#and she made me sit there and draw some socks and that’s like so fucking funny

[autoneurotic]

something poetic and hilarious about my mom, who, when i was growing up, was soooo homophobic and now we’re supporting each other’s art which means she’s liking all of my gayass agnes and zoe art.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie hated this and he'd just started.

See, he was so proud when he made it, when he got his first office job. He saw what decades of physical labor did to Wayne's back, his hands, and he wanted to make his uncle proud. So he kept applying and applying and getting ignored and rejected and finally, finally he got a job in a pretty large corporate. Not exactly something prestigious, but hey, it had potential. The experience counted and all that.

He thought maybe workplaces would be different, that the good ol' high school dynamic would fuck off, but no. He was sitting at his desk, trying to fill in paperwork after a taxing phone call, but all he could focus on was whispering from the neighboring cubicle that was ostentatiously loud. He didn't know who sat there yet, the guy had been on vacation for the two weeks Eddie was in the company. From the stuff he was hearing, he was getting introduced anyway and not exactly the way he'd have liked to be.

"Can you believe they actually let him work here?" It was Carol, of course it was, the office gossip and mean girl knockoff. "I mean, he doesn't even look decent! Did you see that hair?" Okay, that hurt. He actually pulled his hair into a neat bun every morning, but you can't please some people. "And he has tattoos, what would our customers think if they actually met him, plus you should have heard the rumors about his past-!"

But just as he was about to slam down the pile of paperwork and either take an extended smoke break or gently ask Carol to go fuck a polar bear, he heard another voice. Bored and wonderfully bitchy.

"That's absolutely fascinating, Carol. Please tell me more, what could this guy possibly have done? It must be something juicy. Did he perhaps fuck his boss during the Christmas party and then lie about it to his boyfriend of five years? Oh wait no. That was you. Silly me."

Eddie had to bite his pencil to stay quiet, but his whole chest hurt by trying to keep the snickering in. And then the offended gasp. "I- you promised you wouldn't-!"

"I didn't promise shit, Carol. You just came to me, cried your eyes out - bad move by the way, invest in some waterproof mascara for god's sake, mascara in wrinkles doesn't good on anyone, and yes, you do have wrinkles - and tried to play the victim. Except I heard your small proposition to the guy before so it didn't really work out. But it's fine, you know," and oooh, the tone was smug, so bored, Eddie loved this guy already, "Tommy saw you as well and had a good time with Nicole to get even. So there's nothing to worry about. Now tell me, what did this horrible Eddie Munson do to summon wrath of such a righteous woman such as yourself?"

Eddie heard a sharp sound as Carol got up from the desk. "Fuck you, Steve Harrington," she spat out and sped past Eddie's seat. He just gave her a small salute.

When the sound of high heels faded, Eddie leaned over the cubicle wall and knocked to draw the guy's attention. And yeah, maybe he was a little bit biased because he'd just obliterated a textbook definition of a shrew, but this Steve was fucking gorgeous, light brown eyes looking at him, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh hi," said Steve and offered his hand, shaking Eddie's. "Sorry for that. I'm Steve Harrington and whatever deepest, darkest secrets you're hiding, I don't care, I'm pretty sure I've heard them all. What did you do? Shave your head in school? Join a cult? Cut dolls apart and chant hail Satan?"

That had Eddie laughing again, but he still had an introduction to make. A proper one. "Nice to meet you, Steve. Eddie Munson, and I'm worse than your darkest nightmares. I sometimes wear socks in sandals."

Steve's eyebrow twitched. "Oh, Carol was right, you are a monster!" he muttered. "Speaking of monsters..." His head leaned to the side, towards Carol who was angrily carrying her coffee mug, her mascara running again.

Before he could catch himself, Eddie leaned over the wall and whispered as loudly as he could muster. "Can you believe some people wear dotted dresses with stripes on their stockings? We can't all be born with taste, I guess...tragic."

And again, maybe Eddie was just biased, but Steve's laughter was so pretty that it actually made dealing with Carol's bullshit worth it.

[stillmonsterz]

when you split the heart open

pairing: heeseung x reader, jake x reader (kind of)

genre: smut, angst (?)

summary: heeseung is dating the girl of his dreams. the only problem? he has to have sex with her.

warnings: unprotected sex, swearing, voyeurism, name-calling, manipulation, exhibitionism, dubcon, public sex, humiliation (?), heeseung is a cuck

word count: 5.1k

---

Heeseung had a girlfriend, and she was amazing. She was pretty, smart, funny, and her body was out of this world. She had a particular vibrancy and joie de vivre that made spending time with her invigorating. She was the opposite of a dead fish in the bedroom- she was vocal, enthusiastic, and loved to please him.

He disliked having sex with her.

Sometimes he almost pitied her; she would seduce him in any way she could, winding her hips seductively, crawling towards him on the bed wearing nothing but thigh-high socks, rubbing his crotch under the table when they ate out, anything to catch his attention. Of course, he didn’t pass up a good fuck – he wasn’t insane – but it did nothing for him but provide a quick release.

It wasn’t like he didn’t love her, he did. He was convinced that someday, he could even marry her. It’s just that he found that he loved her best when she was farther away from him, someone he could admire rather than keep. Heeseung found her beautiful at 11 pm, when she would dance alone in her bedroom wearing a baggy T-shirt. Or when she would shove her face into her pillow and thrust the end of a hairbrush into her pussy. It was an amazing night when he had caught that- he had been parked outside of her apartment complex, so he got a side-view, and the camera he had set up in her closet gave him a perfect shot of her smooth legs and raised ass. The day after that, when they had had sex in his van, the memory of her chasing her orgasm got him to finish.

Heeseung was a voyeur, and he was starting to think that it was becoming a problem. And it wasn’t even a problem he could complain about; in a moment of weakness, he had told his best friend Jay that he didn’t like how frequently his girlfriend wanted sex, and Jay had heavily implied that Heeseung was gay.

He was getting really sick and tired of having to fuck his girlfriend all the time. Heeseung had suggested mutual masturbation, which backfired. It ended up being too intimate for him and it just got her hot. She had pounced on him and ridden him as if her life depended on it.

At times, he missed how things were before they started dating. He had met her at her job, and had never revisited. Instead, he had waited for her shift to finish, followed her home, and tugged himself dry while he watched her undress in her room. The curtains were too sheer, and sometimes she wouldn’t even draw them. It made him think she wanted him to see her, and the thought of that always made him harder.

She had approached him at the local grocery store, as he was buying ramen noodles. She had said that she had wanted to see him again, Heeseung had made up some excuse, and through a series of events that Heeseung hadn’t lived through so much as passively observed, they had ended up dating.

It had been eight months of dating, cuddling, and sex, and he felt exhausted. He wanted things to go back to normal, but he also loved spending time with her. So he started making up excuses to not sleep with her. Headaches, shifts at work, weird erections from his medication.

One day, a few days after their eight month anniversary where Heeseung had reluctantly eaten her out, she confronted him. They were sitting on his couch, playing Mario Kart, when she turned to him.

“Do you still like me?” she asked, voice shaky.

Heeseung shut the TV off immediately. “Huh? Of course I like you- baby, I love you.” He rested his hands on hers as they clutched the controller.

“Then why don’t you like sleeping with me?”

“No, no, I…” Heeseung hesitated. This was the perfect time to come clean. They could work things out, maybe. It would be good to get it off his chest. “Okay. Okay, I’ve been having a…problem. It has nothing to do with you, I promise.”

Her eyes were wide and glassy. She was wearing his large hoodie and a pair of dolphin shorts. She looked perfect. “A problem?”

“Yes, a problem. I…I…look. I like you. I love you. You’re my girl.” Heeseung reached out and stroked her cheek gently. “The problem is that you’re just…like an angel to me. It feels wrong when I…when I fuck you.”

“What?” It came out as a squeak, and she recoiled from his touch. “Feels wrong?”

“No, no, not that you’re wrong, it’s me, it’s that…” Heeseung sighed. “I like to look at you I like seeing you move, it’s like art come to life. It feels like when I touch you, I’m sullying something beautiful, something that needs to be kept clean.” Heeseung thought that if he made it sound more romantic and less like a paraphilia, she would be more inclined to hear him out. And to his glee, she slowly leaned into his touch again, her cheek rubbing against his hand.

“You find me beautiful?”

“You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever met,” he said, staring her in her luminous eyes. “Too gorgeous for me.”

“You aren’t,” she said imploringly, holding his wrist with her two hands. “Heeseung, I love you. And I really like having sex with you. Why did you sleep with me all those times if you didn’t enjoy it?”

“I did enjoy it, I did. I just…I wanted to make you happy, baby.” Heeseung kissed her forehead. “Your happiness matters the most to me. I’d do anything for you.”

“And I’d do anything for you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the lips. He kissed her vack, cupping her face in his hands.

“Anything for me?”

“Anything, Heeseung.”

“I have an idea.”

He clambered into his room and pulled out his hairbrush. “Just…just use this to get off, okay?” He handed it to her, and she accepted it slowly, turning it over like it was a foreign object.

His girlfriend looked up at him. “Right now?”

Heeseung shook his head. “Not yet. Hold on.” He ran to his room again and found an old handheld camcorder.

She squinted at it. “You’re going to film me?”

“No, it’s dead,” he lied. “See?” He showed her the black screen. “I’m just going to use this to mimic the feeling of….uh, awayness. Like an extra screen between you and I.”

She fiddled with the hairbrush, feeling its smooth wooden end with her thumb. “Well…I mean, I’m not really in the mood right now….”

“You’re always in the mood,” he replied, frustration slowly building in him. “I swear you’re like a dog in heat sometimes.”

His girlfriend’s eyes widened again. “What?”

“You’re always asking to get fucked. You’re like a nymphomaniac, I swear. I bet you go home and hump your pillows right after I turn you out because you just can’t get enough.” Heeseung had seen exactly that from one of his midnight excursions to her place.

“I’m not a nympho-,”

“Oh, yes you are. Whores like to get fucked less than you do. I can only imagine how much you got around before I cuffed you.” He saw her shove one hand down her dolphin shorts. He raised the camera with a smile.

“I’m a whore?” Her face was flushed, and her eyes were squeezed shut.

“You’re a whore who gets off to being called a whore. Good fucking thing you’re with me, or else you would have been taken advantage of already, especially with that slutty body of yours.”

To his growing delight, she had tugged her shorts off and slipped her dainty little panties off. The end of his hairbrush slipped deftly in and out of her glistening folds.

Heeseung stopped talking, as so not too ruin the footage with his voice. He just watched her circle her clit with her manicured fingers, watched her pussy swallow the hairbrush.

“Heeseung,” she moaned, and he scowled, cutting the video short.

“Don’t say my name,” he said. “And keep your eyes shut.” When her eyes fluttered shut, he turned the camera on. He stroked himself in time with the insertion of the hairbrush. Seeing her splayed out on his couch, her head tossed back, his hoodie riding up to expose her soft tummy…it was amazing. And the fact that she didn’t know he was filming her made it all the better. It was forbidden, it was wrong, it was perfect. When she came, she nearly said his name again, but she cut herself off instead. He didn’t let himself cum, but he moaned and pretended like he did too.

Heeseung kissed his girlfriend, licked the sweat off of her face. “Perfect,” he murmured. “So perfect for me.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The second she left his house, he sniffed the couch, the exact place where she had sat as they had played video games. Her scent was so strong; he buried his face into the faux leather and inhaled deeply. Heeseung closed his eyes, imagined her masturbating herself all alone in room, and finished all over the couch.

He was going to have so much fun.

The platonic aspects of their relationship stayed the same. They would have simple at-home dates, occasionally going out to restaurants or the movies or anywhere she liked. Heeseung didn’t really care what they did as a couple. He just liked to be around her.

They still had sex, but it had gone from several times a week to once every two weeks. It was still a dreaded task for Heeseung, but it balanced out now that they had incorporated his voyeuristic tendencies into their relationship.

On movie dates, he made sure to get tickets in a theatre with a sparse audience. Then, he would leave his seat, sitting a few rows back, and watch his girlfriend play with herself, fondling her tits and slipping a hand into her jeans. If they went to the beach, Heeseung would take her to a secluded spot, tell her to lie down on a towel, and to strip. She would sunbathe completely nude,  rubbing lotion all over herself.

When she would go out with her friends, Heeseung would periodically text her, asking her to unbutton a few of her buttons, or to send him a picture of her panties. He asked her to fuck herself in public bathrooms and to send videos for proof. He would lazily stroke his cock to the grainy footage of her sliding her fingers in and out of her tight pussy. When she told him that men were hitting on her, he would text, “Good job.” Then he would tell her to unbutton another few buttons, or to part her legs as she rode the subway. What he would really like would be for her to walk around dressed in a tiny little crop top that showed the underside of her breasts and shorts that displayed her bare ass, but Heeseung knew he was already asking for a lot.

A few times, he had strapped her to his bed with rope, so that her arms and legs were bound. He had affixed a phone-controlled vibrator between her thighs, and he watched her writhe on his bed with glee. Heeseung watched her have orgasm after orgasm, and if she begged him to stop he would get angry. He would complain that she had ruined it. He would pry her mouth open with his fingers, and she would suck him off to completion. Then he would start the process over again, until her face was flushed, her legs would shake, and he could even glimpse her pussy clenching around nothing. It was fun for him, but eventually he grew tired of watching it. He had tried making it more interesting by binding her fingers in front of her hole so she could tremblingly fuck herself, but the rush of that wore off too. Heeseung needed something more, something that could sate his urges.

So he had asked for something else.

---

“You want me to do what?” They were at a café, and she put down the croissant she had been nibbling.

Heeseung raised his hands. “You don’t have to do it. It was just a suggestion.”

“Heeseung, I know you’re struggling, but…nude karaoke?”

He sighed and looked away from her. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…it’s getting hard, you know. I love you, and I feel like I’m not good enough for you. It’s really messing with me, up here…” Heeseung tapped the side of his head. “I feel like a freak.”

Her face softened, and she reached out to hold his hand. “You’re not a freak, my love. You’re just…”

“A perv who wants his girlfriend to get nude in front of strangers.” Heeseung laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, I’m really normal.”

“You’re not a perv, either.” She swallowed. “I mean…this could actually be good for me. It could help me explore my sexuality more.” She squeezed his hand and mustered up a smile. “I think we should try it?”

Heeseung didn’t allow himself to smile. “Yeah? I mean, are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she said firmly. “I want to do this.”

He leaned across the table and kissed her all over her face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re the nicest girl ever.”

That night was nude karaoke night at a local var. When they arrived, there were only a five dozen or so attendees, mainly men. They were sitting around a makeshift stage in wooden chairs that had been dragged from the surrounding tables. A woman was there, warbling a song as she swayed her hips. The men seemed bored, and Heeseung started to feel prideful. His girl, who was wearing a loose white dress and had folded her arms tightly around her chest, was so much prettier than that other woman. These men were going to shit themselves when she started to sing.

The woman finished her song, and the applause was scattered. Then his girlfriend slowly walked onto the stage, her heels clacking against the floor. Her hands were scrunched into fists. As she adjusted the mic, one man yelled, “Take your tits out, now!”

Another said, “Don’t look so shy, sweetheart.”

Heeseung was elated.

She introduced the song she was going to sing – Fade Into You by Mazzy Star. Heeseung had heard her sing that one; her voice had always sounded so melancholic, fragile, and sweet. He smiled at her encouragingly.

The intro to the song played, and she pulled her dress off, revealing her stunning body. The men whooped and cheered, hurling vulgarities at her. She tried to sing, clutching the microphone tightly, but the jeering was loud. As Heeseung scanned the small space, he saw that the men around him were either stroking their bulges covertly or outright jerking themselves off.

His girlfriend kept singing with her eyes closed. Heeseung wanted her to open them, so she could see the effect he was having on all of those men. They were all drooling after her, calling her a slut, saying that she must be tight, that they would fuck up whoever got to tap that pussy. Heeseung jerked himself off right there, joining in the orgiastic atmosphere of the cramped little bar. He watched her sing, his heart full.

When she finished, the patrons begged her to keep singing. They tossed money at her, wadded bills. She glanced at Heeseung, who nodded, and so she continued to sing, this time quietly crooning In The Mood For Love.

A man told her to play with her tits while she sang, and she did, running her thumb along her nipples. It was more than Heeseung could handle, and he came halfway through the song.

After her second performance, she hurried off of the stage, collecting some of the money before pulling her dress on. She ran out, which was smart, because the men were starting to clamor for her to do worse acts. Heeseung followed after her, and before he opened his car, he kissed her in the parking lot.

“That was amazing,” he whispered, kissing her again. “So amazing. Your voice is beautiful.”

She scoffed. “My voice?”

Heeseung shrugged playfully. “And, you know, your body. You looked sexy up there. Everyone thought so.”

His girlfriend rested her hands against his chest. “Did you think so?”

“Of course I did,” he said in a placating tone, stroking her hair. “Of course, baby.”

“You’re the only person I care about,” she said quietly.

“Me too.”

She hesitated. “Did you…like what I did? How did that make you feel, me going up there, naked, and…”

Heeseung tilted her chin up with his finger. “I loved it. I fucking loved it. I came in mere minutes. You’re amazing, baby.”

She reached out to hug him, and he wrapped his arms around her. Heeseung held her like she would slip away from him.

--

After that, she became different. Without even asking, she had started to wear tighter, shorter clothes. She used to go out in dresses, worn jeans, or she’d just wear his hoodies. Now, she wore bodycon dresses, miniskirts that practically gave you peeks of her ass, and she had cut her shirts up so that they displayed her midriff. It was amazing.

He liked to parade her around the mall now. The sight of men and women alike ogling his girlfriend made his cock so hard, he would walk with a limp. When he couldn’t handle it anymore, he would take her into the family bathroom, or slip into a change room and fuck her in there. Public sex was marginally better than regular sex with her, because he liked to imagine that men were fantasizing about her. He would close his eyes and imagine her naked, standing like a mannequin in a store, and all of the men who had lasciviously eyed her in the mall being forced to see her but unable to touch. It was a glorious time.

The novelty wore off after a few months, and he lost interest in having sex with her again. She could tell, and he knew that she was getting nervous. She performed at nude karaoke again, but even that did nothing for him.

He knew what he wanted from her.

On their first anniversary as a couple, Heeseung had taken her to brunch at a restaurant she had been eyeing. She wore this little black crop top with a tiny skirt, and her makeup was perfect.

Towards the end of their meal, Heeseung dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Baby,” he began, staring her in the eyes, “you are my better half. I can’t believe I’ve been able to spend a full year with you. You’re so kind, so sweet, so understanding, and so gorgeous.” He reached out and kissed her hand, and she giggled. “You’re the light of my life. You’re my reason to go on, and you deserve the moon. Unfortunately, all I can offer you is this.” Heeseung pulled a small black box out of his jacket pocket.

With a smile so bright Heeseung swore it could cause flowers to bloom, she opened the box. She gasped when she saw the charm bracelet he had bought her. “Oh, Heeseung,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand. “This is so expensive.”

“You deserve it,” he said softly, taking the bracelet and slipping it onto her wrist. “You deserve the world, baby.”

“I have it right here,” she replied.

They shared a kiss, then Heeseung leaned into her ear. “I was thinking…we could make this anniversary even more special.”

Her lips curled into a mischievous little smile. “How?”

“You said you’d do anything for me, right?”

She pulled away from him slightly, her lips setting into a thin line.

“Right?” he asked firmly, taking hold of her hand.

“Of course,” she said frantically, “anything for you, my love.”

---

The motel that Heeseung had driven them to was shoddy and sleazy. There were people outside smoking on lawn chairs, and dilapidated cars filled the parking lot. The neon sign affixed to the window flashed its name: Ethan’s Motel. Heeseung ushered his girlfriend inside, and he took note of the people populating the motel. Tweakers, men in sweaty wife-beaters.

He wondered which one would give his girlfriend the best fuck.

In the end, he told her to find someone while he set up the rooms. She asked how, and he told her to just be upfront with them. Heeseung had bought two rooms, which stunk of dust and reeked of bodily fluids. He hid a small camera in a flower pot- his girlfriend didn’t know about that – and shoved a nail through the wall to make a small hole, just to cover his ass.

Then he went to the other room to set up his laptop, which showed the feed from the camera. He set that on the small desk directly in front of his bed.

Within ten minutes, his girlfriend was leading a man into the motel room. He looked around their age and had a shaggy mop of hair. He was shorter than Heeseung, so Heeseung figured that his dick was probably smaller, too. But his girlfriend wouldn’t mind that, he was sure- who knows how much random dick she’d bounced on before they dated? Anyways, her hookup looked nice enough, but then again, he was hanging around a place like this.

“What did you say your name was?” she asked, still holding his hand. She sat down on the bed, and the guy followed.

“Jake,” he said. “And yours?”

She told him her name, and he nodded.

“Well, you’re…you’re hot as hell,” Jake said, laughing awkwardly. He scratched the back of his neck. Heeseung was getting really pissed off, but he told himself to be patient.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she said lowly, tracing a finger down Jake’s chest. Heeseung shivered. “I think you know how to please a woman, right?”

Jake smirked and slowly pushed Heeseung’s girlfriend down until he was hovering above her. “Come find out.”

Heeseung watched Jake make out with his girlfriend. He watched his girlfriend lie, refusing to even touch Jake. It made him frown. She was supposed to be enjoying this. He wanted to see her in the throes of ecstasy, wanted to see her in all of her hedonistic glory.

Finally, she kissed Jake back, and he started taking his clothes off. He seemed as frantic as Heeseung was. She undressed, casting her clothes aside, and Jake was on top of her again.

Jake shifted around so that her ass was above his face as she lied on top of him. He started to lick her pussy, firmly gripping her ass with both of her hands. She started to suck him off, only licking the tip at first before throating Jake’s cock.

Heeseung whimpered, unzipping his jeans and only allowing himself minimal pressure as he palmed himself over his boxers. If he didn’t pace himself, he was going to cum before the fun truly began.

Jake continued to eat Heeseung’s girlfriend out, and Heeseung could hear his moans through the door. His girlfriend was being incredibly quiet, however, which was annoying. She pulled herself off of Jake and sat at the head of the bed. She spread her legs and looked up at Jake with empty eyes. Jake crawled towards her, and from that angle Heeseung could only see his hips moving rapidly and his girlfriend’s legs quivering. Her hands feebly wrapped around Jake and hugged him tightly as she pounded her.

Then Jake laid flat on his back and she got on top of him. The way she arched her back, practically dancing on Jake’s dick, made Heeseung moan. She gripped Jake’s shoulders and took him to the hilt, her eyes closed. Jake was holding her hips and whispering, “Fuck, fuck that’s nice, fuck.” It was annoying that this shmuck didn’t have anything better to say, but Heeseung didn’t really care. He was forcing himself to stroke himself at a snail’s pace, when all he wanted to do was rub his dick raw.

His girlfriend got off of Jake’s cock and went on all fours, so that she was facing the TV of the motel room. In other words, she was facing Heeseung’s camera. It felt like magic, like she knew or something. He couldn’t take it anymore, and Heeseung spit in his hand and started stroking himself directly. Jake kneeled behind Heeseung’s girlfriend and started ramming into her, one hand slapping her ass and the other pulling her hair back.

Heeseung took in the details of her body; the shuddering of her torso, the trembling of her arms as she steadied herself on the bed, the way that her ass pressed against Jake’s groin as he pounded into her, the way her breasts freely shook, the conflicted expression on her perfect little face, the sheen of sweat covering her from her head to her toes. Heeseung had always known that she was beautiful, but now he swore that she was an angel.

Jake panted, “I’m close, fuck, fuck!” so Heeseung rubbed his cock even faster, his other hand squeezing his balls. It was an Olympic feat to suppress his growing orgasm, but he didn’t want to mess this up. Not when his girlfriend was whimpering so prettily, when she was so consumed by her own pleasure, guilt, and embarrassment that she had probably forgotten all about the camera filming it all. Heeseung thought he might die.

With a guttural moan, Jake came in her, weakly thrusting a few more times to drain the last of his cum. Then he let her drop onto the bed, and she collapsed like a rag doll. Heeseung came as well, biting his lip harshly so he wouldn’t moan. He milked his cock with a white-hot fervor, riding out his high for as long as he could. When the aftershock hit him, all he could do was take quick gasps of air. Heeseung licked his lips and tasted blood.

Jake stroked his girlfriend’s hair, kissed her forehead, then whispered something in her ear. The sight of her limp and pliant, barely lifting her head to talk to Jake, was so arousing that Heeseung wished he had it in him to jack off again. This footage would last him for months.

