#or maybe be painfully honest and just read this post out to them. Maybe leave out that last tag though. Lol

[spring-ephemeral]

I don't think there's been a single creative project I've made meaningful progress on unless I was downright forced to by a strict deadline of the "this will ruin your life" sort for... I don't even know. Months? Years? If you want to be strict with the definition, then maybe my entire life. I guess precisely because I was always able to push through if these aforementioned deadlines got involved, no one ever noticed, including the people who really were supposed to (mom, teachers), but now I'm getting to a point where it's just getting out of control. Too many people expecting something of me. Me expecting too many things of myself. Me having to push back too many deadlines and promises until no one trusts me to reliably do anything anymore, and people clearly resenting me at least a little for it even if they try not to show it.

If I turn out to be mistaken about this and this isn't all something that can be relatively easily treated medically, then I just genuinely don't know what to do anymore. I've had enough of the endless fucking platitudes and advice by people who simply Do Not Fucking Understand that I'm not doing this for fun and I hate myself for this shit much more than they could ever hate me for it. I'm going to try and get the fucking help I think I need and if it's all for nothing I'll just live the rest of my life only accomplishing things through life-ruining deadlines, surrounded by thousands of forgotten unfinished projects. Whatever. It's cool.

[koushisbabie]

UWU I HONESTLY YOUR WORK SO MUCH this is my first time on this app so I don’t really know much about it ! Thank you for putting so much effort in every post ,can I request sugawara x reader (how he would react when you keep biting your lip out of anxiety until it bleed ,cause lately I have been doing it a lot

Sorry because my English is not very good anyway HAVE A GREAT DAY ❤️❤️

Oh my gosh I am so sorry I completely forgot I got this request. Thank you for requesting a fic, and thank you for the compliment, you are so sweet T_T Comments like this give me the motivation to write more and get more creative with my ideas. In saying that, I hope your anxiety and your lip biting has gotten better <3 I don't know if you're still active on here, but I've written a small drabble (it ended up long haha) here for you! I hope you like it <3

‘Yo, Suga!’

Suga’s head appears from behind the precariously stacked wall of books on the library table. ‘Yes?’

‘Geez, isn’t that overdoing it?’ Asahi chuckles, gesturing to the books.

‘Well, I guess so,’ Suga replies, ‘but exams are only a week away.’ He shuffles aside some of the haphazardly strewn books and papers and pens, giving Asahi and Daichi space to sit down.

‘Where’s Yn?’ Daichi asks, peering around.

‘She’s around,’ Suga replies, ‘I think she went to the bathroom…’

‘I’m right here!’ Yn pops their head around the shelves. ‘I’ve been looking for this damn book for twenty minutes now.’

‘Oh yeah, looks like a long read.’

‘Can’t be helped,’ Yn says, sitting down next to Suga. ‘Tuesday’s exam is going to kick my ass if I don’t absorb this entire book.’

‘Take it easy, Yn,’ Daichi says. ‘You look a little tired, have you been sleeping alright?’

Suga glances at Daichi, then at Yn.

‘Well, yeah, kind of,’ Yn replies, nudging Suga’s arm affectionately. ‘Usually after we call.’

‘Which reminds me, I need to send you the link to this video that explains chapter eight in a bit more detail,’ Suga says absentmindedly. ‘It’s forty five minutes long but there’s some good illustrations in it that highlight how complex–’

‘You guys seem busy,’ Asahi interjects politely. ‘We should be heading off, we’ll tell the others that you’re studying this afternoon.’

‘Oh no, it’s okay,’ Yn says, glancing at their phone. ‘I actually forgot I promised I’d be home to receive a package later.’

‘You’re leaving already?’

‘Sorry,’ Yn says, ‘I’ll call you tonight, though? We can go through the last of these notes together!’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Suga replies, squeezing Yn’s hand before turning back to his notes.

Yn hesitates, before gathering their things and disappearing between the aisles of books.

An awkward silence falls between the friends, before Daichi pipes up.

‘Hey, Suga, did you see how red Yn’s lips were?’

Suga looks up from his notes, his pen paused above the paper. ‘You noticed it, too?’

‘It wasn’t subtle…’ Asahi says, quietly. ‘To be honest, I think they had been bleeding.’

‘Bleeding?’ Suga’s face fills with shock. ‘I didn’t realise it was that bad. I thought it was just sunburn.’

Daichi and Asahi share a look.

‘Okay,’ Daichi says sternly. ‘I see what’s going on. You’re too focused on your studying, you’ve neglected Yn. Maybe you should put the books away and spend some quality time with them.’

‘What do you mean?’ Suga asks, a little hurt.

‘Daichi’s right… I think Yn is really stressed. A lot of lip biting is caused by anxiety… I haven’t seen it that bad before, and I’ve known them for years.’

Suga pauses thoughtfully. ‘You’re right. The books could wait.’

‘We just mean–’

‘I have an idea,’ Suga says, grinning. ‘Thank you for slapping some sense into me.’

Yn arrives home sweating and tired, the heavy books in their bag weighing painfully on their back. They abandon the bag in the hallway and head to the bathroom, the light soft against their skin. They peer at their lips, swollen like a blossoming red rose. The urge to bite is strong, the pain satisfying momentarily distracts them from the bubbling anxiety in their belly.

Exams were only a week away but with the high percentage of worth the marks carry, anxiety had been slithering throughout the schools hallways like a giant snake stalking its prey, following students home so they could not find respite, even in their beds.

A knock at the door sounds loud and urgent.

As Yn pulls the door open, Suga almost drops the stack of books in his arms and the bags at his elbows.

‘Oh, Yn!’ Suga grins. ‘Mind if I come in?’

‘Of course,’ Yn says, bewildered. ‘Let me help you.’

In the living room, Yn places the stack of books on the coffee table, wondering how Suga could manage getting through them all with practice almost every afternoon. Despite being as passionate about volleyball as the others, he could somehow find the time to study when he really wants to.

‘So,’ Yn says, falling into the crease of the soft couch, ‘what brought you here?’

Suga glances at them, his mouth in a small frown, the creases between his brows knitted. ‘Look,’ he begins, ‘I have noticed that you’ve been a little… out of sorts, lately.’

Yn frowns, fidgeting in their lap with their fingers.

‘I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re less than beautiful, by the way!’ Suga says quickly, placing his hands on either side of Yn’s face.

Yn’s cheeks begin to flush. ‘What do you mean?’ They squeak.

Suga hesitates. ‘You’re doing it right now –’ Suga pauses, pointing at Yn’s lips, ‘you’re biting your lip too much!’

Yn swallows hard. ‘Oh. I hoped you wouldn’t notice.’

Suga smiles softly. ‘It took me a few moments to really see it.’ He hesitates. ‘I was too focused on studying, when I should have been looking out for you. I’m sorry.’

‘No, it’s okay!’ Yn blushes. ‘You’re here now! And it’s just anxiety, I mean, it’s always there, what can you do?’

‘Well…’ Suga says, turning to the coffee table. ‘I’m not sure if any of this will help, but I wanted to make up for not being one hundred percent there for you when you’re anxious.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘These are just some small gifts,’ Suga says. He opens the thick paper bags, revealing a fluffy blanket, a few lip balms, a small box of tea, a journal, and all of Yn’s favourite snacks. ‘I know it’s not much, and it can’t fix your anxieties completely, BUT I do think that tea will help, and maybe you can journal some of your worries and one of these lip balms is good for deterring lip biting, I think,’ Suga says quickly. ‘And of course, the blanket is for when it gets cooler and we can play games or something, together.’

A comfortable silence fills the room. Yn processes the gesture slowly, their eyes welling, their chest swelling with butterflies.

‘Oh no,’ Suga says, pulling Yn into a hug, pressing them to his chest. ‘I’m sorry, was it too much?’

Yn breathes in his scent, the clean soapy smell mixed with the day’s activities. Familiarity and safety is how Yn would describe Suga and his hugs, the gesture alone could deter them from the worries that plagued their mind.

‘This is too nice,’ Yn murmurs. ‘It’s just a bitten lip, why are you doing so much over that?’

‘Well, I don’t know what’s going on in the background – I’d like to,’ he says quietly. ‘I’d like to sit here and listen to you talk about what’s worrying you, if you’d let me. You never have to, if you aren't comfortable, but I’m always here.’

‘I get it now,’ Yn says, sniffling. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you because I know you’ve been busy too. Exam season gets us all, doesn’t it?’

Suga laughs. ‘It does, but it’s my job to also look after you.’

‘Does it bother you?’ Yn asks quietly. ‘My lips…’

‘Well, it looks a little painful,’ Suga replies. ‘I’d hate for you to endure the pain or get an infection. That’s why I picked up the lip balm specifically for healing lips,’ he says, reading the back of the lip balm.

Yn curls into the crook of Suga’s arm, peering at the lip balm. Suga takes Yn’s chin, and tilts their head upward, gently applying the lip balm to their lips. The cooling sensation spreads over their lips like a lovely cool breeze. ‘It feels pretty good so far, thank you. Thank you for this. I never expect you to do anything for me, but this has made me feel a lot better – just knowing you care. That you’re here for me. Thank you.’

Suga smiles warmly, squeezing Yn against his chest. ‘If none of this helps you feel less anxious, I’ll just have to squish the anxieties out of you!’

‘Well,’ Yn squeaks, ‘I wouldn’t mind the cuddles!’

[darkerthanblack-666]

From assumptions ask: 

I have a feeling that you don’t waste your time on haters/people who leave too much negative feedback. I really like the fact how honest and authentic your posts are, no sugarcoating. If someone finds them too blunt, I guess it’s just their problem 🤷🏼‍♀️ to me, so many of your tags/comments are on point!

Your sense of humour is awesome too. Also, this would make so much sense ‘cause you’re a Sagittarius, right? Basically every Sagi that comes to mind can make me laugh/makes great jokes :D sooo my last assumption/observation is that you know a lot about astrology (my zodiakara side is taking over haha)

If that previous anon is reading, I talk more about myself here so trigger warning:

I do send some haters out, yes. But I'm also sensitive and have social anxiety... so it's not like I don't waste time on this sometimes. I've been through some tough situations in the past and I prefer to remove myself from the situations that make me uncomfortable before they escalate too much. Sometimes it causes me to overreact and I know this well. It just reminds me of something else and I worry it might get worse.

Blunt - I've always been like that, I've also managed to tone it down a looot (unless I'm literally pissed off, all my effort goes to fuck itself, but later I worry if it was too much, I don't know how to show negative emotions 😅). It also has its good sides, though, When I say something positive at least you will know I truly mean it 💖 (and I do, I like to randomly drop nice comments as well, compliments and positive feedback is very important! it just makes everyone feel good, both giver and receiver). Also in many cases I share my experience/positive tips and maybe that helps someone 😌. So it's not exactly for the sake of being painfully honest, often I just think I have something important to say and I feel very passionate about it (and if I don't say it I go sdfgkjhfgkjhsdkfgjhdf). Idk, poor impulse control. No idea. Sometimes I simply don't think, just say the thing. I rarely do something to deliberately hurt someone's feelings. Also I'm often misunderstood, so I think it causes me to over-explain whatever I do (like I'm doing it right now, I think I'm in my chatty mood 😅 irl I'm the opposite haha... I can just say nothing unless I feel comfortable).

Yeah, and not only I'm a Sun in Sagittarius, I'm a Mercury in Sagittarius too 😅. Mercury is responsible for communication. Though I do not treat this zodiac stuff very seriously, it more likely is an undiagnosed adhd (I mean I think I have it, but haven't been formally diagnosed, I literally googled "adhd I'm too intense reddit" after replying to the previous anon, because I think I'm just too intense and it comes off as arrogance, but I'm just very passionate when I'm like this). Oh and my coolest placement (that I also share with both of my blorbos) is Mars in Scorpio, I'm very passionate about this one 😂

Also back at you, my assumption is that you're Polish, because who else would use the word "zodiakara" 😆 (but once I did read a fic full of Polish memes and the author just had Polish friends, so... who knows)

[nocturne-overtures]

Kinktober Day 5-Bad Influences

Pairing: Lee Minhyuk (BTOB)/Lee Felix

Prompt: Daddy Kink, Spanking, Cumming From Punishment

WC: 2k+

Genre(s)/AU(s): Smut, Idolverse, Fluff

TWs: Swearing

SWs: Daddy Kink, Pet Names, Spanking (Hand and Paddle), Marking (Imprints), Bratty Sub, Teasing, Semi-Public, Sexual Punishment, Stoplight System, Dominant Idol, Submissive Idol, BDSM Overtones, Praise Kink, Pain Kink, Crying, Aftercare

Everything here is Safe, Sane, and Consensual as always, folks

A/N: I also have the tagged folks according to your preferences so if you’re someone who asked to be tagged in btob works, skz works, or both and included member x member works, then beep boop you’re gettin tagged. Also this is set during Kingdom filming

AO3

New! taglist moved to the bottom of the work. if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this or my other works, feel free to fill out the form here after reading the full post. ©Nocturne-Overtures. do not repost, translate, or use my works.

Kinktober 2021 Masterlist

Day 4                  Day 6

Network Pings: @kdiarynet @kwritersworld @kpopscape

Minhyuk was many things. 

Easily riled up, was not one of them. 

No, he was a very meticulous man. Took his time analyzing situations with a deceptive smile on his face, feigning aloofness while he sorted his thoughts. 

Think, before you act. Always. 

It was a lesson Felix hadn’t quite grasped yet, deciding he was going to follow after his friends’ footsteps and try provoking Minhyuk into action. 

Had he been learning bad behaviours from Wooyoung, Sanghyuk, and Sunwoo? Definitely. 

Unfortunately for Felix, Minhyuk had the benefit of age and experience on his side. He loved his boyfriend, no doubt, but he wasn’t so swooned and whipped that he’d crack like San. He wasn’t a switch in any capacity, so the tables didn’t get turned on him like with Youngbin. And he surely didn’t get flustered or caught out by misbehaviour like Sangyeon. 

So when Felix took to subtly brushing against him as they passed backstage for filming, when he sent him suggestive photos while changing costumes, the times he’d appear at Cube, an innocent smile on his freckled face as he sat directly in Minhyuk’s lap, pouting and chattering about how much he wished he could have fun with Minhyuk whenever he wanted like the others-

Minhyuk only hummed, kissing the top of Felix’s head. Today they were in the older man’s home, resting before the upcoming field day event.

“We only have a few more weeks of filming. I’ll be sure to stop by more often.”

“I mean...we have time now so-”

Felix pouted and looked up, shifting beside him on the couch, his freckled cheeks slightly puffed out. 

“Are you going to keep doing that?”

Minhyuk cocked a brow. 

“Doing what?” 

“Not…” Felix trailed off, making a small frustrated noise. Minhyuk cocked a brow, an amused noise leaving his lips. 

“Not what, baby? Fucking you?” 

Felix nodded and Minhyuk set the pen he had in his hand down, closing the notebook to the raps he was writing and humming. 

“Why do you think I haven’t fucked you, Felix?”

“I don’t know! I’ve been trying and-” he cut himself off, lips pursing.

Minhyuk couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips, a deep rumble resonating from his chest as he looked at Felix in amusement. 

“C’mon to my room. I’ll tell you why it didn’t work.” 

Felix perked and nodded eagerly, hustling after him, practically on Minhyuk’s heels. 

How he ended up here, sprawled out across Minhyuk’s lap with the older man humming and rubbing his ass was another story. Felix blushed, looking up, expecting Minhyuk to finger him and prep him. Instead, he had his head lightly tilted up, looking into Felix’s eyes. 

Instantly, the younger man realized-finally-that he may have been in trouble, eyes widening. 

“Um-”

“Would you like to explain now? Or would you prefer to take your punishment as I explain to you what you did wrong?"

Felix shrunk a bit, cheeks flared. 

“I can let you go and let you explain yourself. Or I can spank you and I tell you why you’re in trouble.”

Felix looked into his eyes. Minhyuk never moved his gaze from his. He was giving him a choice. He always did. Felix looked back, finding a small leather paddle sitting beside Minhyuk’s thigh while his large hand lie rested on Felix’s ass, unmoving for now. 

He shied and nodded. 

“I’m staying here.” 

“Do you remember our system?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Minhyuk nodded, a pleased sound leaving his lips. 

“Good.” 

He grabbed the paddle, rubbing Felix’s ass in circles before he brought the paddle down hard on his ass. Felix jolted and yelped, though Minhyuk kept him in his lap with his free hand wrapped securely around Felix’s waist. 

“You don’t have to count this time. But Daddy wants you to know that following after the other Brats is why that pretty ass is in trouble.”

Felix yipped at the second, then third hit, cheeks flushing as he felt the leather rub over his sore cheek between Minhyuk’s talking. 

“I j-just wanted you t-to….to…” He flushed and lowered his head. Minhyuk tapped his ass with the paddle. 

“Lift your head. You wanted me to what?”

“F-fuck me. They...they said being bratty and teasing works all the time for them and-fuck!” He cursed and jolted when his untouched cheek was struck, Minhyuk’s grip still strong around his waist. 

“There’s a difference between their Doms and Daddy, kitten.” he lightly scolded, his voice never going above the volume of his normal speaking tone. Felix bowed his head down. 

“S-sorry, Daddy.” Minhyuk hummed and rubbed his ass. 

“Are you?”

Felix nodded before whimpering and dropping his head once more when another hard spank fell to his ass. He could feel something on the paddle, like...an outline? Though the paddle was never pressed to his sore ass long enough for him to distinguish what it is. Minhyuk took care to rub him between spanks with the smooth end of the paddle. 

“Pick your head up, baby.” Minhyuk reminded him. Felix shuddered and muttered a quick apology before Minhyuk paused. 

“Are you alright?”

Felix nodded. 

“What’s your color, baby?”

“Green.” 

Minhyuk kissed his head before he continued. 

“I’m not San, or Youngbin, I’m not Sangyeon either. Who am I?”

“Minhyuk-hyung.”

A light tap to his ass from the paddle had Felix’s hips jolt, anticipating a full hit before he blushed. He realized he was hard, his cock pressed fully against Minhyuk’s leg. 

When had he gotten hard?

“Who am I, Felix?” He asked again. 

“M-My Daddy.” 

“Good. So Daddy is going to tell you, the best way to get him to fuck you, is to ask.” the paddle was discarded without a word, Minhyuk’s calloused hand squeezing and kneading both of Felix’s cheeks. 

“I won’t reward you with my cock for being a brat, Felix.” he scolded him, his hand coming down on Felix’s left cheek. A scream of surprise left his mouth and he nearly scrambled out of Minhyuk’s lap, his cock jumping against the fabric of the older man’s gym shorts. Minhyuk loosened his grip, giving him the chance to get out of it if he wanted to. 

Felix shook his head and settled back down, slightly panting as tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. 

“Color?”

“G-Green.”

Minhyuk hummed, sitting in silence for a few minutes, just groping and kneading the heated skin under his hand. Felix kept his head up like asked, though his thighs shook from his position across Minhyuk’s lap. The older man took notice, pulling him forward a bit more, spreading his long legs so he could support Felix a bit better. 

Once Felix had stopped shaking as much, Minhyuk continued. 

“Do you want to be a brat, Felix?”

Felix shook his head, groaning at the next spank, the tears rolling down his cheek as he clenched and unclenched his fists. 

“N-No, Daddy!”

“No? Not gonna try and be like Sunwoo and grind on me backstage like he does with Sangyeon?” 

Felix shook his head quickly, his hair stuck to his face and neck from the sweat that began to build up on his body. 

“What about sitting in my lap during meetings with the others? Mmm? Is it fair to tease Daddy like the others do? Do you think you should have my cock after being such a tease like that?” he inquired. Felix shook his head once more, biting his lip and all but thrusting against Minhyuk’s leg with the next jolt from his spank, his entire body flushed. 

He’d gotten hard, painfully so. Part of him feared he’d cum just from this. 

“D-Daddy-”

Minhyuk’s hand froze midair, attentive brown eyes looking down immediately. 

“What is it, baby? Do you want to stop?”

“N-No I…M...maybe? I feel like I’m going to cum and I don’t wanna be bad.”

Minhyuk’s eyes twinkled with mirth. 

“You’re gonna cum from your punishment?”

Felix shook his head quickly, embarrassed. 

“Felix. Be honest baby.” 

He flushed before nodding a moment later. 

“Do you want to cum?” 

He lifted his head, looking back at him with big eyes still teary from the pleasured pain thrumming through his cheeks. 

“I was bad.”

“I think you learned your lesson, personally. So I’ll ask you again. Do you want to cum?”

Felix nodded. 

“Yes, Daddy, please?”

“See? Those are the manners Daddy is looking for.” Minhyuk grabbed a few pillows, letting Felix rest his head on them before he resumed his spanking, growling between each strike. 

“Your ass looks pretty like this, baby. The red makes your freckles stand out. Go ahead, you can cum for me.” 

