#my thoughts though feel free to disagree

[captain-amadeus]

The Protectors didn't want Sofia to face off Vor alone. They would've never put her up to such a danger mission voluntarily. Sofia was the only one who was able to do anything about Vor because she wasn't trapped with the other Protectors. The Protectors were absolutely worried about Sofia being on her own, but she was their only hope in stopping Vor. They didn't WANT her to be their only hope. They never WANTED her to fight alone. If it was up to them, they would've defeated Vor by themselves without Sofia, but they were forced to bring Sofia into this mess. And it wasn't even them who called her the second time. It was Vor mind controlling them. The first time they brought her to stop Prisma in the finale was where everyone was pitching in to stop her. Sofia does not do things alone, and when she does, it's when everything happens by surprise. like when Sofia finds Prisma with Grimhilde's crown. The Protectors didn't make Sofia find Prisma on her own. She just kept finding her trying to steal items from the Wicked Nine. She knows to get help from the Protectors because she threatened to call them on Prisma when she had the crown. And that's the thing: Sofia is not willingly left to do things alone. It's out of anyone's control to help her in the finale because they're either unable to or aren't aware of what's going on.

Say what you will about Sofia being too young to be a Protector-in-Training, but the Protectors didn't want Sofia to have to go through this. They didn't want their trainee to have the fate of the EverRealm dependent on her.

[shiikiyun]

Futa Kajiyama and Remorse

by someone that would hit him in the head if they had the chance

The discussion over whether Futa's shown remorse over his actions is genuine or not is something that has existed for years at this point, and it'll probably always be a debate. Just thought I'd give my personal take on it.

Starting off by saying that it is very ironic that a huge part of the discussion on his character and crime is how genuine he is when he admits fault, considering his case is entirely related to social media, almost like how when public figures online mess up and everyone else picks apart their apologies and rate the sincerity of them (not saying it's a bad thing, influencers will explode before handing a good apology, i just thought it was funny to point out). That aside, let me actually talk about him.

First, what did he do? In short, he began a witch-hunt campaign and doxxed a middle-schooler over a claim with no basis that said kid tried to reason with him over and he ignored, (pressumably) pushing her to suicide. Fucked up. Very understandable unforgiven veredict in the first trial, since his denial of his actions was so strong, he had it coming for sure.

Now, his feelings around his crime. It's said a lot that he doesn't feel sorry for his victim, that he only feels anxious and "guilty" because he's facing consequences and he's scared of dying, so he'll do anything to avoid that (so; admit fault, even if he doesn't believe he was wrong). And he is stubborn, so it's not crazy to see it that way, but—

Does he really not care?

From the way I see it, Futa is telling the truth when he says he never intended her to die. Personally, I would "should've thought about it twice then?" 'd him if I could, but I can't in good faith call him disingenuous for saying he didn't want it to end that way.

People don't take their actions on social media seriously. This happens all the time. People will say they most cruel things to strangers over minimal disagreements, and they don't consider it to be that damaging because "it's just social media". Futa is no different than that.

He got a power trip from the praise he received after he called out a teacher for sexual harrassment (which is obviously an actually fair reason to dunk on someone), took it too far over something mundane, and it actually had real life consequences on an innocent person. And he knows this. He's always known. The very moment he realizes what he did is when he's horrified of himself and is visibly shocked— He didn't want this. But he did it, and now there's blood on his hands.

To call that reaction disingenuous, or relate those feelings solely to the fact that he's facing consequences now, is completely ignoring that it happens before he's aware about receiving backlash from his friends.

That's where his anxiety comes from. He's always known he fucked up awfully. When ES insists on him being a murderer, what makes him stutter and show fear is that same word. He's a murderer, and he can't cope with that, but he knows what he did no matter how much he denies it. From the very beginning all Futa has been is a coward; unable to accept that his actions killed someone until he gets some sense literally beat up on him.

Now, this is where I drift onto something even more people might disagree with, but personally I think it's intentional. The representation of his victim, in both MVs.

Because Futa saw no difference between her and other people him and his friendgroup judged, firstly, she's shown as a videogame monster. Her silhouette changes to a more human-like one when he realizes she died, but that's about it. It shows more of his attempt at dettaching from what he did, refusing to see things for what they are.

But then Backdraft came and totally changed that.

I have to bring up the other 2 monsters to make my point clearer. Like I said, in Jihen Joutou, Futa pictures all of his targets as monsters. In Backdraft, the first 2 remain the same style, but Killcheroy changes.

isn't she adorable, by the way?

Unlike the other two, she's a completely different art style. Cartoony, cute, childish. Because Futa finally got to a point where he can't separate his actions from himself anymore, and had to recognize to have played part in her death, we see his victim for what she is—

A middle schooler.

Of course, her straight up appearing would've been enough to convey that, but the addition of making her character different (innocent, friendly, harmless) further shows how Futa does recognize that he hurt a child that ultimately wasn't doing anything wrong.

And, lastly, and this is entirely personal and where even More people might not agree: I just don't he's lying. I don't think he's trying to manipulate anyone into thinking he feels remorse just to get relief. I believe him when he says he knows what he did was wrong and he regrets doing it, that he wouldn't do it again. And I also understand (and agree) when he says ES, and us by extent, are doing the same.

People in the fandom like to act like he's crazy in the head (hyperbole) for saying that, that he is entirely saying it to guilt ES into forgiving him, and it honestly exhausts me. So like, hey, I'm not Futa, I'm part of the audience and I've voted. So let me say it: We are in fact the same.

He is not wrong in believing it. The MILGRAM system only abuses people under the excuse of giving justice and punishment to those that deserve it regardless of the degree of their crime— And I'm not talking about Kotoko. The psychological torture all 10 of these people are going through is not fair, not on the most forgivable one, nor the least. It is just an abusive system. This system killed people, some of which were teenagers, for having a troubled life. How is that any different from him?

Now I just said we are the same for the dramatism— Of course we are not the same on the basis that we are not actually hurting real people, but like, this fictional character doesn't have a conscience. By MILGRAM canon we really are just a bunch of people getting entertainment from 10 troubled people getting tortured. And as for ES, them continuing to partake on their role when they saw the extreme consequences it has just because they were told to do it is... Yeah, can you really blame any of the prisoners for thinking the guard is also in the wrong?

Ultimately, to conclude: I don't think Futa feels no remorse, nor do I think he only feels bad because he got consequences for it, and I don't understand this point of view. He's shown distress over his actions before backlash came his way, and right now he's at a point where he can't ignore that he fucked up and he will admit to it just fine. He is just simultaneously (and rightfully) upset that a fucked up system that does the same if not worse is the one that gets to decide whether he should be forgiven or not, because in all honesty, none of the prisoners deserve to be judged by MILGRAM.

Aaanyhow, that is it for me. I wrote this in a delirious state from sickness so I hope it's readable and coherent. Peace

Note: i know its implied es attempted to stop the trials and it didnt work, i dont think theyre evil and entirely on a power trip... please dont misunderstand the bit i talk abt es as me saying theyre evil and entirely on a power trip thank you

[negativepeanuthoarder]

Anon, I don’t either.

(Sorry for not answering the ask officially I’m trying to avoid getting the post spread around).

(Long post incoming)

Dteam and Karl are grown ass adults who are more then capable of making their own decisions regarding what and where they want to produce content.

If ppl want to assume that Karl is purposefully avoiding Dream for brand reasons then whatever, but looking at it from my perspective it could be a number of things.

We tend to forget that Karl gets constantly dogpiled by alt right weirdos for “ruining MrBeast”. If he were to appear on camera with Dream there’s a very real chance that could inflame the harassment he’s already receiving and make everything 10x worse. (Karl is a man who expresses stereotypically “feminine” attributes, and Dream is an openly queer man. Combining that with the powder keg of alt right weirdos is a disaster waiting to happen.)

He could be avoiding that purely for mental health reasons. He could be avoiding that purely for convenience reasons due to a busy schedule. He could be avoiding that purely for brand reasons. At the end of the day I personally think it’s self preservation, but anyone can come to their own conclusions as to why these two aren’t appearing publicly together.

But at the end of the day all of that is parasocial speculation. Until someone actively allows someone else to be put in harm’s way then I genuinely don’t care what relationship these people have to one another behind the scenes. Karl will keep testing the water and will likely come back when he feels it’s safe enough for him to do so. If he does not, then he’ll most likely remain on friendly or amicable terms with Dream and SNF.

The chances of him going full Quac.kity are low, in my opinion, considering he doesn’t exactly have a bunch of rabid solo stans planning a muder on Twitter and he shares a lot of his fanbase with Dream and SNF.

Anon I’d probably suggest muting or blocking OP if their comments make you uncomfortable - they aren’t tagging CC Neg it appears and you are under no obligation to keep following anyone (even a mutual) who’s posts actively harm your mental health. It’s not worth it.

[setaflow]

If you're wondering why I haven't posted any thoughts about the Rangers' offseason moves, it's because you're probably not gonna like what I'm gonna say about it lol.

[shayminsky]

"AI" art isn't bad because it's ugly much of real human art is ugly, and beauty is in the eye of beholder, and AI art keeps getting better and better, so using that as a reason to condemn "AI" art is not a good reason. "AI" art also isn't exclusively bad because it steals. That is an issue, but also not uniquely an issue with "AI" art. Humans steal and take inspiration from other artists all the time, and sure it's not entirely same, but it similar enough that it alone is not really that strong an argument.

But the fact that it lacks meaning, lacks human touch, is a good reason. Art is meaningful because it was made by someone. A tree struck by lightning and is burning from the inside is cool and pretty, but not art. Someone taking a photo of it can be art, because the act of capturing that moment gives it some meaning. If they add to it, a title, caption, whatever, it can have even more of a meaning. "AI" art is much like that. It only exists, and can look pretty, but it doesn't have meaning. Sure someone giving the piece a name can add some meaning, but I don't think it's quite the same, no one captured the moment, the moment was generated by whatever algorithm powers it. And so it isn't art, just is, just exist. It's empty.

Another excellent reason to dislike "AI" art is if it's used to replace actual human artists to cut costs or because it's easier to deal with or whatever. That's just scummy in general and unfortunately almost inevitable thanks to how capitalism functions

[dcmcboxers]

My shout-out to queer youtubers

Hbombs list was great but obviously not comprehensive. I watch a lot of video essayists and wanted to give a little love to the smaller channels that fall under the radar. Please feel free to add to this list!

let's talk about stuff/Sarah Zedig

If you've seen Jesse Gender's videos on the Matrix movies you may already be familiar with Sarah. She does excellent film and culture analysis with a lot of great conversations on paratext and outside influence in engaging with text. Her video on Tunic is one of my favorites.

Pamphleteer

No one makes videos like hers, which has the side effect making them a bit hard to describe. I will link one of my favorites which describes the disconnected temporality of being older when you discover you're queer.

Turbo Queer

Really really under watched channel. Skylar covers a lot of topics from video games, to anarchist history and modern events, to autistic life, to current politics. For a fun one check out her video on the SpongeBob strike episode.

Kaz Rowe

Kaz does a fantastic job examining modern myths and manufactured history primarily pertaining to western Europe, Victorian & Edwardian England, and 1800-1900s US. And of course, talking about historical queerness in all its ambiguities and evolutions. I highly recommend their video on Weimar Germany.

drapetomania

drapetomania interrogates the politics of low class and high class art and entertainment from a queer and Black perspective. Their art history videos alone cover many angles of white supremacist history I haven't seen anyone else discuss and I'm very excited to see more from them. They are also a very under viewed channel that more people should see!

I am error

Evelynn's channel primarily discusses video games in a presentation style and voice most similar to Action Button reviews. There's something just a bit more personal here though. I hesitate to say cozy since that word has a bit of an infantilizing connotation, maybe comforting is closer. She puts an immense amount of thought and empathy into the experience of playing video games and the personal narratives we build with them.

