#no one wants to bother with someone else's mediocrity

[gale-force-storm]

Feel free to ignore this but I think I might take a couple days. Just been feeling really shit about my writing the last day or two. Like it's... fine. But that's all it is. Bland one-shots, lukewarm takes, and overwrought poetry. And then I look at what everyone else is doing and I'm just... yeah

Anyways. I'll likely still reblog a bit here and there, but I'll probably be pretty quiet the next couple days

[kaiijo]

ok. bllk and jealousy rate. how jealous can they get over their gf and what do they do to cope lmao

HOW JEALOUS IS HE? — [BLUE LOCK]

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, oliver aiku content: gn! reader (request says gf but reader is gender neutral) notes: some of these are lowkey toxic, minor spoilers for kunigami’s character arc, nagi is taller than reader

most jealous: bachira, rin, reo 

bachira meguru ✶

bachira has many, many insecurities. growing up isolated and without many friends, he is more possessive of those he’s close to, which obviously includes you. he just doesn’t want to lose you, which manifests itself in jealousy over anyone he perceives as a threat to your relationship

bachira gets really clingy when he’s jealous. he thinks that inserting himself into the situation, sometimes literally wedging himself between you and the other person. he usually chooses to drape himself over you, nuzzling into your neck and speaking low enough that only you hear, trying his best to divert your attention. third-wheeling is pretty uncomfortable for the other person, especially with the smiling sneer bachira’s shooting at them, so they make a quick irish exit 

itoshi rin ✶

an egoist to his very core, rin can get very jealous. while he’s very sure of himself in nearly every other part of his life, he knows that he is not an ideal partner a lot of the time, though he’ll never admit it. he’s not the most expressive or the most patient, and he’s sure that there are better partners for you out there. 

when rin’s jealous, it’s a silent but deadly thing. like when he’s locked in on the ball in a game, his focus you and his ‘competitor’ is unwavering. he stalks over to stand behind you, his chest bumping right up against your back, and he snarls, “what the hell do you want, you mediocrity?” usually the other person backs off after seeing rin’s bone-chilling glare but if they’re bold enough to answer back, rin bares his teeth and is poised to strike. it’s probably best if you diffuse the situation quickly before it gets uglier  

mikage reo ✶

we already know how jealous reo was over nagi so it’s safe to say that he’s definitely very jealous. having been bored with the world and other people for so long, he’s thrilled when you two get together. it makes his very protective of you and he wants to be one of the most, if not the most, special person in your life. 

reo can go a couple of ways when he feels jealous over someone else but it think his primary response is to tear down the person methodically. he tilts his head a little, looks the person up and down, and notes everything about their appearance — hair, skin, clothes (including brand and cost) and criticizes every little thing. it’s a strategic move in his opinion, using observational skills and knowledge he had given his upbringing to pick apart the other person. he also might make some underhanded comment that includes that he has a black card 

less jealous: isagi, kunigami, sae 

isagi yoichi ✶

he definitely gets jealous from time to time but he doesn’t feel the need to act on it a lot. he’s pretty mature and for the most part level-headed (plus his ability to piece together future events helps him keep his cool a lot). this doesn’t mean that he isn’t jealous 

when isagi is jealous, he’s sulky. he won’t take immediate action and watch from afar, arms crossed and a little pouty. he tries to look as dejected and as ‘wet-cat pathetic’ as possible to make you feel bad and come over to comfort him. when you inevitably do, looping your arm through his and kissing his cheek, he can’t help but smirk at the other person like a cat who go the cream 

kunigami rensuke ✶

i debated where to put kunigami since there are ‘two sides’ to him — pre- and post-wildcard. pre-wild card kunigami is definitely a lot less bothered; he trusts you 100% and is 100% confident and secure in your relationship and himself. post-wild card kunigami is less chill and more forceful. he’s not a hero anymore but even as he plays a more ‘villainous’ role in soccer, he won’t cross that line in your relationship. he’s still very secure in you and himself, but he’s more protective of your relationship. definitely a ‘i trust you/us but it’s other people i’m worried about’ kind of guy

when pre-wild card kunigami got jealous, he won’t act in the moment and will talk to you about it afterwards, in a private setting. open lines of communication were important to him and working out problems like this. post-wildcard kunigami is all stormy looks and intimidation. like rin, he also stands behind you but in less actively aggressive way and more just to be threatening. it’s 95% effective and the 5% of times it doesn’t work, kunigami is not above muscling the other person away 

itoshi sae ✶

i thought about putting sae in the ‘most jealous’ section but i just think that he is someone whose jealousy simmer just beneath his apathetic surface. he sees most other people as beneath him and believes that they are not worthy of speaking to you, let alone hitting on you, but because he’s sees them as so beneath him, he can’t be bothered half the time to do anything since they’re simply not worth it. he gets the most jealous when it’s people who he can potentially view as equals, like other professional athletes 

when he’s jealous, sae literally just pretends they don’t exist, only talking to you. if the other person tries to interject, he sends them a sideways glare — the only acknowledgment of their existence — and then turns away to continue whatever conversation, suggesting that you both get away from the other person as quickly as possible. if ignoring the person doesn’t work, sae doesn’t shy away from spewing vitriol at the other person

least jealous: nagi, oliver, michael

nagi seishiro ✶

simply put, being jealous is a hassle to nagi. it makes him too hot and too annoyed for him to want to feel it so he suppresses the feeling a lot. nagi’s height is already intimidating enough for most people so they don’t approach you when they see you two together but that isn’t a deterrent to everyone

when nagi gets jealous, he does one of two things: just gives a thousand-yard stare that freaks people out or he gets whiny and clingy. his stare is eerie and silent, and the lightness of his eyes doesn’t help it. he towers over you like some cryptid companion. when he gets whiny and clingy, nagi tugs at your sleeve and asks drily, “can we go yet? why are you still talking to them?”

oliver aiku ✶

sigh… oliver is undoubtedly someone who thinks and knows he’s the shit. with so many women and men alike fawning over everything about him, his ego is through the roof. he has very little worry about you leaving him for someone else. honestly, he finds it amusing most of the time when someone attempt to draw you away from him, and let’s it play out a lot for his own entertainment. of course, he’ll intervene if it’s making you uncomfortable but he also believes you can handle yourself 

when oliver gets jealous, he acts as casual as possible. he’s friendly towards the other person and but it’s not hard to uncover that it’s all fake, whether it’s from the glint in his eye or the way his smile is stiff and forced. common tells when he gets jealous is that he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek or he clenches his teeth and inhales softly but sharply.  he employs the good old tactic of calling the other person the wrong name and making all kind of underhanded comments that slowly chip at their nerves. (“haruya? haruki? oh! you’re haruto! right, right, you know, they’ve never mentioned you before! crazy, huh?”) 

michael kaiser ✶

kaiser in german literally means ‘emperor,’ and it’s no secret that kaiser views himself as one. similar to sae, he see himself as so above others that he’s not even bothered by other people hitting on you. it displeases him greatly, sure, but these cockroaches will never be able to steal you from him so why should an emperor deal with the plebians? the only time that ever happens is when a peasant is particularly forceful and then, kaiser intervenes

when he gets jealous, kaiser puts on a show. if there’s one thing about him, he’s a bit of a drama queen. he will absolutely posture and puff out his chest at the offending person, looking down his nose arrogantly and smirking. he makes a big display of wrapping himself around you, gripping firmly at your hips and saying, “liebling, you’re very charitable to entertain this insect, but it’s time to end this ruse.”

[bucks-babe]

Change My Ways For You

Pairing: College!Fuckboy!Bucky x college!fem!reader

Summary: One of the only girls in school that didn’t want Bucky Barnes was somehow the one he fell in love with

Warnings: Smut, fluff, reader doesn’t take any of Bucky’s shit, himbo!Bucky, Bucky being a fuckboy,a bit of forced proximity, small part where Bucky is fucking someone else (ew), pinning, Bucky proving himself to be a sweet boy, non consentual kissing, Bucky being tooth rottingly sweet, Bucky calling reader sweets sweetheart and sweetcheeks, Steve is a dick (sorry not sorry), PROTECTED p in v (they are responsible in this one), fingering, fluffy smut, dirty talk, cockwarming?, so much praise, talk about STDs, delayed aftercare, talk about no aftercare, Bucky learns about aftercare so all is good

Word Count: 14.6k This is a long one

A/N: Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading and helping with the direction; however, any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. This fic is the most adorable and full of emotions. The angst, the fluff, the feelings and especially Bucky. The way they act around one another — it’s absolutely great and definitely a read worth it!

“I have to admit, some of your grades in this class are less than I expected. Some of you have excelled in my class, but there are quite a few students to which their performance, to put it nicely, has been subpar.” A few students in the room look around, trying to see who looks guilty of having shit grades. You couldn’t care less; you know your grades are great so it’s not your problem if someone else is failing. 

All you want to do is get out of class and go back to your dorm to sleep, having stayed up way too late to finish a research paper for a different class. Your professor walks back over to his desk and leans back on it, sighing and taking off his glasses to wipe them on his sweater. 

“Now, while I understand that this course is not for the faint of heart, I still expect all of you to put in effort, and based on these,” he holds up the essays that were due last week, “I can tell that some of you just don’t care. Not even mentioning those of you who didn’t turn in your paper.”

You hear a scoff a few rows behind you and you know it’s Bucky Barnes without having to turn your head. He is the resident fuckboy, not caring about school or his education, just going to parties and fucking every living thing in sight. Sometimes you think that the only reason he is even in college is to have the “college experience” of “being free and having a bit of fun.” 

He’s never turned your head, rather just been a thorn in your side three times a week when you go to class, always joking with his friends next to him or talking about his latest trist. You don’t want to hear about how loud a random girl screamed when she came on his cock. You were here to get your degree and finally move out of this shitty town you were stuck in.

Honestly, you doubt that Bucky was even giving anyone orgasms. In your experience, men who brag about how good they were in bed were nothing but a disappointment, giving you about 30 seconds of mediocre sex until they came inside a condom and rolled over only to ask you, “did you cum?” The answer was always no. You didn’t have the patience to stroke any man’s ego when they couldn’t even make you wet. 

Bucky did nothing but make you roll your eyes, annoyed by the absolute gall of himself. “Now, because I don’t want my class average to go down because of a few dumbasses, I have sent some of you an email to meet me in my office after hours in which I will pair you up with another student in hopes that it will give you a kick in the ass since I cannot be bothered to spend more time teaching you.” You like your professor, you really do. He was one of the chillest professors you’ve had, but a twinge of fear goes through you. You fucking hope that he doesn’t pick you to help another student, especially Bucky.

You hang on to the sliver of hope that he won’t pick you. He knows that you’re busy, right? Between work and school you don’t have any time to tutor anyone. The topic stays on your mind long after you leave class, delaying looking at your email just in case he picked you to help another student. 

As the hours went by, however, you knew that you had to check it. You cursed when your laptop had battery; if it didn’t, it would have given you an excuse to not show up if you were picked. Nonetheless, you opened your school email, only to find out that you had been picked and you needed to go down to your professors office in a half hour.

Getting dressed, you had the most intense scowl on your face. This was the last thing you needed added onto your plate. You only hoped that he would pair you up with someone who didn’t need that much help, but you were proven wrong when you walked in only to find Bucky sitting down looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Take a seat, please.” You huff and sit down, moving your body away from Bucky as much as you could. You didn’t really feel comfortable around him. He’s never done anything to you per say, but you’ve seen his shameless flirting and it makes you uneasy and never want to be on the receiving end of it.

You don’t pay attention to anything your professor says, something about helping Bucky over the next few months until he’s passing or fails out of the course. You’re too lost in thought to care. On top of everything you have going on, now you have to help the one person you can’t stand.

Your professor dismisses the both of you with instructions to meet at least twice a week to study together. Bucky walks out before you and you assume that he has sprinted away to go to another party given that it was late afternoon, but you find him right outside the door. 

“So, sweetcheeks, I guess you’re gonna be seeing a lot of me now.” His eyes run up and down your body, like this was the first time he’s seen you. It makes you shift and wrap your arms around your middle, trying to soothe yourself. Bucky clearly takes this the wrong way and thinks that you like his hungry eyes and steps closer to you. “How about I give you my number and we can meet up, ya know, to study? Or if you ever need something, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

You don’t want to give him your phone, thinking about where his hands have been. Ever since his step closer to you, you can smell the scent of sex on him. If you look closer at his beard you can see the glisten on it, most likely from some girl he ate out right before he came to the meeting. 

“Just tell me your number, James so we can get this over with. I don’t want to help you and you don’t want my help. Clearly you don’t give a shit about this class and you only want to get in my pants.” He raises his eyebrows at your tone, a little shocked that you spoke to him like that. Before he opens his mouth you continue, “I mean, look at you. You’re flirting with me when I can fucking see that someone’s pussy was on your face, and that makes you think that I want to have sex with you?”

He opens his mouth one more time but you aren’t finished, finally able to snap at him for all the times he’s pissed you off. “I’m not going to be one of the girls you add to your roster so you can get that idea out of your head right now. The only time I am going to interact with you is when I have to, okay? Now give me your number so I can go back to my dorm and fucking sleep.”

Bucky is shocked, not having anyone talk to him like that. It pisses him off that you rejected him. Everyone wanted a piece of him, but he has time to change your mind. He can’t lie, your sass was making his pants tighter, but he relents and gives you his number before you walk away while he watches your ass, palming his dick through his pants. 

He needs to relieve the pressure in his groin and he’s sure as hell you’re not going to help him and his hand is nowhere near good as a pussy, so he goes out to Steve’s party, knowing that he can get a girl in minutes.

“Fuck, yeah baby, that pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock. Shit, love that ass too, you gonna let me fuck it? Yeah, I bet you fucking would too.” Bucky doesn’t know how the two of them ended up in the bathroom, fucking each other’s brains out, but he’s not complaining. When she offered to get on her knees and suck his cock he pulled her into the nearest room, cumming on her face before pushing her into the mirror, smearing her makeup and his cum all over the mirror.

The slam of his hips was brutal, surely going to leave bruises on her hips but he didn’t care, as long as she wasn’t complaining, he would do whatever he wanted with her, fucking her like she was a slut. “Fuck, baby, gonna make me fucking cum. Pussy is so fucking tight.” He lets a groan out, close to cumming. 

 Usually he didn’t make much noise during sex other than dirty talk, only breathing heavily and groaning when he was about to cum, but he was always composed. Sex felt great, but he never felt the need to moan. He never understood why men would moan like a slut just over some pussy, and he doubted that he would ever embarrass himself like that during sex.

“Love the way that ass bounces, so fucking hot.” This was the way Bucky fucked - from behind watching the girl’s ass jiggle. He wasn’t one to fuck any other way. Bucky didn’t give a shit to watch her face or look into her eyes, he just wanted to cum as fast as possible so he could move on with the rest of his day. He thought missionary was quite possibly the most boring position ever created, not like he ever made it to a bed anyway.

“Shit, gonna take my cum, bitch? Yeah, you fucking are, just a little fucking cumdump for me, letting me fuck you in a dirty bathroom, too horny for my fat cock.” He was babbling, just wanting to cum so he could go back out to the party and have another drink, maybe even pick another girl up for later.

Bucky lets out a low groan, filling up the condom with his cum. Once his orgasm is finished, he pulls out, taking the rubber off and throwing it away. Pulling his pants back up, the girl turns around, clearly affronted. “I didn’t even cum, baby.” Her voice was high and annoying, making Bucky roll his eyes. 

