#Betting Odds Calculator

[vegancas]

me, anytime i want to do anything vaguely complicated on neopets: i should make a spreadsheet

[beeseverywhen]

Just going to leave this here

Always interesting to see the bookies read on things!

Who knows what could happen. A mystery to all for sure. The only thing that I am certain of, is the British publics love of gambling. You may not catch them at the polling stations but by fuck, you'll find them with a betting slip.

So this is the start of April:

April: Odds of a referendum by 2025

UK: 66/1 Canada: 8/1 Aus: 8/1

And here, is a month later

May: odds of referendum by 2025

UK: 8/1 Canada: 4/1 Aus: 4/1

The British Empire is collapsing before our eyes in real time <3

Critical support to Charles in his efforts to destroy the empire :) /s

[howdoesone]

How does one interpret the odds in sports betting?

Interpreting the odds is a fundamental aspect of sports betting. Odds represent the probability and potential payout of a particular outcome, allowing bettors to make informed decisions. Understanding how to interpret odds is crucial for assessing the value of a bet and maximizing your chances of success. In this comprehensive guide, we will explore the basics of odds in sports betting and how to…

[ebodebo]

You and Simon had spent the better part of the morning indulging in the decadent breakfast you had prepared as the sun rose over the horizon.

He pleaded for you to stay in bed and not fuss about making him breakfast. He’d get you those bagels you loved from the shop down the road and some fresh cream cheese from the dairy to slap on top.

You leaned closer, placing a smack of a kiss on his cheek. “You deserve it, hon,” you smiled, slipping on your cozy slippers and one of Simon’s hoodies, happily making your way into the kitchen. He couldn’t help but sink into the mattress. How did he manage to find you? A divine blessing you were.

You thought you overdid it with all the food you made. Crepes, waffles, bacon, sausage, eggs, all to be washed down with some fresh-pressed juice from your orange trees—far too much for just the two of you. But Simon would be damned if he left even one piece of the crispy bacon uneaten.

“Good?” you asked with a smile, fiddling with a waffle on your plate as you watched Simon demolish his food.

“Damn good, baby. Got me such a pretty chef,” he muttered, biting some egg. You flashed him a smile, tipping your head towards him as you reached for the syrup, filling every hole on your waffle.

A comfortable silence fell over both of you. The occasional ‘clank’ of silverware and the soft hum of the heater kicking on were the only noises to be heard. The doorbell sharply rang, echoing off the walls of the hallway and bleeding into the kitchen.

You sat your fork down, easing your way up before Simon shooed you back down and placed your fork back in your hand. “Eat,” he mutters as he walks to the front door.

Simon swings open the front door to be met by the postman, who is staggering with excitement as he hands Simon a loose envelope. The postman tips his head slightly, viewing you inside, standing, and placing more bacon on Simon’s plate. Simon’s hoodie hit just below the curve of your ass, and as you moved, it shifted a little higher, giving him a view of your panties.

“I suggest you stop making looks at my wife, or I’ll do more than just kill that pretty pension check,” Simon says, ripping the envelope from the postman’s hand. The guy's eyes flick to Simon’s in record time, full of worry.

“I don’t know what—” he starts, his tone defensive.

“You think I’m an idiot?“ Simon stoically says, crossing his big arms over his chest. “Huh?”

“No—I, I,” The post guy stutters.

Simon raises a brow. “Can’t speak now?” The post guy says something incoherent, and Simon breathes impatiently.

“Use your fuckin’ words,” Simon hurriedly says.

“I—I you know what, I, I, I’m gonna go,” the post guy stammers, almost falling over the porch's front steps, flalling to his mail truck, but not before shouting, “The next shipping is on me.” You bet your ass it is.

Simon clenches his teeth as he closes the door, turning to see you standing behind him. “Baby, I think you scared him,” you laugh out. Simon reaches out, grasping your hand and pulling you closer. You yelp as Simon pulls you flush with his body, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Fuckin’ animal, that one,” he mutters into your hair.

Simon never really believed in coincidences. His brain was too methodical—calculated. It was something you learned from your long history together.

So, it was odd to hear him say to the police that it must have been a coincidence that the same day he gets into a scrabble with the postman, he goes missing and is then found dead in a lake with bruises covering his body.

It was definitely a coincidence.

a/n: your honor my client didn't commit that crime! just trust me!

[lumiambrose]

✰ house rules

kinktober 24 - day five

featuring: dr ratio x f!reader

summary: veritas ratio, your university professor, is renowned for being the greatest lecturer at your university but also the cruellest, willing to fail any student who doesn't meet his high standard. so you can't help but try your luck for some "extra credit" when you run with said professor on a night out with your girlfriends.

tags: smut, professor x student dynamic, public/semi-public, fingering, oral (fem receiving) petnames (dear)

wc: 1k

the poker table hums with quiet tension, chips clinking and cards sliding across the velvet surface. you’re currently sitting next to dr. veritas ratio, out of all people. as for how you landed a seat next to your professor—the same professor that sneers at mediocre efforts and fails half his students—will forever be a mystery. tonight was supposed to be girls night, where you can relax and party your academic deadlines away. yet instead, you find your heart racing as you watch your professor calculate his odds and size up his opponents like it’s nothing.

albeit terrified, you attempt to catch his attention. “didn’t expect to see you here,” you say, leaning in ever so slightly towards him. the words hang between you, but your pulse is racing. “you don’t strike me as the casino type, professor.”

he doesn’t spare you a glance yet. instead, he places a bet, his fingers tapping the chips. “i could say the same,” he replies, finally turning his gaze on you. his eyes have that familiar coolness in them, but this time, there’s something else—amusement maybe? “though, considering your recent performance, you might need to rely on luck more than most.”

embarrassed, you let out a weak laugh, more to relieve your nerves than anything else. “maybe i’ve just been waiting for a proper chance to test my skills.”

he cocks a brow. “how bold. though i expect your aiming for more than a simple game.”

your heart skips a beat at how easily he sees through you. “maybe,” you start, “depends on how much you're willing to offer.”

before you can react to his words, you feel veritas' hand on your thigh. his grip firm, making your breath hitch. you bite your lip, doing your utmost best to concentrate on the game in play. your professor, unbothered by your reaction, continues to play his hand as his eyes never leave the table in front of him.

“something tells me you’re more interested in winning than you let on,” he whispers, voice laced with velvet, loud enough for your ears only to hear. each word stirring goosebumps on your fragile skin. his fingers dance their way up your inner thigh, caressing your soft skin. touch featherlight as you do your best to stifle a moan.

