#can you imagine how much hate she would have gotten if she pushed to be the one beau gets with

[kissandtellus]

Hello :3 I hope you feel better soon! I have a request for you though. Could you maybe write a needy Caleb listening in on MC while she's playing alone in the next room? You could throw some panty sniffing in there, lots of talk about fantasies caleb has please. Hope to see it soon <3

Misunderstanding

Synopsis: A hot summer day turns into an even hotter misunderstanding.

Warnings: Caleb being a freak, eavesdropping, the panty snatcher strikes again, self-pleasing, imagination.

Caleb hated any barriers that separated him from Y/n. That wasn’t just walls she had built up after his ‘death’, it also involved the very REAL wall separating their bedrooms. No matter how much he begged and pleaded with her- “Pipsqueak, we can just share my room. The bed is so much better for your back, I know Hunting wears you out”-she refused.

So now he lays in the master bedroom of his Penthouse, trying to ignore how utterly humid it is today. His P.T had ran long, and it involved running out in the muggy, humid heat of the training ground.

The A.C on full blast was doing little to calm his sweating. He’d stripped his shirt an hour ago, hell -bent on catching a nap before he took Y/n to that new bakery that opened down the street.

But the walls were thin. In this multi-coin Penthouse the walls were still like fucking paper. He could hear the soft sound of her record player. It was churning some light, pop and preppy music he could barely make out the words too.

It didn’t bother him, it brought him comfort that his Pipsqueak was safe and sound.

What DIDN’T bring him comfort, was the shuffling noises of blankets being shuffled around and then the lowest, softest buzzing.

Caleb thought that maybe his exhaustion had gotten the better of him.

Then the soft noises quickly overrode the music. Caleb sits up in his bed and eagerly presses his ear to the wall. Lo and behold, those pretty noises are real.

Caleb knows he should tear himself away from the wall. He should blast some of his workout playlist and try to sleep. But he can’t, he can’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

The draw to his bedside table is pulled open so hard he’s afraid he might break it off the hinges. He pulls out the photo of Y/n he keeps in his drawer. It’s an innocent photo in the frame, the photo from his graduation where she’s planting a kiss on his cheek.

But as he pulls back the metal bits and the back of the frame falls out, a pair of lacy purple thongs fall into his lap. He’d stolen these from the laundry weeks ago. Y/n had never questioned him about it, it was too embarrassing. Why would she?

Caleb pushed down his grey sweats. He was never a fan of wearing boxers beneath them while at home. And he also felt a thrill when he caught his little Pipsqueak staring at his flaccid cock bouncing against his thigh.

But now here he was, face shoved in the crotch of the thong, hand gripping his cock. Y/n’s moans grew needier, not exactly louder. His protective instincts surged a bit, hearing her all whiny and gasping.

He should be helping her, he should be the one coaxing those sweet noises from her mouth. He hastily picked up the discarded photo, thong resting against his face. His pink tongue even darted out to try and get even a taste of what her sweet nectar would taste like.

His eyes flickered over the photo. The way her skirt was raised just a bit, the way her arms were around his neck.

Y/n’s groans came louder through the wall. It was clear she was trying to muffle them by how strained she sounded. Caleb was in no better shape. His thumb swiped the prickle pre over the head. Fuck, his hand could never match up with how warm and tight she must feel.

Caleb imagined the lips that were pressed against his cheek in that picture, to be around his aching length.

He dropped the photo and leaned his head back against the headboard. He focused on the noises, shaping up a pretty picture in his mind.

How she would feel, how she would whine when he first took her innocence ‘Oh Gege, mm-so big ‘in deep!’!

Caleb was like a mad dog, his free hand now pushing the fabric against his nose and drooling mouth. His cock twitched and strained in his palm. He was going to blow his load at the image alone.

“Caleb? This massager I got from the store is really good on my back! I know you told me about the bed being hard but-“

Caleb’s orgasm should’ve came to a screeching halt as soon as his bedroom door opened. Oh but he couldn’t stop the milky white ropes from shooting up his chest and leaking onto his toned belly. Y/n stood in his door way with a rolling back massager, eyes wide with something he hoped wasn’t horror or disgust.

In that moment, he really wish he’d actually blown up.

[coolwyous]

can we get hcs of hockey!dani before and after they got together 😞😞😞 yk

hockey!dani my LOVE and future aint shit bd <333 fwb era and gf era are soooo different but here r my takes

  ��˚. 𝙛𝙬𝙗 𝙝𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙮!𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙖 would go days without texting you and when you'd finally get sick of it and hit the dreaded double text. only for her to say 'didn't u see my private story' where she's constantly asking who wants to hang out. it makes you want to crash out, how difficult she can be sometimes, but when she's the one hitting you up late at night with another 'wyd gorgeous' you realize you're no better than she is, leaving her opened until she's the one facetiming you out of desperation, asking you to come over when she's done with practice or whining that you haven't made an effort to see her after her away game. 'damn you'd lowkey b hurting my feelings if i cared a lil bit' she'd text you, and you're about to put her shit on absolute blast, but she follows it up with a picture of her, sweaty and red in the face from practice, and says something stupid about not wanting to shower alone. you hate her a little bit for how stupid her lines are, but hate yourself for the fact that you find her so attractive, her horrible lines work...

  ୭˚. 𝙛𝙬𝙗 𝙝𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙮!𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙖 would take any stupid opportunity to flex how athletic she is, from hitting backflips in your yard to climbing the tree to sneak in through your window like some kind of monkey. you never quite understood exactly what point she was trying to prove, but the giant grin she'd give you each time she'd land another stupid trick on the ice made you roll your eyes. "you're worse than a toddler on fucking crack," you'd complain, only for her to step back and say some stupid shit like "can a toddler on crack do this?" and accomplish some other feat. you finally realize these stupid bids for attention are just her way of getting your attention, and the first time you ever give her a sarcastic "wow, so cool" she's beaming wider than you could have imagined.

  ୭˚. 𝙜𝙛 𝙝𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙮!𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙖 , the day after you two finally made things official, flat out deactivated her instagram. you were confused at first, until a new account (icedoutdanz became simply daniavan_) followed you. "why'd you make a new account?" you asked her when you finally saw her later that day for your coffee date, and she seems almost hesitant about sharing her reasoning. "i thought we deserved a fresh start," she tells you, and you won't admit how much it warms you to see how willing she is to set you guys up for success. you realize it's a private account, the only people she follows being close friends and teammates. "i'll kill anyone in your dm's with my bare hands," you threaten, and she lights up and grabs your chin to give you a reassuring kiss. "i should have gotten rid of the roster earlier if it would have made it easier to bag you," she'd grin, littering kisses along your cheeks.

  ୭˚. 𝙜𝙛 𝙝𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙮!𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙖 won't admit that she's nervous to meet your parents, even if you remind her you've known them even longer than the two of you have known each other. "it's different when we're dating," she presses, and you're honestly thrilled knowing she's wanting to make sure it goes well. she's bouncing her leg the whole drive to your house, and is uncharacteristically silent as you two wait outside the door, until you rub your thumb across her knuckles and grip her hand. as soon as your dad opens the door, all worries melt away— dani so easily taps into that endless fountain of reckless confidence, and this is no different. "so... can i start calling you dad?" she greets, only for him to glare at you, then at her. "i'll kill you," he says flatly, inviting you both in. "i see where you get it from," she grins, pointing to the man, forever enthused to push all his buttons. after dinner, your mom pulls you aside to take some plates of leftovers as dani is debating with your dad and brothers some stupid hockey things. "the whole night, she can't stop looking at you. i like that in someone who plans to date you," she tells you, a knowing smile on her face. you peek at her in the living room, fearlessly rambling some hot take you know she's probably refusing to step down from. you feel your cheeks go warm at the sight of her— fearless, headstrong dani, and she's unapologetically in love with you.

( you wonder how you ever imagined meeting someone this authentically, vibrantly themselves and not falling head over heels in love. )

[writinginatree]

Daggers & Distractions

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran & fem!Riorson!reader, pre-relationship Garrick Tavis/fem!Riorson!reader

Summary: Your best friend Bodhi teases you about your crush on Garrick, which has you a little too distracted on the mat.

Warnings: Swearing, blood & injury, a tiny bit of self-depreciation if you squint. Set when Bodhi and reader are in their first year.

(Prequel to Kisses & Confessions, but can be read independently)

"You're doing it again," Srian drawled in your head, voice dripping with annoyance.

You blinked, snapping out of the almost trance-like state you'd been in and forcing your focus back on your sparring session.

"I'm not doing anything," you lied, even as your gaze already drifted toward where Garrick was sparring with your brother once more. You just couldn't help it.

"If you don't stop ogling the male—"

"Why don't you just mind your own business?" you interrupted her.

"It is my business if my rider fails at her hand-to-hand training."

"I'm not—"

Your back collided with the mat, knocking the breath out of you. Gods damn it.

"You're distracted." Bodhi stood over you, eyebrows raised and the hint of a smirk playing around his lips.

"Srian won't shut up."

"I don't think Srian is the problem," he said with a pointed glance a few mats over.

The tiny smirk turned into a shit-eating grin when you only glared at him in response. There was no point denying it when he knew damn well what — or rather who — had distracted you.

"I hate you."

Bodhi laughed and extended his hand to help you up, before getting back into a fighting stance. "Maybe we should switch to a mat with a less interesting view, huh?"

The view had had his back to you so far, but now he spun around as he pushed Xaden to the ground, and your eyes met for a second. You quickly looked away, cheeks burning.

Bodhi was right. Being in plain sight of a shirtless Garrick was detrimental to your ability to focus. Not that it was much better when his shirt was on. Even when he wasn't anywhere nearby, he was always on your mind. It was starting to turn into a serious problem, if you were completely honest with yourself. What had been nothing more than a harmless crush at the beginning of the year was rapidly progressing into something much more serious. No amount of avoiding Garrick or pretending to be interested in other random guys seemed to help.

"Or you can keep staring at him and hope he notices."

Bodhi's words brought you back to the here and now.

"No!"

Anything but that. You would die of embarrassment if Garrick noticed your interest in him.

Bodhi rolled his eyes. You could only imagine how annoying it must be for him to watch as you pined after Garrick without ever making a move, but it just wasn't that simple. Not just that being your brother's best friend made him off limits, you also had to admit — if only to yourself — that the second-year was way out of your league. Besides, you were still hoping this pathetic crush would eventually fade.

"What a wonderful world it would be if it did," your dragon sighed. "I do wish you would hurry up and get over him. Or fuck him. Maybe if you knew what it's like you wouldn't have to constantly think about it."

"What I do or don't think about is absolutely none of your business, Srian! None!"

"Then do us both a favor and get better at shielding."

"I'm working on it! Now get out of my head and let me get back to sparring."

"I'm not the reason you're taking a break," she huffed, an unfriendly reminder that it had been you who'd distracted yourself.

But now you would focus. For real this time.

You pulled your daggers. What you and Bodhi had been doing so far was just the warm-up — now it was time to get serious. No more fooling around, no more distractions. You had to take this seriously. The next round of challenges was only two days away, and last time you had almost gotten your ass kicked. You desperately needed this training session.

"Let's get on with it."

"Sure," Bodhi laughed. "If you're done staring at Garrick."

You didn't bother responding to his teasing, and attacked instead.

A few minutes into the fight, movement behind Bodhi caught your eye, and you made the mistake of glancing past him for a second. It was Xaden and Garrick walking past, apparently done with their training for the day, and despite their shirts being back on, you couldn't help the way your gaze lingered on Garrick. He was watching you and Bodhi, a slight smile on his face, and you wondered what he was thi—

A sharp pain in your left arm brought your attention back to where it should be: on Bodhi and the dagger in his hand, which was now dripping blood.

The cut on your arm was about as long as your hand, but thankfully didn't seem very deep. Still, the amount of blood flowing out was considerable, and you quickly put your hand over it, cringing at the pain.

"Shit! Are you okay?"

"See? This is exactly what I was talking about earlier," Srian quipped in your head at the same moment.

Instead of responding to her, you slammed your mental shields into place, blocking her out as best as you could, which admittedly wasn't all that well yet. Luckily she decided to leave you be.

"I'm fine," you told Bodhi. "Just a scratch."

"Doesn't look like a scratch to me," your brother said before Bodhi could answer, having approached with Garrick.

All the blood that wasn't currently flowing out your arm shot to your face at the realization what a fool you'd made of yourself. You could only pray they didn't realize why it had happened.

"Well... a big scratch," you conceded. "No big deal, though."

Big deal or no, Xaden had that look on his face that meant you were about to get a lecture. Sure enough you barely finished the thought when he already started. "What the fuck were you even doing?! That attack would have been easy enough to block."

"Wasn't paying attention I guess," you muttered, giving Bodhi a pleading look. You knew he knew exactly why you hadn't been paying attention. Helping you out of being questioned about it by Xaden — right in front of Garrick, no less — was the least he could do to make up for accidentally cutting you.

Bodhi rolled his eyes, but slung his arm around your shoulders and said, "Come on, I'll take you to the healers. I think that scratch might need stitches."

"And whose fault is that?" you retorted, glaring at him.

"Your own."

Xaden doubtlessly wanted to scold you more, but allowed Bodhi to lead you away. He'd probably come find you later to give you a thorough talking-to about not letting yourself get distracted, but as long as he didn't do it in front of Garrick, you wouldn't mind. You supposed you deserved it. This kind of shit could get you killed around here, especially in the middle of a fight. It was about time you got this stupid crush under control — preferably before something like this happened again. As handsome as Garrick was, if you got yourself killed because you were too distracted staring at him, you wouldn't be able to look at him at all anymore.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you saw him talking to Xaden, their eyes on you. Talking about the idiotic way you just hurt yourself, no doubt.

"Kill me, Bodhi," you whined as soon as you were out of earshot.

"No, thanks."

"Please! That was so fucking embarrassing!"

Your asshole of a best friend just shrugged. "That's what you get for staring at Garrick all the time. I honestly don't know how no one else noticed it yet. You're, like, obsessed!"

"I'm not obsessed! I just have a tiny little crush, okay?!"

"Right... As tiny as that cut on your arm."

