#Lower Nike Park

[whereslynx]

Heeeey, can you make one where reader and oscar are a couple and they are wearing matching shoes (the Nike Cortez ones ofc :)) and matching Outfits and s.o. is making fun of them and reader gets mad cause making fun of spooky is a no for her? Thanks :)

a/n: of course!! p.s may be a bit inactive due to exams, but I’ll try my best to stay consistent. :)

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sun was setting over Freeridge, casting a soft, golden glow across the streets as you and Oscar strolled side by side. The air was warm but carried a light breeze that made the evening perfect for a walk. You both wore matching Nike Cortez kicks, crisp white with the signature black swoosh, paired with coordinating black-and-white outfits. It hadn’t been Oscar’s idea at all—it was yours, something you’d sprung on him earlier that morning with that mischievous grin he could never say no to.

Flashback to that morning:

“Mi amor!” you called out from Oscar’s bedroom, your voice carrying a playful note that made him turn his head. He was lounging on the couch, half-watching TV, half-relaxing, but your tone made him pause.

“Hm?” he hummed back, eyes still on the screen.

Peeking your head out from the door with a glint in your eye, you caught his attention fully. That grin on your face said it all. Oscar raised an eyebrow, smirking as he leaned back further into the couch. “You’re up to something, aren’t you? That smile tells me you are.”

You bit your lip, trying to contain your excitement, but you couldn’t hold back. Stepping out with a handful of clothes in one hand and a pair of fresh kicks in the other, you practically bounced over to him. “Look what I found!” you beamed, holding up matching outfits for the two of you. “Pleaseeee.” You begged, jogging over to him, dropping the clothes dramatically onto his lap.

Oscar stared down at the clothes with a dumbfounded look, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Matching fits?” he asked, raising both brows now, his deep voice laced with disbelief.

“C’mon, just this once,” you pleaded, playfully tugging at his arm as you sat beside him, flashing him your best puppy-dog eyes. Oscar shook his head, laughing under his breath as he considered it. “You serious right now? I’m not tryna look like I’ve been dressed by my girl, ma,” he said, though his tone was teasing.

“Please,” you repeated, leaning your head on his shoulder with an exaggerated pout. “We’ll look cute! You’ll love it, promise.” He paused, weighing his options like it was the biggest decision in the world, before finally letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine. But only ‘cause it just means pendejos will know you’re mine,” he said, giving in as he shook his head in defeat. “But if the homies say anything… that’s on you.”

You grinned wide, jumping up and planting a kiss on his cheek. “You won’t regret it, trust me!”

Cut back to the present:

Now, as you walked through the neighborhood with Oscar beside you and shopping bags in your hands, you caught a glimpse of the reflection of your matching outfits in a shop window and couldn’t help but smile. You had to admit, you both looked fresh together, despite his initial complaints.

Oscar glanced down at your matching kicks, shaking his head with an amused grin. “Can’t believe you got me wearing this,” he mumbled, though there was no annoyance in his voice—just affection. “You look good, admit it,” you teased, bumping your shoulder into his as you walked. He huffed a little, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you in closer. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe you were right. We look aight.” His smirk widened as he looked down at you. “But you owe me for this one.” You laughed, leaning into his side. “Whatever you say, cariño.”

You both reached Oscar’s parked Impala, the sleek maroon finish reflecting the last rays of the sun as it dipped lower into the horizon. Without hesitation, you hopped into the passenger seat, the familiar scent of leather and that faint hint of cologne that always clung to the car greeting you. The engine roared to life, and with a casual hand on the wheel, Oscar pulled out, cruising smoothly down the block toward his house.

As the Impala glided through the quiet streets, Oscar shot you a quick glance, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Just so you know, the homies are chilling in the front yard,” he said, giving you the usual heads up. He often did this, wanting to make sure you were comfortable before walking into his world. It wasn’t that you minded—it was just his way of easing your nerves in case you didn’t feel like being put on the spot.

You smiled softly, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “I don’t mind,” you assured him, resting your hand over his on the gearshift, the warmth of his skin comforting in the cool evening air. “But I appreciate the heads up. I know you just don’t want me feeling awkward.”

Oscar glanced at you with a small grin, squeezing your hand gently. “Just tryna’ keep things easy for you. Eases my conscience too. You laughed, giving his hand a light squeeze back. “You’re such a softie sometimes, Oscar,” you teased, making him chuckle in response, the deep rumble of his laughter mixing with the hum of the engine. “Can’t help it, not when my woman is so goddamn beautiful.” he shot back with a smirk, eyes flicking back to the road as the two of you neared his place.

As you pulled up into his driveway, the front yard was packed with Santos, lounging on lawn chairs or leaning against cars. There always seemed to be more of them around Oscar’s place at night, like it was their designated spot once the sun dipped and the air cooled down. The sound of laughter and chatter carried on the breeze, mixing with the faint scent of grilled food from a nearby house.

Stepping out of the Impala, you could feel a few curious eyes on you and Oscar as you walked over, your matching outfits catching more attention than usual. You stood tall next to Oscar, who casually dapped up a couple of his boys, his arm eventually slipping around your waist in a relaxed but protective gesture.

“Damn, Spooky, you and your girl tryna’ start a fashion line or something?” one of the Santos teased, a wide grin spreading across his face as he nodded toward your matching Cortez kicks and coordinated outfits. A few of the others chuckled, shaking their heads in amusement.

Oscar snickered, shaking his head but clearly unbothered by the joke. “You just jealous you don’t got a hyna to pull this off with,” he fired back smoothly, pulling you a little closer as he gave you a quick wink.

The guys laughed, but you weren’t about to let anyone poke fun at Oscar, even if it was all in good spirits. You shot a look at the one who made the comment, a smirk playing on your lips as you leaned into Oscar just a bit.

“Nah, don’t hate just ‘cause we make this look easy,” you said smoothly, eyes narrowing in playful challenge. “Maybe if you stepped up your game, someone might want to match with you, too.”

The laughter died down for a second as the guys absorbed your comeback, then they all cracked up again. The one who’d spoken up first raised his hands with a grin. “Aight, aight, I feel that!” he admitted, nodding his head in defeat. “Didn’t know Spooky’s girl could snap like that.”

Oscar chuckled, clearly proud as he pulled you in closer, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Shiiit, see. That’s why she’s with me,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth. “Keeps me sharp and keeps y’all in check.” You grinned, giving him a little nudge with your shoulder. “Somebody’s gotta do it.” Oscar looked back at the group, his grin growing wider. “I told y’all, she’s got it handled,” he said, with that easy confidence that made you love him more.

The guys laughed it off, the teasing vibe shifting into a comfortable, lighthearted energy. The evening air cooled around you, but the warmth between you and Oscar lingered, making you feel like you two could take on anything together.

As the laughter died down, the group eased back into their usual rhythm. A couple of the guys grabbed beers from the cooler that sat on the porch, tossing one to Oscar, who caught it without looking. You slipped your hand into his, giving it a small squeeze before he cracked it open and handed you the cap with a grin.

The sun had dipped lower, casting the yard in a soft, golden glow as the sound of music started drifting from someone’s phone. The guys settled back into their lawn chairs, some leaning against cars, others just lounging on the grass. The warm breeze ruffled through the trees, carrying the smell of grilled food and the faint scent of summer nights.

You and Oscar sat on the porch steps, side by side, just enjoying the quiet, the cool air against your skin. Every now and then, one of the guys would pass by, raising a hand in greeting or making some comment that got a laugh. There was no tension—just good vibes, good company, and the easy comfort of being with people who felt like family.

Oscar leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. “You good?” he asked, looking down at you with a smile that softened his usual tough guy exterior.

“Yeah,” you replied, tilting your head back and looking up at the stars starting to blink into view. “This is nice.” You glanced at him, catching the soft warmth in his eyes. “I’m glad we’re here, like this.”

Oscar chuckled, bringing your hand to his lips for a quick kiss. “Me too. Nothing like a night with mi familia.”

[toasttt11]

finding out

April 15, 2024

Sebastian and Luke were in the car after their last rookie NHL game and were driving back to the apartment to eat and get changed and go out once more with this team.

Sebastian shook his head fondly not suprised Luke had started eating on their drive home, Luke leaned over and offered Sebastian a bite off his fork and Sebastian leaned over taking a bite of the pasta and hummed at the taste.

Sebastian drove with his one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting in its normal spot on Luke’s thigh.

Luke was happily munching on his food and continued to give bites to Sebastian as he drove them home and that means he gets to have some of Sebastian’s food when they get home.

Sebastian pulled them into the parking garage and they grabbed their bags of food and headed up to the apartment.

Sebastian opened the door and let Luke walk in and he closed the door behind him.

Jack who was chilling on the couch looked up when he heard the door and saw his brothers.

Sebastian set the bags of food on the table and shook one at Jack. Sebastian pulled out the box of food for Jack and opened the lid for him and he walked to the fridge and grabbed a yellow gatorade that had already been opened as Sebastian opened all the bottles in the fridge for Jack.

Sebastian set the drink on the counter next to Jack’s food and Jack had walked over and was sitting down on the seat already digging in the food.

“Thanks Sebs.” Jack mumbled gratefully, Jack was not gonna lie he hates being hurt but this year with his injury it’s been the easiest yet having Sebastian and Luke. They don’t let Jack sulk and make him get up and keep going and they always help him where he rarely needs to ask.

Sebastian nodded and plopped down next to Luke and started eating his food, Sebastian saw Luke’s pout towards him and saw Luke had no food left and reluctantly slid his box closer to Luke so he can have some.

Jack let out a chuckled watching as Luke’s pout changed to bright smile once Sebastian offered his food. Jack knows that Luke has Sebastian wrapped around his finger and he doubts there isn’t anything Sebastian wouldn’t do for Luke.

The three all finished up eating and Sebastian threw away all the trash. Luke and Sebastian headed to their bedroom to get changed and Jack just went to his bedroom to grab a hat as he is alreadly dressed.

Sebastian let out a sigh of relief pulling off his suit, it’s one of the few things he hates about playing hockey is having to wear a suit. Sebastian threw on a pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a gray hoodie with a pair of white nike blazers.

Sebastian was slipping on some more rings and bracelets now that the season was over and he looked over seeing Luke leaning on the bathroom door staring at him with a look.

Luke was wearing a pair of black jeans a blue hoodie that’s a little to big on him that Sebastian knows is his.

Luke looked his boyfriend up and down and smirked glad that Sebastian is his. Luke walked over and cupped his face tracing his cheekbone before pressing his lips messily to his. Sebastian made a sound and put his hands on Luke’s lower back pulling him closer to him.

“Sebs! Lukey! You guys ready?” Jack called out from the entrance way.

Sebastian and Luke both pulled away reluctantly and gave each other looks before they walked out of their room and to the front door where Jack was waiting for them.

They headed out of the apartment and down to the car and Jack got into the backseat, Luke in the passenger and Sebastian driving like usually.

Sebastian parked them in front of the bar that they have gone to most of the time with team, it’s a pretty low key bar and they barley met any fans here and there isn’t ever any photos taken of them. They make good drinks, appetizers and have pool tables and dart boards so it’s the perfect spot.

They seemed to be one of the last few to get there and the back booths were filled with the team most who cheered when they saw Jack, Jack smiled walking quickly over and accepting all the hugs and pats on the back, haven’t seen a lot of them after his surgery last week.

Sebastian and Luke walked over to where Alex, Dawson, Simon and John were all crowded together in one booth, Sebastian let Luke slide in before he sat down next to Luke, Luke tangled his foot with Sebastian’s.

Dawson and John were arguing like normal, the two always spending so much time arguing over Canada and USA. Simon and Alex both seemed to ignoring the normal arguing and Alex was telling Simon something when Sebastian and Luke sat down next to them and Alex and Simon turned to them.

They all started a conversation between the four of them as Dawson and John were still arguing.

“You want something to drink?” Sebastian leaned in mumbling against Luke’s ear and Luke looked up at his boyfriend nodding and giving him a soft smile before turning back to the conversation and knew Sebastian would know what he wants.

Sebastian squeezed Luke’s thigh before sliding out of the booth and walked over to bar.

Sebastian had walked up to the bar and ordered Luke his drink and got the drink and started walking back to the booth, when a blonde girl stepped in front of him.

“Hi!” The girl giggled looking up at him. Sebastian nodded looking at her warily, “Your so tall!” The girl all but swooned and reached out to put her hand on his arm making Sebastian quickly step back.

Luke looked up and saw a girl giggling at Sebastian and Luke could tell Sebastian was uninterested but Luke still felt uneasy watching someone try to flirt with his boyfriend.

Luke could see Sebastian was starting to get uncomfortable so he quickly got up and walked over to Sebastian wrapping an arm around his waist and his hand cupping Sebastian’s face and brining him closer to connect their lips.

Sebastian let out a sigh of relief and quickly kissed Luke back and melted into the kiss.

Luke pulled back and looked towards the girl who was standing there with her jaw open, “He’s taken.” Luke grumbled with a possessive smirk. The girl quickly scrambled away.

Sebastian had a small smirk on his face as he leaned down the rest his chin on Luke’s shoulder to whisper in Luke’s ear, “Have i told you have much i love your possessive side.” Sebastian pressed a kiss to his cheek before leaning back.

“You have but you can always say it again.” Luke proudly smirked back always loving that Sebastian enjoyed when Luke was jealous and possessive.

“Holy Shit!” Dawson let out staring at the two in shock, reminding Sebastian and Luke that there team was right in front of them and saw the whole thing.

Sebastian and Luke shared a look and turned to the team, most were staring at them with jaws drop and shocked expression, Nico and John didn’t look at all surprised as they both figured it out awhile ago and Simon and Alex both know because Sebastian and Luke told them.