As Heeseung closes his eyes to relive the memory, Jake put his clothes on. He dug around in his jacket, pulled out a few bills, and left them on her back. He left, closing the door with a soft click. Heeseung’s girlfriend remained where she was, as stiff as a corpse. Heeseung didn’t leave his motel room right away, the images in his head too vivid, too lush.

Heeseung walked inside of the motel room, and the smell of sex was intoxicating. “Baby, that was amazing- you, you were amazing.” His grin is stretched maniacally wide, and his steps towards the hidden camera were buoyant. “I came so hard, baby. It was perfect, just perfect.” He removed the camera from the potted plant and tucked it carefully into its bag.

She hadn’t said a word, just resting on her stomach. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was shaky. Poor thing, Heeseung thought, she hadn’t had a fucking like that since we got together. Poor little angel. He walked over to her and lay next to her on the bed. He kissed her over and over, holding her slick cheeks in her hands. “You’re so perfect,” Heeseung whispered. “Thank you so much, thank you, thank you. You’re amazing, thank you, thank you.”

She opened her eyes, and her apprehensive gaze made Heeseung’s cock stir. “I feel dirty,” she said, voice choked with emotion.

“No, baby,” he said, kissing her nose again. He gently crawls on top of her, circling his arms around her waist. “You’re not dirty. You’re good, so good. You’re the best. There’s nothing wrong with…with exploring. Didn’t it feel good? Didn’t you enjoy it?” His girlfriend hesitated, so he firmly said, “You enjoyed it. Right? I could tell you did.”

She nodded, bucking her head against his chin affectionately. “I did.”

“You did,” Heeseung breathed out. “I knew you would, my sweet girl.” His hand trailed down to his pants zipper, and he pulled his cock out. He gave it a few strokes, but the sight of another man’s cum coating her thighs was all the motivation he needed. “You’re the best,” he cooed, slipping inside of his girlfriend. It was so easy because she had been fucked open by Jake, and she took him so well. The only sound she made when he entered her was a soft little sigh.

Heeseung closed his eyes and thought of her face again, the contortion of her features into that portrait of debauchery. His arms remained tight around her in a stiff embrace, his cheek resting on her head. He thought about how amazing it would be to see another man fuck her again. Maybe two, three, a train of strangers having their turns with his girlfriend, his beautiful, kind girlfriend. Heeseung couldn’t have pulled out of her if he had tried as the fantasies overtake him. He finished inside of her, hot jizz clamoring out of him in spurts, and wiped his tip on one of the bills Jake left on her back. The room felt like it was spinning, and every nerve ending in his body felt alight with fire. “Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her neck, “I love you so much.”

Heeseung pushes the money off of her back and carries his girlfriend into the small bathroom. He placed her inside of the cracked bathtub and filled it with warm water. He left her there to get her toiletry bag, and when he came back she was staring at the ceiling. As he scrubbed her body, he pressed kisses to her skin. He washed her like a piece of alabaster pottery, washing her thoroughly. When he dried her off, he noticed that she hadn’t said a single word. “Baby?”

She doesn’t respond.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Heeseung.”

He carried her to bed and dressed her in her grey robe. He stripped to his boxers and kissed her cheeks before he pulled the covers over them both. He pulled her head onto his chest and stroked her soft, downy hair.

He had never felt so in love.

[bettysupremacy]

Hear me out.....

Eddie dressed as a vampire for Halloween meets reader dressed up as someone bit by a vampire. They meet after some stuff goes down with readers date (who totally didn't wanna go with reader).

I heard you out.. and it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. This idea was adorable adorable adorable, thx for your req. Thanks Lynn for reading again, I should really compensate you for your work, put you on a payroll. @simpingrat

Warnings: reader is drunk, teenage drinking, cursing, Eddie being a major flirt, reader has a sister, her name is Sarah, mostly fluff I think.

2.4K words

He’s been watching her the whole party. The way her white skirt swooshed around her thighs, the way her knee socks hugged her calf’s, the bright red lipstick painting the pretty mouth that’s curved into a frown.

She’s hanging off the arm of a blonde girl dressed as Barbie, and she has been ever since he arrived.

Every couple minutes Barbie looks down at the sulking girl, patting her head, before going back to her conversation with Ken.

It was pitiful to watch really. He didn’t know that made the pretty girl so blue, but he sure did want to. He had arrived later to the party, so if something had happened, he’d missed it.

When he looks back at her, she’s looking around the party. Doe eyes flitting from place to place. There’s something in her eyes that he can’t place, claustrophobia, maybe? He watches curiously as she whispers something in her friends ear, and slips away. Where is she going? It wouldn’t be weird if he followed her, right?

He couldn’t just ignore the fate of all this. The prettiest girl he’s ever seen, at a party that he’s at, wearing a matching costume.

No it’s not weird at all.

So he follows her. Through the sea of drunk teenagers in the hallway, out the front door, that was blocked by a couple making out, down the front lawn- where is she going?

She drops to sit on the curb, In front of a parked BMW. Faintly, as he walks up to her, he thinks he can hear her talking to herself, but it’s so low he can only catch bits and pieces.

“-Sarah’s gonna be so-“ whine “-mad she’s gonna be so mad.”

Who’s Sarah? Barbie?

He touches his hand to her shoulder and the poor girl flinches out of her skin. Her hands fly to her face, covering her eyes, and cowering from him.

She whimpers, “Please don’t bite me.”

It catches him so off guard, he flinches back himself.

“Woah- careful. I don’t bite.” He holds back from flirting unless you want me to.

She peaks through her fingers “You’ve got fangs.”

“They’re fake, see?” Eddie opens his mouth, pointing to wear he glued the fake fangs in. “Nothing to worry about, plus, you’re already bit.”

She ignores the last part of his sentence. “Those are cool.”

“Courtesy of Spirit Halloween.” He stands there awkwardly. Should he sit?

Fuck it. He sits down besides her, exhaling hard. There’s a long moment of silence, the only thing being heard is the wind shaking trees around them. It takes a second for him to realize that she’s looking at him confused.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting.”

“Over here?”

“Yes.”

She reluctantly accepts it, opening her mouth to say something, but ultimately turning her head down, staring at the way she kicks her Mary Janes together.

“Why’re you moping?” He asks.

“My date left with Madonna.”

No boyfriend? “Oh, I see. Do you want to talk about it?”

She looks mildly offended. Shit.

“Look, Mr.- Mr. Vampire. I don’t know who yo-“

“Mr. Vampire?”

She frowns, “You’re a vampire.”

“I’m Kas.”

“Who’s Kas?”

“A character from D&D.”

“What’s D&D?” She pronounces it real slow like ‘D and D’. He decides that’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard.

“What’s your name?” He counters.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N? That’s a pretty name.”

He’s gotten her to smile. “It is?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie draws out. “It would make a killer D&D name.”

“Really?” She’s kneading her fingers together, giddy from the compliment, even if she doesn’t know what D&D is.

“Totally! Like, my name is Eddie the banished, but you could be like Y/N.. Y/N the bitten!”

She looks at him, confusion clouding her eyes. “The bitten?”

He smiles at her fondly, bringing his hand up, so he can tap his index finger to her poorly drawn bite marks.

“Oh!” It hits her so suddenly, he can’t help but to laugh at her delayed giggles. “Y/N the bitten, that’s so good!”

“I’m glad you think so, sweetheart.”

The silence between them is comfortable, blanketing over them and protecting them from the cold air of Halloween night in Indiana.

She breaks the silence first. “It was only a first date”

“Oh?”

“My friend set us up. He was kind of mean.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He can’t offer anything better, too busy feeling guilty for the way his eyes transfix on her skirt again, watching the way it inches higher and higher as she bounces her knees anxiously.

Don’t be a dick. He reaches over and pulls her skirt closer to her knees.

She doesn’t seem to realize why he did that, eyes catching on his rings.

“I thought silver hurt vampires.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

She gives him a look so genuine, it makes his chest hurt.

“I can keep a secret.”

He nods solemnly, “They aren’t real silver.”

“No?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“I trust you.”

And he does.

He looks at her again. She’s swaying a little, and Eddie feels something surge through him, but he can’t quite make out the emotion. She’s more inebriated then he thought she was.

“Are you feeling okay?”

She sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m so drunk.”

“I can tell, sweetheart. That punch smelled like it could knock out a grown man.”

She giggles something incoherently and he smiles something close to bemused.

“Are you saying I’m bigger then a grown man?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Okay, Kas.”

She’s smiling at him so brightly, he has to look away, grinning at the ground and kicking a pebble on the wet asphalt.

“D’you wanna try it?”

He glances up. “Your punch?”

“Mhm.” She lifts the solo up to his mouth.

He gives her a playful look, “No, I do not.”

“C’mon, you can’t even taste the alcohol! It’s like.. punchy.”

She holds one hand to his chin to keep it in place, and the other on the cup, trying to get the liquid past his lips.

Holy shit it’s terrible. It’s actually so bad. It burns down his throat, and he realizes why the girl next to him is so inebriated. You can’t even taste the alcohol my ass.

He plays up his reaction, just to get a reaction out of her. He slaps his chest dramatically, coughing like he did when he smoked for the first time.

“That is the nastiest shit I’ve ever drank!”

It works. She’s in a giggle fit, covering her mouth.

“It’s not that bad.”

“No, it is! Who made that?”

“Clark Miller makes them every party.”

“Clark Miller is trying to poison you.”

“Probably.”

He watches as she brings the cup back to her lips and sips from right where his lips were, seconds prior.

If he weren’t so concerned for her, that might’ve been the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he swipes the cup from her hand, placing it on the curb behind him. “You’ve had enough.”

She protests, grabby hands landing on his thighs, as she braces herself from him shielding her cup.

“That’s my drink.” She pouts up at him.

He’s almost a hundred percent certain that she usually gets her way with those big doe eyes. Shit, he almost gives in himself, but he can see right through them.

“Do you have a ride home?”

She’s taken aback. Those eyes always get her, her way.

“Hm?” He mumbles, tucking hair behind her ear, before he can stop himself.

She thinks, long an hard. So long he thinks she might’ve forgotten the question.

“Stacy was my ride, but she’s going home with her boyfriend.”

“Is that Barbie?”

“Yes. I told her not to go as Barbie, she’s got-”

She babbles as he thinks. Would she find it weird if he offered her a ride? He just wants to make sure she gets home safe.

“Do you want a ride home?” He cuts her off.

“Well of course I want a ride, but I don’t know anyone here but Stacy-“

He could laugh at the way his offer flew over her head.

“No, honey, I meant do you want me to give you a ride?”

That stumps her. He’s almost sure she’s going to say no when-

“What if you’re a real vampire?”

“What?”

“What if you’re a real vampire, and you’re just trying to get me alone with you to suck my blood?”

He laughs, loud and fond.

“Is your blood sweet?”

“I don’t know, ask the vampire that bit me.”

“If the answer is yes, I don’t know if I can keep a promise of not biting you.”

“Would it hurt?”

“Just a pinch,” he taps her neck again, “just like last time.”

He’s sure he knows what she’s thinking when she giggles and turns her head away, “All right, but no detours, kay?”

“Deal.”

He stands up, wiping off his jeans, before offering his hands to her.

He lets her use his weight to stand up, but he doesn’t let go of her hand as they walk to his car. He just doesn’t want her to fall. Yeah, that’s it.

He opens the passenger door for her, and pulls her skirt down a hair, so he can’t see the cotton of her underwear when she climbs in.

“What’s your address sweetheart?” He asks as he pulls out of the neighborhood. He’s looking at her in small increments, left hand on the top of the wheel as he focus’s on driving. His eyes zero on the way her eyebrows crease.

“Do you know know-?”

“333 Cherry dr.”

He knows exactly where that is. Eddie drove the kids here last year to trick or treat. They begged, pleated, compromised, with Eddie.

They give out full sized candy bars! It’s such a rich neighborhood! They don’t skimp like Mikes neighborhood! Steve has the night shift tonight!

Bunch of beggars, if you ask Eddie.

A startled, choked, noise leaves him. He’s not sure why he’s surprised. She was at the richest Halloween party on the upper side of Hawkins, and he was only there to sell.

“Your daddy a surgeon?”

“Lawyer.” She says, unaware of his teasing.

He must be a damn good one, he thinks as he pulls up to her home. It’s the kind of home he dreamt of living in with Wayne, when he was nine. The kind of home that always smells like fresh linens and house cleaner. Not the orange, citrusy, stuff that him and Wayne buy at dollar general, but the kind that you buy at- well, he doesn’t really know where you buy it.

He can imagine Y/N walking the halls that he sees through the windows. He can imagine her going to the kitchen and asking a maid to make her something to eat, and not being surprised when she gets home from school and there’s a basket of clean laundry sitting on a bed, that she didn’t make before she left, but is made now.

There’s a girl sitting on the front porch when he parks. She looks young, older then Y/N but younger then him, or else he would pull around and ask if she wanted help sneaking into the house. Pretty girl can’t get in trouble tonight, ‘specially not cause of him.

He puts the car in park, looking over at her, eyes scanning the way her knee nervously bounces when she realizes that they’ve made it to her home.

“S’my sister.” She slurs, trying to open the car door.

“I’ll help you hold on.”

He jumps out of the car, rounding the front, to open the door for her. As much as he found the sight of her failing to open the door amusing, his van is high up, and he wouldn’t have her falling into the grass of her lawn.

“Up you go- atta girl.”

They’re holding onto each other’s forearms, as he helps lift her out of the car.

Once he’s made sure her feet safely touch ground, he turns his head to her porch, seeing her sister stump out what looks to be a cigarette, and quickly hop down the stairs.

“Y/N, baby?”

Her head pops up like a dog called to attention.

“Yes?” She’s still clinging onto Eddie’s arms.

“Are you okay?”

“Clark’s party punch.”

“Oh,” She says, looking at Eddie suspiciously, and grabbing her sisters arms from him. “Can you stand?”

There’s a moment of silence before she nods. “Yes, don’t let go of my hands though.”

“Okay. Who’s he?”

Y/N turns to Eddie and her eyes light up, like she forgot he was standing there.

“Kas! He bit me, Sar.”

Sar. “Sarah’s gonna be so mad.” Makes sense now.

“He bit you?”

“No! I didn’t bite her. Our costumes are just matching.”

Sarah eyes him warily, eyes flitting between him and Y/N.

“I’m serious! I’m a vampire, and she’s a vampire.. victim.”

“Yeah okay. C’mon Y/N, baby, let’s get you inside.”

Eddie panics. Quick and reactively. “Wait!”

He scrambles to the driver side of his car, searching for a pen and something to write on. He can’t let her slip from him. He tears off of a piece of a his math test from last month, writing his contact information.

“Here,” He runs back around the car, curling it into Y/N’s hand, his breathing wild. “Stick that somewhere safe for me, okay? And check it in the morning.”

“Got it, g’night Kas.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Her sister rushes her inside, quietly, as to not disturb the very same parents who said Y/N had to be home at 10:30. It’s now 1:04.

The shushes, and whispered be quiet’s, don’t exactly hush a giggling Y/N though.

When she was on the steps of her porch, she peaked at the paper. He gave her his number.

“Did you see his hair, Sar?” She try’s to whisper, but there’s an inflection at several points in the sentence, when she accidentally giggles.

“Yes, very Bon Jovi.”

“Very Bon Jovi.” She agrees, not bothering to lower her voice anymore, and letting her sister change her into suitable pajamas while she babbles about the cute boy she met tonight.

She makes room as her sister climbs into bed next to her.

“You’re gonna have a raging headache tomorrow.” Sarah sighs as she gets comfortable.

“I hope I don’t forget him.”

“I won’t let you.”

“You won’t?”

“Nuh uh.”

Y/N’s hand blindly searches for her sisters, pinky begging for a promise.

The next morning brings blinding headaches and pathetic whines, as she pats her nightstand for aspirin that she was sure she left up there, but instead her hands meet a small crumbled paper. She flinches at the foreignness of it, but when she cracks her eyes open, an unwilling smile grows.

“Please call me, I’m begging.

Vampires like drive in movies too.

(618) 625-8313

-Mr. Vampire”

Is 8x + 2x - 5 in the corner?

[writefinch]

Communion

(cn: piss, foot stuff)

It clicked for me about a month ago, years after it had become apparent to the people who knew me, but I'm not short-sighted and self-pitying enough to think that meant I'd wasted time or could've made the leap sooner. If I was less kind to myself I'd say 'boy, I had the maps and I knew the landmarks so how'd I end up in the wilderness so long' but I was sailing through fog, and you know what? When I saw that landmass looming in the distance, I sailed towards it.

I didn't know totally what it meant, still don't in fact. Last year I joked about being a cis boy dyke, and since then I've struck the 'cis' and I'm shaky on the 'boy' and the part that was a joke was the truest thing of all.  Am I a boy? Maybe. A woman? I don't think so. A man? I truly fucking hope not. A good girl? Put a collar on me and we'll see.

The thing about fog is that you can't just step back and get a big picture view of everything. My instincts tell me that if I want to figure things out I should look at them at a remove, see where it fits into everything around it, map things out and move forward cautiously. That's what I want to do, it's what I've always done, but fog makes it impossible. You have to get in close if you want to see things, you can't keep it at a distance.

I couldn't move ahead and start hormones right away, not for a few months, for reasons I won't get into here. Delays don't sit well with me brain because I know my brain and I don't trust it, I don't trust it not to treat this like some other big rewarding involving project like learning Polish or playing Go, decide we're too busy and it's too scary and shove the whole thing into a mental oubliette to never see the light of day again. Sure, my friends call me Charlotte now and I've got she/her next to my Discord username, but I wanted something stronger, I wanted something that would cut into me.

I can't remember the name of the first trans woman I knew as a person, rather than as a punchline to a cruel joke. It was on Tumblr and it must have been after 2015 because I remember she had an Undyne avatar, but maybe not, because surely Violet, the "boy" I'd been practically engaged to, had come out as trans at that point? Surely I knew Skeeter, that poor, vicious mess of a girl well enough by then? It must have been earlier than that, the ponies had turned me queer by 2013 at the latest.

No, no, the Undyne-avatar lady was the first time I saw someone I knew be openly *Marxist-Leninist*, she was just also trans.

Anyway I don't know what it was, but even though I was rock-solid confident in being cis and a guy (a guy or a dude, it never bought me any joy to think of myself as a 'man'), something about trans women just really stuck with me. I found their stories compelling, I found their experiences interesting and oddly relatable, though I didn't suffer dysphoria as I thought they described it. I made friends with some trans girls, some of my friends became trans girls, and suddenly most of my friends were trans girls. I burned at injustices done to them, I bought hormones for friends, donated to trans street medic projects, helped newly-cracked eggs get in touch with DIY medding sources, y'know, normal cis ally stuff.

Recently, I realized that I loved trans women. I fucking love them so much. I fucking love all of the varied and fractious transfemme communities that have allowed me to be a part of them, as nothing more than a cis guy who draws a lot of porn. I'm not going to say anything about Blahaj and Bridget and pink coding socks because I know the girl who fucking hates that silly terminally-online stereotype and I know the girl who *is* that silly terminally online stereotype and I love them both and love so many trans girls in all their aspects between and beyond those boundaries. I have never found myself so close to any group of people, so filled with admiration and wonder and love and lust for them, so overjoyed by their trust and friendship and confidence in me, so blessed to call myself a friend and contemporary, as I have of the trans women in my life.

I had accepted some time ago, with no pain and more than a little pride, that I would admire them but be apart from them, that my place would be as a welcome guest, that I would be among them but not one of them, and--

A crack has opened within me to let the light seep in.

I'm one of them. I really am one of them, they're mine and I am theirs and I never want to let this go, this revelation is a gift that I'm barely beginning to comprehend and I can't bear the thought that I might let it pass me by and slouch back into darkness.

So, I would bring a change upon myself, in a way that was small but could not be un-changed, a vow that could not be forgotten, only consciously recanted.

I cut out a lot of the idea before I brought it up, mostly out of time and expedience. I thought of a prayer to Inanna, but that felt like a clumsy thing to rush, and I decided I'd make a shrine to her only once I had the wisdom to pay Her proper respects. I liked the idea of getting caned or whipped in a purifying way first, but that felt too much like regular kink, just inspiration for another drawing. The idea of doing the ritual under psychedelics intrigued me but, well, I've never done anything but amphetamines and poppers before, and I didn't want to dull the experience of either the ritual or the drugs by combining the two under my own inexperience - though, I did include poppers.

Alice, Emily and Lily - not their real names but you get the picture - were very good about it. They told me it was a cute idea, and we met up at Emily's ground-floor studio flat on Sunday night. We'd have been playing board games anyway, and they even seemed a little excited by the idea, even if they weren't buzzing from anticipation like me.

I'd only worn the clothes once since I'd bought them - black tights, a knee-length straight skirt, a black blouse - but my heart didn't pound like that the first time I put them on. I shaved my face upwards and against the grain, my skin still annoyingly stubble-grey, but that would show much less in the candlelight.

When I stepped out of Emily's bathroom the girls had already set things up, candles and all. They were sitting on chairs in a semi-circle, backlit by flickering orange candlelight. As I approached they got stage giggles; I did too, it felt infectious.

Once the giggles had cleared, Alice, in the middle, asked me to state my name and purpose.

'My name is Sophie, and I am here to recieve communion.'

'Very well,' said Alice, and pointed to a spot between their chairs marked in white tape. I knelt there, a bowl of water to one side and a small bag at the other.

I turned to Lily, bowed my head, and asked her if I could wash her feet. She nodded, and I took the bowl and wash cloth and gently cleaned her feet with warm water. Once they were clean and free of sweat and sock lint, I bent down to dry them with my hair. She nodded her approval, and I asked Emily if I could do the same for her. Likewise I cleaned her feet and likewise dried them with my hair. Alice did not get her feet out, for me nor anyone, and instead allowed me to lick her shiny black boots, which only had the faintest hint of grit to them.

Once I had performed the ablutions, the girls daubed me. Alice held my jaw firm in one hand as she applied mascara to each of my lashes with the other, Emily let me rest my chin on her fingertip as she painted my lips a vibrant red, and Lily stroked my hair as she marked my cheeks with blush. They cooed and called me pretty, and Lily's blush felt superfluous.

I presented each of them with a gift: An Adventure Time tarot deck for Lily, a sharpening stone for Emily, a guide to mushrooms for Alice. They accepted the gifts, and gave me gifts in return: a simple black choker from Lily, a bottle of amyl nitrite from Emily, a stack of trans zines from Alice. My voice cracked a little as I thanked them, and cracked a little more after they watched me take a few long, heady hits from the poppers bottle.

Alice asked me if I was ready to recieve communion; I begged her, please, yes.

She took a blister pack of 2mg estradiol and popped out a single blue pill. I knelt and looked up at her, eyes open, heart thumping, mouth wide.

She placed the tiny pill on my tongue and said, 'Sophie, this bread is your flesh, which is given to you.'

Then, she stood up, unzipped her jeans, pulled her limp cock out of her underwear and pushed it between my lips, which I wrapped tight around it.

'Sophie, this wine is your blood, drink this in rememberance of yourself.'

It took her a moment to start pissing, and her urine immediately washed the pill down my throat. It tasted fucking disgusting, almost as salty as seawater with that weird, almost chemical aftertaste. It turned my stomach, and I felt euphoric as I sucked it down.

After that they praised me and called me a girl and a faggot and a whore, and I kept sucking Alice's cock until Emily wanted a blowjob too, and from there it turned into regular lesbian sex, Lily's chastity cage clinking fruitlessly against mine as Emily went around biting us both and Alice had me lick her armpit clean of sweat, fingering and kissing and pinching until we all got tired enough to start watching movies in Emily's bed.

I got up and fetched drinks and sandwiches for everyone and something happened between aftercare, the aftermath of a religious service, and an after-action report. They all kept calling me a pretty girl, which I *really* liked, and Alice asked me how the whole thing had turned out, if I felt anything had changed, and I had to eat two salami and cucumber sandwiches before I could figure out my answer.

Something had changed, but the change had happened months ago, and it had taken communion for me to see it. It didn't clear up my questions or reveal hidden knowledge, I don't know if I'm a she/her boy or a he/him girl, I don't know if I'm actually a woman or just not at all a man, I don't know if this is a thing I've become or if I've been this all along and it's taken this long to discover it. I don't even know if I've really settled on Sophie.

