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#i think he was very scared and he believed everything he was saying in the moment

elllisaaa · 1 day

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Hear me out… a fantasy fic about merman Felix x reader

first things first, felix gives out such strong merman vibes, he would look so good swimming in the ocean with his long blond hair omggg i love it ! i've never posted anything about fantasy on this account (yet) so i don't know if many people will enjoy it but i do, soooo much ! let me know if you would like to have a full fic about it maybe ? i'm into this idea i must say…

MERMAN!FELIX and you, a marine biologist, that is very passionate about what you're doing. every new day, you hop on the boat you use to make your samples. since you were a kid, you always loved the sea, maybe because you were living so close to the ocean and spent all your days at the beach. that's how your passion for marine creatures started, so much that you decided to make it your job. and you loved to scuba dive everyday to take notes on the species you're studying. in conclusion, you were doing your dream job and you couldn't be happier.

and you were even happier to go on a month-long study in the middle of the ocean. every night, you stay out to watch the beautiful stars in the sky, loving the way they reflect in the water. for a week, you are unaware of the gaze following your movements each night. and then you see him, particularly his head picking out from underwater, the intense brown eyes watching you intensely. you both jump in surprise when you realize you saw each other. felix doesn't have the courage to come see you that night, so he comes back the next one, but you're not there, and he prays that he didn't scare you away.

three days after your first encounter, you call for him asking : "is someone there ?" you think you're stupid, and that you just hallucinated what you saw. nobody could live in the ocean like that, and mermaids don"t exist. you have a logical mind, and you cannot help but rationalize his existence. it was probably just something you imagined because you were tired. but you see the guy approaching, you can't help the scream that you let out. felix is quick to slap his hand on your mouth, though : " please don't yell, you'll wake them up."

you succeed in calming down a little, but the shiny fish tail you can see underwater brings back every doubt and nervous feelings you had the second just before. "w-what are you ?" - "i'm a merman" he states as if it was obvious, but for you it made you question everything you knew. "but that doesn't exist, it's impossible, i must be dreaming !" - "you're not, i'm real." felix cannot say anything else before you run away.

he doesn't expect you to come back the next day but you are here, waiting for him. "are you okay." - "i just… i just don't understand how you can be real." felix chuckles in a low tone, and you take a propre look at him, at his cheeks covered in freckles and his long blond hair that are starting to dry because of the wind. "i don't know either, i'm here, that's all."

both of you stay silent for a little while. if it wasn't for the fish tail, you could believe that he is only a human. "what's your name ?" - "felix. and you ?" - "y/n". this is nothing, but this is what starts your nightly meetings with the merman.

#thank you so much for the ask anonie this is soooo good #eli's anonie #eli answering your questions #stray kids soft thoughts #skz soft thoughts #felix x reader #felix soft thoughts #fantasy #merman #felix soft hours

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stephaniebrownslover · 23 hours

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Guys I have an idea.

What if I made Jeff The Killer like BoJack Horseman???

Guys don't leave please guysssssss it's so dark hereeeee

Okay now that I think about it, I'll ramble about this a bit.

Either I'm on to something or on something.

Also BH characters as creepypasta characters random BoJack Horseman dialogues as Jeff under the line and how other pastas would react.

And the only Jeff portrait I like is @jeffthekillerzblog 's Jeff because he's like a real life :3

THEIR FIRST TWO LETTER IS SAME THEY'RE THE SAME

...

GUYSSSSSSS TOBY AS TODD JUST IMAGINE

Lol just kidding but I think Toby and Todd would actually get along. Like they would just chill around and build random shit and talk about nonsense stuff. Their silly goofy traits are kinda similar so they would understand each other most of the time. Great minds think alike.

Okay okay let's talk about Jeff Horseman stuff before drifting away the topic.

First of, I think BoJack Horseman is not a character do defend. Yes, he tries to fix his mistakes but it was too late for him. He needed to change before all the shit happened. He needed to go to rehab or therapy before.

I'm not saying it's all his fault but just look at Diane. She had her own trauma and even though she was feeling bad most of the time, she wanted to get better. She worked for it in time instead of BoJack.

Yes, BoJack is a traumatized character but Todd was right about "You can't keep doing shitty thing and then feel bad about it!" because BoJack did this always.

Now back to Jeff. He has a similar trait with BoJack. I think Jeff has BPD most likely and he has serious anger issues. That's not a good mix as you can guess. It causes him to make mistakes and hurt people he actually gives a shit about and even though this makes him feel bad later, he won't do anything about it.

He wants to change, he wants to apologize from Jane and Nina and Liu. He wants to be a better person. He hates this life he build but he's been in this hell so long that he doesn't know a way out. He thinks it's too late for him and for treatment after all the people he killed and hurt.

Just like BoJack but in a different way.

BoJack hurts people close to him mentally and Jeff hurts people close to him both mentally and physically.

They both doesn't want to live their life and they would rather be like anyone else does.

They would hate each other if they met because they would see the other as a mirror. Or something like they could be in an another universe. And this would scare them as hell.

Jeff might be a surface character but I think that's because of his creator portrays him. I have like/hate relationship with him because of how badly he portrayed in almost every work.

He was not a pure evil monster, he was a 13 year old kid with untreated mental issues and body trauma. And no one was there to teach him this was not right since this motherfucker is very stubborn and he killed everyone who could.

Both of them doesn't want to die no matter how shitty their life can became. They want to live. They want to see the next day even though they would hate it. They think they deserve to live after all the things they had gone through.

They want to believe that they have a chance for redemption without caring about their past mistakes.

Also if Jeff would be an animal, he thinks he would be a wolf but he'd actually be a horse. That's like his spirit animal.

Take random BoJack dialogues as Jeff and other pastas' reactions to that.

...

Jeff: Rehab was supposed to be a fresh start. But no matter how many starts I get, there's always the same ending. Everything falls apart, and I end up alone.

Clockwork: Then get a new life man, this shit is not that hard.

Jeff: Shut up bitch! I'm having a moment here!

...

Jeff: Same thing that always happens. You didn't know me. Then you fell in love with me. And now you know me.

Nina: Eat shit and die asshole. You ruined my life.

Jeff: Fucking let me apologize whore!

Nina: Okay. I'm gonna kill this bastard. Don't hold me!

Kate: No one's holding you.

Nina: I said don't hold me!

...

Jeff: I'm the one who has suffered the most because of the actions of Jeffrey Woods.

Jane: What about Liu or Nina or even me?

Jeff: Nah, Liu's fine and he hates you.

Liu: No, I don't.

Jeff: He doesn't know what he's saying. And Nina loooves me.

Nina: No I don't!

Jeff: She's high on my awesomeness.

Jane: Shup the fuck up you dumbass.

...

Jeff: There's gonna be plenty of people around when I kill myself!

Masky: Not me.

Hoodie: Nah, I'll be there to celebrate.

Jeff: I hate all of you.

...

Jeff: Really makes you think, though, huh? Life, right? Goes by, stuff happens. Then you die.

Toby: W-who the hell are you?

Jeff: Yeah, you're right.

Toby: I am?

Jeff: Nah.

Toby: Of cour-se I am.

Who wants part 2 for incorrect quotes??

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shatcey · 2 days

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William is almost perfect

I remember very vaguely (what's the point of remembering something that has already changed) that I was opposed William for a very long time. I didn't like his creepy eyes, I was very scared of his abilities, and of course I didn't like how much the developers were pushing us in his direction. It's Newton's third law in action, I guess.

But when I started reading his route on JP, I was surprised how different he was from what I expected.

And at the end of his route, I cannot say I fell for him, but I really start to respect him as an incredibly strong person with a very strong life philosophy.

But… When I started reading his route on EN… It turned out that I had missed so many details. I didn't understand half of his jokes and his very poetic way of expressing his thoughts. He's like a very strong magnet. Everything he does has a huge impact on me, and I understand why (almost said Belle) Kate fell for him so much.

He is very kind, patient, always listens to what she wants, always gives her what she wants. His voice is strong and soft at the same time, it has flirtatious notes and it's incredibly warm. His laugh is one of a kind… so infectious, honest and bright. I can't remember the last time I heard real laughter in a game. No, that's a lie… Wolfie has a wonderful laugh.

Back to Willy...

I like his design, in fact, all his expressions. I like the way he talks. I like that he touches Kate often, but not in a way that it start to seems oppressive or bothersome. And I really like the moments when he judges… He is so strong and tall, righteous indeed, and so, so hot… like fire… no, even more than that.

But where is the one, no, two things that keep me from falling for him completely.

I have never understood the mass obsession with roses and strawberries. They are quite common and, in my opinion, quite ordinary. But so many people are obsessed with them, as if nothing better had ever existed. I think this is probably the result of good marketing, nothing more. So… as you've probably already guessed, I don't like either one. I can't say I don't like them, I just can't call them my favorites. And Will… he, like most people, likes these two things.

He smells like roses. I can't even imagine that. This smell is very sweet and (perhaps this will sound like sexism) feminine. If he likes it, so be it, I just can't imagine a man who wearing this scent in real life.

Funny… I didn't mind the vanilla from Liam and mint from Harry. They also smell sweet, but somehow more neutral. Hey… I don't remember Ellie's smell… And Alfie… No, I remember Alfie, he smelled of several scents, after all, he spent a lot of time with a lot of people… Does this mean that he has no smell? It reminds me of the Perfumer... No! Gross! Awful thought! Go away!!! Shoo…

Back to Willy...

So… I really like his route. And I feel each Kate's pain as my own, and that makes it quite personal. But no matter how good Will is, roses have always been and will be a turn off to me. I'm sorry, Willy…

You're not making it easy for me, aren't you?…

Off topic

I still don't have much free time. But I believe this weekend I will finally be able to read Liam's 1st anniversary epilogue. And hopefully there will be something interesting that I want to share with you. If not, I'll come up with something else…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 Start page 🔝

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daisybrained · 2 years

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I think this post by @aurorabyler has clarified at least one reason why the Mike Monologue felt so weird to me. I’d have to see an edit with this done to be sure, but I genuinely think that the monologue would have felt almost totally acceptable if it had focused on flashbacks instead of on his face. It feels like we shouldn’t be seeing him say this stuff. It feels like they should be montaging some good memories, and there are plenty they could pull out, but they just don’t! It’s almost entirely Mike’s terrified face intercut with El, Will, and Jonathan's equally terrified faces. Instead of feeling lovely and big and important, it feels like everyone is waiting in a panic to see if it’ll work. It doesn’t feel like a love confession. It feels like trying a key in a lock when you don’t know if it’ll fit or not.

