#this next one will really help start to bring it together

[beaviu]

wrong table, right person .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ — sjy

⋆˚꩜｡ 003 :: mr basic

ʚଓ m.list — prev — next

synopsis . ❀ ݁ ˖ yn finally agrees to a blind date to finally shut her bffs up about her tragic dating life. Dressed to impress but armed with zero expectations, she arrives at a café, scans the room, and sits across from a guy who checks every box: handsome yet cute, and surprisingly sarcastic in a way that keeps her on her toes. Only one problem: he’s not her date. Jake, a schools heartthrob laying low not to be caught by his fan girls, is just trying to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee when a stranger slides into the seat across from him and starts talking like they know each other. Intrigued — and a little bored — he plays along. What starts as a mistaken identity turns into a full-blown accidental date. And when yn finally realizes her mixup… she walks away mortified. But Jake? He can’t stop thinking about her. Now he’s determined to find her again — without revealing who he really is. As fate (or nosy mutual friends) brings them back together, their story becomes anything but accidental. Because sometimes, love finds you at the wrong table — at exactly the right time.

As yn stepped into the café, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her, immediately grounding her in the cozy atmosphere. Her eyes scanned the room until she saw a guy who could potentially be her future boyfriend, sitting down alone cap on and head down on his phone

Approaching the table, she noticed the empty seat across from him.

“Hey, Intak, right?” she asked with a shy smile.

Jake looked up from his phone, his cap blocking his view and the top half of his face “i think you—“ but before he could finish, the barista’s voice cut in, calling out his order number.

“Oh, you already ordered?” yn said, a little flustered. “Was I that late? I'm so sorry.”

Jake stood up, waving off her apology. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just grab it real quick.”

As he walked toward the pickup counter, he couldn’t help but glance back at the girl now settling into the seat across from where he'd been. Something about her—maybe the way she looked around with quiet curiosity or the slight smile still on her lips—made him suddenly okay with this unexpected meetup.

Walking back with his drink in hand, Jake spots yn sitting at the table, eyes glued to her phone, fingers flying across the screen.

“Hey,” he says, raising an eyebrow as he sits down, “everything alright?”

yn glances up, her expression shifting quickly into a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry—my friends are being annoying as usual”

Jake chuckles, lifting his cup. “i understand that”

yn nods silently then asks “what’d you order?”

“oh an iced americano”

She raises an eyebrow, teasing. “Wow. Basic.”

jake gasps, clutching his chest theatrically. “Basic?! Excuse you, this is the superior drink. Sophisticated. Timeless.”

yn laughs, shaking her head. “Okay, Mr. Basic, whatever you say.”

Jake grins, watching her for a moment before saying, more softly, “You know… you have a really pretty smile.”

Her laughter slowly fades as her cheeks flush with color, and she opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. “I—” Jake quickly leans back, eyes wide. “Shit, sorry. That was too sudden, wasn’t it?”

“No!” she blurts, voice higher than intended. “I mean—no, it’s fine. Just… unexpected.”

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s not awkward—just warm. Comfortable.

He takes a sip of his drink, eyes still on her and breaks the silence. “So... you gonna tell me your not-so-basic order, or is it a top-secret recipe?”

“I don’t know…do you really deserve to know?” yn teases, her eyes glinting mischievously.

Jake raises an eyebrow, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Wow, fine,” he sighs dramatically.

yn chuckles, then stands up. “Let me order it first, and then I’ll show you a visual representation,” she says, flashing him a smile before heading over to the counter.

The café’s quieter now, so she waits for a few minutes, picks up her order, and walks back to Jake. “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” she says, an exaggerated pout on her face. Then, with a proud grin, she holds up her matcha latte like she’s unveiling a trophy. “But look at my glorious baby!”

Jake eyes the drink, nodding appreciatively. “I’ll admit, it does look pretty good.”

yn laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she offers him a sip. “Wanna try it? I promise you, it’s the drink of champions.”

Jake grins, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s fine. My iced Americano is superior.”

yn gasps, putting a hand to her chest in mock outrage. “No way! My drink outshines yours in every way!”

Jake rolls his eyes with a playful grin, then decides to switch things up. “Alright, random question. What’s your favorite color?”

yn chuckles, clearly amused. “Navy blue, I guess?”

Jake raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching in a teasing smile. “Hmm, navy blue. Interesting... You’re a uni student, right?”

yns expression shifts, slightly suspicious. “Yeah, I am. Why? You’re not gonna sell my info on the dark web, are you? I’m starting to get worried now.”

“oh cmon i would never do that to you” jake says batting his eyes playfully. yn rolls her eyes playfully “please you just met me”

After about 20 minutes of easy conversation, filled with lighthearted jokes and shared interests, yns phone suddenly starts buzzing incessantly. Jake glances at it, eyebrows raised, and chuckles. "I think you might want to check that? Seems like it’s blowing up."

YN lets out a sigh, a bit embarrassed, and smiles sheepishly. "I’m so sorry, I have no idea why they’re all blowing up my phone. One second let me hop into the ladies room!" she rushes to the bathroom and opens her phone to see a spam of messages from the gc all spamming her name.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ authors note — hehehhehe nd the plot thickens! sorry for the shitty writing I’m still kinda rusty it’s been awhile 💔

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ taglist — @astrobebba @rikchic @zoe1love @t1iqaa @enhanoa @yuyita-rosier @smolderingoasislegion @synamon @blvengene @urfavmelaninatedgeminii @cupidmiyu @naevisringring @swiftcityy @luhvletters @sumzysworld @w3willris3 @skepvids @enhastolemyheart @kimuranirisi @rairaiblog @teenagecheesecakereview @kuroosluthoe @firstclassjaylee

[batsandbirdbrains]

Super sad idea that I’d love to hear your thoughts about or for you to expand on or write about:

Dick using puppy eyes on Bruce, Alfred, basically every adult to get whatever he wants when he’s a kid. It works like a charm every single time. He wants Clark to fly him around? Puppy eyes, and two hours later he’s soaring. He wants Diana to help him prank Hal? Puppy eyes, and Hal’s suit is somehow banana yellow for two weeks. It doesn’t just work with the adults either. Whenever he wants one of the titans to do something and doesn’t feel like arguing with them, he just brings out the puppy eyes and they get it done. He does for years and he doesn’t plan on stopping.

Then Dick becomes Deathstroke’s unwilling apprentice, and suddenly his puppy-eyed stare was being weaponized in a whole new way. Slade would force him to walk up to targets, bring out his sad eyes and pouty lip, lead them somewhere secluded (usually under the guise of being a lost kid or something, idk), and then watch as Slade killed them.

But that wasn’t the only time his puppy eyes came out when he was with Slade. No, the first time it happened was during “training” (Dick being tortured) when he was exhausted and just wanted Slade to stop. He couldn’t out-fight the man, he couldn’t out-smart him, and he didn’t know how to get him to stop. So he subconsciously fell back on the one thing that had always worked for him in the past - his puppy eyes. To his great surprise, Slade had stopped. He paused for a long moment, staring at Dick’s face, and just when Dick started to have hope that this might actually be the end for today, Slade let out a cruel laugh before kicking him into the floor.

He finds out the hard way that, when it really counts, his puppy eyes only make things worse.

When he finally gets free, it takes a while for anyone to spot what’s wrong, especially considering most don’t even know about his time with Slade. He’s obviously moodier than usual, more paranoid than he was before, and is a lot worse at taking care of himself. But still, it’s a while before someone realizes that he never brings out the puppy eyes anymore. Bruce doesn’t know how to handle it - torn between wanting to ask Dick about it and not wanting to set him off - so he just doesn’t. He ignores it and everyone else follows suit.

They never really speak about it anymore. There are no more jokes about everyone being wrapped around Dick’s finger, no more sighs of resignation when Dick brings out the puppy eyes. Even when Dick gets his peppy attitude back, even when he’s back to cracking jokes and making bad puns, even when he pulls pranks again and his laugh can be heard echoing around the cave, the puppy eyes never come back out. And nobody ever mentions it, but they all mourn the death of the small piece of innocence that was stripped away, they mourn the loss of those eyes.

But time passes, and eventually people move on. It isn’t until years later that anyone mentions the eyes, and by then Bruce has had 4 other Robins, and a whole collection of children. And one of those kids - maybe it was Jason, or maybe it was Steph, or Duke - gets told about the eyes, and obviously they’re curious as to why they’ve never seen them. So the next time the Batfam (or the JL) is gathered together, they decide to broach the topic. Except the bats are profoundly awful at socializing and communication, so the question posed ends up being “Hey, I heard about your puppy eyes, they sound pretty lethal. How come we’ve never seen ‘em before?” And Dick flinches so hard that they’re actually concerned a ghost might’ve attacked him or something. But before anything else can be said or done, Dick just turns on his heel and walks out of the room. And now the poor bat that questioned him is stuck with a very upset Batman (and maybe other heroes as well).

BONUS:

After the fiasco where Dick was questioned about his puppy eyes and he walked out, the rest of the rest of the Bats resigned themselves to never seeing the eyes or hearing about them. Imagine their surprise (and horror, and heartbreak) when, while reviewing cave footage, they come across a highly encrypted video file. Imagine them seeing Dick pleading with Bruce not to go to Spyral, Dick trying to get Bruce to see reason, and then Dick’s face changes and they finally see them - the eyes. And everyone is so desperately hoping that this will be enough to get Bruce to stop. For a moment, he does. It was a short moment - only a split second of hesitation before he’s throwing another punch - and everyone feels their hope shatter as the moment ends. But in the video, there’s no hint of surprise, of devastation on Dick’s face. It seemed like he didn’t have much faith it would work, anyways. At least he’d gotten a reprieve in the fight, at least Bruce had stopped, if only for a moment. It was all he needed to win. Besides, what did it matter if Dick’s puppy eyes didn’t work anymore? Dick Grayson was dead.

How dare u do this to me when I’m about to go to BED now I’m SAD I’m gonna cry damn

I’ll try to expand on this idea maybe tomorrow a little bit? It’s very thorough already though!! But I had to let u know u gutted me right before I try to actually sleep, anon<3 (I mean this in the best way of course)

[zottts]

warnings - size kink, degradation, breeding kink (if you squint), not really a warning but worshipping, it's sentry expect it to be mean

you and sentry had been... 'together' for a while now, and you would think he would change somewhat, and he has - just a bit. but during sex? absolutely not, he was still the same man who wanted to be worshiped like a god, who will degrade and belittle you only because he finds it amusing when you moan and cry out his name as he pumps into you at his speed - why would he slow down for you he had l reasonings to, you liked it anyways. the way you could see his cock outline in your stomach, each little "oh you poor thing". it drove you mad, it was addictive. the only time he "went slow" was to put you in your place or fuck with you.

sentry just loved filling you up, every single time, watching your pathetic attempts to squirm under his hands - your almost doe eyes look as you looked up at him, hair all sprawled out on his pillows, mouth slightly ajar as he pumps into you mercifully, being able to see his cock completely fill you, and knowing you couldn't get enough of him. or from behind when he got his hands tangled within your soft locks of hair, pulling you up towards him with a semi-gentle pull, watching your back arch into him as be whispered how pathetic, useless, and stupid you looked being fucked by his cock.

how he is going to fuck you so stupid that you won't be able to walk nor speak for the next week. every little moan, whine, whimper, he would mock the sounds, how you reacted to things which each pump, as he moved in and out of you.

"so filthy. you want more, hm? you think you deserve more?" he spoke softly, despite the fact his tone was mocking,

he would make you beg for it til you were sobbing, trembling under him. it was so easy for him to ruin you, bring you down to nothing. because to him, like this - you were nothing, pathetic.

"sentry- mnn please?" between heavy breaths, it was a pathetic attempt, really. and you knew that.

"no, do better than that, now." he would slow down, painfully slow - and practically stopping until you were up to his standards. he wasn't asking, it was a command.

"sentry" he cocked an eyebrow, the words dying in your throat before you could even finish the sentence, like he was daring you to finish it. to see what would happen

"my god, sentry, ..my everything, p-please." you spoke through a broken sob, he started to move, in and out of you - slowly, on purpose. "aah-! fuck. please, oh my god please" a whine slipped out. you couldn't help that he was big, and it hurt. and he knew he was big too, of course he did. every time he fucked you like this he could always see the outline of himself inside you, the want to bury himself within you, to fill you completely with himself.

he couldn't help the low chuckle slip out of his mouth at your behavior, mmmn. i don't know if that's good enough." he held you in place so easily with his hands, it was like you were stuck in place. "so pathetic, can't even get a complete sentence out, poor thing." he paused for a moment, running his hands against your sides "you want me to fuck you stupid, fill you up?"

you quickly shake your head, it was hard enough to get a single word out - he knew that, but he wanted to hear you say it. "use your words or I'm pulling out." you took a deep breath "please, pretty please? god- please just move i need you so badly, you are the only one i need. just move" the words spilled out before you couldn't even get a thought in your head, the words sounded almost incoherent - it was like a flip that switched on in his brain, instead of belittling you, mocking you - he actually listens.

the after math of it you are out of breath, he went way past the point of your ecstasy. you laid on your stomach panting, hair in your face. he might be a god, an asshole, but not a monster. of course he was going to help you clean up. at least a bit.

[akari-of-moonlight]

[Matchbox, Yearbook, Pen.]

Hasemura Week Day 5: [Tribute]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Tetro Danganronpa Pink

Relationships: Kamimura Kazutoshi/Hasegawa Ken

Characters: Hasegawa Ken, Kamimura Kazutoshi

Additional tags: Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Angst, Symbolism, Freeform-ish?, who knows it reads like a fever dream, there's some mild blood and stuff but if you're into tetro I don't think it should matter, I still don't know how to tag fics help

Hi guys I still don't know how to format these fics. uh I wrote this whole thing in one day and then spent three weeks editing it and not posting it because I got scared but HERE IT IS!!! Be warned it's very long I got a little carried away.

Thank you to @thewhimsicalenderdragon for betaing I love you

Kazutoshi sits at the desk next to Ken in an empty classroom. 

He’s just… there, arms crossed gently in his lap, like this is normal. As if the two of them were simply going through another day of school. 

Which is strange, because they never went to school together.

He is looking out the wall of windows, to something Ken can’t see. The sky outside is blindingly white. Looking at it, the impression of clouds sears into Ken’s mind, although there are no discernible outlines. And it burns as if it is the sun itself.

A simple arrangement of objects is laid out across Kazutoshi’s desk. A small matchbox and a yearbook, with a single black pen laying over them.

Kazutoshi doesn’t touch any of the objects on his desk. He simply looks out the window. Out into the light. Maybe it doesn’t burn his eyes.

He is beautiful. Fleeting and perfect, drawn in sharp lines and rimmed by that white light. 

His fingers tap light rhythms on the desk in a subconscious habit. He always did that when he was thinking. The small motion is so achingly familiar that Ken’s breath catches again.

Ken’s eyes fix upon those same small, angular, agile fingers that had traced over his hands and shoulders nervously or casually, like a light breeze, leaving burning prints behind in its wake. 