“Damn how long?” Curtis looked so stumped having not even realized his two rookies were together.

“Two and half years.” Sebastian nodded keeping his arm wrapped around Luke’s waist.

“Oh my god!” Nate gasped looking at the two, “Rusty you were the one who gave Bolds all those marks.” Nate has remembered quite a few times Sebastian has had marks in the locker room.

“Do not remind me.” Jack looked a second away from throwing up thinking about his little brothers sex life.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ondrej looked worried hopping it wasn’t because they were worry about the reaction of the guys in the locker room.

“We weren’t hiding it.” Luke simply shrugged, “We just didn’t see the reason to announce it.” Luke and Sebastian had talked about it but really didn’t care to tell everyone and just let them find out when they find out.

Nico walked over and clapped a hand on both of their shoulder and gave them a proud smile “Thank you for sharing it with us.” Nico had figured they were dating a while ago but he was glad they were comfortable that they didn’t feel the need to hide it from the team.

Sebastian and Luke softly smiled back at Nico.

“A lot of things make sense now.” Erik nodded thinking about times he thought the two were incredibly close and had his suspicions that they liked each other but he never thought they were together already.

“If it makes you guys feel better Jack didn’t even realize until last summer.” Luke chirped his brother with a smirk, Sebastian let out a small snicker.

“It does make me feel a lot better actually.” Curtis smirked looking over at Jack teasingly watching Jack throw his head back dramatically.

“Ok so i was a little obvious.” Jack reluctantly admitted still pouting though.

“Very obvious.” Sebastian and Luke both deadpanned at their older brother.

[sidekick-hero]

Run Boy Run

It’s the summer of ‘86 and Steve should enjoy it like everybody else in Hawkins. They defeated Vecna, the Upside Down is closed for good (or so El says) and everyone he cares about is still alive, if a little bit worse for wear in the case of Max and Eddie. Steve should be fine, should feel safe, should act normal. But he isn't, he doesn't, he can't.

He has nightmares, every night, and sleeps four hours tops. They seep into his days, too, make his own mind a terrifying place. One day, when he's alone in that big, empty house of his, it becomes too much. He snaps. Barely manages to put on a pair of shoes before he's out the door, feet pounding on the asphalt, drowning out the loud screaming in his head.

It helps. He comes back an hour later, sweat-drenched and exhausted, and falls asleep on the couch before he can even get into the shower. Sleeps for seven hours straight, a record.

After that, he goes on runs more and more often. Buys actual running shoes when his Nikes won't do anymore. He's able to sleep after those runs, is able to let go some of the anxiety that's clawing at his insides. It quiets his mind and that's all Steve can wish for these days.

The first time he ends up at the trailer park is by accident. It's just close to the woods where he always ends up lately, tired of all the curious eyes on him when he runs through town. When he sees the familiar sight of it he slows down, contemplates just running past it, but his legs ache and his mouth is as dry as the dessert. Maybe Max is at home.

It's Eddie he finds instead, out on the trailer steps, smoking. Steve jogs over to him, a genuine smile at the sight of him. When Eddie looks up and sees him, his cigarette drops from his mouth.

"What a sight for sore eyes, Harrington. Want to relive the old jock days?" He asks with a playful glint in his eyes.

Steve shakes his sweaty hair like a dog at Eddie in retaliation. "Shut up, Munson. Running is a great way to exercise.”

“Pffft, the only reason to run is away from something.”

“If you say so. Hey, could I get water before running back? It’s hot today.”

Eddie looks him up and down, bare legs up to his upper thighs, his running shorts and the sweat drenched shirt clinging to his torso.

“Sure is, Big Boy. Gimme a sec, I’ll get you something.”

He comes back with a bottle of water and a towel. Steve takes the bottle and gulps half of it down as if he had never had anything better in his life. It certainly feels like it right now. Satisfied, he pours the remaining water over his head to cool the rest of him.

He uses the towel Eddie gave him to wipe his face, and as he lowers it, he finds Eddie staring at him with a dazed expression, mouth slightly open, eyes unblinking.

He throws the wet towel in Eddie's face and cackles at the indignant stutter.

"You asshole! See if I ever help you in your time of need."

Steve just smirks at him over his shoulder, ready to start the long run back. "You looked like you were in need too, Munson. To wipe up the drool.”

Before Eddie can say anything in return, Steve is off at a brisk pace, feeling smug and invigorated.

Despite Eddie's threat, he gets Steve some water and a towel the next time he stops. And the next. And the one after that. It becomes a routine, the trailer park becoming his regular pit stop, his safe haven to refuel. Eddie is always waiting for him with water and a towel, sometimes a granola bar, and always a blinding smile and a flirty one-liner.

"Just looking at you, Harrington, makes me sweat."

"Maybe you should lose some layers, Munson. How've you not had heatstroke?"

"If you want to see me shirtless, all you have to do is ask, sweetheart."

The nightmares and anxiety attacks don't magically go away just because Steve starts running, but he is getting better at dealing with them. They become more manageable, less frightening.

Things are finally looking up, which is why he's unprepared for a particularly bad nightmare on an ordinary Monday night. He falls asleep on the couch, watching a few reruns, and wakes up to the sound of his own screams, images of snapping bones and oceans of blood flooding into his mind.

He's on the verge of a panic attack, feeling his windpipe tighten and his lungs burn. So he does the only thing he can think of — he runs. He doesn't even change into his running clothes, just puts on his shoes and sprints out of the door.

It's not like his usual runs, because this time he just doesn't stop. He runs until there is nothing left in him but the pounding of his feet on the ground, the aching legs, and the dizziness that comes from exhaustion.

In the end, though, his feet carry him to the only safe place he knows, just as the sun begins to set.

The scene is reminiscent of their first meeting here, Eddie on the steps of his trailer having a smoke, and the sight at last calms something in Steve, gives his mind something else to concentrate on, something other than death and blood and sorrow.

Eddie looks up at the sound of approaching footsteps and is on his feet in seconds, stumbling toward him before he's even fully upright.

"Jesus Christ Harrington, you look like you could keel over any second." Which is exactly what Steve does, his legs giving way and his body being caught by Eddie's arms around him before he hits the ground.

"Steve, hey, man, what the fuck? What happened?" They're both on the ground. Steve's in Eddie's arms, his legs folded under him. His legs hurt, but the pain is a distant sensation, like it's not his own. He’s cold, skin clammy and he feels nauseous. Eddie looks at him with big, worried eyes and Steve tries to stand up again, to show Eddie that he's okay.

He manages, but only because Eddie is shouldering most of his weight.

"Nightmare. It was bad. Real bad. So I just... Started running. I don't know how long? Just couldn't stop. Not until I saw you."

"Okay," is all Eddie says before he leads Steve into the trailer, almost carrying him as if Steve weighs nothing. Eddie is stronger than he looks, and the thought nestles deep in his mind, ready to be examined later.

Inside, Eddie sets him down on the couch. "Stay here, I'll get you something to drink."

He returns with water and dextrose, hands both to Steve and tells him to take slow, small sips or he'll get sick. At Steve's questioning look at the dextrose, Eddie shrugs and mumbles something about stocking up for his weird jock friend.

"How do your legs feel?" Eddie sits down on the couch next to him and Steve sips his water, already feeling a little better. When he touches his leg it hurts like hell, the muscles are too tense under his sweatpants.

He looks up at Eddie and says, "Sore. And stiff, like moving it will make it worse."

And then he does just that, lifting his bent leg and screaming in pain as his thigh immediately begins to cramp. He tenses up all over, tries to stand up, knows that moving the muscle helps with leg cramps, but apparently not this time. This time the other leg cramps as well.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! It hurts." He falls back on the couch and presses both hands to his legs, trying to knead away the contracting knots in his thigh muscles, but to no avail.

Then Eddie is there, pushing him backwards and down on the couch, taking Steve's legs in his lap, pulling down Steve's sweat soaked sweatpants to get a better grip and starting to massage the leg closest to him. Steve reaches for the left one and presses down on it again, can't really get a good grip on it, but the pressure is enough to get the muscles to relax a bit.

Eddie's hands are sure, precise. He expertly massages along the cords of the muscles, starting with firm strokes to warm them up and get the blood flowing again. Next, he begins to knead the muscles, first lengthwise, then across. Steve feels the tension seep out of them, the muscles loosen and the pain subsides. The feeling is heavenly and he composes odes to Eddie's hands in his head.

Satisfied with how Steve's thigh muscles have softened in his capable hands, Eddie moves to the left, giving it the same treatment. Steve leans back on the couch, exhausted from the pain, from his run, from the nightmare that brought him here in the first place. He's tired, so tired. The repetitive movement of Eddie's hands on his legs soothes his mind like the equivalent of white noise.

"Where did you learn to do this?" His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and his eyelids keep dropping, but he has to know. Eddie keeps surprising him and Steve can't get enough.

Eddie's hands pause on his sweaty skin and Steve wonders if he said something wrong, wants them to go on, is already addicted to the way they feel on his body.

They continue when Eddie answers his question, his voice soft, careful. "There's this book I found in the library. And it talked about cramps and what to do about muscle strain and overexertion. Just. I remembered what it said when I saw you."

Steve blinks at him, once, twice, before asking, "A book? What book? Why would you read about muscle strai - Oh." Eddie ducks his head, hiding behind strands of his curly hair. "You read a book about running for me." It's not even a question.

Eddie doesn't say anything, which says more than enough, and continues to massage Steve's thighs before moving down to Steve's calves. He kneads the muscles there with the same devotion and Steve melts into the cushions beneath him. Now that the pain is gone, he can enjoy the feeling of firm hands lathering his body with attention.

As Eddie's hands move back up his legs, it feels less like a massage and more like a massage. The touch feels less functional, more sensual, purposeful in a different, exciting way. He feels blood rushing not only to his relaxing muscles, but to other places as well. Steve can't bring himself to care, even though he knows his arousal will soon be visible in his boxers. They've been dancing around each other for months, their flirting all bark and no bite.

He hopes that changes now.

Eddie's hands reach his thighs again, and Steve knows the moment when Eddie sees that Steve's half-hard by his hitching breath and clenching hands. He looks up at Steve's face and his eyes are wide, pupils already dilated, giving him a wild look. A hungry look.

"Steve?" Almost a whisper.

Steve has been running away from his nightmares, his fears, for weeks, but maybe, just maybe, he has also been running towards something.

Toward this.

“You read a book about running for me.”

“I did.”

“You wait for me, every day, to stop by. You take care of me.”

“I do.”

Steve has been running towards them.

“You want to touch me.” They both know he doesn’t mean a massage.

“I do. So bad, Steve. Want to touch you so bad.”

He's been running toward Eddie all along.

“I want you to. Please, Eddie. Touch me.”

It’s all the invitation Eddie needs. He yanks down Steve’s boxers and Steve holds his breath, waits for Eddie’s hand on him.

He gets Eddie’s mouth instead and can’t help the “Fuck,” he almost screams at the sensation of wet heat around the sensitive head of his cock.

His legs are still in Eddie’s lap and the angle is kind of awkward, must be hell on Eddie’s back, but the guy is not only surprisingly strong, but also flexible. He bends over Steve’s legs, his hands on Steve’s hips to hold him still as he swallows down Steve’s dick like it’s his favorite meal.

Steve’s hands find their way into Eddie’s wild mane, burying themselves in the silky strands. There is not much he can do but hold on for the ride.

It’s messy, it’s desperate and downright filthy how Eddie chokes himself on Steve’s dick, swallowing him down until he can bury his nose in the coarse hair at the base of Steve’s considerable length. Steve feels Eddie’s throat constrict around it, feels him gag as it hits his palate, but Eddie doesn’t stop, just encourages Steve with wet, pleading eyes and his hand gripping Steve’s where it’s buried in Eddie’s hair to fuck his mouth.

Steve moans at that, mind blown by the sheer hotness that is Eddie Munson. “You sure?” he still has to ask, has to make sure, holds himself back until he sees Eddie nod, feels him tap Steve’s hip once, twice, three times and knows that’s how Eddie will tell him to stop if it gets too much.

Another broken moan rips from Steve’s throat as he starts to slide his dick in and out of Eddie’s throat. He starts of slow, tries to savor the feeling even if his leg protest under the strain. Eddie moans around him, the vibration doing nothing for his already thin self-restraint, hips speeding up without Steve wanting them to. It’s just. It’s too much, too good, Steve too keyed up already.

“God, Eddie, shit. So good. So hot. I’m close, so close, please, can I come in your mouth, please,” he babbles, brain-to-mouth filter fried by the hottest blowjob he’s ever gotten. Eddie hums at his request, thumb stroking over his hipbone and eyes locking with Steve’s in a silent plea to do just that.

It only takes four more thrusts for Steve to lose it, to bury himself deep inside of Eddie’s throat while he comes harder than he can remember. It seems to go on forever, the cum dripping out of Eddie’s mouth and into Steve’s lap despite Eddie’s best efforts to swallow it all. When it gets to be too much, the pleasure turning into pain at the overstimulation, he cups Eddie’s cheek, presses his thumb to the corner of Eddie’s mouth where it’s stretched wide by Steve’s dick.

Eddie gets the hint and lets Steve slide out of his mouth, licks his lips, tongue catching on a stray drop in the corner of his mouth and it’s so hot Steve wishes he could get hard again this soon.

“Fuck, that was hot, Harrington.” Eddie’s voice is raspy, fucked out and Steve loves the sound of it.

“You just had my dick in your mouth. Call me Steve, okay?”

Eddie grins. “Fuck, that was hot, Steve,” he says and captures Steve’s lips in a searing kiss.

