#stop wasting my time and i'll stop wasting yours

[greycaelum]

Hi there!! This has been living rent-free in my mind, but how would the Gojo family react if Satoru was turned into a cat? I saw that one shot for the Chains Series and I suddenly wondered how would the KSeries deal with it. I bet when he's back to normal, Saika will ask for a cat and now Satoru will have to deal with the consequences 🤣

Personal headcanon: As a cat, he would be a Maine coon. Tall, has beautiful hair, and is BIG.

Ok... I'm drowning with the ask that has piled up... Scratching my head how I'll manage to finish this before the next grueling school year starts. Send virtual snacks and iced chocolate!

You look at the big white fluff staring at you with a resting bitch face, licking his paws and purring on the bean bag Satoru loves to doze off... well, technically it is still Satoru.

"What did you do this time, Satoru?" You rubbed your temples as you sighed at the cat Shoko gave you, telling you it was Satoru. You don't know if she's being serious or pulling your leg but the large cat looks exactly like Satoru if he was a cat. White fluffy fur and bright blue eyes, and what's more is that the cat—Satoru has the exact smirk he has as a human. A menace.

Saika was the first one to discover Satoru who didn't waste time hopping off the bean bag and started meowing, rubbing, and purring around Saika's legs. Your daughter just came home from her piano lessons and had to be picked up by the chauffeur because you don't wanna leave Satoru in this bizarre state of his.

"Oh! Hi, pretty kitty! You look just like me!" Your daughter exclaimed and dropped to her knees to hug the cat—Satoru—and called you from the kitchen.

"Mama! Did Papa get me a cat?!" She came running to you carrying the heavy cat—Satoru who meowed at you and let his daughter carry him in his cat form around.

The ladle hit the ground as you asked her to put him down gently on the floor but Satoru didn't seem to share the same idea as he meowed loudly and clung to Saika.

What a drama queen!

"Satoru! Claws off!" You weren't able to stop yourself from calling him out. Satoru in his cat form threw his head back and meowed loudly, vocally expressing himself and his disagreement with you but finally let go of Saika.

"Mama, did you name him like Papa?" Saika looked up to her mother in confusion and back to the kitty. "Papa will be jealous" She adds with a sure face. "We need to name him anothe—"

She wasn't able to finish that as the door was slammed open with a panting Kouki. Your son's eyes zeroed out on the cat—Satoru. Satoru nonchalantly runs in his son's direction and starts meowing as if telling him what you did to him.

All the while Kouki just stared at the cat and as if listening to the litany he was meowing...

"Okay, enough. You're giving me a headache with all the yapping." You shook your head and scooped the hairball fluff into your arms. "Snacks are on the table." You told the kids before going upstairs with cat—Satoru in your arms.

"Meow!"

"Don't start..."

"Meow, meow, meow!"

"..." You stared at the cat, staring back at you with an annoying subtle smirk on his lips.

"You do realize I could have you neutered and you'll never know whether you're keeping those balls or not when you come back to normal, rightttt Hun?" You smiled sweetly to the feline—Satoru, whose non-existent shoulder from his chonky fat body slackened at the word 'neuter'. His blue eyes widened as if accusing you of a heinous crime as he immediately curled up, trying to hide in your arms. Vocalizing a tiny meow to poke your conscience.

Closing the bedroom door, you put him on the bed which he immediately curled in his side, turning his back on you...

"Well... what do you want for dinner? Obviously, I can't feed you normal cat food." You pull him close then place him on your lap, petting his tummy. "I can boil some chicken for you... or some wagyu beef we have on the fridge."

He rolled over your lap, presenting his belly as he gave you a very big yawn.

"Meow meow!"

"Wagyu?" You asked in confirmation.

"Meow..." He licked his nose and patted your hand which stopped petting his belly.

"Mama! Where's Papa?" Saika asked from the other side of the door. "He promised to give me an ice cream tonight." You could hear the pout in your daughter's voice.

Kouki turns the knob slowly and enters with his sister... He's still eyeing the cat who looked at them and meowed in greeting...

"That's Papa right, Mama?" Your son looked at you and back to the cat. "I saw it, he turned into a cat..." they climbed onto the bed and Satoru jumped to rub against Kouki's shoulder and lick Saika's cheek.

Saika's eyes widened... her eyes landed back on Satoru for a long time before they slowly watered and she bursted out crying.

Satoru licks her tears, patting her arm, circling around his daughter trying to console her. He meows at you as if asking for help.

"Papa's a cat?!" She sniffles. "Am I a c-cat too, Mama?" She hiccups with fat tears rolling down her face.

"You're already a cat, Sai..." Kouki adds.

"Wha—No!" You covered your lips to stop the laughter threatening to spill. "It's just a temporary situation, okay? Papa's gonna be fine, it's a curse he got from work but he'll be totally back to his normal self... I just don't know when." You slowly explained to your bawling daughter.

"Meow!"

"It's fine, sweetie... Don't cry, Papa's fine. Okay?" You consoled the girl who hiccuped between her tears. "And Kou, stop playing with your father's fur, your allergy could act up any second, sweetheart." You reminded Kouki who was hugging his father's cat form, burying his nose on the snowy fur and rolling around the bed while Satoru just let his son do whatever with his feline body.

"i'm n-not a c-cat?" Saika sniffles.

"No, sweetie of course not." You consoled her. Wiping away the fat tears on her cheeks, hugging the little treasure's body into your arms and also pulling in Kouki into the cuddle... Satoru in his cat form rubbed against the three of you and plop on your lap.

You left the three of them on the bedroom to cook dinner. Eventually the cuddles continued as you decided to have a movie marathon with the kids and let them sleep with you for tonight. Saika fell asleep first, curled up beside Satoru who is let her hold his floofy tail while she slept. Kouki was curled on to you side, watching the movie with you.

"Papa's gonna be okay..." Kouki says out of nowhere and pets Satoru's head. "Papa's the strongest." Your son beamed at you with a proud look on his face.

"Yes, he is..." You kissed your son's head and ruffled his hair. "Papa's the strongest... troublemaker." You added.

"Meow!"

Kouki giggles. You just smiled. As far as you know, when it comes to cuddles and loving' Kouki turns to you but when it comes to affirmations Kouki always counts on to his Papa. Satoru is his idol and nothing could make him change his mind, much to his father's delight.

You fell asleep together, the movie was on but the three of you were knocked out except for a certain cat...

Purring to himself he carefully treads between the entangled limbs and curls to your chest. Subconsciously your lips found his furry forehead, pressing a light peck before he licked your jaw and curled deeper into you, making some biscuits as he purred and purred. He feels so safe and loved in your presence.

The next day...

"Papa can you turn to a cat?"

"Wha—of course not Sai, yesterday was just a very very special situation."

"Yeah, it was special because I didn't get allergies around your cat fur Papa." Kouki adds.

You woke up to your husband and kids talking... But you decided to keep your eyes shut and just listened.

"Can't everyday be a very very special day so you can turn to a cat, Papa?" You could vividly see Saika's puppy eyes even with your eyes closed.

"No, Cat. How can Papa do this?!"

The loud squeals of both the kids enveloped the room. Satoru tickles them to wheezing until one eventually taps out.

"Papa can't do this if I was a cat, no?"

"I like Papa when he's a cat, coz I don't get allergies when I play with you!" Kouki exclaims.

"if I was a cat then I can't do this too!"

Suddenly your feet were pulled back effectively ending your eavesdropping as you shriek in surprise. Landing on top of your husband's lap with his shit eating grin on his face.

"Miss me Honey? Almost lost my family's crown jewels to your threat yesterday, gonna pay for that, Mrs. Gojo."

"W-Wait!" You didn't have time to escape as your three menaces drown you with tickles and kisses the first thing in the morning.

Well... You wouldn't have it in any other way.

Bonus:

You push several sheets of paper in front of Satoru...

"What's this, Baby?" He was munching on some tuna sandwiches while you and Kouki just came from the hospital. Behind you, Kouki and Saika are looking at him with awfully twinkling eyes.

"This mochi's immunotherapy to his car allergies seemed to have worked." You chuckled.

"Well... That's a good thing! Right?" Satoru looks up confused.

"We can finally get a cat!" Saika cheers.

"I want a Maine Coon, Papa!" Kouki interjects.

"No! I want a Norwegian Forester, Kiku-nii!"

"Papa!" They both chorus and tug at his legs.

Satoru looked up to you for help. You shrugged and went to the kitchen to cook dinner.

"I'm not cleaning litter boxes, just so you three know."

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

[fandoms-writings]

Let Go

Pairing: DBF!Bucky x college!reader (Part 3)

Word Count: 6.9K

Summary: Enough is enough. It's time to put your foot down with Bucky. You're tired of being hidden, but that means a whole new dynamic to your relationship - and a hard conversation.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY , making out, fingering, p in v sex, subby!bucky makes an appearance, Mentions of past sex acts, angst (this one is SAD for a little guys sorry), reader standing up for herself, confessions, bucky being a big ole dummy, cuss words ( I think that's it lol)

Part 1, 2 || Bucky Masterlist || Masterpost

Sorry! Can we raincheck?

Miles is down with a fever, can we reschedule?

I've got a surprise exam in the morning, I'll have to pass tonight.

The messages from your friends glared at you from your phone screen as you read them over and over. You hadn't actually opened them, they just sat in your inbox, one right after the other. 

Great. You sighed, glancing around the street corner where you were supposed to meet your friends for a night out. Your best cocktail dress clung to your hips as you shifted from heeled foot to heeled foot. You'd wanted to spend the night with your friends, finally taking a break from all the assignments and exams and responsibilities you had. 

But now, you stood alone outside the club, your uber already gone, and some guys eyeing you as they went in, giving you the wrong kind of chills. 

You huffed a breath and raised your phone back up, pulling up a number you haven't had the time to call - you were busy getting a degree - but that didn't stop him from trying to reach you. Bucky's name stared at you as your thumb hovered over the dial button. 

You took a breath to steady yourself as you pressed it and raised the phone to your ear. You hadn't seen Bucky in weeks, not that you didn't want to. You'd just been busy with classes and projects. 

And trying to get a hold over the feelings you had for him - the type of feelings you absolutely could not have for your fathers friend. 

He answered on the third ring, his voice and loud music coming through the speaker, "Hey!" 

"Hey, Buck," You couldn't help the way his voice made your heart start racing, even if he was just over the phone. "Are you busy?" 

"Not at all," His side got quieter as you heard a door slam shut, "What's going on?" 

"I was supposed to go out with some friends tonight, but they've all bailed. I was going to ask if you wanted to come out. I'm already downtown." You told him the name of the club you were standing in front of and he confirmed he knew of it. 

"I can be there in twenty minutes," He said and you could hear the smile in his voice, "Or ten if I run." 

"I'll wait inside for you," You smiled. At least you wouldn't be alone for the night and getting this dolled up wasn't a total waste of your time. 

