#'clever...' 'thank you' DUMBASS

[hauntingblue]

They don't dare hurt nassau's babygirl jack rackham

[circusofshrimps]

no joke this legitimately scared me i was like WHO DID I INTERACT WITH??? and i checked the account and was like oh.

[hey-august]

March Madness Event - Winner (NSFW | Buggy X Marine!GN!Reader)

Woah woah woah, this story concludes the March Madness event!

(In case you missed it, throughout the month of March I posted polls pitting kinks against kinks. The ones that lost in the polls received short stories involving a bit of failure. The kink that won at the end of the month was slated to receive a proper story. And that's where we are now!)

I'll be honest, I did not expect this to be the winner. Then again, I should have seen it coming with how it took off in every poll it was in.

Thank you all for participating! Voting, reading, commenting, liking, reblogging - everything!!

I hope you enjoyed this event and that you enjoy this story. 🩷

Description: As a Marine, you're responsible for safely escorting the captured prisoner, Buggy the Clown. Things don't go according to plan and while the prisoner remains captured, not all of him ends up behind bars...

Teeny tiny teaser: "This fucker needed to know the effect his dumbass decision had on others."

Word count: ~3.4k (I don't remember the last time I wrote a one-shot this long 🥴)

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, marine!reader, no use of Y/N, insertion sex, bit of degradation, cockwarming (not solely intimate, but there is some eventually), misuse of devil fruit powers

“I can fuck you harder if you uncuff me,” he said through gritted teeth. “C’mon, tell me you don’t want that.” 

The teasing remark was hissed behind your ear, sending a shiver through your body. Your weak fucking body, nearly wiped of all self-restraint. A thin thread of rationality kept you tethered to a sense of preservation, but the constant pounding threatened to snap that hold.

You were responsible for locking up the prisoner - a duty you’ve fulfilled many times without issue. Over the years, your strength and cleverness helped you climb the ranks of Marines, yet this was the first time you failed to complete this responsibility. Well, you haven’t failed yet, but the more the thread frays, the more your legs shake, the more his heavy grunts fill your ears…

Your shaky hands gripped the seastone cuffed wrists wrapped around your body. Although the pirate couldn’t grip your hips the way either of you wanted, he was able to pull your body towards his as he relentlessly slammed himself in you. 

Of all the captured criminals you ever escorted, it was the goddamn clown that broke you. The pathetic clown with a face of smeared paint. Left behind by his crew. A captain who was visibly crestfallen when none of the Marines appeared impressed by his presence.

Despite his circumstances, the prisoner - Buggy the Clown - lived up to his namesake. Nearly every comment out of his mouth was a joke, often at the expense of anyone around him. The lack of laughter after each quip should add to embarrassment and pity for the clown, but you found yourself enjoying the amusement he was clearly creating for himself. It was…endearing.

As his sole escort below deck, his attention quickly turned towards you and the warm fluttery feeling you had moved lower in your body. Silence only protected you for so long before your face was too red to ignore, giving the clown encouragement to continue. Changing tactics, Buggy started spouting cheesy and overused pickup lines. Each remark said with unabashed enthusiasm added to the heat on your face.

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together.” “I’d like to report a crime. My breath was stolen.” “That Marine uniform doesn’t look so bad on you. But it would look better on the floor.”

Those comments were so stupid and worked so well. A few hissed retorts and threats of punishment were disarmed with a charming smile. You had no chance of winning whatever this game was. Secretly, you weren’t sure you wanted to win. There was something alluring about this pirate who tried to hide behind jokes and laughter that you wanted more of.

Arousal easily increases in potency when mixed with other feelings. For you, it was unexpected affection and the lure of degeneracy. For Buggy, you assumed it was the fear and anxiety that comes with imprisonment. Each concoction was perfectly portioned and all it took were choice words, overly-familiar touches, and curious glances for the poison to take effect.

Alone in the room, it only took seconds to pull your pants low enough to grant Buggy access. You leaned forwards, steadying yourself against the wall, while he grabbed the lower hem of your top. His thrusts were erratic and sloppy as he tried to find a decent pace. There was barely enough time for this moment of guilty indulgence and you both wanted as much from it as possible.

Bringing his bound hands overhead, Buggy pulled you close to his chest until you were wrapped in his hold. With his hands closer to your hips, he was able to move both of your bodies at a quick tempo. He was rewarded with a whine that escaped your heavy breathing.

“S’that how you like it? Hard and rough? I didn’t expect you to be so fucking filthy. Do all your prisoners get welcomed like this?”

Fuck. Why did his voice sound so good? And why did it sound better saying such degrading shit?

You shook your head and leaned into his touch, wanting to feel more. “Sh-shut up. Don’t you ever stop talking?”

“You d-don’t want that,” Buggy groaned. “I can feel your body squeeze when I talk. You like it.” His teasing was met with a delicious whimper.

Every word from his mouth had your head spinning. You wanted so much more. You wanted to taste his voice, to feel his mouth against yours, to feel his lips on your skin, but he wore that stupid face paint. You wanted his touch everywhere, for his hands to roam your body, for him to hold you tighter, but he needed to keep the cuffs on. Buggy was a Devil Fruit user. He was dangerous. And he was breaking you down.

Almost as if he could read your mind, Buggy started describing all the ways he wanted to screw you. How good you are at taking him. He wants to hear how good he makes you feel. Lost in the haze of lust, you barely remembered pulling out the key you wore on a chain and had tucked under your clothes. Your palm ached from how tightly you gripped the key while fighting against the horny instincts crowding your body.

You were so close, so achingly close. Maybe if you timed it right, it would be okay. You could minimize the danger. That makes sense, right? It could work. The wisp of rational thought faded away so softly that you didn’t miss its absence.

“Please,” was all you could get out as you unlocked the cuffs and let them fall to the floor.

It was like you released a feral animal with that decision. You didn’t realize just how much the seastone had sapped from Buggy until you felt his bruising grip as he brutally slammed his hips into yours. Even his cock seemed to get harder as it was bullied deeper in your body. He struggled to stay quiet, grunting like a wild boar as he rut into you.

You were on the edge of the precipice, ready to throw yourself over the ledge, when a horrible sound yanked you back to solid ground. A piercing siren sound filled the ship, signaling the top of the hour and a change in duties. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You needed to finish your job before anyone found out what you were doing. Who you were doing.

In a panic, you elbowed the pirate and spun around. “They’re gonna catch us,” you said with wide-eyes.

With all his blood below the belt, Buggy was already caught off-guard by the loud noise. Your rapid change from a whimpering needy thing who needed to be railed, to a Marine who wanted to follow the rules was a lot for the pirate to follow after losing the trail of his own orgasm. All he could do was struggle to pull up his pants as you shoved him into the jail cell and locked him in. Thoughts slowly returned to his head and weakness seeped back into his body as he watched you fix up your uniform before freezing.

“What the fuck did you do?” The question started as a shout before you restrained the rest of your temper.

“I wanted to make sure you come back for me,” Buggy responded with a wink. “Besides, we didn’t get to finish. I figured you could keep it warm for me until the encore.” He reached down and grabbed the crotch of his pants, which was baggier than it should be.

“Are you fucking ser-” The rhetoric question was stopped by the throbbing in your body. 

Between your body fully accepting the rough fuck and the whirlwind of anxiety about being caught, you didn’t notice that Buggy left you with a piece of himself. Of all the things he could have done with his Devil Fruit powers in that moment, rather than doing something, anything, that could help him escape, the clown chose to part from his dick. What a fucking joke.

---

It was a sunny day with just enough of a breeze to keep the sails full and to blow away excess heat from the sun. The gentle wind helped dry the perspiration on your skin as you crossed the deck, towards the meeting room. While the air carried away some of the physical evidence, your body still burned and you chose to believe the unrelenting heat was shame. Punctual attendance was critical on the ship and you couldn’t even spare a few minutes to evict the pirate’s privates without risking a penalty.

With each step, you felt the fullness between your legs and the stretch from his girth. You couldn’t remember what it meant to walk normally. Every movement was over thought and analyzed. What felt normal made your core feel too tight against the intrusion. Longer strides had you worry that he might slip out. While it seemed unlikely (all of this was unlikely already), you worried about losing this bit of Buggy. There would be no reasonable way to explain a lone penis anywhere on the ship.

As hard as you tried to be upset with Buggy’s stupid horny decision, your body was still flooded with hormones that drowned logic and only allowed obscene thoughts to float. You were deep in a fucked up situation and you were enjoying it.

You arrived just in time for the meeting to start. It was a daily check-in where attendees would recite numbers and metrics that meant nothing to you. It was important and wholly unnecessary. The returning sheen of sweat and lingering redness on your face could be excused as the hustle needed to arrive on time and not the throbbing you felt inside. 

Settling into one of the open chairs, you couldn’t find a position that was remotely comfortable. There was minimal padding on the wood chairs and the backrests were at an awkward height that provided no support. Leaning too far one way pushed Buggy further inside and you just barely concealed the discovering gasp as a deep breath. 

Crossing your legs was a terrible idea, as it only added to the unforgiving pressure. The sensation attacked you both, as you felt the confined cock flex in its warm prison. You quickly uncrossed your legs, glad no one could see how they shook under the table.

Wicked voices began whispering to you, talking over the droning presentation at the head of the table. You couldn’t find any reprieve from what you were feeling. The only thing that made you feel better was giving in. You could afford to let your mind drift, this meeting was only to make others feel important. You had your own feelings to deal with.

Your mind wandered down to where those feelings radiated from. To the frustrating ache between your legs. Buggy was a good length, on the longer end of average, but his thickness was far more than average. Thankfully he got you so riled up earlier and all you had to suffer through was a burn that he quickly fucked away. Your body had grown accustomed to the wideness, but being held open for so long was different. Even through the uniform, you felt exposed. With each twitch from your hole as it fruitlessly tried to find some give against the occupant, you fell apart a little more. 

You shifted in the chair again, cautiously rolling your hips with the movement. Just once. And then again, under the guise of trying to get comfortable. Fuck, that did feel good. Your body shifted against Buggy’s member just right. You tensed against him, chasing that sensation, and receiving a heavy throb in response.

Your name broke through the fog you willingly got lost in. Your eyes snapped to the man standing at the head of the table.

“Is there something more important than going over these reports?” 

Maybe your movements weren’t as subtle as you thought.

“No, Sir. Just trying to get comfortable. I apologize for the distraction.” You spoke loudly, overriding the quiver hiding in your throat. 

Buggy was reacting to the jolt of tension that ran through our body. Clenched fists pressed into your knees and your toes curled in the little space available in your boots as you rode out his movement. It was incredibly frustrating and absolutely embarrassing. So why did it feel so fucking good?

---

The rest of the meeting ended without further incident. At least, as far as any of the attendees cared. For you, every action and reaction from either of your linked bodies felt like a whole new event to survive. You offered a tight lipped smile to everyone as they left the room, preferring a small audience when you attempted to use your weak legs. Luckily, horniness and adrenaline held you up and supported you out of the room.

The infirmary was a few doors down and it was around the time the doctor took a break. If you were lucky, the room would be empty and you could put an end to this. The luck was debatable when you opened the door to two pale faces. One belonged to the Marine who was on guard duty and the other belonged to the prisoner being guarded. A prisoner who offered you a small smile that matched the one painted on his face.

The guard started babbling when you entered the room. “H-he doesn’t look good, r-right? I brought him h-here, but they’re all on break. I’m wor-worried he’s gonna upch- upchu-ugh, pu- v- vom-”

“Get sick?”

The guard nodded with pursed lips, struggling to hold back the hiccups and sympathetic heaves that wracked their body. “Doesn’t seem ser-serious enough to call the med-ugh medics b-back.”

You looked at Buggy, trying to assess what was going on. Was this a ploy or was he actually ill? Were you going to get sick? 

“It doesn’t look that serious. I can stay with him. Why don’t you go lie down?” Your offer was accepted before you even finished speaking. 

The infirmary door closed, leaving you and Buggy in an awkward silence. He sat in a chair, hunched over, still giving you a weak smile.

“Are you okay? Is it bad?” You asked, concerned that his flashy self seemed to be affected. Crouching down, you brought yourself closer to his level.

“Bad,” he repeated hoarsely, leaning towards you. 

His trajectory would bring his painted forehead to the white shoulder of your uniform, so you intercepted. Pressing your head against his, you waited for Buggy to continue. 

