#maybe it’s because of how twink-y everyone makes him…

[itsriotmotherfuckers]

AU in which Sirius is a werewolf and someone made an attempt to bully Regulus (they are not getting away with it).

Versions with no background, just background, and a foreground (wow!)

[vickyyoon]

you got me thinking about older step brother hyunjin......

Older Step-brother Hyunjin

Synopsis : Your mom remarried hyunjin's dad two years ago, hyunjin was your older stepbrother, he was tall, muscular and had a jaw dropping physique, he was definitely hot, whenever you two go out together, people call you two a cute couple and it does sound funny a bit well atleast to him. To you that was a compliment...

C/w: smut, unprotected sex (bro pulled out dw), stepcest, soft sex-ish (kind of), smut with feelings,

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At school no one would believe that's your stepbrother, the new students keep mistaking you two as a a couple and what not. But as a person hyunjin was sweet to you, he acted like any older brother. It was wholesome to your parents but you wanted more...

Soon you realized you had to push past these feelings, whether you are or not infact his step sister and not his real sister you couldnt have him because he was first of all perfect and second of all, you thought you were out of his league, the girls that lines up to get into his pants are much older and prettier in your opinion, you felt like an outcast next to him.

Sooner or later you had to get a boyfriend to fill up that empty gap, you can't keep on thinking that one day hyunjin would fuck you to sleep and keep yourself saved up for him when the chances of him even liking you back are so low especially when you two are step siblings.

So you started to date Jay, he was quite popular, you two were great friends even before you met your step Dad and hyunjin, you used to like him a lot too but you doubted yourself alot back then.

When the news came out, your mom was happy since she knew Jay ever since you two were little, she was very fond of him aswell, everyone did seem happy except for hyunjin, during dinner, he didn't seem like himself, he was just silent, something was bothering him obviously. He didn't ask how your day went or what happened at school.

After dinner you decide to personal ask him about his issue, you head up to his room, politely knocking, and a serious firm voice responded

"come in"

He was clean from shower and was still very wet, his entire body was on display for you except the part he covered up with a towel, his lower half.

"sorry to bother you this late. Just noticed how dull you looked tonight, maybe some thing's bothering you?"

He smirked at you, rolling his eyes. His behavior was confusing you but you couldn't tear your eyes off of his body.

"bothering me? Y/n it's clear you know what's going on"

"I-I know?" you asked questioning everything

He seemed to notice your confusion and scoff, he neared closer to you, his behavior wasn't sweet or soft anymore, the more he inched closer to you the more you were getting scared and excited. You didn't know what to expect.

"Jay.... Is he really a good boyfriend?"

"huh? Y-yeah?"

"are you sure? Does he treat you nicely? Does he take care of you? Or does he even fuck you right, y/n?"

Him using such vulgar slurs turned you on so hard, you were blabering to this point.

"W-what do you mean?"

"you think I wouldn't catch him fucking you in the janitor's closet today?"

Your face turns bright red, he saw everything and you can't excuse yourself now.

"y-you saw that?"

" yeah... And he couldn't seem to hit you right, what are you doing with such a twink?"

You can't even look him in the eyes anymore, he then gently makes you look at him by lifting your chin. His hair was still wet from the shower.

"did it feel good?"

You didn't respond, it wasn't the best but he made you cum especially in such a small place like the janitor's closet

"why would I even ask? It was probably terrible, wasn't it? You don't even look good next to him, you know who can treat you better?"

"who?"

"me"

He let his towel drop to the floor, his room door was locked, his dick was even prettier than you thought, it was both long and grithy, the tip was pink and his balls were so full.

You couldn't help but stare at it shamelessly and before you knew it you were bouncing on his dick, panting and gasping, giving him a lap dance, while he stared at you intently through hooded eyes.

You can't believe how you got to where you are right now

"Do I feel better than that Jay?"

"mhmm~ a-amazing"

You don't know why he would still want to fuck you when you barely looked that good in your head and he was already In a relationship with the popular girl in his campus. Did he really like you or was he just mad and unhappy that you were dating aswell...

"I bet you think of me when you ride his dick"

You froze hearing that, he knows? How'd he know? Was it that obvious that you liked him so much?

" even if I didn't read that little message you sent to your friend, I would still know you'd like me, I mean who doesn't want to ride my dick?"

You can't help but turn red, it was annoying but so true. But if you were really honest, it wasn't just his body you wanted, you wanted him more than his body, you love him so much that you can't help but plan out your imaginary life out with him, having children, getting married and growing old together. But that comment stung.

He was very kind in general, someone who you looked up to when you didn't know what was right and wrong, someone who loved you at your worst, stood by your side when you had breakdowns, gave yoh advice when you got lost

You didn't even realize you texted the wrong person this whole time and he saw every single message... (reader is dumb asf)

"w-well they only want you for your body... They fuck and leave and come back... B-but I..."

You trail off. He stares at you curiously, gently brushing away a strand of hair from your face and lifting your head to continue.

"I really like you... More than just for your body... Maybe there's so many girls who tell you that but... I can't go a day without seeing you, I can't stop thinking about you all day"

His eyes widened and judging by his reaction, you regret every word you uttered that instant moment, but in reality his heart was swelling up with pride and he was getting overwhelmed.

"y-you really mean that right?"

You stare at him nodding slowly

"you really think about me more than my body?"

You nod again, it was his first time hearing someone want him for himself and not his body, people called him a fuck boy but it was really the girls leaving his bed empty in the morning after the nights he'd give them.

He's always thought about you too but he knew that if you were really gonna fuck him, then you'd just pretend that shit never happened the night before and it tainted his image of you, he spent countless Nights with other girls just to erase you from his memory, he never knew why he liked you in the first place.

Was it the way you speak? The way you help others? The way you smile? The way you're so nice? The way you walk? The way you sleep?! He would go insane..

" y/n... Do realize that I liked you all along too? I mean isn't it obvious or were you blind?"

You stare at him confused,

" my girlfriend... She looks almost exactly like you, you never notice that? The fact that everyone sometimes mistakes her as you... Wasn't it obvious all along?"

Your heart skipped a beat, we're you hearing this right? You've never really noticed how she looked so much alike, the way she dresses, the gifts she wears that he gives her, were all head to toe yours...

You halted your movements, staring at him in the eyes, searching if he was joking with you or did he really mean every single word?

His grip on your hips never leaving as he leaned closer touching your face gently, the hook of your nose, your eyelids, your lips, your cheeks,

"I don't think you understand how much I want you, I wanted to push you away because of our circumstances but, I love you, I can't go on a day without you"

You close your eyes feeling his fingers memorize your face, leaning in, you gently plant a kiss on his lips, it was the first time you made him flustered instead,

"I wish I knew you wanted me"

"Don't hide things like that, I've been dying to know"

He nodded, panting a soft kiss on your forehead before laying you down and changing positions, he trails marks and kisses down your neck, to your tits to your stomach, marking you everywhere

All you could do was grip the sheets, seething under his touch, he slid back inside you easily, stretching you out deep,

"mhmp~! S-shit so tight... So warm~!"

He smothers kisses all over your face, chanting your name in whispers, desperately like as if you were leaving him and he was begging you to stay. He was throbing painfully inside you, his tip kissing your cervix

He started to thrust into you slowly, staring at your face and marking your neck red, you can't help but arch your back and moan

"shh~ don't want our parents to hear us nwo, do we?"

Shit that deep raspy voice had you squeezjng his cock so tightly,

"l-loosen up baby, I-it's so tight!"

He hissed in pleasure before slowly picking up his pace, the bed creaking along with his hips thrusting into you.

"like that?"

"mhm, hhng! L-love it!"

You pant, clenching tightly with each of his words, his pace picks up faster and before you knew it you were a mess, biting you shirt to muffle your screams and moans as he drills into you like a mad man.

Your nails draw blood from his back and shoulder from holding onto him, you can't even feel bad it's not your fault he's got you so fucked up like this

Before he couldn't cum, he pulled out, stroking his dick fast, cumming all over your face, tits and belly before licking it off of you as you came along with him

"say you're mine now?"

His voice all so sweet after that mind blowing orgasm, you let him take care of you, promising to keep it a secret and visit him every nigth from now on

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I don't know when I even started this request, I found this in my drafts and shit, my writing was so bad, I didn't even bother to fix the first few part, so like I wrote this fanfic in two different time lines... I prolly started last year 😭 I lost my phone and couldn't log in from the other one

Hope y'all enjoy <3

[skyward-floored]

Typing out long posts is kinda hard rn but my thoughts after playing Hyrule Warriors today are as follows:

Love how Lana is looking at Link all wistfully literally all the time. Especially when Shiek is there... Poor Lana. You just need to find some other nice blond twink there's lots out there you know

Oh also later when she just tells Link to watch out and not anyone else standing there who is also very much in danger. girl you could not be more obvious if you tried.

Gate of souls area is spoooooky. Also has cactuses and I don't know why? I guess it's sort of desert-y. I like the curly trees though.

Cia please put on a real shirt my Dad and little siblings are watching me play here and you're just making it awkward for everyone

...I will say though I love her bird mask with the glowing eyes that thing slaps

Maybe it's just because I play botw a lot, but Link (and everyone really) seems so expressive?? Like he makes all of these small expressions all the time and it's so nice seeing him emote when things happen to him.

Gosh I can only imagine the impact of other times literally being yeeted and overlapping into Hyrule, things must be a disaster by the time they fix everything. Not to mention what it's like for someone just living in Hyrule, oof can you imagine?? suddenly death mountain is in your backyard.

Sheik and Impa are so funnyyyyy

Impa: so who's your tribe leader?

Sheik: well um. you. since you're the tribe leader.

Impa: well yes except I have never seen you in my life before last week so SOMEONE'S lying.

abdhdgfhjnhdj she is two steps away from ripping off her mask and getting answers

also how has nobody realized who Sheik is yet oh my goodness IMPA. Link has an excuse of barely knowing her but you?? are her bodyguard??? and she literally has (sorry, had) the triforce of wisdom. I guess you could argue magic is at work here but really Impa.

and finally, screw death mountain and it's endless bombchus and boulders all my homies hate death mountain and it's endless bombchus and boulders

[marksbear]

Cry, no Tony Stark requests? Saaaaaaddddd. How about Tony Stark x Idiot Twink Healer boi (maybe a poly with Spidey or perhaps healer boi is a sugar baby??) (Could be dirty haha, up to ya, bro)

Well Anon you are the first person in my blog to ever request Tony stark thank you for requesting! Im going to do sfw headcaons plus nsfw! And headcaons with sugar baby

Hope you enjoy it! A/n= Age name! but for the sake of this fic young 20s!

TONY STARK X IDIOT TWINK READER

🤖 He was beyond shocked when he founded out you were the healer of the team. I mean he was so surprised. You didn't look like you belonged in the Avengers he really thought someone brought their younger brother to work.

🤖 When Nick gives you a proper welcoming Tony was the first to ask how old are you. "I'm twenty two!" (or A/n but the reader has to be in his young twenties)

🤖 Tony wasn't the only one who was wondering about your age since he heard other gasp in the room.

🤖 "But everyone Y/n will just help yall with only the missions I choose for him. Since he is way too young to be going out there with y'all and he doesn't have too much experience fighting aliens like Spiderman. So Stark he's under your care.

🤖 At first he thought you were gonna be a pain in his ass like Peter and he was far from wrong. You were far from a genius like Peter some may even call you dumb.

🤖 "So thats your heart? Can I hear it beep please? Or does it race when you see someone you like?" You ask him looking at his chest with no shame.

🤖 Thats when he realized your gonna be a handful.

🤖 He always finds you with Hulk or Thor. Since Hulk is an idiot like you y'all two click instantly even Bruce is only mad for a while you found your ways to enjoy Hulk's loud and dumb presence

🤖 With Thor hes always injured from his mission so you see him in the medbay quite often so you make an effort to know him more. One time Tony walked in the medbay seeing you on Thor lap listening to his stories as you clean up his wound.

🤖 Since that incident with Thor. Tony never lets you out of his sight when y'all two aren't even dating yet

🤖 He always ask Nick how the hell did you become a healer when you sometimes forget how to add some easy numbers or when you forget your avenger and you get paid a whole LOT and you ask to borrow some money from others.

🤖 Thats actually how he founded out you were a sugar baby. One day him and Nat went to a cafe just to hangout when they saw you with two men times your age. One of them had envelopes with cash in them sliding you one every once in a while as you talked to the other man.

🤖 They watch you like a hawk across the whole cafe. They see the man you're talking to and place his hand on your inner thigh too close to your crotch and kiss your cheek bye. As he leave the other man he was with hands you the rest of envelopes kissing your forehead bye.

🤖 You check the envelops making sure its all of the money before stuffing all of them in your bag paying the check before leaving.

🤖 Before you could leave Nat pulls you by your arm sitting you down at her table. "Oh. Hi Mr Stark! I just finished reading the math book you gave me!" "That's good, but we have a question." Tony says gesturing to him and Nat. "What is it?" "Who were those guys you were just sitting with?" Nat asks not pressuring Y/n. "That's my sugar daddy Ben with his husband! Great couple." The two freeze and spare each other a look. "Lets finish this conversation at Stark tower'" Nat says paying for the bill.

🤖 Tony takes you into his room sitting you down on the bed ask he sits on a chair across the room. "What do they want from a young guy like you?" Tony asks with a hint of jealousy. "Mostly company. But sometimes group sex. They pay extra if I let them double penetrate me." Y/n answers way too honestly having no dignity to hide anything.

🤖 "Y/n why do you need the money if your Avenger?" Stark asks.

"Well because i'm a part time avenger y'know? Nick knows my parents well and promised to protect me no matter what. That's why I never go on big missions with y'all... Most action I got on the field was trying to calm down Hulk. Kinda sucks. So I don't get paid like all of you." The room became silent until Y/n says something again.

"Its not that bad. I get to help all of you and it makes my day better. But i'm a sugar baby so I just have food and water and money for clothes and extra things. Lots of people tell me they would pay to fuck me or just pay to spend time with me. So why not net them."

"Be my sugar baby."

"Wha?"

🤖 Y'all's relationship was strictly sugar baby and daddy sometimes more like friends with benefits. He didn't ban you from seeing other people just gave you rules. Like no more fucking they can only watch you fuck yourself or touch yourself. He grew possessive of you always marking your neck just in case another sugar mommy or daddy tries to make you theirs.

🤖 The thing that changed your little agreement when you gotten to badly injured you might had died. It was supposed to be a simple day watch when you got attacked by powerful villains and almost found dead. You were able to take them down but almost got yourself killed.

🤖 You gotten lectures from everyone in the team even Thor lectured you and Nick was busting your balls. But no lecture compared to Stark's. One minute he was going off on you about being safe and prepared next minute you two are naked making love.

🤖 Yes making love.

🤖 It wasn't your guys typical fuck and quickey. No this time everything was emotional. The kisses lasted, the gentleness with every thrust, the long lasting words of affirmation. This time Tony helped Y/n to see he was more than just a sugar baby. This time the sex meant something deeply to the other.

🤖 A few days after that was a bit awkward for the both of you. Nick even gave Tony the longest talk about what he would he to do him if he breaks your little dumb heart. Finally the both of you get officially together and Tony is quick to show you off to the world posting and talking about you with every chance he gets.

🤖 Sometimes you'll forget your dating and asks people is he single like your drunk or something but your completely serious and sober.

🤖 "Hey is Ironman single I have a crush on him and I wanna ask him out..." You ask Hawkeye and he gives you "are you serious look."

THE END!

[fishys-still-writing-smut]

(Maybe a bit too much complex ? You’ll tell me)

Kaede had enough~! Ever since kokichi somehow convinced tsumugi AND the headmaster that his new uniform should be a ultra lewd playboy bunny costumes that accentuates way too much his twink but ultra cute yet strong body, his immense boy butt, and his crotch! Not only that but he’s been bothering everyone! The number of spanks he gave to the other fat ass femboy (Shuichi) friend of Kaede that embarass him on a daily basis, the way he sometime gets behind Kaede and "hug" her pressing her (admitedly massive even if hidden behind a sweater) boobs, the time he mixt an aphrodisiac in everyone’s water just before an exam!… she will convince him to end his lewd pranks! … what the naive ultra thicc bimbo bod pianist didn’t realized was that 1) it was kokichi, a VERY good manipulator especially for airheads like Kaede 2) is lust is way bigger than that~

Basically they make a deal that he stops bothering everyone IF she hangs with him every day and "play" with him every night for a week~!

Basically a 7 day/step corruption, at the end Kaede is completely kokichi’s bimbo bitch, she gets sluttier as the corruption progress, and they do lewder and lewder acts.

I don’t remember but I Think NTR is one of your top stuff, so you can put some here BUT it has to end well, like Shuichi being also a fat ass ultra hung twink just way more submissive than kokichi, so under kokichi impulse and manipulation he joins at some point. (Or not)

If a 7 part corruption is too complicated for you you can tone it done to 5, 3, or heck even 1 and turning it into an instant lost if you’re not in the mood for that, it’s fine!

Warning: lewd content below

Day 0:

“So you gotta let him sleep in your room for a week?” Shuichi questioned his best friend as they were having breakfast together in his room. The pianist nodded, seemingly frustrated at the situation. “I mean hey, if it gets him to change out of the playboy bunny clothes can't be that bad, right?”

“Of course it's that bad! It's about the principal of the matter, Shuichi! That little bastard can't keep doing whatever the hell he wants. I swear, after these 7 days I'm putting in a notice for him to be suspended.” Kaede was fuming. Shuichi had never heard the blonde so angry before. He placed his hand on her shoulder to help calm her down, a gesture she seemed to appreciate as she began to smile. It was just one week, how bad could it be?

Day 1:

“So how was last night?” Shuichi questioned Kaede, who blushed at the mere mention of the night before.

“Ah well, y'know.” Kaede seemed embarrassed. “I think I was a little too harsh on him.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “I thought he was gonna prank me or do something weird to me, but no. All he did was sleep normally. In fact, I was being a jerk to him, making fun of his night terrors and all.”

“Night terrors?” Shuichi questioned. He never heard Kokichi bring up those before.