You hung up before heading inside, letting the loud music rattle your bones as you made your way to the bar to order a drink and wait. 

~~~

The next fifteen minutes flew by faster than you thought they would've, nursing your drink and watching people dance against each other helped. But when those familiar hands landed on the bar next to you, you decided it was worth the wait. 

Bucky looked like he ran, his eyes clear and wild, his chest rising and falling at an uneven pace - though it was clear he was trying to steady it. 

"Where'd you come from?" You asked, a small smirk on your lips. 

"I was at the bar a few blocks down when you called. Started running as soon as you hung up," He said, sliding closer to your side, leaning to purr into your ear, "I've missed you." 

"Hm, have you now?" You fluttered your lashes up at him, and his smile grew.

"I have," His eyes flicked between yours then down to your lips and back up, "You've been so busy, I barely get to see you. It's a miracle I get texts back when I do."

You laughed at that, "Well sorry I'm trying to actually pass my classes with more than just C's"

He chuckled before smirking, "Did you miss me at all?" 

You let out a dramatic sigh, "A bit." 

"Ouch, only a bit, huh? Did I not make a lasting enough impression on you last time we got together?" The moment flashed in your mind - the dingy dive bar, the locked bathroom door, the cool mirror at your back, the counter under you ass, the arms holding your legs open, the way his lips felt on your neck, his hips snapping into yours - 

You pushed the memory from your mind as you felt your core go molten and your skin heat. Bucky knew as his smirk grew that he did indeed make a lasting impression, but chose not to say anything as you slid off the barstool, standing in front of him. 

"I want to dance," You downed the rest of your drink before lifting your chin at him. He chuckled before shifting out of your way, letting you lead the way to the dance floor. 

You didn't even get to take one step before a familiar voice called both of your names. Your heart dropped out of your ass and your skin turned ice as you turned to see one of Bucky's friends - one who also knew your father. 

"Sam!" Bucky smiled, clapping the other man on the shoulder, "What are you doing here?" 

"The wife wanted to have a night out dancing, and this was the spot her friends recommended, so here I am," he smiled, turning to you, "Hey you, I haven't seen you since that barbecue at your dads over the summer. How are you?" 

You pushed a smile to your lips, hoping it came across as natural as you stepped forward to give Sam a quick side hug. "Good, just needed the same thing your wife wanted - a night out." 

"I see," He glanced between you and Bucky, "So, did you two come together or. . ?" 

Your knees felt weak and you were glad you hadn't made it far from your barstool as you leaned on it for support. If Sam found out, there was no way he wouldn't tell you dad, and you dad sure as hell could never know about you and Bucky. But before you could respond, or even try to come up with something that didn't sound suspicious as fuck, Bucky's voice filled the silence. 

"No, I was walking back from the bar on 9th when I saw her standing outside," He smoothly said, putting a friendly hand on your shoulder, "She said her friends canceled so I offered to buy her a drink before she went all the way back home." 

It wasn't a total lie, but something about the way he said it made your chest tighten. The easy lie and simple dismissal of you two being there together, how it was just a coincidence. 

"Oh well I'm sorry," Sam looked at you with too much pity and you fought to keep your smile as you waved him off. 

"It's fine, don't worry," You took a breath, "I should probably go home though." 

"What? You just got here," Bucky argued and you shrugged. 

"My friends aren't coming, I'm not going to dance by myself." 

"Come hang out with us!" Sam exclaimed, adding a teasing, "Unless you think we're too old for you." Oh how wrong he was with that. 

"I don't want to be a bother," You said, "Really, I'll be okay." 

"No no no, c'mon," Sam got his wife's attention, pointed to you and you saw her face light up. "I think she wants to dance with you." 

"Okay, okay, I'll dance for a little bit," You laughed, following Sam to meet his wife on the floor, Bucky at your back. 

You tried to glance over your shoulder to get his attention, to convey how nervous you were - how nervous he should be, but he wasn't even looking at you anymore. His eyes were flitting around the dance floor. 

It was so easy for him to pretend nothing was happening between you two, to pretend like whatever you two had didn't exist. You fought off the uneasiness in that realization as you finally met Sam's wife on the floor and joined her in the music. Your body wasn't as fluid as it usually was when you danced, you felt stiff, but you couldn't help it. Especially not when another glance at Bucky dancing against another girl twisted your gut in ways you didn't know it could. 

Tonight was going to be a long one. 

~~~

Your feet ached in your heels as you quickly made for the exit. You needed air, you needed space, you needed to go home. 

You'd been able to stomach watching Bucky dance without you for the first couple hours - barely - but you couldn't take being ignored anymore. You didn't want him to fuck you in the middle of the dance floor for everyone to see, Sam included, but you would've liked if he'd offered to dance with you like Sam and his wife did. To join the group even or, fuck, just look at you once in awhile. Maybe smile. Or wink.

Instead, he gave you a wide berth, didn't look at you once, and didn't seem interested when you excused yourself to the restroom twenty minutes ago. You hid in the stall, gathering yourself before exiting, glancing out at the group to see not one of them bothered by the long time you took, and decided it was time to go home.

Pushing open the main door, you blinked in surprise at the rain that was now pouring down, and you sighed, shutting the door and stepping as far away as you could without stepping out from under the awning. You called an uber to take you home and watched impatiently as the car icon turned down various streets to get to you. The driver wasn't far, and would only take a few minutes to arrive, and you were hoping it was enough time before someone came out looking for you. 

But when the door next to you opened, and that familiar head of cropped brown hair peered around the edge, your heart sank. Your name fell from his lips in a confused tone as he took in the way your arms were wrapped around yourself and how you were basically hiding behind the door to stay out of the way. 

"What are you doing out here?" He shut the door and stepped next to you, his elbow brushing yours. You grit your teeth at the frustration that was brewing in you, the urge to shout and yell. You weren't normally someone who lost their temper, but you were so tired. Tired of not being enough, of being alone. 

"Waiting for my ride." You refused to look at him as he stared at the side of your face and you watched the road. 

"You. . ." He hesitated, tilting his head and leaning a bit, trying to get you to look at him, "You're leaving already?" 

"Yup." At the dismissive tone in your response, he straightened himself again, but still kept staring at your goddamn face. A sigh pushed past your nostrils as you glanced at the gps again, seeing the car was only two blocks down now. Thank god. 

"Do you want me to come with you?" He asked, following you as you stepped out from the awning and into the downpour, your dress and hair almost immediately becoming soaked through. "Or you can come over to mine, if you'd like?" 

"No, thanks." You declined, your voice beginning to strain, "I'm not in the mood to fuck you tonight." 

He flinched as if you'd hit him, but recovered as he sidled up to you again, "W-well, I've got a bottle of wine, your favorite brand, in the fridge unopened. We could have a drink and watch a movie? Or cuddle, or just talk? Whatever you'd like." 

You turned to him, surprisingly calm considering the way your chest seized and your eyes stung. His face fell as he took in the state of you, the misery lining your lashes and the anger pulling your lips thin. "Don't pretend like you actually care, James. Like whatever this is," you weakly gestured to the space between the two of you, "has ever been anything more than you wanting to fuck me," You turned back to the road, your voice dropping below a whisper, "and me letting you." 

His jaw went slack as he stumbled for words. 

A small car pulled up beside you, throwing its hazards on as the window rolled down. You leaned in, asking the driver for his name. The older man who was probably in his late sixties or early seventies introduced himself as Dominic, and after checking to make sure it matched your app, you pulled open the backseat door. 

Bucky's hand shot out to where yours rested on the car door, gently, "Wait. That's it? You're not going to talk to me about this?" 

You fought the tears in your eyes as you sniffed, turning your full attention to him. "There's nothing to talk about, James. I'm just stating how it is. I didn't ask you to come out with me just to ignore me all night, only for you to remember I exist when you want a good lay." The uber driver kept his gaze on the road, patiently waiting for you to get in, and pretended he wasn't hearing your entire conversation. You'd apologize to him once you were on your way. 

"You know why I - "

"Because of Sam," You calmly cut him off, "I know. But that doesn't mean you get to pretend that I don't exist. You wouldn't even look at me." You pulled your hand out from under his, climbing into the car. He held the door open, refusing to close it. "Close the door, James." 

"Can we please talk about this?" He begged, something you never heard him do - usually it was you begging him. You looked up at him, and you couldn't tell if your face was wet from the rain or the tears that could've fallen. It was probably both. 

"What's there to talk about?" You asked, your voice raw, "There are boundaries we can't cross, James. And I'm tired of being alone." You took a breath to try and steady the shakiness out of your voice, "And I'm tired of waiting for you to notice me." 

You leaned forward and grabbed the door handle, ignoring the way Bucky's face crumpled in disbelief. You tried to pull the door, but he held it firmly open. 

"Please let go," You asked. 

He shook his head, your name slipping from his lips like a prayer, "Please."

"Let go." 

He let out a shuddered breath as he looked at his feet for a moment. You were going to say it again, when he nodded and looked up at you, sniffling. 

"Okay," He muttered, "okay." His hand fell from the door, and you watched him through the window as you pulled it shut. 

"Please go," You gently asked your driver, who gave you a pitiful look in the mirror before he nodded, putting the car in drive. You didn't look out the window again, but you knew Bucky was still there, standing in the rain, watching you pull away. 

~~~

"Thanks, Dom," You gave the driver a small smile as you opened the car door. He hadn't asked about what he'd heard while waiting for you to get in the car, or about your tears. He asked if you were alright, if you needed him to stop anywhere and get you anything. You'd smiled, declining the offer, but it had warmed your heart. 

"Of course," He turned to give you a sad smile. "If you need anything, I'll be driving all night, so I'll be around the area." 

You smiled at him, "Thank you, but I'll be fine." 

He nodded, before saying, "Hey." 

You looked at him again, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm not trying to butt in on a situation I don't know," He started, "and you can ignore anything I say once you get out of this car. Just," He took a breath as if to steady himself, "Sometimes, it's worth listening to the other side. So you know the whole truth. So you don't sit there and wonder years later, if shutting them out was a mistake." 

"I appreciate the advice, but," you sighed, "there's a lot of story there that I can't get into." 

"And whatever you do, is your choice. Just. . ." He took a deep breath before his eyes locked with yours, and you could see the regret and the sadness swimming in his irises. "I was that person, once. And not a day goes by where I don't wonder what life would've been like had I just listened." 

You smiled, reaching forward to pat his shoulder, "Don't let the past drag down your present," you offered him a sad smile, and he reached up to pat your fingers with his old ones, "Have a good night, Dom." 

"You as well." 

You climbed out of his car, walking to where the doorman of your building greeted you and held the door open for you. He eyed your soaked clothes and hair with concern and you waved him off. 

"Got caught in the downpour. It's headed this way, but I'm alright." You plastered on a fake smile, as you passed him. 

The elevator ride was suffocatingly silent, the only noise being the dings of the floors you passed and you spent the time removing your heels, your sore feet thankful to be flat again. The ding of your floor filled the air and the doors whirred as they slid open. You were greeted by that maroon carpet, and cream walls of the hall, the little gold detailings of the light fixtures and door handles plentiful as you passed them by, aiming for your door. 

Your keys slid in and unlocked effortlessly, and you stepped into the darkness, shutting the door behind you and locking it before you slid down to the floor. Feet pushed out in front of you, your back to the door, you sat there in the quiet stillness of your apartment. 

In the dark, Dominic's words kept ringing in your head. Sometimes, it's worth listening to the other side. So you know the whole truth.

You sighed as your head fell back and thumped against the door. Deep down, you knew the old man was right. You don't have to let Bucky back in, but you should hear him out. But you knew by the way your heart constricted at just the thought of it, that you weren't ready, not yet. You needed to cool down and think and relax before that conversation.

So you stood on shaky legs and flicked on a couple lights before making your way to the bathroom. A hot bath to wash away the night and chase away the cold that was starting to bite at your bones was the best way to start. 

~~~

Nick, your doorman's voice echoed in your head as you stood at the buzzer of your door. 

There's a James Barnes here to see you. 

It'd been a couple weeks since you left him at that club downtown. Weeks of no contact, not even a text. You knew you needed to talk to him, but you didn't know if you were ready. You didn't even know what more could be said. What story he could try to spin you. 

But you remembered Dom's words from that night, and shook yourself from your stupor just in time to hear Nick calling your name through the buzzer. 

"Send him up." You hoarsely replied, "Thank you, Nick." 

"Sure thing," His voice came through the static before going quiet again. 

You took a deep breath as you looked around the apartment. It was a little messy - you hadn't really had time to clean these past few weeks with finals around the corner. Part of you wanted to rush to pick some of it up, but you knew deep down you didn't have time before Bucky knocked on your door, so you wrapped your arms around your torso and waited, trying to ignore all the awful ways your brain was coming up with for this conversation to end. 