“N-need you. Made a bad decision, need you, please.” One of his cuffed hands pawed at the empty space where his dick should be. 

With his strength and stamina taken away during imprisonment, Buggy’s self-inflicted secondary imprisonment was too much. He could feel everything - how your body continued to struggle around him, how warm you were inside, how you reacted to his involuntary cries and demands for more. It felt so fucking good, so deliriously wonderful, and downright torturous.

There was no end in sight, though. There had to be a reason you kept him inside, so even if Buggy could come, it would be followed with overstimulation that could go for who knows how long. Not to mention how upset you would probably be if you were unexpectedly full of his hot cum. 

Buggy whimpered at the thought. At imagining you full and plugged. Of his jizz dripping out and collecting in your underwear. Of you being an absolute fucking mess under your prim and pristine uniform, because of him.

“Please,” he whined again.

You pulled away and locked the door. “We don’t have a lot of time. Again.”

Buggy bit his lip as you held out your hand to help him up and blubbered what sounded like, “thank you.”

You understood how he felt. So insatiable that nothing mattered more than giving into these desperate needs that aggressively grew out of desire. Giving up on everything but chasing the high, you uncuffed Buggy and undid your pants. 

This fucker needed to know the effect his dumbass decision had on others. You shoved his hand down your pants, letting him feel how wildly aroused you were. How much of a mess he made.

His groan was laced with delight and pain at the knowledge. His touch was everywhere, committing all of the evidence of your lust to memory. As his hand crept further, it came in contact with his base and his body jolted at the touch. This was too much.

Yanking his hand out of your pants, Buggy rushed to unbuckle his and expose where his member belonged. Following his lead, you pulled your pants down and turned around. Wary about wasting precious time, Buggy pressed his hips against yours and shuddered when his cock returned to its rightful place. It felt as if his senses increased a hundredfold now that it was back.

“M’close,” he warned, struggling to set a reliable pace. 

Honestly, he was about to explode when his hand was down your pants. But he needed this. He needed to feel you moving on his cock. To feel your body react against him. To feel you explode.

As if reading his thoughts, you grabbed his hand and pushed it down. You didn’t need much. This entire time, you didn’t need much, apparently. Just his attention on you was enough to pull you off the trail you were on. And that’s what he gave you - his enthusiastic attention. 

His hand moved fervently, following the cues your body gave. The touches that had your breaths teeter on moans, pressure that had your body clench his, sensations that increased the tension in your core.

“Uh-haah, uh-huh, just like that. K-keep going, g-gonna… You’re gonna make me c-” You were cut off as the feeling ripped through your body, sharp and electric. The words in your mouth were wiped away as you fell to the indescribable surge.

Buggy huffed as he struggled to fuck through your orgasm. Your unsaid words rung through his head - he was responsible for this. You were shaking beneath him because of what he did. Your sweet sighs of relief were for him.

“Wh-where-” Buggy could hardly stutter a question he should have asked earlier.

“Finish what you started,” you said, leaning into his touch once again.

Feeling your body melt against his, accepting his thick cock so easily, pulling him deeper - that was more than enough.

“F-fucking shit,” Buggy hissed as he came. 

The climax was nearly painful as he shot stream after stream inside your body. Feeling like the release would never end, the pirate clung to you and whimpered with each pulse. Eventually, he ran out. His hold released with a shaky sigh.

Buggy struggled with words to fill the next moment. Something about how this felt good. Maybe a thanks? But before he could decide, yet another loud sound interrupted the moment. A sound that was accompanied by a lurch that threw the pirate back. An explosion. Then came the alarms. The ship was under attack by pirates. You both rushed to fix yourselves up.

“I-I think that’s for me,” Buggy said.

You looked at him incredulously. Was this all a fucking trick?

“I want you to come with me.”

His request kept you silent. This didn’t make sense.

“I didn’t think they were coming. I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. But it was fun - well, I had fun. I think you did too. We can keep having fun, unless you want to keep living this stuffy life.” Buggy spoke quickly. 

His explanation was rushed, but you could see a hint of honesty among the turmoil.

Buggy held his hand out for you to grab.

---

Life on a pirate ship was different, but also similar to life with the Marines. Useless meetings couldn’t be avoided and petty drama existed everywhere. But the spirit and passion that came with piracy was unbelievably vast. Joys flew high, parties raged hard, drinks always flowed, treasure was celebrated.

And on Buggy’s ship, there was always more. More life, more color, more light. Dumb jokes, death defying stunts, fantastic skills, and stupid decisions that managed to work out in the end.

One of your favorite things about life aboard the ship were the quiet afternoons you spent with the captain. Afternoons that were spent laying in the shared bed, your body nestled against his. Afternoons full of stories and musings. Afternoons dedicated to the two of you, which you spent slotted together in warmth and intimacy.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 10, Uneasy - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, bad jokes, Explicit Sexual Content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here. (hand job, fingering, PIV), little bit 'o' dirty talk, coitus interruptus, Bucky being a dumbass, insecurity, thoughts of self harm, arguing, mentions of emotional affair, poorly translated Russian, Pocket giving Bucky more chances than he deserves, really.

Word Count: 2.5k

Previously On...: You made the mistake of watching Bucky and Jade spar in the training room. Needless to say, it was... intense, and you weren't the only one to notice. Looks like others in the Tower are taking bets on how long it'll be before Bucky cheats on you. He promises loves only you, only wants to be with you, and you want to believe his sweet words... you just cant shake the look of guilt that crossed his face when he realized you were watching him and Jade spar. Hopefully, he can prove his devotion to you with a little horizontal sparring of your own.

A/N: I'm sorry. Really, that's all I got for this one. Pocket's reaching her breaking point, but she's not quite there just yet; bare with her as she tries to deal. I mean, would any of us give up on Bucky fucking Barnes until we absolutely had to? I think not, lol.

Part three of this chapter is fairly short; I'll be posting it today, as well.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @crist1216 @vicmc624 @sashaisready

Bucky pushed you up against the hard surface of your bedroom door, his lips trailing fire along your skin as he kissed you with an almost animalistic need. You could feel the press of his erection through the fabric of your workout clothing digging into your stomach as you tilted your head back and let out a soft moan.

“Bucky,” you breathed as his hips rutted against you, “we should get inside.”

“Need you so bad, Pocket,” he grunted, fingers finding their way under your shirt and sliding along your already sweat-slicked skin. “Should be getting inside of you.”

“Mmm, clever,” you hummed as you reached behind your bodies for the door handle. You managed to awkwardly twist it open just as Bucky’s hips pressed particularly aggressively, sending you both tumbling through the doorway.

Bucky’s hands were on you before you could fully lose your balance, keeping you upright and supported as he led you both to the couch.

“Bed’s not that far away, Barnes,” you said in between kisses as you began pulling off your clothes.

“Too far away,” he countered, bouncing on one foot as he worked to tug off his sneaker. “You’re lucky I’m too much of a gentleman to take you right on the floor.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that. “Lucky, huh?”

“Remember the rugburn you got last time?” he asked, his smile positively predatory as he gently pushed you backwards onto the cushions, his hands reaching for the waistband of your leggings and pulling them down your legs.

“Touche,” you contended. The memory of your chafed skin certainly had put a damper on the otherwise delightful experience. You might have to talk to Tony about getting some carpet with a little more shag.

You giggled at the thought, causing Bucky to raise a questioning eyebrow as he helped you out of your sports bra.

“I was thinking we might need a better shag carpet for future shagging,” you informed him. His laughter quickly turned into a moan as you reached down into his shorts and took a hold of him, stroking his length.

“Shit, baby,” he groaned as he thrust his hips into your hand. “They didn’t make girls like you back in my day.”

You pulled him free from his bottoms and boxer briefs, taking one hand off of him to push the fabric down. “Thank God for that,” you told him. “You might have been tempted to dodge the draft, otherwise. Then where would we be?”

Bucky grunted, and you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. “How can you make such horrible jokes and still manage to be so fucking hot?” he asked you with a grin.

You took your hands off of his cock, pretending to be offended. “Horrible?! My handjobs are only for people who think my jokes are funny.”

“Did I say ‘horrible’?” Bucky asked in mock confusion, reaching down to run his metal fingers through your waiting folds. The cold touch made your back arch as he inserted two fingers inside of you. “Coulda sworn I said hilarious.”

“Weak save attempt, Old Man,” you panted as he picked up the tempo with his hand. “Judges– fuck– judges allow it, you can put it in. God, put it in!”

“Gotta get you ready, doll,” Bucky grinned down at you. “Get you good and stretched.”

“I swear to God, Barnes, if you don’t start fucking me right now—” you words were cut off by a scream as Bucky took heed of your warning and pushed himself into you, until he was filling you completely. “Yes!” you shouted, relishing in the feeling of being so consumed by him. “Fuck, so good, Buck!” You began thrusting your hips, begging him to move within you.

“Fuck, sweets.” Bucky’s thrusts were hard and forceful. “Takin’ me so well, all with no prep. Making me so proud, the way you’re grabbin’ me. Feel like fuckin’ heaven!”

You reached your hands around his back, digging your nails into the strong muscles of his ass to pull him closer, as though you wanted to leave no space between your bodies. “So big, Bucky,” you moaned into his ear as you hitched a leg around his waist, allowing him to go deeper. “Never had anyone fill me up as good as you! Was fucking made for this cock.”

Your words drove Bucky feral, and like flipping a switch, his thrusts went into overdrive.

Between the sound of slapping skin and your wanton moans, you barely registered Bucky’s cell phone ringing. You paid it no mind as he pounded into you, completely ignoring it until you felt his pace falter. Looking up, you saw him reach over and grab it from the coffee table. 

“Come on, Buck,” you whined, “leave it. I’m sure Steve won't mind waiting a bit.”

Bucky looked from the caller ID to you, a combination of embarrassment and frustration on his face. “It’s Vix,” he said, fingers moving to the screen.

“Ignore it,” you told him, feeling the tide of your impending orgasm slowly slipping back out to sea. 

“It might be important,” he said, his voice sounding pathetic to your ears. 

“Barnes,” you warned, your voice low and icy. 

“It’ll just take one second.” He got up, pulling out of you with a slick sound, and you felt your vagina dry up and board shut, closing for business. He turned his back to you as he accepted the call. You didn’t even bother to listen to his half of the conversation-- nothing she had to say to him was important enough for this, opting instead to get up and go into the bathroom.

Your hands were shaking with rage as you tried several times to lock the door behind you before succeeding. You could not believe your ‘boyfriend’ had just pulled out of you, in the middle of sex, to answer another woman’s phone call. An image of his face from this morning flashed before your eyes as you turned on the shower– the guilt that seemed to cross his features when he had realized you were watching him spar with Jade. You’d been so quick to put it to the back of your mind, to ignore it, but now? After this? God. Was he thinking about her while he was inside of you? You turned the heat of the water up as far as it would go and grabbed your loofah, preparing to scrub the disgust you felt from your skin.

No. You heard Pepper’s words echo in your head– you can’t control what other people do, you can only control your response to them. And you were not going to fall into your old habits over this. You turned the heat down to a tolerable level and lathered your loofah with soap, needing to (gently, you reminded yourself) cleanse your body of the sweat, sex, and shame. 

As you were rinsing the soap from your body, you heard a pounding on the bathroom door. “Doll?” Bucky’s voice was muffled through the wood. “Doll, what’s wrong? Why is the door locked? If I knew you wanted a shower, I would have joined you.”

Was he fucking serious right now? You took your sweet time, not answering him as you finished your shower, toweling yourself off before you wrapped yourself in your robe. 

With a resigned sigh, you opened the door back into your bedroom, half expecting to find Bucky gone, perhaps to have Jade take care of erection she’d prevented you from finishing off. But he was sitting on the edge of your bed, his boxer briefs back on and elbows resting on his knees. He looked up when he heard the door open.

“Hey,” he said, standing and making his way toward you. “Sorry about the interruption. Vix just had some questions about the training schedule for the rest of the week. But that’s all squared away, so we can get back to it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at him. “You can’t seriously think that I want to have sex with you right now,” you said. Your voice was hard and impassive. 

“What?” Bucky looked genuinely confused. “Why not?”