#byler #which is not to say i think mike was lying - i have seen that particular theory put forward today and i do not like it very much #i think he was very scared and he believed everything he was saying in the moment #and he DOES love her. he absolutely does. thats not a lie at all.#but when your confession is motivated by panic and someone reminding you of a lie they told you... it Skews The Vibes! it just does #and im still on the fence whether it was an intentional Skewing Of Vibes or if they were actually going for a Big Moment and just flopped #mike #el

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shopcat · 1 year

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i do honestly think that like. the reason steve's torture scene is so undercut is because it is a torture scene. like they didn't WANT it to be hit heavily they didn't want to have to cut between relatively normal for the show scenarios back to steve and robin locked in an unreachable facility getting beaten and drugged and about to get their fingernails ripped off with the knowledge that in the end unless they're saved they're going to die. Because that is deeply tragic. so they have to make the jokes and make it lighter than it seems not only because the plot needs it but like the AUDIENCE needs it and the CHARACTERS need it... like yes the show does not take so many character's real life suffering seriously because for some reason lasting effects and trauma only exist to be taken advantage of by the plot or if you're the billed star or something but steve also in canon is the one who didn't let himself BE A Guy Who Was Just Tortured. he was a guy who was just beat up a little. and like they're scared but they're not too scared because they have to have hope because they are two people who have never had to rely on hope before in order to survive...

but also!! tbh i can't. help but think how much of a critical hit gut wrench it would've been if they had decided to commit to the darker theme of it and how it juxtaposes against the whole Bright Neon Light Palm Fronds And 80s Pop and how 30 minutes later they're standing among a group of children and no one even realises anything is out of the ordinary i think it would've accessed an actual emotional impact and depth the duffers seem to stumble upon by accident and never of their own volition </3 to cut from the concurrently running scenes to an 18 year old boy we know is completely innocent and completely telling the truth that he was just in the wrong place and didn't realise how serious it all was who was getting tortured and it be something serious. and his 17 year old coworker who just had to listen to it all to the point where she thought they dragged his dead body in to lay next to her. and in a way it's somehow MORE tragic which was not their intention at all that it was so lightly handled even though we the audience know it's somethings deeply upsetting it all just gets washed away in the face of Life goes on even on tv... sigh.

#🍦#anyway #also unrelated i saw a post abt like someone commenting on the entire insane patriotism and the red scare stuff and maybeppl just commented #at the time THEY DID trust me.... it is one of the biggest criticisms of the show itself and a lot of people actually hated s3 bc of it 😭#well like. me too. not that i'd seen it at the time i just remember eveurhing being like . said #anyway the way this show handles trauma actually gives me a headache lol #bc it's purely on case by case and yeah i know they can't just handle everyone's particular traumas but ugh. well you know what im saying #i think if they acknowledged the things that happened to steve they would also have to acknowledge it was never intended to have gravity #it can't be abandonment if there was never intention it can't be something they missed bc they don't see the something #he will get beaten every single season (barring the first) with no repercussion bc his like #humanity is not a right he is just some guy. it would also lose all the comedy to it that was established for 4 seasons #like oh it's not funny anymore and he's not the fun guy anymore because it's sad and that's not FAIR i don't think #bc trauma doesn't change everything about you and shouldn't change people's perception of you that's . fucked #and i think it's wild a show that attempts multiple times to go OVER these traumas will only ever land it sloppily bc i don't believe #they're doing it well intentionedly LOL it's for plot which is well fine it's a narrative but it means when it #lacks it's upsetting instead of the writing just being bad too #anyway... tangent . that also applies to like nancy and jonathan and stuff too . lucas and erica in s5 i imagine as well #though i shouldn't predict failure bc that's not very nice. to the characters .I just hate those men so much tbh tbh #sts

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dirt-str1der · 1 year

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I keep thinking about the mechanics for how to make kazumaji happen outside of adrenaline fuelled lovemaking , like obviously majima isnt going to solicit him for an actual relationship because whatever they have going on is already more than he expected to get because majima isnt a wanting man he gets dealt his hand then he plays (plus hes waiting for someone else , he cant leave and have his story end with kiryu , they both know this) , kiryu isnt a wanting man either i mean not for his love life but you know this guy fights like hell to get what he wants. He doesn’t exactly have a problem pulling girls but its the commitment after thats the issue , he always has someplace to be thats not here no matter how suave and charming he is youre gonna be wondering why he ghosted you for three years then find out he just got released from prison the point is that he doesnt follow through. Once youre done with him then youre done and very rarely is he gonna come back (unless he wasnt actually done with you). Majima offers to help him out in osaka and kiryu says no no no see ive left you behind i have to live this next chapter of my life properly now , without you. He has this inability to understand that people want to spend time with him thats not him helping them / repaying him a favour / working together to achieve a common goal. You literally cant assume he’ll be around you really have to cling tight or he’ll find some reason to fuck off and by then you cant even ask him to stay because Shit is it a good reason. Y0 nishiki got so so fucking close to showing kiryu he didnt need to have any redeeming qualities for people to like hanging out with him. He didnt need to be fun or like to party or entertaining at all , just him sitting quietly on a nearby barstool and maybe clapping along is enough to make his night fun as hell. Im sure kiryu realises that he can be distant and lack initiative , im sure this self awareness has convinced him that hes an undesirable long term romantic partner , and majima fucking up big time with mirei also forces him to internalise the fact that hes not a good partner either. So the two of them have to really really Really want something to start it because otherwise theyd be gracefully and expertly sidestepping any mention of commitment , pirouetting around the word “partner”, assuming they’ve made things clear when no discussion had taken place. They dont figure it out because its obvious to everybody thats not them, all the thinly veiled offers to be useful to each other, the leaning forward when they speak to each other , the open mouthed kisses with tongue , they want each other. More than one time , more than This... but how does one communicate something they havent realised yet ...

#Yakuza loveblog #now hear me out .. kiryu only asks girls out but he wont say no if a guy (he likes) solicits him (if its a guy he doesnt like hed be like #EW !! no !!! <- using his homophobic voice) so bear with me. kazumaji can happen the moment kiryu realises that majima is a girl #i like tht kiryu isnt interested in long term relationships but also hes kind of horny. a barker would be like Hey ! you look like you have #big muscles / a deep voice / masculine energy Sir do you want to HAVE SEX ? And kiryus like Now you got me interested #girls will sexually harrass him but guys on the street will tell him shit like Im a straight man but ....#anyway i believe that majima has to get the ball rolling before kiryu can take it the whole way because he decides that he loves this a lot #i think that they should book a hotel room in osaka for about two to three hours (kiryu is not going to risk doing it in the orphanage) and #kiryu loves him enough to tell him i cleaned my ass for this <3 and when majima is sack deep he asks if kiryu has had any girlfriends since #leaving tokyo (he cares a lot. he would be happy if kiryu got a girlfriend to take care of him) and he laughs and asks him how the hell hes #supposed to get a girlfriend while taking care of nine kids and besides .. he only likes him. right now kiryu only likes majima ...#i think he might cry from being told that. i really think he likes kiryu a ridiculous amount and it made him melt to hear that #sometimes a home is a person because you can come inside #and the only thing kiryus waxing is poetic hashtag bush nation #im not done. sorry for signing off. i believe that majima doesnt get jealous he might get a bit melancholy but he wont lash out because #kiryus ‘seeing some other girl’ he would totally ship them forgive my phrasing hed be the best wingman ever he would also drill kiryus #partner like hiiii so this is the lucky lady <3 and conduct a full background check on her just to be safe. kiryus precious to him he #gotta scare her a bit. let her know just how important kiryu is to him and how sharp his knife is haha take it easy though. hope you make #him happier than i could. i think their relationship will always skew one way with majima knowing everything about kiryu and kiryu knowing #very little about majima. he would be surprised to learn that majima is divorced. he was surprised to know that majima had a brother #in a better universe kiryu would have been able to identify saejima by description alone. as it stands i think he might have had an inkling #looking at ... ‘suzuki’ and thinking majima had a brother in prison .. hmmm ... somehow this guy reminds me of him ..... somehow #anyway he knows majima doesnt like to talk about it so he forgets his past and takes him as he is now. doesnt ask where all those scars on #his wrists came from. doesnt ask about his ex wife. hes content to exist as they are and majima knows kiryu wont ask and he feels bad about #it because he thinks kiryu should know .. but the words dont come out and kiryu is always so understanding ...#i think saejima makes majima talk but thats cause hes big on communication. he squeezes it out of majima and he cries hearing what he was #put through and majima comes out of it raw but lighter. see saejima is his best friend but kiryu is his special baby boy the dont need to #they dont have to say anything theyre just here for the company #okay im done hii hiiiiiiiiii hiiiiiiii hi

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snoopyearss · 19 days

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When jjk characters call you ‘clingy’

Feat. crybaby-ish!reader

Gojo, geto, toji

Cw: hurt, guilt, angst (if you squint)

This is inspiration from a mini series i read a few days ago by user @fumekara. It was so good, I love me some angst to hurt/comfort.

But i also wrote this from personal experience too, my bad yall i treat this like my own personal diary

Anyway, enjoy!

Satoru Gojo

He was pissed. He doesn’t typically show it much, but when he does, he gets kind of scary. He’s more quiet, his voice gets deeper, and his whole body language just shifts. So when the higher-ups piss him off after a very long meeting, the last thing he needs is someone to pounce on him. He usually loves it when you greet him at the door when you’re home for work. But today, he just wanted to strip off his clothes and hop into bed.

Gojo huffs as he leaves the elevator of your shared apartment and grabs his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. As he opens the door, he sees you in the kitchen grabbing ingredients for dinner. “Hi baby,” You softly greeted him. “Hey.” was all he said back. It confused you for a second because he’s never greeted you like that before.

“Is everything okay?” You walk up to him to try to kiss him on his cheek. “God- Y/n, please.” He grumbled, walking right past you and placing his briefcase on the table. “I’m just trying to help,” you defended, walking up to take his coat off for him. “At least let me take your coat-” That’s when he snapped. Something he’s never done to you before. “Y/n, I fuckin’ got it! Geez, you’re so fucking clingy!” He aggressively shrugged your hands off his shoulder. It scared you a bit, to see him so angry at you. You were confused, all you wanted to do was make him feel better. Were you really that clingy?