“Yeah, they're pretty bad. Normally he clings onto a big stuffed animal or something to help calm him down, but there wasn't anything like that in my room. So he just clung into me.” Shuichi was about to raise an objection, but Kaede cut him off before he could get the words out. “But he wasn't being mean! He didn't play any pranks or pull any cheap tricks. He just…hugged me tightly. It was…I dunno, nice I guess? Still don't like him, but it was refreshing to see a human side to him.”

 

“Maybe that's why he wanted to sleep in your room? To find a way to tell you.”

“Maybe.” Kaede thought, reflecting on last night. Until suddenly, her face became beet red as she remembered something else. “But uhh, the funniest thing happened while we were sleeping. Apparently, I need new pajamas, because the buttons totally busted while we were sleeping. So I woke up to find Kokichi motorboating my boobs, hahaha….” Kaede sheepishly recalled as both she and Shuichi felt the embarrassment.

“Y-yeah that's…certainly awkward.”

“Y-yup, what are the chances, right?”

Day 2:

Shuichi and Kaede ate breakfast together in silence. Normally there'd be a lively conversation between the two of them, but for some reason Kaede was dead silent. Shuichi, sensing something was wrong, tried to break the ice. 

“Soooo…how’s been sleeping with Koki-”

“I saw him jerk off yesterday.” 

“H-HUH?!?!” Shuichi nearly fell out of his chair upon hearing what she said. He grabbed his own seat as he stared at her with intensity. “What the hell are you saying?!?”

“I-it wasn't on purpose!” She defended. “I guess he just…forgot to lock the bathroom door. I-I only saw it for a second though. After that I ran to the bed and pretended nothing happened.” Shuichi sighed in relief, grateful his friend wasn't a complete degenerate. Kaede sighed as well, for an entirely different reason.

(Flashback)

“Nnnnnghhh!” 

“H-hey!” Kaede opened the bathroom door to find Kokichi jerking himself off. However, before she could reprimand him, he finished, shooting his thick semen which splashed directly into her pajamas, face, and of course, her bare tits that her broken pajamas failed to cover. 

“Don't blame me, I need to do this. My nightmares get reeeaaalllly bad if I don't empty my balls before bed.” Kokichi nonchalantly explained. Kaede merely humphed at his response, before her eyes widened. He still wasn't flaccid. Kokichi smirked. “Yeah, typically one nut doesn't do it for me. I need to go for a whiiiiile.” 

“T-that’s nice, but w-what am I going to do?” Kaede angrily complained, as her and her clothes were still soaked in Kokichi's cum.

“Go shower. Don't worry, I won't peek. I'll just be dealing with this before bed.” Kokichi spoke slyly. “Unless you want me to jerk off on your bed instead?”

Kaede balled her fists before stripping out of her now ruined clothes. Kokichi was going to pay for this. She stood naked in front of the boy, who stared at her while he jerked off. Something about him looking at her with such list driven eyes while touching his big…no! Not today.

Kaede practically ran into the shower and drew the curtains. She turned on the hot water and worked to scrub all of Kokichi off of her. She stared at his silhouette through the curtains. He kept true to his word and did not peek but…did his dick really need to be that big?

That night, a naked Kaede slept with Kokichi. He clung to her chest seemingly tighter than the night before. She huffed. He was so getting reported after the week was over. She just needed to remain pure until then.

Day 3:

“We're not going to eat together anymore?” Shuichi repeated dumbly, confused by Kaede's sudden change of heart. “Why? Not that I'm mad but, weren't you the one who wanted to eat in my room with me?” 

“I-its not you! It's just…Kokichi had methods to help him mitigate his nightmares and…he wants me to help him with them during the morning.” Kaede sheepishly admitted. “S-so I'll be doing that now. But only for the next few days! After that he gets suspended and we'll go back to normal.”

“Well, you're your own person so, can't really fault you for that. Just, try not to take him too seriously. He may have issues, but he's still a jackass at heart.” The boy swore uncharacteristically. Not that Shuichi disliked Kokichi (okay, he definitely did), but even he could see that something fishy was happening. Kaede nodded her head before digging back into her food. She ate with her hands, which was a fine but a little messy cause of the sauce-

Wait a minute.

“Kaede, there's something on your hands.” He pointed out while Kaede froze. “It seems like some type of…white liquid?” 

“A-ah! Yeah, that's just…white sauce from last night.”

“Last night!?! What on earth did you do then!?”

“W-well Kokichi asked me to jerk his…j-jerk his…jerk his bottle of white sauce! He was trying to have some last night and the bottle wasn't dispensing it, and I guess some got on me without realizing it.”

“Oh, okay. That makes sense.” Shuichi realized. I mean, there wasn't anything else that could be on her fingers, right? “Was the bottle broken or something?”

“N-no, it was just…really big. A lot bigger than you’d think. I mean I saw it before and I was like ‘wow’ but once it's in your hands it's even more like…‘wow!’. Can't believe he just has that. And it was so messy too. Like he could've been a gentleman and offered to clean me up but noooo. He even seemed to like it when it got on my face and chest. Ugh! He's the worst. He even got some in my mouth.”

“Did it taste good?”

“H-huh?!?”

“The white sauce.” Shuichi explained. “I heard some recipes even include things like eggplant or heavy cream depending on the purpose. So, was it good?” 

“O-oh, uhm. I-it was whatever I guess.” Kaede blushed, but Shuichi knew her for too long for her to hide things from him. He chuckled to himself. She definitely loved it. 

Day 4:

“Hey Kaede!” Shuichi called out to his friend in the hallway. Kaede jumped a bit, before quickly waving back at Shuichi. She pulled down the hem of her skirt as the boy ran up to her. 

“Hey Shuichi…how's it going?”

“Eh, the usual I guess. How about you? Kokichi any easier to manage?” 

“O-oh!” Kaede's expression changed when Shuichi brought up Kokichi's name. She rubbed her thighs against each other and blushed. She broke eye contact with Shuichi and stared at the ground, trying to recall…something. Her face grew even more red before she answered. “W-well to tell the truth he's been a bit…wild as of late. He's been keeping me up super later into the night with his…before bedtime habits. I get he has issues sleeping without it but…fuck.~”

“H-huh?” Shuichi gasped at Kaede's uncharacteristic swear/moan. Kaede clapped her mouth shut before responding.

“S-sorry, I've just been really tired as of late because of him. Don't even have control over myself anymore…hahaha.” Kaede's statement was more accurate than Shuichi or even herself could've known. But to quickly cut off a curious Shuichi, she removed herself from the conversation. “I need to go, Ko-i m-mean Ms. Kirigiri needs me for some help. Bye Shuichi!” 

“That was weird.” Shuichi spoke to himself as his friend ran off. “I get that she's tired, but who moans when they don't get enough sleep? Oh well, I mean, all ultimates are a bit eccentric so I guess it's not the weirdest thing that's happened here.” 

Day 5:

“Heeeeey Shumai!” Kokichi called out to Shuichi this time, as they were the only two in the dorm room lobby. They rarely speak, but for some reason, Kokichi is convinced that he and Shuichi “have a lot more in common than he knows.” 

“What's up Kokichi?”

“Noooothing much. Just looking to have some dude time. A true man to man talk. A bro-down hoedown. A slightly homo rodeo. A-”

“Just say what's on your mind.” Shuichi sighed, already exhausted before the conversation even began. 

“I'm just trying to act like dudes with you man. I feel like we lack that strong male bond between us. Talking about cars, screaming about sports, acting only a little gay in the locker room, bragging about not sex partners, the complete guy package.” 

“I don't want your package Kokichi.”

“Pffft, nonsense! You just haven't had proper guy time with me yet. Check this out~.” Kokichi shows a video of what looks like a blonde babe bent over, getting fucked by a shocking large cock. She was completely naked, aside from the pair of white panties pushed to the side of her phat jiggly ass. Her face wasn't visible, but a muffled voice could vaguely be made out, screaming Kokichi's name like a pornstar. 

“K-kokichi! Is…is this real?” Shuichi asked, curiosity and lust getting the better of him. 

“Of course it is! I really lucked out finding a girl like this. She was a little reluctant at first, but she ended up being a bonafide slut! I knew I picked right with her.”

“Who is she?” 

“Hey, Shuichi, if we're going to be bros that means you gotta respect the bro code. You can't ask me things like that.” Annoyingly Kokichi stood up with a cheeky grin. It was obvious from the start he only wanted to tease Shuichi using this information. “I'll see you later, Shumai! Let's have some more bro time later, okay?” 

Day 6:

“And then he says he was looking forward to spending more ‘bro time’ with me. Can you believe that?” Shuichi ranted about Kokichi to Kaede, who was busy looking under the desk for the pencil that she dropped at the start of class. He conveniently left out the part about the pornography he was shown, as he still had fantasies about that mysterious blonde woman.

“Ah, well, I don't think Master was in the wrong there.” 

“Huh?” 

“I said I don't think Kokichi was in the wrong there. She responded, not bothering to get up from looking. “I think you just need to be more open to him.”

“Yeah right, he's a complete- KAEDE!” Shuichi was caught off guard, nearly getting the two caught in the middle of class. For the first time he looked down to talk to Kaede, however while he did expect to find her still searching for her pencil, he never thought he'd see her bare ass! “W-where the hell are your panties?!?” 

“Oh, those. Kokichi and I were talking the other day, and he brought up the point on how tight my panties must feel, and told me to start going without them. And I feel much, much better. See.” Kaede stood up, and without a hint of shame, flicked up her skirt for Shuichi to get a face full of her phat ass. 

“K-Kaede. Put that down. He's just trying to trick you!” Shuichi pulled her skirt back down to normal, causing the pianist to pout.

“Trick me? Why would he do that? I think you're the one that’s tricked Shuichi. You don't understand why I love Master the way I do.”

“What on earth are you- wait….” Shuichi paused to think for a moment. The video, Kaede's attitude, Kokichi sleeping with her. It was technically possible, but did he really manage to-

His train of thought was cut off as Kaede scotched closer to him, rubbing his cock with her fingers as she whispered in his ear. “Master ordered me to take care of you, so he's willing to share his toys with you if you don't talk. What do you say, Shumai?~”

Day 7:

“GLUK GLUK GLUK”

“F-fuck.” Shuichi moaned as Kaede sucked his cock. She looked up at him with mini hearts in her eyes, her brain completely rotted by sex. Behind her, Kokichi spread her ass cheeks apart, sliding in his giant bitch corrupting cock inside of her. She moaned into Shuichi’s dick, sucking it even harder now that she was being fucked from behind. 

“I told you Shumai, you and I should definitely spend more time together. After all, we have so much in common~.” Immediately after his taunt, Kokichi and Shuichi came inside of Kaede, filling up their shared pocket slut together.

[mrsmarlasinger]

I posted 9,071 times in 2022

That's 1,181 more posts than 2021!

164 posts created (2%)

8,907 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@powerbottombrucespringsteen

@that-twink-over-there

@rainbow-arrow

@rabbitindisguise

@elytrians

I tagged 3,231 of my posts in 2022

#tlt - 326 posts

#personal - 138 posts

#drug mention - 123 posts

#tumblrstake - 108 posts

#september 2022 - 105 posts

#drugs tw - 103 posts

#goncharov - 96 posts

#ldsconf - 91 posts

#general conference - 91 posts

#coronavirus - 86 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#(btw universe i am knocking on wood and i'm nawt trying to extort *extra* luck by reblogging this a second time okay love u 🤜🪵🤜🪵🤜🪵)

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

My Favorite TLT Fanart Things

Ianthe

festeringly hawt, not TOO pretty

pale sallow skin. maybe a liiiiittle touch of jaundice, who can say

blood blood blood

small titty committee, but goddamn does she work that cleavage 😳

flat, colorless sheet of long hair (type 1a. texture what texture) that appears vaguely damp at all times

looks like she barely sleeps more than harrow

VISIBLY sickly, washed out, and fucking unhinged

weird vintage-y clothes that she somehow manages to slay OR slinky Barbiecore party girl dress in an obnoxious and unflattering shade of lavender

tall and svelte like a silver screen actress

men's clothes because i pick and choose what's canon here <33

slightly annoying face. punchable woman.

purple is HER color even though it looks terrible on her

evil freak with fucked-up insane eyes

looks at everyone like she's gonna fuck and/or cannibalize them. just radiating the most horrifying sexual energy you've ever seen

slut

cool gross mess of muscle and gristle connecting her bone arm to her shoulder

lean, kind of hollow face with high cheekbones (but still punchable-looking)

eyes either half-lidded and come-hither or just way way too scarily wide

possibly doesn't shower

ianthe can have piercings too. if she wants :)

Gideon | Harrow | Coronabeth

114 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

#4

Dallin H. Oaks is the reason I could not remain in the Church.

Dallin H. Oaks is the reason I can't tell my parents that I've been dating a girl for eight months and I'm in love with her and I gave my virginity to her and the other night I dreamed that I proposed to her.

Dallin H. Oaks is the reason my father delights in saying the f-slur and making fun of his trans coworker, but god forbid the gays should marry, god forbid someone should reject the pronouns they were assigned from their very first breath.

Dallin H. fucking Oaks is the reason my parents and grandparents may never show up to my wedding, should I marry my girl, or meet my children, should I choose to have any.

And of course, it's not just Oaks, and if he weren't the emblem of homophobia in the Church, it would be someone else.

But I resent him so much.

I'm sorry—if nothing else, I believe in love. But I cannot love the man who so intensely embodies and perpetuates the pain I've endured for 21 years.

How dare he.

137 notes - Posted April 3, 2022

#3

My Favorite TLT Fanart Things

Harrow*

androgynously hawt, not TOO pretty

little curved fangs as gauges

lotssss of piercings

BONE INDUSTRIAL PIERCING

emo 14-year-old grunge blogger attire or ornate lacy goth princess attire, no in-between

insane bags under her eyes

NO bone tiddies on the rib corset (why)

mean scary little gremlin and/or pathetic wet scrunkly rat

at least vaguely pissed-looking at (almost) all times

black nail polish

flat af but not emaciated because :(

choker/collar thing made of vertically arranged bones (you know the one)

blood blood blood

doesn't look 25! she's only three years old!!

insane unhinged energy always

soft dark eyes. tender eyes. angry, powerful eyes. haunted eyes.

looks about as put-together as a goth freak on the wrong end of a bender

smeared face paint cuz she's fucked up

CATHOLIC SAINT IMAGERY!!!!

mean, pointy, vaguely sickly little ferret face with small angular features (ideal for conveying A. feral rage, B. tortured sorrow, or C. thinly veiled open exasperation)

hair juuust long enough to curl around her ears and get in her eyes, like an anime boy

neither butch nor femme but a secret third thing

*my special little guy 🖤

Gideon | Ianthe | Coronabeth

153 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

#2

Mormons RECOVER from limp cabbage EMBARRASSMENT

156 notes - Posted April 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

22 ½ hours of Canadian Redditors attempting to draw their own flag on r/place:

Please note that this is juxtaposed with intricate pixel art of the Eiffel Tower, featuring The Little Prince...

See the full post

16,897 notes - Posted April 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

Time Raiders: Or, And Here You Were Thinking The Lost Tomb’s Wu Xie Was The Worst Case Scenario Gay Disaster

Coping with stress and deadlines=comfort shows…not 100% sure how this universe became my comfort shows but here we are.

We open with your usual “What the fuck” background wherein there’s a snake empress and her bae something something scheme and we meet our Zhang Qiling—we actually get to see the qilin that is contained?represented? In his sweetass tattoo before we get a brief history of Wu Xie as a prepubescent house-breaking disaster who achieves one (1) coin that Will Be Significant.

Zhang Qiling is a grumpy little fucker, not yet in his hoodie noir aesthetic stage but slightly more sociable here! if by sociable we mean he gets into fights during the usual Wu family “this will be easy peasy haha nothing to worry abt” pre-tomb raiding get-together, where he finally encounters bebe Wu Xie! Who is being an adorable pain in the ass getting in everyone’s way because after all it’s a day ending in y.

The precious deer himself, Lu Han, is our Wu Xie. I actually found myself really enjoying his portrayal—he just looks incredibly innocent and sweet, nonstop 🥺, with a mischievous little smile. Also, we get facets of Wu Xie’s personality established here that foreshadow how he will grow into the mess we all adore and facepalm over: his intelligence and curiosity outweigh silly things like “basic self preservation” and “not dangerous shit” and we get a glimpse of that dark humor. On the pingxie front, we see the origins of his immediate and relentless insistence on Getting To Know Zhang Qiling, aka the beginners guide to stalking someone.

Normal people: nice to meet you, how are you doing?

Wu Xie: *assigns Zhang Qiling a name, aims gun at his own face to test Zhang Qiling’s niceness, takes pictures of him every five minutes*

Zhang Qiling: hope this doesn’t awaken something in me—

Xiao Ge is thus clearly in crisis from the beginning where he is first to flirt (?????) by…cutting off Wu Xie’s necklace and then handing it back to him? Idk maybe this is second base for the Zhangs. Anyway it’s clear that he’s already like “isn’t there a cutie pie moppet club meeting that’s missing its president oh god I think he’s cute fuck fuck fuck”. The rest of Wu squad isn’t as fleshed out; Wu San Xing seems borderline competent, which is weird for the wine uncle, although Pan Zi is his usual perky BAMF self. We get Pangzi yayyy!! Albeit at first not on the pals side. Currently working for Hendrix, an old white man kinda explorer who watches from his high tech little lab. Also Pangzi def brought a microwave burrito to the tomb raid and he’s right—and frankly Ah Ning can do whatever she wants, she’s sexy and badass.

There’s also a strange moment where Zhang Qiling asks Wu Xie the question everyone in the audience, his entire family, god, tomb zombies etc have wondered: why are you, with your dark academia outfit and chipmunk charm, here on this trip? And we actually get a straight answer!! From WU XIE OF ALL PEOPLE. He’s trying to figure himself out as a person, he is incredibly curious, and he has peak bebe of the family energy in admitting that the more people tell him not to go, he wants to go. Although to begin with, his main role is nerding out and snapping pictures of everything while flirting with Zhang Qiling. Love that for him.

Meanwhile, Wu Xie is like 🥺what if…our first date was in this tomb?? And Zhang Qiling is like, I have no choice but to kiss you, I mean protect you, …and we get these big smiles and outright laughs from him??? Which isn’t the Xiao Ge I know, but for some reason I think it fits here with sheltered lil Doe-Eyes McDimple.