Swolesome

For more transmasc perspectives there's Swolesome. He has a lot of interesting insights into the more traditionally masculine and "broish" communities like fitness as well as commentary on recent trans issues.

Shonalika

Music, disability, and aggressively non-binary. Their video on gender presentation in heavy metal was really insightful. I would also check out the video "Why I Wear Gloves" for more insight on invisible disabilities.

Vivian Strange

Vivian delights in being a bit of a contrarian- something I really appreciate. She's probably going to challenge you and you're probably going to disagree at times, which is what makes her channel so important. Her video on Marquis De Sade is powerful and a must watch (if you can stomach the subject material, although I would encourage you to try). I haven't seen her most recent video on Saw yet but I am extremely excited to.

[creantzy]

Defying God - a parallel between Fyolai and Stavrovensky

The Demons brainrot is taking over, and you know what happens when I acquire a new interest: my brain WILL find a way to connect it to my other interests, whether I like it or not!! And this is essentially what it's about xD I've come here to present a parallel I found between Fyolai (Fyodor & Nikolai from BSD) and Stavrovensky (Verkhovensky & Stavrogin from "Demons" by Dostoevsky). Before I start I want to clarify a few things:

• I don't think these two pairings are similar, I just love picking up any crumbs of connections I can find between my interests, even if it'd count as reaching.

• This interpretation (in either character's case) is in no way "the only true way of looking at it". It's merely one interpretation out of many and I chose to focus on just a few aspects out of the many others there are to explore in these complex characters. 

• Feel free to add onto or disagree with anything I say! I'm interested in your thoughts :D

WARNING: There will be spoilers for Bungou Stray Dogs and Demons.

The reason Nikolai wants to kill Fyodor is because he feels affection for him. Emotions are a prison to him, and he basically seeks the opposite of what his emotions make him want to do. Thus, in the face of affection, which makes you want to be closer and wish the best for your friend, he does the opposite and decides to kill said friend, going directly against his feelings in an attempt to prove free will. But here I want to focus more on the "You want to defy God in order to lose sight of yourself" part, specifically the bit about God.

One part of my interpretation is that Nikolai associates God with control. If there is a God who controls all, how can there be a free will? He wants to go against Him and His creations (the human mind, morality, etc.) to prove that it's possible. But God is very abstract - the idea of God is influential but varies depending on cultures, etc. For this point, I'll use the example of the biblical God, or, more specifically, some attributes commonly assigned to the idea of God:

• omnipotence (all-powerful)

• omnipresence (all-present)

• omniscience (all-knowing)

What I am leading up to is the fact that these traits can, in one way or another, be applied to Fyodor. Fyodor's character represents everything Nikolai wants to defy. Nikolai hates control; he wants to fight the idea of God and prove the possibility of complete independence. Fyodor (though not in a "direct" way) could be seen as a symbol for God. He knows everything, he is always present (metaphorically and sometimes literally, the way he spawns sometimes I swear-), and he seems to control everything. Only few people actually see him, but he pulls the strings behind the scenes, and his power is felt everywhere. For Nikolai, to kill Fyodor is not just a protest against his feelings of affection, but can also be a symbolic act of defying "God", of killing "God", by killing Fyodor.

This is supposed to be very symbolic and not taken literally. I feel the need to repeat this because I personally dislike the notion of Fyodor as a literal God (and disagree with the idea of him having a God-complex), so this is merely about the God-like traits he possesses, like a "substitute" for the idea of God, and how it interacts with Nikolai's philosophy. (I've also exaggerated some points for the sake of simplification - for example, I don't actually believe Fyodor is in control of absolutely everything, etc.)

Moving onto Demons:

Pyotr Verkhovensky grew up religious and (assuming based on Stepan's description) with a fear of God.

Now he's an atheist and very anti-religious. He plans to overthrow society, and destroying religion + everything it preaches is part of that plan. But interestingly enough, he picks not himself as the official future "ruler", but someone else: Nikolai Stavrogin. He chooses Stavrogin to be the role of the leader in Verkhovensky's ideal society. But not exactly the "leader" in the traditional sense, because he wouldn't necessarily give Stavrogin all the power. He would simply use him as a "pawn" (for lack of a better word) while himself pulling the strings behind said society. With that, Verkhovensky puts someone else above himself, in a God-like position, but he wants to do it while still keeping full control over Stavrogin. By doing so, he would overcome his childhood fear of God because instead of being controlled by God, *he* will control God.

(Same case here, not the literal God, but the character who he assigns God-like traits to.)

I am undecided (with both Nikolai's and Verkhovensky's character) whether this could be read as a solely subconscious intention or if it would make sense as a conscious one as well. Given that both have a different "main" goal (Nikolai focuses on emotions and Verkhovensky on the revolution) I lean more towards thinking it's subconscious (if present at all - like I said, just interpretations!)

It doesn't help that Verkhovensky describes his vision of Stavrogin's leadership as "hidden": Everyone believes in him and his power, but only very few people are said to actually have laid their eyes upon him. When I first read this part, I was honestly reminded of Big Brother from Orwell's 1984, but eventually realised that similar things can be said about God as well.

While these are parallels, they don't come without differences. Nikolai needs Fyodor dead, Verkhovensky needs Stavrogin alive. Nikolai wants to kill Fyodor for a sense of freedom, Verkhovensky wants to keep Stavrogin for a sense of control. Yet both symbolic goals are bound to fail:

Fyodor turns out to be unkillable, and Stavrogin ends up dead.

At the end, "God" stays untouchable.

[rhenuvee]

Modern AU! Diluc who starts making videos on social media to promote the Angel’s Share by showing how he makes drinks- only to take a wrong turn when the comments end up being down bad for him.

This video makes me thirsty, and Im not talking about the drink.

Pls handle me like the cocktail shaker 🙏

Suddenly I have the urge to cook and clean 🛐

In case anyone asks, the drink is blue.

The drink in the video was orange, by the way- he caught on the implication of the commenters distraction very quickly. And worst of all, his brother Kaeya laughing at the whole situation in the comments, not helping at all.

“Listen to this one ‘Luc: ‘Who needs a napkin when I could be cleaning his hands’, drooling emoji.”

Your poor husband, can’t even look you in the eye anymore. His fingers had been pinching the crease between his eyebrows for a while now, a little embarrassed at the totally different response than expected from his audience. He can't believe the viewers are more interested in his forearms than drink making.

“Y-You’re not helping, my love.” He says. He's frustrated at the comments, but can't help the blush when you say something so desperate. You feel a little bad for adding fuel to the fire (secretly giggling along with Kaeya), but it’s tough when you can’t deny the truth in the comments paired with your husband’s cute reaction.

“Perhaps you just need to cover up a little.” You suggest. Yes, he thinks. His next short video has him wearing his long sleeve dress shirt and gloves, instead of rolling up the sleeves. He's got them now, Diluc thinks as he hopes for normal comments.

However, the viewers are quick to find another way to "simp" for your husband (which you had to teach him the meaning of). With his arms covered now, some comments expressed their disappointment. But most focused their attention on the reveal of skin of his neck and the slightest view of his collarbone.

"It's no use." Diluc grumbles after a long day, his head resting on your stomach, defeated. You smile, bringing your hand to comb through his fiery red hair.

"I can't disagree, you do have nice hands." You tease, referring to the previous video's comments. Diluc looks up at you from your stomach with an annoyed expression. "You're too handsome, my love."

Diluc flushes pink when he hears your compliment. You say it quite often, but he'll never get tired of it.

He feels as if there's no solution to this. Wear his wedding ring? People would probably still focus more on his fingers, or create more down bad comments on being married to him. Bring you into the video? He absolutely does not want people to comment on you. Get his father to make the drink instead? No- he remembers the time his father was in two seconds of a past video and caught mortifying comments of the word "Zaddy" being spammed along with a timestamp. It was quickly deleted. He knows the pattern.

"So what will you do, my handsome husband?" You ask, interrupting his train of thought. You calling him handsome twice was enough for him to take a deep breath before composing himself to answer you.

"I'm too tired to handle this anymore." He sighs. "Maybe I'll give this job to Kaeya, offer him free drinks."

"Bold move, but I like it." You reply. Though you can’t help but feel like Kaeya would meet the same fate.

As for the results of Kaeya's efforts, let's just say that free drinks were not enough to help combat the thirsty comments. The good news is, the Angel's Share social media continued to rise in popularity.

[just4koo]

Hii! How are you doing? Can you please write hurt to comfort with Jungkook, when he walks out to cool off after an argument and Y/n thinks he left her? :)

i'm doing well, i hope you are too! i kinda got carried away on this request and wrote a lott of angst haha... (it hurt my heart)

never go to sleep angry - jjk.

summary: one of the most important rules of your relationship was to never go to sleep angry. when the rule was ignored, it led to an argument and a huge misunderstanding.

word count: 5.0k

genre/warnings: established relationship, a lot of angst, comfort, misinterpreting words, argument between them, y/n feels really shitty, mutual confusion, cute ending though

-- ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ --

There was one rule that you and Jungkook always had set up in your relationship. It was one of the reasons that you two were able to stay together for so long. How you had gotten through so many tough times, arguments, and disagreements. One thing that you two agreed on for the past 4 years you had been together.

Never go to sleep angry.

Even though it seems like something that may not matter too much, it had always worked for you two. Being in a relationship meant disagreeing on things. Relationships could be hard, but loving Jungkook was always easy. He made all of the hard times worth it. There weren't many things the two of you fully argued about because of this one rule. Communication was key in your relationship, and the two of you were always able to deescalate the situations so they wouldn't blow up.

It was the rule until now, it seemed.

If you had realized the way that you were making your boyfriend feel, it could've turned out so different. He hadn't spoke up about it because he knew how stressed you were. Later hours at a job meant that you didn't have time for the things you used to. After covid wiped through the world, your company had taken a huge hit. Budget cuts meant people being laid off of their jobs, and the ones that weren't fired got their work loads doubled, or even tripled.

Your job was a work at home -- returning late from work hadn't been the problem. Even if it was, Jungkook knew. He understood how consuming work could be, but he had been working crazy hours everyday since he was 13. He knew how his schedule worked and how to arrange things to make time between the two of you. This workload was new for you, and so he didn't get angry when you were stuck to your laptop for hours after your scheduled workday ended.

It was more of the way you dealt with the stress that got to him. Being stressed meant that you had been getting more irritable. If he tried talking to you when you were working, he was met with a dry "mhm" or a short look that told him you weren't interested. If he tried actually getting your attention, he would just receive snippy answers. He was trying to be understanding, but that also meant ignoring the most important rule of your relationship. Just like you tried to prevent, everything blew up.

"I've just been stressed out, Jungkook! I thought you said you understood!" You shouted at your boyfriend. What had turned into a simple conversation about him asking if you could spend your free day going on a date for the first time in a couple months had turned into this argument. You wanted to take the single free day off to rest your fingers from typing until your fingers locked up, he finally felt the festering irritation out, and it wasn't turning out pretty.

"I do understand, _____! If anyone does, it's me! You've been thinking about yourself this whole time! I try to be nice, I try to be understanding. You just shut me out! Just because you're stressed out or having a hard time doesn't mean you're allowed to treat me this shitty!" You were almost speechless as you listened to him vent to you about his feelings. You had been trying to justify yourself, but the longer this argument continued, the more you realized how you had been treating him.

"I tried so hard. You only try to push me away now. I've always had draining schedules, but I never took it out on you. I knew that this whole thing was new for you, I gave you time to adjust. But I just can't stand this anymore!" Jungkook groaned, putting his face in his hands. You had become ignorant about how your boyfriend felt, trying too hard to explain why you were treating him this way. He had enough of this. You were angry right now, and anger led to you being irrational.

He knew that he needed to get out of the house before the two of you said anything else you regretted. He didn't want the two of you to be blinded by anger and the best thing to do was to cool down. He tried to take in a deep breath as he turned around to walk towards the coat rack. You watched in disbelief as he started to put on his coat and lace up his shoes. Was he really walking out on the argument?