“I-I’m sorry.” your voice came out shaky and defeated. Hearing how small your voice sounded in response to him lashing out made Satoru’s heart shatter into thousands of pieces. He wanted to turn around and apologize, but the words weren’t coming out. By the time he turned to face you, Your back was already facing him, preparing dinner for the both of you as tears rolled down your face.

Suguru Geto

It was 2 weeks after Suguru deflected. 2 weeks since he committed mass murder in that village. 2 weeks since he left Satoru, Shoko, and the others. It was weighing on him and you could tell. Nothing but him, his two adopted girls, a few people who believed in his cause, and you.

You promised him you would go wherever he would go, and he was so grateful for it. He loves you deeply and would do anything for you. But some days just threw everything on him at one time, today was one of those days. Monkeys non-sorcerers begging him to exercise curses left and right, Nanako and Mimiko begging him to take them shopping, missing payments from those begging for his service. It was all too much. And the guilt was eating away at him.

He genuinely wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying and it annoyed him how much talking you were doing in his ear at that moment. You were both sitting outside watching the two girls play in the yard. “Y/n,” He interrupted you. “Don’t you have something better to do than to just bother me?” He sighed sounding so condescending. “What do you mean?”

“Must you always cling to me? Isn’t there something else you can do besides following me everywhere I go, at all times of the day?!” His voice raised a bit as if he was talking to a non-sorcerer. “I didn’t realize I was. I was only trying to tell you about what me and the girls did today,” You defended. “You’re always so busy, I rarely get to see you anymore.”

“Yeah, because you’re always underneath me. Sometimes-” He stopped mid-sentence because of the saddened look on your face. His eyes softened a bit. “Sometimes I just need my space.” He sighed. You only nodded and started to walk back inside. “Ok, I understand.” Your voice cracked. Leaving Suguru alone to think about what he had just said to you. As if he didn’t feel guilt then, he definitely feels guilt now.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji was a bit frustrated today. He was cheated out of his money after doing a side job, the bet he placed on the race he kept constantly telling you about fell through, leaving him with zero, and to top it all off, the child support payment was coming up. You being an empath and knowing your boyfriend so well, you wanted to help him any way you could.

He was sitting in the chair by the island in the kitchen with his fingers combing through his hair. He was on the phone with multiple people at once, trying to solve his money issues. “Shiu, you guaranteed me way more money than this! How am I supposed to cover this months child support with this amount?!” You walked up to where he was, wondering what all the commotion was about. “Baby?” You softly called out. You could hear Shiu on the other line trying to calm him down and explain the situation.

“That sounds like a bunch of bull and you know it Shiu, you better have my money by next week thursday or else I’m taking it myself.” He grumbled and hung up the phone. “Baby,” You gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

“What, Y/n.” He sternly said. You merely blinked a few times. “I was just checking to see if you were okay. What’s with the attitude?”

“I’m fuckin’ frustrated okay? Please leave. You aren’t helping right now.” He waved you off.

“I barely did anything, I just wanted to know if you needed help with anything-”

“Jesus, I said enough! I don’t need your help. Fuck, you’re so clingy.” His voice booming caused you to remove your hand from his shoulder in fear. Seeing your reaction caused him to think about what he said and how he said it. The last think he wanted to do was scare you. He wanted you to feel safe around him. But with the way you jumped at how he raised his voice, it saddened him a bit.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He was cut off by the sound of his child wailing in the background. “I’ll take care of it.” You said in the smallest voice, not even leaving him time to protest against it and apologize.

“Fuck.”

Part 2

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk toji #jjk angst #snoopyearss

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andivmg · 1 month

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My experience with Luke (Punz)

CW: toxic relationship, racism, dubious consent

I know in the past i said that i would no longer speak about him publicly, and when talking about my experiences with abuse and emotional mistreatment i begged to keep it anonymous but after reflecting on this for a week and seeing so many incredibly smart and strong women tell their stories. they have given me the strength to say his name.

this is really scary to talk about because of the copious levels of harassment i have received from his fans in the past so if this spreads or gets out of hand i will simply log off.

If you read my last post, i nicknamed him 1.

So aside from everything i said there, there were a lot of things i didn’t include because they would’ve made it obvious that it was him and it could potentially backfire on me so, i’m very afraid to post this. but i’m going to do it scared anyway, because it’s not fair that he gets to just go and live his life worry-free as if he didn’t practically ruin mine.

Because I already made a very lengthy post about him, i won’t include everything i said last time to avoid being redundant but if i repeat myself, please bear with me.

In our year long relationship i had to endure emotional neglect, gaslighting, verbal abuse, one instance where there was dubious consent, and much more.

Starting off at the beginning of our relationship, that’s when i was getting copious amounts of hate and harassment from his fan base (warranted or not), he decided that our relationship must be kept private. he said it was to “protect” me from his fanbase when in reality it was to protect himself. it was so he wouldn’t get all the backlash i was getting. this is funny because one of the things i got called out for was saying the B slur (derogatory term used against mexicans/latinos). I won’t get into the nuances of if i could say it or not as a puertorican because that’s discourse that does not pertain to this specific situation. But you know who definitely can’t say it? A white boy from Massachusetts. When i was getting cancelled for this and getting thousands of tweets calling me names, he decided that was the perfect time to say “I mean you are a b***** aren’t you? my little b*****.” Now, he said this completely unprompted. I was in the process of writing my apology and he just said that. I tell you this because i immediately shut him down and told him that there was no universe in which it was okay for him to say that word and especially not one where he could just call me that. While i was reprimanding him, he was smiling and laughing. he apparently found it amusing to call me a slur. regardless, he gave me a half-assed apology and said he wouldn’t do it again. and he didn’t. but this wasn’t the only time he was weirdly racist to me. this was my first time being in an interracial relationship so i was led to believe that this was normal by all the white people around me at the time. But, sometimes my spanish accent would come out and he would make fun of me and the way i pronounced some words. He also refused to visit me in Puerto Rico when i lived there or come meet my family when i really wanted him to because he “didn’t like the heat” or “it’s dangerous there isn’t it?”. Once, while we were watching season 2 of Bridgerton, he implied that the Sharma sisters were “too dark” for him to be attracted to them. This hurt me because they are brown skinned girls. I am a brown skinned girl. Then this, combined with the fact that he told me once he wasn’t attracted to me made me feel like my skin color was unattractive. These are only a few examples i can think of at the moment, but i’m sure there were more. Our relationship ended in 2022 so some of my memory is a bit hazy. But, I do remember feeling inferior to him throughout the relationship because he was white and I was not. I chalk that up to all the micro aggressions i had to deal with because i had never felt that way around white people before.

Another thing i had to endure was him constantly making me feel like he was embarrassed to be with me. Because i was cancelled, he didn’t want to associate with me too much. He did defend me on multiple occasions, I’ll give him that. But, he only did it because his name was getting dragged in the mud along with mine. Excusing my actions made him look better for being around me. In reality he didn’t really care. Because he was such a big content creator and someone i looked up to professionally, I took his advice as law. He told me to tone down my personality, to keep a low profile, to change things about myself to be more palatable to his audience. The same audience that spoke about me like “The pussy can’t be that good punz please stop defending her”. So i changed a lot of things about myself and my content to better suit what his audience liked. He made me feel like if his audience liked me, he would be public about our relationship and stop hiding it. He told me the reason why he wanted to keep our relationship a secret was because he didn’t want to get hate for it. But this wasn’t true. On my 20th birthday he went to Las Vegas for a twitch rivals event. That night i asked to facetime him to say goodnight and he refused because he was at a hotel room with his friends and he didn’t want them to know that we were together. It was as if my mere presence or the utterance of my name was a source of embarrassment for him. And he didn’t let me forget it. It wasn’t just a public thing at that point. He didn’t want people to know we were together, period. This was devastating to me because I would talk to all my friends about him. I was so proud to be with him and I was just one more problem to him. He made me feel so small and insignificant just because his fans didn’t like me.

He would berate me a lot. Not just due to getting heat online, although he did do that a lot. But in general whenever we would get into an argument or a disagreement he would always call me names like annoying or weird or stupid. He would raise his voice at me if i did something he didn’t like and call me an idiot. And that really hurt, i felt like i couldn’t bring up anything or do anything without getting insulted. If I hadn’t seen him in a few days because he was too busy streaming and i asked to hang out he would call me needy, clingy, and annoying. Granted, he might not have been wrong, but that is not something you say to someone you claim to love. He also insulted me when i was in depressive episodes. I have BPD and at the time i was not being treated properly for it. So, I was all over the place emotionally and he was what i clung to for validation, reassurance, and love. I talked to him when we first started dating about my disorder and told him that if it seemed like something he couldn’t handle that he could opt out of the relationship. I guess he didn’t think it was that bad or something idk because whenever i had really bad depressive episodes, he would tell me I was too sad to hang out with. He said that my sadness was a burden to him. Which would be fair. But, once my mother had a conversation with him about me. She told him that i am someone who needs a lot of love and caring. She said that if he wasn’t willing to put in that kind of effort into a relationship to just leave me alone. He reassured her that he would be there for me no matter what. He told my mother that he would protect me and my heart. He did not. He took all the warnings I gave him and ignored them and then made me feel like I was the problem. And even worse, he would say that i was pretending to be sad to get his attention when he would neglect for days at a time.

There were also some smaller things like the fact that he made me feel really guilty whenever he would spend money on me. Also, he would be really mean about my eating habits. For context, i used to suffer from an eating disorder. I was anorexic and had a really unhealthy relationship with food during high school and my first year of uni. This relationship began when i was recovering from my ED. For me, eating was really hard. So i had certain comfort foods that, while sometimes unhealthy, at least it was something to eat when i didn’t feel like eating anything. He knew this. Yet, whenever i would crave some of these foods he would call me fat. Constantly told me I’d gain weight from eating all that junk food. Saying that to someone with an eating disorder is crazy. Other smaller things were that whenever I would post tiktoks where i was lip syncing or just looking good he would yell at me and say i was looking for attention. Same with Instagram or Twitter whenever i would post photos where I looked hot. He never planned out a single date for us. I would beg him to get me flowers and he did maybe once but i’ll get into that in a bit. He would make fun of me in front of his friends to make himself look better. He let his friends say really degrading things about me in his presence. For example, once when i was showering, i overheard him on a discord call with George and Sapnap and i heard George say “if you don’t go in the shower and have sex with Andi, i will”. Once, when i was really struggling with my legs (for those of you who don’t know, i have arthritis and it’s very painful. at the time i wasn’t diagnosed but i was in a lot of pain) I literally could not walk. I had to beg him to take me to the ER because i didn’t know what was wrong with me. He didn’t want to take me but eventually i convinced him, and while we were there all he did was complain about how long it was taking and that he would have rather been at home streaming. Whenever I would talk about my interests that i was excited about like shows or books he would be incredibly uninterested and say that those things were stupid and he didn’t want to hear about them. I know all of these seem very silly or superficial but cumulatively it was awful.

