#go through denial and finally get to acceptance and he keeps trying to say something but keeps getting interrupted/losing his nerve..

[paunchsalazar]

Good Omens 2 rewrite comic… piece of cake!

[jinxificada]

something to relax

dealer!jinx x fem!reader

summary: you deserve a rest, so you turn to the infamous jinx for help.

notes: nsfw, modern au, wc 4k !! inaccurate drug dealing.

ཻུ۪۪ ༄࿐༉⁎ ⁺

"i'm telling you, you're insanely overworking yourself. i don't even understand where'd you get all the time to do everything you do." your friend scolds you jokingly, though you can tell she's honestly worried for you.

"nonsense." you roll your eyes in denial, "i'm alright, we take the same classes."

"i'm not in any club doing extracurricular stuff, nor am i tutoring any dumb kid." she discusses, walking with you through the crowded hallway towards your next class.

"well i don't really have a choice, it's for the-"

"the scholarship, i know." she sighs, finally arriving. "just... please take a moment to relax."

you both take your seats almost in the middle of the classroom, by the windows. she always sat in front of you, so she would turn around and chat whenever she wanted without you being able to ignore her.

"what about we go to that party on saturday?" she proposes and you already bite your lip with an hesitant expression, "please! we don't have to stay the whole time, just an hour or two."

"i don't know... i don't have a car and it’ll be too late to take the bus." you poorly excuse, not wanting to fully reject her.

"i can drive you! or you can just stay at mine." she happily resolves and you just nod with a sigh.

it's not that you didn't like hanging out with your friend, nor she's always so insistent. she usually is very understanding and gives you space. but the exams were getting close and you needed to higher your grades in a couple of classes, so you've been paying extra attention in classes, speaking with a couple of teachers on how to improve your grades and busying yourself with the usual assignments, the extra assignments, and tutoring this one kid below your year for some extra money.

unlike most of the students here, your family isn't able to properly pay for your education. you've done your previous years in the public school your small town, your teachers were so amazed with your capabilities that they recommended your parents to send you somewhere... better. they all collaborated on writing a recommendation letter for your acceptance. and you got the full scholarship! congrats, now you have to work harder than your classmates in order to keep it.

it wasn't fair, and your friend knew it. she felt so bad that she couldn't help you with money or your studies, but she can help you to ease your mind a bit.

so, you could only frown while making a mental list of all the valuable things you could be doing instead of this, standing in a big kitchen full of intoxicated teenagers. your friend was trying to talk with you while mixing alcohol in disposable cups for each one of you.

"and tomy was sticking his tongue inside of mary's mouth in front of her father, ew! you should've seen their faces when they realized, her father was burning red, i don't know if from embarrasment or anger." she rambled with a loud laugh.

you chuckle, mostly because her laugh was contagious. "who was tomy, again?"

"shh, he's coming." she suddenly leans in to whisper before pulling back wearing her social smile, "tomyy!"

a rather scrawny tall boy comes from behind you saying your friend's name in the same way, "fancy seeing you here!" ah, he had a high pitched voice.

"i didn't want you to miss me!" she quickly jokes, "nice party!"

"i'm guessing you're having a good time." he chuckles. at this point he's set himself right next to you and still hadn't acknoledge you. "have you already found jinx?" he asks curiously with a supposedly mischeavous smile.

"damn, she's here already?"

"yeah, just bought from her in the second garden."

'what the hell is a second garden?' you thought with a weirded out glance.

they chat a bit more and you think you know the kitchen from memory after rolling your eyes around as they talked. the boy soon moves to another guest and your friend turns back to you.

"the funniest thing is that they were sent to the principal's office was for sucking their faces off in the middle of class." she continues the conversation she was having with you as if you've never been interrupted, it was a talent of hers.

'is this what she thinks of a relaxing night...?' you mentally complained. you had your friend talk you ear off 5 days a week, but that didn't seem enough for her. at some point you muted her voice from your head and only listened to the loud pop music and different people talking over each other. your eyes were fixed on the next room through the kitchen's door, the flashing lights barely illuminated the crowd. blondes, brunettes and redheads, they all stay in the background when a blue head pushes through them to your way.

you physically react with a quiet sigh when you can see her face. a pretty girl, with the softest features you've ever seen, decorated with a messy dark makeup and intense eyes. curious to see how her full style looked like your gaze lowers on her body, she was wearing a white laced corset gripping her chest for life and low wasted black denim shorts, along with the biggest boots you've ever seen.

the girl who caught your eye walked into the room with loud, confident steps. people quickle recognized her, some greeted, some lowered their eyes to the floor. she only smiled briefly before grabbing two closed bottles of vodka like she owned the place and left.

"who was that?" you breath out, realizing you've been holding it the whole time.

"jinx," your friend shrugged, "local dealer, mental problems and rich daddy." she summarized, fixing her lipstick and soon changing the topic.

the night ended up being a boomer. your friend got a stoner to share his blunt with you both and that, mixed with the alcohol you had been drinking since the night started, made you both pretty tired and sleepy. luckily, your friend's house was about two streets down from the party, allowing you to arrive sound and safe while intoxicated.

you couldn't deny that you slept like a baby.

but the week started again a day after, along with your responsabilities. and it seemed that it's gonna be a shitty one.

for your extracurricular activity, you had the job to take decent pictures for the school's paper. they were all rejected by the president in charge. you scored a negative B in a practically easy test because you were too distracted noticing that the so named jinx was in the same class as you. 'she looks very pretty in the dark blue uniform.' was your constant thought. and the cherry on top, you didn't have your extra money of the week because the parents of your student were late with the payment.

they were showered in wealth, why won't they give you your 50 dollars? now they’ll have to pay $100 next week.

but for now… you had to survive with the remaining money you had left for the rest of the week. and it was only monday.

you thought you could handle this particularly difficult week, but all this tension build up only to blow up on your face. and the face of the teacher who was telling you why you had to rewrite the essay you just submitted.

you were use to cry over stress, you thought it was a healthy way of letting it out. just not in the public eye.

tears and sobs were comming out of you as you walked down the halls, feeling like millions of eyes were judging you. how embarrasing, right? but that was only your mind playing you, the only person who looked at you twice was tomy who recognized you but couldn't recall from where.

it was friday and the classes already ended, the club was about to start in ten minutes but you were debating whether test your luck and see if it can all get shittier or just call it a day and go home.

but a loud yell of your name from behind you interrupted this final decision, your friend throted her way up to you and worriedly wiped your tears.

"are you okay? what happened?"

"i'm fucked up! i'm gonna fail all my exams and get kicked out from this stupid school!" you dramatically cried in the comfort of your friend's arms. you knew she was fighting demons to not roll her eyes and say 'i told you'.

she listened to your whines for a couple more minutes until she had an idea.

"okay stop, shush." you frowned but stayed quiet anyways, "listen, i know jinx stays in club hours to sell, she must be in that shitty bathroom from the second floor. why don't you go buy some weed and relax this weekend?"

your frown deepened and even a light blush appeared on your wet cheeks, "uhm, i don't know... why don't you just stay at my house to hangout, please?"

"oh hun, i would love to but my parents are taking me to visit my grandma." who lived far far away, you nodded. "just, try what i'm telling you, okay?"

"okay..." you hesitantly say, your friend seemed in a rush because just when you were about to ask her how much it would probably cost and how many grams you should buy, she pecked both of your cheeks in goodbye and left you standing in an almost empty hallway.

you were on your own now, hoping the 15 dollars you had left from this long week would be enough, but you doubted it.

you hesitantly pushed the door of the supposedly shitty bathroom (it didn't have a mirror, nor the renovated cubicle doors the other's had, though it was perfectly functional). welcomed by the sight of jinx sitting on top of the counter sink, ciggarette in hand and an amused smile on her face while she talked with another girl.

they quickly shut up at your presence. you purse your lips awkwardly at them, you were about to greet them when this other girl just scoffed as if you ruined something and leaned to whisper in the bluehaired's ear. jinx only chuckled in what you thought was a very flirty manner and the girl left, leaving you alone with her.

it was a good moment to say something, jinx was looking at you expectantly but you were too busy checking her out.

the school uniform itself is rather conservative, but it was usual for students to fix it to their liking as long as it isn't too inappropiate. jinx seemed to be an exception, because you didn't know how was she allowed to move around with the skirt so short. you weren't complaining, not at all. with the way she crossed her legs you could easily appreciate her pale legs, noticing a few marks and bruises which fed your curiosity.

she cleared her throat, "so? you came all the way here to stare at me?"

"no- no, sorry." you quickly apologized and presented yourself, taking a few steps closer, your voices echoing in the bathroom,

"right… what can i offer you?"

though her words were friendly enough, her tone was playful and given that you had a breakdown just minutes ago, you couldn't help but feel like she was mocking you. she probably was.

"i, uh, i was wondering what's your cheapest relaxing item?" you hesitantly ask, seeing the corner of her lips rising the slightest bit in a smirk.

"are you familiar with drugs?"

"no... not really."

"then i have the perfect discount for you!" jinx smiles brightly and you get even more closer, interested. "weed is ideal for begginers, and i can give you 15g for 100 bucks, whatcha say?"

"oh." you instantly gloom. "and... h-how much for 2 or 3g?"

"3 grams? you can barely make a blunt with that." she mocks raising an eyebrow, studying you for a second before smirking again. it was hard to read her, but you could sense she had something in mind as it seemed rather mischeavous. "for 3g... 20 bucks."

you sighed, looking away in embarrasment. you heard that her prices were high, but this... what did she need so much money for, anyways?

"okay, um... i don't have enough money with me right now. thank you." you sheepeshly said, ready to turn around and go back home to keep crying.

"wait!" she suddenly says, decrossing her legs to shift in her spot, "don't give up so easily... we can arrange something..."

"arrange...?" you repeated, confused. jinx motioned with her fingers to approach her and you did, mantaining a respectable distance before she could reach your arm and pull you even closer, caresing the lenght of it along with your hand. you were stunned, feeling your ears and chest warm up. "how come?" you murmured, trying to grasp on the situation.

"i'm feelin' nice..." she hummed, "i can give you 5g... if you give me head."

"e-excuse me?" that was your first reaction, pulling the hand she was holding away and to your chest, "what...? are you serious?"

"oh don't be such a prude!" she chuckles, giving you a knowing look, "d'ya think i'm dumb? i've seen you staring, i know you want me."

her bluntness made you blush, damn, her mere presence made you blush. she was exposing you while offering her body in change of some weed. you've never been in this kind of situation before, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of something to say.

she kept distracting you though, with that pretty smirk of hers. since you didn't instantly ran away, jinx knew her guess was correct. reaching for your hand again and rounding your hips with her long legs to pull you closer, till your body hit the counter she was sitting on.

"i know you want me." she repeated in a low tone, "and i know you need it, toots." you unconsciously lean into her touch as she caress your cheek, right where the dried tears rested on.

"i don't want to t-take advantage of you..." you dumbly say, jinx almost pouted at how adorable you were. you thought it was you who was taking advantage of this?

"you're not, silly!" she giggled raspily, "this is business."

"i'm- i don't.... i'm not sure..." you rambled, and before you could make a point -if you were ever going to make it-, jinx pulled you into her for a kiss. a hungry, intense kiss.

and you instantly melted, your hands traveled to hug her waist as you reciprocated. she tasted like that ciggarette she was smoking a moment ago, mixed with the flavour of some candy.

you thought it was hot.

her body shifted closer, sitting by the edge of the counter to easily push her hips into you. the heated make-out was interrupted by her own heavy breaths.

"see, toots?" she rasped, "you can do it."

"okay." you hummed, leaning in to kiss her again. it was ridiculous really, how easily you gave in. specially after she dodged your attempt with an evil smirk.

"uh-uh." she pushed you by the shoulders, "i asked you to eat me out."

you almost scoffed in complain, before realizing that maybe… this was even better.

"but i have a condition." jinx called for your attention with an amused chuckle. "you have to make me squirt."

"fuck." you sighed, "really...? are you-?"

"i know i can, yeah." she nods, spreading her legs for you, "but it won't be easy..."

you certainly wouldn't mind trying, you weren't exactly up close to her pussy and you could already feel the smell of her arousal, inviting you to taste her. jinx lifted up her skirt to expose her lingerie, a furious pink with a wet spot on her center that watered your mouth.

soon enough you were kneeling down, it was a bit uncomfortable given the height of the sink. hesitantly, you licked your lips and looked up at her, in search of confirmation. in response, jinx flashed you a playful smile, leaning back to rest her weight on her hands.

satisfied, you concentrated on her pussy, carefully pressing down your thumb as if testing the waters. her hips twitched at the contact, moving towards your hand. you let out a hum, 'sensitive?'. experimentally, you sticked your tongue out to lap over her underwear, the wet spot growing as it mixed with your saliva. you were contently taking things slow, against jinx own desires.

she aggresively gripped your hair to push your head into her pussy, "don't tease me, nerd." she husked.

and you couldn't bring yourself to mind, rushing to move her panties to the side to finally taste her. you wanted to impress her, you wanted her to like you, and give her the best head she'd ever have. your lips hugged her clit, quickly working on her pussy, sucking and lapping. you were rewarded with quiet sighs and trembling legs, occasionally a moan. but it seemed that jinx was trying not to crumble, silencing her sounds by pressing her lips together, though it barely did the job. you didn't mind, not when you were making out with her pussy so fervently.

your hands gripped her plushy thighs as you put them on your shoulders, helping her to stay still. her hips twitched towards you every now and then, when you would suck particularly hard on her throbbing clit. and you? you were having the time of your life.

as busy as you always were, it’s been quite long since you had some fun like this.

jinx looked down at you with furrowed eyebrows and flushed cheeks, meowing softly as she felt herself coming undone at your enthusiastic work on her pussy. her hand pulled at your hair and you opened your eyes to meet hers, but her head was thrown back in pleasure. you didn’t stop, instead you moved your hand to furiously rub her center until she looked at you again, biting her lower lip to muffle her moan. she came against your mouth, rocking her hips lazily against you.

you licked her clean a few times before realizing you didn't accomplished your task, she didn't squirt.

"well well, toots," she said accompanied with a breathless and amused chuckle, "i told you it would be- mhm!" her mocking words were interrupted by your actions, you decided that you'll just try harder.

you went back at it, this time focusing more on her unattended hole. when your tongue explored a little more inside, your nose hit her clit sending shivers through her back as she arched. her initial surprise was overpowered with pleasure, she didn't care anymore about not showing how much she was enjoying herself.

after the previous stimulation, this time she reached her limit much quicker. you really wanted to make her squirt, so you put all your effort on your fingers, which you carefully put inside her. jinx cursed above you, letting you do whatever you wanted with your body as everything felt just so good for her.

and the reward came along her relief, her cum fell all over your lower face, though you shamelessly tried to drink all you could.

"mkay, stop-" jinx whined lowly as you kept your mouth attached to her pussy, against her own words her legs squeezed your head tightly.

you pulled back a few seconds later, wiping your chin with the back of your hand only to smudge all her fluids to your cheek, making her giggle. she motioned at you to get closer, opening the flush of water on the sink by her side.

"thanks." you smiled quietly as she cleaned your face with water, "your thighs..." you pointed out at the wet mess on her inner thighs.