You walked over to your dresser and pulled out a fresh pair of panties and leggings. With your back to him, you shimmied into them under your robe. “Call me crazy, but I kinda consider you stopping mid-thurst to take a call from another woman, my fucking nemesis, of all people, to be a bit of a mood killer.”

You heard Bucky sigh behind you, and you could just imagine him running his hand through his hair. “Pocket,” he said, “come on. Don’t be so dramatic. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Your entire body stiffened at his words. Turning around slowly, you gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

Bucky held his hands palms-out, as if to indicate he wasn’t a threat to you. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. I was just taking a phone call.”

It took every ounce of control you had within you to not explode on him. You closed your eyes and took one, two, three deep breaths that did nothing to calm you. “You took a phone call,” you said, “in the middle of sex. With a girl who has been a problem between us since the moment she showed up. How do you not get that that is not okay? At fucking all?”

“God, I thought therapy was supposed to help fix your problem,” he said, “not make it worse.”

You blanched at that. “My problem?”

“Yes, your problem,” he said, voice rising. “I haven’t done anything wrong, but you keep trying to paint me out to be the bad guy. You make me feel like a fucking cheater when I’ve never even touched her.”

“You don’t need to touch her to be having an emotional affair with her, Barnes,” you said, voice quiet. 

“An emotional affair?” he barked out a laugh. “We’re just friends.” 

“Just friends?” you asked, incredulous. “I’m ‘just friends’ with Steve. Should I take a call from him when I’ve got your dick inside of me?” You watched in real time as Bucky’s expression darkened. You hated using his insecurities about Steve to make a point, but he was leaving you no other choice. You didn’t know how else to make him understand why he was hurting you so badly.

“That’s completely different,” he said through clenched teeth. 

You raised your chin. “It’s not different, at all, and you know it. If I stopped having sex with you to take a call from Steve, you would be livid. And honestly, I’m so disappointed in you for pretending like it’s not the same! That’s so disingenuous, Bucky.”

Bucky tilted his head back and sighed. “I feel like we’re going around in circles here, Pocket,” he said, voice heavy. “You keep getting upset, and I keep trying to reassure you, but it’s like you want there to be something going on between her and I.”

“I keep getting upset because you have no fucking concept of appropriate boundaries, Bucky!” you shouted at him. You startled yourself– you’d hardly ever raised your voice at him in anger. From the look on his face, it had taken him aback, too. “I shouldn’t have to be constantly telling you that your interactions with her are inappropriate for a guy in a monogamous relationship! It’s fucking exhausting, but every time I think we’ve made progress, you turn around and do something that makes me feel even worse!”

“Well, if I’m so fucking exhausting, then why are you even still with me?” he shouted back at you.

You stared at him, eyes wide. Was this it? Was this where he left you for Jade? Had you finally pushed him too far?

But his face immediately fell as he realized what he had just said. “Hell. Doll, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know what to do to make you feel better.” He took a step toward you, opening his arms, and you let him embrace you, though you didn’t hold him back. “I don’t know how to convince you that there’s nothing between her and I.”

You looked up at him. “Think of Steve,” you said. He narrowed his eyes as he looked down at you. “What I mean is,” you continued, “when you’re about to do something with Jade, ask yourself if you would be comfortable with me doing that with Steve, knowing how he feels about me. But instead of Steve being your best friend, imagine that he was actively trying to break us up. Like, would you be cool with me and Steve going off and forgetting about you in Central Park? Or would you be happy watching Steve sit on top of me during a sparring session while you listened to agents talk about it's just a matter of time before we start fucking?” You could tell by the way his arms tense around you that the very thought angered him. “Or if I decided that it was so important that I take a call from Steve that I just stopped having sex with you, even after you told me to ignore it. Don’t tell me none of that wouldn’t make you feel like absolute shit.”

Bucky blew out a breath and pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “You’re right,” he said sadly. “That would drive me insane. I’ll work on it. I’ll… I’ll try to think of Steve.”

You sighed. “I need you to do more than try, Buck,” you told him. “I need you to do it. Cause this, the way things are right now? It’s killing me.”

The look Bucky gave you then was enough to break your heart. You knew, you truly knew he wasn’t doing any of this on purpose, but he couldn’t keep falling back on his cluelessness as an excuse. Not anymore. Not when it was destroying you.

“Mne ochen' zhal', moya lyubov'.” I’m so sorry, my love. “I will do it.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him. You were relieved that he was finally, hopefully, seeing where you were coming from, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but wonder how many more times he was going to put you through this. “I love you,” you said into his bare chest.

“I love you, too,” he replied. After a beat, he said: “So, I guess sex is off the table for this afternoon?”

You chuffed at that, then looked back up at him. “Seriously?" you asked, giving him a look. "Obviously, for now; don’t be stupid,” you said. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be persuaded to revisit the possibility later.”

Bucky smiled down at you. “I can work with that,” he said. “How about a movie, instead? I’ll take a shower, you grab some snacks from the kitchen, and we can watch whatever you want.”

“Mmm,” you said, feeling hopeful. “You will regret giving me that power, Barnes.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[bowieandqueen11]

Jesse Pinkman Being Jealous Would Include...

Request: omg so glad you’re writing for breaking bad rn cause i literally just started watching it and i’m obsessed 😭 could you do jealous jesse pinkman please? (hcs or a fic whatever you want)

Oh my gosh yay I'm really glad you started watching it!! If you haven't already you 100% have to watch Better Call Saul afterwards it's one of my favourite shows of all time! :)

Warning: spoilers for later seasons of the show! Mentions of drugs, mentions of drinking/alcohol, mentions of burn injuries, light swearing, mentions of trauma!

(I do not own Breaking Bad or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @tilldeathdousart.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Baby boy, baby boy. meow meow cat man. its so hard writing you as jealous because i feel if anyone started flirting with your s/o you would just break down crying and honestly same we love an in touch with his emotions king loml honestly

Jesse has always been the jealous type. Hot headed. Easily wound up by bullies ten times his size and a thousand times more ferocious and cutthroat than he had ever tried to be. Almost as easily as he had slipped into that easy routine of being ass over heels, devastatingly in love with you. The kind where every night, he tosses and turns in his mildew spelling bed, plagued by thoughts of doing nothing all day but sloppily kissing your lips between blunts. The kind where he has to stare up at the sky after he's been caught staring, until his retinas burn the sunlight into the back of his skull, yet the pain is nowhere near as cataclysmic as the hurricane your smile brings to his heart.

He had far too many years to temper it, to try and smother his love, and yet over time he seemed to get worse and worse and worse at stopping it from choking at his throat. He wasn't so bad during high school: sure, you found him a little odd, the way he would brag to his friends in the corridor about how he'd never 'studied a day in my life, man!', and yet in Chemistry he would be chewing the edge of his pen and scribbling furiously down on his paper during the end of term quiz.

He was terrible at tempering it, and you were terrible at seeing it.

Little did you know, that all the words he scratched down with his shaking hand were either complete guesses, or absolute gibberish. He had no idea what the paper was even supposed to be on, but you were sitting beside him, and so he wanted to look as smart in front of you as he possibly could. Bless his heart, to everyone else he was so obvious: Mr White would just peer over his shoulder and shake his head, his mouth in a lined frown as he watched Jesse peer like a meerkat over the side of the desk to stare at you from behind his slipping down beanie.

Some of his friends, his 'gang' as he liked to call them, were snickering from a couple of benches behind at the way he was trying to look clever by placing his fist under his chin, but his elbow kept slipping off the edge thanks to his baggy hoody. Even Justin Treller, the guy sitting to your right, and the kid Jesse was getting more and more annoyed with every time he leant over to whisper something in your ear, was evidently enjoying the way the tips of Jesse's ears were beginning to burn with embarrassment.

Eventually, when you began giggling at the things Justin was leering further and further towards you to murmur, Jesse began to snap. That's when he began doing stupid shit to make you laugh, like plugging the tube in and flicking his hand through the Bunsen Burner flame to try and impress you with his pain tolerance. When Jesse inevitably ended up being sent to the nurse's office for such a dumbass idea, he was wincing so harshly at the pain that he nearly tore through his bottom lip, leaving a nice scar. You volunteered to bring him down, spending half of your lunch period taking care of him.

He sat caved in on himself, trying to make himself as small a target as possible on one of the fold out chairs. He was obviously embarrassed, by the way his voice kept cracking each time you tightened some of the new dressing over his fingers. Mainly he was talking to try and distract you from the way his hands were shaking, so desperate to reach out and brush over your cheek that he nearly sobs with the effort. He also doesn't want you to notice how pathetic he looks: how he so subconsciously prepares himself for the mental barrage from his mother, or the physical threats from the people he deals with out in the streets, that he looks like a meek kitten sitting there with his palms down on his knobbly kneecaps.

He had known then, of course. He had known, as you pressed your lips chastely against the back of his sore knuckles, and giggled at the way his cheeks immediately flushed like a blooming snapdragon, that you would always be the love of his life. The only thing, behind the emotional neglect, the gossip, the drugs, the constant damn pressure, that he truly had chosen to care about. Which is why, after he bought his parents house and asked if you'd want to live in it, free of rent, he was shocked that you said yes.

Good things don't usually happen to this boy. And seeing how you were the best of all, he had to swallow his heart and just smile at your words, terrified he was going to ruin you.

I mean, living there at first had been easy enough. You had been round (or smuggled in by Jesse) so many times since that day in the nurse's office, that it felt like a second home to you. His parents, while they had still been speaking to Jesse, had absolutely adored you. They would always be teasing their son during family dinners about how he had been saving up doing his *wink wink* 'paper rounds' late at night, just so he could save up for the big wedding he was planning. Blushing ferociously, Jesse would duck his head down until his forehead banged against the tablecloth, begging his mom with that tired drawl to 'please... just stop'.

Somehow, somehow you just... never saw it. Perhaps you were laughing too much at the way Jesse's father was pretending to elbow his son to notice. Maybe, you were trying to cover your own eyes in mortification. I'm not sure, but I do know that you never seemed to notice the gut-wrenching look of pure hope Jesse would throw your way, once he had mustered the strength to peek his head up again.

While he shook his head and bit at the corner of his fingernail, while he poked and prodded at his escaping garden peas, while he took an awkward sip of his water and pretended to glance around the table. He was always looking your way, as if you had tied his heart to a string, his compass pointing him north, directing him back to his true home. His eyes would just linger on you like a listless man possessed from between the prongs of his fork, stabbing harshly at the plate in time with his thudding heart.

His heart sure was beating now. So ferociously, he thought it was about to splinter and explode out of his chest, implanting the chards everywhere until they were all that was left in memory of him. He knew you were getting sick of the constant parties. Of him being dazed 24/7. Of not knowing why he lashed out all the time. He knew it wasn't fair, but every time he closed his eyes he just saw Gale's pleading eyes beginning to burn itself into the safe memories he kept in the back of his head. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't breathe from all the sobbing. He couldn't even think in peace. So he just bit the cap off another beer bottle and fell down heavily on the edge of his brand new thousand dollar sofa, imprisoning himself in self-isolation despite being lost amidst a sea of people.

It was right at that moment you decided to try and brave down the stairs, having to hold onto the bannister for dear life as you jumped down each step, the bass vibrating through the walls until they shook. As you peered over mountains of baggie hoodies and tripped over lumps of passed out people on the floor in your effort to try and find Jesse, you accidentally bumped into the back of one of Skinny Pete's friends. You apologised as he turned around, which would have been fine if he hadn't taken one look at you and decided you were his main entertainment for the night. The smell of stale weed and lukewarm beer radiated off his sour breath as he leant down to rasp against the shell of your ear, sending a chill rolling down your back. You tried to compress your shoulders and squeeze past him, but the guy would not stop trying to grab onto your waist and pull you back, staring very blatantly down at your chest.

You knew Jesse had been shoved into the deep end of some shady business recently, but the way he had been acting over the last while had been frightening you. So despondent. So careless. To come home every day and find him almost completely blazed out of his mind on the floor, seemingly not recognising you as he failed to respond to your greeting. Not realising that as soon as you wandered into the kitchen to put the groceries away, those desperate, love strung eyes were following your heels. He nearly cried out for you, voice hoarse and heavy in the back of his throat.