Kazutoshi’s hands look like paper in the light, pale and beautiful against the warm brown wood of the desk. A blue tinge afflicts them like a layer of time and decay, and Ken can’t focus on them for too long, he just can’t.

The light from the windows burns at Kazutoshi’s figure, yet he remains undesecrate, like the pillars of stone and cement left behind after flood or famine, burning disaster, bloody wars. Relics of before times. Untouchable.

Even though Ken can’t see his face, his very silhouette is beautiful. His posture looks relaxed, casual, his small frame curving perfectly in the light like the arching porcelain centerpiece that stood in the fountain outside of Ken’s favorite restaurant. 

Ken hadn’t thought about that restaurant in weeks. 

He wants to reach for Kazutoshi. He knows he shouldn’t. He knows he doesn’t deserve to be here, next to the brilliant cobalt singularity that had believed that Ken would never taint his hands with the blood of another. He knows this isn’t real, can’t be real. He knows he is dead.

Terminal Agitation: the tendency of one to experience disorientation or hallucinations before death. Not to be confused with one’s life flashing before their eyes.

As a child, Ken often used to worry that nothing was real. That maybe “he” was just a single flash of consciousness in the burning, ruinous slop that was some sort of a plane of existence. That maybe he was imagining everything, a fabricated universe built around the only consciousness the void would ever know. 

Maybe he was only ever experiencing this moment, and nothing else had ever been real. 

Maybe he hadn’t even really started that sentence. 

There wasn’t a way to know, and there would never be a way to know. He hated that. God, he hated that.

Back then, the brush of his mother’s hair would bring him back. Her touch, her soft voice, her words of reassurance. 

Now, the pain brings him back.

If he really is only living in a delusion of this one moment, then it’s a stupid fucking moment to gain consiousness for.

Ken finds himself crying. 

His body is crying, at least. Tears stream down his face as his limbs shake more than they should be able to, and his chest heaves in tempo with the ticking of the clock behind him. 

Why is the clock so fast?

Ken doesn’t cry in public. He could never understand people who could just let themselves go under the watchful eyes of others like that. Only three people in the world had ever seen him cry before. 

Well, that isn’t true anymore, he supposes.

The tears don’t stop his thoughts. They never have.

There is blood on his hands. There is death in his lungs.

He’s spent a lot of time around dead bodies lately. At a certain point you get used to it. 

Ken knows he is guilty, but he doesn’t feel guilt. He should, probably. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t feel much of anything anymore. He closes his eyes, and he sees it again.

Stilted rules that destroyed everything he had planned for.

Five rotting corpses, faces in familiar fixtures of horror.

Blue eyes that had asked a question he couldn’t answer, and the tears that refracted their light that had felt somehow soul crushingly familiar and incomprehensibly foreign. 

He had nothing to say to them.

A hand grabs his wrist, jolting him back to reality. 

Kazutoshi had turned around, red eyes piercing as the day they had been extinguished. 

“Ken.”

Kazutoshi’s grip is tight, almost fierce. Ken wants to look at him, but the light enveloping him makes it hard. He can only focus his eye on Kazutoshi’s hand, which pulls at his skin, nails digging into him like little pinpricks.

Ken is silent. He doesn’t try to pull his wrist back, or pry Kazutoshi off. Kazutoshi stares him dead in the eye as he whispers four words.

“What have you done?”

Ken closes his eyes. He deserves it, the scorn, the hate, the blame. Kazutoshi was innocent. Ken was guilty. It was as simple as that.

Kazutoshi pulls Ken’s wrist sharply, bringing it next to his head. Close, too close, to that luminescent celeste hair. Kazutoshi’s hand is tensed, still clutching, digging into Ken’s limp wrist. Ken is pulled forward, catching himself with his legs as he starts to lose feeling in his hand. Strange that he had feeling in his hand in the first place. Strange that he could catch himself with his legs.

Kazutoshi is so close to him now, but Ken still can’t see his face. He can only make out his small frame, his cerulean silhouette. His wrist hurts from Kazutoshi’s grip. 

“Say something, Ken,” Kazutoshi says, and it’s desperate and angry and hollow all at once.

Ken knows he should apologize. He knows he should fall apart in front of the boy who saved him, broke him. He knows he should beg for forgiveness or stumble to explain himself. He knows he should want to lean forward and embrace Kazutoshi. He knows he should want to hold him while he still could.

Instead, Ken stays silent. He stares past Kazutoshi, into the burning sky. He realizes that his right eye is still covered by bandages. 

The blazing light from outside tinges his vision red, his bandage only becoming an amplifier to the horribly beautiful, almost sentient light that comes from Kazutoshi and from beyond him at the same time. 

“What… happened to you?” Kazutoshi asks. His voice is raw and broken, and Ken feels dizzy. 

Dizziness is a common side effect of blood loss, due to a lack of proper oxygen in the brain. A human can usually lose about 30% of their total blood volume without a high chance of death. Vitals will likely be heavily affected.

Her body probably didn’t even have time to replenish the blood she’d lost.

“Say something,” Kazutoshi repeats. He sounds like he’s on the verge of falling apart. Ken’s head is throbbing in time with the clock, but he forces his eye to lock with Kazutoshi’s anyway.

“Please, Ken,” Kazutoshi begs. “I need to hear you. I– I don’t care if it’s an apology or some stupid fucking fact. I need–”

His breath hitches, and Ken should reach forward to comfort him. He should say something.

But he is tired. He is so, so tired. 

He was ready to go. He was ready for his consciousness to fade away. He was ready to not think anymore. He wanted to die. 

He didn’t want Kazutoshi back now. He wanted to never have lost him. He wanted to never have known how much he lost.

Why isn’t he allowed to die?

Matchbox, yearbook, pen. 

Hand around his wrist.

Sped up clock.

“I need to know you still care.” 

Ken doesn’t know how to reply to Kazutoshi’s plea. He doesn’t know how to be what Kazutoshi deserves. He doesn’t know how to be anything other than tired.

Kazutoshi waits. The clock doesn’t. It drones on, a cacophony in a single sound, and Ken wants to break it. He wants the broken glass to bite into his hand and tear into his body. He wants it to just shut up already.

“Do you care?” Kazutoshi asks. 

Ken doesn’t have an answer for him.

Apathy syndrome: categorized by indifference and emotional detachment. Sources from traumatic experiences. General apathy may also be a symptom of other neurological conditions.

Ironically, he doesn’t remember as much about this topic as he used to.

Kazutoshi stands up, still holding Ken’s wrist next to his head. Every part of his body is tense, drawn taught and shaking with pressure. His silhouette almost blocks the light from behind him. 

Ken lets himself slump to the side as Kazutoshi pulls his arm up instead of forward, standing over Ken and casting a shadow over his face.

Ken can make out Kazutoshi’s features now. His eyes, which before Ken could only make out the burning red of, are narrowed and marred with exhaustion. Blood drips from a few stab wounds on his face, but the rest of the damage Ken knows should be there is covered by his sweater. Tracks of dried tears trace down his face. 

Kazutoshi slowly lowers his hand, never loosening his grip. Ken’s elbow folds immediately, his limp arm giving Kazutoshi no resistance. Kazutoshi pulls Ken’s wrist into his shadow. Ken can see that his jagged nails have broken skin, and Ken is softly bleeding too.

Kazutoshi watches him, quietly. It is a different kind of quiet than what they know. 

The clock is almost louder now.

In his free hand, Kazutoshi grabs the pen. He lifts it, discarding the cap with a flick of his fingers. He places it on the desk momentarily, using his left hand to wrap gently around Ken’s wrist, right below where his other hand is. Slowly, he releases his tight grip, shifting Ken’s hand to rest much more lightly in his left hand. His gentle touch hurts so much more than his cutting grasp.

With Ken’s hand in his grip, Kazutoshi reaches for the uncapped pen, bringing it to Ken’s wrist. 

He presses down, hard enough that droplets of blood grow atop the cuts from his nails. Slowly, strokes form under the pen, as Kazutoshi drags it across Ken’s wrist.

When he is finished, he examines his work. He shakes his head disapprovingly, as if unsatisfied, and uses his other hand to wipe at Ken’s wrist.

Ken’s blood mixes with cheap pen ink, smearing across his wrist and onto Kazutoshi’s hand. Whatever Kazutoshi wrote is ruined by blood and ink. 

Ken’s eyes lay listlessly on his bleeding, ink stained hand. Kazutoshi still holds it softly in his left, gazing at it with an unreadable expression. Then he lets it fall onto the desk. 

Ken is jolted by the sudden impact. He meets Kazutoshi’s eyes. 

They both look tired.

A single word falls out of his mouth.

“Kazutoshi.”

Kazutoshi’s eyes widen, then he shakes his head, a small smile not reaching anywhere near his eyes slipping through his face.

“Ken,” he whispers back. It is not a question, but Ken answers anyway, reaching for Kazutoshi. He expects to be stopped before he can make contact, but his hand meets Kazutoshi’s face. He hesitates, still waiting to be slapped away. His hand brushes lightly over Kazutoshi’s cheek. 

Kazutoshi stares at him unflinchingly. The Kazutoshi he knew would never have let him do this. The Kazutoshi he knew wouldn’t be doing any of this.

Ken reaches for the trail of dried tears. Instead, he makes contact with warm blood. Kazutoshi’s blood. 

A small trail of it has dripped down from the small wound under Kazutoshi’s right eye. It is achingly familiar to the touch. 

Kazutoshi brings his hand up to meet Ken’s, guiding it to smear the blood away, and then letting go, still staring at Ken with something unreadable. 

Ken drops his hand, staring at Kazutoshi, in his blood stained, sunlit, opalescent glory. 

“Ken,” Kazutoshi says again, a little bolder. A little more commanding.

He takes a breath, pushing his chair back and stepping between their perfectly aligned desks. He gazes around the room, looking at the rows of perfectly aligned desks. With a simple eye roll, he pushes his own desk out of place, destroying the perfect lines of the room. Ken stares at the broken pattern, eyes tracing lines that don’t make sense anymore. 

It feels freeing, untameable. It feels broken and wrong.

The yearbook falls to the ground, opening to a white page. At the top, bold text labels it as a page for signatures. 

Small scrawling handwriting drowns in the white of the page. 

I’ll see you later.

No name. No signature. No goodbye.

I’ll see you later.

Kazutoshi picks up the matchbox from his desk, eyes tracing over it. 

He lights a match, letting it burn in the air for a second, before throwing it away, casting it off to the side. 

As soon as the match hits the ground, it lights up the floor, racing up the walls and forming a perimeter around him and Ken. He smiles another strange, sad smile at Ken, backlit by the searing light of the windows and the angry, hungry, all consuming heat of the fire.

Fire needs three things, fuel, oxygen, and a source of ignition. Heat. Classroom floors made of linoleum don’t provide enough fuel for the fire on their own to keep it going. It would have to use gasoline to burn like that.

Why is it burning like that?

Ken stands up, suddenly able to move again. 

Kazutoshi looks up at him. Ken almost forgot how small he was.

“Kazutoshi,” he whispers.

“So you feel the fire, at least,” Kazutoshi notes, voice softer than Ken had ever heard it before. There was something almost provoking to it, in a way unlike the familiar teasing that Kazutoshi usually took up. 

Ken knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Kazutoshi wouldn’t do this. That this couldn’t be him. Even if aching familiarity was imbued in his every movement. Even if Ken could swear the burning warmth of him was exactly as he remembered.

“I… Kazutoshi,” Ken’s voice cracks like glass under the heat of Kazutoshi’s gaze. The clock ticks, and no way is it going at the right tempo. The fire traces up the walls and envelops them.

Ken notices now that the room doesn’t have a door.

Strange.

Kazutoshi lets the matchbox fall to the ground, and the matches spill out across the floor. He kicks a few out of his way, then reluctantly gazes up at Ken. 

“A– Are you… What is this?” Ken chokes out the question, Kazutoshi’s piercing eyes drawing out the barbed words that should come easily to him. 

Kazutoshi smirks. “That’s a change. The quiz guy himself, looking to me for answers, I mean.”

Ken’s breath catches in the familiarity of Kazutoshi’s easy tone. He doesn’t find it so strange. He was always looking to Kazutoshi, after all. Even if Kazutoshi didn’t see it. 

Kazutoshi shrugs. “Maybe you just need a button,” he muses. 

Ken has had enough of buttons lately. He doesn’t think he could bear to stand at a podium again. 

“I– I don’t have the answers. Not anymore.” The words slip out before Ken realizes. “There’s… god, Kazutoshi, there’s so much.”

Kazutoshi nods like he knows what Ken means. He sighs, hands slipping into his pockets. Ken wants to memorize this moment. The soft curve of Kazutoshi’s shoulders, the brilliance of his colors in the light, the light, thin strands of blue hair that frame his face. He really is beautiful.

“You were so close,” Kazutoshi says softly.

Ken nods. He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

Kazutoshi shakes his head. “I guess I did mean something, then.”

“Everything,” Ken chokes out. “Y– You meant… everything.”

Kazutoshi is silent for a few seconds.

He glances past Ken, at the fire ravaging the classroom. 

“Funny,” he notes. “I never took fire to be much of our thing.”

His eyes trace the room’s slowly burning form. Posters with unreadable text blacken and crumble to ash. The fire spread across the floor and two of the walls. Only the windows and the giant chalkboard at the front of the classroom remain untouched. That, and the middle of the classroom, where the two of them stood. 

“It really is clean, huh,” Kazutoshi muses. “I mean, I never had to work on a fire scene before. It kind of just… takes everything. If there’s anything left behind, it’s not exactly something that can be cleaned or salvaged.”

He locks eyes with Ken again.

“You know something about that, yeah?” Kazutoshi prompts. 

Ken doesn’t respond. Kazutoshi shrugs and continues. 

“I mean, you’re a facts guy. You know a lot. Maybe too much. There’s got to be some facts about fire in there.”

Kazutoshi leans in a little closer, gazing at Ken. 

“I… I can’t…” Ken tries to choke out something, anything, as his vision blurs. “I don’t know.”

The heat of the fire claws at his skin, and the cuts on his wrist have started to throb. 

“Right,” Kazutoshi says, almost disappointed. He moves back, and Ken chokes. It’s like he can’t breathe without Kazutoshi. Or maybe it’s just smoke inhalation. 

Kazutoshi picks up the pen from the desk again. He brings it up to Ken’s face, and a part of Ken expects Kazutoshi to drive it through his flesh, making Ken a mirror image of him, bloodied and marred. A part of him wants that.

Instead, Kazutoshi slips it through one layer of Ken’s bandages. He places his other hand against Ken’s chest, bracing him, then pulls at the bandage with the pen. 

Ken doesn’t stop him, but something in his face must cue Kazutoshi to his lack of understanding.

“I want to see your eyes,” Kazutoshi whispers.

He slowly pulls at the bandage, tightening the other loops around Ken’s head. Something about the pressure makes Ken lightheaded. Kazutoshi pulls a little harder, and the bandage unravels, falling away.