“now why would i ever back down from a challenge?” you retort, your voice shamelessly laced with need and desire. as the words left your mouth, you feel his thumb hook the edge of your lace panties, cutting you off abruptly and sending your mind into a whirlwind of thoughts. the game in front of you now hidden in the back of your mind.

the game continues with the sound of chips clinking, card shuffling and rare exclamations from other players, but they all went in one ear and out the other. your professor now completely overtaking your thoughts. shrinking your world down to the little space surrounding you and veritas. your only reality being the tantalising touch of his fingers against your clothed core.

“eyes on the game, dear. you’re so far in it would be a pity to lose your cool now,” he says as though it’s nothing. as though his actions aren’t getting bolder by the minute.

his hand, now tucked away beneath your skirt, teases your wet folds through the thin fabric of your panties. focusing on the cards in front of you now seemed impossible as your mind hazed with lust. the heat between your legs is now becoming unbearable. your hips now subtly grinding against his fingers.

a loud clang pierces the air, pulling you back to reality. your heart skips a beat as you feel a cold presence on your lap. you look down to the sight of veritas' drink spilt over the edge of the table, soaking your clothes.

you gasp at the shock of icy liquid against you, seeping through your skirt and leaving a sticky mess on your thighs. veritas immediately stood up, abandoning the game in front of him, offering his hand out to you. “let’s clean you up. it’s a small spill, but we don’t want it to stain,” he says, and you swear you can see a small smirk play on his lips.

initially embarrassed, you nod and take his hand as he guides you through the casino floor. excitement slowly proceeds to replace your initial embarrassment as you draw closer to the bathrooms. all the background noise slowly fading away as the both of you enter the quiet bathroom, veritas locking the door behind you.

without warning, he pushes you against the wall and unzips your skirt, letting the fabric slide down your legs. your panties are coated with arousal, betraying the facade you did your best to keep up. veritas locks eyes with you, his eyes fueled with hunger as he kneels down in front of you.

“keep it quiet. you don’t want to get caught now, do you?” he warns before leaning in to devour you. his skilled tongue quickly finds its way to your clit, sucking and abusing it teasingly while his fingers work wonders inside of you. you arch your back, throwing your head back as the pleasure courses through you, your body begging for release.

with one hand tugging on veritas’ hair, aching for more, the other found its way to your mouth. attempting to cover up the sweet moans getting drawn out of you. although veritas doesn’t seem to take your moans seriously. he carries on teasing you, his tongue flicking your clit and his fingers pushing deeper inside you. your breathing grows ragged, and you know that you couldn't hold back the wave of ecstasy much longer.

but veritas, ever the harsh professor, pulled away, just when you were on the brink. leaving your bare pussy wet and needy, he stands up and wipes your remaining slick off his face. looking down on you, he commands, “stay behind after my lecture tomorrow.” his voice firm and unwavering before exiting the bathroom.

leaving you in the bathroom all alone, you contemplated the situation that just played out. your heart racing and your body still humming with desire. although, as you cleaned yourself up in the bathroom, you’re already contemplating your outfit for tomorrow and a cute matching set to wear underneath for your favourite professor.

taglist: @ryescapades @iamjellyfish @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[zadmin123]

How To Understand Betting Odds

If you want to get into sports betting, the first thing you need to learn is what betting odds are and how to read or understand them. While this may sound simple, you would be surprised how many bookies are still clueless about the subject, despite the fact that they place bets on a daily basis. To help you avoid becoming one of them, we have thoroughly understood the BETTING ODDS of online betting and now we will explain it to you. If you also want to start batting then join Payrun.in now.

[rainyinautumn]

alright with wild life ep. 4 coming out soon it's time for me to start talking winner predictions. in order to understand my bet, let's first understand why past winners won—and, for bonus effect, why another player who I think really had a shot ultimately lost.

GRIAN. The traffic crown typically falls on the head of whichever player is most able to bend and break the rules to their advantage. 3rd Life, as the archetypal Life Series with the fewest rules to manipulate, was won by the man who understood (and broke) them best—their inventor. Throughout the series, I think Impulse demonstrated a similar cunning and could have been able to pull off a win. His error was failing to establish trust with his allies in a series that was defined by its faction loyalty.

SCOTT. With the introduction of the Boogeyman, Last Life demanded a winner with a level head. With favorable relationships paving the path to regaining lives, there was very little wiggle room for more aggressive, risk-taking players, making this season favor players with high survivability. Continuing the trend of rule breakers, Scott was the only player to weigh the odds and refuse to act on the Boogeyman curse—which ultimately paid off for him. Similarly calculating and loyal is Etho, who lost this win by aligning himself with a volatile group that failed to lend him the stability Scott had throughout the series.

PEARL. It was so, so much easier to die in Double Life than any other series, and so its winner was the player who proved to be able to survive without a soulmate at all. The thing about Life Series gimmicks is that they are always, always the thing that kills you—as such, refusing to engage with them as intended elevates one's chances of victory. Such is the case with Pearl. Cleo also failed to engage with the Double Life mechanic as intended, but lost (ironically) due to her ability to forgive and the endgame belief that aligning with her soulmate was the wisest move.

MARTYN. Limited Life introduced the ability to live longer by killing, and as such encouraged players to pursue maximal violence with minimal risk through traps (namely, falling TNT minecarts). If playing by these rules led to a win, the victor would have been crowned on Skynet. Instead, Martyn broke the season-long strategy and a few series expectations along the way to opt for an absolutely brutal PvP win, which he pulled off by being the only one crazy enough to try. A good few other risk takers had a solid shot of winning this season—namely Joel. Unlike Martyn, however, Joel was unwilling to gamble with the permanent death of his teammates, and this soft spot led to his demise.

SCAR. On the surface level, Secret Life's gimmick asked its contestants to be good at the game���to be good at keeping their mouths shut, good at following directions, and good at reading other players. The kicker with all of the tasks, however, is that the gimmick is the thing that kills you, and what the tasks actually asked was for players to be bad at the game in one way or another. This made earnest attempts at success by far the most risky path forward (especially once yellow names started being able to guess tasks), and as such, Scar's continually baffling behavior worked in his favor. Similarly incomprehensible, Skizz's playstyle lent itself well to this series—however, he was simply too likable. The secretive nature of the tasks in this season brewed a hostile atmosphere in which trustworthiness made one a threat, and the Heart Foundation painted a target on him that he was unable to shed.

So. Who do I think is winning (and almost winning) Wild Life?

GEM. Of all the players in the Snailpocalypse, Gem was the only one to doggedly refuse to fear and avoid her snail. Wild Life is designed to breed uncertainty and chaos in its players, and her refusal to give in to this makes her a good contender for the crown. However, other players have begun to notice this, which could place her in hot water. My second winner pick is BigB—although more willing to engage with the wildcards, BigB has always thrived in the strange and peculiar, making him less outright afraid of them and putting him in position to potentially rise above them down the line.