"Fuck off."

You went to take the turn that would lead you to the dormitories, having no intention of actually seeing a healer for your injury. It might have been a bit more than a scratch, okay, but it was nothing you couldn't handle on your own. But Bodhi grabbed you by the back of your shirt and continued on into the direction that would get you to the bridge connecting your quadrant to the main college.

"Bodhi—"

"Nuh-uh. We are going to the healers, and don't even try to argue with me."

"But I hate getting stitches! And it's not even that bad, so—"

"You either let me take you to the healers or I'm telling Garrick that he's the reason you were so distracted. I'm sure he'd love to hear all about your little crush."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Wouldn't I?" Bodhi challenged, continuing down the hall with you in tow.

"That— That's blackmail!"

"Mhm, I guess it is."

"I hate you."

"Yeah, yeah. You said that already. But I have some chocolate in my room, and if you let them patch you up without being a baby about it I'll share with you."

"Hmm, okay... In that case... Let's go!"

[purple-babygirl]

I've been feeling hella insecure ever since I found out I was pregnant. My babydaddy is supportive BUT how would Bucky help his girl feel better? Ya know with all the acne popping out of nowhere and her body getting bigger (stretch fucking marks) and I know I'm just a few months away from not being able to shave so maybe throw that in there too please. Doesn't have to be a real fic just headcannons would help really. Love you from Canada ❤️❤️

unconditionally

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader Word count: 2,670 Warnings: insecurities, low self-esteem, intrusive thoughts, body image, 18+ Content: mentions of fingering, a bit of dirty talk A/N: this is probably the first time I ever get an ask and want to make sure to write a reply on the very same day. congratulations on your baby, dear nonnie💜💜 I hope you have a safe pregnancy and an easy delivery, super proud of you over here💜💜💜 please forgive me if this seems rushed, I, too, feel I've gotten a bit rusty but I'm still hoping that you wouldn't completely hate this💜please excuse me while I combine a bit of another ask with yours. thank you so much for sending this ask and sharing such sweet news with me. Much love right back to you, maple syrup nonnie💜💜💜💜💜💜

~

Scars

All it took was Bucky trying to kiss the back of her hand on their second date and the slight flinch of her digits let him know something wasn’t right. At first, he thought he made her uncomfortable, so he gave her her space for the rest of the night. However, she kissed him first when he was walking her up to her door that night, so he told himself he might have imagined it all.

Then it happened again on their 4th date. They were at the movies and Bucky’s hand held hers, his thumb caressing the back of it. When his thumb brushed a particular spot, the slight flinch was back. Bucky made sure to ask if she was okay this time and she reassured him that she was. He could tell that her body gave the same tense reaction every time his thumb brushed against a specific spot on the back of her hand though, which was a scar.

She had a small scar on the bottom of her forefinger that she would mostly cover with rings. Tonight, however, she wasn’t wearing any, which led to direct contact between Bucky’s thumb and the scarred area.

Bucky told himself he was reading way too much into the situation, that it probably wasn’t that. The scar itself was very small, barely noticeable.

But his previous doubts were brought back and confirmed on their 6th date. It was the first time she let him come in after a date and the first time they were going to have sex since they started dating.

Bucky has unzipped her dress and was ready to push it down her shoulders when she held it to her chest as asked if the lights could be turned off.

“Why, doll?” He frowns despite himself, his brain not understanding why she would ever want to hide behind the curtain of darkness.

“It’s nothing... I’m just used to it.” She shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant.

“You know by now that I can tell when you’re lying, doll.” Bucky smiles gently.

He didn’t know, but his tender smile made her want to cry.

“I— I have a scar on my tummy.”

Her voice is so small when she utters the words that it had Bucky’s heart dropping.

It must’ve been clear on his face that he feared the worst because she quickly continues, “no one hurt me, it’s just from a small surgery I had when I was a kid. But the scar is.. ya know.. still kinda.. there.”

Her arms involuntarily hugged the dress tighter to her chest and waist as she explained.

“Doll, you realize I practically have no left arm, right?”

She chuckles softly before looking up at him, “that’s different, Buck. You’re beautiful.”

“So are you!”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “I mean, I can always get a tattoo or two drawn on the scars. Someone had suggested that to me before..” Her thumb caresses her scarred forefinger.

And it clicked in Bucky’s head.

Another person had made her feel this way about her scars. Some idiot had previously told her to ‘cover up’ her scars, get them tattooed over, made her feel like she wasn’t something to look at while the lights were still on.

Bucky was seething to say the least, but he couldn’t let his anger make him lose sight of what was important and what this whole thing was about. Her.

She needed to understand that she wasn’t anything short of art, a vision, a sight that could get him on his knees in a second.

“Doll, you have nothing to hide. Whatever is underneath your dress, I know it will blow my mind. I’m already hard for you, baby, I don’t care.”

She blushes, smiling up at him shyly, her eyes still unsure.

“Please, believe me.” Bucky’s hand cups her cheek as he kisses her forehead then her nose and finally her lips.

“You show me yours if I show you mine?” He whispers against her lips.

She nodded, her heart fluttering at the gesture.

Without hesitation, Bucky pulls away and takes his jacket off, pulling his t-shirt over his head next.

He stood before her in all of his glory, showing the scars on his chest, even turning around for her to see the ones on his back before facing her again and bringing her smaller hand to his left shoulder. The ugliest part of him from his point of view.

His eyes close as she tentatively touches him.

She knew it wasn’t easy for Bucky to show her himself like that. Her fingertips tracing, soothing, his scar tissue was the most intimate he has ever let anybody get with him in decades.

Her eyes tear up, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest: love, compassion, gratitude, trust.

Bucky opened his eyes when she removed her touch, only to be met with the sight of her letting her dress fall around her body to pool by her feet.

She stepped out of it, showing Bucky the horizontal scar across her belly.

Without a second thought, Bucky gets on his knees before her, his lips ever so softly brushing her skin.

She closed her eyes, a tear or two escaping her eyes at the closeness of the moment.

She doesn’t remember ever feeling so safe, so accepted.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on and I’m a hundred years old, baby.” Bucky whispers on her skin, the vibrations tickling her as a smile finds its way to her lips.

Acne

When it is a particularly bad breakout she would lean away further, try not to let her cheeks touch Bucky’s because she has this weird belief that she might ‘give it to him’ even though he has reassured her multiple times before that he was a super soldier who couldn’t possibly get acne. Still, she would involuntarily refrain from indulging in his cheek kisses as much as she normally would when it was a bad skin week.

If Bucky told her that he never even noticed, she would think he was lying to her. But he didn’t. She was always the same beautiful girl to him at all times. It didn’t matter if it was the week before her period or the first few months of her pregnancy; he did not see the new pimples. Bucky didn’t notice because he saw her, he focused on her rather than on the flesh and skin that covered her bones.

She was the one to bring his attention to the acne on her face, the acne on her shoulders, on her back, on her butt. Bucky didn’t care though. He loved her all the same, craved her all the same, could stare at her dreamily for hours all the same, could cum in his pants at the sight of her naked form like a horny teenager all the same.

But she had already gotten him to notice the physical changes, so he acted accordingly. With care. With love. Unconditional love.

“Doll, don’t pick,” Bucky says, gently taking her hand up to his lips before her nails could start picking at her new pimples.

He kisses her finger tips and the back of her hand before keeping it in his to make sure she wouldn’t take it to her face again.

She smiles, trying to focus back on the movie playing on their TV, but all she could really think about was how much she loves Bucky Barnes.

Body hair

The next time Bucky realized that his beloved goddess had insecurities, it surprised him still. It was when he came back from a long mission 2 days earlier than expected and tried to show her how much he’s missed her.

He noticed how she instantly closed in on herself when his foot caressed up her shin, moving away a little.

It was only when he pressed her about it through tickles that she finally provided an explanation and whispered, “I didn’t shave.”

Again, Bucky hadn’t even noticed. He didn’t care. All he cared about was the this was her. His girl. The one he has missed like crazy when he was away. The one he wanted to be naked with and make love to all night long.

If she thought a bit of body hair was going to stop him, she couldn’t be more wrong.

“Doll, I don’t care.” He tried to kiss her but she pulled away.

She only ever did that once before because she was sick and forgot he couldn’t catch her cold.

“Buck, please, there’s hair everywhere.” She covers her mouth, “even the mustache has some.”

Her insecure whisper with her gaze lowered tugged at Bucky’s heart in a way he couldn’t describe.

Who the hell has led her to believe that body hair was something to be this ashamed of and where could he find them? He just wanted to talk—

“You think a little hair is going to stop me from ravishing you, doll?” Bucky asks huskily, nibbling at her earlobe.

She shivers like she always does, but still tries to pull away, “it is not just a little hair.”

She gets up and stands in the middle of the room, looking in the direction of the bathroom, “I can be quick.”

Bucky sighs, sitting down on the edge of their bed and pulling her down on his lap.

“Doll, I never wanna make you uncomfortable, you know that.”

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” she explains softly.

“You’re not. I am more than comfortable fucking you right on the floor beneath your feet.”

She blushes, looking up at him with nothing but adoration in her eyes.

“I don’t care if you haven’t shaved for a few days or if you were turned into a yeti. You’re my girl and I want you. I will always want you.”

Bucky’s eyes were sincere and the bulge she was sitting on confirmed his words all the more, so she finally let him lay her down on her back and worship her the way she was meant to be.

Bucky let his lips kiss every inch of her that night. He licked the shit out of her thighs and ate her pussy like a starved man, not letting up until she was about to pass out, but most importantly until she believed him.

Stretch marks and body weight changes

Now that was the one that really never made Bucky blink even once. If anything, he liked them. Her stretch marks looked like the ripples of the sea on the skin of his very beloved. The fucking ocean with all its beauty under his calloused fingertips. He liked it all the more knowing it was just more evidence of his baby growing inside of her. How lucky was he?

She, of course, didn’t see it that way, examining her waist and thighs for hours before the mirror if Bucky would let her.

“Admiring how hot you are, I see.” Bucky smiled as he wraps his arms around her waist.

She instantly smiles back at his warmth engulfing her from behind though she doesn’t agree, “yeah, yeah.. hot is the word.”

“I don’t like your insinuations about my girl, doll.” He nibbles at her neck, his fingers gravitating towards her growing belly.

“That’s because there’s nothing hot about this, Bucky!” She argues, frustrated.

“Doll, you have another human growing inside of you; it’s more than normal for these changes to happen to your body.” He doesn’t stop caressing her bare tummy as his lips brush along her neck.

“I know.. doesn’t mean I will magically be able to accept it though. It’s.. a lot, Buck.”

“I know, love,” he kisses the spot behind her ear, “but I swear to you, you have never been sexier to me.”

“You swear? Pfft.” She tries to get out of his hold, unable to see what he was talking about.

“Hey,” Bucky stops her, bringing her back to stand before the mirror, “look at yourself. You’re a goddamn goddess. You have a baby in here and your body is merely accommodating, baby. Look at those full breasts.” Bucky squeezes her boobs gently in his large hands and she instantly moans, “all mine”.

“But— ”

“Who did this to you hmm?” Bucky teases, circling his thumb over her covered nipple.

“Bucky—” Her head is thrown back on his shoulder as his other hand finds its way between her legs.

“Who put a baby in you? Filled up this tight pussy again and again until you had no choice but to become knocked up?”

“Y- you did, Buck.” She breathes, her legs opening for him.

“That’s right, doll.” He slips a finger into her and then another, “look at yourself. Look how breathtaking you look with my baby growing inside of you, taking my fingers like you were meant to.”

She can barely open her eyes, yet the first thing they zero on is, “but the stretch marks—”

“I love them.” Bucky sucks at her neck.

“And all that newly gained body weight—” She moans, her hips grinding down on his hand.

“I adore it.”

“The way I’m gonna get heavier—”

“Has me absolutely infatuated.”

When her legs suddenly shake, her knees buckling, she thinks it was Bucky’s complete acceptance of her in every state that made her cum, not his fingers.

And if she thinks she’s going to walk away from that mirror before she watches herself fall apart for Bucky at least twice, she was an idiot.

 Snoring

It’s gotten a little difficult for her as the months pass to sleep in any other position but on her back, which unfortunately led to something she never used to do: snoring. The first night Bucky had woken her up to help her adjust the position of her head made her felt so embarrassed that she couldn’t go back to sleep again. And the very next night, she wanted to sleep in a different bed as to not interrupt Bucky’s sleep so much, so.. annoyingly.

“Absolutely not.”

“Buck, let’s be rational, please. You have things to do tomorrow, a mission by the end of the week. You need your sleep. Lots of it.”

“I said no, doll.”

“But listen—”

“I don’t remember you making me sleep in a different room when I used to wake you up to nightmares.”

His voice is so soft as he reminds her and it makes her heart melt.

“Bucky, that’s different—”

“You’re right, my thing almost gave you a fucking heart attack every single night, sometimes multiple times in the same night.”

“It’s not like it was something you chose to do!”

“And this is something you choose to do?”

Her mouth opens and closes but remains silent.

“Doll, I don’t wake you up at night because I’m annoyed by the snoring. I wake you up because I want you to breathe properly and have a comfortable sleep.”

“I want you to have a comfortable sleep too—”

“I do. Doll, I don’t wanna be anywhere but next to you. You think I’m gonna give up the privilege of being able to fall asleep next to you just because you started snoring?”

“Bucky.” She blushes in embarrassment, yet her heart skips a beat.

“Love, you are the reason I’m able to fall asleep like a normal person at all. How could you ever think I would wanna sleep in separate rooms?”

“I just care for you.”

“I care for you too, baby. And I wanna be there for you, with you, every step of the way. I want you snoring to wake me up because then I know to reposition your head and help you sleep better. I want your cold feet to wake me up because then I know to put socks on you because I know you can’t reach because of your belly—”

“My feet wake you up too!”