All I got from communion, from this sacred connection of love and knowledge from other trans girls to me, was surety in the things I already kinda knew:

I'm transgender as fuck and I'm a big fucking dyke.

[mystargirl-interlude]

𝑴𝑰𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳𝑳

Billy Hargrove x singer!reader

Living in Hawkins is probably the most boring thing possible but it has its perks.

I woke up to the screeching of my alarm at 7:30 am letting me know I have to get up to go to school, I sit up and see my cat stretching and yawning as it seems it also awoke to my alarm.

Groaning I get up and start getting ready for the day, thankful that it's a Friday for one reason it's the weekend and the other is that I go to the bars open mic nights. I've made good friends with the regulars already.

As I'm brushing my hair I hear the honking of Steve's car outside my house.

"Shit shit shit shit shit!"

Running out barefoot with only socks on, my bag over my shoulder and my sneakers in my hand I get in the backseat of his car.

"Hey nance!"  I greet Nancy

"Morning y/n!" Steve and Nancy reply in sync

"Well aren't you a lovely disaster this morning" Steve teases

"Fuck you i had to shower " I reply laughing

As we pull up to the school I managed to pull myself together and not look homeless.

Last night wasn't one of the best. My mother suffers from a handful of mental illness one of those being bipolar disorder and there are times where she can hate my guts and other times where she acts like nothing happened, she's had one of her episodes last night and screamed at me for my room being messy and threw my mirror at me making it shatter into a million pieces.

On Monday we got a new student his name was billy and he came from California. What is he doing here? I have to fucking idea. We didn't exactly have the best first interactions I guess? On his first day he's befriended Tommy and his group. Unfortunately for me I wasn't my nicest looking as the night before I had another argument with my mom which led to her kicking me out of the house so I went to school the next morning red eyes and a messy bun.

Monday morning

When I arrived on school on Monday Tommy and his group were staring at me. Im popular but not how you think. I don't have a large group of friends nor am I rich. Through all the hate I received throughout my childhood I have made a promise to never give hate no matter how much I receive. I don't have 𝑩𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 with anyone in this school. At least not that I know of.

"Hey y/l/n you good?" I hear carol ask

I turn to look her way and see her friends and the new kid staring at me

"Uh- yeah, just hard night, you know" I replied

Carol might seem like a total bitch but she isn't once you befriend her, she's known of my home life for a while now

I take another glance at the new kid once again and we end up making eye contact for what seems like forever until I enter the actual school.

Present time

Me Nancy and Steve walked into the school and going out separate ways as we all the different classes, I head to my seat in the back of the class and start doodling in my journal watching the class fill up as the bell rings.

Keeping my eyes on my journal I see someone out of the corner of my eye take the desk next to me.

"Hey y/l/n" i hear the voice of billy say as I look up

"Hey, morning" I reply smiling

"What're you drawing?" He asked with a small smirk playing on his lips

"oh, just doodles to pass time" I reply slightly inhaling as he gets closer to see

I'm enjoying the time we spend talking until some girl next to him gets his attention by whining his name and then proceeds to ask him out.

Slightly upset that he chose to ignore me I turn my attention to the window showing the outside track by the gym.

This class period is one of the longest classes I have being 3 hours long so that gives me time to work on random things, I've been writing this song since last week labeling it "mirrorball" as mirrorball was the original name of a ball covered in shattered pieces of a mirror before getting the name "disco ball" as they were used in the 70s at discos

While finishing last minute things on the song I see billy look at my journal through the corner of my eye.

Quickly not sparing him a glance I close my journal just in time as the bell rings and being the first one out of the class

"Y/n!" I hear billy yell

Turning around I reply "hey?"

"Sorry about earlier uh yeah " he says scratching his neck

"Why?"

"Oh cause you know, Emma"

"Oh that! Yeah don't worry about it" I fake smile

It's awkward silence for about 5 seconds

"Um sorry I'm gonna head to class" I say walking away before he can respond

Time skip

As I make my way inside my house I hear the phone start ringing, rushing to it I answered

"Hey y/n" I hear on the other side of the phone that it's Eddie

"Oh hey Ed's! Are you ready for tonight?" I ask him because he is the keys during my set

"Yep, so do you want me to pick you up?"

"Yeah that would be great see you then!"

Changing into my outfit for tonight it's a flowy purple dress with ruffles and bell sleeves pretty much giving a hippie fairy is what I hoping for

<3

Me and Eddie arrive to the bar a bit before I go on to set up and try to get there before it gets busy

After setting up I begin seeing people start to pour in as the sun sets, unfortunately I still have a quick sound check before.

Making my way to the bathroom I see billy sitting at the bar with Emma with his tongue practically down her throat

Part two https://www.tumblr.com/mystargirl-interlude/721670506571513856/%F0%9D%91%AD%F0%9D%91%B6%F0%9D%91%B9-%F0%9D%91%AD%F0%9D%91%B9%F0%9D%91%AC%F0%9D%91%AC-bh

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

what are Austen's tattoos

Okay so I spent a bit thinking about her personality and what would suit her and I’ve decided on a few major ones!

For her chest tat, she has an open book centered along her underbust and down her sternum, she has a feather quill dripping ink onto the pages below (I don’t have a pic for this one, I couldn’t find one that fit the image in my head).

Then she has two big symmetrical skeleton hands on the front of her thighs (one hand on each leg) and the shading makes it look like the hands are gripping onto the skin. Here’s a basic reference picture, just mentally add the extra details I mentioned!

And then down her spine she has a type of nsfw line art tattoo of a woman’s figure

And then she probably has random little ones littered around her body in other places. Y/N and Harry would be talking about their tattoos one night and they’d bond over how they had both gotten some stupid ones in their lifetime.

“I have the word ‘big’ on my big toe.”

“I have ‘fuck you’ written down the side of my middle finger.”

“I had to get ‘you booze, you lose’ from when I lost a bet during beer pong.”

“I have ‘Andy’ printed down the center of my left foot; I got shitfaced during my twenty-first birthday and spontaneously decided to commemorate my favorite childhood movie.”

“That’s pretty cute, actually.”

Y/N scoffs knowingly. “My mom didn’t seem to think so.”

“Mm.” Harry nods in solemn understanding, keeping his sight trained on her delicate fingers as they absentmindedly trace the scales on the mermaid inking sketched upon his forearm. Her touch is practically addictive. “Mine nearly had a stroke when I got back home for winter break after my first semester. Walked into the house with a half sleeve she knew absolutely nothing about.”

Her attention jets up to his face, her digits stopping their soothing caresses as her lashes flutter with newfound curiosity. “What’d you say?”

Harry swallows down the noise of protest hinging along his teeth, opting to let the corners of his lips twitch at the funny memory instead. “I told her that I fell asleep on the plane and the kid sitting next to me decided I was the perfect canvas.”

Y/N sputters into airy laughter, shaking her head in amusement as she retakes her feathery motions across the drawing on his arm. “Did she light you up?”

“Brighter than our tree-topper, yeah.” Harry chuckles in return, sighing lightly through his nose as he reminisces the story. He then proceeds to square his shoulders grandly and clear his throat dramatically, pitching his voice higher and emphasizing his accent with a certain female twang, obviously intent on imitating his mother with his following monologue. “‘Harry Edward, what the bloody hell have you done to yourself?! You think you’re hot shit now just because you’ve been mucking about the States, is that it? Wipe that stupid smirk off your face before I shove your head into the fireplace and burn it off myself!”

Y/N’s giggles rise in volume at Harry’s little act, and he can’t help but quietly appreciate how beautiful she looks when she’s grinning so freely. She appears softer and less intimidating— her features supple and her smile lines more prominent— and he has to resist the urge to reach forward and pinch her silky lips fondly.

“Fuck, that’s priceless.” Y/N snorts faintly, knuckling at her glossy eyes and wiping away the tears of joy that had gathered along the ducts. “It’s a wonder you made it back alive.”

“A proper Christmas miracle if I’ve ever seen one.” Harry agrees sagely, fiddling with a loose thread on one of his mismatched socks in order to give his itchy hands something to do. “The holiday spirit convinced her to spare me, it seems.”

“I think she just didn’t feel like scrubbing blood out of the stockings hanging from the mantel.” She counters sarcastically, shrugging her brows jestingly. “Is she okay with them now? Your tattoos, I mean.”

“She couldn’t care less about them now. Thankfully.” He twists the frayed lining of his Nike accessory around his index finger and gives it a rough tug, snapping it off and tossing it onto the concrete floor of his balcony, to be carried away by the wind. He wants her to keep touching him in more places than just his forearm. “Got used to my bullshit, I suppose. Though I reckon that would change if she knew about the miniature hairy dick and balls I have stamped on one of my arse cheeks.”

“Pause.” Y/N blinks at him owlishly, her fingertips faltering yet again, much to his dissatisfaction. “The what?”

“Dick and balls.” Harry repeats slowly, gesturing vaguely towards his crotch for extra significance. “Cock and sack. Peter’s pecker and pickled peppers.”

“Oh, I understood you the first time.” She clarifies, waving away his immature synonyms with a flick of her wrist and a wry tilt of her head. “I’m just trying to gauge if it’s true.”

Harry’s two front teeth dig into his bottom lip suggestively, his gaze flickering down to his belt buckle with a certain devious glint shining in the olive hue of his eyes. “Only one way to find out.”

[mushroomjar]

hey whats the deal w diana and calliope

[ID: Scribbly drawing of a person looking up at the viewer with big puppy eyes, smiling. End ID]

KICKING MY LEGS AND GIGGLING OMGGGG OKAY OKAY

You're right, what IS the deal with them? KSKSKSS Okay I'll tell you a bit about them, but like always, under a read more, because I always get embarrassed talking about my OCs here lol

Btw I'm in the middle of writing my response and I have to say omfg I feel so embarrassed pleeeease don't be mean I will cry

I guess I'll just start by showing what they look like, which I made in a Picrew, like always (if anyone wants the link to the Picrew let me know, I use this one all the time lol)

So this is Diana (she's actually supposed to have light blonde hair, not white, I'm a bit lazy to change the photo rn but yeah):

[Image Description: A cartoonish Picrew of a white woman with long white hair and blue eyes sat down in an alley, smiling. She wears a white frilly button-up under a white apron dress, white shoes, and has a rosary tied around her wrist. There's a knife sitting next to her. End Image Description]

And this is Calliope:

[Image Description: A cartoonish Picrew of a white woman with a dark brown mullet and dark brown eyes sat down in an alley, frowning. She wears a black shirt with a dark red skull, black pants, white socks and black converse shoes. There's a kitchen knife sitting next to her. End Image Description]

I'm probably gonna skip a lot of details in this (but if you want more details you can always DM me), but the gist of it is Cal and Diana had been dating for a very short amount of time (think 2-4 months), and one day while in Diana's house, Calliope finds out that Diana eats people, and she gets freaked out, and Diana tries to explain herself because she does it out of love, but Calliope just leaves, and she doesn't do the "call the police" thing (though she does almost do it) but she just spends a couple of days without talking to Diana and just thinking by herself, and she realizes after a while that she's not just thinking "holy shit she's insane" but she's also thinking "I want to see her again, I need to see her again", and it's this mix of thoughts "she's insane what's wrong with her I love her we need to still be together but why she's EATING PEOPLE-"

Anyway a couple days later Calliope goes back to Diana's house, and when Diana opens the door for her Cal's just like "Show me," and Diana's like "Show you what?" And Cal's like "Show me how you do it. Eat" (those aren't the exact words but it's just to give you an idea of what happens)

And so she does that, she lets Calliope in and she takes a part from one of the bodies she has and she cooks it and eats it and Calliope's watching her do all of that, and while a part of her's still like "what the fuck am I doing she's insaneee", what she's finding is more of... it's not as bad as she imagined it would be. Gruesome, sure, but not as much as she feared. And she realizes not just that she doesn't mind, but also that... she kind of gets it. There's something about how Diana does everything that makes her believe her when she says that she does this out of love. So after the wonderful dinner they have a basically sort of Q&A where Calliope lets Diana speak, explain herself, and she listens, and once they're done Calliope says she's gonna think about this for a couple more days, and leaves, and then she does come back some days later and says that she's still very much in love with Diana and that she wants to be with her and support her in all her ways of showing love

So that's basically like the first chapter in their story, as you can tell I skipped out on some details, mainly because there's some stuff about it that I might change, like I said this is all still a huuge WIP, but that's basically the start of their relationship. Btw they're both insane, Calliope later starts killing people, but I don't think I'm gonna tell you about that in detail because all of the scenes I had for that are even bigger WIPs than what I just told you and I'll probably have to re-write all of them anyway, just know their dynamic later turns into "Calliope kills people and Diana eats them"

But at the heart of the story is just... fucked up messed up ways of love, I'd say, both because of Diana's cannibalism being fundamented on it being a way for her to show love in the deepest most profound manner she can think of, and Calliope later becoming fully devoted to doing everything just for Diana (she starts killing people to keep Diana safe, at least in her eyes). That's something that I always want to emphasize on whenever I'm talking about them to my friends or something, they're not "oohh they're delusional so that's why they're together," like yeah they are fucked up, but they truly are both in love with each other in the deepest way you can think of, like the story would not happen the way it does if they weren't in love with each other. This, too, is yuri

Also in case you're wondering if Diana's going to eat Calliope at some point too, I still don't know but for now, taking into account how willing Calliope is to be eaten and how willing Diana is to eat the people she loves, the answer is a "probably." At the very least Calliope is willing to sacrifice a couple fingers to sate her girlfriend's needs (she's willing to sacrifice a lot more but Diana might feel bad about that so she's cool with settling for some fingers. At least for a while)

Aaaaannnnnd yeah, that's about all I can think of, I am pouring my heart out to you and I hope you will take it in gentle hands like a wounded animal, because that's how I feel after typing Calliope and Diana's story for the fourth time in my life. A wounded animal.

Also no I've never watched Hannibal

[shroomsprouts]

hello ! please list 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you ! get to know your mutuals, followers and all the wonderful people on here ! happy new year and all the best :)

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

Hello hello!!!! Happy New Year to you too! May this year bring you everything you hope for <3

You're asking an optimist about things that make them happy, so be prepared for some weird stuff... And also for a lot more than 5 things. I cannot possibly share only 5.

So, here are way too many things that make me happy, in no particular order :D

🌷 Mushrooms, mushrooms, mushrooms (and fungi). Just anything mushroom-related except mushroom foods, I'm not a big fan of the way they taste.

🌷 Additionally, the word "shroom" in and of itself. And the "sh" sound.

🌷 My friends!!!!! I love my friends so much. Friendship, man. Friendship is such a happy thing.

🌷 Myself. I make myself happy. I couldn't even be happy without myself.

🌷 Absolutely anything that has to do with strawberries. Strawberry-flavored foods, things decorated with strawberries, the word "strawberry", strawberry artwork, strawberry sculptures, plastic strawberries. Anything. I love strawberries.

🌷 Quite predictably, soukoku. I love my little fictional dysfunctional gay people. Holds them gently in my hands. Puts them in a microwave. Pops them like balloons.

🌷 Stars, the moon, the sun, planets, galaxies... Anything astrology related.

🌷 Nature, nature, nature!!!!!! Plants and animals, anything that lives!! Rocks, stones, crystals, soil. Mountains, valleys, fields, hills. Just nature. The world that surrounds us.

🌷 Art!!!!! Prose, poetry, music, lyrics, sculptures, pottery, drawings, paintings. Everything art-related. Even art that is considered "bad", or whatever. Even art that I don't like. It makes me happy that people are creating, first and foremost.

🌷 Ribbon bows. Ribbon in general. Bows in general. (Not the archery kind, though those are pretty cool too. Actually, archery bows remind me of desperately trying to tie strings around fallen branches with with my cousins in 2017, so why not, they make me happy too.)

🌷 Book and notebook covers. The way words look on a page, paragraph indentations and text structure. Also, pages with little decorations along the margins or in the corners.

🌷 These emojis: 🎀🌷💐🪻💌🩰🍓🍄🧸💗💫

🌷 The words "bubble", "blossom", "ribbon", "blanketed", "bumblebees", "bakery", and "berries". And the letter 'b', actually.

🌷 My middle school chemistry and physics professor. Her smile, especially. And her laugh. And that one time she made me go to the whiteboard because she could see on my face that I didn't understand the lesson. (It didn't help much, but she tried, and she cared, and I miss her.)

🌷 Making other people happy. Happiness is quite contagious, you see.

🌷 That look of unrestrained joy on someone's face when you buy them a gift they like, especially if it's a surprise gift. Additionally, the warm feeling when someone does it for you.

🌷 Candlesーeverything about them. The way they look, the way they smell, their warmth, the idea of being able to keep fire as a pet.

🌷 Yoghurt. I fucking love yoghurt. It's my comfort food, and the word is also very silly.

🌷 Cardigans, hoodies, sweaters, leg warmers, arm warmers, gloves, fluffy socks... Anything made of soft fabric. (Additionally, cute little fluffy hats.)

🌷 Annotating and annotated books. Not just the way they look, but the idea of them. I love being able to leave pieces of my soul on books, and then being able to look over what I said later on. It's kind of like a time capsule.

🌷 Human interactions. I love seeing little kids playing with their friends, and couples holding hands, and friends chatting with big grins on their faces, and kids sitting on their parents shoulders. Just. The beauty of relationships and human connection.

Andddd a lot more. We could be here all day, genuinely. I am surrounded by happiness. Though I will stop here for now :)

Thank you so much for the ask!!! Have an amazing day 🫶🫶

[oculiaperticlausi]

date: november 20th, 2023 where: apple's place then a restaurant summary: the two talk about a friends with benefit sort of deal

Apple: She's been pretty busy trying to put thoughts to paper, and figuring out the best layout for her piece but was as stuck as a barnacle to a shit. Since she'd spent all day at home she wore nothing but knee high socks, some pajama shorts and a plain bralette to lounge around comfortably in. Apple didn't bother looking up from her tenth attempt at drawing the scene they discussed over text. "I can't quite figure out how I want it." she declared throwing down - gently - her charcoal stick and sitting back onto her legs. "I think I need a break."

Zekai: Zekai adjusts his bag over his shoulder, knowing they were planning to see Mimi so he might as well pack some things to do. Parker lets him in on her way. They hung out a few days ago but the text messages have been awkward since. He drifts his gaze down to her art, pressing his lips together. "Good thing we need to leave then." He teases.

Apple: “True! Why don’t you find me something cute to wear, while I go wash my hands then?” Apple didn’t really give him much of a choice as she hopped to her feet and made her way into the bathroom. Her art was always messy, which is how she liked it, but it did make it hard to clean up quick. Perhaps she shouldn’t have bothered starting today when she knew well they needed to make a quick exit. Apple came back into her bedroom and threw herself on the bed where she pulled and twisted in an attempt at taking off her socks. “What’d you pick out?”

Zekai: Zekai places his bag on the ground, nodding his head. "Sure, can." He walks down the hall to her bedroom, knowing which one was hers. He goes through clothes and ultimately ends with something comfortable yet something Mimi would like. "I picked out something comfortable but cutesy… I think."

Apple: “Comfortable but cutesy… so not sexy?” Apple glanced at the clothes he pulled out for her then back at him, “we’re not kids anyone, Z. I can show some of my nonexistent cleavage! I’m sure Mimi will be alright with it.” Apple wasn’t one to hide her tattoos for anyone and took any opportunity to flaunt them. She picked out a short gold dress with an open back instead. Sliding it on she pulled down her shorts and teased off her bra, turning for approval. “Huh?”

Zekai: Zekai furrows his brows. "But Mimi doesn't like it when you dress sexy." He mutters. She wants to show off her cleavage? Fuck, if only she knew about her cleavage and how it exists more than she thinks. He turns his head as she changes in front of him. Be looks back over at her when she says huh and breathes out. "Y… Yeah. It looks great."

Apple: “Mimi needs to get over it.” She was feeling a bit more cheeky than usual. Imprudent really as she spun to show off her outfit knowing well he’d be able to look up the skirt of her dress - it was that short. It wasn’t normal behavior for her, but she did enjoy teasing him so. Maybe it was the way he seemed to stumble over his words ever since they’d… done things in a rather unlike Zekai manner. But she enjoyed it more than she probably should. “Awesome, can you help me tie the heels?” She asked bringing out a pair of black and a pair of red heels, “Which do you think?”

Zekai: Zekai shoves his hands into his pockets, clearing his throat. "And I'll make sure she does because it would be a goddamn shame for you not to wear that." His gaze shamelessly takes her in, biting on his lower lip as his gaze falls on her upper thighs. He feels like he can barely breathe. Since when did Apple become this fucking attractive to him. He nods his head as he walks over to her. He bends down in front of her. "Black." He takes the shoes from her. His hand moves to her ankle, lifting it up to put on the shoe, his eyes raising up to look at her as he inhales and exhales shaky breathes.

Apple: Apple pressed her lips together to shrink the ever growing grin that threatened to expose her amusement. "You really like it? I feel like I haven't been out in ages, so I wanted to look cute." It was all true. She spent too much of her days working and even when she wasn't working she'd busy herself to avoid having free time. It was just how she dealt with life. Dating quickly turned to shit after Kell so she did her best to channel it to other things. Apple's breath caught at the sight of him below her. The way he looked up at her bringing back memories of what had taken place in her kitchen. "Good choice." was all she could make out while she watched him intensely with wide eyes.

Zekai: Her wide eyes looking down at him, the way he can remember every inhale, every gasp and moan that left her as his face was buried between her legs. He wonders if she has done anything like that since the two of them have. He honestly couldn't say he hadn't, knowing how easily he could into another person's pants because he is more about bringing pleasure than he is about being needy. He place her leg down and picks up the other. He placed her foot on his knee, turning to press his lips against her inner thigh. "Do you… want to be late?" He whispers against her skin.

Apple: Oh, fuck did she want him. The realization alone was scary to her. She wanted him on her, and in her, and those thoughts were making butterflies tickle her stomach. Or something telling her to run away. Apple didn’t care much for sex - maybe because she preferred to build a bond with those she liked - but still Zekai seemed to bypass all of her reservations. It wasn’t entirely an unpleasant feeling. She just had to be extra careful with him… it was easier to chuck off her growing feelings for him as nothing more than giddy over him taking her virtue. Before she could answer though, her phone rang and Mimi’s face popped up on screen. As if she was caught doing something wrong, Apple picked up the phone and yelled a “Hello!”

Zekai: Zekai raises his eyes up to her, watching her every expression to make sure that everything he was doing is alright. He kisses up higher, nibbling on different spots of her skin. At least until her phone rings and he shoots up, knowing it's Mimi on the other side of that call. He clears his throat and lifts his eyes up to Apple, pressing his lips together as he spins around and reaches into his jeans to adjust his harden cock. Again.

Apple: The conversation didn't last long, just her Mimi apologizing for not being able to make it. Apple hung up the phone, turning back to face him with the blush still on her cheeks. "That was um-" she was avoiding his gaze now caught on the consequences of her earlier actions, "-Mimi's not able to make it to dinner, so it will just be us she says." Karma was a bitch, she should have known better than to tease him. She was moist below, so Apple turned to dig through a drawer and retrieve new underwear. It didn't really register until after she pulled them out exactly how it would look like to him, and she hurried to find some type of excuse for why she needed new ones. "Better for the dress." she said, hiding them behind her back.

Zekai: Zekai shoves his hands into his pockets, turning his head to look over his shoulder in her direction. His eyes shamelessly looking her up and down as he presses his lips together. His hands in his pockets are his saving grace. All he can do is hope to fucking God he doesn't reach out and try to touch her, reach out do whatever he can because he knows she wants it as bad as he does. "So, where am I taking you then?" He questions, arching a brow as his eyes focus on her. He watches her every movement as she slips her hand into her drawer and retrieves a new pair of underwear. He has to bite on his lower lip to prevent himself from groaning. "Need me to ease the ache for you, Apple?" He growls under his breath.

Apple: "The reservation." she replied, after swallowing away some invisible lump, "It's still available, she just figured we'd take it still." Apple scrunched up the underwear in her hand, cheeks flaring at his comment. She pressed her knees together and bit the skin of her lips. He'd growled at her again, and it was somehow the sexiest thing that she could compute. "There's that feral creature again…" she left in the air in an attempt to get the upper hand of the situation, despite wanting desperately to not. "I'm quite starved, actually. I'll meet you out in a sec." Apple breathed out every word in a hushed whispered and made her way towards the door.

