#its crazy how much better i feel after going to therapy ONCE

[newfeeling77]

im making healthier choices for my brain every day. for my body thats another story

[almondamaretto]

chris x volleyball!reader pleasepleasepleaseplease

or chris/matt fluff im good with either! Thank you so much!

honestly i think doing sports/hobbies!reader x matt and chris would be really cool!!

chris x volleyball!reader hcs

warnings: some sfw parts and some nsfw parts!! mentions of injury

i actually did volleyball once 😎 (it was 8th grade and i broke my arm in an unrelated activity 4 games in...)

— tries his hardest to come to every single game you have. he's a busy guy, always recording and planning out new ideas, he's always doing something different—but he refuses to miss your games.

— matt is actually so tired of him 'cause he is constantly driving chris to some random place.

— he has most def spent hundreds of dollars just on ubers to your games.

— we all know that chris is into sports, watching, playing, all that fun stuff. bro would 100% get too invested in the game.

"red card? for fucking what!?" his hands shoot up as he exclaimed to no one in particular, rolling his eyes and groaning as the other team was awarded a point.

— secretly cusses out refs when they give you penalty cards:

"what a fuckass ref"

"bro's never made a correct call in his entire career."

— doing a full 180 when the referee doesn't card you for something you fully deserved a card for

"best ref i've ever seen, hands down!"

— after winning a game he's congratulating you in every way possible. a tight hug as he kisses you all over your face, picking you up by your ass to hold you even closer.

— after losing a game he's pulling you into a long hug, burying your face in his chest as he comforts you, rocking you back n forth as he pets your hair.

— go to hand placement is directly on ur ass.

— will definitely smack your ass at every opportunity. walking a step in front of him? going up the stairs in front of him? oh fs

— will absolutely play with you/ help you practice (he's lowk terrible at it and spikes the ball way too much to actually help you but he's cute so does it really matter?)

— if you get an injury during a game my man is gonna be jumping over people to make sure you're okay. doesn't matter if its a sprained finger or a broken foot he is inconceivably concerned probably worse off than you lets be honest.

— will 100% try to take care off you if its a bad injury, going with you to the hospital, doctor's office, physical therapy—you name it, he is right by your side.

nsfw below !

— your uniform actually has him on his knees every game.

— those tight little spandex shorts never fail to create a tent in his pants !! he thinks he might actually go crazy every time you invite him to games, he knows what to look forward to after

— like yeah sure he's watching and enjoying the game your ass !!

— its js something about the way you look resting your hands on your knees, jersey riding up to show off your ass... all of a sudden he's tugging at the crotch of his pants and praying no one happens to glance down.

— god forbid he catch another man even looking in your general direction. bro is taking you home fucking you 2 inches from death. you’re his girl, no one else’s.

— either super sweet and loving sex after winning a game or rough sex filled with praise and teasing.

"y'did so good today ma, gonna make you feel so good."

"gonna fill you up, show you how proud i am of you."

— rough, angry sex whenever you lose esp if you get an attitude with him, either you or him on top—he wants you to do whatever you need to feel better, he hates seeing his baby upset ☹️

"take it out on me, ma."

"gonna fuck that attitude out of ya."

— chris is actually just horny 99% of the time

[ecargmura]

Wind Breaker Episode 9 Review - Dr. Umemiya's Physical Therapy Session

I thought this was a delinquent anime. Why am I watching Dr. Hajime Umemiya performing physical therapy on Choji? I hope Shishitoren pays Umemiya a hefty amount for this therapy session because Choji made his problems everyone else’s.

There might be people disappointed about the outcome of this long awaited fight, but remember that fighting is about communication. Like how Umemiya told Sakura to use his fists to talk to Togame, he used his own fists and head to talk to Choji and it worked. Thanks to Umemiya, the viewers finally understand why Choji behaves the way he does. His idea of freedom is fickle. While being the top means free, it’s not the one he idealized, hence why he took the dark path because he was so distraught with the disappointment that came with its discovery. What Choji needed to realize was that the freedom he sought after had been with him the entire time: Shishitoren before he changed. He realized that Togame had been piecing back what had been broken the entire time and hence why he caressed his cheek and thanked him for protecting Shishitoren and not letting the group crumble even further.

The fight before Choji goes deep into this thoughts was still pretty good. The beginning part without any music was smooth. It’s crazy how well they’re animating this fight despite the huge height difference between Umemiya and Choji. Choji still pulls his weight and Umemiya does too. I think the craziest part of the fight was the neck biting scene. Given that Choji is themed around rabbits, the neck biting scene reminded me of a vampire rabbit, which then reminded me of the book series Bunnicula. I quite liked that series when I was younger. I still think it’s crazy how Choji gave Umemiya the nastiest hickey ever. Once this is all over and done, Ume needs to go to a doctor to check if Choji had rabies. I also liked the headbutt he gave to him. It reminded me a lot of Tanjiro and how he’d give headbutts to people.

As a manga reader, I do think the scenes with Choji’s thoughts are done a lot better in the anime. There were several scenes from those segments that I really liked. The first was the part where the floor underneath Choji cracked and he fell into it like he was in Kingdom Hearts. The second was showing Togame piecing together the fragmented memories. It symbolizes that Togame was holding everything together for Choji. The bloodied hands in some shots weren’t Choji but Togame’s. His hands became bloody from trying to collect all the glass shards and putting them back together instead of throwing them out, reminiscent of how he chose to cull the weak members for Choji so that everyone else wouldn’t hate him and make the group crumble. That was how much he cared for him. Gosh, it was done visually well. My last favorite part was the face touching scene. They improved so much from the manga. The manga had it to where Choji was thanking Togame for protecting them by touching his face while he was lying down and battered. The anime amps it up with the visuals, giving it a more sensual vibe. I was feeling so moved and even was holding back some tears with the scene.

I feel like I’m talking about Choji a bit too much, so I’m going to talk about Umemiya. Umemiya was great. He never showed any signs of weakness or having a disadvantage. I felt like he was just letting Choji hit him because he could tell he was faltering. I think Umemiya shined most towards the end where he rejected Choji’s jacket and wanted Bofurin and Shishitoren to be friends. Umemiya’s laid-back personality is his charm, after all. Also, Umemiya with some of his bangs made him look really nice and it made me wonder if he has his hair brushed back because having his hair down is an instant KO for his opponents.

Given how often Shishitoren was seen with cloudy skies and rainy weather, the last shot where the clouds lifted and showing off the blue sky was a nice way to show that Choji has returned to his normal self. It does feel like a nice conclusion for the Shishitoren arc and it makes me wonder how the rest of the episodes will be played out. I hope that there’s a second season. This show is way too good to not get a season two. What are your thoughts on this episode?

[echosluvr]

I'm the shameless writers' sleep paralysis demon. In season 12:

Debbie has flings with a bunch of crazy™ chicks to forget about Sandy but they meet again and they talk about that.

D:"after i met you, thought I loved crazy bitchs but turns out i only love one crazy bitch."

S: "oh wow, turns out ,i only love one crazy bitch too."

They kiss and have steamy lesbian sex, the end.

LMFAO this is sending me so bad how does it feel to be one of the funniest people ever anon (sorry I saw this so late Tumblr loves hiding my inbox notifs) as much as I love love love sebbie, I fear it wouldn't happen like this. I think after h*idi , debbie would quit on dating and fucking? she may kiss girls at bars on her nights out but thats the most. she wouldn't get anyones number or fuck. she'd devote most of her time to her job and franny to get over sandy. if im being 0% delusional they would NOT get back together because of the harsh and cruel words sandy said to debbie. but in my perfect fanfic world, over this time sandy tries with prince , obviously a long hard path because she willingly abandoned that kid with a guy who clearly didn't have enough time for him either. but over the course of months and familial therapy she would get to a standpoint with her son, where they aren't truly mother-son, but they get along. she knows his favorite things (color, food, clothes, activity, etc) and he knows his hers. and at first sandy would do this just for debbie, to show she's willing to change and not be another person who abandons her. but overtime she grows to care for her son. and I think the reconciliation would start off with sandy begging mickey to help him set up a meeting or play date between franny and prince so she can show she's trying with her kid while also having some distance to discuss these topics with debbie. as for Debbie she would be against it at first and maybeeeeeee mickey bribes franny who is the only person in the whole wide world that can convince her mom to do anything. so she agrees. they'd meet, its awkward but sandy strikes a convo about the kids and they seem to joke about it. and amidst it, sandy would apologize and debbie would shut it down, cause she just isn't ready to forgive her, but she's willing to along with it. it'd probably grow along the course of months most likely years and a shit ton of familial counseling between sandy and prince and couples therapy between sandy and debbie to get to a state where sandy can ask debbie out on a date and they can try again. but once they reach that point I think they'd fall in love and be gallamoms to their kids (btw prince and sandy would def have a much much better bond by the time sebbie get together, and royal is out of the picture because I think he shouldn't exist) and bully ian and mickey. if I go beyond sebbie, I def think mickey would help his cousin love her child despite the circumstance by simultaneously learning to love yevygeny ? I think it would be cute to see the two cousins earn a place in their child's life and it causing a beautiful domestic life for them all. svet and mandy would be together by this time too, and once it all settles down over years, all three couples would put their kids/stepkids to bed and laugh over how almost 2 decades later the two youngest milkovich siblings & their cousin r now stable and gay/bi (SCREW U TERRY)

(@m4ndysk4nkovich, @holymurdock and @lovekenney I would love for u three to add ur insights )

[cyberkitty1]

Black Musician Reader

about a year and a half after your break up with miles you decided to focus on yourself and your career. making a plethora of songs and being openers for big artist’s.

your living your dream life; moving out of your apartment and getting a house, nothing too bug just something to fit you and your 2 dogs, working out to look better snd feel better about yourself and starting on the journey to better your mental health.

your manager and team have finally decided its time for you to have your first concert. you got to choose where it would be.

you were nervous and excited! these is a new chapter in your life sure you’ve done openers but your very own concert?? this is crazy.

brushing iff your outfit and fixing your hair hair one last time before you step out on stage. the moment you made your way to the middle the lights were blinding but once your eyes got used to it you could see everyone.

cheering your name with signs and pictures it was surreal. you were performing your very last song when you see him. you see him but he looks different, he’s not wearing his puffer or his messed up jordans. he’s wearing a sweater?? and a whole outfit.

you cant ignore the feeling of want and missing him. its been almost 2 years ; he’s always been in the back of your mind you couldn’t deny it and those last words he told you. that he wanted to change for you. did he really change? for you? really?

the concert came to an end it was a success. people gave you gifts and flowers you loved it all. just then someone knocked on your dressing room door.

“come in!” you calm in a loving tone before spinning your chair to see who it is. you were shocked to say the least.

it was miles standing with a big bouquet of your favorite flowers. you felt your heart melt a bit. “miles” he gives you an awkward smile “hey” he says scratching his neck”

“why are you here miles” you say standing keeping your hands at your sides in fists. you were nervous, so so nervous. he messed with his necklace. “remember when we broke up? i told you i would change and treat you better”

he walked toward you giving you the flowers. “ and im here to do just that” he say’s confidently. “miles-“ “no wait i went to therapy i got into a college i have a better relationship with my family, i don’t spray paint walls anymore i, i changed because i love you and i want you to give me another chance, please?”

you stare at him, you’ve missed him so much and the fact that he changed just for you? so he wouldn’t loose you? thats how much he loved you he was proving it to you, just like he said.

you missed him, the moment you broke up with him you wanted him back, you couldn’t just forget all the memories you made with him. there was no way it was going to happen.