[dark-raven-666]

Reader tells Baldwin IV that he is beautiful.

Tags: fluff, reader is Baldwin's childhood best friend.

Warnings: mentions of leprosy and death?

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

He turned slowly, the silver of his mask glinting in the light. Behind the mask, a pair of blue eyes: the left as clear as a crystal, the right cloudy and bloodshot framed by a marred, disfigured eyelid.

"You came" he said almost in a whisper.

"I promised didn't I? " she responded, with a smile on her face. She was the kings childhood best friend who he had finally found again. Before she disappeared she swore to always find him when he called.

"I hear you still enjoy chess. " She sayd her voice soft.

All he could do was stand there, still and frozen as if the time had stopped, then he spoke in a whisper "yes".

The two kept staring at each other as she sat across him on the table. She would have spoken, asked him how he had been, yet from the state of his bandaged body and masked face, she knew.

Then she says "I heard you won a great victory at sixteen."

The king’s brows raised slightly, a flicker of surprise passing across his features. “Strategy and tactics are what ultimately won me the day, despite what the odds were.”

She smiled and proceeded to speak "You think you only won because of that? Salahuddin is a smart man, he has conquered many lands. I believe the Lord was in your side".

The king only looked at the lady before him. Waiting for her to continue speaking.

"If it was not God then something was wrong that day. Salahuddin never acts in rage, he thinks and calculates. Something happened that drove him to be careless" the lady spoke as if she truly was curious as to what had been troubling the Muslim warrior that day.

All Baldwin could do was nod and say "Perhaps you are right. His rage may have blinded him, given me the opening I needed.”

They looked at each other for a moment each gazing into the others eyes.

She broke the silence and said "you do not belong in Jerusalem."

The king’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his head cocked to one side. “What makes you say that?” He questioned, his tone curious rather than angry.

"I know you are a religious man but you are also a leper. This hot climate will bring upon your death faster. " She spoke, her words cutting his heart, yet he knew she was right. The holy city, a hot city in Palestine was no place for a leper.

The king stiffened ever so slightly, and he was silent for a moment. “You are correct.” He eventually muttered. “The climate of Jerusalem is not suitable for those with my illness. The warmer the conditions, the more rapidly the leprosy spreads.”

He looked down at the table, avoiding her gaze. “Unfortunately, I know not where to go. "

"Are you not French? Go to France, visit your home land, and if it does not feel right, go else. You will find home eventually" She said her voice growing quieter towards the end.

A pause, as the king considered her suggestion. “France…” He mused quietly. “I have not been there since.... I do not remember.”

A soft exhale, almost like a sigh, escapes his lips. “I suppose going back is a possibility, but… I am too familiar with the land. I cannot be the warrior in which I was, the king that I am. The people will judge me, and… see me as nothing but leper.”

"It is agonizing isn't it? To have your freedom taken from you for title of king? I bet a man like you would rather be something else. " She spoke quietly, imagining him as a common man.

The king lets out a heavy, exhausted sigh, his head bowing slightly. “Indeed, it is agonizing.” He mutters, his voice thick with the weariness he is so familiar with.

“A man like me…” He repeated the words softly, his tone contemplative. “Perhaps that is true…”

" Your illness made you who you are now, they say yet all I see is a 13 year old boy wanting to play, hoping to marry, hoping to live to a 100.

Yet they are right... You would not have been as smart if the leprosy had not kept you at home, your only entertainment books. Perhaps days come when your body aches, you look at the roof of the bed and wish that you were stupid and healthy. "

The king is silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the board before him, his mind elsewhere as the woman speaks. He can only see the days in which he spent sitting inside, unable to move about and play and explore as he so desperately longed for as a child. The countless books he’d read, the stories he’d heard and the lessons he’d learned.

The years of sitting in a quiet room in his home, his only company being the books, the teachers, the family. It had been an endless cycle.

"They look at the disease and say you are ugly. I look at your eyes and say you are the most beautiful I have ever seen" Her voice had been now filled with passion and adornment for the man before her.

The king is at a loss for words, left silenced by the woman’s soft, sincere declaration. He stares at her in quiet awe, her statement taking root in his mind and leaving him stunned.

Nobody had ever seen him that way. For years, he’d been shunned and avoided. Called vile and revolting. Hideous, deformed.

He was quiet for several long moments, blinking slowly. “You… think I am beautiful…?”

"The most beautiful." She whispered and laid her hand on his gloved one.

[danosrosegarden]

edward angst, where he comforts reader over the phone from Arkham :( there both so broken up about not being able to see each other and reader breaks down moments into the call

sick of losing soulmates - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚♡

{contents ♡ mentions of violence, mentions of vomiting, angst + fluff}

{word count ♡ ~700}

♡ it just didn't match, the image of him that was burned into your brain and the campfire scary story monster he was when you weren't looking. they were entirely different beings. your edward was the one who wrote handwritten letters and sent wrappings of sweet perfumed flowers to you just because. your edward was the one who'd hug you from behind while you cooked dinner and basked in the warmth of your being. your edward was the one who'd nuzzle into the crook of your neck at night, tracing the curves and dips of your gently rising and falling body. that edward was the one who was ice cold and eerily calculated, slithering into the unlucky mice's lives like a beady-eyed snake. that edward was the one who coiled around them and reveled in the sheen of terror glossed across their eyes. that edward was the one that squeezed, the one that suffocated, the one that took and took and took until there was nothing left to take.

♡ most days you got sick, dry heaving up what little was left in your gut until your eyes poured salty tears and your chin was slick with spittle. most days you felt crushed into dust, broken into shards. you'd gone through the whipping windstorm waves: cold bitterness, broiling anger, dizzying confusion. but most of all, you felt the aching weight grabbing hold of your heart and dragging down: you were sad. you were hurt. you were heartbroken. he had hid his plans from you, he had lied about where he was most evenings, he had trusted a group of deranged strangers before he had trusted you. that all hurt in its own way. but above all else, it would never be possible to again find what you once had with him. that was what hurt the most.

♡ you had questioned whether or not you even wanted to hear his voice again. your kneejerk reaction was of course, of course, give me the phone, please please please please let me have just a few more minutes of his distant presence. but the more it blackened the crevices in your brain like a messy ink spill, the more you felt the deep pit in your stomach lurch. what are you even supposed to say to him? what is he supposed to say to you?

♡ you rehearse the lines in your head over and over. you breathe deep and steady, trying to stable the quivering in your hands as you hold the phone.

♡ "hello?"