Zekai: Would it be too much to say she's the only one to ever make him growl like this? The only one to make him desperate to hear her panting, moaning and tugging away at the strands of his hair as he finds all those spots that make her thighs quiver. He swallows as he nods his head, turning to look somewhere else in the room. "Guess we should head out to eat then." He wasn't typically someone who begged. Normally, he took what he wanted but he couldn't do that with Apple. Apple was his best friend and if she didn't want him on his knees in front of her than he wouldn't do it. He brushes his tongue across his lower lip, forcing himself to stay planted in the spot she was going to leave him in.

Apple: Apple left the room only bolting out to the bathroom when she was out of sight. Quickly cleansing and changing herself, and splashing some water on face hoping the redness would go away. She was a lost cause. Why out of all people him? This burning feeling that spreads over her whenever he comes near was too hard to tame. But Apple's never been one to keep things to herself so after taking a last look in the mirror she walked out to him, stopping with an accusing finger aimed at his face. "What did you do to me?" she asked forcefully, hands moving around her face as she spoke, "I can't stop thinking about it. And it's making me all hot and bothered, and - and - and you're an ass. Fuck!" Apple turned from him, pacing to the wall before turning back towards Z. "Let's just go."

Zekai: Zekai pulls out his phone and starts to scroll through Instagram, furrowing his brows as he waits for her to finish changing. He turns his head when he hears her voice, tilting his head to the side. Each words that leaves her mouth has him moving inch by inch. Tossing his phone onto the bed, turning toward her and taking those small necessary steps to close the distance between them. "You can have it whenever you want," he mutters. "I've been thinking about it too." He exhales. "No one… No one even fucking compares." He closes the distance between them, pinning her against the wall with his body. "I'm starving and it's not for dinner."

Apple: "Z." she let out desperately unsure of their situation still. He was her best friend, she didn't want to damage that. Apple's raging hormones felt like a firecracker and she couldn't explain why, but she was always one to walk through her thoughts before making rash decisions. However, all Zekai did was cause her to make split moment decisions. The way his body pressed against hers doing more than it should have, and his words soothing some imaginary itch. "I don't want to be like them." she said, raising her hands into his hair, "but I can't seem to get you off my mind. I pressed my bean for god's sake." The words would have made her laugh if she wasn't so serious.

Zekai: Zekai presses his lips together when she confesses she doesn't want to be like them. "You aren't," but he wasn't the relationship guy. He couldn't be that. He wasn't sure he could do it for Apple but he knew he could make her scream, make her quiver beneath him. He leans down and brushes his lips along the side of her neck, unable to help himself with the little chuckle that leaves his lips. "Pressed your bean?" He murmurs, grabbing a hold of her hips and turning them around. He nudges them toward the bed and pushes her down onto it. "Show me." He gaze drifts across her.

Apple: She wanted to roll her eyes at his words, but held back. How was she not like them at this point? Pressed up against a wall with everything in her begging him to not let her go. Pathetic really, and something she used to laugh about when the two went out drinking and she's witness it in person. Instead, she smacked him shoulder for laughing at her, before being dragged towards the bed. His words sent so much excitement up her body, but she held strong unwilling to let him see any more of her disgrace. "I got morals, Z. I'm not going to touch myself in front of you." she replied, legs spread despite her words and one hand slowly made it's way to her underwear.

Zekai: Zekai arches a brow, a small smirk curving his features. "Come on, Apple." He mutters. His gaze falls to her hand as it starts to trail down her body to her underwear. He brushes his tongue across his lower lip, adjusting his stance in hope to ease the pressure under his jeans. He steps closer, his legs pressing against the edge of the bed as he inhales deeply, chewing on his lower lip. "Show me exactly what you did when you thought of me."

Apple: He wanted a show. It was embarrassing but the look on his face made it almost worth it. Apple’s panties were once again spoiling as she pushed them off, letting them rest beside him on the edge of the bed. She figured it’d be best to not look at him so she laid back on the bed and tried to forget he was there as she touched herself. The sensation was too much though, she could feel his eyes burning into her and she breathed out, “Touch me, please.” A plea, really, but she didn’t stop. Just one more time, she told herself. To get this … itch scratch and then they’ll be back to normal.

Zekai: His lips part, a single breath leaves him but he holds the rest of them. His gaze focusing on her fingers as they press her bean. The thought would have been hilarious had he not been fucking mesmerized by what she was doing to herself. Her breathy plea has him moving down to his knees in seconds, he grabs her legs and tugs her to the end of the bed, a light swat of her hand and his mouth is on her. He groans into her core, flicking his tongue against her clit as he moves his hand up and slides a finger into her, curling it up and rubbing that spot as he begins to spell his name on her clit.

Apple: Apple chuckled when he swatted her hand away, but did not protest, quickly falling onto her back as she felt him on her. It took everything in her not to moan right then and there, but her body gave her away with a body rocking shiver. Eyes quickly rolling into her head, she closed her eyes and placed a hand on the back of his head. Digging her fingers into his hair, "Oh, sweet jesus." she moaned while rolling her hips onto him. The feel of his tongue ever present on her clit making it impossible for her to keep quiet.

Zekai: His free arm wraps around her legs to keep her in place, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking on it. He alternates between licking, sucking, and even nibbling. He wants nothing more than to keep her moaning, to make her shiver against him. He starts moving his finger in and out of her, making sure each time he pushes it into her he's curving it up to rub that spot of hers.

Apple: It all felt like a trap. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to her body, and why she was left yearning for him in such a despicable manner. Apple moaned and gasped as she approached her orgasm, arching her back up off the bed. “Shit, Z. Fuck. Oh!” she was unable to form proper words while her body shook with pleasure. “I can’t-!” Hold on any longer. Apple pushed against him, using her legs to push away from him as she came and fell back onto the bed. She quickly grabbed a pillow to hide the lust from her face.

Zekai: Zekai's grip on her legs tighten, his mouth on her as she lifts her hips. He follows her every movement, even if she's trying to get away from him. He licks her through her orgasm and once she relaxes is when he finally stops, pulling away. He raises his hand to his mouth, wiping away her juices his thumb. "Ready to go eat? If we don't leave now we are going to miss our reservation." He smirks as he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets, heading toward the door. He glances over at her. "Need a minute?" It's hard not to be smug about it, making her cum in a way no one else has. At least he thinks so at her reaction.

Apple: Oh how she wished the bed could swallow her whole in that very moment. Apple couldn’t see his face but just on the tone she could feel his cocky smirk. Instead of answering him, she launched the pillow in his direction and sat up smoothening the mess that was her hair and patting down her dress. “I’ll meet you in the car.” she said after clearing her throat hoping she’d sound less affected. She’d forgotten all about dinner by this point. Had maybe hoped for more of him, but there was no way she’d say it. Apple quickly cleaned up and fixed herself before making her way out the door.

Zekai: Zekai nods before walking out. It doesn't take them long to get to the restaurant and to be sat at the table. He taps his fingers against his glass of water, waiting for his whiskey he ordered. He knows this is gonna be expensive as hell but you only live once, yeah? He lifts his gaze up to her, trying to figure out what she's thinking.

Apple: Apple didn’t say much as they made their way to the restaurant. At the table however, she noticed him a bit on edge or impatient. “Are you alright?” She asked tilting her head slightly as she waited for an answer. “You seem a bit distracted? What’s on your mind?” She wasn’t someone who really let things simmer for too long. Liking to communicate whatever needed attention. It’s what made her so great at her job, always staying ahead of anything and everything through the simplest act of conversation.

Zekai: Zekai nods his head. "I'm fine." He chuckles lowly. "I've been sitting here trying to read your mind since we got here. You have never been this quiet before." He muses, glancing up when the waiter brings over their drinks. "Thanks." He raises his glass up to his lips as his eyes focus on her. Ever since they crossed the line, the boundary he never thought he'd cross he wonders if it dampered his ability to read her. "So, what are you thinking about?"

Apple: “Read my mind, eh?” she smirked back at him but was interrupted with drinks before she finished. She gave the waiter a nod of appreciation then watched Z for a moment. “I have a million to one thoughts on this lovely head of mine Z. From work, to art, to just about everyone in my life.” Which wasn’t too many if she really thought about it. Lately she’s been pretty MIA from others. Not for any reason in particular, just time slipping. “Right this moment I was thinking about you though. Which prompted my question.”

Zekai: Zekai smirks, nodding his head. "Yeah." He keeps his gaze on her, tilting his head to the side when she talks about her thoughts. Have the two of them talked about anything since their moment together? He raises his glass up to his lips, taking a sip of it. "And what exactly were you thinking about me for?" He murmurs as he presses his lips together to hold back his smug smirk. Honestly, he's been hard as a fucking rock since that moment in her bedroom and he swears to God all he can hear are her cries.

Apple: Apple quickly rolled her eyes at the question, "You cannot woo me, Zekai. Wipe that smug of your face." But really hadn't he already done so? Technically speaking she had pressed the situation both times, so wouldn't that count as her wooing him? She grinned in response but proceeded to answer the question anyways, "We're going to go around in a circle if I answer that truthfully." she chuckled, "but on another note, How are you feeling. You've been keeping pretty busy since… the happening. What have you been up to? Do tell, because you know my life is as uneventful as can be."

Zekai: Zekai's smug expeession falls from his features as he drops his gaze to his glass. "If you say so." He mutters with a chuckle. "Isn't honesty the best policy?" He smirks at his glass. "I haven't done much. Just the radio show and stuff. I didn't realize how much time Daniela took up until…" he whispers.

Apple: "I did tell you though. I was thinking about you, and what had you so quiet. Your response answered my question, so I opted for a new one." Apple didn't think her earlier tease would make his face fall. It hadn't been her intentions, Z knew he meant more to her than anyone else ever could. She brought her drink to her lips, an orange juice and vodka cocktail she's been a fan of as of recent. "And stuff? What stuff?" she asked, then glanced away at the mention of Daniela. "Do you want to… talk about it?" Apple knew it was still hard for him. She could compartmentalize her emotions around death, had worked on it for years, but closure was something neither would get until the killer was caught.

Zekai: Zekai nods his head. "Fair enough." He raises his glass up to his lips, taking a long sip of it as he presses his lips together. Honestly, the stuff isn't anything bad. It's not anything really important to remember. It had been so long since him and Apple had their little night he wasn't even sure what she could have missed. It felt like it had only been a few days when it had been almost a month. He lifts his eyes up toward her. "I don't know. I don't remember what I did yesterday, Apple." He laughs breathlessly. "Talk about Daniela? Not really."

Apple: "You're funny." she said rolling her eyes, but smiled regardless. Classic him. Apple nodded in response to the latter and quickly moved to push the subject out of the table. "Well since you didn't bother to ask me, I'll just have to tell you what I've done. Rude. Don't say I didn't warn you." she started, then took another sip of her bring before continuing, "I visited a couple families out in Locke Row, then forced a couple friends to let me paint them against their will. Did some paintintg of my own at home, and was comissioned to do a mural out by the gym in Locke Row too. I'm still thinking about it, trying to see if I can fit it into my schedule somehow."

Zekai: "I am?" Zekai laughs. "Well, I'm glad I can make you laugh." He raises his glass up once again to take another sip. He tosses his head back to drink down the rest of the contents as he looks at the menu. "Oh, that… Sorry." He laughs. "Please do tell me about what you did." He keeps his eyes on her, a laugh leaves him when she says she forced friends to let her paint them. "Why doesn't it surprise me that you forced people to make you paint them? You were? What do they want you to paint?"

Apple: “Nah, it’s cool. If you don’t care about my days just say so next time.” She continued to tease place a sad expression on her face while holding a hand to her chest. Apple chucked a sealed butter packet at him and laughed, “Friend are there to help you, right? I needed some extra practice and didn’t feel like doing it all alone. You should be grateful I hauled them and not just you.” Apple was good at a great lot of things but keeping up with people was not her strongest suit. Probably from staying away for so long after things happened in her life. She simply didn’t know how to just ask to hang out for no reason. “Just like weights and work out shit and people.”

Zekai: "You know I care about your fucking days, you baby." Zekai laughs, picking up the sealed butter packet and throws it back at her. "You should have come over to my place, painted me… I heard I'm quite the muse." He didn't, but it was fun to say. He wasn't sure how seriously she'd take him though and he almost wants to take it back but that would be admitting there's more between them, right? Admitting that there's potential. He wasn't sure if he could be a boyfriend. He hadn't tried dating since that girl in high school toyed with him and broke his heart. He swore he'd never do it again and with his charming personality… Was it it something he could change?

Apple: Apple stuck out her tongue in defiance before bursting out laughing. She picked up her menu for the first time that now, finally figuring they should get their orders settled before the waiter comes back. As he spoke again though she glanced up at him and smirked, “You want to be my muse? I have loads of paintings of you already.” It was the truth. Ever since she could paint she’d use him for inspiration. Sometimes just his hands, or his torso that she’d mesmerized from growing up together. Simple and small things to help with proportions and accuracy she told herself. “But I’ll keep that in mind though. Going to make you regret ever offering such a thing. You know I take advantage.”

Zekai: Zekai picks up the menu as well, realizing Mimi picked a heavily fancy restaurant and because of Apple's outfit he felt severely under dressed. He nods his head as he shrugs his shoulder. "I wouldn't mind it." He wouldn't. Any time he could spend with Apple he was happy with. "You could never make me regret a thing. I'm way tougher than you think." He smirks. "I'm thinking steak. What about you?"

Apple: She was about to respond say something sweet back to him until he finished the sentence and she was left with a dropped jaw that she quickly attempted to regain from. Cheeks blaring, Apple reached for her drink once more. "Are you now?" she asked after gathering herself, why her mind automatically turned there was appalling. "I don't know, I seem to remember beating you at basketball quite a lot." Apple had lost all thought of food in the second that she glanced away from the menu so the first thing that came to her mind was, "I'm thinking the same. They make a mean sauce for it too."

Zekai: Raising his gaze up slowly to her from the menu, his brows furrow in confusion. Did he not seem tough? He wasn't sure how to ask why she was so surprised. All he could do was stare at her, at least until she brought up her constantly winning in basketball. "I'm pretty sure I was your hype man. Thank you very much." He gasps dramatically, dropping his gaze to the menu again. "I'm thinking red potatoes and corn."

Apple: Apple felt like a perve now, for thinking dirty when he'd obviously seemed to have meant it physically. What was happening through her head? "My favorite cheerleader to this day, and I absolutely love it. You're my number one!" she giggled as she brought her arm up as if to fist bump the air. She wanted to know how he felt about their encounter. Seemed like the perfect time to discuss it since they just left it all up in the air and never spoke about it, but she didn't exactly know how to introduce the topic. Or even if she should. "Loaded mash for me and corn."

Zekai: Zekai laughs. "I prefer hype man. I will not put on a right shirt and skirt for you." He teases, know he would if she asked. He presses his lips together as he turns his head to look at the waiter, putting in his order in. His head turns back to look at Apple. "Good taste there, Apple." He smirks as he watches the waiter leave after taking Apple's order. "You're going to let me try the loaded mash, right? Because that also sounds good as hell but I'm in a gravy mood." He admits. "Nothing better than brown fucking gravy."

Apple: “Even if I pout and stick out my cute lips like this?” Apple brought her bottom lip out leaning in to his earlier joke of calling her a baby. “Can you really resist that?” Handing over her menu, she made sure to order them another round of drinks before bringing her attention back. “As long as I can have some of the delicious gravy. Although I don’t understand why they don’t just give you gravy with the mash too. Seems only right.” Apple took the last couple sips of her liquor and pushed it to the edge of the table so the waiter knew to grab it next go around. “Would it be too presumptuous of me to believe we have something specific to discuss?” (edited)

Zekai: Zekai lifts his eyes up towards her, his gaze darkens as it drops to her lips. "If you don't put that lip back I will snatch it from you." He warns in a low tone so only she can hear him. He knew he would never be able to resist it. How could he? He shrugs his shoulders. "Restaurants are weird," he murmurs as he drops his gaze down to his menu. "Do we have something specific to discuss, Apple?" He raises his eyes back up to her. "If you have something you want to say, say it."

Apple: His words forced a laugh out of her but sure raised her hands in defeat. She wouldn’t put it past him to do just as he said but she did wonder how he’d do it over the table. It might be fun to watch which made her grin. “Nothing exactly, I just figured it would come up at some point.” Apple watched him momentarily wondering if perhaps it has just been her putting too much thought behind their actions, which wouldn’t surprise her either. This was new territory for her, whereas he’s been pretty well acquainted. “No need to go into it. It’s alright.” she says with a shrug.

Zekai: Zekai furrows his brows. If he was honest, he wasn't sure now Apple felt about him. He could assume, he could say that maybe she wants more or maybe she doesn't. He adjusts his position but before he can say anything the waiter comes back over and takes their order before leaving again. "You need to tell me what you want." He whispers. "Do you want us to stay friends? Do you want more? Do you want friends with benefits? What is it?" He asks, his eyes focusing on her.

Apple: She should have known he'd ask straight on questions, where she failed to properly explained hers, and smiled. Apple wasn't sure what she wanted. Being alone was comfortable she'd learned throughout the years, but she wasn't dumb enough to not notice that she liked him and it wasn't just in a friendly way. But she wasn't as free spirited as other's were in relationships. Apple dated for the end game, and that was something she made clear with everyone who she liked. She couldn't stand the thought of anyone doing it just for her though, and she knew Z wasn't ready for anything like that. "I think that maybe I just need to get it out my system." she said, reaching for her new drink, "I don't know. You know I never cared for intimacy before. Never even thought about it much, but now… so I'm thinking that I got to run it out my system and then I'll be normal again." What the fuck did she just say?

Zekai: Zekai leans slightly forward, his hand picking up his new drink. He raises it up and takes a sip, his gaze focusing on her as she starts to explain what she needs. Just some fucking to get it out of her system? That's something he can do no problem. He didn't know if he was ready for them to be a thing. All he knew was he was protective over Apple, the need to do anything for her had simply been normal to him because that's how he was with his other siblings but this recent attraction wasn't exactly surprising but it hadn't gotten to the point where it terrified him. "So, friends with benefits. When you need to be fucked you can call me and I'll be there, no matter what."

Apple: Apple laughed and shook her head, "In simpler words, yes. I think." Sleeping around with her best friend couldn't possibly end up horribly could it? She'd been extremely frustrated ever since that first night. She hadn't spoken to anyone about it obviously, but sometimes wondered if she should ask around and see if that was just normal for everyone. "I was thinking that since I didn't really have much of a 'hormone' rage growing up, it was just manifesting and then you let the monster out and now you have to put the monster down." No matter what he'd be there. Those words left her grinning.

Zekai: "Are you saying you have a hormone monster?" Zekai teases as he takes a long sip of his glass. He nods his head as he grabs a napkin and a pen from the table. He starts to write an agreement on it. "We will remain friends. We will communicate if the other enters into something exclusively…" which would never happen. "We scratch an itch whether you need it. Got anymore terms?"

Apple: "Not at all." she replied, clicking her tongue in feigned disproval, "But it's rather suiting don't you think?" Apple watched him for a moment trying to understand what he was doing and became flushed at the realization. "What are y- Z - You are not. Do we really need it written down?" It was too funny for her to not laugh but she wasn't sure if he was being serious or not so she covered her mouth with a hand. "Do we have to sign it too? I didn't realized our friendship was in question here." Did them having sex mean that they couldn't be friends? Technically it wouldn't just be friends on it's own, but really? Was she deviating?

Zekai: "It is." Zekai chuckles under his breath as he holds the pen in his hand. "Yeah, of course I'm writing down things because we need to be on the same page, Apple." He lifts his eyes up to her, watching her for a second as he presses his lips together. "Do you thinking signing it would be helpful?" He asks. "Our friendship isn't at question here, its us making sure that we are held accountable in case things get… sticky." And anot in a fun way he almost adds.

Apple: Apple pressed her lips to hide her smile because she figured a simple conversation would have surficed. Instead, they were drafting a manuscript of their sexual endeavors but she wasn't about to stop him. "That was just a joke, Z. We don't got to sign anything." she finally let out a short laugh, dropping her eyes to look at the napkin where he'd been writing. "Held accountable. Got it. For what exactly. I figured if we're… doing things as friends, then it would be pretty straight to the point no?" she bit her lip as she finished, trying to figure out exactly what could go wrong. Unless he meant the F word. Feelings. "What would you categorize as 'sticky'?"

Zekai: Zekai chuckles. "Would seal the deal a little better." He smirks as he lifts his eyes up from the napkin to her, shrugging his shoulders. "Friends sleeping together can sometimes her confusing. It's not always straight forward. It's why I never…" slept with Daniela. He clears his throat. "You and I have been best friends our whole lives. Now we are adding sex to it. We are literally doing those plot lines when two friends start sleeping together. Then feelings happen and yeah." Usually, they ended up together but he couldn't promise that.

Apple: "I was under the assumption there'd be other ways to seal the deal." she said raising her brows and tilting her head waiting for it to hit him. She was tempted to stretch her foot on over to clarify her words, but Z certainly seemed to have done this before so she didn't think he'd need the help. Apple didn't question his pause, merely waited for him to move on. "Right," was all she could really say, because anything else could be incriminating at best. "So in the chase of a 'sticky' situation, then what?" She was well aware of fluttering in her stomach, but she too shared his worries. Not for him, but herself. Threading new waters as she was the likelihood of a sticky situation was not unheard of.

Zekai: "Do you think you can wait until after dinner?" Zekai keeps his gaze on her, arching brow as a challenge. He is more than happy to leave before dinner is served. He has never done this before but he feels like he needs to make sure the two of them will walk out of this unscratched. "We stop." He says quietly. Right? That's what everyone did. "Or if you decide you want another relationship with someone we stop." Because he isn't the type to have one.

Apple: She wasn't expecting his quick wit and she blushed under his gaze, "I believe so. The loaded mash is simply too precious to pass." she said, clearing her throat. Apple had known exactly what the answer to the question would be, she'd thought the same as she asked it, but for some reason airing it made her thoughts falter and she pressed her lips. She tried to not let his quick response bother her so she nodded once trying to keep all expressions off her face. She was saved from speaking by an approaching waiter with their food in hand.

Zekai: His gaze drifts in the direction of the waiter, noticing the guy with their meals. "Good thing he is heading this way." He notices her expression. He was always able to tell what she was feeling or thinking. That's why he was worried about how bad this could get for either of them. He exhales as he sits up when the waiter puts their food down. "Why?" He asks, drifting his eyes to her. "Why did you look disappointed?"

Apple: The food placed before her smelled amazing and she welcomed it with a smile as she breathed it in. She glanced up at him at the question, "I'm not." she replied and shrugged, "This is all simply new so I'm absorbing all the information. Taking it all in, if you will." Apple wasn't sure why she just lied. Her truth had never been something she kept to herself, but she also didn't want to make it seem like something that it wasn't. "Is the gravy to your liking?" she asked, glancing back down to her plate.

Zekai: Zekai picks up his fork and nods his head, tilting his head down to look at his plate. He picks up some of the mashed potatoes and gravy on it, holding it out to her. "You have the first bite and tell me what it tastes like." He waits, his eyes taking her in. "My number one goal is not losing you, Apple. You're like a fucking part of me and I don't want to lose you."

Apple: "You don't have to tell me twice!" she said excitedly, leaning over the table slightly to reach his fork and taste his meal. "It's fucking delicious." she replied as the mash potatoes melted in her mouth. She was really starving. "You will never lose me, Z. We've been together our whole lives, do you really think that I could live a life where you're not constantly bothering me?" she teased to lighten the conversation. "I love you. Okay? You are and will forever be my best friend, above it all."

Zekai: Zekai smiles as he moves to start eating his meal. "Oh you're right." He murmurs as he picks up his knife to start cutting up little pieces. He lifts his eyes up to her as he nods his head. "Good, I really can't fucking lose you. I love you too." He tells her then moves his eyes down to his plate, taking more bites. "So when are we doing this? Or should i say starting this?"

Apple: Apple didn't wait much longer, and dug straight into her own potatoes savoring it's taste and happy dancing in her chair. "We're in this for life, okay? No one's going anywhere. If things get… sticky, we stop. Simple as that." she made sure to say it as well, so he knew she understood. They've always had each other, and in the end that's what she'd save regardless of the hurtles they may or may not face. "Eager much? I mean technically we already started it."

Zekai: Zekai nods. Honestly, hearing her words stirred conflicting feelings within him but be didn't plan on addressing it. "Good, its all I want." He pushes the napkin and pen to her. "You sign first." He smirks as he takes more bites. "Hmm, well I have been hard as fuck since we left your place so eager is the word we are looking for."