“miles, are you being serious?” your eyes filled with tears. he felt anxious he knew how things ended and he knew what he did wrong.

you couldn’t help but let them fall as you give him a hug. he changed himself so he could be with you again? you expected him to just move on by now.

“im sorry about how we left everything, i know i could have been better to you, you didn’t deserve it. can you find it in your heart to forgive me?” he asks speaking into your hair as he hoods you tighter. “ of course miles ive missed you so much” you say through tears.

“ im so sorry for how i treated you, te amo mucho mami” he says wiping your tears. “ please dont do that again, if you need space ill give you space just talk to me, you cant just leave” you day beginning to get agitated.“ i will, i will. forgive me my love”

.

.

.

🏷️: @soseoulol @shoyofroyoyoyo @pandoragalora @miles-42-morales @heavisdelulu @lilcassipuff @levanneisdumb @thebaddest @sussybaka10 @itsznanabanana @mallywally @missyysyx @c4nth3lp1t @sgmianne @miles4hour @ulovejayy @onginlove @buckleyverse @lexixiii @swaqlover @yoursidehismain @florencepughswife030196 @lethycia @edgyficuselastica @druiggf @onsimpshii @lovely-horror-show @vivsamortentia @leighs-gallery @remuslupinsno1slut @steve-harringtons-bitch @shurisbbymama @bunnybabylovesstuff @karmascute @c4rine @janaeby @mookiebutt @paraccosm @zkristuz @reflectionsinrealtime @mindymeeksrules @nagi3seastorm @popeheywardssecretgf @be3_Fl0w3er @piopio @hoodypunpurri @hiyoo-o @enchanting-violet @Dee.xo @sylisan @violettathewriter @ariellaa

rushed im sorrryyy

[the-heart-of-a-monster]

Wh-

What the f-

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HELLO EXCUSE ME WHAT-

Yeah. This is fine. This is great, even! I'm just scrolling around on Tumblr, havin a good time, then I see some asks talking about the new page and I get excited. I riot in my head, even! I squeal with joy because I absolutely adore your art!

Then Sonic pushes Shadow away and my heart breaks in half.

wtf /pos and /lh

I wanna psychoanalyze this so fuccin bad so I'm gonna try my best but everything is so clear and easy to see so idk how obvious this will all be. I'll have a TLDR at the end that will hopefully be shorter idfk

Also before I do that I just wanna say that I absolutely love THOAM and I'm so glad I've been along on such a crazy journey for this long. Love seeing your art evolve throughout the 2 years I've been here!

ok let's get on with it already-

---

Okay so the first thing I noticed is Sonic's demeanor in this entire chapter so far. Sonic wasn't necessarily pissed at Shadow before coming here, (I still fail to remember the name of their location) but he was a bit... He seemed angered to some degree. This obviously has to do with the lack of sleep he's been getting due to his incredibly painful transformation, and uh side note here, transforming on its own would be enough to make someone feel out of sorts. I totally understand why Sonic is acting odd, in this case.

Anyway, the point I'm making is that Shadow has slowly been testing Sonic's patience throughout this and the last chapter. In the last one, Shadow said something incredibly rude and impulsive, which lead to Sonic staying behind in the dorm while Shadow and Chip were getting mawled. He only came back because he knew they were in deep trouble. The hug he got from Shadow didn't really help all that much, even if it was a kind gesture and something the Ultimate Lifeform wouldn't typically do. Because, y'know, it's just a hug. People hug others all the time, and it's not even close to a real apology.

Then Chip stayed behind with Tails. And... Suddenly, Sonic took a complete 180!

Without Chip around, without Sonic's emotional support buddy, the blue blur is left with all these pent up emotions that he's been refusing to let out for a long time. The last time he cried was days ago when he accidentally attacked Amy, and for us, that was probably like 3-4 years ago at this point. He's hardly had enough time or room to really feel anything, and that leaves him all constipated and icky. Sure, he had to kind of mellow his real feelings when Chip was around because he's just a kid in Sonic's eyes, and when Sonic lashes out it impacts Chip in a bad way. This doesn't mean Sonic feels any better without Chip, because without him, there's no hype man to make him feel better. There are no comforting words or small chit-chats for the road and no pit stops to get snacks... It's just him and Shadow now, and since they're on a pretty important mission to, you know, fix the entire fucking world, there's like no time for breaks.

Combine all this with the fact that Sonic is stuck as a Werehog for this entire chapter, and for the entirety of this specific mission... Yeah, you've got a pretty cranky hedgehog. And here's the sad part in all of this: Sonic doesn't like feeling this angry and this alone, but no one seems to really understand him anymore. Not even Shadow. They don't know what it's like living two whole lives at once, having to go through all this pain and agony for so long and not able to tell a soul. They couldn't possibly comprehend!

So how should he feel when his closest companion makes an effort to understand, even just by a little bit?

---

TL;DR

Sonic is confused and angry at the world. He doesn't understand what to do or how to act, and without Chip's support and unintentional therapy, he's just kinda... Left to his thoughts. Shadow suddenly trying to help after being not very helpful for a while made things even more confusing, and the fact Shadow never told Sonic about the constant nighttime thing... Yeeeeeaaahhh, Sonic's not doing too hot.

Hope this wasn't too long and I hope Tumblr doesn't eat this up due to its length. Thanks so much for reading to the end and thanks for just being you. Because if you didn't exist the world would explode-

<3

NEVER TOO LONG i think others also appreciate the theories ♥

[thedandelionthief]

thinking about how andrew minyard is seen as this unfeeling monster even in his own eyes when it’s obvious to the reader that he is so painfully human. this man is willing to go to insane lengths to ensure the people he loves are safe. he’s been doing his absolute best to protect aaron since the minute he learned of his existence. he spent years medicated to the point of mania because of the consequences of protecting nicky, and never once did he blame anyone for it. the first time he ever broke a promise was out of the sheer worry he felt for neil after he was kidnapped.

and speaking of neil, despite his words, he’s surprisingly gentle with him, but not in a way where anyone is treated as fragile. for someone who supposedly hates him, he sure does spend a lot of time making sure neil’s boundaries are always respected. it’s crazy to me how he could ever have thought that these feelings were just a side effect of the drugs, and i hate that people allowed him to feel that way for so long.

yes he goes about things the wrong way. obviously. but it’s so tragic to me that so many of the foxes see these violent outbursts as signs he’s an unfeeling monster when in reality it’s Because he cares so much. too much even. even before the medication, he was never devoid of emotions. it’s just that growing up in an unstable situation like andrew did really messes with one’s ability to process things, and the healing process is not going to be an easy one.

but despite it all, he is trying to heal. he shows up to therapy regularly, even after it stops being court mandated. he goes to rehab because he knows its what neil wants (and deep down he knows it‘s good for him too). he has his trust broken there even more than it already had been, and yet he still continues to see bee, and starts to work on mending his relationship with aaron. say what you want, but there is at least some part of andrew that Wants to get better, and now he’s finally found the stability and security in his life that he needs to do so.

like god. that’s about as human as it gets. and it’s so heartbreaking to me.

[polyamorouspunk]

Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Was out with mountain boy last night and 1. I learned how to say ‘i love you’ in latin (te amo) and 2. Very much questioning the whole arospec thing because of this boy. Cause for the first time in my *life* the feelings have lasted more than 2 weeks. Its been 2 months. HOLY SHIT IVE BEEN DATING MOUNTAIN BOY FOR 2 MONTHS

But yeah. And also like. As of last night its like *new feeling unlocked* like I’ve had butterflies but I’ve never had butterflies to the degree that Im *still* having butterflies over something 24 HOURS later. And like. That could also just be from being in the middle of a flare that my emotions just are not regulating correctly but like. I feel like I just unlocked emotions 2.0. So maybe I am the actual rare case of ‘you just haven’t been with the right guy yet’ which is infuriating but also I *like* these feelings

But also on the whole chronic illness front - WE FUCKING HATE IT HERE and Im downing ibuprofen like its candy (that is a joke for those that need told). So if my brain could just stop having the 404 error causing both thinking and motor skill problems atm that would be great

Uuhhhhh OH! And therapy is now once a month instead of every other week so I guess thats a plus

Those are my life updates bro how are you?? I miss chatting with you I feel like I never have time to be on here anymore

*answers like a week later* whaaaat I always have time to chat haha 😅😅

Well I’m glad you feel that way! I know personally I can only feel that way with people I’ve met irl even if it’s just meeting them once. I love that feeling though, I’m always chasing that high.

It’s been two months 😭 where has the time gone

I love my best friend to pieces but hanging out with her and her husband was soooo. For someone who’s “autistic and touch-adverse” homegirl SURE did a 180 on that. Third wheel for a week straight 😐 I support her not conforming to social norms even when it’s embarrassed me in the past but like. Boundaries. When you are with someone else. I always made sure that I was never super PDA or hung up on my ex when we were dating because I never wanted to make someone feel like a third wheel and uh. Yeah that’s why.

I just started my meds back up, I’m back on Prozac after my hiatus from taking meds. It reached the point where I’m like “okay yeah maybe my meds were doing SOMETHING even if they weren’t WORKING exactly so MAYBE I should go back on them and be a LITTLE less crazy”. I intend on starting therapy back up. I have free therapy through work, probably Better Help, but it’s probably better than nothing. I already know my data’s on the dark web from all the times my bank account has been hacked so I don’t need to worry about them selling my personal info 😅

I was planning on graduating this semester but that’s not happening :) so next semester it is.

My mom wants to come back up next summer and my best friend and I have been trying to plan matching tattoos and we talked about getting them up there where I got them last time so maybe I’ll see you then! Sick New World already sold out so I guess that plan is a bust 😅

[pridepages]

Borrowed Time: Even Though I Knew the End

I just finished Even Though I Knew the End by CL Polk. I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

CL Polk’s magi-noir novel Even Though I Knew the End is a tribute to both 1940s gumshoe detective stories and to religiously-coded fantasies a la Supernatural. But at its heart is a single, painfully real question: how much would we be willing to risk for a little more time with the ones we love?

The novel is narrated by a spell-casting private eye named Helen Brandt. Helen lives her life on the margins as a lesbian in 1940s Chicago, facing all the risks that out-but-not-proud queer people of the era did as she tries to make a life with her beloved partner, Edith. But even in her secret life as an auspex, Helen is an outcast because she committed an unspeakable crime: after tragedy claimed the lives of her whole family, Helen traded her soul to Hell to raise her little brother back from the dead. Being damned, Helen was cast out of her magical fraternity and isolated from her brother, Ted, who stayed on the straight and narrow. Worse yet, there was a time limit on Helen’s deal: in 10 years she would have to surrender her soul and go to Hell. But with the clock almost up, a demon holding the rights to Helen’s soul comes to her with a deal: identify a murderous being who is stealing souls in Chicago, and Helen will have the chance to win back her own soul and her future with Edith.

World-building mythology here is particularly potent, considering the status of queer people as outcasts both in the earthly realm and, by some orthodoxies, the heavenly one. Helen observes her city, musing that “Chicago had loved us once, and the straights had packed into the De Luxe Cafe and the old Twelve-Thirty Club to come scandalously close to the queer. But the cops cracked down on the pansy clubs in 1935, and these days, Chicago didn't love our kind at all.” Far from contenting itself with silencing queer people, society found ways to literally put them away. Homosexuality was at the time considered a reason to lock people in an asylum because society “called it a sickness, but nobody who had vanished…had ever come back to say they were cured. Funny how nobody they decide is crazy ever seems to get better.” Seeing one of her old friends has now become one of the inmates, Helen desperately wonders “Who put her here, claiming to love her? Who had committed her to this place, where they would strap her into a device that would deliver electric shocks when she looked too long at a picture of a woman? They call it aversion therapy. Therapy. I never met anyone who said they were cured.”

