob as you ran to your apartment, ignoring on the stares and pitiful looks. You needed to leave the place.

You called your mom and told her the whole story and surprisingly she wasn’t disappointed.

“I could never be disappointed in you, baby. look at you, you’re amazing” Your mom said making you giggle. “That man doesn’t know what he just lost. a great friend is one of them. Now, men aren’t something you should be crying over. Go get yourself freshened up and then relax. You deserve it, honey” She said and you nodded to yourself, sitting up on your bed.

The tears were almost instant. Your mother hated to hear you cry. She lived so far away, and you just needed her hugging and cooking to make all of this pain go away. Heartbreaks are normal, their natural and everyone goes through it. It just hurts even more when the person you love the most doesn’t love you back.

“I love him” You admitted and your mom sighed. You could tell that she hated this too. “I met him when he was kind to me, he would walk me to the bar sometimes work too” You said and tried to stop the tears, but they just kept coming. “He was sweet. He would cuddle with me and not throw me out of his home. And he would listen, he would listen to anything i had to say” You sobbed.

“What did i do wrong? What did i do to make him hate me, mom?”

Your mother let out a pained sound. She just wanted to hug you and tell you everything would be ok.

“You did absolutely nothing wrong. This is all on him, honey. He didn’t appreciate what he had. He took advantage of your kindness and love towards him. You did nothing wrong. Never blame yourself for something like this.” She said quickly and groaned.

“I’ve gotta go” You said, and before your mom could get a word in you hung up and threw your phone against the wall.

Another thing to get fixed.

You did actually have work; but you decided you would get anything productive done. So giving yourself the day off would be good. Sit around, pig out and do not think of bucky barnes.

That lasted all of 5 minutes.

You’re now watching the notebook and didn’t get through 5 minutes of it without thinking of bucky. It’s not like you guys did actual couple things. Why are you so upset? Because you loved him, you idiot.

And now you have to get over him. If he was going on dates, you would too. If he was sleeping with other people, you would too. It’s time bucky barnes got a taste of his own medicine.

A week went by where you through yourself back into work and focused on catching up with old friends. During the day you didn’t think once about bucky, but when you got home that’s when the sob fests start. You’re pretty sure your neighbours can hear you, you feel a little bad.

Wednesday came and you didn’t once check your phone - one because it was smashed and you could barley see the screen, and two because you’re not going to be that girl anymore. You’re come to terms with the fact that bucky wasn’t for you, and although your heart is still very, very broken.

You’re doing better. You’re getting there.

On the other side of the apartment block, bucky barnes was not getting there or doing ok. You hadn’t texted him in a over a week, that’s a new record for you. Usually you send him memes or little reminders randomly. But there’s nothing, he’s been staring at his phone screen for far too long waiting for you to text.

He sighed and began typing.

‘ Hey, it’s bucky. Wondering if we’re still on for tonight? X ‘

He sent it and then put his phone down, turning on his tv. The date he went on was a bust. The girl wasn’t you, he figured that out pretty quickly. It’s not the girl wasn’t good looking or anything and she was nice enough, he just couldn’t stop comparing her to you. Y/N wouldn’t get the drink or Y/N wouldn’t sit that far away, or Y/N wouldn’t totally flipped that jackass off. He left abruptly in the middle of the date because he couldn’t handle it anymore. He couldn’t handle not being with you, and that, to him was a problem. Bucky hadn’t been this dependent on a person since steve.

And steve left.

Bucky was just protecting himself, but while he was doing that - he hurt you. Immensely. He put you through so much pain in after this relationship. It was barley even a relationship, but it hurt just as much.

10 minutes went by, and there was still no response. You didn’t even read the message. Now he knows how you feel. Instead of waiting a little longer, bucky decided to just go to your apartment instead. He strolled down the hall and knocked on your door. Your neighbour came out of his home. Bucky nodded his way, the man only tutted at him.

“Poor girl” The man mumbled walking away leaving bucky confused. He shook it off and knocked again, this time you finally answered. You looked beautiful. You were wearing a tight, red dress showing all of your curves off you hair was straightened and you weren’t wearing any make up - you still looked behind beautiful.

“Bucky....” you said with furrowed brows.

“I texted but there was no reply” He said walking into your apartment and taking off his jacket. He grinned and put his hands on your hips. You were even more confused, did he just forget about last week? What he said to you?

“Did you get dressed up all for me?” He asked you cleared your throat moving back so his hands would fall off you, bucky looked at you with a scowl.

“What’s up?” he asked moving his hands to your cheeks, you remembered how he grabbed you the last time and you flinched. Bucky froze for a second and dropped his arms to his side. Something was obviously wrong.

“I’m going on a date, bucky” You said and buckys world stopped for a second. A date? With who? This can not be happening.

“Whatever we have going on, it’s done. So i don’t know why you’re here” You said walking into your room to finish getting ready, you needed to find your black heels.

You met this guy at work, and you really hit it off. So when he asked for a date, you didn’t hesitate. You were putting you first, like you should’ve been doing all along.

“Done?” Bucky asked following you, you nodded and shrugged your shoulders. “You made it pretty clear last week” You said and bucky sighed rolling his eyes. “So this is about the date?” He said and you didn’t reply.

“It’s about what you said to to me, bucky. You’re selfish and mean. And i deserve better”

Bucky sat down on the end of your bed beside you. He knew what he was doing, you were an easy lay. Bucky hates himself for breaking your heart, god knows he broke his own letting you go and saying those awful words to you. You do deserve better.

“So with that being said, i think it’s time for you to leave”

And this time, it was you kicking bucky out of your bed.