The knock on that door couldn't come soon enough, and you had to steel yourself before pulling it open. 

Bucky honestly looked worse for wear, the bags under his eyes were prominent, his hair that was usually so well styled was unkept and in disarray. His normally well trimmed beard was longer than you'd ever seen it, though it wasn't by much. And in his hands, was a small bouquet of wildflowers. 

"Can I come in?" He asked, his voice gentle and somewhat hesitant. 

You stepped back from the door, silently holding it open for him to enter. He pressed his lips tightly together and quickly stepped in, watching as you shut and locked the door behind him. 

"I know that these won't fix anything, but I remember you talking about the flower shop two blocks over and how you really enjoyed the wildflower bouquets so I thought I'd stop on my way here to get you one - " He was rambling now, staring at the flowers in his hand as his free one came up to gently stroke some of the petals. 

You walked to the kitchen, with him blindly following you as he rambled on and on about the flowers and the specific bunch he grabbed reminded him of you and you had to push out the feelings that started to warm your chest down, down, down back into their steel box - the steel box you decided to lock them away in that night you left him at the club. 

After grabbing a small vase from the cupboard, you held your hand out for the bouquet. Your fingers entered his field of view that was still locked on those petals and his rambling tumbled to a halt before he nodded to himself. 

"Right, sorry," He gently handed them over to you and watched as you placed them in the vase and filled it with water. You'd worry about if you were really going to keep them later, and if you did, going through and properly arranging them. But right now, you had an important talk waiting to happen. And the sooner it was over, the better. 

"What do you want, Bucky?" You asked, pushing the vase away from the edge of the counter and looking up at him. 

"I was hoping we could talk." 

"I have nothing more to say to you." You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned your hip against the counter, eyeing him as he stepped up to the other side, resting his hands against the fake marble. 

"You don't have to say anything, but I have some stuff I'd like to say to you." His eyes were practically begging you to listen and Dom's words rang in your head again. Sometimes, it's worth listening to the other side. So you know the whole truth.

"Fine," You sighed, "out with it." You knew you were being a bit rude and cold. But after the past few weeks you've had, you didn't want him here longer than necessary. 

"Right, um," He took a deep breath. He seemed so uncharacteristically nervous. Whenever you were with him, he was always so sure of himself. So confident and cocky. To see him rambling and fiddling with the flowers earlier, and now struggling to find his words - it put a pause in your frustration. 

He straightened his back and took another breath, and you steeled yourself for what he was about to say. 

"I want to apologize." He started, "For everything. For starting this with you, pursuing you when I knew I shouldn't have. For making a mess of it." His throat bobbed as he continued, "When I met you two years ago, there was just something about you. Something that lured me in. You were - are so smart. You're so fucking smart, and beautiful and funny and witty and I just - " He sighed, "God, I fell so hard for you.

"But your father is one of my friends. And that's not right. What kind of man does that make me?" He asked, gesturing to himself. "What kind of man does that?" He all but fell into one of the barstools at the counter, "So, I kept you at arms length. Only saw you in secret, pretended you weren't there if there was even the slightest chance of getting caught - and for that I am so, so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. But," he sighed, taking a moment before continuing, "but I didn't know you felt any certain way about it. About me."

He looked up from the counter to you, across the kitchen with your arms still crossed, "I didn't know you weren't okay with it. With the hiding and the secrets. If I had known - "

"What?" You weakly asked. You didn't mean to cut him off, you meant it when you said you didn't have anything left to say to him, but your mouth opened of its own accord. "What would you have done?" 

He was silent and you shook your head, letting out a weak, sad laugh, "Exactly. You wouldn't have done anything, because you can't. Not with who we are." You swallowed down the lump that began to form in your throat, your next words coming out almost silently, "I don't just feel a certain way about it." 

"What does that mean?" He asked, his brows knitting together. 

"James," You sighed, "I've been in love with you for months now." His eyes widened as he watched you lean backwards against the other counter, "And what sucks, is that these past few weeks, all I've wanted to do was call my dad, or my mom, and get some advice on our situation," You felt the tears begin to build in the corners of your eyes. "But I can't ask them. And I can't talk to any of my friends about you because they know my parents." 

You ignored the way his face crumbled as your voice cracked and thinned as you fought the building tears, "I can't talk to anyone about you. I'm alone in this. And even if I were to have you, I'd be alone."

He was silent for a minute, watching the tears fall down your cheeks before he slowly stood and walked around the counter to your side. He hesitantly approached you, gently reached up with his hands and brushed away the tears from your chin. 

"What if you didn't have to be alone?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"What if," he breathed in, his eyes scanning every inch of your face as he caressed it with his thumbs, "what if you didn't have to be alone? What if we didn't hide?" 

A weak scoff pushed past your lips and you tried to glare at him, but you could tell it wasn't really there, "You're assuming there's still a 'we'." Though your words were meant to throw him off, the lack of bite in your tone kept him right in front of you, the tight concern in his face melting way to something you'd only glanced in his eyes a handful of times - something soft. 

"I would like there to be." He whispered and you felt that steel box inside yourself crack open. 

"What?" It felt like it fell between you, your question, but he caught it with his nervous grin

"I'm in love with you," he stated with such gentle conviction, that steel box starting to spring open further and further the more he spoke, "and I know I've made a mess of things, but I would do anything to make it right." His hands slid off your cheeks and ran down the lengths of your arms, softly gripping your fingers and pulling them away from your chest and to his own. "I want to be with you. I want to show the world that I'm yours. I want to openly be yours." 

That little steel box shoved deep down inside of yourself flung open. Everything you've bottled up the past few weeks came bubbling to the surface as you fought that wobble in your lips. You fought to keep it all in. To keep yourself composed. 

"I want to make this right," He continued, his own eyes watering at the state you were in, "You just need to tell me how." He sighed, "Or tell me to fuck off, and I will. You'll never hear from me again if that's what you want. And honestly, I wouldn't be offended if you did." 

The thought of never seeing him again didn't sit right with you. It made a horrible sense of dread fill your chest and you shook your head. 

"What about my father?" You asked, your voice straining against the words that were trying to get out. Against the confession that sat at the tip of your tongue. 

"We'll tell him. We'll find a way to tell him and it'll be okay," He gently pulled you, testing to see how you reacted and when you easily stepped towards him, he wrapped his arms around you, holding the back of your head with his hand, "We'll figure it out." 

The warmth from his chest seeped through his shirt into your cheek and you let it out then, the cries that you'd been holding in, the words you'd come to terms with days ago that you never thought would be voiced, the words you'd wanted to say to him in anger began clumsily tumbling from your lips. 

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Your lips scraped against the cotton of his shirt, "You can't expect me to tell you how I feel when you made it feel wrong to want more." You pulled back, weakly pushing against his chest before haphazardly wiping your eyes. 

You'd missed everything about him the past few weeks, no matter how much you tried not to. His warmth, his scent, the feel of his hands, the husk of his voice. God you missed it. And you wouldn't have had to miss him at all had the two of you just told each other. 

"The way you'd avoid me or act as if I wasn't there," You said, taking a step out of his arms, "How do I know that won't happen again?" 

His face fell as he looked at you, his hands dropping to his sides, "You don't, but I can promise you that it never did." He let out a sad chuckle at the confusion taking over the tears in your eyes. "I may have avoided getting too close to you, yes, but not once did I not notice you." 

He stepped forward, wrapping his hands around your waist to settle on your lower back, his fingers tracing invisible patterns into your shirt. 

"If we're in the same room, I always know exactly where you are," His eyes darted down to your lips for a split second, "When you leave the room, all I want to do is follow you, but I can't. So I strain to hear your voice and laugh over everything else. I practically hold my breath until you come back." He gave you a sad smile, "I know you probably don't believe me, but it's true. It's like my entire being orbits around you and when you aren't around, my soul doesn't know where to spin." 

You didn't know what to say as you watched him, noted the sincerity in his gaze - the tears beginning to line his own lashes. You weighed everything he'd told you, how he felt, how he was trying so hard to not lose you. All because you finally put your foot down, and then listened. 

You weren't sure if your brain could form the words you wanted to say - needed to say. Your heart was racing from his confession and the proximity of him. He was so close to you, you'd merely have to tip your chin up the slightest to catch his lips with your own. 

So you did.

His body instantly reacted - his grip tightening across your back and pulling you as close as he could, his lips moving in tandem with yours in the soft enticing way they always did, a sigh leaving his nose and tickling your cheek. 

The feeling of his lips on yours sent a warmth through your chest that you hadn't felt in weeks, and it quickly spread through the rest of you, tingles shooting out to your fingers as they reached for his chin and down to your toes as your feet backed you up into the counter. A small noise that sounded almost like a whimper escaped his throat, swallowed by your mouth on his, as your hands slid up from his chin into his hair, your fingers threading through the strands and gripping them. 

You knew there was more to talk about, more to figure out - there always would be - but right now you couldn't stop thinking about his lips on yours, his tongue gently asking for permission to play with yours as his hands slid from your back down to your ass, squeezing before sliding further to your thighs, his back bowing as he reached. His fingers pulled on your legs twice and in the spare second his lips were able to pull from yours, you felt him whisper to jump, so you did. 

He caught you, gently placing you on the counter as he stepped in between your legs, pulling your hips to the edge of the counter. His lips left yours and moved to your neck, softly nipping and sucking as he moved down to your chest, pulling your shirt, stretching the neck of it but at the moment you couldn't care less about it. He only pulled away to pull the clothing up over your head and out of the way, his mouth immediately going down to close around a nipple when he noticed the lack of bra in his path. 

A low groan rumbled through his throat and into your skin before he moved to the other one, giving it the same treatment as the first. Every little touch of his hands, the way they grazed over your skin or grabbed at your free breast, kneading it with his fingers, and the hot trail his tongue left across your skin turned your core molten. You needed him, you didn't want any of the teasing and edging he so loved to torture you with. 

So you tugged on his hair, his name falling from your lips in a whine and he looked up at you, his eyes glazed and his pupils blown. The look made you hesitate and you clenched around nothing - you'd only seen him that far gone in the feeling of your skin one other time. So, seeing it now, you knew you could ask him to do anything, and he'd do it. You could order him, and he'd obey. 

You pulled his face up to yours, making him stand up straight as you locked your lips with his again and slid your hands down to his belt. While you worked the buckle open, his hands wrapped under the shorts on your hips, pulling them down your legs and causing you to gasp at the cold counter meeting your skin. 

The buckle finally opened and your fingers immediately moved to the button and zipper of his jeans, his own moving to brush against the wetness there. Your lips swallowed the new whine that he let out as he gathered the slick, pushing two fingers all the way in.

Your lips broke from his at the feeling of his long fingers pumping in and out of you and your fingers stumbled over the denim, but finally you got the button open and the zipper down and you shoved at his pants, your lips moving to his ear. 

"C'mon, handsome," You whispered, letting your lips brush against the shell of his ear and grinning at the shiver that ran through his body, "Your fingers feel nice, but," Your hand reached past the waist, gripping and stroking him, his lips opening in a gasp and latching on to your neck again, "this is what I want." 

He groaned into your neck, thrusting into your hand, his fingers in your cunt stroking your walls, matching pace. 

"I need it, James," Your other hand pulled back to grip his hair, pulling on it to get him to look at you as you continued stroking him. When he pulled away from your neck, he already looked fucked out and you smiled, leaning forward to lick his lips. He tried to chase your lips with his own but when your hand didn't let go of his hair, he stopped. "I need you to fuck me, James," He groaned at that, "Can you do that for me?" 

He nodded, his voice thin as he responded, "Yes." 