If he had mustered the energy, he would have gotten onto his hands and knees and crawled like a baby on the floor to follow after you. The way you would beg him at 2 a.m. to turn down the music, and he would just grab at your hands and try to get you to join in his terrible on the spot jump-dancing. You never discerned how heartbroken he seemed to be when you jolted back from him as if shot; his bottom lip would quiver and he would sink to his knees when your bedroom door finally slammed shut. 

He couldn't take it. He couldn't take it anymore. First it had been his parents. Then the drugs. Then Mr. White, Gus, Gale, Mike, Saul, the pressure just kept building up and up and up and he didn't know how to escape it. Too cowardly to run away, just as he had always been resigned into believing you could never love him back. Too submissive. Too easily used. And now, now there was barely anything left of him. Sometimes, sometimes that scared kid would try to crawl out of his throat when he was alone at night, but he would just choke on his tears in the darkness until he had drowned him again.

So what does he do? Gets off his face drunk, and throws another mind numbingly monotonous party until the walls start spinning and he doesn't even know who's coming through those doors anymore. Hell, he still half expects his mother to come busting through, chiding him for having drugs in the house. For having you in the house, with such company present. For being a coward.

Now he had just brought more trouble on himself. If the company he now decided to keep didn't get his hands off you in approximately ten seconds, you were going to knock him on his ass in front of all his little buddies.

Thankfully, Jesse seemed to have a sixth sense as to when you were in trouble, and he had been steadily keeping his beady eyes on you ever since you reached the top step. Before you could shove the guy back, Jesse's already doing it for you. As soon as he’s by your side you can tell he’s wound up: not by the way he comes striding over, shouting over the beat and lowering his head as if he’s about to headbutt the guy. Not from the way his hand flies in his face, or the swears, the long string of increasingly ridiculous ‘bitch’ related insults he calls him, but from the way he looks so, so tired. He looks on the verge of tears, his eyes bloodshot as he brushes gently past you to start shoving the guy out the front door, yelling above the music to shepherd everyone else out as well.

'Jesse... seriously, you need to tell me what's going on, right now.'

When the door finally slams shut, you know him well enough that the best thing to do is just let his head cool down for a minute. When he was younger, that used to involve ringing you up whenever his parents had threatened to kick him out again; you would come clambering over the picket fencing lining his immaculately manicured side-yard to see him sitting on the edge of his windowsill, smoke rings blowing out the side of his mouth as he waited in the dark for you to arrive. His hand would shake as he hefted you up from the piping by his bedroom wall, awkwardly landing you down half on his feet as he would just stay beside you all night. He would speak from time to time, asking you about what you wanted to do once you managed to escape from this dump ass town. But mainly, he just leaned his head back and listened to your voice, gazing up at the faraway stars as if it were the only place he could possibly be truly free.

But now, he was far worse off than you ever could have imagined. He hunched over, as if he had a spiked collar weighted around his neck as he lumbered past you, crawling down onto the floor. He drew his knees up to his chest as he sat back against his brand new surround sound speaker, ducking his head into the gap and clawing at the back of his neck until you worried he was about to draw blood.

It was horrifying, hearing how he gasped between retching sobs as you sunk down on the floor next to him.

You tentatively reached out to place a hand on his back, kicking an empty pizza box out of the way with your foot so you could sit with the side of your thigh touching his. As soon as you made contact, he leapt at you like a rabid dog, clawing and clenching and biting his teeth into his shirt as he fell onto your chest.

‘Please. Please don’t leave me’, he gasped out between heaving cries, looking up at you with eyes so dejected, it were as if someone had stifled out the blinding stars once in them with dark clouds. Bits of saliva stuck between his teeth as he screwed his eyes shut once again and began bawling even harder, falling like a broken bird as you held the back of his head and guided it down to rest just above your breast bone.

‘I love you’, he starts sobbing, fists bunching up the material at the back of your shirt. It was you. It always has been. And if you walked out that door with the rest of them, he had nothing left. He would willingly roll over, and let himself just rot away. 

You sure as hell saw it now.

Eventually, after you rock him back and forth against the floorboards for a while and just cradle him in a way he’s never experienced during his years on earth, he becomes more placid against you. It helps that at some point, you had absentmindedly begun to trace the silvery wisp of an outline that had been left on his bottom lip all those years ago, your pointer finger glancing back and forth as it quivered. He was almost entirely curled against you now, pretending to be asleep so you wouldn’t stop, but his breath froze when he heard you whisper ‘I love you too’ against the top of his hair.

He’ll feel really sheepish the next day when he finally wakes up, peering round the corner with his hand behind his head when he spots you trying to straighten out the crick in your neck after a night spent on the floor. He’ll come apologizing with his go to breakfast: a childhood favourite of pancakes absolutely drenched in maple syrup; they were the kind his mom would make if she were in a good mood at the weekends. When he would sit at the table the morning after you slept over, watching stupid cartoons his brother had put on the small television, grinning to himself as some dripped down his chin. It had been the happiest he had been in his life.

Although he still has that boyish, soulful smile on his face as he sits criss-cross down beside you, you can tell that he’s still plagued by how wet his eyes are: how heavily he’s blinking.

‘I really do love you, you know that right?’, you whisper, taking the plate from him.

‘Yeah, I do.’

Suddenly your fork goes crashing to the floor, forgotten about as you lean forward to kiss him, nearly surprising the heck out of him as his teeth clash against yours. He’s quick to reach up and tenderly, oh god, so gently cradle the side of your cheeks, but that’s soon abandoned as he readily allows you to guide him until his back is against the floorboards. You clamber over until you’re almost straddling him, beginning to smile yourself as you feel him grin against your top lip, the soft peals of his giggles breaking out against the surface of your tongue as you dip down against him.

And suddenly, his life seemed like it was worth fighting for again. He was going to get out of this. He was going to escape. He was going to win. Not for himself, but for you.

[lxstfathier]

Can you do another William afton smut but can it be like less of y/n being all sweet and can you do it more that y/n is more a rockstar and more like Marla from fight club (don’t what y/nn to be kawaii) thanks :)

I have a little fic for you anon. I’m not sure if it’s exactly what you wanted, but i hope you like it! 💗

Warnings: dom!william, spanking, fingering, age-gap, orgasm denial.

William has been watching you.

It’s not like he’s a stalker or something, but he stares a little longer whenever he sees you around, hanging out with his dumbass of a son and his group of friends, causing chaos in the neighborhood.

But William is not stupid. He knows you don’t belong there, he knows you’re not a natural troubled person like them. And he’s pretty sure that, behind all those dark clothes and feisty attitude, you’re just a submissive girl waiting to be tamed.

And who would a best tamer than him?

That’s how you got here, bent over his desk with your skirt lifted up, just after you told him to go fuck himself.

William uses one hand to pin you down, and the other one to slap your plump butt as hard as he can, making you cry out in pain as he enjoys the way your delicate skin turns red.

“Not so clever now, are you, little trouble maker?” He says with a deep voice, not really expecting an answer, just having you under his control is enough for him.

But you do. You answer, with an unusual sweet tone in your voice.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Afton.”

William let’s out a mocking chuckle, and then, instead of spanking you this time, he pulls your panties down your legs, exposing your pretty cunt, all soaked and begging to be touched.

One of his calloused fingers explores your folds, spreading your slickness, quickly finding your clit to rub it in slow circular motions.

“This is all you fuckin’ needed to drop that stupid attitude” he says, shoving your face against the cold wood of his desk. “A man old enough to be your dad to teach you who is in charge.”

Suddenly, William slips two fingers inside you, continuing his movements on your clit with his thumb, making you moan and arch your back in pure pleasure.

He pumps his digits at a fast pace, curling them slightly, reaching that soft spot deep inside that has you feeling that familiar heat in your lower belly, instinctively bucking your hips to meet his hand.

It’s too much. You clench hard around him, with your orgasm creeping closer. But right before you can come undone, William stops, taking out his fingers and slapping your wet pussy, causing you to jolt.

“Bad girls are not allowed to cum, you should know that.”

[all-pacas]

I saw some of your posts saying how observant and clever Chase is,while also being a "dumb whore". I feel like this is the right place to say that I don't find his "ditzy slut" moments funny in isolation,without taking his cunning,calculating traits into account. If Chase is just a "himbo",it takes away the shock value(not to mention I've seen way funnier "simple dumbasses" than "isolated Chase moments"). On the other hand,a guy who can clearly think on his feet making terrible mistakes that could be avoided by a bit of common sense is a recipe for hilarious "wtf?" moments. Like,I've seen you deduce stuff with striking accuracy with minimal information,how did you come with such an inane conclusion? It's what they call "high intelligence,low wisdom".

Also,I saw a post of you saying Foreman is "book-smarter" than Chase,while the latter is more observant and a "people-person",besides having more "improvising" skills. This is certainly interesting,considering their backgrounds(Foreman was raised in the hood,had some involvement with gangs;whereas Chase was a rich brat with many opportunities. One would think their skillsets would be inverted,lol)

Even before I finished reading this comment, I was planning on making a "he's a high in/low wisdom," so thanks for making that joke for me, lol.

The thing is, Chase is legitimately very lazy. Or like. He works hard and he's very good at his job, but I think it's interesting that both his specialties are… obviously to be a doctor you have to be smart, but he has very hands on specialties. His job isn't to memorize and know everything about auto-immune diseases, his job is to be great at cutting people open and fixing them. Again, I am well aware surgeons and intensive care takes a lot of knowledge! But it's interesting to me, you know? He definitely comes off as less cerebral.

And he's deeply unambitious. He spends half the show in a fellowship, a training program, because he's more comfortable there. Cameron and Foreman have a subplot about writing articles; we never hear anything about Chase doing the same. House literally has to fire Chase to get him off the team. Where Foreman is always desperately trying to prove himself and be the best doctor in the room, and where Cameron is honestly also deeply competitive and demands respect, Chase… we joke about him being spineless, he is spineless, but also he never really seems to mind it. He doesn't care. He does not seem offended Foreman keeps getting put in charge, nor does he really want it for himself. He has the most seniority of the fellows, but never plays it up; he's fine where he is. And I think that's where his 'laziness' comes in. He just… doesn't try very hard. Very rich kid of him, tbh. He coasts whenever possible.

Meanwhile Foreman is a huge perfectionist, and has a huge inferiority complex. He is the first to tell everyone he had perfect grades (he tells Chase a time or two), went to top schools, has a perfect resume, because Foreman derives a lot of his self worth from being able to say that: if he's the best, no one can say he doesn't belong. I think it's because of his background that he's like this: he's a Black man from a Bad Neighborhood and has a Record and he's absolutely aware what that makes him in the eyes of others. He can't afford to be like Chase — Chase can get away with being lazy and unambitious because he's a rich, good looking, white guy (and foreign, at that — but the good kind of foreign, who speaks English as a first language and comes from a rich and successful family). If Foreman acted like Chase — like he didn't give a shit about his career, like he was just working for House for the hell of it — it would look different. It would feel different. Foreman is a perfectionist and has an inferiority complex because his whole life the world has told him he's not as good, he's doomed to "turn out" bad, he won't and can't amount to anything because of who he is. Cameron is assertive and ambitious and gets really touchy when people underestimate or overlook her, because she's sensitive and kind and weak (Foreman himself tells Cameron he thinks she needs to "toughen up"), and so she also constantly has to prove herself, and that she can be a Good Doctor And Leader while still being compassionate and soft. Again, Chase doesn't have to worry about any of this. He can be unambitious and easy-going about his career, because it doesn't really matter to him in the same way. He doesn't have to be the best student or get the best marks and have the best record. He has very little to prove.

And in a way, Chase is in the same kind of perception trap as the others. Not to suggest he has it soooo much worse than Foreman, but because he's a Rich Good Looking Dude, you kind of expect him to be a nepobaby. You kind of expect him to be useless and underqualified and shallow. To coast on his looks and to not have brains and have no idea how to manage in the Real World. It's definitely how Foreman sees Chase — he says as much, and lowkey hates him for it, and fair enough — but again what's interesting to me is where it isn't quite true. Chase is brilliant, when he cares enough to try. His apathy is learned, not born from an easy life; he comes off as cool and easy-going but holds grudges and resentments and trauma about two inches down. He's afraid of rejection and trying and failing, and so stays in his comfort zones. But where Foreman spends all his time and energy trying to prove the entire world wrong, to fight every automatic perception of who he is as a person, Chase leans in to his own facade. I actually think that S8 Foreman is a pretty happy person. I think S8 Chase, Chase MD in House's office, is at least 70% miserable.