In Helen’s world, you never knew when you could be caught and forced to pay the ultimate price for who you were. In that sense, every moment in love and free was stolen, hidden out of sight and clutched close with greedy hands and desperate hearts. 

Today, some things have changed. Homosexuality is no longer classified as a mental illness, but it persists in being treated as a sin. It makes Helen’s conversation with an angel as relevant today as to the 1940s:

The angel calls Edith “a very godly woman,” to which Helen rejoins “If you forgive the perversion.” The angel replies: “The revulsion for homosexual love is a human prejudice.”

Who is it that has cast the queers from the divine light: God or human beings? How do we cope with living surrounded by voices that have us anathematized for loving? And what is the significance of God anyway?

The crux, whether you believe in God or not, is an inescapable truth: we are all living on borrowed time. And someday, that time is going to run out. When that day comes, it won’t matter whether the years that passed were long and golden as summer afternoons or harsh and short as Chicago’s winter days. In the end, we’ll all end up feeling something like Helen as she reflects on the time she shared with Edith: “Once upon a time, I had walked into a secret queer bar, and the woman who would be the love of my life asked me to dance...I never told her how she had saved me. I never told her how she became the dearest friend I’d ever had. I told her I loved her, but never enough.”

There is never, ever enough time. It’s so easy to understand why Helen trades her soul for more time with her brother, why she fights so hard to regain it in order to have more years with Edith: “Ten years with you? You bet I want it. Every second.” I’ve often wondered how differently I would live my life if I knew exactly when my time would run out. Is it better to live like Helen, knowing to the minute when the clock stops? Or is it easier to bear with some ambiguity?

Either way, I will do my best to live this moment, this life, with as much fullness and gratitude as I can muster, with every second of borrowed time. Even though I know the end.

[sassypirette08]

A month later

Its been officially a month since 9 years went out the window.

For some long I had forgotten what really happened in those 9 years. When it ended all you could say was that I was mean and that I showed no affection.

Asking you to put effort into dates, romance and becoming a better you somehow became too much for you. For a while now I could use dying. Yet I still refused to leave. Instead I asked for us to get therapy...you wanted out.

You said you felt like I hated you . that I had become impossible to please...

For some long I let you take over the narrative of our story...

I am glad looking back now that i have receipts of how it all went down.

You see that what happens when you're with a narcisisit. You end up believing their version of the story.

You were my first everything. Naturally that mean you would also become my first heartbreak.

I poured everything into you. Told you things I shouldn't have. And that was even before we made it official.

I gave myself to you at a moment you could not even promise me true love . friends with benefits because you took a chance at my naive spirit and you were a man who took advantage of an opportunity of lust.

Still, somehow something clicked within you to ask me out officially, only because a ghost from your past had you reconsidering what you had been doing so you cut your losses with me only to discover I was devoted to you and that did something to your ego.

You asked me out after you broke my heart, and still like an idiot I said yes. I read the messages between you and my 24 year old idiotic self and visbly cringe at ridiculous I was.

Even early on, I should've seen the signs. I had to beg you to contact me while you went to California. Something that didn't change even 9 years in. To gaslighted and triggerred me and then acted as if I was crazy once the honeymoon stage was over.

You say you did many things for me, too bad you only count the materialistic things.

You hid me for several years because of our job, we didn't want anyone treating us any different. Eventually you finally posted me but even then it was a rare occasion.

You wouldn't post me on social media

You wouldn't shout me out for my birthsay

You wouldn't take me out of state except that one time in California where you made me cry the very first day.

That was a habit with us. The few vacations together rarely did we have one without a fight.

They say we women are reflection for the man we are with. And yet you wonder why I changed.

You see you can't just buy things and expect the problem to go away. I wanted the man you pretended to be when we were friends.

Over time I felt taken for grades and after years of not feeling heard, do you wonder why I became "mean"?

Now here I am at 34. YOU broke a 9 year relationship because you could not be bothered to seek therapy and confront the issues like I have confronted mine. Instead you throw away 9 years and 1 month of no contact.

Did you ever even really love me? Or did you just like the concept of having a girlfriend?

[recklessfuture001]

Despair

This morning I looked at the news online. I was overcome from among the stories of the continuing Palestinian genocide, the possible beginnings of a new pandemic with the H5N1 virus, and how Donald Trump is just getting slapped on the wrist while the media machine tries to act like justice has been served with despair.

I had to wonder, “Does anything good happen anymore?” It sure doesn’t feel like it. It all seems like it is horror after horror. How does one cope?

If I didn’t know any better I’d say there must be some psychological operation going on. After all, the whole point of psyops is to overwhelm the enemy so much with hopelessness that they just give up. I mean, if there were some covert operation to bring on total despair to the entire population of the US their doing quite the job of it, right? Do things not feel totally hopeless and pointless to anybody else? Is it just me?

All I seem to hear about in response to this despair is “get therapy”. Well, I can’t get access to mental health resources. It is expensive and I am limited by transportation issues. Poor people can’t get help in this wretched, capitalistic, wealth and status worshiping society.

Also, do I really have an illness? Isn’t despair a proper and reasonable response to a world that has collectively lost its mind so to speak? I think I can say with confidence that it is the people going about their lives as if nothing is wrong that are the crazy ones.

I don’t understand how anybody is happy now. It mystifies me. How can anybody be okay with anything that is going on?

What’s worse is that I can find no meaningful, temporary distractions. For one, I’m not working a full-time job right now. I’ve been taking care of my sick mother. That has had an impact for sure. What’s more is that I can find nothing that entertains me enough to hold my interest. Everything on the streaming services and video sharing platforms seems hollow, and after years of learning about leftisms of various kinds, I see all sorts of nasty ideological manipulations that abound in the what Michael Parenti called “Make-believe Media”.

Music doesn’t bring me the feelings it once had unless it is sad music. I guess because I’m already sad. Nothing feels good anymore. I just feel dead inside.

I don’t know how much longer I can deal with this. Something has to change. But I suspect that nothing is going to change for the better. Not really. Just empty facades of copium if I fool myself into believing feelgood stories of positive news. It all seems so fake and stupid. What is this crappy world? Is it all just falling into a barbarous maelstrom of authoritarian terrorist horror? I’ve asked a lot of questions. Questions that I either don’t have an answer to or don’t really want an answer because it is really more than I can bear.

[kenmaskitten10]

Dilf Deku Headcanons

Midoriya Izuku x GN!Reader

warnings: swearing, NSFW themes (nothing graphic just briefly mentioned),brief mention of bullying/scars, idk this is pretty tame nothing is really described... if u don't like dilfs then don't read this :)

a/n: okay! this is my first time writing/publishing anything on Tumblr so please go easy on me haha... I've had ridiculous Deku brain rot lately and I decided I had to jot a few thoughts down. I'm playing with the idea of turning this into a writing blog, but I am undecided! If anyone wants to thirst for one Izuku Midoriya please come talk to me please anyway without further ado here are some Dilf!Deku hcs.... I'm playing around with doing a NSFW version after this so if you would like to see that let me know!

w/c: 1,498

Okay everyone today I want to talk about Dilf!Izuku

This may be controversial but I personally believe that he has the most Dilf potential out of any of the class 1A boys and no I will not be taking criticism at this time

Sorry but even when he’s younger he has Dilf energy - he’s caring, considerate, takes your feelings into account like a dad he just wants to take care of his baby

oh fuck this man no no no

And listen, here me out on this one….. he has more dilf potential than Bakugo and allow me to tell you why

We can all agree that Bakugo has been confident his entire life, so of course he’s going to be confident when he’s older?? duh

But IZUKU is a different story altogether, he’s never felt confident in his life

His whole childhood he was looked down on for being quirkless, and bullied by someone he thought was his friend kachaan

THEN he got a quirk but oh every time he uses it it breaks all his fucking bones and leaves him with all these scars, and he appreciates them because of what they represent but also he’s young when he gets them, he’s already prone to insecurity and when he’s younger ESPECIALLY i think they just remind him of previous failures

He only started to gain a little bit of confidence in his UA days, but it takes time to rebuild yourself after you’ve been torn down for so long, so I honestly imagine he doesn’t even feel an inkling of confidence until his third year or later and even then, it’s new, it’s unfamiliar, he doesn’t totally know how to act

Because yes, by his third year, he’s starting to realize, oh wow okay, I have an incredible quirk and all these new abilities that I can control better, and wow people are paying attention for good reasons , because he’s tall and attractive, probably cuts his hair undercut Izuku supremacy and he’s made some solid friends who help boost his confidence too

But despite all this, deep down he still feels like that quirkless little kid who has to work three times as hard as anyone else and still doesn’t get the recognition he deserves

But OH BOY

DILF IZUKU??? This man is dripping with confidence

he’s older now. he’s overcome a lot. he’s gone to therapy, and worked his way through the pro hero ranks until he earned his number one spot fair and square, that’s something no one can take away from him

He’s loaded now (see below because I go on a whole tangent), he has nice tasteful style that can only come with age and experience

He knows he’s hot now, because its simply no longer something that can be denied, anyone with eyes can see how attractive he is

If he catches you staring at him, he doesn’t shy away. His cheeks might tint slightly, but he stares right back with the biggest smirk on his face. “See something you like, angel?”

Probably finds reasons to show off slightly but he’s Dilf!Izuku so it’s subtle, it’s meant just for you and god does it drive you crazy

The way he’ll reach for and grab at things when he’s around you because he knows you like his hands (he wants to hold your bags and please let him he just wants to feel needed)

They way he stands behind you while you cook, or work, or read…. He sees you sitting or standing so peacefully and he’ll come up behind you to check out what it is you’re doing. He’ll lean down slowly, quietly, stopping when his breath is on your neck and your nose is filled with his scent, and take a quick peek at whatever it is you’re working on. It takes you a moment to turn around, your heart starting to beat faster in your chest due to his looming presence behind you (I DON’T KNOW WHY THIS IS HOT TO ME IT JUST IS OKAY). When you finally turn to face him, his face breaks into a small smile of victory as his strong hand catches your jaw in a gentle grip and he places an achingly soft kiss to your lips before saying “You look so cute when you’re concentrating,”. As you’re about to go in for another, he lets you go and stands up again, his eyes twinkling. “No no, you’re working so hard baby, don’t let me distract you,” WHEN ALL HE WANTED WAS TO DISTRACT YOU and he succeeded and now you’re all hot and bothered, with no hope of resuming what you were doing

Dilf Deku is a tease I know he is but it’s okay he’ll make it up to you later ;)

He’s got shorter, slightly more cropped hair with grey mixed in with the green, his face more lean and angular… not to mention years of pro hero work have toned his body into an absolute work of art I’m gonna pass out just thinking about it

Freckles splashed across his skin like hundreds of little constellations, accented by scars and marks from old wounds (which he’s come to appreciate - they show how hard he’s worked, how much he’s sacrificed to get to where he is now) he’s muscular but I don’t think he’s quite as big as All Might (his fighting style is a lot different so of course he would build muscle in different places) so this means LEGS LEGS LEGS

LEG MUSCLES FOR DAYS

THICK FUCKING THIGHS oh my god

And holy shit his back muscles too WHEW sometimes in the morning when he gets up before you, you watch him sit on the edge of the bed and flex his shoulders and arms to stretch out in the hazy morning light and Jesus Christ

Dilf Deku is older now, he’s spent his entire life working himself too hard and he missed out on a lot of the fun, impulsive, chaotic things young people do, so I think he wants to let loose a little in his older age, have some fun for once

And what’s more perfect than sweet, youthful, tantalizing little you to indulge in ?