"Good," You smiled at him, trying not to whine at the loss of his fingers as he pulled them out and pushed his boxers down just enough. His left hand settled on your waist as his other lined himself up with your entrance, gathering some slick before he pushed himself in, going all the way in one go. 

His head fell into your neck as he groaned, the sound of it combined with the sudden fullness pulling a moan from your lips.

"Oh, fuck," Your lips brushed his ear as you panted. "That's it - fuck -" Your hands come up to grip his shoulders and his back as he immediately set a growing pace. "That's a good boy." 

His lips again connected with your neck and you tipped your head to give him more access, his teeth dragging across your skin. His hips sped up, a loud moan breaking from you as he angled to hit that perfect spot, Your head falling back into the cabinets. 

"That's it that's it," You panted, "Oh, don't you dare stop." His teeth nipped just below your ear and you couldn't stop the grin that grew on your lips, "Mark me," You grunted, "I want everyone to know I'm yours." 

What you could only describe as a growl rumbled from his lips into your skin as he began working to leave a mark on that exact spot, the sensation flying through every one of your nerves, shooting down to where he was hitting that perfect spot over and over, and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to falling over that edge, faster than he'd ever let you before. 

His lips brushed the skin of your neck as he grunted out, "Please cum on me," His voice was breathless and he sounded so, so close to begging, "please." 

You let out a breathy sound, that band in you so close to snapping as you lifted your legs to wrap around his hips. Your fingers wound through his hair again, gripping the strands as you ordered him, your lips never leaving his ear, "Make me." 

"I will," He said between leaving marks across your neck and shoulder, "I promise I will." 

His hips never faltered as his thumb on his right hand came to press quick circles into your clit, your legs snapping around him at the sensation and your head again hitting the cabinets. 

"Shit, that's it," Your fingers gripped any part of him you could reach, scratching your nails down his skin and the shirt still covering his back. The band in your core snapped and your release washed over you, your body locking around his as you were sure you screamed into his shoulder. 

His hips didn't stop, still fucking into you at that brutal pace he'd set, his thumb still circling your clit and you could feel another orgasm quickly approaching. 

He grunted out, his only request this whole time, "One more," before his voice softened into a whine, "please give me one, pleasepleaseplease." 

You didn't fight the second wave as it crashed into you, stealing your breath. His hips thrust into you just a couple more times before he stilled and his hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, his long moan vibrating into the skin of your neck as he buried his face again. 

His legs shook as he stood there with you wrapped so tightly around him, but it was like he didn't dare move from your hold, or let you escape his. And you were fine with that. 

Once you got your breath back, you slowly dragged your fingers over his back and shoulders, threading through his hair before going back down his neck, his muscles loosening with each pass. 

His arms wrapped around your waist in a tight hug as he finally broke the silence, "Can there still be a 'we'?" His voice was so quiet, like he was scared to ask. You pulled his face away from your neck finally. "Are you going to ask me out? Like a real date?" You grinned at the flush on his cheeks. 

"Can I take you on a proper date?" 

You couldn't stop the small laugh that bubbled up in your chest and you nodded, "Absolutely." 

There was a feeling in your chest telling you to think about it more before agreeing, but you ignored it. You knew the risks, and you knew there was more to figure out and more to learn before it would be a smooth road - and that didn't even include telling your parents. 

But that was a problem for another day. Right now, you just wanted to stay wrapped around Bucky in every sense and enjoy the warmth that filled your chest as he looked at you like you hung the sky just for him. 

Yeah, you'd fix the rest of it later. 

As always, thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are all appreciated!

If you enjoyed the story, please consider supporting me on my Ko-fi

If you want to be updated when i post a new story, please follow my library blog and turn on notifications <3 @remis-library​ 

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

CYOA C57 Sneak Peak

Since I took a not-so-brief break from writing and it still might be another few days before I can post the next chapter, have a sneak peak of the beginning of the chapter below the cut.

Private WhatsApp Chat Resumed: Wednesday 16th March, 2022, 01:37 Members: Lily Evans, James Potter

================================

Lily Evans: <image attachment> You're hopefully asleep but look at what I've got!

...

Private WhatsApp Chat Resumed: Wednesday 16th March, 2022, 07:11 Members: Lily Evans, James Potter

================================

James Potter: omg it's my face mug

Lily Evans: Yep! Plus my tea, which really got me through the morning since I came in an hour early to get a site report finished. I employed cunning stealth tactics to manoeuvre it out of Pip's desk drawer yesterday.

James Potter: what did you do?

Lily Evans: I said, "Pip, can I have James's face mug?" and that worked.

James Potter: truly you are machiavellian in your endeavours also are you wearing bright pink in that photo?

Lily Evans: I am. Felt slightly daunted about it this morning because of the stupid old adage about redheads, but I mean, I BOUGHT the outfit on Monday because I loved how it looked on, so chickening out would have been a waste of my money.

James Potter: what's the old adage about redheads?

Lily Evans: There are MANY and they're all equally ridiculous because being redheaded is great actually, but this one in particular dictates that we "shouldn't wear pink," presumably because it looks terrible on us.

James Potter: that IS stupid you look so pretty

Lily Evans: Thank you! <image attachment> This is the full fit. I love Sirius's selfie mirror. What d'you think?

James Potter: christ you really do have phenomenal legs warn me next time, would you? i'm trying to drink my morning coffee in peace here, and you spring this on me

Lily Evans: Lollll you saw my legs on my Instagram yesterday.

James Potter: yesterday you had big tall boots on today you do not

Lily Evans: Forget about my legs for a second.

James Potter: i physically CAN'T

Lily Evans: The jacket is a CAPE, James. I own a CAPE. I am MAKING MY OWN DREAM (of owning a cape) COME TRUE. Do you have any idea how many crop tops I bought on Monday? LOADS. And I've been scared of crop tops my whole life. I still kind of am scared, but I'm going to be brave and wear them anyway, Bea says that if I carry myself with confidence on purpose I'll eventually start to carry myself with confidence because that's genuinely how I feel, and you know what she's right because I've had more compliments from other women in the office over the last day and a half than I've had in the year since I started working here. If you can't tell, I'm very excited about my new clothes.

James Potter: i can tell

Lily Evans: It's probably a very boring topic so I'll stop.

James Potter: no you don't have to stop i think it's brilliant and not just because i get to see more of your legs, which is a huge win for me

Lily Evans: Lolllllllll

James Potter: a week ago you were calling yourself a frump, so it makes me happy to see you talking like this instead if new clothes make you feel good about yourself then i want to hear about them

Lily Evans: I do feel more like ME in them, if that makes any sense at all. And there's no going back now because I've bagged up a load of my old clothes and Bea and Remus are going to help me lug them to the charity shop before we all head off to the train station on Saturday. I bought A LOT of new things. Like, so much I felt a bit obscene every time it came to pay. But I couldn't have done that if you hadn't spared me from paying rent for the next few months, so thank you so much for being a bottomless well of kindness, even though I should be saving that money for a deposit on a new flat and have had no common sense in my approach to this.

James Potter: don't worry about it, you deserve bottomless wells of kindness and of every good thing in life are you going to leicester with remus and beatrice this weekend?

Lily Evans: No, although I'm going the Saturday after for a pre-Mother's Day lunch with my mum and Petunia. I'm heading to Stockport to spend the night at Emily's, it just so happens that Bea and I both need to leave from Euston. Actually, first I'm getting my hair done, then I'm donating my clothes, THEN I'm going to Stockport to see Em. Then I'm going wall climbing with her and her mum and sister.

James Potter: oh cool! i love climbing, have you ever done it before?

Lily Evans: I went to a climbing centre once for a friend's birthday party years ago, I was twelve and I got my first period while I was actively on the wall, so I spent quite a lot of the day running into the toilet to check that nobody could see it even though I was wearing black shorts and Carina's mum had given me a pad. So the short answer is: not really, but I'm not worried, none of them are expecting me to be any good at it even though they're all basically professionals. Em and her sister also go cycling every Sunday morning so I have been informed that a loaner bike and safety gear is available if I want to join them.

James Potter: do you think you will go?

Lily Evans: Yeah! I haven't cycled in a few years but I do cardio every day so I reckon I can manage the exercise even if I wind up extremely saddle-sore afterwards. Plus this all means I get to bring and wear some of my new workout clothes, and honestly I'll take any excuse.

James Potter: if you put some chamois cream on before you cycle you'll save yourself a lot of discomfort little tip from my mum that i flagrantly ignored in my youth

Lily Evans: Why did you ignore it?

James Potter: because i was A MAN who didn't NEED to smear cream on my groin to train for a triathlon except it turns out i did also i was only about sixteen, who the fuck did i think i was, cat noir?

Lily Evans: I'm going to skim past the fact that you know who Cat Noir is because then I'll need to explain why I know who he is and it's probably the same reason.

James Potter: it's definitely the same reason

Lily Evans: God, we're both such dweebs. I mean, you're much cooler than I am, but still.

James Potter: not true at all, i'm a massive dork, i just happen to play a lot of sports, so people who don't know me well don't spot it straight away

Lily Evans: And you're stupidly attractive, which isn't often expected of massive dorks because we live in a society that unfairly pigeonholes people into boxes based upon their perceived attractiveness. This I say as I shop for makeup online. I know I'm part of the problem.

James Potter: what does "stupidly" attractive mean? i'd love a definition

Lily Evans: You already defined it yourself. Weeks ago, actually.

James Potter: what??? when?

Lily Evans: "And now," gasped Theo, in a ruggedly handsome but also charmingly boyish but also sexy but also dorky way that seems really impossible for a real human man to accomplish, "I will kiss you at last!" See? Defined. As per you. Also important to note: this kind of attractiveness makes people who fancy you act and feel like blushing, giggling idiots. Hence, "stupidly" attractive.

James Potter: well

Lily Evans: Your brother, on the other hand, is NOT stupidly attractive. He's inaccessibly attractive. Which is very different. Science.

James Potter: noooo don't talk about sirius! talk about me again!

Lily Evans: I just did. At length.

James Potter: talk about me more who am i making blush and giggle?

Lily Evans: How quickly you forget that I still field emails from Jessalyn et al.

James Potter: oh it's JESSALYN, is it?

Lily Evans: Et al.

James Potter: i think you should elaborate on et al

Lily Evans: I'd love to but I have to jump into a meeting.

James Potter: no you don't!

Lily Evans: Yes I do!

James Potter: a meeting with who?

Lily Evans: With Agnes from Julia Murphy.

James Potter: who is agnes from julia murphy

Lily Evans: Julia Murphy is a skincare company, one of our brand partners, and it's in my calendar, see?? <image attachment> I'm not trying to get out of telling you I think you're cute.

James Potter: two minutes ago i was ruggedly handsome and charmingly boyish and sexy now i'm merely cute?

Lily Evans: And dorky. Don't forget dorky.

James Potter: i haven't forgotten anything, thank you very much

Lily Evans: James, you are ruggedly handsome and charmingly boyish and sexy. Are you happy now?

James Potter: that reply will do, but only because you're busy you're off the hook for now but i expect you to revisit this subject later

Lily Evans: God, who even are you, my owner?

James Potter: that's an interesting choice of words, lil

Lily Evans: DON'T YOU DARE ANSWER THAT QUESTION

[cherry-romper]

You Sound Like a Song

Playlist

+ Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, Maki, Inumaki, Yuta, Todo, Gojo, Nanami, Toji, Geto, Choso, Kusakabe, Higuruma, Sukuna.