"Are you serious right now!? You started this argument, and now you're just trying to walk away from it?!" You accused him, crossing your arms over your chest. All Jungkook did was shake his head to himself. If you wanted to be petty, then it was only fair for him to do the same. He wasn't going to let himself be a personal punching bag anymore.

"You're right, I am walking away. I can't do this, ______. Get your shit together." You only scoffed at what he said, rolling your eyes in annoyance. Too consumed by your own pride, you didn't say anything as he left, didn't try to stop him. If he wanted to walk out, that was his problem. You felt like you had an excuse for the way you had been. You hadn't even realized how badly your treatment had gotten.

You spent most of the day grouchy now, too sidetracked to focus on your work. The argument happened pretty early in the afternoon, meaning you got most of the day to think about it. You knew he was going to come back before it was bedtime, or at least you thought you knew. Because it had been the most important rule, right? So you spent the whole day trying to formulate an argument to use against him.

The longer you thought about it though, the more uneasy you felt about the situation. It was growing later and later with every passing minute, and there was no sign of your boyfriend. No text or call, no jingling of his keys in the doorway, not even a text from his brother asking what had happened. Him and his brother were very close. He was usually the person Jungkook went to whenever you got into arguments, and his brother had even helped the two of you. He always texted when Jungkook showed up at his place, but there were no notifications.

You had already taken your nightly shower and was sitting on the bed in silence, huffing to yourself. He was being too petty, you thought. Why couldn't he just understand that you were busy? He was one of the busiest people in the world after all, he should be understanding that you didn't have hours of the day to dedicate to your relationship anymore like you used to be able to do.

While stuck in your thoughts, you sort of froze. He was one of the busiest people in the world. He had countless shoots for music videos, songs, magazines, variety shows. Your boyfriend was a member of one of the most renowned music bands. He spent almost everyday practicing and even spent nights in the studio trying to perfect things. If anyone knew what it was like to live a busy life, it would be him. You'd seen how busy his schedules, how full they were. He had something almost everyday. 

Yet he still made time for you.

You recounted all the times he had come home tired from work or exhausted from a performance. The days he returned with a frustrated or irritated expression from something that happened at work. Not one of those times did he ever take it out on you. He never let things that happened outside your relationship affect how he treated you. Before covid happened, he would be gone even more. Even though he had more time after the pandemic, things were getting back into motion.

He shared how overwhelmed he had been with everything. 2020 had been a break that he didn't even know he needed. He loved his fans, loved his band. But even then, he was still human. Not a machine that could work and be pushed through his schedules. When everything shut down, it meant him also being locked in his house and quarantined from everything. Now that there had been vaccinations and the urgency of the virus had died down, he was thrown right back into everything he had gotten used to being away from.

He had an album releasing soon, and it was taking a lot from him to get back into the flow of things. But he never blamed you for it. Before your job had you working crazy hours, he never got angry whenever you called him during his practices or came to surprise him at his workplace, taking away from his rehearsal time. Because it wasn't your fault for wanting to spend time with him or see him.

A pit was beginning to form in your stomach as you stared down at your lap. All of those times where you interrupted him from his work, you never realized how frustrating it could feel. Not until now when you were also working hard to produce quality work. You thought about all of the times he might've been irritated because he was trying to practice or so close to getting something right, and you came to stop him.

Yet every time he saw you, he was so excited and treated you with love. Even if you were distracting him from his job of performing in front of millions, even billions. Yet you had been doing the exact opposite. You were blaming him for wanting to spend time with you. Mad at him just because he wanted some time with his girlfriend. Fuck, you had been an idiot. Created an unnecessary argument just because you forgot to appreciate him.

You immediately reached for your phone, pressing the contact at the top of your favorites list. It was late now, almost 9pm, and you were worried. You wanted to at least see when he was coming home so you could be sure to stay up until then. You wanted to follow through with your number one rule and wait for him. You wanted to be waiting by the door when he came through to apologize to him.

Frowning when the call immediately went to voicemail, you were almost sent into a stupor. He always answered your calls, no matter what. It was strange for the phone go straight into voicemail, because in his car he always had a phone charger. One quick glance out of your window was the confirmation you needed, he did take his car. 

He had his charger with him. Did that mean he was ignoring your calls then? The phone didn't even ring before it went to voicemail, quicker than any person could decline a call. You weren't someone who worried too easily, but whenever something didn't feel right it made you extremely anxious. This was one of those moments right now. There was something off about the whole situation and you didn't know.

You tried his phone at least two more times, and the same thing happened. Not even a single ring. Every time you were met with the voicemail the two of you had recorded together a couple years ago, the giggling one you recorded with him saying that if he wasn't answering the call, he was probably too busy with his beautiful girlfriend. Your heart hurt when you heard that. How much things had changed scared you.

You went to text him, sending a few messages asking if he was okay. You stared down at the notice that the message had failed to send, the frown in your face getting even deeper. You went back into your contacts app, calling his brother instead. To your short relief, the phone was ringing. But after a few long rings, the phone also went to voicemail. You felt the urge to throw your phone at the wall but instead just cursed under your breath.

You weren't even sure how slow or fast the time was passing right now. All you could do was blankly stare down at your phone, hoping for a call. Had the argument been that bad? Was he really not going to come home after 4 years of sticking to that rule? The clock was nearing 12AM now and you were fidgeting nervously. Going over the argument over and over in your mind again. One particular line suddenly caught your attention.

"You're right, I am walking away. I can't do this, ______."

Your heart practically dropped as you remembered that. It was something you overlooked in the moment because you had been so angry with him, so consumed by your own pride. Those were words he never said to you. Sure, he had left the house a few times to cool down when arguments got too heated. But he would always leave with a reminder that he would be back before dark, that he was going to his brother's house.

Did you really ruin the relationship? All because you had been too focused on your work? You could feel your heart beginning to pound in your chest. He told you that he was walking away from you, that he wasn't going to do this anymore. This, as in the relationship? And you didn't do a thing to stop him when he left. You were so stupid.

Now all of the worst thoughts were going through your mind. Any rationality was leaving you. The calls weren't going through still. Had he blocked you? That was the only conclusion you were believing at the moment. You had been treating him like he was a nuisance for the past few months even though he had always been nothing but loving towards you no matter how crazy his schedule became.

You had been ignoring him whenever he wanted to do something with you or tell him something that had happened during his work. You had taken the small amount of free days you got and spent time relaxing and focusing on yourself rather than spending time with the person you loved more than anything, the person who loved you more than anything. You forgot that a relationship was about loving someone even through hard times.

Any hope you had for yourself was draining as you dug yourself into an even deeper hole. You were someone who worried a lot, but it was something that Jungkook had always helped you work out. Without him here, the problems were coming right back. Especially because this was about him. You had been an asshole of a girlfriend and he had enough. He left, walked out, and blocked you.

All of the years in your relationship felt like they were coming back at once. All of the years you spent together. Loving each other unconditionally. You comforting him whenever he was anxious and insecure, him surprising you with date nights or coming home from trips early to spend time with you. Spending his free days surprising him with things like his favorite dinner. You guys argued as well, but it was what happened in any healthy relationship.

This didn't feel like an argument anymore. Usually they would be resolved, this just felt like the end. You were a shitty girlfriend and he could probably find anyone much better. There were so many girls out there who admired him like a god, who would treat him as such. Girls who didn't take who they got for granted until it was too late and they had already gone.

He left. He was really gone. Those words kept repeating in your mind, and yet it felt like everything was a dream. It felt like you couldn't breathe at the moment. You were the reason this happened. The panic attack was coming quicker than you could stop it, and it was hitting at full force. The clock read 2AM by now. You had been sitting in the bed since 8PM waiting for him to walk into the bedroom. He wasn't coming.

Your whole world was crashing in on itself. Tears were welling up inside your eyes as you laid back on the bed, not feeling enough strength to hold yourself upright again. As you laid down on the bed, you were greeted with the smell of your boyfriend. Was he even your boyfriend anymore? His scent flooded your senses, the familiar smell you'd grown to love so much over the years. It was your breaking point.

With shaky hands you grabbed the blanket, hugging it to your body as the sobs started. Your whole body was trembling with them, curled up as you tried desperately to grasp onto what you felt like was the last of your relationship. The only thought in your mind was that all of this was your fault. Like the ignorant person you were, you lost the most important person to you.

You felt like you would do anything to fix this. To just get one more chance to see him. You would beg at your knees if you needed. Anything to promise him that you would be a better girlfriend to him. But he wasn't going to give you another chance. You only realized now how insignificant your work seemed when he left you. You'd been too distracted by your work that you forgot about the one thing that was more important.

You wanted to do so many things. Scream, throw your laptop at the wall, go out and look for him. But you just couldn't. The realization you felt, the pit in your stomach, the overwhelming sense of guilt. It was all too much for you to move a single limb. You felt overly nauseous, like you would throw up if you moved. 

You weren't someone that was completely dependent on Jungkook. You didn't need him to go about your day correctly. You could spend time apart with him. It was something you actually got used to with him going off on tours. But at this moment, it felt like your world was caving in on you. He was the one person who was always there for you no matter what, and now you had to come to terms with that changing. You sobbed even harder as you realized that.

This was the state that Jungkook saw as he walked back into the house. He knew that he had been gone for a long time, well over 12 hours. He had been cooling off by himself. He didn't even know how long he'd been out. His brother had been gone on vacation, meaning that he didn't have a place to go to. He didn't want to bother his bandmates with his relationship problems, so he could only think of one thing.

He spent the whole day hiking. One of the things he had done as a child growing up in Busan, it was something that helped him clear his mind. He drove a couple hours to the mountains and spend a big majority of the day in the nature. He had no service when he was out there, which helped him refrain from calling you before he had the opportunity to sort out his thoughts.

It had been well past nightfall when he got back down the mountain and he hadn't even realized how late it was. Not until he gained his signal back after he spent even longer at the small village by the bottom of the mountain. He had spent quite a while speaking to some of the elders that he lost track of time and saw it was nearly midnight. He had quickly said goodbye and promised to visit again before leaving.

It was only when he had gotten back onto the main highway that his signal returned and the notifications flooded his phone. He frowned as he looked at all of the missed calls from you, the worried texts. Your most recent one was the most concerning one, one that you had sent just twenty minutes prior.

"i'm sorry i was so shitty. i can pack all of my stuff and be gone in the morning."

He was confused as to why you were texting him that. Why were you packing your stuff and talking about leaving? He tried to call you multiple times, but none of the calls picked up. His own panic was building up as he stepped on the gas, speeding more than he would've liked to admit. It was a two hour drive back and right now he was cursing himself for picking a place so far away. 

You usually never called or texted him when you were separated to cool down from arguments, so he knew that something was different this time. He couldn't think of what was different this time, what had happened that led to you saying that you would be packing up to leave. Was he too harsh on you? Should he have just pushed the problem off even more?

You didn't even register the sound of the door opening, too consumed by your grief. Jungkook had rushed into the apartment, looking around for you. He checked the living room first, and then went straight to the bedroom. He stopped completely in his tracks when he saw you. Curled up on the bed into a ball, clutching your shared blanket to your chest, shaking with quiet and violent sobs.

For a few moments he could do nothing but stare at the sight. Wondering if he really had been too hard on you. He didn't think that his words were too harsh when he was saying them. He had only been speaking his feelings. But as he watched you right now, he felt his heart shattering. He never wanted this. He regretted ever saying anything.

You jumped as you felt a hand lay on your shoulder. Your eyes were swollen from all of your crying, you could barely make out the sight of Jungkook knelt down beside you, frowning with immense concern. You almost couldn't believe that he was right in front of you. Your sobs died down a bit as the two of you stared. You were the first one to break down.