[bimbos-are-angels]

Scream for me? pt. 2

AN: Hey guys! Back with the part 2, thank you all for your continued support! If you enjoy, consider reblogging please!

Pt. 1 Here: https://www.tumblr.com/bimbos-are-angels/758029823922880512/scream-for-me?source=share

CW: Dead Dove, Obvs MDNI, Kidnapping, Mentions of toxic behavior, Kidnapping, P in V, BJ, Unprotected Sex.

With labored breaths, you walked backward towards the stairs to make a quick escape. 

“Darling- Don’t run away from me now… That’s just not polite” Your intruder slowly muttered, words getting muffled behind his white mask. 

“Get the fuck away from me you freak” You spat back. 

In a flash, he had you knocked to the floor, and stood above you. He had such a proud stance it was difficult for you not to feel scared. 

“You’re smart-” He knelt. “- A clever girl like you has to be rewarded for figuring out my little game.”

After having the wind knocked out of you and coughing for a bit, you finally were able to get on your knees to look up at him.

“Who the hell are you? What the hell is going on?” 

“Shh- You’ll find out soon enough.”

He grabbed you by your hair, and then yanked you to your feet. Feeling a cold object hit your lower back, you had to listen to his every request and command. “Walk” You quickly scurried to match this intruder's speed. He opened the door to his car, and pushed you into the passenger's side. The man got into the driver's side, turned on the car, and drove away in a flurry. After an hour of driving, you had fallen asleep because of how late it was. However, you woke up quickly to the sound of a car door slamming shut, and the man opening yours to guide you into a small cabin. Unaware of your surroundings, you shook with fear and intrigue. 

“Do you recognize me?” 

“You’ve got a mask on dumbass.” You snarkily replied. You heard a muffled chuckle. Taking his mask off, you did recognize him. You had worked with this guy. 

Dan… Danny.

He was a quiet guy, kept to himself. You would be lying if you didn’t have a small work crush on him. He was so dedicated to his work. You would find yourself staring at him as he rolled up his sleeves and wrote with such devotion. The way he would push back the hair in his face as he intently stared at his work. The one time you two worked on a case together, he brought you coffee every morning. You wish you had gotten to know him better, but you assumed that he was the type to care more about his work than any woman he would be with. 

“Danny… Right?” 

You finally saw his face, and you were met with a small smile that crept from his lips. He slowly trudged up to where you were standing and cupped your face with his large hands. 

“Nice job. I wouldn’t expect any less from you, you still have that smart brain and witty mouth I love.” You felt your face get hot. 

“I’m sorry it had to come down to this my darling- I couldn’t get you out of my head and I wanted to see you work your sweet little head off one last time.” Every word he said to you trickled out of his mouth like honey. It felt real and genuine. He kissed you and you felt yourself kissing him back. Moaning when his hands traveled down to your hips and ass, he groaned and moved down to kiss your neck and collarbones. Danny stopped for a second to see your reaction- and he nearly lost it when he saw your slack face and seductive eyes staring up back at him. Pushing you down to your knees and unbuckling his belt, he groaned

“Suck me off."

You were shocked by his dick, it was...huge. You struggled to fit his whole length into your mouth, but you slowly were mesmerized by the fluid motion of sucking him off. He began to twitch and grab your hair with one hand to 'comfort you' and he covered his mouth with the other hand. When he finished, he was a whimpering mess. You took off your pants, thinking that if he was going to use you, you wanted to finish what he had started. Sitting in his lap, you slowly took in his length. As you bottomed out, you let out the most gorgeous moan that he had ever heard. He needed you... he had killed for you... and he would do everything in his power to keep you in his life forever. Fucking into him- you rocked your hips up and down in an erratic motion. When your hips started to hurt, he took over and began to pump into you over and over. Before he came, he looked into your eyes- your bloodshot and tired eyes. Gripping your ass, he finished inside and then collapsed beside you. The exhaustion had finally taken you as you fell asleep next to him. He made a promise that night, that he would always protect you... even from a distance ♡

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Okay but........ Alphonse/Lucien,,,

Big man x Big man???

I tried to come up with a clever ship name and I couldn't smh

Ah, a chaotic crackship. Two dumbasses telling each other exxactllyy. Also I'm calling this demonic candy!!

Ngl was kinda trying to figure out how they'd get together.

But it would he interesting on how they would meet? Maybe Al accidently somehow summoned Lucien while baking with Boo. Lucien already met Angel and their roommates and Al w Boo are really good friends.

Before baking Boo got a cook book (it was a old witch's summoning g book in disguise) from someone and asked Al if he wanted some demon cookies. While baking Al cut himself and it got into the mixture, so once the cookies were fully baked.

Lucien just appeared out of no where confused bc he was debating with Angel on what cookies were the best. Cue Al and Boo panicking, Alphonse actually throws something at the demon and the red man just. Stared at him bc you really thought that'd work?

Boo befriends Lucien bc come on they loved his comments and help with their baking. Alphonse makes jokes about it being hell's kitchen, Lucien laughs and Al keeps cracking jokes.

Angel gets called and drives to the town, meets the other two and basically exchanges numbers bc Lucien doesn't have a phone yet. It's real funny bc it's basically Lucien taking Angel's phone to talk to Boo and Al. When Angel can get time off work the group hangs out with each other.

But Lucien since he's a demon literally just teleports when he gets a text from Boo. After so many times of having the share the phone Angel got him one. Alphonse after getting use to Lu just teleporting in at random times finds it funny.

I feel like Alphonse falls first bc he's telling Boo how funny Lucien is. And then when Boo says an off comment how he's also hot as hell, giggling at their own pun. Alphomse is sitting there like, wait their right-

Boo laughs as they catch on and text Angel about it. Angel being a agent of Chaos starts talking to Lucien about his opinion of Al. The demon rambles on about how he's really cool and loves the candy he gets when Al takes some from the shop.

As Lucien thinks about how Alphonse treats him he slowly realized that, he might like the Pastel punk. Bc Angel is his friend and like the only mortal he's been with for a while. But with Alphonse it's different so he's trying to figure out wtf is going on.

Angel and Boo get them together during a Halloween party thing the town hosts. Lucien has the time of his life scaring kids and eating candies. Alphonse sees how so comfortable he is and blurts out that he's really handsome. Lucien pauses and he looks down a bit, says thanks and you are too.

Alphonse cracks and also blurts that he likes big red. The demon cackled and he tells Alphonse he likes him too. Both continue having fun as they play tricks for kids and pass out candies.

Kinda can't figure out another way they'd get together. If you guys have any ideas tell me I the comments!!

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Just started Medjed arc of P5R; here are my current thoughts on the characters I know so far:

Joker: Look, I know people say he's a "self-insert" but I really, really see a few very distinct personality traits in him. He's lost in thought a lot. He zones out. He's really goal-driven. He's clever. He's a risk-taker. He's wary of consequences. He takes a little while to trust people, especially adults. He's suspicious and easily annoyed. He's on your side. He wants to help. He's a snarky little shit. His compassion is as much his defiance as his bitter disdain. He's hesitant. He's confident. He's bluffing. His respect is earned. His assistance isn't. He's free. He's chained. He's larger than life. He's a dumbass dork of a teenager. Incredibly fun character to play as, 10/10. I love that you can actually see him becoming more confident as time goes on. His dialogue options also become sillier/snarkier/more teasing as he becomes closer with people. It's just fun. I have a lot more thoughts on him but I'm going to stop here. I'd love to do a bit of an analysis on him once I finish the game - I'd like to go back through his main story dialogue options and his idle and specific scene animations. Plus, they seriously popped off with his character design. There's so much I could say about that alone.

Ryuji: Ryuji, my beloved. I wish you were less horny in uncomfortable ways in some scenes - I think, as well as Atlus not knowing what teenage girls are like, they also have not... spoken to people raised by single mothers, or mothers who got out of an abusive relationship... but anyways, asides from that, I love Ryuji. I think his desire for popularity makes a lot of sense - he's only ever stood out in a bad way. He just wants to be liked, you know? And he doesn't think he's enough the way he is. He's trying his best. I need him to shut up so bad but also I hope he never shuts up, you know. He's genuinely so funny, and he's the most ride or die of anyone. Ryuji gets angry on everyone's behalf when they can't muster up their own anger yet. Everyone say thank you, Ryuji.

Morgana: I do not get the hate for this not-cat; he's so funny to me. He's becoming a little more aligned to the thieves' morality, which is probably for the best since at the beginning he was definitely down with accidental murder and totally open about his pragmatism. He actually encourages this in Joker. It's just funny. I love my emotional support not-cat bestie who sits in my desk at school then tells me to go strike shady deals with random people in back alleys. You can definitely see a change in Morgana though; he's becoming more excited about helping people for the sake of it (like Joker, he too has gained purpose), but he's also becoming more insecure.

Ann: She remains my favourite of the Thieves. If Ryuji is the original drive and Morgana the original method, then she is the original conviction. The strength to stand with victims. The desire to force those who hurt others to understand the feelings of said victims. She has the rawest fucking lines at the end of the Kamoshida arc. She loves Shiho so much, and I really feel like her and Joker are on the same page when it comes to things deeper than their surface level interests. Get you a friend like Ann fr. It's a shame that later scenes have her mostly just getting mad at the guys when they uhhh... act like horny guys towards her. Feels bad man, especially because I love the aspect of her character that wants to be more comfortable with her sexuality and have that be on her terms. <- That's really cool, actually! Why couldn't we do more with that...? As a note though, I seriously love her admiration towards female cartoon villains and that one mean girl model. I think that's so funny and also such a mood. I do not believe for one second that Ann is straight. I hope she becomes the sexy and confidant morally-ambiguous thief of her dreams, and also that she gets a girlfriend. It's what she deserves.

Yusuke: He's so dramatic. Do you expect me not to love him? I really loved his conflict during Madarame's arc - those revelations were absolutely brutal, and Yusuke really handled things well, all things considered. Again, like Ann, there were some raw lines in there. But then, of course, the slump on the other end, when the adrenaline wears off. That Yusuke's painting only showed the dark side of desire tells me that he is still grappling with the effects of all these reveals. He has a lot to process.

Makoto: I just think she's so cute. Her design is adorable. She's such a sweetheart. On the flip side though, while I don't find her as intimidating as the game seems to, I definitely would not want her mad at me. While, as I mentioned before, I found the lead up to her joining the thieves to be a little janky, the actual moment was great. I love that she has a support system now. She really needed that. I hope there are more scenes with her in group settings tbh. While I'm enjoying her one-on-one dynamics with Ryuji and Ann, I do feel like she doesn't really... gel with the group as well as, say, Yusuke did. I think they need to drag her out to more activities lol.

Sojiro: I still don't know yet? He seems like the tough love sort. I do enjoy getting to learn random coffee trivia from him, and it seems like he cares in a kind of gruff way. He also gets a lot of suspicious people coming by. Guess I'll find out more later.

Maruki: Again, I don't know much still. He's endearing and dorky. That salt bae thing still lives rent-free in my head. I feel his frustration with not being able to help more. I get it man. I will say though, the fact that we get to see scenes with the thieves and Maruki, with no Joker present, is... odd.

Kasumi: I... I don't know how to feel. She's too nice. She's too polite. All of her scenes are so weirdly convenient. I like her just fine, but there's something seriously off. I almost feel like she's an outlier on purpose, like she doesn't blend into the world. Unlike Maruki, who is new to Royal but blends into the story quite nicely, Kasumi really stands out, to the point it kind of feels like that was the intention. She is adorable, though, I won't deny that, and I do want her to succeed and all, I just... hm. I don't know how to feel about her.

Akechi: I could fix him (smack him upside the head). <- okay but seriously, he is so obviously suspicious, he so obviously knows about Joker, he's such a smarmy little shit. I would despise him irl, but he's absolutely the funniest character in the game right now. Everything he says has me either cackling or my jaw dropping at the fucking audacity. He's also really interesting to me. Love a character whose every line means three things rolled into one. He feels dangerous and weirdly endearing at the same time. What the hell is his problem (affectionate + derogatory).

Yoshida: YOSHIDA MY ABSOLUTE BELOVED. I love him so far. He's my favourite confidant right now. He just makes me so happy man I love him so much. Yoshida takes the hard road and he's got the conviction, but you need support from people to really turn your life around. Hey, that's kind of what the game is about, yeah?