Ken wonders if maybe the strips of gauze were the only things holding him together.

Kazutoshi pulls the pen back. Ken’s bandages drape over it, and looking at it, Ken realizes that the outer lining has cracked from the pressure. A single fissure traces down the side of the pen, and ink flows out, staining Ken’s bandage a dark, not-quite-black tone. Dark ink spills onto Kazutoshi’s left hand as he looks up at Ken.

Somehow, Ken can see out of his right eye. His vision is blurry for a second, before it focuses. 

He stares at Kazutoshi. Sea glass and coquelicot make up heaven itself in front of him. He breathes a little easier, just for a second. 

Kazutoshi stares into Ken’s eyes in return, then unwraps the now more black than white bandages until he’s holding a long strip of stained gauze in his hand. He motions for Ken to lift his hand, and he does.

Kazutoshi gently wraps his wrist with the bandage, pressing hard enough to close the cuts and allow them to clot. The gauze eats up the excess blood on Ken’s wrist, ink and blood mixing in every place and consuming the white material.

Every language has different words for every color. Black and white are almost always the first two colors given a name to in every culture, with red shortly after, making black, white, and red the three most basic color terms. This is theorized to be because these colors make up the most contrast in color as humans perceive it, making it not only a cultural phenomenon but a biological one, although full research on this topic is mainly theory.

The fire is burning closer and closer. It fills the air, hammering into Ken’s skull like the ticking of the clock. The yearbook sits dangerously close to the flames.

I’ll see you later.

Kazutoshi seems to track Ken’s line of sight. He leans over to the book, picking it up and moving to sit on the edge of Ken’s desk, like they’re just classmates who stayed late to chat after class. Like the room isn’t burning around them.

Kazutoshi flips through the pages, looking unimpressed. Ken leans over to look.

“We’re not in here, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Kazutoshi says. Ken doesn’t know how to respond to that. 

The yearbook is full of pictures. Terribly familiar faces greet Ken on the pages. 

Isono. Sasaki. Chiba. Harada.

Tsuno.

Okazaki.

Ken wants to throw the yearbook into the fire, but he isn’t the one holding it. 

Okazaki’s face fills a page, in vibrant colors and bright hues. Ken can’t look too long before his vision turns red. He coughs, and wonders how long it will take to die from smoke inhalation.

Kazutoshi flips through the pages, looking bored. 

Hama and Watari. Hiroaki, Ojima, Tamba, Wada. 

Yanagi. Hayashi.

Kazutoshi pauses on another page of photos with some over-the-top, flaunting caption at the top that Ken can’t get himself to read. Kazutoshi points to a small picture in the left corner. Blue hair catches Ken’s eye, and he sees the two of them, blurred and out of focus, in the background of a photo.

“I mean, it’s better than nothing,” Kazutoshi mutters.

Ken stares at it. His eyes burn, maybe from the smoke. 

In all the pictures, is all proof they existed a blurred memory of someone else? 

I’ll see you later.

Kazutoshi finishes flipping through the yearbook, setting it back down on his desk. Ken hopes it burns. 

“I guess we didn’t mean that much, in the end,” Kazutoshi says.

Ken stares at the fire. They didn’t, did they? 

Even when the others shared memories of their dead peers, Kazutoshi’s name lingered like a taboo. Even to Ken. 

And now the two of them are here.

Choking on smoke, and burning to death in an empty classroom.

Background features.

“You meant something,” Ken hears himself say.

“Oh yeah?” Kazutoshi prompts, almost detached.

“Kazutoshi, you–” Ken chokes out. He cuts off. 

He doesn’t know how to tell Kazutoshi that he was so much more than something. That he was the air in Ken’s lungs, the blood in his veins. That in his absence, Ken became a negative. He no longer was. He became an amalgamation of everything he wasn’t.

“You were everything,” Ken repeats, unable to say anything more.

“But I wasn’t. Not while I was alive,” Kazutoshi says, crossing his arms.

Ken doesn’t know how to respond to that. He truly doesn’t know if there was a time where Kazutoshi wasn’t his only tie to life. He knows there must have been, but…

“What do you think I am? What did you turn me into, when I died?”

Ken can’t say anything to that. 

Kazutoshi’s red eyes cut into him.

“When did I become everything, Ken?”

When I became nothing.

The fire burns. The clock ticks. Ken breathes in smoke. 

“I don’t want to be everything,” Kazutoshi says.

“I– I know,” Ken stammers. “I’m sorry.”

Kazutoshi’s hands reach up, and he pulls his hoodie a little tighter around his neck. 

“I… I wasn’t an angel. I wasn’t perfect. I wasn’t your entire world.”

“I know,” Ken repeats.

Kazutoshi looks to Ken with something like a plea in his eyes.

“I… That scares me, Ken.”

“...It scares me too.”

Kazutoshi’s left hand is still covered in black ink. The wounds on his face have started to bleed again. The largest one leaves a trail of red down his face. It almost looks like a tear.

Ken reaches for him, wanting to wipe away the blood again, but he pauses. He doesn’t want to touch Kazutoshi. Kazutoshi wouldn’t want Ken to touch him. Even if this isn’t actually Kazutoshi.

“It’s okay,” Kazutoshi whispers, noticing Ken’s hand hovering like a hummingbird over his face.

Ken pauses, still unsure.

Kazutoshi’s ink stained hand rests on Ken’s wrist, and he can’t tell if the ink of his bandage soaks into Kazutoshi’s hand, or the other way around. Ken closes the distance, hand gently smearing the trail of blood off Kazutoshi’s face. 

Kazutoshi’s hand traces up Ken’s arm, drawing a trail of black ink along Ken’s white shirt. He pauses, then brings his hand to rest on Ken’s shoulder. Ken takes a step closer. 

Kazutoshi stares into his eyes, and Ken feels like he can breathe again, despite the claustrophobic fire ravaging the very air around them. Ken’s hand lingers next to Kazutoshi’s face.

“God… what happened to us?” Kazutoshi asks, letting out a dry laugh. Ken closes his eyes, content to burn with Kazutoshi, even for just a second.

Ken doesn’t know if he leans forward, or if Kazutoshi pulls him down, but in a moment, their lips collide. 

The burning classroom disappears, and all that is left is them. 

Kazutoshi’s lips move softly, but with warm urgency. Ken follows his motions, letting go of everything. He doesn’t think about what any of it means. He is only in the now, in the here, in Kazutoshi, as he finally breathes into what he should’ve done when they still had time. Kazutoshi feels warm, feels alive, and Ken lets his hand wrap around Kazutoshi’s head, gently intertwining his fingers with Kazutoshi’s cobalt hair. Ken feels his knees buckle under him, but he doesn’t dare pull away. 

The two of them kiss, slowly sinking to the ground in each other’s arms. 

Kazutoshi pulls away for air, not far enough to create any more distance between them. Ken only realizes then that both of them had slipped to their knees. The dropped matches lay scattered around and under them. Kazutoshi laughs into the gap between their faces, before kissing Ken again, pulling him even closer. Ken’s white shirt is stained with black and scarlet, and Kazutoshi’s beautiful face is marred with tears and blood from both of them like paint across his features. 

Ken pulls away from the kiss this time.

“I’m so sorry, Kazutoshi,” he whispers. 

Kazutoshi finds Ken’s left hand without turning away. His thin fingers pull Ken’s closer. Kazutoshi’s other hand shifts to wrap around Ken’s neck, soft but steady.

“It’s over now,” Kazutoshi replies, and it feels something like forgiveness.

Ken doesn’t know if he’s the one crying, or if maybe both of them are, but it doesn’t matter. The two of them fold into each other on the classroom floor. Ken can feel the fire burning closer and closer, and soon it is upon them.

Kazutoshi grabs for Ken’s stained shirt, and Ken pulls Kazutoshi into him, their bodies meeting flush, as fire and ink and blood and tears converge on the only thing that matters anymore. Even if it isn’t real.

As Ken’s vision goes black, his thoughts slow, for the first time that he can remember. He lets himself go as he holds Kazutoshi. 

It’s over now.

[respectthepetty]

The finale of Break Up Service happened, but so did this, so now it must haunt your dreams like it will haunt mine.

It began with Black Brooder Boss completely smitten in his new relationship.

And Yellow Yal Jued understanding the color assignment as she forced Boss to wear his heart on his sleeve.

But the newly merged companies didn't seem so keen on the idea of mixing colors and relationships.

So Jued joined the Heavenly Humans on Destiny's side.

And Boss continued to linger in the background with the Red Rascals of Break Up Service.

The divisions were clear.

And so were the job duties.

At least they should have been, but on the first possible case of the new company, Boss and Jued messed everything up because they couldn't decide if it was best to break up or get together . . . in regards to the client.

And it could be because the Break Up Service efficiently set up the lovebirds to fight since Blue Boy Oat hired the company to break them up.

I can't be mad at him though when he looks like an angel in white.

So I was all for this color-coded couple getting manipulated by the company they work for since this is what they had done to every other couple this season.

However, Jued decided to do what I do; she relied on the colors.

Yet she gave Boss red, which if she'd had been following the plot like I had, she would have known Boss in red was a bad sign of him giving into his worst side.

But the company seems to have known that as the workers switched everything up when the couple went on their first big adventure together to buy a bed.

They offered the couple red and green items to pick from instead of their signature colors of black and yellow.

Jued, who is exactly like me, depended a bit too much on the colors to guide her in this situation.

Which forced the couple to have a moment of reflection in the store since this trip was bringing out their worst colors.

And they decide to break up.

Which brought Boss right back to where he started. Right next to Oat.

We got a flashback to Boss helping Oat serve a small dose of revenge on his cheating boyfriend (Oat is a confirmed gay!) when Boss gathered all of his ex's partners in one place to catch him in the act of cheating. It was beautiful.

And it was a signature Bad Boss move noted by the red sheets.

But things got kind of wonky in the story because we see the company didn't really take the case (or maybe it did), and Oat didn't really want to break up Boss and Jued (or maybe he did). The lines were blurry as demonstrated by Chan's white and red outfit that reminded me of Candy Cane Lane.

This prompt Boss, out of color since he had lost himself in this breakup, to ask for Destiny's help to get Jued back. He finally put his heart out there.

And the company helped the color-coded couple get back together.

While also coming up with a better plan to merge the company so it started to feel like one balanced place instead of two opposing forces.

And loves bloomed everywhere because of it!

Oh, and GMMTV gave me the obligatory branded pair cameo, so Blue Boy Oat got a different Black Brooder to swoon over.

The end!

[metamercury]

I'm so excited for this next fic, and i want to post it right now this very second so i can force my 3 readers to read it. But I need to finish typing up the 2nd edit first -- it's not done

but man. imagine if it were done? I really feel like i outdid myself with the analogy this time. Or will have. Once it's done. It's not done.

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Anyway after thorough research, I can confirm that I am, in fact, not a big fan of the snow ahsjakskla it was really cool for like an hour and I was having a fantastic time, but the novelty wore off quick when it melted into my clothes lmaoooo

[shhh-secret-time]

To be honest, stardew valley has me in such a chokehold. It always has, even before the 1.6.

In such a way that my brain wants to smash my hyperfixation into it. So late at night I'll be awake thinking of this stardew/south park mashup.

Call that bad boy Star Park AU.

But no brain! Bad! We already have too much going on! You have a Secret Soulmate AU. Fantasy AU, A Cowboy AU story staring Kenny that's still in the outline phase, and these one shots!

(Look at the tags to watch me descent into madness)

[beaviu]

wrong table, right person .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ — sjy

⋆˚꩜｡ 002 :: not so ready

ʚଓ m.list — prev — next

synopsis . ❀ ݁ ˖ yn finally agrees to a blind date to finally shut her bffs up about her tragic dating life. Dressed to impress but armed with zero expectations, she arrives at a café, scans the room, and sits across from a guy who checks every box: handsome yet cute, and surprisingly sarcastic in a way that keeps her on her toes. Only one problem: he’s not her date. Jake, a schools heartthrob laying low not to be caught by his fan girls, is just trying to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee when a stranger slides into the seat across from him and starts talking like they know each other. Intrigued — and a little bored — he plays along. What starts as a mistaken identity turns into a full-blown accidental date. And when yn finally realizes her mixup… she walks away mortified. But Jake? He can’t stop thinking about her. Now he’s determined to find her again — without revealing who he really is. As fate (or nosy mutual friends) brings them back together, their story becomes anything but accidental. Because sometimes, love finds you at the wrong table — at exactly the right time.

“Oh my god, you guys really didn’t have to come over,” yn says, rummaging through her closet in a frantic attempt to find something to wear. Kai chuckles from the corner of the room, shaking his head. “bro you need all the help you can get. Whatever you’re doing to scare these guys off, it’s definitely working.”

Meanwhile, Juyeon is casually snacking on whatever he could find in yns fridge, seemingly unfazed by the chaos in the room. Yumi, who’s also digging through yns closet, suddenly stops and gasps. “yn! Look! Wear this! It’s perfect!” she exclaims, holding up a black off the shoulder top and a cute dark wash mini skirt “pfft is that even going to fit on her, I haven’t seen her wear that shirt since forever” wonbin says next to juyeon whos also snacking on the same thing

yn glares at wonbin and then glances at the mess of clothes scattered all over the room. “I don’t know if this is going to fit, ugh it doesn’t even look like it can go over my head bro” “Trust me,” Yumi says, grinning. “At this point, you’ve got nothing to lose nini” “wow thanks for all the support my loving friends who have gotten me into this situation in the first place” yn says laying on the floor making a snow angel with all her clothes on the floor.

“oh my god can you try it on already we don’t have all day” juyeon says rummaging through her fridge even more trying to find her secret stash of food. yn noticing “yea i will if you can get your fat fingers away from my fridge” juyeon gasps loudly “cmonnnn nini go try it on” yumi forces her to get up and pushes her towards her bathroom door. “ok fine but if i look like a hot mess im not coming out” “OH CMONN THATS THE FUN PART” kai yells from his corner and wonbin nodding silently from the kitchen counter.

“Oh my god, is she seriously still laying on the floor?” Juyeon calls out from the kitchen counter, voice muffled by the fridge door as he digs through it, clearly trying to find yns secret stash of snacks. “We’re starving, and you’re still deciding if that shirt fits? Just get it over with already!” yn groans from the floor “I swear, youre worse than my mom. stop nagging me lee juyeon!! I’ll try it on when I want to gosh”

“Ugh, don’t act like we’re the problem here,” wonbin teases, walking toward the bathroom door. “The only thing slowing this down is you. Just try it on! I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone take so long to put on a shirt.” juyeon complains like theres no tomorrow as yumi gently pushes yn towards the bathroom door and wonbin opening the door for them. Kai pipes up from the couch, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, honestly, you’ve got this yn. It’s just a shirt and a skirt, not like you’re reinventing the wheel.”