Felix could barely decipher his words between the sound of skin hitting skin and his own moaning and pleasured cries, his cock painfully hard between his legs. Minhyuk had growled something in particular, along the lines of Felix being his ‘cute pain slut’ before the younger man saw stars, cumming messily all over Minhyuk’s lap, his legs and thighs shaking as he nearly slipped to the floor from the force of it. 

Minhyuk held him tighter, keeping him steady as he picked him up, laying with Felix settled in his arms. 

He was careful, brushing Felix’s hair back and cooing sweet nothings to him as he sobbed against his chest. 

“You’re alright, baby boy. You did well for me.”

“B-But I was a brat-”

“Mmm. You were. And you took your punishment well. So, you’re a good boy. Hey, look at me,” Minhyuk waited until Felix’s sniffles subsided into little hiccups, the pained pleasure an overwhelming first time feeling for him. Minhyuk wiped his cheeks and kissed him gently. 

“You did so well. Let Daddy take care of you, okay?”

Felix nodded and held onto his arms as he stood, carrying him off to shower off. Minhyuk laughed and waved off the hasty apologies as Felix noticed him putting his shorts in the wash. 

“Don’t apologize to me, baby boy.” 

One magnolia scented, aloe-infused bath later, and Felix was on his stomach, eyes closed as Minhyuk gently massaged lotion over his cheeks. 

He was careful of his strength and there was no skin broken, but Felix had noted-in sheer delight-that Minhyuk’s paddle actually did have indentations, and they actually were hearts. Now his freckled bottom sported not only Minhyuk’s handprint to the left and a row of hearts to the right. 

“So...I think I have a spanking kink.” Felix mused tiredly as Minhyuk got him settled on his chest, putting on Deadpool for them to enjoy, since it had been one of Felix’s favorites. Minhyuk laughed and kissed him, holding his waist once he was sure Felix was warm and covered by the blanket. 

“I noticed.”

-xoxo-

So the field day was a completely different experience. 

Minhyuk felt a sense of pride as Felix waddled forward amongst the cheers that he had been voted as one of their top three visuals. The man looked around, pointing at himself through his slightly overgrown sweater and the older couldn’t hold back the happy exclamation of Felix’s name as he shuffled forward. 

He genuinely was surprised when they announced him for the number one of their visual kings, but he took it nonetheless, catching Felix mimicking his showboating from the corner of his eye.

How cute.

“They ended up voting for each other!”

Minhyuk turned, pointing at Felix as the younger man bowed deeply, flustered at having been chosen. 

He should have known Minhyuk would’ve chosen his baby boy above all else, but that’s beside the point. 

“Hey Felix, good boy.” 

Felix flushed and bowed again, and Minhyuk was approached later as they began to help staff clean up, the sun having gone down and the festivities over. 

“Hyung?” 

Minhyuk looked up at him, tilting his head. 

“Yes, Felix-ah?” he inquired, glancing around. The others were busy hustling to help staff so they could all rest up, leaving the two relatively alone. Felix adjusted his pink sleeves and looked up at him. 

“Uh...can I come over this weekend? For...um…’practice?’”

Minhyuk took it for what it was, a proud and knowing smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Taglist----

@not-majestic-bluenicorn @kimnamshiks @atiny-dazzlinglight @queenofhimbos @daisyhwa @gettin-a-lil-hanse @yunhofingers @stormiestories @billboard-singer @sweetutopia @lovely-devil6 @babiebumm @jacksons-goddess-gaia @storytimedragon @netcookie @seomisaho 

[himbohood]

facedown - @himbohood​

a repost from my previous blog! i’ll be putting my old writings in my queue just so i can get them back on my blog. wanna be added to my tag list? click here!

paring: calum hood / female reader

about: this is based off of an experience i had with an ex-boyfriend and i started thinking about how this would be if i put calum in that memory instead. thus this was created. uni!sos

warnings: smut.

word count: 1688

The days she wasn’t bombarded with work or classes, she usually took up residency on her boyfriend's couch. Calum Hood split rent with three other guys and at this point in their relationship, she had meshed in well with the group. The atmosphere of the small three-bedroom house was more relaxing than any home Y/N had previously been in. With guitars hanging haphazardly on the wall and concert posters pinned up wherever the boys could fit them— this tiny house had become hers as well. 

She sunk comfortably in the soft cushions of the couch, her legs lying lazily across Calum’s lap. Michael, one of the aforementioned roommates, took control of the TV. He switched back and forth between YouTube channels before landing on a let's player of some sort. Y/N briefly overheard something about Overwatch but then quickly tuned out after that. She didn’t entirely know if it was just how Calum looked with the LCD screen shining back on his strong features— but the urge to crawl into his lap got harder to resist. 

Scooting closer each time he laughed along with his friend, Y/N let her hand brush against his chest. She figured Calum knew what she was hinting at because his hand moved dangerously close to the bottom of her fleece shorts. Y/N cursed herself for not just getting up and texting him to follow her back to his room. Though, she figured this was much more fun. Michael was seemingly oblivious of their silent sexual tension. If she wasn’t in such a haze of arousal, she might have joined in. Her mind just kept drifting away from the reality of the moment. The absolute need to be fucked by her boyfriend was the only thing that was important. Flashes of dirty memories ran through her brain and just the thought was enough for Y/N to fill a flutter in her stomach. She would have done anything at this moment for Calum to bend her over the back of this couch and fuck her senselessly. Maybe if she asked nicely, he’d pull her hair or spank her. 

The thoughts her heavily amplified by his beautiful voice booming about whatever the fuck he and Michael were talking about. She didn’t understand how he could be so subtle at rubbing the soft skin of her thigh. How could Calum not break concentration on his conversation as he gave Y/N the smallest amount of stimulation for her problem? She knew he didn’t want to seem rude, but she could tell by the bulge against her legs that he was just as interested. 

“ I think that I’m gonna go and pick up some food— you guys want to come with?” Michael said, finally getting up and heading towards the exit. 

“Nah, we‘ll pick up something later. Thanks, though.” Y/N finally spoke after Calum did, “Yeah, I’m not really that hungry right now.” 

Whenever that door shut, the two of them had the entire house to themselves. She didn’t have any time to blink before Calum snatched her up and pulled her in his lap. Y/N gasped at the sudden sensation and didn’t wait to roughly grind her hips down onto him. He made the prettiest noises and that only made her problem worse. She was sure that at this point he could just kiss her and she would cum. 

Her voice became a sort of wine as she spoke, “ Cal, please touch me.” It was most definitely a beg because she didn’t have time to take things slow. Michael would be back soon and she really wanted the opportunity to ruin her vocal cords screaming Calums name. 

There was a chuckle and then his lips made contact with her skin. They landed on her collarbone, teeth grazing the soft skin and vibrating it as he spoke. “ What’s gotten into you? Thought you were gonna fuck me in front of Mikey or somthin’” As he spoke he made quick work at pushing her shirt just over her breasts. Y/N let out a soft laugh, at his comment— moaning loudly when he bit the skin right above her breasts. “If we don’t hurry up I might have to fuck you while Mikey watches.” 

Calum let out a low groan and quickly wrapped his arms around her midsection. Lifting Y/N he supported her by placing his hands firmly on her ass. He made quick work at getting them back to his room. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Y/N crawled on the bed. Caum watched in awe as she lay on her back and shimmied off her shorts and underwear. With her legs wide open, she was at full display for him. “You expect me not to eat you out when you look that good?” He teased, walking towards her as he pulled off his clothes. “We’ve got plenty of time for that later,” Y/N promised, discarding her shirt and bra. “If you fuck me well enough, I might sit on your face.” Her face was bright pink after speaking, half distracted by Calum hovering over her. 

“I think I can do that.” 

His hands explored everywhere they could. He saved the best for last. He didn’t tease her, figuring that she had already edged herself just from sitting on the couch earlier. His thumb came in contact with her clit and Y/N let out an almost painfully loud moan. She was slick before he even touched her. That didn’t entirely surprise Calum but god was it pride boosting. “You don’t even need me to get you ready, do you?” His words were a soft mumble, catching her lips in a very much needed kiss. He pulled away just for a moment, getting ready to angle himself in— but before he could she spoke. “Cal, fuck me from behind. I want you deep.” 

Y/N didn’t have to ask twice because before she knew it Cal was directing her to turn around. She rested her head on his pillows, eagerly shaking her ass up at him. “Please fuck me, Cal.”

He lined himself up with her entrance, hand moving to brush down her spine as a sort of warning before he pushed in. She let out a loud, gasping-for-air type of breath when he bottomed out inside of her. “Fuck— Cal, baby you’re so big.” She moaned out, pressing back onto him as if to say more. She put her hands behind her back, asking Cal to hold them without even speaking. She didn’t know if it was her previous begging, but Y/N brought that same energy as he pulled her back against his chest. With one hand gripped tightly on her hip and the other grasped around her breast, Calum made quick work in starting his agonizingly slow pace. 

At the mere thought of friction, Y/N’s knees were weak— but now that she was finally getting what she wanted the idea of being quiet was a joke. The slow thrusts of his hips didn’t last long. Y/N figured he was just getting his balance because soon enough both of his calloused hands landed on her hips. He gave her a kiss that almost read farewell before pushing her face down into the pillows. 

“ Mmph— fuck you look so good like this baby,” his voice filled the room with soft, pleasure-filled mumbles. Y/N could only respond in incoherent gasps and mewls, eagerly bouncing back on his cock in desperation. One hand left her hip and the loss of it almost stung, but it went away when that hand traced up her spine and tangled in her hair. The loud noise of his hips snapping against Y/N ass practically filled the tiny house. 

 Her knees were weak and her forehead was covered in sweat. She tried so hard to tell him that she was close, but whenever her words failed her, she was happy that he just knew. Calum fucked her mercilessly into the bed, his hand now finding her clit and rubbing firm calculated circles against it. 

His name was the only thing that she could think as she fell apart. Screaming his name in praise, in thanks, in rejoice as she came around him. She fell from an unbelievable high and only felt it coming back as he focused on his orgasm. 

She could only imagine how his face looked as he fucked her. His soft grunts were perhaps the most beautiful sound in the world, but what was even prettier was what he said next,

“ Baby— fuck, I’m about to cum.”

She hated that he had to pull out, but the empty feeling was almost made better by the warm ropes decorating her back. 

She relaxed on her stomach as Calum lazily brushed a finger through the mess on her back and pressed a firm kiss to her shoulder. 

“Let me get a towel, yeah?”  and with that, he wandered into his ensuite and wasted no time in cleaning Y/N up. Falling to warm up space beside her, Calum eagerly pulled her on his chest. 

They sat for a moment, relaxing in the post-sex high. His hand brushed through her hair, lips leaving kisses across her forehead. She sighed, nuzzling her face against his chest before doing the same to him. Her fingers ran through his hair and her lips littered his skin. It was quiet for a bit— the world didn’t exist… until, well until Micheal made it known that he had been back for around 15 minutes. 

“ Are you guys done fucking yet? I bought you food, so if you’re not done I’m eating it!” His highly annoyed voice boomed through the house which elicited a laugh from both Calum and Y/N.   

“Fuck,” she laughed, “Guess we lost track of time?” 

“I’m gonna be real honest with you, I forgot he was even coming back.” and with that, the only important thing the two laughed together and rolled out of their haze to get dressed and eat the food Micheal had so graciously got them.

[eunoiaflow3r]

not ur friend

spencer reid x reader

aaron hotchner x reader

part two - part three

a/n: haven’t written for spence in a while lol. hope you guys like it. wow...and i wrote him as an ass. bahahaha what am i going through i’m so sorry.

warning(s): language. angst. not proofread. will be mistakes.

word count: 1.8k

request(ed): no.

summary: y/n overhears something she shouldn’t have. this conversation alters her relationship.

not ur friend by jeremy zucker.

———————-——————&————————————

Hang up, if you ever think of calling me up. Not afraid to say it, darling.

3 days.

It’s been an entire weekend of you ignoring Spencer and his ever intruding phone calls. This wouldn’t have been a big deal except for the fact that this felt like a breakup. Your head and heart was treating this like you were in a relationship and he made it painfully clear that you weren’t.

It was quiet in your apartment. The television was off, the radio was silent, the heater had paused and even the refrigerator wasn’t making the usual silent buzz noise it made. The deafness of it all allowed the conversation you heard friday night play over and over again through your ached head.

Friday 11:37 pm.

“So Reid...” you picked up your phone when it rang and read Spencer’s name across the screen. It wasn’t like him to call so late but you picked up anyway. When it was a muffled Morgan’s voice you heard instead of Spencer’s you realized he hadn’t even meant to call you at all.

“How’s your girlfriend?”

You just knew all eyes were on him. Spencer Reid was very private about his social life. It was rare he even told you about anything he’d been up to. He just wasn’t one for small talk. The fact that you just knew they were talking about you made you press your phone harder into your ear even though you weren’t even sure you should have been listening.

“Oh y/n? Yeah she’s definitely not my girlfriend.”

This stung. There wasn’t even a label or anything that you guys put on it, but usually when Spencer would talk about his romantic relationships he’d get nervous and stuttery and try to change the subject. Spencer’s voice was clear and steady. Zero hints of nervousness and bashfulness. He was serious.

“Really?” This was Emily now, you could recognize her voice. “You guys seem like pretty close friends if you know what I mean.” Her tone was laced with humor but Spencer’s was far from joking.

“No. I wouldn’t call us friends either. She’s just someone I visit. Like y’know...how you would a grandmother.”

A grandmother? He compared you to a grandmother? He said visiting you was like visiting a grandmother?? You could feel the tears in your eyes. You really thought Spencer was a good guy. Why would he say something so rude? Something so hurtful about the person he was sleeping with.

It wasn’t a friends with benefits. You guys had agreed on that, but you weren’t dating either. You had met him at a museum and ever since then you two had behaved as if a couple would. The only difference was that you weren’t public. You weren’t posting pictures, or gushing over how cute you thought your “boyfriend” was to your friends. And you were fine with that. Labels are constricting. You were glad not to have them except when he decided to say he barely knew you at all and compared you to a grandmother.

“Damn.” Morgan sounded impressed. “Does she know that?”

“Maybe.” Spencer paused. “There’s nothing really romantic about our relationship. To be honest, she can be a bit needy at times and it’s suffocating.”

He paused again.

“I’m actually thinking of breaking things off. She wants more and I just don’t like her that way.”

Sorry, I'm not sorry if it hurts. I don’t mean to make it worse.

This is where you hung up. Your tears never stopped flowing. How dare he? How dare he say you were needy and suffocating? You rarely asked him for anything, and didn’t bother him with things at all. You knew he was a busy person. A busy and hardworking person. You never tried to ask him for more than he was willing to give. Ever. It hurt your heart to think he was playing you the whole time.

It hurt to think that all the “I adore you’s” and “I think I’m in love with you’s” were all fake. You were pretty sure with the way things were headed that you and Spencer would have much more than just a relationship. Much more than sex and cuddles. But a meaning - an understanding.

Spencer was your comfort. Your safe place. The person you’d go to if you were hurting, or in trouble. You were his. Countless times he came to your house and cried to you about the stress from his job. He’d hold you and tell you all about his day and what more he wished he could have done.

You’d buy him his favorite food and he’d cuddle you to sleep only to wake you up in the morning with kisses and great morning sex. To hear all of that meant basically nothing to him tore your heart to pieces.

It made you want to throw up. Had you wasted your time? Had he felt this way the entire time and you just never noticed because you hoped he felt the same? Were there signs that you missed? Something you could have done to prevent yourself from falling this hard for someone who didn’t care?

But you thought he cared.

Spencer was the most caring, empathetic person you’d ever met in your life. He was so understanding in a way no one could ever get.

I've decided that I'm not your fucking friend.

This is why you thought that maybe this is why he tried to hide you. Maybe he just was afraid of his friends not liking you, or afraid of someone from where he worked would try to hurt you. You prayed this was the case. You hoped and cried that this was the reason he’d ever let those words leave his mouth.

The reason you couldn’t believe this though is something understandable.

He had never, ever, called you anything other than his friend, and never wanted to go out.

He told you it was because he was protecting you, but he never wanted to even meet your friends. And when you talked about a guy or introduced him to one, he’d get upset and say something like, “Yeah well he seems perfect for you anyway. Not like we’re a thing - do what you want.”

And your brain tried to rationalize this as protection. The more you thought about it the more the other part of your brain screamed manipulation. You tried to ignore it but is that what was happening? Had he been manipulating you the entire time and you just never knew it?

If he was protecting you he wouldn’t call you needy. He wouldn’t not even bother to look at your friends. He wouldn’t feel the need to hide you from the entire world and lie about it in such a - douchebag way.

This hurt you though. His team can call out a liar faster than anyone and they would have said something if they thought he was lying. They would have defended you. The wouldn’t have egged him away and joked about you like you were some embarrassing one night stand.

You expected respect and decency and got dishonesty and asshole attitudes instead.

After the weekend of pitying yourself you realized you needed to stop. This wasn’t your fault. He has issues of his own. Issues he needs to work out and come to terms with on his own. Why should you feel anything for a man trying to hide you? Lying to you? Lying to his friends ABOUT you. Reassuring yourself helped but didn’t help the ache in your heart.

Were you ready for this? Were you ready to throw it all away? After all it could just be a misunderstanding. A misinterpretation. It could be your fault. Maybe you were clingy.

No.

No. Absolutely not. You weren’t going to try to defend his actions.

Right now, there's not much that we agree on. Sit down, if you need someone to lean on.

You called him.

“Hello?” he answered right away. “Where have you been are you okay? I was gonna come over and check.”

“Don’t come over.” You cleared your throat and blinked away tears.

“Then please come to mine. I have to talk to you, I missed you.”

He still has no idea. He doesn’t have a clue what you overheard on the phone. All the pieces of the puzzle you put together. All that you’ve realized in the past 3 days.

You rolled your eyes. Any other day you’d think his obliviousness was adorable but right now it only made you want to punch him in his stomach for lying to you and wasting your time.

“I’ll be over to give you your things.”

And you hung up.

That was so hard for you to do and you had hot wet tears running down your face to prove it. No matter how many times you tried to brush them away they just kept on going down.

Fuck him.

A shower and a change of clothes later you were finally ready to see him.

Honest, if I'm coming to your place, it's to say it to your face...

In your car you tried to talk yourself out of it. You told yourself to just forget the phone call over happened and just go back to the way things were. At least you here happy then...at least...sort of. You were okay. You were happy with him. The time you spent with him was enjoyable but you were tired of being his therapist. You were tired of being his dirty mistress. You didn’t want to be lied to or lied about. You were over it.

When you got there he rushed you in the house and looked down at you confusingly.

You had never been inside his place. The only time you were ever really here was when you were inside waiting in the car so that he could change his shirt.

“I thought you were coming tomorrow?”

“I came now to give you your things.”

“JJ will be here soon, you should probably leave. Why did you bring this stuff?”

“They’re yours. They shouldn’t be at my place.”

He looked confused but took the box from your hands anyway.

“I’m leaving.” You simply said and turned towards the door. The sooner you were out the better.

“Can I at least have a kiss?” Spencer asked in the cute voice he knew you liked.

You closed your eyes. “Sorry Reid, but no. I don’t want to seem needy or suffocating, ya’know? Makes it easier to break things off.”

Color drained from his face as he realized what you were talking about. He couldn’t even come up with an excuse other than a - “No, baby I -“

You put your palm in the air facing him telling him to stop.

“It’s okay. I was just someone you visited...like a grandmother. You shouldn’t miss me too much. We’re not even friends, right?”

You walked out of the house.

You walked out on him. Your heart was beating out of your chest. He was always the one to leave. He was always the one to say goodbye.

I've decided that I'm not your fucking friend.

—————————————-#————————————

taglist: @hotchsbabygirl @pinkdiamond1016 @thefemalestorywriter @sizzlingclamturtlesludge @samyilf123

[keilemlucent]

pretty eyes & starshine: iii

(Mostly SFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i   ||   part ii   ||   part iii​​ (epilogue)

word count: ~2.2k

Nothing ever really ends. It just grows in different ways with different parts. 

warnings: description of post-injury, reader and hawks being traumatized but coping, a soft epilogue

the ending folks :’^) thank you for reading this far. here is something gentle for all of us, with some future, past, and the present for sweet starshine and keigo :’^)

enjoy loves 💞!!

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

Keigo doesn’t break promises. 

He loves white lies, the silly kind where he can rib you for a minute or two before soothing any ruffled feathers with quick kisses. He never leaves big wounds, nothing gaping or jagged, just loving pokes in your sides to get you to laugh and quip back at him.

He never goes back on his words that count.

His journeys out of the house remain short and rarely surprising. He never leaves without a goodbye, whether that’s a sleepy fuck or two, or a hand-written, tooth-rotting note on a scrap of paper next to a steaming cup of coffee on the kitchen island.