"i know."

jinx took a deep breath before making an effort to get down the counter, barely struggling to make her way inside a cubicle. you shyly stayed put, fixing your hair looking to anywhere else to give her some privacy as she cleaned herself up.

"i didn't know you were that stubborn." the bluehaired girl mocked you, suddenly she was by your side again. this time cornering you.

"you- you asked me to do it."

"yeah..."

there was something so mesmerizing in her blushed cheeks, her darkened blue eyes. your breath got caught in your throat when you felt her slim fingers sneaking under your skirt uniform to playfully pull on the edge of your underwear.

you only looked at her with little hesitance before you tried to lean in and kiss her. she dodge your attempt for the second time, not letting you time to react when she forcefully turned you around, pushing her chest on your back.

"i can give you the 15g, if you let me play a little bit." she whispered against your ear, nibbling at the earring you were wearing, "hmm? will ya let me?"

"yeah," you quickly agreed with a pleading voice, hitching up your own skirt and resting your hand on top of hers while pushing your hips, your movements were hurried and desperate, there was a pulsing desiring waiting to be attended. jinx was overly amused, rubbing your center over your underwear. "yes..." you sighed, throwing your head back to her side, leaving you neck exposed for her to keep her lips busy with.

breathless moans left your mouth, relaxing your body against her touch when loud steps startled you. it was impossible for you to ignore them because there was a chance that someone could caught you both. though jinx didn't seem to care, mindlessly biting your skin.

"did you hear that?" you mumbled, your body tensed in anticipation.

"yeah," she giggled in response, capturing your attention by getting her hands under you panties which got a squeak sound out of you. "imagine if they find us here."

"not funny-" you grumbled, unable to push her away but your eyes fixed on the closed door.

"c'mon baby, must be the janitor. he's not allowed to come here." she reassured, her other hand moving your head to her, kissing your lips messily.

you gave in, sighing into her as she pump her fingers in and out of you. you already felt so stimulated that a few minutes later you were already cumming on her hand. she doesn't stops till you ride out of your high.

jinx loudly pecks your cheek, pulling her fingers out and up to her mouth, sucking off your cum.

"god." your voice trembled at the sight.

she only smirked at you, walking to her bag which was laying on the floor. your eyes were closed while you fixed yourself again, anxious to get home and change your dirty underwear as you can uncomfortably feel the stickness.

when you opened them, jinx left on the counter a small ziploc bag.

"a deal is a deal." she shrugs, "enjoy."

you slowly reached to the bag, a bit conflicted by how the situation was ending.

“i- i’m not even sure i needed it now.”

jinx raised her eyebrows at your murmur, you came to her with those desperate and anxious eyes, only for you to not accept it?

but she knew better, with her signature mischievous smirk she approached you once again, puts the bag in your hands and let her fingers linger a bit more on top of them.

“how about this? take ‘em home, use it tonight and touch yourself thinking ‘bout me.”

your eyes open slightly, and you blush like you didn’t just fuck her a couple of minutes ago. either she always caught you out of guard, or you’re simply not used to being… so vulgar.

“so? will you do that f’me?” she stares at you expectantly with those big blue eyes, amused by your reactions.

“y-yeah, yes i’ll do it.”

“cute.” she sighs, leaning to peck your cheek once again before going to grab her bag and walk towards the exit. “i want proof! text me later!” she chuckles loudly by the door and just as loudly smacks it closed.

[soobrat]

leather lashings; lyy

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ pairing; yangyang x vaguely idol!reader

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ words; 2.6k

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ genre; smut, angst if you squint, established relationship

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ warnings; spanking, obvs pain play, dom!yangyang, bratty sub!reader, brat taming, fingering, piv, unprotected sex (I think sometimes I honestly forget condoms exist), making love, orgasm denial

↻ ◁ || ▷ : Hopefully adding spanking and making MC that bratty didn't upset you anon T_T time will tell

The two of you stare blankly at each other after you share the news. Him waiting for you to say “just kidding!” and you monitoring his reaction prolongs the silence. He scoffs, breaking the tension.

“You’re joking.” He deadpans with a smirk. After more silence he raises his eyebrows, signaling you to respond. You just shrug, stretching your mouth thin to get rid of the pout that’ll give it all away. YangYang laughs, trying to break the tension like always. It puzzles you why he does that. Why he’s so scared of a little conflict is too annoying a question to figure out, so you’re just going to force him to do so. He slowly tucks his toothy smile away.

“Is this to punish me for promoting with the group I signed up to be in.” He gives you that “you’re being silly, just give up” look that makes you fold usually. Not today. “The one you knew I was in before we started seeing each other?”

You shrug again, causing his mask to slip. The grimace you catch just for a second makes you giddy.

“You’re not seriously considering making a song with Baekhyun, you know the rumors and you know they’re not just rumors.” YangYang sounds anxious as the words stumble from his lips. He still insists on keeping that condescending the smile the entire time he tries to reason with your logic.

“I’m not considering it, I already accepted it…” A smile spreads across your face as YangYang moves toward you and snatches your phone from your pocket. You watch the emotion on his face shift from exasperation to pure anger as he sifts through your phone. 

He turns the screen toward you, “He’s already flirting with you. Either you’re being petty right now or you’re an idiot.” He lowers the phone, fixing you with a challenging gaze.

“Oh, I’m an idiot?”

“Yeah. And actually, even if you’re doing this to be petty, that also makes you stupid. What, if I don’t react the way you want you’re gonna keep screwing around with Baekhyun until he breaks your heart?” In his mind he thinks he’s got you. You scoff, such bold words coming from him. The same person who insinuated you two weren’t serious enough yet for you to start missing him this much.

“What do you care?” You retort angrily, finally letting your facade drop away. Your words barely set in before YangYang is grabbing you by the shoulders and shoving you against the wall.

“You’re so fucking annoying, you know that?” His breath fanning your face makes your skin erupt with goosebumps. Your anger is washed away as you take in his appearance. Maybe you shouldn’t have picked this fight right after he came home from performing. The red is gorgeous on him, but something about the length and the way they style it makes you sweat. The way they do his makeup brings out an intensity to his eyes. Especially as he’s glaring at you right now. And to top it off, he changed before he got here. That leaves him in a tight fitting tank—

“Hello?!” He’s met with your strangely darkened eyes before he registers what he’s feeling. He looks down to see your hand pushing under his shirt and up his torso. He laughs in disbelief, rolling his head over his shoulders. When he doesn’t feel your hands leave his body he unclenches his eyes.

“What’re you doing?” He asks with a warning hanging on his words. You don’t know what you’re doing. The tension is still looming over the air and it’s delicious, but a part of you wants to pause for just one second. “We’re not done talking. You’re not even going to fight against it?”

“Fight against what?” You find yourself stuck picking at him, shoving your face closer as if you’re daring him to snap. He wants to shut your attitude down quickly but your thumb grazes his nipple. He chokes on his quip, becoming more incensed. 

“Being called annoying.” He hisses through gritted teeth, grabbing your hand by the wrist and snatching it from under his shirt. Without the feeling of his toned stomach under your fingers you’re able to think more clearly. Why you decided to start this, why you were pissed off when he mentioned the tour like it was nothing. You use his grip on your wrist to yank him closer.

“Does it annoy you when I ask you why you care? When you were the one who shamed me for missing you?”

“That is not what I said! You said you hate how busy I am and I told you that was crazy. Not because I thought you were being clingy, because I’m nowhere near as busy as most idols. This is my very first tour in five years of being an idol!” His eyes plead for you to be reasonable. Even if you wanted to be, you’re too busy thinking about grabbing a handful of his cock through his jeans. No amount of screaming at yourself to focus is helping. You want to argue, convince him to stay because you feel your feelings for him are escalating. You’ve never felt like this about anyone before, and you’ve never wanted to fuck someone this much before.

“Babe, please tell me you didn’t plan to make me jealous over a misunderstanding.” He’s begging for you to listen to him at this point. It’s not because he’s conceding and calling for a truce. He’s getting impatient. You take too long to answer judging by the exasperated way he shoves his hand through his hair. He looks at you, clearly willing to give you one more chance to handle the fight you started. Then your eyes flicker down to his fucking lips and you clench your thighs. 

“You–!” 

With his anger peaking like this, you’re hoping he at least angrily fucks you against the wall. He drops your arm, head drooping just enough that his hair covers his eyes. You see his jaw quirk and you wait on bated breath.

“Go to the bedroom. Now.”

The depth of his voice, the demand itself and the lack of emotion he delivers it with stun you into silence. Your heart pounds weightily, it feels so strong it hurts. Just then, his eyes shoot up at you. How he looks at you with furious awe has your feet moving before it clicks in your brain. 

You enter the room, tempted to shut the door from the tension being too great. Was he going to fuck you until your entire body aches tomorrow? Or was he going to not fuck you at all? Forcing you to get his cock off while you sit there, needy. Or… was he cooling off alone so he can talk with you calmly?

You paced back and forth, the unknown making you crazy. He could just walk in here and break up with you. The door slams behind you before you could even work yourself up from that thought.

Your eyes rake over his form, taking note of the belt missing from his pants. The very same belt looped over and held tightly in his right hand. He grabs your hair, giving you no time to deliberate over this new kink he’s clearly about to try. He shoves your face into the bed, the leather lapping painfully at your ass soon after. 

The barrage of licks to your skin escalate in pain each time. Your volume escalates with it, you shoot your hands back to try and protect your ass only for them to get struck too. The only break you get is for him to pull up his own t-shirt draped over your frame so your panties are exposed. The scanty fabric leaves your flesh fully vulnerable to the belt’s onslaught. 

“Ow! YangYang?” You plead, looking back as much as you can with your hair in his fist. He shoves your head back down. 

“I don’t hear a safe word.” He grunts breathlessly before drawing his arm back again. You yelp in shock, unaware of just how painful this could be. You assumed you’d be sore, even bruised, but you can tell this will be on a whole new level. Despite that, you can feel your plush, swollen lips become saturated in wetness. The sounds he makes as he exerts as he strikes you makes your stomach flutter. The sound of the buckle clinking is so tantalizing. God, you want to be fucked. You want to be fucked so bad you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry baby, I swear!” You squeal, still flinching each time the belt makes contact. 

“Hm?” He mewls. He delivers a quick succession of strikes. You presume it’s a punishment for your mindless pandering. “You’re sorry?”

“Please forgive me YangYang. Please?!” 

“Oooh baby,” he coos, smoothing his hand over your aching ass. You whimper as you recover, your ass tingling. He eases your underwear down your legs and you have to bite your lip not to cheer. You hear the belt hit the floor as both of his hands soothe your flesh, one sliding between your legs. You hum quietly and push your ass up higher for him. His index and middle finger slip in with very little resistance. You moan out, alarmed by his sudden change of technique. Usually he rubs your clit, easing one finger in and then two.

Instead he’s pumping in his fingers so fast your heat is sloshing loudly. He hisses as he leans over your body and holds you still with his weight. You still wiggle underneath him as he breathes hotly against your ear. You can feel your body building in pleasure so quickly you let out a panicked whine. Your high thunders closer as his speed accelerates. You try to plead or warn him about how close you are, but all you manage are unintelligible noises warped by your jolting body. 

“Yan– fuck!” Your voice crackles from the force of your wailing. You can hear his breathing getting heavier in tandem with what you pray is him increasing to the maximum speed his fingers can go. His palm is slickened from your juices. You can feel it smear against your skin every time.

The rope is so close to snapping. You can feel each coiled thread plucking away until there’s just one left. You suck in a harsh inhale and hold it as your climax looms just over the horizon. The hollow thumps of your heart is all your oxygen-deprived brain can focus on as it awaits the earth shattering pleasure. All it’s met with is crushing emptiness instead. 

YangYang's weight lifts from you and you lift to your forearms. You watch him in awe as he walks across the room. He serenely lifts a towel from your hamper, having the gall to start whistling as he cleans his fingers. 

“What the fuck?!” You shout, bristling at the smug smirk you earn. “What is your problem?!” He tosses the towel back and struts toward you again. You scramble up from the bed and shoot daggers at him through your eyes. He breathes a laugh before poking your forehead. How efficiently he’s able to tip you over with such a childish move infuriates you. He purposely pushed you toward a quick orgasm just to leave you reeling. 

Your train of thought crashes and burns as he shoves his sweatpants down. He takes his time with his underwear, tucking his thumbs under the waistband and turning it under. He rolls it down just enough to let his hardening cock spring free. It hasn’t been a while by any stretch of the imagination, but that doesn’t stop your mouth from going dry at the sight of it. Your legs naturally fall apart as you lie back on the bed.

“This doesn’t mean I’m going to give you what you want.” He says as he languidly strokes his shaft.

“This is what I want.” You rebut insolently. The defiant way you look up at him makes him chut. He climbs between your legs.

“No, you want me to take a break from activities and pull out from the tour next month. I’m not gonna do that. You want me to be stressed the entire tour about upsetting you and worry about you misbehaving. I’m not doing that either.” He slides his tip over your lips, relishing in the way he melts into your wet folds. You can’t fully enjoy the sensation while he’s shutting down your desires.

“I’m going to fly around the world, meet my fans, hang out with my group and have a blast doing all of it. And you, you’re going to tell Baekhyun you change your mind. And you’re going to be a good girl while I’m gone.” He leans closer the more he speaks, punctuating everything with an attempted kiss. You turn your face away, rejecting his kiss. He just grabs your jaw with his free hand and holds you there as he plants one on you anyway. You want to whine or protest but you can’t help kissing him back. This is so unfair–

You gasp as he sinks into you. As soon as his tip brushes your g-spot you’re moaning wantonly against his lips. You wrap your arms around him, wishing to be like this forever. You wish you could capture the feeling of his cock stretching you open. Thankfully he isn’t hammering inside you like he did with his fingers. His slow thrusts give your walls ample time to mingle with every inch of his cock.

Each plunge inside you is more delicious than the last. You pull away from kissing him and your mouth hangs open. Salacious moans spill from your mouth at every part of him in contact with you. His searing lips littering kisses across your jaw and down your neck, his soft thighs brushing against yours, and his balls smacking against your ass. Your cunt clenches around him with need, each suckle of your hole milking him. 

“God…” He whispers shakily. His lips lie dormant against the side of your neck, his tongue brushing against it lightly as he pants. He clasps at your shoulder and starts white knuckling his stolen t-shirt. That’s when you know it’s getting to him. He has to feel it too, this undying need to stay in each other's arms with him inside you. And yet…

You want to protest, it’s gnawing at you, but he planted his stake in the sand. Your legs go rigid against your will and you clench your eyes shut. A gasp is drawn from you when his hips slam down and he’s driven especially deep. He lifts himself up on shaky limbs. 

“Focus.” He breathes. He sounds so authoritative in his lustful daze that you find yourself receptive. You take note of all his beautiful features. His mouth shape that drove you crazy before you started dating. He even flashes that dazzling smile that always gave you butterflies. Both of which made you want to just kiss him before it was appropriate. But now you can, you have him all to yourself. His smile softly fades. “Are you focused?”