Wonbin, sitting lazily at the floor infront of the bathroom door with a snack, chuckles. “Do you think she’s gonna come out wearing it or just get stuck halfway through? ‘Cause that seems more likely.” yumi smacks his shoulders “stop making fun of my baby and go and get me some of whatever your eating im hungry too” wonbin winces in pain but still gets up annoyed while sticking his tongue at her. “boy if you don’t put that fat tongue back in ur mouth”

“hey guys it fits i think?” yn calls back, her voice muffled as she struggles with the shirt. “But if I come out looking like a hot mess, it’s all your fault and im never trusting u bitches again”

“Oh, we know it’s gonna be a hot mess,” Kai says with a loud laugh.

“You’re the worst huening kai.” yelling from the bathroom

After a couple of minutes, yn emerges slowly from the bathroom, standing awkwardly in the doorway with her arms crossed like she’s waiting for the inevitable onslaught of teasing. The room goes dead silent for a moment. And then, as expected, it erupts.

“Oh my god, she actually did it,” Kai says, snickering like it’s the best thing he’s seen all week. “Who let you out of your cave yn?”

Juyeon takes one look and just bursts out laughing. “Okay, hold up. Did someone spike your water? What happened to chopped yn??” YN rolls her eyes. “It’s just a shirt and a skirt. Stop acting like I’m wearing a ballgown.”

Wonbin raises an eyebrow, still munching on his snack. “Not gonna lie, though. You actually kind of look like huzz but no glaze cause your still chopped” “I’m just so glad you think I look like chopped huzz” YN says dryly, giving him a playful shove. “Really boosts my self-esteem.”

Yumi, arms crossed and grinning mischievously, steps forward. “I literally told u guys this was THE fit. like cmon now” “Oh, for sure,” Kai chimes in. “next time can you dress me. I want to look unrecognizable too.”

Juyeon snorts. “honestly, I’m kind of impressed. I didn’t think you could manage this without looking like you just stepped out of a disaster movie.” YN shoots them all a look. “Yeah, keep laughing. I’ll just make sure you don’t get any snacks next time we hang out Lee juyeon.”

“Hey, don’t threaten me im the one who landed u on yet another date” juyeon says, holding up his bag of chips.

“You’re literally the worst one to play the Cupid role omg” YN scoffs, hands on her hips.

“youre all grown up now!!! guys she’s grown up so fast” Kai throws his hands in the air dramatically, like he’s being hit with a wave of sudden emotion. “Look at you! How do you go from our little baby to suddenly ready for marriage ”

Yn glares at him, fighting back a grin. “You guys are lucky I even let you guys in here to “help” me. You’re getting one look, and then youre all leaving.”

“my nini baby all grown up,” Yumi teases, “but just remember—you can’t run away from us. We’ll be sure to remind you of this moment forever.”

“Yeah,” Wonbin says, leaning back in the kitchen chair, “you look cute, but don’t get used to it. You’ve got the nonchalant persona to maintain.”

Yn crosses her arms, giving them all a look of mock seriousness. “Alright, I’ll leave the nonchalant part to you guys. You can keep it.” The teasing continues as she heads out, but before she can fully close the door she hears juyeon scream “CAN WE EAT YOUR RAMEN!” yn rolls her eyes and peeps her head through the door “yes but only two packs you guys can share, and I’ll know if you eat more than one. I WILL KNOW.”

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ authors note — this chapt is kinda boring but next chapt the plot will thicken trust. also taglist is always open for anyone who wants to join! 🩶

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ taglist — @astrobebba @rikchic @zoe1love @t1iqaa @enhanoa @yuyita-rosier @smolderingoasislegion @synamon @blvengene @urfavmelaninatedgeminii @cupidmiyu @naevisringring @swiftcityy @luhvletters @sumzysworld @w3willris3 @skepvids @enhastolemyheart @kimuranirisi @rairaiblog

[kamitv]

Your best friend Sukuna is a complete slut.

Though you’d never say that aloud—albeit more than true. That's the only way to describe him because why else would he be in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your bed, with his legs spread wide open, fingers wrapped around his thick cock, and groans of your name leaving his lips?

Because he’s a goddamn slut, that’s why. And normally when you interrupt his… sexual acts, you quietly apologize and rush off as quickly as possible.

Yet, here you were, being ordered by your best friend not to run away this time.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself,” Sukuna’s raspy and slightly husked voice drawls out to you, eyes boring into yours from across the room, “Bring your ass over here.”

Funny how he said he wasn’t going to repeat himself only to follow up with a literal repeat of his initial order-

“Now,” He hums, his voice sending a chill down your spine.

You stiffen up where you stand, trying your absolute best to keep your eyes anywhere and everywhere else except for the hand he had stroking his cock.

Gulping, “Sukuna-,” He shoots you a pointed glare and you start getting nervous. “You can’t just… j-jerk off in my room and expect me to… to help you.”

“Fuck,” He hisses, your eyes nearly falling on him again as the low noise makes you fidget, “Fine, then get out,” Sukuna tells you.

Your brows push together at the audacity of him, not that it really surprises you anymore, “But-“

“Out. I’ll be done soon,” He cuts off, sitting back and fisting his cock at a quicker pace, eyes drinking in every inch of your still figure.

You didn’t want to look at him. Nor did you want him jerking off in your bedroom. But, you also didn’t want to leave for some strange reason.

Hence why you just stand there and look around your room as if you don’t know the interior already. Sukuna can’t help but crack a smirk as you stand there, his breath growing heavy before he calls your name— watching the way you flinch at the sound.

“Kinda’ awkward if you just stand there, y’know,” He chuckles out to you, finding you oh so amusing.

You frown, “Kinda’ awkward if you just jerk off in my bedroom.”

“It wouldn’t be if you came over here,” He snaps back.

You hate how quick he always is with his responses, something you still haven’t gotten used to throughout all your years of friendship. Swallowing, you just barely glance at the man, “What?” You huff out.

Your eyes were on his and his were on yours. Tension was vexed into his gaze, desire pouring out of his maroon shaded eyes and making you so utterly nervous as you stood across the room from him.

All as he just sat there, shirtless, tattooed and chiseled chest very difficult not to gaze at, large thighs spread lewdly, and hard curved cock twitching within his grasp as precum oozed out his tip.

You couldn’t help the way your gaze dropped for a moment, catching sight of his cock and the way his plump tip glistened under your dim bedroom lighting. His hand movements got noticeable faster as you watched and you drew your thighs closer together.

Sukuna lets out a deep sigh, “Y’know,” The sound of his voice makes you flinch yet again and you lift your gaze as though you’d been caught doing something wrong, seeing the smirk on his face, “You can come get a closer look.”

You bat your lashes at him, “W-What?”

“Is that all you know how to say?” He chuckles, “Hah, just c’mere already,” He suddenly requests, voice softening ever so slightly. “I won’t bite.”

And that’s… roughly how you ended up on your knees in between his legs. With a mouthful of his cock, you don’t even remember what’d come over you after you listened to his request and came close to him.

One moment you started shyly teasing him about being a pervert who jerks off in your bedroom and the next you were curling your fingers around his shaft and making your way down to your knees. Sukuna had let out a long shaky sigh as he watched you settle in between his spread legs, his urge to tease you dying off as some other emotion swelled within his chest.

He’ll never admit it to you but, he was shy. How could he not be when your soft hand begins stroking his cock like he’s just some kinda toy for you to play with—what’d you expect him to do when you look up at him and lean forward to wrap your lips around his drooling cockhead? 

Unfortunately for him, his expression gave away everything and as soon as his dick began disappearing into the warm caverns of your mouth, he was a goner. A hand was now tightly gripped onto your scalp, his breathing unsteady as he watched you suck him off with that pretty ass mouth of yours.

He’ll never be able to forget the sight of drool spilling out from the corners of your mouth while you tried your best to take him all the way into your throat. And his mind just about blanks when you move your hands to his thighs, push them further apart, and then sink down completely—your lips meeting his base.

Now that was a sight to see. 

“F-Fuck,” Sukuna stammered, the sound alone leading you to choke a bit as a moan attempted to leave your throat. His darkened eyes were seconds away from rolling to the back of his skull with how sexy he found the sight of your lips bulging around his thick cock.

When you finally do pull your mouth off of him, he doesn’t even get a moment to breathe before your hands are wrapping around him. He goes from leaning back slightly to sitting up a bit straighter and moving his hands down to one of your wrists, his lips unknowingly quivering.

Then a pant escapes him and you’re bringing your eyes back up to look at him. “Slow, woman—fuck, go… hah, slow.” He says hoarsely.

Oh the desperation on his face was priceless. Why ever would you listen to him when using two hands to jerk him off is all it takes to receive a slightly pouted lip and furrowed brows from him. He probably doesn’t even realize the face he’s making at the moment, too grumpy trying to take control of the situation to feel his features faltering. 

You coo, “Aw, go slow? But, ‘Kuna, I thought this was what you wanted?” 

The nickname you just threw at him has to be evil in some way, shape, or form because the wild twitch it invokes is enough to have your hands tightening their grip around his thick cock. 

Sukuna grits his teeth and you can see a vein popping out in his forehead—he’s so annoyed with you now that the roles have reversed, it’s cute. “Fuck you,” He curses, as if that’ll help him avoid the embarrassment bubbling up within him right now.

“Oh, there he is,” You purr, removing one of your hands just to angle his cock back toward your lips and then tapping it against your skin gently. “S’kinda hard to be mean to me when I’m makin’ you feel so good, isn’t it?”

He swears you’ll be the death of him. He’s never experienced this side of you, nor was he aware it even existed. All he’s ever known you as was his shy roommate who’s so unintentionally attractive that it pains him to be around. Is this really the same woman who was stuttering moments ago when she walked in the room and caught him jerking off??

Sukuna huffs out an almost bratty breath of air, “Stop… talking.” Just as he’s never seen this side of you, you’ve never seen this side of him and fuck is it hot. He’s usually such a big intimidating man and yet here he is literally folding and gasping to your touch.

You completely strip your hands away from his cock and then open your mouth, staring right up into his eyes as you whisper, “Make me.”

All that embarrassment and temporary shyness is gone within the blink of an eye. Sukuna’s stumbling up slightly to his feet and grabbing a firm hold of the top of your head, letting out a gruff sigh while taking his dick into his hands and properly aligning himself with your mouth.

His chest is glistening in sweat and his head is pounding, he was all nervous seconds ago for what? Because of you? Oh please.

It only took those two words of yours for him to remember who the hell he is as he then thrusts his hips forward and quickly fucks himself into your mouth. “That’s more like it,” Sukuna grunts, giving your mouth some mean thrusts as he forces your head to move and meet each one of his motions. “Fuckin’ slut, m-makin me nervous,” He admits hoarsely, his tone aggravated with you. “Who do you think you are, huh?”

You’re obviously too busy getting your face fucked to answer that properly but the moan you let out that leads to drool filthily dribbling out your mouth is enough of a reply for him. Especially when he catches how it drips down onto your thighs. 

Sukuna releases a pretty groan out into the air at the mere sight of you. He thought he was losing his mind before but now it’s even worse. You don’t even have your hands on his thighs to try and brace yourself or control what’s happening—you just let him have his way with your throat, taking things a step further and moving your hands behind your slightly arched back.

Fuck, he needs a picture of this. He desperately needs this display of you burned into the forefront of his mind for the rest of his life. Especially as he starts hitting the back of your throat and you purposefully choke against him. Sukuna’s other hand lifts to cover his mouth because he swears he almost whined.

Your throats too fuckin’ tight, you’re holding eye contact with him for too damn long, and if he feels your tongue flick against that specific vein of his one more time—

“Hnngh—” Sukuna moans, his grip almost bruising as his head flies back and his cock presses right against the very depths of your mouth, hips stalling with the way his orgasm comes rudely rushing out of him. 

Then he feels you swallowing and even though he was trying to keep you head still, you begin to bob yourself back and forth on his cock while he’s cumming and that’s when a whimper is choked out from his lips. Sukuna’s whole body just clenches and he’s letting out all kinds of sounds as his hand, now shaky, holds onto your head for dear life.

Even when he stops cumming, you’re still sucking and his eyes roll back, voice coming out strained. “S-Shit, fuck—stop,” Sukuna moans again, “Please?” Never in all your years of living did you ever think you’d hear Sukuna Ryomen begging you for something and yet here you are.

You steadily pull your mouth off of him with a slick pop, sting after string of saliva hanging in between his tip and your glossy lips. He’s above you panting for a moment before stumbling back to sit down on the edge of your bed again.

A hand of yours moves to causally wipe your mouth off and you don’t even know if you wanna tease him now or later about what just happened. “So, that was—”

“Don’t speak,” He cuts off immediately, his voice surprisingly airy. “Ever. Never bring this up again.”

You snort, “Promise me you won’t jerk off in my room again, first.”

Sukuna scoffs. “Tch. Whatever.”

Like the vixen you are, you begin to lean toward him again and you don’t know if you image it but he flinches ever so slightly. “Promise me,” You say as your hands meet his knees and you begin to lift yourself up.

His eyes go wide and he internally panics at the sight of you moving. “Fucking fine. I promise.”

Smiling, you move to lean over his tensed body and plant a kiss on his cheek, “Good boy.”

…

Yeahhh, his brain just powered off.

pt. 2

[madamechrissy]

Conjuring Ryomen Sukuna

pairings - Haunted Doll/Demon Sukuna x f!reader

summary - Your haunted doll Sukuna is really creeping out everyone you know, so you're tired of it! He is always watching, he scares your dates away - rude! You decide enough is enough, and after numerous times trying to destroy him, you get the help of a friend to sage/smudge the house. Big mistake!

warnings - Horror tbh lol, COMPLETE CRACK, spitting, name calling, oral (f receiving) Sukuna being psycho and just a freak, mating press, rough sex, creampie, Sukuna is basically Anabelle lmfao.

You can thank @yenayaps for spurring this on and for making the Sukuna pic lmao!! (also @indiewritesxoxo bc they rly get me on the weirdest paths)

You have tried so many times to get rid of your creepy, haunted ass doll!!! He's so torn up and raggedy, he's still covered in dirt from when you've buried him. He's sewn together in places (you never sewed him!?) his creepy ass grin and red button eyes terrifying as ever. You've thrown him in a blender, a dumpster, you've thrown him in the damn pond!

Fuck you burned him, earning some singed raggedy pink hair. But Nothing Works!!

He's always coming back, showing up on your chair, showing up in your fucking bed!? Sometimes you'd wake up and scream, and throw him out of the attic window, sometimes you'd stuff him in a trunk up there and you'd hear his creepy little footsteps as he ended up back in that rocking chair. You'd push him in your closet and he'd be sitting at the dinner table, waiting for you to serve him.

Not like you ever would!

What's the worse is when you tried to bring a date over, and the moment you thought maybe you could get off a bit - (fuck you deserve it living with this demonic doll) - the doors start slamming and the lights flicker! All of your dates run away in fear, and you're left endlessly frustrated all the time.

"I swear, I'm getting rid of you today!" You say this morning, shaking the doll and then throwing it on the floor, just for it to move it's head, making you scream. "God you're creepy, just wait!"