Apple: It's all I want. His words lingered and festered in her mind for a while. She pressed her lips before placing a smile on her lips to separate her thoughts from her expression. What did he even mean by that? It shouldn't bother her, but it did even though she could be taking his words completely out of context right now. Apple reached forwards and signed the napkin, shaking her head at his smirk. "I can't deal with you." she said playfully, then reached for her drink once more. "Down boy." she teased, "Save it for dessert."

Zekai: Zekai chuckles at her words, adjusting the way he was sitting in the chair. His gaze focusing on her for a seconds. "Can we please take this to go?" He murmurs as his eyes don't leave her. He needs her, he knows he does and each second that ticks by is getting worse and worse. "You know what? Fuck it. Check please." He raises his hand, a smirk on his features.

[harrypotter0225au]

𝑩𝒆 𝑨𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒘𝒐

August 2nd 1995 5am

I stir awake for some reason and I have a headache and I sit up and I notice I'm naked and I look beside me and I see Lorenzo and I gasp and I shake him awake and he groans and says " 5 more minutes." I roll my eyes and I say " No Lorenzo Charles Berkshire get up." He shoots up and stares at me and we look at each other and we both say " No one can knowwhat happend keep it between us." He goes under the covers so I can get dressed into some clothes.

I finsh getting ready and then I clear my throat for Enzo get dressed and I sneak him out of my room and I go downstairs and I grab myself an Hot Chocolate.    

Later,   Enzo and Mattheo leave and Draco and I go outside into the garden and he pulls out a drawing he made for me and I hug him as a thank you 😊.   He pulls me closer and says " You and me against the world Di."  I smile and we go to the patio table and I pull out my Diary that Grandpa got me last year for Christmas it is Sky Blue leather book with my name in Silver lettering.  

4 Pm

Auntie Cissa and Uncle Lucius come home and I hug aunt Cissa hugs me back and I think thank God I changed my outfit it is dinner appropriate and that's what matters.

We go into the family living room and I sit beside Draco and he looks at his dad nervously and I pat his hand in support.

5pm dinner time

I sit in my spot across from Draco and  I take a sip of my Iced Cold Water we are having a chicken Stew with Potatoes and Chocolate Cake and Ice Cream  for dessert.    I hum a tune in my  head it is a good Country song called Killin Time by Clint Black. 

After dinner

I sing the song for my family and I get an applause from them and I blush.    Aunt Cissa gets up and pulls me into a hug and says  " You look so much like your mother and you have her talent for singing and I know that Eliza and James and Lily would be so proud of you."  I thank her and I go up to my room and I have a quick bath and I then brush my hair and I plait it up and I then look for pyjamas to wear.  I decide to wear pink socks and Black Adidas Spandex shorts and my black hoodie that says H.O.W Y.O.U  D.O.I.N  and I go into my bedroom and I grab the bracelette from uncle Sirius and I put it on.

I look at my picture of my mom and I smile at it and I sigh.

She was taken from me when I was an Infant because of Delores Umbridge on June 15th 1981 and her uncle Barty got worse into the Death Eaters so he could kill Umbridge so his twins death could be justified.

I decide to chat with Blaise  and  I decide to tell him what happend last night and he was shocked.

Blaise pov

I am sitting up on my bed reading  a book when my phone vibrates a text from Di.

I am not shocked that Enzo and Di hooked up. We all knew they would fuck sometime but I am not sure they will marry.

[detectivehannibal]

Studying with Hannibal Lecter

__

Hannibal Lecter x Student! Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cock warming.

Request: Hannibal x fem student reader? She’s trying to focus amd write her exam online but hanni gets horny from watching her?smut pleeeeeeaze

A/N: Disclaimer that the reader is over the age of 18!

__

Going back to college you finish your education was one of the best and worst ideas you ever had.

There were definitely pros and cons to the situation.

The pros were that you were working toward achieving something that you could use for the rest of your life.

You would be able to consider yourself an expert in your field.

Not to mention the bragging rights.

On the flip side, you were always slammed with work and all the studying you were doing was giving you flash backs to high school.

It didn’t help that you were a perfectionist, and that you would literally study until you fell asleep or Hannibal dragged you away to bed.

Hannibal is more than happy to share his home office with you, allowing you to sit at his large desk and use whatever material you might need.

Hannibal tries not to bother you when you’re studying or working on an assignment.

He’ll poke his head in every so often to make sure you don’t need anything.

He’ll bring you tea, coffee, a snack, etc.

You name it and he’ll get it for you.

Sometimes though, you’ll ask him to come sit with you so you can chat while you work.

You knew that going back to school had taken your attention off of him and he was beginning to feel distant from you.

So you try to reach out to him as best you can.

He’ll pull up a chair and sit next to you.

Sometimes he’ll even do some of his own work and the two of you will work together and make small talk.

He did what he could to lower your stress levels.

He wanted you to be successful.

But sometimes your workload was just too much.

There was one evening particular where you were REALLY stressed out.

Like, you came home and holed yourself up in his office without saying a word.

It sparked him as odd, considering that you always took the time to ask him about his day, no matter what you had to do.

He waited a couple of hours before going to check on you.

He stood near the doorway, watching as you typed furiously on your laptop.

He originally wasn’t going to say anything, but the longer he watched, the more...aroused that he got.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint why something as simple as you working hard got him hot and bothered.

He figured it was because he hadn’t really been intimate with you in a while.

That and there was something so attractive about seeing you so focused on something.

He approached you quietly in his socked feet.

He rested his hands on your shoulders carefully, breaking you from your trance.

“Hey, Hanni.” was all you could really muster to say at the moment.

“My love...why don’t you take a break?”

Normally, that was all it took for you to tear away for a bit,

But today you were determined to power through.

“No, I can’t. I’ve got to finish this.” 

“You’ve been working for far too long. I really wish you’d take a break.”

His thumbs started rubbing at the tense muscles in your shoulder, making his offer so hard to refuse.

He could see the stress on your face and he could practically smell the tension.

You needed some relief...some stress relief.

“Just 15 minutes. That’s all I ask for.”

His lips had fallen to your neck now, kissing and sucking softly.

A sigh escaped your chest, reluctance coursing through you.

But eventually, you agreed.

Hannibal stood you up from the desk chair, only to sit down himself and pull you on his lap.

You straddled him, the two of you making out and sharing passionate “I love yous”.

You felt bad when you felt how needy his kisses were.

They said nothing short of “I’ve missed you”.

Hannibal started to get handsy, his fingertips teasing the waistband of your shorts.

His hard on was obvious underneath you.

He slipped your shorts off of your legs while you worked on getting his belt and pants off.

He turned you around to where you were facing the desk again, raising you and lowering you down onto his erection.

The moan that you let out was music to his ears.

You went to start moving, but his hand stopped you from doing so.

“Hannibal, what-”

“Go on, darling. Read to me what you have so far.”

He had to be kidding.

He did all this to get you to stop working and now he wanted you to review it?

You tried to shift your hips to get some kind of friction, but he held you extremely still.

You started to read off of your laptop screen.

You were stuttering through it, an occasional curse sounding out.

He was buried deep inside of you.

His tip prodding at your cervix.

He made noises of interest and affirmation as you read, clearly impressed with what you had so far.

He turned down all of your pleas, prompting you to keep going.

You finished reading, ignoring the way that the words had began to blur.

You were begging now.

“Hannibal, please fuck me.”

“But I thought you liked feeling me like this?”

“I do, but...it’s so much better when you’re moving. Please, baby, I promise I’ll be good.”

Finally, Hannibal couldn’t bear to hear your whimpers anymore,

He wanted to make you feel good.

He lifted you off of his dick momentarily to turn you back around.

He took a second to marvel at how you had soaked him.

You barely waited to sink down onto him completely before you started rolling your hips against him.

Hannibal groaned in your ear, his voice rumbling and low.

He guided your hips in a rhythm, loving the way you bounced on his lap.

You angled yourself back a bit so he’d hit your g-spot every time you landed back onto him.

He wanted to get you to a fast, but good orgasm.

His fingers rubbed at your sensitive clit to bring you closer to your finish.

He thrusted up into you hard.

Each new thrust melting away more and more of your stress.

He sucked hickeys on your neck and praised you endlessly.

“You’re so good. I’m so proud of you.”

“Such a good girl. You’re so perfect.”

He worked you until you unraveled around him, your release hitting you full force with a flash of white.

He came inside of you, milking your walls white.

Your head fell onto his shoulder as you went limp, too tired to move.

His hands rubbed over your back as your breathings returned to normal.

He left sweet, lazy kisses wherever he could.

Your voice sounded out shortly after, drawing a laugh from him.

“I think...I can stop here for the night.”

[lovenona]

ON THE SACRED BONDS OF BROTHERHOOD.

synopsis; choso may be their beloved frat brother, but he’ll always be your brother first. (for the frat au collab.) 

pairing; frat boy! choso x f! reader

contains; stepcest, dubcon (reader is under the influence but having a good time), extensive descriptions of knife play and blood play, marking (choso carves his name into you), oral (f! receiving), borderline yandere/possessive choso (he loves you A Lot), choso goes from mean to Soft, consumption and romanticization of drugs and alcohol, (1) use of ‘angel’, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, this is essentially all foreplay and ends before the fucking because i got tired, minors do not interact or perish

word count; 6.5k

the yard outside is clean, well-kept. there’s talk that the house’s landlord is a retired gardener who receives great joy from keeping up the hydrangeas and peonies along the sidewalk. it’s certainly award-winning, that front yard, with its colorful blossoms and plush bees circling the mailbox. 

they’re so lucky, students bemoan on their way to and from class. i can’t believe the frat boys get to live there. i bet they don’t even know how lucky they are.

it’s a seemingly kind house from the outside – recently renovated with navy blue paint and white trimming, a large front porch and a few inviting windows. the place that omega lambda now calls home is, simply put, a dream. it sits just a few minutes from campus and it tells the street proudly, fondly, that there is no better place to be than here.

it’s true, in some respects, that omega lambda likes to see themselves as above the sweat and grime of their fellow frat brothers. they don’t spend their weekends “fucking and drinking” and tracking dirt across the carpet like animals. their fun is calm, refined: to be invited to a night with omega lambda means a night of smoke curling into the air, of gossip over olive-colored couches, of pills under tongues, of ease and relaxation.

it’s slower than the others, they say in the back of monday morning lectures, but no less extreme, no matter what those boys try and tell you.

i think i was tripping for days, the girl from psychology 101 boasted. whatever the fuck yuuji gets is strong. 

such stories amaze you: and even as you stand on the sidewalk outside the perfect blue house, petunias curling inward with the evening breeze, you cannot believe they are real. it’s hard to imagine the face of your beloved stepbrother tied to these antics. it’s hard to imagine that the boy who used to come home every winter and summer with bloodshot eyes and a beat-up skateboard also swore a loyal, unbreakable oath of brotherhood to a band of boys you’ve never met. 

it’s hard to imagine that your own stepbrother, choso, the one who taught you how to ride a bike and how to apply eyeliner and how to kiss without teeth, quite literally runs what has been dubbed the chillest fraternity on campus.

but yet, here you are, new to university, fresh-faced and eager, cowering outside the door of the omega lambda residence. your favorite skirt hovers around your thighs and you tug at the collar of your shirt, fiddle with the charm of the necklace choso gave you for your birthday a few years ago. 

he’d invited you here almost immediately after learning that you and your roommate had tried your hand at partying with beta pi epsilon. naoya is trash, choso’s fervent texts read the next morning. absolute dick – don’t trust him. come hang out with us instead. he’d attached the address of the blue house along with a reminder to have a snack and take some medicine for your godforsaken hangover. 

the message had taken you a little by surprise. choso’s always been sweet to you – doting, even, if you wanted a better word for it – but you hadn’t been sure how he’d handle attending the same university. your other friends all complain that they’d rather die than see their families; twins separate after orientation, brothers and sisters look the other way if they pass each other in the quad. you feared choso would be the same, that the omnipotent attention he gave you at home would completely dissipate the moment you moved into your dorm.

but his text reaffirms you, if anything. and although your roommate had opted to be wined and dined by the boy from calculus this evening, you don’t mind attending alone. her absence from your side only means you will be able to see your stepbrother without a distraction.

the music buzzes through the door as you knock and wring your fingers on the doorstep. should you just walk in? should you text choso and wait for him to fetch you? the ins-and-outs of frat etiquette cloud your mind until the door swings open and you’re met, face-to-face, with a young pink-haired man dangling a blunt from one hand and his phone, opened to his spotify playlist, from the other.

“hi,” you say, words foreign in your throat. “choso invited me?”

“oh, cool,” itadori yuuji says, shrugging his shoulders like he never would have questioned it. “come on in. you can put your shoes over there.” 

while omega lambda is not packed from wall to wall as your night at beta pi epsilon had been, the various couches propped against the walls and surrounding the living room coffee table are nearly packed to the brim with the frat brothers and their guests. the air, hazy with smoke and desire and drinking, shifts and swirls as it curls around purple LED lights before fogging up the windows and disappearing up the stairs. it is warm here, easy, like dropping into the depths of a pleasurable dream.

“there’s drinks in the kitchen,” yuuji is saying, voice thick with his high, “and we’ve got some other stuff on the table, although you’ll have to pay yuuta for those–” 

yuuji’s narration is cut off as a familiar figure crashes into yours, sweeping you into a hug so tight you fear your bones will snap from the pressure. choso smells like the cologne you bought him for his birthday, like fresh laundry and comfort; you breathe him in, deeply, and let yourself relax into the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

“glad you could make it,” choso mumbles into your skin. he draws back slightly, drinks you in, your little skirt and your dainty socks that he’s always been partial to. he looks from you to yuuji, still vibing to the side with his playlist, and his eyes crinkle in what must be mirth.

“it’s good to see you,” you say. 

“you saw me at lunch with mom last week.” choso smiles, the black line across his nose crinkling when his eyes light up. 

“you get what i mean.” you tap his shoulder, lightly, as emphasis. the anxiety dissolves; it’s you, and him, like it’s always been. it’s your stepbrother choso who watches your shadow and wraps you up to keep the rest of the world at bay. 

but the tender moment is broken when someone, a tall blonde girl with the aura of a lioness, calls out to choso to ask him for assistance. he looks at you, a bit forlorn, before telling yuuji to help you get settled in and making his way to the other end of the living room.

“yes, this way!” yuuji grabs your arm and drags you across the floor like you’ve known each other forever. “i make some fucking good drinks if i do say so myself.” 

which, consequently enough, is how you find yourself losing your mind within the walls of omega lambda. 

it’s not that you’re a virgin to the world of cocktails and lime and pills: it’s that you’re too sweet to know when to stop. it’s hard to tell yuuji no more, thanks when his face is so bright, when he and the strange, blue-haired frat brother mahito are asking you to try this and try that and to let us know what you think. 

so you let yourself sway through the house, from couch to couch, listening to this mahito boy tell you about his latest philosophy courses as he dances cold fingers across your shoulders, listening to yuuji explain the very serious business of pulling an all-nighter without coffee, watching the LED lights shift from purple to blue and back again.

(you’re not sure where choso is. perhaps, in your altered state, he’s sitting just across from you and you don’t even know it. but you don’t mind, because his brothers get along with you just as well. you don’t mind, because you’re too drunk or too high to know any better.) 

“and how are you doing?” a dark-haired man slides into the empty couch space next to you. arms littered with various tattoos and dark hair pulled back into a casual half-bun, he could have been your beloved choso had he not exuded such finesse, such arrogance, which choso could never be capable of doing.

“i’m alright,” you say, but you’re more than alright. the room is so warm and your brain is so fuzzy that you might melt into the couch if someone looked away for even a minute. “i don’t think we’ve met before? i’m choso’s stepsister.” 

he simpers, a humid thing, one that coils around your eyelids and sets your insides alight. “ah! i’ve heard a lot about you. it’s nice to meet you.” he holds out a manicured hand; black nail polish glimmers in the dim light. “geto. i’m one of choso’s frat brothers.” 

his handshake might take your soul with it. his hands are smooth, refined. you swear he can feel your quickening pulse as you introduce yourself. he watches you like you might be the only person in the room, like you might be the sweetest thing to have ever crossed the threshold. and filled with rum and liqueur and confidence you take it, gladly, because you’re young and the thought of university still puts stars in your eyes. 

“so what are you studying?” geto is saying, prying you apart, picking through your history. he’s in his final year and you’re in your first and he knows all there is to know while you still have nothing. you latch onto him because he gets it, because he’s handsome, because you’re silly and desperate and drunk. somewhere along the way your thighs touch and his hand greets your shoulder and you think that you finally made it into his lap because mahito complained that the couch was too full. 

geto smells like expensive cologne. you smell vaguely of lemons and shampoo. yuuji jokes with you from across the table and you like it, the way these brothers’ eyes fall on you. 

so you spiral, further and further, into a daze you cannot escape from. you barely react to geto’s firm hand snaking up your bare thigh because you are too busy trying yuuji’s latest creation and asking mahito for more of whatever he gave you. it’s fun, it’s weightless; you feel beautiful, supreme, like the kind of college girl you’re supposed to be. you’re desirable, cute. you’re the girl to be in love with, the one who sets the scene.

those rumors were right. the party is certainly slower than the other frats you’ve visited, with more emphasis on sitting and vibing than on dancing and drinking games, but no less extreme. you’re so far out of your brain that you wonder briefly if it will ever be possible to come back down. maybe you’ll be her, on monday morning, the girl who’s still tripping.

“you know,” geto is saying, his breath eerily close to your pulse, a moment away from pressing a kiss to your cheek, your neck, “you should stop by more often.” 

“yeah?” you hope you sound sexier than you are. “i’d love to–”

“excuse me,” choso’s voice cuts through your lazy fantasy like the sharp fall of a guillotine. “i’d prefer if you didn’t hit on my sister, geto.” 

geto’s laugh reverberates against your back, your ears. his grip on you lightens immediately, and whatever words he’d saved for you die away. “i’m not,” he says, but his voice is too easy to be honest. “just keeping her company. right, sweetheart?”

you’re finding it hard to see straight. caught in this game of cat and mouse you find you can do nothing but sit lamely in geto’s lap and watch choso’s favorite necklace reflect the purple light. it’s only after a revolution around the sun you realize you haven’t spoken, that you’ve done nothing but hover, a lot of drunk and a little high and a little nervous, between one man and the other. you mumble a yes in affirmation but it’s clear from the tension that choso doesn’t believe it. 

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” choso sighs. “come on, then. you’ve had enough for one night.” familiar arms lift you off the couch and you stumble, much like a baby gazelle, into the safety of choso’s chest. the room spins with the sudden change; you cling to him like a lifeline as you abandon the party to head upstairs. 

of course, bedazzled out of your mind, you do not question when choso leads you to the end of the hallway and over the threshold of his bedroom. it feels expected in a way, safe, as if the party had always been meaning to end here. as if there was no other place you should be.

“so?” choso asks, casually, shutting the door behind him with a damning click. “did you enjoy being a little whore with my brothers?”

his words take a long moment to settle in your ears. you’re caught in the swirl of euphoria in your brain, the black t-shirts scattered across the floor, the small houseplant you once bought him seated on the windowsill. it warms your heart to see it there, after all this time.

“well?” choso demands your attention. he takes your jaw in his hand and lifts your eyes to meet his gaze. his silver rings, imposing and cool on slender fingers, burn into your heated flesh like embers. his eyes swim with distaste and you know it’s your fault, somehow, but when the walls tilt and your rationality fogs over, you can’t quite pinpoint why.

“i–” your words catch in your throat. it’s clear, from the darkness in his eyes, from the way his nails dig into the soft flesh of your jawline, that anything you say to defend yourself will be futile. it’s choso’s world, you’ve always known, and even now, you’re merely living in it. 

“i invite my sister to see me, because i miss her,” choso’s words nestle themselves deep into your bloodstream, settling amongst the brandy and wine, “and she chooses to spend the night bending over for my brothers. how do you think that makes me feel?” 

it’s a look you know: a look that has haunted you for hours and days, a look that you know better than any other. it’s the look that guides the hand between your legs at night and the look you recreate in your mind’s eye when your vibrator just isn’t enough. you’re crumbling already, like sand beneath his touch.

“i’m sorry,” you say to him, but the words are soft and whispered things, shy beneath the weight of your own guilt and disappointment. “i didn’t mean to–” 

“no,” choso admonishes. he steps closer, guiding you backwards until his bedsheets brush the backs of your knees. “of course you didn’t. you’re still too dumb to know what you’re doing.” his voice, evenly condescending, hardly matches the gentle brush of his fingers as he moves to cup your cheeks. you close your eyes against it, savoring the shivers he sends across you body with every heartbeat, every movement. “still need your big brother to keep you in check.” 

you do not respond: he does not intend for you too. instead choso presses you back until you fall onto his bed, crawling over you to cage your body beneath him like a predator and its prey. your brain falters with the sudden movement, with the lateness of the hour and the depravity of your position, but you can do nothing but look at him with your helpless doe-eyes while something saccharine pools in your belly. 

“look at you,” choso says. “high out of your damn mind. good thing i caught you when i did. who knows what would have happened.” 

you believe him, you do, especially when choso dips his head to kiss you and demands your subservience. his tongue licks the aftermath of your cocktails from your lips and claims the expanse of your mouth, your teeth, your sanity. you let him take you, body and soul, even when you’re clamoring for air and freedom. there is no safety but choso’s lips, flavored with his cinnamon chapstick, no sacred home but the warmth of his mouth. 

“there’s my girl,” choso breathes, nose brushing against yours as he pulls back for air. “going to be good for me now? going to make it up to your big brother?” 

he doesn’t wait for a response; fingers dance along the silk of your blouse as he undoes each button, one by one, letting his fingers dip slyly against the newly exposed expanse of your collarbone and your chest and your stomach. you make no move to stop him, caught somewhere between choso’s aura and reality and time. 

(and maybe in another life you would have stopped him. maybe in another life you would have been ashamed. but it’s choso, your sworn protector and god among men, and you would be a fool to try and stop the one who knows best. he is safety, protection. who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t taken you away when he did.) 

“is this new?” choso asks, studying the curve of your bra as he rests against your hips. “who are you trying to impress?” 

it’s thin lavender lace, choso’s favorite. your face warms at the observation and you turn your head away, nestling among the sheets, as if you could escape choso’s eyes: but his fingers still trace the material and you can still hear him breathing and you know he will never look away. 

“i just got it,” you answer, humbled and mildly humiliated and certainly a little fucked up. the words are slow and imprecise as you stumble over your own tongue. “i wanted to…treat myself.” 

choso’s exploratory hands move from your bra to the waistband of your skirt. “could’ve just asked me,” he says earnestly, intently. “i would’ve gotten it for you.” 

your affirmative hum is lost when choso mindfully pulls your skirt down your legs and discards it somewhere in the shadows of the room. he says nothing of it, of the thin fabric or the way it flattered you just right. perhaps he is jealous of it. perhaps he does not want to remember the way his brothers looked at you when you wore it, the way geto’s hands caressed the places no other man should go.

“they match, i see,” choso gestures towards your underwear. terrified and knowing and aware that you’re growing damper with each passing minute, you press your thighs together. “they’re cute.” 

“t-thank you,” you whisper. “i… i got them for you. your favorite color.” 

he smiles, a precious and glorious thing, a smile that causes flowers to grow and birds to sing. you electrify at the sight of it, blissful only when he is. 

“i’d hope so,” choso says, “because i don’t think i could take it if this was meant for someone else.” 

he reaches over to the nightstand while his words claw through you. choso smells like cinnamon and safety and pleasure; your heartbeat quickens as his t-shirt brushes against you, as your world collapses into nothing but choso’s profile, his butterfly hair-clips and his glowing skin and his power. 

when choso settles back over you, resting against your thighs until you think you might die of it, something silver and shiny rests in his palm. you’d recognize it even if your eyes were closed, if the room were so dark that you couldn’t see if you tried. a searing and insatiable sensation lodges itself in your veins; it is fear personified, it is anticipation of a behavior you cannot even name. 

choso twirls his beloved switchblade deftly between his well-manicured fingertips. it reflects the low-light of the room. it calls out to you, the beautiful and dangerous thing, a siren’s song that promises both your misery and your fortune. choso’s face is relaxed, serene, as the envy and the fury seemingly melts away from him and leaves only a disinterested vessel behind. 

he lets you study it, lets you study him, and you know he’s pleased when he can feel your thighs tense, when you try so damn hard not to let choso know just how affected you really are. he shifts, grinding gently against your pelvis as he moves, causing you to bite your lip in a desperate attempt to surpress the gentlest of moans. 