“Sorry, but your pussy made me bust early.” He chuckles knowing damn well that it was a lie. He just couldn’t be bothered to make her cum. Why would he put in the extra work to make her cum when he was just having fun? If she wanted to cum so bad she could have handled it herself. He wasn’t stopping her from using her own hands. Bucky either ate a girl out until she came to get her nice and wet if he was feeling generous that day or left her to her own devices while he took his own pleasure from her body.

She blushes, “oh, thanks, that’s sweet of you.” Bucky just wants to get the fuck back to the party and she’s talking too fucking much. “Maybe we can do this again.”

He can hear how hopeful she is and he felt just a little bit bad so he decided to humor her. “Sure, Sherry, whenever I’m free. You know college life and all, working hard in classes every day. Gotta keep up that 4.0 GPA.” As he heads for the door, he hears her squeak out, It’s Sally!

The next day is when you’re supposed to meet Bucky in the library to study, but it’s been a half hour and he still hasn’t shown. You decide to study what you need to. If Bucky wanted to fail you weren’t going to go out of your way to help him. You weren’t his mother; he was a grown man and he was responsible for himself. 

Nearly an hour later, Bucky stumbles in, clearly reaping the effects of the alcohol binge he must have been on the night before. It was no wonder  why he was failing his classes. When he sees you, a smile graces his lips, trying to make you forget that he was more than fashionably late. “Heeyyyy, sweetcheeks. You been waitin’ on me long?” The closer he gets the more you can smell the musk of sex and alcohol.

“James, are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?” You know he is and you fight the urge to turn your nose up at the offensive smell coming off him.

“Huh? Oh, shit, I am. Well would ya’ look at that?” He laughs before plopping down in the seat next to you, his smell even worse than before. He tries to give you what you assume is a sexy look, but he just looks like he just awoke out of a coma. “How about you help me change them then, sweetcheeks? Maybe even give me a good scrub, make sure I’m real clean? Oh, and sweets, call me Bucky since we’re gonna get real close.”

There is no way that he is trying to have sex with you when his stink is filling up the entire section of the library. Anger bubbles up in your chest. You were here to help him and he is taking this whole thing like a joke. “I don’t have time for this, James. Unlike you, I actually care about my grades and don’t think with what’s in my pants.”

As you go to walk away, Bucky tries to grab your wrist, wanting to mess with you some more, but his motor skills haven’t come back yet and he was too slow. “C’mon, sweetheart, I was just messin’ with ya’, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Bucky holds his tongue about wanting to sniff your panties, not wanting to antagonize you further, but you just keep storming away and soon enough you’re out of Bucky’s sight.

Bucky huffs, annoyed that you walked away from him. Not because he actually wanted to talk to you, no of course not, it’s because no one has ever walked away from him. He walks away from girls after he fucked them, not the other way around. Grabbing his shirt, he lifts it up to smell it, turning his head away when the stench hits him. “Damn, no wonder she fucking sprinted away from you, Barnes.” Bucky stands up, almost falling over when gets lightheaded, the effect of drinking all night with no food catching up to him.

He slowly makes his way back to his dorm to shower and get out of his grimy clothes, feeling it stick to his skin in the worst way possible. He realizes that he only gave you his number and you didn’t give him yours so he has no way of texting you to see when your next session is. Maybe he would have made it on time if you texted him. It wasn’t his fault he was late. Honestly, you should have reminded him since you are supposed to be helping him.

The next day Bucky sees you in class and luckily he doesn’t reek this time. Instead of sitting in his usual seat, he goes down a few rows and plops down next to you. “So, sweetheart, I don’t mean to question your teaching methods, but seems to me like you’re a pretty lackluster teacher, runnin’ out on me like that.” You slowly turn your head, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man. How dare he say anything about you when he showed an hour  late and proceeded to ogle you like a piece of meat?

“Excuse me? You wanna say that again, James? Because I don’t think I heard you right, because you better not have just said that I’m the problem.”

“I was just teasin’ ya, sweets. But if this is gonna work ya gotta help me a little bit. I mean, you’re the teacher and all.” You wanted to slap that smug smirk right off of his face.

“If this is going to work, James, then you need to try. I’m not going to pull my weight and yours so get that idea out of your head right now. I’ll be in the library at 4:30. If you’re so much as a minute late, I’ll tell the professor to get someone else to deal with you.” With that you got up and changed your seat, not wanting to be around him for another second. 

Bucky felt his pants tighten again. He really needs to do something about your attitude, like fuck it out of you. It wasn’t a lie that he found you attractive and the thought of bending you over your desk and watching your ass bounce made his cock even harder. Bucky was contemplating asking the girl next to him for a handjob but the thought of her hands around his cock didn’t seem as good as what he thought your hands would feel like.

So instead of that, Bucky moved his seat to the back of the room so he could jerk off. A man has needs after all and Bucky has never had to worry about someone taking care of his boners until now.

Bucky decides not to push his luck and he actually shows up to the library on time, sans all of his books, but at least he’s there. He sees you in the corner, hunched over your laptop, typing away. You look cute too, with your tongue slightly passed your lips in concentration and eyebrows pulled together. Reading glasses perched on your nose. His sweetheart was working hard. What the fuck, Barnes? Bucky is taken aback by his own thoughts. He has never looked at a girl like that, when none of his thoughts are about how many different ways he could fuck them.

You roll your eyes when you see that Bucky didn’t bring anything with him, just the air of arrogance that seems to follow him wherever he goes. “Would ya’ look at the time, sweets? I’m early. See I happen to take my education very seriously.” You swear, if you roll your eyes anymore because of this man, they’re going to be stuck in the back of your skull. 

“Yeah, yeah. What did the professor say you needed to work on?” You want to get straight to business. The faster you get this done the faster you can leave.

“Uh, well. I don’t exactly know what.” He tries to smile to soften the blow of his incompetence as he sits next to you, but you are almost vibrating in anger at how useless he is.

Huffing, you angrily click at your laptop, going to check the email your professor gave you, knowing that Bucky couldn’t be trusted to remember. “James, please tell me how your grade is a 13% and you’re still in college?” You had no idea that someone could have a grade that low and not be kicked out of the entire course.

“What! No way, let me see that.” You slide the laptop over to him, showing the proof of his negligence. “Well, damn, we have a lotta work to do then, sweetcheeks.” You ignore his comment and pull up his most recent essay, surprised that he turned it in at all, but not shocked to see how terribly he did.

“James, what did you even think this essay was about?”

“Uh, nature and care?” Your mouth drops open and you just stare at him for a minute, making him squirm under your gaze.

“James, this was an essay on Frankenstein, and you were supposed to analyze the difference between nature versus nurture. You wrote about the fucking trees!”

Bucky clearly didn’t understand the problem with his essay. “Yeah, that’s nature!”

“No, James. Nature as in how you are, like how you were born, not how you were raised. You were supposed to compare how Victor was nurtured all his life but was full of hate and spite, but the creature never had any care but he was benevolent until everyone who encountered him abhorred him!”

You were talking too fast and Bucky didn’t understand a word of what you said. You were using words that he had never heard of before. “So, you can fix it, right, sweets?” That same sly smile was on his lips. The look on your face was enough to make him backtrack. “Uh, so we can fix this right? You know, since we’re a team now.”

The resting bitch face you gave him had him shifting his eyes around the library, trying to avoid it. As soon as he did, however, he regretted his decision when his party hook up locked eyes with him. His eyes immediately went to your laptop, typing random words onto the document you pulled up, trying to seem busy.

“So, sweetcheeks, I’m picking up what you’re putting down. So Victor is a bitch and Frankenstein is cool.” The sound of your voice correcting him by calling the creature Frankenstein is drowned out by the shrill voice of his past trist.

“Hey, baby, haven’t seen you since that party. See you're working hard, keeping up that 4.0 I see.” She lets out a giggle and strokes his bicep. You raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything about his supposed GPA. You’re taking great pleasure in watching Bucky squirm, clearly not wanting anything to do with her now that he’s gotten his rocks off. 

“And who is this? I bet my smart baby is helping her study, right? That’s so sweet of you to help out, really. Not everyone would want to help the ugly girl.” You wheeled your head back, about to bite her head off for daring to say shit about your looks when the foundation on her face was three shades lighter than her chest that was almost spilling out of her way too small top. Now you were never one to judge, but if someone comes for your looks, you come right back at them.

Before you got the chance to tear her a new one, Bucky interjected. “Ya’ know me, always helping out where I can, even those less fortunate than me.” His eyes were glued to her chest and you doubted that he even knew what she said to begin with. “Listen, Sandy, how about we catch up after I’m done and I can help you out too?”

The “sexy” look on her face dropped. “My name’s Sally, nevermind, you can have the ugly bitch!” Bucky cringes slightly at getting her name wrong again; he was never good with those. You don’t know why you were involved with their lovers quarrel, but a twinge of hurt sprouts in your heart. You didn’t even do anything to her and she had to come at you for your looks, and Bucky didn’t say a fucking word.

Grabbing your things, you pack them with more force than necessary, but you don’t give a fuck. “Sweetheart, where are ya’ going? Don’t listen to her, she’s just a bit jealous that I’m with ya’.”

How does he not see what he did wrong? You just glare at him before turning on your heels and walking away. There is no way that you’re going to spend anymore time or energy on him when he isn’t going to try. If it was anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t be so hurt, but for just one second you thought that Bucky wasn’t as bad as he made himself out to be.

“Sweets, c’mon, we still have that essay to write.” Was this man really following you down the hall? Yes, yes he was. 

You spin around, eyes ablaze just to walk back up to him and push his chest. “You have an essay to write because I. Am. Done. You don’t give a fuck about this and I refuse to put myself through this for nothing.”

“What did I even do?” Now you were shaking with anger.

“What did you do? You haven’t tried at all, showing up late, trying to get me to fuck you, and worst of all, you let someone talk about me like that right in front of you and didn’t say a fucking word. You know, for a second there I thought you might be a nice guy, but you proved me the fuck wrong.”

Bucky had the nerve to look angry at what you said. Pushing you against the wall, he stares into your eyes. “Sweets, you’re really starting to piss me off. I’m fucking trying and it’s not good enough for ya’. I ought to fuck that attitude right outta ya’.” His eyes drop down to your lips and you’re too stunned to speak, not expecting him to push you up against a wall. 

He was starting to scare you, getting into your space like this, but before you could tell him to back off his lips smashed against yours. It was rough and fast. Your lips stayed still but your eyes were wide open, shocked at what he was doing. You tried to push his chest, but he only got closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, one hand dropping to your ass.

You struggled to free one of your hands, but as soon as you did you slapped Bucky in the face as hard as you could given your angle. He pulls back, shock on his face at the fact that you hit him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing! What made you think that I wanted to kiss you, asshole!” You try to wipe your lips, wanting to get the memory of his lips against yours off.

Bucky just stood there, not knowing what to say. He didn’t know what came over him. You shook your head and practically ran away to your dorm so you could shower and wash his touch off of you. The next day you were glad you didn’t have class with Bucky, but the remains of his kiss were still lingering. You didn’t even want to help him to begin with and this is how it ends up? With him forcing you to kiss him.

You didn’t want to tell anyone what happened, just wanting to forget the whole thing. But you couldn’t avoid Bucky for long since you did have to share a class together. He tried to come up to you, but you saw it out of the corner of your eye and switched seats before he could reach you. The entire hour and a half lecture was spent making sure Bucky wasn’t making his way any closer to you.

Instead of rushing out when class was over, you made your way down to your professors desk. “Professor, could I talk to you in your office for a minute? It’s important.” He might be relaxed most of the time, but your professor always made sure everyone in his class felt like they could talk to him if needed. 

Nodding his head, he leads you to his office and closes the door behind you, but not before you catch a glimpse of Bucky looking like a kicked puppy. He knew what you were about to talk about in that office, but there was nothing he could do about it. “Have a seat and tell me what’s going on. You’ve seemed off the past couple of lessons and I’m starting to get worried.”

You gulped, not knowing why it was so hard to say that you don’t want to tutor Bucky anymore. You didn’t want to let your professor down. Maybe it was because he reminded you of a father that you never had, but you just wanted to make him proud, showing him that you were capable of what he entrusted to you. He was looking at you, waiting to listen.

“Um, well, I have been distracted, but I think that it would be best for James to-” You can’t finish the rest of your sentence when you look at your professor. He trusted you to help Bucky and you can’t throw his trust away. “I think it would be best for James to have a more structured plan and I wanted to discuss that with you.”

The pride in his eyes was undeniable and you forgot about all the shit Bucky has put you through over the last few days. “Of course, what did you have in mind?” When you get out of his office, Bucky is still waiting, most likely missing the next party one of his friends is having.

You don’t even look at him, only grabbing the front of his shirt and dragging him with you all the way down to the library. “Sweets, listen, I didn’t mean to make ya’ feel-” Turning around, you cut him off and he stumbles to a stop.

“No, I don’t want to hear it, James. You listen to me. We will meet in this library every other day at this exact time and you will keep your mouth shut and work. Do you hear me?” Bucky feels his pants tighten, but doesn’t say a word about it, slightly scared to talk back to you. 

He just nods his head, finally noticing how beautiful you were. How your eyes held so much emotion in them, even when you didn't let it show on your face. Or how your lips form a small frown, the sides pulling down giving you an adorable pout. The small belmishes on your face, the tiny imperfections, created the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“A nod is not an answer, James. Use your words.” Bucky swears that he could have cum in his pants at that exact moment. No woman has ever been so dominant with him in or out of the bedroom. 

He gulps before finding his voice again, hoarse but still working. “Yes, ma’am. I won’t let ya’ down again. I swear.” You stare into his eyes for a few seconds longer, determining if you believed him or not, giving Bucky more time to appreciate every part of your face he didn’t notice before.

You let go of his shirt and keep walking and Bucky follows you like a lost puppy, eyes downcast to your ass but not being able to see much with your hoodie going down past it. Instead of going to the corner of the library you were at last time, you walk to one of the private study rooms. “Sit and get your shit out.”

Bucky wastes no time following your direction, loving how brazen you were. You sit down next to him, giving him the opportunity to smell your perfume, the light scent intoxicating. “So, teach, what are we working on first?” His eyes are bright and attentive, taking in your facial expressions. He’s trying to butter you up, make you less angry at him.

“We have to fix your atrocious essay. It’s worth the most amount of points so hopefully it will bring your grade up.” You root through his binder, nothing organized at all. When you find it and pull it out you sigh, not knowing where to even start. “Okay, first things first, you need to at least understand what this is about.”

You explain everything to him, stopping to see if he is still following along, surprised to see him paying attention, going so far as to interrupt every so often to ask questions. For the first time since he got to college, Bucky is trying. The two of you sit there for a few hours, going over the essay line by line, fixing his mistakes. To your surprise, his grammar wasn’t too bad. At least he had something going for him.

The next few lessons go by the same way, Bucky working hard to not piss you off, but also to improve his grades. There were no flirty comments, no complaining about you being bossy. He was falling for you, something that Bucky never thought would happen to him.

He didn’t know how it started. Maybe it was that day you told him off, grabbing his shirt and putting him in his place. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. You were so beautiful and smart. God you were smart. It amazed him how easy it was for you to explain the assignments to him. 

Bucky stopped going to parties, too. For once he didn’t find interest in getting shitfaced drunk and sticking his dick in a random girl; although it was giving him his first ever case of blue balls, it just felt wrong to have sex with another girl. He tried once at the last party he went to before he decided to stop going, but her hand on his cock didn’t make him pulse with need. Bucky ended up faking a phone call, saying that his friend was in the hospital and he needed to go see him.

As the weeks pass, Bucky can tell you’re getting soft on him, especially when you called him Bucky for the first time.