You grasp at his shoulders and urge him to lean back down. With doing so, his hips swing lower and push him in as deep as he can go. Your breath is sucked from your lungs as you dig your nails into his back. He suckles at your neck as he finds his rhythm again. Not long after he finds it he loses it again. His hips find it hard to accommodate when he starts to tremble this much. Your legs quaking makes him less alone at least. You both clasp, scratch, lick, and suck at each other as your orgasms near. 

His hips swing forward with a hefty thud as he huffs loudly. He nuzzles further into your neck, hips jerking as he fills you up. 

request

nct 127/u masterlist

[pagannatural]

1.19

Provenance part II

-This is the second angstiest fight they’ve ever had. I don’t even know where to begin.

-Dean is worried about Sam (is he ever not worried about Sam? no), that’s why in this episode he keeps pushing him to hook up with someone. It’s different from his usual crass teasing.

Sam is frustrated because he really is not interested in Sarah or any women at this point, and hurt because Dean’s pushing him too much

He yells at Dean

It sounds like the kind of fight the love interests would have before one of them finally admits they care because they’re in love.

Dean’s tone shifts. He’s genuine and serious. He says he doesn’t mean any disrespect but he’s sure this is about Jessica, and he would think she’d want him to be happy. (Dean wants Sam to be happy). Sam looks away, says “I know she would” softly, before looking back at Dean, biting his lip slightly, holding something back.

Sam exhales like he’s decided to admit something and says “you’re right, part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part.”

Dean asks “then what’s it about?”

Sam holds his gaze, vulnerable, his eyes moving over Dean’s face, before looking down. He looks like he’s going to break, like he’s going to cry, for a split second. He looks almost ashamed.

He doesn’t answer, and Dean’s expression is like Oh. That. He looks helpless. Sam looking at Dean like that was his answer.

But he quickly regains composure and lies back on the bed, gaining distance, feigning casualty, crossing his arms. He changes the subject. He says “well we still need the painting”

Sam nods like he’s trying to make himself accept something, and picks up his phone miserably and dials Sarah. He can see that Dean won’t talk about this anymore. He looks so defeated and the way he just does what Dean tells him to do even though he clearly doesn’t want to- it’s like he’s accepting a punishment.

He sounds fake and strained on the phone and he looks miserable and Dean is rolling his eyes, arms crossed over his chest, playing at nonchalance. Probably deep in denial even though really, he knows, or he wouldn’t have changed the subject.

-how else was I supposed to interpret this? If Sam’s issue is actually that he doesn’t want Sarah to get hurt and he can’t go through that again, which is what he has a very easy time telling her not thirty minutes later, why would he act like that with Dean instead of just saying it? Why would he phrase it like his issue is mostly not about Jessica at all? Why would Dean have a realization and then behave so defensively? Am I stupid? What the actual fuck is the normal reading of this scene?

-Sam tells Sarah he likes her. It’s like Sam has agreed to play his part and be into Sarah, like that’s the story they’re going with. We know Sam is a smooth liar and he’s good at getting people to trust him to the point of being manipulative if he has to, although his intentions are good.

-When he and Sarah get trapped in the house, Sam calls out for Dean and asks him not to go anywhere yet

-They’re trying to figure out how to burn the little girl’s remains and Sarah says she used to auction antique dolls (so she knows they have real hair). Sam says “that’s fascinating Sarah but important right now?” the SASS

-Sam doesn’t kiss her. Then he goes outside, where Dean is waiting for him, turns around, and kisses her where Dean can see them.

[lincolndjarin]

my sister lives in the attic.

main masterlist

joel miller x reader

warnings : angst, death, child loss, grieving, denial

a/n : i've never written something like this but i'm in a weird place and this idea has been following me for quite some time now so i decided to take a few minutes and write it, i'd love some feedback on it since this style is kinda new to me !!

He didn’t like to talk about his children. 

“Do you have kids?”

“Two daughters.” Was all he said.

That’s what he had told you on your first date. He was so abrupt about it that you didn’t ask about them again, instead opting to wait until he told you on his own terms. 

On your fifth date he told you that Ellie got in trouble for cursing in gym class that day. 

On your seventh date he told you Sarah was away at college, and that he missed her terribly and wished she would visit. 

On your eighth date he told you that Ellie made him a card for his birthday. He even brought it over to your house to show you. It was a drawing of the two of them floating through space. The inside said:

i love our family to the moon and back!

You didn’t ask why Sarah wasn’t included in the crayon family portrait. 

On your ninth date he showed you the photos in his wallet. A baby girl with her curly dark hair up in two little buns sitting in the sand. The one below it was a girl who looked to be about five, giving the camera a toothy grin, standing next to Joel in a courthouse, holding up her adoption papers. 

On your twelfth date he finally invited you over for dinner, you happily accepted. 

Joel introduced you to an extremely energetic seven year old. He gave you a tour of the house (only the first floor.) and you smiled at every family photo hung on the walls.

“I invited Sarah but she couldn’t make it, she’s got midterms but I’m sure you’ll meet her soon.” He tells you before leaving you with Ellie, going to pick up a pizza for the three of you. 

Ellie tells you about school, about her best friend Riley, and about playing soccer in the backyard with her father. 

And then she says the strangest thing. 

“My sister lives in the attic.”

“Excuse me?” You had given her a confused smile but she carried on as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“My sister, Sarah, lives in the attic.” She said it so plainly. Taking your hand and dragging you up the stairs, pointing up at a staircase on the second story that led to a singular door, pink paint peeling from it with little wooden letters spelling out SARAH, the sight of it put you on edge. 

“We shouldn’t go up there honey, let’s wait until your father gets back.” You had put up a bit of resistance but she ran ahead of you, you watched helplessly from the bottom of the stairs as Ellie pushed open the door and ran inside. 

“It’s okay, dad says I can talk to Sarah whenever I want as long as I don’t touch her stuff.” She had shouted, already inside. Despite every nerve in your body singing for you to go back downstairs and wait, you knew better than to leave a child alone so you climbed the steps and entered the room. 

Nothing strange, nothing frightening, no secret nightmare. 

When you look around all you see is a room, albeit a child's room but a room nonetheless. 

Ellie sits in a love seat, suddenly repeating everything she told you about her day to seemingly no one as she stares at Sarah’s bookshelf. You walk around, trying to recall when Joel said she left for college. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust but strangest of all this is clearly not a teenager's room. 

This is a childs room, for a girl about Ellie’s age. Every photo on her desk doesn’t show her older than what looks to be twelve. 

“Ellie, honey, when you said your sister lived in the atti-'' She doesn’t stop talking from behind you, ignoring you entirely but her words stop you dead in your tracks. 

“Dad keeps saying you’re coming home for Christmas but he also said you’d be home for his birthday, he keeps telling me how much we’re gonna get along but I just tell him we already get along fine.” 

It sends a chill up your spine, you aren’t superstitious but in a moment of weakness when you turn a part of you almost expects to see a ghost.

Of course that isn’t the case.  

When you look Ellie remains in the loveseat, seemingly the only thing that isn’t covered in dust up here. Her eyes trained on the highest shelf, when you follow her line of sight all of it starts to make sense. The shelf is covered in books and toys and trinkets, all of which are showing signs of age and disuse but the top shelf is neat and tidy, it even looks recently dusted. 

Only two things are on the top shelf. 

A beer bottle with the label ripped off, a lilac sits within it, a few stray petals lay in a halo around the makeshift vase. 

And a dark purple urn. 

You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, unable to tear your eyes from it. 

“One time Uncle Tommy told me she was an angel.” She whispers when you stare in silence for far too long. “Dad got so mad we didn’t see Tommy for like a month after that and when we did see him again everything went back to normal.”

“What happened to her?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, she only shrugs in response.

“It was before I lived here, I never ask, I’m worried he’ll send me to live with Uncle Tommy if I do.” 

“Oh, honey.” You crouch down beside her, she hugs her knees to her chest. “He wouldn’t do that.” 

“I’m still not gonna ask. He doesn’t talk about her that much, only when someone else brings it up or if I ask to come up here to see her.” You nod slowly before holding your arms out to her, she wraps herself around you and you carry her to the door, eager to leave the tomb you’ve stumbled upon. “Bye Sarah.” She mumbled against your shoulder as you closed the door, the sentiment sent shivers down your spine. 

When Joel returns with the food it’s as if you never were in the attic at all.

Ellie runs to him, wrapping herself around his leg as he laughs, trying to kick her loose. 

When the three of you sit down for dinner she never says a thing to him about any of it. 

She asks if she can go to her friends house after dinner, their mom is going to take them to the arcade, Joel grins at you, asking if she was good while he was gone and you put on a smile, nodding. 

“Then you can go.” He ruffled her hair before she ran off to get her backpack. When it was just the two of you he took your hand, mentioning something about catching a movie while she’s gone, you nodded absentmindedly when he gave your hand a gentle squeeze you finally looked him in the eye. 

You’d never noticed it before but there is a permanent sorrow behind the dark expanse of his irises, as if he’s never really happy, he’s sometimes just less sad. “Everything okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” 

You don’t bring up the attic at the dinner table.

Or in the car.

Or at the movies. 

He just needs time, you tell yourself. Maybe he’ll tell you on your thirteenth date, maybe it won’t be until your hundredth date. Until then you won’t tell him that you know who lives in the attic and you’ll nod with faux disappointment when he says that his eldest won’t be home for the holidays this year. 

And you’ll take extra care of him on days when he comes home with fresh lilacs.

a/n : yeah so uhhhhhhhhhh tell me how y'all liked this haha idk if i'll write anything like this again it was just sort of something for me to vent with, hope everyones having a good day and thank y'all for reading <3

[dufferpuffer]

In continuation of the 'pillow prince/ss/' topic.. Snape sex hcs? I remember you said it's basically impossible to drag him into bed but I'D TRY.

You're just spoiling me, aren'tcha? First Remus now Sev... Severus Snape is devoted to duty. Its the only thing holding him together. How often does he even go to bed…? A full-time teacher, a spy, a death eater, Dumbledore's dark little knight - He probably considers the time he spends marking 'rest enough'.

His self-esteem is dead. So dead he has come to terms with its corpse and uses it as protection. He's been teased his entire life for his looks. By his parents, by his schoolmates, by his teachers, by his cult, by his students... He's proud of how it has hardened him. It's become part of his ego: He's heard it all before - and now the words run off his oily feathers like raindrops.

Having someone say they think him anything less than hideous? Baffling. But while Remus would become a flustered mess... I think Severus would stages-of-grief it. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression… Because his romantic, affectionate side is also a corpse. It died alongside his best friend and he's spent the last decade-and-a-half making sure it stays buried.

To bring it back? That will take a stubborn dedication that rivals his. It takes grit and damn near necromancy. He will fight back, too - because to raise it from the dead is to raise Lily along with it. That is the greatest hurdle: Best friend or love of his life - either way she was the only person he has been affectionate with. He will need to digest that. He hasn't worked through his grief yet, because it is a difficult thing to work through alone. …but he CAN reach Acceptance.

One step, one stage at a time - peeling down each layer of his onion, like an ogre... Things move slowly with Severus - and in the opposite order you might expect. I guess I will go through what a relationship would be like with Severus, in a sorta dot-point fanfic format:

First note: He is allergic to showing weakness - and what he considers a weakness can be... strange. Indulgence. Emotions, affection, touch, company - he has no time for that garbage. He is in control of himself, of his body, of his feelings, of his life. Meticulous, complete control. This man 'tops' exclusively**

He is ashamed of masturbation. It means he has lost control of his emotions - and it grinds against his ego like sandpaper. He almost never does it. Thinking about anyone in particular when doing it is an insult to them - and he hates feeling guilty. He keeps it simple and almost self-harmingly dry. He has more important things to be doing with his time than engaging with this weakness…

You make your interest in him clear. He goes through everything - he belittles and denies your feelings, he gets angry with you for bothering him, he asks you to stop saying such nonsense... and he gets frustrated that even when you've finally shut up, he is STILL dwelling on it. He spends so long just tossing things up, sorting through his grief, imagining it... so, SO sick of jerking off… …when the dam bursts - he fucks. If he is going to be spending all this time obsessing over these stupid feelings he may as well get something out of it. Only sex, though. Sex he is in control of. Clothes on, greedy, not pretty, not nice. 'Thats what you wanted from me, yes? Well you've gotten it. Happy?!?' ((He does not expect the answer to be 'yes'.))

He thinks one time was too many, and did it only to take it off his mind - and to stop having you bother him about it. But it is easier for you to get him to do it a second time. And then a third... fourth... The more times it happens - and nothing embarrassing or bad follows... well, if he has done it once, he may as well do it more, right…? You are evidently trustworthy. '…You may come to my chambers IF I call - at no other times. I am too busy to play silly games.' A casual physical relationship - to solve a problem of distraction and concentration. That's all.

He does start to call. Occasionally at first - and every time he almost shows surprise that you actually turn up. But he gets less and less surprised... and starts getting more and more needy. 'You're late. I sent for you half an hour ago. Do you think I am made of time?!' He doesn't even realize how needy he sounds, because this activity is now ingrained in his routine. He is used to it. And because he is used to it: He touches more. More clothes come off. But never his own. He has gone from 'hands-on-waist' fucking to caressing your naked body - slow rolls of his hips, making his own breathe shudder, enjoying every sensation.

One day his summons aren't replied to. At first he angry. How dare you. How DARE you waste his time!? The next time they are alone he snaps at you bitterly. 'Finally tired of me? Got your fill? Met a better man?' When the response is more along the lines of 'I was a bit ill' or 'I was out'... he realizes he has shown far too much of his hand. How embarrassing. He is speechless at his own foolishness. He showed an inch of vulnerability and expects to be raked through the coals for it. ...What he doesn't expect is acceptance, tenderness and respect.

He had forgotten that he wasn't the one to initiate this arrangement - that he was wanted. Desired. In his mind he had taken control: Everything happened when he wanted, where he wanted and in whichever way he wished. To be touched in a friendly way? To he apologized to - for being made to worry? To have make-up sex offered…? '…Yes. Alright.' Its the next layer peeled off. He starts listening to offers, enjoying being asked instead of being answered. It's still a casual affair - and yet seeing them talk to other people no longer makes his hackles raise in concern for his secrets. Running into them in the morning no longer makes his skin crawl with shame and embarrassment for the night before. He feels excited when they pay a visit in the midday, offering an impromptu meeting. It is oddly... comfortable.

Of course it can't always be sex in the midday. It is too much effort, takes too much time, energy and clean-up. It suits him fine when you jump on the chance to put him in your mouth. At first he is a little taken-aback - but it feels nice. He says nothing other than contented hums, but as you get better he groans and arcs his back a little. He doesn't care what happens when he finishes - swallow or not, as long as it is not a mess for him to clean up. …Well, he tries to be that callous about it… but it doesn't last long. There is a tenderness to the act he can't deny. It isn't the mutual-benefit fucking. This is a gift for him to enjoy. That realization settles and festers in him. It creates a soft feeling he doesn't recognize... and a desire not to owe you anything.