"J-Jungkook, I'm so sorry. I was too consumed with my work and I didn't realize how shitty I treated you. You were right. You've always been so busy with work and you never treated me the way I treated you. I was so stressed by my job that I let it out on you. I was such a bad girlfriend, and I understand why you don't want to be with me anymore. I'm just sorry I didn't notice how bad I was." The way you spoke with small sniffles almost broke his heart and distracted him from what you said.

After he processed his words, his frown only deepened. Why were you speaking to him like this? Saying that you would pack all of your stuff, that he didn't want to be with you anymore, that you were a bad girlfriend? All of his anger was completely gone now and at the moment he just felt extremely confused along with distraught from how destroyed you looked.

"Baby, what are you talking about? Why are you saying all of this?" Jungkook asked with pure bewilderment in his tone. This made you look back at him with an equally confused expression. You weren't expecting this response from him. He seemed like he genuinely didn't know what you were talking about and it made you question everything.

"But.. you blocked me. You said that.. that you couldn't do this and were walking away?" You questioned, your voice cracking with how weak it was after sobbing. Jungkook tilted his head a bit as he tried to recall when he ever said that. After going through the argument in his head, the realization hit him. His eyes widened as he recalled what he said in the heat of the moment. He hadn't clarified what he meant and you had been left alone for however many hours thinking that he had ended the relationship.

"______, I know how those words seemed, but that's not at all what I meant. I was saying that I couldn't do the argument, not the relationship. I would never end things off. I only said I was walking away so I could cool off." Jungkook explained as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Not at all irritated by you, but instead angry at himself. He had only said what he was feeling in the heat of the moment and left.

"What about your phone..? None of my calls went through." You asked him, your voice still full with hurt and doubt. He felt terrible for even making you think for a moment that he wanted to end the relationship. Even though he had been pissed off, he would never end the relationship like that in the heat of the moment. Even enraged he knew it would be the worst mistake he would ever make.

"I went to the mountains to hike and get everything off my mind. My brother is on vacation so that's why I didn't go to him. The place I went had no service and so none of the calls or texts could've gotten through." He told you, and your eyes slightly widened. He was really telling the truth? He didn't want to break up with you? At this point you just felt like you had fallen asleep and this was all a dream.

To confirm this was real, you couldn't hold yourself back anymore and reached out for him, and he wasted no time. He sat down on the bed next to you and pulled you right into his arms. Your body froze as you felt his familiar warmth, smelled his scent with the addition of the smell of nature he'd been around all day. This was real. He wasn't leaving you.

The tears instantly started falling from your eyes, but it was different this time. It was relief. You spent so long crying because you thought he had broken up with you, but it all ended up being a misunderstanding. He wasn't leaving you and you had nothing to worry about. In the past 12 hours it felt like your life had completely ended, but it hadn't.

Jungkook held you closely to him, his fingers carding through your slightly tangled hair while his other hand rubbed small circles into your back. He rested his head on the top of yours, knowing that it was better for you to just get all of your feelings out. Even though nothing made him feel worse than knowing he was the reason that you were crying like this, it was better for you to just let it all out so it didn't bottle up. He had been doing that for the past few months and it turned out like this.

You didn't know how long you had been laying like that in his arms, but when you were finally able to stop crying, you noticed the beginnings of light peeking through the windows. The whole time Jungkook was there for you, whispering sweet things to help you calm down. How much he loved you, how he wasn't going to leave you, that he wasn't angry with you. Anything he could think of to help you calm down.

When you finally had a level enough mind to fully process everything, you felt so much relief. But you still felt the same guilt from before. You were the one that disregarded what he felt and now he was comforting you after an argument that was your fault. You needed to say something to him, to apologize and promise that you would be better. There was no way that you were ever going to let your work consume you again.

"I know I already said this, but I want to say that I'm so sorry. I was so stressed out with my new hours that I got angry and irritated whenever you just wanted to spend time with me. I never should've done that and I realize now how much I took you for granted. You've always made the time for me and I should've done the same for you. I know now how wrong and unfair I was being to you, and I want to be better." You said to him, your voice filled with regret.

Jungkook smiled lightly when he heard your apology. There was no longer any anger in his eyes. No resentment. To him, that was all in the past now. He could hear the sincerity in every word you said. After all, this was the reason that he had started dating you. You were so sweet and considerate towards others. You just needed to realize what you were doing wrong. You were distracted and didn't know you were bring rude.

"It's okay, my love. I know how stressful it's been for you and I'm not angry anymore. I understand how you feel and I accept your apology. I know you didn't realize how you were treating me." Jungkook replied, putting his fingers under your chin so he could tilt your head up to look at him. Even with your red, puffy eyes and runny nose you were so beautiful to him. He gently kissed the tip of your nose before resting his forehead against yours.

"I love you so much. Thank you for always being the best." You mumbled, closing your eyes as you took the time to let yourself bask in the moment. Letting go of all doubts that you felt previously. There was no reason to dwell on this argument, because you knew that you wouldn't make this mistake anymore going on.

"I love you too, always. No matter what happens." Jungkook replied with a bit of reassurance in his tone. You smiled as he said those words to you, leaning forward to close the small gap between the two of you. You were fully calmed down as your lips met and any thoughts that you had melted away in the moment. Everything was okay in this moment. 

Even though this argument had been rough, the two of you had stuck to your most important rule. The two of you went to sleep shortly afterwards, no more feelings of anger or resentment. You would never go to bed angry anymore, realizing just how important that rule was.

[bloatedandalone04]

➪the one where ethan can’t keep his hands off you during a group dinner. (requested)

Warnings: dirty talk, fingering, ethan being a cheeky bastard again, public smut, smut, all that fun stuff | I just found out that Ethan pulled a Jill and killed his mother for disagreeing with the plan. Dudes crazier than I thought but I still love him.

Word Count: 3k | Ethan Masterlist

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

“Ethan, stop it,” you muttered, swatting his hand away from you as you moved a few inches from him. You could only move so far as the backseat provided very little space for you to put some distance between the two of you. 

“I’m not doing anything,” he gave you his signature grin, letting you know that he knew exactly what he was doing. You looked forward and were thankful to see Chad and Mindy still lost in conversation, one of his hands on the wheel while his other waved around in an attempt to get his sister to understand whatever it was he was saying. 

In other words, they seemed to be oblivious to the way Ethan’s hand kept finding itself on your thigh, his fingers inching closer and closer to the hem of your dress. Anika, who was sitting to the right of Ethan while you were to his left, didn’t seem to notice it either. 

“Something wrong, baby?” Ethan asked quietly, grinning at your flushed face. 

“No, nothings wrong,” you force out a smile, grabbing his wrist and shoving his hand away when it creeped up your leg again. “It just seems as though someone’s got a case of wandering hands.”

He hummed, leaning over and pressing a kiss to the side of your head, keeping his mouth against your skin when he mumbled, “If you could see yourself from my eyes, you’d understand,” he pulled away and you squinted at him. “You look hot.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab his hand again, but instead of throwing it off you, your fingers lace with his and lock them in place. You give him a shrug and smirk, watching the way his lips turned into a pout. 

“Hey,” Chad’s voice made you both look over at him, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. “What’s going on back there?”

Mindy and Anika turn to look at you as well and you sink into Ethan’s side, a wave of embarrassment washing over you. “Nothing, roomie,” Ethan replied, slipping his hand from yours and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. He pulls you closer to him, his hand dropping to your waist in a tight grip. “Y/n just gets car sick sometimes.”

Mindy gives you a look of pity. “Awh, Y/n,” she reaches behind her and places a comforting hand on your exposed knee. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

She turns back around and resumes the conversation with her brother after that, her hand falling from your knee. Ethan leaned down so his mouth was close to your ear, his lips brushing against it as he asked, “How come you let her touch you and not me?”

You hold back a laugh and look up at him. “Because she’s not a perv,”

He lets out a quiet gasp, his hand giving your side a gentle slap that had you jumping slightly. You grow concerned when you feel a bit turned on by that. “And I am?”

“You know you are,” you reply, grinning at the shrug he gives you before he presses his lips to yours. His hand inches lower once again, his index finger drawing teasing circles on the skin of your inner thigh. Your hand grabs his wrist but does nothing to stop it from inching closer, making him smirk into the kiss. 

His free hand reaches over and tugs your leg up so it’s draped over his, the hand closest to you continuing to venture your body. The revealing fabric of your black dress did nothing to keep his hand from finding the most private part of you, the pads of his fingers pressing against the place that had you jolting and curling your body closer to his.

Ethan was never this touchy in public. Sure, he almost always had a hand on you, whether that was locked in one of yours, an arm thrown around your shoulder, or even his hand placed on your hip. But he was never this handsy, and especially not in front of your friends. He preferred to have you squirming like this in the privacy of either your room or his, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. 

It was to be expected, to be fair. You had gotten ready at his place, your body covered by the tight yet comfortable dress. You stood in front of the mirror, decorated in random, boyish stickers that proved a guy fresh out of high school was the one who lived in this room. That, mixed with the clutter and piles of laundry, it was definitely a ‘guy’s’ space. 

As you applied a matte rose shade to your lips, you failed to notice the fact that Ethan, who had been sitting on his bed a few feet away the entire time, hadn’t taken his eyes off you since you let yourself into his room, your curves prominent through your dress. 

Fuck, he had no idea how he got so lucky with you. 

Boring, average Ethan was dating the hottest girl on campus. His brother would be so proud of him. 

As you touched up your natural makeup, Ethan’s teeth dug into his bottom lip, his eyes fixated on your body. When you turned to him and gave him a smile, that was when he stood up and slowly walked over to you.

You tried to ignore the fact that, even in your heels, he was still towering over you. A sense of pride settled deep in your core as you strained your neck to look up at him. “Maybe we should just stay in tonight,” he offered, his hands finding home on your hips.

Gathering up your inner strength and finding a sliver of resistance, you gently place your hands flat against his chest and give him a small push. “And have Anika get pissed at us for bailing again?” You ask and watch as a look of realization flashes across his face, now remembering the last time he convinced you to stay in and how mad she was. “We can’t.” You add and press a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away from him.

“Fine,” he said nonchalantly, reaching for his wallet that was among the clutter on his desk. “But don’t be surprised if I can’t keep my hands off you tonight.”

You laughed then, but only now realized how serious he actually was as he had not taken his hands off of you for more than a few seconds since you got in the car. 

A warm blush heats your face as you move closer to Ethan, if that was even possible at this point, and his finger presses a bit harder against your covered clit.  You refrain from bucking your hips upwards to create more friction, something he probably wanted you to do, now that you thought of it. 

“Ethan,” you warned against his mouth, pulling away just enough to be able to see his full face. His brown eyes held a glint of mischief, a knowing smirk on his lips as he subtly moved his hand closer to you, his finger running along the lining of the dark blue fabric that kept you covered from his wandering hand. “You’re awful.”

He just laughed quietly. “How so? I told you back at my place,” he pointed out. “I warned you.”

Before you could reply, the car came to a stop outside a small restaurant. Mindy turned around and faced you, “We’re here,” she grinned at you, her loud voice making you jump and push your boyfriend’s hand away from you. “Hopefully you feel better after you get some food into you.”

You force a smile and take your seatbelt off, your hand on the door handle when Ethan leaned over so his lips were brushing against the shell of your ear. “That’s not the only thing that will be getting into you,” your face heats up again and he presses a quick kiss to your temple before reaching over and opening the door for you.

You quickly exit the car, the chilled air helping ease the burn you felt in both your face and core. Ethan wraps his arm around your shoulders and closes the door with the hand of his other as Danny and the Carpenter sisters, who had been driving behind Chad the whole time, walk the short distance to regroup. “Jesus, Chad, could you have picked a place further away?” Sam muttered as she wrapped her coat around her tighter.

“Honestly, yeah, I could’ve,” he answered as you waited outside the doors to the restaurant. “We’ve been to the local places so many times now, so I thought we should try some place away from the city. Plus, I heard the steak here is the best in New York.”