Keigo’s used to the open skies, rolling forever. The curve of the horizon is his primordial friend that he never got to say goodbye to, but he still chases it a few times a week. Little drives he takes by himself, hikes, and things that he let him feel a bit of that free wind in his shaggy hair. 

It takes you a while, but you don’t look forlornly at the door anymore.

The awareness that of his absence from your little bastion lingers as you move throughout your day, but you know he’s good for his word. He always returns, bearing a toothy grin, and usually an armload of snacks or takeout. 

It’s better, and you’re both a bit more alive. 

...

Spring in the mountains reminds you of something you can’t place. 

The memory of it is foggy, far-off and untouched. Probably a bit dampened from, you know, a year of trauma, but the feeling of it makes your quirk burst to light without fail.

It comes when you notice the little patches of wildflowers that spring up in new grass that rings around the porch. Heat flares in your eyes when you see the little seedlings you and Keigo planted into the window boxes begin to bud and flower. 

The days get longer, sweeter, and the summer comes easily.

...

The bad days never cease, but you both learn to cope to some degree.

Your scar... cracks one day. You’re doing some half-assed stretches in the living room (mostly arching your back so Keigo gets a good peek of your ass) when it happens. Your right leg bends at the knee, and a resounding ‘crack’ and shatter echo off the walls of the cabin. 

You both panic. 

Keigo instantly urges you on the couch, trying to soothe your own panic with little coos from the back of his throat. You feel numb as Keigo shoves up your pant leg, looking for any damage.

The scar looks relatively unchanged. It hasn’t writhed since your days at the hospital, and its edges have only faded a shade or two with time. It’s long, obtrusive, and something you still avoid looking at.

All the same, Keigo traces the gnarly flesh, nimble fingers searching for the source of the sound. Any bit of pain he can identify and soothe, ideally, remove. The pads of his fingers drift to the crook of your knee, pressing against the shiny, black seam of the scar.

His eyes go wide before awe shines through, without a lick of fear. 

He warns you to take a deep breath, ‘breath with him’, before pinching at the glassy center and pulling. There’s a bit of resistance as he pulls, you’re not sure what he’s doing, and you see ‘it’ before you really put it together.

Keigo holds ‘it’ up for you to see.

The inky glass of the scar.

Literal rock. Inky obsidian pulled from your flesh, about the size of your pinky and painfully jagged. 

“W-what is that?” You asked, grabbing his wrist to examine the bit. “That’s... the scar?”

Keigo nods his head, scrutinizing it with you, pinching at it, “Weirdest scab I’ve ever seen.”

Scab.

You have never thought about calling the ugly root of the scar a ‘scab’ but looking at the way it so easily was pulled away, it makes sense. After a bit of examination and tender prodding, the tissue around it looks healthy, albeit thick and burned. The scar goes deep into your flesh, feels raw to the touch, but the skin that’s beneath it is somewhat alive. Maybe too alive, given how sensitive it is.

Nonetheless, you marvel at the little piece of volcanic glass that Keigo had pulled from you like it’s the most precious stone in the world. 

...

It takes a long time to convince both of you.

Keigo never receives another call from Suits, ‘president’, what the fuck her name is. Thank fucking god. His snap seemed to have scared her and her crumbling organization away. You can only hope that it was for good.

The potential return comes from kindness rather than demands. 

Calls from both Endeavor and Miruko, ‘Enji’ and ‘Rumi’ as they insist you call them. Rumi chatters on the phone for hours with Keigo every few weeks, puts the phone on speaker, and has you give your piece as well. You like her, she’s funny and loud and Keigo smiles when he talks to her.

Enji actually visits. 

Once or twice, maybe more. You stop counting when the extra bodies in the cabin don’t have you breaking into a cold sweat anymore. It had taken a great bit of coaxing, but you opened your cabin up for the former pro and his entourage. 

He brings along his daughter and the ‘Three Musketeers,’ as the media calls them. The boys train in the mountains nearby, never lingering too far based on the shouting from the blond one that echoes against the hills. 

The rest of you settle into the walls of the cabin whenever they come to visit. It feels warmer than normal; it makes sweat gather under your arms and in droplets on your forehead. Even if you wanted to attribute the heat to the old flame hero’s presence, it wouldn’t account entirely for your thumping heart. 

You work through it, slowly. 

You like watching Keigo and Enji. They both look worn. Keigo’s a bit too young for grey hair, but Enji has more than his fair share around his temples. The beard around his jaw glints silver in the lowlight of the cabin whenever he tilts his head to sip at his tea.

They smile like old friends, talk like it too. 

You end up in the kitchen a lot during their talks, distantly cooking and observing. You’re always listening to their stories, the banter. It’s hard to keep up with, a lingering vestige of Keigo’s old persona that clings to him and his mannerisms.

You don’t mind it, even if it feels foreign.

...

“Can you pass me that honey, dear?” Fuyumi asks, voice sweet and close.

You nod, sliding her the jar across the corner top. She carefully spoons a glob of the thick liquid into the four waiting mugs, humming just under her breath. 

The cabin feels warm, and it’s not just the ambient heat Enji gives off. 

The ‘three musketeers’ plan to camp in the mountainside and ‘rough it’. You couldn’t imagine the freshly-greened hills giving them too much trouble. They bicker, you have found, constantly. Blunt jabs from Enji’s son, met by explosive remarks from the blond one (why is his hero name so long? You can never remember it well.) Consider your growing aversion to loud noise, you like Deku the best. He seems like the peacekeeper (and peacemaker) of the trio and compliments your cooking. What a gem.

The guest room has been polished into an actual guest room. Fuyumi takes it, and Enji, bless his heart, takes the creaky fold-out couch. He doesn’t mind, he tells you, something about enjoying tending to the hearth at night.

Keigo calls the nights where they fill the house ‘sleepovers’, and he adores them.

They’re a bit overwhelming for you if you’re being honest. But Enji is far less intimidating now that you’ve seen him nodding off and slack-faced on your couch. Fuyumi has patience you’ll never fully understand, and babies you a bit, which you don’t welcome but don’t refuse either. 

She does just that, scooping up three mugs after pushing your own toward you. You regather and sit next to Keigo at the kotatsu, slipping your legs under the thick blanket and sagging with the heat. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he presses you into his side, pressing a few kisses to the top of your head. It’s an idle action, habitual and welcomed as the conversation flows.

(Something about one of Keigo’s old sidekicks. Another about Endeavor’s agency, still chugging along with him at the helm, albeit not as an active hero. The new hero charts, the new rules established, legislation. Things are getting... safer, a semblance of order being re-established now that much of the League has been apprehended.)

(Things are settling, as horrifying as the change is.) 

The thought of so much makes you sleepy, long-standing exhaustion heavy in your bones. You nod off at some point to the kind, safe voices. 

Keigo coaxes you awake once the conversation dies down.

“Love,” he purrs, rubbing your side, “let’s get up now and get you to bed.”

You follow him, the way he rises and guides you to the bathroom to help you ready for bed. Enji is settling on the couch, tugging a few throws over himself on the futon. You give him a shallow wave with half-lidded eyes, meeting his own.

Eye contact feels hard, but you manage to hold it for a few seconds.

In the bathroom, you pop onto the counter and slowly brush your teeth. Sleep clings to you, and you know it’ll return quickly, but the process of moving and interacting wears you down so easily. Your toothbrush almost slips from your grip.

“Just a little more, and then you can rest, dove,” Keigo urges, reverent as he finishes his own routine in tandem. You watch as he splashes water on his face, wetting the tufts of hair that fall around his face.

The cabin feels warmer. 

You notice it as you enter the bedroom, Keigo already hopping into bed to assemble the ‘nest’ as both affectionately refer to it. The old throw, a few extra soft blankets, and a buttery soft duvet must be arranged just right before he is satisfied. 

 Keigo knows it’s a remnant.

He carries plenty of them, little chunks of him that are old and worn, old and unused. He can shake them, can’t bury them, they just simply are.

The birdish ones are nice, he thinks. He likes that he can preen you. He loves that you can preen him. That you’ll indulge him in that way, running your hands through his overgrown hair. You detangle any knots, soothe the snarls and rub at his neck until he’s liquid in your lap. 

He likes nesting. The cold of the cabin can be almost forgotten in the little nests he makes. The mountains of bedding and pillows that you both can settle in. It’s peaceful, and it's shared, and things are okay. 

It’s all slow, and a bit tedious, things that the remnants of ‘Hawks’ scream and thrash at. But, really? Keigo has no reason to listen to a ghost. He tries not to let himself be haunted. 

He indulges himself for the first time in his life, probably.

As Keigo nestles you into the sheets beside him, he gives you a bit of room to get comfortable. Adjusts your pillows how you like, tangle your legs together in the comfiest way. Your own version of nesting that makes his palms sweat and his words turn to mush.

You settle together, chest to chest, Keigo’s chin hooked over the top of your head. 

“Did you have a good day?” You ask, soft and sleepy.

Keigo nods easily, “I did. Enji doesn’t seem to quite as much of a square as he was a few years ago.”

You snort, muffling a giggle into his chest, “He’s definitely a little bit of a square. But I like him.”

“He offered to host us at the estate if we ever want to go back.”

You swallow, thick and slow, and try to bury yourself deeper in him, “... Do you want to go back?”

“No.” He pauses. “Maybe. Not yet, and not anytime soon. But the offer is on the table. It’s nice to have, even if we don’t take it.”

It’s insurance, somewhere else to tuck yourselves away if the mountains stop favoring you. 

The thought of the future makes your head spin, as it tends to. The scar aches, but maybe it’s a tad duller than it was a few months ago. The pains only last a few moments, only stab so deeply. The place where the little chunk of obsidian fell out doesn’t feel quite as tender. 

You lay your cheek on Keigo’s chest, your breath coming in time with his. 

“‘M tired,” You murmur into his chest. “Can I sleep?”

“Of course, starshine.” He pushes back your hair, clears your forehead to press his lips to the skin, lightly. Little kisses piling up on top of each other. “Get some rest.”

“You too, pretty eyes.”

You both need it. For more than just a day with the folks who stuck around. You and Keigo need more rest than a being can responsibly accumulate during a human life. There are things to be stitched, worn parts of you that need tending to, and burns that’ll need salve until the day you die. It’s not any less than it was in the month’s past.

But it’s easier to manage. 

You snuggle into Keigo’s chest, drifting off to the thought of fresh coffee and crackling heat.

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

thank you for reading!!💞

ko-fi

[xanasaurusrex]

Light - B.M.

Pairing: Beverly Marsh x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1918 words

Warnings: Love confession, mutual pining, swimming, swearing, Richie Tozier (it’s a warning within itself), kissing, tooth-rotting fluff I stg, Losers Club are aged up to 17, super crappy ending, not proofread, I think that’s it! Please let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: The other Losers know for a fact that Bev returns Y/N’s feelings, even though she’s blind to them herself. But after a set up one day, maybe she’ll see the light.

Notes: My first ever It (2017) fic! Also my first fic on Tumblr! Thank you to anyone who read this, because it’s taking a lot of courage to write this, let alone post it…. Yeah, Bev and Richie are my favorite characters in the movies, and, given my url, I figured my first fic should be a Bev fic! Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

******

“She likes you back, Y/N,”

“No she doesn’t.”

“Stop fighting it, we all see it!”

Y/N looked at Richie with a roll of her eyes, turning back forward to avoid crashing into anyone or anything with her bike. “Can you stop with that? I don’t want you giving me false hope when I know she doesn’t like me back,”

Richie was the one to roll his eyes this time.

Everyone in the Losers Club knew that Y/N had had a crush on Bev for as long as they could all remember. Since the first day she saw Bev in the pharmacy after they found Ben outside the sewers and had gone in to find the supplies to fix him up.

Bev had been the one to save the day. She had distracted the man at the counter while they took the things they needed, and had come back afterwards to make sure that Ben was okay. Of course, Y/N had realized that it was not the time to be admiring Bev, seeing as Ben had just had a pretty rough run-in with Bowers, and Eddie was freaking out enough as it was.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to fall completely in love with the red-headed Derry resident. She lived in the apartment above hers, and whenever Bev’s dad fell asleep, Bev would climb down the fire escape and climb into Y/N’s window.

Y/N would sit with her and listen to what she said, or would just sit there, and the girls would hug.

On those nights when Bev either couldn’t go down to Y/N’s apartment, or didn’t need to, Y/N would lay down, and stare up at the ceiling, knowing that Bev’s room was directly above her own. She would wonder what Bev was doing, if she was reading the secret admirer note that Ben had given her, or if she was thinking of Y/N just as much as she was thinking of Bev.

It was torture.

It took a little longer for the other members of the Losers Club to realize that Y/N was falling in love with Bev. After that, they all began encouraging her to confess to Bev, because even though at the time they hadn’t seen the light that ignited in Bev’s eyes the second they landed on Y/N, they wanted their friends to be happy, and who else to be happy with but each other?

That was all when they were twelve, nearly five years ago. In that time, they had all seen that Bev loved Y/N the same way Y/N loved Bev. It was hard to watch the two beat around the bush with each other; subtle flirting that neither one noticed (though everyone else did), and even harder to see them think that the other was in love with other people, though everyone else thought it was painfully obvious to everyone else that it was each other they were in love with.

Now, as Y/N and Richie biked home together, Richie tried his best to convince Y/N for the thousandth time that Bev liked her back, no, loved her back.

“I’m sorry Rich, I want to believe you, I really do,” Y/N said for the thousandth time. “But you’ve gotta be blind to not see that Bev and Bill are in love with each other,”

 Richie quickly realized that he didn’t have enough energy to argue with her today, even though he still wanted to, instead opting for a safer topic: the test that Mr. Herrd gave them today, that Richie was fairly sure he had failed.

***

“They’re both fuckin idiots,”

Everyone nodded in agreement at Richie’s statement as the entire Losers Club watched Y/N and Bev play around and splash each other in the lake in the quarry, both of them giggling like little girls, their cheeks bright pink, and not from the sun.

“Bev!” Y/N squealed as Bev splashed her with a particularly large amount of water. After taking a second to regain herself, she retaliated by splashing an even larger amount of water at Bev.

“It’s like they’re both wearing signs saying, ‘I’m in love with the person standing in front of me, but since I’m both a pussy and an idiot, I haven’t said anything yet,”

Stan rolled his eyes at Richie’s language, but agreed nonetheless. “I wish they would just admit it to each other already. To be honest, it’s getting tiring. Should we just… lock them in a room together and not let them leave until they confess?”

“That’s an idea,” Bill smiled.

“Maybe we should say we’re meeting at the Quarry but then none of us show up,” Eddie suggested. “Chances are they’re gonna stay and hang out, and maybe if we’re lucky they’ll say something?”

Richie scoffed. “Knowing them, fat chance. I think if this plan fails, we should go with Stan’s idea,”

The others all agreed, and decided when the best date would be to set this up, and then set the date for their backup plan, and decided they would do it at Bill’s house, since his is the biggest and they would be able to hang around and check in on them regularly without having to hear them kick and scream.

“You guys coming back?” Y/N broke the boys out of their trance after her and Bev realized that they had been splashing each other for nearly fifteen minutes, when they should have been splashing the boys. “We’re getting bored!”

The boys all gave each other a sly look before immediately running back towards the water, splashing Bev and Y/N immediately, all of them laughing as they got splashed back.

***

“Are they coming?”

Bev and Y/N had been at the Quarry for nearly half an hour, both of them laying against the rocks, sunbathing, in just their bikinis. It took everything in both of them not to stare at the other and admire everything about them.

Y/N glanced at the watch that she had taken off her wrist, anticipating that they’d be swimming, and saw that it was now forty five minutes after noon, the time all the Losers had agreed to be at the Quarry.

Y/N sighed. “I don’t think so. Maybe they all forgot?”

Bev laughed. “You think Stan forgot? He’s probably at Richie’s with the others trying to get Richie out of bed. How much d’you wanna bet he stayed up all night on his Gameboy again, and now he’s sleeping the day away?”

She said the last part in a mock-dreamy way, a tone of voice that had Y/N’s heart soaring. She had always loved the sound of Bev’s voice, and there were certain times when it would just go straight to tug on Y/N’s heartstrings. It was never a particular time, just… Bev.

Everything about Bev was magical to Y/N. Somehow, all it took was one small smile, one of Bev’s smiles, and all of a sudden, Y/N was a completely different person.

Normally, she didn’t really like physical contact. It wasn’t anything in particular that had caused it, she just never was a really cuddly person. She could enjoy a short hug, or a quick high five, but anything longer than about three seconds made her uncomfortable

She wasn’t that way with Bev. Y/N would hug her for eternity, and would never want to stop. The two often held hands, and told everyone else that it was purely platonic, though Y/N secretly wished that it would be something more.

Y/N knew that Bev was still talking, but she couldn’t focus on anything more than the way that Bev’s lips were moving, as they moved quickly and perfectly to form the words that were on Bev’s brain.

The conscious, realistic part of Y/N’s brain told her that she should be focusing on what her friend was actually saying. That in just a few seconds, Bev was going to do the thing that they always did in movies where she waved her hand in front of Y/N’s face and asked if she had heard anything she said.

Sure enough, she did.

“Y/N/N, are you even listening to me?” Bev asked with a small chuckle.

The sound alone sent more heat to Y/N’s cheeks.

“S-sorry,” Y/N said quickly, shaking her head, almost as if that would clear her head of the thoughts she shouldn’t be having about her best friend. “Just uh… feeling a little out of it today, that’s all,”

Bev nodded in understanding. “Yeah. Today just… feels weird.”

Y/N nodded in agreement.

The two stayed silent for a few more minutes, before Y/N sat up again. “So, since the boys aren’t coming, we probably shouldn’t wait for them to start swimming, right?”

Bev nodded in agreement, before jumping up and running towards the water, yelling, “Last one in the water is a dancing clown!” behind her, before immediately splashing into the water, getting to a deep enough area, and diving in.

Y/N cursed herself, and then immediately launched herself into the water after Bev, inadvertently splashing her with water as she came out of the water herself at the perfect time.

“Got you!”

***

Y/N shook the water droplets out of her hair, refraining from watching as Bev dried out her own hair, slipping the loose dress that she had brought with her over the bikini that she had worn.

It was now five forty five, and Y/N was going to be expected home for dinner soon. After realizing this, she had reluctantly told Bev that she needed to head home.

Since they lived in the same apartment complex, Bev said she’d go with her.

The sunlight from the sunset bounced off the lake and onto the two girls standing on the beach next to the lake in the Quarry.

Y/N couldn’t help herself this time. She looked up to Bev, and found that she was staring at her the same way, admiring how the golden light danced across her skin, from the top of her coppery red curls to the very bottom of her feet.

Before she could even process what she was doing, Y/N quickly closed the space between her and Bev, pressing her lips against Bev’s.

It only took Bev two seconds to kiss back, relieved that Y/N had been the one to make the first move.

After a few seconds, they realized that they needed air, so the two reluctantly pulled apart, resting their foreheads together.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” Y/N whispered breathlessly.

“It was love at first sight, wasn’t it?” Bev asked. “I saw you with the boys and I knew that it was always going to be you. It’s always been you, Y/N,”

“It’s always been you, Bev,”

The two pulled apart, Bev’s arms still wrapped around Y/N’s neck, Y/N’s hands placed lovingly on Bev’s waist. As she looked into Bev’s eyes, she saw a glint in her eyes that she hadn’t seen before.

The light made Bev’s eyes even brighter than they already were, and the longer Y/N looked at her, the more she fell in love.

“I love you, Bev,” she confessed quietly, feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulder at the confession. “I always have.

[hiiraya]

one last chance (rewrite)

masterlist 

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

words: ~2,029

warnings: angst with a happy ending

requested:

a/n: part 2 of one last dance. hopefully i’ll post a nat fic in a few days, i miss writing for my other baby. happy reading!! ♡

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

"I wish you all the happiness in the world, Wan. Out of everyone in the world, you deserve it the most. So take care of yourself for me, okay?"

If only she knew then that she was at her happiness whenever she was with you, no matter where in the world you might've been, she would've never let you leave.

Like history repeating itself, it'd been months since she last saw you. Since anyone on the team had seen you in the flesh.

When you left that night after your dance with her, you did it in the way you knew best; quietly, without a fuss, not a single word to anyone on where you were going.

You were never one for causing a scene anyway.

Fury kept his promise to you about telling no one your whereabouts, much to chagrin of Wanda. It didn't help that you'd been around the Avengers for so long you'd picked up all sorts of tips and tricks to staying hidden whenever you needed your space.

Wanda knew she wasn't the only one missing your presence back at the compound (though she was the only one that outwardly showed it), but she had to respect your decision to go, hoping that something would bring you back to the team.

To bring you home.

-

She tells herself that she's happy.

Because why wouldn't she be?

She's married the man she loves, the one who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She's already chosen him, the weight of the gold band on her ring finger serving as a constant reminder of her decision.

She wasn't supposed to be longing for someone else.