As Steve slides his tongue into Eddie’s mouth and tastes himself, he thinks that they could add this to their routine. He would like that very much.

_________________

A little self-indulgence from a passionate runner who just wants to see Steve in his tiny shorts again (I miss you S2!Steve).

As usual, thank you so so much to @legitcookie and @yournowheregirl for your unending support, great cheerleading and pep-talking as well endless supply of ideas. This would still be just a thought in my head without you 🫶

READ ON AO3

[fanlitfairy]

Could You Walk Away?: A Review of Ursula K. Le Guin's "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas"

Art Credit: Katie Huff on ArtStation

Ursula K. Le Guin’s short story “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas” is one that is sure to make you close your book slowly, stare at a wall, and wonder if you would be the kind of person to walk away from Omelas. (Spoiler: it is more complex of a situation than you might imagine.)

Le Guin’s story opens with the Festival of Summer in the city of Omelas, a town by the sea with “red roofs and painted walls,” “moss-grown gardens,” “avenues of trees,” and “great parks and public buildings.” The city is alive with the diverse crowd of Omelas citizens and they are all remarkably joyous, even the horses who were excitedly flaring their nostrils. 

Le Guin continues past the Festival and begins to explain the people of Omelas. According to Le Guin, they live without a government, police, slavery, stock exchanges, things that have a heavy presence in our own society. Some may think that this town is full of simple folk but they are “not less complex than us.” The descriptions of the town continue, exposing more and more information about their lifestyles and it seems on the surface that this town is just a truly happy town with a lack of judgment, crime, and better than our own. 

Gradually, Le Guin reveals the key part of Omelas, the thing which their entire joy rests upon: a small child, in a basement of a private mansion or a public building. It is malnourished, neglected, and frightened. It begs for help and it never comes, only people who offer cornmeal and grease as a meal, kick it, or stare through a window. Every townsperson in Omelas knows of the child’s existence and they all feel some kind of anger or guilt but they say there is nothing they can do. The child must suffer so that their joy may live on. 

However, as the title of the piece suggests, some feel so negatively about the child that they walk away from Omelas. They do not have an idea of where they are going but they know that they will not stay in the town, profiting off of a dying child, hidden somewhere in a basement.

This short story, sometimes labeled as a “philosophical” short story, places the reader in an uncomfortable situation. Like I mentioned before, sometimes, after reading this story, you have to sit with yourself and wonder if you would be the kind of person who would walk away from Omelas. Or, perhaps you are the other option that isn’t as explored in this piece. What would happen if you stood up to the town of Omelas and freed the child from the basement? 

One of the reasons I enjoy this story so much is because of the relevancy in our century, despite this piece being written in 1973. Our world relies on convenience and commodities which places a significant amount of stress on producers, service workers, and the lower-class who frequently end up in jobs where they have to bend over backwards in order to please consumers. The most obvious connection I can make is to fast fashion, where companies like Shein, Forever 21, Fashion Nova, and even the less obvious ones like Nike, rely on the difficult labor of child workers who are working in poor conditions to produce clothing for people to conveniently buy fast and cheap. 

Consumers ignore the horrors happening behind the construction of their thin, mesh tops that will eventually end in landfills or thrift stores. Some even twist these horrors, making it seem as though the working conditions are fine and attempt to convince others, as well as themselves, that this lifestyle is okay. Is this not painfully similar to the town of Omelas? 

Another reason I have a particular affinity for this piece is Le Guin’s masterful writing. I will admit that when I first saw this piece in text, I felt daunted by the large paragraphs with no separation, no dialogue, and what seemed to be heavy description. I have never been a fan of stories that pack a lot of information into one long paragraph. However, with some bravery, I jumped into this piece and found rhythmic writing that flowed so well from the paper and into my mind. 

Le Guin’s words flow so effortlessly into one another that you can’t help but finish the piece in a short amount of time. The first paragraph where she describes the Festival of Summer is a key example of this. In one sentence, Le Guin offers some description on such a simple topic as horses: “Their manes were braided with streamers of silver, gold, and green. They flared their nostrils and pranced and boasted to one another….” The repetition of verbs ending in -ed gives the text a sort of bum-bum bum-bum reading that I really appreciate in texts. 

Le Guin’s frequent repetition of phrases like “How describe the citizens of Omelas?” and “Do you believe?” connects the entire piece as a whole. I, for one, feel more drawn into a text when I can point out familiar themes and word choice throughout it all. It also places emphasis on some key points that Le Guin is trying to get. To the reader, it may feel physically impossible to have a world devoid of all the negative things we are so used to. Before the reveal, she asks if we believe and directly after, now that we know the whole reason why, she asks again because we are more likely to believe in a world that relies on a suffering child to keep their happiness. 

This work must be classified as one of the greatest short stories. Its themes are constantly relevant, the writing is great, and it is an entirely thought-provoking piece that takes risks in its content which work effortlessly. “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas” is undoubtedly a must-read for everyone, now more than ever. 5 stars out of 5. 

Works Cited

Le Guin, Ursula. “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas.” The Big Book of Modern Fantasy, edited by Ann VanderMeer and Jeff VanderMeer, Vintage Books, 2020, pp. 228-232.

[mangoisms]

chapter 5 of forever is a maybe (but i like our chances, baby) is up and posted and i'd just like to cut out what is some of my favorite dialogue from this chapter. no real spoilers either, just some Shenanigans!

“You could ask one of the assistant managers to get it for you,” Miyuki points out as Eijun leads you two into the lower levels of the stadium, where extra equipment, cleaning supplies, and other miscellaneous items are stored. Very little people are around, so the only noise is the soft sound of your footsteps, with the occasional squeak of the soles on the concrete floors. It’s a bit unsettling, but these sections are part of a larger area entirely off-limits to fans and the like, so it should be fine. 

Eijun tosses a scandalized look over his shoulder. “That’s not what they’re here for, Miyuki Kazuya! Don’t be rude!”

“Sawamoron, you literally have two of them assigned to you to wait on you hand and foot. That is their job.”

“Well, I still feel bad! And don’t you see how creepy it is down here? Why would I want to make one of those poor assistants go through this? No! Strength in numbers!”

You chuckle fondly. “I’m not sure this park is old enough to have ghosts, Eijun.”

“You don’t know that! Gramps says we can carry ghosts with us sometimes.”

You frown. “Is that why I always see stuff in the corner of my eye whenever you come over?”

“Maybe!”

“Eugh.” You shudder.

Miyuki snickers. The industrial lights overhead flash over the lens of his glasses. “Don’t tell me you actually believe in ghosts. The country bumpkin I get but —”

“Hey, she’s like me! Tell him!”

You shrug. “I’m from Montana, which probably has more cows than people. I’ve been raised to respect the supernatural.”

He laughs hard at that. “Oh, my stomach hurts . . . You two are hilarious . . . Ghosts, please —”

As if on cue, the lights illuminating the long tunnel flicker. 

“You’re upsetting the ghosts, Miyuki Kazuya,” Eijun whispers, annoyed, though he does take your hand, pulling you closer to him. “Say sorry.”

“I am not saying sorry —”

The lights flicker again.

“Kazuya!”

“Who am I apologizing, too, huh? What ghosts could possibly be here?”

“The ghosts of old!”

“Old what, you idiot?”

The look of incredulity on his face makes you want to laugh but you figure both he and Eijun don’t want you laughing right now. 

“Old baseball, obviously!”

“What ghosts of old would want to haunt a place called T-Mobile Park? You think Babe Ruth is hanging around here when he could be at Yankee Stadium?”

“Kazuya!”

“Alright! I’m sorry, ghosts of old baseball!”

Another tunnel comes up on your right and all three of you flinch and skid to a stop when metal screeches loudly against concrete.

Several things happen in that moment. You, decidedly spooked, drop back at the same time that Eijun, using your left hand clasped in his right, pushes you back to stand behind him and Miyuki, while Miyuki’s left arm shoots out protectively over Eijun. In between all of this, somehow, your right hand ends up finding the back of Miyuki’s Nike track jacket, fabric clasped tightly in your hand. 

A surprised worker meets your gazes, standing at the foot of a tall ladder, clearly having just moved it; at the top of the ladder is an open box in the wall, lines of wire exposed.

“Sorry,” the man says, getting over his shock first and gesturing to the box with a pair of pliers in his hand. “Electrical work.”

You know Eijun is sighing in relief at that but it’s not your imagination, either, when you feel Miyuki relaxing, too. Then you realize you’re still holding him and, with your face burning, you let him go. 

He sends you a quick glance over his shoulder but you avoid his eyes awkwardly, shuffling closer to Eijun. 

Looking back forward, he straightens his jacket. “Told you, Sawamoron,” he mutters, though it lacks any real heat. 

Eijun ignores him still, saluting the man. “Thank you for your hard work! And sorry if we scared you!”

The man smiles, bemused, and shakes his head. “’S alright. No worries.”

The three of you continue on your way, all of you silently agreeing to not bring up any of that. 

you can find the masterpost for this fic here!

[familyofpebbles]

Athens, Greece - May 2022

Your reenlistment vacation/honeymoon part one. Your bonus allowed us to be extravagant on this one, and you did not hold back on your well-deserved reward. If we were going to realize your dream of seeing Athens, we were going to do it right!

The first part of that was ensuring we had the proper view. You secured us a penthouse with a wall of windows looking directly at the Acropolis, eye level with the Parthenon. It had a large wrap around balcony as well, fully furnished and equipped with an outdoor shower. Truly jaw-dropping.

We quickly set about exploring the area. We hadn’t planned anything in particular for the day we got there, and so had all the time in the world to adventure around. We admired antique shops and sprawling markets dotted with beautiful marble ruins, cats snoozing in the shade of ancient columns. You got a very nice haircut at a barber shop on a whim, and when hungry, we returned to where a very friendly and enthusiastic restaurant manager had stopped us in the street previously. His tactic worked well on us- we had decided to come back as soon as we had walked away. Our first taste of Athenian food was outstanding- the grilled mushrooms quickly becoming a new favorite food and object of my eternal desire once we left the country. The downtown area we were in was happily buzzing with activity- the overwhelming vibe being jovial and relaxed. As it grew darker the colorful string lights lacing over the street came on, musicians began to play, and we fell in love with Athens.

We walked back to our apartment, shoulder to shoulder with people around us, but for once I didn’t feel anxious or overwhelmed. There wasn’t a shred of tension around and I’ve never felt safer. Now, I know this is a luxery of where exactly in Athens we were- right in the middle of the historic tourism. I’m not naïve enough to believe that to be true of the entire city, but there, it was wonderful. I would have felt comfortable on my own.

We were treated to a lit up view of the Parthenon from our living room. LEDs lined the floor and we fully enjoyed the view- from there and the balcony. I’m sure you remember the very kingly moment from the dining room chair. I certainly do.

-

History day! After the best breakfast I think I’ve ever had and the discovery of orange cake omg SO GOOD- off we went to the Acropolis! Through Propylaia and straight to the Parthenon- so much bigger than we had imagined it. At the Erechtheion – a temple of Athena, a cat was perched at the top of the stairs, calmly looking down at the surrounding crowds. Many people were calling to her, but she just watched- until you went up to the barricade and held you hand out to her. She stood up and casually walked straight over to you, rubbing up against your hand. She deigned to be pet by me once or twice, but then put an end to that with a snap, and after a final scratch from you, turned her back on everyone else and returned back to her place at the top of the steps. Surely, a blessing from Athena’s little priestess for you.

Onwards to the temple of Athena Nike, and then overlooked the amphitheater – the Odeon of Herodes Atticus. It looked like they were setting up for an event of some sort there. How amazing it would be to attend something like that! Then, over to Areopagus Hill. Next to and slightly lower than the Acropolis, it gives a spectacular view of the city to the west. You decided that it would be the perfect place to watch the sun set.

Down to the museum, packed full of stunning sculptures and pieces of the Parthenon. A quick café break to cool down, and then we wound down the hill to wind down to the Temple of Hephaestus and it’s lush park surroundings. Then, souvenir time. For ourselves and for your family too! We got a few small things from the usual shops to give to Cate and Drew, plus a small evil eye bracelet with an Athens owl on it for myself- but for our main item, opted to go to the antiques market. There was one shop in particular that had a silver Greek ship atop a smooth piece of Lapis Lazuli - for a rather high price. We reluctantly left, but after a day of looking out for something for ourselves, and our appreciation for this trip growing, we knew we wanted something really special to remember it by. And so, back we went, hoping no one else got to it before we did. They hadn't, and now she sits on our shelf.

By now, the sun was getting lower, so as we ambled past the gates of the Roman Agora, we kept our eye out for dinner. Really, any place was going to be delicious, so when we got tired of walking we picked one sat down for another mouth watering meal. We got a bottle of wine to go, and briefly returning to our apartment, carefully packed it with some wine glasses in my backpack. Back up we went to Aereopagus, for what was to be my favorite part of the whole trip.

We joined a small crowd on the hill- couples and families and laughing groups- found a rock to settle onto, and opened the wine. As we watched the sky turn to molten gold over this storied city, we sat in a moment of deep gratitude for where we were and what we are able to experience together. It was grounding to be taking part in this very human tradition- sharing a drink with your love, surrounded by other people experiencing the same sense of wonder over a nightly occurrence, in the very spot millions of others have sat and appreciated the exact same thing throughout history. We were acutely aware that we were in one of the highlights of our lives.

-

The next day we ventured out further. An early morning, a quickly snagged coffee and a pastry, and into a waiting van- a small airbnb tour waiting to whisk us off to our several destinations. We were joined by one woman in the front, who was very obviously unhappy to be sharing her tour with us. Perhaps we were just a little too happy for her, or didn’t look like we’d take it as seriously as she intended to. Who knows. Either way, we were unbothered and fully tuned in to the wonderful and thorough history and mythology lesson our host treated us to on the way!