“Jesus, doll—”

~

@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie @justherefortheficandsmut @xxdiaqiaoxx @morgthemagpie @wintrsoldrluvr @goldylions @serendipitouslife90 @sebastians-love @leelee1234love @tiedyedghoulette @saint-marvel @helenaellie @onceithough @raynelbabe @a-very-fictional-girl @justabeluga @lindababe69 @sapphirebarnes

[obsessedvibee]

Can't Sleep

MDNI, 18+, NSFW

Pairing: Austin Butler x reader

Warnings: lots of dirty talk, m. masturbation, f. masturbation, humping a pillow

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Austin is in Paris promoting Dune part 2 and he can't sleep in his hotel. He calls his girl to chat and things get dirty real fast. Phone sex ensues.

Authors Note: It's been way too long since I've written for Austin. Something about imagining him rubbin' one out just does something to me. So I thought I'd make everyone else suffer too. You're welcome. Comments & reblogs appreciated!

Enjoy!

He tossed the remote to the other side of the bed defeatedly. Flipping through the few channel options on the hotel tv could only entertain him for so long. Looking over at the clock the red number taunted him showing 4am. Being up for the last almost 36 hours would tire out most people but his body wouldn’t let go of consciousness. The jet lag certainly wasn’t helping either. His thoughts flickered to her. Doing the math in his head; she’d only be at 10pm in New York with Paris being six hours ahead. She should be home from work now. Finished with dinner.

He reached for his phone, quickly finding her in his contacts, before pressing it to his ear. The line crackled before it began to ring. His fingers mindlessly played with the string from the waistband of his sweats as he waited for her to pick up.

“Hello?” 

Her voice sounded small and distant through the line and he hated it.

“Y/N, hi,” he rasped.

“Hi.”

A bit of rustling sounded on the other end as she sat up from the couch she was more than likely dosing off on.

“You sound tired,” he said, suddenly feeling guilty, “I should let you sleep.”

“No, no it’s fine,” she assured him, “I think I’m more bored than tired.”

He knew she was lying. She’d fallen asleep on that couch so many times when he’s home with her. Never being able to finish a whole movie without hearing her soft snores as she slept. 

He was a little jealous if he was being honest with himself. He was never one of those people that could just pass out as soon as they close their eyes. Even more so if it wasn’t his own bed. 

“Have you slept at all since you left?”

He sighed, “no.”

“Aus,” she said sympathetically. 

He ran a hand over his face. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He hummed, “tell me about your day.”

And she did. From her drive to work to how much the phone rang, how her boss had gotten on her nerves, what she got for lunch, how her feet hurt from her new heels she bought the other day, her drive home, how she had to go back out to get chicken for dinner from the grocery store that she forgot to get yesterday. Every detail she rambled on about, but he didn’t mind. It made him feel less alone. Less like he was on the other side of the world.

“Hey, Austin?”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna set you down for a sec, I gotta pee.”

He chuckled, “m'kay.”

He heard the clank of her setting the phone down, and he pulled his phone away from him for a minute checking the time. 4:30. At least the time was moving a little faster now. 

Putting the phone on speaker, he checked a few emails while he waited when his phone chimed, with her name coming across the banner with a new text.

Leave it to her to text the person she’s currently chatting with.

Clicking on the banner, his phone swapped apps to the text. 

But it wasn’t a text.

His heart rate rose as his eyes took in the photo.

She was posed in their bathroom mirror with a black lingerie set he’d never seen her in before. Her phone was in one hand snapping the photo while the other had her thumb through the waistband of her panties teasingly tugging them lower down her hip, hardly leaving anything to the imagination. Her breasts were barely contained in the bra, the cups hardly coming up over her nipples, her flesh pushed together creating ample cleavage. 

He swallowed thickly as he felt the warmth of blood rush to his groin. 

“You still there, Aus?” She asked feigning innocence. 

He cleared his throat, “yea- yea.” He took a deep breath. “What are you-?”

He didn’t have a ton of words flying around in his head given the normal amount of blood that was in his brain was now being utilized elsewhere. 

She giggled, “you need a little help getting to sleep, yeah? So I thought I’d give ya a little help.”

God, what did he do to deserve such an angel?

“Right now?”

Was this for now or after she hung up? This was new territory for the both of them.

“If you want?”

He felt her back tracking and he scrambled to steer the conversation back to the desired destination.

“Shit, yeah- yeah,” he shifted on the bed propping some pillows to lean back on as he rested his hand over his semi in his pants giving a little squeeze. “Are you- are you touching yourself?”

He heard her inhale before speaking, “should I be?”

“Please,” he almost whispered.

He ground his teeth, waiting for any sound from her. Something to feed his imagination. He lightly ran the back of his fingers over the tent in his pants, keeping his nerves on end.

A small moan sounded into his ear, and he immediately began to work himself with her.

His heart was pounding already, imagining her with her legs open on the couch, her hand working herself over her panties. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he breathed, his fingers slipping under the waistband of his sweats.

She struggled to find her voice. She took a breath, “you.”

“Yeah?” He worked at tugging down his pants. “What about me?”

“Aus,” she chuckled nervously, “I- I- don’t know if I can do this.” 

He situated himself, slowly wrapping his hand around his length, giving her a moment. She always got a little shy with talking filthy.

Not willing to let the mood wane, he chose to take the lead. “I gotcha, just keep your hands busy for me.”

He heard her begin shuffling around before getting settled.

He sighed lazily, beginning to stoke himself, lightly squeezing on his upstroke. His thumb swiped the tip collecting the bead of precum, spreading it around.

“’m so hard for you right now,” he murmured huskily, his voice heavy with arousal watching his tip disappear into his fist.

A little whimper escaped her, rewarding his words, and boosting his ego.

Letting his eyes close, his mind began to tease him with images of her. Her smooth skin, her hair splayed out behind her. Was she starting slow and gentle? 

A sharp inhale brought him back to the present.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. A soft moan followed, melting through the phone into his ear. “I just had to take everything off.”

He couldn't help but quicken his strokes as the sudden image of her legs spread, and center bare on their couch overtook his thoughts. 

“Wanted to get more comfortable.”

“Fuck-, are you wet?”

She hummed, “so wet.”

Hearing her pleasured sounds were going to be his undoing. 

“Put a finger in for me,” he coaxed her.

“Oh-“ she sighed heavily, “Austin.”

His cock throbbed, imagining how warm and tight she must feel. Her glistening folds wrapping around her little finger.

“Keep talking, Aus.”

He bit his lip as a smug smile threatened to appear. He had her right where he needed her.

“Don’t forget about my girls up top,” he spoke, “give ‘em a little attention for me.”

A full moan left her lips, making his cock twitch. He could practically feel her breaths on his ear. His mind kept conjuring up one filthy image after another. One hand in her pussy, the other groping her breast. Forcing his hand to pause, he squeezed at the base as the sudden urge to release overwhelmed him. 

As he willed his heart to slow and the pleasured throbbing in his cock to weaken, a bunch of commotion sounded on her line. He listened intently as it quieted and a rhythmic sound started to come through. He reached down to massage his balls, swallowing thickly, “baby?”

A short whine came from her, sounding distant, before she shuffled the phone closer to her panting mouth, “are you close?”

He let his head fall back into the pillows with a huffed laugh, letting his fingers lightly play at the little sensitive spot under the head. “Just waiting on you, darling.”

He began stroking in rhythm with the sounds coming from her, his limbs tightening as the pleasure began to burn in his pelvis once more, “tell me what you’re doing.”

“I got a pillow-” she gasped, “-between my legs.”

His hips jerked, the primal urge to thrust breaking through his conscious. 

“”You ridin’ it, like you do me?” He panted.

She couldn't even manage to string a sentence together anymore, a groan being her only reply.

“Cum with me baby, in 3-,” he began counting them down, “2-,”

Her whines were high causing goosebumps to cover his flesh, his fist flying impossibly quick over his shaft. He never thought further than her using her hand to pleasure herself, but imagining her grinding herself onto a pillow would be a fantasy he would be coming back to many times in the future, he was sure of it.

“Aus,” she cried, desperate for him to put an end to the agony.

“Cum for me,” he growled; a white heat flooding his pelvis.

A squeak was all he heard from her as she climaxed, and his cock suddenly became impossibly harder as the buzz in his veins shot through his tip. His head pressed deep into the pillows as his body tensed as his climax took hold. White spurted over his abdomen as he grunted like an animal with every lurch his cock gave, draining his seed, relieving his desire.

Relaxing his body, he quickly was left limp as he tried to catch his breath.

Minutes passed as they both regained a normal breathing rate.

He picked up the phone, taking it off of speaker, “thank you, baby.”

It wasn't long after they hung up that he was able to finally fall into a sweet sleep.

Need some more Austin smut? Check out my other works! > Masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Checking His List

Warnings: stalker behaviour and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: Your shopping trip turns hectic.

Character: Curtis Everett

Day Twenty-Eight of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - the mall is packed and we keep running into each other.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

While it’s below zero outside, inside the mall, the air is sweltering. The flurry of maddened shoppers searching for gifts churns the air with body heat and a wall of noise. You want to cover your airs and shrink down to nothing. You hate crowds but you have a list and you made a promise. 

You laid it all out meticulously. You have a strategy but you’re not sure how much that will help given the furor all around. You set off to the first store on your list. The toys will be a lovely surprise at the community lunch. You know the kids won’t be getting much at home. 

You squint at the paper. You made notes of Diana’s every specification. She’s very particular but you imagine that’s why she runs the children’s centre. 

You look up as you approach the east entrance of the department store, just in time to avoid another shopper. You stutter step and back up as you wait for the man to pass. You only realise then that he isn’t moving. He’s standing entirely still amidst the crowds, though it might only be because he saw you about to crash into him. 

“Oh, sorry,” you murmur, not sure he can hear you above the Christmas carols and rowdy shoppers. 

He doesn’t reply, doesn’t react. You hesitate and step around him, issuing another apology as your stress burns even hotter. You’re really no good with the general public, worse in peak hours, and you’ve only just gotten started. 

You don’t come here often. It takes you some time to get situated and find the right aisle. Oh, those are the art sets she wanted, and the Barbies. Hum, they don’t have many within budget. Oh, and the little cars. Those are cute. 

You push your cart, only an inch before you rear back, only then seeing the man standing further down the aisle. You’re not sure you need anything else there, still you might like to check if you can limit how many stores you need to run around to.  

The man doesn’t look at you, he doesn’t even really seem to be looking at the shelves. He’s just sort of there. Then, before you can muster an ‘excuse me’ or anything, he turns and marches off. The way he walks is stiff and straight and staunch. 

As you slowly roll forward and refocus on your list, he sticks in your head. Do you know him? There was something familiar about him? Could he be one of the parents from the children’s centre? Would he be here if he was? 

You peruse and find the selection lacking. You head for the checkout and wait patiently. The line zigzags around shelves of more merchandise, shoppers continuing their spending even as they wait to get their grand total. You peer around dully, unseeingly, until a dark spec catches your eye. 

It’s that man again. The same one from the aisle. His face is unreadable. He wears a beanie and a grey jacket that should help him blend in but for whatever reason, he sticks out. 

He’s look at you? Is he? 

You crane to see behind you. The sign calls out the next available till. It’s your turn. You peek back again but the man is gone. You’re paranoid. That's all. 

You go up and unload your cartful and unfold a reuseable bag. You grabbed only your biggest bags for today. You expect it will be an awkward journey home with all this. You pay with the company card Diana lent you and neatly fold away the receipt. 

You’re certain to leave your cart in the pen meant for them and head out the west exit. It’s closer to your next stop. The bath and body store is fragrant, the air so dense with aroma that it makes your head foggy. 

You buy the cute little bottles for kids; the bubble baths and seasonal candy cane scents. A mini scrubbie for each too. As you put it all in the small basket offered to you by an associate, you look up to the tight corner ahead of you. 

A mother and daughter browse the floral assortment of candles and behind them, a man stands, undistracted by the shelves and tables of product. He watches you. Your eyes meet and you wince. It’s him! That’s so strange.  

It’s one thing to keep running into the same person. It happens in a mall, but you haven’t seen him buy one thing. You haven’t even seen him look at a single purchase. 

You turn and curl around the other side of the table of 3 for $15 candles. The checkout line is twice as long as the previous one. As hike up the bags from the department store. Why did you, the only person without a car, offer to do this? Well, for once, you wanted to feel useful. 

You sense movement. A group of girls flutter up behind you, gabbing about if they should get coffee or just go look at shoes next as they get in line behind you. Then another shadow. Darker. Taller. 

The man passes closely and stops right by you. Your heart is racing. It’s not him, it’s the crowd, the smothering press of people looking for soaps and lotions and candle melts. 

He bends and reaches for something on the floor. He brings up the soap bottle with the reindeer antlers and holds it out. It must have slipped out. You accept it from him with a thanks. These baskets aren’t great for the smaller items. 

He’s already walking away before you can get a look at his face. His grey blue eyes are stamped in your mind but the rest of him remains obscure. You shake away the odd encounter and shuffle forward with the line. 

You tuck the smaller bag of soaps and such into one of your bigger bags and continue on once free of the shop. You don’t expect the dollar store to be an easy task, but a necessary one. You need wrap and few smaller stocking stuffers. It won’t be your last stop but it’s closeby and you don’t want to double back if you can help it. 

You pause to check your list as you sidle out of the way of the dollar store entrance. Alright, that, that, that... You lift your head and push the small cart through the first row. It’s nice to have the weight off your arms, but you’ll have to pick all that up again. And more. 

As you come to end of the first aisle, the foot of the cart rams to a halt. You squeak and look up. That man! His hands clamp onto the end of the cart and you blink. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to.” 

He just stares and looks past you. He steps around the cart and as he comes along the side, you shrink down, shying away as you expect the worst. Instead, he inserts himself between you and the cart you hear rolling down after you. He stays there, a barrier between you and the unseen shopper. That’s... strange. 

You scurry on frantically. You’re jittering from it all. The man, the hordes, the assault of lights and noise. You need to get out of her soon. 

You get as much gift wrap and bags as you need and use the self-checkout. You’re grateful for that modern convenience. Your social wick is burning short. 

You park your cart, take your bags, and go. As you emerge into the mall, a man walks full force into you, his wife narrowly missing you with her baby stroller. Neither of them apologise as you struggle not to topple. You lift the bags higher with all your strength and forge forward. 