And then there are spontaneous tornadoes and something happening in outer space. Sure. Tbh at this point in this universe I’m not even surprised. Something something snake empress, something something key, etc. The tomb-raiding plot unfortunately interferes with what was shaping up to be a great first date for pingxie, and Wu Xie sets off a cool lighting system for what is undoubtedly the first and last time he will ever make a good decision in a tomb raid.

Sure enough, like two minutes later he plays with some little puppet musical instrument and the puppet’s eyes MOVE. Upsetting. And then the tomb trap fuckery commences—hallucinations, choreographed dance/escapes from swords, pingxie’s first dramatic “catch you in my arms” and Wu Xie participates in the long tradition of “twink plays the flute to ward off bad shit” Good times. I do like that we get a glimpse of how selfless Wu Xie is capable of being—he ends up on a collapsing floor and is all #pingxiepriorities and wants to get Zhang Qiling’s memories for him via camera instead of worrying abt his life. Classic xiaoge 🙁 and Wu Xie 💀 😍 situation

A summary of the peak action scene:

Time Raiders: there aren’t any snakes in this one

Me: oh whew what a nice break

Time Raiders: there are extremely aggressive worms

Me: what

Time Raiders: also a Venus fly trap woman

Me: …

Time Raiders: how about some steampunk type inventions? We got those too.

[fizzychocolatemilk]

You've Got a Friend in Me (You've Got Troubles. I've Got 'em too.) (A Bakudeku Tropetember Fic)

Another Tropetember thingy (this one is a little late though...oops). I classify this one as a fic because it surpassed 1K. This one is for day eight:  5+1 / 3+1 (Five Times + One Time). AO3 link is here. It’s slightly angsty...so beware of feels.

tw: use of the f slur, homophobia, unsupportive parents, bullying

(1.)

“You’ll always be nothing but some dumbass, lightning-bolt faggot! You should just pack up and quit the hero course now. You’re too stupid to ever make it further than some lowly sidekick position,” the boy finished his abuse before dissolving into obnoxious laughter. 

 Said boy was one of Denki’s middle school classmates. Denki had accidentally run into him because he was texting Eijirou. The boy had looked over his shoulder and seen Eiji’s name (along with a heart) and started making fun of him for being “a faggot”. Denki knew he shouldn’t take what some asshole said to heart, but the things that he said reminded Denki of other times when he had been put down similarly. Lots of people seemed to think he was an incompetent dumbass who could never do anything right unless he had help, and, while sure, he was a little slow in academics...he definitely had other skill sets that made him a kick-ass hero! That didn’t mean that it was easy to convince himself of that.

 “Denki-kun! Hi!” a voice broke Denki out of his spiral.

 Denki turned toward the voice and, low and behold, it was Izu-kun. Denki gave Izuku a weak smile and a wave as he stood tensely next to the bully.

 “Denki! Who’s this? A friend?” Izuku asked as he walked up to the two. His voice sounded dangerous, and Denki could hear the “or foe?” that came after his words. At 17, Class 3-A knew that Izuku was dangerously protective of his friends, and they all did their best not to provoke his fury in any way. Because a feral Izuku was terrifying. 

 The bully didn’t know this though, and he simply laughed before “greeting” Izuku, “Ah, guess we’ve got another faggot. Or did you not know that Lightning Dolt here was a twink?”

 Izuku’s aura darkened several degrees at the boy's statement but still he shot the boy a bright (but fake) smile, “I’ll give you three seconds to run before I fucking destroy you.”

 The boy’s face dropped and he blinked, “Uhhh...what?”

 Izuku continued to smile, “One.”

 The boy’s eyes widened in panic, “Wait, man!”

 “Two.”

 The boy started running, “We can talk about this!”

 “Three,” Izuku immediately gave chase—or he would have if Denki hadn’t given him a small shock and held him back. Izuku struggled for a second before sighing and turning to Denki, “Denki-kun, you are more than just a brainless idiot and more than just a...a...you know. You’re amazing and talented in your own right and I’m proud to call you my friend.”

 Denki blinked in surprise before blushing lightly, “Thanks, Izu. I really appreciate it.” He smiled genuinely at Izuku.

 (2.)

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Momo,” the dark-haired woman stared harshly down at her daughter, “You may feel like this now, but one day you’ll find a nice, upstanding gentleman that captures your heart. Not some...punk-rock freak-girl.”

 Momo stared down at her feet and sighed softly before replying, “Yes, mother.”

 However, as she turned to make her way into the dorms, and her mother turned to meet with the chauffeur, she heard a very familiar voice. “Excuse me, ma’am! Yaoyorozu-san! May I have a word with you?” Momo turned to see Izuku-kun coming down the dorm steps and speed walking down the lawn to meet with the two women. He had a slightly dangerous aura (someone outside of Class A wouldn’t even notice), but Momo stood rigid as her friend stood up to her mother, “Yaoyorozu-san. I think you should consider taking your daughter more seriously. 

 “You might not know me well personally, but Yaomomo-chan and I know each other very well and I would consider us good friends. She’s smart, resourceful, and talented, and I think we can both agree that she will make a fantastic hero. But Yaomomo-chan is also responsible and mature, definitely mature enough to make her own decisions about her relationship choices. 

 “My own mother is very protective of me too, but I think that part of being a parent means accepting and supporting children through their choices and the consequences of those choices (good or bad), even if they aren’t choices that you, yourself, would make. I hope that you can come to respect Yaomomo-chan’s decisions about her own future, and find comfort in the fact that I, and everyone else in Class A, will always offer her our full support. Thank you for your time.” Izuku bowed politely before turning to Momo. “Kacchan made dinner. You should come eat it before it gets cold,” he smiled before heading back inside.

 Momo’s mother looked surprised for a second before saying a quick goodbye and hurrying away. Momo smiled after her before whispering under her breath, “You are a marvelous friend, Izuku-kun.”

 (3.)

Hanta was in a rush to get to class. Usually he was pretty punctual, but today he missed his alarm so he wasn’t feeling the best. Anxious and rushed, he accidentally ran into the worst person reasonably possible.

 “Ahah, if it isn’t the plain-faced tape dispenser from Class A!” Monoma laughed, “Late to class, I see! Tsk, tsk, yet another reason Class B is superior! At the very least we’re punctual!”

 Hanta deadpanned at the slate-eyed boy, “You know you’re late too, right?”

 Monoma’s jaw dropped for a second before he regained his composure. He huffed and took another angle, “Well, at least I have a personality! You’re so boring that it’s a wonder anyone pays attention to you at all. You’re almost more invisible than the invisible girl in your class! Not to mention that you’ll probably never get a girlfriend, hah!”

 Hanta rolled his eyes, despite the pang in his heart, before maneuvering himself to speed-walk past Monoma. “I’m literally dating Shou. It’s been the hot gossip for the past few days, and you’re definitely shallow enough to keep up with the gossip mill.”

 Monoma guffawed, “How did a plain-faced peasant like you end up with someone as high class as Todoroki? It’s a wonder, isn’t it? But, of course, I’m sure you’ve been hearing that for the past few days, haven’t you?”

 Hanta knew that he shouldn’t take anything that Monoma says seriously, but he’d been hearing how “unworthy” he was of Shouto for the past few days (since their relationship became public knowledge). The scathing words got to him and it made him doubt himself a little. He sped off towards his classroom, ignoring Monoma’s jeers in the background.

 That day, during a joint training session, Izuku requested to be paired with Monoma...and maybe Izuku went a little harder than he usually did. Maybe Monoma ended up in the infirmary before class ended, but it was training so Izuku couldn’t really be blamed for accidentally injuring his classmate, could he?

 Hanta smiled as he now had an explanation for the flash of green he swore he saw out of the corner of his eye as he was rushing to class after the encounter.

 (+1.) 

Katsuki slapped Deku on the back after training. “What the fuck was that, nerd?! You fucking beat the hell outta the Copycat Freak! Why can’t you ever go that hard when we train?”

 Deku’s face flushed as he turned a blinding smile at Katsuki. Cute. Katsuki shook himself from his thoughts as Deku started talking to him. “I guess I just got really into the exercise, Kacchan!”

 Katsuki could tell that Izuku’s words weren’t the whole truth but he decided to gloss over it for now in favor of focusing on a topic that had been bugging him. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Mochi Head lately. Skimping on our training. Any specific reason, Deku?”

 Katsuki watched as Deku’s face flushed again, but this time it made a pit grow in his stomach. The pit grew as Deku stumbled over his words for a few minutes before answering, “We’ve just been helping each other study, Kacchan.” 

 “You’re fucking lying, stupid Deku,” Katsuki scoffed as his heart started cracking, tiny pieces falling into the void. “But it’s fucking fine. If you’d rather waste time with your girlfriend like a dumbass then I’ll take the number one spot all the more easily,” he said, but the words felt ashy in his mouth, empty and non-fulfilling.

 He started walking away when there was a sharp tug on his wrist. “Kacchan!” It was Deku. It was always Deku. Katsuki stopped trying to pull away, but he didn’t turn around yet. “I love you! No one else! Ochako-chan has just been helping me work through my feelings for you! She has feelings for someone else!” Katsuki turned sharply to see Deku staring intensely at him. “You are my symbol of victory. My hero. My Kacchan. It’s only ever been you, so please. Please allow me to stand by your side!”

 Katsuki sniffled before completely breaking down in tears from the emotional taxation of the last few minutes. Being the empathetic crier he is, Deku broke down with him and they held each other and sobbed. After a couple more minutes, Katsuki had pulled himself together enough to respond, “Y-yeah, dumb Deku. Keep your eyes on me.”

 Katsuki stood and extended a hand to Izuku to help him up. Izuku stared at him fondly for a split second before taking his offer. They walked back to the dorms side-by-side and hand-in-hand.

[i-did]

I would like to hear more of your opinions on fandom depictions of Neil, if you don't mind! Your post made me realize some things I wasn't even aware of when reading aftg fic!!

Yeah sure I have a lot of thoughts on this. I think this is an overall fandom issue and not just an aftg fandom issue, but the feminization of neil as well as the ironing out of his personality to make it more palatable is definitely a thing.

I've noticed in a lot of fics hes a lot friendlier, a lot less distrusting, and a lot more oblivious. I also noticed the amount of demand for vixen neil, and neil in dresses and skirts and crop tops, neil crying and being vulnerable isn't a challenge on traditional masculinity because andrew and the other guy foxes don't receive nearly the same amount of demand.

There is heavy emphasis on people wanting not just neil but andrew to be softer, and while that's okay, it's important to remember the moral of aftg is that trauma makes some people hard, and intense and not traditionally likeable, and that those people aren't broken and don't need to be fixed. So when people just, ignore that and make andrew and neil a lot softer, neil always sitting in andrews lap and other things, lots of expressions of PDA, and other out of charter moments, it erases the idea nora was trying to convey.

I've stated before about how the fandom also often doesn't mention body hair but when it does its andrew having facial hair and neil having less typically, but also there is usually emphasis on andrew having a deeper voice than neil, who sometimes gets written almost as whiney and petulant or pouty.

-nsft text below-

I also think there is an overall lack of understanding of mlm culture in fandom which is largely a women's space. I won't go into detail here but how pwp is written (especially a lot of the trans andrew or neil ones) are not with a mlm gaze in mind, after all if it was proper gay porn then only mlm would be turned on by it, but the consumer in mind isn't mlm at all, both because the authors are almost always not mlm, but the readers aren't as well. There is emphasis on neil being more vocal and whining, mewling, whimpering, and moaning, all common in how straight porn treats the woman, while andrew is emphasized in being a lot more quiet, maybe grunting and groaning.

Lingerie is not common in gay porn outside of fanfiction, jock straps?? Thats a thing thats a huge thing, but in all the pwp I've seen of them in their exy gear I haven't seen it mentioned before, not a cup or jock strap or anything like that.

Neil is also the one being put into the lingerie and there is emphasis on him feeling pretty rather than handsome and him being petite and slim rather than a bulky athlete

There is also an overall lack in realism in preparation and dynamics that are physically impossible or unsafe but thats a whole other thing.

This is just off of the top of my head, I can get into the fetishization of trans andrew fics another time thats a whole other thing, but yeah this is just my unprepared thoughts and observations I've noticed.

Fanart also tends to lack the men having bulges, i respect trans hc but i have possibly never seen a flaccid penis in running shorts neil is wearing. They don't go away they sit there and take up space.

-end nsft text-

I have more to say when it comes to the dealings with trauma in fanfiction but for another time. I also have a huge rant about how fanon deals with the race in fics, both nickys canon race as well as the fanon everyone else's race

Overall, people can write what they want to write, and fiction is fiction and i cannot stop anyone from doing anything, and people can interpret the characters how they want. But when writing fiction, the authors own biases can slip though, the charters are written by them after all. An author who writes a torture scene isnt someone who has done that, but an author who writes let's say nicky as even more predatory, slutty, stereotypically gay and "ayeyeyye" in fanfic is unknowingly being racist and homophobic.

A person existing in real life fitting steryotypes is one thing, I've been told like once a week that im stereotypically gay since I've been alive, and have been under a lot of fire for being both "too mexican" and "not mexican enough" but an author who is not mlm and is white can still fall into these pre conceived notions they don't realize they have. There is no such thing as a real life queer couple being heteronormative, but someone else writing one can be because they're not real people, they're characters.

Why does this dynamic appeal to you? Are you projecting? In what way? Why do you think x character is more passive and y is more aggressive? Are they like that in canon ?

When quarantine started I threw myself into aftg even more, but quickly became depressed and felt gross and watched, I felt lonely as an mlm and isnt white in a dominantly white wlw/wlm fandom. Most of tumblr is queer white women dominant tbh, in the same way its American dominant, and fandom is like that too. I still have a hard time talking to my friends who aren't mlm about fandom stuff sometimes because I will tell them something bothers me and I'm not sure they understand or take it seriously. I was so depressed because my personal escapism was making me feel worse.

My depression has gotten better since then, but I still get very uncomfortable with the word "twink" being applied to not just neil, but now any queer man, especially when not said by someone mlm.

Okay I'm gonna stop here lol this was a longer ramble than planned. Ah. Don't cancel me don't twist my words I swear I don't care what others do this is just my observations

[momota-kaiharem]

i wish we as a fandom talked more about kaito’s flaws. i don’t mean like, the supposed homophobia or the toxic masculinity-- well, maybe sort of the toxic masculinity? but what i mean is the deep insecurities he has that come out in chapter four, when everyone is calling him an idiot and boosting shuichi.

i talked about it a little in my last analysis-y post but i think that kaito has very low self esteem, despite how he presents himself. if you do kaito’s ftes a lot of what he tells you about himself are complete lies-- just, children’s stories of adventures that almost definitely never happened. kaito’s self image is largely built on lies about himself, being a hero, helping people who went on to do amazing things, conquering parts of the earth and the sea. which in itself isn’t too worrying, it just shows that he’s a bit childish, but if you consider the way that he reacts when he’s put down, with anger and indignation and then eventually really genuine upset, i think it really seems like kaito doesn’t have a lot going for him in that department.

as much as it sucks that kaito doesn’t seem to think very much of himself, this comes in as one of (if not the largest) his largest flaws. as i mentioned in my training trio analysis, part of the way kaito snaps at shuichi is due to the fact that shuichi never stood up for him in chapter four. but a lot of it also stems from kaito’s own insecurities, and the fact that in that context, shuichi has a lot more practical use to the group. i mean, of course he does. he’s a detective. how is an astronaut supposed to be more useful than a detective during an investigation? but kaito isn’t coping with it well, and it shows during the investigation how much kokichi’s shit is wearing on him, and how much the constant praise of shuichi (and constant putting down of kaito) is upsetting him. there’s even a scene where tsumugi and someone else(?) tell kaito he was sort of useless and kaito asks shuichi to say something in his defense. :(

it shows during the trial, too. shuichi starts explaining a concept and kaito interrupts him, without letting him finish, explaining why his theory is impossible. it just straight up isn’t true, and kaito’s objection only comes up because he didn’t let shuichi finish. the dude was about to explain. it’s really fucking embarrassing actually kaito stop

i think that kaito’s sort of fall from grace in chapter four comes less from his upset at what happened with gonta. i mean, obviously he’d be upset about gonta, but if anything i think he would ordinarily blame kokichi for that more than he’d blame shuichi, given that shuichi was just the messenger. just doing what he had to. they all would’ve died if he hadn’t pulled the plug, and kaito knows that. eventually you have to stop spouting idiotic speeches and face the truth, and kaito was able to face the reality of kaede being the culprit, so again!!! i don’t think it was entirely about gonta.

no, i think kaito was upset because it was everything. it was because shuichi was right over and over, and he was wrong, and he was useless, and shuichi booted him from the simulation without asking because he was that useless during the investigation, and kokichi called him an idiot over and over again during the investigation and trial, and shuichi didn’t stick up for him, and then when kokichi pulled up this theory that kaito hated, shuichi sided with him, AGAINST kaito, and didn’t bother telling kokichi to lay off of kaito. and when kokichi punched kaito in the gut and kaito fell over coughing, where was shuichi? not by his side. he decided to get in this Epique Combacke(tm) instead of being there helping kaito to his feet. then he suddenly decides he wants to support kaito now, after letting everyone take the piss out of him all this time? nah nah nah nah nah.

the chapter five conflict isn’t shuichi’s fault, i want to be clear. a big chunk of it is just kaito punishing shuichi for being smarter than him, for circumstances that were out of control, and in chapter five when they speak through the bathroom window, kaito acknowledges this, saying that he was jealous and out of line and it wasn’t shuichi’s fault. but shuichi could’ve done a lot to prevent what happened, had he once made it clear how valuable kaito’s help is to him, or even told kokichi to fuck off when he was continuously calling kaito a moron, maybe things would’ve gone differently. i don’t know.

i realise this was supposed to me talking about kaito’s flaws but i ended up ragging on shuichi again shuichi my main man i’m so sorry (head in hands) i’m a kinnnie and it shows.

one other thing i want to say, which isn’t really going to help in the area of no longer taking the piss out of shuichi, is that i think it took a lot of maturity for kaito to like... acknowledge what he did wrong and apologise. obviously, when you do things wrong (which kaito did, by putting shuichi through the wringer over things that were out of his control) you’re supposed to apologise, but nobody talked to kaito. nobody told him what he did wrong. maki and everyone else sort of just looked at kaito and shuichi and went “yikes that’s awkward” and decided to let them work things out on their own. but after kaito went in the hangar he probably had a lot of time to think, or maybe just time to get the fuck over himself, and he owned up to what he did to shuichi, and apologised for it. it was a good apology, too!!! kaito my beloved.

i’m a bit disappointed by that part of the game, just because i wish that kaito’s fall from grace had been completed? i mean, kaito exposed a Huge flaw there, you’d think that shuichi would take off the rose tinted glasses and go “oh, he’s not perfect” but he,, didn’t, really? i mean, kaito dies, and then shuichi and maki just carry on idolising him like before. i don’t know that i’d hold this against shuichi though so much as i would the writing of the game. it’s just so dissatisfying. you’re gonna give me this sexy flaw moment with kaito and then no payoff??? dude.

anyway. i’m. going to make a shuichi appreciation post after this. i can’t have my six followers thinking i’m a shuichi hater. love that twink. but yeah talk about character flaws they are so cool okay see you later

[cinnaminsvga]

🤬 | seokjin

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ frenemy!seokjin ft. e2l and the magnificent get-along sweater | 2K words → a/n: this is dedicated to my homie @jincherie​ who has been, as they say, wiping her ass everyday only to shit again. i can’t really do much to actually alleviate your circumstances except maybe making you smile, so i hope this can be your tiny ray of sunshine amidst the crap. this fic literally makes no sense because i wrote this within one hour so i’m sorry but pls know that ilysm!!