 “C’mon, sweets, it can’t be that bad helpin’ me out.” Bucky leans back in his chair, his signature smirk plastered on his face. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, James because from where I stand, I’m losing IQ points by the minute with you.” You still try to sass him but Bucky can tell you’re fighting off a smile. The two of you talk like actual friends now - no more jabs at his promiscuity and no more ogling.

“Ah, I think it’s the other way around. I can feel myself gettin’ smarter with ya’.” Bucky puts his head on the table in front of you, moving so he could look at your face. His eyes glisten, showing the sweet man hidden underneath his tough exterior.

“Oh, give me a break, Bucky, you’re just trying to butter me up so I’ll do all the work for you.” You smile, looking down at him with the same adoration he’s giving you. His name leaving your lips felt right, smooth and sweet.

Bucky’s eyes widen, not expecting his name to sound so damn good coming from you. He doesn’t say anything in fear of you going back to calling him James. Now that you’ve called him Bucky, he never wants to hear his first name come out of your mouth again. He wants to be your Bucky.

You can’t deny the feelings you’ve developed for Bucky. The man charming his way into your heart, but you know you can’t act on them. You doubt that Bucky has ever been in a serious relationship, only going for one night stands. Even though you’ve seen first hand how sweet of a man he can be, you still aren’t convinced that he would be interested in dating.

But Bucky doesn’t share the same sentiment. Today is the day he’s going to ask you on a date, hoping that you’ll say yes and give him a chance to prove himself to you, prove that he can be the man you deserve. Like always, you’re in the library before him, already set up and waiting. When you see him walking over you wave, the same gorgeous smile he fell for gracing your lips. 

You could tell that he was nervous, stuttering and not meeting your eyes. “Bucky, what’s going on with you? Don’t tell me that you forgot to turn in the essay that we’ve been working on.”

Bucky smiles sheepishly at you. “No, sweets, I remembered to turn it in. I, uh, well, ya’ know. I got a question for ya’.” Mentally slapping himself in the face, Bucky blushed.

Staring at him suspiciously, you pushed your laptop away, giving him your full attention. “Well, sweets, you’ve been so good to me over these past few weeks. Really turned me around. I didn’t think that I would be able to do all this college shit, you know?” It wasn’t a question that he wanted you to answer. “You made me change my ways. I don’t want to go to parties and get blackout drunk anymore. To be honest, I’d much rather spend my time with you.”

Bucky takes a deep breath while you gaze at him with a blank expression on your face, making him even more nervous than before. “Doesn’t matter what we’re doing, s’long as it’s with you I don’t care.”

You cut off his rambling, afraid of where he is going. “Bucky, what are you trying to say to me?” You know what he is trying to say, but you don’t know how to react to it. It’s not like you haven’t imagined what it would be like to go out with him, but that’s just not the man he is.

“I’m tryin’ to be romantic right now, sweets.” He lets out a little giggle, playing with his hands to try to calm himself down. “What I’m tryin’ to say is, would you like to go on a date with me?” Bucky feels his heart drop when you only stare at him, not even blinking. His knee starts to bounce, the anticipation becoming too much for him.

You sigh, thinking about what to say to him. The two of you have a good friendship, one that you never thought you would have, but starting a relationship with him is terrifying. “Bucky, listen.” Just from the way you started your sentence, Bucky regrets saying anything. “It’s not that I don’t like you, I really do, but I can’t deny that your past scares me.”

“What do you mean, sweets?” For a man so observant, he can be a little dumb.

“You don’t do relationships, Bucky. You’re used to no strings attached and dating includes a lot of strings.” Bucky clenches his jaw, of course his past would come back to bite him in the ass.

“I don’t want no strings attached anymore. I want to be with you and only you.” You close your eyes, putting your head down slightly. You want to believe him, you really do, but you don’t want to get your heart broken. Gently, Bucky’s hand grabs your chin, moving you to face him. “Let me prove myself to you, sweets, just give me a chance and if I blow it I give you full permission to kick my ass.”

That brings a small smile to your lips, but you’re still not convinced. “What if you get bored of me? Being with the same person over and over again?” Bucky’s heart aches at your words, not used to seeing you unsure of yourself. How could he ever get tired of you? He knows that he is the one who caused your insecurities. If he didn’t sleep around as much as he did, then you wouldn’t worry about his loyalty.

“Sweetheart, ever since you put me in my place, I haven’t touched another woman, can’t even think about someone who isn’t you touchin’ me. Just one chance is all I’m askin’ and I promise that I will show you how much I care.”

Closing your eyes, you lean into his warm palm, letting yourself feel him. His eyes hold so much vulnerability and you feel yourself losing the ability to say no to him. “Just one chance, Barnes. And if you hurt me I swear to God.” You’ve never seen Bucky smile so wide, pure joy adorning his face. 

The smile never left his face, only growing wider. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweets. What about you come over to my dorm and we can have a movie night? Maybe you could even stay over?” He looks sheepish, worried you’ll turn him down. At the quirk of your brow he rushes to explain himself. “Not like that! Just to hang out.”

You head back to your dorm to get a change of clothes while Bucky waits outside so he could walk with you back to his. As soon as you walk out, he is rushing to grab your bag from you, insisting that he carries it. “Bucky, I can carry my own bag, you know. I’m capable of that much.” He loves your little attitude, never accepting his help.

Throwing an arm over your shoulder, Bucky leads you away, not giving you your bag back. His dorm is just what you expect from a college frat boy: trash can overflowing, clothes on the floor, food left out, bed a complete mess. Scratching the back of his neck, Bucky shyly looks at you. You decide to only give him a little bit of grief for the mess. “Am I allowed on the bed or have you fucked someone here?”

Bucky’s eyes widen, frantically shaking his head. “No, never brought anyone back to my dorm.” Toeing your shoes off, you ask him where the bathroom is, changing your clothes before you flop onto the bed, letting yourself sink into the fluffy mattress. For a minute, Bucky feels his brain malfunction. The sight of you in his bed is probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He would give his left arm to have you naked right now, his cock buried deep inside you, your pussy pulsing around his cock, moaning when he rubs little circles on your clit.

“You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna put on a movie, loverboy?” Shaking his head, Bucky nods and heads over to grab his laptop before climbing into bed, leaving space in between the two of you in case you didn’t want to be too close. “I didn’t know that hanging off the side of the bed was your style, but if you want to leave me to freeze feel free to do so.”

Bucky doesn’t know how to act around you, this whole dating thing is uncharted territory for him. He just moves over, your thigh pressed to his. Bucky had to will his cock to not get hard, the softness of your body was making it hard to think straight. The fact that he’s only jerked off for the past month isn’t helping either.

You move to get more comfortable, which so happens to include you snuggling into his side, curling your arms around his bicep. Bucky has no clue what the movie is about, the image of all the things he wants to do to you in this bed are too much for him. He doesn’t know what the feeling passing over him is. He likes this. He likes the feeling of your body pressed to his. Not in a sexual way, although he wouldn’t mind that either, but in a completely innocent way. Bucky never stayed around after he came, always getting dressed and leaving. He’s never had a woman press their body against his just to find comfort.

Somehow, Bucky is following along with the plot of the movie, but he knows that it was just because of how you interacted with all the characters like they could hear you. Bucky would usually hate that, he hates when people talk through movies, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with you. If anything, he was glad that you kept talking, giving him the opportunity to hear your voice.

Halfway through the movie you stop talking. When Bucky looks down he sees that you fell asleep on his chest. Of course at that moment Bucky’s bladder decided that he needed to pee urgently. He tried to hold off for as long as he could, focusing on the part of your mouth and the bit of drool leaking from it. But try as he might, he needed to use the bathroom. 

He tried to maneuver you to not disturb your sleep but you woke up as soon as he moved. “Where you going?” Shit, he’s going to have to pee with a boner because your sleepy voice sent blood right to his cock. 

“Just gotta take a leak, be right back.” You just snuggle deeper into the pillows, humming in understandment. Bucky has to put one hand on the wall in the bathroom, leaning over the toilet at an awkward angle trying to push his erection down with his other hand so he could pee. It took a bit of work, but he was able to go without making a mess. Now, Bucky might be a lot of things, but unhygienic isn’t one of them and before he goes back to bed he washes his hands.

Once he walks back into the room he sees that you’re more awake than before but still laying in bed. He hits the lightswitch on his way over and turns on the lamp, letting the soft glow illuminate your features. “What took you so long? Almost fell back asleep.”

Before he could answer, you wrap your body around his and feel his hard cock through his sweats. Pulling away slightly, your face gets hot. That’s why he took so long. “Shit, sweets, I’m sorry. It’s just, well, you were in my bed, and you look so gorgeous. Not that I’m expecting anything! But the image of you is fucking hot. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Your giggle catches him by surprise. “It’s okay, Bucky. Can’t imagine going from having sex all the time to being abstinent for a month.” With the soft glow of the lamp, you see Bucky’s blush. “Just don’t think I’m going to fix it for you though.” He shakes his head and chuckles lowly, pulling you back into him, keeping his pelvis away from yours even though his dick was begging for release.

Bucky doesn’t say anything back, but his hand moves to your waist, resting over your shirt. His thumb rubs small circles before he trails his hand up to your ribs and you can feel the heat of his palm through your shirt. For a few minutes he keeps his hand there, feeling your heartbeat, all the while moving his face closer.

He can feel your heartbeat pick up the closer he gets. You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and inviting. You’ve never been this close to his face, seeing all of his freckles up close. You don’t want him to pull away, not when your whole body is thrumming with need. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that Bucky could be this gentle.

He moves his hand up to your arm, delicately trailing his fingertips up and down, giving you goosebumps. Bucky is waiting for you to make the first move this time. The first time he kissed you was crass and unwarranted. The little gasp that leaves your lips when his palm rests on your cheek makes his cock jump.

Eyes fluttering shut, you lean in first. His plump lips meet yours and you moan into his mouth, not expecting his lips to be so soft and warm. You move your hands to his chest, pulling him closer to you, wanting to feel his whole body pressed to yours. You ignore the erection pressed against your stomach, completely lost in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

Bucky frees his other hand from under him and wraps it around your waist, pulling you on top of him. The pressure of his hand caused you to arch your back, gasping when your core meets his hard dick. Bucky doesn’t waste the opportunity to put his tongue in your mouth, groaning at the taste. He has to use every bit of self control in his body not to buck his hips up, but he doesn’t have to because you grind down onto him, searching for friction. The harder you kiss him, the more his will slips from him and he was the first to break the kiss, a trail of saliva still connecting you to him.

Both of you gasp for breath, having deprived yourselves of oxygen for too long. “Why’d you stop?” God, you were perfect. Eyes wide, pupils blown, kiss swollen lips - Bucky knew that he wanted to keep you like this all the time, having you look at him like that was addicting and he was already hooked.

“If we keep going I won’t be able to control myself and I told you that I’m going to prove to you that I’m in this. That I don’t want you just for sex. I’m going to treat you right, make sure you know how much I care first.” You have to bite your lip to stop the moan leaving you. That was the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. The fact that Bucky, the resident fuckboy, is denying sex because he wants to show you what you mean to him first has your cunt clenching around nothing.

You can’t think of words to convey how much that means to you, so you just slam your lips against his, kissing him with as much passion as you possibly could. Bucky has to use every morsel of restraint to move you off of him. “Sweets, you’re going to kill me with this.” The giggle you let out makes leaving his throbbing dick alone worth it, but you take pity on him and ask if he wants to go to the bathroom to fix his issue.

At first he declines, but he eventually caves and goes into the bathroom, shuts the door and handles his business. You scroll on your phone for a bit but you’re surprised when he comes back so fast. “Loverboy, this better not be a sign that you don’t last in bed, because when we do have sex, I want you to fuck me properly.”

As he flops back down on the bed, he groans. When, you said when, not if, when. “Sweets, if I hadn’t just came my dick would be rock hard again. You can’t say shit like that to me.” He rolls over, stradling you. “And sweets, I promise you, I’ll fuck you so good you won’t remember your name.”

You just raise your eyebrows, choosing to tease him a bit. “Well, based on the time you spent touching yourself, I’m not convinced. Hope your reputation hasn’t gone to your head because I’ll be honest if you can’t fuck me right.”

Bucky squints his eyes at you before leaning down, like he was going to kiss you again, but at the last moment, he pulls back and tickles your sides. Your laughter is easily one of his favorite sounds. “Bucky! Stop or else I’ll never have sex with you.” That makes him pause, even though he knew it was an empty threat and lays back down next to you.

“Okay, okay, sweets, I’ll leave you be. But I wouldn’t be opposed to you tickling me.” 

“What, is this a kink that you have, being tickled?” He scrunches his nose while he laughs, knowing what he was going to say next.

“No, but I would love it if you would tickle my pickle.” He smirks like it was the best joke ever told, proud of himself. You groan and turn away from him so he can’t see your smile. “C’mon, sweets, that was a good one.”

If you turn around you know you’ll see his puppy dog eyes. “Buck, that was the worst joke in the history of jokes.” 

“Ah, ah, I can hear your smile. You loved it.” You don’t respond, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that you liked his joke. It’s silent for a moment and you are about to turn back around but Bucky talks before you can. “Do you mind if we spoon? I mean, you don’t have to stay overnight, but if you want to, ya’ know.”

“Well, it is pretty cold outside, and I would hate to have to walk all the way back. And who knows, I could freeze to death at my dorm. Better be safe than sorry.” Bucky knows what you're doing and plays along.

“Of course, sweets, can’t have my girl freeze. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t keep my girl warm.” You skooch back, pressing against his chest and his arms circle your waist, chin resting on your head. “Night, sweets, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Only if I don’t run away, loverboy.” You feel the vibrations of his chest as he chuckles before leaning back to turn the lamp off, falling asleep with your soft body pressed to his.

Over the next few months, Bucky proves himself to be the perfect boyfriend, always asking you how your day was, remembering all the little things about you, kissing you and holding your hand around campus, not giving a single fuck who saw the two of you. He wasn’t embarrassed to admit he was whipped.

“Buck, c’mon, this is the best fucking party of the year, you have to go. It’s gonna be packed with girls in slutty costumes, Halloween man, everyone wants to fuck everyone.” Bucky only rolls his eyes at Steve.

“Dude, how many times do I have to tell you, parties aren’t for me anymore. Hangovers suck dick and I have better things to do in my free time.” Steve doesn’t seem to understand how much Bucky loved you. He’s never said it, at least not yet. 

“Like what, hanging out with the nerd who hasn’t put out in three months? C’mon, I know you want some pussy and it’s gonna be on a fucking platter tonight.” Bucky sees red, not giving a shit that Steve is his best friend. No one talks about his girl like that, no one.

“Steve, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you fucking know how much I care about her. If I ever hear you call her that shit again, I’ll put you in the fucking hospital. I couldn’t give less of a shit about how long I have to wait for her to know that I don’t just want a pussy to fuck, not anymore. I’m done with the parties and the random girls, okay. So get that through your thick skull.”

He doesn’t wait for Steve to answer, storming out of Steve’s dorm and walking away, not even caring where he was headed. He doesn’t know how he got there, but he stands outside of your door, raising his hand to knock. You always answer the door for him and this time is no different.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” You were so tuned into him, reading him like a book. Without waiting you pull him into your dorm, shutting and locking the door behind him, leading him to your bed. His jaw was clenched, eyes set. If he was a cartoon, steam would be pouring from his ears.

“Fucking Steve.” He kicks off his shoes and gets comfortable in your bed, you following right after. You would go anywhere he goes.

Cuddling up to him, you pull him into you and his muscles relax at your touch, body responding to yours without thought. “What about Steve? You two get into a fight?” You never really liked Steve, but he was Bucky’s friend and you would listen to whatever he had to say about Steve. He was just like Bucky was before he met you.