Your friend is a whole hippie, and thank goodness for that. You've buried Sukuna again in your garden, wiping the sweat off your brow as your friend looks at you with a concerned gaze. "I'll be right in, please go ahead!"

You may look insane burying this doll in your yard every week, surely the neighbors are concerned, but they have no clue the torture this damn thing causes. Cheap mortgage payments are not worth it!

"This is what you get for buying a haunted house you know," you're walking in, washing your hands in your kitchen as your friend shakes her head. "The energy in here is insane."

"I know, ugh. You know I couldn't afford anything else!" You dry your hands on a towel as she starts laying out crystals, evil eyes, and lighting the sage. The smoke makes you cough it's so thick, when she hands you one.

"Repeat this - you will not harm me."

"You will not cock block me!"

"Hey!" You blush then, realizing your words, clearing your throat as your friend rolls her eyes. "Why do I deal with you?"

"He really does, I haven't gotten dick since I've been here," you pout and she starts walking through the house, shivering. "Yeah, he sits in my room the most."

"We'll put extra protection in here," she's smudging more, opening all the windows, as you follow her - praying this doll was done - the next step was a whole exorcism!!

The doll doesn't return that day, you almost can't believe your luck, and that night he's still not there! You freely go on a date - he's not even that good of a kisser but you really need to get laid, it's been a whole year since this doll started. He's fingering you good enough in the car, that you decide to bring him in.

Typically, this is when your doll would start messing with you, but the house smells so clean and it's blissfully empty. Your date is kissing down your body as you lay in your bed, and for once the creepy doll isn't even here staring at you!

Yay for Sage!

"So pretty," he's murmuring, kissing up your thigh, you're moaning then, it's just been so long, you were even scared to masturbate because he's watched so much! "So wet..."

"Shh," you didn't need the dude to talk, no you really need to cum - but of course, he doesn't know what he's doing. But that's okay, you're just excited your creepy ass doll is gone, so you tug his face where it needs to be and work with it. "Mnh!"

"Hmm," that sound doesn't come from him, or you, in fact he's buried against your pussy when you look curiously to see it-

That Fucking Doll!

He's grinning at you, making you scream when your date pulls his lips off whatever part of your pussy he was going for, looking at the chair then. "Oh, I didn't see that - it's fucking creepy!"

"Just... um ignore it..." Soon the doll has slammed the damn door, your lights flicker again, and your tv is going on and off. "Dammit..."

"I'm sorry but... this is too creepy, he's like haunted!?" Your date runs out when the doll turns his creepy ass head, and you're done. You tug on your panties, picking the doll up by his hair, scowling.

"I'm getting an exorcist tomorrow, you creepy little shit!" You throw him out of your room with a huff, locking your door and grimacing, throwing a hand over your face.

You almost could have cum just grinding on the guys nose, you're that needy after this year of hell! You're grabbing your vibrator, spreading your thighs then, eyes fluttering shut. You have to just cum and you'll feel a little better, surely, hopefully the stupid doll does his usual routine and comes in after a couple hours.

The vibrations are hitting your clit, and your hips rise up, shutting your eyes and imagining how good it'll be to get rid of this stupid fucking doll, when the vibrator is snatched from your hand and thrown against the wall. You scream at that, eyes opening when a hand comes over your mouth.

Who the fuck is this!?!?

He's got glowing red eyes just like your doll, but he's huge, and he's naked, covered in tattoos as your eyes dart down his throat, his chest, and his big hand lets go. He smirks down at you, when you scooch up the bed, chest heaving, and he eyes your pussy, lapping at his plump lower lip.

"You thought that loser or that toy could make you cum, brat?" his voice is gruff as he speaks, you reach for your phone, but he throws that now too.

"Who are you!? How'd you get in?" You're covering yourself up with a pillow, only for him to throw that now too, as you look all over the room. "I have a haunted doll, he'll scare the shit out of you."

He laughs then, throwing his head back, before giving you an evil fucking grin, straddling your bed and making it creak with his heavy weight, one arm on either side of you. "Oh you're fucking dumb."

You glare and smack the shit out of him then, screaming out as your palm stings, he's chuckling again, and you see him hard, he's fucking huge. Veiny, a good nine inches, leaking precum on your damn bed, as he shoves up your top.

"Get the fuck out, who breaks in naked - you're a creep!" He's chuckling now, shaking his head, pink hair messy, his fingers gripping your breasts.

"I'm tired of watching you try to fuck all these losers," you gasp then, lips parted.

"You can't be..."

"My name isn't Anabelle by the fucking way," he says, glaring at you, and you tremble. "It's Sukuna, king of fucking curses."

"Oh whatever as if you're a king- Raggedy Andy looking- ah!" Sukuna is done with you then, he has a huge hand around your throat, as his other finds your soppy little cunt.

"I'm not raggedy andy, I'm a fucking demon," you're shaking your head again, but when he touches your clit with his rough fingers, you can't help but cry out. "Cunt is desperate, so slutty."

"You're really the doll!? I saged you! Oh fuck," he's rolling in circles now, his heavy cock looking more and more tempting - you weren't really gonna fuck your haunted doll were you!?!? "Ngh!"

"You just brought me out, hah - pathetic, looking at you with your stupid ass crystals, think they work on me?" He's shoved two thick ass fingers inside you now, you're rolling your eyes back, pulsing around them already.

"W-why don't you... just leave me alone... ah!" You're saying it as you're gushing down his fingers. "I was finally gonna cum - you haunted fucking chucky doll!"

"I'm not chucky or fucking anabelle!" He's furious then, pulling out his fingers and shoving them in your mouth, you're sucking on them without thinking, when he scowls at you. "I can't believe you lit me on fucking fire- oh and I'm claustrophobic by the way!? you mean ass little-"

"Don't you dare even! Fuck, could you just... get me off! It's your fault I never do! Maybe I wouldn't burn you or throw you in the pond if you were useful!'

"Useful, you're such a bitch.." you smack him again, just making him harder - it's been eighty years trapped in that stupid fucking vessel, and he's had to watch you naked for a year! He's far more needy thatn you.

"Don't call be that, fucking Robert the doll but even lamer!"

"You listen to too many much horror podcasts, oh and you know he wouldn't have got you off, yeah?"

"Like you can, you're a doll!"

"I'm a fucking demon, now shut up," he's yanked off your panties, shoving them in your mouth, when he leans down and brings your pussy right against his face. "I'll show you how to really cum, fucking insolent brat."

"Who the fuck says insolent- ancient ass- oh fuck," he's spreading your lips, eyeing your pretty cunt, he'd tell you it was pretty if you weren't always trying to destroy him or stuff him in boxes. But for now, he'll think it, drinking your cunt up and moaning as he ruts his cock against the matress. "Oh god! There, there, fuck!" You're tugging at his hair when he nips your clit, smacking your hands now, scowling with his bright red eyes. "Ow!"

"Don't tell me what to do, pathetic human, be thankful I'm letting you have this," he is so fucking pretentious for a doll you think to yourself, wishing you could toss him back into that trunk in the attic until he's sucking on your clit. "Mmm... should thank me."

You're gushing then, how can you not, his tongue swirling your clit, sucking it into his hot mouth, the little thing twitching as he vibrates it with his stupid demon mouth. You wonder if the doll actually killed you and you're in some weird limbo with it, maybe it dragged you to hell, but it feels so good you honestly go with it.

He's messy, sloppy and somehow precise as he drags your thighs closer, sucking up all your juices. You're writhing under him, closer and closer, while he devours your pussy so hungry, he won't tell you how good it tastes either, you're too much of a fucking brat for all that - you've given him PTSD from all the ways you've hurt him!!!

"Cum, now - whiny little brat..." You're screaming out before you can stop yourself, his tongue slipping up to collect all the juices that spill as you're yanking his hair again.

The orgasm hits far too good, you're making a mess and squirting on your - haunted doll's!?- face then, he grins, lapping it up, before leaning up and wrapping a tattooed hand around your throat. He spits right into your mouth after prying it open, you're choking as you swallow it, only for him to bend you in half, slamming his thick cock in as much as it can go.

"G-god... oh my... you're too big, fuck!" You're trying to back off, but he drags you back, smirking as he presses your thighs up, smushing them against your breasts and fucking deeper.

"Tired of listening to you every fucking day, bitchy and annoying, tired of you bringing losers - ah fuck you're tight - home. And tired of - mmm - you trying to get rid of me!"

"I'm - ah! - tired of - fuck, there!" You're done as he's fucking you so good then, you've never had dick like his, it's tearing you apart with each filthy fucking stroke. You're trying to scratch at his back when he pins your wrists down, pressing all his heavy weight on you.

"Shut you up - hah - fuck..." Your cunt is milking him, it's been a good hundred years since Sukuna has fucked anything, he would jerk off in his vessel but it wasn't the same! And he's wanted you too long, so he's trying to hold back for a moment as your gummy walls grip his veiny length.

"W-won't sage you if you... mnh, make me cum again - ah!" He's scowling now, fucking you harder, breaking you in half with his mean cock - you have to hope that he doesn't have some creepy fucking doll stds or something!?

"Haven't fucked in... a hundred years... gonna cum so much, in your slutty little fucking pussy - mine, not that fucking losers..." you feel a little relief, a hundred years he should be okay, but you're still half convinced you're dead or asleep anyway.

"Cum in me," he smirks then. "Oh stop it, just do it."

"Slut, fucking mean ass brat, fucking.... god your pussy..." he also thinks you're pretty, but you sure wouldn't hear that either!

Sukuna fucks you in that mating press, until he's got you cumming again, pulsing around him with your aftershocks, and he lets out a hundred fucking years of cum, white ropes busting in your pussy, bulging your tummy.

"So much what the- you're still cumming!?"

"Shut up, god... fuck..." He's losing it now, he almost kisses you, but instead he's spitting in your mouth again, moaning as he pulls back, watching his own cum being pushed out down his length.

"I'm like hallucinating or dead," you're whining out then, as he pulls back, cum spilling all over your bed, as he smirks, fingering it back into your hole. "I'm sore! It's been a year because of y-you!"

"Shut up, fucked ya good enough yeah?" You're just trembling now, as he pulls back, sighing and laying next to you, on one arm. "I require clothing."

"Aren't you going back to like being a creepy doll?"

"Tch, no, the sage released me, and now your sexual energy is feeding me," he's tugging you against him, frowning as he studies you. "You were so mean to me!"

"You were a haunted doll! And never let me get dick."

"Well obviously not," he's blushing now, and you can't help but giggle. "Do not laugh at me, mortal!"

"Oh sorry, I may have some old sweats or shirts from my ex, let me look." You hop up now, shaking your head when he tugs you back on his lap. "What is it?"

"I'm scared by myself, that's why I kept going to your room, and you just kept throwing me away," he's nuzzling your neck now, kind of sweet for a demonic possessed doll. "Don't do it again!"

"Okay fine, I won't. Now I feel bad!"

"You should!" He's sinking sharp teeth into your neck, fucking you again, as he has much to make up for, making sure to fuck all his frustrations out of his mistreatment!

This is silly LMAO

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[malum-forev]

Eyes, They Never Lie

Summary: Sam and Bucky try to recruit (Y/N), Bucky's ex and a former Avenger who has left that life behind. But they realize her life has changed completely once they meet a her daughter with striking blue eyes.

Pairings: Bucky x Former!Avenger!Reader

“They want me to assemble a group,” Sam takes a long sip of his beer, thinking that it’ll do something to ease his mind. “The New Avengers.”

Bucky lets out a low whistle.

“I know.” Sam mutters. So far, it’s Captain America and the Falcon, but other than that, he’s completely lost. “Back when Steve was here, there was a place for us to go. We could aspire to one day go into the compound and train, but now, anyone who is willing to be part of the team is scattered all around the world.”

Bucky hasn’t said anything, not because he doesn’t know how to help his friend but because he’s so lost in his own journey. Running for congress sounded like a good idea, until he started dealing with the political world. So much bureaucracy, so many people wanting to fatten their wallets. And not enough actual helping.

“You got any ideas?” Sam asks, bringing him out of his mind.

But Bucky just hums, because the idea he does have is crazy.

“C’mon I know that being a silent watcher is your whole deal but I need some help over here. How the hell am I going to build a team from zero?”

Bucky finishes his drink, as if that’s going to help jumpstart his confidence. “Are you looking for fresh meat? Or do you got space for an old timer?”

Sam’s eyes widen. “I thought all your fighting days were behind you.”

“I want out,” Bucky loosens the tie on his neck. “I want to go out on the field again. Really help.”

Sam runs a hand down his face, there’s hesitation in the way he looks at Bucky. 

“Unless…” Bucky gulps. “Unless I’m not what you’re looking for.”

“No, no.” Sam places a hand on his shoulder. “I just need to tell you something before you say yes to this-“

“What is it?”

“I was-uh-“ Sam looks up at the screen above them, not wanting to look at his friend in the eye when he says it. “I was gonna ask her to join, too.”

“Oh,” Bucky can’t help but think back to when you were his, at least for a moment. Every time he thinks about being happy, you’re right there next to him. 

You were the first woman he was actually interested in. He spent years wasting time with thousands of women, letting them in his apartment but never into his heart. But your eyes reeled him in from the moment you started as an agent. Steve would always tease Bucky, saying he’d have to see you fall in love with someone else if he didn’t ask you out. 

Those were the best years of his life. No doubt.

Until you left. You retired, and wanted nothing to do with him. And all the love you had seemed to evaporate from one day to the next.

But Bucky? He was still waiting for you to come back. 

“I-I thought she disappeared, retired.” Bucky stutters at your memory. 

“I found out where she lives now. And I planned on talking her into the group.” Sam looks down at the beer in his hand.

“I’m in.” Bucky says, but he’ll never be sure if he accepted because he wanted out of the political world or if he wanted another glimpse of you. 

-------

“The house is supposed to be up the road.” Sam mutters, trying to find cel reception. But the two of them were so deep into the woods, it was almost impossible. 

Bucky had always imagined you’d end up like this. Off the grid, living off your land. But in the dream, the two of you would be together. He’d spend the day cutting wood and harvesting whatever you’d grown, and you’d be deep into a hobby, spending your nights recounting your wild life. 

They see an opening up the road, but as they come closer, their eyebrows knit together.

“This can’t be it.” Sam says under his breath.

A huge cabin, surrounded by pine trees, is the only thing around. There’s a big tree at the front of the cabin, with a tree house on one of its branches. A glittery pink bike on the lawn along with a replica of Mjolnir next to it.

Sam parks his truck and they both step out cautiously. Bucky looks around, wondering how the woman who used to scream at the sight of a spider could live here, all alone.

As they come closer to the front door, they hear rustling from the tree house.

Bucky nudges his friend’s shoulder. “There’s someone over here.” 

Sam’s head whips just enough to see a pair of binoculars looking at them from the wooden window. 

“Hello?” He calls out but there’s no answer.

“Do you live here?” Bucky asks, only to be slapped on the chest by his friend.