“Where’d you even fucking get this abomination?” you growl, struggling fruitlessly against the coarse fabric. In your fidgeting, your elbow knocks into Seokjin’s broad chest, causing more damage to your weak joints than anything. Even so, Seokjin grunts overdramatically, stepping on your toes in retaliation.

“Yoongi-chi, you know that I love you very much—” Seokjin seethes, his teeth clenched almost painfully as he fights to restrain himself from ripping the sweater in half, a la Hulk style. “—but I will not hesitate to stab you once I get out of here.”

“Not my fault that you both are acting like a bunch of toddlers,” Yoongi snorts, hip jutted out in contempt like the homosexual that he is. “And to answer your other question, I bought that sweater online after your last fight, when you two were literally wrestling on the kitchen counter. I didn’t know whether I walked into some intense BDSM play or a WWE ring.”

“You bought a fucking get-along sweater for us? What are you, some sort of Christian camp counselor?” you growl, kicking your legs out in an attempt to hit him. The slimy twink bastard jumps away gracefully, landing onto the loveseat opposite the couch that you were sitting on. He crosses his legs, opening his arms wide when your traitorous cat jumps onto his lap, looking to all the world like a terrible Bond villain from the 80s.

“If I was Christian, I would not put the two of you into a sweater together,” Yoongi says. He strokes your cat, who purrs loudly before pointing a contemptuous glare back at you, as if she was enjoying your torture too. Dumb cat. You never liked Miko anyway.

Yoongi continues, “Anyone would two eyes knows that you both are just one brawl away from fucking each other into the next dimension. Lord knows that your sexual tension could power the entire city.”

It’s Seokjin’s turn to snort, who has been relatively quiet in comparison to you. He’s also less fidgety, but that might be because he at least has the advantage and comfort of occupying 90% of the sweater space due to his oceanic shoulders. You once described him as “horizontally imbalanced,” which he did not find slightly amusing.

“I would rather place my balls into a panini press and feed them to Miko than to ever fuck Y/N,” Seokjin fake-gags, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. “It would be less hot for me to actually grill my penis than for me to sink into her hell-ish cunt. I swear, you could bake bread in there with how much yeast has accumulated from—“

You headbutt his chin before he can finish, squawking indignantly. The satisfying sound of his teeth clacking together in pain is momentary but worthwhile. “Excuse you, but it’d be an honor to fuck me! I’ve got that S-tier pussy! If my pussy was in a gacha game, people would spend thousands of dollars just to roll for my mystical coochie!”

Yoongi smirks. “So you admit that you do want Seokjin to fuck you!”

“What the fuck! No! That is—what the—I don’t!” You stammer, face flushing as you struggle to regain your footing in the conversation. Yoongi’s eyebrow raises, intrigued by your slip-up. “That is totally not what I meant, and you know it!”

Yoongi picks at his nails, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “Sorry, I don’t speak hetero. Prithee, explain thy peculiar mating rituals to one who does not walk the straight and narrow path.”

You slump back against the couch, forcing Seokjin to follow and fall backward with you. His shoulder hits you square in the boob, causing you to groan in pain. “Yoongi, just let us out of this thing before I lose a limb to this walking inflatable tubeman,” you plead, ignoring Seokjin’s glare.

“I resent that,” Seokjin inputs, but no one pays him any mind. Your attention is focused solely on the smirking kitty man in front of you, who grows smugger as time ticks on.

Everyone in your friend group is aware of the weird relationship you have with Seokjin. Ever since you met him in your freshman year of university, things were never peaceful between the two of you. It was always constant bickering, squabbling, competing… everything. Even Jungkook, Seokjin’s other sworn enemy, doesn’t argue with the elder as much as you did.

For three years, everyone just assumed it was your weird kindergarten schoolyard way of showing affection for each other, and at the beginning, it might have been. You and Seokjin, both of whom have never dated in their lifetimes despite being moderately popular while growing up, are unsurprisingly emotionally stunted and never learned how to just be nice to people you like. Affection who? Compassion where? To the both of you, physical connection can only be achieved through hair tugging and nipple pinching, and not even in the sexy way.

But at a certain point, things were starting to get tiring. Your arguments only grew larger in scale, to the point where it was getting hard to differentiate whether the bruises on your neck were from pinches or something else.

“I just… Ugh… When are they gonna fuck, hyung? I’m actually getting tired of their constant fighting,” Namjoon had lamented one afternoon, just a day after your last altercation with Seokjin. It had been a big one, where Seokjin nearly lost a tooth when you had landed a neat uppercut squarely on his jaw after he called your toes ‘a foot fetishist’s worst nightmare.’

Yoongi’s boyfriend had been staring listlessly into his bowl of soup for the past hour, and he was honestly starting to get worried when it looked like Namjoon had started muttering to himself in a foreign language. Yoongi almost thought he might have been scrying for a prophecy, begging for an answer to their most pressing question.

“What do you want me to do about it? Lock them in a room and let them out only after they’ve done the deed? Mixed bodily fluids? Performed the monkey dance to its climax?! No thanks, I don’t wanna be near them when that can of worms finally explodes,” Yoongi grimaced, shivering at the thought.

Namjoon shook his head quickly, face paling with him. “Heaven forbid. Maybe you can keep it PG? How about getting one of those get-along sweaters or something. I think they used those in kindergarten.”

Yoongi sighed. “Yeah, but the question would be how I’d get them into it.” He flaps his noodle arms around in demonstration. “I’m not exactly in the running for world’s strongest twink. Plus, years of fighting each other means they’re both stronger than I am.”

Namjoon shrugged. “Easy, just dare them to wear it. Make it into a competition. Nothing gets them more riled up than when they’re trying to outcompete each other.”

And so, that’s how the two of you had gotten stuck in a 3XXL Hello Kitty sweater that Yoongi had bought from Ebay. It has yet to be decided whether spending $40 on expedited shipping was worth it.

“Look, Yoongi-chi. We both promise that we will stop fighting once you let us out of this,” Seokjin says, smiling sweetly at him. Had Yoongi been younger and much more prone to the alluring temptation of the Straight Man™️, he might have caved. But Yoongi is older now, plus he knows when Seokjin is lying better than any polygraph test.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, waving him off. “Fat chance. You’d probably stop fighting for approximately three hours before getting mad about mint chocolate ice cream or something.”

“Hey! Give us some credit. We both agree that flavor is abhorrent, so we would never argue about that,” you retort, with Seokjin nodding furiously in agreement. You glance at him. “And I feel like we’d last at least six hours without fighting. What was our record again?”

“Five hours and twenty-two minutes,” Seokjin says.

You hum thoughtfully. “Okay, I can promise at least five hours and thirty minutes. Maybe.”

Yoongi groans, rubbing his temples in frustration. His souring mood even makes Miko jump away in fright, and the two idiots trapped in a sweater can immediately feel the dip in temperature. Uh oh, here we go!

“I am absolutely sick and tired of the two of you dumbasses fighting all the time! It’s embarrassing as hell trying to bring either of you anywhere in public because everyone mistakes your little catfights for strange foreplay or whatever,” Yoongi glowers. The two of you shrink into your seats, ashamed.

“We’ve only gotten kicked out of one Costco—” Seokjin defends. 

“But we did get fined for public indecency at the beach when I pulled your trunks down, which was totally unfair, by the way,” you mutter. 

“You literally threatened to, and I quote, ‘Suck the soul out of Seokjin’s dick until he dies.’ How the hell is that unfair?!” Yoongi exclaims. 

“It was a death threat! I would’ve accepted a charge for attempted murder, but that was not going to be a sexy blowjob, I assure you—”

Yoongi holds up a hand to silence you. “Face it, you both like each other. Whatever! Sure, you guys are the token straight people in our friend group, but that doesn’t make you bland as hell! Well, actually, it does but…” Yoongi pauses, wondering if it was worth lying. It takes a second for him to refocus. “Where was I? Oh right—“

Yoongi clears his throat, starting again. He heaves a deep breath, shoulders sagging tiredly as he puts on the sincerest face he can muster. “Listen, I just want to say that I care a lot about you, okay? And it sucks seeing the both of you hurting every time the other person says something really mean that neither of you even mean! If anything, will you please stop for me? If you really cared about our friendship, will you do it for me?”

There is a heavy pause as Yoongi strives to get his breathing back in check, his impassioned speech causing his fragile grandpa heart to race. He can feel his cheeks darkening in embarrassment, unused to using his “hyung voice” on Seokjin or you. Separately, the two of you are very reliable, never really needing him to scold either of you. Together, however… that’s a different story, but as the next eldest hyung, it really only fell to Yoongi to fix his friends’ mess of a relationship.

Screw age hierarchy. Yoongi would love to see Jungkook try to get Seokjin and you to fuck. Would absolutely pay to see the twerp squirm as he tries to even say the word “penis.”

After a while, Seokjin and you share a look. Yoongi watches with bated breath as he waits for either of you to speak, but he can sense some unspoken conversation happening between you. Perhaps, after years of exchanging blows, you had somehow knocked brain cells into each other and now share a weird psychic connection. Or, more likely, the two of you actually like each other and understand each other on a deeply personal level, so personal in fact that you could probably finish each other’s sentences, like—!

“We refuse,” you both reply in tandem, your joined voices echoing throughout the apartment. You both had said it so in sync that Yoongi might have imagined the other person speaking, but no—you both really did just say that to his face. In front of Miko. In front of his goddamn imaginary salad.

“Excuse me?” Yoongi squeaks. He cleans his ears with his fingers but finds no cotton there. These bitches! How dare they just throw his speech to the gutter! That shit took brain cells to think of, and he is not in the business of wasting his precious minutes by using them for productivity.

You shrug, leaning against Seokjin’s shoulder. He can see the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s confusion. “You heard us. We’ve made the executive decision to double our efforts, actually.”

Seokjin nods, not even shoving you off his shoulder like he normally would whenever you made contact with him. What? “Exactly. Honestly, we’ve been fighting for so long that we’ve kinda been just doing it for the bit at this point, and the fact that it annoys you so much is just the icing on the cake.”

Yoongi stares at them. His brain doesn’t feel like it’s connecting to his body at all; he feels like he’s floating. “So. What you’re saying is—“

“We know we like each other. Whatever. But we also like fighting, so who gives a shit if we’re having fun at the end of the day?” you shrug, pinching Seokjin’s cheek for good measure. As per usual, the elder retaliates by grabbing your finger with robot-like accuracy, before biting you there like a ravaging beast.

“And before you ask, no, we aren’t really dating. Yet. We kinda just wanted to piss as many people off before actually becoming official. We honestly didn’t think that you’d be the first one to crack.” Seokjin says, your finger falling from his mouth. The imprint of his teeth marks on your skin are plain as day, but you don’t look remotely bothered by it. In fact, you’re practically cooing at his ‘baby teefies’ like a psychopath.

“I—“ Yoongi stutters, at a loss for words for once in his life. He stands from the chair, but his knees give out from under him, causing him to tumble to the carpeted floor. He holds his head in his hands, shell-shocked. “So… That means…”

“Yeah, we’re kinda just freaky, I guess.” You muse before laughing hysterically when Yoongi begins to sob. “Hey, you’re right! We did make Yoongi cry! Do you think we could make Namjoon piss himself in rage when he finally confronts us too?”

Seokjin cackles, shaking your hand underneath the sweater. “If anyone can do it, I know that we can.”

And so, the two of you stand up clumsily to your feet, not bothering to escape the ridiculous sweater as you both waddled out of Yoongi’s apartment. From outside his door, Yoongi hears the sound of a new fight commencing, your shrieks resonating down the hall and for all the world to hear.

[perkynurples]

... May I ask you about the slow excruciating progression from Meng Yao to Jiggy?

also paging @holdmycaffeine and @cadencekismet, who asked me for the very same, and @acutebird-fics, who is my partner in crime deep philosophical discussions about these characters, and a great deal of this messy essay is informed by those

Tl;dr: JGY is a multifaceted character and the author struggles not to lose her mind trying to find the right words to describe that. Literally every single point of this rant is up for discussion, begging for it even, so please don’t hesitate to engage me, but, like... tomorrow, maybe. After I sleep it off.

Meta I used or referenced: THIS ONE explaining how JGS deciding to give him the name GuangYao is all kinds of wrong | THIS ONE talking about the red bindi-like Jin forehead dots, among other things | THIS ONE about his capacity for evil and his own recognition thereof

-

Alright, without any fancy preamble, here goes. Honestly, whenever I think about JGY for more than three seconds, it becomes painfully evident that there are two wolves inside me at all times - one wants to spend tens of thousands of words exploring his narrative, his choices, his abilities and his failings, his capacity for violence as well as his capacity for love...

And the other one just likes to call him a gremlin in chief in a fancy hat, and doesn’t want to go much further than that. I’m going to try and feed them both.

The thing that pisses me off about Meng Yao is just. The fact that he doesn’t stay Meng Yao, and we get to watch it happen in slow motion. You get a tiny little twink-ass kid who suddenly finds himself adopted into the Nie by the Sect Leader himself, and this is Meng Yao, the son of one of Jin Guangshan’s many mistresses, who doesn’t have a whole lot going for him aside from that, at that moment - his cultivation, weak. His opportunities, nonexistent. His dick, small. His political savvy, only just starting to show itself.

And this guy gets the chance of a lifetime presented to him on a Qinghe-silver platter. Like, we can argue about book canon and try and decide if he did anything at all to make NMJ notice him, but show canon makes it all the more hilarious (again, please refer to this gem of a post for a level of humor I’m sorely incapable of) - you’re seventeen, and the Batman of the cultivation world picks you up and elevates your status across swathes of societal norms, to a level you previously could have only dreamed of.

It’s interesting to me to try and imagine if this was the moment that Meant Something - in the grand scope of things, of course it did, because it started MY on the road to JGY, but also to Meng Yao personally, in terms of what he believed he could comfortably achieve. I do not for a second believe he started out wanting to murder people to reach his goal, or that he even had a good goal to begin with - being accepted by his father, maybe. Murdering the (at the time) greatest villain in the world, becoming a renowned spy, landing an incredibly beneficial sworn brotherhood, et cetera et cetera? I mean, the kid has wet dreams, but no way do they reach this far at this point in his life.

But so many things about him are unclear. Show canon changes his timeline, in that he met NMJ before he met Lan Xichen, and even accompanied NHS to the Cloud Recesses. Either way, his stint with the Nie is incredibly personally important to him. I firmly believe he loved and admired them, in his own way. He certainly flourished under NMJ’s tutelage and approval, but in the end, his motivations, his entire raison d���etre, clashed with NMJ’s too much. To Meng Yao, who’d gotten kicked down those infamous Koi Tower stairs for daring to ask for his father’s attention, murdering a guy for slandering him and his mother was a natural outcome of being slandered his entire life, and finally having had enough - to NMJ, it was unforgivable.

But this still isn’t where Meng Yao becomes Jin Guangyao, and it begs the goddamn question - how much of what JGY was perfectly willing and capable of doing to stay in power, had been present in Meng Yao that entire time? You see him make excuses that someone who isn’t NMJ, with his incredibly staunch morals and black-and-white view of the world, might have even accepted, but instinctively, you know - making excuses is just how it’s going to be with this guy.

Because Meng Yao, as well as Jin Guangyao, lies, and he is damn good at it. He is so good at it, that he lies his way to the very top of the Wen, all the way to Wen Ruohan’s side. His lying is what enables him to become Jin Guangyao. And like any good liar, he doesn’t only lie to the people around him - he also lies to himself.

And I can’t blame him, because - been there. Lying to yourself becomes absolutely necessary, when you want to keep everyone else around you believing in a mask you wear. You need to start believing it, at least a little bit, at least sometimes, for it to work.

At this point, you’re probably wondering - but Annie, what about the time he spent a year sheltering Lan Xichen? Did he lie then? Was he not just Meng Yao, a poor but cunning bookkeeper, then? I’m getting there, I swear. Slowly and in a roundabout sort of way, because honestly, I don’t know how I can start talking about the LXC of it all, without it turning into a novel.

Because whichever way you twist it, whatever canon you choose to follow, one constant remains - A-Yao’s feelings for Lan Xichen. I’m deliberately not calling him Meng Yao or Jin Guangyao, because it’s these feelings that divide the two, but also ultimately unify them, fatally so. But we’ll get there.

In one version of events, Meng Yao travels to Cloud Recesses at the behest of NMJ, and falls in love with a statue made of jade there. In another version of events, they meet during something LXC only describes as ‘the shame of a lifetime’. Both of those events lead to Meng Yao sheltering LXC, hiding him, saving his life and those precious Gusu Lan texts.