♡ you hold the phone to your ear silently for a moment, listening to the smothering quiet in your apartment and the shallow in and out of your breath. "edward?"

♡ for that split second, you're connected by this odd, tightly woven string of silence. you're jammed between what is there to say? and how am i supposed to say everything in this miniscule time frame?

♡ "it's good to hear you." the words are wading through molasses, spoken slowly and thickly, like his voice had been flossed through a filter.

♡ and it all comes rushing back, a crashing tidal wave of every lazy morning spent tangled in his arms, every cool evening spent bathing in the comfortable quiet of your bedroom together.

♡ every line you'd memorized before the call gets crumpled and trashed. you feel the hot contacts of tears rise against your eyes and drop down your cheeks. "hi, eddie. i miss you."

♡ he can't promise forever anymore. he can't promise much of anything anymore...perhaps that's what's most difficult to grapple with, the uncertainty of it all. the dice roll that each new day would bring, the gamble you bet on with every rising and setting sun. but here in this moment, you feel as though he's reaching out. you can sense his radiating warmth from the other end of the line. it numbed the bleeding thought in the back of your brain that you had lost him for good. here he was, here you were, hands outstretched, arms wide open.

[mochie85]

Poker Face

These Wicked Games Collection | Complete Masterlist

Summary: Will you win a game of strip poker against the god of mischief? A/N: A special cameo of my dear friend. Word Count: 1.7K Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: Explicit. No details of smut, but heavily implied. Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Loki looked around the table trying to stifle his smirk from giving him away. He had a great hand – a winning hand. All he needed to do now was bait you in and he would win.

Rogers and Barnes had shown him how to play Texas Hold’em. They needed a third player as their usual playing mates were out on a mission. Things got more interesting when the women decided to join and turned it into ‘strip poker.’

Loki kept his cards face down on the velvet green table and placed his hands behind his head waiting for everyone else.

You knew that look. That pompous I-have-a-trick-up-my-sleeve look. You knew all his looks. His tired look. His hungry look. His annoyed look. Right now, he thinks he’s going to win.  You watched him stretch, his shirt untucking, riding up to give you a peek at what you could be winning tonight.

Nearly everyone was on their last piece of clothing. Steve and Bucky were now in their boxers, having negotiated that each sock was one piece of clothing. Nat was in a white undershirt that barely hid the dark pink dusting of her nipples underneath.

Vision wasn’t allowed to play because he would count cards and calculate the odds in his head. Instead, he opted to hold Andrea, the new computer engineer Tony hired, in his lap as she happily lost each round. One by one, a piece of her clothing came off and Vision had to hide her body strategically, making you think she was losing on purpose.

You and Loki were the only ones who were fully clothed. You kept your head low and played safe up until now, letting the others lose their bets and hands. Your father would be damn proud of you.

“Geez, Loki. You have a horrible tell. I know you’ve got a winning hand,” Natasha said as she took a gulp of her beer. “I fold.”

“Ya, work on that poker face, buddy,” Bucky groaned. “I fold. I’m not losing my boxers.”

“I fold too,” Steve said.

“I can’t fold,” Drea said, smiling.

“That’s because you have nothing left, darling.” Vision said as his grip on her tightened.

“Well, my dear, that just leaves you and me,” Loki said in a smoldering voice. If you didn’t lose this hand, you would’ve taken off your clothes anyway just by the way he looked at you.  His deep voice caressed you from across the table, making you squeeze your legs tighter together. “What do you say we up the ante? Last play for all your clothes.”

“Don’t you mean all your clothes, Laufeyson? You forget that I have a Las Vegas past.” You fired back, as resounding ‘oohs’ and heckles came from everyone else.

“All right. Bet.” He smiled.

“If I win, you take off all your clothes, Laufeyson. Including the next time we play poker, whether it’s strip poker or not. You will play naked - as the day you were born. No matter who else is playing.” You arrogantly raised your chin, calling out his bluff. His smile grew wide, reaching from ear to ear.

“And If I win, dear pet, not only will you strip down, but then I want you to walk your pretty little arse down the hall to my room and we can continue our own little game.” Gasps and jeers were heard all around the table as Loki finally admitted to some semblance of an attraction towards you. How genuine that attraction was, or how deep those feelings went, was still a mystery.

“Now hold on just a minute, Loki,” Steve said being protective of you.

“No, no. It’s ok, Steve. I accept.” You steeled your nerves and looked into Loki’s swirling eyes. Your body shook visibly, feeling his stare reach past your clothes and stroke your waiting skin underneath.

You looked down at the table where four cards were laid out. They were clubs, a 10, a 9, and an 8. Then there was the queen of diamonds. You had a King and a Jack of clubs. You already had a great hand with a flush, matching the suit to all five cards. But if that last card turned out to be a 7 or a Queen of clubs, you’d win with a straight flush.

But what did Loki have? Would his hand be better than yours? Would that last card help you or condemn you?

“Are you both ready?” Nat asked, burning a card and readying to turn the last card down onto the river. You looked into his eyes, deep and promising as you both nodded. Nat turned the card over and placed it on the table.

It was the queen of clubs.  

You took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Loki’s eyes turned deadly as he turned his hand face up. An 8 of spades and the queen of hearts. “I believe that I have a full house,” he prodded, misinterpreting your sigh as a sign of defeat. Everyone’s mouth hung open in shock at his assertion.

He leaned back onto his chair and placed his hands behind his head. A proud grin on his face. “Go on love, show everybody what I’ll be playing with later.”

His comment bristled your edges. He was so arrogant. So cocky. You’re going to relish taking him down a notch. Everyone silently watched with shock and awe as you stood up with your poker face still on.

Loki’s eyes changed into pools of desire as you decided to play with his emotions a little bit more. You traced the hem of your shirt, pinching it and scrunching it up in your fist.

His greedy eyes followed the movements of your hands as you reached for your cards and turned them face up. “A king and a jack of clubs. A straight flush. Which beats your full house.” The last part of your sentence was drowned out by the screams and yells of everyone at the table.

Surprised by the turn of events, Steve, Bucky, and Vision couldn’t stop laughing. Drea and Nat just sat there and whistled as they leered at Loki to start taking his clothes off.

Loki’s eyes were full and round- devastated that he had lost. He looked up at you, at your gorgeous playful face. That angelic smile that had him enraptured from the moment he laid his eyes on you, caught his breath. He was stunned.

It wasn’t until Bucky jostled him out of his reverie that he took a lungful of air. “You gotta do it now, man,” Bucky said, laughing at him.

Loki’s smile grew wicked as he stood up and looked straight into your eyes. “My pleasure,” he ground out, making your skin flush at his promise.