You go to the end of the bench where a few teen boys sit with their skateboards. You turn your back to them and face the mall map. You take a deep breath and hold it in. You’re about to crack. This was a big mistake. You’re barely strong enough to go get groceries on a given week. You just wanted to help! That’s why you volunteer with the kids, even if you mostly hide in the background. 

Your eyes are glassy as you fight back tears. You release your breath slowly. It hurts. The panic attack needles hotly in your forehead and ears. 

“Scram,” the deep voice cuts through the hubbub and the snap of dry fingers adds the punctuation. 

The boys behind you quiet and you turn your head to watch over your shoulder as they grab their boards and hurry away. The man in the beanie sits, knees wide, and leans his elbows on his legs. He curls his shoulders and looks around like a guard dog. 

Your skin tingles as you sit only a few feet from him. You should go too, before you lose all your nerve. Your bags crinkle as you hook the handles around your hands. 

“You don’t gotta go,” he says. 

You wince and turn to him. He keeps his gaze aimed at the closest store. You peer around. 

“Busy,” he comments. 

“Um, yes it is,” you agree. “Thanks, er, I got more to get.” 

You gulp and turn away. Your bags hit the bench as you flee. That was weird too. Or maybe you’re just unbearably clueless. It seems like he was trying to give you space. That he chased away those boys deliberately. But why? 

Flavoured lip glosses, sparkly nail polishes, socks themed for the most popular kids’ shows... you check the marks off your list in your final haul. Just one more thing. A few of the boys like to play knights but the foam swords are all whittling away from play. 

You go down the next aisle, your cart doing little to part the sea of people. You can see what you need. The toy blades and even a few shields. You try to inch forward as an older man turns to the other shelf, but another woman fills the space before you can. 

You wheel back and wait. You just need to get in and out. The woman finally moves and as you go to roll ahead, another cart noses into yours and squeezes into the space. You sniff and pull back again. 

You stare helplessly. That wasn’t very polite but she doesn’t seem to notice. She takes out her phone and ignores you and the shelves. Is she even looking? 

“Hey,” the gritty voice chills you as a large hand rests on the front of your cart. The man in the beanie steps between you and that woman, “you should apologise.” 

“Huh? What?” She keeps her phone up but you can’t see much else. 

“You hit her with your cart. Say sorry.” 

“Who? What are you talking about?” 

“Apologise,” he peels his hand form the cart and jabs his thumb toward you without looking. 

The woman huffs then leans to see you. You give a hapless shrug. Her eyes scan up the man’s dark jacket and she shifts. 

“I-- I didn’t realise,” she clears her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

“Maybe if you cared more about what’s going on than your phone,” the man snarls, looming over her until she backs away. She turns and grabs her cart, nearly hitting another as she rushes away. 

He lets go and turns back, marching past you without a word. You can’t speak either. You’re burnt out. You’re going to get the last of it and go. 

You finally get your turn and grab a couple of swords, each with a different colour handle, and some shields. You put it in your cart and circle the perimeter of the store to avoid the claustrophobic aisles. The checkout line however cannot be avoided. 

You step into the narrow snaking lane where you are to wait your turn. As you lean on your cart, there’s a brush against your back, and another, and another. The garble of voices behind you drone with the rest of the overwhelming noises all around. You sink your head down and cover your ears. You can’t take it anymore. 

You’re jostled again as a man laughs loudly and his elbow jabs your back. You gasp and turn to see what’s going on. A black shape moves decisively from the back of the line, cutting along the edge without falter.  

The man in the beanie steps up and extends his arm between you and the man after you, the one who keeps knocking into you. He pushes him calmly away and inserts himself there, back to you as he crosses his arms and plants his feet wide. 

“Hey, dude, you’re butting--” 

“Pay attention,” the man growls. “You’re being a nuisance.” 

“Dude, I’m waiting--” 

“You’re bothering people. Too loud.” 

“Whatever. You a cop or some shit?” 

The man doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move either. Even as the line ahead of you does. You roll with it and he keeps his barrier in place. You can’t help but be thankful for the unrequested buffer. 

You pay, get your receipt, fill up your last bag, and push your cart into the corral by the door. You’re not going back through the mall.

Before you can back up, another shopper shoulders by and snatches the cart you just disposed. You stagger back and watch, dumbfounded. What is wrong with people? 

Your ears are ringing and your eyes watering, and you didn’t factor in being physically battered by a shopping trip. This time of year is horrid. It’s chaos. People are animals. Just like you always knew. 

Your arms strain as you clutch your bags and make a slow progress through the automatic doors. You just need to get to the bus. You stop just to the left of the doors and try to adjust your grasp. 

Before you can, the weight is lifted and something rough brushes around your fingers. You are too stunned to resist as the bags are unhooked from your hands. You reel around and face the thief. You’re an easy target. 

“Where’s your car?” It’s that man in his beanie, with the grey eyes and the dark stubble. 

“I-- I don’t--- Who are you?” 

“A good samaritan,” he rasps.  

“You don’t have to--” You reach for the bags and he steps out of your reach. “I don’t have a car.” 

He stares at you, “I can walk you.” 

“It’s fine, the bus stop---” you nod towards the street. 

“Bus...” he mutters. “Dangerous. With all this.” 

“It’s fine,” you insist. 

“I have a truck. I’ll drive you.” 

“You don’t-- why?” You sputter. 

He looks around. He’s quiet as his eyes scan the area. “Merry Christmas.” It’s not a very cheery tiding. 

“Oh, but--” 

“Curtis,” he says. 

“What?” 

“So we’re not strangers. I’m Curtis, and you?” 

You heave and give your name. “I really can’t let you do all that--” 

“But I’m going to,” he says and turns away. You have no choice but to follow him. 

“Wait--” 

“I don’t like crowds either,” he intones as you scurry to keep up with him. 

You want to say you don’t think anyone does but you’re still reeling, as much from the hectic experience in the mall as from his sudden act of... kindness? 

He stops behind a slate gray truckbed and slips the bags onto his wrist. He fishes in his pocket and there’s a loud click as it unlocks. He pulls open the back and loads your shopping under the heavy cover. 

“You have a lot of kids?” He wonders. 

You shake your head, “I work at the community centre. Volunteer, actually...” 

He nods and shuts the back of the truck. You wring your hands shakily and stare at the silver lock. You frown and look up at him, finding him staring at you already. 

“You don’t trust me,” he reaches into his jacket and takes out a canister. “Well, if I make a wrong move, press down.” 

He holds out the long black spray can. You shake your head. What is it? 

“Bear mace. You can keep it.” 

You furrow your brow and continue to gape at the inexplicable offer. Why does he have this? 

“Can never be too safe,” he takes your hand and places the can in it. “Make sure those toys get back safe for those kids.” 

You wrap your fingers around the metal and he lets you go. You look down at it then at him again. You’re so confused but too tired to argue. You suppose it is the season for giving, even if he doesn’t seem the festive type. 

“Anywhere else you need to go?” He asks as he takes his keys out. 

You shake your head and back away. He watches you for a moment before he moves himself. He walks up on side of the truck and you the other. The door locks thunk loudly. 

Well, whoever Curtis is, can he be any worse than the general holiday shopper? 

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 4

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: Y/n is intrigued by a certain illyrian. They open up to one another one night, but she stops it from getting out of control. With Feyre’s return, things get more tense.

Warnings: some angst.

Word count: 2.95K

Like every day, today was no different. Y/n would wake up, stand in front of the mirror for five minutes, bottle up her feelings and go on about her day. 

“How’s Elain?” She asked Nesta, who was sitting in the same armchair as always, a book in her hand.

“Same as she’s been since she got turned” Nesta replied.

“How are you?” she asked, her tone serious and low.

“Never better. I’m free to do whatever I want”.

“Are you? All I’ve seen you do is sit in that armchair, reading books every day since we’ve gotten here”.

“I’m immortal now, what difference does it make if I sit here for one or twenty years? Not everyone wants to venture into the world like you”.

“You’re upset with me” Y/n observed.

“With you, with everyone” Nesta sighed.

“I understand. What can I do to help you?”.

“Nothing. No one can do anything about this”.

Y/n closed her hands into fists, clenching so hard she almost broke her bones “at least we’re all together” she tried to find words to comfort her sister, knowing she's suffered as much as she did, but these were the only words she found, the one she’d tell herself every time she’s about to break down “we’re all together, we made it” she repeated, to which Nesta only nodded.

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Y/n plastered on a smile, masking the turmoil beneath before entering Elain’s room.

“Elain? How are you feeling today?”.

“I want to go home” Elain repeated, as she had been for the past couple of weeks.

“I know. I want to go home too. Let’s just wait until Feyre gets back” she stroked her sister’s hair and kissed the top of her head before leaving.

Luckily, no one was in the dining room when she entered. The house offered her food, which she ate very slowly.

“Are you alright?” a voice interrupting her trail of thoughts, catching her off guard.

“What?”.

“Are you alright?” Azriel repeated, concern evident in his voice.

“Yes, why?”.

“You’re holding your fork midair” he shifted his eyes to her hand, where was holding the fork.

“Oh, I was just lost in my thoughts” she explained, lowering the fork back onto her plate.

He slid a chair two seats away from her and sat down, a plate full of food appeared in front of him as he dug right in. Her eyes trailed him all the way.

She took another bite of her food, but with a lot on her mind, she had no appetite. She wanted to stand up and leave, but seeing he just got here, she didn’t want him to think she’s leaving because of him and she did not want to be rude. Since when do I care about what other people think? she thought to herself.

“You’re doing it again” Azriel remarked, emitting a soft chuckle.

She placed her fork back down “how’s spying going?” She inquired, distracting herself from her thoughts, but also out of curiosity, not that she’d admit it.

“‘The spying’ is going slow, but we’re making progress” a smile remained plastered on his face.

“Why are you smiling?”.

“No one has phrased that question like that before”.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything”.

As they sat in silence, Azriel hesitated before speaking again “how are you coping? I can only imagine how you must feel, it’s not easy becoming fae when you hate our kind” it wasn’t a confrontation, but acknowledgment of what he’d observed.

“No, it’s not. But as you can see, I’m doing well” she lied. Not wanting to push her further, he only nodded.

“Do you sleep upside down like bats?” she spontaneously asked, making him choke on his drink from the peculiar question.

“No. No, I do not. I sleep like normal people” his eyes furrowed with curiosity as he turned to face her.

“How would I know” she shrugged “you do have wings of a bat… I just thought you had other characteristics of a bat as well” she added.

“Like what?”.

“Do you bite- or drink blood?”.

“Only when asked to” a smile tugged at his lips “and no, I don’t drink blood. Any other clarification I can assist you with?.

“No, not at the moment” she struggled to hide her amusement.

“Oh, you poor thing! But don’t worry, I’ve come to rescue you” Cassian said to his brother, as he strode in, noticing the two of them sitting alone.

She rolled her eyes at him “I was just leaving”. “And just for the future, when you want to rescue someone, maybe do it before the end” she advised before walking out

Azriel kept a stern expression before standing up himself.

“Where are you going?” Cassian asked.

“I finished eating”.

“You’re just gonna leave me alone?”.

“You’ll do fine on your own” he patted his brother’s shoulders.

—-

Y/n had always had trouble sleeping at night, but ever since her new life at the Night Court, her nightmares increased. Unable to sleep, she went upstairs to the roof. This space had become her comfort place when she needed to escape the things that plagued her sleep. Seeing as Cassian trained in the morning and Azriel being away most of the time, she thought no one would be here at night time. Reaching the training ground, occupied by her thoughts, she paid no attention to who was there. Fiddling with the blue celestite necklace around her neck, she reached the edge and looked up at the sky. Three bright stars decorating the visibly huge mountain, Ramiel.

“What’s on your mind?” sleek like the shadows, Azriel approached, snapping her back to reality.

Blinking rapidly, she muttered “don’t you ever sleep? Even bats do” Y/n quipped, attempting to deflect.

“In the morning”.

“Are you referring to the bats or yourself?”.

“Both” he let out a soft chuckle.

“As I recall, you’re awake in the early mornings, so how many hours do you sleep?”.

“Enough to keep me going. What about you? You’re awake”.

“But I do sleep in the morning. In case you haven't noticed, I eat breakfast when you’re all having lunch or dinner” Y/n reminded.

“I have noticed... You still haven’t answered my question” Azriel persisted.

“What question?”.

“What’s on your mind?”.

“Nothing”.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be staring into nothingness all day” he pointed out.

“I’m fine. It does not concern you”.

“Alright, how about I share something personal about me, and you can tell me what’s bothering you?” Azriel offered.

“And why would I want that?”.

“Out of curiosity. I’ve also noticed you like knowing things, especially when it concerns your sisters and yourself. So, go ahead, ask me anything you want? Anything you want to know”.

She contemplated for a while. “What happened to your hands?” she blurted out, one of her hands remained fiddling with the necklace.

He did not anticipate her question, but still, he answered “my brothers” he cleared his throat “my half-brothers thought it would be fun to see what’d happen when you mix oil and fire with our quick healing gifts” he explained, and shadows wrapped tighter around him.

“How old were you then?” she asked, her voice low and soft.

“Eight” a hint of darkness gleamed in his eyes.

“Were they punished?”.

“Eventually”.

“So, your father did nothing, as his flesh and blood was set on fire?” her tone shifted, her face contorted with anger.

“I am a bastard, while my half-brothers are his legitimate sons. In his eyes, they are his flesh and blood” he clarified.

“It makes no difference. You’re his son, nonetheless” she shook her head, tightening her grip on her necklace.

“It did to him”.

“What about your mother? Is she-”.

“That’s another personal question. We agreed on one. Now, it’s your turn”.

“What do you want to know?”.

“What’s been bothering you? And don’t say transitioning, you’re more concerned today”.

“I went to see Elain today. I know it takes time to heal, and I know I shouldn’t interfere with her healing process, but it- it ‘s so hard to just stand by and do nothing. I want to help her, and she doesn’t want my help. Even if she did, I don’t know what to do and how to help her. Her wedding was supposed to be in a few weeks” she sighed “ I worry about Nesta, too. Although she seems fine, I know she’s not. She used to tell me everything, and now she’s hiding from me” she opened up for the first time. Realizing that, she regretted it immediately and didn’t know why she agreed to that stupid deal. With the shadows whispering into his ears, Azriel discerned her discomfort “that necklace, do you always hold it when you’re feeling… a strong emotion?” Azriel asked, attempting to change the subject.