Yuji; Magnetic - ILLIT

Even from afar, Pulling me close,

You're my crush

Everything about you sticks to my heart

This time, I want you, You, Like its magnetic

Don't wanna hide it, the magnet in my heart

Megumi; Pretty Boy - The Neighbourhood

Even if my heart stops beating, You're the only thing I need

Now its all about to end

As long as I got you, I'm gonna be alright

I'm not afraid to die

No, I'm lucky you're with me

Nobara; God is a woman - Ariana Grande

You love it how I touch you, my one

When its all said and done, You'll believe God is a woman

Have it any way you like

And I can tell that you know I know how I want it

When you try to come for me, I keep on flourishin'

Maki; Rules - Doja Cat

You ain't talk money, then really that's none of my business

I don't even need these lenses, 20 on 20 my vision

Look at me like I'm alien, bitch, I'm fucking reptilian

All y'all bitches was wrong, Talkin' bout I fell off, You ain't even get on

Inumaki; Blondie - Current Joys

There are flowers in my heart

They're growing thorns and it hurts

And I won't, See you again

Can we kiss? Can we dance?

Yuta; 死ぬのがいいわ (Shinunoga E-wa) - Fujii Kaze

I want you to be my last

If I have to keep being separated from you like this, I'd rather die

I choose you over three meals a day

I'll always stick with you, my baby

Todo; Talk - Hozier

And I'd be the immediate forgiveness

Imagine being loved by me

I wont deny Ive got in my mind now, All the things I would do

I'd be the sweet feeling of release mandkind now dreams of

Gojo; Heartbeat - Childish Gambino

I wanted you to know, That I am ready to go

Whenever you're around, Can't speak, I can't speak

So we fuck 'til it come to conclusions

Im a ghost and you know this

But you don't want the same thing, Well, two can play that game

Nanami; Trash Magic - Lana Del Rey

Boy, you wanna hold me down, Tell me that you love me?

I do my hair up, all high and wide, White flowers tied

He said, "Lana Rey. Will you serve me lemonade?" I said, "Yes Bill, I will, It's the day of the parade, And you look even more handsome than you, Did the day that I left you"

All I want is to feel good

Toji; L'AMOUR DE MA VIE - Billie Eilish

I wish you the best for the rest of your life, Felt sorry for you when I looked in your eyes

Did I break your heart? Did I waste your time?

It isn't asking for a lot for an apology

Its not my fault, I did what I could, You made it so hard, Like I knew you would

Geto; favourite crime - Olivia Rodrigo

Know that I loved you so bad

I was your willing accomplice, honey

One heart broke, four hands bloody

The things I did, Just so I could call you mine

I hope I was your favourite crime.

Choso; Is There Someone Else? - The Weekend

Is there someone else or not?

'Cause I wanna keep you close, I don't wanna lose my spot

If I ain't with you, I dont wanna be

I don't wanna be a prisoner to who I used to be

'Cause I wanna be with you forever

Kusakabe; The Color Violet - Tory Lanez

I left the party with a barbie marking X on the dot

But she likes my watch and my droptop and my persona

I've got some nerve to play hard

I've waited for my chance, but playboys we don't dance

Tis beat in my dance is not for romance

Higuruma; Salvatore - Lana Del Rey

All the lights are sparkling for you, it seems, On the downtown scenes, shady blue

The summer's wild and I've been waiting for you all this time

I adore you, can't you see you're meant for me?

I was so wrong not to doubt your Medellín, tangerine dreams

Sukuna; Living Dead Girl - Rob Zombie

There's only one sure way, To bring the giant down

Crawl on me, Sink into m, Die for me

Living dead girl

Blood on her skin, Dripping with sin, Do it again

[pearlofthesirens]

For My Princess Only: Chapter 2

summary: You did not expect yourself to fall for a commoner, that too a bandit out of all the men who wanted you. But what happens when your safety is threatened and your father, the king, learns about your secret lover? pairing: Bandit!Kyle Gaz Garrick x Princess!Reader warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader of arab/south asian descent, slight cursing, historic misogyny and objectification of women mentioned now playing: Nainowale Ne by Neeti Mohan word count: 1283 words(one thousand two hundred and eighty three words)

"How much for a dozen of these apples, brother?"

"36 coins, madam."

"36? I swear you people are raising the prices, last month it was 24 coins."

"These are from the new harvest, dear. They arrived fresh this very morning."

"Fine, fine. I'll take it for 36 coins."

The fruit vendor happily received the payment and handed her the dozen apples in your bag, totally unknown to him that he was talking to the princess. How would he? Her face was hidden by a stole wrapped around her head and face. Women in her kingdom never failed to practice modesty through clothes and to blend in, she had to do the same. It protected her from the immense heat too.

It wasn't until she walked quite a distance from that shop to another one that she heard a commotion. Turning back, she was more than enthusiastic to see the same man from the day she was out with her father. He seemed to be in trouble, the fruit vendor holding his hand which had an apple in it.

"You thief! You think you can just take my fucking fruits and walk off without paying?!"

"Of course, he didn't pay." Princess laughed to herself and walked towards them to solve the issue. Raising a hand, she stopped the vendor from almost killing the man out of anger and took the apple from his hand.

"Don't worry, I'll pay for his purchase."

"Madam, this is a thief you're wasting your coins on!"

"Thieves don't steal something they don't consider a need. Food is an essential everyone deserves. Please add two more of these to the tally."

The 'thief' was dumbstruck seeing someone pay for him. He looked at her in awe, wondering who this generous woman was. Her eyes seemed familiar, he swore he had seen them before. After spending a few more coins on the extra fruits, she handed them to the man and proceeded to walk away, thinking that he will not recognize her since her face was hidden behind all the fabric. But he followed after her, with the biggest beaming smile on his face.

"Wait! Kind lady, please!"

She turned around again to find him tailing after her and this time, she could see his grin up close. He was like a fresh breath of oxygen, like a flower blooming in a desert, like a drink of chilled water in scorching heat.

"How do I repay you? You did more than just help me!"

"Consider it as a kind gesture, sir."

"You didn't just save me from that guy, you got me more than what I needed! I cannot just walk away without any recompense."

She took a deep breath in, hesitating to attempt what she wanted to. But she shook off all her negative thoughts as her fingers slowly rose up to her face, unclasping the fabric which concealed her features. And he saw, eyes wide at her identity being revealed.

"P-Princess..? Your Highness, I-"

She immediately covered her face back, putting a finger against his soft lips. She let her fingers wander up on his face, letting her palm fully rest on his cheek. For a moment, it seemed as if both of you found whatever you were looking for in each other. He found kindness in her and she found liberty.

"Let this remain a secret between us, hmm?"

It was enough to silence him, the only thing he could hear at that moment was her voice and the pounding of his heart in his chest. Every other noise faded away when her eyes scrunched up in a smile. She was just as beautiful in regular attire as she was in royal clothes, draped with the finest silk and jewelry. The lack of glamour did not take away her beauty or her kindness.

"R-Right, yes...I'm terribly sorry for burdening you with my troubles."

"It's nothing. I'm happy to help you."

She continued to browse through shops as he followed her, now with her consent. She stopped in front of a jewelry shop, checking out the trinkets laid in front of them. Her eyes wandered towards a specific jewel, something she thought would fit the rogue she had already made a plan to heal and set on a good path.

"Since you already know who I am, may I have your name?"

He felt the blood rush into his cheeks when he realized he did not even tell her his name. His hands shot up to his chest and he held his head low, earning an inaudible chuckle out of the jewel merchant who thought he was being courteous towards the lady.

"Kyle Garrick, Your High-"

She gave him a quick glare, reminding him that she was still in disguise. He coughed and collected himself before embarrassing himself in front of the princess anymore.

"Ahem- it's Kyle Garrick, madam. My friends call me Gaz."

"Kyle, hmm...got a nice ring to it. I hope to see you often."

"Of course, ma'am. Anyti-"

"Not while you're stealing something. I don't want to see you do that again."

"I-I..of course, yes..."

She saw the way his smile dropped and he appeared ashamed, and let out a brief breathy laugh. He looked adorable, almost like a little boy who got caught doing something he shouldn't have.

"Do you have a job? Anything you do for money?"

"N-No, ma'am..haven't had a stable one."

Nodding, she noted it down in her head before buying a gold chain with a bright garnet pendant from the merchant. With a swift movement of her hands, she swung the chain over Kyle's neck and stepped back to see how he looked with it on. "Definitely handsome", she thought, "but a few changes could do."

"Do you know how to ride horses?"

"I do, ma'am."

"Fend off an assailant?"

"Yes."

"If given a sword or a weapon of sorts, would you be able to safely use it?"

"Of course."

He could only stand with his hands behind his back, feeling her eyes trail from his face down to his abdomen. Her gaze felt scrutinous, as if she was making a conclusion out of his visuals. He definitely wasn't wearing his best, a tattered shirt and dirty trousers. His shoes were on the verge of falling apart, hair messy and unruly.

"Come to the palace tomorrow. I think I can get you to do something that you'd be whole-heartedly devoted to, for a hefty wage of course."

For Kyle, shocked would be an understatement. He was getting a employed at the royal palace? That too because of the princess, Her Highness?

"But I'm just a-"

"You're a man who is competent. And it would hurt me to not fix you with an occupation which could possibly bring you enough money so you won't have to resort to improper ways again."

He opened his mouth to protect, but the sympathetic on her face made him stop on his tracks. It was the princess of his kingdom herself pleading him to become better.

"Please, Kyle...let me."

And who was he to refuse the princess herself? He let out a chuckle, feeling defeated. Running his fingers through his hair, he met her eyes again and nodded. If it made her happy, then he was ready to do anything.

"Then I shall visit the palace tomorrow at your request, Your Highness."

He whispered the last part, making her giggle. She was successful in making a decision of her own which would benefit a man, it was a small step towards freedom. Her eyes, rimmed with kohl, crinkled as she smiled, and he felt as though he could never look at anyone else with such adoration.

proofread ✓ pearly venus, 16:15 240617

masterlist for my princess only series

[olivianyx]

i have this feeling like law of assumption community is mostly filled with women who are : adults and don't work or educate/study and live on money their boyfriend make with his hard work and inteligent mind or just children who are way to lazy to study so they do law of assumption all day. first yall tell others to think about one thing all day, who has time for that? people have shit to do, second you are very lazy because you teel other to "do nothing" LAZY lazy bum

Okay I see how it is, first of all, it's called 'Law of Assumption' for a reason. You've assumed this is how the law is and you've assumed that these kind of people use it and are lAzY to do shit, that's how it is happening in your reality! Y'all people, Here's a proof that the law's working 🗿👍

Second of all, I'll be more respectful in the first try... Please respectfully leave the community since people who's got the mental capacity to understand and apply the law only is allowed, and please log out of Tumblr, live your life, and obviously others here got a life too. You can do all the 'work' and get successful and prosper in your life! I hope you understand it.

Third of all, lemme be more straightforward with my statement... LIKE BITCH GET YOUR ASS OUTTA THIS COMMUNITY, NOBODY'S ASKING YOUR OPINIONS HERE. CUS YOUR OPINIONS AREN'T GONNA STOP THEM BUYING PORSHE OR FERRARI OR LIVE THEIR BEST LIFE. JUST FUCK OFF FROM TUMBLR IF YOU DON'T ANYTHING HERE.

Thank you! And I hope you understand 👍👍👍👍👍👍

Here are your other questions, and I'm not gonna answer it and waste my time since even I got a life so, just go do your work. If you don't like it, get tf out.

[scuttlingcrab]

You know that data-mined line of Raphael declaring that he is at Mephistopheles' mercy?

Now imagine Raphael saying that he is at your mercy. Imagine him saying it and meaning it.

(Whether this involves a battle or a bedroom... I'll leave that up to you)

Thank you Anon for inspiring me with yet another amazing prompt! x

Summary: After fighting Mephistopheles, Raphael finds himself trapped at the bottom of a crevasse, wounded and waiting for death. Tav shows up unexpededly and Raphael is left wondering if his little mouse will play the role of saviour or executioner.