“Being a fucking asshole. You wanna know what he said to me?” Bucky doesn’t wait for you to answer, only turning his head to see you better before continuing. “Wanted me to go to the Halloween party tonight, talking about all the girls that want to fuck as if he doesn’t know that I’m with you.” That doesn’t seem as bad as you thought, thinking that they got into a fist fight. It doesn’t surprise you that Steve was still trying to convince Bucky to go back to his playboy ways.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. “He had the fucking nerve to say that I should go because we haven’t had sex yet, like I give a shit about that. Fucking disrespected you right to my face.” You couldn’t deny that you were turned on by the fact that Bucky was defending your honor even when you weren’t there, not letting anyone bad mouth you.

“And what did you say, Buck?” Fuck, your voice was breathy, heartrate picking up. You wanted to hear what he said, how he told his best friend off. Bucky didn’t seem to pick up on your arousal, still too heated from his argument.

“Fucking told his ass that if he ever says that shit again, I’ll fuck him up. No one talks about my girl like that, don’t give a shit who it is.” You swear you could cum right now. Why was that so hot? Maybe it was because you’ve never had a man that didn’t let anyone disrespect you, or maybe you just liked to see him mad.

“I want you, Bucky. Want you to fuck me.” It just comes out, shocking the both of you. Bucky whips his head around, eyes as wide as your own.

“What?” 

“I want you to fuck me. I’m ready, know you don’t just want to use me.” Bucky’s dick is rock hard in seconds, all the anger in his body disapparating instantly. 

“Are you sure you want this, sweets? Because I have no problem waiting.” Throughout the course of your dating, Bucky can’t count the amount of times that he’s been hard and left his cock untouched. It’s gotten to the point where the two of you knew he was going to get hard when he was around you, not that it bothered you, knowing how much you were affecting him, but Bucky’s used to ignoring his erection now and he has no problem waiting for it to go away if you don’t want to have sex with him.

“Yes, Bucky, I think I’ve made you wait long enough. And to be honest, if I make you wait any longer I don’t think you’ll last more than a minute.” The mouth on you marvels Bucky every time. 

“Excuse me, sweets, but I’ll have you know I’m no two pump chump.” You only raise an eyebrow and Bucky huffs before kissing you again. It’s slow and hot. Bucky’s never kissed like this before, but with you he just can’t help but savor the feeling of your lips on his. He doesn’t want to rush, if he could he would kiss you forever, stuck in limbo, floating with only your touch to ground him.

You whine, hands pulling at his shirt, trying to get him to take it off. Bucky moves back, smirking at you. “Desperate, aren’t we? Just wanna feel me ‘gainst you, huh?” Teasing hasn’t been something Bucky really did, always hurrying to the main event, but he wants to make you crave him as much as he does you. 

The glare you give him holds no heat, not able to be mad at him when he’s looking so damn hot above you. Bucky relents, just this once, and takes his shirt off, revealing his toned stomach. He sucks a breath in through his teeth when your hands land on his abs. “Holy hell, woman! Your hands are fucking ice cubes!” You giggle but don’t pull away, sitting up and moving your hands across his back, slipping them into his sweats, finding his bare ass and squeezing.

“Well, loverboy, warm them up for me.” Bucky shakes his head in disbelief, chuckling at you. He takes your hands out of his pants and lays you back down, letting his warm palms circle the soft skin of your belly under your shirt. 

“Can I take this off, sweetheart? Gonna let me see those pretty tits?” Your cunt pulses at his words. Men that you’ve been with before haven’t talked to you like this, making you yearn for them.

“I mean, you can take it off but they’re not that pretty.” Bucky wheels his head back, clearly offended by your statement. For the first time, you shy away from his gaze. You weren’t exactly insecure about your body, but you also weren’t the most confident and you doubt that your body is better than the surplus of girls Bucky’s had.

“I beg your fucking pardon, sweets. I’m gonna need you to run that by me again.” Bucky lowers his face to yours, and you’re sure he is looking right through you. 

“Well, I doubt they’re the best pair you’ve seen, Buck. Don’t roll your eyes at me either.” You catch the eye roll Bucky gave you. He wasn’t rolling his eyes at you, but rather the words you were saying.

“I can’t believe my ears, sweets. The smartest girl I’ve ever met is saying what is quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve heard. And that’s coming from the guy who is friends with Sam.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes and instead of saying anything back to him, you grab the bottom of your shirt and take it off, revealing your naked chest to him, foregoing a bra.

Like any man, Bucky gets distracted by the sight of your breasts on display for him. It takes him a second, but he shakes his head and comes back from his daze. “Fuck, sweetheart, you got the prettiest set of tits I’ve ever fuckin’ seen. Fucking perfect.” Bucky isn’t lying either, he really does think that you’re the most beautiful woman on the entire planet, every part of your body is perfection. “Should be a model, sweets, let everyone see how gorgeous you are.”

You feel the heat creep up your neck and rest on your cheeks. You aren’t used to being looked at like this. The look he’s giving you is so much different from when you first started working with him. It’s not filled with lust, although you can tell it’s there, but filled with awe and love. “Uh, uh, don’t look away from me. Want you to look at me while I make you cum.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before moving down to your neck, sucking on your sweet spot that he found the first time you made out. The little gasps and whines that leave your lips has his cock begging to be touched, but right now it isn’t about him, it’s about you.

You arch your back, pressing your soft breasts against his solid chest, drawing his attention away from your neck and to your tits. Trailing kisses down your chest, he swirls his tongue around your right breast, purposely avoiding your sensitive nipple. He doesn’t listen to any of your protests so you take matters into your own hands and grab a fistfull of his hair and jerk his head to where you want him to be. 

 The moan that leaves Bucky is pornographic, having no idea he liked his hair pulled that much. Bucky abides and takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. “Oh, Bucky, just like that, feels good.” Bucky has to buck his hips into yours, never hearing something so sexy in all his life.

His other hand comes up to grab your other breast, rolling your nipple in between his fingers, every so often switching to give each one the attention they deserve. The longer he plays with your breasts, the more you feel your panties soak and you can’t take it anymore, needing some type of release.

Bucky pulls away with a pop, the cool air hitting your wet nipples makes you gasp. “Baby, I need you to touch me.” You can sense the words about to leave his mouth and answer his unspoken question. “Touch my pussy.”

Letting out a deep groan, Bucky grabs the hem of your sleep shorts, pulling them and your panties down when you nod. Your hand jets down to cover your pussy when you remember that you haven’t shaved, not expecting to have sex with Bucky tonight. “Wait, I have hair right now, maybe we shouldn’t.”

Bucky just blinks at you. He can’t believe that you would deprive him of your pussy because of a little hair. “Sweets, I have been a patient man, but I swear to God if you don’t move your hand and let me see my pretty pussy I’m going to lose my mind. You really think I give a shit if you have some fucking hair?”

You just smile sheepishly at him before removing your hand. “There she is. Look at her, so beautiful ain’t she? Yeah, she’s dripping for me, knows who she belongs to.” Fuck, you didn’t expect him to be so enamored with your cunt. “Ya gonna let me touch my pretty girl?”

You gulp before giving a breathy yes and Bucky spreads your legs a little wider and brings his right hand up to your pussy lips, gently tracing them making you twitch and giggle. “Bucky, that tickles.” Bucky smiles and his nose scrunches before his thumb goes from your hole up to your clit. “Fuck, Bucky, rub my clit.”

He just stops his movement, resting his thumb on your bundle of nerves. “This is where I’m in charge, sweets, and I don’t think that was a very polite way of talking to the man who is touching you.” You huff, not used to taking orders from anyone, but you want him to keep touching you so you relent.

“Will you please, rub my clit, loverboy.”

Bucky clicks his tongue at you. “Now, sweets, that didn’t sound very genuine but I’ll let it slide this time because I want to see this pretty pussy soak your sheets.” 

He starts to rub your clit from side to side, making you jerk your hips away. “Don’t fucking DJ my cunt. Circles, Buck, circles. You’re making me lose faith in you, babe.” Heat makes its way up his neck, his selfishness finally catching up to him. He doesn’t say anything, but switches up his method to what you said and you giggle at his confidence wavering.

His little slip up doesn’t slow him down, though, quickly finding the pace and pressure that seems to work best and draws those pretty sounds from your lips. Bucky knows that he isn’t going to be able to get enough of this, of you laid out before him, consumed by the pleasure he is giving you. 

“You want my fingers inside ya? Cause I wanna feel my pretty girl cum around my fingers.” You can feel the coil in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t remember if you’ve ever gotten to the edge this fast. All you can do is nod, moans and gasps the only sounds leaving your lips.

When his first finger slips inside you, your back arches and somehow the moans leaving you get even sexier and Bucky slips another finger in. “That’s it, pretty girl, suck my fingers in. Doing so good for me, knew you’d treat me so well. Don’t ya think, sweets?” The way he talks to your pussy has you leaking more arousal out.

“Please, Bucky, don’t stop, keep going just like that. M’gonna cum.”

A jolt of excitement shoots up Bucky’s spine. He wanted to see you cum so bad. Using every bit of self control in his body not to speed up, Bucky kept the same pace, curling his fingers to find that spongy patch. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweets, need to feel my pretty girl cum on my fingers. Promise I’ll feed her my cock after.”

Bucky groans with each clench of your cunt around his fingers, more desperate than you for your orgasm. “C’mon, sweets, give it to me. Can feel your clit pulsing. Be my good girl and give me what I want.” That was all you needed to fall off the edge, trusting that Bucky would catch you. 

Bucky’s sure that the sight of you cumming is the greatest thing in the world. He couldn’t dream of fucking you and not seeing you fall apart for him. He never stops moving his fingers, riding out your orgasm, only relenting when you push his hand away. It takes a few minutes, but you come back down, an open mouth smile on your face, eyes closed and Bucky falls even harder for you.

Blindly, you search for his pants, wanting to see his cock. “Bring him out, Buck, wanna see my new friend.” If it wasn’t for the orgasm he just gave you, Bucky would have been positive that you were drunk off your ass. Doubling over, Bucky cackles, not expecting to hear that come out of your mouth. “Don’t you laugh at me, loverboy, know your cock is huge. Let me meet him. Wanna put him in my mouth.” You give him a lopsided smirk.

“Don’t worry, sweets, you can meet him.” Bucky struggles to hold back his laugh. In all fairness, he did refer to your pussy as her, but the thought of you calling his dick him is hilarious. Nonetheless, Bucky strips the rest of his clothes off and you practically drool at the sight of his dick.

A little over average length, but thick as hell. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a cock that thick and you know he is going to destroy your cunt. Under his cock, his balls were heavy and full, the amount of cum in there building up just for you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him into you and Bucky has to catch himself with his arms so he doesn’t crush you with his weight. 

You both gasp when his bare cock rubs against your soaking cunt. Bucky has to close his eyes and think about all the assignments he still has to complete to stop himself from cumming on the spot. “Want it inside me, please, Buck, give it to me.” Bucky is near the verge of crying when you grind your cunt on him.

All you want is for him to fuck you until you can’t see straight and so does Bucky, but it takes everything in him to put away, knowing that the next words to come out of his mouth aren’t going to be sexy. “Hold on, sweets. I have to get a condom first.”

You don’t like that one bit, wanting to feel him inside you with no barrier. “Don’t need one, ‘m on the pill.” That has Bucky about to cum all over the sheets and your pussy. He knows that he needs to be responsible, not only for him, but for you too.

“Sweets, I, well, I haven’t been tested since my last partner. I’ve never done it without a condom, but I don’t want to risk it until I get tested.” He hangs his head in shame, yet again his promiscuity is coming back to bite him in the ass. What he wouldn’t give to feel your sopping cunt choke his dick, hell only knows, but his statement seems to sober you up.

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably for the best.” You can’t meet his eyes, the conversation awkward enough even if you weren’t about to fuck. Bucky takes in a deep breath and huffs out, clearly not knowing what to do next so you decide to lighten the mood. “Well, loverboy, you better wrap that bad boy up so you can prove that you can actually fuck me like you said you would. Top drawer. I got the good ones.”

You got Bucky to crack a smile before he gave a small smack to your thigh and walked over to your nightstand to get a condom. You wolf whistled when you saw his toned ass. “Damn, baby, you’ve been holding out on me?”

Bucky wheels around and says some clever retort, but you don’t hear it, not when his cock swings around with him, bobbing at the sudden change of direction. Not only that, but with each step he takes, his dick bounces up and down. “Sweetheart, it’s all yours. Stare all you want but close your mouth before I put somethin’ in there.”

Bucky rolls the condom down his length, giving it a few pumps while he admires you laid out on the bed, naked and ready for him to fuck you. Before he climbs back into bed, you stop him. “Wait, loverboy, do a little spin for me, let me see him move.”

Throwing his head back, Bucky lets out a belly laugh, and he just so happens to make his cock and balls bounce. “C’mon, s’all I want.” When he calms down, Bucky relents and circles his hips a few times, his cock, although stiff, moves with his hips and you have to close your legs to try to relieve the ache in your core. “Fuck, need you now, Bucky.”

“Yeah, sweets, you need my cock? Does my pretty girl need to be stuffed with my cock?” No smart retort comes to your mind, only the need to have him fill you up. It’s been way too long since you’ve had sex and you know Bucky’s cock is going to ruin you for anyone else.

“Please, Buck.” Fuck, the way you’re looking at him, with wide, pleading eyes, and a pout on your lips has Bucky’s dick pulsing. He climbs on the bed, in between your legs. “How do you want me?” You’ve overheard Bucky relive his one night stands more than once in class, before he fell for you. He was always adamant that the only positions worth doing were the ones where he could see the girl’s ass, and how boring positions where he could see her face were. 

Bucky stares at you for a second, cupping your face and leaning down to give you a tender kiss. “Want you just like this, sweets, wanna see you.” You swallow hard, willing yourself not to cry at how intimate he’s being. Despite your best efforts, tears well up in your eyes, making Bucky panic.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” His eyes hold so much love, something Bucky never thought he would feel for a partner. You wrap your legs and arms around him, clinging like a koala.

“Not a damn thing, Buck, just love you. Love you so fucking much it hurts.” Bucky feels his heart swell. If this is what it felt like to love and be loved, Bucky would spend the rest of his life trying to keep you, show you how perfect you are, love you as hard as he can and then some.

“Sweetheart, I can’t even put into words how much I fucking love you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, made me change from the asshole I was.” Bucky had his own tears welling up in his waterline.

“Buck, make love to me, show me how much you love me.” Reaching down, you wrap your hand around his dick, drawing a gasp from his lips, and line him up with your pussy. He presses his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes as he pushes in, cock stretching your cunt with every inch.

Crashing his lips into yours, Bucky tries to hide his moan, whiny and long, never feeling such intense pleasure. Neither of you can kiss, just gasping into the other’s mouth. When his hips are flush with yours, balls resting against your ass, Bucky has to stop. If he moves he’ll cum; he knows it. He’s never felt like he would cum on the first stroke, but the way your cunt hugs him has him doubting that he’ll last more than a few minutes.

You can’t handle it, the stretch of his cock almost too much, but you needed him to move. “Please, baby, move, need it.” The moan that leaves him is sinful and you involuntarily clench around him.

“Sweets, can’t. Need a minute.” His arms go to your waist, and he pulls you up, groaning when his cock shifts deeper inside you, and sits with his back against the headboard, keeping you wrapped in his arms, bodies pressed so close together you could feel every muscle. Bucky closes his eyes, resting his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and relishing in the intimacy of the moment, with your breasts squished against his chest, feeling every breath you take, loving your soft hands scratching his scalp.