So, without much fanfare: he reciprocates. He gets you on his seat, or on his desk, and gets down on his knees... He is a little nervous about it - when was the last time he did this, if ever…? - But he has no need to be. He is a god with his mouth. It's his attention to detail. His devotion to getting things done thoroughly and properly - even this. What starts as an embarrassing action from the weakness of his heart turns into a strong pleasure for him. He LOVES oral. It isn't him losing control: it's him gaining it. Even when his hair is gripped and yanked, even if he is pulled close and suffocated a little on you - HE is making that happen. HE is making you do that. He never expected this to make him so happy, so hot. He never expected to undo the buttons of his high collar so his neck could move more easily, to unbutton and fold up his right sleeve so he could get his hands messy... To have enough fun to start saying some truly dirty things… 'That good, is it~?' 'My-! How delicate you are today!' 'Stop squirming. Too sensitive…? Just grit your teeth and bear it.' ...and he didn't expect to not be laughed at for such things.

He certainly didn't expect to get so into it that he kissed you to shut you up as you came. A shock to both of you… another wall crumbled. Turns out he likes that too. He starts initiating sexual activity with a kiss. He prefers kissing to talking. It is succinct and expressive. Walk into his office: as soon as the door is shut your back is pressed against it, wrists in his hands, his mouth against yours. If he starts losing control of the kiss he gently bites your lip, dragging his teeth along it teasingly. Your tongue invades his mouth before he has a chance to do it first: he just about shoves your hands into his robes, tearing into your clothes... This man lives for kissing now.

But he still doesn't realize this is more than casual, that this is something he needs… Until you chat. Its a quiet moment. You comment on the parchments rolled at the edge of his desk. 'Oh - that is just my own research into the effects of aconite. I had to work with it extensively a few years ago.' You take an interest, and he starts regaling deeper and deeper into his studies: how poorly documented others' research is; how it reacts to other ingredients; how modern brewing processes can draw so much more out of it - 'you know, the plant is often just passed off as toxic when even basic purification charms are enough to-' ...He is blabbering. On and on about a dull topic nobody cares about… yet you are listening. His jaw drops a little. He realizes that, for the first time in two decades, someone cares. Someone truly cares. About HIM. His thoughts, his interests... He never thought he could have this again. He didn't think that for the sex, either - but sex, compared to this, was easy to procure. He wants to kiss you again. But not for lust this time.

Suddenly it doesn't feel so embarrassing to allow his eyes to become wet, to draw a shuddering breathe as he builds the courage - of which he has masses of - to say something important: '…I am afraid I have come to love you.' It is a terrifying thing to say, but he has never once shied away from saying what is important, even if it results in pain. And yet this time, for once… he feels like he can trust that it wont.

** Many times later, he is laying down as his shirt gets unbuttoned, his collarbone kissed... He doesn't feel ashamed, even as he gently strokes his own dick, encouraging it to harden. He pulls his arms from his shirt sleeves, fearless of his dark mark being exposed. For once work is at the back of his mind as he allows himself to be pushed back down to into the pillows, chuckling as he is told: 'Shh… just lay still darling… I'll take care of you tonight…' ...And he does. Control well out of his hands and a smile on his face.

[justchillandshipit]

Allow me to take a moment here. Tim just acknowledged couch theory?

Moving on to Buck and Tommy’s breakup, talk about your approach to it. Why was Tommy sure that Buck would break his heart?

Tommy’s older and Buck is very new to this, and whether Tommy was correct or not, I think what he felt like was exactly what he said: I’m not your last, I’m your first, which is a special thing to be, but as Tommy says, it doesn’t usually end up being the same thing. And I think based on what we know of Buck, he’s maybe not wrong. Buck’s a little impulsive when he’s feeling a certain kind of way. He’s like, move on in, bring your couch. So I just think because Tommy’s a little older and wiser or maybe at some level he feels like he doesn’t deserve Buck, I don’t know. But I think he accurately diagnosed Buck. Buck’s still figuring himself out, and boy, that would be quite risky to move in with that guy as much as you would love to.

---

We have a couch reference.

---

Somewhat unrelated but relevant:

I also think that I have finally caught up on all the articles. In every article, someone says Eddie is straight. I want to say about four articles have a reference or a mention of straight Eddie, and there is one in-canon statement from Eddie. So what do we think about that? I instinctively want to say that to have that many denials is sus, but I also have to acknowledge that the question was asked before the response was offered. I honestly don't know what to believe when it comes to the show's direction. I'm still here though and sticking with my original plan to give them until the end of Seasn 8 to move Eddie out of the closet. I will not accept the demise of this ship a moment sooner. It doesn't help that actors are excellent liars. Oliver always makes me second guess myself. lol For now, I'm still here and still clowning.

Other things to consider in favor of Buddie:

There was one article from TVInsider where the interviewer reminded the reader that Eddie said he wanted a beard. Most of us know the gay coding of that word, and that was promptly followed by the Priest pointing out that Eddie was wearing a mask/disguise. This is all within the same conversation where Eddie assumed the Priest was hitting on him, and he called himself straight.

I'm also low-key wondering about the possible conflict between Eddie and Buck coming up. I need more info on that. What?? These two haven't had beef since Buck sued Bobby in Season 3 and Buck and Eddie argued in the grocery store. We all know how Eddie served c#nt like a professional in that fight. Eddie ended up forgiving Buck soon afterward, but Buck was still apologizing four episodes later. lol

I saw in another post where someone compared the image of Eddie in the confessional with the image of Eddie seeing Buck through the peephole of his door. (Hint, both looked like confessional images.) That has to be deliberate.

Tim's comment above referenced Tommy and a couch in a similar context to Eddie and Buck's conversation when Buck said his last few couches came with girlfriends, and Eddie corrected him to say his girlfriends came with couches.

@stagefoureddiediaz 's color theory is still proving accurate as well.

Updates

Buck looking less than thrilled at seeing Laker tickets. Tommy tells him he can use the gift with Eddie and Buck perking up at the idea, only for Tommy to say nope. Joking. (On a second watch, I think I read too much in to this one, but I'm keeping it on the list as very loose interpretation.)

Oliver admits that Buck looked Eddie up and down when he opened the door and knew something was going on with him, but then the whole sit in silence thing. (I know the breakup was on Buck's mind, but I swear he looked like he was trying not to think about Eddie being half naked beside him.)

Also, Eddie was half naked just sitting beside him. I can't help but think of them sitting there like that. Buck and Eddie are going to the same place, but they are taking totally different paths to get there. At some point, they are going to meet each other face to face and be like, you're here.

(I saw a theory. You always have to take these with a grain of salt, but I can't deny the theory sounds good. there have been a lot of parallels that are relevant for Buck and Eddie with the exception of Eddie's shooting.) I did read one interview, it may have been TVInsider, where the interviewer said they hoped Buck wouldn't be in danger. Oliver hinted that Buck was always putting himself in those situations. I think it might be a hint for what is to come. Also, if Buck is putting himself in dangerous situations again, this might be something that has Eddie angry with Buck. I think there is a lot of room for this theory. We'll have to wait and see on that one.

In a previous interview, Oliver told us there was an upcoming scene where Buck and Eddie sat in silence and that it was a testament to their friendship. In the latest interview in Variety, he talks about the scene again but this time he says "that it speaks volumes about their relationship that they could be going through things and handling it so differently but still be there for each other with little need for words. (This is the same interview where Oliver admits that Buck looked Eddie up and down.) At the end of this question, he reiterates that it speaks volumes that they were in different places and could still be there for each other. He says, "I think it really speaks volumes to the strength of their bond."

[graysparrowao3]

The Northern Bastards: Love Confession Character Analysis

I'm not sure what level of fanfic brain-rot / rarepair self-wankery this is, but I kind of really liked the thematic way the confessions finally happened, so I wanted to write it out, literary analysis style.

First, some relevant traits as described in the series:

Aradin's overall characterization:

Doesn't know when to shut up.

Speaks before he thinks and doesn't consider the impact his words may have on others.

Escalates conflicts through force and snark.

Doesn't emotionally self-regulate.

Some level of insight into self and emotions.

Selfish when considering emotional needs, less so for physical or material needs once they are comfortably met.

Rugan's overall characterization:

Uses words sparingly and carefully.

Emotionally unavailable.

Shuts down any interaction that gets too emotionally vulnerable.

Lives in constant survival mode; insight less important than external threat risk.

Attempts to deescalate conflicts by disengaging.

Selfish when considering physical needs, emotional needs ignored/repressed, material needs tied to Zhentarim activity.

So how do those elements come through both in each confession and also in how they respond to the other's confession? Let's now explore how the characterization and development of both characters is seen through their verbal admissions of affection after 70,000 words, 13 installments, and half a year of denial on my part:

How Aradin confesses love and Rugan responds:

          Rugan chuckled. “You’re easy to please.”            “I’m really not,” Aradin said. “I’m a high maintenance, argumentative, foul-mouthed son of a bitch, but you don’t seem to be too bothered by it, that’s why I love you.”             Rugan failed to keep an instinctive reaction flashing across his face.             Aradin winced. “Bollocks.”             Rugan’s hands didn’t move in the delicate, cautious pause. “How about this,” he said, slowly. “I’ll forgive you saying a bit too much if you can forgive me not saying enough.”             “Deal,” the adventurer replied quickly. “And just in case it changed your mind about me fucking you and you staying, I didn’t mean it. I don’t even really like you. I mean for a start, what’s going on with your hair? Grow it out or shave it, make a damn decision. And I know you had your team banner as it were, but I don’t think yellow is your colour, makes you all washed out-”             Rugan placed his hand over the other man’s mouth. “Aradin," he said. "Shut the fuck up.”

Analysis:

Aradin doesn't know when to shut up, doesn't consider the impact of his words, and has been aware of what's going on for a while and even practiced these exact words, so it doesn't occur to him what he's saying until after he said it. He's too selfishly involved in his feelings to realize this is a fairly major thing to be admitting, especially in the context of everything that's happened, and isn't careful in how he speaks, so he 'says it like it is', giving a fairly accurate assessment of himself and his feelings, and only realizes it when he's prompted by the reaction it elicits.

Then, he regrets it not because he cares about having said something wrong, but because he's waiting to be entirely invalidated and for Rugan to backpedal the progression they've made because he usually can't handle this sort of thing and has a visceral reaction to it that Aradin doesn't want to deal with. He starts spouting pointless low-effort insults to try and deflect from any potential negative reaction Rugan has to his confession and more importantly to lower the level of vulnerability in the conversation by being a little shit.

When Rugan responds he demonstrates his character growth and returning of the affection, because even though he doesn't say it back, he doesn't shut it down, ignore it, or deny it, in spite of how uncomfortable he is with it being out there. He accepts it for exactly what it is, acknowledges it even if he can't bring himself to speak what was said even in repeating it, and only asks to be accepted for where he is back.

When Aradin then is worried that this reaction isn't entirely genuine and also is self-centeredly not fully listening and worried about himself, Rugan stops it both physically and verbally, showing that's he's ok with it, can handle the vulnerability, and doesn't need to pretend it didn't happen like usual. He's not bothered by these ridiculous insults, he just doesn't need protecting (or to listen to this kind of wankery lol).

How Rugan confesses love and Aradin responds (some time later):

            He was curled up behind his partner, buried in the soft scent of his hair and the sharp smell of the sex they hadn’t washed off yet. He was still coming to, the new day finding him slowly, teasing him from undisturbed sleep into the promise that existence could be a thing he actually enjoyed.             He moved his fingers affectionately over the younger man’s arm, tracing down to his hand where he laced their fingers together and nuzzled closer into the nape of his neck. Rugan bathed in the sensation of being wanted and succumbed to the effortless joy of it. He really, really, what-the-fuck-did-I-make-all-that-fuss-about wanted it too. His arms tightened slightly around the nude body, he pressed his lips against his lover's warm skin and hummed a few precious words.             Aradin’s thick brows gathered together over his barely conscious eyes. He mumbled into the pillow, “did you just say what I think you said?”             Rugan lazily shuffled down into their sleepy embrace. “No idea what you’re talking about.”             For a moment, there was nothing. Then he felt a tight squeeze on his hand.

Analysis:

Rugan has been so averse to being emotionally vulnerable and not saying how he feels - and couldn't, because of the risk to his emotional and quite literal physical wellbeing - that the words aren't even written out. I know what he said, so do you, he, and Aradin, but the literal words that are typed reflect his pattern of emotional communication; an absence of it. He was finally was able to say it, but the way it is described (i.e., it is not) respects and reflects how difficult it has been for him to reach that point as well as validating the slight questioning from Aradin and putting the reader in his perspective over what those words could have been (though we both know exactly what they are), and keeps the text at a distance from his admission whilst allowing the confession to happen. Baby steps.

He says it during a moment of complete comfort and safety, where they're still half-asleep (both more vulnerability and potential deniability) and where he's realized what being happy actually can entail, without any context of conversation or force or angst which is usually when he breaks and any vulnerability comes out in a highly aggressive defensiveness. He's able to have this reflection because he's no longer fighting for survival, is free from the Zhentarim completely, and is able to be safe to actually acknowledge and have such vulnerable emotions. The moment isn't a highly intense risky one, and even so he says nothing more than the exact words that he wanted to say and then retreats immediately into deniability to avoid staying too long in the vulnerability with a veneer of sardonic humour.

When Aradin responds he demonstrates his character growth and returning of the affection by not escalating through forcefulness or snark. He knows what was said, and could very easily confront, mock, or have an 'I told you so' moment that would inevitably ruin the moment and interrupt Rugan's willingness to be vulnerable. But, in fact, well well well, would you look at that!!... he finally actually manages to not say anything at all.

[h2ojustaddmako]

Headcanon: Why Will and Bella's relationship felt so fake

Will & Bella's relationship is a controversial one for a lot of reasons, and for a while I couldn't really put my finger on it, and I don't think many people can too. It lacks chemistry, for sure - but it often feels neglectful, dishonest, and harming to both parties. I was chatting over this with @devisrina when finally it hit me.

You see, as a gay man, I always found some reflection in Will's character. He was this quiet, loner boy, he liked spending time with the cool, interesting girls, and he never really bonded with any male character (he's friendly with Lewis, but I'd never imagine them hanging out). He definitely has a complex with strong female characters like Sophie and Rikki, where he quite literally adores them, and I think with Bella it was quite similar.

I think Bella started out as his fascination; she was a gorgeous, gorgeous girl, and she seemed mysterious in a way he HAD to find out. He never had a crush on her, it was more this unharmful obsession. He quickly tied her to his obsession with Mako, and she became just another pawn in his game. She was much more open or easy to get to than either Cleo or Rikki, so him choosing her was natural. As I said, he never liked her romantically.

Bella, on the other hand, had a sweet teen crush from the beginning. Of course, he's good looking, but what she liked the most was the fact he's not like other guys; he didn't care about her body or partying, he wasn't the archetypal teen boy, she even says it straight to his face. But she's confused, as Will never seems to recuperate her feelings for him. Sure, he gives her plenty of attention, but that attention leaves her confused as it's never clearly romantic. She keeps going back and forth between trying to get close to him, to accepting it's not gonna happen and he doesn't care about her that way. Poor baby girl.

Then came a turning point. Will finds out Bella's a mermaid. Suddenly, his interest in her specifically skyrocketed, and all he wanted was to spend time with her. You know how some gay men are obsessed with female musicians or whatever? They appear so iconic and cool to them, they want to be them? Or at least, constantly be around them. I think it was like that. Bella was already gorgeous and talented as fuck, with heaps of confidence he could only dream of, and now, she was also a fucking mythical being that can dive forever and explore the oceans gracefully. There's nothing closer to a dream coming true for Will. For Bella, it was a confusing time; as Will started to get closer, she took it as a chance to take things to the next level. Will too was confused - why does he feel all these feelings towards a girl?