“I-” she looked down at her hand wrapped around the necklace ”I suppose. I never gave it a thought” she lowered her hand,releasing her grip on the necklace.

“That necklace, where did you get it from?” his eyes narrowed as he recognized the stone. She never took off that necklace, but today was the first time he'd spotted it. After all, it’s not polite to stare down at a lady’s chest, and being the gentleman he is, he never looked.

“It was a gift from my mother, why?”.

“It’s a rare stone, only found in certain places” he explained.

“You recognize it?”.

“I’ve seen something similar once or twice, but I could be mistaken”.

“I don’t think it’s from anywhere in Prythian. My mother hated your- our kind. She’d never take or gift me anything related to us” Y/n stated and his shadows danced around her.

“Why do you hate our kind so much?”.

“That is another personal question. We agreed on one” she repeated his words to him “and I’m not making another deal with you. I’ve already said way too much” Y/n retorted.

“What are you so afraid of?”.

“More questions” an amused smile crept onto her face.

“Fair enough” he raised his hands in surrender “don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about tonight”.

“Good night, shadowsinger” Y/n said, heading swiftly towards the stairs and his shadows slowly retracted.

“Good night, Y/n” he murmured in a subdued tone as he watched her leave. That night, for the first time in a very long time, Azriel slept peacefully. 

The following day, Y/n didn’t go out to eat breakfast or lunch but she went out for dinner. Upon arrival. She found Cassian seated in his usual spot. Ignoring his presence, she took a seat, hoping for a peaceful meal.

“No mean comments tonight?” Cassian quipped.

“I was literally minding my own business. What do you want, you brute bastard?” Y/n replied sharply.

“There we go” he smirked.

“Your brother won't be joining us?”.

“Which one?”.

“The somewhat civilized decent one”.

“I’m assuming you mean Az. He left early this morning. He’ll be gone for a while. Why do you ask?... Aw, don’t tell me you have a thing for my handsome brother” Cassian teased.

She huffed “you wish…without him here, a war would start and I’d rather not get my hands dirty” she retorted, taking her plate and heading for the exit.

“It’s cute that you think you can take me. Perhaps if you trained with me long enough, you’d be a worthy opponent, but still, even then I doubt you’d defeat me” he taunted, his smugness evident.

“Piss off” Y/n snapped.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” he mocked.

“It would take much more than that to do so, especially coming from you” Y/n replied dismissively.

“And why is that?”.

“You simply don’t matter enough to me, to even consider anything you say, good or bad” she shrugged before leaving.

“Ouch” he murmured.

—

Being aware that Feyre was returning today, Y/n went to check on Elain before her arrival. However, what she found when she got to her sister’s room left her in shock.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Y/n spat out, her voice seething with anger. Lucien was standing in the doorway as Feyre left Elain’s room and closed the door behind her.

“Y/n, wait. I can explain” Feyre interjected.

“You brought him here? To see Elain? The fucking monster who sold us out to Hybern” her words were laced with deep-seated hatred.

“It’s more complicated than that, and he is her mate” Feyre reminded.

“He’s no such thing to her”.

“I just wanted to see her” Lucien tried to clarify.

“You don’t get to speak” Y/n pointed her finger at him.

“Y/n, he’s our guest. He will be staying with us” Feyre declared.

“You would let the man who ruined our lives, who ruined our sister’s marriage stay here with us?” she took a deep breath, trying to control her rage.

“If you would calm down and let me explain, you’ll understand-” Feyre urged.

“I’ll calm down when he’s gone. Do not let him near Elain, if you want him to stay in one piece” she warned, shooting Lucien with a glare before storming out.

“I take it you weren’t thrilled to see your sister?” Cassian smirked as Y/n passed him.

“Not in the mood today for your bullshit, brute”.

—-

The next time Y/n saw Feyre was at dinner, attended by Rhy’s inner circle, her sisters if they desired, and Lucien. She was reluctant to go, but fearing Elain might attend and be in the same room as that monster, with no one seemingly having a problem with him, she decided to go. She had arrived slightly later than everyone else. Feyre was sat next to Nesta, Rhys on her other side, Amren across from her, Cassian next to Amren, Azriel beside him, Mor opposite of him and Lucien across from Nesta, leaving two seats vacant, one next to Az and the other next to Mor. They were talking about flying lessons when she entered, dressed in a long-sleeved black gown with silver glitter that exposed her collar bones and back. Only the metal part of her necklace was visible. The upper part of the dress embraced her curves, while the lower part flowed like liquid silk as it draped over her figure. Knowing her temper, everyone stopped talking, if only to see what she’s about to say or do or who she’d pick a fight with. To their surprise, she did neither as she glanced at Azriel and took a seat beside Mor.

“What happened to you?” Y/n asked Azriel, gesturing to the wine splattered across his chest and neck. He looked down, only noticing it when she pointed it out.

“Mor spewed her wine when she heard Feyre wanted to learn how to fly” Cassian explained with a  grin.

“You have wings?” a question directed at her sister.

“Yes, I can shape-shift”. At that, the conversation continued.

“I can teach you” Azriel offered, elaborating that the other two Illyrians had been trained at such a young age that they barely remember it. To which Cassian countered they still teach the younglings the basics, which ended with Azriel explaining that it’s not the same for older individuals, and that there are fears and mental blocks. Everyone fell silent and something inside of Y/n stirred. She wondered if he was talking about his experience, not forgetting the conversation they had where he told her about his past. She did not know a lot, but seeing as his own brothers burned his hands, they probably restricted him from flying or participating in anything that would give him any kind of power.

Feyre proceeded to ask her sisters for help against the king of Hybern. Explaining that with training they could potentially close the holes expanded by the cauldron. Amren offered to train the sisters, which Y/n refused, unwilling to take part in any of this. Despite the growing frustration among the others, Feyre was grateful that at least one of her sisters was willing to help. She explained that they might need their assistance during the meeting with the high lords and this time, both sisters rejected.

“People’s lives might depend on your accounts of it. The success of this meeting might depend upon it” Feyre clarified.

“Don’t talk down to me. My answer is no” Nesta asserted, while Y/n remained silent, watching the exchange between her sisters before Nesta stormed out. Now all eyes were on her.

“Y/n, please. We need your help” Feyre begged.

“Do you know what you're asking of me?” Y/n narrowed her eyes.

“I do. And I understand your hatred of our kind, but we-”.

“You understand nothing. All my life, I have helped you. I have dedicated my life to you, to Nesta, to Elain, and never have I once asked for anything in return. But helping you and your new found family is what got us into this mess. And now what? You expect us to go to that meeting that is full of entitled bastards who did nothing all these years, who don’t care about us, about mortals and beg them for help? I would rather see them all burn and their kingdoms or courts reduced to ashes” Y/n delivered the chilling words with an unsettling calmness, her voice devoid of any hint of emotion “and just as Nesta said, if you dare bring Elain into this, I’ll be the one delivering your throat to her” she glared at everyone in the room before leaving and slamming the door shut behind her.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllitas-blog

[sunafc]

Can I get a kiss, please? —ft. Suna Rintarou.

cw: wc 1k, college au? idk but they are not in high school, there’s a little bit of cheating kinda like it's not cheating but almost yeah idk, friends to lovers, suna is deeply in love and he has a breakdown because u wear his tshirt.

Suna hates many things. He hates getting up from bed in the morning, hates small talks, hates when practice gets extended, he hates when the shop close to his dorm is out of jelly fruit sticks and the list could go on forever but what he hates the most at the moment is you. He hates how comfortable you got with him during your years of friendship because now you’re standing in front of him, after taking a shower in his bathroom and wearing nothing but his tshirt on top of your underwear, urging him to move and give you some space to sit on the couch. You’re so comfortable with him that you sit right next to him, so close your knees are touching. Your hand on his thigh as you lean in to show him pictures on your phone, fingers grazing the hem of his shorts, so close he can only smell the scent of his shampoo in your hair. You’ve gotten too comfortable. He’s not even sure what you’re talking about, he’s trying to listen to you, he wants to listen to you, but you’re too close. He’s trying to paying attention to whatever is showing on the screen of your phone, but you in his tshirt smelling like his shampoo is just too much. Your touch sends sparks through his body and he can feel something in his stomach, it twists and burns and it makes him want to scream or maybe cry. He hates that you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

You tap your hand on his thigh, ‘Look, look!’

He gets brought back to reality and a laugh escapes his lips as you show him a video of Atsumu tripping on a rock.

You put away your phone and turn to face Suna, giving him your full attention. He swallows, he’s having trouble breathing.

‘Sunarin,’ you say and he waits for you to say something else but you don’t. You’re just looking at him. He can feel that thing in his stomach move all the way to his spine and he can’t move.

‘Is everything alright?’ You ask, looking a little worried.

He nods, not daring to open his mouth yet.

‘Are you sure you don’t have a fever or something?’ You bring a hand to his forehead, ‘You’re a little weird.’

He scoffs and pushes your hand away, ‘I’m not weird.’

‘Mhm, just a little,’ you smile and turn back to your original position. You switch on the television and brows through netflix looking for a movie to watch.

Without your eyes staring into his soul, Suna feels like he can breathe a little bit easier.

‘Tell me about Yuki,’ you say tapping your fingers on the remote.

‘What about her?’ Suna could not care less about any other person when you were with him. You would occupy every single one of his thoughts. It was actually the same even when you weren’t with him too.

‘You know, how’s it going? Is she nice?’

Suna also hates the way you’re not at all bothered if he dates other people, you’re actually curious about it.

‘She was alright I guess,’ he extends a hand to you, he grazes your arm, he doesn't want to talk about other relationships he only wants to stay with you, ‘We went out like twice then I broke it off.’

Suna was always like that, there were plenty of people who asked him out but no one ever lasted more than three dates. Not when every time he would kiss someone he imagined it was you. After a while you just stopped asking him why he would not put in the effort.

‘I’m thinking of breaking up with Haruto,’ you say suddenly.

Just the sound of that name is enough to make Suna feel nauseous.

‘Thank God,’ another thing that Suna hates is Haruto. Not because he’s jealous, no, but because the guy is actually a shit boyfriend to you, ‘What happened?’

‘You know, the usual,’ you drop the remote and turn to Suna again, ‘We fought again because he’s jealous of you, says I spend more time with you than him,’ you roll your eyes, ‘He thinks I’m cheating.’

Suna can’t help the smirk forming on his lips, knowing you want to break up with your boyfriend because of him does something to him. Maybe he’s a little selfish and maybe he shouldn't be so happy about it, but he thinks it’s alright for this one time.

‘I don’t even know why you stayed with him for so long.’

You lower your gaze, ‘It was nice, he was nice,’ you say, ‘When we didn’t fight.’

‘He’s right though,’ Suna says.

‘What?’ Your eyes lock into his, feeling betrayed.

Suna shrugs, ‘You do spend more time with me.’

You jokingly punch his shoulder, ‘Shut up!’

‘Are you sad?’ Suna asks you turning serious.

‘About Haruto?’

Suna nods and waits for your answer.

You furrow your brow in thought before shaking your head, ‘He was an asshole anyway, but if it means you’ll comfort me,’ you smile, ‘With cuddles and forehead kisses...’ you sigh and put a fake pout on your face, ‘Oh, I’m so sad Sunarin.’

You’re slowly killing him, he’s sure that’s your goal for the night. Slowly stabbing him with every word and every look you’re giving him. You’re looking up at him and you’re just too pretty as you ask for his attention.

He sighs, ‘You know there’s no need to act,’ he pulls you closer and with a newfound confidence he lets you sit between his legs as you face each other, ‘If you want hugs and kisses you just have to ask.’

Maybe he didn’t think that through, because now your legs are around his torso and your skin brushes against his back where his tshirt is slightly lifted. You’re way too close now. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, definitely not your thighs though. He opts to just lazily put his arm around your body.

‘Okay then,’ you run your fingers through his hair, ‘Can I get a kiss, please?’

With that, the thing in his stomach returns and it stretches to his throat making it impossible for him to talk. He’s sure you can feel the way he’s slightly shaking and the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. He thinks of asking you to repeat, but he heard you right and he doesn’t want to risk you changing your mind. He leans in as one of his hands make its way to the base of your neck. He can feel your breath on him. Your fingers still in his hair. Your noses are touching. He feels high, maybe a little dizzy. Just a little closer and your lips would be touching. You’re not running away, you want this too. It feels like you’ve been in this position for hours, the wait is agonizing. He wonders how your lips will taste, maybe like the blackberry chapstick you always wear. He wonders if your lips are as soft as they look.

‘Stop joking around,’ you break the silence.

His other hand grazes your cheek and then his thumb traces your bottom lip, ‘I’m not.’

‘Rin, please,’ you whisper.

Oh, how he loves the desperation in your tone. If only you knew for how long he craved this too. Just when you think he’s finally closing the gap, he gives you a quick peck at the corner of your mouth.

‘I can’t, Y/n,’ he says lowering his head, ‘Not when you’re not mine.’

He hugs you, thightly, burying his head in your neck.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say, ‘I shouldn’t have asked for that.’

You can feel him shaking his head lightly, ‘I wanted to,’ he says.

You wanted it too, more than anything you ever wanted.

Suna can feel the thing in his throat threaten to leave his body through his mouth, ‘I love you,’ he blurts out and shocked by his own words his head jerks up, ‘I—’

‘Sunarin,’ you stop him and every thoughts that was starting to form in his mind, ‘It’s okay,’ you cup his face, ‘I love you, too,’ you lay your forehead on his, ‘I’ll make it up to you.’

He hugs you again, ‘You’ll be mine?’

You hum and nod your head.