“well,” choso says, disregarding the state he’s slowly working you into. he shifts down your body and runs a lackluster hand across the lacy expanse of your underwear. shivers pierce your navel, silver rings poison your skin. it’s all you can do to watch him, his heartless eyes and his casual form, as his thumb prods at the place where you underwear crosses your hip. “let’s get these off. i’d hate to have anyone else see you in them.” 

you feel the blade before you see it. cold, unfriendly, it rests against the gentle skin of your hip, a killer ready to take a life. a humiliatingly choked whine is out of your mouth before you can swallow it; your gasp reverberates throughout the room, the sound of one who knows they’ve lost a fight. 

“choso–” you breathe, but you don’t know quite what it is you’re asking him for. 

he doesn’t answer immediately, opting instead to tease you further with the blade as he presses it against you until goosebumps rise in chorus. your fingers curl in on themselves, desperate for purchase, while fear and longing hum everywhere in your being. 

“don’t worry,” choso says. “i’ll buy you more. now be good and stay still.” 

you want to writhe, to lash out and squirm beneath the intensity of the moment, but you fear choso’s disappointment more than you crave such release. your big brother choso has never been afraid to hurt you: to pierce the skin where it hurts, to draw blood where he means it. if you move, the blade will move with you. you know this as you know every scar choso has left behind. 

it’s agonizing, this pace. choso’s tongue peeks out from between his teeth as he works with the ease of a great master. it’s like watching paint dry, like waiting for grass to grow or continents to shift. he cuts away at the expensive lingerie you bought just last weekend like he has all the time in the world, like he does not care if the sun rises and you are still crying beneath him.

(and he does it, you know, because you’ve never been one to be patient.) 

“choso,” you whine, drawing his name out, long and frustrated, as if in song. “go faster.” your legs twitch in protest and the blade comes ever closer. 

“no.” choso does not even spare the kindness to look at you, his beloved little sister. “stop whining.” 

the rest of your complaints lodge in your throat. you fear disobeying him, so you grip the comforter like a lifeline, exasperated tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as the blade cuts through your clothes and ghosts across the bare skin beneath. it’s embarrassing, really, the way you can feel yourself becoming more and more desperate the further choso drifts away from you, the more he refuses to indulge. 

you wonder if he can sense the arousal on you, feel it, smell it, even, like you’re nothing but his own little plaything in heat. 

after an eternity, the blade finally cuts through your panties with a satisfying rip. the torn fabric sits pitifully against your hips, a reminder of your own subservience, until choso peels it away from you with enough condescension to move you to tears. the cool air of the room hits your thighs, your cunt, like a ghost who’s taken up residence beside you. 

blissfully unaware of your feelings, choso studies the remains of your ruined underwear, the thin fabric and the obvious stain of your arousal. locking eyes with you, he bring it to his nose for a brief and pleasurable inhale before he discards it somewhere on the other side of the room.

“there we are,” he says, as if he hadn’t just smelled yourself in front of you. “now no one will ever know about it but me.”

“choso,” you whimper, hot. it’s a gift and a humiliation to be beneath him like this, to shake with need and yet to be denied it, to ask for something, for anything, in a voice so unabashedly loud that anyone who passes by the door might hear it.

he ignores you, again, and turns his attention to your bra as it flutters against your fervent chest. you watch with wide eyes as the blade comes closer, closer, dancing against your ribcage and sending ice into your lungs until it slices through the front of your bra, down the center of your chest, like the thin fabric was made of nothing but water. 

“get rid of this,” he says; you listen. with quick and quivering fingertips you shimmy your way out of the delicate material and toss it over the side of the bed faster than the speed of sound. choso, pleased with your obedience, intently traces the curve of your breasts, thumbing your nipples until you find yourself arching into his touch. 

(choso, you mumble, eyes falling shut at the feeling. still, as always, he does not listen. he draws his hands away.) 

it kills you, the way choso’s eyes possess you, own you, dictate the movement in your bloodstream. it’s akin to being pulled along on marionette strings, a puppet of choso’s own design, made to dance for him and him alone. 

it’s the prize he deserves, your big brother, to own you and protect you, body and soul.

it’s that very intensity which moves you to misty tears, which causes your hands to fly out to meet him against your better judgement. choso lets you pleasure yourself for a moment with the texture of his t-shirt and the outline of his shoulders before brushing your hands away like unnecessary flies. 

“did you whore yourself out like this when you went to naoya’s?” choso prods. the patronization lies beneath feigned and genuine curiosity. there are no inflections, no signs of anger. this is how your big brother gets you, every time: it’s the neglect, the disinterest, that breeds your guilt. “are you really so easy for every boy that comes your way?” 

you shake your head and wish you could bury yourself further into the bedsheets. no, never. try as you might the first-year college boys here just haven’t been enough, the older ones too preoccupied with better cunts to look your way. 

“just because those guys are my brothers,” choso continues, shifting further and further down your body, spreading your legs until he can fit himself comfortably between them, “doesn’t mean i have to share everything with them.” 

“i’m sorry, choso,” you try again, “i’m sorry. i don’t want anyone else–” 

“that’s right,” choso interrupts. “you don’t need anyone else. no one is ever going to love you the way i do.” 

the way your big brother does, his eyes say, but he doesn’t have to voice it. you already know. it’s true that no one knows you better than choso does. no one understands your limits and your desires the way your brother has for as long as you’ve known him. no one knows how to caress you when you cry, how to run their tongue across your lips to silence you when you’re too eager. it’s always choso. it’s always been choso; but sometimes you’re just too much of a fool to see it. 

the blade, cool and demanding, presses against the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hip. you twitch in surprise at the sensation and curl your toes to quell the ache in your cunt. it’s slick, weeping; you can feel it, the arousal, as it pools and pools and drips quietly onto the comforter. 

“choso, what are you–” you ask, breathily, pitifully, but choso’s quick glare reduces you into obedient silence. 

he licks the cinnamon chapstick on his lips. a stray hair falls across his eyes and kisses the dark line across his nose. he is love and danger, a cocktail of possession and surrender. “i think,” choso says, the words slow and thoughtful, “you need a reminder of who loves you the most.” 

a strangled cry escapes your lips when the blade pierces your skin just enough to draw blood. the sting travels up through your spine and fogs up your senses, causes your cunt to weep in horrible anticipation. it hurts, it does, the first cut, but still you find yourself waiting for more of it, more, in terror and lust and love. 

“choso–” you cry, a misty tear escaping out of the corner of your eye, but the call is met by another stroke, longer this time, drawn out, until your knuckles clutch the bedsheets so tensely they might as well turn to stone. 

“stay still,” choso admonishes amidst the burn of it. “you’ll hurt yourself.” 

as if you were the one in control. but you listen, obediently as always, and the alcohol from earlier combined with the need in your chest mixes together until your body is as taut as a desperate wire, until you no longer have control of yourself or your limbs. the knife cuts easily, choso’s hands as steady and precise as ever. you can feel the blood dripping onto his sheets like a series of hot tears.

it’s too much, all at once. it is a fire which destroys you, which renders every coherent thought into ash and causes you to sob nothing but drawn-out cries and pleads of choso’s name into the dark bedroom. he has you just where he wants you: pliant, dumb, obedient. if he asked you to fetch him a star, you would have asked him which one he needed.

choso’s tongue darts between his teeth as a steady hand continues its masterpiece. you sob unabashedly in reply with every stroke, with every flex of his fingers as he works his blade against your tender skin. and yet, as the pain grows, so does your need for something, for anything, for release; with every aching minute your cunt grows hotter and lonelier and emptier between your thighs. 

you crave something, anything, choso, perhaps even more than you wish for air.

“there you go,” choso says, just as you release another cry so piercing there’s no way even yuuji wouldn’t have heard it. “all done.” 

you sit up on your elbows to peer down at the masterpiece below your hip. smeared with blood, aching and raw from the blade, the word CHOSO spreads across your upper thigh in an uneven but heartfelt script. it makes you dizzy, this marking, this sign that no one owns you better than your sacred brother does. you wonder if it will leave a scar, if it will heal; and even more so, you wonder if choso will merely rewrite it, again and again, until every cell in your body knows that you are nothing without him.

you say nothing; a whine escapes your lips as your eyes flit from the mark to choso’s eyes, dark and possessive, as he looks back at you.

“you like it?” he asks, once again the sweet thing, the doting one.

“yes,” you whisper back, never one to lie to your perfect big brother. 

but you cannot hide the insatiability. choso notices the way your thighs twitch from the intensity, the way your cunt drools and your eyebrows furrow because you cannot relieve this ache on your own. you’re helpless, entirely at his mercy. choso tilts his head with a soft and unreadable simper at the sight.

“you’re really worked up, huh?” he pretends your distress is not blatantly obvious. he twirls the bloodstained knife between his fingertips for a moment before bringing the flat edge of the blade against his lips in a somber kiss. “this little thing’s got you down bad, i see.” he flashes the switchblade at you like a diamond. you watch, entranced, as choso slides his tongue across the metal until any traces of your blood disappear into his mouth. 

your belly’s on fire. the switchblade shines with choso’s spit and he smiles, your blood on his tongue, while he prods your legs apart, further, until you’re entirely open for him with nothing to hide. you whine lowly as choso’s eyes flicker between your eyes, dazed and helpless, and the slick on the bedsheets. 

“choso,” you repeat. “please, help me.” your eyes are wide and your voice is small and you crumble beneath the weight of your own needing, of your own body working of its own volition, of the high that collapses all over you. 

perhaps it’s the way you call for him, your big brother, in your time of need. perhaps it’s the way choso can never really deny you, even when he feigns disappointment or rage or neglect. he’s bound to you, your protector, and you can see in the way his eyes soften ever so slightly that choso will not deny you this request.

“sure thing, angel. let me clean this up for you.” choso’s voice is generous as he bows his face towards your hips with the reverence of one before the altar. he leaves no room for your answer. an eager tongue swipes across your thigh and laps at the blood which pools there. his movements are indulgent, refined, as he holds your legs open with intimidating palms and drinks you in like medicine.

“choso–” you gasp, unable to look away. his eyes flit back to meet yours in reply but he continues his ministrations, slow, teasing, as he ignores your cunt entirely and licks at the fresh wound until it’s finally, sacredly, clean. your newly beloved CHOSO glimmers with his spit when he pulls away. he smiles at you then, praying over your hips, lips stained red with your blood, with your being. 

“i may be their brother,” choso gestures towards the door, to the party which must still rage below, “but i’m your brother first, and now you’ll never forget it.”  

the words are followed by his tongue on your inner thigh, fervent this time, as he travels downwards, downwards from his name on your leg until his nose is a breath away from your clit. you thrust your hips towards him impatiently and he accepts it, gratefully, burying his face deep into your cunt like he’s searching for gold. choso lavishes your clit with plump lips and an eager tongue, drawing the bud into his mouth and kissing it until you cry, until your legs tremble as they ensnare him in your garden.

“choso–” you’re crying, voice transcendent throughout the frat house, his favorite song. there’s a tongue prodding against your hole and a silver ring on your clit and you lose yourself within it, within choso’s breath on your folds and the fire which erupts into chaos. 

when it comes to pleasing you, choso does not require air. he refuses to resurface as his tongue explores every inch, as he laps away at you with the passionate abandon only an older brother can provide. what you need, he needs, and what you desire most, choso is always willing to provide. he holds you steady as he works so you cannot escape him. he forces you into stillness as he abuses every sacred inch of your cunt, as he works you into a frenzy with his fingers and his tongue until you can think of nothing but wanting to cum. 

and then, then, at the precipice of pleasure, choso pulls away. you pause as you catch your breath, heartbeat like an earthquake, and recollect your shock. why has he stopped? where has he gone? you’re about to sit up, to feign sobriety, to demand what the matter is, when something cool and smooth presses against your clit.

choso’s cheek rests against your inner thigh as he presses the flat edge of the switchblade against your cunt. it’s cold and dangerous and sublime and you cannot help but think of the way it could ruin you, that if you shifted or choso wanted it everything could end here, now, forever. and it is this fear, coupled with the coolness of the blade suffocating your clit, with the alcohol in your bloodstream, that sends you into a place from which you may never return. 

the orgasm is as violent as a hurricane. the moment you tense and begin to quake with a strangled sob choso replaces the blade with his tongue and rides you through it, coating his lips with your cum and swallowing the vibrations and heightening the sensation until you are tortured by it, by the sting of pleasure and overstimulation and want. 

(“that’s it,” you think he says into your skin, but your ears ring too loudly to know. “cum for me, just like that.”) 

it takes some time for the waves to recede and for your body to become still again. with a head comprised of of jelly and limbs made of water you lie still, panting, as choso nonchalantly licks your slick from the switchblade with a hum and gingerly sets it back down on his dresser. you watch as he slides the belt out of his jeans and tosses it into the dark room, as he hovers above you like an angel and its lover. 

“better now?” he asks against your parted lips. you nod. he kisses you, deeply, a kiss made of iron and cum and blood, tongue swiping across your teeth before he draws the air from your lungs. your vision swims when he plants a kiss on the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, between your eyebrows. he plants his love until there is nowhere left untouched, until you are buzzing with the security only your brother choso can give you. 

“yeah,” you mumble back to him, content, satisfied. even the sting of his name on your body is a pleasantry now. 

“good.” choso wipes the perspiration from your brow. his jeans scratch against your pelvis, and it is only then that you finally register his cock, hard and eager, waiting patiently for its turn. it is only then that you realize choso’s lesson is not yet over, that your brother’s desperate need has only begun. 

“now,” he purrs, gently, lovingly, “can you show me how much you love me?”

(as always, forever, you do. you show him your love, endlessly, even when the party ends and the house falls eerily silent. you show choso everything, all of it, loyally, just as he asks, with an only you, choso, and a no one else loves me like you.

because although choso offers his love to the brothers downstairs, he will always, forever, be your brother first, til death do you part.)

[shiftynightshade]

@totallycorrectjediorderquotes Thanks for letting me borrow the quotes! Love your content!

It seemed like clickbait at first, just another Holotuber desperate for their 15 minutes of fame. However, one particularly curious Rodian had clicked on the link while waiting for her lunch at Dex's and the opening lines of the holovid had immediately caught the attention of everyone in her vicinity.

“Hi everyone! I’m Jedi Master Kit Fisto and, with permission of course, I’m posting this to share some behind-the-scenes clips of the Jedi Council. Most of these are going to have no context, but that makes them funnier. So without any further ado, let me introduce our very own Master of the Order, Mace Windu without any context! Buckle up gentle beings, prepare to have your whole galaxy shaken.”

“Is this real?” A twi’lek whispered from beside her, his eyes impossibly wide. She shrugged. The Jedi were not exactly the most popular beings in the galaxy after all.

The first few seconds were nothing but a black screen before it began shaking and moved to show a round room filled with multiple chairs and large windows, which led to Coruscants skyline, indigo’s had begun to bleed to black. The camera panned to the right in which you could see a hologram of Shaak Ti and Kit Fisto curled up in his chair next to her. Briefly, Adi Gallia and Eeth Koth were in the shot.

Kit looked across the room with a shit-eating grin. “Dead Sifo-Dyas? More like kawaii desu baka Sifo-Dyas”

The camera quickly oved to the left to where Plo Koon had reared back in surprise. Master Yoda was letting out evil cackles while Mace Windu stared with a hard expression. “Blocked” He threw his hands in the air.

Chuckles and Kit’s pleads filled the room as the camera flipped to show the filmer to be Saesee Tiin. He grinned. “Council Session number 21: Kit Fisto gets fucking Removed from the Jedi Order.”

The clip stopped and went to a rainbow screen.

The Twi’lek giggled beside her, his green skin flushing a bit. “Wonder what else is in there?” hey shared a look.

The rainbow screen cut to a pair of fuzzy socks padding their way through a hall to a dimly lit kitchen. The sound of kitchen utensils echoed as the filmer peeked around the corner. A chrono displayed the time as 4:12 AM, the year set as 48 BBY. A younger Mace milled around the kitchen in a simple amethyst purple sweater and earbuds. His head bopped softly as me mixed whatever he was making in the bowl.

A young voice came from behind the camera. “Master… what are you doing?”

Mac looked up and removed an earbud. “Making chocolate pudding.”

The filmer now known as Depa Billaba made small noise. “It is four o clock in the morning, why on earth are you making chocolate pudding?”

Mace shrugged with a smirk. “Because I’ve lost control of my life.”

Depa snorted and the camera flipped to show a 16 year old Depa wearing a matching smirk.

A young Mon Calamari cooed and pointed to a drawing on the wall signed DB. “Aren’t they the cutest? He looks like such a proud dad.”

Another clip began playing, this time it was set during the afternoon, the sun shone through the council chambers windows. The camera panned to show the worried faces of each council member present. Only one seat was empty. A few council members were whispering to each other in concern, eyes constantly going to the doors or the seat. The doors creaked open to reveal Mace rubbing his eyes.

Adi rose a brow and chuckled a bit. “How long have you been asleep?”

Mace yawned and slumped in his seat. “I was awake for two hours on Tungsday”

Adi frowned. A couple muffled “Oh Shit’s” came from the other Jedi. “That doesn't answer my question... You know its Primeday, right?”

Mace’s reply was cut off.

“That’s…. very concerning.”

The Mon Calamari nodded. “Sounds like a mini coma to me.”

That didn’t exactly bode well for the Jedi if they only got rest from sleeping in coma’s.

The camera shook as the filmer seemed to adjust its setting before flipping up to show a med bay where injured clones were resting. Mace was pacing while Obi-Wan Kenobi sat cross-legged on a bed. “Look at me, okay? I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I’m a wreck!”

Obi-Wan smirked a bit but rose an eyebrow.

Mace sighed. “I mean, sure I still look good, but that’s just genetics.”

The camera panned to where a clone in armour with purple paint sighed and shook his head like a friend watching their friend get back with their ex for the 50th time. “General please.”

Another Rodian snickered at the clone’s plight.

The camera cut to where Mace and Saesee were laying on their backs, Mace had his legs propped against the wall of the council chambers while Saesee had starfished beside him. “What did we learn, Master Tiin?”

Saesee grunted and shrugged. “I have no idea”

Mac sighed. “I don't fucking know either. I guess we learned notto do it again.”

Saesee nodded serenely. “Yep.”

Mace dragged his hands down his face. “I'm fucked if I know what we did.”

“Yes, it's hard to say.”

Mace blew out a breath. “Jesus Fucking Christ.”

The Rodian laughed as the clip cut itself off. “OH goodness, I thought Jedi weren’t allowed to feel emotion?”

The camera cut to a small group of Masters sitting in a room full of waterfalls and plants: children could be hear giggling in the distance. A small title in the upper corner of the screen read. The Room of A Thousand Fountains.

Eeth was sitting with his arms planted in the grass behind him. “Let’s play truth or dare.” Mace was laying in the grass beside him. He shrugged. “I’ll play.” Eeth grinned. “Truth or Dare?” Mace hummed. “Truth.” “When was the last time you slept?” Mace blinked. “Dare…” “I dare you to go to bed.” “I hate this game.” Suddenly a large cloak was thrown over Mace and one Plo Koon was there the next, a vehement “SLEEP” hissing out of his mask.

The clip stopped.

The Twi’lek blinked. “I-is that a regular occurrence in the temple?”

A dark room filed with a large holoscreen and multiple Jedi appeared after the previous one. Mace was staring at Anakin Skywalker. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I'd like to offer you some friendly advice.”

Anakin frowned at him and shook his head. “I don't need your help.”

“Consider it unfriendly advice then, dipshit.”

The clip cut off.

The next video was of Mace walking out of the council chambers. “Do not come over to my house. If the house is on fire you may knock once, if I don’t answer assume I set the fire and I want to burn to death.”

“MACE NO-”

The clip stopped.

The Rodian stammered. “D-do they get therapy? Do they have time for therapy!?”

Hysterical laughter could be heard as the camera shook. “Mace when did you become such a comedian?” The camera moved to show Mace.

“I'm naturally funny because my life is a joke”

It suddenly cut to show Depa sneaking up behind Mace with a grin. She held up a finger to her lips before jumping to cover Mace’s eyes with her hands.

“Guess who!?”

Mace startled and reared back slightly. “It’s either my former Padawan or the cold, clammy hands of death.” The filmer snorted.

“It’s Depa!”

“Dammit.”

“He sounded genuinely disappointed then.”

The video was shorter with Mace sitting in The Halls Of Healing. “Master Windu you need better self-care habits.” A Twi’lek was admonishing.

“Self-care is drinking 20 cups of Caf and Lightsaber Dueling a Sith Lord.”

The Twi’leks sigh was longsuffering.

The Rodian blinked as the video ended, the next one already loading.

The Mon Calamari whistled. “The Jedi are…. Different to what I expected.”

The Rodian nodded.

“Yeah…”

[fanficimagery]

When Enough is Enough pt. II

Imagine being let down one too many times by your best friend, only to end up making some new ones in the process.

Words: 8.5K Author’s Note: Okay so some of you asked to only be added to part 2 of this while others asked to be added everything Bucky.. and a few others weren’t exactly clear. So if you want to be tagged in any future Bucky related imagines please let me know so I can get your blog name written down on my list.

Tags:  @aya-fay @70s-chic @sipsteacasually @kaitlyn2907 @scarlettwitch99 @thingsforimagination  @mimilh @felicityofbakerstreet @eternalharry @eliwinchester99 @intothesoul​ @wintershadowkat  @b1sexualtonystark  @meredeph @miszswan

The Sunday before you are to return to work, you sleep in until nine in the morning. Your thoughts are immediately on Bucky's impending arrival and you couldn't help the butterflies that took flight in your stomach. He's a friend, just as all the others are, but you couldn't help but notice just how attractive this new friend of yours is. But not only does his attractiveness draw you in, his easy-going teasing and protectiveness does too. However, Bucky Barnes is still a man trying to find his footing in this world after all that's been done to him and finally getting his name cleared, and if he finds comfort with you then you're going to try your best and be the friend he needs.

So since you're not dressing to impress, you dress in your favorite lazy outfit after your shower- leggings, sports bra, a faded sleeveless band tee with the arm holes having been cut down to around your ribs, and a pair of socks. Damp hair gets gathered up into a messy bun and you walk around your apartment to pick up some things you had unknowingly left out.

You've skipped breakfast, so when there's a knock on your door and you open up to find Bucky standing there, you groan in relief. He raises both hands with paper bags hanging from each. "I come bearing sushi. Wanda let it slip how much you love it."

"Yesss." You step back, quickly taking in his own comfort outfit of sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt under an opened jacket. "Did you bring plenty of wasabi? And you can just kick off your shoes anywhere."

"Of course." He hands you the bags so he can kick off his shoes and strip out of his jacket before hanging it up. You don't know why, but seeing him in a short sleeve shirt makes you happy, knowing full well he was weird about his metal arm being out in the open. "And plenty of dipping sauce as well. Wanda was more than happy to give me advice."

"Wanda, huh?" You chuckle, leading the way to your kitchen. "You actually told her where'd you be?"

"Apparently I looked very pensive this morning. She asked and I figured she was a better confidant than Steve or Sam who would have made a big deal about us hanging out."

"True." Setting the bags down, you let him empty them while you head to the fridge. "Beer?"

"Yeah."

Grabbing him a beer and yourself a can of Cola, you return to the table and your eyes widen at the sight of all the sushi. "Damn, Barnes. That's a lot of sushi."

"Don't act like you won't eat half of it."

You laugh as you take a seat, handing him his beer and pulling a few trays to your side of the table. You take a container of wasabi and dipping sauce for yourself, and grab a pair of chopsticks to start digging in.

You moan in delight at your first taste, happily shimmying in your seat before taking another. Eventually, you ask, "So what are you going to do when I'm back at work and I can't keep you entertained by getting shitfaced?"

Bucky grins around his mouthful of food before chasing it down with a swig of his beer. "We actually got a mission comin' up so I'll be leavin' around mid-week."

"Well that sucks." You sigh. "Now who am I going to send random pictures to when I have downtime at work?"

He grins. "You can still send them to me. I just won't get back to you until after the mission's complete."

"Yeah, yeah."

The two of you continue to eat- Bucky dodging Steve's texts about where he is and when he's coming back, and you sending the middle finger emoji over and over to Wanda who keeps wondering how your date is going. Then once most of the sushi is gone and Bucky puts what little is left into the fridge, the two of you head to the living room. You immediately flop onto the couch as Bucky takes the plush recliner, only for you to hear him moving the chair into its reclined position seconds later.