He wouldn’t stop staring at you. Not when he pulled his scarf down one side and threw it in your direction. Not when he started to unbutton his shirt, painfully slow. His grin growing wider with every button. You watched as his hands trailed down onto his belt and the sharp clank of metal resounded in your ears.

“Should we leave? I feel like I’m watching something intimate,” Steve whispered to Vision and Drea.

“You can leave if you want to. I’m getting my free show,” Nat said finishing her beer.

Loki had all but taken off his shirt, socks, and shoes. All that was left were his pants. His thumbs hooked into them, watching your reaction as he pushed them down revealing all his godly glory.

A resounding “OHH!” could be heard from everyone else as Loki stood there in front of you naked. His sculpted body was on display as your eyes took in all the details that they could remember. His wide shoulders, his defined abs, and the ‘V’ of his Adonis Belt leading your stare to his semi-erect cock.

“Do you like what you see, pet? Anything I can offer you later?” He asked with a proud smile.

“All right. All right. Put your clothes back on. I think we should all call it a night. I’m done,” Steve said.

“Awe boo, Cap.” Nat leered, getting up and gathering her clothes. Bucky laughed and followed her into the bar as he struggled to get his jeans back on.

Loki flicked his hands. In a flash, all his clothes were back on and put into place, immaculately.

“Why didn’t you just do that in the first place?” you asked, still watching him.

“Because I wanted to give you a show,” he winked, and he strode off down the hallway towards his bedroom.

Not long after, the compound had gotten dark and silent. The remnants of the game you all had played earlier are gone. The table was dismantled, and the cards were put away.

Your soft feet patted down the hallway and stopped in front of Loki’s door. You raised your hand to knock, but the door slightly opened to reveal a sliver of yellow light coming through. You pushed the door open, taking that as an invitation to go in.

Loki was sitting in front of his fireplace, a book in hand that he thumped shut as he took you in shutting his door behind you.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you grace my bedroom?”

“You reneged on our deal.” You said confidently. Loki looked confused as he ran by the terms of the bet earlier.

“I don’t think so, darling. The bet was, that if I lost, I would be the one to strip down naked. And I did.”

“What was the next part, Loki?” you whispered. His name on your lips sent a shiver down his spine, making him visibly tremble. You held his name on your tongue. Your breath invoking it like a prayer.

“The next caveat was that the next game of poker I played, no matter who I was with, I would have to play stripped as well.” He recited as a gleam in his eyes sparkled at your mischief. You took out a deck of cards from your back pocket and proceeded to shuffle them in your hand.

“Care for a game of poker, my prince?”

He bit his lips at your words. “With pleasure,” he smiled as he got up to unbutton his shirt.

⬅️ These Wicked Games Collection | Chapter 2: The Chase ➡️

@alexs1200 @a-witch-with-words @athalialaufeyson @britishserpent @cakesandtom @crimson25 @el-zef @fictive-sl0th @gigglingtigger @glitterylokislut @goldencherriess @holymultiplefandomsbatman @huntress-artemiss @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @immersed-in-mischief @kellatron55 @kikster606 @kkdvkyya @lokidbadguy @lokiprompts @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @lokischambermaid @lokyxryss @loopsisloops @lucylaufeyson3 @luvlady-writes @michelleleewise @mischief2sarawr @muddyorbs @nopenottodayson @one-oblivious-nerd @ozymdias @peaches1958 @salempoe @sarahscribbles @sarawr-reads @silverfire475 @springdandelixn @theaudacitytowrite @thedistractedagglomeration @thomase1 @user13cabs @vickie5446 @vbecker10 @wheredafandomat @xorpsbane  

[yesihaveaobsession]

The Ultimate Bet

Alastor x Dean Winchester x female!huntress reader

Summary: Your soul is on the table, and Alastor wants it, why not settle it through a game of poker?

A/N- Sorry if this suck I barely know anything about poker! Anyways enjoy!! I googled a lot of this ... HA

The lounge of the hotel was dimly lit, the only light source being the overhead lamp above the poker table. The usual cheerful chatter was hushed tonight, as all eyes were on the table. Alastor sat with his perpetual grin, eyes filled with mischief, having the best poker face of them all. Opposite him sat an infamous rugged hunter, Dean Winchester, who was leaning back in his chair, his gaze steely.

You, a fearless huntress and good friend of Dean's, stood by his side, your heart racing. Your soul was on the line. Alastor wanted another soul to add to his collection, and yours interested him the most. You had encountered Alastor a few years back; this wasn't your first time in this hell. You had bumped into him at a bar, even before the hotel existed and before he disappeared for those seven years. Now, you two met again, here for a purpose.

Husker stood behind the table, dealing the cards. He dealt two cards to each player, then spread five community cards—three at once, then one more, then another—forming the basis for their best possible five-card hand. This was indeed a game of Texas Hold'em.

Alastor's smile widened as he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table, the sound echoing through the silent room like a heartbeat. Dean, on the other hand, was focused and determined despite the weight on his shoulders. His pretty green eyes stared at the cards in his hands.

"You know," Alastor drawled, his voice dripping with amusement, "I do love a good game of chance. And this one… well, it's particularly exciting, wouldn't you say?" He broke the silence. Dean looked up through his eyelashes at the demon, then back at his cards.

As the game began, the tension grew. Even Husk was boiling with stress watching the game unfold, knowing how good a player Alastor was. Dean's mind raced as he calculated the odds, while Alastor seemed almost relaxed, his confidence unwavering.

Round after round, the chips piled up, and the stakes grew higher. Dean tried to catch the Radio Demon bluffing and calculate his next move, but there was no stress behind that smile and those red eyes. Alastor let out a laugh. Finally, when Dean was ready, he peeked at his hand, glancing at a pair of aces and a king. He watched Alastor closely, looking for any tell that might give away the demon's strategy. Alastor, still grinning, called the bet, his own cards held close to his chest.

"So, Dean," Alastor said, casually tossing a chip into the pot, "how confident are you feeling about this hand? Confident enough to risk it all?"

"Confident enough to know you're bluffing," Dean sneered.

"Ah, is that so?" Alastor questioned. The pot grew bigger with each round. Finally, it came down to the last hand. Dean looked at his cards, his face betraying nothing. Alastor's grin was as wide as ever, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes.

"All in," Dean said, pushing his remaining chips to the center of the table. Alastor nodded. The cards were revealed, and the room held its breath. Dean's hand was strong, but Alastor's was stronger. The Radio Demon let out a triumphant laugh, his victory all but assured.

"Looks like luck is on my side tonight," Alastor purred, reaching for the chips. But Dean wasn't done yet. With a quick, almost imperceptible movement, he revealed an extra card hidden up his sleeve. The room fell silent as the realization dawned: Dean had outplayed the demon.