Now for arguably the most serious thing i’m going to talk about. I want to preface this by saying i am just telling my side of what happened. You can come to your own conclusions about this.

On April 25, 2022 it was our one year anniversary, and i had made a dinner reservation for us. I expected him to plan something throughout the day for us to do. He told me he was going to spend the whole day playing Valorant so I got upset and cancelled the reservation. After a very heated argument, we calmed down and i asked him to come over. He came over about an hour later with flowers and drinks (I was 20 at the time so I couldn’t buy the drinks myself). He brought Smirnoffs and Trulys. For context, I am a lightweight. I always have been. I literally get tipsy on half a cocktail. And that day, I hadn’t eaten anything because i was in distress over our argument. So we get to talking and drinking. I blacked out after my second Smirnoff. Apparently I drank 3 but I genuinely cannot remember anything after finishing the second one. The next morning i woke up naked in my bed. I woke him up and asked him “Luke, why am I naked?” and he said “Because you didn’t want to put your clothes back on.” When I clarified to him that that was not what I meant, he got defensive and said that he didn’t realize how drunk I was. He proceeded to tell me that I initiated sex with him and that i was very enthusiastic about it. He said he didn’t know i could black out on three smirnoffs. He made fun of me for being a lightweight and continued to make light of the situation. Then he mentioned that i fell off the bed at some point in the night and that it was funny how drunk I was. I then questioned him. Because if he thought that me tripping and falling off the bed because i was so drunk was funny, how did he not know that i was too drunk? He responded by saying that i fell off the bed only after we were done. That day I broke up with him. I’m still really confused about what happened that night. I don’t remember anything and all I have to go on is what he said to me. We were in a relationship at the time and he says he didn’t know how drunk I was so I’m not sure what to call what happened. A while after that day, his friend that hmu while we were broken up and I started talking again and i confided in him about that night. He told me to be careful saying things like that because they could get me into trouble. I spoke to some of our other friends about it and they told me it was no big deal and that it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how drunk I really was. Because I don’t remember, I have been led to believe that this is not a serious matter. You can think what you want, come to whatever conclusions you want. That is just my side of the story.

I want to add that I’m not proud of how I acted after the relationship ended. I felt really angry at all the shit he put me through and I guess a part of me wanted him to hurt even a quarter of how I did. So I started talking to his friend and got involved with him. This backfired on me because his friend ended up really hurting me too so ig i got my karma. But the thing that hurt the most is that because of what I did, some of our friends took his side in the break up. I was told that I did something terrible by getting involved with his friend that he was already insecure about and that he didn’t deserve that. These are the same friends who were witness to the dumpster fire of a relationship we had and all the things he did to me. They turned their backs on me because of this one thing I did. But stood by and watched as he treated me like garbage for over a year.

I will conclude this by saying that while this relationship has been “over and done with” for almost two years now, I carry a lot of trauma from it still. I still talk about him in therapy and have had to put in a lot of work to heal from what he did and i still cannot say that i am okay. I am very blessed to now have a patient and understanding partner who has helped me heal from that trauma and i just want to quickly thank him for that. Nobody deserves to go through what I did. While yes, it was a toxic relationship, and I had a part in that, it does not excuse all the awful things he said and did to me. This is my truth, thank you for taking the time to read it.

#sorry if the formatting is all over the place

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gutsby · 22 days

Text

Benign

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marrying a former Soviet sleeper agent was your first mistake. Letting curiosity get the better of you and saying his trigger words before sex was your second.

Warnings: 18+. DUBCON - Bucky is partly brainwashed; R is reluctant at first. Reliving past trauma (i.e., grief, prior HYDRA captivity). Rough, unprotected p-in-v.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Marrying into the mob meant one of two things: turning a blind eye to your husband’s crimes or taking them up as your own. Most of the women who had gone before you chose the former, leading lives of willful ignorance while their spouses cut deals, shed blood, stole guns, and submitted only to the laws of secrecy and discretion.

You, unlike those wives, hadn’t had the luxury of choice.

Your life, unlike theirs, had been sold to a man you didn’t know, by a father you couldn’t stand, and now your dad was dead, and this man—your husband—was to blame.

The least Bucky could do was fuck you hard to say sorry.

But no, ever since the Winter Soldier had reared its ugly head that dreadful night in Madripoor two weeks prior, your husband hadn’t laid one finger on your body that was not soft, sweet, and sickeningly apologetic to you. He seemed almost scared to initiate sex, and when he did, couldn’t help but act like a touch might break you.

After all, one almost had. Those hands he’d hear you beg and plead to put on you now were the very same ones he’d used to kill dozens, if not hundreds, including blood of your own blood. To the world, Bucky’s reputation commanded fear. To his wife, now, he felt duly obliged to prove he was more—that you were safe with him, not from him. He’d carted you off to every GP, hematologist, nutritionist, and grief specialist lauded among Brooklyn’s elite to make that happen. Fast. Frankly, these days, the thought of fucking was the furthest thing from his mind.

Unbeknownst to Bucky, somewhere along the spectrum of grief, you’d already come to settle comfortably at the ‘Need-to-be-fucked-until-I-can-no-longer-think-or-feel’ phase, and every bone in your body was crying out for respite in the form of ruthless, mind-numbing sex. It didn’t make sense. You hardly knew what to do with it. You should have lashed out, shut down, cried rivers and lakes of tears for that integral part of family that had been lost, but for whatever reason, you had to go numb.

You wanted to do something really, really fucking dumb.

Remorseful as he was, Bucky and his explanations for who or what the Winter Soldier was had been sparse. He’d told you that he had once been held in captivity by HYDRA, had his brain re-wired some way to make him a merciless Soviet sleeper agent, and that the night in Madripoor was the first in ages he had been ‘activated.’ How did activation happen? Of course, he wouldn’t tell.

But Steve would.

Steve had told you everything you wanted to know about your soldat, describing in painstaking detail how he worked, trained, operated, and could be called to action. You were almost certain Rogers had said it all as a way to assure you that it wasn’t Bucky who’d killed your father—it was someone inside him. You were more than positive Steve had never intended for you to use his intel like this.

You hadn’t believed him. Couldn’t believe him. How the fuck could someone sever all ties to their conscious mind and just transform anew into a killer? You got to be hell-bent on knowing for certain whether it’d been Bucky or him, it, whatever the hell the Winter Solider was, and on knowing it now. If your husband was faking it all and simply using this persona to justify the killing, that would be it. Trust gone, marriage over. If he wasn’t, well…you hadn’t gotten that far into your own line of thinking.

“Tell me what you want, doll,” Bucky said, pulling you back to the present.

He shifted gently against you, cotton trousers raising the friction a little as he slotted between your legs. He was still dressed head-to-toe from his meeting that morning.

“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum. Please.”

You were bare, save for one small scrap of linen and lace that somehow passed as a nightie. Your gaze was soft.

Bucky didn’t want to say no, but he also felt too guilty to say yes. The way you were watching him now, eyes so helpless and pleading, body writhing for contact, he knew you didn’t want his touch so much as needed it. Desperately. Couldn’t bear to be burdened with grief so you brushed it aside, to the furthest recesses of your mind until all that was left was desire. Starvation, really.

He could satiate you for now, but that hunger might not ever leave. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown.

“Gentle?” he mumbled.

“Rough,” you countered.

“Baby—”

“I really don’t need another fucking lecture on death, Bucky. I know I’m not myself right now, but I can still make these decisions, okay? Don’t talk to me like I can’t.”

Anger flashed in your eyes for a second, then indignation, then nothing. Without much energy left, you pushed him away. Flopped back on the bed and, seeming to sink into yourself, heaved a low, feeble sigh.

“I know. Hey,” Bucky leaned over to press a touch to your tummy, and it made you want to hurl, “I’m sorry.”

You turned onto your side.

“You still don’t remember what happened?”

The question came suddenly, almost from somewhere outside your body, it seemed. For the hundredth time.

“No,” Bucky answered, for what felt like the thousandth.

“This Winter Soldier—”

“He isn’t me.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Couldn’t know. Wasn’t…programmed for it.”

Bucky was watching you now, eyes as contrite as they’d ever been while you rehashed this subject to the brink of tears. He never could stay composed when he saw you cry.

“Baby…” he started, arms reaching out for you.

Eyes still filling with tears, you shook your head and swatted him off. You sat up, and your brows pinched together in a look he couldn’t read. Contemplating.

At last, you made up your mind.

You would try something new—and really, really stupid:

“Zhelaniye.”

“What?”

Bucky’s own expression contorted with uncertainty.

“—semnadtsat, rzhaviy, rasvet—”

He heard that. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Wait—”

You were curious. You had no idea what you were doing.

“Baby, baby, stop—”

“—pech, devyat—”

You were speaking so fast, surely it wouldn’t work like that. Either way, he had to stop you. He seized your arms, giving a sharp, deliberate shake, pupils blown to the size of saucers in his eyes. There wasn’t much time.

“Don’t—”

“—adin—”

No time at all.

“—dothisdon’tfuckingdothishoneyplease.”

Losing himself already. Feeling it stir inside his mind.

“—dobroserdechniy—”

‘Kind-hearted.’ ‘Benign’. You truly had no clue what these words were liable to do, much less what they meant.

Having enunciated this last part, you swallowed. Took the tip of your tongue and rolled it left-to-right across the backs of your teeth, waiting for your speech to take effect like some magical performance before your eyes.

It hadn’t, it seemed. You blinked. He blinked. You sat in a protracted silence for what seemed like seventeen years, and presently, your stomach began to churn. Nothing happened—you’d been right about this fuckery all along.

Then you remembered one last word of the sequence.

Faintly, you said:

“Soldat.”

The man above you straightened. Sitting. Stiff. Still perched by your legs at a comfortable distance but regarding you now with a pointed stare. Expectancy made manifest in a simple, sharp glare from his eyes to yours.