"Oh. I definitely need to get one of these."

You laugh as he snuggles down and you pick up the remote to bring up your streaming services. "Anything you've been meaning to watch?"

"Not really. Just show me your favorites."

You start off with some humor by playing the Goonies. It's a movie that no matter how many times you've seen it, it always seems to make you laugh. And it seems Bucky is not immune either when they make Chunk to the truffle shuffle. Titanic plays afterwards, but only after making sure Bucky found it somewhat interesting after reading the movie summary to him. He is interested from beginning to end and doesn't even laugh at you when you shed a few tears for the old married couple who opt to stay in their bed as the room floods.

When a break is needed, you head off towards the bathroom as Bucky finishes off the leftover sushi. Both of you check your phones and read each other the missed text messages from Steve and his worrying behavior.

"Wanna tell Steve to fuck off via video message?" Bucky takes a moment to think on it before he grins and nods. "Excellent. Sit in the recliner. I'm gonna crawl up all in your business. That okay?"

"Yeah."

As Bucky gets comfortable in the recliner, you sit on the armrest before sliding down sideways onto his lap. You bring up the camera app on your phone and switch it to video, sliding your right arm behind Bucky's neck while holding your left arm out to capture the two of you on the screen. "Ready?"

"Sure, doll."

You chuckle quietly and then smirk mischievously as Bucky relaxes his expression into his best resting bitch face. After you hit record, you say, "Hey Rogers, stop being a little bitch and sending us text after text. I'm tryin' to fuck your best friend here." Bucky's expression cracks as he barks out a laugh and you turn to face him while grinning. You share a laugh with him before facing the camera once more. "Only joking, but seriously stop buggin' us. I promise to send him back in one piece."

As you prepare to send the text to Steve, Bucky says, "You're terrible."

"Whatever. Admit it, you adore me."

"Occasionally."

You huff another laugh as the video message finally sends. You and Bucky both watch as the delivered status turns to read, and then those three little dots appear as Steve starts typing his reply.

"Tell Bucky to wrap it before he taps it." You burst out laughing at Steve's text, Bucky's rumbling laughter only fueling yours even more. "God I hate your best friend sometimes." And before you climb off Bucky's lap, because honestly you were getting a little too comfortable, you send Steve a few middle finger emojis before deciding on a third movie to watch.

The third movie you choose is one that never fails to make you laugh- Bridesmaids. You had a moment of hesitancy because of the sex scenes, but you figured they were ridiculous enough that it wouldn't be awkward. Thankfully you're correct and you get the added bonus of hearing Bucky's laughter again during Megan's scenes, especially when they get food poisoning and are all fighting for the bathroom.

You and Bucky take yet another break after the film, just stretching and finding something to drink.

"So what's the verdict, Barnes? Are you enjoying the films?"

He grins. "Your taste is all over the place, huh? That last one we watched was raunchy."

"But hilarious! You need to watch the Hangover trilogy, but you definitely need to watch that with Steve and then watch him squirm at the pictures that roll with the credits."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Jurassic Park holds his attention and he can't help but comment how stupid one has to be to replicate dinosaur DNA and then open up a park with live dinosaurs. You laugh, but don't bother commenting. You'll tell him later there are more movies involved, with yet another idiotic man who felt he could get the park up and running once more.

It's getting dark, but it's still a little too early for dinner. One more movie and then you'll order or go out and pick something up.

"So this last one for the day is a movie that's directed more towards the female viewers, but you did ask for my favorite films and Practical Magic is my absolute favorite."

"Well put it on, doll."

As you press play on Practical Magic, you quickly grab a throw blanket and snuggle in. Instead of watching Bucky, you watch the film and mumble certain quotes to yourself. The magic scenes always bring a soft smile to your face just as Gary's confession to Sally of I wished for you too breaks your heart, and Sally and Gillian's heartfelt sister moment makes you cry.

Afterwards, Bucky hums in thought. "So that's your favorite?"

"Absolutely." You tell him. He's watching you curiously and you grin. "If I show you something, you promise not to laugh?"

"I'll try."

"Whatever. That's good enough for me." Standing up, you walk towards him and kneel, and tell him to pull your shirt sideways by the armhole next to your left arm. There on the back of your left shoulder and forever etched into your skin is a salt shaker, a rosemary plant, a lavender plant, and a heart. You then rattle off one of your favorite quotes to him. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

Bucky chuckles as you get up, retaking your spot on the sofa. "You really are a fan of the movie."

You nod. "As a little girl, I was fascinated by magic. I thought I'd grow out of it, but I only grew more fond of it. And then I found Practical Magic and it had a bit of everything I adored."

"So what's the one scene that just gets you every time?"

"Ugh. You're making me choose?!" You feign being distraught and he grins. As you think about it, you keep coming back to two scenes in particular. "So there's two," you tell him, "and I'm not choosing between them." Bucky nods, awaiting your answer. "Gillian's possession. When Sally calls together the other mothers who were mean to her in order to make a temporary coven to save her sister, and Gillian begs Sally to just let her ghost ex have her."

Bucky hums. "That was a bit sad, doll. I saw you shedding a few tears over that."

"Mhm. And the other scene is when Sally comes clean to Gary and admits that she did a spell as a child to call forth her perfect love thinking it wouldn't exist, only it did. When Gary tells Sally that he wished for her too, it just breaks my fuckin' heart."

"Let me guess, you were one of the girls who cast her own spell after seeing that scene." You stay quiet for a moment and the second you feel your face heat, Bucky laughs. "What did you wish for?"

You groan quietly. "If I tell you, you can't laugh!" He only smiles in response and you know he won't drop it until you tell him. "Fine. So even though I knew it would never work, I gathered the weirdest objects and wished for a significant other with dark hair and colored eyes. He had to be protective and funny and love me for me. Simple."

For some reason you can't seem to meet Bucky's gaze then and you feel awkward the longer the silence stretches on.

"So dinner?" He asks.

"Oh god, yes please. Pizza and wings?"

"Sounds good."

You have the nearby pizza place on speed dial, so after finding out Bucky's preferences you make the call and place the order. It's going to be about a thirty minute wait, so you fill the time sending Steve pic after pic of Bucky who's none the wiser as he scrolls through his own phone and adding the most asinine comments to each picture. Steve thinks it's absolutely hilarious.

Then when the pizza and wings arrive, you beat Bucky to the door and thrust several bills at the delivery boy. He's more than happy with his tip and you hurriedly wave him off before shutting the door. You laugh at Bucky's disgruntled expression and then place everything on the table while gathering a beer for both you and him.

"Don't let me have more than two," you tell him while handing him his own bottle of beer.

Bucky agrees and the two of you dig into your own personal pizzas and boxes of wings once you're situated around the table. As you're eating, Bucky asks about what other movies you hold near and dear. You fill him in on a few others and he hesitantly puts it out there that he'd be up for another movie marathon when you both have a day off. You agree that that's doable.

Halfway through dinner, as you and Bucky are chuckling over the thought of making Steve sit through Bridesmaids, there's a sound of glass breaking from your living room and a muffled curse. The two of you immediately cease making any type of noise and Bucky is up with a gun in hand.

"Where the hell did that come from?! You hiss.

The telltale sound of a window then sliding shut can be heard.

"Shut up and get behind me."

The authority in his voice makes you freeze and your heart flutter at the same time, and you have to mentally scold yourself before you quickly do as he says. You follow Bucky towards the living, ready to duck at the ready, only to sigh and roll your eyes when you see who it is.

Bucky stands tall and lowers his gun. "Parker." You can practically hear the annoyance in his voice.

"Mr. Barnes?" Peeking around his shoulder, you raise your eyebrow at your best friend who's been too busy for you and is now frowning at Bucky. When he catches sight of you, he asks, "What's going on?"

"Uh, well we were having dinner until we thought someone was breaking in."

"Alone?!"

Your brow furrows at Peter's incredulousness, only for him to realize you're not impressed with his tone. You raise an eyebrow at him and cross your arms over your chest. "Did you need something?"

"Oh, um, yeah." He shifts from foot to foot, gesturing to his face where there's a scrape on his cheekbone. "My ribs took a beating too. Can you patch me up?"

"Sure." You sigh. "Why not."

Before you can leave to go to the bathroom to get the supplies you need, Bucky says, "I'll just get out of your way then."

You stop and face him. "What? But we haven't even finished our food. It won't take me long."

"It's fine, doll." He grins when he realizes you're trying to get him to stay. "You gotta hit the hay early anyway. We'll talk soon."

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, sighing when he won't budge. "Well at least take your food with you. No use in it going to waste."

Bucky nods and heads back to the kitchen, collecting his food. You watch him and then follow him to the door, holding his food while he bends over to lace up his boots. Once he retakes his food and you open the door, he thanks you for the time away from the tower and disappears down the hall.

Shutting the door and then heading back into the living room, you tell Peter to get back into his regular clothes so you can get to his ribs while you go gather your medical supplies.

Meeting Peter back in the living room and setting everything down on the coffee table, he says, "So you and Bucky-"

"Don't." You pick up the peroxide bottle and soak a cotton ball in it. "Bucky and I are friends."

Peter manages to keep his mouth shut as you clean the scrape on his cheek and place a small bandage on it. Then when you've checked his ribs and tell him he just needs to ice them, he mumbles, "Friends who apparently lick each other." You snort and think nothing of his sullen tone, but when you look at his face you see he's actually being quite serious. There's no chuckle or boyish grin and for a moment you're absolutely floored at his attitude. "I don't think I'm comfortable with Bucky being alone with you in your apartment."

"Are you- are you kidding me?" You huff and take a step back from him. When Peter just continues to frown, you shake your head at him. "First of all, I'm an adult woman who can make her own decisions."

"I know, but-"

"I'm not finished!" You snap. Peter's eyes widen, but he smartly ceases talking. "I am allowed to have friends whether you like them or not. We have a pact, Petey, and since I'm still abiding by it I would hope that you would too."

"Yeah, but that's for significant others!"

"Significant others or friends, it doesn't matter. And you should be grateful I've kept my mouth shut when it comes to you and Leslie because let me tell you, I've been biting my tongue a lot these past few weeks. Bucky and the others have stepped up since you've abandoned me, so you have absolutely no room to tell me that you're uncomfortable with him or any of them being around me."

"Leslie isn't that bad and I have not abandoned you." You snort, but don't bother opening that can of worms even further. He finally gets annoyed with your quietness. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You're here because you needed a bandage. Tell me, Peter, where are you going after here? Where are you going after making five minutes of small talk and calling it a night?" He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut, shrugs, and you shake your head at him once more in disappointment. "Exactly. Just go, Peter. I'm so over this conversation right now and I have work in the morning."

"Wait, but we promised we'd never leave a conversation where we were still annoyed with each other!"

"And we also promised we'd never judge who the other decided to spend time with, but here we are." He frowns at you. "Go to your girlfriend, Peter. We'll talk again in another few days or weeks or whenever. I don't care right now."

Peter stands there, gaping, before he pulls himself together and makes his way back towards the window he had crawled through. He glances at you one last time, but you merely keep staring until his mask encompasses his head once more and he lifts the window before taking his leave.

As the window shuts behind him, you sag in on yourself and your breathing stutters in your chest as your eyes fill with tears. You've never been this angry at Peter and the fact that he thinks it's okay to ignore you until he needs something and then has an opinion about who you hang out with was just too much for you to let slide.

You quickly gather everything from your coffee table and return it to its rightful place in your bathroom, and throw away the trash. Your appetite is long gone, so you put up what's left of your food and then head to your room to gather some clothes so you can shower and get into bed.

By the time you've crawled into bed, you're still a bit annoyed. So grabbing your phone, you pull up your text messages and click on Bucky's thread.

To Bucky: Well that was a shit show. I don't think I've ever made Petey leave my apartment while we were still angry with each other.

From Bucky: I'm sorry, doll. Anything I can do?

To Bucky: If he gives you attitude, get a non-serum individual to punch him. You, Steve, and probably Nat will send him flying into the wall.

From Bucky: If I remember..

To Bucky: Well I mean if you forget, I won't complain. I'll probably laugh when he comes crying to me.

From Bucky: You're a terrible human being.

To Bucky: Whatever. You adore me just the way I am. And now I should get some shut eye. I'll talk to you soon. Night, Sarge.

From Bucky: Night, sweetheart.

For the next couple of weeks, you keep yourself busy with work. Bucky and a few others do go on a mission as he said they would, so you keep your texts to a minimum of three each day- a good morning, a random story from that day, and a good night. They're gone for four days and in those four days you've not heard from Peter. The only reason you know he's not completely done with you is the fact he likes your posts that you put up on social media.

But since you're not currently speaking to your best friend and are too exhausted to hang out with anyone else, you're in a bit of a funk and completely caught off guard one evening when the patient a police officer brings in smacks you right across the face. You had been trying to insert an IV into his arm when he completely lost his shit, and then you were hit so hard that you were strewn across the gurney behind you. And in your vulnerable position, a fistful of your hair had been grabbed and yanked right before the police officer had intervened and pulled the patient off of you.

You had been given a bit of time to ice your cheek before you had to get back to work, but your face and scalp were hurting you the entire time.

On your way home, however, you're surprised to receive a call from Pepper. You're heading towards your apartment complex when she invites you to dinner there at the tower since Darcy is finally back in town, and you hate to do it, but you're not exactly up to be around such a rowdy bunch. So you apologize to Pepper and ask her to apologize to Darcy for you, and take a rain check. Immediately she knows something is wrong, but you only tell her you had a rough night at work and all you want is a hot shower and to crawl into bed. She hesitates but wishes you well, and the call ends moments later.

When you get home, you waste no time in locking the door behind you and heading straight for your bathroom. You strip down and take the hottest shower your body is capable of handling, and let yourself relax in the steam-filled room. Afterwards, as you're drying off, you gently dry your hair since your scalp is still sensitive and then get dressed in some of your comfort clothes.

Then heading out into the kitchen, you find some leftovers in your fridge and heat those up, tiredly sitting at your kitchen table and digging in. Just as you're done with your food and heading towards the living room, someone pounds on your apartment door. You sigh, hoping they go away, and have only plopped down onto the sofa when a familiar gruff voice speaks through the wood.

You quietly groan as Bucky tells you he knows you're there and you get up to open the door for him. He's on the verge of knocking again when you swing the door open. "Hey. Pepper said-" He trails off as he takes in your appearance, expression going slack before his jaw clenches in anger. "Who?"

You shake your head, gesturing him inside as you turn around and walk towards your sofa. You hear your door click shut before the footsteps follow you. "Work got a little hectic. No need to hunt down anyone, Barnes. I'm fine."

"Half your face is bruised, doll. You are not fine."

"It's all part of my job." You shrug and plop down onto the sofa once more. Pulling a blanket over your lap, you stare up at your friend. "There will always be a drunk and disorderly patient. I was just lucky he didn't do more damage."

Bucky frowns, but he doesn't push you on it. Instead, he walks over and sits next to you, angling his body towards yours when gentle fingers grasp your chin to angle your face more towards him. "What exactly happened?" He asks as his eyes dart over every inch of your face.

"Some petty criminal did some damage to his head in the back of a patrol car. Police officer brought him in and he seemed pretty docile up until I jabbed him with the IV. He got the drop on me. It happens." Gentle fingers brush along your cheekbone and you flinch. Tears sting your eyes as you sniffle. "I'm fine."

"Just because you keep sayin' that doesn't mean it's true."

Your bottom lip wobbles at his words and you lose the battle with keeping the tears at bay. The moment they fall, Bucky pulls you into a hug and you cry into his shoulder. "Dammit," you mumble. "See what you started!"

Bucky chuckles and he holds you a few moments longer, rubbing a hand up and your back to offer a semblance of comfort. When he lets you go, you fall back against the sofa cushions and wipe the tears away with your blanket. "So what are we watching?" He asks while settling in next to you and draping an arm behind your head.

"Shouldn't you go back to the tower and have dinner with the rest of them? I'm-"

"If you say you're fine one more time, I will drag you back to the tower and let Steve motherhen you."

You sigh. "Low blow, Buckaroo."

"And for that horrendous nickname, you've lost the privilege of choosing what we're going to watch."

You laugh and don't bother arguing with him about it as he leans across you to snag up the remote. When he settles back down and you snuggle into his side, you huff a small laugh when he settles on TLC which is showing 90 Day Fiancé.

"Why this show?" You ask.

"Because it blows my mind that some people are so oblivious and can't see that their chosen partner is only in it for the green card."

As you let his reasoning sink in, you can't help but giggle as you picture Bucky sitting in his own apartment and bad mouthing the TV because he didn't like the decisions the people were making in their love life. You watch along with him, cringing at the more obvious couples that are only headed for future divorce and smiling when one of the couples is actually in it for love.

You manage to almost watch a complete two hour episode when there's a knock on your door, but you're too comfortable to get up and answer it.

"You get it," you say as you nudge Bucky.

He nudges you back. "It's your apartment."

"Yeah, but I don't feel like getting up."

"You could have at least come up with a better excuse."

You grin, finally taking your eyes off the screen and glancing up at Bucky. "M'too tired. Brain's not working fast enough." He continues to give you a deadpan stare until you jut out your bottom lip. "Please?"

The second Bucky's lips twitch, you know you've won. He huffs and roughly pushes himself up off the sofa as if answering the door is a hardship, and you go back to watching TV. At least until you hear a familiar voice stammer, "Uh, h-hey Mr. Barnes. Is Y/N home?"

Your gaze snaps towards the door where Peter is standing out in the hallway, hands in his pockets as he sheepishly stares at Bucky. The man in question turns and raises an eyebrow at you as if saying what do I do and you give him a terse nod to let him know it's okay. Bucky steps aside and Peter readily walks in.

"I should be getting back to the tower," Bucky suddenly says. "You kids have fun."

This time it's your turn to give him a deadpan stare and he smirks right before slipping his boots back on. Then as soon as they're laced up, he's walking out the door and shutting it behind him. Peter, who hadn't stopped staring at the intimidating man, finally turns to look at you. And when he does, his eyes widen.

"What happened to your face?!"

You sigh. "I'm fine. Just had a little incident at work."

"And Mr. Barnes was what? Comforting you?"

"First of all, can you stop calling him Mr. Barnes? You two avenge together and what not. I'm pretty sure that means you're on a first name basis." Peter grins as he takes a seat on the recliner near you, shrugging. "And Bucky was here because when I turned down dinner at the tower, Pepper figured something was wrong. Bucky took it upon himself to check in."

"So are you two like a thing or something?" He wonders.

"We're just.. friends," you say. "For some unknown reason we clicked and we're comfortable in each other's company."

For a moment Peter doesn't say anything, nor will he meet your gaze, but then he's looking at you and sighing. "I'm sorry." You blink at him, surprised to hear the apology. "I shouldn't have freaked out that one night. Who you are friends with and who you decide to date is your business."

You finally smile, even though it's rather small. "Thank you. And don't get me wrong, I know you meant well, but you should have dropped it and just trusted my judgment."

"Yeah. I know," he mumbles.

"Soo.. are we good?" You ask.

"Yeah."

"Good. I was getting tired of you liking my posts and not commenting on them."

Peter snorts. A moment of silence passes and then he says, "So you'll be glad to know that Leslie and I aren't together anymore. I broke it off earlier tonight."

You wince. "Sorry."

"Nah. Don't be. She was totally using me for access to the tower." You're torn between being smug about being right and being sad for your friend who just ended his relationship. "I only realized it earlier when she got upset because Mr. Rogers posted a picture of you and Mr. Barnes together, and she had a few choice words to say about it."

"What? Steve posted a picture of us?" You quickly pull out your phone, checking social media for any notifications. There are none, but as you get on Instagram you check Steve's page and sure enough there's a new pic that shows Bucky staring fondly at you as you laugh at something on your phone. "That little shit didn't tag us!"

As your thumbs move furiously to give Steve a piece of your mind and to comment how adorable you and Bucky look, Peter can't help but say, "You're attracted to him."

Your texting falters and you quickly glance at your friend to gauge his reaction, but when he just looks amused, you shrug. "I mean have you seen him? How could I not be attracted to him?"

"Does he know?"

"I have a feeling he does. Asshole likes to fluster me every now and then."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure he likes you back." You snort and go back to finishing up the comment on Steve's post. "I'm serious. When we stopped talking, he threatened me. He was pissed that I made you cry and said I was lucky. He's actually really scary when you're on his bad side."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in and when they do you can feel your ears heating up, followed by your cheeks. Peter starts to laugh and you groan in embarrassment. "Why is this so weird? Dating should be easy!"

"Well he is an Avenger.."

"I don't care about that! He's just- he's really, really hot. It's intimidating."

"Wait, what?" Peter huffs. "So you're intimidated by his hotness and not because he's a super-soldier with a metal arm?"

"Well yeah."

Expression melting into one of confusion, your friend eventually shakes his head at you. "You're on your own with that. Good luck."

You hadn't realized how much everyone had known about your and Peter's brief falling out until the two of you were laughing together once again at the tower. It seemed like everyone had sagged in relief now that the two of you were poking fun at one another once more, and you had to apologize for apparently making it awkward for them.

And now that your best friend knew of your crush on a certain super-soldier, there was lots of teasing material. Of course you kept him in line when you could, but there was no stopping the force of Peter, Wanda, and Darcy combined.

It's a random Tuesday night when you've driven over to the Tower, Bucky having called you over for dinner with a few friends. You had the day off so you didn't mind heading on over, but as the elevator doors slide open after having ridden up to the communal floor, you yelp in surprise as the small gathered crows that shout, "Happy birthday!", at you.

Steve, Wanda, Sam, and Peter pop confetti poppers as you step out of the elevator, eyes wide as you glance between each of them. "My birthday is not until tomorrow!" You hiss.

"But you work tomorrow." Wanda frowns.

"Mhm." Your eyes then narrow, glancing behind them at the streamers and balloons hanging from the ceiling. "And how'd you guys even know?"

Everyone glances at Peter and he takes a step back when your gaze slides to him. He chuckles sheepishly. "I might have hid your birthday cupcake here and Steve found it."

"Petey," you groan. "Why couldn't you just hide it at aunt May's like usual? You know I dislike birthday celebrations."

"You don't dislike them. You just dislike all the attention being on you."

"Whatever. Where's Barnes? He's the one who lured me here under false pretenses. I got a bone to pick with him too."

Everyone turns around and Bucky's head appears from around the corner. He smirks and you glare at him. "Not false pretenses. We are having dinner," he says. "It just so happens to be a birthday dinner. And it's running a little bit late, so until the food gets here you get to open presents."

"You guys all suck."

Peter and Wanda each take a hand and drag you further into the room, heading towards the kitchen. Bucky fully steps out from behind the wall and you aim a kick at his shin as you're walking by. He laughs as he easily dodges it and then you're standing by the kitchen island that's been cleared of everything other than birthday presents.

You huff a small laugh and shake your head fondly at them. "I love you guys, but you do know you didn't have to get me anything, right?"

"Shut up and open the presents," Bucky says.

"Open mine first," Sam says, reaching into the small pile and pulling out a white envelope. "Unlike the others, I was literally told within the last thirty minutes we were doing this so yeah. It's not the best present, but I think you'll enjoy it."

You smile at Sam as you open it, chuckling at the plain birthday card and his brief personal message written inside. But it's what else that's inside that makes you meet Sam's gaze once more, smiling fondly at him. "Thank you. I can't get enough of bubble tea and I'm sure I can do some damage with this gift card."

"You're welcome."

"Mine next." Peter reaches in for a medium-sized box and hands it over to you. "I know you're not a fan of presents, so I got you something I actually knew you'd enjoy."

Raising an eyebrow at him, you pull the lid off of the box. Then glancing down, you snort before pulling out a bottle of Patron Silver Tequila. "I knew we were best friends for a reason."

Steve groans. "Please drink responsibly."

"Please. Responsible is my middle name, Rogers." Everyone snorts and instead of trying to remain serious and feign offense, you end up laughing. "Sam and Buck are good babysitters. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's to be determined," he says. "Here. Open mine. I honestly had no idea what to get you, but Peter assured me you'd enjoy this."

Putting the bottle of tequila back in its box, you accept Steve's gift. Pulling off the ribbon, you can't help but laugh when you see what's inside. "Cards Against Humanity." Peter cheers. "We're playing this the next time I have off," you say, grinning at Steve.