“Do this with all the girls, loverboy?” The breathiness in your voice has his cock pulsing against your walls.

“Never, sweetheart, never. You feel so fucking good.” Bucky sounded like he was about to cry with how hard he was trying not to cum.

You wanted him to fuck you, pussy leaking down his thighs. You decided that if you annoy him enough he might just fuck you dumb. “Guess I was right then, loverboy can’t last in bed. Gonna tell everyone how I broke your cock, how fast you came for me.”

That seemed to strike a nerve and Bucky rolled over, pining you to the bed with his body. You gasped at the quick motion and the jostle of his cock. “Sweets, now is not the time to tease me. Use your mouth for something better.” He could already hear your, like what, so he cut you off before you could get anything out. “Like moaning my name while I fuck you.”

He doesn’t pull his cock out far, wanting to stay as close to you as possible. Pushing back in, he groans, having to will himself not to cum. You feel so good, pussy wrapped around him perfectly. “Sweets, love you so much, never wanna leave this pussy.” You whine, a jolt of pleasure going through your clit at his words. 

“Love you too, Buck. Want to stay like this forever, want you.” It’s Bucky’s turn to whine, rutting into you, the coarse curls at the base of his cock rubbing your clit, the sensation of your breasts pressed against him new. 

He can’t help it, you just look too pretty underneath him, grabbing both of your hands in his, lacing them together and putting them above your head and pressing his forehead to yours, staring into your eyes. His lips meet yours, both of your whines and moans mix together. 

The constant roll of his hips is pushing you to the edge faster than ever before. You take one of your hands, still laced with his, and place it over his heart, feeling the erratic beat. The coil in your stomach is curling tighter and tighter. “C’mon, sweets, can feel you clenching ‘round me. Give it to me, cum on my cock.” 

Bucky is doing his best to hold on, wanting this moment to last, to relish in the bubble the two of you have created. His moans get louder, his own orgasm creeping up on him. Wiggling your other hand out of his grasp, you run your fingers over the back of his head, crashing your lips on his before you fall off the edge, eyes rolling back and body quivering, his body the only thing grounding you.

He had to pull out, your pussy almost milking his cum out, but he didn’t want to cum just yet. He wants to make you cum again, this time while he looks at your face, seeing it scrunch up in pleasure. You didn’t seem too happy at him for pulling out, needing him to be as close as possible. “Keep fucking me, Bucky. I need you to cum for me.”

Bucky groans before guiding his cock back home, squeezing his eyes shut when he feels your pussy somehow got even tighter. Not wasting any time, he starts thrusting again, this time much faster, still rolling his hips, hitting your sweet spot every time.

Pulling his body away from yours, Bucky sits up, resting your thighs over his, keeping his dick inside of you, not missing a single thrust. With the new position, he can see your breasts bounce, but more importantly, how beautiful your face looks screwed in ecstasy. “So fucking beautiful for me, sweets. Love the way your pretty tits jiggle, look gorgeous when your getting fucked dumb on my cock, gonna keep you like this all the time.” 

In this position, your clit is being neglected so you reach one hand down, desperate to cum again. Bucky quickly swats your hand away, replacing it with his own. “Ah, ah, I’m gonna make my girl cum. Just want you to lay there and look pretty for me. Can you do that for me?” You just moan in response, thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit, bringing you to the edge again. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes! I’ll do anything you want.” You feel Bucky’s cock pulsing inside of you, thrusts becoming sloppy and losing their rhythm. “Cum for me, Bucky, fill me up with your cum.” You both know that he is wearing a condom, but the thought of his cum rushing into your pussy, stuffing you to the brim, is enough to have Bucky emptying his balls into the rubber, groaning deep, almost whining your name.

He can’t stop thrusting into you, still rubbing your clit, desperate for you to cum around him. “Sweets, so much fucking cum for you, know you can take it. Fuck, cum for me, milk my cock, get every drop out.” Bucky was right, you looked absolutely divine when you came. At that moment you’ve never looked prettier.

Bucky never felt an orgasm that intense, leaving him weak in the knees. Collapsing onto your chest, not able to hold his own weight up. You huff, air being pushed out of your lungs, but you don’t mind, his weight soothing, helping to bring you back down from the high of your orgasms. You both lay there, hands stroking each other until you fully come back to reality.

“Gonna pull out, sweets, okay?” Bucky has never had his cock in a girl this long after he’s came, and it was getting too sensitive. Words don’t come to mind and you just nod your head dumbly, both of you hissing at the sensation.

Without a word, Bucky gets up and heads to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and clean himself up. All of a sudden tears well up in your eyes, body cold and craving his touch. He’s been so sweet to you for the past months, proving that he didn’t just want sex with you, but now he’s walking away as soon as you’re done. 

The buzzing of your body goes away, dread filling you. Rolling over, you burrito yourself under the covers, facing away from the bathroom, not able to stop the tears from streaming down your face. It only takes a few minutes, but to you it feels like a lifetime, until Bucky comes back, sliding under the covers himself. 

“So, sweets, what do ya’ want to do? I could go for a bite to eat myself. Don’t know when the last time you ate was though.” Bucky, on the other hand, was basking in the afterglow of the best sex of his life, already thinking about all the things he could do with you, all the ways he could get you to cum for him.

When you don’t respond right away, Bucky thinks you fell asleep. Leaving a kiss to the back of your head, he gets up and puts his sweats on, not bothering with anything else and heads to your kitchen. He doesn’t feel like making a full meal so he decides to just make a quick sandwich and head back to bed after eating.

You burst into full blown sobs when Bucky leaves, assuming that he left your dorm all together, having no idea that he was just outside. How could you have been so stupid to think that he really wanted you? Bucky goes to take a bite out of his snack when he hears your sobs, immediately thinking the worst - he hurt you, did something you didn’t like.

Rushing back into the room, Bucky climbs back into bed, rolling you over without warning. “What are you still doing here? Thought you left?” How could you ever think that he would leave you?

“No, sweets, just went to make a sandwich. What’s going on? Why are you crying?” Bucky has never been so fucking scared in all his life, terrified that he hurt you.

“Thought you left after you got what you wanted. You just left me in the bed after we were done.” Bucky’s eyes widened, not expecting you to say that. He doesn’t know what he did wrong. He’s never stuck around after sex, confused at what’s going on with you.

“Sweets, I’m so sorry that I made you think that, but I don’t know what’s going on. Need you to talk to me. I don’t want you to think I don’t care.” Your bottom lip wobbled, of course he didn’t know about aftercare. It wasn’t his fault that he never had a relationship like this. It meant so much to you that he was asking how to fix his mistake.

“I get really sensitive after sex. It’s annoying actually, but I need to be held and told that you still love me.” You avoid his gaze, more tears making their way down your face, Bucky wiping them away. How could his perfect girl think that her needs were annoying or an inconvenience to him.

“Oh, sweetheart, come here.” Bucky pulls you into his lap, almost petting your hair. “You did so good for me, you know that? I love you so fucking much and nothing is going to change that, okay?” He pulls your head back to look into your eyes.

“It’s just that my last boyfriend said that he couldn’t look at me after sex, said he couldn’t see me the same way.” What in the fuck. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to understand that I know that I’m the fucking luckiest man alive to be able to be with you any way you let me. When I look at you I’m so proud to call you mine.”

You bury your head in his shoulder, letting him hold you and whisper sweet words in your ear. For his first time doing aftercare, Bucky is doing great and soon you come all the way down. Pulling away from him you giggle. “Love you too, Buck. Thank you for that. I know some men don’t care about that. After they get what they want they leave.” Bucky hangs his head in shame, thinking about all the girls he made feel like they were worthless. “I know that you did the same thing, but the fact that you were so willing to change means a lot to me.”

Bucky knows that there’s a lot he has to learn about being in a relationship, but he wants to learn it all to be the man you deserve. He is going to treat you like the goddess you are for the rest of his life, he knows it, already planning on picking out a ring, because he’s gonna love you for a long, long time.

[seratopia]

miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - please? → she/her pronouns!

miguel begs you not to get out of bed

By far the highest blessing you could receive in the morning is Miguel O'Hara's morning voice.

Deep, gravelly, and sparse, Miguel's morning voice always manages to send chills down your spine, especially when you're nothing but a hair's width apart from his chest.

You can feel his heart slowly beat against your cheek, his chest rising and falling to the sound of his breathing. Waking up to a face full of chest has been unexpectedly, one of the numerous highlights of your day.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open, and it takes you a moment to come to your senses. He smells nice, a reminder of the shower gel you keep in your bathroom for when he visits.

Miguel's almost too big for your bed; he takes up your space, barely fits the comforter, but you love him anyway. You really don't know how, or why Miguel chooses to sleep with you in your tiny little bed, but you don't complain.

"Amor."

His wording rumbles from the deepest parts of his throat, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your ear. You squirm a little, tiny noises escaping your mouth as you make yourself just a little more comfortable.

"Mmmph... what time is it?" You murmur into his skin, savoring the warmth he omits.

Miguel lazily rests his heavy arm over you, running his abnormally large hand over your back. He presses a darling kiss into your hair, humming. It's only you who gets to see him like this, all sleepy-eyed and touchy beyond repair. You try to savor this version of Miguel as possible, knowing that he has to be someone else when he's at work.

Miguel keeps a single arm on you while you try to bend your arm in impossible ways, twisting and turning your limb to try to reach your phone on the bedside table. Eventually it works, and you manage to slip your phone into your fingers before you dislocate your arm.

"It's 9:23..." You breathe, sighing before turning your phone back off and placing it next to your pillow.

Miguel's pulling you in like a magnet, snuggling you like a puppy would a teddy bear. He's just too cute like this, hands and legs roaming around your body for something to squeeze. As much as you absolutely hate to let go of him, duty calls.

"Miguel... we have to go to work."

He can hear the distaste in your voice, reminded of the agonizingly long spread of cleanup, the idea of people bothering him, the mediocre food at the cafeteria. (Except for the empanadas, lmao)

Miguel doesn't want to go to work today, and he doesn't think you do either. Wearing a skin-tight supersuit just wasn't it today.

"Noo...." Miguel whines, strengthening his arms around you. You have to tap on his arm, just so enough air can find it's way back to your lungs again.

"Miguel, we have a job to do." You say, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. You hear him groan into your hair, your mind practically going blank at the sound of his intense morning voice.

We mUST stay focused brothers, we must stay focused!!!

Almost like every morning, you begin your wrestle for freedom, pushing at his forearms wrapped tight over you. It's almost like you forget that Miguel's a superhuman Spider-Man. Stubbornly, he keeps his lazy stance, ignoring your tiny pushes and shoves.

"Oh my gosh, Miguel. Let me go. If you don't go to work, I will." You curse, squirming and kicking yourself in all sorts of directions.

He shakes his head again, eyes closed shut and nose still in your hair.

It was only a matter of time before you'd tire yourself out.

And you did.

Miguel's got the shittiest, most satisfied grin on his face, and all you can do is scowl at him. Still, he hasn't let go of you, and now you're convinced he wont let you go until the end of the day.

As much as Miguel was stubborn, you were too. You have a final ace up your sleeve, and hopefully it'll save both Jessica and the kids from disarray in the office today.

Miguel's face starts to melt down a little when you flutter your eyelashes at him, shoving your face into his chest and pressing a sweet little kiss between his pectorals.

It's like the satisfaction from Miguel transferred over to you, and Miguel is left speechless as you trail your way up to his clavicle, nipping and kissing at the surface of his skin.

"Let me go, please?" You ask, specifically in the tone of voice that you know Miguel loses his shit over.

His voice is hitched in his throat, ears turning scarlet as his grip around you starts to loosen.

"I... honey-"

The moment you reach his neck, Miguel know's he's done for, a chill running down his neck and back. It makes him all hot, his mind being wiped clean like a whiteboard. Just for the funsies, you kiss his pulse point a little, wrapping your own arms around his neck.

Utterly, Miguel melts, the sweetest, poutiest expression on his face like he doesn't know what to.

You win.

While you still can, you slip out of Miguel's grip, your feet finally meeting the carpeted floor. Miguel realizes your little act, grumbling and pouting to himself as he relishes the disappearance of your warmth.

"If you come to work, we can do more..." You tease, trotting off to your bathroom with a chuckle.

Reluctantly, the man rises from your bed, the boards creaking under his weight. (One day, he's gonna break your bed, somehow.) He follows after you, running his hand through his messy bedhead.

"Coming, sweetie."

�� 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

[insolentgod]

reminder extremely tough and maybe a little harsh.

a lot of folks gotta work themselves to death just to have a halfway comfortable life, some don't even have the basics. many will have to do crazy stuff for money and others dream of giving their loved ones a good life but can't. some will only be able to see luxurious lifestyles on phone screens or in other people's TikTok accounts. and others don't even have the money to pay for internet to see that.

lots of people will spend years hating themselves, hating their appearance, personality, social life, social status, skills, everything about themselves. many live with insecurities, feeling like a supporting character in their own story, some have things that bother them but it's "impossible" to change them so they'll just have to live with it. others spend a fortune on surgeries or treatments to change something about themselves, and many die because of it.

many people will have to live trying to recover from traumas and bad things that hit them, without knowing how to simply erase them from their lives, and unfortunately, some prefer to end their own lives so they don't have to live with those burdens.

many people will have to face horrible diseases, some they simply can't get rid of and others that are incurable. suffering, waiting for a miracle to free them from this torture.

some folks may never achieve their personal goals and dreams, out of fear, lack of opportunity, lack of means, or because they think it's impossible for them. so consequently they will have to surrender to a mediocre life that they hate.

many people will have to spend years in shitty relationships without knowing how to get out, others will see the love of their life being happy with someone else, others will think that love only serves to deeply hurt them, and others will accept horrible things from their partners because they think they don't deserve anything better.

a lot of folks unfortunately live out there lonely, without love, without a good social circle, without friends, with an abusive family, with people who don't want the best for them, with people who only hurt them and make them think that's what they deserve.

you might think I'm a jerk for talking about such harsh examples and I'm sorry if I hurt anyone, but damn..

all these examples I mentioned are really sad and they leave us with a heavy heart thinking that a lot of people go through this. I think everyone deserves a dignified and happy life, you deserve a dignified and happy life. you don't deserve to be like those people in the examples I mentioned, and you're not. because you have a key in your hands. it's like life is a damn game and you have all the hacks and cheats to simply WIN and do whatever you want, while other people don't even dream of that or are too skeptical to try.

but you know what's funniest about this? it's that this shit ain't just any game, it's your life. it's literally your damn life and you're there playing with the law? saying "oh I can't" "oh persisting is too hard" "I think I'll never have my desires".

girl, I'll kill you if you keep thinking like that.

there are folks who just don't take the loa seriously, and that's why they never fulfill their desires!!!!!!!!!!!! and they won't have anyone to blame for their failure but themselves!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the LOA community is very small, discovering about it was extremely lucky. so tell me a good reason why you know about it and simply can't manifest? exactly. there isn't one! you can and you should.