“Yeah, because that’s important,” Tara said and Chad shrugged, nudging Ethan with his fist. 

“It is,” he said when Ethan returned the fist bump. “We’re growing men and need real food, not those healthy salads you girls are all hooked on.”

You rolled your eyes as you rub your hand up your arm when the wind picked up just a bit, making you repress a shiver. “I told you to bring a coat,” Ethan mumbled as he pulled his arms out of his dark blue jacket, leaving him in a black henley that went well with his dark jeans and converse. 

“And I told you it would ruin my outfit,” you say back and watch as he rolls his eyes before draping the jacket across your shoulders, reaching down to take your hand afterwards. “But thank you, this looks and feels much better.” 

You stand on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his jaw, aiming for his cheek but failing to do so as he was the tallest guy you’ve ever met and still somehow managed to tower over you every time you wore heels.

The group was escorted inside after that and led over to the large table at the back, the lights dim and giving the atmosphere a dark and closed off setting. When you were all seated - Ethan beside you, Anika beside him, Mindy beside her, Tara next to her, Sam, Danny and then Chad on your other side - and had a good look at the menu, Sam took it upon herself to ask, “So, what’s everyone getting?”

Chad, who hadn’t even picked up his menu, sat back and crossed his arms. “The steak, duh,”

Anika rolled her eyes as she answered the older sister with her order. As everyone else began answering her as well, Ethan quickly became bored and placed his right hand on your thigh, his left arm resting on the back of your chair. You tense up almost instantly, glaring at him as he looked over at Sam. 

“Don’t you dare,” you whisper in warning. You weren’t sure what you’d do if Ethan were to tease you like he did in the car. Sure, that setting wasn’t private at all, seeing as your friends were literally right there, but at least you were around people you knew and it was dark. This was a restaurant full of strangers and the lighting, though it was dim, wasn’t nearly as dark as the car was. “Please, don’t.”

Ethan just withheld a smirk as Sam turned to face you. “Y/n/n, what are you getting?”

You open your mouth to answer but it was then when Ethan decided to be the worst boyfriend in the world as his hand disappeared under your dress and his thumb pressed to your clothed clit. You bite back a moan, jumping in your seat slightly and leaning closer to him. “I…um,”

Sam gives you a concerned look before Mindy spoke up, “She’s got an upset stomach right now. She gets car sick,”

“Oh,” Sam frowns, her brows pressing together in pity.

“It’ll pass,” you say through clenched teeth, your hand gripping Ethan’s knee under the table. Your nails dig into the rough material as his finger begins to apply more pressure to your nerves. “I was looking at the parm.”

Sam nods then looks at Ethan, completely oblivious to what was happening under the table. “What about you?”

“Same as her,” he simply answered, earning a scoff from Chad.

“Weak, dude, I was rooting for you,”

Ethan just shrugged and gave him a boyish grin - all while his hand tugged on the lace and pushed it aside, exposing your core to his greedy fingers. Before you could even muster up the strength to warn him again, his index finger easily slipped into you, proving his words he said in the car and making them into a reality.

Though it wasn’t uncommon for Ethan and you to be affectionate in public, this was completely new to you. You had never been…touched like this in public, so to say your heart was racing would be an understatement.

You press your face against his shoulder, disguising your breathy moan as a quiet groan, acting as if you actually weren’t feeling well when it was far from the truth. Ethan hummed in secret approval, his chin resting on the top of your head. “It’s okay, baby,” he murmured and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You’ll feel better soon.”

The waitress came over and gave you all a kind smile, her eyes narrowing in concern when she saw how you were hunched over your boyfriend. “Are you okay, honey?” She asked sweetly, making you lift your head in embarrassment. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say quietly, giving her a forced smile as Ethan’s finger steadily began pumping in and out of you. “It was just a long drive, but I’m okay.” You add to try and make it seem more convincing.

“Oh, I see,” she nods in understanding, grabbing her pen from her belt. “Well, let’s get your order then so you’re not sitting on an empty stomach.”

You could’ve cried in relief when she looked away from you and towards Sam, who gave her everyone’s order as if she was a mother ordering for her kids. She kind of was, to be honest. She was the mother of the group, something you all agreed on when she was out of earshot one night. 

Your hand gripped his bicep tightly, your nails seeming to not hurt him at all as they dug into his skin. “Ethan,” you whispered desperately, your legs trying to close around his hand. “Please.” 

He didn’t answer as his middle finger joined the one already buried inside of you. You squirmed some more, your shaky hand reaching over to grip the glass of water before bringing it to your lips. 

You weren’t able to get even one sip of the drink before Ethan curled his fingers, making you inhale sharply, the glass nearly slipping from your grasp. You glare up at him when you feel your side dampen due to the water you had just accidently spilled. 

Before you could cuss him out, he ducks his head down to press his lips to yours. He successfully silenced your moans of surprise as his fingers picked up the pace, the edge of his middle one grazing the most sensitive part you had inside of you. 

“I can’t,” you whimpered quietly against his mouth before hiding your face in the space between his neck and shoulder. 

It was all too much, too dirty. 

Here you were, allowing your boyfriend to fuck his fingers into you in the back corner of a crowded restaurant while you pretend you were car sick. 

You would be lying if you said that the very real possibility of getting caught didn’t turn you on to no end. The public setting only amplified the feeling he was currently providing you with, your hips refraining from lifting to increase the pressure building within you. 

Ethan, so selfless, kept calm and collected while he worked to get you off in the way he knew you deserved, hard on be damned so long as he got to watch you unravel. 

The way he shielded your face away from the eyes of the others, as if to spare at least some of your dignity while you tried not to let out loud moans, was undeniably hot. 

Ethan grinned when he heard your soft whisper of his name against his neck, his fingers never stopping their assault to your core. To get you closer to the edge a bit quicker, despite wanting to prolong this as much as he could, his thumb returns to your clit, where it traces circles that had your legs shaking. 

You shakily exhale, your throat releasing a quiet moan that had his hand moving even quicker. You felt your stomach muscles tense and your body went stiff as you pressed your face closer to him, your hands desperately holding onto his arm as he took the glass from you with his free hand before returning that arm back to your chair. 

“Come on, baby,” he spoke quietly so only you could hear, his eyes fixated on the way your hand gripped his wrist. “Come for me in front of all our friends.”

His words, mixed with the relentless movement of his fingers, had your eyes squeezing shut, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you felt the knot that had formed inside you snap.  

You moan breathlessly against his neck while he peers around the table, relieved to see that no one was paying too close attention to you, otherwise you would’ve been caught. 

You lift your head from his shoulder, a thin layer of sweat forming on your forehead as he pulls his hand away from you. 

Then, as discreetly and nonchalantly as he could, he raises his hand and sucks his fingers one by one. You watch in awe, your mind reeling and face burning as he leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Say you’re going to the washroom,” he murmured. “I’ll meet you there in five.”

[antiquarianfics]

The Best Things Take Time

Bucky has a code. You manage to crack it.

A/N: This took me so long because I wasn't really sure how I wanted to go about it. I'm pretty happy with it, I think. Also, my first request! I hope I did your brain-child justice. :) Warnings: Mild language. Based on this request. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to repost or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

----

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date—even with Sam and Yori pushing him all the time. His triggers are gone, yes, but he is starkly aware that he still has a long way to go before he might be considered ready to give time and energy to another person on a daily basis. However, if there is anyone in the world that makes him reconsider his own rule, it’s you.

The two of you first formally met when Steve, Sam, and yourself finally tracked him down. You were kind to him, but you kept your distance. He never made many attempts to speak with you, but the short interactions he did have with you were short and clinical. He never asked, but he’s pretty sure you’re afraid of him—of what he’s done.

Despite this assumption, Bucky takes note of the way you drop everything to help him time and time again. You back him in Washington, you back him in Siberia, you back him in Wakanda, and you back him in Washington in the second go-round. He is appreciative—very much so—but he keeps his distance regardless. After all, he shouldn’t risk losing an ally by something as silly as small talk.

Things begin to change, though, when he runs into you at the airport. Both him and you felt the need to get on Sam’s back about giving up the shield.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, a little indignantly. You cringe a little at your tone, but you brush it off nonetheless.

Bucky shoots you an annoyed look before turning to Sam.

Throughout the mission to track down the Flag Smashers, you and Bucky bicker (even more than Sam and Bucky do). You challenge him on every opinion he shares, poke fun at every misstep he takes, and side with Sam for the sake of disagreeing with him. He returns the favor, and he ignores the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth.

Your interactions are not particularly pleasant, sure, but they’re existent—which is progress.

—

“Does he always stare like that?” Walker asks Sam, eyeing Bucky uncomfortably.

“You get used to it,” Sam replies.

You glare at Walker. His attitude towards you and your boys bothers you. His entitlement to Steve’s shield and name bothers you. He bothers you.

“Does she always stare like that?” Walker asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Only when douchebags harass my friends,” you deadpan.

You are plenty aware this is the first time you’ve called Bucky your friend, and you can tell he is too by the way his eyes shift from Walker to you. You’re not aware, though, that your concession of friendship serves as the push he needs to talk to you more.

—

It takes time, but over the next few weeks, Bucky manages to get you to open up. He’s surprised with himself by how he’s willing to talk to you; after all, people are usually trying to get him to talk.

Bucky finds out that you’re actually not as reserved as he thought, but you had heard both Steve’s stories of before and multiple people’s accounts of after. Your distance, you admit, was a consequence of you trying to give him space when everyone else was crowding him. Your teasing and bickering with him was a consequence of trying to create said space. The revelation makes Bucky’s heart clench: no one has made him feel so cared for in a long time.

Bucky sticks by his no dating rule, though. After all, you may be friends, and you may be acting nicer to him lately, but there’s no way you like him like that.

Or, at least he thinks so until Louisiana.

—

“Hey, Sarah,” Bucky says, flashing a charming smile at her from where he sits next to Sam and yourself on the dock.

“Hey!” You smack his chest with the back of your hand. “No flirting with Sam’s sister.”

He lets his attention shift to you, and he can’t help the surprise. He’s aware that you could just be enforcing Sam’s demand from earlier, but you’re so adamant. He thinks maybe he sees a flash of jealousy in your eyes, but he thinks, too, he might just be seeing what he wants to see.

Sam and Sarah continue to bicker before she shoos the three of you away from the boat. Sam and Bucky step onto the dock and begin to walk away before you, and they keep walking even when Sarah stops you.

“Subtle,” she says, smirking at you. You wave her off, your face heating up with a blush.

“Shut up,” you say, embarrassment entwined with each syllable.

Bucky thinks maybe—just maybe—you might like him back.

—

Looking back on the last few years, Bucky can hardly believe the journey you and he had been on. Being so distant most of your time together in the first few years, and then being so rude to each other the next few, and then needing a push from the Wilsons to actually do anything about your feelings… it was interesting, to say the least.

He remembers the day you agreed to leave Louisiana with him. It was an impulsive decision, but it led to the first time the two of you had truly been alone together. It led to inside jokes and deep conversations. It led to a genuine friendship.

“I’m headed out tomorrow,” Bucky informed you and Sam.

The three of you were sitting on the porch of Sarah’s house, conversation flowing from friendly jests, to Karli, to the boat, to whatever else. Your head shot up to stare at him, eyes widening.

“What? Why?” Your tone was a little panicked. Bucky raised his eyebrows at your tone. Sam laughed, and you shot him a glare.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, Doll,” he said. Ever since the incident with Sarah, he’d let a few pet names for you fall from his lips, and he smugly noted the way they made you squirm.

“Oh.”

“Well!” Sam exclaimed, clapping his palms on his knees as he stood. “I’m gonna go check on Sarah and the boys while you,” he pointed at the two of you in turn, “figure whatever is going on here out.”

You protested, but Sam was gone without another word. Neither one of you spoke for a moment, and you chewed on your lip.