“...Bucky?”

The look on his face grew even harder. For a time, he persisted in that strange and silent grimace, and just when you started to suspect he was faking this whole demeanor of deadened stoicism, you heard a voice. Clawing out of his throat but sounding nothing like him:

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

The words drove a fear to the greatest depths of your bones, and you hardly knew why. You stared back at the handsome, barren man still watching you with severity, and you couldn’t seem to find your husband anywhere.

“James?” You weren’t sure why you tried his name again. You just didn’t know what else to say.

The scowl seeped into his mouth, and he frowned.

“James,” he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.

You found yourself shuffling back on the bed just then—to what, you didn’t know. You just felt a gnawing need to put some space between you and this person, this glowering face, however you could. When he grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled sound, and when he followed you up on the bed, you did more than just whimper; you lifted your leg to knee him directly in the stomach. He caught it.

Then he stared again, expression bloodless and wan.

“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you tried to free your leg from his fist—grip unusually strong.

The man paused another moment, if only to soak in your words and let his gaze trail over your face. Your exertions did not register. And, for the very first time, you felt as though you were something more like a plaything in your husband’s eyes—not a full-fledged human being but a system to be gamed. The feeling was so unsettling that you had to turn away.

Or try to, anyway.

Craning your neck just far enough to spy your phone on the nightstand, your first thought was Steve; he would know what to do. But before you could even think to twist and lift your body in that direction, you felt a hand yank you to the bed, flat on your back. You looked up at Bucky and found yourself caged between two arms. He lowered himself to his elbows, shifted his weight to one side, and seemed not to notice your movements at all when you tried to slide away. The man just splayed his hand across your stomach and pressed it firmly. Stay.

You weren’t one to shy away from a challenge—or keep hope alive against the odds. You put your hand over his.

“James—”

“Zhena.”

The abruptness of Bucky’s word stole the rest of yours. You cocked a brow and followed his gaze to your hand.

To the gaps between your fingers, then the touch that fanned across them to settle on one digit in particular.

Bucky thumbed at the diamond and smiled. He smiled.

“Zhena,” he repeated.

You blinked.

“I— you...gave me that, Bucky. You did.”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

Bucky stared at the ring for what could’ve been five seconds or several years, and then he did something unexpected. He shifted his touch to the bodice of your dress—again, if you could even call it that—and he began to tug at the satin bow situated between your breasts.

Of course, this nightie being designed for honeymoons and supremely easy access, it didn’t take much effort at all for the folds of your dress to come apart. Your breasts spilled out of the fabric without so much as a hint of protest, your torso was quick to become fully exposed, and suddenly, shortly, your hands were fumbling at your chest in an effort to regain some smidgen of modesty. Your husband just shook his head, following your hands.

“Moya zhena,” he said, a touch more emphasis and fervor to the first of the two words.

Now it was you who was shaking your head. Trying to pry his touch away as you slid up the bed. When he followed, you saw the icy expression had been supplanted by intrigue and, though you still felt ill at ease, you couldn’t deny you were curious to know what he was thinking. Who was thinking it? Soft, plush lips swiftly replaced his hands, and before you even knew what he was doing, Bucky, or someone, was latching onto your left breast. Using teeth to graze the hardened nub and send a ripple of thick, guilty pleasure coursing through you.

You whimpered. Bucky groaned.

Your fingers slotted through his hair with every intention of pushing him away, but when you tried, he just flicked his tongue and made another delicious sound against you.

You pushed with even more force, and he groaned again.

Not Bucky, not Bucky, not him, you have to—

“Stop!” you cried.

A set of soft, warm baby blues darted up to meet you.

Some flicker of recognition seemed to cross them, too.

“Honey?”

You almost lurched toward the sound. It was Bucky.

Suddenly, your hands were making fists in the collar of his crisp white button-up, and you were trying to yank him up. You murmured his name in disbelief, relief, and gathered him up in your arms to pull him in for a kiss.

The lips that met you were soft for a moment—just one.

Then the teeth reappeared. Harsh, jarring, biting. You jerked back at the sensation, and when you found his face again, it seemed your husband was lost to you all over. The eyes were attentive still—nowhere near as cold and aloof as they had been before—but they did not radiate the same warmth and admiration that Bucky’s always did. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was gone, just like that, and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.

A broad palm cupped your cheek to bring you in for another kiss, and you weren’t sure if you should indulge. It didn’t seem you had much choice anyway, because the lips that were seeking yours were hungry. Starved. Searing into your mouth with a force you couldn’t refuse.

But something inside you wanted to find Bucky again.

Somewhere inside this stranger was lying dormant a trace of your husband; you’d seen it yourself, if only for a second. It made you curious. Where had he gone? What did he do when forced to retreat into this strange, preprogrammed being, and how could you get him back?

“Bucky,” you mumbled, more of a plea than a moan.

You were kissed harder than you had been in a long time. You didn’t have to think, or do, or breathe one puff of air that this man didn’t account for. His tongue wedged a gaping space in your wet, welcoming mouth for him to fill, and somehow, you didn’t feel the urge to protest. A familiarity in the way he kissed almost put you at ease, and when his body lifted slightly, yours lifted with it.

Before long, Bucky was sitting. Kneeling between your legs with an eye to your soft, shaking torso. You’d barely even come to notice just how hard you were breathing until you felt a palm on your stomach again. There was an oddly calming insinuation in that one simple touch.

And again, he smiled. Brighter than before.

“Nashe?” He sounded eager as he said it.

You peered up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Perhaps you should’ve felt more exposed; after all, you were sitting half-naked with your husband’s assassin alter ego stroking your stomach and beaming over you, eyeing you expectantly, and you didn’t know what to say. Apart from the short set of words Steve had taught you, you were totally clueless to Russian, and you weren’t quite sure you were in a place to ask Bucky to translate.

When it seemed words might never come, the gleaming teeth above you were shrouded in a tighter, close-lipped smile, and Bucky nodded. Appearing to understand. Instead of forcing a response from you, he just let his hand migrate down your belly, fingers tracing the skin, then settle comfortably—momentarily—at the crest of your pubic bone. Then he pressed the heel of his palm into the place residing right below it, and without really meaning to, you moaned. A quiet maelstrom of pleasure circled low in your abdomen, threatening to draw noises from your throat you weren’t planning to make with every gentle gyration of Bucky’s lower hand.

You had to purse your lips to contain the sounds.

Again, he nodded.

“It’s okay,” he said, so quiet he almost couldn’t be heard.

He let the friction continue for a while like that: just palming you, watching you react to the simplest of motions against your swollen, aching clit and try not to writhe. At length, you squirmed a little bit. Bucky seemed to want to wait for something to happen, and when you bucked your hips, a look in his eye said that was enough.

He lowered himself between your legs. Shoulders bumping your thighs as he spread them apart, chest rising and falling in measured breaths, and lips smiling all the while. You sucked in a breath when his face came to rest just a few inches shy of your bare, aching warmth.

“Bucky?”

The man looked up at you and blinked.

“Yeah, honey?”

One thumb traced over the seam of your cunt, and your back nearly arched off the bed. There he was, again, gaze safe and secure to yours and hands moving in tandem as they always would. His tongue calmly followed suit. When you fisted his hair, he blinked once more and then directed his attention back to your wet, warm, velvety folds with a pointed look and a purpose.

The sound that escaped you next could hardly be classed as anything less than a scream, but the soft and unperturbed demeanor of the man between your legs showed he hadn’t noticed at all. He just sucked diligently—damn near dutifully—on your clit with a vigor you’d never felt, and when you yanked at his hair, he hummed.

It was like his lips had been trained for perfect suction; that was how well and thoroughly he descended upon your swollen little bud. An airtight kiss and a quick flick of his tongue, paired with his hot and heavy breaths fanning over your cunt, sent your senses into overdrive. Your toes curled inward, your throat let loose a gasp, and without fully realizing it, your walls were clamping down, pulsing and leaking out desire for more of this touch.

Then, without warning, Bucky brought a hand to the throbbing and slick cunt that was presently clenching around nothing, and he fed it two fingers. So forceful and deep he nearly buried his knuckles right along with them. Then he started scissoring those two fingers, sharply.

“Open, milaya,” he said. Again, it wasn’t entirely Bucky.

But you felt a faint remembrance there. You didn’t want him to stop. Maybe you were led astray by the gentle laps of his tongue or the prodding of his fingertips, or perhaps there was something stubbornly familiar about the way he was touching you now. You couldn’t tell.

All you knew was that both of your hands were holding tight to his head and begging him, wordlessly, for more.

Your moans rang all the way through the bedroom in your new, far-too-big penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, down the hall, reverberating through every inch of the space until all that could be heard were your sounds and his and the delectable little noises of your bodies working together. Bucky hadn’t even stirred to pleasure himself.

You wanted that part to change.

With your hip pinned to the mattress and Bucky’s tongue laving over your clit in ruthlessly quick movements, you probably would’ve liked to cum all over his mouth and fingers, but you wanted to see him pleased even more.

Just when he’d worked a third finger inside you and was driving you close to your peak, you pushed him away.

Bucky parted from your folds with a glistening chin and two furrowed eyebrows, clearly frustrated to have been torn from his mission before you reached completion, but you wouldn’t let that look linger for long. You used your leverage in his hair—however slight, comparatively, that grip might have been—to pull him up on the bed.

Bucky surprised you with just how swiftly he moved.

His steel-blue gaze was on yours in a second, equally penetrating and soft.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing—”

“My baby okay?”

He surprised you again; this time by how quick his demeanor was to shift the second he sensed something was wrong. Just like Bucky. It had to be him in there.

You nodded, still out of breath from the wonders he’d been working with his tongue. You squeezed his arm and tried to coax him toward you, to help him lower his body some, and when he seemed uncertain, you offered a smile. It’s okay to touch, you won’t break anything.

Bucky eyed you skeptically, but it was clear he was more wary of himself than of you. He glanced over your body, briefly to his, then slowly, apprehensively, sank down.

“Just fine,” you mumbled, hooking your legs around his back the second his chest was close enough to yours.

You felt an uptick in his heartbeat when your heels dug a little more firmly into the waistband of his pants. While your hands started working their way toward the front of that fabric, wedging clumsily between your bodies, his gaze flitted to yours, and his brows drew even tighter together. He didn’t try to stop you, but he certainly seemed confused as to why you wanted to include him so soon. Why you cared to show concern for him at all.