You see, deep down, Will knows he's gay. He's been into men ever since he remembers himself. But he's in the tender age of doubting yourself, so when he starts caring so much about a girl, and getting this feeling of constantly wanting to be around her, he mistakes it for love. Will starts questioning whether he might be bisexual after all.

We get a clue about it in the show. Bella starts suspecting that Will only loves the mermaid in her, and not her, which is 100% the case, but Will was still in his denial stage, so they kept going after that. The Beach Party episode, was peak delulu for Will, because, being put on the spot, he had to admit out loud something he wasn't sure of himself, but was boiling inside him for months now. That led to the most inauthentic relationship ever put to screens where Bella thinks he finally loves her, and Will decides to give it a chance before realising it's not really what he wants.

I don't think they lasted much past the end of season 3. I feel bad for Bella for going through it, mostly for all the time she's been in the dark, thinking it was something wrong with her, or just truly being disappointed about how long it all took.

At the end of the day, Will comes out as gay and Bella moves on to date with a guy who really likes her for who she is, and has all those qualities she's looking for in a guy, now also including an attraction to women.

The end

P.s. i do think they were pretty good friends during the middle of the season when it was all blurry for both of them, and that connection was genuine but ever so often shrouded in weird romantic fog that was unclear to neither of them and kept this friendship from reaching its full potential. Will gave her the special attention she wanted, while Bella understood him and was great at listening and giving advice. That made them a good combo, just not romantically.

[speyeralling-down-thy-majesty]

Today's the day. Today's the day, Amelie decides, gathering the courage. Today is finally the day they come out to their father and stop putting on the façade of a trophy.

It gets ready, making sure to give Willard extra attention, partially due to stalling and dragging everything out until it can't anymore. Partially because faer cat can see their stress and worries.

This can go so many ways,many of which are dangerously wrong,but it has to do it. The stress and denial is just not worth it anymore. The façade is cracking either way.

Unlike usual, instead of getting there through a door,it takes a taxi. Amelie needs the extra time to think things through. Unfortunately, getting to their father's office isn't a long ride and it's over before they can even relax in the slightest.

So they make their way, knocking quietly on the door with a slightly shaking hand.

“Please come in.”- faer father says, unaware of who is standing behind the door.

With a moment of hesitation,it enters the office,a slight smile on their face. It's aware it looks different,but they couldn't do it anymore. They were sick of dressing in pinks and dresses that felt suffocating. They were sick of seeing the same ginger hair as their father's.

James seems more than taken aback at the sight of his child standing there with bright blue hair and a purple velvet suit,so unlike the version he is used to.

“Alice? Is everything alright? You… look rather different today.”

He says the word as if it's bad. To him,it very well might be. He was always too worried about others' opinions about him, doing his best to blend in and not drive any attention towards his appearance. He loved saying how the nail that sticks out gets hammered in.

“I can assure you that I am feeling perfectly fine,no need to worry about me.”- they smile, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk.

“What's the matter with your appearance? Is this some sort of a joke?”

“About that… I have come to tell you something.”

Amelie breathes in, fidgeting with faer septum slightly. They avoid its father's eyes,scared of what they'll see in them. His disapproval might as well break them.

“Well then. Go on,Alice.”

Amelie takes a deep breath,feeling the scrutinising gaze on them. Will he take their words seriously? Only one way to find it out.

“Well,first off,please call me Amelie. I… I do not like being called Alice anymore. Second, my pronouns are they/them,so please do not call me a girl. I am non binary and aro ace. I am no longer willingly tolerating being misgendered,so please make sure to remember this.”

They rattle it out,scared of being interrupted. Amelie stills,waiting for a reaction. James seems to process this for a few minutes before breaking into an amused loud chuckle.

“Really,Alice? That is what you had to say? I almost thought you wanted to discuss serious matters. I told you several years ago,sweetie, you will forever stay my precious little girl.”

He gets up to pinch Amelie's cheek. Others would see it as a sign of affection,but to them,it was patronising. A confirmation that he will stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the change of his child.

"Are you sure your work is not stressing you out too much? Mayhaps you could benefit from a change?"

Their heart drops and shatters right beneath their feet,despair and anger slowly bubbling. What did they try for? It changed nothing. Might as well have made it worse. Should they accept this? Keep up the façade and let it slowly break them to pieces until fae can no longer function?

The words said by Outis and Jackson echo in their mind. Giving up means leaving them behind,and they could not do it. They couldn't let down their friends and let this defeat them.

So they make a choice.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep1 Musings - Dreams, Nightmares, and Faith

Wow. 😍 I love the new title card, with the bomber jets & explosions over upside-down...Paris? Romania? IDGAF--it's cool! I am SO glad AMC took us through war-torn Europe!

Something I found so interesting was the question of whether vampires dream or not.

(Armand stfu omg, him & Les both calling Claudia Infant Death 😅)

In the books, AR's vamps go into deathlike sleep--they're not really conscious, don't get woken up by much unless THEY'RE ready to wake up, and don't dream.

Vamps are like the dead, but UNdead--they're DAMNED. The damned don't get to wish for rainbows when they dwell in darkness. They die with their heartaches and grief, and spread it to others as harbingers of death.

In WWII Europe, societal vampires (Nazis, Soviets, etc) and actual vampires coexist, each preying on the innocent & vulnerable. Louis & Claudia literally tear through the battlefields and waypoints. I was wrong about them eating the dead/blown up body parts--they were feeding on dying soldiers, not ones already dead, but TBH at this point I don't know which is worse?

You feel sorry for Darciana and her revenant "child," sure, but there's also Morgan & Emilia--and what about everyone in that bunker (all those old women & kids), who'll probably starve now that their sole hunter/trapper can't get food for them anymore? Just so these serial killing vamps can eat!?!

Louis thinks "the blood is bad here" cuz they're drinking "misery and hopelessness" in war survivors & POWs etc; but really the misery & hopelessness is IN THEM. LOUIS is miserable (without Lestat). CLAUDIA feels hopeless (with Louis/her own companion). THEY (as vamps) bring misery wherever they go, internally & externally.

You're the walking DEAD, Louis. :( You will ALWAYS be cold. U_U

It's bad EVERYWHERE--love & community is what keeps people going--

--even in the middle of what seems like an apocalypse--be it WWII, or the "flying vampire apocalypse/Great Conversion." Even in a hellish place like the Theatre and the Children of Satan/Darkness. We all need/want a HOME.

Louis & Claudia have been stuck in a figurative nightmare, walking through the valley of the shadow of death along the Devil's Road. But poor AMC!Claudia has actual nightmares. 😭

She tells herself (through her diaries) that she doesn't dream, denying the suffering she goes through, trying to stay strong and not give her trauma power.

The tabula rasa of "infants" and child-like innocence that Armand refers to is just The Void for her. By avoiding her troubles, she's probably giving more power to the things that scare her the most.

AMC KNOWS what they're doing! Claudia's in denial too, and DreamStat's calling them BOTH out on it--but like Delainey said: unlike Louis, Claudia doesn't need a hallucination version of Les to tell her what she already knows--he's in her; he's her father--moreso than Louis, who only ever gets called "Daddy" now when they need to fake it! (Or is it REALLY fake for her? When she gets hurt, she yells for Daddy Lou's attention....)

There's her behavior with Louis', and her nightmares, compared to DreamStat. Cuz Louis' not asleep--he's wide awake, but being awake for him is like living in a nightmare with his eyes wide open. Louis said his own dreams were "erratic and often," but which ones is he even talking about, REALLY? His actual dreams? Or DreamStat; the figment of his imagination he admitted to "inviting" inside his head?

The Disney song goes "Have faith in your dreams and someday...the dreams that you wish will come true." For Louis his dream is obvs Lestat, and obvs by PLatRoA and Blood Communion Looustat's dream finally comes true. But for Claudia her dream is companionship, but also knowledge. She wants/demands answers.

(Only for us to find out 2 books later that all the legends really ARE true!)

Louis's having a crisis of faith--he is SCARED of his dreams, and what it says about himself, and has accepted his damnation with fatalistic & willfully blind cynicism--just like Armand does with the Childrren of Darkness/Satan, he's slowly losing his religion/faith in God (read: their "dead" exes: Lestat & Marius), while doubling down on the idea that they are damned and that all that exists is Hell/Damnation/Satan/etc.

He'd rather believe that baboons are roaming Europe than face another vampire who might reveal more about him than he's ready to accept.

He talks down to Claudia just like Lestat did; and constantly crushes her dreams by being a wet blanket. He gives her NOTHING positive or affirmative to look forward to.

Daciana's suicide is a wake-up call: she IS a good vampire (reltively speaking, ofc). She has dreams and wishes and loving feelings, too. She's visibly in emotional turmoil & pain, which Louis can relate to; acknowledging her as human, and finally looking forward to the future Claudia wants for all of them: companions sharing stories & knowledge & love; "we're a family?"

Louis COULD'VE followed Daciana into hopeless misery, but luckily he DOES have Claudia; them helping e/o to stay out of the fire.

And as sick as it is, Lou also has Lestat, and the comfort of knowing that no matter how bad he acts/gets, he's still alive.

There's still that glimmer of HOPE: "a spark in the dark."

As an aside:

Romania as the "ancestral home" of vampires is hilarious. Claudia's desperate to find out the truth--and she's close, for sure, as there are obviously vamps crawling all over Europe--but my heart just aches thinking about how mind blown Claudia would be if she found out that the REAL ancestral home of AR's vampires was Egypt.

Cinematic poetry, putting AR in the same frames where Louis talks about Dracula--only to drag vampire superstitions a few minutes in, as Louis and Claudia bicker over garlic & crucifixes. XD

[shurisbathwater]

Hiii I have a request☺️

Shuri x reader

Reader gets pregnant and is confused and terrified bc she’s only been with shuri

So one day she visits shuri in the lab and starts asking more detailed questions about the strap

Then she’s also worried bc he and shuri aren’t actually in a relationship so she starts avoiding her until she can figure out what to do

Shuri doesn’t like that she’s being ignored so she just shows up in the readers house and like is sitting on the couch or something waiting for when the reader gets home one night.

Plz forgive my formatting I wrote this at work. Thank youu😚

𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ; Shuri udaku

✿•˖*

A/n :: Thank you sm for the request love &lt;;3! Srry this took ages 😭😭 I had alot of stuff going on personally.

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 :: you find out your pregnant with Shuri's baby. Freaked out and confused, you avoid and deny everything. Hard truth -You and Shuri are not even in a relationship. So what will happen now?

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 :: Angsty, fluff. That should be it.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 :: 1,834

✿•˖*

higher -- tems

best part -- daniel caesar Ft. H.E.R

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐈𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐏 and bounced your knee up and down as you sat on the toilet of your bathroom. "Fuck.Fuck.Fuck. Oh my gosh."

You put your head in your hands as you just needed a moment to.. you'd say.. think. How could you let this happen? You grab the pregnancy test sitting on the sink and you grab it, looking at the result.

"Positive.." you breathed out as you shook your head. "No no no." You put your head in your hands once again. You throw the test and it hits off of the door, onto the floor. You rip open another test and repeat the same process.

You watch the test as you wait for the result, keeping your beady little eyes on it.

Soon, two lines come up on the test.

"No!nope nope nope." You dig through the trash to look at the box. "This has to be some kind of prank." You muttered, in denial about everything.

It could be the test, right? there's no way..well it is from a cheap drugstore. You read the test, and nothing seems useful to you so you throw it back in.

You're going to have to accept it.

You're pregnant.

With shuri udaku's baby.

Without thinking, you leave the bathroom and grab your coat. You then get your keys from the counter and go down to the stairs, to get to the parking garage.

As you get there, you sit in your car and nibble your lip. You cant be pregnant. You guys aren't even together. You can't be together. That was the agreement. This was just for fun..but It got serious so fast. You drive off, palms sweaty and shaky.

✿•˖*

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐄 standing outside of shuris lab now. You grab the doorhandle but hesitate, but before you can do anything griot informs her that someone is here.

"Come in!"

You take a deep breath and open the door, standing helplessly as she works on a new project.

"Oh, y/n. Didnt expect to see you here." She says as she glances up at you, then continuing to work.

You chuckle shakily as you muster up some words to say to her. "I'm..I wanted to ask you something, you know about the strap." You get quieter on the last word.

She drops her piece of equipment and stares at you. She raises her brow and stares at you strangely. "Can it maybe get me pregnant, for instance?" You ask.

"No..why are you asking?" She tilts her head. "Y'know, I just wanna protect myself. Is anything faulty about it or...?" You slightly lie, and before she can open her mouth you cut her off.

"Actually, don't answer that. Its fine." You say as you turn around to the door. "Y/n--" but before she could say anything you were gone.

you felt a wave of embarrasment and shame come over you. You felt as if you screwed this up. You walk to your car and try to open the door, but your hands were shaky. you take breaths to calm yourself.

"I'll figure it out." you mumble to yourself as you finally open the car door. Okay, a plan. what will you do?

No idea.

you groaned and put your head against the steering wheel. You were completely clueless..how were you going to take care of a mini you when you can hardly take care of yourself some days?

You figured the best idea was to stop seeing shuri untill you figured out and processed all of this.

you rub your belly and bite your lip.

"Everythings gonna be alright.." you reassured yourself as you started the car, your shaky and clammy hands gripping the steering wheel.

You drove off from the lab, playing some chill r & b to soothe you.

Once you got to your house. you slumped on the couch and sat there in distress. you felt the tears prickling in your eyes, and your throat closing up. There was one question lingering in your mind. what were you going to do?

Your phone buzzed, bringing you out of your trance. you wiped your eyes and sniffled.

shuri

wyd tomorrow?

you

busy

shuri

day after that?😏

you

busy all week

you threw your phone across the couch as you slumped there, being sorry for yourself. How could you let this happen. Messing with the princess of wakanda wasn't the best idea.. but somehow you couldn't let go. You craved her touch, and when she wasnt there you could still taste her on your lips.

The best idea was to avoid. avoid avoid avoid. Untill nessecary. Which would probably be..forever? she couldn't know about this baby. Not now , not ever.

✿•˖*

weeks later

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐃 with your fingers anxiously as you sat out in the waiting room, outside of the obstetricians office. You sat alone with your thoughts as the clocked on the wall ticked. Shuri had been trying to contact you for ages now, and your only choice was to decline and avoid.

You now were here for your first ultrasound, which was well overdue. suddenly, a secretary comes out.

"Y/n L/n?" she says as she looked around the room.

you got up from your seat and took a deep breath, your hands shaking. "Okay.." you muttered as you made your way to the office.

You had no idea what the gender was, and the pregnancy was slowly started to show on you. mood changes, morning sickness, and cravings. The belly was starting to show too, in which you had to hide with baggy clothes. Layering clothes was basically your best friend.

You walked into the office as the doctor smiled at you warmly. "Hi.." you said in a low tone. "hi y/n." She said as she put on her gloves. "Do you mind just sitting over there?" she says to you as she prepares everything for your ultrasound. you take a seat. she then adjusts the chair to make you lean back.