“You can’t ask that! It’s creepy!”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “How else am I supposed to get an answer if I don’t ask a question?” 

But there's no response from the person inside the tree house. Instead, there's clanking and banging and before they even realize it, there's a little girl pointing a bow and arrow directly at them.

"State your name! Now!" She tries to look menacing but her outfit is too much for the two men to handle. Sky blue rain boots with a purple tutu, a Def Leppard t-shirt and heart shaped sunglasses.

"Oh my god." Sam immediately melts. "Aren't you the cutest little thing I've ever seen."

But the little girl doesn't fall for the Captain's words, she points the arrow directly at Sam. "Don't make me repeat my question, I know how to use this."

"Do you live with an adult? Your aunt, maybe?" Bucky's throat dries up as he asks the question. He knew you had siblings before you went into the crazy line of work that were the Avengers, and he begged that the little girl before him was theirs.

Bucky spent hours thinking about you on the way here. He'd been dreaming of seeing you again, thinking of what must have changed and what stayed the same. But he never thought there was a possibility you had moved on.

"Is your-" Bucky clears his throat. "Is your dad home?"

Sam eyes his partner. "Smooth."

The little girl walks backwards until her back bumps into the cabin's front door. "I'll call my daddy."

Bucky's heart stops. After years, he was still thinking of you whenever his eyes closed, and you, you were completely over him. Started a family with someone else.

"I'm sorry, Buck." Sam pats his back, immediately noticing the shift in his friend's eyes.

"S'okay." Bucky mutters, grinding his combat boot into the ground. "I'm not here for her, I'm here to assemble the team."

"I know, but-"

"I said I'm fine." Bucky snaps, running a hand through his shorter hair.

You'd begged him, for years, to cut his hair.

"I love your long hair," you'd once murmured against his lips. "But I also love how you looked during the Howling Commandos era."

"Era? You're making me sound more old than I am." Bucky smiled against your lips.

"I'm just saying, you could shorten it." Whenever you looked into his eyes, it made him feel like he was the only thing in the world.

"I thought you liked pulling my hair." Bucky flipped you on the bed, taking in your bubbling laughter.

The creaking sound of the cabin door brought him back to now. Bucky sucks in air, preparing to meet the man who is apparently so incredible that you decided to drop everything to be with him.

He has to be at last six feet. Well I'm 6 foot 1, on a good day. Bucky responds to his own thoughts. And he must be jacked. Not as jacked as me, I'm the fucking Winter Soldier for fucks sake! He must love her. Well I, I've loved her every day since I met her.

It feels like it takes hours for this mystery man to come out. The door opens slowly, only to reveal... You.

Bucky's knees buckle as your eyes meet his. You hadn't changed a lick, and if he didn't know better, he'd think that you were still his. Bucky's hands ball into fists at his side, needing a physical reminder to not reach out and hold you. Beg for your kisses. Tell you he doesn't care that you left, just as long as you take him back.

"Sam? Bucky?" Your voice trembles. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

The little girl pokes her head from behind your legs. "Mommy!"

"Mommy?" Sam and Bucky shriek at the same time.

"Attack them! Take them down!" Your daughter laughs.

"Young lady!" You scold.

But the little girl interrupts you, raising a chubby hand to stop your words. "I've already told you my name is Tashi Romanoff."

"Tashi, please, go upstairs and play. I need to talk to them for a moment. In private." You enunciate your last two words, knowing they were her least favorite words in the world.

"Fine," she huffs, turning on her heels. But not before taking off her rain boots and heart shaped sunglasses to reveal a pair of striking eyes. Clear blue with a steel ring surrounding her iris. Bucky's brows furrow as he catches a glimpse of Tashi's eyes, almost the same exact shade as the one he sports.

"W-wai-She's-" Bucky stutters out, not being able to comprehend what just happened.

"Tashi, huh?" Sam raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah, she’s going through a phase where she refuses to be called by her name," you close the door behind you. "Auntie Nat came to visit us during the blip and she just latched on to her."

"W-was her dad blipped?" Bucky tries to act normal but his heart is beating out of his chest.

"Her dad isn't in the picture." You cross your arms. "She was a surprise."

"So-uh-so that means." Bucky points between him and the house. Not being able to get the words out. "There's no way that."

"She's not yours, Barnes." You roll your eyes at your ex boyfriend.

"But she-her eyes." He blinks.

"There are a lot of guys with blue eyes out there." You let out a light laugh. It was strangely easy for you to slip into how things were, teasing and sharing laughs was the base of your relationship with Bucky. But now, so much time has passed, and you're definitely not the same person you were back then.

"What are you guys doing here?" You look down at the floor as you ask the question.

"Someone out there has created a mind controlling substance that puts everyone in danger. And we need to stop him. We found his lab and we got some of the vials but we need your help taking him down." Sam says but you're shaking your head before he even has time to finish. "I want to form a group. The world needs us again."

"Look, Sam, I appreciate you going through all the trouble to find me but, as you can see, I have other priorities now." You look back into the house through the window to find your daughter peeking through the window.

"But-" Bucky speaks up but you stop him.

"You guys can stay the night if you'd like," you say, looking at the darkening sky. "But I'm not going back. There's a reason I left that life."

Bucky bites his tongue to stop himself from asking you what that reason was.

"Thanks for letting us stay." Sam smiles as he passes the threshold of your home.

You never thought this day would come. Seeing your daughter run around your back yard with one of your best friends.

“She’s beautiful.” Bucky comes to stand next to you, but you only hum in agreement. Words seemingly disappeared from your mind the second his scent wafted closer to you. Sandalwood and fire, clean linens with a dash of something else. So masculine, so protective. So incredibly, Bucky. 

“How old is she?” He asks.

“Don’t do this to yourself.” You take a deep breath in, letting him coat your lungs. 

“I just want to know.” Bucky tries to act innocently. He dissects every trait he can tell comes from you, but the rest, they look awfully similar to him. Tashi’s nose has the same bump as his and her eyes crinkle just like Bucky’s when she smiles. 

“Faking was never your forte.” You smile. “She’s not your daughter Bucky.”

“Bucky.” He repeats his name like it hurts him to say. “You never used to call me that.” 

“Well, I used to call you baby but I wouldn’t want Tashi to start asking questions about who my other baby is.” 

Bucky lets out a laugh, it’s a low grumble that shakes his ribs. It’s been so long since he felt this peace. “I missed this,” he lets the words slip out.

“I missed this too.” You say, barely above a whisper, stopping yourself before you say that you missed him. But you did.

Every day since you left, you thought of Bucky. Of the way he used to hold you so tenderly and the kisses he gave you at night. Of how he said I love you and made it sound like the only words that existed.

But all those memories were of the past, your life before Tashi came in. And you should keep them like that.

-----

The moonlight is the only thing that illuminates Bucky as he wanders around the cabin. He didn't mean to lurk but he'd woken up from a nightmare.

Your home was different than he imagined. A lot more stuffed animals and toys and less trinkets from your past life. There were a couple of pictures here and there but they were mostly of Tashi and you.

"What are you doing up?" Bucky jumps up at the sound of her squeaky voice.

Tashi looks up at him with those goddamned eyes. They looked so much like his, it was concerning.

"I-I couldn't sleep." Bucky rubs the back of his neck.

"Do you have nightmares?" She asks so innocently. If only she knew the things he dreamed of. "I have them too."

"You do?" Bucky whispers, making her nod her little head.

"Mommy usually helps be back to sleep but I don't want to wake her up." Tashi brings a finger to her mouth, motioning for the Sergeant to keep quiet. "Don't tell her I woke up, promise?"

"Promise." Bucky brings out his pinky, wrapping it around her little finger. "I'll let you in on a little secret of mine."

Tashi's blue eyes widen, urging him to go on.

"You may not know about me but, there was a time your Mommy helped me with my nightmares." Bucky smiles at the memory.

"I know about you, silly goose." Tashi covers her giggles with her hand.

"You do?"

She nods, holding her hand out and taking him to her playroom. Sitting Bucky in an incredibly small chair. "You're the boy from my book!"

Tashi places in his hands a hand sewn felt book. The characters were a bit wonky but Bucky could immediately spot himself in the fabric.

"You're the boy with the heart of gold and the arm of steel." She says, proudly pointing to the book.

"The boy with the heart of gold and the arm of steel would save anyone, especially the people he loved," Bucky read his description on the book. "People around the world misjudged him, but that didn't stop him from being good. He proved them all wrong."

"You're my favorite character," Tashi smiles wide. "Don't tell Uncle Sam."

"Your secret is safe with me." Bucky lets out a watery smile, setting the book down on the floor. "How about you go up to your room and I can tell you a story about your mom."

"Really?" Tashi jumps up.

"Only if you promise to try and go to sleep again." Bucky raises his eyebrow, trying to appear strong but the little girl already had him wrapped around her finger.

"Under one condition," Tashi crosses her arms. "I can go outside and get my Natasha figurine."

Bucky bites down on his lip. "It's quite late to go outside."

"Please?" She pouts. "It'll only take a second."

God she looks so much like you.

"Fine." Bucky gives in. "But I'll be watching by the door, can't let you go outside all alone."

The super soldier walks behind the little girl, watching as she runs outside and sifts through the grass.

Bucky should have known something was wrong, he should have heard them lurking in the bushes. But he was too distracted by her, too distracted by the idea that this could have been his life. That in some multiverse, Tashi was his daughter and he could've retired next to the love of his life.

But he didn't. And it was too late once he realized what was happening.

Tens of agents dressed in black closed in on the cabin, running onto the property. Tashi was the first thing they grabbed.

He heard her yell out his name, but it happened in slow motion.

"No!" Bucky screamed, running towards the man who kidnapped her. "Let her go!"

Tashi's red splotched eyes was the last thing Bucky saw before they crammed her into a black van and left down the only road. His feet burned as he ran behind them, but not even Bucky was able to catch up to them.

Once he came back to the cabin, Sam and you were running around trying to understand what happened.

"I'm sorry." Bucky lets the tears run down his face. "I couldn't stop them."

You dropped to the floor with a sob.

Bucky's knees finally gave out. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry- We're going to get her back, I promise that I'll get her back."

Authors note: hi hiiii omg I went a little bit overboard with this one. It's been a looooong time since I wrote something this long. I hope y'all like it! Xx

Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @whoreforbarnes @ironwinnerwonderland @oikarma @ellabellabunny123

[strnilolover]

⌗ . . . YOU DON’T HATE ME

WARNINGS : STEP SIBLING TROPE. SMUT. DRY HUMPING. SPITTING KINK. BITING. LIGHT SLAPPING. TITTY SUCKING. KINDA MEAN!MATT. (pls tell me if i forgot anything).

god you hated him—hated the way he was so charming and perfect and so fucking hot.

your mom thought that this family trip would bring everyone together, but it really didn’t. you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to pick a fight with matt every chance you got, your arguing and bickering beginning to get on your moms nerves.

“can’t you two get along for one day?” she asked you mid argument, stopping whatever insult you were going to throw at him next. your head whipped in her direction, and you just crossed your arms. “well i would if he wasn’t such an ass all the time.” you snapped.

your mom glared at you, “language.” you quickly mumbled an apology. “you two go find something to do, and i want you guys to get along by the end of it.” both you and matt gave her matching glares of your own at her words.

“fine.” you grumbled, turning your back to matt as you walked off toward your shared room—which was the cherry on top of it all. you had to sleep in the same bed as his every night this trip. having to stop yourself from tracing lines along his chest while he slept—he was too tempting.

the air between you had always been…tense. ever since your parents got married, matt had made it his full-time job to pick on you—cold looks, snide comments, backhanded compliments. but he never left you alone. and no matter how much you claimed to hate him, part of you waited for the attention. craved it even. especially late at night, when the house was quiet and the only thing separating your bodies was the thinnest sheet imaginable.

matt didn’t follow you as you made your way to the room, deciding to peel off and go do his own thing, ignoring your mothers request to spend some time together. you didn’t see him again until later that night after everyone was already in bed—your pajamas were on and the blankets were pulled high over your body.

you weren’t asleep yet, you couldn’t be—not with matt’s body radiating with heat as he climbed under the blankets with you. you couldn’t help the way your body shuttered with how close he was to you.

“you’re taking up the whole damn bed.” matt muttered from behind you as if he knew you weren’t actually asleep, his voice irritated. you rolled your eyes, back still turned to him. “then sleep on the floor, tough guy.”

he laughed, and you could feel it down your spine. “right. like I’d let your bratty little ass win that easy.” and you shifted under the covers, accidentally moving to brush your bare leg against his. “watch it,” he snapped. you rolled your eyes, “you’re so dramatic,” you whispered under your breath.

he moved suddenly—rolling over, pressing his chest against your back, one heavy arm wrapping around your waist. your breath caught at the contact, your body wiggling slightly in his grasp.

“i swear to God.” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, “you just love to piss me off, don’t you? always doin’ shit to rile me up on purpose.” your thighs clenched at his words—he wasn’t wrong.

“and yet you love pretending you don’t like it.” you snipped back.

he hummed, his hand moving to slowly slip under your shirt without hesitation, fingers splaying across your stomach. your brain started to short circuit, whatever snarky words you had disappearing. his touch already having you go limp for him—he’s never touched you like this before. “you walk around in those tiny shorts all week,” he growled. “picking fights with me. you knew what you were doing.”

you gasped when he pulled your hips back against him—his hard cock grinding slowly into your ass. his hand moved up to your throat under your shirt, gently gripping, just enough pressure to make your eyes roll back—your body tingling. you could feel the way your panties became soaked, the fabric sticking to your wet folds.

“you’re not gonna say a word.” he whispered, biting your earlobe. “not unless you want mom to hear her perfect little girl fucking in the guest room.” you whimpered, his words making the heat between your legs more prominent as he began rocking into you, dry humping through the thin layers of clothes. his mouth came down to meet your shoulder—teeth scraping before he bit down—leaving a mark behind on your skin when he pulled away.

“matt.” you breathed heavily, your find already fogging. a sharp sudden slap to your thigh made you cry out softly, your body jerking.

“did I say you could talk?” he spat against your ear, letting his tongue run along the lobe before nipping it. you couldn’t help but to moan into the pillow, writhing as his hand slid to your chest and cupped one of your tits, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardened. slowly he shifted himself, grabbing you and moving you onto your back before slotting himself over you and between your legs.

his mouth followed soon after—tugging your shirt up, lips closing over your tit, tongue licking lazily at your nipple before he sucked hard. letting his teeth nip at your now sensitive bud—the pain making you moan. it was messy and obscene, and you never wanted it to stop.

when he pulled back, spit dripped from his mouth as he stared down at you. his hips began to grind down, rubbing against your clit through the fabric of your panties. you sucked in a sharp breath, your hands coming up to grip at his shirt.

matt smirked, letting a hand come up to grab your face. “c’mon, open up for me sweetheart. you can do that yeah?” he muttered. you obeyed, dazed, your lips parting.

slowly he spat into your mouth, letting the saliva drop into your mouth before he came down and connected his lips to yours. it was heated and desperate, your mouth opening wider to let him in as his teeth nipped your lips, making you bleed slightly.

when he pulled away, his eyes were dark—lust pooled in his orbs. “be a good girl and swallow it.” he demanded.

you did—your eyes locked on his the whole time. you were both breathing heavy now, his hand now tangled in your hair, pulling your head back so he could kiss you again, roughly.