He’s so doting, just wants to make you feel special and cared for

And on that note, if you will indulge me for a moment

he’s fucking RICH like

He’s the number one pro hero, he has brand deals on brand deals on brand deals

And I don’t mean to slander All Might and Endeavor, but in terms of a hot, fuckable number one pro hero, Deku has them beat by a landslide so I imagine he has a wider range of brand deals too, because he can sell the sex appeal angle

I mean can you imagine him in interviews? Interacting with fans? Confident yes, but still soft spoken and kind, almost gentle but anyone can tell he’s completely in control, of himself, of the interview, of the audience, this man has the entire country world wrapped around his little finger

All this to say he’s DRIPPING WITH MONEY

he’s like the guy that overtips an OBSCENE amount like if the waiter is really nice he’ll tip like $300 dollars and won’t even blink (I know they don’t tip at restaurants in Japan but this is more for vibes yk)

sugar daddy deku isn’t a stretch it’s a REALITY

Y’all can be officially together or not, either way Deku loves to spoil his precious little y/n

All you have to do is smile sweetly and ask, and he’s absolute putty in your hands

Complies with even the most egregious of your demands, because hey, he has the money to spare, and how could he say no when you look so cute asking so politely?

GOOD TASTE too like he has a lot of money but he knows how to spend it 😏

Additionally he’s, ya know, him, so he’s insanely charitable and donates to charities, go fund me, personal Venmo accounts of fans that need it

if a fan has like a go fund me for some reason that catches his eye, he’s going to donate and he’s going to donate a lot (A LOT)

he doesn’t even do it for the press, he does it bc he’s a good person but my GOD the press eats it up and so do the fans

These hc’s are so self indulgent but all this to say

Dilf!Deku gets what he wants when he wants it and no one is standing in his way

So when he decides it’s you he wants? Well then it’s you he’s going to get!

[mellowswriting]

Nightmare

pairing || Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary || Bucky struggles to calm down after a particularly rough nightmare - it’s a good thing you’re there to lend him a hand.

word count || 1,799

warnings || hurt and comfort, love confessions

a/n || So I started writing this before the first episode of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier even came out (because I’m incorrigible) so if it’s a little off, that’s why. As someone who’s gone through all that fun trauma-based therapy, seeing Bucky working on himself is validating as fuck. I tried to emphasize that while a good relationship can help after trauma, it doesn’t complete the healing process or suddenly make a person whole. Anyway, enjoy!

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

“Bucky?” Your voice cracked, still thick with sleep. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I…” Bucky started but his words failed him. He couldn’t find a way to tell you about it without feeling like he was gutting himself, without bringing the images right back up to torment him all over again. The vulnerability left him trembling, dog tags clinking quietly against his bare chest with every heaving breath.

But he didn’t need to say it. You just nodded and sat down next to him on the blanket he had spread out on the hard floor. Remnants still prickled at the back of his neck, images and echoes of gunfire and that wide open emptiness that cracked his chest on every mission, but he got some small peace from your presence. He felt just a bit safer at the feeling of your knee pressed to his lightly. You didn’t probe him about it, didn’t try to weasel out details, and he was thankful. Instead you offered him your hand and in turn, offered your quiet support, and he gratefully slid his fingers up your palm to curl with your own.

The pressure of your fingers holding him was grounding, kept him in the reality of what was actually happening around him. He wasn’t in that building. He didn’t have a gun in his hand. He wasn’t trapped behind a wall in his own mind. He was at home, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor. He held your hand in his, the softness of your skin against his a sharp contrast to the imagined bite of gunmetal.

He was right there. So were you.

Your thumb slid up and down over his as you tentatively started speaking. “I used to click my tongue to keep myself grounded after nightmares.”

Bucky glanced at you, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yeah, I know it seems silly, but it worked for me more often than not.” You said with a small chuckle. “Sometimes I would have to tap if the clicking thing wasn’t working. It drove Tony crazy. He always said he could hear it all throughout the compound, but I think he was bullshitting. And if the tapping didn’t work, I would do sprints until my legs couldn’t hold me up anymore.”

Bucky took a long, deep breath the way his therapist taught him during their first session. Your voice was so calming. “Keep talking?”

“Of course.” You murmured. “It’s cheesy as hell, but they do get easier to deal with. The nightmares, I mean. The more you work at it, the less… vivid they are. I still get pretty bad ones every now and then, but even those are a little easier to come down from.”

“I hope you’re right.” He said.

“Well, you’re in therapy - even if it’s mandatory, you’re still showing up. Still putting in the effort. You’re sleeping semi-regularly, eating somewhat healthy. Trust me, you’re doing better than you realize. It takes a minute for you to ease out of survival mode, so it can be hard to tell how far you’ve already come.” You squeezed his hand lightly. “I’m proud of you, Bucky.”

A breath caught in his chest as he turned to look at you where you leaned your head back against the wall. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Well, you did save me from getting shot that one time.” You teased and Bucky laughed quietly, a genuine one that seemed to surprise you. “But seriously. You’re a good person, that’s all you have to do.”

“No, I’m not.” The laugh turned self-deprecating. “I don’t have to tell you that, either. I know you’ve read the files.”

“That wasn’t you. That was Hydra.” Your free hand pressed against his bare chest, right over his heart. “This is you. You aren’t what they put in your head. You’re the person who went out and bought me a new coffeemaker in the middle of the night when mine broke so I wouldn’t have to go without caffeine the next morning. You’re the person who's mowed Mrs. Franklin’s yard twice a month since her husband passed. You’re the person who is working their ass off to get better.”

There weren’t words. He didn’t have them, the ones that could tell you how much he appreciated you, how much you meant to him. So he covered the hand you placed on his chest with his own, wishing he could actually feel you, but the prosthetic had its limitations with the enhancements given by the vibranium. You nodded at him, a quiet acknowledgement of his thanks.

Silence fell over you both. It was a comfortable one, not the heavy, oppressive silence that curled around him in the moments after waking. Your hand fell away from his chest, much to his disappointment. The skin against skin was comforting. A moment later you shifted onto your knees, ready to stand and seemingly leave him there, and Bucky tightened his grip on your hand instinctually.

“Please… don’t go.” His voice was small.

“I’m just going to get you some water. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

And you did. You returned less than a minute later and handed him a glass of cool water, watching him take a few sips until you were satisfied, and then stole a sip for yourself. Bucky couldn’t help the small smile that found him at the sight as you settled back in next to him and offered him your hand once more. He took it, but didn’t interlock your fingers like before. Instead he lifted your hand to his face and pressed your palm against his cheek, eyes falling closed at your cool skin against his warmth. Your thumb rubbed small circles along his cheekbone and when he opened his eyes again, you were looking at him almost thoughtfully. Impulsively, Bucky tilted his head slightly and kissed the delicate skin of your wrist and he could hear your breath stutter in your chest.

“Bucky…” You whispered, worry suddenly played across your features.

“I talk about you in therapy, you know.” He whispered, his heart jumping in his chest at the prospect of telling you about it, admitting his vulnerability. “I told her about how you make me feel… seen. And safe. I told her about how I always think about you. About… kissing you. And making you laugh.”

You swallowed, the sound louder in the resounding silence of three a.m confessions. “And what did she say?”

“That she could tell I was in love with you before I would even admit it to myself.” He whispered the words as if breathing them to life would make the very earth crumble at his feet.

“I couldn't live with myself if I got in the way of your healing.” You said and his heart soared in his chest. You weren't rejecting him, weren't pulling away in disgust or fear. No, you were putting his needs first - or rather, what you perceived his needs to be.

“Part of my healing is supposed to be building relationships, you know.” There was a small smile on his face at the very thought of it - of falling asleep and waking next to you each morning, of finally getting to kiss and touch you like he craved for so long.

“So… we take it slow?” You said and Bucky watched your eyes flick down to his lips before meeting his gaze again, your body leaning closer as if drawn in by the very gravity that held you to the earth.

“Yeah, we take…” Bucky leaned in, meeting you halfway, your lips a hairsbreadth apart. “...it…” You brushed your nose against his gently and he sighed contentedly, eyes finally falling closed. “...slow…”

The first press of your lips to his was soft. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, the simple pleasure of a kiss, and the fact that it was you only made it all the better. He relaxed against you, pulling you closer by a hand on your waist and angling himself to deepen the kiss. Your gasp against his lips was addictive, something he could happily spend the rest of his life seeking out.

A shudder ran down Bucky’s spine at the feeling of your hand sliding up from his cheek to tangle in his hair, the short cropped style barely enough for you to grab onto. Fuck, you felt so good, he could lose himself in you without regret, could drown in the bliss that washed over him and -

He pulled away gently, offering one last peck against your lips as a parting gift, and pressed his forehead to yours to catch his breath, to calm himself down. He had to go slow and going slow decidedly was not dragging you onto his living room floor and finally letting his hands roam underneath your soft pajamas. You chuckled quietly and that was what got him to lean back and look at you again, dumbstruck by the dazed, happy look on your face.

“You’re good at that,” You whispered, earning you a bashful laugh.

“So are you.” Bucky sighed, the heavy weight of sleepiness gathering at his shoulders. “I need to try to go back to sleep… join me?”

“I think this floor would kill my back, sweetheart.” You teased and holy shit, his heart soared in his chest.

Sweetheart. He was your sweetheart.

“I was thinking we could share my bed, but if you’re gonna tease me -”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Barnes.” You surprised him with another kiss before climbing to your feet, your hand reaching out to pull him up with you.

He couldn’t help but feel amazed at the sight of you climbing into his bed, settling right into his rumpled sheets and looking up at him expectantly. He wasn’t going to leave you waiting, not when he finally got you right where he wanted you. You yawned as you brought him closer to lay his head against your chest and he melted right into you. Bucky curled his arm around your middle, effectively bringing your bodies completely flush against each other.

“You’re so warm, Buck.” You mumbled, sleepiness already warping your voice.

Bucky just hummed, his own exhaustion finally seeping back into his body now that the remnants of paranoid tension eased away at the steady sound of your heartbeat reverberating against his ear. Your hand rested against the top of his head to tease at his hair once more, and it was that gentle affection that had his eyes falling closed. At peace for the moment, his mind let him fall back into sleep, knowing that when the nightmares inevitably found him once more, he would have you there to help guide him back to where he belonged.

Right in your arms.

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. lo hades def looks like he's into crypto, you know what I mean? especially bc you cant be taxed on it, the richer the better!

2. This isnt even just LO but why do so many of the romance comics have such a desire to sexualize barly legal young women who are of COURSE naive virgins (but also super sexy and horny and know how to flirt out of the blue!) and try and make us root for them to get into relationships with their Christian Grey knock-off bosses?? like Let's Play (spoilers I guess) thought it'd be funny to have the MC be in physical PAIN after having sex, like why are you showing your teen audience this???