Now that you knew of his feelings, that thing in his stomach, in his spine, in his throat, is gone. He still doesn’t dare to touch your thighs, though, and the smell of his shampoo on you still makes him weak at the knees. Next time you’ll see each other you’ll be his and then he will kiss you. He can imagine how it will be, he imagined it so many times before. He smiles as he gets comfortable in your arms.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

2 & 13 for tara x reader would be equally adorable and HOOOT. just imagine her getting all flustered about the question as r just looks down at her with those "answer my question" eyes and later on tara looks up at r with those "fuck me" eyes

GOOOOOD

sincerely, anon ❤️

2. ‘’Did you touch yourself to the thought of me?’’ + 13. ‘’Show me how you do it when you touch yourself.’’

Scream week has officially started!! I had a lot of fun writing for this event and hopefully I get to do it again with other fandoms. I hope you enjoy what I have planned for the rest of the week <3

Warnings: 18+, smut, masturbation

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Finally, you made it up to the fourth floor of Tara’s building. God, you hated these stairs �� especially after a long day. All buildings should have elevators. You didn’t tell Tara that you had gotten off work early, wanting to surprise her. She’s been complaining that you hadn’t been spending much time together these past weeks. But with school, work and your parents’ impromptu visit, your relationship with your girlfriend had been neglected. 

 You raised your fist to knock on the apartment door just as it swung open.

‘’Oh, hi,’’ Sam said in surprise, about to go out. ‘’It’s been a while since I saw you.’’

‘’Is Tara home?’’ 

‘’Yeah. In her room. Go on in. And please don’t let her set the place on fire.’’ 

With a small laugh and a nod of thanks, you stepped past Sam and into the apartment. You quietly went down the hallway, where Tara’s bedroom was, and knocked on her door. No answer. Maybe she didn’t hear. Tara often had her headphones on. 

You pushed the door open, expecting to find her reading or watching a movie. Instead, you were greeted by a more intimate sight. 

The curtains were drawn and the lights were off except for the salt lamp on the nightstand. A sweet scented candle filled the air, adding warmth and sultrance to the ambiance as Tara's right hand moved beneath her panties, pleasuring herself on her bed.

‘’Having fun without me?’’ 

Tara's eyes flew open at the sound of your voice, seeing you watching her from the doorway. Gasping, she pulled her hand out of her panties and grabbed the blanket to cover herself. Not because she was shy. Because she was embarrassed that you caught her doing that.

‘’H-how did you get in?’’

‘’Sam,’’ you explained, shutting the door behind yourself. ‘’I came up just as she was leaving.’’ You walked the few steps over to the bed and sat on the edge, right where Tara’s feet ended.

Tara shifted, trying to resist the ache between her legs calling for her attention. ‘’I thought you were busy until the end of the week.’’ 

‘’I got off work early tonight. I wanted to surprise you and spend the evening with you, but it seems that you started without me.’’ You smirked, slowly uncovering one of her legs. ‘’Did you touch yourself to the thought of me?’’

Tara smacked the blanket down and looked away, hiding her flustered face. 

‘’You did, did you? Naughty girl.’’ 

‘’The only time we see each other these past weeks is between classes and that one time at lunch. What am I supposed to do? I have needs too.’’ She sounded defensive.

‘’You’re not using your pink rabbit vibrator?’’ 

Tara shook her head. ‘’I don’t use it when Sam or Quinn are home. I’m too scared they would hear it.’’ 

‘’The toy or you?’’ you teased, already knowing the answer.

‘’I’m not loud—’’ 

You gave her a look, and she sighed with flushed cheeks. She might be shy and quiet at first glance, but once a toy was on her — or in her —, Tara was the loudest whiner. 

‘’No one’s here now, should I grab it?’’ you suggested, glancing at the drawer of her nightstand. 

‘’You’ll use it on me?’’ 

You hummed. ‘’But first. Show me how you do it when you touch yourself.’’

‘’What?’’ Tara frowned. 

‘’You started this yourself, you have to finish it yourself.’’

It was clear in her eyes that she didn’t want to. Getting caught in the act was embarrassing enough as it was, but Tara knew you wouldn’t touch her until you got what you wanted. 

She removed the blanket and you repositioned yourself on her bed to get a better view. Tara propped her back against her pillows and spread her legs under your gaze, flashing the damp spot on her pink panties. She peeled them off her body and slipped her finger between her slick folds. She was so wet from her previous teasing. 

A quiet moan left her lips as she ran her finger lightly over her sensitive clit, her hips jerking slightly before giving herself a little more pressure. Her clit was so sensitive. Your eyes darkened as they flickered down to Tara’s hands, slipping two fingers inside of herself while her other hand drifted up to rub her clit. 

Tara threw her head back, a whine falling from her mouth. 

‘’Look at you, you’re so pretty,’’ you said, watching the glistening wetness coating her fingers as she trusted them in and out. 

You ran a hand up Tara’s thigh, causing the brunette to shudder under the touch. She wanted you to touch her so bad. But first, she had to cum by herself. 

‘’Come on baby, can you come for me?’’ you asked as you noticed Tara’s hips jerking and her breath getting harsher, knowing she was extremely close. 

She gave a needy whine in response, her finger moving faster on her clit until she felt her climax crash. 

‘’Now, get the vibe out. I don't know how long Sam's gonna be out for,’’ Tara said with slightly dazed eyes as she withdrew her fingers from her pussy to spread her wetness all over her folds and clit.

—

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[pop-punklouis]

wanted to ask your opinion on the chappel roan tiktoks she made the other day about fame and boundaries. i know a lot of people are siding with her, but i just feel like she could've been nicer about what she said...? i get that she had this crazy rise in fame the past few months. and i dont know how i would respond to that change, but to be upset bc fans want to take photos with you and to be so rude about it bc you're on "your time" just???. idk i feel like im in the minority here

i think you're missing the entire point of her message, babe. you're choosing to focus on the "taking pictures with fans" part of her rant instead of what she was really talking about, which is the harassments and objectifications she's been the victim of due to this meteoric rise to fame. she was not saying you couldn't come up and ask her for a photo. she was saying, if she told a fan "no" that some fans have immediately called her rude and tried to start an agenda about her being ungrateful and harsh in person. she was never talking about nice fan interactions. she was most definitely talking about every other interaction she's gotten that has been. inhumane

regardless, why should she be nicer about... anything... she was talking about? i'm tired of the parasocial and chronically online dictating how celebrities must react to fame and to their fans. harassment, stalking, manipulation, condescension.... these do not have to be synonymous with fame because hey! people don't have to treat other human beings like they're caged animals in a zoo! because they! signed up for this lifestyle! those aren't normal things and no one should expect someone to just. adapt to those things like it is. she can be as mean as she wants, dude. i don't blame her

why are people stalking her family? why are people pushing her boundaries? why are people pretending like her very valid and raw critique of how she's been treated since she went uber-viral are actually her "showing her true colors" and being "unappreciative" for what she chose to do for a living? like she stated in her videos, you don't know her. she doesn't know you. it is not normal to pretend like you do and to interact with her like you do. tiktok has made this parasocial relationship with celebrities worse than i ever could've imagined and we are seeing the darker side of it with chappel roan right now because she is being vocal about it. it's overwhelming. it's very abnormal. and it should be discussed more.

these people don't owe you anything. it's one thing to be ungrateful for what fans have given you. its another thing to feel like you are living in a fish bowl because people are treating you like a commodity instead of a living, breathing human being. i'm all for more celebrities drawing a harsh line in the sand when it comes to their personal life and their public persona. you are not obligated to their time no matter how much you feel you are. i cannot imagine becoming a practical overnight-sensation like she has the past summer. i would go absolutely insane on day three. so, why don't people turn on their dome piece and think for two seconds about how irrational and brainless it is to be upset that she "could've said :( things nicer :(" and she needs to be "more :( grateful :( otherwise :( she's not cut out :( for fame :(" liiiiike. no perhaps its you that needs to reevaluate how you treat other human beings depending on if they have the label "celebrity" over their head and go from there!

because what she said is something that's needed to be said for a long, long time regarding celebrity culture i just hate it's happening to her on such a scale that she needed to say it at all.

[gurugirl]

Jewel | stepdad!harry

Summary: You get a tongue piercing and Harry wants to test it out.

A/N: Based on this idea!

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, inappropriate relationship between a stepdad and stepdaughter, cheating, lying, degradation, 'cum' play

stepdad!harry masterlist

"Why'd you get that?"

"Cause I felt like it."

"You look like a slut."

"Oh yeah? You like it, Daddy?"

Harry grasped your cheeks and smushed so you were forced to keep your mouth open. He inspected the inside of your mouth, pushing his finger over your tongue and the small delicate jeweled piercing right at the center.

You’d been wanting to get a tongue piercing and you finally worked up the nerve to do it. Harry hadn’t seen it yet because you’d been away at school but you knew that once he did he’d flip out a little.

“You look stupid.”

You chuckled and reached for Harry’s forearm to pull his finger further into your mouth as you wrapped your lips around his digit, licking the pad of his finger and then flicking the smooth jewel against his hand. You sucked and then grinned at him innocently with his finger still in your mouth.

“Harry, will you open the oven door? I’ve got my hands full,” your mom suddenly caught you both off guard. Harry yanked his finger from your mouth and jogged into the kitchen to help her so she could stick the roast into the oven.

You leaned into the hallway wall and closed your eyes. That was a close call.

Dinner had Harry eyeing you closely. You knew he was curious about your new piece of jewelry. You could see the gears turning in his head.

“I signed up to win this vacation to Quebec. God, wouldn’t that be so cool if I won? Everything is paid for too. Well, the basics… Anyway…”

Your mom talked about her dream vacation away. She needed a vacation, you knew that. Everyone did. She worked all the time and yet she still made dinner on her rare nights off and did it all with a smile.

You licked your lips and looked up from your plate to plant your gaze on Harry’s. He was already looking at you so you stuck your tongue out quickly and then grinned before taking another bite of your meal.

Harry shook his head slowly and then spoke, “A vacation in Quebec huh? Why don’t you just take off for a week and you and I can go. It’s not like we can’t afford it.”

“I mean, in all honesty? I might just do that if I don’t win…”

You frowned at Harry for saying that in front of you. That was a dick move. You were just teasing him with a piercing but his retaliation to suggest that just the two of them go on vacation together? You knew your upset and jealousy was irrational. Harry was married to your mother. Not to you.

“I’m suddenly sick to my stomach. I’m gonna,” you stood from the table, “call it a night.”

Your mom put her fork down and stood to give you a side hug, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I think it’s too much wine. Too acidic or something,” you swallowed as you lied.

You were happy to get away from that conversation. A conversation you had no right being upset by. To really put things into perspective, you often imagined how your mother would feel if she ever knew half of what you and Harry had gotten up to when she wasn’t around. That usually pulled you right back down to earth.

And here you were upset by a mere comment. You hated the situation but you couldn’t stop it. You didn’t want to stop it.

Your mother knocked at your door before opening it and looking in, “Hi baby, are you feeling okay?”

You were on your bed in your oversized pajamas leaning against your pillows, “I’m better now. Thank you, mom.”

You turned your attention back to the episode of Seinfeld you were watching on your laptop. You should have been doing homework. You had a paper due on Monday that you’d barely even begun.

You sighed as you closed your laptop and turned off your lamp. Tomorrow you’d get to your paper.

Before you’d even fallen asleep you heard your door opening and smiled to yourself. It was Harry coming in to see you. Every time he snuck into your room when your mother was around it made you feel special. Made you feel like he preferred you.

“Sleeping already?” Harry whispered quietly as he climbed up behind you on your bed and put his arm over your middle.

You inhaled deeply and yawned. If he’d come in a few minutes later you would have been sleeping. “Almost,” you spoke after you finished yawning.

Harry slowly moved a hand up, grazing over your tits, up to your clavicle, over your neck and then he stopped at your mouth, pressing two fingers inside, “S’this why you have this? Cause you want me to play with it? Want to take on my cock and slide this against my balls when I have you pressed down so hard you’re choking?”

You moaned and felt yourself falling into that soft simpery place as his nails scraped the back of your throat gently.

“Hmm? My little slut likes to be used so I’m gonna use her tonight. Isn’t that what you wanted, Y/n?”

You nodded into Harry’s palm as you gagged slightly at how deep his middle finger was, “Yes, Daddy.” You spoke around his finger and heard him laughing softly at your pathetic attempt to answer him.

Suddenly he yanked down your pajama pants, exposing your bottom, and kicked the sheets down. You yelped as he pushed your face into your pillow, his hand at the back of your neck roughly keeping you in place. He landed a swat onto your bottom and then another three in quick succession which had you gasping.

He pulled your hands behind your back with his free hand and then he leaned over you as he spoke quietly, “Turn your head to the side and stick out your tongue.”

You did as he said and he released your neck and then pulled at your bent elbows to lift you up, “Turn and face me.”

You kept your arms behind your back and your tongue out as you scooted yourself around to face Harry and then sat back on your haunches as you watched him pull his sweatpants down and bring his cock out. He stroked himself slowly as he lifted his free hand and stuck it in your mouth, feeling over the jewelry once again.

You were quite happy that he seemed so excited by it. He didn’t admit he liked it but you didn’t need him to.

You shot your gaze from his dark eyes to where he was pumping himself, slowly getting himself hard for you.

“Spit,” he said as he pulled his fingers from your mouth and held his palm out.

You spat into his hand, keeping your eyes on his in the dark room, and watched as he brought his saliva-coated palm to his cock.

You swallowed and could hear puffs of breath fall from his mouth as he fucked his fist, “Take your top off. This is gonna be messy.”

You brought your hands down to the bottom hem of your shirt and pulled it off over your head before putting your arms back behind yourself.

He smiled and you could hear the slick sound of your saliva coating his cock as he stroked.

Harry released his hard dick and pulled his own shirt off before grabbing you by your neck and pushing you back into your pillows, “Keep your hands behind your back,” he growled as he crawled up over you and then smushed your cheeks again, “Gonna fuck your throat now.”

And god there was something about Harry ramming his cock into your mouth and the moans he would make that got you wet instantly. Sure it was uncomfortable having a big long dick sliding in and out of your throat but you loved it. Loved the way it made you feel like nothing. Like just a toy or a piece of garbage maybe. Somedays you did feel like a piece of garbage. Especially because your affair with your stepdad was an awful thing to do to your mother. So you deserved discomfort and to be used and fucked however he wanted.