Our first pit stop was Arachova- a popular  Greek ski resort mountain town, quiet now in the late Spring. It was a small stop, just long enough to walk down the main street and admire the view. Soon, we were off to one of our main destinations- The Temple of Apollo, where the Oracle of Delphi resided. We started at the bottom of the hill and wound up to the top, through the complex of ruins that used to flank the road. We saw the Oracles temple, and we drank from the clear waters of her spring. A visit to the museum revealed the wonders that had been unearthed whole from the area. This was my favorite site we visited. How amazing to stand in the stories.

We stopped for lunch at a restaurant on the edge of a mountain, shaded by a canopy of a tree. We had cool, refreshing wine, and you had the best salad of your life that you still regularly talk about- it had pomegranate and honey dressing.

The second half of our journey lead us to the Thermopylae Baths – the hot springs that Hephaestus created for Hercules to regain his strength in. We bathed in them as well, hoping for some of that bodily restoration, before heading to the nearby battlefield. This was where Leonidas fought and died with the 300 Spartans against the Persians. We stood on the holy hill where his body was brought to be defended in their last stand.

Then, the long drive back to Athens while we digested the amazing places we had just been. Pieces of history we’d grown up knowing- places you dreamed about. Standing on the very these historical events occurred. It was the perfect day, and I’m so glad that you, especially, got to experience it.

-

One last evening in the beautiful Greece. One more delicious dinner one more perfect breakfast, one more walk through the city- and then we were off. We fell in love with Greece harder than we had anticipated- the history, the beautiful land and weather, the happy people, the food- and knew that we would be back again to experience more of her. For now, we had incredible memories to subsist off of until our return.

[mysterymirrors]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Outdoor Voices Tri-Tone Slashback Crop Top/Longline Sports Bra - XS.

[fashionholic98]

Online Mens Shoes in Pakistan

Online mens shoes in Pakistan has seen exponential growth over the last decade, with fashion items like shoes among the most sought-after categories. The reasons are obvious: online shopping saves time, offers a wide range of options, and often provides better deals than brick-and-mortar stores.For men in Pakistan, and especially in Karachi, online shopping presents a convenient way to explore the latest trends without having to brave the bustling streets. Popular e-commerce platforms like Daraz, PakStyle, and outlets from local brands such as Bata and Service have become trusted sources for quality footwear.

2. Popular Platforms for Online Men’s Shoes in Pakistan

Several online platforms offer affordable and stylish men’s shoes that cater to different tastes and budgets. Here are some of the most popular sites:

Fashionholic

Fashionholic is one of Pakistan’s largest online marketplaces, known for offering a broad range of products, including men’s shoes. With thousands of options from local and international brands, Fashionholic provides detailed product descriptions, reviews, and ratings to help you make informed decisions. Fashionholic frequently offers discounts and sales, making it easy to find quality shoes at reduced prices. Fashionholic is another platform offering an impressive variety of men’s shoes. Known for its competitive prices, Fashionholic is perfect for budget-conscious shoppers looking for trendy footwear. The site often has promotions, making it easy to find shoes at significantly lower prices.  Fashionholic is a well-established name in Pakistan’s footwear industry, and its online store offers a range of shoes suited for every occasion. From casual to formal, Fashionholic combines quality with affordability. Their user-friendly website and reliable customer service make them a trustworthy choice. Fashionholic Shoes has a solid reputation for quality footwear in Pakistan, offering an array of stylish men’s shoes online. Known for their durability and comfort, Fashionholic Shoes is a great option if you want reliable footwear that lasts.

 Best Mens Shoes in Karachi

Karachi’s hot and humid climate influences the best mens shoes in Karachi that are most suitable for daily wear. Below are some of the top styles to consider:

a. Casual Shoes

Karachi's casual footwear options include loafers, canvas shoes, and sneakers. These styles are ideal for everyday wear and can easily be dressed up or down depending on the occasion. Lightweight, breathable materials like canvas and mesh work well in Karachi's heat, keeping your feet cool and comfortable.

b. Formal Shoes

For professional settings, consider options like oxfords, brogues, and dress loafers. Leather shoes are popular in Karachi for formal occasions due to their sophisticated look. Brands like Bata and Hush Puppies offer classic formal shoes that are both stylish and comfortable, suitable for long hours at work or social gatherings.

c. Sandals and Flip-Flops

Given Karachi’s warm climate, sandals and flip-flops are essential for casual outings. Ideal for beach trips or casual errands, these types of footwear provide comfort and breathability. Opt for styles with cushioned soles for added comfort.

d. Athletic and Sports Shoes

For those who lead an active lifestyle, sports shoes are a must. Karachi offers a range of parks and fitness centers, and athletic shoes from brands like Nike, Adidas, and local brands such as Service Sports are perfect for workouts, jogging, and more.

4. Top Affordable Men’s Shoe Brands Available Online

When it comes to finding the best shoes at reasonable prices, certain brands stand out for their affordability and style.

Fashionholic

Fashionholic has been a household name in Pakistan for decades. Known for its comfortable and durable shoes, Fashionholic offers a wide variety of styles, from formal to casual. Fashionholic shoes are budget-friendly and often go on sale, making them an excellent choice for cost-conscious shoppers.

Low Price Mens Shoes

Here are some tips to help you snag the best low price mens shoes online:

a. Compare Prices

Always compare prices across multiple platforms before making a purchase. Websites like Daraz and PakStyle often have similar products, and you might find a lower price on one site compared to another.

b. Look for Sales and Promotions

Take advantage of seasonal sales, promotional events, and special discounts. Daraz’s 11.11 Sale, for example, offers significant discounts on a wide range of products, including shoes. Additionally, signing up for newsletters can alert you to exclusive deals.

c. Check Customer Reviews

Customer reviews can provide insight into the quality and comfort of the shoes you’re interested in. Take time to read reviews on multiple platforms to get an accurate sense of what to expect.

d. Use Price Comparison Tools

Several online tools and apps can help you track price changes and compare prices across websites. These tools can save you time and money, ensuring that you get the best deal possible.

e. Follow Brands on Social Media

Many brands announce their sales and discounts on social media platforms like Facebook and Instagram. Following your favorite shoe brands can help you stay updated on promotions and new arrivals.

[bree4]

I know Who Killed me Chapter 4

"Charlie!" shouts my mother i have been in bed all morning it's summer vacation i can't believe my first year at Anoka Middle has gone by this quickly. this fall i will officially be a eighth grader, holy shit. i go downstairs where my mom and sisters are waiting in the kitchen. 

"Happy Birthday!" all three shout at once. today i turn fourteen. 

they have a breakfast spread all over the dinner table and i am suddenly feeling i'll, not on a empty stomach but because i want to maintain my empty feeling. they sit me down and i put a fake smile on. i'll eat it, i just need to puke it up later than i will go for a long walk. maybe i can even start running?

i take a bite and i make sure to really chew each bite.

to others this would be heaven but for me it's awful, i can feel the fat latching onto my body i need to get rid of it now. 

i go upstairs put on a grey oversized sweater and gym shorts grab my Nike runners and leave the house. it's the morning but the heat of summer is very much present on this walk, maybe i should have worn a t-shirt? i do a few laps around our neighbourhood and make my way to downtown i look at the shops and decide i want a coffee, which seems to be the only thing i find safe to eat. sparky's cafe is my go to spot, i like to get a iced coffee or a pumpkin spice latte in the fall. i would kill for a Pumpkin Spice Latte right now. it's also closes to the river side park, the walk i like to take when i clear my head.

the walk home is peaceful i feel better, i just need to get back to 110 i'm at 120 and once i'm back i'll be okay. i turn the corner at 2nd ave to walk the path at Akin river side park, i will walk up towards river ave it's a far walk but i need it right now.

Saturday June 30, 2018

today would have been Charlie's 15th birthday i can see it now, we would have had a nightmare before Christmas or a twilight theme but specially the first movie for the 'cold vibes' and he would have dressed up like Edward Cullen or even Bella Swan. the Cake would be chocolate with chocolate icing because he loved chocolate. i know him so well, i think i knew him better than his family did. 

i walk down to the Akin river path because it's where Charlie spent most his time, he loved to walk the path. sometimes he would be here for hours, if his mom couldn't find him i knew he was always here. i spent that first week after he went missing down here, hoping it was all some joke or misunderstanding and that he would be by the docs or resting in the trees. i would be able to find my boy, but that day never came. i didn't leave my bedroom for weeks, my parents were scared that i might flunk out of the seventh grade.

god i wish he were just missing. how can you be dead Charlie? and why can't i remember that night, i've tried so hard to remember details, were we followed? did you get chased by some high school kids and a prank go too far, did one of us do something? and why can't this fucking town find who killed you? 

Friday June 30, 2017

by the time i get home it's almost noon, my mom is sitting at the dining room table with a coffee i pour myself a cup and sit with her. she's reading her wellness book and i look at the title it's a diet book, she doesn't need that i do. i look at the book with interest, she catches me so i look away. 

"you're so lucky" she tells although i have no idea what i'm 'lucky' for.

"for what?" i ask because i must know now. 

"you're so skinny and you don't need to try..."but i do have to try, what does she mean skinny? i'm huge. there's a small bump in my lower belly that was never there before, and i can't see the ribcage anymore. i'm anything but 'skinny', i need to work out more shes clearly making fun of me.

i don't talk anymore i just sit, i don't wanna make a scene or cry or something. she slips a small wrapped gift to me. 

"happy birthday "

"what is it?" i ask.

"open it." i start to unwrap the paper and i see a small iPhone box. i look up and smile, all that anger i just had slipping away, i'm now excited it's my first iPhone. my older sisters got one when they turned fourteen so i was hoping i'd get mine this year.

"i know it's not the newest model, but your cousin Riley didn't use it anymore a-" 

"it's perfect!" i scream. 

i rush to my room and get it set up, i used to use a iPod  touch but this is the real deal i cannot believe it. after setting it up i DM my friends that i got a phone and to send me their numbers. the party is tonight and i told everyone it's going to be a villain from a horror movie. the party starts at seven so i need to get to setting up. 

Saturday June 30, 2018

the walk to the train is freezing it's pouring rain today. i'm cold and i can just use a warm coffee, i'll go uptown near Anoka station i know sparky's is a few blocks down i'll catch the bus to main street and walk the rest of the way. i realize now i just made an entire circle around the city and somehow ended up back near the riverside path.

Friday June 30, 2017

the party starts and the three are showing up, they dressed up as their favourite horror movie villains: Ethan is Freddy from Nightmare on Elm St, Liam went as Jason from Friday the 13, Olivia decided on Annabelle from the conjuring, i went as the best villain in my opinion: GhostFace from the Scream Franchise, the best horror franchise in my humble opinion. 

the lights are blinking orange and green the kitchen has neon purple light bulbs and all the snacks are in the dining room including the cake. i invited a few others from our grade but i never got a RSVP so as usual it's the core four, mom and my older sisters, they dressed up as the twins from the shinning and my mom decided on Winifred from Hocus Pocus. we play uno which always starts an argument between everyone and people get accused of Cheating ( not sure how they can cheat.)

"Uno!" Olivia shouts, but from the mischievous look Liam has i guarantee he's going to make her pick up four cards, he also has one card left.

he slams the 4+ card down in front of Olivia.

"Nope, now you gotta pick up four cards Liv." he is so proud of himself. 

"ugh, Liam!" she's mad now.

"Not fair!" she whines.

"You're just not fast enough, nice try though." 

the next round is almost done and Liam only has his single card, i'm waiting for him to put it down. "do it, i dare you" i say in my mind.

he puts it down and i shout "UNO!"

he glares at me and i keep his stare, i smirk and he gives me one right back. this game is getting heated.

"will you two stop flirting?" Ethan tells us breaking the silence.

"shut up Ethan." Liam says. okay we are clearly done with Uno, i need to switch the Activity soon or all three will literally murder each other.

"cake?" i ask. Ethan is already rushing to the dinner table where all the snacks and my birthday cake is. 

"Mrs.Summers Charlie wants to do the cake!" Ethan screams.

"it's Carol weirdo." my mom says coming out of the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee. we laugh because it's true my mom hates being called mrs.summers or ms summers or miss summers, just call her Carol. she says calling her by her last name makes her feel old. 

"Sorry..." Ethan says but he's only teasing. 

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR CHARLIE, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU" everyone is singing.

as i watch them all sing i wish we can sit here for a few moments longer, because little do they know, i will be murdered on Halloween night. i blow out my candles. everyone claps in celebration here's to Fourteen, and the last five months i have to live.....

Wednesday October 31,2018

the sheriff is in the principals office and everyone is in the hallway watching with confusion. why are they here? 

"Can the Following Students report to the principals office immediately: Liam Green and Olivia Bennington, thank you." i'm frozen again, it's just like last year. i am met with everyone staring at me i look down the hall at Olivia who's already look back at me, she's just as confused.

the office feels cold when we walk in, the sheriff is already in the office with the principal. we walk in together.

"Hi?" Olivia says.

the sherif turns around and looks at us both, i don't say anything but i'm very cautious.

"Ethan Lowry is missing." he flatly says.

i look over at Olivia and back at the sheriff. 

Fuck.

[kicksaddictny]

Fernando Tatís Jr. Honors Mother with Custom Nike Air Jordan 1 for Mother’s Day

On Sunday, May 12, 2024, during the Padres' game against the Los Angeles Dodgers at Petco Park, Fernando Tatis Jr. unveiled the 16th edition of his exclusive custom cleat series. This particular cleat, the 16/50 in the collection, paid tribute to his mother, Maria Tatis, in celebration of Mother's Day.