Notes: Lots of angst, mild violence, talk of death, daddy issues, etc.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

An Icy Reunion

(Image via certifieddilfenjoyer)

Sleep beckoned the Devil like a siren, its alluring melody pulling him in closer to the darkness, towards its sweet embrace. ‘You can rest now,’ it seemed to say, as the weight of his eyelids grew heavier. ‘There is tranquillity here, your woes are all but forgotten, meaningless, foolish.’ Shadows were encroaching him, its tendrils wrapping around his body, warmth crawling up his limbs. He was plummeting into a void, falling… falling… falling… he would reach the bottom eventually. Or perhaps he wouldn’t. 

He no longer cared. 

Sleep would do Raphael some good. It had been aeons since he allowed himself to have a moment's respite. He never stopped since he began his cursed pursuit of the Crown of Karsus, his ambitions the only thing that kept him company throughout all those sleepless nights. He should rest, yes. But just a wink. There was still a war to be fought, one final battle remaining. Even now, enemies were creeping, plotting… 

The ground vibrated around Raphael as more frozen stalactites fell, sounding like a thousand shattering chandeliers. It jerked him away from his thoughts, severing any feeling of warmth. He slowly opened his eyes, his vision blurry, no matter how many times he blinked. 

Ah, yes. He was still here. 

Raphael never imagined he’d be wasting his dying breaths at the bottom of a crevasse, trapped under the glaciers of Cania. The icy walls groaned around him, creaking like he was in the belly of a ship. The glaciers drifted aimlessly as they reformed the icy landscapes, colliding into other icebergs or whatever else lay in its path. Life moved on here, unbothered by the unfortunate beings it devoured; all necessary sacrifices in the end. 

How long had he been there? A few minutes? No. More? Maybe. Like his stiff limbs, the sands of time were frozen while he waited for the inevitable. He was losing his wits… his concept of time as whole… it was all slipping away from Raphael, fading… 

His body lay in a mangled mess, intertwined with the remains of Mephistopheles. The Crown of Karsus sat at his feet, seemingly unbroken from their fight. Throughout Raphael’s entire existence he could never rid himself of his beloved father as he made his own path in the Hells, striving for perfection. No matter how hard Raphael tried to wash away his father’s taint, that rancid stench stuck to him like a rotting corpse. He would always be his father’s son, no matter how far he ran. 

Raphael stared at his own broken form, so frail and worthless. He should’ve felt pain surging through his crushed legs, his tattered wings, at the very state of his body. He had tortured thousands of mortals through the very same methods. The Devil elicited the sweetest screams as he bent and moulded limbs like a skilled craftsman forging their finest weapon, testing how far he could push them before they broke into a thousand beautiful pieces. But now… nothing. Not even the bitter cold stung his exposed skin. 

The weather in this part of the Hells was swift and brutal, a monster that terrified any sensible infernal creature. In Raphael’s youth, he had discovered a plethora of Devils who had fallen victim to the ever-changing environment, bodies that were so perfectly preserved it was like they died that same morning. Eyes wide, faces stuck in a perpetual state of terror, arms extended in their final moments… Raphael would be one of those corpses soon. He was already coated in a thick layer of frost, his father’s body slowly becoming unrecognisable. 

And who would discover them in a thousand years?

Brief glimpses of his fight with Mephistopheles flickered through his mind, like a moving picture, as he drifted in and out of consciousness. 

Mephistopheles had played the role of a gracious host well, Raphael had begrudgingly learned everything from his father, but it wasn’t enough. Their dinner had been cut short, any pleasantries exchanged were incinerated faster than tinder as soon as Raphael took his seat at the table. 

He was too eager, still riding the wave of his last success in Maladomini to think sensibly. Raphael always got caught up in his emotions, tangled in the heat of the moment, no matter how hard he tried to tame them. He was ready to rid the Hells of Mephistopheles and didn’t want an alliance. The time for reconciliation had ended long ago. The mere thought of working alongside his father made his throat clench, leaving a foul taste on his tongue. With the Crown and seven layers of the Hells in the palm of Raphael’s hand, he was unstoppable. Or so he thought.

Mephistopheles had been reduced to an insufferable child, unravelling into one of his infamous temper tantrums at the hands of Raphael. He provoked his father, twisting him around at his disposal, knowing what to say, where to slide the knife deeper in order to weaken his defences. 

He chased Raphael through Mephistar as they continued their dangerous game of cat and mouse. Mephistopheles carelessly threw bursts of Hellfire, destroying the very foundations of his Citadel, his guards, and his legacy. It all began to melt away, the walls unable to withstand its master's rage. Raphael countered Mephistopheles’ Hellfire with his own, using the Crown to penetrate his armour, channelling all its powers to defeat his father, to prove him wrong. 

Raphael ignored his trembling hands, blinked away the dizziness from the weaves of the Crown that filled his fingertips, ignoring the whispers that crammed into his ears; the warnings, the screams, all the information, too much noise! He held onto the strength for as long as he could. He would deal with the repercussions later.

Soon Mephistopheles was surrounded in thick black flames that violently lashed out at Raphael, fervently licking the high ceilings as it devoured everything. True Hellfire, in its purest form. It was the most beautiful and terrifying thing Raphael had ever seen, and for a time, the main source of his nightmares. 

In a last ditch attempt, Mephistopheles took their battle to the blistering skies. Grabbing Raphael by the scruff and flying into an approaching storm. The wind howled, slapping viciously as it pushed and shoved their flying forms. The ice fell from the sky like arrows, exploding into tiny daggers on impact.

Raphael dashed through the chaos, pulling out a glowing sword as he aimed it at Mephistopheles. He wanted this moment in particular to be intimate, to see the life draining from his father’s eyes himself. He would’ve done anything to achieve it. Raphael shoved the weapon into his chest, twisting it deeper as he laughed, as they both fell through the clouds. Mephistopheles’ eyes widened, the shock quickly turning to anger at his realisation. 

Mephistopheles suddenly teleported, colliding into icebergs and the surrounding walls of Mephistar. Raphael held on to Mephistopheles as his body crashed against ice, against stone, digging his claws into his father’s back to keep from falling. He freed one hand, grabbing onto the sword and sending a torrent of electricity into Mephistopheles.

His father screamed something at Raphael, ripping the air apart with his mouth, but his words could not make it through the storm. Mephistopheles’ body glowed, his entire form becoming brighter than the sun. Raphael’s eyes stung as he was blinded by the light, the scorching rays burning his skin, his wounds sizzling against the cold. Claws wrapped around Raphael’s neck, tearing at his flesh as he felt himself plummeting… wind whipped against his wings, his body slammed against something hard, something cold, until there was only darkness. 

Raphael opened his eyes, barely having enough energy left to let out a small sigh as he stared at Mephistopheles' body. In the end, the Crown wasn’t enough, it could never be enough to unite the Hells. He had almost sucked it dry of all its powers fighting against his father, nearly burning himself out in the process. How could he even fight Asmodeus in this state? If ever? When he couldn’t even grasp the full potential of the relic? He was doomed. At least that bastard was dead. 

Raphael’s vision was fuzzy, blurring around the edges. He could barely make out the icy blue walls as they continued to close in around him. His chest relaxed however, his heart beating slower. Sleep was calling for Raphael again. 

So this is how it would end... Poetic. 

In an instant, a brief gust of flames appeared in front of Raphael as a raging portal opened, a figure slowly emerging from its centre.  

The figure approached Raphael and a strong scent of cloves and roses washed over him. A combination he hadn’t smelled in nearly a century, from a creature he had cared for, obsessed over. Loved. Tav had been his Warlock once. She could’ve been his prized warrior too, his consort, until she disappeared, leaving only a measly letter saying goodbye. 

How cruel to be reminded of her in these final moments. What other ghosts would climb out of the shadows to taunt him? 

The figure stood above Raphael, his eyes following them, blinking as their features slowly came into focus. Raphael gasped as Tav’s face appeared, as angelic and beautiful as the day they first met outside the Druid Grove. 

She stared down at him, her face unreadable. 

Raphael laughed, his frozen lips cracking, barely able to form a smile.

“Little mouse?” The name was sweet on his lips, comforting. “Is that really you?”

Tav tilted her head in recognition, her blue eyes softening. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Raphael coughed, an immense pressure building on his chest. “Finally coming to pay your favourite patron a visit in their final hour? If only you had come sooner. It would’ve been nice to reconnect.”

His eyes drifted to the Crown near his feet. Raphael never voided his contract with Tav when she abandoned him. It was his way of remembering their time together, leaving the ending of their tragedy unfinished, on the off chance she would return one day. He would’ve liked to believe Tav still belonged to him, but it had been so long… What was her allegiance now? Another spy for Asmodeus? She was always a clever creature. For all Raphael knew, this is what Tav was waiting for. It’s something he would’ve done, has done, to quickly rise up the ranks. It was almost too perfect. 

“Fate couldn’t have written a more fitting end. The mouse turned executioner.” Raphael rested his head against the wall. “I am at your mercy. Do your worst.” 

At Raphael’s own words, the weight on his shoulders lifted, as if the crippling pressures of his existence vanished.

Tav knelt by Raphael’s feet, her hands reaching for the Crown. He nodded, closing his eyes as he waited for the end.

Instead Raphael felt a rush of energy pulse through him in a massive explosion. All at once he felt his body break and reform itself, blood jetting back through his limbs as if a dam had burst. He screamed as the sensations filled him, keeping his eyes shut from the pain. And from the fear of what he might find when he opened them. 

“You can open your eyes now.” Tav said, her voice nonchalant. 

Raphael’s heart practically leapt out of his chest hearing Tav’s voice. What was she still doing here? He opened one eye tentatively and then the other. He was still lying on the snowy ground, but his body had been restored. He lifted his hand and made it into a fist. The action was slow and rigid but Raphael smiled, he never thought he’d be able to move again. 

“What is the meaning…?” Raphael was on the verge of tears as these mortal feelings unexpectedly flooded his senses, the emotions swelling. A lump formed in his throat as he tried to speak. Instead he tripped over his words, his mouth still numb from the cold.

“Gods, save the tears for the stage, Raphael. It’s fucking cold. I hate the cold. Let's get out of here, yeah? Besides, Korrilla owes me some money.”

Tav stood up, extending her hand towards Raphael. 

“Will you… at least stay a while? Your company would be most appreciated, if you would be so inclined, of course.” Raphael found himself blurting out those ludicrous words like a fool, unable to stop them from pouring through his lips alongside the horrid emotions. It was never ending! He appreciated the cold at that moment, of the lack of sensation on his face. His cheeks must've been blushing, red hot from the embarrassment.

Raphael accepted Tav’s hand, quickly rising to his feet. He wobbled as he found his balance, holding on to her for support. 

“Oh yeah. Seems you dropped this, Archdevil.” Tav grinned, handing Raphael his Crown. 

Before Raphael could utter his thanks, Tav took his arm and threw it over her shoulder. As they sloshed through the snow, Raphael stopped, looking behind him. He searched for Mephistopheles’ body but it had disappeared under the ice. Gone forever.

“Good riddance. Father.” Raphael whispered.

Tav paused, allowing Raphael his final moments with Mephistopheles. She squeezed his arm, drawing his attention back to her. Tav smiled, her eyebrows lightly coated in frost. Staring at Tav, Raphael was unsure whether or not it was her healing spell slowly coming into effect, or his admiration for the creature that warmed his aching heart. 

“We can catch-up all you want when we’re out of here.” Tav continued, edging Raphael forward. 

“Perhaps we can also negotiate the terms of your old contract? That is, if you are still willing to participate in my endeavours. I could use your services for the end, you know.”

“I’ll think about it.” Tav responded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. 

“I’ll consider that a yes.”

And with that, the Devil and his little mouse walked through the portal, leaving Cania behind them.