Wanda had promised him for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish him until death do they part.

So, she's tells herself that she's happy. Because there's no other choice for her to take. She's happy even though there's you sized whole in her chest that continues to remind her of the way your eyes drank her in on the night of her wedding, memorising the sight of her face, the sight of her before you left for good.

-

Being who he was, Vision could tell that something was off with his wife.

He could see the change in her behaviour ever you left the reception that night all those months ago. He would see the looks she would give the door whenever she would pass by your old room, as if she was waiting for you to come out and greet her for the day.

From the moment you were gone, Wanda started to retreat back into her own shell no matter how many times she insisted that she was fine.

It hurt him to see her be excited to come home from a successful mission, to watch her look around for you, ready to share stories about what had happened, only to have the reality of your absence wash over her.  

Every now and then Wanda would slip, telling the team “I can’t wait to tell Y/N about this!" or "Wait till Y/N sees this, she's not going to believe it!"

Everyone would only stare at her expectantly, and for a moment she was confused as to why until she remembered. The smile disappearing from her face before she excused herself to her room. He knew that there was no stopping the heaviness in her chest when she remembers that you weren't there anymore.

Because how could you be happy when the one person you love is hundreds of miles away from you?

-

"Wanda, can I ask you something?"

The look in her husband's eyes tells her that there really was no excusing herself from the conversation that they were about to have.

"Of course, Vis."

"First, I need you to close your eyes." He says, quickly adding a soft 'please' when she throws him a confused look. Nevertheless, she follows his instructions and lets her eyes fall shut.

"I want you to be honest with me, I'm not here to judge or pick a fight." She hears him walking towards her, only to feel the couch dip a few seconds later, telling her that he was sitting by her side, most definitely watching her reactions.

"If I tell you to go back to our wedding night, at the reception, who comes to mind first when I ask you to remember a dance from that night?" His voice holds no malice, no grudge or bitterness towards her.

She sighs as she lets her mind wander back to that night. The dance she shared with her husband should be the first one to come to mind, she knows this but it's not at all who she sees.

Instead she sees you, like she always does. She sees your smile as you held her flush against your body, sees the way your eyes studied her like you were trying to memorise everything and anything in that moment.

She sees you.

By the look on Vision's face when she opens her eyes, she knows that he's known for a long time. Maybe he's known all along.

He gives her a soft smile, nodding his head in understanding as he leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead before exiting the room.

-

You missed your home. You missed your family.

You wanted to say that leaving helped heal your heart, that your decision to leave was treating you well but you couldn't lie to yourself. Not when it was so painfully obvious that you were anything but fine being away for so long.

You missed helping Peter with his homework on the days that he would stop by the compound after school.

You missed the bickering between Sam and Bucky whenever they asked you to play mediator whenever they had their little arguments.

You missed being in the labs with Tony and Bruce, keeping them company and offering your opinions on their newest ideas when you could.

And even though you hated the way it left you with sore muscles and aching bones, you missed training with Steve and Natasha, the only two who could truly get your ass out of bed.

You missed everything that ever made you feel at home.

But you couldn’t go back. There was a reason why you left in the first place, and as much as you missed your family, you were a coward when it came to the matters of your heart.

You still loved Wanda and there was nothing you could do about it. You told Fury that you would only come back if they needed you. The fact that it had been months of radio silence from him, you just assumed that they were doing fine without you.

They didn't need you as much as you needed them.

-

But when Fury calls you about a rouge syndicate planning an attack using a chemical nerve agent, saying that they needed your help to create a antitoxin with Bruce if things took a turn for the worse, you don't hesitate in taking the next flight back to New York.

Thankfully, the team manages to stop the attack before it could even begin.

Since they'd been tracking the movement of the syndicate ever since they caught wind of the attack, they managed to track down the base they'd been using to create the nerve agent.

Still, you and Bruce create the antitoxin as a precaution.  

But now that meant you had to stay in the compound until it was time for your flight back.

-

Everyone had been elated that you had returned that Tony threw a small party just for you and the rest of the team after returning from the mission.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

Ever since you all arrived back to the tower, you'd been actively trying to avoid Wanda, talking to whoever was around when you saw her looking at you from across the room.

It was a cruel thing to do but you couldn't help it. You were still hopelessly in love with her despite everything. You could feel the tension fall around room as everyone became quiet, trying hard not to make it obvious that everyone was waiting for your response.

Nodding your head, you meet her eyes for the first time in months.

"Lead the way."

-

It's silent as you head to your old room. Closing the door behind you, your eyes can't help but drink in the sight of the woman in front of you.

"What did you want to talk about, Wanda?"

She gestures for you to sit on the empty bed beside her.

“They say absence makes the heart fonder, but Y/N, all it did was make mine even more yours.” She starts, eyes downcast to her lap.

You furrow your eyebrows at her words but don't get the chance to ask her what she means as she continues to talk.

“For months, I’ve been trying to convince myself that I’m happy with Vision because that’s what I’m supposed to be right? I’m supposed to be happy because I chose him, because I married him so why wouldn’t I be happy with the decisions I’ve made?”

“Wand-“

“But I’m not. I’m not happy. I'm far from it. Every time he touches me, I can’t help but wish it was you. Every time he says my name, it sounds wrong coming from his lips. It feels wrong looking into his eyes and seeing them morph into yours. I find myself looking for you until I remember that you're not here, that you're god knows where. You're not here with me."

You too shocked by her words to realize that she's crying until she reaches up to wipe her cheeks.

"I danced with two people that night, Y/N. The one I married and the one I wish I had married instead.”

Your mouth drops open at that, you know you should say something, but you don't know what and even if you did, you were too scared that this was all just a trick.

She just missed you being around, that's all it was. She mistook missing you as thinking that she was in love with you.

“You left and it was like you took a part of me with you. You left and I didn’t know where to look for you. I love you, Y/N and I’m so sorry I let you go in the first place.”

You stopped her rambling there, leaning forward and kissing her lips before she could say more. Because when Wanda Maximoff looks at you like that, with apologies and honestly written all over her face, there’s not a thing in the word that could stop you from pressing your lips against hers.

“I love you too, but you already knew that. There isn’t anyone else but you.”

-

It's only after you two catch your breath that you remember something important.

“But what about Vision? Aren't you two still married?”

She offers you a sheepish smile as you look at her with concern, dread filling your chest at the thought of being the reason that Wanda was unfaithful to her husband.

“Actually, he was the one who actually made me realize my feelings for you.”

“So what you’re saying is-” You start. She nods as her smile grows, planting another kiss on your lips.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, moya lyubov. We’re not together anymore.” She finished.

-

Abruptly standing up from the mattress, you turn your body to face her, bowing slightly as you hold out your hand to her, palms facing up at you smile at her.

Wanda frowns at your sudden movement before a knowing smile appears on her face as she realizes what you were doing.

“May I have this dance?”

Her smiles grows up at you as she stands, nodding her head as she places her hand over yours. With your arms wrapped around her waist, her own around your neck, you pull her close and she can't help but think that this was where she was meant to be all along

“You may.”

[wienerbarnes]

A Certain Romance (1/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,513

Warnings: fake dating au, mention to past abusive relationship

A/N: im so EXCITED to start posting this series lmk what yall think!!!

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

He couldn’t quite think of a word to describe the restaurant.

The deep tones of maroon on the walls contrasting against the clean, stark-white tablecloths, tablecloths that have been so deeply washed, soaked in bleach and radiating chemical residue beneath plates of fancy and over-priced dishes for people who have too much money than they know what do with.

Ratatouille is the special for tonight, priced at $32. Side dishes extra, of course.

The overly simple decor on the walls with lighting so dim you’d think they forgot to pay the electric bill, all in the name of minimalism and an art form you just wouldn’t understand.

Bucky has news for them, though. Minimalism won’t get rid of their depression and anxiety, and a $30 plate of vegetables won’t bring you happiness.

His collar feels tight around his neck, even though the first two buttons on his shirt are undone. The longer he stands around waiting for Sam, the more ridiculous he feels. He’s sweating suddenly, and all he wants to do is leave, go back to his apartment, to Alpine, and take off this stupid monkey suit of an outfit.

Where r u?

Should be sitting pretty at a table already. Wearing a cute lil red dress. maybe blue, not sure.

“Son of a bitch,” Bucky mumbles under his breath after reading Sam’s text.

It’s Bucky’s fault at this point. Not only is this not the first time Sam has done this to him, set him up on a blind date and tell him it's him he’s meeting and not a girl, but it’s not the second either. Sam has done this three times, and this is going to be the fourth. How do you let this happen to you four times?

It’s not a surprise either when the date goes horribly all three times, either. The girls are always nice and always beautiful, but Bucky’s in such a sour mood by the time he reaches the table that it’s a failure from the start.

That’s a good word to describe the restaurant. Sour.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a table under Sam. Or maybe Bucky.” He approaches the hostess, praying that whoever Sam has set him up with isn’t here and that they stood him up.

“Ah, yes, your date has been waiting.” She tells him, and he tries not to roll his eyes.

The walk through the restaurant to the table makes him feel more ridiculous than when he was waiting. He feels all eyes on him and it makes his skin crawl, even though when he glances around, everyone has their eyes on their own date; their date that probably wasn’t sprung up on them by a man who dresses up like a bird for a living.

Careful not to trip over his own feet in the dark room, the only lights being small bulbs on a thin string from the high ceiling, he sees a table that’s probably for him.

The only table with one person sitting alone, he spots you looking down at your phone with a slight frown on your face. Sam was right on his first guess, you’re wearing a deep red dress, thin straps over your shoulders and he can see through underneath the table that it flows down to your calf. Nude heels adorn your feet as they are crossed at the ankle, and he can’t help but feel a little bad.

Just because he thinks minimalism and expensive meals are stupid doesn’t mean that other people don’t enjoy them.

“Hi, uh, sorry I’m a little late.” He greets as he takes his seat.

You look up from your phone and give him a closed-lip smile, an unspoken way of saying it’s alright, but he’s seen that tight smile on too many girls before to know that, no, it’s not really alright.

“I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” He asks, hoping that the sooner he starts the conversation, the sooner he can get the fuck out of here. Respectfully.

As far as introductions go, this has definitely been the most awkward. Neither of you know what to say. Not that he’s about to go around giving Sam advice about setting him up with people, because he certainly wouldn’t want Sam to take that as him asking him to try again, but he couldn’t have set him up with someone worse.

It’s painfully awkward, and he feels himself sweating again, blushing from slight embarrassment at this disaster of a date.

The waiter hasn’t even brought out the bread yet.

He can’t do this.

“Listen,” He begins after a few minutes of silence and the two of them awkwardly glancing around the room, as though the avant-garde art pieces are the most interesting thing either of them have ever seen.

“I’m sorry if I don’t seem like I want to be here, it’s because I don’t. And it’s got nothing to do with you, it’s just that Sam told me I was meeting him here because he thinks he knows best when it comes to setting me up on dates even though I’ve told him countless times that -”

He stops when he realizes you’re laughing. Giggles escaping from behind your manicured hand that’s attempting to cover your mouth, he can’t believe you’re laughing at him. As if the date couldn’t get worse.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you.” You tell him, the most you’ve spoken the entire night, only really telling him your name and a few one-word answers a while ago.

“It’s just that I don’t want to be here, either. And Sam also told me I was meeting him here, not a date. And I thought that was funny.”

That bastard, Bucky thinks. But he appreciates that it’s the situation you find funny, and not him. He’s never had a date laugh at him before, and as tough as he is, he can’t lie and say it wouldn’t hurt his feelings.

He opens his mouth to say something but another man in an equally ridiculous monkey suit such as his own approaches the table, a basket of bread in hand.

He can’t help but notice how small the breads are and the fact that the butter is individually wrapped in those small tinfoils - not even The Cheesecake Factory does that, they bring butter in a tiny dish - but he doesn’t say anything.

At least now he has something to do with his hands.

The two of you both pick at the bread in your hands, and while the tension is somewhat eased at the table with the confession that neither of you want to be there, it’s still silent and awkward, as neither of you have spoken again.

Bucky doesn’t know what causes him to say it, maybe it's the obligation he feels to keep the conversation going and fill the silence, maybe his mind just insists on making the evening worse, because apparently that’s possible.

“My best friend died. Recently. And Sam’s been setting me up on these dumb dates to take my mind off it.” He says, and he sees out of the corner of his eye your hands pause around the bread and your head lifts slightly to look at him, though he doesn’t do the same.

“Sam was a little better about it at first, using distracting me as a way to distract himself while we both grieve. But he’s got the whole Captain America thing, helping his sister, working with Torres; he got over it a little quicker than I did and… expected me to get over it, too.”

He’s afraid to meet your eyes. He’s not sure why he just told you that, or why he felt like he owed you an explanation in the first place. He doesn’t even know you! What does he care if the date is awkward? He could leave now and never see you again and not feel bad about, and yet he sits here, sacrificing his own comfort in order to attempt to salvage the evening by being honest? Is honesty even what you want?

“My boyfriend beat the shit out of me. If we’re sharing tragic backstories, I mean.” You reply, looking down at your own bread now that Bucky’s head has snapped up to look at you, a humorless smile on your face.

“Had to move states, change my name, the whole nine yards. And while I wasn’t grieving a best friend, I was grieving… myself. My old life. And Sam doesn’t just distract himself by setting you up on dates, he’s been doing that with me, too. And, so, I kind of get what you mean, when you say that other people get over it and expect you to be okay, too.”

Another pause of silence, but the awkwardness is gone now.

“How many times have you heard the phrase, The grieving process is not -”

“Linear? Too many times. If I had a dollar for everytime I heard that, I’d probably have enough money to afford a plate at this place.” You finish for him, a disgusted look on your face. Almost the same look he had on his face when he entered the restaurant.

He laughs, though. The first time he’s laughed tonight.

“Are you two ready to order?” The waiter interrupts again, small booklet in hand, and thick French accent in the air. Of course, the waiters here are French, how is he even surprised?

“Do you mind if we have a few more minutes with the menu?” Bucky replies, not receiving much of an answer as the waiter looks him up and down, gives him a curt nod, and leaves the table once more.

“Listen, I don’t know about you, but this place looks like… I don’t even know, but it just looks sad, and I know a pretty good pizza place a few blocks away. If you don’t mind walking. Or continuing this date as friends?” He squints as he finishes his question, hoping you won’t take it as him playing hard to get, and actually want to be friends and absolutely nothing more.

“You had me at pizza.”

With the bread from the restaurant in hand and his jacket around your shivering shoulders, the two of you make your way down the sidewalk, stomachs rumbling at the thought of cheap, greasy, slices of pizza.

Sitting among people in their pajamas and otherwise casual clothing, it’s safe to say the two of you are the best-dressed people in the joint. Bucky tells you this and you laugh again, agreeing. Slice after slice goes down easily, much easier than any plate at that stupid clownhouse of a restaurant.

The conversation is easier, too. It’s almost like it was so bad before because of the suffocating atmosphere of the restaurant, The Fork, a stupid name for a stupid place.

What was that word he said before? Oh, yeah. The restaurant was sour. The pizza place, though, run by two older, heavier men with ungroomed mustaches and dark pit stains, is much less sour.

“I surprisingly had a good time tonight. I’m really glad we both came to an understanding of not wanting to date due to our individual unresolved trauma and issues, that we should probably be in therapy for.” You tell him, after thanking him for paying the six dollars both your copious amounts of pizza slices cost.

“I did, too. I’m just glad we didn’t have to stay at that dumb restaurant, I mean what was Sam even thinking with that place?” He rubs his fingers over his eyes in lasting disbelief. He’ll never let Sam live that place down.

“Speaking of Sam,” You start, stepping out of the pizza place as Bucky holds the door open for you, “Would you mind telling him that the date went well?”

“I mean, technically it did, didn’t it?”

“It did. But if we tell him that we left with a newfound friendship rather than sore legs and sex hair, he’s just going to keep setting us up on more shitty dates. I mean he’s great, but he does a better job at being Captain America than he does at being Cupid.”

“Agreed. He’ll just keep setting us up with people until we end up dating one of his picks, regardless of friendships made along the way. He’s too competitive, he doesn’t see friendship as a success, only a boyfriend or girlfriend.” Bucky admits.

“So… if he asks, we’ll just say we’re going to go on another date? And then whenever we hang out, we’ll just -”

“Be extremely and explicitly clear about it to him.” Bucky finishes.

They smile at each other satisfied, satisfied knowing they’re finally going to outsmart the bird man, they’re finally going to be done with shitty, last-minute blind dates that they never wanted to go on in the first place.

“Do you need a ride home?”

“Oh, no, my friend’s on her way to get me now.”

“I’ll wait with you then.”

Cheesy flirting ensues as the two of you joke about fake dating, competing to see who can think of the worst pick up line. Bucky feels a bit embarrassed that he probably would’ve used a few of these a few decades ago when he was a fresh, young man, but he doesn’t dare mention that to you. No need to give you more ammunition to use against him, and especially no need to risk you mentioning it to Sam.

Your least favorite, and evidently his favorite, is If happiness starts with “H,” why does mine start with “U”?

He laughs as you dramatically gag on the sidewalk, almost not noticing the car pulling up to the two of you.

“This is me. Oh, here’s your jacket by the way.” You move to take it off from atop your shoulders but he stops you.

“Hold onto it for me. And also, mention to Sam that you’re holding onto it for me.” He winks.

“Will do. Boyfriend.”

“Drive safe. Girlfriend.” He opens the passenger door for you, greeting your friend briefly, and offering a hand out to help you sit inside, closing the door after you’ve clicked your seatbelt.

He watches the rear lights grow smaller and smaller as you disappear down the street, and he begins walking back to where you two came from. His bike is still parked at the restaurant, after all.

That was probably the best date - not a date, friend date - he’s ever been on, and by far Sam’s greatest success yet, even if it’s not the romantic relationship he probably intended.

It was nice to talk to someone without the pressures of impressing them, the intrusive thoughts questioning their deeper motives or what it is exactly they want out of a date with him. He tried engaging in the whole hookup-one-night-stand culture once, and didn’t like it at all.

Not to mention, he’ll never have to go on one of Sam’s set-up dates again! And he didn’t even need to get a girlfriend to do so!

The night couldn’t have ended better, and he can’t wait to tell Sam all about it.

[beauty-of-depravation]

Under My Roof

Under My Roof

A/N : this was supposed to come out for Valentine's day. And then life happend and I'm posting it a month later 😅 this is pure filth, it's only smut, PwP. This all started with a message exchange with the incredibly funny @badassbuchanan 😂 after sending her the second gif 😂

Word count : 8K

Warnings : dégradation and knife play so discrete you won't see it, exhibitionnisme...etc. +18 !!! Maybe a bit of angst I'm not even sure, and a cheesy poorly written ending. Enjoy !💘

Plot : your are Bucky's maid.

***

You were lost in your thoughts, while walking back to Bucky Barnes's home. Your eyes wondering over the couples that walked past you.

Valentine's day. Again. You hated this day. This painful reminder of your loneliness. The reminder that you weren't with the man of your dreams. Well yes, indeed you were painfully close to the man of your dreams.

You change his sheets. Prepare his meals. Go grocery shopping for him. Clean his house. Take care of him when he was sick.

But you weren't with him. You were just the maid.

You were the one he sent to go buy flowers and a box of chocolate. A bouquet and sweets he would give to another woman tonight. While you would fall asleep, alone, in a house that was not yours. After completing tasks that were of no interest to you.

Of course you were more than well paid for your services, but ...you had no free time. You worked six days a week and on your only free day you were too exhausted to go out, so you stayed in your room all day sleeping or reading, which didn't allow you to build a single serious relationship in three years of this job. And ... if you were being totally honest...also the fact that you had the biggest crush on your boss.

And every Valentine's Day you'd remember that you.had.nothing. No boyfriend. No home for yourself. Every Valentine's Day you remember that you didn't build anything. You spend your life ordering the life of a man who does not see you. Around you your friends have homes of their own, husbands, children, a future. And you ...

Arggg! Getting into the house, you angrily put down the bouquet of flowers and the box of chocolate that Bucky asked you to buy for his evening date on the kitchen table. It was already about 5pm, normally you'd start on dinner but he told you not to cook tonight, and if you wanted you could have something delivered for yourself. Fuck him. Fuck Bucky Barnes.

You locked yourself in your room. And soon after, you hear him leave the house.

You try to read, but you can't concentrate. You go on tiktok and instagram, Tumblr and finally you end up on pornhub. Your eyes move from video to video and when you find something that appeals to you, your hand quickly slides straight inside your panties, Without giving the rest of your body any attention.

Your fingers find your clitoris, and begin to massage slowly, but as soon as the pleasure begin to rise, a pair of blue eyes appear in your memory, and your movements suddenly stop. No ! You don't want to think about him now!