You gurgled as you tried to keep your eyes on Harry but when he stuffed himself in fully and your nose was pressed into the base of cock you slid your tongue out along his balls and heard him whine. He grasped your head and held you in place, “That’s right. Taste my balls and run that little slut tongue all over… fuck…” Harry breathed out a moan as drool escaped the edges of your mouth.

He finally backed out to give you a breath before pushing his tip back into your mouth, “Let’s feel it then. Lick my cock and let me see if you’re any good with that stupid thing,” he gritted.

You swirled your tongue over his frenulum and then down along his shaft as you kept your eyes on his. You lifted your neck so you could take him deeper but he pushed your forehead so you’d stay down, “Uh, uh… Didn’t say you could move. Told you to lick my cock.”

The tase of his precome coated your mouth as you licked his tip and along the edge of this shaft where you could reach without lifting up. You sucked gently, wrapping your lips around him and brushing your tongue against him, making sure to press the jewel into his sensitive skin.

His groans told you he liked it but suddenly he pulled himself out and held you down by the front of your neck and leaned over you, his cock laying over your belly button. He spat down into your mouth, “Don’t swallow.”

Pushing his thick cock back into your mouth you had to squeeze your eyes closed with the way he was grinding into you. You could only hear your gags and the slick noises of Harry’s cock being guided harshly into your throat repeatedly.

“Holy!” Harry gasped out and then slid his long cock out of your mouth and slowly off your tongue to catch his breath.

His chest was heaving as you looked up at him from his position over you. Your eyes were blurry but you could tell he’d almost come just then. He repositioned himself between your legs and pushed your thighs into your chest. He dipped a finger into your entrance, “Can’t believe you get wet from that. So fucking desperate for anything I give you.” He slapped your thigh and you moaned.

You wondered how loud things sounded outside of your door. The sound of skin getting slapped with a spank along with the moans had to have been loud. But then another swat was issued to your pussy and you gasped, titling your neck up to look at Harry between your legs.

He was stroking his cock when he looked up at you and then angled himself over your body before pressing his cock into your pussy, “Gotta admit…” he panted his words, “Your pussy is too good not to use. Fuck you’re so creamy and dirty. Shit…” he pulled back and then plunged himself back in, dipping into your tummy and gliding over your g-spot with each thrust.

“Please give me your come, daddy…” you pleaded as Harry began to tremble and moan between gasps. You loved that your body made him react that way.

Harry grunted as he rocked into you deeply a few more times, your mattress bouncing under your back. He suddenly pulled out, releasing your legs, and crawled up to aim his cock at your face. You felt his warm spurts of come squirt into your mouth, where you stuck your tongue out to taste and then he groaned as he kept stroking himself, coming on your neck and your tits and down to your tummy. He’d covered you in his orgasm, making a mess just like he said he would.

“You’re my filthy slut, aren’t you?” He grasped your cheeks again, still stroking himself to milk the last drops from his shaft. You tried to nod but his grip was tight.

He let out an incredulous laugh before spitting into your mouth again.

You felt like a puddle after he’d used you like that. Not even coming in your hole but wasting all his seed on your skin instead. It was dirty and rude. You loved it.

You lay prone with a smile as Harry got up from the bed.

When he turned back to look at you after he’d pulled his sweatpants back on his eyes went wide as he stood and watched you smear his come onto your palm and rubbed your clit with it then used your other fingers to push gobs of his release inside of your pussy.

Harry grinned and leaned down to kiss you, despite the mess on your face. He parted from the kiss but kept his face close to yours as he whispered, “Have fun with your little present. Don’t want you to leave this room until you’ve eaten all my come or stuffed it into your pussy just like you’re doing. Understood?”

“Yes, daddy. I won’t let it go to waste.”

 Harry smirked as he stood up and slid his shirt on. He watched you for a moment longer before he had to drag himself away from the dirty scene with you scooping up his come and pushing it into your tight hole as you moaned. You were all shiny with his orgasm as you bucked your hips into your sticky palm.

He would have loved to stay and watch but he couldn’t waste too much more time just in case his wife woke up. Perhaps next time he’d indulge in watching you masturbate with his come.

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[vivid-bad-brainrot]

Present Apologies, Belated Apologies

Akito & Kohane

➔ After costing Vivid BAD SQUAD a win at a battle event, Akito’s guilt is evident but he’ll keep it inside himself to feign strength around others. Well, that’s what he would have done if Kohane wasn’t so adamant that he shouldn’t be sorry.

★ Wordcount: 2,129

☆ Fic takes place earlier in canon, probably a bit after bout for beside you

★ /p, can be interpreted as /r if you please

“Shinonome-kun, you always tell me I apologize too much but…” Kohane fumbled around with her fingers, attempting to find the right words to say, as if she were treading a tightrope rather than solid pavement. She met his gaze again, “I do find it a little hard to take you seriously when you do it even more. The thing is, you don't expect forgiveness. At all.”

Akito nearly stopped in his tracks entirely, “What?”

She smiled at him sheepishly with a subtle shrug, “I just…I don’t think you’ve said a sentence without the word ‘sorry’ in it since we left the venue.”

“Well, I am.” He huffed, looking at the road ahead of them again. “I totally screwed things up back there. Is this you trying to take the blame for it? I told you to stop doin’ that.”

His steps were undoubtedly heavier on the ground, it wouldn’t take a genius to notice that. With a grunt, he attempted to fix his composure so as to not look weak. Of all people, he didn’t want Kohane to see that side of him.

It had been strange lately. Kohane was his fuel, watching her improve so rapidly pushed him to reach for greater heights. Despite their differences in experience, oddly enough Akito felt this need to…impress her? No, not that. He wanted her to see him just as he saw her; someone who’s resolve was infectious, someone who you couldn’t bear to imagine pursuing your passions without.

Along with her developed confidence, Kohane had also grown unrelenting with time. With that, a sprinkle of stubbornness was always sprinkled into her speech. “It’s not fair of you to take the fall.”

“Well, who’s fault is it?” He attempted to keep his tone level. The last thing he wanted to do was to lash out at her. Kohane didn’t deserve that, just like he didn’t deserve her. How she somehow stayed by his side (even if it was just because of Vivids and BAD DOGS merging) despite how much of a prick he used to be towards her was beyond him. Kohane was the type of person he didn’t think had ever gotten angry in her life. He thought it would be good for her. Especially if she got mad at him. It was something that would suit him right.

“No one’s!” Kohane tried, sounding a little desperate. Screw Akito and his awful perception, sometimes he didn’t want to be able to tell what others thought about him. Sometimes, he hated that he even cared about trivial things like that in the first place. Those kinds of worries wouldn’t bring him any closer to surpassing RAD WEEKEND. They anchored him in the past.

He sort of regretted offering to walk her home after the event. Kohane lived the furthest away from Vivid Street out of them, closer to Miyamasuzaka for reasons that probably had to do with the proximity to her school and all. This meant that Kohane had ample time to refuse to accept his apologies. And it gave him an even longer time to mull over things.

As they reached a crosswalk and waited for their signal to cross, Kohane tugged on his sleeve to garner his attention, as if it was on anyone but her in the first place. The look on her face was so sincere, Akito honestly thought his self loathing was warping how he processed things. She should be mad at him. “Shinonome-kun…If it were me who had made that mistake during the show, what would you say to me?”

His voice had cracked during one of his solo parts, at the end of the prechorous where the hype had the strongest potential energy. It was so obvious, too, that he felt as if BROWN simply shouldn’t have let him in there in the first place. As a result of his complete blunder, it had costed Vivid BAD SQUAD their victory and shattered their winstreak.

The MCs would always set Vivid BAD SQUAD up as these teenage hotshots who’s talent rivaled long-time performers. In the couple months they’d been a team, they’d already built a name for themselves. Everyone had to do their part to uphold it. It was that reputation that allowed them to get into more famous livehouses were they could stand on the stage and walk in the footprints of the legends who had built Akito’s dream up from the bottom simply with the memories they had paved Vivid Street with. He couldn’t go out and destroy it, make them look like a liability to certain livehouses. Maybe a part of him was somehow attatched to the time he and Touya had spent performing together as BAD DOGS, when all sorts of livehouses would invite them to perform as some sort of sick comedy routine. To see some kids try to perform, expectations unfairly low.

Music was more of a battlefield than the soccer field could ever be. Music had taught him how to fight. It wasn’t until he had found Vivid BAD SQUAD and the vocaloids that it had taught him how to love.

Noticing how he completely zoned out, Kohane seized his wrist lightly (although he was sure she was holding him as tight as she could muster) and pretty much pulled him across the crosswalk. Oh, he needed to stop his pity party right now, because at this point Kohane was practically walking him to her house—not the other way around. He couldn’t waste her time like that.

They turn a corner, onto the street where Kohane lived. He hadn’t answered her question yet, but she wasn’t at all pushy. Not expectant that he answer it right away and still not mad at him for some reason.

If it were Kohane who had made his mistake…

“I would tell you to tough it out.” Akito said simply, “And not to go so hard on yourself if you were upset about it.”

“You would say that me,” She grinned at him and held her hands behind her back curtly, brown eyes nearing amber in the gold of the setting sun, “You’d say the same thing to An-chan and Aoyagi-kun, and you’d still find a way to shift the blame over to yourself.”

Akito halted and turned to face her entierly. He probably looked like he was drowning on air. Maybe it would have been better if he was.

“Why cant those words apply to yourself as well?” Kohane asked. “Why do you have to be sorry?”

“Because I…uhm—” Akito suddenly hated the fact he decided to wear so many layers. They had never felt so suffocating or that they were heavy with absorbed sweat (ew). He wavered for a few moments.

Now that he thought about it, usually he’s the one being blunt about the other person's problems, like An’s. She had been so stressed out about Kohane, so Akito decided it was his apparent right to help her discover how she actually felt about it all. But now, it’s as if the roles were reversed and now he was the one getting a slap in the face of a reality he hadn’t realized he’d be living in.

Hypocrite.

And it was Kohane who was telling him all of this. He never looked at Kohane—back when they had first met and she had her hair long and his face was in a permanent scowl—and ever once though they’d actually grow this close. Where they’d be having this conversation and Azusawa Kohane of all people could read him like a book. He didn’t even wear his heart on her sleeve like she did; she just knew him. A part of that was terrifying.

“I just….” He trailed off, at a loss.

“I hope it’s not coming off like I’m trying to dictate your emotions or anything—It’s really important to feel things!—I want you to know…it’s not just your burden anymore.”

“So, why aren’t you mad at me?”

“Eh?”

“Kohane, you have every right to be angry at me,” Akito breathed, looking down at the sidewalk under them. “I don’t understand…why you’re so good to me.”

Kohane’s face wrinkled in confusion as she tilted her head at him.

“I never apologized for being an asshole to you, when I questioned your resolve every chance I got. I never apologized to you for calling you a shrimp and all those other things. You deserve so many apologies. It’s why I tell you not to apologize to me over stupid things. ‘Cause I should be the one apologizing to you instead.”

Kohane blinked. “What?”

“I’m sorry. Im sorry for everything—“

“Shinonome-kun.” She said firmly, sending an unfamiliar jolt up and down his body. She placed her hands on his shoulders and huffed, “When you said all those things to me, that wasn’t the you I know now. And, um, if you ask me, you said those words to a completely different person, too.”

“That doesn’t excuse anything I did, though.” Akito protested, and Kohane shook her head.

“You and An-chan are always preaching about moving forward, right? ”

“Yes…” Then, Akito realized, “Oh.”

He wasn’t the type to get so in his head about little things—especially if they were far behind him. But Kohane…she brought out this side of himself he hadn’t realized existed…or maybe the parts of himself he had been trying to shut out. He was a big proponent of the idea that if you couldn’t go back in time to change things…there was no point in worrying that much about it. Like most things, it was far easier said than done.

“Besides,” Kohane removed her hands from his shoulders at last with a heavy breath. She ran a finger through a pigtail, “I think I forgave you the moment I cut my hair.”

Kohane started walking again so Akito followed along like a lost puppy. They stepped onto her front porch just as the sun dipped under the horizon.

“Will your parents be angry that you’re coming home so late?” He asked, knowing it was his fault for keeping her out later than necessary. “Touya’s dad gets real pissy when he’s out late, so…”

“They’re used to it by now.” Kohane replied with an airy laugh, bending down to lift the doormat up and grab the key from under it. “My dad says for every hour past curfew I stay up, I owe him one picture with my camera.”

“Oh.” Akito scratched his nape. “I’m sorry for keeping you for so long.”

“Shinonome-kun, it’s really rude to ignore everything I’ve been saying.” She crosses her arms indignantly, but her face tells a completely other story; a lighthearted one.

He didn’t know why after all of this, he still wanted to tell her ‘no’.

So close to the door, they might as well be stalling time to stay in each other's gazes, like it was an honor to be embraced by the attention of the other. “Even if you forgave me…that doesn’t mean I deserve to be forgiven.”

“You do.” She said earnestly. “When it first happened, I really…was hurt by it all. But, we both watched each other as we grew into better people. And I hope we continue to do that by each other’s sides.”

She looked down, suddenly shy and twiddled with the key in her hands, watching the porch-light be reflected on the metalic material. “I really admire you, Shinonome-kun. So, I want you to be able to forgive yourself as well. Can you promise me you’ll try to do that?”

I admire your courage to be so forgiving, he thought, but settled with, “I’ll try. I…” he wasn’t the best at verbally communicating how he felt, so he probably sounded strained as he told her, “I admire you as well.”

She looked a little surprised. Even he was a little bit. He was normally as blunt as a knife, but when it came to…emotions, his edge was dulled with ease.

“That settles it, then.” Kohane decided. She opened her arms up, but quickly glued them at her sides with the flush of her cheeks.

“Go ahead,” He said, even though he felt a little embarrassed at the prospect of giving someone the clear to hug him. Kohane echoed his feelings, but eventually wrapped him into a hug. Huh. It was a little strange they’d never hugged before…

Instead of saying sorry, he uttered a small, “Thank you,” Into the crown of her hair. “For giving me a chance to grow as well.