She starts the procedure by pulling up your shirt and putting gel directly on your stomach. she rubs the cold gel on your preganant belly. "Nervous?" she said to you, trying to make conversation. "Kinda." you chuckled. "Thats okay.. it's normal. You're not the only one." she grinned at you.

"Okay..." she says as she gets the sensor and puts it onto your stomach, moving it round. Suddenly something comes on the screen. your..baby.."Oh..oh my gosh." you say as a tear rolls down your face, hands over your mouth. you laughed softly. You start to sob quietly out of joy.

This was a moment you were going to cherish forever.

"It's just me and you." you said in between sobs, smiling.

"Would you like to know the gender?"

"No..no..I want it to be a surprise." you sniffled as you wiped your tears.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 opened as you get to your apartment floor. You felt joy running through your body, but also waves of sadness.

You walk over to your apartment and put the keys in the door, the keys jangling. you walk in to see the lights on and someone sitting on the couch. It can't be..you drop your keys and walk backwards. "When were you going to tell me...sthandwa." she turns and gets up to look at you. "oh.." you mutter as you close the door behind you. "h..how did you get in here, Shuri?" you said shakily. "when were you going to tell.Me."

she picks up the trash can from your bathroom , and takes out the two pregnancy tests. "I..."

"This is why you were avoiding me?"

"I didn't know how to tell you." you sniffled as you felt the waterworks coming.

"..I thought it was for the best."

Shuri looks at you, attempting to stay strong. you saw her slowly breaking down, tears rolling down her face. "When did you find out? how far along are you?" she rushes to you, grasping onto your elbows, rubbing her hands along your arms.

"A couple weeks." you sniffled and smiled up at her. you take the photo of the ultrasound out of your bag and show it to her. she gasps softly as she takes it out of your hand to look at it.

she cries some more, tear drops rolling on the picture. "entle.." her mother language slipping off of her tongue. she puts it on the counter and gets on her knees, admiring yourbaby belly. she kisses it softly and looks up at you. she closes her eyes as another tear comes down, and you cover your mouth to stop you from full on sobbing.

the most beautiful moment you had ever experienced.

"Have you told anyone yet?"

"no.. i don't plan on it anytime soon."

"I'll wait for you. whenever your ready, I will wait for you."

✿•˖*

𝐘𝐎𝐔 looked at yourself in the mirror and adjusted your hair for what felt like the fifth time in the past five minutes. "Relax babe, you look amazing." Riri reassured you as she walked towards the mirror, looking at you in the relfection. "You should go out there. Everyones waiting for you." she grinned. you give her a tight lipped smile back as she put her hand in yours. "you got this. it's your day." you nodded as she walked out of the bathroom, glancing at you and shutting it behind her.

"Okay." you mutter as you walk out of your hiding spot.

you walk over to the front of your babies gender reveal in awe. You couldn't believe it was happening. You felt calm and stress-free as you know there people who love you and care for you, meaning you didn't feel alone anymore.You felt a little anxious though. you rubbed your belly again and you looked down at your outfit, and admired yourself. You felt as confident as ever. you smiled to yourself as Shuri came up beside you, kissing your forhead. "I told you not to wear those death traps." you rolled your eyes as you knew what she was referring to.

"Heels aren't going to hurt the child, Shuri." you chuckled. "Plus, i look good, don't I?" you spun around to show the full fit. "Amazing." she smiled wide.

Shuri grabbed a pin, and you grabbed a balloon which had the words "Boy or girl?" inprinted on it. Family and friends gathered and smiled hopefully at the both of you.

"3..2..1..!" They all chanted along with you

Shuri pops the balloon, and suddenly everyone cheered in unision. Blue glitter spread in the air, meaning it's a boy!

You and shuri screamed excitedly, jumping up in the air. she picks you up and spins you around.

"Oh my gosh..Marry me."

your lips part slowly as you try to process the information you just heard.

"Marry me, sthandwa."

You nod as you were shocked you couldn't even say anything.

it was now you, your wife and your son.

A/n : sorry this took so long yall...chile what a mess. Anyways hope you enjoyed.

[brrypiiix]

Crynth HC list

How they meet:

•At the Hairnasium. With Synth being a fitness trainer and Synth being a yoga instructor, they’re very likely to have already interacted before. They’ve even shown up in the same episode at the hairnasium(S5E4)

How they get close:

•Synth had seen Creek around at the Hairnasium a couple times and had already made attempts at interacting with him through comments on basic things like Creeks yoga routine and then just the most random topics that leave Creek confused asf

•Creek has mostly become a loner by now. He does his own thing and doesnt really mind it. He’s basically accepted his place in the village. But when Synth started following him around like a lost puppy he’s left with a mixed range of feelings towards it.

•At first Creek really didn’t care for Synth. At most he saw him as new form of entertainment for when he would show up and say the most random things. He’d suggest Synth do things that he would fall for and agree to just to laugh to himself about it.

•It started off as just interactions and shenanigans at the hairnasium, but one day Synth decided he wanted to follow Creek out and talk his ear off the whole way back to Creeks pod. Ever since then they started leaving together everyday.

•Almost every time theyre walking to Creeks pod they stop to sit somewhere in the grass to just chill, using that moment to spend time together a bit more. Its an attempt at some peaceful silence until Synth needs something to stimulate his brain. So then they either go somewhere else or keep walking

•By the time they arrive at the pod it gets pretty dark. Synth, being deathly afraid of the dark, used to make it back to the Techno Lagoon before then. Now sometimes he ends up just falling asleep on Creek’s little cushions he has on the floor whenever he doesn’t feel like treading back home in the dark, glowsticks or not.

•Creek is still completely in denial of himself that he cares for Synth or sees him as a friend. By the time they’re in their routine he’s still telling himself this is purely to keep himself busy

•Its as soon as theres a moment where Synth cant be around that he starts to just sit there. Even when he attempts to distract himself through yoga and whatnot, he catches him checking to see if Synth’s come around yet. He gets nervous and feels like he doesn’t know what to do with himself

•Trolls who are familiar with Creek, especially Branch, have a huge gripe about the two getting close. Branch especially tries to voice his concerns to Synth without trying to completely out what Creek has done. He just doesn’t want to see Synth get hurt at all

•Synth tries to listen to everyones concerns, but every time he’s around Creek he ends up completely forgetting the warnings

Catching feelings:

•Creek catches feelings first. The moment it started to hit him was one early evening when Synth had them take a detour to the techno lagoon bc he wanted to do smth new with Creek before they ended the day. They ended up playing in the water and having a water fight. Princess & the frog moment under water of holding each other, eyes lock, boom. Creek’s feelings for Synth crank up a ton.

•At first Creek is in absolute denial. He still has to take in the fact that he even cares for Synth, especially to this extent. When he does accept it though it takes a good couple of business days.

•Creek spends his time taking it in by pretty much falling much more quiet than usual on Synth during their hangout time. He’ll have his usual punchable, smug face while just watching Synth do his thing or ramble to him about whatever. But deep down he’s thinking

•After Creeks able to conclude the feelings are there he then takes an extra couple of business days to decide what he wants to do about it. Leaving Synth confused at his changed demeanor

•Once Creek finally concluded on everything, it being a major battle within himself, he realizes he doesnt have that big of a chance with Synth. Considering how much Synths friends are against him, he couldnt dare to be open about his feelings.

•Creek also had come to the realization that Synth is all he has in a friend alone. He’s naive enough to stand beside him and still be confused as to why that could be so wrong. Creek couldnt dare to drive him away

•Eventually Creek had decided he would not confess his feelings at all to Synth. One thing he did realize tho is that he can still make flirtatious gestures towards him.

•He’ll take his hand and rub the back of it with his thumb, rub his shoulders, give him pet names, and even have Synth rest on him during their peaceful hang out moments

•Synth doesnt pick up on any of the romanric gestures tho. Boy is extremely oblivious to what it means, but it does help in him figuring out his own feelings

•Synth has never been in a relationship before nor has he ever caught feelings like this, which leads to him taking a lot longer to realize what he’s feeling for Creek is

•Synth falls harder when he does. He doesnt the moment Creek does, only when Creek begins his romantic gestures. That’s when Synth starts feeling it.

Confession

•Technically, Synth confessed first without completely knowing it. He outed himself and his feelings to Creek without knowing what any of it meant. He had finally gotten confused enough that he just outright asked Creek if he knew what the feelings he had was

•”Bro, I’m not gonna lie, I’m feeling some weird things and I dunno what they are. It’s weird because I’ve never felt this way towards anybody. I just want to be close to you all the time. Do you know what this is?”-Synth

•”Oh, Glowstick. If you’ve been in love with me all this time you could have just said it”-Creek and his smug ass

Relationship

•Creek is still a smug asshole, but by now he changes his demeanor towards Synth. He’s still his old slappable self but he’s more noticeably caring towards him

•They still continue the physical touch of holding hands, rubbing each others shoulders, Synth loves to play with Creeks hands and hair, and counts his glitter freckles when super bored. Especially diring cuddle time and he has to try to be still a bit longer

•Creek surprised himself with this one but he actually enjoys giving Synth sweet treats whenever he can and also makes him breakfast in the morning when he stays the night

•Creek does all the active flirting, leaving Synth a giggling mess each time. Synth only flirts without even knowing its flirting. A lot of the times its mimicking what Creek’s done and it mostly looks silly, to Creeks amusement

•Their most favorite way to spend time together is just to cuddle in peaceful quiet. Synth needs a lot of movement and noise bc boy is adhd, so they’ll just be laying or sitting there and Synth would be tapping something while humming a tune to keep his brain occupied.

•Sometimes Creek will join him in humming, which gets Synth riled up and he ends up pulling Creek up so they can sing and dance.

•Who initiates it first really depends and goes either way. Sometimes it starts with Synth crawling into Creeks lap while he’s doing yoga and eventually causes him to give up and just lay there. Other days its Creek catching a hyper Synth and dragging him down to have a peaceful nap

•Creek is happy to crash a party so he joyfully joins Synth in whatever party or event he goes to. He’s mostly either doing his own thing right at Synths side or lets him run off, sometimes admiring him from afar.

•Synth spends the night at Creeks pod a lot more. They cuddle for as long as time allows them too. Its their love language

•They rarely argue and moreso Synths looking hurt and Creek looks absolutely sorry for anything he’d done be it big or small.

•communication is a big one they’re learning about together. Especially with it being Synths first relationship and Creek crawling out of being a toxic ass overall

•Poppy and Branch help Creek out with communication and more healthier relationships habits, altho a good majority of Branch’s side is just him threatening Creeks life if he so dared try anything he lists out on the not-to-dos list

[blockgamepirate]

I have thoughts on the current Chayanne and Tallulah angst

(Under cut because it's probably gonna be long)

Disclaimer: I'm just talking from the point of view of the eggs here, I'm not trying to accuse Wilbur, Missa or Phil (and obviously especially not the streamers) or anything, I'm just not focusing on them

So mostly talking about Tallulah here because tbh Chayanne's side of it is just me going "WAHHHH ;;A;;" because fucking hell that shit is rough. Losing one of your native languages as a bilingual kid is already rough, your absent parent coming home and immediately having a mental breakdown and avoiding you and talking about leaving again is a hundred times worse. There's not much else to say here, it's just a terrible situation. The only good thing about it is that Missa does still genuinely care about Chayanne, even if his own feelings of inadequacy and insecurity are getting in the way of demonstrating that in a way that would assure Chayanne.

But anyway, I definitely get how that must also look like from Tallulah's POV. They've both been waiting for their dads to come back and now Chayanne's finally did and it went terribly, even if it ended sooort of okay (although.... not without issues).

And much of that was about Chayanne changing. And Tallulah has absolutely changed, even if like Phil said she is still the same at her core. She's grown, she's learned to fight, something that Wilbur apparently really didn't want for her (sorry I still haven't actually watched the Wilbur VODs aside from the adoption one ahdjjfkg) she's been through a lot.

And a lot like Chayanne, she's spent most of her life in Phil's care now, and that shows.

So it's more than understandable that she would feel that Phil is just dismissing her anxiety. Sure Phil did lose hope of Missa coming back, but he has so much faith in people he cares about and wants to believe in them. He's paranoid about the Federation and the codes and also just normal everyday dangers, but he has a bit of a blindspot when it comes to his friends and just interpersonal drama. He wasn't ready for Missa's insecurities or how they could affect Chayanne. But it happened.

Phil also does not know how Tallulah and Wilbur's reunion will go (if it ever happens). He's so sure that it'll be great, but he doesn't know that, no matter how much he insists. It could go badly! There could be drama! Even if it's not Wilbur rejecting Tallulah, it could be something Tallulah interprets as rejection or disappointment.

And even if Phil is right and it'll all go perfectly, that doesn't help Tallulah right now, because just telling her that it'll be fine isn't addressing the sources of her anxiety. It just sounds like Phil is in denial or babying her. Which... I mean I wouldn't say that's accurate but it's not entirely inaccurate either. I think his instinct is to reassure Tallulah but it's not what she needs. And his instinct is to trust wholeheartedly in Wilbur but that doesn't help Tallulah either.

(Also, she knows for a fact that Wilbur didn't originally want a kid. She knows that it took a while to convince him to accept her into his life. She was there. She saw the hesitation. All of that was reasonable from Wilbur's POV because it really was correct that he wasn't able to take care of Tallulah the way a father should. He knew it from the start and he was right. But yeah, it's gonna be something that has to cause some insecurity issues for Tallulah.)

She needs Phil to actually address the worst possible scenario, I think. Just entertain for a minute the idea that Wilbur really does abandon Tallulah. What would happen then? Phil would keep looking after her, Phil would still love her. Or if Phil wasn't around anymore, the other islanders would. And if Wilbur did do that to her, she would have every right to be pissed off. It wouldn't be because there was anything wrong with her.

It would be an awful situation, but all the people who cared about her would still be there for her. And she could talk to the other kids who were also abandoned by one of their parents; Ramón, Pomme... am I forgetting anyone? idk. And she could talk to Chayanne too. She would not be alone.

It's not the most uplifting thing to think about, which is why I think it didn't even occur to Phil to even entertain that notion, but I think it would be more reassuring actually? At the very least to let her know that Phil is taking her seriously? And THEN he could tell her that it wasn't gonna happen because Wilbur would never. Idk, that's my hunch anyway.

Also, it's possible that part of this is about Tallulah herself feeling some resentment and anger towards Wilbur, and not knowing what to do about those feelings, because they're not what's expected of her. And this is where Phil's words might have made things worse, because Phil tries to appeal to her dedication to her papi, but what if she feels like her dedication isn't what it should be anymore?

Idk. Those are my thoughts. I'm not gonna call it analysis, I'm not putting enough effort into this to qualify as "analysis".

I'm alsl very sleepy so apologies if there are some weird bits in here

[broodybuck]

A Lending Hand | Series Part 3

Series Summary: When Steve finds out what Bucky's been doing behind closed doors, he's happy to lend a hand. He's willing to do whatever it takes to find how much of the Bucky he knew is still left.