You shake your head, breathe out, and try to refocus on the video. But as soon as your hand starts moving, it's his face that pops into your head, his voice, his smile, his body ... NO! It is pathetic. You can not let yourself think about your boss, who by the way must absolutely not be thinking about you at the moment, while masturbating on Valentine's Day. It's ... really pathetic. Suddenly angry at yourself, at him, and at the work, you close your porn and go to playstore.

You download the first three dating apps you find and sign up for the three. No way your spending Valentine's Day eating fast food on the sofa while thinking of your boss. Masturcraying is not for you, not today, not ever.

You choose your prettiest photo and select it as a profile picture. You select: "Partners near you". And just like that, the profiles appear on your screen, and you just have to pick and choose.

Few hours and some weirdos later, you are chatting with a nice guy, attractive enough, funny and chatty.

From Theo to Y/N « you want to go out ?»

From Y/N to Theo «yes ! Let me ask my boss first»

And then it occurred to you. He didn't even ask you if you had plans for tonight. He didn't even think about giving you your night.

Annoyed, you quickly texted

From Y/N to Mr.Barnes « Sir, i have plans, can i have my night?» you wait and wait...but the answer comes only half an hour later.

From Mr.Barnes to Y/N «No, you should have asked yesterday. I'm expecting a package around eight, please don't forget to pick it up»

From Y/N to Mr.Barnes «Please Sir, i never asked you for a day off. I'm feeling a little bit down. I really think going out would help, i could ask for mr's Happkins to reception the package, I'll get it first thing back»

From Mr.Barnes to Y/N «No. You'll have you little date in your free day. I'm busy i don't have time to text»

Fuck.him. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck. Him. Fuck him.

From Y/N to Mr Barnes «FUCK YOU.»

Delete.

From Y/N to Theo « My boss isn't here, wanna join?»

4 hours later.

You are drunk. Drunk on the best alcohol you ever had. Drunk on an alcohol you'd never be able to afford. Where did you get it from ? Bucky's cabinet.

He won't be here until tomorrow, you have all the time.

You turn your head to the cute guy next to you, curly blond hair, slim and tall and a shiny smile. Perfect.

You lean in to kiss him. You don't even remember he's name. You share the taste of the delicious alcohol on your tongues, you laugh between kisses, joke between messy body grabbing, and play cat and mouse around the table. Your tops are off, your lips swollen. «Eat me out»  you state, no second thought. «That's bold» he says, opening wide eyes but smiling. «I'm sick of being good...» «It's okey, i like bold»

You sit down on the couch, pull your skirt up, take off your panties, and lay back.

The boy doesn't wait to get on his knees between your legs, and he gets right to work. His tongue teasing your entrance, and his lips kissing your clit playfully.

Fuck Bucky. This is a nice boy. Fuck,Why are you thinking about Bucky ? And why is your heart tightening ? Fuck. Tonight you deserve better. This doesn't feel like enough. Not enough to fuck your boss out of your mind «Let's go to one of the rooms» you say purposefully.

He looks at you, eyes sparkly  «Whatever the lady asks for» the blond smiles at you, getting up, and ...not helping you get up. It's alright, you're not looking for romance any way.

You chose the nicest room. The biggest one, after Bucky's. As soon as you get in, the boys hand are on your waist, pulling you back against him. His lips on your neck making you giggle. He moves them to you breast, your only wearing your bra. «Can you help me take it off ? I have trouble with this things, bras hate me !» you laugh and help him take off the underwear as he unzipped his jeans, letting them fall to the ground.

You feel yourself getting excited, this is so new to you ! Having a stranger in your big scary boss's house, and letting him fuck you. That's... liberating! And if you thought about feeling guilty, the way he replied to your message came to your mind and you'd just think “fuck him”

You jump on the bed, and invite your partner to join you, he does and as soon as he is next to you he attaches his mouth to one of your nipples, and his hand go directly to your pussy, teasing your entrance once again, you slid your hand towards his boxers, feeling his cock getting harder between your fingers as you pump up and down his lengh. You kiss slowly while teasing one another, moaning in each other's mouth.

But then, the blue eyes again. The metalic blue eyes of you boss appear in you mind. The beautiful mesmerizing blue eyes, that beautiful face, those lips, the smirk, the jaw the body, you wonder if his cock is thicker then ...OH DEAR GOD. THAT IS ENOUGH.

«Hey.» you awkwardly start. «Yeah ?»

«Wanna...get inside ?» (NDA : yes kids, sexe with a stranger is more awkward then sexy)

«Sure ! That's not an offer you say no to !» He stumble in the covers getting up, reach for his jeans and grabs a condom in the back pocket. He opens them and it takes few seconds of fumbling and shaky hands to get the condom in place, while you're lying there looking at him.

You both laugh awkwardly, as he gets on top of you, looks for the entrance few seconds, and start sliding inside. It feels nice. See ! you don't need fucking rude and sexy Mr.Barnes.

«Harder. Go harder.» he start thrusting faster, and you close your eyes. Concentrating on the feeling and the friction. but soon enough, the blue eyes try to make a new appearance, and you open back your eyes, to escape his.

He has nice hair. Nice blond locks. He looks cute, a slow building pleasure starts raising in your belly. Imagine his beared on your inner thighs, and his tongue battling your into submission, and ...his cock stretching your walls, and you orgasm is getting closer and closer, you push your hand over your mouth to keep your moans down, he doesn't go deep but he goes fast enough for you to feel ready to cum, on top of that you've been watching a lot of porn and dirty tumblr to get you there rapidly. and just as you pussy clenchs, he stops everything. Fuck Fuck Fuck, you try to buck your hips but nothing will save you, You just had a ruined orgasm !

«what, i, i !!! » « think someone is coming in.» he whispers.

You stop breathing as you hear a key turning in the lock.

The front door.

Fuck.

Only two people have this key, you ...and Barnes. Fuck. He is back.

Fuck Fuck Fuck. «My boss is back, fuck, hide !»

You put on your shirt no bra, your skirt no panties, you close the door of the room where you leave the boy, and run out at full speed. A second after you are in the living room, collecting his shirt on the couch, trying to hide the mess, you just have the time to push the empty alcohol bottle under the couch before Mr.Barnes appears.

«What are you doing ?» He says, suspicious, looking at you messy appearance. «Nothing, just cleaning.»

«at 11 pm ?» he raises a suspicious eyebrow. «I...icouldn't sleep.»

Your underwear. Shit. It's right on the edge of the couch. “Please don't notice, please don't notice, please don't notice” «well, since you are awake, could you draw me a bath ? I'm exhausted.» «Yes, sir.»

You go out as quick as possible, and passing by the end of the couch, you try to discreetly grab the underwear, you roll it in your fist, and run up the stairs. Once in the bathroom, you try to rearrange your hair, and start preparing the bath in a hurry, terrified at the thought that your boss could go to the friend's room you used (which he never does) and find your little...date.

While the water start to warm up, you hear the bathroom door open, and close in your back. And Mr Barnes just sits there, in your back, watching you, watching your every movement. Your fist is in front of you, tightly clenched on the underwear. His look is sharp, you feel it burning you skin, you are so aware of your own appearance. You are usually so put together. It must be the fist time in three years of working for him that he sees you in such a state.

What could he possibly be thinking. He is looking at you in such a way that your hands shake.

Maybe ...if he asks questions...you could tell him you were masturbating when he came in ? Sure it would be a shame, but ... It would be believable, and he would be to embarassed to look any further. You shake you head, trying to steady your hands, while adding salts in the water but then ... «You can go, I'll do that myself» he comes up right behind you, really really close.

He doesn't need to repeat himself, you furtively slip under his shoulder before running away

When you hear the bathroom door close again, you run towards the guest room and try to open the door quietly. But...it's locked. You try and try again and it's locked. «Hey it's me» you whisper. «Can I go now ?» Whispers the boy, from the other side. «Yeah, Open the door, why did you lock it ?»

«I didn't, i heard it get locked, i thought it was you.»

You brain stops working. Why would Barnes ever lock a guest room door ?

Deep inside you know. There is no other explanation. Your heart stops beating. But you head is desperately looking for any reason he would do that. There is none. There is only one : he knows. He know and you just lost your job. You feel tears gather in your eyes. God why did you have to be so stupid !? Sure, now is the time to regret. Fuck.

«I'll come back to open, can you just ...give me some time ?»

«What ? Are you fucking kidding me ?!»

You don't answer, and try opening the drawer where you know your boss puts a double of keys, but it's locked. You go to your room, think about gathering your personal effects, but then...your hands are shaking, and a small part of you still think "maybe he doesn't know, maybe there is an explanation"

You go back to the living room and start walking back and forth like a trapped animal. It lasts about twenty minutes. Until you hear it. You hear you name. From the bath room.

A commanding voice. Telling you to come here.

You hesitate a second.

But you have no choice.

You slowly start climbing the stairs.

Every step leading you to the bathroom is heavier then the one before.

Your heart is trapped in your throat.

You put your hand on the door lock. And try to catch you breathe. But suddenly the door opens and you are dragged inside by a firm hand around your wrist, before bumping into a hard chest. «Hey, there...» He whispers, in a dangerously calm voice.

You freeze.

He is naked, wrapped in only a tiny towel around his waist, holding you firmly against him.

You can feel his wet skin through your clothes. You don't now what to do, or what to say, but he doesn't seem to think the same. «Well behaved sluts answer when they are talked to.» He waits for you to speak up, but as you say nothing he continues «You are more eloquent with a dick in your pussy, aren't you ?» « no i...»

You try to say something, but you don't know what, you try to push him off but he is to strong. «No what? You though i wouldn't notice ? I knew the second i got in. You dumb little whore, you can see the window of the friend room from the outside. And your underwear on the couch ? Saw that to.» «I'm sorry, I was...»

«What ? What are you possibly going to say that could justify your behavior ?» his voice is dry, and he's body pushes itself further against you, forcing you to the wall. «I'm so sorry sir, don't fire me please. I don't know where my mind was, i..» «Fire you ? My god. That would be going easy on you. I know where your mind was, babygirl. In your horny little cunt.»

You whimper. Look down, only to see his muscular thighs, regretting, you close your eyes praying for all of this to be a bad dream.

«But I'm going to take care of that. You want to be fucked this bad ? Fine.»

You tilt your head up at him, surprised. Only to meet a black gaze.

« you are .. you are going to» « Fuck you ? Yes. Until you little pussy is sore, I'm going to fuck you more than what you can take, bully this little slut pussy, you understand ? Or do you prefer to get fired ?» «o...no.» «No what ? If you agree say "fuck me please sir"» «Please...» You stutter.

«That's not what I fucking asked!» He barks as his hand tightly grips you jaw, making you look at him. «Say it, loud and clear.»  «Please, ...fuck me sir.»

«Ohh look at you, so well behaved. Your nipples are hard to..is that the water or the greediness, little slut ?» suddenly his hand leaves your jaw and grab at your neck, while his other hand cruely twist and pull on your nipple through your shirt, making you yelp, he let go of you hurt nipple, and his fingers grab something besides you on the edge of the bathtub.  «See that in my hand? I'm going to push the blade of my razor on your delicate throat, now, you wouldn't want to hurt yourself by moving to much, right ? You better not fucking move. The things I'm going to do to you. The things I've wanted to do to you, Fuck» he grunts, «Take off your skirt»

You are forced to keep your chin high, because of the threatening blade, looking at him directly in the eyes, yours, teary, and his, dark with desire and anger. You push your skirt down, only to remember you are not wearing any underwear. You blush harder (even redder that what you already are) and you see his lips rise into a devilish smile.

«Is your pussy wet ? Did he finish fucking you ?» You don't answer.

«If you decide to act like that, I'm going to check by myself» he sighed. «Open you legs.»

While one of his hand keeps the blade against your skin, the fear of moving cutting your air, the other one reach down, and harshly forces your tights open, quickly moving up to your wet follds.

And, with no warnings, a slaps lands on your sensitive pussy, making you cry out.

Another harsh slap falls right on your clit and you try grabbing at his wrists and closing your thighs, but the blade pushed harder against your throat, and the hand that administrated the slaps push on your belly, forcing you to stay still. «Oh now see, you know how to use your voice. Did i say you could move? Stay the fuck still, whore.»

«Sir, it...it hurts.» «Oh really?»He says in a mocking voice, «good, it should hurt, is your little pussy sore from getting fucked under my roof ?»

Another slap lands, making a new cry escape your mouth. But you know better then to move, the blade is slowly moving up and down your skin, flattering it. The cold metal awaken every nerve of your body, and you feel... terribly aroused. You never felt more alive.

«It's nothing compared to when I'm done with you. I'm going to fuck the sanity out of you, little girl.»

You didn't plan on doing that, it's totally involuntary, maybe it's the vision of him, towering over you, only in his towel, hair pushed pack, his jaw tight, his eyes filled with hunger, his skin dumb, little drops of water rolling down his muscle, maybe it's the rush of adrenaline, maybe it's the mixed sensations from the blade, maybe ...maybe it's the months of fantasizing about him, of having this huge crush on the man, but you moan «Please, sir» as an answer.

He seems a little surprised, but soon a smirk ornate his lips and his eyes have a light of amusement and excitement.

«You want that ? You want me to fuck you ? How cute. That's not even a punishment for a greedy slut. Now...»

You're throat is set free, and you hear the blade hit the floor, as both his hands land on your waist, and his mouth join your neck, leaving met kisses and gentle bites, from your collar bone to your ear, « I bet you fantasized about that. About me fucking you, i mean, i knew you had a crush on me, but i thought of you as an innocent sweet little girl. Turns out...»

He kisses along your jaw, and when you think he is finally going to kiss your lips, he pull away.

«open you mouth.»

He scoffs at the speed you obey.

«Tongue out.»

You hesitantly pull out you tongue.

Your eyes widen as he spit in you mouth. And just as you are thinking about what you should do, spit it out ? Swallow ? Just ...keep it ? He makes the decision easier. He pinches your tongue between his thumb and index finger and cruely pull on it.

«Look at you, so desperate. Say "i belong to you"»

You try to close your mouth, but a slap lands on you cheek.

«No, no. Say it like that.»

The worst part is not you desperately trying to say the words with your tongue trapped between his fingers, it's not the obvious amusement on his face, not the humiliation he is putting you through, it's ...the fact that your pussy is getting wetter by the second, and you feel the blood flowing down to your clit. It aches, you want him to fuck you.

«Good girl. Now swallow.» He orders.

And you do, but this time you don't look away, your eyes firmly locked to his.

«I'm so fucking hard. You make me so fucking hard.» He grunts, pushing his hips on yours. Thighs on thighs, chest on chest, his dick on your hip bone.

If anything, he is, indeed thicker, and longer.

A little moan escapes your throat, as you move your hips with his, grinding against his cock, still hidden under the towel. Before you can think, your hand is reaching down, looking to feel him. He doesn't try to stop you, letting your fingers grip him, Making the towel fall on the ground. You feel him pulsing in your hand. He says and does nothing, fixating his eyes attentively on you. You start moving your hand up and down his shaft. You are fascinated, you explore every sensation, the one of your fingers wrapped around his veiny cock, you grip tighter, and wipe the precum leaking from his deep pink tip with your thumb.  When you finally look up to see his reaction, his head is thrown back, his adam's apple bobbing under the thin skin of this exposed throat, you follow the edges of the his square jaw, the tensed large shoulders. His eyes are closed, and his breathing is unsteady.

And ...the fact that you do that to him, the fact that this is all you, makes your head spin.

You lower your gaze again, traveling over his chest, eye-kissing the perfectlytanned skin and the v of his hips, and his cock between your fingers. You admire how your hand is barely closing around it, and the precum still escaping the tip, how you can feel the blood pulsing in the prominent veins, how you ...are craving to close your lips around it. That's...the most beautiful cock you've ever seen, attached to the most beautiful man you've ever seen, and ...you want it all.

But just as you are thinking of dropping to your knees, his voice raises again. «You had your fun. don't fucking think you are in control.»

You look back up, and his hands tighten there grip at the small of your back, as he looks down at you. «Now, doll, I'll fuck your throat another time. Turn around.»

And, without waiting for you to oblige, he spins you around, and suddenly you find yourself facing the full body mirror.

His chin resting on the top of your head, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection, your eyes travel your appearance, flushed cheeks, slightly parted lips, hard nipples, chest raising and falling rapidly, his forearm firmly keeping you against him. «You are so ready for me to fuck you, sir's little slut.»

His hand slides under your shirt, your breast heavy in his palm, his calloused fingers pulling at your nipple, his mouth kissing right behind your ear, whispering.

«I'm saying that, but, you know, I've wanted to fuck you since the day you put a foot in this house.» Suprised, Your your raise your own reflection, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

«Don't look at me like that. The maid fantasy isn't a myth. Seeing you every day in this uniform, wanting nothing more than to fuck you on every flat space of this fucking house.»

You can bearly breath and you close your eyes, looking away.

Immediately you feel the sting of your hair being harshly pulled back, yanking your head up. «Eyes on me, on you, on us, you don't get to look away, whore.»

You shyly open your eyes, looking back at the reflection, but, not satisfied yet, he whispers, «say "yes sir"»

To ashamed and mesmerized by the picture before you, you don't immediately oblige, and that costs you a hard spank to your ass. «Say "yes sir"!» He repeats with a stern voice, that you know he won't tolerate you making him ask another time.

Another harsh slap lands on your ass and you yelp, «YES SIR.»

«Good girl, You know what, from now on, we are playing a little game, everytime I say something, ask a question, you reply with "yes sir", i don't fucking care if you like what I'm saying, i own you, and you will agree to whatever i say, do you understood?» «Yes sir.»

«such a good little slut, aren't you ?»

«yes sir.»

«You're not that dumb after all. Arms up, i want to see all if you.»

You immediately obey, and with that, you are completely naked, all available for him. «How beautiful, such a beautiful woman, with the soul of a whore, isn't that a pity ? I'm going to ruin it. Give me my pants.» «What ?» «What do you mean what ? You don't need to understand, i gave you a fucking order. I don't think you understand quite yet what is happening to you, but don't worry by the end of the night, you'll be a good girl again. The pants, slut»

You quickly reach to the floor and give him his pants, and it's with horrified eyes that you see him take the belt of the hooks. «Don't look at me like that, I'm not planning on spanking you with it tonight. But, you seem to forget who owns you, so..»

He reaches around your neck a put the belt around it, start to hook it «Until i buy you a proper leash, i'm going to put that around your throat, don't you think it's an amazing idea, doll ?» «Yes sir.»

«Good. Do you want a leash around that pretty neck ?»  «Yes sir.»

«Now, i could think you are lying just to obey my orders, but you see, i think your telling the truth. Your eyes are filled with lust, and you pussy ...»

His fingers reached down, his thumb between your lips, before pushing two fingers all the way inside. «Your pussy is overflowing with your juices. It's twitching and sucking my fingers in.»

With no warning, 4 consicutive harsh slaps land on your ass cheek, making your cry outs and arch your back. «Did i give you permission to grind on my fingers ? No i don't think so, doll. You don't get preparation before my cock, you've already had that.»

You can't put your head around what is he talking about and you don't have time to think before feeling the tip of his cock at your entrance, «Are you ready ?» «yes sir.» «good girl.»

You expected him to slam himself inside, but...he, oh so slowly sink inside you, making you feel how every fucking inch of his cock is stretching you.

His hand reaches to your face and two is his fingers push themselves past your lips, pushing your tongue down, and making sure you are looking in the mirror. «You look so good like that.»

And with every inch of his cock that stretches your walls, the belt hugs your neck tighter, until he bottoms out, and you can bearly breath.

«Your so fucking tight doll, I'm surprised for such a worthless..»  «STOP IT.» You scream

he immediately stills, and totally let go of the belt, letting your breathe deeply. You feel a sob in you're throat, and cover your mouth with your hand and close your eyes to keep the tears in.

«Oh my god, doll, did't hurt you ? I'm sorry, so sorry, come here, do you need to sit, do you»

«Stop calling me a fucking whore ! I've been in love with you for three years, i couldn't go see anywhere else because I think about you all the time, and tried to get over it, but i don't even have enough free time to meet someone ! I'm always working for you, and when I'm not, I'm thinking about you ! Stop stop stop stop...»

You keep repeating the words until you feel his arms wrap tightly around you, pulling you to his chest and hugging you. You're not crying, you are shaking, shaking of rage, of misery of lonliness, all the pent-up feelings that you had are short-circuiting your muscles. The hug is calming, at least he didn't just leave. But ...you are scared of the moment you stop shaking, and he stops hugging you, and tells you to get away, find a new job and someone who would love you back «i ...i'm jealous.» He Whispers

You're shocked to move, did you mishear ?

«i didn't want you to have a date tonight...i didn't want you to meet someone. And ...i ...i think like you, no i...i know i like you, it's...»

And from here on, it's the void, you don't catch any another word. He likes you ?

And finally you cry.