Whatever version of events you choose to see as the right one, one other truth also remains - Lan Xichen offers freely and without asking that which Meng Yao has had to struggle to attain, that which has been denied to him time and time again, based only on the circumstances of his birth: respect. Lan Xichen never looks down on him, never brings up his origins, and instead extends him respect and dignity in a way only he is capable of - no fucking wonder Meng Yao admires him. No fucking wonder, when this amazing guy, this perfect pristine handsome number one young cultivator, looks at him, smiles at him, and actually sees him, son of a whore or not.

No fucking wonder Meng Yao loves him, and Jin Guangyao continues loving him. No fucking wonder he never means to hurt him, but does so anyway.

But here’s the thing - lying to yourself to make things work only gets you so far. Do I think Meng Yao spends restless nights in cold sweat dreading who he’s becoming, thinking about all the lives he’s taken to further his goals? Absolutely not. Do I think he does good things, often even great things, because it helps him feel better about himself? Do I think he both loves Xichen and keeps him around because it’s beneficial to him, having the Lan Sect Leader in his pocket, but also personally speaking, having someone who so firmly believes in the goodness in him? You bet your overly adorned murderhat I do.

And frankly, reducing Jin Guangyao to one or the other - coldblooded murderer or a man plagued by his own insecurities, helpless and trying to be kind in a world that’s so evidently against him - is doing a character like him a huge disservice. You have to consider all sides, if you want to truly understand him. Hell, I myself am by no means claiming to truly understand him! He pisses me off daily, and I’m writing this stream-consciousness-y thing because he simply won’t shut up in my head.

This kid makes Choices, and here’s the catch - he doesn’t regret a whole lot of them. If anything, I’d like to think he regrets going along with his father’s plans for so fucking long before finally realizing that avenue won’t bring him what he seeks. Killing Jin Guangshan, by the way? Very sexy of him, that I’ll admit. Guy was a pig.

But even the obviously Good Choices he makes? Building those damn watchtowers? Letting Mo Xuanyu stay at Koi Tower? Seating Qin Su by his side at that same throne where his shitty father entertained concubine after concubine? (Frankly, please make up your own mind as to whether he was lying or telling the truth about learning about Qin Su being his sister before or after they’d consummated their marriage, I’m choosing to believe that he hadn’t known.)

How much of it really happens out of the goodness of his own heart, and how much of it happens because he wants to improve his own reputation, kintsugi away the minuscule cracks in his own image until he’s once again a perfect picture of Jin gold? Is he himself even capable of telling the difference, recognizing where his good intentions end and his desire to look out for number one begins? When you spend so much time crafting your own perfect mask, in your own head as well as others’, the lines blur real fast.

I think ultimately, he craves respect as much as he does pity, and those two never mesh well - the cultivation world never truly accepts him, his father certainly never truly accepts him, but Jin Guangyao is not Wei Wuxian, he can’t just look at all of these perceived injustices and slights, all of this gossip and slander, and say ‘Whatever’. No, Meng Yao takes one look at the world standing against him so very vehemently, and decides to fight it, fight tooth and nail for his place in it, until he comes out Jin Guangyao on the other side, gilded and pristine, ascending the stairs of Jinlintai to exact his revenge on anyone who dares not accept him.

The Guanyin Temple, in a way, is a perfect little vignette of his character - we observe him wildly oscillating between seeking out the aforementioned respect and pity, confessing boldly and laughing loudly one second, and pleading on his knees and clutching onto Lan Xichen’s robe the next. To him, that night, and everything leading up to it, is a series of footholds - the ground begins crumbling under his feet when he learns of the letter, and he has to act fast. 

He buys himself time, excuse after excuse, thinking on his feet, and here’s the thing - he’s not necessarily the best at that. Anymore. Up until that point, until the letter and Qin Su and WWX turning up, everything is going according to plan, and his plan at this point is, frankly, correct me if I’m wrong, sitting pretty at the top of his golden tower and making sure the truth about him never comes to light, which... Well, we all know the truth has a nasty way of coming around when it’s least convenient for you. 

And I think Jin Guangyao (not Meng Yao) is, at that point, unused to being inconvenienced. Everything he ever does, he calculates, he twists the public opinion of himself, he twists individual people’s opinions of himself, to suit him - nothing unexpected ever happens anymore, because he’s played the game long enough to foresee most things. Nie Huaisang beats him at that same game, not because he has a huge plan spanning decades of his own, but because he’s good at improvising, kicking the hornet’s nest and then knowing where to direct the fallout - but that is another essay all of its own waiting to happen.

For now, I feel like I need to wrap this up before I lose my mind. Personally (and please feel free to challenge me on this any time), I don’t feel like there’s a single defining moment, or even a handful of them, traumatic or otherwise, that irrevocably turns Meng Yao into Jin Guangyao. Sure, being kicked down the literal stairs leading to a better place for you a handful of times will have you feeling some kind of way. Sure, serving a maniacal warlord while playing an impossibly high-stakes game of spy poker will leave a mark or two. Sure, your sworn brother spitting in your face the very insults you’ve been hearing your whole life and never learned to shake off, will make one more vestige of patience inside you irrevocably crumble to smithereens. But.

Your whole life, you work very, very hard. You know to put your head down and get your hands dirty, but you also know that sometimes, the best way out of a hairy situation is turning on those puppy eyes and appearing just a smidgen weaker, a smidgen more frightened and helpless, than you actually are. And if, when you actually tell the truth and people still don’t believe you, lying becomes easier, becomes, eventually, so easy it feels as natural as breathing? Well. Might as well use that particular skillset to sneak your way through a war, am I right? Might as well use it to build yourself a nest among the very vultures who resent you, and whom you resent, and make sure that they have to respect you.

In the end, to me? Jin Guangyao is the guy who jumps from person to person, from callout to very personal callout, there in the Guanyin Temple, just to stall for time, just to regain some sort of foothold in the situation - he’s the guy who probably views losing an arm as a necessary sacrifice, shakes it off and still gets to work from there.

Meng Yao is the guy who wants to take his mother with, and who asks Lan Xichen the one question he’s dreaded knowing the answer to his entire life - not ‘will you stay and die with me?’, but the one that hides beyond that.

Is this what devotion is? Respect? Love? Is there, at this moment in time, enough of all of those things in your heart that you will, in fact, stay and die with me?

When Lan Xichen says yes, without words but still loudly enough to be understood without a doubt, Meng Yao is relieved, while Jin Guangyao is vindicated.

When Lan Xichen says yes, neither version of A-Yao needs to hear any more than that - the seventeen-year-old boy shooting a shot way above his station and loving a statue made of jade, who wants Lan Xichen to survive, and the man wearing the wrong name and the title of the first Chief Cultivator of his generation, who wants Lan Xichen to live with the weight of all his mistakes and misgivings, are both, for once, in accord. They’re both happy, and they both make that final push to save him.

In conclusion, if there even is one to this jumble of random thoughts... Jin Guangyao and Meng Yao are one and the same. Aspects of one can be found in the other, but neither feels remorse about his choices. Both of them, in turn, are capable of amazing things. Both of them are, in fact, capable of decidedly horrible things. One builds a wall around the other so thick, so impenetrable, you only catch glimpses, and only the ones he allows you to see. One learns very quickly that vulnerability is dangerous, unless employed proactively, and the other one perfects the craft.

Both of them believe they are perfectly justified in their actions. Both of them believe their own line of reasoning, their own excuses. Both of them want to be loved, for very different reasons, or for the very same ones, at the end of the day.

Both of them aspire to greatness, Meng Yao some vague idea of it instilled in him by his mother teaching him to believe his own worth, Jin Guangyao a more concrete vision of it, always one step ahead, one step higher up those gilded stairs. Both of them are willing to excuse a whole lot to reach it, too.

And when Jin Guangyao finally stands in Koi Tower, properly this time, wearing that coveted golden peony, wearing that red zhushazhi and a much nicer version of the hat his mother always told him to wear, but also wearing the wrong fucking name, one that barely gives him a spot in the family he belongs to by blood?

All he needs to do is take one look in the mirror to see Meng Yao staring back, always there with him, always ready to remind him where he came from. He’s seventeen years old, and he just buried his mother, and somewhere out there, the rest of his life awaits. His smile is all dimples, and that, too, they have in common.

Time to get to work, Meng Yao suggests, and Jin Guangyao agrees.

[wish-that-i-was-buckys-girl]

hey! could i possibly request a blaine one shot where the reader is another girl working on the ski patrol with blaine and they absolutely hate each other, but one day they get stuck in a snowstorm during work and end up lost for a few days? and during those few days they just get more and more lied up with each other until they just end up hate-fucking our in the open? it can end however, but i’ve been dying for some blaine action🥰🥰thank you💕

Thank you so much nonnie! I enjoyed writing this so much. I hope you enjoy it too!

Warnings: Fat Shaming, smut, slight bullying.

If there are any misspellings I’m sorry! I wrote this all on tumblr and didn’t get a time to proofread it in a different document.

Ice, Ice, Baby.

_______________________________________________

You walked to the cafe for hot chocolate at seven o’clock in the morning to prepare for your shift. It wasn’t easy being on ski patrol, that’s for sure.

Dads always tried hitting on you while you were trying to watch their wives kids struggle to learn the most basic of skiing. You just nodded in agreement and smiled a little to get through the conversations. Wouldn’t wanna get written up for being “rude” to a paying member of the resort. It wasn’t always so bad, some of the dads were kind of cute, and they always tipped well if you just did the bare minimum of looking good and reacting to their advances. You weren’t even supposed to get tipped, but that didn’t stop them. However, you didn’t enjoy watching their wives glare at you around dinner time. You could always feel their eyes burning into the back of your head.

Although you absolutely loathed the attention from the dad’s (besides the occasional tip), there was one reason why you absolutely dreaded going to work every day.

Blaine. You could say he was the Blaine of your existence. Shitty dad jokes always crept into your head due to how much time you end up spending with them.

You had tried being nice the first couple of weeks into the job, only to be met with incredible amounts of misogyny and downright assholeishness. God, you hated him. It was so unlike you to hate anyone, but the kid was ruthless.

He always made nasty remarks about the way you look, whether it was your facial features or your weight, he had it covered. Even though he always tried to get his friends to join in on the action, they never did. Everyone else liked you at the resort. Blaine was the only problem.

You made your way up to your snowmobile, tredging in the deep snow with your backpack and snow shoes on. You secured your hot chocolate and your backpack before riding it all the way up to your post. The post wasn’t too bad by itself. It was close to a nearby cabin in case of emergencies, stocked with food, with working water and electricity to last for up to a month. Even longer if it was less than 4 people.

You finally arrived at your post, hoping Blaine wouldn’t be there yet.

He was.

Fuck.

“You’re looking plump today y/n, more than usual. Must be from all the hot chocolate you’ve been drinking” he said laughing to Chaz. Chaz just rolled his eyes under his sunglasses. You could tell.

“Ha ha Blaine, you’re so original. It’s not like I’ve heard that one before yesterday. Or the day before that. Or the day before that.”

“Yeah, well I think saying it everyday is a good reminder. Maybe I’ll see you in the resort gym one day because of it.”

“Why? Is it cause ya wanna see my tits bounce in a sports bra? Get ya all hot and bothered?”

Blaine just gritted his teeth in response. You could tell he wanted to say something, but didn’t cause he didn’t want to give you the wrong idea. Or the right idea.

Blaine always had a pretty girl on his arm. You doubt he was attracted to you, but you say those things because it shuts him up every time.

You bundled up extra today. The news said there was a possibility of a snow storm, but it was highly unlikely. Still, the wind chill was extremely cold today, making you double up on the clothes underneath your snow suit. You wore a beanie, mittens, and a scarf too, just in case.

You and Chaz chatted for a while, Blaine giving you resentful side glances and a few eye rolls here and there to show his detest towards your interaction. God, what was his fucking problem?

At about noon, Chaz took his lunch, leaving you and Blaine alone for at least a half an hour.

Silence filled the mountains. Barely anyone was out on the slopes due to the potential storm coming, but that didn’t stop your job from making you go out anyways.

The silence was broken with a call from the walkie talkies. It was your manager, Janice.

“Get off the slopes, news just confirmed one of the worst snow storms to hit this side of the mountain in three years. I repeat ge-“

The walkie talkies went silent. The wind began to pick up, starling both you and Blaine. You acted quickly, knowing this could be a life or death situation. You both hopped on your snowmobiles to get to the cabin nearby. Unfortunately, Blaines wasn’t working. You quickly shouted “Get on!” Reluctantly, Blaine hopped on the back of your snowmobile. Thank god it was his snowmobile that wasn’t working. You’re not so sure Blaine would’ve rescued you if it was your snowmobile that died and not his.

You reached the cabin just in time, the snow finally picking up with the wind. You quickly grabbed the keys from your snowmobile and stuck them in the front door.

“Hurry! Jesus Christ we’ll die at this rate!”

“I’m trying asshole! Stop yelling at me!”

The door finally swung open. You and Blaine rushed inside, aggressively slamming the door behind you and locking it.

Both catching your breath while clutching onto your things, you made eye contact.

Of course you thought.

Of course I’m stuck with the one goddamn person who hates me in the middle of one of the biggest snowstorms of the decade.

Blaine didn’t hold back what he was thinking.

“Great, I’m stuck with Fat Albert with minimal supplies. We’ll be out of food by tomorrow.”

You scowled at him snd stood up.

“THAT’S IT. First of all, I’m not fat. Second off, even if I was, that is none of your goddamn business to make comments on it. I have fat on my body. Just because I’m not the twink of the century like you doesn’t mean I should be degraded for it. We are stuck here for god only knows how long. If you just shut up I’m sure we can make it through this. But you’ve got to stop being such a fucking asshole to me all the time.”

Blaine just stood there and rolled his eyes again at your response. At least he didn’t open his loud mouth.

Such a fucking drama queen.

_______________________________________________

As the sun began to set, your stomach started to growl, loudly. You resisted eating all day due to Blaines comments, but you knew you had to eat at some point.

You gathered the courage to make your way into the kitchen to look around.

Thank god they keep this up to date regularly.

There were tons of cans of different soups, ravioli, spaghetti, fruits and vegetables, and non-perishables that would keep you sustained for a long time. Especially with only two people being in the cabin.

You decided to microwave some of the ravioli. Just as you opened the microwave door, it shut again with a hand directly planted on the glass.

“Well well well, what do we have here? Is two ton Tony looking for a little snack?” Blaine said in a mocking tone.

“Fuck off Blaine. It’s dinner time, I’m hungry and I know you are too. You just haven’t eaten yet to prove a damn point and humiliate me. Now if you don’t shut up I will eat all the food and make sure you starve to death.”

He grimaced at your response and walked to a cupboard to look for food of his own. Thank god. You swore you were five seconds away from giving him a swift punch to the face.

You both ate your dinners in separate rooms. You didn’t want to interact with each other more than you had to.

After a few more hours of existing in separate rooms, you decided you wanted to fall asleep for the night. You casually walked into the bedroom, having absolutely no pajamas to change into, you figured you would either sleep with the clothes you had on or just sleep in your underwear. There were enough blankets to keep you warm if you did end up choosing the latter. As you walked into the room you noticed something horrible.

There was only one bed.

How could this even be possible? There were supposed to be four, as most times three to four people were on ski patrol.

Then you remembered three out of the four beds were taken out two months ago, as they were desperately disgusting. The shipments for the new beds hadn’t come in yet, figuring a situation like this wouldn’t even happen at all.

Go figure.

You decided since you got to the bedroom first, you’d have the bed. Fuck Blaine, he’d been an asshole to you the entire time you’ve known him, he can sleep on the damn couch.

You began to strip, thinking it was wise not to smell up the two sets of clothes you had to last you for god only knows how long.

You ended up sleeping in a bra and underwear. Normally you wouldn’t have even worn the bra, but considering Blaine was in the building and you couldn’t lock the bedroom door, you figured it was the safest bet.

As you crawled into bed you heard footsteps heading towards the bedroom.

Here we go.

Blaine entered, looking just as bewildered as you did when you found out there was only one bed.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You ignored his comment, simply rolling over under the covers.

He stormed over to the bed and ripped the blanket off, revealing your half-naked body in the process.

You became infuriated.

“Hey!!! Do you fucking mind!” You said screaming and grabbing for the blanket.

Blaine stood there in a daze for several seconds, not expecting to see as much as he was planning on seeing.

Thank god I had my bra on.

You expected Blaine to have a comeback to seeing your body. Something about a beached whale ending up in the bed, or anything along those lines. Surprisingly, he didn’t. He had nothing to say at all. He just turned around and slammed the door behind him.

What the fuck was his issue? Whatever it was, he better fix it fast. Your patience was running thin, and it was only day one.

_______________________________________________

Several days had gone by, and the snowstorm wasn’t slowing down at all.

Blaine had ignored you at all costs. If he had to interact with you, he always made some snide comment under his breath. This somehow pissed you off even more. At least before you didn’t have to guess what he was thinking, he said it directly to your face. Now, you had no clue what he was saying about you. God it made your blood boil.

It was around lunchtime again when you saw him. You had chosen to eat chicken noodle soup that day, as you had been colder that day compared to most others.

On your way out of the kitchen, you bumped into Blaine.

You heard him make a comment under his breath again, something alone the lines of “.......fucking bitch.......where you’re goin.”

You had had enough.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

He was taken aback by your abrasiveness. Nonetheless, he still had a response to your question.

“I said, watch where the hell you’re going you fucking bitch.” He enunciated slowly, in a condescending manner.

You were done.

“I’ve had enough of this fucking bullshit Blaine. Why the hell do you hate me so much? What the hell did I ever do to you?”

“Your looks have insulted me from the day I met you. I learned all that I needed to know by just looking at you.”

Out of no where, you decided to shove him. You shoved him so hard he hit the wall behind him.

He looked confused and offended.

“Did you just shove me?”

“I don’t know, did I just shove you? Or did you trip over your enormous fucking ego?”

Blaine stood up tall and pinned you to the wall.

He looked you dead in the face, his eyes piercing into you with anger and something else...

You returned his stare, hopefully having the same effect on him that he was having on you.

After staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, Blaine kissed you, hard.

You resisted, you resisted so much but your head didn’t have anywhere to go. After a few seconds you gave into the kiss, slowly moving your lips with his. You hated to admit it, but his lips were so soft. It was like kissing clouds surrounding the gates to heaven.