Dubbed "MARIA," this custom Nike Jordan 1 cleat featured a striking design crafted from pink gloss leather in soft baby pink, accented with vibrant hot pink leather details. Complemented by matching hot pink laces, the cleats boasted "MARIA" on the left tongue and "TATIS" on the left cleat.

The special touch came with custom-designed cleat insoles showcasing cherished photos of Tatis Jr. with his mother on her wedding day, when he was just 8 years old. The cleats were personalized further with Tatis' jersey number, #23, and his FTJ logo in crisp white gloss on the lower back.

Adding a spiritual dimension, the cleats featured Psalm 23:1 inscribed in white gloss at the top of both cleats in Spanish, "Salmos 23:1." This passage, "The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want...," held personal significance for Tatis Jr.

The "MARIA" design, as always, was a collaborative effort, conceptualized by XAMPLE and brought to life by the renowned custom footwear artist known as The Surgeon.

This latest addition to Tatis Jr.'s custom cleat series not only showcases his unique style on the field but also honors the profound influence of his mother, Maria, in his life.

[mediamonarchy]

https://mediamonarchy.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/20240219_MorningMonarchy.mp3Download MP3 Balls to write the truth, President’s Day sneaker pimps and Navalny whacked + this day in history w/John Kerry’s Hollywood ISIS propaganda and our song of the day by SUIT on your #MorningMonarchy for February 19, 2024. Notes/Links: Image: “I want peer-reviewed articles and at least ten sources.”“Why? You got jabbed in a parking lot by a stranger with a drug you knew nothing about just to get a free donut.”https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/597898944584089623/1208906633455861843/peer_reviewed_parking_lot.jpg?ex=65e4fd09&is=65d28809&hm=0002dc6315eb0e195145e8a1f0ddf8c62543c849f0b312975a8f6a97b41c8b11& Image: The Leftist Good Samaritan – “Stay here. I’m going to go write a law that forces you to buy insurance.”https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/597898944584089623/1208906201853599755/leftist_samaritan.jpg?ex=65e4fca2&is=65d287a2&hm=041670b2cef08f9cd722e0f79bcd7a8566f6decf98199a35be4909f1ffe6727a& Meow Wolf Calls Off Matisyahu Concerthttps://www.sfreporter.com/news/2024/02/15/meow-wolf-calls-off-matisyahu-concert/ Travis Kelce’s Debut as a Film Producer Is Also the First Movie Financed Using President Biden’s Green Energy Tax Creditshttps://variety.com/2024/film/news/travis-kelce-my-dead-friend-zoe-financed-energy-tax-credits-1235908057/ Security Cameras Suddenly Pan Away as Bomb Squad Responds to Jan. 6 Pipe Bomb; Video obtained by The Epoch Times sheds new light on key details relating to the DNC pipe bomb on Jan. 6, 2021.https://www.theepochtimes.com/article/security-cameras-suddenly-pan-away-as-bomb-squad-responds-to-jan-6-pipe-bomb-5586718 Houston college student sentenced for Jan. 6 capitol riot, says FBI agent allegedly stole from himhttps://abc13.com/alexander-fan-sentenced-houston-man-to-12-months-probation-for-trespassing-jan-6-2021-capitol-riot/14435276/ Rep. Eli Crane (R-AZ) trashes reporters for claiming President Trump was part an Insurrection on Jan. 6thhttps://freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/4216767/posts Video: “You Don’t Have The B—s To Write The Truth”: Eli Crane Straight-Up Insults Reporters In Angry Tear (Audio)https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3u13AATHdg Eli Cranehttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eli_Crane Video: Joe Biden on Elton John – “It’s his fault we spent so much money fighting HIV” (Audio)https://twitter.com/BGatesIsaPyscho/status/1757667549729214802 RFK Jr. Scores Big Win In Lawsuit Accusing Biden Admin Of Censoring COVID Vaccine Infohttps://www.zerohedge.com/markets/federal-judge-hands-rfk-jr-win-lawsuit-accusing-biden-admin-censoring-covid-19-vaccine-info San Francisco Appoints First Noncitizen to Election Commissionhttps://www.theepochtimes.com/us/san-francisco-appoints-first-noncitizen-to-election-commission-5589635 Texas To Build Military “Base Camp” On Mexico Border To House 1,800 Soldiershttps://www.zerohedge.com/political/texas-build-military-base-camp-near-mexico-border-house-1800-soldiers Hugh Aynesworth: CIA Media Asset, FBI Informer, Friend of Lyndon Johnson White House and Media’s Darling JFK Assassination “Lone Nutter” Journalist Dies at 92https://covertactionmagazine.com/2024/02/13/hugh-aynesworth-cia-media-asset-fbi-informer-friend-of-lyndon-johnson-white-house-and-medias-darling-jfk-assassination-lone-nutter-journalist-dies-at-92/ IRS Warns Tax Refunds Will Be Much Lower This Year; Inflation-hit Americans who filed their taxes early have received, on average, smaller tax refunds this year.https://www.theepochtimes.com/us/irs-warns-tax-refunds-will-be-much-lower-this-year-5588942 SiriusXM Cuts 160 Jobs Amid Push to Become More “Efficient, Agile”https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/business/business-news/siriusxm-layoffs-1235822610/ Nike’s stock drops as plan to cut almost 1,700 jobs highlights need for new strategyhttps://www.marketwatch.com/story/nike-to-lay-off-more-than-1-600-employees-to-cut-costs-report-8e3bd3cb Trump Launches Line of Sneakers During ‘Sneaker Con’ in Philadelphia; Shoes Sell-Out In One Afternoonhttps://w...

[returntosaturn271995]

Friday, July 28th: Breathing lessons

A theme lately for me has been if you can learn to control your breathing you can learn to control your life. 

And I’m someone who...like...breathes, obviously, but doesn’t super enjoy it, if that makes any sense. I hate being told how to breathe, when to breathe, or that I’m breathing wrong. 

How can a person be breathing wrong? I’m fucking alive, aren’t I? 

That was my attitude for a lot of things breathing-related growing up. It comes up quite a bit more than you’d think. 

There’s the controlling anger and anxiety, slow inhales:

“Don’t tell me to take a deep breath to calm down, you take a fucking deep breath to calm down. I’m upset, oxygen doesn’t fix that, you condescending carbon-emitter. I know everything there is to know about oxygen. How dare you make this about my lungs, my feelings are valid.”

There’s the singing-from-the-diaphragm-breathing from choir all those years:

“Why do I need to fill up my stomach? My lungs are in my chest. Also I don’t think I’m doing this right. I feel like I’m just pushing my stomach out. This is actually weird and uncomfortable when you aren’t working out.”

There’s the relaxed, nose-and-mouth breathing during work outs

“Holy shit, I can’t breath. Stitch in my side. Muscles are pissed. Ow-ow. STOP TELLING ME TO BREATHE I”M FUCKING TRYING THE AIR IS JUST BEING AN ASSHOLE RIGHT NOW. Ugh, what adult pants like a dog? This is fucked. *gasp* up.”

And finally, the focus-on-your-breaths during meditation breathing: 

“My nose feels itchy. This is boring. Okay, act like it’s your first breath ever. Nope. Still boring.”

But with running, all you’ve got is your breathing. And the major lesson I’ve learned is you’ve got to relax, sending inhales to your screaming calves and exhaling tension that adds to your resistance. Go slow even though it’s cardio. It’s a lesson in not being so fucking stubborn, just breathe in to it. Let it be on your side.

Breathe. 

Other things that happened today:

Woke up at 7 am, morning routine, wrote standup, and did early-morning yoga for the first time. Walked to grab a vanilla latte and interviewed with MSL at 11 am. Paid the electric bill. 

Meditated on the middle ground of focus and relaxation, letting them inform each other. Then I went on a 22 minute run using the Nike Running App and listening to Taylor Swift’s Reputation album. (Hate that I fucking love that music). As with most of my runs, I ended up at the beach where I again stuck my lower body in the warm, mint-green ocean and watched the waves roll in from the pier. 

On the way back I was inspired to write a letter in the form of an advice piece: A manic-depressive’s guide to forming a running habit. I even got to meet the neighbor who owns the boxer I always see in the window on my way back from the park. His name is Micky. The dog, that is, I forgot the dude’s name. 

Priorities. 

Put last night’s burger in the oven and now at 3 pm, I’m where I started being productive yesterday. Definitely an improvement and kind of wild how quickly the day flew by. I feel like I entered, “flow-state”, where work and focus feel good. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. 

Oh- and in world-wide news:

The United States Military still has a long way to go in the fight for justice for sexual assault survivors, but policy and practices are finally headed in the right direction. Commanders directly up the chain of command shouldn’t have total authority...duh?

As the world endures its hottest July ever recorded, conservative groups have already drafted a plan to gut any federal efforts to address climate change. Super tired of people saying both parties are too extreme. 

Rep. Tim Scott (R-SC), the only Black GOP presidential candidate in the field, publicly criticized Gov. Ron DeSantis (R-FL) for his support of Florida education standards requiring that students be instructed that slaves “developed skills” among other “benefits” of slavery. Because FUCK RON DeSantis and FUCK Florida.

[captainstevenjohnstonme]

Bad Little Doggie.

What a perfect day.

The sun is shining and the birds are chirping happily up the trees.

Over the Christmas break I indulged in too much pudding and beer so I decide that today is the day to go to the Centennial Park in Sydney and jog along the paths whilst taking in the spectacular views.

I jump in my car and drive for about 20 minutes or so before arriving at my destination.

There are a lot of people out and about enjoying being in the fresh air instead of stuck at home listening to the relatives who have over stayed their welcome.

The manicured grass is adorned with lots of picnic blankets occupied by holidaymakers eating fried chicken and coleslaw while others play cricket or throw a frisbee around oblivious to their skin burning in the mid morning sun.

I take a seat and change into a pair of Nike runners that I got for Christmas.

The runners are supposed to make you feel like you are jogging on soft clouds but after jogging for 100 meters my feet are beginning to hurt and my expanded stomach is bouncing around like a huge bowl of jelly so I slow down to a stroll while at the same time pretending to be a world class athlete.

I hear yapping nearby and immediately my heart starts pumping overtime because even though I am a well built 20year old male who's enjoys playing rugby and mountain climbing I am ashamed to admit that I have had a hatred for dogs after I got bitten on the leg by a mates pet German shepherd when I was twelve years old.

When I round the bend I am confronted by a grey haired middle aged lady with a Chihuahua on a long lead.

The little mutt is the size of a guinea pig with soft eyes and brown about as harmless as said guinea pig so I take a big breath and approach the Chihuahua 'Mister I wouldn't get to close to Misty if I were you, she might look sweet and cuddly but Misty has won a blue ribbon for prize fighting on more than one occasion.'

'Prize fighting my arse' I mutter under my breath as I bend down holding out my hand for the dog to sniff 'Good little doggie' I say in greeting.

The lady pulls on the lead but it is too little too late.

The Chihuahua bites down on two of my fingers and begins to chew on them like they were two delicious chicken wings.

I am too stunned to move and can only watch as my two digits are severed and swallowed down.

People started to gather around to see what the commotion was about.

I was yelling for help holding my wounded hand to my side while blood began to pool at my feet.

Misty the manic mongrel had broken loose from its owner and had now clamped its teeth into the back of my left ankle shaking its head like it was at a heavy metal concert.

I sound of my Achilles tendon snapping was probably heard as far as the opera house but still the people did nothing but hold up their phones taking pictures and video for their own morbid pleasure.

As I lay slumped on the ground unable to move the owner of Misty the mongrel from hell walked over 'Mister leave Misty alone, can't you see she is hurting?'

Misty sat a few meters away from me with my blood all over its evil little face 'What are you talking about you stupid bitch, that is my blood on Cujo, so why don't you shut the fuck up and pick up your pet demon.'

One of the onlookers lowered his phone and told me that he had called the police and ambulance 'Even though it cost me some valuable footage.'

I didn't know is I should thank the prick or jump up and jam his phone where the sun refuses to shine but seeing that I want be doing much jumping in the foreseeable future I bite my tongue and wait for the ambo's to arrive.

A half hour later I arrive at the hospital where my wounds are treated than I am wheeled into a ward rolled onto a bed and told by a doctor that I will be having surgery to reattach my tendon and stitch my hand before infection has a chance to set in.

While the preop drugs start to take me off to pixie land I look out of the ward window and see the old lady and her Chihuahua looking back at me in amusement.

I can still feel the teeth ripping my fingers from my body and hear the snarls from the rabid beast.

Two weeks later I was released from the hospital with my physical injuries completely healed but my mental wounds I am still to overcome.

For six months I need the aid from a walking stick to get around and slowly but surely my mind is healed as best as it ever will be and I can't believe that I am saying this but I decide to get myself a pet but it sure as fuck won't be a dog.

At the pet store I wander around the cages holding lizards, snakes, rats, and a good assortment of birds and cats.

I walk out carrying a hold all case where inside sits a very contented Siamese cat that the owner of the store assured me was kind and gentle with a playful personality.

Pandora soon became part of the furniture running from room to room getting up to mischief.

I feed her a variety of food mainly beef chicken and fish and she seemed happy with my selection but a month after I brought her home Pandora went off her food and began to hiss and scratch at me for no reason that I could see.

The vet suggested that I feed Pandora a mixture of dry and wet cat food and he even gave me a few brands to try.

Pandora took to her new meals like a moth to a flame and I sigh in relief because I was starting to stress and have flashbacks to the day in the park when i was reduced to a quivering mess by Misty the Chihuahua from cuntland.

Pandora and I are now both happy with the new food schedule and life is beginning to look good but that soon went to hell in a handbasket.