"What is Cards Against Humanity?" He wonders. "I just picked it up and boxed it."

"It's possibly one of the most confusing card games or raunchy card games you'll ever play," Sam says. "I, for one, am looking forward to it."

"Thank you, Steve. I seriously can't wait to play it."

"You're welcome."

Wanda claps her hands. "Mine and Darcy's next. She ordered online and I had to pick it up earlier. But, um, I'm not sure you want to open it up in front of everyone."

"Oh god. Don't tell me it's a vibrator."

Sam laughs out loud as both Peter and Steve start blushing. Bucky looks rather amused and intrigued as Wanda slides two boxes over to you. She shakes her head, giggling. "Not quite."

For a brief moment you're relieved, but then her answer sinks in and you're hesitant all over again. You groan. "Is yours safer? I feel like it is. Which one is it?"

Wanda only smirks as she pushes her box towards you. You open it, marvel at its contents, and then put the lid back on much to the boys' displeasure. Trying to keep a straight face, you look at Wanda. "How many sets did you get?"

"There's four. All in colors that will look amazing against your skin tone."

"Thank you. I'll send you pictures when I wear them."

"Yes please! Natasha wants to know how they fit as well. She was the one who suggested them."

"I'll send them to the ladies group chat then."

"Well that's not fair," Sam complains. "First for not showing us what's inside the box and then you guys have a ladies only group chat. I wanna be in the ladies only group chat."

"But then that defeats the purpose of it being a ladies only group chat," you muse.

"Come on," Peter then whines. "What was the present?"

Your gaze slides to Peter, but instead of outright saying what it is, you say, "Think back to that one Halloween night where you wouldn't let me out of the dorm until I switched costumes."

It takes him only a minute to understand and when he does, he snorts. "That wasn't a costume! That was lingerie."

"Whoa, what?" Sam exclaims, grinning.

"Lingerie can be worn as a costume?" Steve wonders.

"I was actually a Victoria's Secret Angel, complete with the most amazing set of wings, and Petey forbade me from leaving the room. It was a sad, sad night."

"As much as I wanna get into that," Sam says, "I wanna know what Barnes got you more."

You chuckle and glance at Bucky, smile faltering when you see him tense. But then he seems to shake himself out of it and offers you a grin. "Open the bigger one first."

Wanda clears away the other presents as Bucky slides his two towards you. You feel giddy as you grab the bigger box, untying the black silk ribbons and lifting the lid. There's tissue paper you open up and you gasp, happily giggling. "You didn't?!"

"Well you did say it was your favorite movie, sweetheart."

"Yes!" You glance up, beaming at Bucky, and your heart swells at his own smile being directed at you. "I really, really love this. I can't wait to hang it up."

"What is it?" Peter wonders, trying to peer across the island.

"It's a quote from Practical Magic," you say and Peter huffs a laugh, knowing full well your love for that movie. You carefully pick it up and turn it around so everyone can see it as you read it off by heart. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

"Aw," Wanda coos. "That's adorable."

"I made Bucky watch this movie a while back," you say. "I need to show it to you one of these days."

"I'm looking forward to it," she says.

With nothing else to say, you place it back in its box and set it aside in favor for the second box. It's a little smaller, but you're excited for it nonetheless. Untying the ribbon and lifting the lid, you immediately laugh at the white petals scattered atop the tissue paper.

"Barnes, you smooth sonuvabitch," Sam mutters.

Steve and Peter laugh, but you're so focused on the notecard that's under some of the petals. Lifting it up, you read the note to yourself because immediately you know it's personal. My better half has to be funny, get along with my friends, won't judge me for my past, and has decent taste in movies.

Heart fluttering, you bite the corner of your lip when it feels like you're smiling way too much.

"Well what does Prince Charming have to say?" Sam asks.

"That's none of your business." You close the note and then tuck into your back pocket, chuckling when Sam and Wanda complain. When you meet Bucky's gaze, you immediately flush and mentally curse yourself when you see him smirk in return.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you center yourself and then part the tissue paper. You look at the second portrait and gasp after you read it.

"What? What is it?" Peter wonders.

This second portrait is of a hand drawn bowl with a tipped over salt shaker, a small bundle of lavender, a small bundle of rosemary, and a heart beneath it. Above the bowl is a swirl of flower petals and inside the swirl of petals, in very pretty cursive writing, are the words I wished for you too.

Did he just- did he confess his own feelings by using a Practical Magic quote? Or was this just you overthinking his present? You glance to meet Bucky's gaze and at his gauging expression your eyes fill with tears.

"What did you do, Barnes?!" Sam scolds him. "You made the poor girl cry at her own birthday celebration!"

But Bucky isn't paying him any attention, instead he's solely focused on you. You set the present aside and walk around the kitchen island on shaky legs, and Bucky readily reaches for your waist as you grab his face and pull him down into a kiss.

You can't believe you're kissing Bucky, but then he squeezes your waist and returns the kiss, and you know you made the right choice.

Someone gasps, but then the following words let you know exactly who it is. "Darcy is going to be so angry she missed this." Wanda. That is Wanda.

"What the hell is going on?" Sam wonders. "What type of present can cause this type of reaction?"

You smile against Bucky's mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth before falling flat on your feet after having been on the tips of your toes in order to reach his mouth.

"It's my favorite quote from my favorite movie," you say. You turn around to address your friends, but Bucky doesn't let you go far. He wraps one arm around your waist and tugs you back so you're resting against his chest and tucked beneath his chin. "It's a movie about witches," you explain. "These two little girls are being raised by their aunts and they see them performing love spells for a local woman. Basically, one of the young girls refuses to fall in love after witnessing a love spell gone wrong and she does her own spell to call forward a love that would be impossible to find- a man who's favorite shape would be a star and who had one green eye, one blue. Years down the road, the sisters accidentally murder a man."

Sam snorts. "How the hell does one accidentally murder someone?"

"Shush." Wanda admonishes him. "I want to hear the story behind the gift."

You and Bucky chuckle, and you continue to explain. "Anyway, they send in an US Marshall to investigate the disappearance and the one who had done the love spell at a young age starts to fall for this man. She ends up telling him about the murder, but he doesn't quite believe her. Then they're on the verge of hooking up when she gets a good look at his eyes- one green eye, one blue."

"Oh my god. That's so cute!" Wanda says.

"It gets cuter. And sadder," you say. "So she explains to this man about her family, the murder, and how she can't be with him because he's only attracted to her because of a love spell she did when she was just a little girl. At first he's skeptical about this spell bringing him to her, but then he ends up believing her. And as he's walking away from her, he stops to tell her I wished for you too."

"So you made out with Barnes because of that?" Sam shakes his head, chuckling. "Wow."

"It's fuckin' adorable. Stop ruining the moment, Samuel!" Bucky laughs at your words and pulls you closer to him.

"So while I'm happy for Buck," Steve says, "I'm still really curious about what Darcy's gift is."

Peter nods. "Same."

Wanda giggles, but says nothing as she grabs the box and slides it over to you. You groan because you know it can be nothing good, but you still open it since everyone is watching and waiting. As soon as you part the tissue paper and read the box, alongside taking in the picture on the box, your face flames as you shove the lid back on. Wanda cackles.

"I hate her."

"She said to give the remote to-"

"Don't!" You cut Wanda off, blushing even further. "I know who she means to have control of that."

"They- they make underwear that does that?" Bucky muses and you die a little on the inside in embarrassment. You elbow him as he starts to laugh behind you.

Sam instantly knows what the gift is now and starts to laugh, but Steve and Peter apparently need some help.

"Lewis got you vibrating panties, didn't she?"

"Oh my god, Sam, if you don't shut up I'm gonna punch you in the throat."

Steve is torn between laughing and trying not to make you even more uncomfortable, but his amusement wins out. "Given Y/N's flustered state, I'm assuming Darcy wants Bucky to have the remote."

"I mean this seems like it could make for an interesting night."

Everyone laughs at Bucky's sudden interest in the box you're doing your damnedest to keep shut, but luckily Peter steps in. "As much I love watching Y/N squirm, can we get ready to eat? I'm starving."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go wait downstairs for it, kid."

Sam and Peter head for the elevator to take them down to the lobby, and you turn around in Bucky's hold. "Help me take this stuff to my car so I don't have to do it later?"

"Sure thing, doll." He grins. But instead of stepping away, he pushes you further into the kitchen island. You smile as he cages you in and then huff a laugh when he reaches for the box behind you. "So exactly how long do we have to be dating before we can test these out?"

You slowly lean upward so your lips brush his as you say, "I'd say very, very soon if you would put your ass into gear and help me move these presents like I asked."

Bucky laughs and presses a quick kiss to your lips. "Then let's get to it."

The telltale sound of a phone's camera goes off and you turn your face towards the sound. Wanda is beaming, her phone pointed towards you and Bucky. "Darcy wanted evidence I wasn't lying. She's going to be so happy."

Bucky turns his face to look at her then, his cheek brushing against yours where he's yet to back off from you. "Tell Lewis I said thanks for the present. I'll give her my review of them in a few weeks."

Wanda's eyes widen and you immediately blurt, "Don't you dare!" But she's already texting and you know the group chat full of ladies is going to be full of messages that you'll have to reply to later. Quietly groaning, you slap your hands against Bucky's waist and push him back. Looking up at him, you shake your head but the corner of your lips turn up in amusement. "You're terrible. I would threaten to withhold sex, but I've been looking forward to that for a while. I'd just be punishing us both."

"Just tell me when and where, sweetheart, and I'll be there."

"Oh no. You guys are going to be that couple," Steve complains.

And without missing a beat, you face him and say, "Fuck off, Rogers!" Bucky snorts.

"You're cranky when you haven't gotten laid."

You gasp as Bucky bursts out laughing right in your ear, but he quickly catches you as you try to lunge for his best friend. "You know what, I was going to be discreet when banging your best friend, but now I'm going to tell you all the filthy things Bucky likes to do just to annoy you. I will go into excruciating detail about the look and taste of his dick!"

Steve blanches as it's Wanda's turn to burst out laughing. "You've done it now, Steve."

And as Steve looks to Bucky for help, he merely shrugs. "You brought this on yourself, Stevie. Hope you enjoy the play by plays."

Relaxing in Bucky's hold and moving so you're hip to hip with him, you slide your arm behind his waist and hook your thumb into the belt loop of his jeans. "We're going to have so much fun."

[kirishoshego]

Anniversary//Bakugo

!!!MINORS DNI!!! 18+ONLY!!! Summary: Bakugo and you have been dating for two years now and things went well, but lately he didn’t had much time for you, something he plans to apologize for on your anniversary  Words: 3.2k+ TW:nsfw: unprotected sex, toys, anal play, anal, choking, spanking, degrading and praise, oral (him receiving), using a gag on you, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, lots of drool basically, at the end a cute little fluffy scene I’m sorry it’s a bit messy 😖 I hope you still enjoy it and wishing everyone a great start in the new week :) You sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror, cladded in a red lace body suit with some cute flower details. It hugged your curves in all the right places, your waist adored by straps that clung to matching knee high socks. “Ugh, I don’t know Mina, I think it’s too much...” you said through the door, turning around to look at your backside.  “Let me see,” before you could say anything she opened the door and slipped in, careful so no one else could peak inside. “Girl please, you look like a fucking masterpiece, you really make me question my sexuality right now,” she told you, looking you up and down. “Momo, what do you think?” Mina asked your sick friend on the other side of the screen, turning the camera to you. “You look absolutely stunning! If it’s the money I’ll send the amount you need to you on Venmo, just buy it, Bakugo will definitely fu-” she was cut of by a fit of coughs, taking a sip of her tea. “That’s not it, it’s just...” you trailed off, wrapping a lacy coat over your body before sitting down in the small changing room. “Oh please, that man is deeply in love with you, I met him a couple of days ago and he would only talk about you. He’s just stressed with Hero Work, with Kiri sick right now he’s a bit overworked, it has nothing to do with you,” said Momo. “Imagine being one of the strongest shields to ever exist and getting defeated by a badly cooked piece of chicken, poor Eijiro,” Mina shook her head. “You’re right, I worry too much... We actually want to visit him later tonight, I hope he’s a bit better, Bakugo wanted to cook chicken soup for him,” you told the girls with a smile on your lips.  “See. Now please buy this or I’ll lose my mind,” your pink haired friend told you. “Fine, if it keeps you sane,” you laughed.  Mina walks out of the stall so you have enough space to change back into your normal clothes, ready to go all in.  Bakugo was indeed very stressed, coming home later than usual and barely talking to you. Not because he didn’t want to like you thought, but because he was so on edge that he was scared to snap at the one person who took some weight off his shoulder, not adding onto it. He knew it was shitty, that you didn’t like it when he shut off like that and especially push you away he does right now. So Bakugo hoped pulling you in close at night when he came back from work, noticing how hard you tried to stay away to see him, would tell you how much he appreciated you.  When you woke up the spot next to you was already cold, the only sign of him laying next to you was the dent in his pillow. He had made you breakfast, leaving a note that read: I will be late again today princess, I love you x A small smile found its way on your face, he always left you notes when he’s stressed and sorry about not being able to spend as much time with you as he usually does. You kept them all in a small box in your night stand, reading through them when ever he was on a hero mission. You texted him good morning and thanked him for the breakfast, not awaiting a reply as you knew how busy he was. But much to your surprise his ringtone signaled you that he had send you a message: I’ll be at home by 11:30 p.m, see you then? Of course he will. You have been craving him for long now, your body and mind screaming his name, begging for his touch, begging for his hot kisses all over your body, wanted to feel him inside of you again, his skin on yours. You couldn’t remember the last time he bend you over and fucked you, his hand wrapped around your throat, reminding you who’s slut you are. 

Now you had 13 hours to pass, so much time on hand and yet so little. You had so many ideas popping up in your head that you didn’t know where to start. You made yourself a list and hoped to finish everything before he came home so you could spend the night together nicely, partying into your special day. Once you were done with cleaning your living space you decided to go out and grab Bakugo’s favorite take out, not being able to pass by your local flower shop without grabbing a couple of new plants to fill your flat nicely.  Still having two more hours to pass you decided it was time to prepare yourself. As the warm water fell onto your skin and making your muscles relax, your mind wandered off to the many times Bakugo had joined you in here, taking the stress out on you, the windows not only fogged from the hot water. After you had dried yourself and put on some lotion that left your skin extra soft you applied his favorite perfume, the one he gifted you on your birthday last year. You still had enough time left, drinking a cup of coffee so you’ll stay awake long enough, answering the girls group chat and texting Bakugo that you can’t wait to see him. You had send him a picture of you holding up the take out, letting him know he doesn’t has to worry about his dinner. He texted you back earlier, stating that he doesn’t know what looks more delicious, you or the food, with a text following suit after to let you know that his decision fell on you. The red lace outfit was hidden in one of your drawers, not wanting him to see it on accident. You slipped into it, twisting and turning in the mirror to make sure everything sat nicely. Not a moment too soon apparently as you could hear Bakugo’s key rattling and the door being opened.  The light in your hallway was being turned on and you could hear Bakugo taking off his shoes and jacket, his bag falling on the floor as he walked into the living room.  “Princess?” he called out, making your heart flutter and setting off a tingle between your legs. “I’m here,” you answered, hearing him walk to where you stood. “Holy shit,” he groaned as his crimson red eyes fell onto your in lace clad frame. His eyes wandered over every curve of your body, taking in the beautiful view he could never get enough from. “Come here baby,” he motioned for you walk up to him, licking his lips as you stopped right in front of him.  “You look so good, I’m so fucking in love with you, do you know that?” “I love you too Katsuki,” you whispered against his lips that were mere moments away from crashing into yours.  One of his warm hands cupped your cheek, drawing small circles on your skin as his other hand wandered down to the swell of your ass, squeezing it and delivering a slap onto the soft skin, pulling out a soft moan from your throat.  His mouth now wandered along your jaw, kissing down your neck, licking over your sweet spot before biting down on it. Bakugo turned you around so you would face the broad mirror, his eyes meeting you in the reflective surface. You could see the glint in his eyes and knew you were in for a long nights, feeling him smirk against the crotch of your neck. He made sure your body was pressed into his so you feel his hard dick through his pants. The blond stopped kissing you, watching your face twist in pleasure as his hand slipped into your underwear, middle finger sliding into your wet walls, collecting some of your wetness before pulling out again and licking his finger clean. Making sure your eyes were on him the whole time he now grabbed your face between his other hand, turning it to him so he could kiss you, his tongue coated in his spit and your juice. The blond returned his hand back to were you most craved it, flicking your clit every now and then to hear your sinful mewls swallowed by his mouth on yours. He had enough of muffling your moans so he turned your face to the mirror again, ordering you to keep looking at yourself with his hand wrapped around throat, his mouth licking and biting along your shoulder. His fingers were circling your clit over and over again until he heard your breath hitch, your hands now gripping his underarms tightly.  “Are you close Princess?” he asked you, a smug look on his face as a whimper of a ‘yes’ left your puffy lips.  “Wanna cum? Already? That’s a bit pathetic, don’t you think?” he groaned, biting your earlobe gently as his fingers picked up speed, his hard on throbbing in his now tight pants. You couldn’t help yourself but agree with him, how could you not? He knew your body better than anyone, knew how to make you cum within minutes. “It’s okay, you can cum, I neglected you for so long, hm? Be a good girl and show me that pretty ahegao face you make,” he slapped your clit before dipping a finger into your needy cunt, his thumb now drawing eights on your sensitive nub, sending you over the edge.  “There we go,” he didn’t stop there, making you ride out your orgasm before his finger disappeared from your wet core, turning you around again to kiss you, chuckling at your pitiful whines. Always so needy for him. “Go grab your special box and come into the living room, I’ll be waiting for you,” Bakugo told you with a husky voice and your eyes landed on his dick imprint, mouth watering.  You didn’t need to be told twice, darting straight for the hidden silver box somewhere in your shared wardrobe.  When you entered the living room you noticed that Bakugo had striped down, now laying on the couch in his full glory. You made your way over to him, putting the box down on the couch table before crawling on top of him. He made you sit, his meat right between your labia, as he ground your hips onto him. Pulling you in for another kiss, his tongue slipped into your mouth and once again his hands were on your ass. How he loved squeezing it, massaging it between his big hands and feeling your body shutter whenever his fingers would stroker over the rim of your ass.  Bakugo flipped the two of you over, him now on top of you as his lips wandered down to your chest, licking your nipples through the lacy material, his hand opening the buttons of your body suit and exposing your wet cunt to him.  He sat up, looking you up and down yet again, not able to get enough of how good you looked, he was so lucky, he thought to himself. Katsuki opened the box, roaming through the different toys before pulling out the ones he liked to use the most on you.  “Ass in the air,” he ordered, pulling out the lube, dripping it on the black plug as you arched your back the way he loved it. He bit onto your left ass cheek before spitting onto your puckered hole, before you could feel the cold tip off the plug dipping into you. He twisted and turned it, not pushing it in completely but more and more every time he went in, cock throbbing whenever another moan slipped out of your mouth. With one final push the thick toy was buried snug inside of you, the dime adoring the end glowing in the red of the LED lights. Bakugo tapped on it a couple of times, wiggling it slightly looking at your glistening pussy, your wetness dripping down on the fabric beneath you.  “Hands,” he tapped your back, making you fold your arms behind it as anticipation grew inside your stomach. You wouldn’t dare to be bratty with him, not now. Way too many times had it backfired badly, leaving you hanging for sometimes a whole week and you couldn’t handle that happening right now, you were going to be his good girl so he would fuck you senseless.  Taking out the robes Bakugo tied your hands up, making sure they were tight enough before pulling out a paddle but deciding against it. If you were going to have an imprint on your ass then he wants it to be his hands, marking you as his in a place for only him to see. If only your friends knew how dirty you were.  He held you down with his hand between your shoulders as his hands abused your jiggling ass cheeks, spanking you over and over again. He might set off his quirk on the last spank, to make sure you couldn’t sit without thinking about the way he makes you feel.  Without warning he slammed into you, making you scream out his name. Bakugo pulled your body towards his with every thrust, his hand on your wrists, showing no mercy as he pounded into your cunt. He could sense you were embarrassed, biting your lip to muffle your moans, so your boyfriend pulled out completely, letting your upper body fall onto the couch. He grabbed the ball gag out of the box and pulled you up by your hair, wrapping it around your head.  “None of that, you’re a filthy little whore, stop trying to hide that,” the blond kissed your forehead before returning to his previous spot. His tip dipped into your wet walls, now teasing as if to warn you not to pull anything funny anymore. He knew he made you feel good but hearing it from you spurred him on even more. The living room was one of his favorite places to fuck you as he could see watch you in the reflection of the window and right now all he could see was how he fucked you stupid. Drool dripped down your chin and chest, your tongue out as the ball wouldn’t allow you to close your mouth. He loved seeing you so stuffed, every hole used as he used you however he wanted. Bakugo pulled on your restrains harder, pulling your body flush against him so could wrap his hands around you throat, squeezing tightly, your walls around him doing the same. It was his goal to make you cum as quick as possible, as many times as he could before he would. Taking a vibrator into his other hand he pushed it down on your clit, watching your eyes grew wide. There was no doubt in his mind that you pushed yourself down on his dick even harder, chasing your second high that crashed down with in seconds. Not waiting for you to come down he pulled out your plug, slowly inserting himself where the toy was just seconds ago, the vibrator falling onto the couch as his hands gripped your waist tightly. His crimson red eyes watched his thick shaft disappearing inside of you, ass jiggling every time he was balls deep inside of your tight hole.  “Fuck, you’re such a cock hungry slut, aren’t you? My good little bitch, so needy for her man to fuck her hard, hm?” he knew you couldn’t answer him, not in your current state. You looked so messy, mascara stains all over your cheeks as your tears mixed with your drool while he choked you hard enough to have you wear a turtle neck for the following days, unless you wanted everyone to know what he did. Katsuki untied your hands, pushing them down next to your head, his hands wrapped around your wrists as his body was now pressed against yours, his smell all you can register next to the extreme amount of pleasure filling every inch of your body.  “Gonna cum for me again? Can you do that?” he moaned into your ear, his hips slamming into yours. All you could was hum in agreement, feeling another knot in your stomach ready to explode. The muscular man kissed up and down your neck, feeling you clench around him, legs shaky as you were barely able to hold yourself up anymore. Bakugo found the still vibrating toy, pushing it into you this time and thrusting it in and out sloppily, making you scream out his name as good as you could while coming undone yet again.  He pulled out, standing up and stroking himself in front of you. “I’m not done yet, on your knees,” he ordered, pulling you down and propping you up the way he wanted. Unclasping the band that kept the ball inside your mouth he didn’t waste any time before pushing his swollen cock past your wet lips and down your throat. His hand was in your hair, pushing you down so the tip of your nose hit the skin above his meat. Bakugo thrusted in and out, your hooded eyes locked with his. All you could do is push out your tongue, knowing he loved you like that, on your knees, fucked stupid with only his dick and pleasure in your mind. The way Katsuki would grown every time he went down your throat made your pussy throb, craving more. It didn’t take long for him to pull out and cum all over your face. “Don’t swallow just yet, let me have a nice look first,” he told you, watching the vibrator slip out of your dripping cunt, your other hole clenching around nothing. He felt himself already hardening at the view again, but he had to take care of you first before making you ride him.  He picked you up in his strong arms, kissing your forehead. “You did so well for me princess, I’m so proud of you, let’s get you cleaned up, sounds good?” he asked, already on his way to the bathroom. “You won’t break up with me, right?” you suddenly asked him timidly, making him chuckle, the doubts of before filling your mind. “Definitely not, I plan on doing quite the opposite of it actually,” he told you, watching you as you tried to make out what he just told you.  “It means, I want to marry you dumbass, of course only if you’re up for it?” he planed on asking you tomorrow but he just couldn’t wait, the ring in his jacket basically burning a hole through the pocket.  “You’re not joking, right?” you asked him as he sat you down in the bathtub, pulling you into his body so he can clean you. “No Idiot, I mean it, you’re everything I ever wanted, you’re so patient with me and so understanding and I couldn’t handle a day without you by my side, so Y/N, I’m asking you will you become Mrs. Bakugo?” “Of course!” you told him with the biggest smile he has ever seen, eyes sparkling full of love as you pulled him the best you could, wincing as the pain of your bruising asscheeks made itself noticeable.  “Good, it would have been really embarrassing to return the ring tomorrow,” he told you, kissing your lips. 

©Kirishoshego//do not repost on any plattform