Takemi: Oh I love her confidant so far. I don't know that she's one of my favourites, character-wise, but I was especially taken with her dedication to that medicine, and Joker's response to her saying that she doesn't suit everyone coming to her for medical help by countering her with an "it suits you". Very sweet. I'm getting close to finishing her confidant; I just need to level up charm.

Mishima: I'm almost done his confidant too! I actually enjoy Mishima's character. I feel like his downward spiral made a lot of sense, and I like that he's both helpful and made me feel a bit uncomfortable. I especially like that he's pulling himself out of that fame mentality by himself, without his heart being changed. We just gave his shadow something to think on.

Kawakami: Idk how I feel about this, but the perks are good. I'm curious about her though.

Sae: She seems dedicated to her job. Forming a confidant with her during the interrogation was something I did not expect and had me going "ohohoho". But man, some of the stuff she says to Makoto is way out of line... I'm glad she's at least aware as soon as it leaves her mouth, and I cannot imagine the constant stress and scrutiny she's under but... still. Girl. :/

Iwai: I'm going to properly start his confidant soon. He's cool. I feel like he's not nearly as scary as he makes himself out to be.

Ohya: Don't know much about her so far, but she's a disaster, and I will always enjoy a good disaster woman.

Lala: SHE'S PERFECT. I wish there was a mechanic where you could get advice from Lala-chan. She's looking out for everybody. She's good. :)

Chihaya: She told me I'm gonna die... :(

[bengiyo]

Dangerous Romance Ep 2 Stray Thoughts

Last time, Perth continued to play an extremely unlikeable character, but at least a lot of my faves are here as well! Unfortunately, Perth’s character Kanghan is a sexually-repressed bullying asshole with daddy issues, and Chimon’s character Sailom is a clever, world-weary scholarship student who is not planning to lose to Kanghan at all. I’m still not over Chimon’s delivery of “Oops” and am curious where we go after leaving on Sailom kissing Kanghan as a reversal play.

My man Auto reminiscing in class about his bullies getting embarrassed. I feel that.

That’s right Ms. Algebra Teacher, don’t come for my man Sailom.

How often has Kanghan gotten away with lies and manipulation on his family and others that he immediately went that route with his grandmother? He really said to cancel that man’s scholarship.

As others pointed out, I like that we can see more age and wear on Sailom’s clothes, especially when he’s next to Kanghan.

I think Marc’s character’s name is Guy, and I just want him to punch someone properly once. Shit-kicking once is not enough.

I really hate this teacher. I’m with the grandma not letting her authority be misused. This is not how I expected this situation to play out.

THE DEVIL WORKS HARD, BUT GRANDMAS WORK HARDER. She said, “Waste not, want not. I need you to tutor my dumbass grandson.”

Look at Pepper getting to play an antagonist, and he’s armed, too!

Thank you, Name, for providing a motivation for Sailom to contract with Kanghan’s grandmother.

I will take the kneeing to the stomach, but I suppose they can’t just beat each other to death.

Pawin is so fun to watch. He’s only gotten better over the years.

Sailom stay embarrassing this man. Kanghan, how man Ls can one man take?

I know that the actors are riding on a trailer that the crew is driving, but this is still harrowing.

I love that, despite how badly Sailom needs money, he can still sassily hand it back to Kanghan after dunking on him for the umpteenth time.

Calling Sailom a pedophile in a parents group is a new low.

Oh lord. Back to the Cardboard Kingdom.

It’s my understanding that you’re absolutely not supposed to throw Thai currency on the ground, so this feels especially egregious?

It’s about time one of Perth’s asshole characters got punched out.

“All I ask is that you kneel.” “Bend the knee.” Kanghan watches too much TV.

Wait. Now we’re involving firearms? What the fuck.

He’s doing too much, but at least Kanghan looks good.

These dudes out here really stomping a goddamn teenager and now they’re gonna burn him.

This is now the third show this year we’ve seen Perth point a gun at people.

Chimon’s ability to make himself tremble here sells the Kang flashbacks well. Good comparison between the petty beef Kanghan is trying to have with Sailom versus the very real and present dangers of his home life.

Alright, we can shift the dynamic next week I guess.

Chimon is GOOD. Perth is BEAUTIFUL. Pawin is FUN. Euro is FUNNY. I like this cast. I hope this show holds up.

[asherlockstudy]

do you think the 'soft launch' of him saying he's "becoming bi" might be connected to Wonderhole? i.e lightheartedly and gently hinting to their audience very very slowly to see how it lands? love your metas btw x

Thank you <3 I think this was typical Link, passing it quickly as a joke before Rhett can react because Link can't express himself freely due to Rhett. Link's been doing a lot of that these last two years. Surely you saw how Rhett lost three years from his life after Link said that and then he retorted with a "comes as a surprise to who?" which felt a teeny bit more condescending than you would expect from these oh so open-minded guys /s.

There are two ways to interpret Link's joke, the clever dumbass way and the dumbass in despair way:

Clever dumbass:

Link's joke was both stupid and genius because this was a sly way to give away his true orientation, meaning that by enjoying using the scissors, he was finally picking up on what is worth it in sex with women, hinting that he's not exactly straight or bi truly , but it is also really stupid because since he is a guy scissoring is hardly the way to go with a woman and I assume as a father of three he knows that well.

Dumbass in despair:

Link heard a sexuality joke and rushed to partake before Rhett's radar caught up with him. Because he quickly equated same gender sex with scissoring and enjoyed playing with the scissors so much, he meant oh I am liking the scissoring thing therefore I am growing fond of the same sex thing too, not thinking that male to male sex is not about scissoring either (which I also think he knows well). But he wasn't thinking much, he just needed any opportunity he could to blurt it out before Rhett could react.

You know I have been wondering why the last two years Rhett seems so much colder and reserved in response to Link's charms compared to how riled up he used to be 24/7. I reasoned that it was normal, years have passed, maybe he's gotten used to it, they are also older now, it's natural. Sometimes I was also a little worried about it to be honest. But now I am realising it is not only any of that. Link wants to come out so BAD that Rhett lives in a perpetual nightmare. Rhett fears Link could do something unpredictable at any given moment, which stresses him so much that he has trained himself to not act flirty or interested around Link anymore because it could have unwanted consequences. Maybe he can also not even feel his attraction because of how stressed he is. Stress is the biggest cockblock. This applies to GME too btw.

Today that Link was a dainty semi-naked cherub with an attitude, you could see a little more of Rhett's older self in his eyes.

[princesscolumbia]

Peanut Butter...Chocolate...Lyctoral Consumption...Murder?

So I just got done reading an interesting examination of a moment in Nona the Ninth where Alecto emerges from the depths of Nona's consciousness and chastises Pyrra "I'm not the Lyctor, I'm the (he) Or (she) who Lyct Up" Dve. It was good, it was solid, and it was done with the understanding that OP didn't know for sure as they're not Tasmuir.

So you can imagine what a baseball bat to the head it was to see a Psych AU post where Shawn is dead and haunting Gus.

So guess what fell out of the piñata that is my imagination:

Shawn and Gus were born on the Sixth. They weren't supposed to be doing anything with the lyctoral process, but you know how Shawn is...and Gus is always a step behind. You know how they're "Ride or Die"? Well, Shawn is just smart enough ("...a brilliant mind with no impulse control." -Palamedes, who upon meeting Gideon is eternally but silently grateful that she and Shawn never met) piece together how to become a lyctor just from the available material and a few clever questions to the currently living lyctors without ever stepping foot in Canaan House. Because Shawn's knowledge and understanding of the process is SUPER limited, even more so than Ianthe's when she ate Naberius, they're unaware that one of them's gonna die as part of the process, and it's not going to be the necromancer...which is Gus.

Gus goes along with it because he knows Shawn is going to loop in some other more gullible adept and doesn't want anyone to be dealing with Shawn on one of his hyperfixations that isn't used to dealing with him.

Things are going well...until they aren't, and Shawn realizes he's gonna die, but he figures out how to modify the process while they're in the middle of a failed ascension and they become a lyctor...sorta.

Shawn winds up 'haunting' a now ungodly powerful and immortal Gus. Shawn's spirit is inhabiting Gus' body at the same time as Gus' spirit is "consuming" Shawn's, but since Shawn isn't a braindead result of a transference that's intended to be strictly one way, Shawn is 'eating' Gus' spirit at the same time, creating a cycle where both are feeding each other in perfect lyctoral harmony. They don't twig the Resurrection Beasts because "sin" =/= "dumbass fuckup" and Shawn isn't, strictly speaking, dead. It's a symbiosis rather than a parasitic relationship.

So here these two dumbasses are, neo-lyctors, standing over Shawn's dead body. They figure out that they're going to be so screwed if they're caught and someone figures out what they did, so they destroy the body and bug out as fast as possible...

...landing in the midst of BoE on one of the non-Empire human-occupied systems. They're doing their best to lay low and not twig anyone to the fact that they're from the Empire (Gus, thanks to the neo-lyctorhood, looks like a fine, fit, and dare we say sexy man, so nobody pegs him for a necromancer) and Shawn figures out how to do a fancy kinda-sorta projection where he can actually interact with the physical world while still bonded to Gus.

One day there's a murder nearby and Shawn sees all the clues to figure out who-dun-it, and Gus is all, "Naw, man, they're gonna pick us out as Imperial the second those cops see us!"

Shawn, of course, does everything possible to draw attention to the clues, which catches the attention of (you guessed it) Lassie and his partner. Lasiter is suspicious but can't prove anything because the usual 'tells' for a necromancer or lyctor aren't turning anything up. Shawn feeds Gus some line about some grandparent from a few generations back being an expat from the Empire and so Gus is "able to receive messages from the spirit realm" (just Shawn, obvi) and because they can't prove there's a more direct connection to the Empire than that, the police are forced to let Gus go.

Things play out fairly similar to the pilot of Psych from that point forward, but with Gus having to be the point-man for the whole thing while Shawn is getting better and better at manipulating the world around him, including being able to visually manifest by the time Juliet arrives on-planet. She's one of the refugees of a planet destroyed by a lyctor and is absolutely the best officer ever when it comes to hunting down necros...but since none of her tools or experience include anything like what Shawn and Gus have become, she doesn't figure it out for several years, by which point she's fallen in love with Shawn.

Until we get AtN, I have no idea how this would shake out, but my ideal scenario is somehow Paul and Kirona wind up on this BoE planet that Shawn and Gus are on.

[vngelicc]

sbd jk getting jealous when joon pampering oc on their date and jk decides to do the same the next day

“what’s this.” you ask as you see the table full of delicious food, “did you make this?”

“yep,” jungkook grins as he sets the table, “figured you’d be tired and shit so i made food.” he pulls a chair out, “sit, sit.”

“thanks.” you help yourself to some pancakes, “so, what did you and jiho do last night?”

“oh you know, the usual: a movie, some board games and then i got him ready for bed.” jungkook says while slicing up some fruit.

you nod slowly, thanking him when he sets the plate down in front of you, “bullshit. i saw your ass outside the restaurant last night with jiho. you’re not as clever as you think you are.” you glare.

jungkook snorts, “who? me? pfft you’re going crazy, that wasn’t me or jiho.”

“jungkook, you put my son in that ridiculous costume i told you not to dress him in ever. how do i know? because your dumbass is the only one who watches rick and morty and tries to dress their kid up like tiny rick.” jungkook’s hysterical laughing already answers your question.

— sbd jk au.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

"get me a damned matcha" | Chapter 7: December I

{{ Chapter 6: November I | Chapter 8: January I }} Chapter Directory

i finally finished outlining this series! which means i can get all the chapters written ahead of time and i'm so excited because things only get fluffier from here on out skdjfksf

if you wanna get tagged for updates, fill out this form here!

✧ pairing ➼ levi ackerman x fem!reader, college x coffee shop x roommates!au ✧ summary ➼ After you find yourself plagued with misfortune due to struggles in your personal and family life, you find yourself needing to move last minute. As a junior in undergrad with little money and little social support, you considered yourself lucky when you found a sublease that was close to campus and was relatively cheap. Unfortunately, it seemed that your roommate did not seem to be so excited regarding your presence. ✧ content/warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, strangers to lovers, alcohol, college-typical parties, explicit description of an anxiety attack, mentions of death ✧ word count ➼ ~4k

> [you (4:45pm)]: hey you locked me out again > [you (4:47pm)]: hello??? > [you (4:48pm)]: hello??? earth to levi

> [levi (4:50pm)]: Should've come home earlier. I have work.