Tears slowly roll down your cheeks, and in the silence you can only concentrate on your ebulliting heat and Bucky's deep breaths. His heart to, is pounding under your ear, and you notice that you are holding into him as strong as you can, and he is doing the same. And from there, your have one feeling, hunger. And you have to satiate it. You've been starving for to long. You can talk later, and, if after you talk it doesn't work out, it will be okey, you want at least this moment. « I want you to keep fucking me.» «What ? No we don't have to..»

«No, i want to. And if you want to too, i want to keep going.» you say with confidence «But doll...»

«Show me what you feel, sir.»

He keeps silent for a moment, and then says slowly, like he is trying to keep control over himself.

«If you are sure, pretty girl. Let me just take this off» his hand travel to your neck to unbuckle the belt, but you stop him again.

«I ... Kind..of like it...can we ...?»

«Ohh doll, you want to keep the belt ? Such a naughty girl. You like the idea of me owning you ?» «Yes sir.»

«Good girl. My good girl...»

You feel his big hand move to your face, cup your cheeks, but...so gently. It's tender, nothing to do with his manners from the begging, and he softly move his face close to yours, looking at you directly in the eyes, the man that have been fucking you senseless, is now, shy and hesitating to kiss you, his eyes are showing just how sorry he feels and how he doesn't know how to act.

«Sir, i want a kiss.» «Yeah ? My pretty girl wants a kiss from me ?» «yes sir.»

His thumb keeps caressing your face while he slowly push his soft plump lips to yours, kissing staying still for a moment, enjoying the calming feeling, it feels like the word is exploding and...you couldn't care less. It feels like ...the chaos have a perfect order. His tongue saunter on your bottom lips, asking patiently for you to open your mouth, you like the kiss as it is and you want to savour the slowness of it for a moment more, knowing that when your tongues meet, there will be now slowness, no patience, just frenzy and hunger. And honestly you also want to test him a bit. So you don't open, but, at your satisfaction, he just waits, he keep tasting your lips, patiently, not forcing anything, not demanding anything. After you feel fed up with feeling him kissing you so purly, you part you lips, and finally give his tongue the access it's been begging for.

Like before big moment of life, there is an instant of calm. The time of a shared breath, where his tongue caress yours, and it's everything your heart needed. The world around you explode and it's perfect. The chaos is exactly where it should be, the chaos is perfectly ordered.

Then the desire takes it's rights again, the frenzy replaces the serenity. The hunger the fullness. The desire the satisfaction. He suddenly pull at the belt, and invade your mouth, owning it, owning you, and this time you gave that to him. He gets drunk on you, the more he drinks the thirstiest he is. His hand travel down your body, drawing every curve and fall before reaching your core. Every nerve of your body is in the edge. and soon as his hand gaze over your pussy, you whimper.

«Did he make you cum, doll ?»

You blush so hard while confessing, «a...ruined orgasm sir...you...you came in just when...»

He can't keep his loud laugh for himself, and his chest trembled filled with his hilarity. Shy, you burry your face is his neck and he caresses your hair. «oh poor baby, you had a ruined orgasm because of me?» He doesn't seem sorry for one bit.

«I don't know if i can be gentle if i fuck you, if you want I can just go down on you and... »

«No, sir, i ...i...still want you to show me how you feel. I can take it all.» «I knew you were perfect for me, doll.»

Your back is slowly pushed against the cold mirror, your hips brought forward, he keeps a firm grip of the belt, keeping your eyes locked, as he slowly burry himself in you.  «My sweet girl never told me she wanted me, i was so scared i...i would...you...i..» «Harder sir, i want to feel you, I'll understand.»

He closes his eyes for a second.

And the air is kicked out of you. He slammed into you so hard that it kind of picked you up from the ground, like he was trying to rearrange your guts with all his might. «Bucky !»

hearing you say his name for the fist time must have awaken something in him, because he just seemed to fall in love right then, kissing along your neck, where you blood is pulsing. «Yes that's it doll, say my name...i love hearing my name from you.»

You repeat his name louder and louder as he goes faster and faster and you get closer and closer to your climax. «I want you for myself, i want no one thinking they can own this tight little pussy like i do, do you want me to show everyone that i own this pussy, your pleasure, your body, your love?»

«Yes, yes Bucky i want everyone to know !!!» «You want to cum doll ? You want me to give back the orgasm i ruined for you ?» «YES, Bucky, Please !»

«Hold it. not yet. I took away your orgasm from you, i think it's only fair i decide when you have it.»

«No please !» You desperately beg as you feel him slide out of you leaving you empty and needy.

«chuut, doll, I'm going to let you cum, i know how much you need it, but, not here.» a dangerous spark reflect in his eyes. «what ...what do you mean.»   you hesitantly ask, not sure if your are ready for the answer.

«I mean that I'm not done teaching you a lesson.»

He kisses softly on your temple, and, with that, opens the bathroom door, pulling you by the belt, you follow behind, and ... you realise you ...get overly horny from him pulling you by the belt around your throat, you think to yourself «I can't wait to have a leash and collar he can pull me by» you get ashamed from the lewd thoughts. But you love the taste of ownership it gives him on you, and of belonging it gives you. A relationship that you feel have been here for a long time, but expressed for the first time tonight. He looks behind him and winks at you «I know you love me pulling you with my belt on your throat, aren't you a lewd maid, doll» you blush, and hide a slight smile by looking down.

Thinking he was taking you to the bedroom, you dont ask questions, until you over pass the door, and he guides you to the stairs.

«Where are we going ?»

«See, doll, i’m not a man who shares. and i don’t want anyone thinking that they can touch you, in any way. espacially not under my own roof.»

And that’s when you understant. you completly forgot about him. The guy you brought home.

And when you realize, he is already pushing the key in the lock

«finally ! is your boss gone? I thought you..»

Blondie stops right there in his phrase.

Seeing the massive and naked figure of barnes enter the room. Go cocked to talk looks at the man with wife eyes. «What ? Did you think she forgot about you ? Yes she did. She absolutely did.» starts Barnes.

«Who are you ?!» says the kid in an irritated voice. «The owner of the house» cuts Bucky in a dry voice, «Now, do you can get my fist in your baby face, or ...» «No ! Bucky he did nothing !» you intervene without thinking, still hidden behind the door.

«Oh well see whose talking, hiding behind that door. If you want to defend him come in sweetheart.» «i ...i can't.» «yes you can. Baby it's either my fist in his face or you show him who you belong to» «but ...»

«You have three seconds»

You know you don't have any other choice then to enter the room, one arm around you breasts and your legs as close to eachother as you can. You look at the floor, not brave enough to face your "date" of the night.

«What the fuck...is he forcing you to do that ? I'll call the cops.» «They will have nothing to do here.» interrupts Bucky, «Am i forcing you to do that sweetheart ?»

You shake your head.

«speak up.»

«no, no you are not.» «See, she enjoys it, tell him, love» «i enjoy it»

«Yeah ? Come here,» He pulls on the belt pulling you closer to him, and then slipping behind you. «Look how wet she is. That's not for you. That's for me. That's how wet she got when i punished her for fucking you. For thinking that she could be somebody else. Do you wanna see how I take care of her ?»

You think blondie is going to run out of the house, but you hear Bucky's laugh, and a zipper being undone.

«He want to see sweetheart ! Let's give him a show, he came all the way here for you, we can't let him leave with nothing.» «Yes sir.» «Good girl , now bend over the chair.»

Trembling from the anticipation and excitement, you get closer to the chair in the middle of the room and fold your body in half, a yelp escapes your throat when a hard smack is landed on you left ass cheeks, followed by the commanding voice of your boss

«Lower, arches your back»

You do, and his big hand delicately caress the smack mark he just left and then caress you along spine from bottom to your neck, sending shivers in your body. «See, how beautiful she is ? Do you think you deserve such a beautiful woman ? And you idiot would have fucked her what...6 minutes before cuming and calling it a night ? Huh ? No. I'm going to show you how ..»

He slips inside you slowly again, making you gasp when you finally feel him stretching you open around his thick member «how you she deserves to be fucked»

The boy don't answer, to absorb by the vision of you, back arched, hips pushed back, eyes closed, nipples hard, and moth opened, gasping for air. Your whole self is subjugated by a number of feelings. One of them is a sharp feeling deep in your soul, of proudness and excitement, coming from getting fucked by Bucky for an audience.

You can feel every vain on his cock pulse, and the tip targeting your most sensitive spot. Then, slowly dragging himself out, only to roughly push in again. Grabbing you by the hips he maintains a stable rythme, of rough but long thrusts. Dragging himself slowly out of you and penetrating with everything he has. You burry your face in the crook of your arm, now screaming and audibly gasping, and the worst and best part is everytime you try to avoid the roughness of his thrusting by leaning forward, he'd grip your hips tighter, and pull you back on his cock.

«I'm going to cum, sir, sir, i'm ...oh. I'm close...» you desperately cry out, feeling a volcano ready to irrupt in your lungs.

Immediately after those word leave your mouth, his hand closes around your throat, pulling your back, your head to his shoulder, and his other hand fall along your body, to press two firm fingers on your clit

«Good girl, such a good girl, about to cum on her boss's cock, wait, hold it»

Feeling you weaken, and your moans turning to breathy cries he squeezes harder on your neck : « said hold it, doll, you don't want to see what I'd do to you if you don't .»

It takes everything your have for you not to immediately cum, but, and thank God he is not using he's fingers, he is just keeping them on your clit, while he kiss you ear : «look at him baby.»

It takes you a second to understand who is he talking about, but when you get it, you are to close to cumming to fight him, or be shy, you look at the blond boy, who is rapidly stocking his cock, looking at you with hunger.

«See, he's going to cum for your cum from seeings you get fucked.»

Your vision is now blurry, and you have a hard time breathing, with his tight hold on you neck. «who is fucking you ?» «You sir!»

«Yeaah, tell him you love when i fuck you, tell him that you are my fuckdoll.»...«Say it, or you don't get to cum»

«I'm his fuckdoll ! I'm sir's fuckdoll ! I love when he fucks me ! Please can I cum !? I can't hold it !»

You desperately scream out, your last sentence cut because bucky starts furiously moving his fingers on your clit, still not letting go of you neck, but giving you some space, just enough so you not to faint. You hear a loud groan from in front of you and you understand that your "date" just came, and he seems to have come pretty fucking hard.  You are yourself ridding the edge, trying not to let go before Bucky's permission.

«He just came for you. You are so fucking beautiful princess. cum, cum on my cock doll, cum right Fucking now.»

«Oh thank you, thank you bucky, oh my ....»

Your whole body shakes and he keep fucking you through your orgasm, his hip movements now messy and practically violent indicate that he is close to cumming to. «Going to fill you up sweetheart. You... okey with....fuck... that ?» «yes yes please.» you reply with a broken voice.

«Good Fucking girl, my good fucking girl» He groans, before stilling deep inside you and shooting hot strings of cum in you tummy, growling and harshly biting at your shoulder.

You go limp in his arms and he hugs you tight. You stay like that for few seconds breathing heavily, while he slowly pulled out.

Suddenly you feel something that sends panic through your body.

«Bucky ! » «don't move sweetheart.»

He's hand once again find your pussy, and he pushes two fingers inside of you

«No, no, I'm serious please i can't go again...»

«I know doll, i know, don't worry»

His fingers slip out of your pussy, covered in his cum and your juices. He then makes you sit on the chair, where you abandon yourself. And ...walks toward the boy, who is just sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

Silently Bucky stands before him, blondie looks at him with big eyes, half afraid half mesmerized. And Bucky...pushes his two coated fingers on the boys lips.

It takes a second.

Then, like obeying to a higher force,

The boy open his lips, and your psycho hot boss pushes his finger deep down his throat, making him taste you two mixed, and gag on his fingers.

Your "date" doesn't say anything, silently taking and licking the fingers, while looking up at your boss.

Bucky finally decides it's enough, take his fingers out the boys mouth, «go home»

Then turn around to you

«Going to sleep with me tonight, right Princess»

«heuu...hmmm excuse me, when, could we do that again ?» shyly ask blondie.

«Never. If you repeat anything of what happened to anyone, If you try to approch her, if i see you around my house, i kill you, now. get out. » conclude bucky in a sharp voice.

Blondie zip up his pants as fast as he can, and runs out of the room with not another word, maybe a little glance at you and... bucky.

Seeing that this last have an arrogant smile, «and That's how you Fuck a woman you're in love with» he screams, before hearing the front door close.

[caramelcal]

his favorite club

warnings: swearing, arguing, talks of murder, gangs, use of weapons etc. don’t read if you are not comfortable with these! 

word count: 2.5k

a/n: HELLO!!!! WELCOME BACK TO THE NEXT LUKE/BAMBI POST!

thank you so much for all the love anons <3

requests: Anonymous asked:

Could you write a Luke x gang where him and the reader are fighting and maybe his arm goes up and she thinks he’s going to hit her but would never and it’s fluffy in the end?

Anonymous asked:

For the Luke x gang could you write something angsty like maybe he doesn’t come home on time like usual and y/n is really worried idk maybe goes to his place of business and it starts a big fight and the reader gets a bit scared of how mad he is? Idk you can take it in any direction.

Anonymous asked:

Loved the new Luke post. Was wondering if the next part could have some danger concerning the reader? Or maybe she sees the dangerous part of him and it scares her?

The only sound filling the apartment was the sounds of the small girl's shoes hitting off of the floor loudly, and the soft but irritating clicking of the clock that stood on the wall in front of her. It was 8:13 pm. Over an hour later than Luke had said he was going to be.

Bambi knew the dangers of the work that Luke lived in, but he had only ever been once late and even then, she had got a text explaining that he would be. Yet, this time, she never got a text, a call, nothing.

Radio silence.

Her stomach clenched up every time she thought about the possibilities of what could have happened to Luke. She wouldn't consider herself a pessimist, but she can't exactly say that she was expecting the best.

She was sure that if Luke didn't get home soon, the floor would have worn away from the amount of pacing she was doing right now. The clock continued to tick on, each movement from the small circular thing stuck on the wall bringing her more and more anxiety.

He should be home.

Maybe that's why she found herself in one of Luke's cars, somehow managing to sneak past the two members of Luke's gang that she had seen on the way down, and evading Jacob, Luke's personal driver.

In fact, Bambi hadn't driven a car since she moved in with Luke, always being driven around by either Jacob or Luke himself. It felt weird being behind a wheel again, but she didn't have time to dwell on it or soak up in the power she felt inkling into her chest before she was speeding out of the garage, onto the main highway of the city.

If Bambi was being honest, she probably broke about seven driving laws (if there were that many, probably, she thought) on the way to the club that Luke often found himself at. He never brought her there, and actually, forbid her from coming to altogether, but she knew he couldn't be too mad considering it was all about her concern about him.

From the moment she walked in, she felt out of place. Men in dark button-ups, cigarettes falling from their lips, women in minimal and sexy clothing, drinks all around. The red luminous lights of the bar being the only light provided. Her eyes scanned the area, looking for her tall boyfriend but it was really difficult.

A lot of the people in here were very tall, much taller than Bambi was, so trying to see over them was impossible. She was very out of place, alone, scared, and looked far too good to be in such a twisted club.

Somehow, she managed to make her way over to the bar, where she recognized a figure with his back turned towards her, making a cocktail. It was only seconds after when he turned around, dimpled face on display, he almost spilled the drink on him with how fast he stopped upon seeing her.

His eyes whipped around wildly around the club before walking over to her and whispering, "You shouldn't be here! Didn’t Luke forbid you from coming here? You need to leave!"

"Nice to see you too, Ash," Bambi couldn't help the sarcasm falling off of her lips before she asked, "Luke never got home. Is everything ok?"

"Everything's fine, he just got caught up with some paperwork and stuff, he should be back soon,"

"Paperwork?" She asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at the gang member.

"Well yeah, just updating a file on the drug run today just to say it went well," Ashton shrugged lightly, "he should be done soon."

Even though Ashton shrugged it off well, Bambi knew he was lying. She could feel it in her bones, in her gut, that he was lying and she was determined to find out the truth.

She shrugged lightly, "Well if it's just paperwork then he won't mind me being there."

With that, she stalked away from the bar in search of the backrooms, wasting no time for Ashton to catch up with her as she went on her way. She walked around the back hallways, looking for any indication of Luke's presence.

The rooms were silent. All but one.

"Please! I don't know anything! Stop!" It was a plead filled with both pain and desperation but it was quickly cut off with the sound of a swift but powerful hit.

Her pulse raced, legs shakily making their way towards the room, gently pushing the door open. It was silent, the door, cracking open so that the small girl could see.

Bambi felt sick.

She could see her boyfriend’s blond curls held up in a hair tie she had loaned him earlier this morning, bloody hand reaching up high as he punched the poor boy on the chair again.

“I’ll give you one more chance before I use something more than my hand,” He threatened gruffly, causing Bambi to flinch. Her breath was caught in her throat, eyes welling up in tears. She knew she shouldn’t have been so upset, she knew her boyfriend was a gang member, but something about seeing him doing this to someone with the same hands that caressed her and made her feel safe felt...wrong.

Suddenly, Ashton entered another door that entered into the room that Luke was in, alerting both Luke and Michael, who had been overlooking the situation. Only then did Bambi realize that Luke had picked up an object, it glinting in the light as he moved towards the door that Ashton had entered.

Luke was holding a knife.

A soft gasp escaped Bambi’s lips, thankfully not loud enough for Luke to hear. She didn’t want him near her, not right now anyway. She didn’t even want him to look at her.

“She’s here! You need to stop, Luke!” Bambi took that as her clear to get the hell out of there. If what Ashton said was true, about Luke being mad she was here, she didn’t want him to find her. Not anymore, anyway.

She didn’t want him to get anywhere near him. How could she possibly sleep at night knowing the man that slept beside her, that played with her hair, that made her feel safe, did that to people? What if he got so mad that he did that to her?

She was being irrational, but at that moment she couldn’t help it.

She shuffled backward, away from the door that led to the room Luke was in, choosing to swiftly get away from him now that she could.

Now, she wasn’t scared for Luke, she was scared of Luke.

“Hey kid, where are you goin'?” Calum asked as she crashed into his chest, making her stumble back lightly, mouth ajar.

She went to speak, to come up with some excuse but she didn’t have time. She couldn’t sit here and entertain Calum with a nice, little conversation when she was trying to evade her boyfriend.

That’s why she just turned, maneuvering around her, and started to run.

“Bambi!” The girl became rigid as she heard him shout, becoming increasingly aware that he had caught up to her, and was planning on talking to her. It was almost as if she was frozen in place, unable to move into the car and unable to move towards him, not that she wanted to. However, she could hear him come to a stop behind her, his voice softer as he spoke, trying not to gather any attention towards the couple, “Why are you here? I thought I told you that you weren’t allowed at the club?”

Her mouth ran dry, unable to respond. In fact, she acted as if she never heard him speak, afraid of what he would do if she pissed him off. Yet, her silence was probably the most angering thing to the tall blond boyfriend of hers, which became obvious when he spoke next.

“Bambi? Let me get you out of here, I’ll drive,” He went to grab the car keys out of her hand, but she had seen his shadow when he went to grab them, quickly jerking out of his grasp, turning around, and staring up at him.

She didn’t miss the slight shock in his eyes when she did so, or the irritancy that bubbled deep beneath. Her throat felt thick, clouded, but she quickly cleared it, voice forceful as she stared up at the gang member, “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Bambi, what the hell are you talking about? Just let me drive and we can talk about this when we get home lets not cause a scene,” Luke was trying to reason with the girl, not cause a scene in front of his men, but Bambi was not having it. She wasn’t about to get into a car with him, shaking her head wildly, “Bambi.”

His tone was a warning, deep voice, cold tone. It was demanding but Bambi was not in the mood for Luke to boss her about, especially not right now.

“What? You don’t want people to realize that we’re fighting and that I’m your girlfriend, is that it?” The words were flying out of the girl’s mouth before she could stop them and Luke’s blue eyes glared down at her, his jaw ticking.

“Is this really what this is about?” Luke asked, referring to the argument they had gone through all of those weeks ago. Yet, that it isn’t. The problem was that Bambi saw something she wasn’t supposed to, that Luke had tried to shield her from as best as he could. Even if it meant that she wasn’t allowed near his favorite club.

“You nearly killed him, Luke.”

Her voice was painfully quiet, muttering in a way that makes it obvious she had to force the words out. Her fists are clenched at her sides, her eyes looking down to evade the scrutiny of his gaze.

“Bambi you don’t know what you saw-”

“You had a knife, Luke! I saw you punch him just look at your hands right now they’re-” She stopped briefly, glancing down at the man’s hands, the ones that gave her such tender, sweet love. The ones that made her feel safe, yet now? All she seen was all of the blood coating them, some dry some relatively fresh, “they’re covered in his blood.”

Luke flexed his hands slightly, feeling the blood coating them become ever so evident, “What else am I supposed to do? What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? I work in a fucking gang, you knew this.”