Everyone gasped slightly. Despite the smile, Alastor's eyes widened. Dean showed a cocky smile, looking over at you to see the relief and practically hearts in your eyes. Dean looked back at the demon who sat across from him.

Dean leaned back in his chair, a triumphant smirk on his lips. "Don't mess with a Winchester."

"Clever," Alastor said. With a flick of his wrist, Dean swept the chips toward him, securing your soul. He flipped the card that he had up his sleeve and flicked it at Alastor, then stood from the chair and made his way over to you, hugging you.

"Thank you," you whispered.

[stari-hun]

I’ll write a bigger piece later but I feel like Constantine was originally a better person only out of convenience. We see from Books 3 and 4 that she makes a lot of bets based on odds she’s already skewed. The act of showing us a chessboard and how she plays against herself to represent her plans is so we can see how she thinks. I bet they used chess because it was more fitting for a European character as well as more people would clock the mastermind symbolism for chess. But if she was playing Go then we’d get a good insight on what type of person she is through her play style. She was likely a good person before the Storm because she had no real reason to act in her and the Foundation’s best interest over the individuals in it, or even the future of the Foundation in Book 3’s case. Constantine is and has always been extremely calculative, and with the current times they’re in and passing through, she weighs the lives of others as lower than the legacy she can build in the Foundation.

Her former morality before the Storm and likely how she hid her actions after the Storm began is the reasons Madam Z informed Constantine of Vertin’s Storm Immunity. It’s also why Madam Z is one of the few people to support Vertin no matter what path she takes. Both out of guilt but a true want that Vertin can escape Constantine’s grasp. Constantine upon hearing that Vertin was immune to the Storm and Sonetto’s report of them seeing what the outside world was like, allowed them to escape and be erased in the Storm before Vertin’s eyes. This was her intent in order to create the Timekeeper and keep Vertin in a situation where she wanted to stop the Storm. Their partnership is one of convenience, a reason Constantine acted against them before the Foundation Head told her to back down. Sonetto in the future would also be joining Vertin in putting her loyalty to the Foundation in tatters.

[chocolatespringonion]

Won't it be funny if we imagine characters from The Boys in a high school AU? Since I'm a Homelander x Hughie shipper I would write it Hughlander-centric (Is this really the name of our ship? XD)

I was thinking something along the lines of Homelander/John is the hottest jock in school, athletic, and quite smart too since he was homeschooled before. Surprisingly despite his history of being someone who attended homeschooling, he was socially adept. He would smile and even earned a place with the popular kids, he was even their leader.

As the number 1 in highschool, John definitely knew how to indulge, he dated all the cheerleaders and even slept with them but once the girls had their dreams of dating the most popular kid in school come true, they were treated like garbage the next day because John would lose interest in them immediately. This kind of behavior didn't even earn John a bad reputation, it was the rest of the school who ridiculed the girls who would claim the unfair treatment. In the student body's eyes, John could do no wrong.

Then one day there was a transfer student named Becca, she was beautiful and smart. She was the top of her class in her previous school and the teachers bet she would be too in Vought High.

John who had his eyes on her already calculated a plan on how to bed the brilliant transfer student. Oddly enough, everytime he tried to strike a conversation with her, a mop of messy brown hair would interrupt their conversation and take her away, it would be another day before John would see Becca again. He was angry, no, furious with how he's being cockblocked.

When he saw the familiar mop haired bastard by the lockers he slammed his hand hard on the lockers, surprising the poor kid. He couldn't help but to doubt his intimidating presence because the kid was clearly taller than John, "I noticed you've been hanging out around Becca lately." John tried to appear as friendly as he could, even with his insincere smile. "You see, I'm interested in Becca and really want to date her so can you stop lingering around her like a fly?"

The taller boy scoffed, "You only want to sleep with her then leave her like all the previous girls you dated. I've been watching the way you treated those poor girls and it's disgusting. I couldn't do anything back then but now I won't let you do the same to Becca. So, no, I wont. Becca deserves better."

It was the first time John met someone who challenged him directly as everyone else was too scared of him to do so. But this kid who glared at him with eyes of pure disgust sent shivers down his spine. He was used to dealing with obedient sheeps, it was the first time he dealt with a feisty one.

The kid pushed away John's arm and excused himself, "Keep your hands to yourself for once in your life."

John was left dumbfounded as he watched the boy walked away. After he regained his mind, he looked at the bystander who watched the whole thing and asked, "Who the fuck was that guy?"

The bystander, intimidated by John yelled out, "T-That's H-Hughie Campbell. P-Please don't hurt me..." He ran away.

John muttered the name with his lips. Hughie Campbell. He noticed the kid sometimes, odd one among the bunch, quiet, probably sits in the loser's table.

A glimpse of Hughie's disgusted eye appeared in John's mind. The boy really intrigued him.

"I can't wait to wipe that expression off his face."

The imagine of Hughie's distorted expression, hatred combined with powerlessness as John put him in his place itched in his heart.

But how will he do it?

In the end:

John : You bastard, who gave you permission to talk to that no-name bitch? *menacingly*

Hughie: Wha–?

John : He's mine. Get your hands off. *glares at Robin*

Hughie : Since when am I yours?

John : Since you riled me up and left me blue-balled every chance you get.

John : *cornering Hughie* Now you need to take responsibility.

[astercontrol]

So…

I just watched Legacy again.

And… I keep coming back to the Ram-Castor theory.

Which first sparked from a paragraph on the Tron wiki, attributed in the footnote to Tron: Evolution…

Disparate accounts of Castor's origin exist. He was reputedly designed and created by Kevin Flynn in TC30 as an interpreter but quickly and naturally exceeded his original directives. Unconfirmed conflicting reports describe his origin as a "low-priority actuarial algorithm illegally co-opted identity of the obsolete protocol. More investigation required for verification."

This blew my mind, because... cryptic as it is, I found it easiest to interpret as:

The program that became Castor/Zuse was originally an interpreter program created by Kevin Flynn.

At some point, another program-- this "low-priority actuarial algorithm" -- took over his identity and took his place.

and… you know where my mind goes when I think of actuarial programs.

As far as I know, only one character ever canonically was described as such.

One who I cannot help but think of in the same category as Zuse (i.e., queer-coded, fun-loving, my favorite character in the damn movie, and died too damn soon.)

But... what would it take, for Ram to become Castor??

My initial impression was:

Ram gets rerezzed on the Grid, before the coup.

Perhaps Flynn sneaks in one of Roy's backups.