“You’re really going?” You asked shyly.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“You can come with me, if you want,” he offered before he can think better of himself.

Your eyes shot to his, analyzing his face for any sort of jest. He seemed sincere, and once you decided he wasn’t pulling your leg, you responded.

“Okay.”

He remembers the day the two of you finally addressed that you were more than friends. Bucky, of course, has a no dating rule, and you? You had no such thing, but you weren’t dating either. In fact, you hadn’t since before Karli and the Flag Smashers showed up.

Bucky and yourself were at a bar, drinking and laughing with one another. He was sober, of course, but you were a little tipsy. You had a dopey smile on your face that he thought was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He still thinks your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

That’s when a young woman sauntered up to the bar. She was gorgeous; her long, black braids reached her waist, her lips were painted a bright red color, and she wore a halter top that left little to the imagination.

“Hi,” she said, grabbing your attention, shooting you a flirtatious smile.

“Hi!” You said, the alcohol making you friendlier than you usually are.

“I saw you across the bar, and I was jus’ wonderin’, would you wanna grab a drink with me? Maybe dance a lil’?” Her eyes dragged down your body and back up to your eyes.

Your eyes widened and you blushed.

“Oh, uh! T-thank you! I’m flattered, but, uh, I got my guy right here, and I kinda like him too much to date!” You sort of yell-whispered the confession to the girl.

She glanced behind you to Bucky whose eyes had also widened in shock, his mouth hanging open a little. The woman laughed and touched your shoulder comfortingly.

“‘s alright,” she assured. “Was worth a shot, though.”

She turned to Bucky then.

“Yo, congrats, man. You’re a lucky guy once you two talk that through.”

With that, she had left, and you turned around to Bucky.

“Look,” you said, more sober sounding than you’d been since the two of you arrived at the bar. “I don’t know what you think this is, or what you want it to be, but I’m all in if you are.”

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you without a second thought.

And he remembers the moment he decided he was going to marry you, if you’d have him.

The two of you were sitting on the couch in your shared apartment; after about two years of dating, you insisted you live together.

“Buck, you’re always here. All your stuff is here. I don’t think you’ve stepped foot in your apartment in a month. You’re just wasting money on rent at this point.”

You were leaned into his side, eyes glued to the tv screen. The two of you were watching The Princess Bride (it’s one of the many movies you insisted was so culturally significant that he had to see it). It was the way you would turn to him at your favorite parts, gauging his reactions to see if he loved it like you did; the way you would mouth the most iconic lines along with the characters; and the way you would sigh contentedly and cuddle further into his side at the romantic scenes that really pulled the realization from deep within him. And, perhaps, it was the way you produced the most ridiculous voice to say "Mawwiage! Mawwiage is what bwings us here today!" that truly brought the idea of marrying you to the forefront of his mind. Regardless, he knew he wanted you around for the rest of his already over-extended lifetime.

—

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date, and he decided late in his life as a free man that he wasn't going to ever try and date anyone other than you. So, here he finds himself, kneeling on the ground in front of you with a ring extended towards your person, and hoping you'll say yes.

"Sweetheart, I know we've had a lot of ups and downs. We met when I wasn't truly myself, we got together when I was still figuring out who I am on my own—without Steve, without HYDRA—but no matter what, you've been there for me. You're still here for me.

"You deserve the world, Doll, and I want to give it to you. I want to be here for all your ups and downs, and I want to spend my life being to you what you've already been to me.

"You're my partner, you're my best friend, you're the love of my life. And if you'll have me, I'll be your king, if you'll be my queen. I'll be your husband, if you'll be my wife.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?"

You let out a laugh through a sob, pulling your hand to your face to quickly wipe your tears away, and you nod vigorously. You drop to your knees, pulling Bucky's face into your hands, caressing his cheek gently. Smiling, you respond.

"James Bucky Barnes, of course I'll marry you."

[a-araiguma-a]

He loved only her

No one in particular, just an elf from the universe of J. R. R. Tolkien. Elf x f!reader

In the ancient forests of Middle-earth, where tall trees concealed the sky, there lived an elf. His people were as eternal as the forest itself, and their hearts were rarely clouded by mortal emotions. But one day, he met a woman—a simple, human, mortal woman. There was something about her that made his heart beat faster: her beauty, which could neither be captured by the finest poets nor sung by the greatest musicians, her mind, so unlike that of other humans, filled with thoughts, ideas, and philosophy, or her eyes, in which one could drown if they gazed too long. It was something he could not understand, but this only made his love grow deeper.

"Cormamin lindua ele lle"—he always wanted to tell her that his heart sang at the sight of her, but it was not the right time, not yet. From the moment of their first meeting, he sought her out and waited for her in this forest every day when the sun's rays gently touched the ground, filtering through the thick foliage.

She told him about her world, about the brief lives of humans, about how they lived and died, dreaming and suffering.

"Lle naa vanima,"—he blurted out one day, not even realizing when he had said it: "You are beautiful." "What did you say?"—fortunately, she didn't understand his words, and that saddened him. It was not enough for him to meet her in the evenings; he longed to extend their conversations, to stretch them out for an hour, two, or forever. He listened to her stories, captivated not by the words themselves but by how her voice filled the emptiness in his soul. Without her, he would never have known the need to fill it.

"Tua amin!"—But did he need help? Did he need to be saved from her? Honestly, no, he was ready to drown in her eyes, ready to die if only to meet her once more. He was ready for anything...

But the Elf did not know how to tell her about his feelings. He understood that the time she gave him was limited, and each moment with her was precious. But how could he explain this? How could he tell her that his heart, which had always been eternal and free, now belonged to her? "The more you love someone," he thought, "the harder it is to tell them." "Nin lithiach, Meleth nín"—she truly enchanted him every time he saw her, even in his thoughts. His beloved. "Guren mil gaim lín"—his heart was in her hands—"Tessa sina ten’ amin"—he asked her to keep it, but in truth, she was free to do with it as she wished, as long as it was her.

And she accepted him. She had loved him too, ever since then, but she understood that it would be difficult for him; her life was short, and what would happen afterward, when she left him? She was ready to weep over such a truth. "Amin uuma malia, Arwen en amin"—it didn't concern him. Being with her and having her even for a moment was already enough. The chance to call her his—that was his happiness. His Lady, who ruled his heart and mind.

As the years passed, she began to talk more often about parting, though it pained the elf to hear it, he couldn't disagree. "When the day comes that we part," she said quietly, "if my last words aren't 'Amin mela lle,' you'll know it's because I didn't have time." In those moments, he remained silent, lost in thought, unable to find the words to express that his love knew no bounds of time. "Meleth e-guilen, my love is selfish. I can't breathe without you,"—she was the love of his life. How could she speak of them parting, not seeing her, not inhaling her scent in the mornings, no more afternoon conversations about books, about how Ellen had messed up her work again, no more seeing her smile, or those gentle eyes full of love for him... "Aa’ lasser en he coia orn n' omenta gurtha!"—Let the leaves of her tree of life never wither, he prayed. Just a little longer, he wasn't ready yet, but how could he stretch this time?

But when the fog enveloped the forest, and the cold wind brought with it a premonition of farewell, the elf finally spoke what was in his heart. He took her hand and said: "I was destined to live a thousand years, and I belong only to you for all those years. If we were to live a thousand lives, I would want you to be mine in every one of them." She looked at him, and a tear glistened in her eye. She knew their time was running out, but these were the words she believed in more than anything in the world.

For the elf's love was as eternal as the forest itself, and he continued to love, despite their parting, carrying his feelings for her through the years and ages of his life.

"Cormamin niuve tenna’ ta elea lle au’"—My heart will wait until it sees you again. "Le me ithon anuir"—I will love you forever. "Quel kaima"—Rest well.

[imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend]

Penny For Your Thoughts

Pairing: Billy Russo x F!Reader

I saw this gif and got super horny for Billy again, so this is what happened. You can also blame @becauseicantthinkwritings, @frying-panties, @dreadfulxives18 for encouraging me 😜

Warnings: 18+, minors do NOT interact, smut, explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, super dirty talk, use of pet names (darling, baby), Sugar Daddy!Billy vibes, oral (M receiving), PIV, reader has multiple orgasms, creampie

“Darling, my leg’s falling asleep.” 

You pouted, not that he could see, and snuggled your face further into Billy’s neck. You were sitting on his lap, with your butt mostly on one of his thighs, cuddling up to his chest. He was still dressed in a full suit and had merely sat down on the couch for a drink, but you’d crawled onto his lap. You needed to feel his warmth, smell his cologne, and just be close to him.  

You’d been lonely without him, spending the day feeling empty after waking up with his cock inside you. He’d left you blissed out, cum seeping between your legs. He wanted to clean you up, but he was late for work, and you assured him that you could clean yourself up. 

The sound of Billy setting his glass down shook you from your memory. “Darling,” he said again. He ran his hand through your hair and pulled on it slightly. 

You let him pull your head back so he could look at your face. 

“Hi, Billy.” You said. You hadn’t even spoken since he’d gotten back. You just needed to feel him.  

He smiled gently. “Hi, baby. I need you to get off my lap. I can’t feel my toes.” He let go of your hair and smoothed it back in place. 

“Kiss first?” You bargained. 

Billy grinned. “For you, of course.” He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on your lips. 

You pouted as he pulled away.  

“What’s that face?” he asked. He knew what it was, though. 

“Nothin’,” you said, knowing better than to push him. 

You got off his lap and slid to the floor instead, resting your chin on the knee of his other leg as he stretched out the one you’d been sitting on. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, looking up at his pensive face. 

“Just thinking about my day.” He rubbed a hand over his beard. 

“How was work?” You asked. 

Billy shrugged. “It was hard to focus, with the image of my cum leaking out of your little cunt constantly flashing through my head.” 

You felt your cheeks flush, but more pertinently, you felt arousal pool between your legs. You bit your lip for a moment, before you released it. “Maybe that’s something you need to see again.” 

A beautiful, sexy smirk took over Billy’s lips. “Oh? You think that’ll help?” 

“Maybe. Or maybe you need your cock in my mouth?” You trailed a hand up his leg and over his groin, which was starting to grow hard. 

He grunted at your touch. “Maybe I need both.” 

“Maybe you’ll get both, if you ask nicely.” You batted your eyelashes.  

Billy’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I ain’t nice, though.” 

“Yes, you are.” You disagreed. You continued rubbing your hand along the outline of his cock over his trousers. “You bought me those shoes I really wanted last week, even though they were full price.” 

“They weren’t that expensive.” He grunted. 

“They were two grand.” You scoffed. 

“Pennies.” Billy quipped. 

“You wanted to take care of me this morning. Almost made you late for work.” You said, still trying to tell him that he was nice. 

“Well, had to do something for the excellent pussy I got.” He drawled. 

You rolled your eyes.  

“Well, you’re quite nice to me. You’ll never change my mind.” You said. Despite your many attempts to refuse him, Billy had been very generous to you. All the money he’d given so far had been used – in addition for pleasurable items like a new phone, or non-necessities like those designer shoes – for student loans, medical bills, and even your rent before you’d moved in with him. 

You unbuttoned his pants and did your best to free his cock, but he ended up lifting his hips so he could pull his trousers and underwear down his legs instead. You pumped him a few times in your hand as you gathered some saliva in your mouth, before you let it dribble out onto his cock. 

“Fuck,” Billy said.  

You then lowered your head and took him in your mouth, moving your head down until your nose touched his skin. You let his cock tickle the back of your throat for a few seconds before you pulled back and started sucking on the tip. You teased the slit with your tongue and stroked him with your hand before you started bobbing your head. 

Billy groaned. “Now I’m remembering why I’m so nice to you.”  

The corners of your lips turned up, but you couldn’t give him the smirk you wanted to with his cock in your mouth. Billy always seemed to enjoy getting head from you, and with the way he treated and pleased you after, you didn’t mind giving it. 