I'm not here to judge your difficulties in manifesting (even if I judge everything and everyone), because having difficulties and keep trying is one thing and simply giving up and saying "I can't manifest" is another.

it was a blessing from the universe, God, higher power, whatever you believe in. you discovering LOA was the damn greatest blessing of your life, don't you see that? don't you really see how blessed you are? maybe in the past you've been through hell, but now, my love, the sun is shining for you, you just have to want to shine. unfortunately a lot of people will never have that luck, there are people who would kill to be blessed like this. so please, I beg you... use this tool and have the damn happiest life you can, enjoy it and stop playing with the law.

tell me what do you really want? a true and light love? have a look that would never make you feel insecure again? being the pride of mommy and daddy and having their love? having that beautiful house and a happy family? finally healing from depression or other mental disorders and finally being able to live to the fullest? friends who really care about you? want to meet that idol you've been a fan of for a long time and that everyone thinks your passion for him is silly? want to live in that country far away from everyone? want to stop feeling that guilt or any other bad feeling that has been tormenting you for a long time? want to be truly happy for the first time in your life? want to be rich, a millionaire, billionaire, trillionaire? or just have enough money to lead a comfortable life and never have to work again? go ahead, tell me what you want. you can have it.

stop suffering, you don't deserve to suffer. enough torture. take what's yours and move on. you're strong enough for that. the game ain't over for you, you can't just give up like that. the game is yours, it obeys you, and it ends when you decide. take freaking control.

i suffered a lot in life, i hope one day i have the courage to tell you about my success here. and I simply don't know what I would do without finding out about LOA, just thinking about it fills my heart with gratitude. I feel like a winner. you deserve to feel this peace of having won too.

God bless you. take care of yourselves and put your head to work.

i ain't that selfish. if you need some backup, im here for you, babe. I wanna see you win. 🌟

[chosokamosbf]

⋆L⋆I⋆G⋆H⋆T⋆H⋆E⋆A⋆D⋆E⋆D⋆

☆ 18+ only/no minors. | jason todd x male! reader.

SUMMARY: a nsft fic where jason puts his boyfriend into a chokehold. WARNINGs: 18+, established relationship, choking, m! sub! reader, dom! jason, (reader receiving) light degradation, overstimulation. WORD COUNT 700+ NOTEs: second person & no plot. insert/reader is a woozy in this one sooo they act a bit "silly." ["Stupid/pretty boy," and no pronouns used to refer to the insert/reader.]

Your pants are caught around your knees; everything else is pushed aside to the barest amount so the desperation leaking in between an otherwise gentle make-out wouldn't have been left unattended. His boxers are ruined—stripped right to his thighs after a near hour or so of caged between them and the man sitting on his lap.

His head was resting in the crook of your neck the whole time, so every hitch in it was caught straight away whenever you had to adjust your sitting.

Whatever movie was playing ended long ago, and now some senseless drama is playing on mute.

You don't know how long you've been doing this.

He hasn't let you move much to even see the clock sitting by on the nightstand. Your only sense of passing time other than the building ache is how the sun is now descending over the city and, in turn, your two's little slice of paradise of a mediocre apartment. It cascades on one side of the room in a dark orange glow after hours of singing in a brighter tone through a small opening in the curtains.

It's all fun and games with someone with a trunk load of stamina until your endless pleas have gotten your eyes rolled back to the very edge, a hazy mind overwhelmed with every single sensation. It's almost painful, even.

Your stomach convulses as you come over and over on his cock while you're stuck being pulled back on it by the hip. His breaths are coming out in heated pants as he bottoms out in you again, pressed against your back like he's using you for support.

Words almost don't process through the fog. "You like this, huh? Fuckin' nasty." 

"Yeaa—yeah. Love it so much—love you. It feels so... so good."

Jason doesn't want to hold it in, so he doesn't—and so a snort carries through before he's mimicking how your voice slurs. He barely gets through his sentence before laughter bubbles up, and his chest is softly trembling against your back from the restraint.

"Awh, you looove me? Stupid boy's drunk on some dick."

An arm braces itself right next to yours, and then a hand toys and intertwines the tips of both your fingers.

The other hand wraps around your jaw to turn your face to the side, and he doesn't bother containing the smile that comes with watching the way you have to crane your head to meet his gaze. The few tears streaming down your face catch what little light is still in the room.

He presses a kiss against your own lips, and it ends right after so he can dry your face with his sleeve. That arm wraps around your neck to keep you against him—make you feel how fast the pace of his heart is through the fabric.

The thrusts of his hips into yours stutter, and he uses those few moments of peace to round his arm further off, bit by bit, so his hand can squeeze nicely around you. His teeth catch on his bottom lip, almost slipping through an old cut on it as he tries to muffle some groans.

Your head falls back onto his shoulder as most thoughts fade into the background with the fleeting air.

Jason presses down on the evident bulge in your lower stomach where his cock shows through, and he rubs it gently, knowing how overstimulated you have to be by now. Your body retracts back into his, moving away from the assaulting hand, and he just laughs despite his sore throat.

And he tries to make sure you share the feeling by tightening the grip around your throat.

Slowly, he settles you on your stomach.

He keeps your bottom half propped up by the knees, your legs pressed together so he can push in deep still. The arm holding the two of you up only seconds ago traces your back to rub rough calluses at the tense muscles building up around the top. He keeps your face from getting buried in the sheets and listens close to every sound that comes from the drooling mouth.

"C'mon." His voice trails out into a rough drawl, making sure you take every inch. "Be a good boy and cum f'me again, okay?"

[sunflowergraves]

Unpacking Will Solace’s Character

I’ve seen a lot of Will Solace hate since TSATS and it’s really starting to bother me. As a person that relates heavily to Will’s character, it’s upsetting to see him get bashed across the internet, especially considering we’ve never actually gotten to know his character. Personally, I feel like a lot of people are basing his character around headcanons and fanfiction (which I am guilty of) and were disappointed when he wasn’t who we saw him as. 

It doesn’t help that the only time we got to see Will’s POV it was short and through the eyes of others. He’s also not this big hero like all the characters in the PJO universe. His powers aren’t that strong, he’s not a prophecy child, and his talents are mediocre. Will is the most human demigod we’ve ever been introduced to. I can understand why his character doesn’t feel multi-dimensional compared to everyone else, but in my opinion, he was fleshed out very well. 

Yes, there are a few things I was disappointed by. I wish they talked about Will’s past more and his grief over his dead siblings. I wanted him to have his own weapon, even if it was an old bow he never used or a lyre like Apollo used in TOA. But I will always love that they changed him from the calm, collected counselor healer to an anxious, depressed, self-doubting person because it fits him so well. How could he not feel these things after losing friends and family? After being abandoned by everyone around him? Or being forced to take on the caretaker role of the entire camp because he was the only one left? 

I’m going to continue this down below, so if you don’t want major spoilers for TSATS, don’t continue reading. Also this is long as hell in case you just want to skim. 

Every time Will was mentioned in the books, it was from someone else’s POV and it was a few lines at best. 

Will has always been described as the cool, relaxed, go-with-the-flow type of guy. He was the person with a level head and knew exactly what to do. But guess what? Underneath that cool exterior was an anxiety riddled people pleaser who threw himself at every problem because that’s what he was told to do. The Apollo cabin was always the head medic team. After Lee and Michael died, Will was basically thrust into that position of power. He was trusted to take care of his younger siblings, trusted to take care of the entire camp. If he let them down, it was going to cost lives. Of course he’s going to be scared and nervous, but he can’t show that. Would you want a doctor with shaky hands and sweat running down their neck? Would you want to be taken care of by a person who doubted and second guessed themselves out in the open? 

As someone who was given a lot of responsibly and forced to grow up at a young age, I completely understand this. You want to try to make everything better for others around you, you get scared when you fuck up, and you HATE when people can’t rely on you. That’s why you will never show how scared you are to fuck up. You will never let people get inside your head because if they can’t rely on you, what good are you? Breaking out of the role that everyone else gave you because they trusted you is scary and hard. 

Nico is probably the only person who knows what Will really thinks. Will trusts Nico with his anxiety and overthinking because he’s comfortable enough around him to show that side. He knows he doesn’t have to Mr. Hero in front of Nico and that’s such a precious and important bond to make with someone. 

Will was valid for being whiny and irritated for most of the book. 

First, Will has ANXIETY. If you don’t know what it’s like to live with anxiety, count yourself lucky. It feels like your thoughts are attacking you constantly. It’s like an uphill battle between rational thought and absolute chaos. I can’t get in my car without thinking of all the ways I could die before I buckle my seatbelt. Imagine going to SuperHell for the first time in your life! Not only that, but people told Will constantly that as a child of Apollo he was basically fucked. The three strongest demigods that made it back almost went insane! Of course Will is going to be upset, irrational, irritated, and uncomfortable. 

In TOA, he voiced several times how he thought it was a bad idea and that he really didn’t like it. This is not a new thing for Will’s character at all. For him to be willing to cross a line he had made concrete shows that he loves and cares for Nico. But that shouldn’t mean he isn’t allowed to be uncomfortable. 

Second, for anyone saying he could have stayed at camp instead of going has never sacrificed their comfort for someone else. There are so many instances in my life where I went way out of my comfort zone because I knew my friends/family wanted me there. Did I complain? Hell yes. Did I still do it? Hell yes! If Will had said, “Nico, I can’t do this and I refuse to at least try,” I would have lost so much respect for his character. Instead he sucked it up, even when he was already practically dying before they got there. 

Three, Will was worried about Nico. He’s never experienced Tartarus, he’s never been to the Underworld. While Will has definitely faced his share of demons, he’s never stood in Nico’s shoes. So when his boyfriend is having vivid nightmares and hearing voices, he’s going to try and rationalize it for Nico because that’s what he has done his entire life. Will is the “healer.” He is supposed to fix things, not let them traipse off to hell like it’s a vacation spot. 

Four, this is a 15 year old. Fuck, even now at the ripe ole age of 20, I’d still be shaking in my boots terrified at the thought of going somewhere that is practically a jailhouse for the worst creatures in creation. Will has little to no experience on the field (He ran from six guards without even trying to pull out a weapon. The worst thing he’s ever said to his enemies was “anemic loser” and didn’t even want to kill Octavian. Every battle before that he had an older sibling to look up to and care for him). So yeah, I’d just be a tad bit nervous and annoying.  

Will asking Persephone how to love someone from the Underworld was honest and raw. 

This scene broke me in ways I can’t even describe because of how real it felt. If you’ve ever been in a deep and caring relationship (friendship counts) you should understand. Like Persephone said, love is something you choose and it’s complicated and messy even for people who were practically made for each other. For Will to ask how to love someone from the Underworld shows that he is actively choosing to understand and love Nico. 

I get that most people interpret Will’s lines as “How do you love someone so filled with death?” but really he’s asking how do you love someone who acts like he doesn’t want to be loved? How do you love someone that pulls away from your light no matter how desperately you try to give it them? How do you love someone who hides parts of themselves from you? 

Will is a healer, he fixes things. It’s not until this scene that Will realizes the only thing Will needs to fix is his perspective on Nico. That darkness and hurt and trauma is okay. It’s also a scene where Will realizes he doesn’t have to force down his own trauma anymore. 

Will loves Nico and it’s so obvious he scared to lose him. He thinks he’s weak and broken and incapable of helping Nico escape his trauma. His insecurities shadow him and he’s confused about how to navigate this relationship because he thinks he needs to be the leader. How can he lead if Nico won’t let him? How can he help when he doesn’t know how? Persephone’s scene was Will’s chance of finding guidance from someone who could understand exactly what he’s thinking

People in their late 40′s still can’t get relationships down. Why are we pushing unrealistic relationship ideations on a 15 year old who doesn’t even know who he is yet?

Will was not useless. 

Sorry that the relationship duo isn’t Mr. Badass and Mr. Badass 2.0. Will not being a fighter is refreshing to see because honestly I’m quite tired of seeing badass couples in every book/movie. Not everyone is strong and powerful and super awesome. Will is a nerd that likes healing people. Why isn’t that enough? 

“He’s described as having muscles,” “He’s a field/combat medic,” “He fought in the wars,” “He carries people all the time,” “He trains with the Apollo cabin.” Okay and? I was raised to work hard and protect myself. I work out and I know how to use a bow and knife. Does that mean I want to? No. 

I’d also like to point out that almost everyone in camp is described as having muscles. You kind of have to when your life motto is Try not to die or get eaten. Also they train on lava walls, jump eight foot pits, and weapons. I get a little bit of muscle going on my silly little walks, I’d be fucking jacked if I was actively training. 

Second, Will has never once been described fighting monsters/demigods. I don’t doubt that he’s had a few encounters, but the boy practically specializes in RUNNING AWAY. He’s a feral little animal that finds injured demigods and sprints them away to the medic center while occasionally bashing monster heads in. He’s strong because he needs to be, not because he wants to be. Strength also doesn’t equal battle prowess. 

Not to mention, he hates killing! He didn’t want to kill Octavian despite Octavian being the actual worst. He runs away as a distraction even though he had weapons on him. He got upset when Nico threw Sherman Yang out of the chariot in TOA. Monsters are different, but monsters are also scary. Will is terrified of demon pigeons, you really think he’s willingly gonna go one-on-one with anything bigger than his pinky? 

I’ll admit, I hated that he didn’t have a weapon in Tartarus. I thought it was really stupid and out-of-character because my anxious ass would have loaded up. Still, it was kind of funny when they described Will bashing rocks over monster’s heads during their fight with Nyx. 

My final point for this: Will was Nico’s support system and that was the point. Will knew he wasn’t going to throw hands with anyone. He went because he knew Nico needed him even when Nico told him to stay. Will was going to trek through SuperHell with the love of his life and hold his hand to remind him that he was loved. Will wanted Nico to know that he’d literally go to Hell and back for him and that’s what mattered. 

Nico didn’t ask Will to be the Hero. Nico states several times that the reason he loves Will is because he wants to heal and he’s so stubborn to find the good in everything. And that’s exactly what Will did. He offered support, care, and reminders. He was going to understand and love Nico, even through the darkest parts of his life. 

Will is one of the best support systems in a PJO couple duo. 

It makes me incredibly sad to see people call Will toxic when he gave his entire life to support Nico. I won’t deny that he complained a lot and said hurtful things and that he occasionally belittles Nico’s feelings. But Will didn’t know he was doing those things. He thought he was helping Nico navigate his PTSD. How is someone who is still emotionally developing his own character supposed to know how to take care of someone else’s? 

Will also clearly showed love and affection towards Nico. He met all his friends and was polite to them even when they looked scary. Will risked his life several times before they got to Tartarus and still insisted on continuing. Built a Minecraft house for his boyfriend and left him a KitKat bar because he knew he would feel fatigued (also Will brought KitKat bars, meaning he was already thinking of Nico’s health beforehand). He tried to be useful by scouting ahead because he felt like he was being a burden on Nico. He kissed him, called him silly nicknames, hugged him, respected his boundaries (asking to hold him instead of trying to comfort him immediately), and oh yeah, went to Tartarus when he was obviously quaking in his flipflops. 

He also helped Bob when he had no idea who/what he was, comforted Nico when he was beginning to lose hope, acknowledged his mistakes and admitted he needed to try harder, realized he didn’t need to fix Nico and that his boyfriend was perfect the way he was, and learned that Nico wasn’t going to leave him. 

Love is complicated. Love is something you choose. And Will chooses to love Nico. Also for everyone saying a year is long enough to learn/realize these problems already and have them solved, you need to take the rose tinted glasses off. I’ve been with my partner for almost four years, and I’m still learning things about our relationship. We argue, we don’t always meet eye-to-eye. Our own trauma and experiences surface and it gets difficult. But do we just call it quits and throw everything into the trash? No. We talk, we problem-solve, we come back and try to understand each other even if we don’t know how to do that. A year is nothing. A year is puppy love and excitement. It’s like your favorite movie on repeat. All the problems are ignored because you don’t want to see them yet. 

So for a pair of 15 year old's who just came to terms with their sexuality, I think that they are doing pretty damn good at this love thing. 

Anyway, that’s all I really wanted to say. Even though we’ve had Will for years, we’ve never gotten to know his true character until now. It’s raw and weird and doesn’t fit the mold of Will Solace, son of Apollo we all created him to be. You can still hate his character or whatever, I’m not going to try to change your mind. But don’t hate on everyone else who loves him and loves this book. 