(Maybe this backup, unknown to Flynn, has been updated with some hacker code, for purposes of Zack-Attack shenanigans.)

And this Ram 2.0 is the "actuarial algorithm" who eventually assumes the identity of Castor/Zuse.

This was all months and months ago…

But now, having rewatched Legacy just now, the ideas have…

…. expanded.

Into the realm of the… something.

Here goes.

As to how Ram started out on the Grid:

I imagine that Flynn tried to give him something approaching his original purpose. Actuarial math is concerned with calculating probabilities, and this is useful for plenty of things besides setting insurance premiums.

(Ram probably would prefer many of those alternatives over setting insurance premiums, once he learns just how little insurance companies actually help people.)

His actuarial nature might even have him calculating probabilities about Clu, long before Flynn and Tron do… and seeing danger coming miles away.

And you know Flynn wouldn't have listened to his warnings.

Maybe this causes Ram to go into hiding early, before things with Clu go... clearly bad.

Now. Once in hiding, when the Purge starts, of course Ram decides to help the ISOs. He's a helper by nature. And he's lived under oppression and genocide.

Already he'll need to do this in some secrecy.

And this may very well be when he "reinvents" himself for the first time.

So. He hacks his way into the place of this …translation program that wasn't yet doing much of anything.

He takes on the new appearance, and the name Zuse.

Uses his hacking skills further, to control Solar Sailers and the permissions on other programs' discs, all in the name of getting ISOs to safety.

(This is all mentioned in the wiki, as well, attributed again to Evolution.)

(There also seem to be… hints? that Zuse himself is an ISO? but this is not clear on either the wiki, or in Legacy. There may be more data in Evolution? In any case, I'm proceeding on the assumption that he is not an ISO, just a regular program who may have been co-opted or hacked by another one.)

At the point in Legacy where Sam meets Zuse, some pieces fell together rather clearly for me.

When he says:

"Zuse has been around since the earliest days of the gaming grid. By necessity, he has to mind all the percentages, all the angles."

it feels to me that he was clearly talking about his past as Ram, the actuary. Perhaps calculating percentages of probability for gaming purposes-- betting odds and such-- back when the games were just for fun?

But, as he said, it was self-preservation that made him change his identity. With the Purge over, and Clu attaining greater and greater power… he had to reinvent himself again, to stay safe from Clu's wrath against anyone who supported either ISOs or Users. So he gave himself the name Castor, instead, and kept the Zuse identity under wraps.

"Castor" is actually a fairly clever choice of name. If he was going to go the Greek-gods route, "Ares" would have been the obvious code for Ram (the ram being the symbol for Ares/Aries).

(…AND I continue to pray, probably without hope, that Jared Leto keeps his mitts off of Ram completely. But, that's another topic.)

Ares was a son of Zeus.

Unclear whether this was why Ram chose the Zuse name… or whether the program had that name already before Ram took over him. (The wiki suggests that, like many names in Tron lore, it was an allusion to a famous name in computing history. In-universe, Flynn could certainly have named a program with such inspiration.)

In mythology, Castor was… one of the twins born to Leda after Zeus impregnated her. But the pregnancy had two different fathers, and Castor was not the twin fathered by Zeus.

From the perspective of a Ram in hiding, "Castor" could be taken to mean "false disguise for a true son of Zeus."

Not saying that was the sort of thing Ram himself would have come up with.

It's what I would have come up with, in his position.

But I am not an actuarial program. I am a goddamn pattern recognition program. This is obvious.

So, the above is likely all irrelevant.

Moving on!

By this point, Ram/Castor/Zuse might be pretty disillusioned with the Users, honestly.

Flynn's in hiding, doing nothing! He let Tron get corrupted, Yori either disappeared or never got rezzed in, and a tyrant with Flynn's face is in charge of everything!

I would NOT blame him for being unconvinced that changes at the top actually make a difference; that one leader's better than another.

I would not blame him for being earnest in saying, "I believed in Users once before."

And then, of course, the betrayal!

Clu's guards barge in.

Zuse…. stands back and lets everything happen. Gives them free rein to attack Sam. Stands back and watches in glee, as the whole thing goes down.

Watches Sam fighting back. Watches Kevin Flynn and Quorra bursting in to help. Watches the whole fight. Just watches, dancing and firing energy bolts randomly into the whole mess like a madman, as if he has no stake in it one way or another!

It would be easy to interpret this a number of ways.

He has gotten truly vengeful toward the Flynns, to the point of losing his grip on reality.

He has gotten truly vengeful toward EVERYONE, to the point of losing his grip on reality.

Perhaps his personality has even split somewhat-- the Castor and Zuse personas becoming somewhat separate entities?

This would fit with the idea that he started this whole business by co-opting the identity of another program!

Maybe that program's mind was always trapped somewhere within… fighting him.

Maybe it came to the surface more and more often as time went on.. becoming a possessing demon with very different views about everything Ram used to care for.

BUT.

There is one other possibility.

Let's take a look at just what he promised, and to whom, and just how the promises were followed through on.

First, to Sam. He offered Sam "a change of attire," "a forged disc," and "transport to cross the Sea of Simulation."

And then he stood back, and made no attempt to stop either Sam or his helpers or his attackers…

and the fight played out as fate would have it, letting Sam and Kevin and Quorra escape to safety…

as they, most surely, would…

as they could have been predicted to…

from the viewpoint of one whose probability-calculations have always been informed by faith.

One who, deep down, does still believe in the Users.

He might… just possibly… still care.

Also, consider.

Zuse does not allow Clu's guard to take the disc he stole from Kevin. He appropriates it for himself, as a bargaining chip to use with Clu.

For what? "Control of the city. A sizeable request, I know."

Here might be where Zuse finally miscalculates. He was expecting, or at least hoping, that there was a chance Clu would honor his end of the bargain.

If Clu had, indeed, allowed him control of the city, it would have given him an advantage from a large number of "angles"-- no matter how the political side of things played out.

It could have given him leverage to help the Flynns later on, and undo the damage caused by the theft of the disc.

He might, quite possibly, have predicted that Sam and Kevin would both be able to recover from the immediate problem of the disc being lost.

For all we know, that brilliant probability-calculating mind might have already had a plan for that, and for how to help them later.

And even if that plan failed…it could certainly have permitted Zuse to be involved on a much larger scale in the resistance.

(Kevin, deep in his "zen thing," had even said that programs forming a resistance from within could have a better chance of taking Clu down than he himself ever could.)

(Zuse might, at some point, have agreed with him on that, and prepared himself to play a part in it.)

But.

All this seems lost.

Because, instead of honoring the deal, Clu just takes the disc and then blows up the End of Line Club with Zuse and Gem inside it.

However.