“I didn’t think-” The girl cut herself off, shaking her head as tears rose to her eyes, shielding her view.

“What the fuck do you think I do? Hand out fucking rainbow stickers and give them a nice hug? That’s not how this works, you know this,” His voice was harsh, and slowly rising to a loud level, and all Bambi wants is to go and hide away from him; to be by herself. She can’t handle this, not right now.

“How can you expect me to be ok with this?” The girl asked, “It’s sick! It’s twisted! You could have killed that guy!”

“Don’t suddenly go getting morals just because you saw a bit of fucking blood! We’re leaving. Now,” His voice is demanding, loud and borderline shouting, his hand coming down towards her rapidly to grab the car keys off of her but then he froze at the movement from the small girl in front of him.

She flinched.

Silence filled them both.

The tears that tracked down her face started to build in his eyes, his heart dropping to his feet when he saw the girl cower. It was barely for a second when she shielded her head, in the same place he had hit that guy barely five minutes before like he was going to hit her.

He spluttered with his mouth ajar. Bambi, his Bambi, the one he had worked so hard to protect, to love, to cherish, was scared of him. He just wanted to comfort her, to hold her close and let her know that everything was going to be okay. Yet, he couldn’t comfort her that he would battle all her fears when he was what she was scared of.

“Bambi...” It was a sad plead.

The girl never replied, tears becoming thicker as she shook her head. She was overcome with emotions. Afraid, sad, ashamed, angry; she wasn’t entirely sure what she was feeling at that moment.

“Bambi I’d never...”

The girl wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Never in his whole life had Luke felt so ashamed of himself. Ashamed that he would ever let a fragment of his girl believe he would ever harm her or put her in harm’s way.

He would do everything to make sure she was okay.

“I need to go,” The girl gingerly wiped her tears with her -Luke’s- jumper, the large sleeves rolled up but still covering her hands fully. She entered the car and Luke made no move to stop her, he didn’t care that she had taken one of his cars at that moment, he didn’t care that she had disobeyed his orders of coming to the club, he didn’t care about anything other than how he had wronged her.

Then, he was left by himself, in the middle of the club’s back parking lot, blood still coating his hands that even made him feel sick now. The cold night air nipped at his skin, yet again reminding him that he was void of her warmth. He was all alone.

He returned home all of twenty minutes later, a fresh pair of clothes on and hands bare of blood. The house was quiet but he knew that she was there, the bedroom door ever so slightly ajar, a faint light emitting from the room.

He leaned against the door frame, watching her with a sullen face as she packed. She was only packing a few outfits, not anything major as she sniffed lightly. She was still crying, Luke noticed, and it made his heart ache, “I’m leaving for Anna’s. I just need some time.”

Luke knew he was in no position to argue with the girl right now. She was fragile enough as it is, and even if Luke didn’t want her to leave, she needed space and he respected that.

She slung the overnight bag over her shoulder, hefting it up, “I’ve called an Uber. They’re waiting downstairs.”

Luke nodded as Bambi stopped in front of him, and almost hesitantly, he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss against her forehead, “Stay safe, ok? I love you.”

The girl nodded her head, sending the boy a tight-lipped smile before leaving, leaving Luke alone once again. Yet, despite the heartbreak, he felt in that moment as she left, he knew this wasn’t the end. He’d manage to make it up to her, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t rest easy until he did.

[divinerulerluvr]

Sweet Serial Killer ||

Summary - Inmate Kai Anderson further seduces his new guard after preying on her for weeks.

Part 1 is here

Suggested by @iheartfrogs101

Note - I was inspired by this post for the whole shaving Kai plot. Definitely go read it :)

- - -

“Hey, Y/l/n,” A guard calls out to me as i sit in the break room. I look up to him, my eyebrows raised in question as i play with the water bottle in my hand. “The guy on your block has gotten himself in trouble and you need to shave his face,”

“Why me?” i ask with dread.

“‘Cause it’s that or you guard the deranged idiot on block six. Pick your battles, sweetheart,” he shrugs before walking back out of the break room. With an irritated huff, i stand from the couch and head off to the room where prisoners would get groomed.

Kai had been a pain in my ass lately. I never let him out unless instructed to no matter how often he pleads. He pretends he knows everything about me when in reality, he knows nothing.

I walk into the room and see he wasn't there yet. I gather all needed materials like the straight edge razor and cheap shaving cream before leaning against the counter as i wait. Kai is eventually escorted into the room. Two buff guards stand on either side of him even though he was shackled like an animal.

Not that it was a bad thing.

The guards push him onto the chair, cuffing his hands to the arms of the chairs no matter how many snide comments he makes. The guards glanced at me before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

This room was very depressing. Gray walls and a dark blue door with a small window on it. Nothing else for decoration but a single counter and the chair bolted to the ground. I’d hate to be a prisoner. It’s just… sad.

A smirk spreads on his lips as he looks at me. “I asked for you,” he says, causing me to internally roll my eyes. “I wanted us to get as close as possible,” he chuckles maliciously. He had an agenda. Any dumb person could see that.

Grabbing the blade and shaving cream, i step wearily towards him. Kai looks up at me, his leg bouncing obnoxiously. I apply the cream to his face, avoiding eye contact at all costs. His leg moving was throwing me off and with such a difficult blade, i was afraid i’d cut him.

“Can you stop bouncing your goddam leg?” i snap, closing my eyes in frustration. He grins. “What vulgar language, doll,” he comments. He was getting on my nerves already. He continued to bounce his leg, keeping me unable to properly shave his face.

Completely fed up, i place my hand on his knee to stop it from moving. I knew this was what he wanted, but i just needed to shave him and get over with it.

I press the blade to his skin, moving it along his neck and cheek to shave his face. Wiping the excess shaving cream onto the towel, i see the triumphant and cocky look on his face. “I can feel your heartbeat,” he says, referring to how my wrist rested on his cheek.

He was right. My heart was just about ready to explode in my chest. Being so close to a convicted murderer was killing me. I was an equal mix of afraid and horny.

“Do i scare you, Y/n?”

I quickly shake my head. Lying to both him and myself. He didn’t scare me. The situation scares me. “Do i turn you on, then?” he asks instead. Swallowing thickly, i use all my focus on shaving his face and not cutting him.

“If you uncuff me i could release that… tension,” he suggests, his motive showing clear as day. He just wanted to get unchained to be free. “I don’t have the keys,” i say blatantly. He scoffs. “Bullshit,” he calls out.

I stay silent, wiping off the shaving cream from the blade. “What are these?” he snarkily says, using the little mobility he has in his hand to jingle the keys that dangle from my belt. I step back from him, glaring down at him.

“You wanna know what i think about at night, princess?” he questions, his dark eyes daring me to go with his games. “What?” i ask, getting it over with as i lean in to finish shaving his face. “You,” he states.

He sighs softly, as if recalling past thoughts. “I think about so many things. I think about your body. How fucking hot your moans would be as i rail you. How sensitive a sweet virgin like you would be. How i know i could make you quiver at just a light touch,”

I push my thighs together, keeping any excitement suppressed as i continue shaving him. “I bet you like being dominated. Like having all say taken away and being abused. Men need women like you. There isn’t any power drain when the woman has absolutely no fucking power,” he explains, staring me down.

His eyes pierce into my soul. Digging through my mind as he overanalyzes me. “Cute little pillow princesses like you are always the best. They’re too desperate for validation and approval to argue. What their master says, goes,” he says with a shrug.

The burning in my lower stomach was intense. I felt my cheeks get hot and my skin start to prickle with pure arousal. He caught onto this, of course. Proud of how he got me to react. “Let me touch you, Y/n. I want to feel you,” he says.

I wouldn’t call it begging. Instead, it was more or less an order. Him telling me what to do. Finishing shaving his face, i step away from him. I turn my back to him, letting me gather myself and take a breath.

Turning back to face him, i could see the painfully obvious boner in his pants. My eyes meet his and i could see the devilish look in them. “There are cameras, Kai,” i say.

He groans, repositioning in his seat. “I like the way you say my name. You should be moaning it instead,” he slyly remarks. “Just uncuff one of my hands and let me touch you,” he negotiates instead.

My feelings of lust had overpowered my logic and i really wanted to uncuff his hand.

“Do it for your master,” he probes, the name he gave himself causing a shock of arousal to course through my system. He stares me down, the dark color of his beautiful eyes making me melt to his evil will.

Stepping towards him, i grab the key on my belt and uncuff one of his hands. “What about the cameras?” i ask. His hand immediately went for my body, running up my side and massaging my breast.

“Surprise, doll. They don’t work. Bit of a virus, you could say,” he says, a sinister tone in his voice telling me he fucked them up himself somehow. A small smile spreads on my lips as his hand runs down to between my legs. He doesn’t bother going into my pants and stays on the outside.

His fingers run over my clothed clit, my hips bucking at the sensation. “Come on, princess. Sit on my lap,” he coaxes. I obey, sitting on his lap and letting him spread my legs. He runs his hand up my inner thigh, toying with the fabric of my pants as a way to tease me.

His breath fans my face softly, his lips grazing the heated skin of my cheek. He runs his thumb over my core, a weak moan leaving my lips. He kisses my jaw, biting at the sensitive skin as he rubs my clit through my pants.

“My sweet, sweet girl,” he tsks into my ear as he slithers his hands under my pants but not going under my underwear. “You’re soaked through. Maybe you’re needier than i thought,” he teases, a smirk in his voice.

He continues to rub my covered clit, his hand's warmth reaching my skin through the thin fabric of my underwear. I could feel his boner pressed against my ass, obnoxiously pressed into my skin.

I arch my back, pushing my hips shamelessly into the palm of his hand. He hums in satisfaction, his fingers working wonders on my sensitive clit as he pushes me closer and closer to an orgasm.

He presses soft kisses to my neck before digging his teeth into my skin, pulling a shaky moan from my mouth. I could feel a slight tremble in my legs as i squirm on his lap. He was right. I could feel my wetness absolutely soaking my underwear now that he was touching me.

I could feel his eyes studying my reaction to his touch. Relishing in how sensitive i was and how easily submissive i was to him. I rest my head back onto his shoulder, giving him more access to my neck for him to mark.

“It’s insane how i have more power over you and i’m the one half chained up,” he comments, chuckling darkly as his fingers pick up speed. I rest my hand on his arm that had the restraints on it, my nails digging into his warm skin as my walls convulse with the threat of an oncoming orgasm.

“Cum for me. I want to see you fall apart,” he encourages me. With his permission, i allow myself to let go from the thin and fraying strand that was my sanity.

It felt heavenly. Every single nerve in my body was buzzing with electrical fire and every single drop of blood in my veins bubbled and boiled deliciously. An exasperated moan falls from my lips, my legs shaking as i let the pleasure take over me.

Kai overstimulates me through my orgasm, his fingers now ceasing to just rubbing slow circles on my clothed clit. The fact that i had never once felt his fingers against my clit disappointing me. But it was again a part of his plan to make me continue coming back to him.

And if i’m being honest, it works.

He finally pulls his hand out from my pants, running his hand up my leg and trailing up my stomach and chest until he reaches my neck coated in red bite marks that would soon blossom into bruises.

“Beautiful,” he compliments under his breath. I open my eyes, only to see his eyes already taking in my disheveled state. “You should probably go. I’d love for you to stay but, i doubt it takes more than five minutes to shave a man’s face,”

I just nod, quickly getting off his lap and fixing myself. “Guards!” i call out weakly, opening the door that was locked after i had re-cuffed Kai’s free hand. The two men come in and uncuff Kai only to shackle his hands to his waist belt.

As he’s being escorted out, he glances back to me and winks. With this gesture, i felt my stomach drop.

I had been seduced by a serial killer.

[girlactionfigure]

Why I’m Leaving Mumford & Sons

I loved those first tours. Bouncing off a sweaty stage in an Edinburgh catacomb we then had to get to a gig in Camden by lunch the next day. We couldn’t fit all four of us and Ted’s double-bass into the VW Polo. I think it was Ben who drew the short-straw and had to follow by train with his keyboard. I remember blitzing it down the M6 through the night, the lads asleep beside me. We made it but my voice sadly didn’t, completely shot by exhaustion, I had to mime my harmonies. Being in Mumford & Sons was exhilarating.

Every gig was its own adventure. Every gig its own story. Be it odysseys through the Scottish Islands, or soapbox shows in Soho. Where would we sleep that night? Hostels in Fort William, pub floors in Ipswich, even the Travelodge in Carlisle maintains a sort of charm in my mind. We saw the country and then, as things miraculously grew, the world. All the while doing what we loved. Music. And not just any music. These songs meant something. They felt important to me. Songs with the message of hope and love. I was surrounded by three supremely talented song-writers and Marcus, our singer with a one-in-a-million voice. A voice that can compel both a field of 80,000 and the intimacy of a front room. Fast-forward ten years and we were playing those same songs every night in arenas, flying first-class, staying in luxury hotels and being paid handsomely to do so. I was a lucky boy.

On stage, to my left Ted, a roaring bear, with his double-bass flying high above him. To my right Ben, with his unparalleled passion for music, pounding at the keys. And Marcus leading us with all the might of a hurricane or all the tenderness of a breeze, depending on what the song demanded. What a blessing it was to be so close to such talent as theirs. It will be with immense pride that I look back at my time with Mumford & Sons. A legacy of songs that I believe will stand the test of ages. What we’ve achieved together has vastly exceeded the wildest fantasies of this shitkicker from Mortlake.

Who in their right mind would willingly walk away from this?

It turns out I would. And as you might imagine it’s been no easy decision.

At the beginning of March I tweeted to American journalist Andy Ngo, author of the New York Times Bestseller, Unmasked. “Congratulations @MrAndyNgo. Finally had the time to read your important book. You’re a brave man”. Posting about books had been a theme of my social-media throughout the pandemic. I believed this tweet to be as innocuous as the others. How wrong I turned out to be.

Over the course of 24 hours it was trending with tens of thousands of angry retweets and comments. I failed to foresee that my commenting on a book critical of the Far-Left could be interpreted as approval of the equally abhorrent Far-Right.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Thirteen members of my family were murdered in the concentration camps of the Holocaust. My Grandma, unlike her cousins, aunts and uncles, survived. She and I were close. My family knows the evils of fascism painfully well. To say the least. To call me “fascist” was ludicrous beyond belief.

I’ve had plenty of abuse over the years. I’m a banjo player after all. But this was another level. And, owing to our association, my friends, my bandmates, were getting it too. It took me more than a moment to understand how distressing this was for them.

Despite being four individuals we were, in the eyes of the public, a unity. Furthermore it’s our singer’s name on the tin. That name was being dragged through some pretty ugly accusations, as a result of my tweet. The distress brought to them and their families that weekend I regret very much. I remain sincerely sorry for that. Unintentionally, I had pulled them into a divisive and totemic issue.

Emotions were high. Despite pressure to nix me they invited me to continue with the band. That took courage, particularly in the age of so called “cancel culture”. I made an apology and agreed to take a temporary step back.

Rather predictably another viral mob came after me, this time for the sin of apologising. Then followed libellous articles calling me “right-wing” and such. Though there’s nothing wrong with being conservative, when forced to politically label myself I flutter between “centrist”, “liberal” or the more honest “bit this, bit that”. Being labeled erroneously just goes to show how binary political discourse has become. I had criticised the “Left”, so I must be the “Right”, or so their logic goes.

Why did I apologise?

“Rub your eyes and purify your heart — and prize above all else in the world those who love you and who wish you well.” — Aleksander Solzhenitsyn once wrote. In the mania of the moment I was desperate to protect my bandmates. The hornets’ nest that I had unwittingly hit had unleashed a black-hearted swarm on them and their families. I didn’t want them to suffer for my actions, they were my priority.

Secondly, I was sincerely open to the fact that maybe I did not know something about the author or his work. “Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak,” Churchill once said, “courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen”. And so I listened.

I have spent much time reflecting, reading and listening. The truth is that my commenting on a book that documents the extreme Far-Left and their activities is in no way an endorsement of the equally repugnant Far-Right. The truth is that reporting on extremism at the great risk of endangering oneself is unquestionably brave. I also feel that my previous apology in a small way participates in the lie that such extremism does not exist, or worse, is a force for good.

So why leave the band?

On the eve of his leaving to the West, Solzhenitsyn published an essay titled ‘Live Not By Lies’. I have read it many times now since the incident at the start of March. It still profoundly stirs me.

“And he who is not sufficiently courageous to defend his soul — don’t let him be proud of his ‘progressive’ views, and don’t let him boast that he is an academician or a people’s artist, a distinguished figure or a general. Let him say to himself: I am a part of the herd and a coward. It’s all the same to me as long as I’m fed and kept warm.”

For me to speak about what I’ve learnt to be such a controversial issue will inevitably bring my bandmates more trouble. My love, loyalty and accountability to them cannot permit that. I could remain and continue to self-censor but it will erode my sense of integrity. Gnaw my conscience. I’ve already felt that beginning.

The only way forward for me is to leave the band. I hope in distancing myself from them I am able to speak my mind without them suffering the consequences. I leave with love in my heart and I wish those three boys nothing but the best. I have no doubt that their stars will shine long into the future. I will continue my work with Hong Kong Link Up and I look forward to new creative projects as well as speaking and writing on a variety of issues, challenging as they may be.

Winston Marshall

[witch-hazels-musings]

is this all i have?

^ hey all, a little different fic I have for you today.

If you decide to read it, it’ll give you some insight into why I haven’t been posting a lot ... it says more than I probably would normally share about my struggles but @genshin-karebear encouraged me to be honest and, so, here I am. (thank you, friend)

Warnings -> negative self-talk, comfort, one curse word 

I sat at my desk, head in my hands and tears on the verge of spilling over the edges of my eyes. For days I’d been struggling, frantically, painfully trying to get back into the swing of things with nothing to show for it other than tear stained clothes and empty pieces of paper.

Where did it all go? Where was the spark that used to ignite in my heart when I sat down to write the words which once came so easy? Am I spent, have I used up all that skill in a matter of months … what’s wrong with me.

A single tear cascaded down my cheek as I stared at the massive nothingness that lay before me. The taunting paper which looked back at like a score card of failures after failures, as if to remind me that I will never be a person worthy of it’s time. I rubbed my eyes, pushing my glasses over my brow and feeling the hot liquid which rested in them, this would be the tenth time I’ve done this today.

“I’m just spent and I don’t know what I’m going to do anymore.” My lip quivered, my cheeks became wet, my eyes blurry. “I’m a failure.” I whispered to myself shaking my head and holding onto the last ounce of energy I could muster - it didn’t matter that the sun was warm and shined through my window, there was nothing strong enough to push through my veil of despair.

I looked out the window and saw the world move on around me; it never waits, while it pushes on I’m left behind. The trees continue to spread out their leaves in an attempt to soak up the necessary nutrients they need to survive, seeds float on the wind looking for a place to rest, bugs move from place to place at random, the cat lounges on the chair lost in its dreams as its fur is warmed by the sun I cannot seem to feel. I’m jealous of that cat.

I contemplate getting up and doing something different, but there is a voice inside of me that tells me to push through, to keep going and write something - put anything down on this piece of paper. Fuck you, paper … you are nothing to me and yet you have total control over my pen. I’m angry and frustrated at an inanimate object when I should really be mad at myself. It’s my fault I cannot get anything out --- I’m broken, that must be the only answer.

The tears have all fallen, water droplets speckle the parchment and my eyes look onward without any ounce of life left. I feel empty and hollow, I have no more energy for it all and so I lay down the pen, drop my head to the table and close my eyes.

I don’t know how long I sit like this, time has been moving so slowly for me as of late that this feels like nothing new. I don’t even hear the sound of the door opening, or footsteps headed my way. In fact, I barely register there is another presence in the room until I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Hazel?” I stir, but only enough to turn my head onto its side and glance at the person who called me by name, a name I didn’t feel I had the right to claim. I looked up and felt my stomach drop, of course it would be him … the one person who I continued to fail over and over again. “Are you okay?”

I bit the inside of my lip, desperate to keep my emotions in check. I hated looking weak, and complaining about my frustrations only made me feel worse. These worries and inadequacies are my own issues to deal with, there was no need to drag others down into my sorrow, so I changed the subject.

“You’re back earlier than I thought you’d be.” I leaned up from the desk and turned myself to face him. Instinctually, I placed my hand on the blank paper, an attempt to hide my shame.

“Yes, there wasn’t much for me to do, it seemed everyone had it under control and I didn’t see a need to stick around.” He placed a few items down on the table in the study. It was some of the only sounds which broke the monotony of my day. “… did I disturb your work?”

“No, I only just started.” I lied, grinning to add another layer to my coverup.

“Oh, normally you get started much earlier than this …” His observation was accurate, even if it stung a little. He was right after all, I’d been sitting at this desk since we parted ways earlier in the morning … I felt chained to it, obligated to do something worthwhile at this god forsaken wooden nightmare.