3. Nah I feel the same way as other anon. LO is way too confused on whether it's a light hearted YA story or a serious drama for Mature™️ readers. Like the SA and (one) therapy session was more or less handled perfectly fine, but everything from the AOW to the Trial is either incredible goofy or tries way too hard to be "serious" with RS and her team both not putting the writing nor art skill into it to hold any weight. It just comes across as melodramatic and try-hard over genuine and well planned

4. There's so many "quirks" in LO's art that are bad but WHY is it a thing where when a character is just standing there their arms and legs are just glued to the side of their bodies like🧍‍♂️🧍‍♀️🧍? that's not how even soliders at attention stand, there's still bones and muscles to account for but they end up with that end product? I just do not get how her and her team have probably 50+ years of art education and practice between them and yet they fail on such basic concepts every time.

5. I for one think that the differences between how characters slapping each other is depicted as either good or bad depending on who’s doing the slapping isn't hypocritical of RS: Hecate slaps Hades because she thinks he’s being predatory towards Persephone, this is a well-intentioned slap. Minthe’s slap on the other hand, is not justifiable because she was in the wrong in the context of that conflict: you don’t get to just stand your boyfriend up and hit him when he’s hurt by it.

6. it's just funny WT itself has a posting rule that your comic "cant show topics like incest or grooming" as if thats not the majority of the romance genre itself. yall ever read eggnoid? cmon now.

7. punderworld made a myth rec list and go figure some lo fans were in the comments saying "LO was all [they] needed" and its like how would you even know this episode happened unless you were subbed to punderworld, therefore proving they keep up with other myth comics? also the creator got upset at the lo fans being mad she didnt also rec LO as if its not the most advertised series on that whole site and she was promoting smaller creators. LO fans are so entitled even to other creators it's crazy.

8. I think the issue with the “let people like things” argument (and the fans do this so much) is that I’m All for that, I and every other critic isnt saying you can’t like, hell there’s parts of it I do like and wish there was more of! But if you go “just let people enjoy things!!” when it comes to legitimate criticism (ie misogyny, racism, classism, mishandling of trauma and assault to push a romance along, etc) you don’t care about others opinions, you just want them to like YOUR thing.

9. we already know rachel is a weeb but it's most obvious when it's a kissing scene because she does NOT draw lips but all of a sudden they get huge and glossy when theyre about to smooch but nothing else about the face adjusts with it and it's like what the hell is that 😭

10. i honestly dont blame lo fans for buying books of it even if the quality of it degrades rapidly after vol 1, once it ends (maybe in five years at this rate) webtoons will right away put it on daily pass which is notoriously a bad venue for rereads/new readers who missed when it was originally published and given how rachel has no sense of less is more, itll cost hundreds of dollars just to read the current 190+ episodes, much the many more shell milk out of it. might as well avoid that now 😵‍💫

[finnyboywolfhard]

Kiss It, Make It Better

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader 

summary: Y/N craves smoking with someone new, so who better than Steve Harrington. 

A/N: this is based solely on the ‘it’s only marijuana’ line in season three bc i am in love with stoner!Steve 

warnings: drugs <3, cursing, fluff 

word count: 2.4k 

Y/N and Dustin had the routine since Y/N got her license, that once a month they would have a sibling drive, in which they would drive around with the sole intent of getting caught up with one another. Given all the shit they had been through over the past few years, it naturally became their own special form of therapy. The Events of Starcourt on the Fourth of July and the days prior were once again weighing heavily on the two during their first drive since.

“What was it like being drugged?” Dustin asked, his curiosity weaving its way into his voice.

“Weird. It kinda felt like everything was the best thing ever, but it also came at the worst time. It was also weird that it was with Steve Harrington and Robin.”

“Is it like weed?”

“Is it like what?” Y/N knew the answer, it was no, but she had no idea why her little brother was deciding to ask her that in that exact moment.

“When you guys were drugged, I kept asking Steve if he did drugs, and he said that he only did marijuana. I wanted to know if they were comparable. So, is it like weed?”

“First off Dusty, you don’t ‘do’ marijuana, you smoke it. And secondly, I’m not answering that question, you can save that query for Steve.” Steve. Y/N had a lot of thoughts about him, it was interesting to hear about him from the rumors in high school in comparison to how she saw him act regularly. And ever since she started smoking to calm herself down, she has craved smoking with someone other than Robin, maybe Steve was worth a shot.

“Speaking of Steve, he said he might be over a lot over the next few nights while his parents are away, just so you know.”

“Oh? Is he coming tonight?”

“No, not tonight. He isn’t off work till 9 and mom doesn’t want him coming an hour before my dumbass bedtime— I still don’t get why she just NOW gave me a bedtime while you don’t even have a curfew.” Her brother started rambling, but all she could pay attention to was that he was going to be home alone tonight. Would it be that crazy of her to show up after all the trauma they had been through over the past 3 years?

“It’s because I’m legally an adult, so she’s treating me as such, and you’re just going into high school, she wants you to be safe. But okay, guess we’ll just have to see him soon.” The two drove around for a while longer before returning home. As the hours in between past, Y/N glanced towards her bookshelf, in which held a hidden stash of weed. She could always tell her mom she was just going to Robin’s, she would never try to prevent Y/N from seeing Robin.

She walked toward the bookshelf with soft footing, and with a gentle touch she plucked the hard covered book from the shelf. Inside lay two pre rolled joints she bought from her dealer and some bud Murray had snuck her after Hopper’s memorial. She snapped the book closed and tossed the book gently onto her bed. She put on a zip up hoodie and packed a fake sleepover bag. The books spine crackled gently as the cover was opened just enough for her to grab the pre-rolls out and into her pocket.

With backpack slung over her shoulders and her hands tucked securely in her pockets, Y/N strolled casually into the living room where her mother sat, as the minutes ticked quicker and quicker past 9:30–he was definitely home by now.

“Hey mom! Inhope you don’t mind but I’m gonna head over to Robin’s.”

“Oh! Did she call? I didn’t even hear the phone!”

“Oh no! She didn’t!” Y/N let in a gulp, she didn’t think this through. “She asked me a few days ago to come over tonight if I wanted to, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go until a little bit ago.”

“Ah, sounds like you, Do you wanna call her before you head over?” Claudia stood from her seat and began moving and motioning towards the phone.

“No!’ Y/N shrieked at her mother, who turned confusedly towards her. “Her mom goes to bed early and I told her that if I was gonna come it would be between 9 and 10, she assumes I’m coming, but I do really gotta get going.” Y/N glanced nervously at the clock, it was getting later and later and there comes a time where it’s a little uncomfortable to show up. Claudia glanced to the clock as well.

“Okay Y/N/N, you better get going.”

“Bye mom—“

“—Drive safe, be careful, I love you.”

“I love you too mom.” Y/N said as she practically ran to her car. She turned her car on and began the drive towards his house, not even thinking twice about where she was going until the car came to a park in his driveway.

“Shit!” Y/N yelled at herself. She yelled at herself for being weird and for showing up unannounced. She calmed herself down by saying, “who wouldn’t want someone showing up with free weed? Don’t overthink it.” She pulled in a complete, deep breath and walked hesitantly to the door. Three knocks sounded off the door, her breath fluttering ever so slightly as she let her hand fall to her side. Footsteps could be heard from the opposite side of the door, stepping closer and closer by the second. The doorknob turned and Y/N’s attention snapped up to meet the gaze of the boy at large.

“Hey Y/N, what’re you doing here?” Steve asked delightfully surprised. Her hand reached inside her pocket to pull one of the two joints. She lifted it from her pockets to where he could see it.

“Got a light?” She asked with a smirk.

After finding a lighter, the two made their way to his backyard. They sat parallel to one another in their chaise chairs. Y/N flicked the lighter a few times before sparking up the first joint of the night. She pulled a large huff in and held it as she passed the joint to Steve. He took in a long drag, holding the joint in front of him to inspect it after he hit it. A few seconds after Y/N had released her hit, Steve started coughing a bunch.

“Jesus Y/N, where the hell did you get this?” Steve said through the gasps for air.

“Good shit, huh?” Y/N joked as she inhaled another hit. The two fell into a rhythm of passing it back and forth as conversation allowed itself to flood the air.

“So what made you come here Y/N?” Steve pondered towards the girl.

“Dusty started asking me about when we were drugged, and apparently you told him you smoked weed. And, as much as I love Robin, I need someone new to smoke with, and you’re not AWFUL to hang out with.” Y/N explained, with sarcasm dripping from the last sentence.

“Wow, I feel so touched. Truly, I feel like the luckiest man alive. THE Y/N Henderson chose ME to smoke with. Best day of my life.” Steve rambled on, matching the sarcastic tone Y/N started with. The two laughed for a bit together, before Y/N spoke through the giggles.

“I am sorry for just showing up, I just didn’t know how to ask.”

“What? Am I that scary?”

“You’re THE King Steve, you’re the coolest, hottest guy at Hawkins. I was so intimidated by your male wiles. I am begging at your feet Steve Harrington.” Y/N mocked other girls she had witnessed in Hawkins. “No you’re not scary, I just couldn’t bring myself to say ‘Hey Steve, want to do some drugs with me?’ on our family phone, it didn’t feel right.” Steve let out a chuckle and a ‘fair enough’. It fell silent for a moment as the joint had its final hits taken from it.

“Why haven’t we hung out before? I mean away from all the traumatizing shit.” Steve asked slowly as he let himself sink down into the chair.

“Different friend groups before it all and then after and during it all, I didn’t and don’t want to impede on you and Dustin’s time. Plus neither of us have asked each other anyway.”

“That’s not true, I invited you to the movies that one day you stopped into scoops alone.”

“Yeah after I had already told you I was babysitting that night, you didn’t even ask to reschedule.”

“Yes I absolutely—didn’t. I didn’t.” Steve said, confidence dissipating. Y/N couldn’t help but focus to each small feature of his face one by one. Sure, she had looked at him but she never looked at him. He really was beautiful.

Jokes and stories were told between the two, laughter and exaggerated stories filled the bubble they put themselves in. In those moments, there was no one else in the world but Steve and Y/N.

“And that’s how Mike Wheeler broke his finger in our backyard.” Y/N let out through a fit of giggles. Steve clutched his stomach as he let himself fall back into the chair from the gut busting laughter Y/N had sent him into. As he got more comfortable, he glanced down at his watch. His eyes bulged at the time.

“Holy shit.” He said flustered, eyes never leaving the watch face.

“What? What time is it?”

“It’s almost 2 A.M.”

“Oh damn…” Y/N said, a dangerously fun smile finding its way to her face. Her hand reached towards the second joint in her pocket. “So this would be of no interest to you?” Steve’s squinted eyes opened just a peep. He let out a long whine.

“I think I’m too high to even move…but that looks so good.” Y/N looked between him and the joint. She noticed space for her to sit on the edge of his chair, and placed herself there. She placed the joint between her lips and gave it a light, waiting for the rolling paper burn down to the weed. From between her lips, she pulled the joint between her fingers and held it gently up to his. He took in a pull, never once releasing eye contact. With each consecutive hit, the distance between them drew closer and closer, eventually leaving their faces merely inches apart. Her fingers were so far back on the joint, they grazed his lips as he took in one of the final hits. Her fingers tingled from his touch. She glanced towards his eyes, his meeting hers already. The air around them went still and quiet. Their eyes were locked on each other, contact never wavering as their bodies moved towards one another like a magnet. His eyes stayed put on hers as his voice fell in the air.