[1-800-c0sm1c]

꒰win it all !꒱

to build hype around the new season, your arrival to the games was kept a secret up until it went live, and some legends had more notable reactions than others.

character x legend!reader

includes crypto, octane, and mirage !

a/n : im sorry ive been gone but look i made you some contenttttt daddy made you your favorite open wide 🥳. im noticing a severe lack of apex fanfics rn so here is my contribution 🤲.

warnings : mentions of stalking (average crypto behavior), drugs (average octane behavior), & mentions of hooking up (you guessed it, average mirage behavior).

CRYPTO // TAEJOON PARK: 

crypto doesnt like surprises, period. its one thing if its mediocre like a birthday party, but a whole person was hidden under his nose and he had no idea? unacceptable.

in summary, youve shattered his ego simply from your presence. not cool.

hes not really known for looking approachable either, so unless youve got the balls or stupidity to talk to him, hell keep to himself and sulk. this sets back any plans he had in the back of his mind by a whole season.

when you introduce yourself to him on the dropship he practically ignores you, acting as if anything else is more interesting than this small talk.

"hi im y/n, ive heard a lot about you from mirage. nice to meet you!" he rolls his eyes, witt is always one to blabber about others.

you scoff at his response, "dont expect me to be as open and idiotic as elliott." he almost adds you to that list, but holds back on it. if anything lifeline has told him holds weight, you could be useful to get information from the syndicate.

"im crypto by the way." he continues, if he plays his cards right you could almost be worth his time.

getting paired with you and mirage was almost comical, its as if the games were trying to make his life as hard as possible.

you got along annoyingly well with mirage, but you seemed more hesitant when it came to crypto, which was truly bothered him. (it was not jealousy at all. he was not jealous whatsoever. nope, definitely not.)

hes struggling to interact with you, like he does with most of the other legends, but youre a different case due to how useful you could be to him. thats usually the reasoning he uses when he racks his brain for ideas to come across less mean without irreparably ruining his reputation.

as if his prayers had been answered, a few hours after your first game you appear in the doorway to his room with a piece of high tech equipment in your hand. but your expression is different from how it was before. you appear upset, how can you be angry with him already? youve barely interacted!

if you want to be pissy, so can he. "can i help you? he asks, annoyance in his voice. "im almost sure you can, brilliant hacker." you drop the equipment in front of him on his desk, distracting him from his current project. he scowls. "what exactly am i looking at here?" you roll your eyes. "you tell me, this is clearly yours right? found it in my room." 

he examines the object, looks like a hidden camera. "ive never seen this before, if you want me to fix it call someone else, im not tech support." he pushes it to the side, but youre not having it. "nuh-uh, you cant brush this off. i know youve created the cameras used to record the games, this has to be your tech!"

so you think hes stalking you? thats a good idea honestly, he wish he had thought of it first. "just because i created those doesnt mean i also designed this. looks like someone else wants to keep an eye on you. got anyone in mind?" you pause for a moment, letting his words sink in. why cant it just be an open and shut case?

"i have no idea, i just got here! is anyone else even knowledgeable enough to design something like this?" he shrugs. "looks can be deceiving." "will you at least help me figure out whos stalking me?" he wants to say no. he knows its bad news, especially for someone like him to get involved in. but its a great opportunity to get closer to you. closer to his end goal, and despite it truly not being the only reason, he decides its good enough for him. "i guess i can make time, tell me about your interactions since youve joined." 

from this point on, you and crypto get much closer, it feels like he knows everything about you. (maybe he does honestly 💀.)

but you can tell hes getting frustrated when it comes to the hidden camera, and you cant help but feel like a nuisance. 

on the surface, crypto looks like you are whats stressing him out. why hes angrier than usual, why hes drowning himself in his work. and in a way thats true, but not exactly.

in reality, hes more worried for your safety. your arrival was an entire surprise, so how could someone have infiltrated your room to begin with? he cant figure it out, and almost entirely forgets the original reason he wanted to get to know you. 

its no longer a matter of getting information, that can wait. he has all season after all. but someone else trying to watch you? he wont tolerate it, and wants it to be the first thing thats fixed, he likes you much better when youre not paranoid, not like him.

OCTANE // OCTAVIO SILVA:

HYPED!!! another legend is always exciting to octane, even more so when he gets lucky enough to be paired with them.

octavio can be a bit much at times, but you match his energy almost perfectly! 

dedication to the apex games, and genuinely having a great time, not finding him annoying??? he should ask if youre into hard drugs too at this point.

anyone who goes up against the two of you on a team together should fear for their lives. octane swears hes never had so much fun in a match before. (almost as much fun as id have if kings canyon was in the map rotation this season ☹.)

theres a voice in the back of his head that he cant shake, telling him youre someone sent from the syndicate to mess with him, or maybe something worse.

he doesnt want to risk making you upset with him (like some other legends) so he reluctantly keeps these thoughts to himself, but due to his online personality being so similar to his real self, you almost immediately notice a change.

you decide to confront octane after the match, and originally he completely disregards your questions.

"what are you on about, compadre? im fine, really!" but youre not having it, and octane knows youre not going to drop this so easily.

"i just cant help but think this isnt how you usually act outside of games." you shrug when he asks for your reasoning of pressing on. "well how would you know? you just got here." he chuckles. "which i think is exactly why youre hiding things from me. i understand though, its hard to trust someone you just met. i only had an outsiders perspective up until a few hours ago."

"thats exactly whats so scary about you amigo. you seem like youre some fuckin syndicate spy!" "why? because we get along?" octane sighs. maybe having a legend who understands him is a bad thing. its easier to justify someone who hates him, theres plenty reason to. but like him? enjoy his company? hes confused, to say the least.

hes frantically reaching for one of his stims, if his mind is going to be racing so frantically, the rest of his body might as well do the same. "lets leave this here for now, yeah? ive got some videos to film!" he gets up quickly, but stops dead in his tracks when you offer to help him with his stunts. he whips around back over to you. "you sure?" you nod with a smile that might make him more energetic than any stim could. "alright cmon cmon cmon! i hope you known how to hold a camera, if you miss any good shots im gonna be pissed!"

rumors start about octanes elusive camera operator, all kinds of misinformation spreads too, some of it crazier than others. 

you personally find it funny, sometimes tempting the viewers by almost flipping it around to show your face, but youre stopped by octane and his ridiculously fast reflexes everytime.

"hey hey amigo no need to ruin the mystery! plus you totally just didnt film that awesome stunt i just did! what am i paying you for!?" 

you try your best to stop yourself from laughing, but at this point youre sure it must be obvious its you behind the camera, youre just going along with the "mystery" because octane asked you to by whispering in your ear that it "increases his interaction" or whatever influencer bullshit. (you were more focused on his voice than what he was saying tbh 🧍.)

the other legends are sick of you two at this point, and are just about ready to expose the "secret" to get octane to shut up 😭. when i say you guys are always together doing stupid shit i mean ALWAYS!!

MIRAGE // ELLIOTT WITT:

a flirt wbk. expect to be invited to lots of yacht parties.

mirage is known to have a very welcoming aura, and you noticed this the second you first interacted on the dropship. (anyone wanna take me out? come find me 🤭.)

you guys are on the same team for tdm, and he is almost constantly by your side.

someone sneaks up behind you? hes already sending a decoy their way so you can get the upper hand.

in case you miss? no worries, hes right behind you with pinpoint accuracy. (talk about a great first impression.)

you guys absolutely crushed the opposite team 50-15, and mirage hurriedly rushes over to you the second the match is concluded to invite you to his celebration party that night.

youre more surprised he has the energy to still keep going after such an intensive match, and you barely get the chance to say maybe before hes walking away excitedly.

uh, actually i might sit this one out-" "cool, cool, cool. ill see you tonight!"

lets just say things get… interesting on the mirage a trois 😀.)

you hooked up on the boat okay, youre not the first (and might not be the last either.)

parties werent necessarily your thing, but after elliott had practically won the game for you today, you figured showing up was the least you could do to return the favor. you were honestly just hoping the yacht didnt blow up like youd heard about his other ones doing…

you arrive way later than everyone else in hopes that you arent the first person there, but your current situation is almost just as awkward as everyone assumes you managed to get lost on your way here. (as if you could miss mirages yacht if you tried…) however, you probably did look just as lost as everyone assumed you were while trying to find mirage in the sea of decoys and other party guests.

when you finally stop getting bamboozled and find the real mirage, you try to explain you were only stopping by out of politeness, but hes not having any of it. "what do you mean youre leaving already? weve gotta make up for all the partying time lost while you werent here!" he hands you a drink and leads you to a table with crypto and wattson, who seem to have just had an… important conversation interrupted with your presence.

"if theres anyone you wanna get to know in the games, other than me of course, these are the legends!" youre almost amazed at how mirage chooses to ignore the awkward atmosphere hes created, and manages to smooth it over in record time as well. crypto looks as annoyed as ever, meanwhile wattson attempts her best at a conversation with the group, and you almost wish you never showed up in the first place.

‘almost’ is the key word here, you knew deep down you didnt really have anywhere else to be, and going along with whatever such an attractive legend says was surely better than staying in your dorm room and missing out on a night of fun. which is exactly why when elliott leaned closer to your ear and said something that definitely wasnt pg-friendly, you downed your drink and made quick goodbyes to his friends before leaving to a secluded area of the yacht with the party host himself. 

i think by now the other legends are just waiting for you two to finally announce theres something between you. 

everyone, and i mean everyone seems to know, and i swear rampart is one more flirtatious comment away from exposing your corny asses during the next match.

however, youre hesitant. youre still incredibly new to the games, isnt it odd for things to be moving so fast?

sure, elliott is great, but you cant help but have an anxious feeling in your stomach, and making the mistake of looking at comments online surely isnt helping either.

mirage noticed your shift in behavior immediately, hes been around you more than any of the other legends, and he expects to be the first to hear of whats troubling you (if youre okay with it, of course).

he might not seem like it at first glance, but mirage really is a great listener. despite your first impressions of him making him out to be well… a party-loving flirt, he has so many more layers to him than whats on the surface level.

when he gets serious, hes not cracking his usual jokes, although hes still got his awkward charm. 

"i just… feel like were moving too fast. its only been a month since ive joined the game after all…"

he thinks for a moment before responding calmly, "well i mean, if you wanna take things slower, all you had to do was ask. besides we have all the time in the world! as long as you dont have some secret plan to leave the games or something, than were fine!" you smile at him.

okay, maybe he does still joke a little bit, put i promise its fine in context 😭😭.

can you tell i like crypto (especially jealous crypto) a totally normal amount 😦 totally not inspired by the mcc song by derivakat 🫶

[soft-for-them]

Hidden away - Týr x plus size reader

Summary: Whilst searching for a suitable breakfast you happen to come across the old god of war and justice hidden away.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/N: This gif does not match with the story but there isn't many God of War Ragnarök gifs out there (understandable because the game just came out) and for some reason I don't like using still images. ALSO I haven't finished the game (someone has already spoiled it for me which is annoying) so don't spoil even more for me or anyone else thank you. I'm already thinking of a part two if people want it.

“Sindri!” you grumble as you finally come out your cocoon that is you little bedroom.

You’ve hastily put on a blue overdress, the same one you were wearing all day yesterday, with a fresh long sleeved underdress on of course. The big golden broaches that hold up the straps of the dress, one made by each of your brothers (you were adopted well after they were born but they still insist you are apart of their family) with the Huldra symbol moulded into each of the shiny metal rounds are the only clean part of your outfit, your dress covered in powdered paint and glue now dried clear.

Need to say you really need to give your dress a good scrub.

Bare feet hit the shallow steps that were really made only for your brother’s short stature lead down to the open planed ground floor, your bones clicking as you smooth down your clothes over your curves, not bothering to do your hair quite yet.

“Sindri!” you call again this time a bit louder as you head to the kitchen area.

The last you saw of your bother he had quickly popped into your bedroom, which is also your workroom where you paint your murals. He had excuse himself for he was going to go help young Atreus and his father. He said something about Tyr and Brok but really half of it went in one ear and out the other for you were painting and not paying attention to your non blue brother.

You lazily look around for some food to eat whilst also seeing who’s around, Sindri did say he’d be back with Brok, Atreus and Kronos but the tree house is awfully quiet without the bickering of your dwarven brothers along with the clinking of metal tools.

For a moment you stop and look around, you debate calling out again but you don’t.

Instead you find an apple to eat, a bruised one but an apple all the same. You don’t want to be cooking, it’s too early and you’re not the best at it (seem it runs in the family), so you take a big bite out the red and yellow fruit frowning at the chalky texture.

“Where are the porridge oats?” you wonder out loud as you rummage around for the food.

Porridge may not be the first or second thing you’d want to eat in the morning for its awfully bland on its own (and you still want to do as little as possible because you’re tired and in need to finish your painting) but you search for it anyway.

Mediocre apple half eaten you wonder over to the doors leading to what you assume is a pantry, well you thought it was.

You see this isn’t your home, well it is now that the end of times is coming but you didn’t live here before fimblewinter.

Before you lived out in a remote cabin in the middle of the woods living off the land and painting your artwork in peace. Now you cramped in your brother’s spare room for he insisted you move in with him when a group of raiders attacked you home.

“Brok?” you call out. Brok always shouts at you back, he’s your older brother and he loves you but he finds you and your shouting annoying. Sindri would say that you’re just as bad as each other with all the shouting and swearing, two peas in a pod but Brok insists you aren't.

You hear no shouting of your blue brother so you push open the door of what you think is a pantry the thing only open just a bit enough to squish you plush body through. It takes another budge from your shoulder to push the door inwards more, the something that once blocked the door moving away.

Either you’ve become very strong or whatever was blocking the door walked itself backwards.

“What the?” you whisper to yourself as you peak down around the door not see a random box or a weapon that Brok has left around, no, you see a big foot.

Eyes gone wide you slowly look up to see a man, a giant man, a man you have never seen in your entire life before waking up from his make sift bed in the small storage room.

Long dark hair drapes over his face that’s very sleepy looking, his glowing eyes barley open with little bits of sleepy in the corners as he peers up to you.

You want to act on instinct, grab the nearest blunt heavy object and throw it at him followed by running away but his eyes pool with confusion like a animal who has encountered a lost human in the middle of the woods only to run away themselves.

You assume you’ve just woke him up by barging in, his foot obviously being the object you though you moved to open the door just a bit.

You hope you haven’t hurt him in anyway.

“Who are you?” you ask in a stern but quiet voice, not wanting to scare away the giant man who now sits up from his slump.

“I could ask the same thing.” his voice makes you shiver, a warmth travels up your neck.

“I live here thank you very much.”

Already your eyes look the man up and down, his height sitting up taller than your brothers at full height, he must be a giant or part giant you think. The only part giant you’ve met is Atreus and well, Thor as well but you do not like to talk about that.

“Are you a giant?” you ask as you step a bit closer, your body now over the door frame, you now fully into the small room.

“Giant, do you mean Jötnar?” his voice, though laced with a sleepy croak one has when you’ve just awoken, sounds almost playful but also wise.

“I’m sorry, Jötnar, I’ve been around Brok and Sindri too long to remember the proper names for everything-“ you’re babbling but you do so to justify you slip up of calling him a giant, “I’m a human but technically I’m a Midgardian, I do not mean any offence.”

“I don’t take any-“ he talks with his hands, he moves them in a certain motion urging you to give him your name.

“(Y/n). Sister of Brok and Sindri.”

Holding out your hand and despite him sitting down he easily returns the greeting. His large hand wraps around your forearm, his digits squishing your soft skin lightly, his touch light as a feather like he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. You wrap your own hand around his forearm, your own fingers aching as they stretch around the wide width of his arm.