It was difficult to take all his length in your mouth though, so you stuck to using your hand near the base to stroke and squeeze what you couldn’t fit past your lips. Every now and then you would stop to suckle and lick at the swollen head, tasting the precum that was starting to spill.  

Billy’s fingers wove into your hair, and you started to take him back in your mouth. You knew that he liked it when you struggled to take him all. 

“Lemme feel that little throat choke on my dick.” He said, voice thick with arousal. 

You fought your eyes from rolling back in your head as you felt yourself soak through your panties. You focused on breathing steadily through your nose, as Billy slowly thrusted his hips to fuck your mouth. Your fingers dug into the cushions of the couch, your pussy ached, but you let Billy use you. You wanted him to use you. 

You were finding it harder to breathe and were getting a little overwhelmed trying to continually disengage your gag reflex, and tears had started spilling down your cheeks. When Billy noticed, he trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Fuck!” Despite his roar, his rhythm slowed until he eventually pulled your mouth off him.  

Your used jaw hung open for a little bit, and some drool slid off your tongue and onto your lap before you could close your mouth. 

Billy delicately cupped your face and wiped away your tears. “Are you okay?” His voice was dripping with fake sympathy, but you loved it. 

You tried to speak, but you could only nod. “Poor thing. Your brain’s probably leaking out of your little cunt, just like your mouth. Can’t even talk.” 

You whimpered. You were so wet. Your panties were absolutely drenched. 

“Fuck, baby. Get up here, lemme fuck that wet little cunt.” 

Your legs were stiff from kneeling, but you sat down on the couch and pulled your dress off. Billy kissed you immediately, hands expertly ridding you of your bra and tossing it behind him, so he could twist your nipples with his fingers. One hand went up to wrap gently around the front of your throat and he pushed you so that you would lay back. 

He moved his kisses down your throat to your tits, giving both of your nipples a wet suck, before he kissed down your stomach. 

He looked up at you, his eyes menacingly dark with arousal. “I can smell you, baby, and I haven’t even taken off your panties.” 

“So wet. Just for you, Billy.” You whined. 

“Let me see.” He said. “Take ‘em off.” 

You lifted your hips and pushed your panties down and pulled them off your feet. You dropped your panties to the floor, a little embarrassed at how you’d soaked through them when all you’d done was suck his cock. 

Billy took one look at your glistening center before he slammed his cock inside you. He didn’t even bother to get undressed, but you felt the heat of his skin through his clothes. 

You gasped hard at the intrusion. Usually, he warmed you up with his fingers, so now it felt like he was splitting you open. “Fuck, Billy... ‘s too big.” You practically sobbed. You realized you were still a little sore from this morning. 

He gave one thrust, but then settled deep inside you and remained still. “What’s that?” He kissed your lips once, then your cheek, then began sucking on your neck. 

“You’re too big!” You whimpered. Your hands clutched at his suit desperately in an attempt to ground yourself. 

He chuckled into your neck. “You’re a big girl, you can take it. Can’t you?” 

You whined as he pulled back and pressed in again. He was everywhere, it was too much, yet you wanted more. 

He looked up at you and saw the single tear slipping past the corner of your eye. “Oh, darling. If you’re gonna cry, I can just stop. Don’t want to hurt the little baby with my big cock.” He kissed the trail left by your tear. 

He started drawing back, but you cried out, “No!” 

He held still, looking down at you with a smug smirk he was trying poorly to hide. “No? But I don’t wanna hurt your little pussy.” 

“Please, don’t stop. I can take it. You made me so wet, Billy. I can take you, I promise.” 

“Are you sure?” He asked, cupping your cheek sweetly. 

You nodded vigorously. “Promise, I promise.” 

Billy tapped your lips with two fingers, and you opened your mouth immediately. You sucked on his fingers, lathering them with your tongue before Billy pulled them out. He used them to press against your clit, and your hips arched up into him and your cunt clenched around him. 

Billy grunted. “Such a tight little pussy. And it’s all mine.” 

You nodded in agreement. “All yours.” You sighed, enjoying the way he was stroking your clit.  

He started thrusted again slowly, but only for a few beats before he started fucking you earnestly. His hand abandoned your clit, so he could push one of your legs up against your chest and grip the arm of the couch in his other hand to allow him to rail you into oblivion.  

Little sighs and moans were leaving your mouth unconsciously. You wondered if they could be heard over the sound of Billy’s skin slapping against yours. You were certain that they could, when you gave a particularly high-pitched whine as the tip of his cock hit that precious spot inside you. 

Billy grunted. “Sing for me, baby. Let me take care of you. Like I always will.” 

His words were what drove you to your orgasm, even more than the feeling of his thick cock dragging against your walls. Your body did indeed sing for Billy as you came. 

Your vision kind of blacked out, and you could just barely hear Billy’s strained chuckle as he continued fucking you. “So gorgeous when you cum all over my cock like that. Your little cunt is fluttering all around me, baby. Feels so fucking good.” 

You whined, getting a little overstimulated by his continuous thrusts. “Billy.”  

“Yeah?” 

“Mm, Billy.” You couldn’t say anything else. 

Your vision came back into focus and there was a smirk on his lips. “I see your brain is still leaking out of your cunt.” 

You opened your mouth to try to speak, but his hand when back to your clit and you gasped at the contact. 

“Cum for me again, baby, then I’ll fill up your little cunt.” 

Your back was arching from the attention to your clit and the building of your second orgasm. Your bare nipples brushed against the smooth fabric of his suit jacket and the peaks tightened even more at the friction. Everything was too much. 

“Oh, don’t know if I can.” You mumbled. 

Billy kissed your lips and slid his tongue into your mouth to tease yours for a moment. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “You can, baby, I know you can. You’re so good for me, aren’t you?” 

You nodded, almost reluctantly. You didn’t want to do anything but please him. 

“Yes, you are.” He said proudly. With that, he started rubbing your clit rapidly and he didn’t stop until your walls were convulsing once again. 

“Oh, Billy, ‘m cumming.” You cried, fingers digging into his back. 

“Fuck, yeah, baby.” His rhythm stuttered a little bit before he gave some hard thrusts and came inside you. His hair was out of place and fell in front of his eyes, which were squeezed shut in his bliss. He’d never been more beautiful. 

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, so that he would settle against you. You needed his weight to ground you because you felt like you were going to float into space. Billy planted a few soft kisses on your cheek, jaw and behind your ear. 

He pulled away then, and you groaned when his cock slipped out of you. You watched him watch his cum drip out of you. His dark eyes sparkled. 

“Goddamn.” He said, his voice deeper than ever. 

You bent both your knees and brought them close to your chest, opening yourself up for him. You ran your fingers gently through your folds and swiped at your entrance. You brought your fingers to your mouth, glistening with the combination of your cum and his, and sucked them between your lips. You moaned, mostly for show. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” You teased. 

Billy smirked. “You’re something else.” 

You released your fingers, smiling up at him sweetly. “Think that will help you be less distracted tomorrow?” 

He chuckled. “Definitely not.” He tucked himself back in his trousers. 

You grinned. 

“Come on, darling. Let’s take a bath.” 

“Can’t walk.” You said simply, not even trying to move. 

He shook his head, still grinning, but took you up his arms anyway. 

You smacked a kiss on his cheek. “Love you, Billy.” 

“Love you, too, baby.” 

~

Author's note: I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it 😌

Taglist: @kayhi808 @idaoftheburningmind @quellmythirst  @kahlanmars @catherinnn  @crowssixof  @musicalggirl  @insssanemind  @loubombshell @misscaitygrace @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations

(please tell me if you want to be removed from my everything Billy Russo taglist, I just kinda look through everyone I have tagged on other stuff consistently)

[dira333]

Lap Cat - Aone x Reader

Just a lil something I couldn't get out of my brain - 1,4k

Aone is a lap cat. 

You know the moment you meet him, even though you can’t point out what had given it away. 

It surely isn’t the way he keeps his voice to himself and uses his glares as a way of talking. Or the way he overestimated the weight of the door or underestimated his own strength and ripped your office door out of its handles on his first day.

He’d been the talk of the town for a whole month.

-

“Aone-san,” you called out at the end of the morning briefing. “Do you have a minute?”

He nods and follows you out and up the stairs into your office on the first level. 

You wonder what he thinks of you, in your nice business suit with the air-conditioned office. If he looks down on you like some of the other workers do because you’re one if not the youngest building designers in the company. You don’t think he does, but he’s hard to read.

“I’ve noticed you are very diligent in your work.” You explain to him. “And this part is very difficult to master. I’d love it if you could double-check the work, especially if you end up working on a different part. I don’t want to call anyone lazy, but I’ve been told that we’ve consistently had trouble keeping up with the plan for these structures and I want everything to be okay. I-”

“It’s okay.” As always, the deep timbre of his voice surprises you. You wish he’d talk more often. 

“Great. I’ll be here all day. And tomorrow too and the day after that as well. So you can come in whenever to let me know, okay?”

He nods, having used up all his words already. He leaves you shortly after, but not after an awkward pause where you try not to babble and he stares intently at the little pink bows adorning your stilettos.

-

You’re in the middle of unpacking your lunch Bento when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!”

Aone’s face is smeared with dirt. His clothes are stained too, but his hands are clean as they offer you a piece of paper.

You take it and inspect it. He’s made a checklist for the area you mentioned. Your heart lurches at this careful work. 

“Thank you!” You doubt your smile can express even half of your gratitude.

His ears are red. He’s probably gotten a sunburn from working outside all morning.

“Do you…” You hesitate. “Do you want to share lunch? It’s cooler in here and I wouldn’t mind.”

He looks at the pretty but uncomfortable chairs in front of your desk and back to his dirty, stained clothes.

“Don’t mind it.” You rush to say. “Please, sit. I will go and get something to drink from the machine outside.”

“Let me.” He says and you freeze, spellbound by his voice - again.

 -

Soon you find yourself spilling your thoughts over eggrolls, rice and two cans of sparkling water. 

You babble when you get nervous and he sure as hell makes you nervous.

“It’s so nice to have someone with me when I eat.” You tell him when he gets up, no doubt to leave for his work again. “I mean, I can eat alone, no problem, I do that at home too. I mean I have a kitten there, but he’s the quiet type. It just gets a little lonely around lunch when I have to work by myself all the time anyway. You probably don’t have that problem, because you’re so many workers all working together all day and then you have lunch break together too, but if you want to cool down for a bit, feel free to come up here for Lunch Break.”

“Thank you.” He interrupts your babbling, bowing so abruptly you’re left speechless - a rare occurence.

“Oh no, I have to thank you.” Now you’re bowing too and it’s only your colleague passing by that saves the two of you from bowing in turn until one gives up.

-

Kenji curls up on your lap that night as you tell him of your day. 

He’d been a stray, a tiny ball of fur and teeth, only slowly learning that you did not mean any harm. He’s not the best listener, occasionally digging his claws into your thighs as he either disagrees with you or does not care about your opinion. But he’s yours and you’d be even lonelier without him. 

-

You don’t see Aone for another week. Well, you spot him during morning briefings, a quiet presence at the back of the room, but you don’t come across him other than that until it’s Monday and you only find out that you’ve left your Lunch at home when it’s time to unpack it.

It’s pouring outside and you’re dressed for sunshine to the point that not even a borrowed umbrella will keep you warm or dry during the trek down to the Konbini and back again.

But going hungry is even worse.

You run into Aone right at the entrance, raindrops creating little patterns in the dirt on his face. 

He holds a can of sparkling water in one hand and a Bento Box in his other.

“Oh, Aone. Hello!” You smile up at him. “Are you taking your Lunch inside? Do you want to come up to my Office? I’ve turned my heater on, actually, because I run cold easily.”

He looks down at the Umbrella in your hand.

“Oh, I forgot my Lunch at home. I’ll just run down to the Konbini and get some, but feel free to go up and get warm.”