“Give me one more.” Her hand lifted lightly and placed itself at his lips once more. The joint glowed a bright red as he inhaled the smoke. Y/N was so enraptured by his beauty, she didn’t notice the joint burning down to a nub. She watched as a cloud of smoke was blown from his lips and into the sky, before the heat had finally reached her touch.

“Son of a bitch!” She exclaimed as she dropped the roach to the ground. She lifted her fingers to her mouth, attempting to ease the burning feeling. The burn wasn’t bad, just a little redness but it didn’t hurt any less.

“Hey, let me see it.” Steve’s tone was much gentler now as he lifted her hand into his own. He raised her gently by her wrist to examine the burnt fingers. He delicately placed the burnt fingers to his lips and gave them a tiny little kiss.

“Kiss it, make it better.” He whispered, just barely audible to her ears. That’s what was so shocking about Steve, his heart was so filled with love and care. He did his best to make everyone feel protected, even if his popular guy persona overshadowed it at times.

“How are you so perfect?” Her voice came out quietly. Slowly, he lifted his head to look at her once more and without much thought, he closed the distance. The kiss was gentle and loving, but clearly stoked by passion. His lips upturned into a smile. She leaned back and traced her fingers across her lips. Just to make sure she didn’t imagine it, she pulled the boy towards her by the collar and planted one more kiss on him—and she noted that he kissed back with the same fervor.

“I have a crush on you Steve Harrington.” She said, hiding her blushing face from the boy. He turned her face towards him as he confessed,

“I’ve had a crush on you for like 3 months.”

“You have?”

“Yeah.” He said, his thumb gently grazing her cheek.

“Why?”

“Dustin talks about you enough, and I—uh I remembered all the times you’ve kicked ass over the past few years and it just kinda…happened. Who wouldn’t want someone as smart, badass, and beautiful as you?” He rambled our haphazardly, a blush forming across his cheeks as well.

“Steve…”

“Oh god, that was embarrassing, am I blushing? I feel like I’m blushing. fuck me.” Steve started rambling.

“Hey! It’s not embarrassing, it’s cute.” Y/N explained, but it didn’t seem to help. An idea flashed in her mind. “Oh no! You are so embarrassing, I am embarrassed. Ew, guess I

I’ll just have to close my eyes! I hope that embarrassing Steve Harrington doesn’t kiss me!” The sarcastic tone from earlier returning once more. A chuckle bubbled past Steve’s lips. He once more laid one on her, this time—a little bit more passionate than the past.

Y/N nuzzled herself into Steve’s side on the small beach chair they were on. The air sat comfortably still in that moment, the two reeling from the overwhelming emotions they had just felt. Quiet giggles pierce the air as Y/N studies her fingers.

“It worked.” She said matter of factly.

“What worked?”

“After you kissed it, I haven’t thought about it since. You made it better.” Y/N spoke melodically. Steve planted a kiss to the top of her head and pulled her closer in to him.

“Kiss it, make it better.” He repeated once more.

[roanniom]

Hey Issa, my sweet honey bun! I don’t send many requests to people, so bear with me. I’ll forever wait for the day you write Kylo, but until then I’ll throw this one at you for Charlie. I had a wander through the prompt list, and I kinda liked “I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.” with Charlie being all protective of reader, unsure if she reciprocates his feelings. And because I’m a garbage can of filth, I also loved “I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me.” if you wanted to move into smut. I hope this gets the creative juices flowing? Take your time, no pressure ever! 💕💕💕

@paper-n-ashes as you know I have been holding onto this and chipping away at it steadily for FOREVER so I can get it just right for you, so I hope you enjoy it, my love <3

Push

Charlie Barber x Reader

Word Count: 6,862

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, PIV sex / unprotected sex, light light light choking (not even really), mention of infidelity (just canon from Marriage Story plot), a lil post-divorce angst/lack of confidence

The above photo is Charlie Barber, 1-year post divorce. He’s been working out as a form of anger management and because Henry, over many late night phone conversations, has shared his new love of hiking, a pastime he’s picked up since living in LA. Charlie plans to take Henry hiking on the Appalachian trail next summer break and wants to be on tip top shape to keep up with his enthusiastic son.

He’s been to therapy. Learning more about what went wrong in his marriage, but more specifically learning about how he can become a better person in the aftermath. How infidelity and self-interest were born of a deep-seated need for a love that he was not receiving. A love that was no closer to him prior to his indiscretions but all the same rendered unreachable as a result. He’s given himself time to grieve the man he’d thought himself to be. Because that is what had died with his marriage - not Charlie Barber himself. But the Charlie Barber he’d built in his mind. A man limited by support that came with conditions, love that came with caveats. That Charlie was a father and a husband. He was often suppressed, wound tight, on edge.

This Charlie is a father and a man. He is free to celebrate his own success without fear of wounding nearby egos. He’s limited only by what he feels he deserves. And granted sometimes those self-imposed limitations can really hold him down, as they did when he vowed not to jump into any further entanglements - affairs or otherwise - in the time immediately following his divorce. But that limitation was ultimately beneficial. It gave him space to be alone - with himself, for himself. He was able to finally see his own flaws with his own eyes instead of having them recited back to him by another, as if through a crude, second hand reflection. And in seeing these flaws, he also saw the virtues. Charlie was actually starting to like himself again.

And this is when he meets you.

You storm into his life with an energy he doesn’t recognize, introduced at a party by a friend of a friend, filling his senses with your too-loud-laughter and too-bright-eyes. In many ways that’s how he sees you: too much. Your enthusiasm makes you appear too young, though in truth you’re not that much younger than him. Your smile makes you appear too beautiful, though in truth there are often much more conventionally attractive women in the room at any given time.

“Charlie. Charlie Barber,” Charlie mutters as he shakes your hand. Its warm in his larger one and he’s suddenly a little self-conscious of the fact that he’d been holding his sweating scotch on the rocks just moments before the contact.

“Hello Charlie-Charlie Barber,” you reply with a massive grin, shaking his hand back vigorously and with seemingly no reaction to its clamminess. “The famous director, I assume?”

Charlie clocks the quirk of your eyebrow. A tease. A social cue he’s not used to. Not these days. He looks down at his worn tennis shoes, all too aware all at once of the way they dress down his sweater and jeans. He feels rumpled next to you and he’s not sure he likes it. You’re too put together.

You’re too honest, too fearless, too open to new things. Though Charlie’s beginning to grow, your presence reminds him of how stunted he’d been in his marriage. How the same old restaurants, the same old clothes, the same old glass of the same old scotch had become items of comfort for him, talismans of a previous life that he clung to for some semblance of familiarity. Around you, however, those same old things looks dull and uninspired. Quite the opposite of you.

You are the one to ask him out, though he’s not even really aware that it’s a date at all when he arrives. That’s how much he doesn’t see you coming. His affair had been one of convenience. An opportunity to blow off excess steam, and a pretty disappointing one at that, with neither party really find what they were chasing. His marriage had grown cold long before it had ended. All of this to say that Charlie wasn’t very familiar with warmth. With interest that occurred in the light of day, and attention that was given without anything sought in return.

You’re halfway through lunch before you realize that he doesn’t understand your intentions. So you explain them to him. Clear and empty of any pretense. You are attracted to him and interested in getting to know him further. It’s simple, really. He’s shocked by your openness and the absence of any games. In another life he’d once assumed that a relationship without strife, without agony, without strategic tug of war would be one without passion. However, as he soon learns while taking you out on the second date, that he couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Over dinner this time he finds himself getting lost in your micro-expressions. Finds his eyes lingering on the animated way you gesture, finds his words getting twisted in his tongue as your gaze weighs on him, expectant and waiting for a response to some question. His bodily responses to your attention are no less potent in the absence of angst. In fact, he is surprised to find that his yearning practically triples when you part ways and he realizes not once had he been made to feel like he had to prove something, or fight, or challenge.

He learns over time that you challenge him in other ways. Challenge him when it comes to picking restaurants outside his comfort zone. Challenge him by dragging him, mid-lunch date, on a shopping trip with you, a trip where you gently help him to finally replace the worn out tennis shoes to which he’d been clinging. Challenge him by laughing with him, not at him, even when the subject of the humor is himself. Your laughter is lighter, more carefree, than he is used to. Then again, he’s not used to being around someone like you.

He kisses you after the third date – the lunch-turned-shopping trip. It’s quick and it’s light, on the curb before an intersection on the East Side, right before you both are about to walk in separate directions. You say nothing when he pulls away. Just smile and turn on your heel, already headed to your next destination. It drives Charlie crazy over the next few days. Not because he assumes you have some hidden agenda. On the contrary, he’s horrified that your interior thoughts match your exterior actions. You have been nothing but honest with him. It is Charlie who has been oscillating wildly in his mind. Between thoughts of how much it might hurt if you turn out to be too good to be true and thoughts of how much he’d love to feel your body on his. To explore the mouth you use so effortlessly to tease him, to compliment him, to charm him. You speak kindness like pleasantries, as if affirmations and praise were as easy to dole out as a cheery “good morning” on a stress-free Saturday. Charlie wants to know what you’re like on a Saturday. Away from the bustle of the city. Away from the common friends and the crowded shops and restaurants that have buffered all of your encounters.

But Charlie’s still afraid.

On your fourth date Charlie is more reserved when you arrive at the restaurant. You break the ice by pointing out that the formality of your dates is beginning to feel silly.

“Maybe it’s the fact that the tables have tablecloths,” you joke, swirling your pasta around a fork. “Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never repeatedly had meals with someone I wasn’t already in a relationship with.”

Charlie prickles at the implication, taking a labored swallow of ice water. He doesn’t want to comment on the relationship part of your sentiment so he chooses something more neutral.

“Should I remind you that two of these meals have been at your suggestion and you did, in fact, also plan them as meals.” He relaxes a bit when you laugh heartily at that, relieved that the conversation doesn’t get any more dicey.

“Touché,” you reply. Then you lean forward and whisper conspiratorially at him across the small table. He feels himself lean in, curious but also looking for a chance to just get closer in proximity. He wishes he’d had the courage to sit next to you rather than across from you when he’d first sat down. “Feeling adventurous enough to let me pick where we go after this tonight?”

And Charlie feels adventurous. Adventurous as he lets you whisk him across town and to your favorite arcade bar. Adventurous as he passes you a large handful of quarters he got from the little machine at the front, only to grasp your fist in his when he miscalculates how much of his handful you’d be capable of taking, narrowly avoiding a massive spill of loose change on the floor. Adventurous as he orders a couple of beers and lets you show him your favorite game, Burger Time – a silly little maze game where you collect burger ingredients. Adventurous as he shows you his favorite game, which is pretty much any pinball machine known to man.

“Yours looks cooler than mine,” you huff, walking over to the pinball machine he’s playing once you abandon the one that was definitely broken. Or at least that’s how you justify so many consecutive, immediate losses. Charlie laughs and pulls back the plunger but doesn’t release, effectively pausing his game.

“You wanna try it?” Charlie ushers you in front of him and puts your hand on the plunger beneath his, careful not to release it in the process. “The key is anticipating where the ball will go. It’s all about patterns after a while.”

“Then why does it seem so random?” you ask, looking up at him over your shoulder.

“You just haven’t played enough yet. Over time you can predict what will happen if the ball hits a certain corner. Where it will go if it ricochets juuust right at the last second.”

“Sounds fake but I’ll let you prove it to me,” you say with a laugh, focusing your attention back on the machine.