It was a Tuesday evening around six o'clock and Pandora looked all set in for a nap after her meal and I leaned in to listen to her purr.

Her green eyes opened and without warning my she lashed out racking her claws down the left side of my face.

Sweet little Pandora now looked like a voodoo princess on meth and she lashed out again and this time she hit my right eye and I felt the eyeball turn to mush.

I feel the juices from my battered eye running down my face but I quickly come to my senses and dial triple 000.

I hold a towel to my eye while I wait for the ambulance to arrive and you wouldn't believe but the same two ambo's who treated after my first attack walk inside.

The older of the two recognizes me straight away 'What is it this time a goldfish?

'No it was a crazed cat thank you very much, now are we going to stand here talking all day?'

'Sorry sir' the other ambo says 'But and you can tell me to mind my own business if you want, but I really don't think that you are an animal person.'

'You think?' I scream back 'Now take me to hospital and I would appreciate it if both of you would stay completely silent or I am bound to lose my temper.'

My face took 36 stitches to repair and I lost my left eye and now i need to wear a patch until an prosthetic eye is fitted.

Now I am back at home with a new pet and I know you are all saying 'What in the fuck?'

But I can guarantee that this pet is completely harmless and doesn't need any feeding or taking outside to do its business because you see my new pet is a rock who I named Granite.

THE END.

[oh2z]

kiss me. jay park 

word count: 1.7k

summary: jay can’t seem to form words after feeling your hips suddenly move against his. highly suggestive. reader discretion advised.

contents: switch!jay, switch!reader, studying, kissing, grinding, thigh riding, daddy kink, dirty talk

it was like any other thursday night; you, setting the table, and jay, doing some sort of portfolio for his stylist internship. lonely, you sat on the couch and scrolled through your phone only to jump up in surprise when you felt yourself falling asleep. 

shaking it off, you walk your way over to jay’s study room. leaning into the doorway, you find jay siting at a desk, a folder and laptop open before him. 

“jay!” you announced, sleepy but happy to see him. 

he jumped a little at your voice, turning to look at you standing in the doorway. you were still wearing the nike pro shorts you love and the t-shirt that you had taken from his closet, your eyes a little puffy from tiredness.

“hey,” he said with a small smile. “were you just asleep?”

“almost, i caught myself” you replied, chuckling while shuffling into the room. “well.. whatcha doin?” you asked. he furrowed his brow, smiling though.

“you’re so cute, you know that right?” he said, scooting out a little. you smiled and nodded.

“im always cute,” you told him with a pout.

he chuckled and patted his lap. “yes, you’re my cutie, now come here. i’m just working on a portfolio.”

you scuttled over to his lap and clambered onto it. he seemed to have expected you to sit with your back to his chest, facing the desk, but instead you straddled one of his thighs, perching on it and leaning in to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“are you almost done?” you asked him, nuzzling your face into his neck.

“uh.. nearly there,” he mumbled, one hand now resting on your back.

“ooh,” you cooed. “my wittle jongdeongie is so smart.”

he let out an airy laugh. “are you comfy baby?” he asked.

you nodded, but shifted your weight a little. you exhaled near his ear, your warm breath blowing over his skin. his other hand had made its way to rest on your waist, and he gripped it carefully.

“y/n,” he said, calling your attention to him as you raised your head off of his shoulder.

“yeah?” you asked.

“kiss me.” jay whispered.

you were feeling shy and sleepy, but you stretched out to obey anyway, reaching for his mouth with yours. he let you lean in, sliding his hands from your waist to your hips. you gripped onto him and leaned forward hurriedly, wanting to touch him more. as you leaned forward your hips rocked, moving you on his thigh. your lips finally met his gently and he increased the pressure of the kiss quickly, his hands still resting on your hips.

a tiny moan passed from you to him, and you allowed yourself a bit more movement, rocking your hips on his thigh again slightly. he continued to kiss you firmly. his hands still holding onto you and you couldn’t help it as you move your hips again.

jay detached his lips from yours, looking down at you curiously. “baby, what are you doing?”

a faint tint rose to your cheeks as you moved again, rocking yourself forward, whining a little.

“you’re a needy little thing tonight, aren’t you,” he murmured, smirking. “does my thigh feel good baby?” he said, moving his mouth close to your ear.

“yes sir,” you managed to whine out.

“fuck” jay breathed in response to the title as you began to circle your hips, rubbing yourself against his thigh more obviously now. he slid his hands up and down your sides, moving them back and and around to your ass, squeezing it with both hands as you moved. you moaned loudly at the combination of his touch and your movement, grinding against him continuously. 

you were breathing heavily and whining as you moved, riding his solid and muscular thigh needily, little moans and gasps coming out of you as he leaned back and watched you moving against him, his eyes sparking with something dark as his tongue passed over his bottom lip hungrily. 

"jayyy," you whined, lowering your head to press your forehead against his shoulder, clutching handfuls of his shirt. you had never done this before. you had started moving on an impulse and you couldn't believe you were actually feeling so good. but then again it wasn't just the friction between your thighs that was driving you toward an orgasm, it was his hands on your body and his eyes watching you hungrily and his breath in your ear and your name on his lips as you rode him, his encouragement keeping you going.  

"that's right, use me," he murmured as you rocked your hips steadily. "daddy's thigh feels good doesn't it?" he asked. you tilted your head back and moaned loudly at his words, your mouth falling open at the title he gives himself.  

"yes," you whined, grinding harder.  

"tell me," he said.  

"f-feels good daddy," you moaned.  

"fuck," jay breathed. He couldn't believe how hot and desperate you looked and how much it was turning him on to watch you using him like this. "kiss me," he commanded. and you couldn't obey fast enough, leaning forward quickly and kissing him hungrily, mouth open, tongue out as you neared your release, warmth pooling between your legs where you rested against him. you moaned into his mouth and he kissed you back just as messily, loving your sloppy, needy kisses as you sucked on his bottom lip and clutched his shoulders. "i want you to come on me baby," he said against your lips. "can you do that for me? hm? can you ride daddy's thigh until you come?"  

you were breathing heavily and still rocking your hips and you didn't know how this had happened, you just knew you wanted to do what he told you and you wanted it now. you tilted your head back and closed your eyes and suddenly jay's mouth was on your throat, his lips tracing it until he found a spot that made you whimper, taking up purchase there as he helped you move your hips, sucking against your neck harshly and sending a little shot of pain right through you.  

"j- jay! i'm close." he just smacked your ass one more time, suddenly bouncing his leg beneath you. you cried out and he did it again, making your cry die into a whimper. with a little bite to your neck and a last harsh suck he pulled away, just as he moved his leg again, clenching his jaw and bearing his teeth as he did it.  

you finally fell apart, whining his name over and over as you gripped his shoulders tightly and he held on to your hips, steering you in little circles through your orgasm as you came down.  

you panted and rested your head on his shoulder, noticing for the first time now that your senses were returning to normal, that your knee rested near his crotch and he was pressing solidly against you. he was so big and so hard and he must have been uncomfortable in those tight jeans. you knew you should offer to take care of him, but you also knew that he has an important portfolio due tomorrow morning.  

"oh," you said, feeling more like yourself now, and slightly shy about what you had just done. "sorry about that jay," you mumbled, moving to get off of him. but he held onto you.

“what are you sorry for y/n? that was so fucking hot,” he said, chuckling. he pressed a soft kiss to the spot on you neck that was already purpling. “i should apologize, i may have gone a little overboard with this,” he mumbled, looking at it.

“that’s okay. i like marks.” you said casually.

“fuck, y/n.” he breathed as he helped you adjust your position in his lap, tracing lazy circles on your back with his fingers.

“hm?” you absentmindedly asked, fingers trailing his jaw line, admiring the soft glow of his skin.

“i think i just fell in love with you... again.” he laughed. 

“oh you’re just being dramatic,” you teased shyly.

“i know what you just did was like the hottest thing ever - you were so needy and cute and you just used me how you wanted - and now you’re just sitting on my boner like you don’t even care that it got me hard - and oh my god,” he paused his rant, as if he’s suddenly realizing something. “you made me think i was in charge. and i definitely was not.” he mumbles off into another jay-like tangent.

you giggled and leaned up to kiss his neck once more. 

“i-- i wasn’t done.. telling you why i love you,” he mumbled as you continued to press kisses along his neck, sloppy, open mouthed ones with your tongue tracing the lines of his throat. his hands tightened on you.

“mm please continue then,” you said against his skin.

“i.. suddenly do not remember what i was going to say.” he blinked. you giggled, in love with the way jay is so endearing in your eyes.

“hey! i still remember that you have a port- whatever it’s called due,” you squint at him. 

“mm i just want to stay with you right now,” jay pouts and says in the cutest way possible.

“no,” you huff at jay and turn your head so that you’re looking directly in his eyes. “you need to do this bub, i know how important this is” you tell him, sincerely. 

“okay, okay, only because you said so,” he says, sitting upright in his desk chair now. “but you have to stay with me” he mumbles. 

“that’s fine with me” you smile at him. 

as you were readjusting your position on top of jay, you couldn’t help but notice the raging boner that he still had. feeling playful, you quickly peck jay on the lips before sliding off of him onto your knees. 

“hey-” jay protested but was soon cut off by you saying, “aren’t you supposed to be finishing your work? shh” you smirk with a glint of playfulness in your eyes as you place your hands on his inner thighs, lightly massaging them.

“but what about dinner?” jay asked with a shaky breath, followed by what feels like an insanely large amount of silence. soon after, both of you bursted into a field of giggles, thinking about the love you two each have for each other.

[mysterymirrors]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Outdoor Voices Tri-Tone Slashback Crop Top - Heathered Grey - XS.

[mickey-henry]

𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

pairing: professor!bucky x reader

summary: bucky barnes is your gorgeous, young, new professor. you're into him, and you're pretty sure he wants you too. much to your chagrin, he's not making a move; it's up to you to seduce the man of your dreams.

word count: 6.9K (she’s a long one)

author’s note: hello! welcome to my fourth fic😊 I’m eager to share this with you all! I now have a taglist (the link is also in my bio) if you’re interested🥰 likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! I hope you like it! 💖

Earbuds in, arms swaying along your side, and thoughts elsewhere, you mindlessly completed your morning workout. Today’s podcast discussed the discourse of the latest controversial commercial and the opinions different people had on it. You found that your anger towards the blissfully ignorant powered your workouts more than caffeine ever could.

Just as the discourse was getting heated, your arm tangled with the earbuds, yanking them from your ears. You rolled your eyes at yourself, still jogging as you pulled out your phone to stop the podcast. 

Right as you tapped the pause button, you ran into someone who was just as oblivious to their surroundings as you were. You stumbled yet quickly regained your balance when you looked at the person you collided with. Your eyes quickly darted up—discovering his impossibly long eyelashes and enchanting smile—then back down again, realizing there was no place you could look without your mouth gaping. Moving down his sweaty, ripped torso, you noticed the athletic sweatpants barely staying up—there was probably only one thing holding them there—and the exposure of his v-line made your mouth drop even lower. Trying to make sure you weren’t staring for too long, your eyes moved to his hip bones—and boy, they were beautiful. You then finally allowed your eyes to drop to the ground, where his feet rested in sockless Nike shoes.

“You should probably watch where you’re going next time,” the boy said with a cocky smile still plastered across his face.

“Sorry-” you began, but upon processing the smile on his face and lack of anger about the situation, you chuckled. “Well, the same goes for you, then you could’ve moved out of the way.” You felt an unstoppable grin trickle across your cheeks and tried to ignore it.

“What can I say? I can’t help that you’re falling for me.” 

“Sure, that’s definitely what is happening right now,” you retorted, the comment coming out less sarcastic and more flirty than you intended. 

“Be safe next time, okay? You don’t need to be falling for any more guys, sweetheart.���

Without thinking, you corrected him with your name.

“Sorry, sweet pea. That’s a beautiful name. You should be careful now, okay?” He then turned to continue his run. 

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “You’re not going to tell me your name?” 

He turned around with a smirk. “Bucky,” he winked as he ran off before you could say another word. The devilishly handsome boy got a good way away before turning around to tie his shoe, clearly trying to see if you were watching him go. You were. You smiled to yourself and then continued your jog back to your apartment.

Working out in the park became your regular pastime. It wasn’t because you were extremely stressed about your last semester at Copper Cove University, and it definitely wasn’t because you were intentionally trying to bump into Bucky again. Yeah, those weren’t the reasons at all. While completing your latest jog, you thought about the semester to come. Your first class was tomorrow, and you couldn’t be more nervous.

This semester was going to be like no other. The career you desired for years and years was closer to your grasp than ever before. You carefully created your course schedule, only taking classes from the highest-rated professors. There was one problem; the class you needed the most, Narrative Writing, was only offered at one time, and the professor had no reviews. Maybe he was new? You signed up for the course anyway, despite how horribly anxious the decision made you. Maybe the professor wouldn’t be so bad? You couldn’t Google your professor beforehand either; only the teacher’s first initial and last name were present on the roster. All you had to go on was J. Barnes. Hopefully, this semester wouldn’t be one of those horror stories where a person who wasn’t even a teacher posed as a professor for weeks with no one knowing. You had to sit down at the thought, nearly missing a freshly stained bird poop spot on the park bench. Your heart was racing, and not because of your jog. “Everything is going to be fine,” you said to yourself. “This semester is going to be fine...”

The following morning, you completed your first day of school ritual. You checked the online roster to see if you know anyone taking the course. There was no one. You showered, put on makeup, and got dressed in your cutest new outfit. First impressions mattered deeply to you, and your first day back on campus was going to be unforgettable. At least you hoped so. Grabbing your backpack and earbuds, you made your way to class thirty minutes earlier than you had to. 