Finally, Blaine pulled back and began staring into your eyes once more. Again, you lept at each other. You grabbed his hair and the side of his face, while he grabbed your hair and your ass to hike up your leg against his hip. Your lips were on each other in no time, sucking and pulling on both his lips and his tongue.

God you were so turned on.

You hated that he made you feel this way but fuck if he wasn’t good. He felt so goddamn good.

He hoisted you up against the wall, your legs wrapping around his hips as you continued to aggressively make out like the two horny twenty-one-year-olds you were. After kissing for five minutes straight, Blaine put you down so you could both remove your pants.

You spoke first “We don’t tell anyone about this.”

Blaine just nodded in agreement, eager to put his cock inside of you.

He hoisted you up against the wall for a second time, wasting no time shoving his cock into your pussy.

“Ohhhh fuck Blaine... go slow go slow...”

You also hated to admit it, but he wasn’t lacking in at least one department.

He smirked, knowing it was too much for you in such a short amount of time.

“What’s wrong y/l/n, can’t get fucked right either?”

“Maybe if you fucked me better I wouldn’t have to complain so much.”

All the talking had allowed time for your pussy to become soaked. Blaine could feel how wet you were. He also noticed how tight you were.

“Fuck, your pussy has been this tight the entire time and you never told me?”

“Oh Jesus Christ just shut up and fuck me before I change my mind Blaine.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He also took it upon himself to take that as the cue to go as fast as he needed to.

He started pumping in and out of you at a rapid pace, making absurdly loud slapping noises in the process.

You couldn’t help but moan into his neck, his name on your lips every ten seconds.

“Fuck, fuck , fuck Blaine don’t stop! Oh god don’t fucking stop.”

He loved hearing his name come out of your mouth like that. In all honesty, Blaine has wanted to fuck you since the day he met you. He suppressed that lust with crude comments, hoping the feelings would subside. Guess that didn’t work out too well.

“Yeah you like that baby? Huh? Like that I’m fucking your pretty pussy?”

“Oh god yes Blaine! Fuck me harder!”

He wasted no time, pounding into you as fast and as hard as he could. You couldn’t help but let your eyes roll in the back of your head as he fucked you so good you thought you were about to see God himself.

Blaine loved seeing you like this, drained by him fucking you relentlessly. In fact, he loved it so much he felt the need to repress his feelings once again, which would be his last effort in trying to do so.

“I still fucking hate you, oh god, oh fuck.”

You looked at him, dead in the eyes, and said “Bold words coming from a man who’s cock is in me.”

All he could do was smile, going in for another kiss while he continued to plow you.

Both of your moans filled the cabin, screaming with no shame, knowing for a fact no one would hear you.

You felt a tight coil forming in your lower stomach, causing you to hold onto Blaine’s shoulders tighter.

“Oh fuck Blaine, I’m gonna cum, oh god I’m gonna cum.”

Blaine took it upon himself to whisper more comments in your ear as you reached your climax together.

“Goddamn right you’re gonna cum on my cock. This is my pussy. No one else gets to touch it, just me. Cum for me baby, you can do it.”

You both screamed as you came, Blaine unintentionally spilling his seed into you. Thank god you remembered to bring your birth control pill.

Just as you two were coming down from your high, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye.

Not something, but someone.

It was Chaz.

You hadn’t noticed while you were fucking, but the snow had cleared up enough just for a one person rescue party. Chaz had come in just moments ago. However, he didn’t say anything. He really didn’t have anything to say. He was stunned.

As you both stared at Chaz, you were the first to speak.

“Well, fuck.”

[antigenius]

Submission

Pairing: Slight Yandere!Deku x Tipsy!Reader

Warnings: Slight smut towards the end, strippers, cursing, handcuffs

A/N: So I haven’t made any good smut in a while (I’ve never published my smut before) and this idea decided to pop in my head so enjoy ig :”) I’ll write the full pp into vv in the next part soon!! Pt 1 || Pt 2 

(This smut is inspired by this picture by Bobafiish on picuki! Go check them out on Twitter and Insta!!)

You were a whore. Period. No point in saying some bullshit that you were a ‘good girl’ or that you ‘went to church every Sunday’. You just had high standards. Everyone you had met so far was either a twink, or a switch leaning to bottom. If they were a top, they were just mediocre. They’d get themselves off and nothing more. You’d be left alone, cold and empty, literally. It was becoming so hard to find someone to replace him.

You could just feel his teeth trailing across your neck, hovering over your pulse just before biting hard, leaving a purplish-blue bruise to form. His plush lips would graze over the mark, placing a feathery kiss before moving up to your lips, stealing your breath. His cold hands would ghost your torso gently, feeling your soft skin before pulling your hips down to meet his. You’d feel his clothed dick beneath your soaked panties, but he’d just let you sit there, waiting ‘til you begged.

Izuku ‘Deku’ Midoriya.

Gods was he something else.

You crossed your legs on the barstool, quickly taking a sip of your cocktail. You were getting more heated the more you thought about it. You had to get your mind off of him somehow. He was no good. He was creepy. You had found a book where he wrote about where you went each morning, how your toilet routines were like, your relationships with all of your friends, everything. You had also found a page that was sticky, filled with scribbles and drawings of you nude in bed. It was downright disgusting to think he watched you while you slept. You once even found a photo of him jacking off to you drooling.

You let the drink in your glass swirl twice before taking another sip. You were here to find someone new, and exciting. Someone who could show you a good time. Well, you’d hope so, being at a male strip club.

No one seemed to catch your interest just yet, they were all just candy for the eyes, but not a man you’d crave. Not to mention, their cocks were too big. You might like a big bitch, but even you didn’t want a guy with a nine-incher. Too much work, especially if they wanted to try pulling out.

You were beginning to get desperate though. It’d been at least a year since you had a proper fuck. You down the rest of your cocktail, sniffling a little bit. Any fuck would feel good if you were drunk, right?

You place your glass back down onto the bar counter, placing it beside the four other glasses.

“Get me another.”

The bartender nods slowly, looking at you funnily before screwing his eyebrows together.

“(Y/n)?”

You snap your head towards the familiar voice, immediately regretting the decision. Your head spins just a little as you try to focus on the person in front of you.

“It’s you, isn’t it? I haven’t seen you since, well…”

He gave a shy, sweet smile, but you knew better than to fall for it. You turn away from him.

“What happened to the other bartender?” You ask, nonchalant.

“I took over a while ago.” He peers at you from the side, green curly hair falling into his face. “You look… Different. Did you do something to yourself?”

You stood up from the chair, ignoring the fact that your sense of balance was screwed. “Shut up. I don’t wanna talk to you.”

Your brain tells your body to take a step forward, but you only stumble, causing the male to catch you by the arm.

“Hey! Be careful! You clearly had too much to drink!”

You face him, his forest eyes were still as dark as ever, luring you in like an incubus searching for his new prey. His arms were still laden with scars, prettily decorating his muscles as he steadied you to the counter. You let your eyes wander. He must’ve been one of the strippers that were dancing, looking at his costume. It was a police cosplay of some kind, the shirt fully unbuttoned to let his freckled abs show. A handcuff was on his wrist whilst his skinny jeans pressed hard against a certain area. He seems to notice your gaze, a red blush flourishing upon his cheeks.

“It’s… Costume week. Boss said I’d look good as a policeman.”

His voice was soft, a little husky even, or maybe it was just your head making it sound like that. The bass of the music made your heart vibrate even harder, and all you could do was stare.

You begged your body to be rational. You begged and PLEADED your drunken state to at least think twice about the words that would come out of its mouth. Seems like you were deaf, because your next words tumbled out of you before you could stop yourself.

“Fuck me.”

He blinks, but you could see the sliver of a smirk twitch on his plump lips. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play games with me Deku. I’m giving you a fucking rope right now, so fuck me.”

The smirk grows, spreading across his face as he chucks the dish rag to a random stripper.

“Kacchan, take my shift. I’ve got somebody.”

Before said stripper could begin to shout at him, he leaves some cash on the table, courteously paying your tab before sweeping you into his arms.

“Let’s take this to the VIP room, hm?”

He flashes you a grin, a grin that sends electricity crackling down your spine. With a jangle of some keys, he opens the room, the scent of musky cologne filling your nostrils. A plush red sofa sat at the wall whilst the room lights were dimmed for effects. Opened condom packets littered the floor. He gently sets you down to stand, locking the door behind him. He unclicks the handcuff that dangled on his wrist, grabbing yours and cuffing them together. His tongue pokes out cheekily from behind his teeth, glinting from the piercing.

“What a cute criminal I’ve caught…”

With a chuckle, he places a hand underneath your chin, lifting your jaw up. You instinctively back away, only to hit the wall behind you. He comes closer, you could smell the acrid tones of honey and sweet perfume, it made you feel lightheaded. He captures you, ensnares you with his lips alone. It was sweet at first, a mellow teenage kiss before his tongue slips in, turning it all a bit more passionate. A dull pulse hits your lower abdomen, making you rub your thighs together to try and ease it. He pulls away, laughing.

“Wow… Just from that huh?”

His giggles were light, like he could never do wrong in the world. He pushes his hands in-between your thighs, rubbing against your clothed clit. You stubbornly bite your lip, holding back a small gasp. He raises an eyebrow at this, a cool palm pressing on the small of your back.

“Oh.” He frowns. “You’re not gonna confess?”

You glare at him. “Confess what?”

He leans in, nose tickling your ear. “That you missed me this whole time?”

You grit your teeth as he continued. “Face it, I’m the best you ever had right? I’m the only one who KNOWS you.”

You hold your urge to spit in his face. “You’re disgusting, you know that right?”

He puckers his lips together, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “That hurts (Y/n), I know you love me.”

You tch. “Bullshit.”

He lets his shirt fall to the floor, arms and pecs in full glory. You look at him expectantly. He looks back, tilting his head.

“You want help?”

His tone was pissing you off.

“Oh I dunno, do I?” You retort, jangling your cuffs. Midoriya raises his hands in surrender.

“Woah calm down. I’ve got you.”

He rips your little black dress in half, making you almost lunge at him in fury.

“What the fuck Midoriya?! That’s my fucking clothes!”

“Clothes schmodes, I’ll get you a new one.”

You were about to snap back at him, but you were shushed by his lips pressing onto yours. He goes lower, soon reaching your cunt. Pulling your panties to the floor, he pushes his tongue into your folds, the metal piercing feeling you just right. You try to go and grab his head, but your wrists push against the cuffs. You felt a vibration flow through you; he was snickering.

“You’re not trying all too hard, are you sure you didn’t miss me?”

“Piss off, Deku.”

He presses his tongue flat against your puffy nerves. A shaky breath leaves your lips, try as you might.

“There we go…”

He laps at you almost like a dog, relishing how you’d clench your fists. He could practically hear you internally abusing his name like a mantra, but he wanted to hear it properly out of your pretty glossed lips. He removes himself from your pussy momentarily, roughly pushing you onto the couch. White stains covered the velvety surface, along with some sort of slimy drool, something along the line. You half-gagged at the sight.

“Yeah, we never clean this thing. Always gets dirty.” He hums. “Hope you don’t mind.”

With that, he goes back to work, lips connecting with your lower ones. His tongue strokes against your slit, the piercing cold compared to the rest of the muscle. His hands snake up your hips, fingers teasing the undersides of your breasts. You hiss.

“I have the ability to kick you Midoriya, I will not hesitate.”

He looks up at you from his position. “And I can stop right now, if I so wanted to. Go ahead.”

You hated this. Your blood boiled, only making the dull pulse grow stronger within you. He sneered.

“Thought so.”

He picks your soaked panties from the floor, shoving it into your mouth. “Now stay quiet, you talk too much.”

The damp fabric was cold in your mouth, leaving you to spit it out in disgust. Midoriya notices this, forcing it back with a click of tongue.

“Even when you’re cuffed you’re resisting.” A sigh leaves his lips. “I guess it’s time for the punishment, hm?”

He sucks your clit harshly, then releases it, blowing cool breath onto your heat. You squirm at the feeling, biting down on the undergarment in your mouth. Without warning, he thrusts his fingers into you, the squelching noise loud and clear even with the blasting music.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

[berrymeter]

hi everyone this is my first fic be nice to me <3

in which y/n gets to bully mark tuan for free - somewhere over 1k words

It’s getting a little late, isn’t it ? You check your watch— just kidding, you don’t have one. What year is it, 2006 ? Don’t make me laugh. Rather than a clock bracelet conveniently placed around your wrist you lower your eyes to the bottom right corner of your laptop to confirm your suspicions… Ah, yes, the passage of time. You spent the entire damn afternoon scrolling through social media like some kind of zoomer-millennial-loser, again. (Chances are you’re one.) Still that doesn’t negate the fact that it is assuredly late now ; shouldn’t that passive aggressive twink-passing dude be back by now ?

Okay, it’s not that late. Just about time for dinner, the good ol’ almost-nine in the evening. Realistically you shouldn’t be complaining, you never actually have dinner with your problematic roommate nor do you eat dinner at an appropriate time yourself, but you open your notes app nonetheless and add another bullet point to your list: “Things I Get To Throw In His Face When We Have An Argument”. Build up your arsenal and release it all when the time is right, that’ll show him. An exaggerated sigh escapes your lips. Is it so hard to be punctual, after all ? He told you he’d be back by eight ! You’d planned to watch a movie together ! Not that it ever amounted to anything since an argument always broke out mid-film, but plans were nice every once in a while. You bite your bottom lip in annoyance, zoning out for a brief few seconds ( minutes ? Are you aware of time ? I’m not) as your eyes lose focus over the screen emitting all that nasty blue light, before deciding to just brush it off – at the very least, until he gets there. Once the door opens, it’s on. Some more scrolling and it gets you thinking, since your brain doesn’t have much better to do while he’s not here to get his ass jumped by you. You think. You think about how you referred to him as a “twink-passing” dude just a few paragraphs earlier. (You are currently in the mind of the narrator. I get to be y/n.) Why so ? Well, very simply, a twink would refer to a man who engages in romantic relationships with other men, or would at least be willing to. You’re unsure whether he would consider it. He sure looks like you could snap him like a twig though, so you call him a twink anyway. What’s he going to do ? Punch your kneecaps ? (Even if you are short, I, the writer, am shorter than you. I am offering you the ability to be taller than Mark Tuan. Use it wisely.) You think a little further, and think of how ‘twink’ has been used so many times as a joke, like it’s a funny insult. Is it right ? Are we not taking the term seriously enough ? You drop that train of thought soon enough. It doesn’t matter: twinks should be bullied. What convinced you of this is that twink from that NCT group, the one with the monosyllabic name. You nod to yourself. Yes, twinks should undeniably be bullied. (Note that I am a twink too, it’s okay, relax, I’m not calling for twink oppression. I mean I kinda am actually tho.) Within a few more seconds, your eyelids start to slip shut. Ah… What was that about the zoomer-millennial-loser thing ? You know it’s not easy these days to be productive, to find things you enjoy when you’re not in the right headspace, and being in the right headspace is not easy itself either. Work is tiring. You need those bucks, though. You struggle to work and then on your day off you scroll through social media. It doesn’t actually make you a loser, does it ? That’s what the bitter older generations will try to feed you, but it’s all wrong. You’re just living. Yes, you are. I’m proud of you. You made it this far ! Keep scrolling. Maybe get off Twitter though, that’s not how you’re going to make yourself feel any better in any capacity, unless your thing is pissing off ARMYs and getting terminated within the hour… The door unlocks. Your mind snaps back in. Wow, gee, at least you managed to pass time ! And it’s… yikes, you probably dozed off too during that time, because it’s past ten. An offended frown graces your features as you turn to look at that little bastard, that short fucking stick, that— “ Wha ! ” You get hit in the face with a purse… Damn, gay ass, he’s carrying a purse around now ? Wait, hold on. Why the fuck— “ Why the fuck did you do that ? ” you exclaim as you throw the purse aside. The devil’s looking at you with that passive aggressive smile of his on his face. Sickening. “ I heard what you said about Virgo men the other day, ” he responds, his voice barely hiding the pent up anger, “ and that wasn’t really nice, (y/n). We actually shower, you know ? ” “ Yeah, well, you’re gonna need to prove that, bitch boy. ” He grabs his keys and throws them in your face. Ouch, hey ! “ Stop that ! I wasn’t even lying, I— " His hand goes through his pocket while you speak and this time his phone hits your head. It’s enough. Quickly you stand, pushing your laptop aside and throwing the phone right back in his face… but it’s too late. He’s seen it. Your laptop. He gets a flash from the past ; years ago, when he was just a young Virgo man navigating this cruel world, although the world was at his fingertips by virtue of being a FUCKING Virgo man (tells you a lot about why the world is cruel), back when he met that so, so young Taurus boy, and he grabbed his laptop… You notice his glare. Your eyes narrow, and before you can yell out “No” he’s leaping for your laptop, grabbing it and holding onto it tight as you try to pry it from his hands. “ Let it go or I’m calling Jaybee ! “ the words shoot right out of your mouth. “ You think I’m scared of that catboy ? He showers even less than me ! ” “ Did you just admit to not showering ? Fucking nasty ! Go shower, stinky ! ” He roars in response, but it’s really embarrassing because he’s not a lion in any way, shape or form. He is, fortunately, very much human. You move your foot to rest it on his back (picture it: he’s on his stomach, across the couch, holding onto your laptop. So it is possible for you to rest your foot on his back). You put a little pressure on it, and his back cracks a little ; he goes “Ouch, fuck !”, and releases his grip. Yes, good, the laptop is yours (you knew that but I mean it’s in your hands again, don’t be annoying). Once again you put it aside – he uses that time to straighten himself up a little – but you have no mercy. You rush to the fridge as he follows suit, grab the bottle of milk, open it and throw it in his face. “ Jesus Christ, dude ! ” he yells out, completely inconsiderate of whether or not you’d like to be addressed as such. Don’t forget: as hot as he may be, he is a Virgo man. He does not care about you. Stop loving him right now. “ Guess you’re gonna have to shower for real this time, ” you comment, the satisfaction of this battle you just won seeping through your words. “ Fucking loser, lmao. ” “ Fuck you, (y/n). ” “ You look stupid as hell right now. Boo! Take a shower, you and your crusty musty ass ! That’s what you get for making me wait two hours ! You can’t even find the beat though, I guess you couldn’t find where to read the time on your phone. ” The court jester known as Mark Tuan proceeds to exit the scene under these humiliating claims, wiping some of the milk off his face with his milk-drenched shirt. “ Ew, ” is what you have to say to that. “ I beg you to shut your mouth right now, ” he responds from the bathroom.