She whispered into his shoulder, “I think you’ve been feeling really guilty for a really long time.”

“Maybe.”

“At the end of the day, we’re not that different from each other. We both just want to prove ourselves. It drives you mad, too, doesn’t it?”

[dokjas-lostselfpreservation]

the concept (in reference to your Mizi & Ivan post) is kinda interesting bc so much of that groups dynamic hinges on Mizi acting the way she does (and for the most part she is who she seems like!) and Sua being her confidante (but also someone who contradictingly pushes her into that role) and Till being a friend she admires for his efforts but she doesn’t choose to play with him often (my theory is she found out about his feelings towards the end of their time in the garden, so at first it was bc she thought he hated her and later on bc she was afraid of him thinking she was “leading him on”), and Ivan… that is the big mystery isn’t it? We haven’t got much besides maybe 3 arts where they’re directly interacting, and no serious reflection from either besides in the art book and it’s Mizi thinking Ivan’s so helpful and nice and Ivan thinking that Mizi is pure but that as he’s gotten older she seems “too bright” in their hopeless world, Ivan keeps Mizi at a distance (emotionally) because he assumes her brightness is all there is to her BUT he’s aware that it’s somewhat cultivated by Sua (who doesn’t tell her the truth about alien stage) so it would be interesting if Mizi tried to open up to Ivan and Ivan had to decide whether to try and encourage her naivety or would he go against Sua’s wishes and tell her the truth of their world, I’m wondering what your thoughts about it are?

HELLO OMFG THIS WAS LEFT FOR SO LONG??????? i'm sorry 😭😭 okayy so, i have a lot to say on this matter!!

okayy, honestly your whole thought process is actually pretty much nailed on the coffin—except, Mizi does know about the truth of Alien Stage, (it was in the recent comic release, tho you probably do know that by now, didn't when you sent this ask), She knows people die. honestly, in my opinion, it was her desperation to get away and experience atleast a semblance of what it means to live is what drove her to behave the way she did.

Though if it comes down to how they behaved with eachother, i'd say it was Mizi who felt at ease when she was with him. ofcourse that doesn't mean she'd let her guard down completely, because regardless of how uncaring he was about her conventional beauty and the concept of hetero relationships in general, he was still a guy. But, it was also because he was a guy and this was (probably) the first and only male human around her age who took her as a person instead of a potential "mate", and so, even though she kept her distance (kept a facade), she was happy or maybe even somewhat excited that she can act all foolishly and lean on him without any consequences of the "mating" norms that were fit into the brains of the kids at Anakt.

NOW!! as we speak of the said facade she had. i have a hunch that her innocent plays and foolish behavior with Ivan specifically weren't all a pretend. i believe she was actually happy to experience a genuine friendship with a guy her age. And as it may seem, she used the opportunity Ivan's nature had introduced her to, and acted like a child that she was, the child she couldn't be, the childhood she was forced out of. she behaved mischievous without a second thought and had real, genuine fun because it was rare—no, more like it was impossible to imagine, atleast for Mizi. For the experiences she had and the things she was aware of, it was nothing short of a miracle for a guy like Ivan appear in her life.

Also, i'd say that Mizi knew that Ivan had an idea of her pretending, and that made her trust him even more bc any other guy would've taken advantage of that (glares at that particular blonde ass), but Ivan on the other hand just, indulged her. Coming from a childhood of being used and controlled, of having to behave a certain way to please those around her, of being scared of disappointing others, of thinking a thousand times before speaking or doing anything at all because they were capable of hurting her if she even as much as breathed the wrong way—Ivan, alongside Sua was a breath of fresh air. The difference was that Sua allowed her to take control overall but also, she was a girl. Ivan remained nonchalant (and kinda amused) to her little control when they hung out, BUT he was a guy. And that created a whole lot of difference.

as for Ivan, as you said, I'm pretty sure he had a good idea about Mizi and her facade of innocence she always carried around. And honestly I don't think he really thought much of her. it takes just a pair of eyes with 2 braincells minimum to figure out that Mizi was, infact, pretty. but the thing to take into consideration is that he had experienced things similar to her, too. I don't think he ever judged her for creating a faux personality, because honestly, he has no ground to stand on himself. I'd say Ivan knew why Mizi acted the way she did, too. Why she used to cling to him and not on other guys, why she behaved more childish when he was the company as compared to the other boys. i believe he actually took pity on her (aside from empathy of sharing similar experience and similarities in general) he indulged into her antics. And probably saw her as someone—though ruined by the aliens—who was genuinely capable of healing.

and yep that's all for noww lmao, again sorry for SUCH a late response I'm irritated by myself kwnwiwnwjsns

and thanks for the ask<3 it was fun to talk about itt!!

[namelessprayers]

"i have a crush on you." mizi said. sua turned her head, slowly, tired maybe. she always looked a bit tired if mizi stared long enough. then again, maybe everyone else did too. the effects of growing, probably.

"a crush? what's that?" sua asked, because she was always wary when it came to new things mizi had learned from ivan who had gotten it from some bizarre book.

"it's a good feeling, like," mizi paused, contemplating how to phrase it, "when you really really like someone."

"oh." sua's shoulders relaxed a tad, tensity replaced by relief. "well in that case, i've never had a crush on anyone."

======

according to ivan, there's no such thing as providers in books. instead, there's parents. a mother and a father. the kind that pat your head and tell you what a good job you're doing. besides him, everyone else believes that providers are just providers and the aliens are just that, the aliens, nothing more and nothing less.

mizi doesn't really get it, but she doesn't ask. it might bother sua. lately, a lot of things seem to bother sua. talking about providers and alien guardians probably wouldn't help when sua seems annoyed by the nature of care and all that stuff.

when mizi tries to imagine visiting shine every few cycles, she doesn't like the idea much. so she understands, only a little, why sua might be so down recently. similarly, ivan's always off somewhere else too and till's always having to be locked away. currently, it's just mizi laying on the grass, light in and light out.

======

they used to play with mizi. it never worked when mizi tried to cooperate back. there was some sort of barrier there, in all the foreignism and difference of their appearance. the pink was the closest alignment mizi shared with shine.

expression was lost a little too, but mizi thought she managed to pick up some things. wonder, curiosity, fascination, affection, confusion, bewilderment, remorse. maybe she imagined the last one.

they played with her like she was their doll. but then mizi met a girl in a glass box dressed like a real doll. the perfect doll.

after drawing blood, it was never really the same. it wasn't anyone's fault though. how could you cross a bridge between human and alien, big and small, crushing and crushable? mizi always wondered if it was worth the distance that came after.

======

mizi's curious and fascinated herself. so, perhaps it's no coincidence that sua fulfills a lot of her ideas.

when they play together, there's no blood, at the very least. sua prefers to steer them away from that kind of conflict anyways, says ivan is rude, or wrong. sua doesn't like till either. she cares, maybe, but their presence never fails to irk her.

mizi has an urge to push when they play, sometimes, on the off occasion of fleeting unforgiveness. it never comes to fruition though.

usually, it's gentle. there's nothing there but blue skies and green and white and them, black and pink, purple and yellow. mizi thinks she could fall in love with this. sua is going to hate her for it.

======

"how do you do that to him?" mizi asked, wringing her hands in her white anakt garden gown. ivan glanced up from a crushed flower, and she held her tongue from asking about that as well.

"do what?" ivan responded, curt, because he was always plain about everything. or at least, it appeared that way.

"punch him. hurt him. fight. crush." mizi was trying to be confident, but she faltered, unsure of whether ivan would understand the feeling. "how can you do that to someone you like?"

"it's not a choice." ivan said. he gave her an aborted shrug, looking more and more troubled by the second.

======

hate is a strong word. mizi decides that everything can be solved by replacing the word hate with crush. it's more direct, more intuitive, easier to comprehend in meaning.

ivan crushes flowers because he hates anakt garden. sua crushes the fabric of her dresses because she hates the stage and the aliens and maybe everyone else too. mizi has run out of things to crush. she dreams of blood red and infinite pink and the disapproval of complete pitch black. she crushes her heart, if anything at all.

======

till and ivan were civil, sitting up against a tree, letting mizi gradually drift into sleep. they were arguing, sure, but it was without real heat. she was phasing in and out of consciousness, their idle chatter growing dim to her ears.

"why do you like mizi?" ivan asked, unprompted as far as mizi was concerned. however, she was wide awake now. she wanted to know if it was still the same answer as before.

"why do we do anything?" till bit back. mizi was unsure whether this question was sincere or not, but ivan seemed to understand, humming along like he agreed.

"but it's not like you to take the easy option." ivan said. mizi thought she was starting to understand the meaning of not having a choice.

======

the isolation is lonely, long, and lamentable. but maybe it's not even real, just a prolonged sensation. sua visits, sometimes. mizi never sees ivan or till. mizi tries on outfits that are too big and too small in every colour except the one that comes from crushing.

it's frequent now, sua's face of disdain, directed at mizi as if to wish for anyone else. it makes sense, mizi agrees, since it's not fair that there was no other choice. it's probably all her fault.

they have so little options left, so they simply lay there and stare. maybe they talk, but play is pointless, and the songs are already stolen. in every moment, mizi can feel them crush each other more.

[bluemoonscape]

Thinking about the Mizisua and Ivantill merch cards again (sedate me)

These ones.

I already have a post discussing the difference between Ivan and Till’s anguished looks and Mizi and Sua’s more… resigned ones, is the best descriptor I can think of. Attached to these cards is a message about these four characters and their attachments to one another: hate is such a simple emotion, it says, as compared to something as complex as love (paraphrasing obviously).

With the post R7 Patreon confirmation of Ivantill being a mutual love-hate relationship, this quote makes quite a lot of sense for them, and in obvious ways, too. They recognize a kindred spirit in one another, and while Ivan attaches himself to Till because of it, Till pushes him away. This is the tragedy of Ivantill and we know this.

But what about this applies to Mizisua?

Because of Sua’s short time in the series thus far, we don’t get a lot of Sua’s internal thoughts or feelings about… anything. The Sua comic with her sister was the most we’ve ever gotten, I think, and it was beautiful and very telling about her character. Mizi truly is her love, her universe, her paradise, her light in the dark. She loves Mizi with her whole heart. There’s no denying that.

But Sua is only human, and she has the capacity to be bitter. She has the capacity to feel something as base as hate.

Maybe a small part of her loathes that very same innocence that she fosters in Mizi until the very end. Maybe a part of her, like any abused child would, felt envious of her naivety throughout their childhoods, disgusted by it, because here Sua is, this girl who knew exactly what was going to happen to her from the time she was young, and here’s Mizi: Blissfully ignorant. I’d imagine that drew Sua in as much as it burned her. Mizi could never fully see or understand Sua. Sua was always trying to do the impossible, always trying to preserve that innocence.

No matter how much it haunts her, no matter how much she might wish to shake Mizi and scream and cry at her to wake up, look around, this is our reality, wake up—she never could bring herself to do it. She held onto that secret until the very end.

So Sua’s object of resentment is also the thing she longs to protect the most. And Mizi? Mizi was kept in the dark. Mizi’s god kept her in the dark and then abandoned her when she needed her the most. Wouldn’t you resent that? Wouldn’t you hate that?

In the aftermath of Sua’s death, the barrier between them finally makes itself plain to Mizi. Mizisua, just like Ivantill, is doomed to miscommunication and deceit. Mizisua, just like Ivantill, is filled with both deep love and deep hatred—for betrayal, for ignorance, for deception, for tragic circumstance within each other.

[maudlin-scribbler]

it's kind of a shame that we never get any concrete information about amber's family or childhood or general past and we can only guess but these are some of my headcanons (some of these are a work in progress)

the surname Volakis indicates greek heritage and honestly, I am inclined to think that she dos have greek heritage. It's probably not what the writers intended but I am running with it. Anyway my headcanon is that one of her parents is greek-american, most likely her father, or maybe both of her parents.

(she doesn't really have any feelings about this and honestly doesn't really care much. growing up, i imagine her parents would pull the "i worked so hard to provide for you" and all that)

Her parents are...pieces of work, to put it lightly. Not completely irredeemable, no one is, but she rarely talks to them and moved to a different state as soon as she could.

They're not exactly rich, but they're well off, and they probably worked a lot. Enough that she barely saw them.

And when she did saw them they were likely to argue and fight, with eachoter, and as she grew up, with her. They are the kind of people that should have gotten divorced a million times over by now. Also the kind of people to ruin "nice" family vacations by arguing the whole time.

She has a younger sibling. The sibling also probably has a name after a gemstone. They were born when Amber was like, 11, and they're really different. Amber cares about them but also kind of resents them cause her parents actually kinda cleaned up their act a little around the sibling. They don't talk much either, mostly on the phone once a month or so.

So her parents weren't really abusive in the physical sense of the word for the most part.

As a kid and teen she really cared so much about school to the point it was kind of concerning, basing her entire selfworth and success on it. Figured that it was the only way to have a better life away from her family and also figured that maybe if she got enough As her parents would finally give her the time of day (even if she thought to herself that she did not care).

She wanted their respect and she wanted their love and she got neither, for the most part.

Her parents didn't care much when she got outstanding results but did care when she didn't. Which some of the fights between them were about.

because of All of this she's like that.

She had a phase where she was more rebellious, but honestly it didn't last long because she still does care about what her parents think of her even if they barely see eachoter.

She's has relationships before Wilson. She's kind of the type of person to really hold on a relationship for a long time and try to make it work once she loves someone, at the same time she does have a tendency to push people away because she kind of hates the thought of people taking care of her (doesn't want them to start resenting her because of it).

Which yeah, it was something she def worried about with Wilson

She learnt how to play an instrument or two as a kid and she's decent with her voice.

She was kind of lonely in school because of Everything going on with her besides a few friends.

In her rebellion as a teen, she picked up smoking. Which she knows probably makes her a hypocrite, given her attitude towards drugs and alcohol. She has mostly quit, and she only ever smokes in really high moments of stress if at all.

and a lot more things. probably. but this post is getting SOOO long so yeah. i do not buy that she had good parents lol