[oblitus-vulpes]

🧍‍♂️

[criscura]

I wish I wasn't so exhausted and I could make more art.... I even planned out a whole prompt-a-day month for Saigenos/Genosai, TWICE, but the first time no one seemed like they could participate when I asked about it, and the second time I friggin lost the damned plan. I could remake it a third time, but I just....I don't know.

I've been really struggling to get along for a while, and I think if it didn't hit it off--or even if I just got really productive and it seemed like I was reaching crickets--I'd be so incredibly discouraged that it would bring me down even further. It usually takes my stuff a few months to a year to get reach, and that really doesn't do anything for me when I need the support immediately.

It's not that I don't have a billion ideas for so many different things, but my battery has been taking longer and longer to charge up and it's been running out faster and faster, and it's been like this for....a year?? Ish?? Maybe longer, I don't know.

I wish I could just stop needing so much fucking time to bounce back.....

[constellationcrowned]

((I want everyone to keep something in mind in regards to this blog and this is going to sound like a general, common sense post (and in a way it is) but it's also hi I'm in your house, whispering into your ear, telling you to call ga//amestop and ask them if they have bat//tleto//ads---, blah blah, basically it's personal too:

With me, regardless of blog or content, both communication and engagement go hand in hand. Communication and engagement needs to go both ways.

I love posting and reblogging memes and calls and will continue to do so but you folks---old mutual or new mutual doesn't matter---need to take the initiative yourself sometimes too. Be enthusiastic. Be spontaneous. Be proactive. I don't want to ask people to write with me all of the damn time nor do I want to chase after people all of the time because if I have to do that constantly over and over again it starts feeling incredibly one sided even when it isn't (because ofc people have lives, specific interests, anxiety, and whatever else which are all things that I deal with myself and I understand how that can stop someone from doing something, but that's how it feels especially over an extended period of time) and I don't need to explain how disheartening and draining that can be.

My seeming to interact with only one person---and for both of my blogs it's @magioffire and we all know that---it's not because we're being stuck up, elitist or whatever inane and incorrect term people want to throw at our feet it's because we engage and communicate. The give and take between us (both from an ic and ooc standpoint) never feels imbalanced or even transactional (I really hate using that word but, again I gotta stress this, that's how this makes me feel) and I have never felt like I needed to chase them down for an interaction or had to fight for a scrap of their time---which feels like a feat bc Blair has a lot of people scrambling at their door---and I cannot tell you how huge that is. That sounds like a huge sweeping thing to say, I know, but I mean it in all of the little ways too. I could post some stupid bullshit on here; not a starter or a meme just a little random muse thought or observation, and 100% of the time here comes Blair telling me what they think or adding on to it or just...whatever. They're here for both me and my muses for the big and small things, whenever I've asked and, more often than not, when I haven't (or couldn't) and that's incredibly important. It's that kind of stuff that makes what we have special and that's putting it super lightly. And yes, our relationship both as friends and as writers has developed over a long time, and we did click immediately that's true, but there's never been any doubt to cast upon the work and effort both of us have put forth.

And this post isn't to say that I'm demanding constant or immediate attention from you all---because, again, we all have lives, health issues, etc, etc, and all of that takes precedence over a hobby as I've said before and will say again and again---but....put some effort into it when you have the capability. Yes, like the calls that I post or send a meme in, absolutely, but also message me on your own and ask a question or shoot a muse a random prompt or just @ me in a post. Show me some enthusiasm and engagement on your end because right now it feels like I'm doing all the work all of the time and that's tiring. I'm tired of handing stuff to people all of the time---I'll keep doing it, obviously, because I need and want to engage on my end and love throwing stuff at people and providing opportunities---all I'm asking for is understanding and reciprocation.

If you can't reciprocate for whatever reason? Tell me.

If you're unsure about something, no matter what that something is? Tell me.

If you need help or even a specific kind of accommodation in order for us to start interacting or continue interacting? Tell me.

Don't just assume that I don't want to write with you or that you can't ask me for things. Don't assume that I'm being a snob or whatever else just because I seem to be paying attention to a certain mun full time because do you know what that actually is? That's friendship. That's effort. That's me giving back what I've been given. That's me reciprocating the enthusiasm, love and creativity that I've been handed, nothing more. There's nothing unobtainable or gatekeep-y about that either, you just need to be earnest and forthcoming with me and I can assure you that I'll return the favor in kind.))

[sensitivegoblin]

I'm just spamming venting shit to get it off my chest and keep my hands from slipping and sliding if you get my drift

[leopards-faces]

I really truly think that I should be allowed to rule the planet and I think I would do a better job than anyone else and yeah maybe I'd crumble and fall apart in a matter of days, even hours, but I would still be better than everyone else at it because I AM better than everyone else. No I'm jk about thinking I'm better than everyone else, but I do think I should be in charge of everybody of all time. I would do a good job

Is this naive? Yeah probably. Absolutely

[sugume]

r/ATIA for WHAT!? w/Jujutsu Kaisen  

More: Fem!Reader, dark & explicit content, dubcon, piss kink, necrophilia, manhandling, choking, coercion, teacher x student, power dynamics, blackmail, threesome, Cuck!Gojo, drinking. unedited

Featuring: Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna, Gojo Satoru

PART 2

r/fuckingmystudent posted by u/Nanami_Kento 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you try to recall the events that lead you to get your brains fucked by your professor. He caught you filming a video for your Onlyfans in his class. So, he took your phone and asked you to meet him in his office after class. There, he forced you to unlock your phone and show him what exactly you were recording. It was utterly humiliating and watching him, watch you, finger yourself with a pen underneath the desk. After, he’d told you that he’d tell the dean you were getting off on his voice lecturing you unless you did something for him.  Which led you ass up on his desk, trying your hardest not to make a peep as his fat cock slammed in and out of you. “Now, what I'm going to do is take out my cell,” He grunts, rolling his hips deep into you. “And record you slamming your ass onto my cock so if you decide to open that sweet mouth of yours, I'll have no choice but to send this video to mommy and daddy back at home, understand?” You nod, tears forming in your eyes from the threat or incoming orgasm, probably both. “Say ‘Yes, Professor!’ and maybe I'll send you the video so you can post it and feed yourself this week.” 

r/peeinginher posted by u/choso_Kamo 

Ankles beside your head, Choso had you folded in half as he pounded into your swollen cunt. He’d been going for what felt like hours and you were about to reach another peak when he abruptly stopped. “Choso?” you rasp, voice raw from screaming. “What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, staring up at him as he stares down at your glistening cunt. He just tilts his head and continues to stare. You’re about to ask again when he blinks from whatever trance he is in and starts thrusting in and out, slower this time. “Nothin’ baby, jus’ gotta piss.” “T-then stop and go, hm–” you gasp when he pushes your legs down further. “Stop and go to the bathroom Cho.” you try to pull his hands off your calves. Choso tightens his hold and grins down at you. “C-Choso?” “Why would I get up when I have a perfectly capable toilet right here.” Is all you hear before you suddenly feel a foreign warmth in your cunt followed by wetness trickling out your pussy.  

r/askinghertoplaydead posted by u/Ryomen_Sukuna 

“You wan’ me to do what?” You ask, staring up at him from your position between his legs. “I asked you to stop suckin’ my cock and hang off the bed like a drugged-up bitch on her last life.” He stares at you with a look that tells you he isn’t truly asking. “B-but ‘Kuna—” He grabs your throat. “Don’t you wanna make me happy, hm?” You grab the hand around your neck. “Mhm.” “This ‘ll make me happy, little girl,” He plants a firm kiss on your lips. “Now do as I told you, actually I’ll do it, I know you aren’t the best at following orders.” He says before pushing you back like a ragdoll. “Yes, now lay there, don’t move, don’t speak.” Sukuna reiterates, finally satisfied with your position, naked on your stomach with your head hanging off the bed. He wastes no time shoving his big cock into your cunt. You groan from the sudden intrusion “Kuna!” “Shut up, dead bitches don’t fuckin’ make sounds.”  

r/forcinga3some posted by u/Gojo_Satoru 

“Sit on his cock love,” Gojo demands, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you onto Suguru’s lap. “S-Satoru!” “’ Toru!” You and Geto screech at the same time. “C’mon guys, it’s fine I don’t mind, Loosen up!” Gojo looks at you on his best friend's lap and his cock twitching underneath his pants. He palms it. Don’t worry, we’ll have our turn. “I know you two want to fuck, c'mon! Do I really have to pull it out and shove it up your tight cunt?” Goji grits out, increasingly frustrated when the two of you stare at him like a pair of deer in headlights. “Baby, I-it was just a truth or dare question!” Your head aches and you put both of your hands on Suguru’s broad shoulders to stable yourself, trying and failing to ignore his hard under your panty-covered pussy. “Was it? So, you aren’t wet right now? And you Suguru? You aren't rock fucking hard at the thought of fucking the same pussy I cum in every night?” Gojo raises his eyebrow holding eye contact with you until you look away, face flushed. Suguru sighs, throwing his head back with murmured ‘fuck this.’ before grabbing your waist. “Yes! That’s what I thought. Ha!” Gojo laughs, watching as Suguru starts grinding you down on his bulge.  

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[callsign-datura]

BREEDING KINK 141.

Ghost's breeding kink manifests after you express interest in having a kid.

He pistons in and out of you at a slow pace, his cock reaching impossibly deep with each thrust as you arch your back and put your ass up higher. You grip the sheets of the bed, whimpering quietly into the pillow you lay your head on as he leans over you and wraps an arm around your midsection, lifting your upper half up so he can whisper into your ear and hold you flush against him.

"You wanna be a mama? M'gonna make you a fuckin' mama."

He grunts, nipping at your earlobe as he angles his thrusts a little to reach deeper, the head of his cock knocking against your cervix with every other thrust.

"Gonna fuck you 'till it takes. Gonna fuck you every night and every mornin' to make sure it takes. Yeah, y'want that, sweetheart? Say you want it, love."

Soap's breeding kink has always been there, but he's never quite registered that he has one. It's not until you get baby fever that he starts thinking about having kids. You're getting baby products advertised to you online, and they start having the same effect on him.

"Oh, fuck, gimme a baby," you whimper, your face burying into his neck as your hips grind down into his. His head is tilted forward and he's watching your hips move, though his grip on your hips tightens when you utter the words. "Y'want a baby?" He mumbles, his grip on your hips tightening to the point where you whimper and stop. He releases it and looks up at you with those baby blues, and within a second he's got you on your back and your legs together, hanging over his shoulders as his thrusts pick up in speed.

"I'll give ye a baby, lass… give ye as many as ye want. Just say the word, sweet girl."

His thrusts get harder, and you're whining and mewling and you have your eyes shut tight as your orgasm takes over. He's cumming not long after, his cock twitching inside you as he pushes into you one final time.

"Mmm. Yeah, sweet girl, gonna give ye a kid… Can't tell me our kids won't be adorable."

Oh, Price? You don't have to tell him. He has a breeding kink, and it's obvious.

That man has FANTASIES about getting you pregnant. His breeding kink shows sometimes, like tonight.

He has you bent over the counter of your kitchen, your hair tangled up in his fist and his hand around your wrist, pulling on it gently and making you arch your back as he pounds into you.

Quick and rough thrusts as he grunts into your ear. "Imagine how you'd look, waddlin' 'round all swollen with my kid… can't wait till the day my cum finally takes, eh? I'll cherish you. Fuckin' cherish you." He whispers. His words are as rough as his thrusts, but they carry a gentleness. Especially when he's cumming. Wrapping an arm around your torso and letting you fall forward, picking up one of your legs by the underside of your knee and lifting it up and to the side so he can fuck you harder, he slams into you one final time before he's cumming buckets. The moment he notices his cum dripping out, he's pulling out and using two fingers to push hit back into you. mumbling something about not wasting a drop as he kisses your back.