“i hate you,” you breathed.

“yeah?” he mocked, rocking against you faster now, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. “let’s see how true that really is, cause i think this pussy says otherwise.”

a/n : ik this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but i had to (never written something like this before either). creds to whoever has created stepbrother!matt <3

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Dog Tags (4)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> After you get discharged from the hospital, things start to change between you and Bucky.

Disclaimer: This is part four to parts one, two and three. Little angst, lot of fluff, Bucky and reader train together, found family moments between the team, Sam and Wanda being exhausted shippers, Bucky blushes, swearing. Not Proof Read.

By the time you were finally discharged from the hospital, Bucky was the one to bring you home.

“Bucky, I can carry my own bags.” You watched as he hauled your overnight over his shoulder before pushing the trunk of the car down. 

“You’ve only just been discharged from the hospital and I don’t exactly feel like calling them up, as your husband, and telling them you’ve busted a stitch.”

“My stitches healed ages ago.”

Bucky shook his head. “Not taking any chances.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you told him, though it didn’t hold as much bite as it used to.

Bucky turned around with you in the elevator before clicking the button for the compound apartments. 

“And you’re a thorn in my side, sweetheart.”

You just smiled to yourself as the doors closed in front of yourself and Bucky.

It was noticeable, the change, between yourself and Bucky. 

The rare good morning grunts, or more often; complete, yet heavy, silence. They had been swapped for smiles and genuine good mornings. The training and shift patterns were easier to assign, mission reports were completed with less dent marks in the paper, and the evening dinners were less awkward. 

Sam and Wanda had become hopeful. They all had. 

“They look happy, don’t they?” Sam asked aloud, already knowing Wanda was silently standing beside him. 

She smiled. “They really do.”

Down the hallway, you and Bucky were exiting the training room, laughing. The look in Bucky’s eyes – the light – had been rare to see in the last year. But when he was with you…

The light between both of you could blind any shadow. 

“Is it permanent?” Sam asked, something in his gut denying him true joy. 

Wanda smiled, hopefully. “I think so. Their connection runs deep. He helped her heal. She helped him. Nobody can end a connection like that.”

Sam nodded, turning his head to look back down the corridor where you and Bucky had just turned. He could only hope it would last. 

Bucky had been in love with you for a long time, even if he didn’t like it. Sam didn’t want him to hide it away. He deserved love. And so did you. 

Even when all you did was fight, you were each other's safe space. 

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Shut up.”

“Because one wrong hit and it all falls down.”

You were starting to regret agreeing to family games night at Kate’s apartment. It was yourself, Kate, Yelena, Clint and Bucky; all sat on the floor. 

“Careful, doll.”

“Shut up.”

You knew you’d taken a risky move with the jenga block, but if you’d chosen the one Clint had first been trying to ‘help’ you towards, you’d lose. 

“You know, this is a stupid game. We should play something else.” Yelena said. Her’s would be a different tune if she hadn’t lost the last round. 

Kate shushed her, “She’s gonna do it.”

Clint looked at his work partner. “This is a one for all game. Can’t be girls vs boys. We’re outnumbered.”

Yelena scoffed. “Bucky is like…ancient. He qualifies for two people, at least.”

You sniggered, trying to keep your focus on the wooden block. 

“You are a child.” Clint deadpanned before turning to Bucky. “They’re children.”

“Ah!” You pulled the brick free and held up your arms. “Done it!”

The tower remained standing for another minute before Clint took his go and the tower came falling down. 

Yelena just laughed, “Ha.”

You chuckled, pushing yourself to stand. “Okay, I’m getting another drink.”

“I’ll set up the next game.” Yelena called out before picking up the monopoly board. 

“I’ll come with you,” Bucky said as you stepped over his legs before helping him up.

As the pair of you walked into the kitchen, you could hear the other three stuck in an argument over who should be the banker. 

“Beer?”

Bucky held out his hand and you passed him the two in your hand. Popping off both caps, he threw the tops into the sink before handing you yours. 

You both clinked the necks of the bottles against each other’s. “You did good.”

“Would have been easier if I didn’t have this super annoying voice coming from across the table.”

Bucky smirked a little, narrowing his eyes. “Now where would the fun in that be?”

You just shook your head as you took a sip of your beer. You leaned against the sink as Bucky leaned adjacent to you. 

“So…”

“So?”

Bucky lowered the beer bottle from his lips and braced himself on the counter. “I’ve got a free day tomorrow if you want to…do something. With me.” 

You looked him over. “Why are you shy?”

You saw him blush a little as he looked away. “I’m not- I’m not shy.”

You smiled and Bucky felt like he needed to look away despite that being the last thing he wanted to do. 

“Bucky,” your voice was soft as you looked at him. “What is it?”

“I just…” Bucky’s question was on the tip of his tongue. But then he chickened out. “I was wondering if you wanted to train with me tomorrow?”

“You were nervous to ask me to train with you?”

Bucky nodded. “Last time I asked, you said no.”

You just stood back for a moment, your eyes fixed on him. “I’ll train with you.”

Bucky felt like his crush in a 40s dancehall had just finally agreed to dance with him. “Really?”

“Really,” you nodded. “Don’t know who would train on their day off, but sure.” You smiled before grabbing the bowl of snacks on the kitchen counter. 

“We better get back in there before the bank has a hostage situation.”

Bucky chuckled, following you back into the living room. 

By the time the next afternoon rolled around, you and Bucky were beat. 

Bucky held his side. “I thought you were taking it easy after your injuries.”

You laughed, “I got a full clearance from the hospital four months ago. Good as new. Thought I’d go easy on you? Never.”

You almost had Bucky to his feet but he pulled a reverse on you. Somehow you found yourself trapped on your knees, your back against his chest. “Little too cocky, sweetheart. And who said I wanted you to go easy on me?”

Jabbing him in the ribs, he calculated your next move. You were rolled onto the mat together. As you had Bucky on his back, you felt him reach for your knife. Only, it wasn’t there. 

He felt a small pinch by his side. He looked down, a little breathless. “You remembered.”

A small chuckle left you. “I remember a lot of things about you, Barnes.”

You didn’t know what it was. Your words and their hidden meaning, the smile on his face as he was looking at you, the way his eyes flicked to your lips, or the fact that yours did the same with him. Maybe it was his hand, holding onto the side of your leg, his thumb mindlessly rubbing back and forth. Maybe it was the breathless exchange. Or maybe it was your constant reminder of him that fell forward from your t-shirt. 

Dangling between you both were Bucky’s dog tags. 

Pulling your attention away from the slow-swinging metal, Bucky spoke, “You’re still wearing them.”

Your gaze locked onto his. “Yeah…never take them off.”

Maybe it was the fact that Bucky was looking at you like…like he wanted to kiss you. Or the fact that you wanted him to. 

But something shifted. 

You cleared your throat and quickly moved yourself from Bucky’s body and stood up. “I, uh, I should…there’s somewhere I’ve gotta…” 

You couldn’t think straight. You just needed to get out of there, before you did something reckless. 

The rest was a blur. Gathering your things up, Bucky slowly standing up and trying to keep you calm. He was clueless and worried. And somewhere between it all, you’d pressed his dog tags into his palm and left. 

For the next month, things were…awkward, to say the least. 

“Has she told you anything?” Bucky asked, once again frustrated that you weren’t talking to him. 

It was bordering on week 5 of you ignoring him. 

And it. Was. Maddening. 

Wanda shook her head. “No, nothing.”

In saying you’d told her nothing, that was the truth. But deep down, Wanda already knew why. Whatever had happened between you and Bucky after that day…it had scared you. It had opened something up inside of you that you’d been forcing down for a long, long time. 

“I thought we were finally getting somewhere,” Bucky sighed as he sat down. 

“Maybe you should just try and talk to her.”

“How?” Bucky almost exclaimed.

“And we’re standing again,” Wanda whispered to herself as Bucky launched himself from the sofa and started pacing again. 

“Everytime I see her, she doesn’t look at me. If she sees me coming down the corridor, she takes a completely different exit. We got assigned a three day recon mission last week, she won’t take the mission.”

“She’ll take the mission, Bucky.”

He just shook his head. “She won’t. She hates me. Again. I don’t even…”

“She doesn’t hate you, Bucky. She never has.” Wanda told him. “Look, Y/n…she’s not someone who trusts easily. And she trusts you, Bucky. I know she does. Maybe even more than she even knows. Which also means, I know that it scares her.”

Wanda stood and laid a light hand on Bucky’s chest, a little over his heart. “Just talk to her. Find her. Make her sit down if you have to. Talk. It’s the only thing you can do.”

Bucky bowed his head and sighed. That was even if he could get you alone in a room for ten minutes. 

“We need to talk.”

You ducked your head as if a bullet had just been fired towards you. “Jesus- James.” You closed your eyes and sighed heavily. “You need to stop sneaking up on me. Make a noise or do something. How long have you been standing there?”

“Ten minutes. At least,” Bucky answered honestly before pushing himself from the wall. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t about to run off. And, from the way you’ve been punching that bag, I’d say you’re really pissed at someone.”

“Want me to give you three guesses?”

Bucky just hummed and continued to watch you as he stood a little closer. 

“What do you want, Bucky?”

“I want to talk.”

“What about?” You continued to hit the punching bag in front of you. 

“You know what.”

“No, I don’t.”

Bucky came and held the bag still and for a moment, you stood back. Breathless, sweaty and tired, you looked at him. 

“I know you’re not dumb, Y/n. You know what.”

You stepped away, untying the bandage from your hands. “Enlighten me.”

Bucky watched as you walked away from him. He could take a lifetime of you hating him, but not a lifetime of you ignoring him. 

“Aren’t you tired of this game?”

“What game?”

“This one. And the one we’ve been doing for the last few years. I thought we made up. I thought we were finally friends.”

You shook your head. “You don’t wanna be my friend, Bucky.”

“Yes, I do.” He stood in front of you before you could walk away. You finally looked at him. 

For the first time in over a month, you finally looked at him. And he knew it was still true. He could drown in your gaze for the rest of his life. 

“Or maybe I don’t.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What I do know, however, is that I want you to talk to me. I can take you hating me for the rest of your life, Y/n. But I can’t take you ignoring me. Pretending like we don’t exist.”

“We?”

“What happened here?” You knew what he meant. The training mats were less than eight feet away from you. “That day?”

You turned your gaze away from him, trying to run away from the conversation. “Nothing. Nothing happened.”

He let you pass but he still followed behind you. “Something happened.”

“Nothing happened, Bucky.”

“Y/n.” Bucky stopped walking. 

“Goodnight, James. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Y/n, wait!” 

Finally, you stopped in your tracks. Your back was still facing him, but you had stopped running. For the moment. 

Slowly, you turned around to face him. Your grip tightened on your bag. “What?”

Bucky stood looking at you. Breathless. Angry. Worried. Sad. Annoyed. Tired.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he muttered, almost to himself as he bowed his head and braced his hands on his hips. “I can’t.” He looked back up at you, a little more determined. “I like you, Y/n. I can deal with you hating me. I’d prefer it, actually, compared to you ignoring me. If I’m being completely honest, I more than like you. But since I’ve barely been able to keep you in the same room as me for the last month, I’m gonna keep that to myself until I know you’re not gonna run away from me.”

You didn’t know what to say, so Bucky continued. 

“Just…tell me what happened…please.” Bucky was ready to get on his knees and beg. 

Your words were caught in your throat. Stuck in place, burning underneath whilst freezing on top. So you did the only thing your body was allowing you to do. 

Move. 

You could have turned away. You could have ignored it all. 

But you stayed. 

Bucky watched as you dropped the bag from your shoulder and it landed with a loud thud on the ground. Then you were making your way over to him. 

Pulling him in by his dog tags, you placed your other hand by the back of his head and kissed him. 

It was safe to say Bucky hadn’t been expecting it. Dreamed of it a few times, but never expected it. 

It felt surreal. 

You felt his hand clasp your waist, his fingertips pressing lightly into your skin almost as if to check you were real. It wasn’t long before you felt one of his hands beside your face, trying to hold you closer as he kissed you right back. 

Eventually the kiss broke apart, but Bucky wasn’t ready to let you go. 

“That,” you eventually said. “That was what happened…what almost happened,” you corrected. 

Bucky felt lightheaded and unsteady on his feet but in the best way. 

“You should have stayed that day.”

You found the courage to finally look at him. 

You shook your head. “I…couldn’t. I know it’s bullshit but…it scared me. More than anything. I’ve been hiding that part of myself for so long I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well, just for future reference, this is the better answer.” 

You felt yourself chuckle a little once you saw the corner of Bucky’s mouth lift up. 

“I can take you hating me, doll. But I can’t take the silence. Even when we’re fighting, I still know you’re there. You still talk to me.”

That was when Bucky let you go. 

“What are you doing?”

From around his neck, he pulled the dog tags up and over his head. “Giving you these back.”

“But they’re yours.”

Bucky just laid them over your head and around you, holding them with a smile. “They’ve been yours since you stole them, doll.”

Holding them in your palm, you looked at them. 

“They haven’t been the only thing you’ve stolen from me.”

You looked back to Bucky, a softened smile on your face. And he was looking right back at you, the same stupid grin on his face that had been making your stomach fill with butterflies. 

“Promise me you won’t run away from me, again?”

You shrugged. “Like you said, this is the better answer.”

Bucky grinned, sharing a laugh with you as he cupped your face before kissing you again. 

He hadn’t been expecting for you to kiss him when you did, but he was certainly glad you had. Because it meant he could finally kiss you back. 

[differenteagletragedy]

Part two of the one where Simon lets you move into a room in his house You tell Simon that you have at least a few weeks before you need to move out of your apartment and into his spare room, but he doesn't see the point in wasting time. The day after he offers to let you move in, he goes shopping, and the next few days are spent putting everything together. The bed, the dresser, two matching nightstands, some shelves — he makes sure everything is solid and sturdy for you, and he hopes you wouldn't notice how new it all is.

He cleans, too, every inch of the place. He's not a particularly messy man, but he'd bought the small two-bedroom house years ago, and he's not one for company. So he goes over everything, and he does what he can to make sure that his home is a good place for you, from the small stepstool he buys and sticks in the corner of the kitchen to the way he organizes his shaving supplies in the bathroom so you can have half the limited counterspace.

When you tell him you're ready, he brings his truck to the bar to pick up you and your things, and his heart aches, just a little, when he sees that all you have is a couple of bags slung over your shoulder. Without a word, he takes them from you and carries them out, and he tries to shrug off the slight disappointment he feels when you open the passenger door before he can do it for you.