But you don’t shut up. You’ve got your list, after all. You come closer to the bathroom door and lean against it, opening your handy dandy notes app – it's actually a Drive file so you can open it both on your laptop and your phone, handy dandy ! – and beginning to go through it all. " You remember when we moved in together and you stubbed your toe ? You thought I wouldn't notice how you blamed me for stubbing your toe on YOUR table that I hadn't even touched, and just casually didn't do any chores the next week ? Or the time I asked you to not touch my food and you went and ate all of it without even thinking about it, the time you threw my phone away because you thought it was too old and cheap to still be used by someone... Or worst of all, the time you said Zuko wasn't a 'compelling' or 'well-written' character, and that you found the Joker much more relatable... " " Go away ! " He kind of sounds like a child, not as in cute but as in immature for a grown ass man, and next thing you hear is the sound of rushing water. He's actually showering ? Damn, guess all that bullying paid off at the end of the day ! You smile to yourself but in an evil way. “ What a fucking embarrassing manlet lol, “ you mutter to yourself. Your job here is done (for now). All is well in the world. You go sit back on the couch, grab your laptop again, and browse AO3 for self-insert fics where you help Jinyoung and Jaebum hide their relationship by being Jinyoung’s beard. No way you’d get that close to Jaebum even in the dreamscape ; Mark was kinda right about him not showering…

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Disco Ball Diva

A/N: For @buckyshelves Merry Christmas, I hope you enjoy this and have a great festive holiday

To @bucky-smiles​ for organising this secret Santa gift exchange, you’re awesome and so, so kind

Also... thank you to my friend Haz who beta read this for me.  You are always so supportive of my writing and I love you

Summary:  You’re inappropriate, sassy, have snazzy powers, and now you’re an Avenger-in-training.  Not everyone appreciates your blasé attitude, and when a surveillance mission goes south you’re thrown together with one hot brooding super soldier.  It doesn’t help that you can’t stop ogling his bum.

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Reader w/ powers

Word Count: 7k.  I actually feel bad that it’s so long.

Warnings:  Violence, gun violence, Bucky kills people, mentions of blood and injury, bad language (which is a given for me), some sexual tension (light) but mostly just reader is an asshat XD

The Avengers compound is not like you imagined it.  Or maybe it is but you haven’t found any of the secret stuff yet.  Hidden jet hangers under the basketball court, labs in the basement, glass cases full of superhero suits.  Wait.  That’s the freakin’ X-Men.

Still, it’s nothing like you hoped.  The conference rooms are boring, obviously, because meetings are the epitome of dull. The communal lounge and kitchen are both boring; there’s no espresso machine that doubles as a drone, no fridge that transforms into sentry bot, there isn’t even a SodaStream.  Yawn! You don’t even need to see the fitness suite to know that it’s not a place you want to visit, and you’re not allowed below the ground floor yet.  Talk about not trusting the noob.

Your room is a vision of extreme lacklustre, but you only moved in yesterday, so, no redecorating just yet, save for the peace lily your brother gave you.

Congrats on your new job and home by the way, here’s a half-dead plant I had but couldn’t be bothered to look after.  Now it’s yours.  Enjoy!

Your super power is definitely not green thumbs, nurturing life, healing, or anything even a tiny bit supportive.  You can’t fly, don’t have super strength, speed, or a crazy-good aim.  There’s not a green rage-monster just below the surface waiting to erupt and smash things.  Well, if someone steals your cookies you might have to choke a bitch but hey, rainbows are cool, right?  Super distracting, like oh hey, what’s all this shiny shit flashing around?  Oh dayum, I totally didn’t see that badass super warrior coming to kick my ass.

You swallow hard.  The small conference room feels like an interrogation room despite the polished wood table and plush leather chairs.  Of four sets of eyes that are currently watching you, only one pair is encouraging.

Tony Stark.  The guy who recruited you.  Took you from a life of selling hotdogs on street corners in the City and apartment sharing with a crazy cat lady called Angie who you found on Craigslist.  You had nothing against crazy cat ladies, per se, but you would prefer it if the pissy smell was optional.  Angie had opted in, hence why you jumped at the chance to opt out.  Ugh.

“Rainbows?”  The scowly but buff brunette with the dreamy blue eyes and robotic arm, scoffs mockingly.  “You project rainbows?”

The equally buff blonde who you suspect might be Captain America (or maybe his stunt double) snickers, his head lowered to hide his amusement.  Does Captain America have a stunt double, for like, TV appearances and meetings with officials, and stuff?  You’ll ask later.  Right now, you’re annoyed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, fist-of-victory!”  You snap your fingers like the queen you are.  “Am I too snazzy for you?  Do my rainbows ruin the whole Neanderthal vibe you got going on there?”

Loud snorts and chuckles pull you back.  The redheaded vixen you know already as Black Widow is pinching her nose to stifle her laughter, and Tony is looking to the heavens in askance but emotional stability is not forthcoming.

“Wow.”  The brunette says flatly.

“Fist of victory.” Tony ponders, eyes twinkling.  “I like that.”  He levels an amused gaze at you, rolling his next words around in his mouth.  “Manchurian candidate is a little out-dated, wouldn’t you say, Barnes? Ready for an upgrade?”

Oh shit!  Your eyes get big.  The brunette is none other than the infamous Winter Soldier.  You should have known by the arm.  Show no weakness!  Your brain screams.

“What’s the official title for that skill, you have?” Steve Rogers has gotten his face to cooperate, now there’s no trace of a smirk.  “Light manipulation?”  

“Walking disco ball.” You put on the light show again, manipulating the effects so the lights are dancing across the, now stormy grey, eyes of one Sergeant Barnes.

“It’s definitely distracting.”  Natasha says objectively.  “Could be useful.”

“See!  That’s what I said!”  You punch the air, sending the lights into a frenzy.

“I have a theory.” Tony is playing his cards close to his chest still.  “That’s why y/n is here.  She’s agreed to work with us, and at the very least she can be a supportive member of the team.”

“Team, frickin’, playahhh!”  You holler, earning a concerned look from Rogers and a downright obnoxious groan from Barnes.  “What?  What you complaining at?  You fucking love me already!”

The truth was that you didn’t know how your ability worked.  You could feel it when you did your thang, like the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and the air in your hand felt stiff and substantial.

Better not talk about hands full of substantial stiff things around grandad Tony, he might kick the bucket.

You could manipulate the amount of reflections in your light show by making the air heavier, make them move, dance, even adjust the size of them a little.   Agreeing to work with The Avengers had been a no brainer; you get paid, get a place to stay that isn’t full of the stench of sadness and cat piss, and you get to find out more about your ability.  Win, win, win.

+++ A couple of weeks later +++

“You really expect me to take Rainbow Brite on this mission?”  Barnes has his arms crossed across his chest, refusal crinkling his brown and pursing his lips into a thin line.  The guy looks hot in tac gear.  One bicep straining against the material, the other is obviously free and oh-so-fucking-awesome.  Thighs tight under those black tac pants, thigh holster accenting the flex of muscle as he shifts his weight.  Wait-what!?

“Wait a fucking minute!”  You squawk.  “Rainbow Brite?  Oh, hell no!”  You march up to him, similarly decked out in black gear that makes you look like some tiny recruit in ill-fitting body armour instead of badass like him.

There’s a smirk on his perfect mouth now, dusky pink lips lop-sided with amusement, and the twinkle in his eyes is more than a little alluring.  What the fuck?

“Huh.”  You stop your tirade, blinking, baffled.  He’s playing with you.  Trying to get you pissed so you’ll refuse to go, or maybe he wants you to go so you’ll make a fool of yourself and Tony will see you’re not useful. Too many mind-games already, you don’t have the patience for this shit, so you go with an insult instead.  “If I’m Rainbow fucking Brite then that makes you Twink.  Dink!”

“Well, he does epitomise my sparkling personality.”  Sardonic, deadpan.  It’s classic brooding Barnes and you’re almost proud that he got an 80’s pop culture reference.  Almost.

“And they did rename him Mr fucking Glitters back in 2014.”  You pout, adopting his stance, arms crossed.

“Perfect!”  Tony pops m&ms into his mouth, turning away dismissively.  “Rainbow Brite and Mr Glitters it is.  Head to the carpool, there’s a vehicle waiting for you both.”

There was no getting away from this mission.  You’d grumbled, griped, whined, and begged Tony to send you with anyone but Broody Barnes but the Iron Man was true to his alter ego, he did not budge.

You are about to take a few pot shots at him in the insults department when Barnes’s voice comes over the earpiece you have already been fitted with.

“Earth to disco ball. Get in the damn car already.”

“It’s disco diva to you, giant cocksicle.”

He laughs at that and is still grinning when you slide into the passenger seat beside him.

“You’ve got some mouth on you, kid.”  Was that acceptance?  Admiration? Whatever it was it looked good on him.

“Yeah, you know you want my mouth.”  It sounded better in your head but now that it’s out it can’t be taken back.  Barnes looks a little frowny but at least he’s got nothing to say so you can quietly die in peace.

Can someone cringe so much they die?  You might find out.

The mission is surveillance.  Low-key observations of a facility out in Nova Scotia that makes products for iGoddess, a beauty company owned and run by Gabrielle Porter, the niece of one Alexander Pearce, crime syndicate king-pin and scumbag extraordinaire.

You know the company; you buy their stuff.  Well, you do now you can afford it and it’s not wasted under the scent of cat urine and bleach.  How can a company so devoted to making women feel special and empowered be mixed up with drugs, weapons and human trafficking?  Fucking bullshit, that’s what it is.

Bucky had ditched the car in the parking lot of a lake-side leisure and visitors centre about fifteen miles away, and with gaudy waterproof outerwear over your tac gear, you had begun the hike that would set you smack-bang in the middle of nowhere good.  Posing as hikers had been Tony’s brief but you’re cold and bored, and your body aches from being on the solid ground.

You’re both lay just behind the crest of a hill a little way away from your target building.  Bucky mutters his observations into his comms as you look through your own binoculars trying to see what he’s looking at.  He’s talking guard numbers and movements, the weapons they carry, security features and people entering or leaving the facility. It’s no use, you’re not cut out for this.  Surveillance is soul destroying.  You’d rather be interred in Tony’s kitchen, at least there’s coffee there.

Not even an hour in and you’re itching to get up and move around.  The hike had gotten your blood pumping but now you’re going stir-crazy, joints tingling with the need for motion.

Boring.  Boring.  But at least you can entertain yourself.  Where there’s light there’s beauty and you tease the air through your gloves, finding that your skin doesn’t need to be bare for you to create the effect.  Well whadd’ya know.

“There’s movement.” Bucky warns.  “Looks like some of the guards are exiting the compound.”

You snort, they’re probably bored too.

“A Jeep and a couple of motorbikes, moving quickly.”

“Sounds like they’re going home.”  You mumble, focused on the lights in your hand.

“They’re headed this way.” He curses.  “Grab your- What the HELL are you doing?”

Bucky tackles you to the ground from where you were on your knees almost at the hill’s crest.

“Asshole!”  You’re trying to get away from him but he pins you to the ground.

“I’m the asshole?” He complains as he rolls off you, sliding down the hill on his ass, shoving his gear unceremoniously into his backpack. “Mission compromised.”

“What happened?” Tony’s disembodied voice doesn’t sound happy.

“We were spotted.”  At the bottom of the hill, Bucky starts picking a path through the rocks and small fissures hidden by the wild grass and heathers. A quick glance back tells him you’re not following; you’re caught.

“Uh, hi, guys.”  You chuckle nervously as one of the guards levels an assault rifle at you.  “Would you believe we’re winners of a free weekend iGoddess Spa?”

Bucky is livid.  If it had just been him, he could have taken them out and escaped, but, no.  Tony had to insist that he bring you, show you the ropes, look after you.  Babysit you.

He snorts.  You don’t need a minder you need to be put in a padded room where you can’t inflict any more of your weird bullshit on him. Fucking rainbows.  What kind of skill is that, other than one that gets you caught?

Eight hours ago you were both doing great.  There’d been some small-talk in the car, he’d opened up a little and you’d responded. Even on the hike over you’d been great, your filthy mouth was a source of much amusement for him, and you’d listened. His instructions were followed close enough to the letter, and he was happy.  Everything was good.

Now it’s all fallen to shit and he’s locked up in a heavy-duty restraint chair that brings back memories of dark places and dark times for him.  To his side, you’re slumped forward in a regular wooden chair, cable-ties binding your wrists and ankles to the wood, pulling at your skin, making your hands and feet turn blue.  How the hell are you both supposed to get out of this?

He’s watching the movements of your chest that tell him you’re still breathing.  The cut on your head has stopped bleeding but you’re drooling blood-tainted saliva down your grey rash-guard.  Both of you had been stripped down to your undergarments and checked for hidden weapons.  He was the first to be incapacitated as they’d used you as leverage, holding a gun to your head until he complied, stripped, and submitted to the chair. When they’d took away your gear you’d fought and Bucky had seen red; he’d strained against the chair until the butt of a gun to the head had put a stop to that.  When he came to you were out cold, beaten and bloody.  How hard had you fought?

Your feet and hands are turning purple now.  The weight of your body pulling the restraints against your skin is making the plastic ties dig deep, cutting off the circulation.

“Y/n?”  Bucky hisses, hoping the noise doesn’t prompt the guards to come back.  “Y/n! Wake up!”

The room you’re in looks like an interview room.  Two-way mirror, camera in the corner, reinforced door with heavy-duty locks that were strangely not engaged.  It’s grey and cold, and the only things in the room are the two chairs and you two. The device Bucky is locked into is bolted into the floor; a permanent feature, like they expected him or maybe Steve. He tests the chair again.  It creaks but doesn’t give.  He’d have to really put some brute strength into it to break out, and that would create too much noise.  He’d wait.

“Y/n!”  A little louder now, and you stir.

He keeps talking to you, just bullshit words, what he wants for dinner, what film he’s going to watch when he’s home safe.  Anything to help draw you back to consciousness.

“You wana watch a film with me, y/n?”  He thought for sure you’d tell him to go fuck himself.

You moan, head lolling as you come back to him.

“Hey!  Rainbow Brite!”

“Fuck you.”  It’s a whisper but he’ll take it.

“There she is.”  He allows himself a relieved smile.  “C’mon, sweetheart.  I need you to sit up for me.  Take the weight off those ties before there’s any permanent damage.”

It takes a few more moments before you can shuffle yourself properly into the chair, then you’re flexing your hands and feet to get the blood moving again.

“Oh-god-it-hurts-so-fucking-bad!”  You are practically wailing as the pins and needles sensation in your extremities reaches a peak.  The slightest movement now sends a cacophony of intense pain into your limbs.

“It’ll be over soon.” Bucky sooths.

“Why are you being nice to me after I got us caught?”  You eye him suspiciously, flapping your hands to rush the blood into your fingers.  Rip the band aid off.  “Is this some kind of prank?  Ohhhhhhh!  This is an initiation isn’t it?  Oh, I see. Where’s Iron Doosh?  Hey!  Tony!”

“Would you shut up?  This is real.  We’re really captured.”  Bucky hisses.

“Tony Stank, Skank, Spah-hank.”  You sing-song as you struggle against your restraints, examining your bound feet through spread knees.  “I hope this is one of the chairs from his good dining set.”  You stand, leaning forward and centring your weight above your bent knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Just need to…”  You shuffle over to the mirror.

“No, y/n, wait!” Bucky begs.  “Don’t break the glass.”  His frantic expression says the rest.  Your feet are bare and you’ll shred yourself to ribbons.

“What?  You’re crazy.  Why would I do that?”  You chuckle, amused that he’s so worried.  “There’s no one in there.”  You wink at him.  “They’d be in here by now if there were.”

You shuffle a bit more and grunt as you throw yourself backward to the ground.  The chair cracks but doesn’t break.

“Fuck!”  You struggle some more, grunting and groaning like a butch female tennis player in a grand slam.  One of the arms loosens and you fight against the wood until you get your left hand free, then you’re reaching into your hair for a bobby pin to jam into the clasp of the cable tie on your right arm.

Moments later, you’re free and rushing to Bucky who is fighting against his own restraints. There’s sweat beading on his bare chest and his hair is sticking to his forehead.  A quick swipe of your hand clears his brow and he stills, watching you as you search the chair for whatever mechanism has him trapped.

“There’s a big red lever at the back.”  You muse. “You think it’s an ejector seat?” A cheeky wink.  “If I sit in your lap we can both go for a ride.”  You don’t have time for giggling and flirtation, but you do it anyway.

“Y/n.”  Bucky chastises lightly.

“What?  This is every girl’s wet dream.  Every, damn, girl.”  You mumble as you grip the handle.  “And I can’t even enjoy it.”

“Just pull the damn thing already.  We don’t have time to mess around.”

“Pity.”  You tug the lever and a loud hiss fills the room, pressure releasing from the chair.

Bucky is on his feet and at the door before you make three steps.  He’s rubbing his right forearm where the metal clamps had bitten into his flesh, there’s blood there too, long ago dried.

“There’s movement out there.”  He has his ear to the door.  “I need a weapon, we need our gear, and we need a vehicle.”

“I need some chocolate and bottle of wine.”

“What?”

“Are we not making a shopping list?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs your wrist.  “C’mon.”

With the door cracked open, Bucky can see movement at the end of the corridor; there’s a security room which is promising for retrieving your gear, but not if you want to avoid being seen.

“Stay behind me.”  He pushes you towards his back.

You look down at his bum. “No problem.”  You sigh and then you’re moving, your hand on his bare back so you can feel where he’s moving next.

Bucky suddenly shoves you down into a squat, shushing you with a finger held against his lips.  The way he moves is like water, smooth and forceful, carrying the momentum of his body towards a lone guard who has paused at the corner by the security room.  How he hasn’t seen you is a miracle but the man doesn’t even hear Bucky until the his own knife is slipped from its sheath and into the his temple. There’s no sound, no gurgling, not even much blood.  Bucky lowers the body to the floor and cleans the knife on the pants of the dead man.