His eyes travel down to your feet, where your painted nails peek out of a new pair of high-heeled sandals. 

“What do you need?” He asks. “I am already wet.”

“Oh, I can’t.” He hands you the sparkling water. You take it, too surprised to refuse it. He takes your umbrella and hands you his Lunch.

“What do you need?” He repeats again. There’s something in his voice, at least that’s what it must be, that makes you open your mouth and answer.

He nods and turns to leave, leaving you behind with his Lunch and his drink.

-

There’s a blanket resting on one of the chairs. Aone is the only one who uses it, and drapes it over the chair to make sure he doesn’t get it dirty.

Aone is a lap cat. He wants to be asked, he wants to be offered. He does not ask himself. 

You get his phone number so you can text him every day, letting him know what you’ll be taking for Lunch. He never stands up an invitation. 

So you invite him to walk to the train station with you. He holds your umbrella, nodding along as you talk about your day. 

“Where do you live, Aone-san?” You ask, nibbling on the inside of your cheek as you debate if that question is too forward. You don’t even know his first name yet, even though you long to.

You almost miss his answer, too absorbed in the sound of his voice. He does not live far from you.

“Are you taking the train as well? We could sit together.” His face changes into something that looks like disappointment. 

“But we don’t have to!” You try to mend whatever mess you’ve just created.

“I have practice.”

“Practice?”

“Volleyball.”

“Ooooh! Can I come watch?”

The faintest blush covers his cheeks at your question. You’ve never seen it before, but you could get addicted to that sight.

“They would think you are my girlfriend.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Your face burns as you realize what you’ve just divulged.

“I don’t mean- I wouldn’t ever pressure- You don’t have to feel-”

Aone interrupts your blabbering, but not with words. He stretches out his incredibly long arm, offers his hand to you in a wordless answer.

You take it, your heart beating so loud you fear he can hear it. 

-

Aone is a lap cat. 

Just like Kenji he craves your touch, your presence, being near you whenever he can. 

But quite unlike Kenji, he does not mind when you roll over in your sleep and kick your leg into his shins. He does not dig his fingernails into your skin - and if he does, he does it lovingly.

He’s as much a quiet presence in your home as your cat, making lazy Sunday Mornings so much sweeter.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[postdroppermind]

Bubble-Wrapped Bimbos

There’s an implicit understanding around the idea of a bimbo that it is an easy thing to be. A bimbo doesn’t have to worry about very much, certainly not thinking. They are free to bounce, bubbly, brainless, and spend their energy focusing on the more fun things: sex, for instance.

Bounce.

I respectfully disagree. Thoughts can be very pesky things, and ridding yourself of them isn’t always a simple task. Many bimbos subscribe to the philosophy wherein the process of bimbofication involves having their brains removed, their intelligence compromised, their thoughts turned to bubbles to float away into the ether.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Which isn’t to say there’s anything wrong with that, of course. But a bimbo doesn’t necessarily need to be absolutely brainless, nor even to have their intelligence drained at all…and certainly not permanently. Part of the appeal is often in the transient nature of the transformation.

For now, we’ll focus on the brainless sort of bimbo. Perhaps later we can explore the alternatives.

Bimbos bounce their brains away.

After all, there is something to be said for allowing your thoughts to become bubbles, creating that light and airy feeling in your head. It is, I suspect, a little easier to feel like a bimbo when those thought-bubbles begin floating and bouncing around in your head, and especially once they begin to pop.

Brainwashed bimbos must obey.

But what happens when your thought-bubbles are being stubborn, when they don’t behave like the slick and oily bubbles that pop so simply? There are a few options. First, let’s consider another kind of bubble: bubble wrap.

You know what I mean, I’m sure. You’ve felt the enjoyment of popping that plastic packaging to release the air sealed inside. You’ve also found that some bubbles are easier to pop than others – sometimes you can roll the wrap along your fingers and appreciate the sound of so many rhythmic pops, but other times you have to apply some additional pressure before you receive that anticipated reward.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

Some of the bubbles can be downright frustrating, I know. The reward for normal bubble wrap is that giggly, somewhat silly, glee; it’s a lot of fun, and downright cathartic. But for your thoughts? The reward is becoming a brainless bimbo, and feeling the combined physical pleasure and mental relief when the thoughts pop and escape, leaving that wet, pink lust behind.

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.

It’s a very compelling reward, isn’t it? You’d happily apply as much pressure as it takes to pop those thought-bubbles, but perhaps you aren’t quite sure how. There’s a line here about how that might mean you’re already more brainless than you expect, but we’ll skip that for now. Instead, consider the source of the pressure.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainless bimbos must obey.

Pressure around your thought-bubbles can come from the simple act of bouncing, of course. It can come from my words flowing steadily into your mind, perhaps repeating like an echo that escalates until the pop. In the first case, you’ll simply bounce a little harder; in the second, repeat my words either aloud or in your head to ramp up the pressure. But those aren’t the only methods.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst,

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.

You see, we can also soften the surface of the thought-bubbles. You want to be a bimbo, after all, or you wouldn’t be here – you certainly wouldn’t have made it this far into a script designed to make you a bimbo. But I expect it’s more than casual want. You find the idea of becoming a brainless obedient bimbo arousing. It turns out that arousal softens bubbles…don’t take my word for it, though, let your focus shift to the intensity of that arousal, and feel the way the resistance inside your thought-bubble changes, as if the pressure is suddenly coming from both sides.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainwashed bimbos must obey.

Now there are three methods to ramp up the pressure on that stubborn thought-bubble of yours: bounce a bit harder, repeat my words to yourself, and focus on how aroused being bimbofied makes you. The bubble-wrap doesn’t stand a chance, especially when you recall how intensely rewarding that pop is going to be. Raw pink pleasure drenching your suddenly vacant head, freeing you to be the giggly, bouncy, brainless bimbo you want to be.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst,

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.

Brainwashed bimbos bounce blankly.

Blank brainless bimbos bounce.

As rewarding as the pop will be, wouldn’t it be better to feel that over and over again? Of course it would. There’s a less common method of making bubbles easier to pop that we’ve just unlocked – making a single, large bubble into a bunch of much smaller ones. Even if you’ve already popped the thought-bubble, it’s surprisingly straightforward to imagine any remaining thoughts, brains, or some part of your body covered in bubble wrap.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainless bimbos must obey.

Bouncing bursts brain-bubbles,

Bursting bubbles blow pink.

Lots of tiny bubbles are much easier to pop, as you know, which means all you’ve got to do is pick your favorite method: bouncing, repeating my words, or feeding your arousal. Then the fun can really begin…you get to bounce, chant the bimbo mantra, or touch yourself, and enjoy the immensely satisfying sensation of all of those pesky thought-bubbles popping in rapid succession.

I’d tell you not to worry about the implications of being bound by bubble wrap, or the inherent silliness of the concept – but we both know you’re already past that, or giggling about it while you obey. So instead, give in to your chosen bubble popping method.

Bounce whichever way you find feels the best, repeat my words again and again, or bring yourself to a bubbly pink bimbo orgasm. Or, perhaps, try every method just to make sure you don’t have any pesky thought-bubbles left by the time you’re finished.

As for the transient – sorry, big word, let’s go with “temporary” – nature of the transformation, I’ll leave that up to you. When you’ve finished popping bubbles for me, you can drift awake with your decidedly un-popped brain functioning normally…or you can “wake” in bimbo mode for awhile, free to be bouncy and bubbly and giggly and horny for a few hours before the effect fully fades.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainless bimbos must obey.

Bouncing bursts brain-bubbles,

Bursting bubbles blow pink.

Either way, as always, enjoy.

[veritasangel]

Beneath the rain

Ft. Zayne

warnings: none, anypov, kissing in the rain

wc: 900 (just something small for zayne's birthday)

a/n: haven't written for l&d before, but zayne is honestly my husband, the only one i care for, maybe a little for sylus but zayne is no.1

The two of you walked back to your shared apartment. The night was peaceful, the streets quiet, and the cool breeze played at your skin.

Zayne, with his hand intertwined in yours, kept pace beside you, his tall frame towering comfortably close. He wasn't one for small talk, but you didn’t mind the silence, with him it was comforting.

"That went better than expected," you said to him, looking up. "You handled the questions from my parents like a pro."

He quirked his lips and lifted a brow. "Wasn't that hard. Your mother's questions were about what I expected. I’d already thought of suitable answers prior to this evening.”

You chuckled, bumping him with your shoulder. "You make it sound like some kind of performance with a rehearsal.”

He shrugged and kept his eyes on the road ahead. "I just didn't want to mess up or embarrass you.” he guides you to the inner side of the pavement, “Dinner was nice, homely.”

Your chest warmed at the quiet admission. Zayne didn't say much when it came to feelings, and moments like this were few and far between. He cared, just not in the way most people expected it. His brutal honesty, his straightforwardness-that was how he showed someone you meant something to him.

"I think she really liked you," you said softly.

He looked at you, his face inscrutable for a moment. "Well, that’s good, but I don't need to be liked. As long as you're okay with how I am."

"I am," you said. "Always."

As you both walked, the wind picked up and dark clouds gathered above, it had gone relatively unnoticed until the first drop of rain splashed onto your cheek. You looked upwards, frowning slightly. "Looks like we should hurry back."

Zayne tilted his head up, squinting into the sky. "We're not far."

But the rain seemed to disagree with that casual assessment. Before he knew it, the droplets quickly turned into a downpour. Drenched fairly quickly, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh as you tugged on Zayne's hand and pulled him along. "Come on!

The two of you broke into a light run, shoes splashing into puddles as the rain seeped through your clothes. You heard your laughter echo down the empty street as you ran with the storm, holding tightly onto Zayne's hand and feeling the cold drops fall against your skin.

You finally slowed as you neared your apartment, your breaths coming out in short puffs. You turned to him, drenched from head to toe, his dark hair plastered against his forehead in messy strands. The rain had softened his usual sharp look, though he was no less striking. His angular jawline and cheekbones shone brightly under the streetlights with water tracing delicately down his skin.

His soaked clothing clung to his lean body, revealing the subtle definition, and though he acted unfazed by the rain, there was a certain elegance in the way he held himself. His lips were parted slightly, his breathing even. There was something almost surreal about him, standing in the rain, as though he belonged with it, like the storm mirrored the hidden depths within him. He was beautiful in a way that left you breathless.

Before you could utter a word, Zayne came to a stop; his hand tightening on yours. You blinked at him, momentarily confused. His gaze flicked to yours and, without words, he leaned down. Your breath caught as his hand cupped the side of your face, his fingers warm against your rain-drenched skin.

"Zayne—"

But before you could get the words out, his lips were on yours. The kiss came suddenly, firm, full of a passion he rarely showed outright. The rain continued to fall around you, but the world around you faded. All that mattered in that moment was the fire of his kiss, the way his free hand slipped to the small of your back, pulling you closer.

This was a rare window into the part of him that he kept hidden. With him being so reserved, displays like this were not in his nature. But here in the pouring rain, he gave you a side of him he rarely let show.

The kiss deepened, and you could feel the tension slowly unravel into a rare vulnerability in the way he tilted his head, pressing closer, as if afraid to let go. Each movement was calculated yet telling. This was a language he didn’t speak very often, but when he did, it told you everything he couldn’t say.

He eventually pulled back, his breathing mingled with yours in the cool night air, his thumb tracing a small line along your cheekbone as if to commit the memory.

"You're soaked," he said low, his voice rough but with a trace of something tender.

"So are you," you replied, catching the twitch of a smile on his lips.

Zayne didn't say anything for a few moments, but the slightest trace of a smirk turned into a coy smile as he looked up at the sky. "Let's get you inside."

With that, he gently took you in the direction of the apartment, his hand still firmly enclosing yours, the heat of his kiss warming you up, despite the chilling rain that fell around you both.

༄ m.list

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