Series Tags: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes | Rated E | Tags: 18+ explicit smut, recovering Bucky, post cacw, denial of feelings, handjobs, first time, Avengers tower, no refractory period, power bottom Steve, top Bucky

[Masterpost] // [ao3 link]

[PART 1] [PART 2]

Steve's got his hand wrapped around Bucky's pretty cock, stroking him fast and hard. Bucky's moaning, biting back notes of the sound even though Steve wishes he wouldn't. He keeps pumping him faster and faster forcing the release out of him.

When he explodes it's quiet at first, then he groans loud and long, the way Steve's grown to love so much.

Today, Steve really wants to kiss him again. Just watching Bucky's chest heave with his neck stretched back. That smooth skin is calling Steve's name but he restrains himself. Something tells him not to even though he already kissed Bucky the first time they did this. Even though what they're doing should be so much more intimate than a kiss but somehow it doesn't feel that way.

He wonders if Bucky even remembers the kiss. It was only a few days ago but Steve can't imagine how much is going on inside Bucky's head. He's probably constantly filtering through memories or nightmares, trying to decide which is real. All the while dealing with these inconvenient erections. Not that Steve's complaining about that last part.

Steve must be so in his head that he doesn't notice when Bucky's calmed down from his orgasm and opened his eyes again. Steve's not sure how long he's been sitting in thought when Bucky speaks for the first time today.

"It's not that I don't want to."

Steve looks up. "What?"

"It's not that I don't want to. I just..." Bucky pauses, expression pained. Steve quickly catches on that he's talking about returning the favor.

"I haven't in so long, I don't trust myself."

"Trust yourself?" Steve asks.

"My um..." Bucky stops and looks down at his hands, closing his fingers tightly and then opening them again.

"Oh," Steve says, trying not to imagine those very fingers touching him, wrapping around his—

"Buck, I know you don't remember everything yet but you should know I trust you completely. I always have and always will."

Bucky looks up at him with surprise in his eyes. He stares at Steve for a long beat.

"Why?" he finally says.

"Because I know you and no matter what they tried to change about you, I know you're still good. You're still Bucky, I know it. I have to believe it."

Bucky blinks, looks down, he appears deep in thought. He doesn't say anything for long enough that Steve gets up and moves toward the door. It's that time again when his body is in too much discomfort to be ignored. He slowly opens the door, looking back regretfully at Bucky who's still staring vacantly at nothing. Steve closes the door and hurries back to this room to get his pants off.

Steve tries to accept the idea that Bucky's never going to touch him. Because after their last conversation, Steve doesn't want to get his hopes up for nothing. He'd never want to push Bucky anyway and besides, this is more than he ever hoped for eighty years ago. He's happy he gets this much.

Still, the fantasies follow him. The image of Bucky reaching over to return the favor. Sometimes, the image of Bucky on top of him, the image of Bucky caressing his face, kissing him as he does so much more than just stroke his cock.

The thoughts are very vivid but Steve tries to let them go, accept reality. Nothing more is ever happening.

It's the reason he won't let himself kiss Bucky again. It's why he's starting to regret the first kiss. He feels sick when he thinks about how Bucky didn't ask for that and Steve just did it anyway, put his lips on him without permission. It's all the reason Steve needs to let these fantasies go.

Steve gets lucky again with another late-night visit from Bucky in need of his help.

Steve's secretly hoping this routine will become a twice-a-day kind of thing. Then he chastises himself while pumping Bucky's cock, telling himself to stop hoping for more of anything.

A low whine from Bucky's throat knocks Steve out of his thoughts and he focuses back on the task, working an orgasm out of him.

After, as Bucky calms down, he looks more uneasy than normal. He's typically blissfully relaxed after an orgasm. But tonight, there's something going on. Something that's making him tense, worrying him.

"Are you alright?" Steve asks. Bucky merely nods, looking away. "Was it still good, did you—"

"Yeah," Bucky says quickly and softly.

Steve swallows a lump in his throat.

"Do you want to talk about something?"

Bucky shifts on the bed, then closes his eyes. Steve waits.

"The first time," Bucky says slowly like he's willing the words out. "You um, you kissed me."

Steve's stomach turns, remembering the weighted moment.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have—" Steve is saying when Bucky cuts him off.

"Can you do that again?"

Steve stops mid-sentence, mouth hung open.

"You want me to kiss you?" Steve asks.

Bucky nods, glancing at Steve a couple times, but never holding the gaze.

"Are you sure?" Steve stammers though his heart's already racing with excitement. If he gets the permission, he can kiss Bucky again!

Bucky nods once more.

"Are you sure you liked it?" Steve questions.

"Can you just do it?" Bucky murmurs.

"Can you look at me?" Steve tests.

Bucky takes a beat, then lifts his gaze to meet Steve's eyes. Afterward, he closes them and waits for Steve's lips to make contact.

Steve leans forward, his skin now tickling with anticipation. He cups Bucky's face, draws him close, and kisses him. He keeps kissing him softly, a little more each time, even though Bucky's not kissing him back. Then he lets him go and waits.

Bucky opens his eyes, his mouth flattens. "Thanks."

Steve nods, feeling unsettled. He's sure Bucky needs to get used to feeling again.

"More?" Steve prompts. He knows it's greedy, but he can't help himself. Bucky did ask to be kissed after all.

"Uh," Bucky debates, his eyes flickering away. "Okay."

Steve's surprised by the second allowance. He leans in faster this time, tugs Bucky's chin back to him, and kisses him more passionately.

Steve lets him go with a pleased sigh.

"Good?" This time it's Bucky asking. Steve's eyes fly open.

"Good— yes, very good. Was it okay for you?" Steve asks.

"I think so," Bucky says uncertainly, his brows knit together, he looks away again. "But thanks."

Steve waits a moment.

"You know, if you ever want to try anything else out— anything, really — could even be small stuff, I'm happy to do it," Steve tells him.

Bucky sits quietly for a moment. Then he peers at Steve.

"What's small stuff?"

"Oh you know, holding hands, cuddling... showering. It's really what you consider small, I guess. I'm just saying, I'm really open to anything with you," Steve smiles.

Bucky nods, holds his gaze for a moment longer, then turns away.

After a while, Steve takes this as his sign to leave and makes his way out of the room.

Bucky must have been ruminating on Steve's offer because two nights later, Bucky unexpectedly shows up in Steve's doorway. It's late and they've already had their little routine twice that day. Currently, it's nearly eleven in the evening and Steve's in his bed reading a book.

The knock on the open door is so subtle, he almost misses it but Bucky's form in the doorway catches his eye first.

He lowers the book already wondering if Bucky's here for a surprising third round but a quick glimpse at the man's crotch tells Steve there's no dire circumstance present. This puzzles him.

"Hey Buck, you okay?"

Bucky nods, his hands fidget by his sides.

"I was wondering," Bucky says, "if you could do a small thing."

"Of course," Steve says automatically.

He marks his place in his book and sets it down on the nightstand beside him.

"What would you like to do?"

Bucky shifts from foot to foot a bit, he looks shy in the moment. It actually looks very human on him which Steve likes to see.

"Um, the cuddling?"

He says it so softly, it's smaller than a whisper, but Steve's grateful he caught it.

"Get in," Steve smiles wide and pulls back the covers next to him.

Bucky hesitates for a moment then motions to the door. He seems worried about it.

"You can close it," Steve says.

Bucky shuts the door, then treads lightly over to the other side of Steve's bed. He stalls again, standing before the bed.

Steve pats the empty space on the mattress to be encouraging.

Slowly, Bucky climbs into the bed. He's on his back though and lies there stiff as a board.

"You might want to roll onto your side," Steve suggests.

Bucky does this robotically as if it's an instruction he must follow. Steve pauses.

"Did you want me to be the big spoon?"

Bucky shrugs with his back to Steve. "I guess."

Steve reaches his arms around Bucky and encloses them over his chest. Bucky barely moves in his hold.

"How's that?" Steve asks.

"Fine."

The position feels stiff so Steve boldly pulls Bucky closer, presses him against his chest and subsequently lining his crotch up with Bucky's ass. Bucky tenses slightly in the shift.

"We can stop if you want but this is how I usually do it," Steve explains by Bucky's ear.

"Okay," Bucky breathes quietly. He doesn't move. "Do we sleep?"

"Since it's late I was gonna sleep. You can leave if you need to, at any time," Steve assures him before pressing his face into the nook of Bucky's neck and closing his eyes with a sigh.

Bucky doesn't answer after that and Steve unintentionally falls asleep much too fast. His last thought is he hopes Bucky's still there in the morning.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"No Normal Person Would." The Game Master X Player! Reader.

Okay here it is! My first contribution to bloodfest! My week one fic is coming in under the wire, but I hope that is okay! So I watched The Odds (2018) a bit ago and decided that yeah I fucking love The Game Master (yeah we don’t learn his real name, how hot is that?) and when I saw the prompts for the first week of bloodfest I just had to! I hope you all enjoy! 

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 5K. The Game Master x AFAB! Player! Reader. Warnings: Torture. Gore. Fucked Up Emotional Intimacy. Almost Drowning. Drilling. Cutting Off Fingers. Vaginal Sex. Cream Pie. Orgasm Denial. DUB CON! Vaginal Fingering. Gun Play. Just A Lot. Praise. Mild Degradation. Movie Canon Violence. 

—

You needed the money, like you really, really fucking needed the money. Normally you wouldn’t ever even dream of doing something like this but screw it, you were desperate, this money, if you did this right? It would fix all of your problems. To be fair, most normal people wouldn’t ever consider participating in a tiered torture competition without some serious motivation, and fuck if you weren’t motivated. You were in such a tight spot and when you’d heard this suggested, you thought it was a joke, you simply laughed and said, “God, if it was true I’d do it in a heartbeat.” 

And as it turns out, it isn’t a joke at all. You could actually do this. 

It took longer than a heartbeat for you to make the jump. But not that much longer. 

You looked into it, did the needed research and after some brief thought, fuck it, you agreed.

The idea is you will be brought to the location with a bag over your head, will be brought to a room, be one on one for as long as it takes with one other individual who will be your overseer for the competition, The Game Master. He is able to communicate with the other people who work for, whatever the fuck this company or organization, collective is. He will let you know when the appropriate people have dropped out of each round, once enough have abandoned the task, unable to take it, you are safe and advance to the next round. Fair enough for you. 

You show up to the place day of, the material obscuring your view is over your head, and before you know it after some travel, the bag is ripped off. You are seated in a chair, in a dull mostly concrete room, seated on a chair at a wooden table and across from him. 

He stands at six foot and two inches, very light blue dress shirt, slacks and a belt, a nice tie, dark hair that is well-kept, slight stubble on his face and brown eyes and tells you he needs to set up. You watch as he does, two cameras, an earpiece. He talks, there are nineteen other people all over the world playing, in other secretive locations, he goes into some of the finer details, but it doesn’t matter much, you are just more concerned with making it through, with winning. The most important detail is that if you leave before the end then you get zero from this, zilch, a massive fucking goose egg and that just will not do. 

You don’t know his name, you try to ask, and he tells you simply with a glance, his eyes firm, his tone leaving no room for argument, “No names.” He allegedly finds it better if you keep things less personal. Alright. 

Curiosity in this situation is natural, who the hell is this man, how did he get mixed up in this, how much is he getting paid to make you suffer for other's entertainment? How does one get the title of paid to professionally torture, anyway? What did it say about him? But to be fair, what did it say about you for accepting this in the first place?

If you make it to the final round, you aren’t allowed to leave, it’s either do or die, win or cease to be, and you were committed, sure you were going to win this. You had to be, had to convince yourself because if you didn’t, well…It’s not worth thinking about, there is no other option. 

You tried asking a few other probing questions, but he wasn’t giving up much. You still tried it, as if getting to know him better would make this easier, but he is kinda a cagey guy, an odd mix between professional and casual. You wonder if that is intentional to throw you off. 

All too soon, the first torture implement was brought out. 

A tall red wax candle is placed on the table in the space between you. 

It’s time to start soon, there is casual conversation to fill the space between you both, whoever is watching cannot hear you, he encourages you to tell him your secrets if you want, you aren’t running at the chance, however. 

His hand goes up to the earpiece, holds, he listens, and then a silver zippo lighter is brought out from his pocket with his opposite hand. He flicks it open, he lights it up, and the candle is burning in short order. 

The first round is simple. Hold your hand to the candle for as long as you can and try to outlast the other players, you just have to outlast three players, you do that, you make it to round two. 

He asks about your motivation, why you are here, it isn’t important, you just need the money, you saying that leads to him telling you, “I don’t think I could ever risk my life for a big pile of money.”

You suppose that difference in character is why you are on your side of the table, and he is on his. He might not risk his own life for money, but he seems very at ease and comfortable risking yours. 

He speaks, “Hey, listen. Look at me.” You do, and he speaks further, “I’m rooting for you. We’re in this together, you and me. You understand?” 

He tells you to relax, your eyes squint as he expounds that mental fortitude is important, that if you want to have any hope of winning you should keep that in mind. Some strange and small part of you wants to believe him, the doubt curling in your stomach tells you that you shouldn’t, for now, you listen to it. 

The first round begins. 

You’d done this before as a teen for kicks, who hasn’t? Taking a friend's lighter and seeing how long you can hold your hand to it before pulling away, that shouldn’t be too difficult, should it? 

You were stupid. Very stupid. Thirty seconds in, you realized that you were stupid as fuck. It hurts, it burns, obviously, the pain is steady and worsening every agonizing second, the palm of your hand is blistering. Your breathing is the first thing to change, to become more laboured, short gasping pants as you try to endure the hurt that was crawling up your arm. The sweat on your skin feels slick and oppressive, it’s running down your temple, you are biting your cheek, eyes squeezed shut as you try to hold in your pained sounds. C’mon focus, you can do this, you can fucking do this-

You don’t think you can, it’s awful, the smell is starting to hit you, terrible, acrid, burning flesh is not a pleasant oral factory experience, who would have thought? Mind awash with the dreadful physical terribleness that was overtaking every single part of you, one thing cuts through, his voice, “Let it out.” 

Eyes open with a gasp, sharp and short, he says, “It’s easier if you don’t hold it in”

Mouth opens and you do so, groans of pain accompany your fucked up breathing, your other hand is gripping the table's edge, nails bite into wood, and you say in a hoarse voice, “Fuck-fucking hurts-”

He cracks a small smile, stifles a laugh and says, “Yeah it’s supposed to, that’s the point-”

You let out a louder groan, a roll of your eyes as you say, “Not the time for jokes here!” 

“It’s not a good distraction?” He inquires, and you shake your head, your hand lets go of the edge of the table, it comes up and grips your wrist, fighting to keep your hand above the flame. Eyes are locked on that point, fixed on where bright white, yellow, orange bleeds and flickers, singeing your skin, and you swear that looking at it makes it worse, the pain more acute. You really don’t think you can keep going, and his voice is there again, “You can do this.” 

That tears your attention away and back to him, “One person is already out, you have this-”

“I can’t, I rea-lly don’t think-” He interrupts his hand on the table, near the base of the candle, ready to take it away, “Another dropped out, one more, come on-”

You can’t help it, you whimper and your eyes water, another minute, just try to last one more minute, and you focus on him, the words that are pouring out of his mouth, praise and encouragement, “You are doing so good, nearly there.”

At just the right time, finally, he says, “And the last one dropped out.” 