We can easily imagine that someone with the previously displayed skills in

hacking

hiding

taking on new identities

calculating probabilities

and playing all angles / planning for all possible outcomes

…might have kept a backup of himself somewhere safer?

In any case.

Whatever was going on in Zuse's mind, in regard to helping or not helping the Users, and preparing or not preparing for Clu's betrayal…

you can't deny two things.

He doesn't give Clu any leads to find the Flynns. He tries to convince him they're already dead.

and, once they do escape…

there just happens to be a Solar Sailer right in reach, waiting for them to sneak on.

A "transport to cross the Sea of Simulation." Just as promised.

Just my thoughts.

[aristia-pjoheadcanons]

can i request dating jasón grace hcs with a female reader pls? ty!

Jason Grace x !female reader

The confession either started from you or him. I mean, how can you resist him? Either you were there in Camp Jupiter from the start, or you met him at Camp Half-blood.

Either way, the fates did their work and you had him.

If he did confess, it would be in a private place at the highest tower, where you could overlook the scenery and stars from there. He would point at the constellations, and you would stare at the night sky—but you were the only thing he was admiring. The cool breeze would be a perfect excuse to brush his shoulder against yours, and he would gently take your hand and cradle them close to his body, turn his eyes with an earnest look in his eyes that already said everything. He spoke slowly, slightly mispronouncing certain words because of the cold making his lips feel like ice.

Either your first kiss was right then and there, or it was later. Jason wouldn’t force a kiss if you didn’t consent to it in one way or form. “Can I kiss you?” He would already know the answer deep down, but he’s just making sure. Then he would turn your chin toward him as he leaned forward---and kissed you.

Man, when you kiss this guy – fireworks appear. It feels electrifying, quite literally too since he sometimes can’t control the sparks that comes from his body.

Whenever he sees that you’re around, he can’t help but puff out his chest and try to look as attractive as possible.

Anything that can show off his strength is good. Archery, running away from woodnymphs, climbing the volcano at Camp Half-blood.

Or showing off his leadership and tactical side at Camp Jupiter, raising his voice and making it seem super masculine.

He would cross his arms against his chest, stand tall with his head held high – this was one of the few times he didn’t mind attention, you bet he’s going to demand for it.

He would slightly frown or cock an eyebrow, overseeing what his soldiers were doing, and if they were doing their job at all.

He would try to help you as much as possible in every way or form. If you had anything, and I mean ANYTHING in your hands he would be quick to take it in his hands and hold it. Likes babes, its just a sheet of paper calm down.

He would give half-smiles often, mostly because he can get very mushy and soft quickly and wants to look dashing and cool – and less like a golden retriever.

But that side of him goes just as fast when you praise him or when you touch his biceps for support. Or if you just happen to talk to him or give him flirtatious eyes across the room – this guy will SENSE it, HE KNOWS WHAT YOU WANT. He just likes to tease.

Sometimes it feels like he’s somewhat odd, or distant. But let’s say he likes playing hard to get, just as much as he loves the chase.

His eyes are calculating and has such a nice look to them it would feel like his eyes are hypnotizing you.

Loves it if you trace his lip scar. It gets really tingly and nice for him. He has to bite back the urge to bite your fingers or lick his lips.

Surprisingly smooth when he doesn’t think about it. Smoothly drapes his arm around your waist, holding it before he will he keep rested there while he’s talking to someone.

Or he would lean in really boldly, tilt your chin, and give you a good, nice kiss on the mouth.

He´s the type of person to pout while he’s kissing and breath a lil’ too loudly through his nose.

Once you get to the make-out stage he sucks in breath while kissing you with a slightly open mouth.

He is not the type to use too much tongue or too much of anything unless you like that.

But he will lean back to catch his breath while looking at you with such an intense gaze you might as well submit.

But if you’re more dominant, he will dig that. He would be somewhat stubborn. If you tell him what to do (let’s say you’re roleplaying and you’re a power-dom), he will glance at you and watch you from the corners of his eyes – not moving an inch of his life until he’s got you worked up – he would then smirk or laugh and be nice to you.

Hold his hand and you will feel the rough skin (this guy never moisturizes, because he forgets too) and callouses.

His hands are big, square, and hard in a way that’s nice – especially if he’s pressing you down.

Make-out on his bed and he will slowly run his fingers from your navel, and up your arms, before pressing you down with a shift of his hips – pinning you in place.

Not too verbal but you can hear him if you work him up just the right way.

ISTG I HC that Jason loves the “kissing” noises couple makes it definitely turns him on more than he likes to admit. He likes the noise of his wet kissing on your neck too.

Back to dating, Jason will teach you swordsmanship – The Roman Style. He will adjust your wrist and the way you hold the handle for every movement. He will find the perfect weapon suited for your needs.

Walking through a field of strawberry bushes or through the hot mesa/fields of Mars (they have that in California, right?).

This guy gets PINK because of the hot sun, he will help you lather sunscreen on your back.

Is such a sweet guy and remembers Valentine’s Day – but somewhat forgets anniversaries so he has to write it down.

The type of guy to write reminders on his forearms, otherwise he would forget.

Lather some aloe vera on his face, neck, chest, back and shoulders and he will be on his knees for you.

Sensitive skin so can’t use all moisturizers, but for some reason will use 3-in-1 shampoo?

Asks what your favorite scent is and will buy the exact one because he cares about your opinion.

Not a perfume guy but will compliment yours and will put his head wherever you sprayed your cologne/perfume – doesn’t matter if it’s sprayed on your neck or wrists, the boy wants to smell.

Has some cute habits that he definitely picked from you.

Is the type of guy to pick up on people’s speech habits, just imagine he says a lot of “like” because you often say that.

Doesn’t follow you around like a lost puppy – but watches you with his eyes like a guard dog.

The type of guy to like picnic dates, beech dates, city dates, all types of dates. He´s not too picky but he does enjoy relaxing things where he has time to talk but drag him to waterskiing and he will have a blast.

Can get insecure and jealous if guys flock around you. – calm him down by putting a reassuring hand on his back.

Actually has the urge to giggle and kick his feet if you play with his hair or scratch it in a soothing way.

If he gets jealous, he will do anything to grab your attention; a cool trick, laugh loudly, become charismatic, lean towards the squad legions, and discuss things in a very serious way – even though he literally doesn’t need to because you love him.

Will most likely say “I love you” first, and usually says it at night.

Will collect cute little bracelets and puts it on his wrists or sword handle as decoration so he’s always carrying a part of you during quests.

Won’t let anyone or anything stand in between the relationship and bond you two have. He is willing to commit a lot of different crimes for you.

I hope you liked it! Thanks for the request!