"It's not much," he tells you on the short drive back. "Two bedrooms, just the one bathroom. I'm gone a lot. Stay as long as you like."

"What do you think for rent?" you ask. "I've got a little bit saved, and I can —"

"I meant what I said, love. There's no rush."

He hops out quickly after he pulls into the driveway, opening your door for you this time. He takes your bags and carries them in and into the room that's now yours, setting them carefully on the floor before turning to you, sticking his hand in his pocket and pulling out a key.

"Same one for both doors," he says. "Not much in the kitchen, but help yourself to anything you like. And let me know if you need anything at all."

The first few days, you don't see each other much. He stays in his room more than usual, not wanting to crowd you or make you feel uncomfortable. You pick up an extra shift at the bar, trying to make that rent he keeps telling you not to worry about.

One night during that first week, he comes home late from the gym, and he's pleasantly surprised to see you sitting in the living room, watching tv and having a snack.

"Oh, sorry," you say immediately when you hear the door open, like you'd done something wrong.

He smiles, just a bit, and nods for the couch, wanting you to be comfortable — maybe liking the idea of you warm and cozy in his space a little too much.

"Nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart," he says, stepping closer.

You nod, and slowly sit back down, but on the edge of the cushion now, tense.

He doesn't care for it.

"What's on?" he asks.

"Oh, just this show I watch sometimes. It's a dumb reality thing ... I can check it out on my phone later."

You minimize yourself constantly, he's noticed that for a while now, but it's never been so clear as it is now, with you perched on his couch like you're waiting to run for cover. He still doesn't know your story, but in the moment, he'd love nothing more than to find whatever or whoever it was that put this innate fear in you and destroy it.

It's a war in him, a fight between keeping to himself and wanting you not to do the same. This particular battle is decided when he takes a seat on the other end of the couch and forces himself to tear his eyes away from you to look at the tv.

"Tell me about it."

You do. Nervously at first, but you slowly relax. He gives a small, satisfied smile when you scoot back to sit on the couch more comfortably and start to speak more freely, and he fights back a wider one when he really takes you in, bare feet and a loose t-shirt, lounging around at home. His home.

Yours too, now.

After that night, things get a little easier. You don’t sequester yourself in your room, and he warms up to you a bit more. It starts feeling natural, having you in his space. You fall into a rhythm.

Nearly a month in, he comes home one day to find you in the living room, pulling on your shoes, and he asks you where you're headed.

"We're headed to get some groceries," you tell him.

The directness is new, but certainly not unwelcome, and he follows behind you gladly as you lead the way to the store.

Grocery shopping with you makes him feel like a kid again, but one who had someone to dote on him. You walk by the produce, asking him carefully what he likes. What's his favorite kind of apple? What kind of berry does he prefer?

At one point, you actually tell him, "Simon, you have to get some vegetables," and he can't help but laugh at how you stare up at him pointedly, like he's supposed to know he's worth being cared for.

"What's your favorite dinner?" you ask him as you walk through the aisles, carefully scanning for prices before you put things in the cart.

"Don't know," he mutters. "Never really thought about it."

It's true, sort of. He eats, of course, and he has preferences, but it's never really been something to take pleasure in. There's never been some meal he craves, or some kind of food tied to a good memory. He mostly just wants to see if you'll say his name again.

But then he thinks for another beat and starts walking.

He puts a can of beans into the cart, then goes to another aisle and gets a loaf of bread. He doesn't say anything, but you nod and smile at him.

After you buy the groceries -- more specifically, after he buys the groceries, using his body to block the card reader while you laugh and try to wrestle your way around him to pay yourself -- you walk back home. He sets the bags on the counter, and together you put up all your purchases, but he notices you leave out the things he'd picked out.

"Hungry?"

"Generally."

Simon watches, arms crossed, as you heat the beans in a saucepan you'd pulled from under the stove. He doesn't move when you stand close to get to the toaster, and he watches your throat as you swallow when your arm brushes against his to put the bread in.

"You know, I would have made you anything," you tell him as you wait for the toast. "And this is what you picked?"

"Just had it a lot when I was a kid," he mutters, not offering more.

With the look you give him, a glance that's quick but still penetrates, he knows you understand the reluctance to get into the details. It's not the easiest thing to explain, how one can find comfort in the soft lulls of a tragedy. How oddly soothing it can feel to remember any bit of kindness from hands that ripped you apart.

You give him a plate first. Beans on toast, straight from his childhood. He takes a bite and nods, appreciative, and you grin.

A few bites later, you reach your hand up and swipe off a bit of food from the corner of his mouth, and seemingly without thinking, you lick it from your finger. He keeps his eyes on you for a moment longer, then sets his plate down.

Simon moves slowly, agonizingly so, giving you every chance to stop him. He puts his hands on your waist first, high and respectable, and when you just look at him, waiting, he drops them to your hips.

"This ok?" he asks, and when you nod, he dips his hands lower, over your thighs and to the back of them, lifting you up and dropping you on the counter.

"You didn't have to make me dinner, love," he says softly, working his body just slightly between your knees.

"You don't want me to pay any rent either," you tell him. "I can't just stay here for nothing."

The idea of you bringing nothing to this arrangement is laughable, but he keeps a straight face. He studies you, every fleck of color in your eyes and every line in your skin, maybe too intensely, but you just sit there, and you let him.

"You can tell me to stop," he finally says. "Won't be offended."

"I don't want you to stop."

With that, he brings his lips to your cheek, placing a gentle kiss there, then plants one on your jaw. When you still don't object, and even lift your hands to grasp onto his shoulders, he kisses your mouth.

He doesn't want to rush this, and he doesn't want to ask for something more than you want to give. He doesn't want you to feel like you owe him, but the idea of kissing you like this has been loud and persistent in his mind for longer than he cares to admit. He tries to bridge the two thoughts with his carefulness, but when he feels you start to kiss him back, he snaps.

Not visibly -- he doesn't shove his tongue down your throat or grope you with rough hands. That's not how Simon loses control. For him, snapping is internal. It's in realizing how good you feel in his arms and letting himself feel the weight of that.

He's not sure if it's the dinner you made him or something more innate, but when he kisses you, you taste like home.

In the moment, he can admit that to himself. But he's not ready for you to know. Not yet, anyway.

[iamasaddie]

lessons in control

Joel Miller x f!Reader

summary: after you witnessed the conflict at the dance, you tried to comfort Joel as best as you could, too bad you weren't really good with words. warnings: PWP, just the tip, mentions of a belly bulge, mentions of cockwarming, creampie, emotionally awkward reader, sex as a distraction, fat girthy age gap (reader late 20s-early 30s, Joel 61. don't like don't read i am planning to write some more stuff about them <3) wc: 1,7k a/n: episode came out weeks ago and i just finished the fix-it fic. i love being on time. divider by @/saradika-graphics

You were already warming up your shared bed when Joel's heavy body plopped next to yours. The matress squeaked pathetically, or maybe those were Joel's knees. He silently scooted closer to you, hugging your body from behind and inhaling your scent.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you reached and blindly found his cheek, scratching the stubble with your thumb in a gentle gesture.

“I can’t seem to control myself when I feel something might happen to her, you now?" You did know. Joel's hyperprotectiveness over Ellie was the thing that brought you together in the first place. And that was the only time when it didn't cause mass distruction. Almost. "I just get filled with rage and I lose it.” Joel sounded like a beaten dog, you knew exactly how much pain his eyes carried. You wished you could say something that’d take his mind off things. You wished you had a better way with words. But the only thing you felt you could offer was your body, so you press your back harder into his t-shirt clad chest; you pushed your ass a bit out to meet his cock that was still soft in his boxers.

“I can help you with the control thing.” You whispered, your breathing soft and calm.

“Yeah?” There was a tint of humor in his voice, a half-smile creeping up on his face. “Gonna walk me on a leash?”

“No,” you grabbed his hand and brought it up from your belly to your tits. Joel barely squeezed the supple flesh, waking up the sleeping beast that was your need. “Let’s start with something less dramatic.”

“You know full well I’m not able to control myself with you either.” As if proving his words, his hips bucked, teasing your ass with his hardening dick. His voice dropped lower, the honey thick cadence you grew to know very well. Joel’s grown out stubble brushed your ear as he moved his lips closer. “If I can have you, I devour you fully.”

You breath caught in your throat. Whatever this turns out to be, you knew you at least gave him shelter from the dark thoughts for the night. “You can have me, but,” your ass kept grinding on him, bringing Joel’s cock to the full potential, “just the tip.”

He barked a soft laugh, fanning your face with his whiskey breath. “Sounds like you’ll be the one struggling, baby,” his thumb and pointer finger pinched your nipple, already taut with excitement, and you bit your cheek to hide the moan. “Since it’s you who always begs me harder, more, deeper.”

Goosebumps erupted on your skin as Joel started nipping at your neck, dragging his teeth along the tender column. His hands enveloped you in a hot cage, forearms squeezing your boobs as he pressed you even tighter to his chest. You couldn’t move—not that you wanted to—but you didn’t think it’d be great for that exercise in control you wanted to give Joel. He bit in the juncture between your neck and shoulder and you gasped. You were so responsive, it drove Joel mad. His hips kept humping your soft ass, and you knew a wet stain already bloomed on the front of his simple underwear. 

“Come on, Joel, let me help you.” You moan was breathy, and you tried to gather some composure to no avail. Feeling his hard length fit between your asscheeks made your core burn. You desperately wanted to have him stretch your pussy around the veiny shaft, even though that wasn’t what you planned in the beginning. You guessed that both of you could learn something.

His hand let go of your tits, dragging down your body to tug your panties down. You fumbled for a moment, helping him get rid of the damp garment. His own he only shoved down enough to let his hard cock out, the elastic of the band sitting tightly under the heavy ballsack. 

Your wet pussy was sheilded from the cold of the room by the blanket that covered you both, and when Joel’s tip finally kissed the slick lips of your cunt, sweat started gathering on the back of your neck. 

One of Joel’s palms rested on your thigh, his almost fully grey happy trail that lead to the coarse pubic hairs tickled your ass and back. His finger dug into the meat of your leg, dragging it up and over his own hairy thigh, so he had a better access to your weeping pussy.

Joel’s teeth grazed your ear, low voice rumbling through you.

“Sure you don’t want me here?” His hand left your leg, and he pressed into your lower belly, making you shiver. “Don’t you love feeling me in your tummy, baby? See how my cock bulges your little belly?”

You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut. You did love that. Loved seeing how big he was, in every aspect, and how well you could still take him. Seeing how much of his cock was in you when he told you to suck your tummy in. 

“N-no,” your whimper lacked any confidence, and Joel only chuckled darkly. “Just the tip.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’.” 

He moved, grabbing the shaft of his cock that was throbbing with the absence of needed contact. With tortuously slow movements, he teased your slit, making sure to nudge your clit every time. The fat head of his cock spread your lips, mixing your arousal and his precum into one cocktail of need and despair. You felt his spongy tip knock on your hole and it took everything you had in yourself not to push down, taking as much of him as you could in one go.

You shook with desire against his body, and Joel finally allowed you to have some of him. Gently, almost mockingly, he pushed the leaking head of his cock in your tight heat. Even this small fraction of his dick felt overwhelming without proper preparation. When your walls hugged his tip, both of you exhaled sharply.

“Fuck, Joel, good, that’s good.”

“Yeah? Already full?” 

“Mhm.”

“I need you to play with your clit, baby. Want you to squeeze that tight little pussy around me as I fuck you with just the tip.”

Shaking, your right hand found your pulsating clit, but before touching it, you pushed your fingers lower, blindly feeling where the tip of his cock split you apart. You grazed his shaft with the tips of your fingers and immediately heard Joel suck air through his clenched teeth.

“If you don’t want me to turn you over and fuck you into this mattress with my whole dick, better keep your fingers on your clit, baby.”

You’d giggle if only he didn’t choose that exact moment to slip out and immediately punch into you again, this time a bit further, but you kept your mouth shut.

Your fingers expertly danced over your throbbing bud, gathering slick that generously seeped out of you. Joel was uncharacteristically quiet, all of his concentration focused on not thrusting his hips and burying himself to the hilt in your welcoming pussy. Sweat dripped down his temple, thighs screaming, but he kept feeding you just the tip, enjoying your breathy mewls. 

Having so little of him when you knew what the whole deal felt like resembled a punishment that you brought upon yourself. He stretched you good, but he couldn’t reach that magic spot he usually pondered into whenever he sunk his cock inside you. That made you work on your clit harder, already desperate to cum when it’s barely been ten minutes. 

“I can hear how wet you are for me,” Joel nipped at your neck, his tip continuously thrusting in and out of you, teasing. “D'you hear that?”

The sounds were loud, vulgar. You’ve heard the wetness of your cunt welcoming Joel with an obscene smack, like when you pat the surface of still water with your opened palm. The waves of your upcoming orgasm rippled from your core and out, like those same disturbed waters.

“Grippin' me tight, darlin’,” he groaned, you could smell his sweat and it made your mouth salivate. “Grippin' so good I can barely pull out.”

Your hand started faltering, rythm failing and Joel, sensing your trouble, left the tip of his cock inside you while his own hand started working on your clit. The simple touch of his fingertips, rough and gentle at the same time, pushed you tripping over the edge. You kept choking on air, inhaling more and more until your lungs burned and your mouth opened wide in a silent scream. 

Joel felt your little bud throbbing under his fingertips, your pussy squeezing his cock so hard he could barely hold off his own orgasm. He found your hand, bringing your slippery fingers back to your spent pussy.

“Keep touching your clit.”

“I can’t,” you whined back, voice barely audible, “it’s too sensitive, Joel.”

“Keep playing with it or I will,” the thought of his big rough fingertip on your sensitive bud again sent a chill down your spine, though it was far from fear that you felt. “I want your pussy choking and crying around me when I fill you up.”

You tried to steady your breathing, your trembling fingers started to work gentle circles on your pussy again. It felt raw, and every extra touch felt like a shock wave shooting through you. But it did what Joel wanted, every swipe made your pussy clench around him with extra strength and he just kept his tip inside you, stroking his shaft that was covered in your cum with his thumb and two fingers.

“Doing good, baby, keep going.”

“It’s too much.” You whined, almost breaking apart from him, but his hand kept you in place.

“It’s not, you can do it for me, can’t you?”

You could do anything for Joel, he was right there. So your fingers kept torturing your poor pussy, bringing as much pain as pleasure, and you kept squeezing around Joel’s cock, bringing him to his own release.

In one long unexpected thrust, he pushed the rest of his cock in you, growling as he spilled rope after rope of his cum inside you. The sudden movement ripped another orgasm out of you and you wailed, tears of pleasure tickling the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, baby,” he sounded everything but sorry, “had to make sure I don’t spill a drop.”

“Does it mean you’ll leave it in for the night?” There was hope in your voice, and you didn’t try to hide it. Whenever Joel kept himself snug in your pussy for the night, you had the best dreams, and the horniest mornings.

He hugged you close to his chest, making sure his softening cock was still plugging you. “I don’t think I got that much control, sweetheart.”