You were one of the first students to arrive. You exchanged awkward smiles with the other students; they seemed just as nervous as you were. You sat front and center, your go-to spot, claiming the seat as your own for the rest of the semester. As students trickled in, you made yourself look busy by checking emails. No one was speaking. The familiar echo of dress shoes bounced through the lecture hall. The professor must have arrived. You thought nothing of his arrival until you heard the girl two seats over from you whisper, “Oh my god.”

You glanced up to see the professor setting his things on the desk. Oh my god was right. You couldn't believe your eyes; you watched him intently as he removed a perfectly fitting black leather jacket. Decorating his torso was a form-fitting white dress shirt, one size too small. He rolled up his sleeves halfway up his forearm, exposing his veiny arms, before turning to write his name on the whiteboard. With his back to the class, you could see the faint outline of his back tattoo. As he turned to face forward again, fiddling with a stack of papers, you noticed his shirt unbuttoned one button lower than should be legal. You let your eyes travel down his torso, admiring his slim dress pants that hugged his thighs and ended just above his ankles. He completed the ensemble with mahogany slip-on dress shoes—without socks. You chuckled to yourself; this man must have an affinity for no-show socks.

The professor looked up, probably feeling the stares of his students upon him. Your jaw dropped—it was Bucky from the park, the man who hadn’t left your mind since you ran into him last week. Holy shit.

He cleared his throat and began his introduction.

“Hello, class. My name is Professor James Barnes. A little about me? Well, I just finished grad school, I turn 26 in March, and your class is the first one I have ever taught. Consider yourselves my guinea pigs.”

The class let out a simultaneous laugh. Making a class laugh within the first five minutes was typically a good sign for the rest of the semester. “This guy is funny too,” you thought to yourself, trying to contain the heat that was spreading across your cheeks.

“I know it’s annoying, but since it's the first day of classes, I have to take attendance,” he continued. “Bear with me.” He then reached into his bag to take out the roster. “If I mess up the pronunciation of your name, please correct me. I don’t want to call you the wrong name the entire semester.”

As he made his way through the alphabet sea of last names, your heart raced faster and faster as he got closer to your name. After what was seemingly the longest minute of your life, he finally reached your name.

 You raised your hand to signal your presence. When he looked to match your name and face, he gave you a sweet smile. The look he gave you was unique; it differed from the smiles he gave the other students. “He recognized me; I know it,” you thought to yourself, feeling a slight tingle in your chest. You fixated on your feelings until the professor cleared his throat to signal that he finished with attendance. He took one smooth look around the class, fully taking in his first day.

“This is going to be a wonderful semester; I can feel it,” the professor said with an enticing grin, looking directly at you. You agreed; this was going to be a wonderful semester indeed.

After class, you approached him with “questions about the syllabus.” You pretended to be busy on your phone until the other students left. It seemed like there was no class afterward—no new flood of students arrived. After a minute or so, the two of you were the only ones left in the room.  

“Hi, Professor. I wanted to introduce myself. My name is—”

He interrupted you, saying your name for you. “Yes, I remember you, if that's what you were wondering.”

The words stuttered from your mouth. “No! Umm. Yeah, I was wondering. But, I have a legitimate question for you,” you stated. Your voice trails off as you fixate on his hands that delicately rest on top of the desk. You looked to see if he was wearing a ring. He wasn’t. Your heart swelled at that fact. Without warning, a thought flashed in your mind, a thought that you should not have in this very moment, especially in front of its subject. You couldn’t help but wonder how his gorgeous hands would feel tracing your arms, knotting your hair, and caressing your inner thigh.

You shook your head to clear the thought away. The action was more noticeable than you intended; he laughed and smiled at you. You finally made eye contact, observing his beautiful, bright blue eyes. He was impossibly pretty and equally humble. He was perfect. 

“I think you just answered your question,” he answered with a grin. During your brief reverie, Bucky packed up his things and stood across the desk from you. Your cheeks burned at the fact that you had zoned out for so long.

“Well, this class seems incredibly fascinating. I look forward to seeing what the semester brings,” you said. Wow, that was a good comment. Shout out to me for coming up with that right on the spot. 

“I'm intrigued as well. It was lovely meeting you,” he said, placing his hand out to shake yours.

His handshake was firm and proper. You were sure you weren’t the only one who felt sparks at the touch—he didn’t hint otherwise. He grabbed his bag and headed for the door, gesturing for you to follow. Right as he was about to reach for the door handle, he looked at you. 

“When we’re not in class, call me Bucky,” he insisted with a wink, opening the door for you. 

“Will do,” you answered with a smile. You departed ways and headed back to your apartment. 

 In less than two hours, Bucky left you smitten. You knew he felt something too—there was no way you imagined that entire interaction. Whether he was going to act upon your connection was an entirely different story. As you walked back to your apartment, you formulated a plan. Bucky would be yours, even if it took all semester. Nothing would stop you from capturing the heart of your gorgeous professor. 

The forty-eight hours between your first and second day of school flew by. Sure, you had other classes and spent time with your roommates, but all you could think about was seeing Bucky again. You reflected on just how quickly the days had gone as you sat waiting for Bucky’s class to begin.

“My goodness, he’s perfect,” you thought, watching Bucky arrive a minute before class officially started. “I’m not crazy; he was clearly into me in the park and he smiled at me on Monday.” You looked up to watch him unpack his bag. Before he spoke, unknown to the rest of the class who were too busy on their phones or socializing with those around them, Bucky caught eyes with you and smiled. You tried to stop your heart from fluttering, with little luck. “I definitely didn’t imagine that smile this time; it was clearly a little flirty. He’s into this.”   

“Good morning, everyone,” he began. “I hope you all have had a good forty-eight hours, and I’m glad to see I didn’t scare too many of you away.” The class unanimously chuckled.

You zoned out after Bucky called your name on the roster. You replayed the smirk he gave his roster as your name came up over and over until your cheeks burned. Your focus snapped back to reality as Bucky began his lecture.

“Okay, everyone. Today I will go over the details of the course-long paper each one of you is responsible for completing. You will write a full-length novel. Your minimum word requirement is twenty-five thousand—”

The class gasped in unison. Suddenly, the atmosphere was tense and fearful. You were sure you weren’t the only one who was thinking, “How in the world am I going to do that?”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at the class’s shock. “That’s why I am assigning this now; you can work on it piece by piece. You will have no formal exams; your only assignments will be this novel and a few short stories here and there. Your novel may be any genre. Please keep your writing PG-13; I don’t want to read obscene sexual acts. Write those things on your own time.” The class’s laughter roared. Bucky smiled to himself at the success of his joke.

“Along with the seemingly horrendous word count, the only other requirement for this assignment is to print your book into an actual book. There are no expensive textbooks, so this class will not cost you a fortune. Please pass around these promo code cards. I emailed this company before class, and since I guaranteed them so much business, they offered to make it easier on you all.”

Your mind began racing: you had many ideas and no clue how to narrow it down to one choice. You grinned at the thought that you would finally have a reason to go to Bucky’s office hours. You could ask him for help on this narrative throughout the semester—your frequent visits to Bucky’s office would not appear suspicious. You frantically noted all of the best ideas on your paper. You listened intently for the rest of the class, trying to process Bucky’s lecture on rhyme schemes. Once Bucky dismissed everyone, you strategically took your time packing up your things so you would intentionally be the last one in the classroom. You had a question prepared, but Bucky broke the silence between the two of you first.

“Excited for the novel?”

“Oh my goodness, yes!” you flustered. “I’ve always had so many ideas but no time to write them into full books—” You stopped, noticing Bucky’s amused expression on his face. “What?” you giggled nervously.

“I’m glad to see you excited. Happiness is a lovely emotion on you.”

The flutters in your heart were back. Goodness gracious, is this going to happen every time he speaks to me?

“I’ve already got some paperwork I need to get started. Finish this conversation in my office?” Bucky asked, walking to the door. You nodded. After locking the door behind them, he led the way. His office was a short walk from the classroom. The minute trip was silent. You took the time to admire the sunshine beaming through the few clouds in the sky. The sunlight made the trees look like they were twinkling stars. “That would be a great poem; I need to remember that,” you thought, quickly opening the notes app on your phone to document the fleeting thought.

Bucky unlocked his office door and tossed his bag onto his desk. You lightly placed your backpack alongside the guest chair and took a moment to look around his office.

The first thing you noticed was the lack of decorations. He had a small bookshelf resting against the wall, neatly stuffed with books of various genres. Perpendicular to the door was his desk: a simple espresso-colored table with a hutch above the space occupied by his desktop computer. There were no photos on his desk, only a few inspirational quotes placed into picture frames. There was a potted cactus in the corner—the only actual decoration present in the room. The absence of personality in this office came as a shock; most of your previous professors had decked out their offices in memorabilia and self-accomplishments. 

Without filtering the thought, you asked, “Why don’t you have any decorations in here?”

Bucky took a moment to respond. “To be frank, I didn't have any ideas. I’m always open to decoration suggestions.”

You grinned at the comment. “So, umm, I narrowed down my novel genre to three choices, and I don’t know which one I have the strongest idea for.” That was a lie. You knew which one was best. But if you always knew what to do, what reason would you have for visiting his office hours?  

“I'm sure they are all wonderful. What are your ideas?”

You spent the next twenty minutes bouncing ideas off of one another. You wanted to tie together a murder tale and a romance novel but weren’t sure exactly how you wanted to do so. You had never attempted to write a story in an unconventional format. He helped you narrow down not only your genre but a general plot outline. It would start with the aftermath of the murder, with the protagonist stunned at the horrific acts they committed. You then would transition to a chapter describing how the protagonist and the eventual murder victim met. The following chapters would alternate from present-day to past events leading to the murder. The climax would be an actual murder, described in the present tense, revealing the protagonist’s confession of the crime. You were excited to tackle the task. One of your favorite novels was in this format; it inspired you to try something new.

“I’m relieved,” you admitted. “I may have been playing it cool, but this assignment is daunting.”

“Your novel should not be causing a horrible amount of anxiety, sweet pea. Let me help. We can meet weekly to examine your progress and keep you on track,” Bucky suggested.

“I didn’t even have to suggest the idea myself. I’m going to meet with him weekly. Yes! The perfect excuse to “have” to see him,” you mentally cheered. Your stomach and heart somersaulted the thought.

“Thank you, Professor Barnes. That’ll help me a lot.”

“Bucky,” he corrected with a smile, mimicking the way you corrected him with your name in the park.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You pushed in your chair as you rose, realizing how much time you spent in his office. “I’m sure you have things you need to do, so I’ll let you get back to it. Sorry.”

“You never need to apologize, sweet pea. Your company is a delight. I wish you a wonderful rest of your day.”

“You too, Bucky!” you gushed, more eager than you had intended. Embarrassed at your response, you turned and quickly left his office. You were proud; you had a justifiable reason to see Bucky often. Part one: done.

Your heart raced as you approached Bucky’s office door. This was the first time you arrived at a time outside of his office hours; you finally took up Bucky’s offer to schedule a meeting for another time. His office hours quickly became flooded with flustered girls wanting the opportunity to talk to him. You seriously wanted help with your novel, and his office was constantly swarming with students. You put up with it for a week before asking for a meeting. Three weeks into the semester, and you would finally be alone with Bucky, uninterrupted. You were thrilled.

You gently knocked on the door, waiting for an answer. He peeked through the curtain that covered his window, which was your suggestion so people couldn’t try to spy on him. He grinned and went to unlock the door. 

“Hello, sweet pea. Come in; make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you,” you said, walking by him to take your usual seat next to his desk chair. You pulled out your laptop and opened the document of your novel. “I think it’s about three thousand words at this point. I know I have a ton more to do, but I finished the first few chapters. Would you mind reading it over?”

“Of course. Would you like me to make edits if I see errors?”

You almost laughed. You read over your writing so many times that you were positive there were no grammatical errors. “Yes, please.”

As you handed Bucky your laptop, your fingertips brushed against one another. You almost jolted back in response; it was as if you felt literal sparks. You looked at Bucky; based on his slightly surprised facial expression, you were sure he felt it as well. He reviewed your document—you subtly moved your seat slightly closer to see what he was doing. Well, that would be the reason you would give if he asked. Of course, you had other intentions by sitting close to him. His cologne tickled your nose. It smelled faintly of sandalwood and the entire male collection of products at Bath & Body Works. It was intoxicating to be that close.

Your heart sank as you saw how many comments Bucky was leaving on your draft. You worked incredibly hard on it, and to see someone ripping it apart hurt. You always had a hard time with constructive criticism; even more so if said criticism came from someone you truly cared for and respected. By the time he finished, you had tears in your eyes. You took a deep breath, swallowed the lump in your throat, and wiped the forming tears from your eyes right before Bucky handed the laptop back to you.

“Geez, I guess it was really terrible,” you said, laughing to cover up the tremble in your voice.

“It wasn’t terrible, sweet pea. My notes are to make your writing the best it can be.”

You nodded and abruptly dismissed yourself. You didn’t wait for his response or turn to see his expression. The second you shut the door behind you, tears flowed down your cheeks. You hung your head low until you got back to your apartment, fearful that others would judge your vulnerable state. After many deep breaths and wet tissues, you calmed your frantic mind. You reminded yourself over and over that no one is perfect; it’s okay to make mistakes, and Bucky was not criticizing you as an individual.

Even with the occasional constructive criticism, you genuinely looked forward to your meetings with Bucky.

Seeing him more and more outside of class only strengthened your desires. 

The weeks between your first meeting with Bucky and midterms flew by. Your other classes paled compared to Bucky’s. His flawless inclusion of semi-personal anecdotes enlightened the class and made learning that much more enjoyable. Few professors had the light and joy that Bucky brought to his classroom. 