Gaz's breeding kink is subtle. He only fucks you in positions where he can see your face. The day you start asking him to cum inside, he's thinking of you getting pregnant with his kid. Arms laced under your knees, hands on the plush of your ass and your back against the wall as he leans back and thrusts up into you. He's been fucking you slow like this for the past hour and you're getting needy. Squirming in his grip, pawing at your husband's chest and mewling about needing him to fuck you harder. He flashes that grin he wears whenever you've amused him and his movements suddenly ramp up in force as he pushes you further against the wall.

"Such a needy girl. Needin' me to fuck ya so hard you can't walk, huh? You've already came twice, what, d'ya want me to fill you up?"

Your cunt convulses around him.

"Yeah, that's it," he trills. "Needin' me to fill ya up so you can go to bed stuffed with my cum. Mm, maybe it'll take,"

He thrusts a bit harder into you and his grip on your ass tightens. He's thinking about filling you up even more now, and he can barely focus on anything but filling you up. So that's what he does. His thrusts stutter, and he throws his head back and groans out while you mewl.

"Oh, fuck. Mmm. Yeah, it'll take. Gonna give you a fuckin' baby, sweetheart."

[luveline]

gorgeous can we get bombshell reader and Spencer May be the first time he’s snappy with her bc he’s stressed and she’s just so taken aback and May be even tears up? And then just a fluffy ending with Spencer apologizing

thank you for requesting! fem, 2.2k

Spencer Reid is extra kissable when he's frowning. Button up and no suit jacket, sleeves pushed past his elbows and hair on the shorter side, he holds a certain confidence in his hands where they're tucked in his pockets. Sure of himself, and clearly agitated. 

You're always on his side; you don't think twice about easing into the conference room to see what's wrong. 

"Hey," you say with a slight lilt to your tone. You're always on his side, and always flirting. "What's wrong?" 

"Why does something have to be wrong?" he asks. 

Not mean. Not light. Somewhere in the solid middle, his gaze loyal to the laptop on the desk he stands behind. You step close enough to smell the subtle scent of his cologne, wondering if he can smell your perfume in turn, and if it's one he likes. You try to touch his hand and he takes the desk into his grip instead, leaning forward, out of reach. 

"That's not what I meant to convey," you say, still flirting. You're not stupid, you realise his mood, but you're hoping it's somebody else's fault. "But if you aren't happy to see me then I'd definitely suggest there was something wrong." 

"I'm just trying to figure something out." 

This close, to your own credit, Spencer usually trips up. He's been getting better as you've grown closer, your 'torturing' —as the team likes to call it— only prompting the occasional blush or stammer. You don't flirt with Spencer to torture him no matter what anyones says and you never have, you flirt with him because he deserves to be complimented. He's andsome, intelligent, and courageous. What others might miss you see in blaring neon lights: he's a catch. You intend on making your intentions known, and if that means playing the long game or the slow burn, that's okay. You like to dance. 

You put yourself between him and the laptop screen. He can still see it if he cranes his neck, and he does. "You look a little tired, handsome. Looking at a screen all day will hurt you in the end. Neck aches, shoulder cramps, eye strain. Though I can't help with the latter, the former…" His arm is solid under your hand, your fingertips running along the ridge of a stark vein. 

He doesn't quite flinch away, but he moves quickly enough to startle you, lamenting, "Could you give me some space, please?" 

That's all well and good, you rush to do as he's asked and step back because the very last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable and his voice is frankly acidic, but everything is moving too quickly, you're not as aware as you should be —you smash your hand backwards into a cold cup of coffee and knock it straight into the lap of Spencer's laptop. 

"No," you gasp, grabbing the cup before the entirety of it can empty. Coffee wells between the keys and you go to grab it to– well, to do something. 

"Stop it!" Spencer shouts, voice sharp as a knife. "You always do this," —quieter, venomous— "you can't help yourself." 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I would answer you if I had the time. I'll be busy rescuing my hard drive before an entire month of work is wasted thanks to your dire need for attention." 

He slips around you and stalks out the door, coffee dripping from the corner of his laptop in a sorry trail that shines in the fluorescent lights. 

Your first rush of tears are driven by indignation; it was an accident, you didn't mean to do that, why would you ever do that? But the second, more encompassing rush is a hot mixture of shame and guilt. What have you done? 

You take a hesitant step toward the door but don't bother following him. I'll make things worse, you think, bringing a hand to your face. Makeup marrs your hand as you wipe your cheeks. You stare down at the stains for a long, long time. 

I'll apologise, you think eventually, rubbing at the mascara like soot on your palm. Just as soon as I look okay again. 

You don't want Spencer or anyone to see you upset. You wear your makeup and your confidence for yourself, not to hide any insecurity but to embolden yourself, to be yourself. But to get to your desk you'd have to leave the conference room bared as you are, and you'd have to face Spencer, and the second option brings more tears. 

This is all so messy, and it's your fault. 

I'm such an idiot. I'm exactly what he thinks of me. 

You sit in the chair furthest from the door with a pack of tissues from the cubby and rub your hot cheeks dry, streaks of mascara in the shapes of your fingertips like soot left behind. It's sitting that gets you —the shock of tears at being shouted at by someone you care about amplifies into a distress you can't explain. It's stupid, it's stupid. You press your face into your hands and curl in on yourself at the table, ears ringing. I'm so, so stupid. 

—

The inside of Spencer's lip is bleeding, metallic on his tongue. He's white hot annoyance all the way to Penelope's office, choked as he tells her he needs her help. 

"Spencer?" she said. "What happened? Are you okay?" 

He realises what he's done. "Please, Garcia, can you do something? I really need to go." 

He doesn't hear her response beyond her surprised but emphatic Sure, spinning on his heel to walk back the way he came. He rubs at his temple, moving between a slow trudge and a speed walk as he assesses the damage of what he's said. What did he say? your dire need for attention. 

Your sniffing is something out of his fucking nightmares. Who does he think he is? You're sitting exactly where he left you next to that half empty coffee cup, a tissue scrunched in your trembling hands, visible in the small glass window of the door. You must be thinking of what he's said to have missed the sound of his footsteps, or perhaps he's left you too upset to want to look up. 

He sees the moment a sob works through you, watches you hold your breath in a painful effort to keep it down, raising the tissue to your eyes and catching your tears before they fall. You're doing a lacklustre job despite your efforts, the oily shine of mascara iridescent on your cheeks. Or maybe that's tear tracks. It's hard to tell. 

Spencer fights with himself. He doesn't know if deserves to come running back or if it would be more fair to send JJ or Derek in to comfort you. 

"You made your bed," his mom would say, not without affection. "You have to lie in it." 

Spencer squeezes his eyes closed to push away the memory, surveying the damage he's done carefully as he crosses the threshold back into the conference room. Your head lifts at the sound of the door, your stammer visible before you speak, "Spence– Spencer. Is your laptop okay? Did I break it? I'm so sorry." 

Gideon would tell Spencer to be nicer. Hotch would say Reid in that stern shade of voice that's half disapproval and half fondness. They'd both tell him to be better, but neither of them have ever had to see you as you look now, tearstained and sorry, eyes wide with worry but shoulders tense. He has his role models, and yet none of them could possibly give him a way to apologise that could ever make up for they way he's made you feel. 

Little dramatic, Morgan would say. Start with a hug, loverboy. Can't go wrong with a hug. 

He should ask but he doesn't, a second transgression against you. Spencer pushes past chair and the sodden circle of carpet to your chair, pausing in case you're going to tell him to shove it. You lick your lips. "Did I break it?" you ask, as though resigned for a yes  

He can't temper that amount of self-hatred on you. It doesn't suit you. He much prefers you the way you like to be, confident in everything, flirty and funny and soft, in both touch and touches. He takes your face into a careful hand, tilting it toward the light and weary of your shallow exhale. "I…" He begins and ends, stroking your tacky cheek with his index finger, as though brushing away an eyelash. If it were real he'd say make a wish, and you would wish for him or some similar sweetness, salacious smile to boot, or earnestness fit to fill a mountain. I wish you'd realise how pretty you are and stop denying me the pleasure of a beautiful boyfriend, you'd croon. 

His fingers collect at your jaw and slip behind your ear as he cleans your skin with the side of his thumb. You lean into the touch, slashing his hesitancy in two. 

"Sorry," he says, pulling your head toward his neck gently as he leans down to hold you. "I'm sorry. Don't be upset, please. Don't be upset " 

"I'm an idiot–" 

"No," he says, with the facts to back his denial. "I'm an idiot, I should never have upset you like this–"

"I broke your computer, it's just like you said–" 

"I shouldn't have–" 

"–I'm so needy I could've ruined all your hard work," you say, wriggling with guilt like you attempt to pull away. 

Spencer really doesn't want to let you go now he has you, not until he's sure you'll stay in one piece. "If it's ruined, it's my fault for failing to back it up." 

He should tell you that he's sorry for what he said. He knew it wasn't right he moment it escaped him, to speak to you like that, and accuse you of what he did. He basically called you selfish, uncaring. He implied it and worse, and for what? An accident? A mis-step that he practically forced you into? 

"I never should've said that to you," he says, breaking his hug to crouch in front front you, searching blindly for your hand as he holds eye contact, looking up. You deign to frown down. "And I walked away. And you're crying," —his voice fries with sympathy— "because of me." 

Your hand is limp in his. "I'm sorry," he says. 

"It's okay." You sniffle and nod, lips struggling into a smile. 

"It's not okay." 

"Well, I hit your coffee over, so we're even." 

"You accidentally spilled my drink, you didn't deserve to be mocked." 

"Spence…" Your eyes half-lidded, you wince down at the cradle of his hand where it holds yours. "Did I break it?" 

"I don't know. I got to Garcia's office and I knew I did the wrong thing, so I came back." 

You swallow audibly. "I just wanted to make you feel better." 

"I know, angel." He stands again as your eyes well with tears to hug you, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry. That was all me, okay? I shouldn't have snapped at you." 

What follows is agony. Spencer patting your back through a panicked bubble of tears, wretched in knowing he caused it, and worse is the look you give him as he wipes your messed up make up away in want of a mirror, like you're grateful. 

"Does it look really bad?" 

"N–no. You look really pretty," he says. 

"Are my eyes puffy?"

A little. "No. You look great." He can't apologise anymore– it won't help you feel better now, it'll just assuage his own worry. What you need is a different reassurance. "It's hard not looking at you, sometimes, you look that nice. But you know that already." 

"I don't mean to do that. I didn't mean to." 

Spencer puts his hand above your heart. "I know you didn't. I really, really shouldn't have said it. I was being cranky and I struck out like a kid." 

"...You're not just saying I look nice to get back in the good books, are you?" you ask. 

Spencer leans in, nearly nose to nose with you. "Of course not." 

You tilt your head as though you might kiss him. He knows you won't and he's delighted anyways. It means you're feeling okay. He's nearly forgiven, or, at the very least, you're not actively upset. "I thought I liked seeing you pissed off, but now I'm not so sure." 

"It's not a good look on me," he murmurs. "But it looks great on you, if you want to get angry with me."

"Well now I can't. I know it's what you want." 

"Can I give you a hug?" he asks. 

You drop all your acts and slide your arms around his neck. He wraps you up slowly, one arm at a time, careful to put all the pressure exactly where you like it. 

"That feels nice," you mumble. 

He bends into you and rubs your back. "Yeah?" 

"Don't," you warn. 

He draws a shape into your back with his fingers, slow, tiny things that make you squirm. "Don't what?" 

"You're tickling me." You don't sound unhappy about it. 

"What?" he asks. "I can't hear you over the sound of me being a huge jackass. Sorry, angel." 

Your giggle is honey into his shoulder, sticky and sluggish as his circles turn to stars.