> [you (4:51pm)]: it's 4:50. u said your shift doesn't start till 5

> [levi (4:55pm)]: It's a 15 minute commute, dumbass.

> [you (4:56pm)]: YOU'RE a sumbass > [you (4:56pm)]: dumbass

> [levi (4:59pm)]: How clever > [levi (5:00pm)]: I made you another Matcha. Get your ass here before it gets cold.

~~~~~

It had started snowing on your way to the café. The weather forecast hadn't called it a snowstorm or anything along the lines of that, but walking through it was still a pain in the butt. You hadn't anticipated having to walk in it, so you were wearing tennis shoes, which meant that snow seeped in, leaving you with cold feet and wet socks. On top of that, you weren't wearing any gloves, so you had to have your hands shoved into your jacket pockets the entire time.

Needless to say, you were more than grumpy by the time you arrived. You shook the snow out of your hair and patted off your coat before sitting down at your usual spot with a more than obvious frown on your face.

Levi's gaze met yours and he pushed the cup of Matcha gently towards you. He seemed to notice your mood and chose to simply hand you the drink without providing commentary on the fact that you had locked yourself out of the house again. 

You mumbled a thanks as you took a sip of the drink that Levi had now been regularly preparing for you whenever you came into the café. Most days you simply appreciated the gesture, but there were also days like this where your mood was nothing but sour, so getting your comfort drink for free was more than needed.

You had left your apartment keys at home while you were in a rush to leave in the morning and then you had missed the bus on your way home. You rushed to your apartment, hoping that Levi was still at home, and were rudely met with a locked door. Today was just full of misfortunes.

You took solace in the fact that the Matcha meant there was at least one thing in your day that you could consider a positive. The day wasn't a complete loss.

"Does this mean I'm trapped with you for the next five hours until your shift is up?" you asked, finally placing the cup back down onto its accompanying plate.

"Fuck no," he responded with a frown. "Having you here for the entire shift will make it a hundred times worse."

Levi didn't miss the subtle pout that appeared on your face. If he didn't know any better, he would've sworn that he had hurt your feelings based on the look in your eyes.

He paused briefly, glancing at you, noting that you really did seem affected by his comment.

"Whatever," he mumbled underneath his breath as he began digging around in his pockets, before pulling out a spare key.

He began to slide it over to you.

"A spare that I made a while ago," he muttered, his fingers still on the top of the key to keep you from immediately grabbing it. "I expect you to give it back."

After emphasizing that last statement, he let go of the key and flicked it closer to you.

It took you a second to react. You hadn't expected this from him.

"Thanks," you said quietly as you took the spare and placed it in your pocket. 

You sipped on the Matcha again, subtly looking up as you watched Levi tend to his station. 

The two of you have kept this routine up for a few months at this point. You'd come in, he'd prepare you a drink, and you'd exchange some banter with him before he went back over to his station. You were surprised every time you saw Levi being completely engrossed in his station. As much as he complained about working here, you could tell he did legitimately enjoy making the specialty teas the café offered. It was probably one of the only things he could do to keep other real life things off his mind. 

You heard the door open (and felt the accompanying freezing wind) behind you.

"Oh hey, _____!" 

You turned towards the door and saw Nicolo leaning against the open door carrying a box of supplies.

"Oi, are you trying to turn this place into a fridge?" Levi called out. "Close the damn door."

Nicolo stepped inside, kicking the snow off his boots. Upon a closer inspection, you could see that he was carrying a variety of baking supplies in the heavy-looking box in his arms, likely to restock his own station.

"Hey!" you greeted with a wave. "How's business been?"

He walked up to you and placed the boxes on the counter, much to Levi's ire since they were still somewhat covered in snow. 

"Slower since you haven't been needing our pastries!"

"Well, the semester's over so activities are paused until after February."

"You going to the party tonight?"

"Probably," you said with a nod. A subtle smirk appeared at the edge of your lips. "I assume you're going with Sasha?"

"Wh-What?!" Nicolo exclaimed as his face flushed up. You had caught him off-guard.

"Nothing," you said innocently as you shut your eyes and continued sipping at your Matcha.

You've seen the two underclassmen interacting here regularly nearly every other day. Although it was none of your business, anybody with even a hint of social awareness could put the pieces together that there was something developing between the two. 

"If you're taking her out, I'd recommend getting something bigger to eat first," you spoke up, turning towards Nicolo, who was still reeling from your comment. "And it's Sasha, so I mean it when I say bigger to eat. It's an end-of-semester party, which means it's a bigger one. Make sure you have something to soak up the alcohol."

You were well aware that neither of them were drinking age, but you weren't dumb. Although there were some that attended parties without ever drinking, you knew it was rare. It was more than likely that the two of them would be drinking in some capacity. You'd rather them be careful, instead of them getting into trouble because you decided to turn a blind eye. 

You didn't notice, but Levi had kept his eyes on you throughout this whole exchange. Every single time you came into the café or interacted with him, the more of you he actually got to see. Although he wouldn't admit it to himself, you were straying further and further from his expectation of you as just another annoying undergrad.

"Are you going with anyone?" Nicolo finally asked after gathering himself.

You nodded. 

"I'm going with Petra and a few others. So I guess I'll see you there!"

~~~~~

Everyone had finally left.

While Levi didn't particularly enjoy closing shifts, he did find them more relaxing than his regular mid-shifts. He got to spend the last 30 minutes or so alone after closing to clean and prepare the café for the next day.

Still, given how late it was, he found himself in a sour mood. Having to be out past 11pm couldn't just be remedied by 30 minutes of cleaning, no matter how much he enjoyed it. He was more than ready to go home and lock himself in his room for the rest of the night.

The snow had stopped and only a small layer had gathered on the ground, but it was still fairly chilly outside. Levi dug his hands into his pockets and frowned at the fact that his breath was visible whenever he exhaled. He knew his car was going to be annoyingly cold once he got in. 

He felt his phone buzz.

He groaned, knowing it was you. He wondered if he should ignore it.

His phone kept buzzing. It was a phone call.

He finally dug out his phone, exposing his hand to the freezing temperatures surrounding him.

"What?" he spoke sternly into the phone, immediately grimacing from the loud background noise that came from the other end. He held the phone about an inch away from his ear. 

"Levi?!" 

He heard you yell into your phone, as if you were surprised that he picked up.

"What do you want?" 

He heard a lot of loud music, which meant that you were still at the party, but also wind blowing into your microphone, indicating that you were outside.

His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to make out whatever it was that you were trying to say. He vaguely heard the words "me" and "up". With the music and the wind fighting for the microphone's attention, he could barely understand a word you were saying.

"What?" 

He heard some shuffling on the other end before your voice began coming through clearer.

"Can you p-pick me up?"

Your voice was unsteady and slurred. You were drunk.

"It's too late into the night, fuck off."

You had gone to the party with friends, so it wasn't like you didn't have a way home. Plus, he already had to pick you up last month at the last minute. He really didn't want this to form into a habit.

However, before he could bring his phone down away from his ear and press the end call button, you spoke again with a sense of urgency.

"Levi, p-please!"

He had noticed that your voice was unsteady the first time, but now he could almost picture you trembling as you spoke. 

You were upset about something. Listening closely, he was vaguely able to tell that you were crying based on the way that your speaking and breathing patterns were not matching up with each other, in addition to the sense of urgency in your voice.

He groaned audibly.

"Fine. Which stupid party are you at?"

~~~~~

Driving through this area of campus was always a pain in the ass. Not only did most of the buses pass through here, but it was also the central location for parties. Most fraternities were located here and it technically wasn't as monitored by campus security, which meant parties could go late into the night and be as wild as they wanted to get without too many repercussions. It was precisely why Levi avoided driving through here.

Yet, he found himself here, driving at a snail's pace, trying to pinpoint your figure out amongst the crowd of drunk undergrads. Given the fact that you were a small person, he had no idea where you could've been.

He parked across the street and shot you a quick text message telling you to get your ass outside within five minutes or he was going to leave. 

The five minutes passed.

He glanced at the frat house you had texted him the address of and still saw no signs of you.

He let out a tut of disapproval as he prepared to re-enter the freezing atmosphere. He was more than irritated as he got out of the car, zipping his jacket up as began walking towards the party.

Despite what he texted you, he wasn't going to leave you here, no matter how much he wanted to go home. He knew how shady these parties could get and that wasn't even considering how upset and intoxicated you had sounded over the phone.

He stared blankly into the crowd, trying to identify you within a sea of people.

It was only by luck that he saw you out of the corner of his eye. You weren't even at the frat house. 

You had stormed off to the nearby street corner, no doubt trying to get away from the party, although it didn't seem like you had a particular destination in mind. 

He began to make his way over to you, but paused once he saw you squat down and hold your chest.

You were upset, drunk, and likely about to be sick because you couldn't control your drinking. 

However, his hesitation quickly faded once he saw that you didn't keel over because you were going to be sick from the alcohol. 

You were struggling to breathe.

His walking quickly turned into a jog as he made his way over to you with a worried look in his eyes.

"What the hell is-"

You were indeed upset about something as tears streamed down your face. Your words were incoherent as you failed to push them out as you hyperventilated, barely taking in any oxygen with each breath in. One hand was placed onto the ground to keep yourself from falling face-first onto the concrete sidewalk, but even that was unsteady. 

"_____?" he called out your name. 

You didn't respond.

"Hey, brat," he said again, more urgently this time. 

When you didn't respond, he kneeled down next to you. 

You were having an anxiety attack. You weren't going to answer him in the state you were in.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and shook you a bit.

"Hey, brat," he spoke again quietly, although still with a sense of urgency as he attempted to ground you.

You rapidly shook your head, your eyes tightly shut, communicating that you knew that he wanted you to calm down, but that you couldn't.

"Look at me," he said sternly.

When you didn't respond, he let out a quiet "tch" before reaching out and gently lifting your chin so that you were looking into his eyes. 

"I said look at me. Do as I say."

Your vision was still wavering, but you were able to somewhat fix your gaze onto his gray eyes. Although you still felt like the world was swirling around you, your immediate field of vision held still. All of your senses seemed distorted, including him, but you tried your best to listen to the words coming out of his mouth.

"Breathe in for four," he instructed.

You parted your lips and took a shaky and unsteady breath in, but it immediately got caught in your throat and you felt your chest convulse as you heaved again. 

He shook your shoulder again to get your attention.

"Through your nose. Try again."

You slowly began to inhale through your nose, never taking your eyes off him.

"Hold for four."

You held your breath, with those four seconds feeling absolutely agonizing. You tried to focus on him as he fixed his gaze intensely on you, refusing to break eye contact with you.

"Out for four. Through your mouth this time."

You exhaled slowly through your mouth, having just done your first successful breathing cycle from within the past twenty minutes or so.

"Good," he said quietly with a nod. "Again."

It took a few more rounds of box breathing, but you were able to stabilize your breathing and somewhat calm your perception of the world around you.

With your anxiety attack somewhat mitigated, you finally collapsed and sat on the ground, burying your face into your hands as you quietly sobbed to yourself.

~~~~~

You were at the same diner as last month. You barely remembered walking in through the doors, much less getting into Levi's car and getting driven here, but you found yourself looking down at the now empty basket of fries and chicken tenders that you had apparently ordered for yourself.

You looked up and saw Levi sitting across the table, having opted for a cup of black coffee. It wasn't like he was going to sleep anyway.

This was the first time that Levi had seen you this upset. Sure, you were upset the last time you were at this diner, but that appeared more similarly to a low mood state, in contrast to him finding you sobbing and hyperventilating on the ground thirty minutes ago.

He could've just taken the both of you home, but considering how unsteady you were as he got you to stand up and how much you were babbling and incoherently apologizing to him, he opted to take you here instead. He figured at least the food would sober you up enough to tell him what the hell had happened.

You had spent the entire car ride sobbing and apologizing to him for a variety of reasons that he had never even thought of or considered. Sure, he was annoyed that you pulled him away from going home and shutting himself in for the night, but apologizing for being useless hardly seemed appropriate.