In a typical class period, everyone was in their own world—many students frantically took notes on Bucky’s lectures, some doodled, and a few students slept through the hour. Of course, some of the other students still fawned over Bucky and tried desperately to get his attention. He only had eyes for you; your shared glances lingered longer than his with the other students. 

You and Bucky formed a genuine bond; you could tell he truly cared about your wellbeing and success. He expanded the details of his stories that he shared in class. Soon your meetings extended beyond academics; you both shared about your days, and you expressed your troubles. You learned a lot more about Bucky than you could in class. His office soon became more personal after your encouragement. His passions filled every wall and shelf, a much-improved sight from his incredibly bare office that existed the first few weeks of school. Your favorite addition to his office was a felt letter board. Every so often, you would come with a famous inspirational quote to place on his board. Your original intention was to share the quotes with him, but he soon decided that it would be your unofficial task to update it weekly. You were the only one he allowed to touch it.

You were still on the path to winning over Bucky. Every meeting you had, you slid your chair slightly closer to his, testing the waters. If he noticed, he said nothing, even when your elbows brushed against one another. Your plan was smooth and subtle; something abrupt could backfire entirely.

You jumped out of bed, excited to tackle the day. Midterms were finally over after an exhausting week of studying and anxiety. Your roommates invited you to a party thrown by one of their boyfriends, but you respectfully declined. At this rate, all you wanted to do was take a nice warm bath, exfoliate, and binge-watch some shows. The anticipation of your much-needed self-care was enough for you to start your morning workout routine. You started your workout playlist and accomplished what you could before your stomach begged for food. You headed to the kitchen of the apartment to fix up your breakfast. You unplugged your phone to look for a recipe, noticing several unread messages from a number you didn’t recognize. Your blood boiled as you scanned the message; you had to sit down to fully process it. 

You sat stunned for a moment. What the actual heck? My shitty ex-boyfriend had to cause drama in my day, and I didn’t even talk to him! Ugh. Well, I can’t stay here alone. I’ll probably end up wallowing, which solves nothing. There is that party tonight. I can laugh at the drunks toppling over furniture. It’ll make for an interesting story.

You redirected your focus to the task at hand: socialize and get distracted in a healthy way. After breakfast, of course. You jumped in the shower to get ready before your shopping adventure to find the perfect party outfit. After hours of searching through racks and racks of clearance and sales, you finally compiled an amazing outfit. For your top, you chose a sheer, long sleeve, black, bateau neck shirt with a black mesh bralette that had two red roses embroidered on either cup. For your bottoms, you chose a high-waisted, red, mini circle skirt that complemented the red roses, knee-high black socks, and black heeled booties. “Might as well go full out, especially when I’m feeling down,” you thought, justifying the slightly scandalous outfit. You had never worn a sheer shirt before but had always wanted to. Better late than never. 

It thrilled your roommates that you agreed to come to the party. You hoped that at least one of the two would stick by your side and help you navigate the waters. You were unfortunately wrong with that assumption. Both girls ditched you the second you walked through the door. This house party was much more crowded and loud than your roommates assured you it would be, and you immediately felt out of place. There was no dog around, so you couldn’t make yourself look busy by cuddling with it. That left one more course of action—find the food and hang there for a while. Maybe someone would have the same idea and you would have someone sober to talk to. 

You were right; the snack table was a successful social strategy. You failed to consider the fact that even slightly intoxicated individuals would have had the same idea. 

“Hey there,” said a blonde stranger with two beers in his hand. “Care for a drink?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you declined, placing some veggies from the minuscule vegetable tray onto your plate of chips and popcorn. Does no college student eat vegetables? 

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing alone at a place like this? I’m surprised there aren't more guys drooling over you right now.”

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes and react with disgust. He blatantly stared at your chest for your entire conversation. “I’m here with my roommates,” you politely answered, hoping that the comment and your act of scouring the room would have him leave you alone.

“C’mon now. You can spend a little time away from them, can’t you? I’m Chad.”

You almost laughed. Chad? His name is Chad? That is such a typical name for a “bro” like him.

“Have a drink! Loosen up! Live in the moment a little; life’s too short!”

Okay, that’s enough. Not today, no thank you. I don’t need this right now. “I’m okay, thanks. I’m going to head home now.”

“C’mon, beautiful! Don’t you want to see a little more of this?” Chad flirted, placing his beers on the snack table and proceeding to take off his shirt.

“I’m good. Maybe hold off on the beers? You’ve had plenty,” you answered, giggling as you turned away with your plate and headed for the door. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Chad flexing at a group of girls. They were fawning all over him. He was muscular and nice-looking, but you could sense his ego from a mile away. 

The thumps of the heavily auto-tuned music followed you out of the house. You didn't bother to say goodbye to your roommates; they had other priorities this evening. “That was a bust,” you thought. You glanced at the house as you walked away, realizing that it wasn’t your roommate’s boyfriend’s house: it was a frat house. Well, that explains a lot. There are probably at least twenty “Chad’s” in there.

You made your way through the abandoned campus on your way back home. Out of habit, you walked by Bucky’s office. You did a double-take when you realized that his office light was on. You peeked in the open doorway and saw Bucky hunched over a large stack of papers on his desk. He let out a sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his eyes. You glanced at the clock on the wall; it was eleven in the evening. You couldn’t believe he was still here, especially on a Friday night. You gently knocked, yet the element of surprise was still too much: Bucky jumped at the sound. You smiled and sat on his desk next to the chair he was sitting in. You let yourself slowly take in his look for today, starting at his feet and ending by fixating on his lips. 

“Are you doing okay, Bucky?”

“Yeah! Umm, I guess I lost track of time."

Time wasn’t the only thing Bucky lost track of—he did nothing to hide his ogling. His gaze moved from your eyes to your chest; the action brought a smile to your face.

“I see what you’re doing, Bucky. Come closer; you can get a better look,” you flirted, slightly stunned at your self-confidence. With the campus deserted, there was no one around to overhear and intrude on your conversation.

Bucky pushed himself out of his seat. He wasn't trying to hide his stare anymore; his eyes traveled up and down slowly, biting his lip as he fixated on yours. 

You couldn’t help but do the same. His white button-up shirt was buttoned lower than usual. His biceps popped out from his sleeves, even more so than at the beginning of the semester. His pants hugged his legs, outlining his toned thighs. Loafers donned his feet rather than his typical dress shoes. He walked toward you, standing right in front of you, his legs brushing against your knees. With your faces mere inches apart, you both stared at each other's lips. Bucky placed his left hand on your right—his other hand brushing your hair behind your ear. He gently traced your cheek before resting his hand on top of yours. Bucky leaned closer, brushing his lips against yours. Just as he was about to kiss you, he pulled back.

“We can’t do this,” he said. He looked as if the words pained him to say. His hands still lingered on yours for a few moments before moving back and sitting in his chair. He placed his head in his hands and sighed. “We can’t..."

“I get it,” you nodded, desperately fighting back your tears. Goodness gracious, I was so close! 

“I can’t let this happen again.”

“Oh, this will happen again, especially if I have anything to do with it,” you thought.

“This doesn’t have to change anything, sweet pea. Please, still feel free to come by and work on your novel with me. Your presence always brightens my day.”

His kind words stung more than the almost-kiss. 

“Thanks,” you replied meekly, standing up from the desk and making your way toward the door. Just as you placed your hand on the doorknob, you heard Bucky softly say your name.

You sighed, then opened the door without turning back. A single tear fell down your cheek—not one of sadness, but one of fury. You were more determined than ever to make Bucky yours. You won't make it easy for him; you're going to frustrate him as much as you could. By the end of the semester, Bucky would be yours. 

You thought that Bucky’s class was fun before; however, you never realized how entertaining intentionally messing with your professor could be. Because of your frustrations, you decided it was time to increase the intensity of your methods.

In class the following Monday, you pondered ways to tease Bucky as he wrote on the board. You hoped to remind him of the feeling you shared in his office and make him desperate to experience it again. As you tried to come up with ideas, you rested your pen on your lip. Hmm, this action alone might work?

You held the tip of your pen in your mouth, letting your lower lip droop a bit as Bucky turned to face the class. He spoke a few sentences before making eye contact with you—his sentence disintegrating as soon as you locked eyes. You smiled, pretended to take more notes, and were proud of your ability to distract your professor.

Upon realizing how easily he came apart when you teased him, you intentionally came up with new ideas to continue the streak. Your shirts fell lower and lower, and your skirts became shorter and shorter. You did your best to emulate your party outfit in a classroom-appropriate way, hoping to remind Bucky of that night.

You dedicated a few of your ideas to his office hours. Channeling an iconic movie, you pulled a “bend and snap,” dropping your jacket on your way out of his office in your most form-fitting jeans. You turned over your shoulder to wave goodbye after grabbing your jacket, smirking at his wide eyes. One day, you “accidentally” dropped your pen while he read over your draft. While squatting to reach it, you placed a perfume-drenched scrunchie in the back corner, hoping for your perfume to linger long after you left. It worked; when you came back a few days later, his office subtly smelled like you, and the scrunchie was where you left it. He must’ve enjoyed your aroma; there was no way the smell and scrunchie went unnoticed for that long.

You got more impatient as the semester dragged on. Your last idea had to make an impact; you couldn't wait to implement it. On the last day of classes, you wore a white v-neck over your favorite pair of jeans—an ordinary outfit at first glance. But, in the middle of class, you pretended to struggle with opening your water bottle. Rather than gracefully removing the lid, it flew off, drenching the front of your shirt with water. You intentionally wore the same bralette you wore the night of the party. That would get him to remember that night; he wouldn't be able to hide it now. 

You were right; he recognized the bralette that was under your now drenched shirt. He stopped mid-sentence—a feat you hadn't accomplished in a while—once he realized your shirt was now entirely see-through. You could tell that your other actions had distracted Bucky, but he could pull it together quick enough for no one else to notice. This time was different, though; his distractedness became incredibly obvious. He coughed and excused himself for a quick drink of water to hide his flushed cheeks. You put on your jean jacket, hiding your shirt from the side. Yet from the front, your bralette was still a sight to be seen; Bucky couldn’t help but glance over at it every few minutes. This was the most effective method yet.

Finals week this semester was the most stressful of all of your years of schooling combined. Within nine days, you had five exams, three papers, two presentations, and your completed narrative for Bucky’s class. Many late nights and cups of coffee later, you finished with your senior year. 

Of course, you wanted to visit the one professor who made your semester. You genuinely wanted to thank him for all of his help and wishfully thought that maybe he would finally confess his feelings. 

His office door was ajar. You gently pushed it open to see Bucky’s office in disarray. Papers covered his ordinarily immaculate office, stacks on stacks of essays and stories surrounded him. You could see the manifestation of his stress: his wrinkly shirt and unkempt hair were a stark contrast to his typically pristine look. You placed your bag onto his guest chair; the mere sound of its clanking was enough to make him jump. He must’ve not heard you come in. He meekly smiled at your presence. 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you. I wanted to thank you for all of your help and for a great semester. Hopefully, I can still stop by even when I’m no longer your student?”

Bucky said nothing, getting up and walking right by you to the door, utterly confusing you. Does he want me to leave?

He pulled the curtain over his window, pushed the door shut, and locked it. He walked back to where you were standing and stopped just inches away from your face.

“Sweet pea, you’re just what I needed,” Bucky murmured, brushing the hair off of your face and lightly stroking your cheek. You looked deep into his impossibly blue eyes and gave a slight nod. He pulled you in with his hand on the small of your back, gently kissing your lips. The kiss began gradually and softly, then quickly became frantic and lustful. His passion sent chills down your body, the long-overdue kisses consuming every fiber of your being. 

He pulled away for a moment, panting to catch his breath. His lust-blown eyes were so dilated; you could barely see the steel blue of his irises.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that, Bucky.”

“Oh, I think I do, sweet pea,” he whispered, closing the gap between you two by pushing you against the door. He latched his mouth to your neck, leaving bruises as he traveled up to your jaw and back to your mouth. You ran your fingers through his hair, moving both of your hands to his neck and chest. 

“You know how many times I went home after our meetings, wishing I acted on my desires?” he growled, his voice dropping an octave. “I can barely concentrate on my lectures with you looking like that in class; wearing those little skirts and short shirts, sweet pea. It took everything in me not to take you then and there.” 

You gasped at his salacious words. Unable to find your voice, you pull his lips back onto yours. You slowly unbuttoned his shirt as your hands traced his chiseled chest. Your hands traveled back up, guiding his shirt off of his shoulders and onto the floor. 

You pushed Bucky back into his office chair, where you followed onto his lap. You glanced down at his muscular chest, still as sculpted as the day you first crossed paths in the park. You took a moment to trace his chest as he slid your t-shirt off. 

“I need you, sweet pea.”

“Yeah?” you tease, grinding your hips as you pepper his neck in kisses. You waited months for this man to be yours; you sure as hell were going to let the world know you finally got him.

All you could think about was how much you wanted every piece of him. The world around you stopped, and the only thing you felt was the rapid pounding of your heart and the gentle pressure from Bucky's lips. You were engrossed in one another, so utterly consumed in each other that neither of you stopped at the sound of Bucky’s lock clicking open.

taglist: @certainaesthetic @midnightf @sventeen-daybreak @multiplums @starlightcrystalline @leyannrae @belladonnabarnes @champagnebuckyyy @elijahs-wife @amelia-song-pond @starrybrock @millennial-teenybopper @mardema

a few mutuals who might be interested (no pressure): @ritesofreverie @bucksbestgirl @thatsthethingaboutbucky @buckysdaydreams @jurassicbarnes @onceuponabarnes @blackberrybucky​