“Normally, yes. I just, uh, had some things to get done before this …”

“Well I’m sure you are eager to get started, I’ll leave you to it.” He looked down at me kindly, and I yearned to have more than just his words and kind eyes at the moment, but I knew it wouldn’t be possible to ask that of him.

“Sounds good, I’ve got a lot of ideas and think I can get some good stuff done today.” Another lie.

“I believe you will.” He looked at me and my brain screamed. It battled between the side of reaching for him and letting him go. As busy as he was, he didn’t need to be bothered by my struggles. So, in an effort to keep them under control I pushed my knuckles to the small space between my chin and lips, the nail of my index finger digging into the corner of my mouth for extra sensory support. I smiled weakly at him and watched as he made his way through the threshold, disappearing beyond my line of sight. When the door closed I stood from my chair and walked to the window, my hand extended to capture the rays of the sun which normally brought me comfort, but today only illuminated my skin.

The emotions bubbled up in my chest and, like a sad child who didn’t get what they wanted, I removed my glasses, dropped my head into my hand and cried. Soft, quiet sobs spilled from my mouth while my eyes remained shielded by the darkness of my hand. Something caught my attention and as soon as I allowed my vision to adjust to the source, dark cloth and a flash of red envelope me.

“What …?”

“I knew something wasn’t right.” His voice was so soothing, his arms tight around my body, his chest inviting and the way his hand spread across my back ... it all meshed perfectly together. “For days, you’ve been acting strange … I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

“What .. what are you talking about ..?” my voice was strained, telling of my emotions, and still I tried to push through. “I’m fine, I-I just got something in my eye.”

“You know you can be honest with me.”

“I know …”

“So, tell me what’s on your mind.”

“This isn’t something to worry you over.”

“Isn’t it?” He pulled back so he could look at me and I was glad my glasses were still off. I couldn’t bear to see him clearly right now. “Something is clearly weighing on you, how could I not offer my support?

“It’s stupid, and I just need to get over it.”

“If it makes you feel this way, then whatever problem you have isn’t stupid.” He pressed, and his words, combined with the closeness of him, was starting to break my resolve. I didn’t want to put anything else on his shoulders … I didn’t want to appear weak … I didn’t want to be a failure.

“I’m … struggling.” He didn’t let me go or say anything, which made me fill the silence with my own pitiful words. 

“I’ve been trying for days to get something, anything out and every time I do the words don’t flow like they did. I’m worried … did I write all that I’m ever going to write. What if I can’t do it anymore … what if this is all I have …” The tears began to slip down my cheeks, some found a home in the bend of my lips and filled my mouth with the taste of salt. I shook my head and bit my tongue, this is stupid, I’m acting like a child. I tried to push away from him but he only tightened his grip. “God, there are so many more important things to be upset about, and here I am whining about something so petty.”

“When was the last time you took a break? Perhaps, that may help?”

“I’ve done that … I’ve taken such a long break -- I-I don’t want to take a break anymore. Why is this so hard.” I felt the pressure of my brows as they moved closer to one another, the bending of my nose as I scrunch my face out of frustration. “I’m wasting time and people are waiting on me … how long can I ask them to wait … how long do I deserve their patience …”

“Has anyone pushed you to work faster than you can?”

I parted my lips and ran my tongue over the back of my teeth, “No … but I can’t expect them to wait forever. There’s gotta be something wrong with me, right? That’s the only explanation I have at this point. I’m not good at it anymore … I’m worried and stressed and ... just ... so sad.”

His hands slipped around my arms, one resting against my shoulder and the other cupping my face. “I know this feels like an impassable obstacle, but you haven’t lost anything … you just need to give it time.”

“Haven’t I done that?”

“You told me you’ve been in here trying to force yourself everyday, have you really taken time to rest?” I shrugged my shoulders and shifted my eyes away from him.

“You don’t take breaks either …” I mumbled, my words were an effort to get even and show him how the suggestion was nothing but a silly statement that had no meaning.

“Maybe, I should.” I didn’t want to look at him, but I could tell his tone had grown more thoughtful. He let his hands fall to my wrist, the feeling of his glove against my skin was somehow comforting. “Come with me.” He gripped tightly and led me through the door of the study faster than I could protest. We walked down the stairs, confused maids and staff staring at us as we blew by them before leaving through the heavy doors of the winery and onto the dirt path which held endless possibilities of destinations. I protested, but there was no escaping his grip and, soon, all my effort was on keeping up with his pace.

When I thought I couldn’t take another step we stopped, he released my hand and with him no longer keeping me upright, I fell into the grass below me, my arms sprawled outward. I breathed in deeply and relished the feeling of the wind against my face.

“It’s been a long time since I moved that quickly.”

“How do you feel?”

“Let me get back to you on that… ” I laughed and rested my hand against my chest, the beating of my heart pounding there as I tried to breathe with hot lungs.

I looked up at the sky, the vastness of it stealing my vision and removing anything else. My skin was tickled by the blades of grass that brushed against it, and I watched as a small bee flew over my face his swaying movement mesmerizing. When was the last time I was outside like this… it felt like such a long time ago.

I stretched my hand toward the sky above me, the blue color peeking through my spread fingers, my palm cutting off the fuzzy clouds that moved lazily along. His face came into view and I realized I had yet to put my glasses back on.

He bent down to meet me, his back falling into the grass at my side, hair following the pull of gravity and spreading out in the grassy hill. 

“I can’t believe you are laying in the grass.” I chuckled and dropped my hand back onto my chest, turning my head to look at him.

“I’m known to have a few surprises up my sleeve.” He responded, turning his head to look at me, the light from above gracing his face and somehow only making him even more beautiful than he already was. It was so blinding that I had to look away.

“Hah, well, color me impressed.” For the first time in days, I feel a small reprieve from the darkness which had seeped into my skin. Something internal began to tingle, starting from my fingertips and slowly up my arms and as I took in a deep breath the smell of sweet flowers filled my nose. “Thank you, Diluc.”

He reached for the hand which was moving back and forth above the grass at my side, his strong, large grip providing protection and comfort, and for the first time in days, the feeling of warmth.

“Promise to tell me next time you are struggling; don’t hide away alone.”

“I’ll do my best.”

---

I feel much like Kiki did in Kiki’s Delivery Service ... how can I fly again when I feel so ... bleh 

I’ll keep trying, all <3 

[angrylizardjacket]

fit by my side {Machine Gun Kelly}

@bitchylittleredhead said: Okay I hear your MGK x pastel!reader and I raise you MGK x Mother Nature!reader. Hella plants, strong love for animals, heckin soft, v kind, mom friend, sunshine child. (I just really really love soft paired with him, it’s so damn cute) also I love you I hope you are well 🧡 

Also This Concept

A/N: 3177 words. Gender Neutral Reader (they/them) ! im worried kells is OOC. also there’s no smut but it does get M rated, but there’s no genitals specified. gets quite sappy at times. also @url-under-construction i hope u like it and i hope its good.

----

When you meet Colson, he’s famous, but he’s not, you know, famous famous. You meet on the set of The Dirt; he’s one of the stars, you’re a production assistant and stand-in when they need it, and you don’t think for a second that he’ll even remember your name when this is all over. 

But he does; in rehearsals, you’re the one reading the lines for the characters they haven’t cast yet, and the first time the four main cast members see you, in your floaty, floral top, and your gentle aura, and then to hear you say, with absolute sincerity, ‘your mom’s a cunt’, it has them bursting out laughing. You smile, sweet and kind, and you step gently through the blocking that has the character you’re currently standing in for, stabbing Tommy - Colson - with a pen. 

Maybe the juxtaposition of you taking part in this whole production is what intrigues him.

When filming starts, you’re still around, and something about seeing you, amid this performance of debauchery, and yet you’re still sincere and gentle, your choice of attire making you stick out like a sore thumb amid the leather and grime. At first, he tries to play it off, that you look somewhat out of place and it’s eye-catching, but you bring the cast food and water and whatever they need, you go on coffee runs, and take a genuine interest in each of them, and by the time he realises that his mood lifts every time he walks on set and sees you there, he knows he can’t play it off as you catching his eye for completely platonic reasons.

He asks you out the week after Casie leaves from visiting set, having seen you interact with her, entertain her while Colson was in hair, treating her with just as much kindness and respect as you did everyone else on the production. It convinces him that your intentions are true, and he knows that he can’t finish this production without shooting his shot.

By the time the wrap party comes around, you’re calling him your boyfriend, at first tentative, looking to him for confirmation, but then you see the way he beams at how the words sound when you say them, and you grow more confident each time you say it.

It’s met with... confusion.

Really? 

It seems no-one saw that coming - if anyone, I would have expected Douglas - you hear, and frown. 

“What does that mean?” You ask; a frown is rare to see on your face, but you’re wearing it anyhow, and the woman your speaking to splutters her way around a sentence as she’s trying to backpeddle.

“I just- I mean, well, Kells - Colson - he’s so... Doulgas just seems more... refined? Not that Colson not, you know- you’re just -”

“I’m just what?” You ask, not accusing, more curious than anything else, and the woman’s voice dies in her throat as she looks you over; pale blue jeans and a pastel, patterned button-down that would have looked right at home in the eighties. 

“I’m just concerned for you,” she eventually says, laying her hand on yours like she’s trying to do you a favour, “Colson’s intense, I’m just worried you’ll get hurt.” You see what she’s trying to say, but her tone is so painfully condescending. 

“I’m an adult,” you tell her, tone understanding but firm, “and I appreciate your concern, but I promise I can take care of myself.”

The moment you can get out of the conversation, you find Colson, talking animatedly to one of the makeup artists, and you slot yourself into the space by his side. Automatically, without even stopping the conversation, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, and you gratefully take the moment to press your face against him, wrapping your arms around him without saying a word. It’s both strangely intimate and familiar, his thumb rubbing small circles against your side.

As he stops talking, there’s a lull, and you don’t have to look up to know the makeup artist is giving you both a strange look.

“Ignore me,” your voice is muffled against him, using one hand as if to waive off any last bits of hesitation. 

“They’re fine,” Colson assured, tapping you on the hip. He’s still oozing casual confidence

You’ve been together for almost half of filming, which isn’t exactly a short amount of time, but usually you try and keep things professional on set, so it’s nice to be able to be close to him in public. 

The rest of the cast know, of course, you’ve been out with them on several occasions, and they all have come to adore you just as much as you adore them. Something about hearing Daniel drunkenly assure you that if Colson ever hurts you, that there’d be a line of people ready to slap some sense into him. You try to brush him off, endeared by his drunken affection, but he turns suddenly to the rest of the cast.

“Hey, hey, hey - who’d throw down for Y/N?” He asks; without hesitation, Douglas, Iwan, and Colson raise their hands, eyes wide and alert, as if the offer needed to be acted upon immediately. The show of support has your heart swelling in your chest.

You find yourself fitting into his life back in LA easily; while beginning work as an assistant on a Netflix original series, you call into his house in the Hollywood Hills, delighted to be privy to demos and snippets from his next album. 

And you meet his friends, shake their hands and smile and chatter with them. They’re not sure what to make of you at first, no-one really is when you present yourself in conjunction with Colson, but soon they start to see what he sees in you. It’s endearingly genuine and thoughtful and honest and enthusiastic and -

“They’re like sunshine,” it’s Rook’s Instagram live, almost six months into your relationship with Colson, that really cements it to the public. Rook is smoking in Colson’s living room in the middle of the afternoon between recording sessions, and someone asked what your deal was. 

“I’m so sick of - and I know Kells is, and Y/N too, not that they’d ever say anything. ‘ve never heard them say a bad word ‘bout anyone, you know,” Rook hits the blunt again, his face scrunching up, “but everyone ‘round here’s so fuckin’ sick of people talkin’ shit ‘bout ‘em. For real, Y/N is sunshine, nicer than all of you motherfuckers put together,” and he laughs, but it’s clear he isn’t entirely joking, “- you know what?” He asked, eyes lighting up and standing abruptly, grabbing the phone.

“Baze, man, you seen Y/N?” He calls, and Baze responds from somewhere off-camera that you’re outside. The comments are going off, but he pays them no mind, heading out to the backyard, only to see you by the back fence, peering over into the trees, on your tip toes, one hand straining over the fence, in shorts and a singlet in sunshine yellow.

Rook calls your name.

You shush him loudly, and then, without looking at him, slowly wave him over.

As he approaches, he can hear the telltale sound of a bird chirping, and as soon as he gets close, he hears you whisper -

“I think they’re bluebirds,” you murmur, and finally look back at him, lowering yourself, surprised to see his phone held aloft. He tells you he’s live streaming, you wave awkwardly, which is when he sees the slice of banana you’re holding, “I’m not sure what they eat; do bluebirds eat banana?” You ask, a little helpless, looking at Rook, and then to his phone. 

After a moment, you step aside, and gesture for Rook to take a look over the fence, and sure enough there’s a nest with a single, rather sad looking bluebird with it’s wing bent at a strange angle, calling out pathetically, obscuring a few eggs, just out of arm’s reach. While he’s looking over the fence, also trying to reach them, and also trying to get the phone close enough to see if anyone watching the livestream could identify the bird or offer any suggestion, he hears your footsteps retreating.

“Stay there, I’m going to get Kells,” you call out to him, voice bright, “he’s got long arms!” And Rook bursts out laughing; you weren’t wrong. 

While waiting, he sits against the fence and answers a few more questions, until he looks up and sees you, expression concerned, and Colson uncharacteristically fond as he lets you lead him by the hand.

You show him the nest and ask for him to get it, worried the bird was hurt, and he obligingly reaches over the back fence to gently collect the bird nest, trying his best not to jostle the bird. The bird’s wing appeared to be broken, and Rook ends the live when you mention that you’re going to take the bird to the vet.

Already, the fandom is exploding from what had transpired. 

People are making suggestions as to what the birds should be named, people are claiming your caring and sweet personality is completely fake, people in the live managed to screenshot Colson’s expression as you’d lead him to the birds, how smitten he was with his hand in yours, and have started posting ‘get u a man who looks at u like kells looks at y/n’ all over twitter and tumblr.

“Bird update!” Several hours later, Colson posts a series of videos to his instagram story, “for those of y’all who don’t know, Y/N found a bird with a broken wing in a tree out the back of my place, we rescued it and it’s eggs, and took it to the vet,” and with that he flips the camera around, from a close up on his face, to show a large, cardboard box in the corner of the room. 

Peep Davidson was written in large, black letters on the side of the box.

The rest of the videos are outlining what the vet had told you all, and that the bird should only take about seven days to heal before you could put them all back into the wilderness. 

At that, he pauses.

“You worried about putting the birds back when you saw that cat the other day?” And he angles the camera to reveal you, laying with your head in his lap.

“The orange one?” You ask, voice heavy, as if he’d disturbed you when you’d been right about to fall asleep. You yawn, and he confirms, you give a little, lazy shrug and smile, “not sure where that cat is.”

“Fuckin’ hell, babe,” Colson laughs, “you gotta stop finding random animals in my backyard.”

“They find me,” you counter, and shift so you can press your face against his belly, humming contentedly as his free hand begins stroking your back. 

“Snow White-Cinderella-Pied Piper motherfucker,” how that is somehow the softest, most gentle words to ever leave his lips, is utterly baffling, but there’s so much love and adoration but you turn enough for the camera to catch your delighted little smile, “you’re-” he starts, “who’s that dude from that, that My Hero shit we were watching the other night?”

“Koji Koda, you weeb,” you tease him fondly, knowing exactly who he’s referring to, and that’s where the video ends.

That’s the day it’s confirmed for the rest of the world. There’s countless paparazzi photos, and hints, and speculation, but this is the first time he’d called you anything but your name, and they’d all seen you snuggling up to him, your head in his lap.

This also is the day the trend begins on his Instagram story of a photo of you, usually in his backyard, with whatever animal had decided to befriend you that day.

My partner. My backyard. No fucking idea who’s animal that is.

And he still goes out and gets fucked up, and sometimes you’re there, and sometimes you’re not. When you’re out together, it still doesn’t quite make sense; he’s hard partying and over the top, and it seems like it wouldn’t be your scene at all.

But then there’s photos of Colson and a few of his friends standing on the edge of a roof, announcing that they’re Kings, and you’re by his side, smiling and waving at the person taking the photograph. He manages to get himself injured pulling a stunt at a friend’s house party, but you’re in the back of some influencer’s vlog, straddling his lap with tissues in your hand, him holding you secure as you clean up the scrape on his forehead; it’s kind of sickening how in love he looks, as he watches the way you concentrate. When you notice his expression, your own softens, and you lean in to give him a kiss. 

And so you start to make sense, but people still ask why.

So when asked, you tell people that you support each other, and challenge each other, and yeah, that’s absolutely why you’re together, but it’s not the whole reason as to why you make sense.

Because no-one sees the way you hook your finger into his belt loop at the back of his pants at the house party, and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades, and he knows exactly what that means. He’s quick to make some flimsy excuse to leave as you step into place by his side, which everyone he’s speaking to immediately sees through. You play at being flustered, tucking your embarrassed expression against him as he slings his arm around your shoulders, and calls an Uber.

The drive back to his place has you both on edge with anticipation, his hands all over you in the back of the car while you try to hold a civil conversation with the driver. It’s killing you not to give in, but you know it’s worth it. 

“You’re such an idiot!” You announced, grinning from ear to ear the moment you get into the house, before the door’s even closed, and he slams it shut to press you against it. Kissing him feels like a cathartic release, but after a moment you shove him back, loudly admonishing him for taking part of a stunt that got him hurt.

“You could have been seriously hurt!” You keep poking him in the chest to punctuate your words, and he steps back each time, expression alight, pupils blown wide. He keeps reaching out, as if to touch you, to snag your clothes, like it’s a game when you smack his hand back every time. 

“Got a gnarly cut though,” he pointed out, as his ass hits the kitchen island. His legs open, making space for you, and you step into it.

“Gnarly cut,” you murmur, tone surprisingly derisive, and you reach up to push his hair back from his forehead. His head tips back, leaning into your touch, the look on his face almost dreamy even as you’ve got a hand on his hips, pushing him back on the counter. 

Then you’re in his lap on the counter, hand fisted in his hair, lips on his neck, leaving bruises and bite marks. He’s trying to get you naked, efficient and desperate, but the moment he gets your shirt off, you push the fruit bowl behind him onto the floor, and push him back against the granite countertop. 

“You were worried about me,” he smirks up at you, admiring you with your hands planted either side of his head. 

“Because you don’t worry about your damn self!”

“Ooh, breaking out damn tonight? Must be serious,” he teased, deliberately riling you up; he loved this side of you just as much as the sweetness. Instead of responding, you reach up under his shirt and rake your nails harshly down his chest and stomach, delighting in the way he arched up at the sudden sensation, eyes falling closed. 

With one hand still flat against his belly, the other comes up to cup his jaw, gentle at first, before your fingers move to caress his throat, and you press yourself against him. 

“If you get yourself killed, I’ll kick your ass,” you whisper, lips inches from his as you press firmer against his throat. He grins, and sighs, the sound content and syrupy and so fucking into it, leaning up, to meet your lips with his, to feel the pressure on his neck just a little more.

And you bite, and you scratch, and you ride him on the kitchen island. The location is new, but the situation isn’t; once he’d discovered the righteous, sexual fury you’d been bottling up, he’d been more than happy to let you unleash it on him. Not to say that he didn’t give as good as he got; there’s been several times he’s had you swearing a blue streak, seeing stars, desperate and blissed out in equal measure.

But then there’s your dominant moments, the mean streak, and the teasing, the sting of your nails and your teeth and the way you push him around, into the mattress, against the wall without hesitation, and that he covets. No-one else is allowed to see you like that. To be tied up or blindfolded or or punished or pushed around, at your mercy, it’s as close to Heaven as he’s ever felt on Earth, because he knows without a shadow of a doubt that your heart is kind, that you’d never really hurt him in a way he wouldn’t like.

You make him feel safe.

And it’s not just the sex, you’re never dismissive of ideas or suggestions, seemingly always ready to help if he ever needs it, rather than judgmental. It makes him want to be there for you too. 

He wants to be better for you.

Which is kind of terrifying to consider.

“I love you,” he tells you in the shower, in the afterglow, soft, pausing where he had been washing your back where you couldn’t reach. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but he felt like he needed you to hear them.

“Love you too,” you say around a yawn, though the words are as genuine as they’d always been coming from you, and you lean back against him, leaning your head against his cheek in a moment of quiet intimacy. You try to kiss him like this, but turns your face directly into the shower, and end up spluttering and breaking the moment.

Colson chuckles softly, stepping back and pulling you with him, out of the stream of water and into his arms so he could kiss you properly. You’re still giggling as you’re wiping the water from your eyes, looking at him with fond adoration. When you settle your arms around him, you quiet down and bask in the moment, his forehead coming to rest against yours, warm and safe in his embrace, sensing that, in that moment, he felt the exact same way.