“We’ll let go in one…two…three.” When you feel the pressure of his hand let up you let go as well, letting him guide both your hands immediately to the buttons on the side of the machine.

For as great as his theory of pinball predictability is, he probably underestimates your ability to suck. Because you do, hard. But you laugh the whole way through, and you never quit. Never turn to him in frustration asking to do something else or even to leave. Instead you keep feeding quarters into the machine and bringing your hands back under Charlie’s on the machine. And no matter how shitty you are, you always at least try to focus.

Charlie, meanwhile, is having a very hard time focusing on anything that isn’t your body. His hips bracket your ass in this helpful position he’s adopted, and he feels your pressure against his pelvis with every enthusiastic wriggle and little jump of frustration that you take in response to the game. When he makes the unfortunate mistake to look down over your shoulder at one point he’s met with a direct view of your cleavage, exposed as it is in your low-cut blouse. Charlie begins to sweat and it has nothing to do with how packed the arcade is or with the exertion of gaming. When he remembers that the arcade is also a bar, he excuses himself to get more beer, hoping that one will cool him off and cool him down.

You dazzle him with a smile thrown over your shoulder when he approaches with the two fresh bottles, and he’s not prepared for how the sight of your face almost knocks him back on his ass.

“Charlie! I did better this time!” He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, handing you your beer which you sip gratefully.

“I lasted a few more minutes than last time,” you elaborate proudly. “So I’d say that means I now qualify as a pinball wizard.”

“Move over Elton John,” Charlie says with a smirk. You slap him in the shoulder and immediately engage him in a spirited discussion of whether the Elton John movie version of “Pinball Wizard” was better than The Who’s version from the original album. However, after a few minutes Charlie realizes he’s lost in thought. Lost in your voice. Lost in your expressions. Lost in you.

When it finally comes time to leave the arcade, the night drawing much later than it had on your previous nighttime date, Charlie’s scared he’ll be lost without you. The two of you walk together for a couple of blocks before you reach that similar intersection. The place where you part ways.

“I think we really turned around that formality thing, don’t you?” you ask him, turning to Charlie and leaning back against the column of a pedestrian sign. Charlie moves into your space, swallowing his hesitation.

“I don’t know, I began to feel a little unworthy when you ascended past the role of pinball wizard.”

“Oh did I get a promotion?” You ask, tipping your head back so you can look up at him as he steps closer.

“The word wizard conjures up images of wizened old man,” Charlie says dismissively, as if that clears up everything.

“So if you’re saying I don’t remind you of a wrinkled old Merlin – to which might I say, shocker – then what exactly is my new title.”

“One that fits you inside and out.” Charlie braces a hand against the column above your head, his other in his pocket. His head dips down so that it’s closer to your face despite your height difference. You feel warm despite the slight chill in the air.

“And that would be Pinball….?” you prompt.

“Goddess,” he completes the title before pressing his lips to yours. His hands remain on the column and in his pocket until you reach forward and grab a fistful of his sweater, pulling him to you. Then his hands are at your waist, pushing you back into the column. His tongue is in your mouth and your hands are in his hair and he can’t breathe. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to suffocate, wants to asphyxiate on you and the way he feels so tethered to this moment, this intersection, this place where you cannot part ways.

When you break apart to, in fact, breathe, your chest heaves and your smile is radiant.

“As far as kisses goodnight go, I’d say that was top tier,” you say on a laugh. Suddenly Charlie’s throat is constricting and he has to fight his facial muscles to keep from frowning as his hands tighten on your waist.

“That wasn’t a kiss goodnight. Not yet.”

“Any longer and it’ll be a kiss good morning, sir. Have you seen the time?” Your tone is joking. You call people ‘sir’ all the time. It’s a weird quirk of yours, like calling someone dude or pal. But Charlie can feel himself choking on the word, as well as the implications of a ‘kiss good morning.’ All of a sudden he feels like if he could have only one more thing before dying, that’s what he’d ask for. But then he kicks himself internally for being so fucking dramatic and he fiddles with the hem of your shirt.

“Exactly. It’s late.

You survey him from under your eyelashes with a small smile.

“I’ve made this walk many times.”

“It’s dark.”

“I’ve made this walk in the dark many times.”

“I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.”

Charlie’s heart clenches. Before he can overthink, you’ve ducked out of his hold, grasped his hand and started pulling him down the street.

“C’mon Charlie, hurry up. You’d keep a goddess waiting?” you toss back at him over your shoulder. But in truth it was taking all of Charlie’s self control and the fact that he didn’t know the way to your place to keep him from throwing you over his shoulder and breaking into a full sprint.

~*~

Your place is exactly like you. Eclectic, warm, inviting. There is a moment, as you pull off your coat and turn away to place it and Charlie’s on a coat rack, when Charlie feels much too big for the space. Like he’s some kind of giant invading the home of a sweet little wood nymph. But then his little wood nymph is grabbing him by the front of the shirt and dragging him to a bedroom and the worries fade right out the window.  

At first Charlie is gentle with you. His hands ghost over your body as you kiss him beside your bed. When you push him to sit down on the edge of the mattress and step between his open legs to kiss him with a different height dynamic his heart just about jumps clear out of his chest. He hasn’t done this – hasn’t touched or been touched – in so long. The affair had been transactional, just the mechanical motions of sexual gratification. Sex with Nicole, before it stopped, had been even colder, almost as if she had been begrudgingly completing some unwelcome chore.

You, however, are like fire beneath Charlie’s fingers. Your skin, your lips – everything is so warm it feels like you’re too hot to touch. But Charlie would rather risk burning up than to not become accustomed to the feel, the shape, the substance of you. He smooths over your body with a reverential softness, his muscles tense with restraint so as to keep from accidentally pushing you too far too fast. To keep from handling the way that, deep down, he desperately needs.

When your lips suddenly leave his, his brow furrows in frustrations. Before he can open his eyes a soothing finger smooths the furrow away, sliding down the bridge of his nose to press against his kiss-swollen lips. Charlie opens his eyes with a question present in them and you cock your head to the side.

“You’re tense. Like you’re holding back.” The statement isn’t accusatory but it isn’t a question. Charlie takes a shaky breath, unsure about how much he should say. Would his desperation read as too dramatic? Too undesirable? Would his enthusiasm come across as pushy or dominating? His brow must furrow again because your hand moves back up, finger pressing out the wrinkles. He shrugs.

“It’s been…a while for me. I didn’t want to come across as too…much.”

You laugh then and yet again Charlie is struck by how strange it is that you can laugh in his face directly in response to something he’s said without making him feel like you are laughing at him.

“I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me, Charlie.”

“You’re sure about that?” Charlie huffs out with a little chuckle. You give him a smirk and say your next words up against his lips.

“Try me.”

You probably were expecting him to require more cajoling. You probably were expecting him to gradually ease into something more. But Charlie takes you by surprise, grabbing you and pulling you onto the bed with him, rolling so that you’re laid out beneath his body, all the while maintaining hungry possession of your mouth. His body finds its place between your legs and you gasp at the feeling of how huge he is. How hard and insistent against your softness. He drinks from you like a man whose thirst can not be quenched. His hands find purchase on your waist and he squeezes. So hard you’re sure you’ll bruise. You smile against his mouth with the realization that you look forward to watching them bloom later.

Since Charlie seems too preoccupied with groping and making out with you, it is you who eventually takes the next step, beginning to pop open the buttons on your blouse one by one. When Charlie feels the motion of your hands between your bodies he ultimately pulls back to investigate, mouth dropping open at the slow reveal of the lingerie you’re wearing beneath. His hand shoots out to caress the delicate lace of your bra, teasingly not applying any pressure to the breast beneath.

“Do you wear things like this often?” Charlie’s voice is already rough as he asks this. You shrug.

“Whenever I want to feel sexy.”

“You wanted to feel sexy while out with me?” Charlie asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“You made me feel sexier than the lace, Mr. Barber,” you say with a smile before leaning up to capture his lower lip between your teeth. He groans and moves to practically swallow you whole. You’re entirely foreign to him. Enthusiasm, amusement, and enjoyment bundled up into one devastatingly sexy package. There’s no shame in your movements, no angst in your eyes. Just humor. Only an unabashed pursuit of pleasure. And if it’s pleasure you want, it’s pleasure you’ll get.

Charlie now aids you in the process of removing the rest of your garments, so it goes much quicker. When you move to pull off your bra, however, he catches your wrist in his massive hand.

“No…can these stay on?” Your eyebrows shoot up but you notice the way that Charlie is gazing at you with eyes slightly hazy and tongue running over his lips.

“This doing it for you, Charlie?” you tease, shimmying a bit. Charlie’s answer is sincere regardless as he dips his head down to sample the plush skin at the line of your cleavage.

“You have no idea.”

“So you’re a lingerie man, huh?” When you ask he stops to think for a second because, truly, he had never considered himself that way before. He’d never had any reason to. Sure lingerie models in magazines were hot, but it’s not a specific fantasy he’d ever explored previously.

But the sight of you here, strategically covered in lace and laid out beneath him pretty as a picture has him so hard he feels like a teenager unable to control himself. So, as you had urged him, he doesn’t.

“I might be. But really, I’m just enamored by these tits.” His teeth sink into your flesh and you sigh, especially when his tongue comes out to lave warmly at the spot. He moves down your body then, peppering kisses to the exposed skin of your stomach, sliding until your inner thighs rest against the sides of his face and his hands dip below you to squeeze your ass. “Although I feel like this might end up being my favorite part.” He says this last part directly into your clothed cunt, his lips just barely ghosting over the fabric with his words.

You wiggle a bit in his grasp, loving the answering way his fingers dig into your soft flesh. Your fingers card into his lush hair, tugging lightly at the roots, a feeling that shoots through his body and straight to his rock hard member. The way he discretely ruts against the mattress in response does not go unnoticed by you, so you drop a hand under his chin to tip his face back up to look at you.

“Will you fuck me, Charlie?” Your voice is clear and bright. Not playing coy and requiring any convincing. Just asking for something you want. And the hunger in your eyes seems unmistakable, though it still feels to good to be true. Charlie drops his gaze back down to the wet spot forming in your panties before looking back up and practically pouting.

“I’d like to taste you,” he counters. A brilliant smile breaks out across your face at the sound of that but you shake your head.

“There’ll be time for that later,” you argue, tugging on his shoulder to get him back on top of you. “If you don’t get inside me right now I’ll die.”

Charlie almost misses that last part because he’s still stuck on the first part. There’ll be time for that later. The possibility of later squeezes at Charlie’s hard and it’s only after a few echoing seconds that he’s able to process the rest of your statement with a delayed, choking laugh.

“Is someone getting dramatic on me?”

“Not yet, but I will if - ”

“If I don’t get inside you?” Charlie completes the statement in the exact moment a hand drops between your thighs and presses against the soaked fabric covering your slit. You inhale sharply.

“Exactly.”

“I didn’t take you for someone who was pushy in bed,” Charlie says good naturedly, swiping his fingers up the line of you to end with a swirl over where he assumed – correctly – your clit was. You tilt your pelvis to maximize his pressure before surging up to kiss him long and hard.

“I’m actually not. Not really,” you say breathlessly when you finally pull away and drop back down onto the pillows. You stretch luxuriously, almost like a kitten in the sun under his piercing gaze, the movement of your hips bumping his hand to rub you even better. Running your hands up and down the big, strong arms that cage you in and support him, you kiss his shoulder. “I’ve been hoping you would be.”