You noticed that then, and in just about every moment preceding, the man was taken aback by kindness.

Whether it was pulling him closer to you, tugging his pants down with a tender touch, running your fingers across the bulge in his boxers, or simply nodding your head and letting him know it was okay to touch you back, Bucky seemed unaccustomed to any care in this area.

When your fingers made it around his cock and started stroking him, gently, he just might’ve come apart.

His chest shuddered with the inhale of a short, strained breath, and his eyelids fluttered, as if meaning to close.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he started to shake his head.

“No, let me—”

“Let me,” you finished for him, wrist flicking back and forth quietly. You paused just to rub a quick touch between your folds, collect some arousal, then return to touching him when he met your eyes again and allowed you to continue. You skimmed his sensitive underside with your palm and let the warmth of him bleed into your fingertips as you worked him up to a comfortable pace.

Bucky rutted into your touch, probably harder than he meant to. Then he planted a hand beside your head and anchored his weight above you so that he was close enough to reach your lips—but he didn’t kiss you.

His expression hardened again, and he forcibly removed himself from the pulse of your fingers. He frowned.

“You want me to fuck you, no? Make you cum?”

He sounded irritated again.

Briefly, you recalled your words from earlier and nodded. It was true, you’d said it to him like that, and you’d meant it. You just couldn’t make sense of what he wanted now.

It seemed Bucky couldn’t wait to indulge you any longer. He fisted his cock in one hand, angled the head just outside of your cunt, and burst in with one thrust.

“Then let me,” he muttered, plunging down to the hilt.

The first go was rough, and the second was no kinder. Bucky’s face screwed up with indifference again, like he wanted to get something out of his brain and just do.

Like there was a task at hand that needed to be finished.

You couldn’t deny it felt fine at first. Fucking edifying after all those horrific thoughts had been eating away at your mind and rousing your own hunger for numbness. The drive of Bucky’s thick girth in and out, in and out repeatedly was no doubt capable of rendering you dumb. But being slammed into and taken so roughly was only good for you when you knew he was feeling good too.

This Bucky was back to being entirely flinty and lifeless—practically devoid of all emotion as he railed into you.

The back of your head was forced into the pillow with the weight of each thrust and Bucky’s thumb pushing into your chin—‘Better, milaya? Is this better for you?’—and frankly, you wanted to push him back and ask the same.

But you couldn’t. The pace he’d set was suffocating, and the stretch of his cock inside you was unusually tough.

Instead, you sank your nails into his arm and mumbled:

“Bucky.”

The man’s thrusts were both stabbing and rhythmic, sending a welt of pleasure blossoming up in your chest. You tried again:

“Bucky.”

He blinked.

And slowed.

“Bucky,” he mumbled back.

Seemingly mindless and mechanical, he snaked a hand behind your head to lift your face and tilt it toward the sight below: his cock splitting you open before him, parting your insides with an easy, welcome glide through the slick of your folds. You watched as your arousal enveloped him fully. Not a single inch of his rock-hard, throbbing shaft was spared; even his balls were soaked. They felt even heavier slapping your ass with each thrust.

“You remember?” you asked, hating how small you sounded.

The man’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Expression taut and vigilant, as though anticipating something going wrong at any second. Still, he nodded.

“Years,” he answered.

“Years?”

Since he’d done this? Felt good? Become this way?

No, Bucky was activated in Madripoor just weeks ago. He didn’t look like he was ready to indulge in any ‘feel-good’ pleasure, and you weren’t sure when he’d last been with anyone else before you. Years could mean anything.

You chanced a few soft fingertips up to his cheeks, cupping either side of his clean-shaven face in an effort to anchor you both to one place. The pit of your stomach was reeling with warmth, and friction, and fullness. It took everything in you just to pull him in for a quick, grounding kiss before the feeling gave way to even more.

Bucky’s teeth nicked your bottom lip. He flinched back.

You ignored the sting and repeated his name, murmuring it carefully up to the seal of his mouth as if requesting entry with that word alone.

It seemed to work. Bucky kissed you back with a gentle, albeit guarded, sort of tenderness that made him soften. His thrusts weren’t as rough and punishing as they were before. The dull, throbbing ache between your legs transformed into something sweeter, and your body no longer had to brace itself against strokes that, to you, were nearly bruising and, to Bucky, were just necessary.

For once, your husband let out a soft grunt of pleasure.

“They never let us,” Bucky said as his teeth grit together, “It’s been years.”

“Since what?”

The face above you tempered more—this time with a trace of sadness behind it. He continued to rut into you, but now his thrusts were sloppy, and it seemed as though he were battling against his own pleasure with every motion. He lowered one hand between your legs and began to thumb at your clit, gaze torn from yours.

“Close now?” he muttered.

Ignoring the question you’d asked.

“Years since what?” you pressed anyway. The tiny ripples preceding bliss had already begun to stir inside you, maddeningly, with every flick of his thumb, but your curiosity to know the whole truth was stronger still.

Bucky’s hips were moving at a feverish pace now; his free hand made a fist in the sheets beside your head, and his chest heaved with a series of short, ragged breaths that were no doubt meant to mask his moans as well. Notwithstanding the burn you felt between your legs—he really was much rougher and stronger now, you saw—you cupped his cheek again to tilt his face toward yours.

What you saw made your stomach drop.

Your heart clenched like a fist within the confines of your ribcage, and there it was—that terrible ache you felt each time you saw something awful materialize before you.

Bucky’s eyes were wet with tears. He wouldn’t blink.

He tilted his head into your touch, as if for support, but really, the weight of it signaled to you that he just wanted to feel you. Be assured that you were there. His big, broad arms seemed suddenly unable to hold his weight, and then he sank into your frame with a grunt and another stuttered breath. Like he was ready to collapse.

“Don’t leave again,” he said quietly.

The pain in your chest elevated, in bloom.

“Bucky I didn’t— wasn’t—” you started to say.

The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You couldn’t be sure if you were talking to your husband, soldat, or some strange, inconceivable mixture of the two, but you could tell that this one was desperate.

Pleading.

“I can’t lose you again.”

The head of his cock grazed your most sensitive spot inside, and a whine seeped out through your teeth. Bucky’s whole body was blanketing yours, torso flush with your front and hips working an erratic cadence as he got a glimpse of release himself. He groaned out in pleasure and begged you to stay. You promised that you would. Your legs were still wound around his sides, but both of your bodies were slick with a sheen of sweat; it was hard to hang on. Bucky’s hair was wild and pushed back from his face, but his eyes were clear when they finally met yours, and you heard him mumble again, ‘Please stay.’

You didn’t know what else to say but okay, baby, I will.

You swore you would stay, and in between oaths, your mouth was consumed by a barrage of kisses—Bucky got to feast with a full set of teeth again, primal as ever—and then your climax hit. Euphoria washed over you whole with a force you weren’t expecting to feel, and you couldn’t help but cry out and whine as waves of pleasure coursed straight from the innermost depths of your core.

Bucky’s hips collided with yours in two more stuttered thrusts, and when he bottomed out at the last, you felt a heavy spurt of warmth. A groan coiling out of his chest. Muscles growing lax and two sturdy arms coming to bracket your head as your husband’s whole body weight went folding into yours. You kissed some more, in between frenzied intakes of breaths and steadying moments where you were simply trying to ground your body and get your heart to slow down to a normal rate.

You held each other in silence for a while. Bucky’s head fell next to yours on the pillow when the last of his spend had been emptied, but otherwise, he didn’t stir. At some point, his hands slid behind your back, and the second he hugged you to him, you felt secure in that embrace.

You were probably as far as you’d ever been from understanding who the fuck your husband was, but all it seemed you were capable of feeling for now was pity.

Pity for the years he’d lost to captivity; pity for what was little more than mere existence under HYDRA’s thumb; pity for all the things you still didn’t know about his past.

You held Bucky tighter, and, flooded with this strange, grating emotion and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness, you wished you could protect him, too.

“James?” you mumbled into his hair.

Bucky didn’t respond.

You squeezed his shoulder. Still nothing.

Against your better judgment, you tried to shift yourself underneath his body. You figured you wouldn’t make it far at all, but at least he would be aware that you were trying to get up. Maybe even start to move with you.

He didn’t.

It took everything in you just to wedge an elbow back, struggle to prop yourself up against his weight, and when you were about to let out a huff of an exasperated laugh and tell him, Bucky, you’re crushing me, honey, could you please ease up a little, your request was answered before the words could even leave your mouth.

At the sound of two new muffled voices carrying up from the living room and what appeared to be noises from shuffling feet, Bucky rose straight from the bed, off you.

Your gaze trailed his to the door, and you reached for him.

“Baby, it’s just—”

Bucky was back on his feet. Yanking his boxers and pants up his legs and buckling his belt in no time at all.

The movers. It’s just the movers bringing in furniture—

You moved your hand closer to your husband in the hopes of stalling his movements for half a second, but then a set of ruthless blue eyes had you pinned, quick:

“Stay.”

Your outstretched arm was taken up in a much stronger, stiffer one, and you were suddenly pulled over to Bucky.

But you knew from the eyes it wasn’t him at all.

And you weren’t so much being tugged toward him as you were being hauled to the floor. Thrown on your knees beside the bed, next to Bucky. He was about to leave.

Without thinking, you reached for one of the legs of his trousers and sank your nails into the fabric to hold him in place, to tell him again that there was nothing to see out there but the people you knew, no threat outside at all. But Bucky was deaf to your pleas, it seemed. He shrugged you off easily and made a move for his gun, expression blank, stolid, calm, hardened. Decided.

You tried to rise to your feet but were stopped.

“STAY,” Bucky boomed again, this time an order that he didn’t even deign to complete with a look your way.

If he had—if he even possessed the ability to consider anything but the immediate task at hand—he would’ve seen his own hand knock you to the floor to keep you from standing. Might’ve caught a glimpse of the instant your head struck the edge of the nightstand before you hit the ground. Could’ve even made out the first traces of blood that came trickling out from above your temple. Would’ve seen you cower back, viscerally, out of fear.

But holding the side of your head and watching him leave, grim realization twisted at the pit of your stomach, and you knew the man wouldn’t have stopped if he had.

If your soldat’s objective was to protect you from any harm lurking outside that door, real or illusory, nothing you were capable of doing now could stop that. At expense to yourself, at expense to him, at expense to whatever lives stood between the Winter Soldier and that unwavering, hardwired goal, he still would not ever stop.