Looking at him now, you can see why people fear him.  His expression is cold, calculating, and focused.  It’s necessary, the distance he puts between himself and the act of killing.  Even when Bucky was him, there was always a distance; a gap between him and his orders.  Now the killing is his choice and he has to live with that, there’s no excuse of mind control now.  This is all him.

The security room has one guard inside who is overpowered moments after Bucky opens the door.

Fucking amateurs, you think.  Does that room not have cameras that cover the door and surrounding corridors?

Turns out that it does and the reason the guard hadn’t seen you was because he was sexting his girlfriend.

“Sexting?”

“Yeah.  Like sex role play and talking dirty over text.”  You snort.  “Jeez, you’re old.”

“What can I say? You’re broadening my horizons.” He winks then and it’s so out of place in this grim situation that you laugh nervously.  “Sounds fun.”

“Well don’t take tips from this guy.”  You wave his phone in the air loosely.  “He’s fucking terrible at it.”

“What’s bad about it?”

You’re not sure if he means to ask that, he’s busy trying to get outside communication through the phones which seem to be keycode protected and also checking through the security feeds to see if he can find your gear and a way out of this for you both; he’s clearly distracted.  At least he’s happy now that he has a pair of handguns and a pair of knives, no weapons for you because you haven’t completed your firearms training yet.  But let’s face it, who would arm you anyway?  You were a disaster waiting to happen.

“He’s a bit of a wham-bam-thankyou-ma’am kinda guy.”  You chuckle. Bucky is going to regret starting you off down this line of conversation.  “His poor woman has probably never experienced even mediocre sex with this schmuck if his sext skills are anything to go by.”

“Too eager to bury the bone?”  Bucky sounds distant, but he is listening to you as he checks drawers for weapons, keys and anything else that might be useful.  God knows your gear was nowhere to be found.

“Check it.”  You hop up on the desk near him and scroll through the laughable chat.  You feel slightly guilty reading this guy’s private shit but he’s dead so he isn’t going to care.  Reading from the chat, you do fake voices.  “So she’s like ‘hey baby, you free tonight?  I got something for you.’ Peach emoji, cat emoji.  And he’s like ‘you off your period? Can we bang?’  I mean, what the fuck dude?”

Bucky is smirking when you look at him.  “What did she say?”  He straps both thigh holsters to his almost naked body.  It’s comical how he’s gearing up from salvaged stuff wearing only a pair of skin-tight spandex shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Once Bucky is packing (in more ways than one, now) you have to force your eyes elsewhere.

“’Yeah, baby! I missed you so bad.  Can’t wait to be in your arms again.’  She just wants lovin’ y’know?”  You spoke the line in a soft, breathy voice.  Fake, of course.

“And what did he say?” Bucky is checking the monitors one last time before he moves to the door.

“You like a bit of sexting? Huh, Barnes?”  You smirk, eying him mischievously.  “Living vicariously through the sexting chronicles of Captain Dick-Down over there?”

“Just looking to know what not to do if the opportunity for sexting ever arises.”  It’s light-hearted and completely unlike the grumpy Bucky you’re used to.  Maybe there was something in the air; sex pollen or something.  That’s totally a thing.  “C’mon.”  He says after a moment, eyes twinkling with mirth, soft lips pulling up to the side in a cute smile.  “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

It’s comedy gold, the pair of you running the halls of an apparently secret part of the factory, him in his tight little shorts and you in your panties and spandex t-shirt over a sports bra that makes your rack look like a uni-boob.  You awkwardly tug your rash-guard down over your ass whenever Bucky is behind you and you’re thankful you didn’t wear a thong though that would be better than skid marks.  God, you hoped you’d not shat yourself when they beat you.

You barely encounter anyone until you’re almost at the warehouse; Bucky is so stealthy that even with you hindering him, he only has to subdue one foreman and drag you into a cleaning supply closet once, to avoid a pair of patrolling guards.  Not that you’re complaining, being squashed up against an almost naked super soldier gave you endless thrills, even if he was all stiff and awkward about it.

Bucky stalls before the double doors that lead to the warehouse.  There’s a heavy plastic strip curtain over the exit too, it’s almost opaque with age and hinders your view of what is beyond the meshed safety-glass of the door’s small windows.

“They know we’re coming.” He whispers to you, mere inches away. “There’s a lot of them out there and I can’t keep you safe if you disobey orders.  So, please,” he begs, “please do as I tell you.”

He begs so sweetly, you think, blushing.  But you’re not one for passing an opportunity for inappropriate comments.

“I’ll be a good girl, Daddy.”  You bat your eyelashes, feigning innocent.  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Really?”  Bucky doesn’t know whether to blush or be annoyed. You never seem to take anything seriously; it’s always a joke, or something you can twist to your amusement. He gets doubly serious.  “If you die, it’s on me.  You think I haven’t lost enough people over the course of my very long life?  You think I want to wash your blood off my skin later tonight?  Bury you alongside all the other people lost to some fight or other in the name of SHIELD or the Avengers?  I can’t save you if you don’t want to be saved.”

You watch him as he fervently tries to convey the dire nature of your situation, desperate to make you understand that he doesn’t want you to die here, he cares.  His eyes are piercing and your heart is a ricocheting bullet in your chest.  What if you don’t make it out ok?  What if this is it for you?  Both of you? Suddenly, you’re acutely aware that Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, Fist of HYDRA come Fist of Victory, has cleared himself a little spot in your fucked-up soul, and is there to stay. You don’t want him to get killed because of you, but there’s nothing you can do, you’re not trained for this, or at all really.

You nod once, not trusting your voice in that moment.  You could choke on your words or you could vomit all over yourself.  It’s a lottery, so you say nothing.

“Good girl.”  He gives your shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Stay behind me.  Be quick, keep low, don’t hesitate, and for Christ’s sake no disco ball.”  There’s a small smile tempting the corners of his lips, like he’s saying he forgives you for getting you both into this mess.  “Ok, sweetheart, lets go.”

Out in the warehouse there’s a whole host of guards and workers, patrolling and overseeing shipments being loaded into lorries.  It look like it’s important, and probably why the majority of the facility is clear of security staff; the merchandise is being moved.

It’s a mad dash, crouching low as you ghost around the edge of the warehouse.  The huge rows of stacks are packed full of boxes and crates, further obscuring your movement around the area.  Bucky is silent, especially since he’s barefoot; he’s every bit the assassin he’s hyped to be, but you can’t take him seriously padding around almost naked with the top of his crack showing and his junk all jiggly in the front.

A radio crackles to life. Three personel down.  Prisoners have escaped.  Cameras last caught them headed your way.  

They must have found the bodies.

“They’re in here somewhere.” A man says, loud and authoritative. “Search the rows, shoot to kill. They’re not low-life mob goons, they’re Avengers and can’t be allowed to live.”

Well that settles that, you think, gone are the chances of mere bodily harm.  It’s death or death.

You watch in awe as Bucky scales a nearby stack to stalk one of the patrolling guards.  When his opportunity arises he yanks the man up by the throat, snapping his neck in the process.  You can’t help but admire that metal arm, so sleek and powerful.  You groan, light and lusty, earning you a concerned look from the owner of said appendage.

Killing that guard has yielded an assault rifle, another knife and another handgun.  You’d think Bucky would be too smart to arm you but apparently he’s not.  Silently he points to his eye and then to the gun where he shows you how to turn off the safety, puts the gun in your hand and moves behind you to adjust your grip. He aims for you, pressing his chest against your back and you swear you can feel his junk against your ass.  Once he’s satisfied that you aren’t going to injure yourself, he’s gone from behind you, crouching low at the end of the row.

He grabs another guard and drags him backward.  The struggle is louder than he would have liked, and the man got out a partial shout before his throat was closed forever but Bucky is hopeful that he can thin the numbers down enough to make it possible to get you into a truck and away safely.

Bucky shoves the newest body under the nearest stack and beckons you to him.  You both move like a two-carriage train, he’s the engine and you’re the caboose following in his wake.  He only leaves you to commit murder but you feel lost when he’s gone, cold even.  There’s something alluring about the way he uses his body and your mind drifts to other carnal things.

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump.  There’s more of a commotion going on in the warehouse now, not just the sounds of men moving goods and silently searching for two prisoners.  There are massive amounts of footfall, boots hitting the concrete at speed; bringing in reinforcements from outside.

Bucky is about to whisper in your ear when the squeal of a megaphone pierces the air; he stills with his lips almost touching your skin before pulling back with a frown.

“Sergeant Barnes?” Bucky knows that voice, he’d heard it for years, worked with it, even obeyed it on occasion.  “Save the girl.  Turn yourself in.”

You shake your head, panicked, urgent.  Don’t leave me, your eyes are saying.

A noise nearby draws Bucky’s attention and he suddenly forces you to the ground under a stack where he slots himself immediately after; the security team are searching for you, stealthily stalking the rows.  It’s cramped and dusty, the bottom shelf above you so close you can barely breathe without your back brushing the metal supports.  How Bucky fits is beyond you, the man is a beefcake, all bulk and magnificently defined muscle.  Thinking of him naked is the only thing that keeps you from succumbing to claustrophobia. Something brushes your hand and you jolt, eyes snapping to meet his.  He grasps your hand properly and gives it a reassuring squeeze.  In your chest, something gives.  Maybe your permafrost heart is thawing, maybe you’re about to have a stroke, maybe you really like him.

When the coast is clear, Bucky pulls you free and you emerge into a different row, one with fewer boxes, one you’ll likely be spotted in.  You can just see the massive doorway of the warehouse, double sliding doors like a hangar, several half loaded trucks and maybe forty men with body armour and guns.  One guy in the middle is wearing a full-face helmet with a white skull etched across the features.

“Holy shit!  Is that Punisher?”  You hiss before Bucky can clamp his hand over your mouth, the warning look on his face is stern as he leans in to you.

“Crossbones.”  He corrects you, barely audible despite the proximity.  You still don’t know who that is but he’s totally not as cool as the Punisher, so it doesn’t matter.

His hand is still over your mouth but there’s no point in struggling, you couldn’t break free of him even if you tried, so you push your tongue out and squirm it against his palm, making him recoil in disgust.  Your chuckle is silent and his frown turns to the ghost of a wry smile before his attention is fully back on the man he calls Crossbones.

Bucky is taciturn at the best of times but he’s in full diagnostic mode now, assessing the situation. His eyes flicker around the warehouse from yet another new position.  It seems like he’s trying to get you closer to the trucks but you suspect that’s what Crossbones expects.  There are more men closer to the trucks too and Bucky has already had to kill another two in the latest relocation.  The missing men haven’t gone unnoticed and Crossbones is issuing orders, plugging the gaps so you can’t escape.

“I will find you Barnes.” Crossbone’s voice sounds wet through the megaphone, like he’s salivating with excitement at the prospect of getting his hands on you both again.  “If you turn yourself in, maybe I’ll let the girl live.”

Bucky’s eyes are downcast, like he’s actually considering it, but the moment passes and Bucky’s resolve hardens.  He drags you away towards the end of the row.

“The end of this row has a direct line of sight to the exit.  I need a distraction.  Can you do that for me?”  He whispers.

You nod, lips set in determination.  “One disco ball distraction coming right up.”

“On my mark.”

The fluorescent strip lights overhead create more than enough light for you to use.  With your right hand flat against Bucky’s left shoulder blade and your left manipulating the air to create a huge show of dancing lights, you move in tandem.  Bucky steps out of hiding, keeping you just behind him with his metal arm, he surges forward squeezing off four shots.  The way his arm snaps to aim so quickly is astounding, like he has a targeting chip implanted in his brain.  Who knows, maybe he does.  Four men fall and remain still.  Another three shots, then another two and he’s pulling you into another row at a crouching run to the opposite end as he discards the empty gun and pulls out another. He’s saving the assault rifle for Crossbones.

“Again.”  He instructs gruffly.  “Can you get their eyes?”

“It’s not an exact science this, you know?”  You huff and he seems to know that you’re saying you’ll try your best.  Of course you’d try, but you don’t know much about your power, even after the few months you’d been training with the team.  If it meant you both got out of this alive, you’d flash your tits at the enemy for Christ’s sake.

You emerge again, him with the gun in his metal hand this time, stepping out with you at his back. This time they are ready for you and they start firing before Bucky gets off his first shots.  He makes a dash for a fork-lift with a huge pallet of crates sat at floor level.  He shoots his rounds in threes until the 9-round magazine is done.  The gun is discarded as you both slide behind the cover of the pallets.  Machine guns rattle, pummelling the crates with round after round.  Bucky prays the crates don’t contain munitions.

“I make fourteen down. Twenty-two left.”  His breathing smooth where your is ragged.  You curse yourself for being so unfit that even a tiny bit of stress and exertion leaves you heaving air like a couch potato made to climb stairs.  “Crossbones is a problem.”

“What do we do now?”

Bucky has two handguns, four knives and an assault rifle, you have one gun and your rainbows.  This isn’t going to go well, you think.

“You’re going to hide over there and watch the rear.”  He points to your left.

You smirk.  Now isn’t’ the time for joking.

“I’m going to thin the crowd some more and, if I can, take Crossbones out.”  He looks determined but ridiculous in his underpants, dusted with dirt and debris from the floor that’s stuck to the slightest bit of moisture on his skin.  “This might not work.  Run to the left, hide in the stacks again, stay down and don’t expose yourself.”

You nod and he readies himself to break cover.  The shooting has stopped now and it sounds like the guards are changing positions again. His muscles clench, coiling ready to spring.

“Wait!”  You stop him with a hand on his arm, the metal is unnervingly cool.  Tension builds.  “I wanna fuck you until you pass out.”

“Ummmm.”  Bucky blinks, eyebrows raised in surprise but he’s smiling.  “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, well, no, but, uhhhh.”  You splutter, this hadn’t gone well at all.  “I couldn’t let you go without telling you, you know, what Captain Dick Down said to his girl.  You asked, for future reference, and all.”

“Oh.  Right.”  He frowns, turning away again.  “Move when I do.”  He orders stiffly, preparing to move.

Well, shit!

“Bucky, wait.”  Your voice is softer this time, tears prickling your eyes.  There’s a chance that neither of you will make it through this and it’s suddenly hit you that there’s something missing.

“What now?”  He grumbles, turning to find you closer than he expected.

You surge forward, cupping his jaw in your hands as you capture his lips in a kiss that’s both urgent and needy.  You don’t care if he doesn’t respond, you need to feel this before it’s too late. All this tension between you, the jibes and snarky banter, it’s unresolved and sexual in nature.  You want him, and if this is all you can have then so be it.  One stolen moment before it all slips through your fingers, and you both go to your graves.

You’re already pulling back when he snaps back to attention, quickly pulling you back for another kiss. His tongue delicately touches between the seal of your lips and you sigh with longing.

“You ready?”  You pull away but he’s still clearing his head, trying to focus again.

On your feet you’re running out, pumping your legs as fast as you can, heading to the wrong place. Machine guns stutter to life and Bucky is on your heels a second later, fear contorting his features as he scoops you up in his metal arm and returns fire almost blindly.  He’s shielding your body with his own and yips like a wounded pup when the bullets find him.

On your knees beneath the curved shield of his back you see the enemy are far closer than you thought. Everything in you yelled stop and you felt the pressure rise through your body and out, cascading off you like a roiling storm.

The bullets stop but the guns are still firing, muffled by the thickness of the air.  Despite the pain in his lower back and hip, he turns to see what’s happening.  Bullets sluggishly pushing through the air like flies in syrup, all but stopped and slightly redirected on a path that will take them away from a central focal point that is you.  You’re doing this, shielding you both as if by some miracle, your power not only refracting the light causing rainbows but acting like a forcefield.

“As much as I have to break up this little party, I really can’t have you killing my friends.”  The voice of Tony Stark is heard a second before the Iron Man himself and several of his Iron Legion appear and shoot each and every remaining guard with a taser disc, stunning them into unconsciousness.

Crossbones is a different matter and is somehow resistant to the zapping he just got.  He levels a grenade launcher at the stacks near where you and Bucky are crouched and fires.  No air shield will save you from all of that falling metal, but Bucky is still fast despite his wounds.  There’s blood running down his leg in rivulets as he pulls you to safety, and shields you instinctively with his body once more while the sound of explosions and grinding metal fill the air.

“I did not know I could do that.”  You praise yourself.

“I still got shot.”

“It’s just a flesh wound.” You snort.  “Walk it off.”

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”

“I must be something special if you took one in the ass for me.”  You wink.  “I hope it heals puckered, then you’ll have two rusty bullet holes.”

“STARK!”  He shouts but pulls you closer to him.  “Evac for one.  She’s walking hom-owwww!”  You pinch the skin on the inside of his thigh viciously enough that he shoves you out of his embrace.

You both stay close on the Quinjet home.  Bucky had been confused as to how Stark had known to mount a rescue mission but when you produced Captain Dick Down’s phone from your uni-boob bra it all became apparent. All of the comms in the facility had been locked down but that was a personal device, one that probably wasn’t allowed to be carried.  Good old Captain Dick Down.

The facility had been put to a far worse use than drugs and weapons trafficking.  iGoddess was a front for human trafficking and also human experimentation.  The restraint chair they had strapped Bucky into had been used to restrain test subjects; Alexander Pearce was trying to replicate the super serum that made Steve and Bucky what they were.

“So, this was a win for us.” Steve said in the debrief.  “Our intel was lacking but it worked out in the end.”

“Says you who didn’t get shot in the ass cheek.”  Bucky grumbled, shifting cautiously on the Mr Glitters cushion you’d given him as a joke.

“I got to see some wonderful scenery,” you grin brilliantly, “so I’m not complaining.”

There had been no further discussion about the kiss you and Bucky had shared when you thought you might die in that place, but that’s ok.  Your daily thrills are made up of making him squirm, and since you two had become closer since your ordeal, you have had several of moments like those.  There’s plenty of time and you’re prepared to play the long game, starting with your newest idea.  You pull out your phone and casually write a text while Steve is rambling on about seized research and assets.

[I’m so turned on right now].

Bonus add-on for this work:  Captain Dick Down - External link to AO3

Because apparently 7k words wasn’t enough and I just had to try my hand at a little text chat/social media piece.  It’s more of an embellishment.  Enjoy

And if you liked this story, why not try Good Ole Stuffing, a smutty follow on for the same reader/character.