You both move at once, you snatch your hand away, and he tugs the candle back, and you laugh in relief. You hold your injured hand to your chest, a shaky exhalation your eyes slip close, holding your wrist still, trying to keep yourself steady, but it proves impossible. 

A few deep breaths, it still hurts but not as badly, your eyes open again, and you look down at your wound, you grimace, it looks really rough, looks about as bad as it hurts. 

You hear him moving, your eyes flick over, and you see him with a small case in his hands, he comes forward, one hand out, “May I?”

Eyes narrow, and you realize it’s a first aid kit, you concede, you nod and gets down on his knees next to you. He is adjusting his tie and your eyes are fixed on him as you are turning in your chair to face him better, you hold your hand out and let him take it. You watch as he works, cleaning you up, burn ointment and as he is carefully wrapping up the wound he says, “I told you that you could do it.” 

You suppose he did. He finishes up with the first aid, and you let yourself smile as you look at what a good job he did. Strange that he is well versed in both sides of this, you suppose it is in the interest of longevity, minor first aid between rounds to encourage the game to go on as long as possible. How many times has he done this? Is the other thought that permeates your mind due to the skill he displayed here. 

The question travels from your brain to your mouth and spills forth without thought, “How many times have you done this?”

He is packaging back up the first aid kit, a casual glance your way, his look is considering, and he finally says, “Fifteen times.” 

You want to ask how many have won, but you feel like he wouldn’t dignify that with a response. He blows out the candle, it’s taken away, and you ask, “So do you like this?”

The next look he gives is one of offence, not taking kindly to the idea that you think he likes watching people hurt themselves, “Really? You think I get off to this?” 

“Get off to, get off on, I’m not here to pass judgment.” You joke and you are met with silence. You pivot, “Why else would you do this?” 

“You’ve never done something you know wasn’t good for you?” The fact he asked this question in this current venue and situation is not lost upon you, as you sit in an uncomfortable wooden chair, in the stark, barren, concrete room alone with your tormentor you think that no, ultimately, this isn’t good for you.

The next round isn’t much better. Your shoes and socks are removed, he has a wooden box, a small space you have to twist to get your left foot into it, you ask what is the deal and there is an animal in there. You ask what animal, and he tells you it’s different every time, he legitimately doesn’t know. 

You hate this. You have to do it, though, you aren’t going to bitch out the second round in. Foot in the box, the divider is lifted and whatever it is before you know it is crawling all over you, this might be worse than the candle, if for nothing else than the not knowing what the hell was in there. It gets worse, whatever it is, starts biting, you gasp, hand grips the table's edge, and he helps, he takes your hand and you let him. 

He is right there, on his knee again, he’s looking in your eyes, comforting you, as you whine and babble through the pain and unconformability he finds the words that grounds you, that helps. 

“Do it for me.” 

You ask shakily, “Do-do it for you?” He nods, “Do it for me.” 

Nervously, the words are repeated, “Do it for you.” 

He encouraged and emboldens you, fingers laces, and he says, “Say it again.” 

“Do it for you.” It becomes a mantra, you let it fill your brain, you lose yourself in his eyes as you say over and over, “Do it for you. I’m doing it for you. Do it for you.” 

You don’t think about what is happening, you just think about how the words roll off your tongue, how his hand feels in yours and how shockingly this is endearing you to him. You are starting to feel more than just pain. You outlast the others, you make it through the round, the tears are a shock, you cry and on instinct you reach out, and he holds you, he lets you sob.

Eventually you stop. He dresses your wound again in the quiet. 

After that he offers you water, you take it gratefully, and you drink as you find yourselves locked in another conversation. Back in the chairs, he is sitting backwards on it, arms crossed, leaning on it like one of those “cool” teachers in an after school special. 

“You were clinging onto me pretty hard there.” He teases, and you pull the water bottle away, the back of your non-bandaged hand wipes over your mouth, and you say, “It was an intense experience.” 

“That orrrr has it been a while for you?” 

You laugh, nearly snort, “Yeah, I was just so desperate to be held, that’s it.” He hums, “Well, everyone needs some contact from time to time. Humans are social creatures.” 

“Who says I need that particular brand of socialization?” You bite out, and he says, “Oh, don’t tell me you don’t believe in love.”

You purse your lips, a casual shrug as you look away, and he says, “You don’t do you! A damn shame, you know, I could change that.” 

“What, are you asking me out?” You laugh, and he says, “More than that, why not just go all in? Indulge in the fantasy with me, let’s plan our life.” 

You have nothing else to do, this is oddly fun, it’s kinda strange but not unwelcome flirting with him, it's helping keep your mind off this fucked up situation, so you do as he asks, you indulge. “Sure okay, you tell me, what you think our life would be like.” 

“We could get married-” You cut in already, leaning in closer, “Married? First thing?”

Brows pinch together, eyes a little harder, but he is still smiling as he tells you, “I don’t do that cohabitation shit, you commit, you have to be all in.” 

A nod as you say, still grinning, “Okay, okay, all in, we get married.” 

“And we could do the whole family thing, have a house out in the suburbs, away from all this with your big pile of prize money, because you are going to win-” 

You listen as he talks more in depth, one foot comes up onto the chair, you hug your leg, chin resting on your knee as he outlines kids names, potential pets, the pros and cons of paint versus wallpaper. He knows what he wants. He’s really thought about this. It’s weird, but he is so enthusiastic, so unexpectedly charming that you play along, this is a good distraction if nothing else. 

“What do you say?” He asks, and you say, “Well if we are doing this shouldn’t you do this right?” 

“Right?” He asks, brows raised, and you say, “Actually ask me, you haven’t even asked yet.” 

A hand comes up, smacking himself in the forehead with a roll of his eyes, unmistakably playful, and you laugh again, “I am such a fucking idiot.” 

He gets up, he walks over to his bag, the first aid kit is gotten again, you wonder what the fuck he is doing, but you get your response soon. He is back over to you, on one knee again he asks, “Will you marry me?”

What a wild day this has turned out to be. You don’t know his name, and you don’t know his, in between fucked up rounds of torture, but you join in, you play it up, right hand up to your mouth as you commit to the bit, “Yes, oh my God, yes.” 

You both break down and laugh over how ridiculous this is. Your left hand is taken in his, and you see what he did, he got a small piece of gauze from the first aid kit, it’s tied around your left ring finger. You bring your hand up after he is done, admiring the small bow, he speaks, you look over at him, still on his knees, and he says, “A placeholder.”

“You’ll get me the real thing once we are outta here?”

“So long as you can wear it, of course.”

What the fuck does he mean by that?

The next round is the worst so far, your other foot is put into another box, there are screws, he has a power drill and fuck this is going to suck.

How many times is he going to get on his knees for you today, Goddammit?

Your heart is racing, you are clenching your firsts so hard that the makeshift ring on your finger hurts. He pulls you out of your thoughts once again, “I’m sorry.”

He apologized to you before hurting you, what a gentleman, you muse before the first screw is driven in. It’s a lot to handle. You are delicious, woozy, the round is a blur, it goes by too fast and too slow all at once, and the removing of the screws was much worse than them being put in. You made it through. 

After more first aid he slips you some pain medication, he isn’t supposed to, but you take it subtly, a quiet and sincere thank you is given. 

You and he sit down on the ground, you talk, you lie together as if in the grass and cloud watching. You tell him you don't know if the suburbs are for you, maybe you’d like to go live in the country and shockingly, he bends. “You give up your white picket fence dream just like that?” 

You ask with a snap of your fingers, and he looks from your face back up to the ceiling, he shrugs and sighs out, “What can I say? I’m a fool in love. I just want to make you happy.” 

What a hopeless romantic. You hold his hand in your uninjured one and enjoy the compatible and comfortable silence. 

Before the fourth round, he makes you tell him you love him. He sees how nervous you are, and he insists, “If you say it, you’ll feel better, you’ll trust me more. If we love each other, you know for a fact you’ll make it through, that I won’t hurt you.”

“You have already hurt me.” You say, and he scoffs, “Because I have to. Again, I don’t want to do this.”

Sure. 

The words tumble out because what else are you meant to do? “I love you.” 

“There you go.” He plays with your hair and pointedly doesn’t say it back, a finger curling a lock around the digit before he pulls away, and the round has to start. You could laugh.

You almost drown. There is a fish tank, and he holds your head down into it, a hand on the back of your neck, the other arm wraps around your waist, he holds you and your life in his hands. You are completely out of it, you can’t hear anything, and you almost black out, because of this you can’t feel the kiss he presses to the back of your bare shoulder, nor hear the sweet nothing's he whispers to you. 

He gives you a towel to dry your hair after, your shirt is soaked and clingy, and you think that is how the conversation turns to sex. The question is abrupt, “How old were you when you lost your virginity?” 

He is so close again, he always wants to be close to you, encroach on your personal space, and you aren’t exactly shying away from him. “Why do you want to know that, exactly?”

“Just doing what we have been all afternoon, making conversation, filling the space between screams.” He says with a grin that is a little too easy and comfortable. He reaches out, a hand meets the soft skin of your shoulder, thumb rubs over, and it doesn’t linger on such an innocent spot for long, the backs of his knuckles brush down lower and traces over the curve of your breast. Eyes go wide and his gets bolder, he grips, cups you, and you gasp, body jerking back.

“Woah! What are you doing?” 

He laughs, “Oh come on, you want this, you’ve been flirting and staring all day-” He isn’t wrong, but you were doing it for a distraction, to fill the space, smooth things out and hopefully make him go easier on you perhaps he is right, maybe there is more to this, maybe you actually do want this. He isn’t done talking, “You can leave at anytime, you know that, but we also both know that you won’t go.”

“I won't?” You ask quietly, and he leans in closer, his hand meets your cheek, he tilts your head just so, “Because you know you belong here, you deserve this.” 

Do you? He isn’t done, he’s closer still, and he says, “Your whole life has been one long lonely path that has led you to me.” He leans in, and he kisses you and fuck it, you return it. 

You figure, why not? Why can’t this happen? You are stressed as all hell and in a decent amount of pain from the injuries you sustained, maybe this could give you an edge, the pain meds he slipped you helped, but does anything relive pain quite like a good orgasm? 

Breaking apart and in between heated presses of your lips together, he tells you, “I fucking knew it, I knew this wasn’t bullshit, knew you were actually into me.” 

Guy is just a tad cocky, but you aren’t exactly pushing him away, you lean closer, kiss deeper and upon the next parting of your mouths he says, “You wanna go further?”

“How much further?” You inquire and he says, “Depends. Do you want to make love one last time as a whole person?”

It doesn’t take a genius to put together what he means, the next round is going to involve you removing some part of yourself, that is terrifying. You want to lose yourself in him, you agree, a weak moan into his mouth, “Yes please-”

That is how you find yourself now. Your tank top pulled up, bra pulled down, jeans crumpled on the ground and your panties hanging off one ankle, he’s removed his tie, and he is tying it around your wrists. “Any particular reason for this?”

“Just to make sure you don’t try anything funny.” He hums, a finger slides under the substitute for restraints, and he tugs, you nod to confirm that it is not too tight. Soon his own pants are down, shirt is unbuttoned and when he slides home, hands on your thighs you groan, eyes rolling back. You wish you knew his name, so you had something to moan that was more intelligible. 

The lack of foreplay was no issue, you were embarrassingly wet from all the build up and closeness this afternoon, something he called you on, and you couldn’t even defend, instead laughing with a far too fond, “Shut up.” 

“No.” 

It was too intimate, he barely knew you, proposal and torture or not, he is touching you, feeling you, holding himself to you, hands on your hips, his chest to yours, close and familiar, as if he knew you, like really knew you for years worth of time. He acted in this way as if he could name your first crush when you were a kid and as if he knew your opinions on what was better, cake or pie and as if he knew your deepest intimate thoughts and feelings on what was the best musical that got robbed at the fucking Tony’s.

It isn’t all sweetness, all brushes of his hands over your curves or purposeful rolls of your hips where his pelvis grinds into you just so, it’s rough too. Moments where fingers hook in woven silk that used to be secured around his neck with a double Windsor knot and using that point of contact to pull you closer, fuck you deeper. Soft cupping of tender flesh turns into pinches, sharp slaps as your moans bleed to a sound that is more pained, to gasps and calls for a hint of mercy he refuses to provide. 

He speaks, buried deep inside and with his lips caressing yours he tells you all manner of delight and filth, from things along the lines of, “I want to keep you-” to “Your cunt is fucking strangling me-”

It makes your head spin. You are completely taken in by the moment and in being so caught up, moving with him, returning the sentiments, you find your voice, and you beg, “Keep me, let me be yours, don’t let us end tonight-”

That does something to him, pace picks up, nails bite into your hips, you arch and rock forward, meet him in the middle, and you watch it happen, head tipping back, a thick swallow, a flex of his cock inside your swollen walls and a bob of his Adams apple and his rhythm stutters. He holds deep, and he cums inside without asking, you moan as he does, in pleasure and in loss, he came before you could, eyes slipping closed as you resign yourself to your current fate, whatever it may be with him.

It’s silent, save for you both catching your breath. He tells you on an exhalation, “I will make it up to you.”

He pulls out, cum spills from your well fucked hole, and you are left heaving on the table as he pulls away, he is straightening up his clothing and the attendant comes in, bringing in the items for the next round. Said attendant doesn’t even look at you, as if this is normal. 

He tells you he will make it up to you. While you are heaving on the table, leaking cum, he is straightening out his clothing, the items for the next round are brought in. The guy who brings them in doesn’t look at you, as if this is regular. The attendant leaves. 

You get up on shaky legs, you start redressing slowly now that he has taken his tie back, he pulls out the items from a bag, and he explains what is expected.

“You are meant to cut off notches of your fingers on your left hand, once knuckles worth on each pass.” You nod, listening as your jeans are buttoned up, the leftovers of his cum are messing up your panties. You pull your tank top back down as you plop into the chair, you’d still been listening to him all the while, and he leans in, a hand on your arm, he kisses your sweaty hairline and asks, “You understand sweetheart?”

You nod along, and he leans down, he whispers that he fully intends to finish the job if you win the game. 

You figure it’s extra incentive if nothing else. 

Your left hand will never be the same, you lose two whole fingers. He asks to keep your pinkie and ring finger, mutilated beyond belief in the glass jaw you deposited the pieces in, and you laugh with a disgusted shake of your head. You affectionately call him a freak, and he preens under the name as if you called him handsome. 

Eyes are locked on the jar, the small makeshift ring is in there, the gauze looks bloody and almost unrecognizable amongst your ruined flesh and bone. 

The game goes on.

By the time it is done, the gun is on the table, you are alive, you did it, you won. Your feet are fucked, you nearly drowned, both hands bandaged, one from the burns and the other from cutting off several bits of your own fingers, but you don’t care, he’s making it better. 

His hands are very much intact, he has two fingers buried inside of you and his mouth on your neck, he’s saying the sweetest things, he’s praising you, telling you how wonderful you are, how well you did, he is building you up and finally with an arch and a cry? At long fucking last, through the haze of pain you cum, practically sobbing. 

You entered the arena alone, but you aren’t leaving it that way, he is inside you, buried in you like a tumour, terminal, malignant, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You won, you totally fucking won.