Thinking of new, innocent lives in the balance, now, you scrambled for your phone the next second to call Steve.

You tried him once. Twice. A third time crawling on your knees, then standing, then staggering over to the door and pulling the phone from your ear just to send a string of texts to your friend while the thing continued to ring.

SOS

Need help

Pick up please

Bucky’s stuck and he’s

About to hurt people here

A crash sounded outside. You hurried to the door. Your hand closed around the knob and tried to turn it. The handle turned freely, but something behind it was refusing to let you leave the room. You pressed again.

“Bucky!”

Your cry was useless in the face of the barricade outside.

You pushed your shoulder and, behind it, the whole force of your weight against it anyway, trying to get out.

The line went dead. You tried again.

Now with your phone to one ear and the bedroom door taking the brunt of your hits from the other, bleeding side of your body, you scarcely heard much of anything else. The ring started. Stopped. Began again when you pressed a shaky finger to Steve’s contact name, and continued in a cycle for some time while you tried to force whatever was on the other side of the door away.

The second a voice broke through the haze of your frantic, half-crazed state of consciousness, you cried:

“STEVE!”

“Mrs. Barnes?”

You were shocked to hear a woman on the other end. Your pulse was still racing, shoulder aching from the impact of each desperate push you’d been forcing against the door, and then you stopped. Another loud something sounded down the hallway, further away, but you were too startled and unnerved to take any note of it.

You started to ask, ‘Where’s Steve?’ when the voice continued:

“This is Mrs. Barnes?”

“Yes,” you answered woodenly.

You held the phone as close to your ear as you could, but still, the woman’s words were coming in and out in bursts. You must’ve mistakenly accepted the call when trying to reach Steve—you couldn’t think right now; could barely retract the phone far enough to see a strange number displayed on the screen. You swallowed.

“—from Lenox Hill Hospital at Northwell Health—”

The high-rise medical center on the Upper East Side you’d visited that week. Bucky had wanted you tested for nutritional deficiencies and anemia, of all fucking things.

“—if you had a moment or two to chat and maybe—”

No, you needed Steve, not this outpatient courtesy call.

You would’ve liked to hang up. Should’ve hung up. In fact, your fingers were practically itching to hit the button the whole time the nurse was speaking to you, but something in you just couldn’t be persuaded to do it. It took several more seconds before your senses began to creep back, and by then, when you were about to drop the call, you heard a phrase that stopped you on a dime.

“—but the doctor advises prenatal vitamins—”

“What?” you snapped, far more harshly than you meant.

The nurse paused a beat, whether from incredulity at how rude you’d just sounded or to consider something. When she resumed, she sounded a little more guarded.

“Yes…Dr. Watkins did reach out to you about your bloodwork from your last visit, didn’t she? I thought—”

“No,” you said, rushed and painfully brusque, again. You tried to rein in your tone some before continuing, “She didn’t—didn’t reach out about anything. What vitamins?”

Another pause.

“Prenatals.”

You hated that she gave you another second to chew on that word before taking a breath and pressing on.

“I’m terribly, terribly sorry to be the one to spring that on you, Mrs. Barnes—I thought you knew…um—” The nurse was sheepish now, almost embarrassed to be speaking, “—you’re about…three weeks along in your pregnancy.”

Three weeks along.

Advised prenatal vitamins.

For the child growing inside of you.

A rivulet of blood trickled into your left eye.

Your whole body was apt to convulse, but it didn’t.

You hung up.

—

Taglist: (please lmk if I missed anyone! I can only tag 50 at a time so will continue in a separate post) @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @identity2212 @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @opibarnes @wilsons-striped-ties @desigirlxx @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @minimarvelingmarvel @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @dameron-grantspector @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @gyokujyn @lunaroserites @first-edition @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @daisychainsoflove @mostlymarvelgirl @diannana @shawnberry @yujyujj @urmomsalex @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @aagn360 @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @thealyrs

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 2 months

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Millionaires Boys Club - LN

Summary: Lando is reminded that something can't be bought no matter how many millions he has in his bank account. Money doesn't fix a broken heart.

ex!reader

No part 2 requests please

If there was a point in his life that Lando knew he'd fucked up. It was when y/n broke up with him.

The slow head shake, stepping back away from him as if she was scared he'd hurt her, red puffy eyes that looks raw, her wobbling voice telling him to just leave her alone.

He knew he could get her bad but that moment truly made him realise the type of power and trust she'd placed in him but he'd broken it. But now he's going to fix it.

So he did what any many with millions in the bank does.

He was going to win her back with gifts. Everything he could think of and she could ever dream of.

Or so he thought.

"I don't know who you thought you were dating but I'm beginning to think you don't know your ex girlfriend at all." Max sighs as he opens his boot to reveal every single gift Lando had sent y/n still wrapped and untouched.

Even flowers that were wilted and dying had been left in their original packaging. It didn't look like any of the notes were opened and read.

"I don't get it. What the hell do I have to do?" Lando groans dropping his head back. "She's being so difficult. I just spend god knows how much on all this stuff."

"You ever thought maybe she doesn't want her ex buying her back?" Max questions making him look at his friend. "I'm just saying mate. You've spend all this money on her but clearly you not buying her stuff wasn't the problem."

Lando had been very elusive about what triggered the break up. He'd seemed to keep the details vague just saying it he didn't understand what had happened really.

"You tried talking to someone who has you blocked?" Lando grumbles when Max suggests he just try calling her. He'd tried.

"Then maybe it's time to give up and let her go mate, you can't force her to forgive you for whatever you're not telling my you did." Max states earning a huff. "Maybe figure out what you did that landed you single again and then try again if you're not going to give up."

Y/n sighs as she steps outside with her sisters dog and immediately Lando jumps out his car like a crazed stalker and practically throws himself at her.

"Jesus Christ." Y/n gasps stumbling away while her sisters dog excitedly jumps up at Lando. "Worst guard dog ever."

"I could get you a better one if you think you need it."

"For god sake-when is it going to compute Lando? Money is not going to fix this." Y/n frowns and it becomes all too apparent within seconds that Lando has made something snap.

More tears appear. She's hurting, which is why she has been hiding out at her sisters in hopes of Lando being too scared of her sister's fiancé who is very protective over his future sister-in-law to come see her. Clearly that plan backfired.

Being vulnerable isn't something Lando is familiar with. But he knows he's at a loss of what he's meant to do here.

"Y/n, I-"

"Lando, I can't do this. Not now. I need-You need give me space and time and just...let me think." Y/n states swallowing thickly. "And stop buying things because it's not going to win me back. I don't want you to buy me things all the time. You broke my heart, Lando. Money didn't break it, so it's not going to fix it."

Lando is somewhat stunned by her words.

It's not as if he parents raised him to believe that money is the end all and be all. But he does think it's pretty important in general, he definitely feels better after buying something. Hell, when y/n walked out he bought himself a new Lando Rover to improve his mood.

Though now he's thinking about it, it didn't really do anything to perk him up or distract him from his newly single status.

Lando watches y/n walk off before hearing the door open and close.

"You know...she's not upset because you're here." Y/s/n states as she walks over to the F1 driver. "She's upset because she wants you here...but she wants you to understand what you did."

Lando looks at y/n's sister with a sigh before she sends him a sympathetic smile and rubs his arm bicep gently.

"You'll figure out how to fix this, but buying her stuff...she doesn't want you for you money."

"Thanks y/s/n." Lando mumbles not adding that as the days go on. He's beginning to doubt that he has that ability.

Lando sighs as he inserts the new SIM card into his phone. He had to get a new one purely so he could call y/n. Grovelling might be easier if he didn't have the start of the F1 calendar in full swing.

"Hello?" Y/n answers leaving Lando clinging to just that word as some comfort that she's at least ok. "Hello?"

"Hi, y/n." Lando greets hoping the line isn't about to go dead.

"Lando...how's testing going?" Y/n asks softly seeming to try and keep the conversation light.

"It could be better. You should be here." Lando states earning a sigh immediately. "Y/n...I know I fucked up and I know I don't deserve you. I-I know that I didn't care about the stuff that was important to you and I should-I do now. I care and I want you to be here with me. Always."

"How am I supposed to know that you mean any of this?" Y/n mumbles the swallowing thickly. "I don't want to be with you and things to go back to how they were...you got annoyed at me for being upset that you cancelled our anniversary plans."

Their two year anniversary.

Y/n had spent weeks planning it around all the F1 and McLaren stuff, along with making sure Lando could go on all his winter break trips with no interruption. She'd planned something just for them and Lando cancelled because he wanted to do something for Quadrant.

Usually she'd be ok with that, but they both know it was something the Quadrant team could've handled without him being there. He made the choice to throw all her effort away and then didn't understand when she got upset.

It wasn't even about the fact it was the only celebration of the milestone. It was the fact he knew she'd gone to such lengths so they could celebrate it and he didn't care.

"I'm sorry, y/n. You deserve better than me, but I'm too selfish to really let you go and find better." Lando states then sighing. "I'm also going to do better than I had been doing. I promise you."

Y/n is quiet on the other side for a bit amping up his nerves. He knows that he is sort of winning her over because she'd have hung up or told him that this was a waste of time.

"Would you hate me if I pay for you to fly over here?"

"Yeah, I'll let you pay." Y/n laughs then clearing her throat.

"I'm going to rearrange all the anniversary celebrations too." Lando declares making her laugh. "What?"

"Lando, you are an amazing man with a lot of abilities but arranging celebrations like that isn't not your forte."

"Give me a chance. A man trying to redeem himself shouldn't be doubted."

Lando insisted on picking y/n up from the airport and he finds himself in complete awe of seeing her again.

"Come here baby." Lando grins making her drop her bags and run towards him. A perfect airport scene from a movie if there ever was one.

He catches her, lifting her body up as she wraps her legs around his waist as they catch each other in a kiss that is so long await that neither realised how badly they needed it.

"Slap me next time. Slap me and knock sense into me next time I'm stupid enough to fuck up so badly that you have to leave me." Lando states making her lean back away from him for a moment. "Serious, just slap me."

"Ok. I will." Y/n smiles with a nod before she slowly drops her legs from the man's waist but he keeps hold of her waist. "I missed you...a lot."

"I missed you to. And...I never want to fuck up that colossally again." Lando promises before kissing her gently. "I'm sorry I ever did to begin with. I was being a dick."