Suddenly your wrists are being pinned down above your head by one of Charlie’s hands. He’s got your legs open wide with his body sinking against you, hard and heavy.

“Pushy? You want me to be pushy?”

You grin big and wide at him.

“Yeah. Take charge like I know you want – oh!” You’re cut off by the welcome sensation of stimulation as Charlie’s hand drops inside your panties to slide around in your waiting slick. Without the barrier of the fabric between you, the feeling of your velvety slipperiness is enough to make him loose a growl.

He’s not hesitating and he’s not teasing anymore. Charlie has been waiting for this moment. He’s been waiting to care. Been waiting to feel. And what’s heightening the experience even more is the look on your face, the way your lips are parted and the way you gaze up at him longingly, expectantly. Providing all the evidence he needs to prove that you want this too. He wants you and you want him – what a novel idea. There are no angles or obligations, but also no shame or secrecy.

“Well if you wanted me to take charge you should have said so earlier,” he says, the corner of his lip quirking a bit as he dips two fingers inside your soaking cunt, not bothering to start with one. You gasp at the sudden intrusion. The stretch is a lot, but it is everything. Charlie sees the enjoyment register on your face, discomfort melting away almost immediately, and he begins to pull them slowly in and out to massage your walls.

“Maybe – ahh – maybe I should have,” you reply.

“Should I have caused a scene in the arcade?”

“Yes – fuck!” During an inward thrust Charlie curls his fingers up this time, rubbing against that spot in your upper wall that previous guys barely even knew was there. Before you know it he’s adding a third finger and you’re beside yourself. Charlie is elated to see how easily your body responds to his ministrations, how free you are with your reactions. He leans to down to suck a mark over your collar bone while his thumb meets your clit in tandem with his other thrusting fingers.

“You knew what you were doing when you kept rubbing that pretty little ass back into me while I taught you pinball.” His words rumbling against the skin of your throat.

“You made it so easy.”

“And you made it so hard,” Charlie counters, humor very present in his voice. You gasp out a laugh and try to tug your wrists from his grasp, but he doesn’t let you. Just keeps you pinned down as he continues to finger fuck you nice and slow.

“So impatient. I should have known. You’ve been impatient all night, haven’t you?” You whine out affirmations and screw your eyes shut as the pressure starts to build to a crescendo. Charlie picks up speed, his voice growing deeper as he continues. “Wanted me to fuck you on the pinball machine in front of everyone, didn’t you?”

You gasp and toss your head back against the pillows at that, hips bucking involuntarily. Charlie’s nose glides along the perimeter of your jaw, breathing in the scent of you as you fall apart. He’s never felt so powerful as he does with the feeling of your muscles tensing up under his fingertips. Never had the inspiration or audience for such language, but as you shiver and respond to his words, a surge of pride fills him and all he wants to do is dangle you over the edge over and over again.

“Charlie…” His name is a whimper when it falls from your lips. You’re so close. He feels it. So he pushes his fingers deep inside you, curling up with the motion, just as he sweeps one, two, three final circles into the throbbing bud of your clit.

You crest and you break against the tide of your orgasm, plummeting down from such heights you didn’t know you could reach from simple fingering. But there’s nothing simple about Charlie, the man who had been broken and put back together, only to find you, the universe’s overly generous reward for his perseverance.

Charlie’s slightly (unfocused) eyes focus on your heaving chest as you finally descend from the orgasm, but you’re the one to break the spell. Impatient is the perfect way to describe you as you wrap your legs around his middle and hook your ankles to trap him against you. You lunge up to arrest his mouth in a kiss. It’s sloppy, but just enough to distract him so that you can pull your wrists from his grasp. Once free you push him gently to the side so that you’re both rolling over, mouths still attached. He comes to rest on his back with you straddling him.

Charlie blinks up at you, taking in the way your breasts bounce in their bra cups as you busy yourself with the task of removing his clothes. He hadn’t even realized he was still in them until you began unbuttoning and pulling and pushing. Your impatience is clear once again in the way you divest him of the frustratingly excessive material and he finally gets the memo that he should help you.

With his pants and underwear pulled off and discarded, as well as the button up shirt that you had come to love as his signature look, you rest your palms flat on the plane of his chest. You’re still in your lingerie, as he had requested, only it is now beautiful askew. Your breasts now strain out of the cups, having been jostled into almost spilling out with your change of position. Your panties are sopping wet and stretched from his vigorous fingering and the evidence of your orgasm.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

But you become even more beautiful when you wrap your hand around his aching cock, lifting up on your knees as you do so. Your fists slides up and down, up and down and he watches it, mesmerized, until you lean forward to catch his eye.

“What should I do, Charlie?”

Your face is soft and open. You’re asking for him to continue taking the lead. And Charlie realizes right then and there that he will never want to disappoint you. Snapping out his daze he lets his fingers dig into your flesh where his hands curl around your hips.

“Sit down on my cock, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

The term of endearment is so sugary. He’s called his son that, but never a lover, casual or otherwise, and never during the first time. Your face, however, lights up and you do as you’re told, sinking down onto his long, hard length. The impact draws a moan from both of your throats followed by gasped phrases spoken over one another.

“You’re so big!”

“You’re so tight!”

You both laugh at the overlap but laughter turns to groans as you roll your hips experimentally. After a few moments of this, it appears that Charlie becomes the impatient one finally.

“Ride me,” he spits through gritted teeth. Your nails imprint half moons in his skin as you clench at his tone, not quite hearing the words. Charlie sucks air through his teeth at the squeeze.

“What?”

“Ride me. I need you to fucking ride me.” You can tell that he’s trying to remain cool and collected, but his brow is furrowed and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth.

So you do as he says. You lift up and drop down, feeling the length of his cock slide through your sheath with a speed that you set, establishing a rhythm that has your toes curling. You let out a particularly shameless moan and Charlie opens his eyes. They widen immediately upon seeing that you’re clutching and squeezing at your own breast with one hand while grabbing onto his hip to stabilize you with the other. The sight alone of your face, screwed up in pleasure, flips a switch in Charlie and suddenly he is thrusting up into you without mercy.

“Charlie!” you cry out, both from surprise at the increased jostling and from how tremendously good it feels.

“I should have fucked you in the arcade. I would have if I had known how good you feel.”

“I – oh fuckfuck – knew,” you barely get out. Charlie hoists you back so that he’s sitting up with his back against the headrest now. The position gives him more leverage and power so he can lift you up and down his cock, bouncing you now with a rhythm that vibrates through your entire being.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Charlie asks, engulfing one of your breasts in his huge hand. The added sensation is perfect, but not quite enough. You wonder if you can coax more.

“I knew you would feel good.” You reach down to the base of his cock, encircling it as much as possible with it’s girth, and fisting upward just as he pulls you up, therefore maximizing the squeeze on his length. Charlie inhales abruptly and drops you back down.

“Little Miss Know-it-all, are you?” His voice is harsh and it sends a thrill throughout your body. Before you can respond, you’re pushed and yanked around, losing your grip with the motion.

“What - ?” Charlie’s hand on your throat quiets you. Not because he’s truly squeezing, but because the solid warmth of his hand causes you to squeak your way to silence. His adjustments now find you pulled up to the edge of the bed, legs spread and pushed back, with Charlie standing between them. Bent over, he grounds himself with one hand on your throat and one on your hip, positioning his tip back at the entrance to your weeping cunt. You expect him to slam his hips forward, to impale you with his cock, but he pauses with the swollen head just inside your folds.

“This okay?”

This power and control, the way he is manipulating your body for your pleasure and his own – he loves it. It’s so new and yet something he now wonders how he ever did without. But he also feels the need to check in and make sure that you’re still with him. The nod you give, the sparkle in your eye, and the quirk of your lips is all it takes to convince him and then he is plowing forward, slamming himself back in again and again. You let out a full throated moan and Charlie revels in the way your eyes roll all the way back.

He wonders what else will make you do that. What else will make your eyes roll back and your toes curl and your teeth sink into your bottom lip? He wonders, as his hand presses softly into the contours of your throat, what it would feel like to squeeze a little harder, and if the pressure would make you even more desperate for him. He wonders if you like a little pain with your pleasure, as he has long suspected he might enjoy, though has never truly had the chance to confirm.

But there will be time for that.

So now, he does his best to focus in on the sounds you release. Sounds of delight and surprise and sensual thrill. He coaxes you to your second climax and you don’t fight it. You don’t demure or wait for him or hesitate. Instead you unapologetically allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure he’s built for you, seizing and quaking beneath him without shame.

The sight and feeling are so beautiful he can’t help but follow soon after, pulling out and allowing releasing all over the bra and panties you had so generously left on for him. The sight of his seed landing on the delicate lace, as you lay beneath him fucked out and smiling, causes another tremor to rock through him, and he finds that he’s still cumming long after he usually would have finished.

Charlie finds himself in a daze in the immediate aftermath of his release. He looks around for something to clean you with, and when you notice you point out a box of tissues on the desk. After he’s done his best to wipe you up, you give him a kiss on the cheek. The mundane intimacy of the act makes him blush all the way to the hidden tips of his ears. It is absurd because you had just had sex, however the press of your lips to his skin seemed to seal the deal. This was not transactional. It was something more, Charlie can’t help but think to himself as you get up from the bed and skip to the bathroom.

In your absence Charlie again registers the smallness of your room. How large – out of place, maybe – he is amongst your delicate things. He pulls on his underwear and sits back down on the mattress, unsure.

Unsure about your expectations. Unsure about whether or not you’d want him to leave. Or stay.

Before he can make a decision in either direction you are bounding back into the room, a smile on your face. Your face is freshly washed and you’re in a faded, oversized tank top, having divested yourself of your abused lingerie. Charlie swallows at the sight of your breasts, free and outlined beneath the soft fabric. He adjusts his hands in his lap. No need to let you see him getting worked up again so soon like some horny teenager. You don’t seem to notice, instead slipping easily into bed beside him, shimmying under the covers and patting the space beside you so that he does the same.

So stay he will.

Once you’re both comfortable and situated, you slide into his arms, drawing them around your body without a question or seemingly a second though. Much like the way you’d slid into his life, Charlie thinks ruefully, nuzzling his face into the top of your head as you tuck in beneath his chin.

“Charlie?”

“Hm?”

“I know you always go to that diner on 15th for breakfast,” you begin, and Charlie’s heart spasms. Both at the thought of breakfast with you and the fact that you so casually know details about him. About his likes and his habits. He pulls you in a little tighter and nods his head.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if I show you a new place in the morning? I think you’ll really like it.”

And Charlie laughs. Because of course you’d want to push him out of his comfort zone. It’s what you do – push him to try new things. Push him to do things he wouldn’t usually consider. Push him to be the man he’d been working so hard for the past year to be.

“Yes, but I’m not changing the way I order my eggs,” he grumbles with humor, kissing the crown of your head. “Not yet.”

~*~

The next morning you order first, and you’ve never had breakfast with Charlie before, so when he asks for the same dish, you can’t possibly know that this is his first time ordering eggs Florentine.

As you both laugh and eat and sip coffee in the outdoor seating area of the quaint café you’d picked, fingers intertwined between you on the wrought iron table, you also can’t know that this is the happiest Charlie has felt in ages.

But he makes it his mission, right there and then, to do everything in his power to make you feel the same.

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @celestiasin @tlcwrites @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @edencherries @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @mrs-zimmerman @maryforyou @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @soggywhore @transparentmeoo @leia-suns @alpha-lobito