"...Thanks," you muttered quietly as you sniffled, looking down at the basket of fries. It was less that you were fixated on the fries and more that you were afraid to look up at Levi.

"...Don't mention it," he uttered, taking a few seconds to respond.

You finally glanced up at him, fully expecting him to be scowling at you, but you were instead met with his signature neutral expression.

"I do tend to gravitate towards food when hammered, so..." you said as you trailed off.

"Yeah?" he asked, crossing his arms as he watched you. "So you would've found yourself here regardless?"

"No," you said as you shook your head. "I don't think I would have."

You averted your gaze as you pulled up vague memories of the anxiety attack and Levi coaxing you out of it.

"Not the way that I was anyway."

You didn't expect Levi to come in with knowledge on how to calm you down. Everyone always just said "quit worrying" or "breathe", which did little to nothing. Levi was the last person you had expected to show up and actually walk you through something as fundamental as breathing—but you were grateful. You really didn't know what you would have done had he not shown up when he did.

You felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

"So...thanks," you mumbled again.

You heard him click his tongue.

"Didn't I just say not to mention it?" 

You vaguely saw him grab something and by the time you looked up, a balled up napkin came flying across the table towards you. Levi had bunched it up and threw it at you as a way of getting you to quit apologizing.

You swatted it away right before it hit your forehead, giving him an annoyed glare.

Regardless, it did make you feel better. You were beginning to sober up.

You stared at the balled up napkin for a few seconds before opening your mouth to speak again.

"Petra said something shitty," you mumbled.

"That girl you're always hanging out with?"

"Yeah," you whispered as you nodded. "She said something about how what my aunt said a few weeks ago could've been her 'way of caring', and that she had a point of-"

You suddenly stopped speaking as you felt your body tense up again as you recited in your head the words your supposed "closest" friend had mentioned to you.

"A point of the fact that I'm 'wasting' my parents' lives being the way that I am," you spoke quietly, with the end of your sentence being barely audible, as if you were afraid that speaking the words would confirm that they were true.

Levi raised his eyebrows at that comment.

"The way that you are?"

You looked over at him and gave him a grim expression.

"The semester didn't end great. Grades weren't all there. I even have some classes that I need to do extra stuff with over break to pass."

Petra's comment threw you off. You hadn't expected it from her. She was generally a very nice person, but you also knew that she'd occasionally mention something out of left field without really thinking about it. She was the embodiment of toxic and blind positivity, which was helpful for superficial problems that weren't actually upsetting. That wasn't really the case when it came to something that bothered you on such a deep level. The alcohol didn't help either.

Levi scoffed and an annoyed expression quickly overtook his facial features.

"Sorry," you whispered again, looking down with a shameful expression.

"What the hell are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry for bothering you with this," you said as you continued to look down. "I can tell it's annoying you."

You knew how late it was and you knew that he worked a closing shift tonight. The fact that he came all the way out and took the time to get you food to sober you up and make sure that you were okay filled you with regret, guilt, and remorse.

You heard him let out a sigh of disappointment.

"It's not that."

You glanced up at him again, unsure of what he was trying to say.

"I just forget how annoying you all are about your grades," he grumbled while glaring off to the side. 

Upon seeing you staring at him with a confused expression, he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table while looking at you.

"People aren't to give a shit about your grades after you get your first job. Hell, even your first job is barely going to look at your grades. Your grades don't mean shit if you don't have anything to back it up with."

You fell silent, looking at the table as you contemplated his words. You knew what he was getting at. Good grades weren't enough.

"You're worth more than a letter on some piece of paper."

Your eyes widened as he spoke. He had gone from what sounded like beratement to affirmation within the blink of an eye. You were speechless as you looked at him. You didn't know how to respond.  You didn't know how to even process it. Regardless, his words had hit you on some level.

You saw his eyes flash down to your empty basket of fries. He began to get up while you found yourself in your dumbfounded stupor, bringing his wallet out as he walked up to the front counter with an irritated look on his face.

You watched him as you saw him chatting with the cashier up front to pay for your late-night meal.

You're worth more than a letter on some piece of paper.

Whether you would consciously admit it or not, those words were what you needed to hear. People always seemed to measure your worth based on your grades or your ability to get a certain thing done, and you still found yourself always preoccupied with what others thought.

For the first time, someone told you directly that those metrics did not dictate your worth. Your grades weren't everything. 

Those words undoubtedly meant a lot, but it was strange. The strange part was that it came from Levi. He's the last person you would catch providing words of comfort to someone. Although you can't realistically say that you hate him anymore—which was hopefully reciprocated by him—you still didn't expect that from him.

However, because it was Levi, who usually wanted nothing to do with you, you were able to believe that what he said was true. It wasn't a blanket statement or something he pulled out of his ass to make you feel better. He just wasn't that type of person.

Thus, you found yourself reacting much more to those words than you would have had it been anyone else.

Levi glanced back at you, noticing that you were watching him. He broke eye contact with you to sign the receipt that the cashier had printed out for him.

Everything he said was true. You really were worth more than whatever dumb grade some asshole with a PhD decided to slap onto your GPA record.

Throughout the course of the semester, your perception of what Levi thought of you versus what Levi actually thought of you shifted and fell out of balance. He thought higher of you than you thought he did, although you weren't quite in the headspace to be able to accept or process that.

All you knew was that one sentence was enough to encourage you to fight past the hurdle that consisted of this very shitty first semester.

#: @levisbrat25 @gothgril69 @sckerman @berrijam @notgoodforlife @meowjaa @averysmolbear @roseofdarknessblog @bejewelledd @hhighkey @ayame236 @sad-darksoul @velouria17 @kamyru @l1zk4 @layenacreates @lamees004 @whoami-72 @highgoon69 @chaotic-on-main @levishotgf @nube55 @chosos-mascara @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman

[kingofthe-egirls]

FOX TALES: LUFFY x OC (Or, when LUFFY asks you to join his crew)

fox tales

(cw: original female character, kitsune oc, stealing, kitsune lore, mention of past dog bite/farmers)

(a/n: welcome to part 1!!!)

Songs: "Dress" by Charlotte Sands

words: 1k

You’re crouching in the dark next to a chicken coop, listening to see if the hens are asleep. Luffy is crouching behind you, having insisted on following you on your hunt.

“Shh!” You hiss, whirling around as Luffy steps forward, snapping a twig. Too much noise could wake the hens up. You point to your feet, for Luffy to follow. “Sneaky,” you whisper, “Like this.” You take a deep breath, center yourself, and melt through the air. Luffy inhales sharply.

“Kit,” he hisses, “Where’d ya go??”

“Right here, dumbass,” you rustle your fingers quickly so he can hear where you are. You weren’t used to having a partner.

“I can’t turn invisible, fox-tail. And I can’t see you at all!” he squints his eyes in the dark, waving around to try and find you.

“Here,” you whisper, grabbing one of his wrists. “And you can see me if you blur your eyes. Keep me at the edges of your vision,” you turn his cheek with one hand, so it was just the outer corner of his left eye that was facing you. “That’s how you see spirits with mortal eyes,” you say.

“Thanks,” he says, scrutinizing you with one eye, “It’s like opals.”

You blush, and drop his chin. “Just try to keep up, okay?” He nods, and you turn back to the chicken coop. There’s not a lot of noise from inside, besides some rustling of feathers. You duck inside the squat doorway. It smells like wet straw.

The first chicken clucks a bit as you dart your hand beneath the warm feathers, and close around an oval object. Quickly, you start filling your basket with eggs. Just enough to not be noticed, only one or two from each nest.

The floor creaks behind you.

“Hey, chicky!” Luffy stage-whispers to the first hen in the row. “Got any eggs?” He starts poking at the hen’s face, and she wakes up with a squawk. No!

“Hsst!” You spit through your teeth, grabbing Luffy’s wrist. The other hens have started rustling more, and you’re reminded of the farmer’s dog. Your forearm stings at the thought of the old bite wound he left you. “Cmon,” you growl, pulling Luffy out of the henhouse. “Time to go.”

You dash outside, Luffy protesting behind you. A quick glance up at the moon, and a portal opens in front of you. You step through. Luffy tumbles in after you.

“Fuck,” you groan as you shut it behind you again, now safe in your backyard. You stomp over to your fire pit, and set the eggs down none too gently. Two clack against each other and crack. “Ugh!” You shout, kicking over a log. You whirl around to Luffy, who’s standing brushing himself off. Laughing.

“How dare you be that loud!” You accuse, face hot. He looks up at you in surprise. “We could have gotten caught!”

He holds up his fists, casually. “I could’ve fought them!”

“I didn’t want you to fight them!” Your ears are flattened against your scalp, your tails whipping back and forth in anger. “You can’t just keep fighting things for me! You have to listen to what I say! I’m saying it for a reason!” Hot tears are flooding your vision. Luffy steps forward, but you keep going.

“I’ve been bitten by their dog before, Luffy! I’ve been chased by their pitchforks! I’m smart, and I’m clever,” you wrap your arms around yourself, squeezing hard. “But I need food.” The months of scraping by on scraps has left burn marks in your gut. Your breath comes in ragged sobs. “If we had gotten caught, they could have set the dog loose on us again, and then he’d have both our scents. Or worse, they’d start chaining him to the coop at night. And then what’ll I do? What’ll I do once you’re gone?” You spit the last word out like stone, shivering with cold. You want your coat.

“I’m sorry, Just Kit,” Luffy stands in front of you, serious. “I didn’t think about your future. Or the danger I could’ve put you in. But,” he lifts his chin up, “Why don’t you just keep some chickens here? Seems like a lotta trouble for just a few eggs.” He raises an eyebrow, a challenge.

You shake your head back and forth, vicious. “There’s no animals here, Straw Hat. Just half-spirits, like me. If I try to keep a chicken here it’ll just die,” your voice is flat, “I’ve already tried.” You sniff, and wipe at your eyes. You glance over at the black hen’s grave, a bickering old thing who’d caught sick within a week. “I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.”

“There’s no half-chickens?” Luffy cocks his head. You huff out a breath, an almost laugh. You rub a palm against your cheek.

“Not that I’ve seen,” you say, sniffling a bit. “But if you find one, lemme know. Maybe there’s a spirit chicken with eggs you could actually eat.”

Luffy knew how you’d gotten here. Half-feral and bloody, banished by the spirit world to a realm in between worlds. Alone. Half-mortal, suddenly, with a body you knew nothing about. Nothing to eat, needing to sleep, unable to pass through the veil to go home. Nowhere was home for you, but here. Stealing eggs and tracking moon cycles, learning how to live.

“Come with me,” Luffy says, “And you’ll never be alone again.”

****

“What?”

You stare. His mouth is set in a firm line, his brows drawn down hard over his eyes. Blood is rushing in your ears.

“Join my crew,” he says again, arms crossed. “I have the best cook in the world. He could make eggs for you. And our navigator would like you. She steals things too.” He tilts his chin up, “And I could use someone like you.”

You shift. “What do you mean?”

Crickets chirp in the night. The moon is bright overhead, casting brilliant white beams all over the yard.

Luffy gestures excitedly. “Your skill! I’ve never seen anything like that, vanishing in midair! You’re good at hiding, and thinking things through. You can paint, too.” He puffs his chest out proudly, “I think the king of pirates deserves an artist, don’t you? Who else will paint my portrait?” He grins, and then turns serious again as he faces you. “But you have to want to. You still haven’t said if you want to.”

The pond ripples in the moonlight.

“I’m a mess,” you hedge, scared. He nods.

“I know.”

“I’m half-fox.”

“So what? I’m half-rubber.”

“I cheat,” you say, desperate, “I lie and I steal.”

“Pirate life sounds perfect for you,” he walks closer to you, glaring down at you in challenge. You think he’s going to ask you for a duel. “Unless you’d rather rot here all alone?”

You bristle at his taunt, tails whipping back and forth. He’s in your face now, nose barely touching yours. “Well, fox-tails? What’ll it be?”

Your heart pounds. You’ve never left this place before. Not really. But your eyes sting at the thought of having someone to share stories with over a campfire. Not just anyone, though. A whole group of people. A whole crew.

“Yes,” you breathe, “I want to come with you. Please,” you hitch another sob, “Please take me with you! I don’t want to be alone anymore!”

Luffy tackles you in a bear hug. “I’m your captain now!” He laughs, triumphantly, “And I order you to come home with me!”