"You won't find me arguing with you there." Y/n smiles before she shifts back going to pick up her bags that she'd dropped only for him to tsk and pick them up for her. "Oh sorry, I forgot you have to do everything for me now."

"Everything and maybe a little more, till you tell me we might finally be even."

Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos

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alexlwrites · 3 months

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𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Jungkook x Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: The one where everytime you get dumped you pretend that you never met the guy before to mess with their heads. To the point that if you run into them somewhere you reintroduce yourself and act like you’ve never seen each other before.

Enters fuckboy Jungkook who disappears after your night together, not knowing how much he was about to regret that choice.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I’m truly sorry for this sad excuse of an update.

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 - 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲, 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

(<<< part one)

“I can’t believe you’re doing this again” Jane’s voice rang through the phone as you walked down the streets towards your desired coffee spot.

You also couldn’t believe you were doing that again. You tried your best to live your life with no regrets, but men made it very hard.

“Have you seen him since he fled the crime scene?”

“Stop calling it a crime scene” you snapped.

“Well, have you?”

Your silence was enough of an answer. No, you had not seen or heard from Jungkook since he ran away from your bedroom in the dead of night, leaving behind only the smell of cologne and, funnily enough, a single sock. When you woke up that day to an empty bed, sheets crumbled and a mattress indented on the side where he had slept, all you could muster was a tired sigh of disappointment.

And to be completely honest, you were disappointed with yourself, not Jungkook. You expected nothing less than a quick escape of him. But you should’ve known better than to hope for anything. Despite everything, you were still an idealist at heart and you thought that maybe just this once…

You shook your head obstinately. You had learned early on that no good would come from moping around for men who would never once feel any regret for their thoughtless actions and if your pain were to be always one sided, then it was better not to feel any at all. Not to dwell on it, move on, learn from it and be better. Or be worse, sometimes, as self-improvement was not always your goal.

Sometimes, you chose to listen to the tiny revengeful angel on your shoulder - who kind of sounded like Taylor Swift - that screamed for violence and vindication.

As your failed relationships started to pile up, you did reach a point where you had to wonder if you were the problem, as it was the canonical event of all 20 something women. But observation, therapy, critical thinking and hereditary pettiness brought you to the decision that it was not, in fact, your fault. At least not all of it.

With that in mind, you left only the smallest of time slots in your booked and busy schedule to ponder and grieve over the fickle nature of boys’ interests. You had better, more important things to do, such as mindlessly scroll through Minecraft/AITA videos and save pilates routines that you were never gonna do.

Still, in an experience intrinsically feminine, you allowed yourself a little treat to cope with the slight burn of despondency in the back of your mind.

And so you directed yourself to the bougie coffee house near campus, hoping to drown your sorrows with an aggressively sweet and overly caffeinated drink.

“You should slash his tires”

“Jane, please, we have talked about this.”

“You should totally slash his fucking tires!"

"Saying it louder is not gonna make me agree with you! Jane…"

Suddenly your eyes found Jungkook's across the room filled to the brim with depressed, financially irresponsible students, making you pause and hold back the urge to curl your lips in distaste. It bothered you that even with scared eyes as big as saucers and hunched shoulders to appear smaller, Jungkook still managed to look good.

But you knew better than to let him know how much his presence and pretty face annoyed you. Boys like Jungkook only cared about having an impact on people’s life, very rarely caring if it was good or bad. He wanted a reaction out of you and you learned better than to give those away so carelessly.

So you frowned and looked away, the words practiced on your lips as you said “Some guy is staring at me.”

Jane laughed loudly on the phone “You’re a psycho, you know that?”

“I don’t know who it is, Jane, some dude” you stole a quick glance at him, finding vengeful glee at his shocked expression.

“Send me a pic of his reaction, I’m posting it on TikTok.”

You continued playing your part, ignoring your sister’s interruptions as you usually did “Of course I’m carrying a taser, Jane, I’m not an animal…”

“I’ll give you 5 bucks to tase him.”

“You know what, this coffee is not even worth the visual harassment, God I hate men…”

You walked out of the coffee house, hand empty but with a fulfilled sick sense of accomplishment as you stepped out into the street with a shit-eating grin.

“I hope you know what you’re doing” Jane said and you could hear the smile in her voice. Out of your two sisters, Jane was never the one to tell you to not do something, preferring to let you make your own mistakes.

And boy, did you.

You left your big, beautiful, tattooed mistake behind you, ready to move on to something less prone to disappointment, such as fictional men and your Stardew Valley husband “Dont worry” you told your sister “I don’t.”.

—

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, left eye twitching slightly at your unbothered expression.

After your confusing exit from the coffee shop and a good amount of jabs from his friends, Jungkook had to hunt you down across campus, finding you sitting under a tree with a book in your hands, looking way too peaceful for someone who just had humiliated him.

You looked down at your book with an arched eyebrow “Kegels, clearly. Why?”

“No, I mean…” Jungkook’s frustration was rising by the second, the vein on his neck jumping out “Why are you acting like you don’t know me?”

You frowned.

“Do I know you?” you asked, face doubtful.

“We have classes together?”

You blinked, impassive.

“We went on a date?”

A head shake.

“We slept together!”

“Nope, can’t say it rings any bells.”

That’s it. Jungkook was actually convinced you were clinically insane.

“How can you not remember?”

“How can I remember something that never happened?”

“But it did! You’re crazy! I chased you for weeks!”

You smiled, a trap.

“So, you're, like, in love with me?” you ask, tone condescending.

Jungkook scoffed and you weren’t sure if it was at the idea of love or loving you. “No, of course not.”

“So in this dream scenario of yours, we had sex but we weren’t together?”

“Trust me, this” he gestured between the two of you “is no dream scenario.”

“Well, aren’t you a charmer” you crossed your arms in front you, defensive “Let me get this straight. You, allegedly, chased me for weeks, but don’t really like me. Then, we had casual, out-of-relationship sex and then what? You banged my head against the headboard so hard I completely forgot about it? Your story is full of holes, my dude.”

You had to fight back the urge to smirk, energy spiking from feeding off of Jungkook’s stupefied confusion.

Nail in the coffin, you shrugged, turning your eyes back to your book “Maybe you weren’t that memorable and my mind deleted you like a childhood trauma.”

A slight left eye spasm was all the reaction you got at first, evolving to the pursing of pouty lips and the clenching of fists.

“You are insane” he said at last after seconds of turning clogs in his barely filled mind.

“Finally you said something true.”

Jungkook was equally bewildered and furious. He didn’t know what your deal was or what you were getting out of this, but your refusal to admit you had sex pissed him off deeply considering how much time and effort he put into getting you together.

“Also, I have to ask” you continued, clearly not done with your pursuit of driving him up the wall “what was your goal with this conversation? Chasing me for weeks to then sleep with me and then come here and tell me you’re not actually interested in me, but being upset when I don’t remember something that didn’t happen… What’s the point?”

Jungkook paused. Truly, he didn’t have much of an end goal in mind, actions fueled only by a bruised ego and a childish, borderline pathological need to prove himself.

When he didn’t answer, you stood up and gathered your things, keeping your head down to hide your poorly concealed satisfaction “I’ll let you ponder on that” you said “Don’t worry about reaching out with an answer, though.”

Finally, you looked up at him, face masked with faux awkwardness. “Anyway. Nice to meet you, I guess? No, actually, not really, this was weird as shit. You seem to have some things to figure out. Get help and take care, my dude.”

And so you left, leaving behind only a cloud of your bergamot perfume and a perplexed Jungkook blinking owlishly.

There was a sudden influx of thoughts rushing through his usually much less busy mind, the general tone of confusion ringing amongst humiliation and frustration.

When Jungkook first set his greedy eyes on you, he had an inkling that you’d be a handful and in the beginning, you truly were. You took pleasure in making everything much more difficult for him, running from his presence like the plague and approaching the whole subject of him like one would the subject of warts - reluctantly and with caution.

And if he were honest, he wasn’t too sure on why he insisted, but one would be surprised at how far Jungkook would escalate things out of spite and resentment.

It was that same sick combination of flavors that drove him insane for weeks, moving him to pester you until you gave him a chance. And he took it, lord, did he take it.

That night, he made every possible effort to please you, cloaked in his best, non-ranch stained clothes and best non-arrogant behavior.

And when morning came and he opened up his eyes before you did, tired out from the epitome of his bestest behavior, there was a moment of quiet as he watched you eyelids flutter delicately, soft arm draped lightly over his waist.

The night before had been… Fun, he thought, even before you had reached your bedroom. You were weird and used a bunch of words he didn’t know, but you also made him laugh and listened to him babbling about his interest without once looking bored, even going as far as asking questions about his farfetched MCU theories.

And despite your many (too many to count, insurmountable really) differences, you had… Chemistry, one could call it. Thick chemistry, palpable tension, pushing you towards each other despite your previous attempts to go the other way.

But no amount of chemistry could break Jungkook’s routine as inertia pushed him out of your bed, practiced steps light as feathers as he escaped your apartment with one last look to your sleeping form and somehow one less sock on his feet.

And as he left, there was an undiagnosed pounding in his heart he tried to chalk off as the result of his Dorito and monster drink based diet, but his eyes kept flashing back to where you rested even when he was miles away.

He tried to make sense of your persistent presence in the back of his mind. You were cool, he’d give you that. Hot too. But it didn’t matter how your body fit his like they were manufactured together or how your passive aggressive way of flirting (or insulting, he had a hard time telling them apart with you) never failed to steal a snort from his lips. And yeah, it was kind of nice when you called him cute everytime he didn’t understand something you said. It brought a blush to his cheeks and wild butterflies to his stomach, because… Well, no one had ever called him cute after middle school. Hot? Yes. Sexy? Once a week. Biggest dick ever? Yes, both meanings.

But not cute. And deep down, under layers of aggressively oversized shirts and muscles… Jungkook kind of liked being cute.

Jungkook shook that thought away. Despite all that, you were a point he had to make.

And he did! Point proven and undisputed, up until you looked at him like he was a silly little kid throwing a tantrum (which he kind of was) and questioned him and his sanity,

But Jungkook was obstinate and, even more, the sorest of losers. He had proven himself once and would again! He was a man on a mission, he decided, watching you walk away from him while mouthing the words “I’ll pray for you!”. And the mission was to either send you into a psychiatric hospital or get you back into his bed.

And if the butterflies in his stomach fluttered excitedly at that second prospect, he didn’t allow himself to ponder on it for a single second.

°•. ✿ .•°

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