He goes to part from your greeting but you grip on his arm pulling on it like you intend to pull him up off the floor. You know you can’t, you’re not that strong, but it’s a kind gesture to say 'here, I can help you up' to the tall man.

When you were little and smaller than your brothers you’d try pulling them up despite not being able too, they’d get up just fine but they were always thankful for the so called ‘help’. Maybe it’s a childish thing to do, especially to a stranger, but the part Jötnar man looks so tired, so in himself like he doesn’t know who he is.

He pulls himself up just fine, your hand still lingering on his arm. He does not mind, he actually likes the feeling.

“Sister?” he asks.

“Adopted.” You say back with a smile.

“Ah. I see.” He looks down at you with his glowing eyes, not a bad emotion crossing his eyes as he looks at you, “I’m Tyr by the way.”

You mind runs wild.

Atreus and Kronos succeeded in freeing him!

“Well Tyr, would you like some breakfast-“ you raise you other hand that still hold the half eaten apple, “- I was looking for something more substantial to eat than this apple.”

“I would be grateful for one, I-I haven’t had a good breakfast in quite a while.”

[beevean]

You probably didn't want someone ranting a bit to you at this hour, but I had to get it out. Following the Shadow short there has once again been a lot of inane discussions within the fandom, and I've noticed one new weird thing. People are kinda starting to exaggerate just how "old" the adventure era games are, to the point of making them sound like lost media. Like, someone tried to make a fuss about sega retconning shadow's backstory again by inserting emerl there, and when they got rightfully asked "have you not played Battle", they went "well sega never re-released Battle for newer consoles, so what am I supposed to do". Someone else even tried to support their statement by saying that we "only have the cutscenes of SA2 and a mediocre solo game, so we know literally nothing about shadow". I don't even know what to call this, but this is definitely the first time I'm seeing people trying to argue that og adventure era games are so, so, so unavailable right now that no one can glimpse the lore from it.

We know nothing about Shadow because we only have the cutscenss of SA2 (the cutscenes, not the game, environmental storytelling at its finest) and a mediocre solo game. I lived through the era when SEGA shoved Shadow up our asses to hear this. Sure. Fine. I'm fine and right at home in the fandom.

Anyway, what else can I say? Pass Battle, although at this point I'm sure even phones can emulate GBA games and if you don't want to bother with the games the cutscenes and script are easily available, but the Adventure games are literally on Steam. SADX may suck without mods, but SA2B is fine. They're not even expensive. What more do you want? And if you haven't even played the damn games, maybe you shouldn't bother with the discourse in the first place?

I understand that everyone was a newcomer once, and kids aren't born with fandom knowledge, so fine, they don't know about Battle, and fine, games from the early 2000 would feel old. But if what you say is true, this speaks of a lack of desire to look things up in the first place, just the desire to complain and go SEGA bad because it's trendy.

[amostimprobabledream]

forbidden fruit is the sweetest (Gin Ichimaru x Reader)

Wrote this little AU smutfic because there isn't enough of Gin in general and he should be in more porn. Also available on Ao3!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53897803 Your nails tap against the wineglass on the table. You haven't touched much of it because the taste is acidic, sour. You're not sure if it's a bad bottle or if that's just how this brand tastes - you're not much of a wine drinker, but at least sipping from it (or pretending to) gives you something to do between awkward silences. To be honest, this entire evening is well out of your comfort zone. You don't know what you were thinking letting Rangiku talk you into this - one day she just plopped herself down in the seat across from you, her chest heaving. "We really need to get you out there." she declared in final tones, like she was continuing a conversation you'd just been having. "It's not good to mope around after some guy."

It’s pretty ironic, really, since no doubt Rangiku had done plenty of moping over the same person you were. But it wasn't like you could tell her that - even if nothing official had been confirmed, you weren't stupid, you knew that Gin and Rangiku had a long, complicated history that an outsider couldn't possibly hope to understand. And how you were supposed to compete with a woman like Rangiku Matsumoto - even if you wanted to? So here you are, at a speed dating thing, sitting here in the vain hope that you might find some guy that might make you forget about Gin Ichimaru and the fact that, despite your better judgement, you were in love with him.

"So, um…" the fifth guy opposite you stumbles through his line of questioning, and you can't even remember his name. All the men you've spoken to so far tonight talk like they were given a script they didn't bother to learn properly - the same questions, same responses and the whole time you want to scream. You've even started just making things up to just try and inject a little variety into your responses, because why not? “Where are you from?”

Oh, riveting question. It’s not like I haven’t been asked that four times tonight.

You know you’re being judgmental, so that’s a winning combination, judgmental and unattractive, but you tried going into this with an open mind and despite your expectations being low, you still find yourself feeling disappointed. How can so many different people all talk the same? It doesn’t help none of them are that attractive, either.

You wonder if you can overcome cost sunk fallacy and just get up and leave – just walk out of here and leave the shitty wine and overly loud music and interminably dull conversation behind. Sure, you’ll go home, curl up on your futon and feel like a failure, but at least you’ll be at home, in your futon, and not here.

The conversation peters out, namely because the responses to such inane questions can only be milked for so much prattling smalltalk before it dwindles into awkwardly nodding at each other. You play with your phone, wondering if it’s normal to feel so desperately ill at ease you want to rip your own skin off. Probably not, but you’re sure you can’t be totally alone in that regard. When it’s time for the men to get up and move seats, you don’t even bother hiding the relief on your face. After all, no doubt he was as keen to get away from you as you were him.

That’s when the next guy sits down and introduces himself as Takeshi. A salaryman. He’s nice. Which may sound like you’re damning him with faint praise, but considering everyone else has been mediocre at best, you’ll take “nice” gladly. You tell him your name and he smiles, like you’ve given him some good news.

"What do you do for work?” he asks, picking up his shochu.

“Well...”

You hate answering this question – it’s just a job. It’s not like you’re not a doctor or a firefighter or something, someone who lives for their job and studied for years to become one. You do your work because you have to, because it’s how you pay to live in your apartment and that’s preferable than living under a bridge. It doesn’t really say much about you as a person, really, except for the obsession with your boss.

Stop it. You think to yourself, sternly. Give him a chance.

Rangiku is right – you do need to get laid.

Easy for her to say, though. Rangiku doesn’t need to attend events like these because the idea she’d ever need to is absolutely laughable. You’ve seen men actually walk into things because they were too busy staring at her to watch where they were going. Women either hate her or they look at her in awe. Rangiku Matsumoto ever being short on offers for dates, or sex, or even someone to just do her bidding is ridiculous. But it’s not for you, even though you hate yourself a little bit for admitting it, because you know it’s the truth. You’re not like her.

“Oh, nothing special, just office stuff.” You say, trying to sound breezy. “What about you?”

God, you sound so fake. Why can’t people talk about things that are actually interesting? This is the equivalent of conversational elevator music. When does expected standard become acceptable to ignore for the sake of spicing things up a bit?

Perhaps you’ve been a little spoiled, though. You can think of someone who always manages to keep you on your toes and never bores you. But you give your head a quick shake like you’re trying to flick away a fly and try to pay attention to Takeshi, even though you’re more focused on the movement on his lips than the words themselves.

“So…what do you like to do for fun?” Takeshi asks.

Another kind of generic question, but at least he does sound somewhat interested when you answer. He's easy to read, you notice. His emotions are all just right there on his face, which feels…strange. Not necessarily in a bad way, but it’s like the difficulty on a video game has suddenly dropped.

“And you?” you prompt, deciding to go out on a limb and ask something direct. “What brings you here? Looking at you I wouldn’t think you have problems getting asked out.”

Shit, did that sound sarcastic? You didn’t mean it to be. But Takeshi seems pleased by the comment, and you notice he has a dimple when he smiles.

“Well, to be honest I’m usually so tired after work I go home and just crash.” He says with a self-deprecating laugh, combing his fingers through light brown hair. “And most of the women in my office are married. Or over fifty and smell of boiled sweets.”

“Ha!” you bark out a laugh, the first time you’ve laughed or even smiled genuinely all night. “Yeah, I get that. Plus, there’s that whole worry about if things don’t go well with a colleague, you still have to face them all the time over the water cooler.”

“Water cooler?” Takeshi blinks.

“Nevermind.” You take another sip of your wine, then make a face. It truly is disgusting – why are you still drinking it at all? Time to be the change you want to be. “Excuse me, let me go buy myself something less vile.”

“I’ll come with you!” he practically jumps out of his seat.

Things flow surprisingly easy once you find someone you can talk to – Takeshi doesn’t understand all your little jokes and you suspect he finds your habitual sliding into sarcasm somewhat confusing, but he’s at least got enough social intelligence to ask questions and reply with more than one-word answers and he even insists on paying for your drink. A little unease creeps through you, wondering if it’s a trick and he’s trying to build a tab against you by doing it, but he seems so eager to be of use in some way that you capitulate. You can always buy him one later.

Soon enough there’s a call for a break – apparently events like these are split into two to give everyone a little time to gather their thoughts, buy more alcohol, go to the bathroom, smoke, whatever. You decide to slip outside, where there’s this surprisingly pleasant little outdoor seating area with picnic tables and a few plants in huge planters (probably so drunk people can’t knock them over), an alleyway leading out to the street. You perch down at one of the tables and suck in a deep breath, before checking your phone and generally enjoying some quiet. With the music pumping through the speakers and the buzzing of conversation, you know that if you linger too long, you’ll wake up with a headache tomorrow. You make a mental note not to just collapse into bed when you get home no matter how much you want to and get something to drink – juice or whatever you have in the fridge.

“There you are.”

You glance over your shoulder. Oh. Of course, Takeshi followed you out – why wouldn’t he? Still, a little irritation nudges at you, which you try to ignore.

“Yeah. The music in there is…kinda loud.” You say, with a friendly grimace.

“Yeah, it is.”

He comes to sit down next to you, and he’s very close, his thigh pressed against yours, denim rubbing up against your skin. Again, a spark of annoyance at how he didn’t even think twice about encroaching on your personal space when you clearly want a minute alone. You clear your throat, feeling a sudden weight between you that wasn’t present when you were talking inside. Rather than being exhilarating, you feel nervous. Almost a little queasy – now there’s a subtle sort of pressure, bearing down on you. An expectation has formed and one way or another, you’re going to have to meet it. Irrationally, you resent Takeshi a little for this, for this sudden invisible hand pressing down on the back of your neck.

Do you have a right to feel uncomfortable? Isn’t this why you came here – for something like this to happen?

Yet…

Takeshi says your name, making you jump, and when you turn to look at him, he’s staring intently at you, his eyes looking oddly gooey and wet in his head, almost like he’s on the brink of tears. Or is that just a trick of the light?

“Yes?” you say, hyperaware of everything suddenly. Your clothes, previously sitting comfortably on you, feel itchy. You want to take off your necklace, your makeup. You want to run away. To not be seen.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathes.

If he notices that the pause that follows this question is slightly too long, he doesn’t comment on it. Perhaps he chooses not to notice it. Your throat feels dry, and you swallow.

“Okay.” You answer, because you’d feel like a hypocrite if you said no.

So he does.

It's…fine.

Damned by faint praise again, huh? You think, as his mouth touches yours. He only makes a couple of seconds pretense at actually kissing you, before he’s clumsily licking at your mouth to ask for you to open it. You do, because the way he’s licking your lips is tickling them and it’s kind of irritating, and then his tongue, a wet slab, thrusts between your top and bottom teeth. Your own tongue is buffeted to the side for a second and you have to push it into his mouth just to get some air.

And, most damning of all… in your head, a countdown starts – you’ve been kissing for a couple of seconds and you’re already bored and waiting for it to be over.

You make a noise like a gag and draw your head back, wiping saliva off your chin with the back of your hand. Ugh. Ew.

“Sorry.” Takeshi says with a breathy laugh, and he can’t ignore the disapproval in your face. “Let me try again-“

“My, my.”

You both freeze.

Like something out of a comedy movie, except you don’t feel much like laughing, both of you slowly turn your heads towards the voice, even though you don’t need to – you know who has caught you out here – you’d know that voice anywhere.

Gin stands watching you both with a slight tilt to his head, that permanent smile stretched wide.

And your heart, weak, traitorous thing it is, begins to thump loudly at the sight of him, like a dog wagging its tail.

He looks good too – white shirt, black trousers, a thin silver chain of a necklace disappearing into his collar. You can smell a hint of the cologne he uses, a subtle tease to your nose instead of the cloying, overpowering brands you’ve been unintentionally inhaling all night.

Both you and Takeshi stand up in sync, like you’re in a play and have just remembered your stage directions. Gin glides closer with graceful, soundless footsteps, the white of his shirt making him look not unlike a ghost in the dim outdoor lighting.

The appearance of Gin drives home a truth that you have been subconsciously fleeing from, as efficiently as a sledgehammer whacking down a nail. Because the thing is, it doesn’t matter if somebody is nice, or if they’re a decent kisser, or if they don’t mind waiting politely for you to make up your mind about what you want to do next.

The fact is, as long as Gin Ichimaru holds your heart in his hands, there is no hope of giving it to anyone else. And he knows it.

You freeze and a trickle of panic crawls down your spine. Your lipgloss is smudged and it's pretty obvious what you were just doing. Your eyes dart from Takeshi to Gin - does he know? Know that your heart didn't even change its speed the whole time Takeshi was touching you? Know that all you could think about when you spoke to every guy in there, you could only see inscrutable smiles and long, elegant fingers in your mind's eye?

"Sir." you say, feeling silly - it feels a little late to fall back on protocol now, but what else can you say?

"I'll take it from here," Gin says, ostensibly to Takeshi, but it’s no doubt difficult for him to tell considering Gin’s eyes are closed as usual and his face is still squarely facing you.

“I-“ Takeshi says, glancing at you, but you barely register the quizzical tilt of his eyebrow, too busy staring at Gin like a deer in headlights.

Ordinarily a man gatecrashing another man’s date and summarily dismissing him would provoke anger, defiant, maybe even the beginning of a fight, but despite the constant smiling, Gin’s don’t-fuck-with-me vibes are immaculate and since you clearly know him, Takeshi gives in rather quickly.

“Oh, um…sure. Goodnight, then.” He said, with an awkward little nod.

You know that you should be insisting he stay, apologise for…well, for before, that you should do something. But keeping him around for Gin to torment would be far crueller than indifference, so you just nod back.

“Night.” You say, firmly, and wearing a look of polite bewilderment, Takeshi goes back inside.

Silence settles like snow as the door shuts with a dull thus behind Takeshi. Gin looks at you, and you find your eyes sliding away. Words tangle in your throat. “Why are you here?” you demand rather rudely, blinking hard to fight back the peculiar but strong urge to tear up. Did Rangiku tell him about this?

Why does he have to spoil everything?

“I went for a walk,” Gin replies with that fucking smile still adorning his face and he moves closer to you, his footsteps smooth and flowing as water. “Imagine my surprise to come across such a racy little scene. Tell me, do ya always let strange men kiss you in alleyways?”

“How’s that any of your business?” you bite back, yet your find yourself being crowded back against the wall as Gin steps closer, getting in your space.

His smile doesn’t waver, but working under him for so long has made you something of a specialist at reading the subtle nuances of his facial expressions – there’s a slight forcedness to his smile and a pinch of tension between his eyebrows that even he can’t totally smooth away.

“So, she has a tongue.” Gin hums, as if to himself.

His hand reaches out, pinching your chin, tilting your face up. You don’t resist and hate yourself for the undeniable crackle of electricity when he touches you – Gin rarely puts his hands on anyone, so that you’ve pushed him to do so gives you a stab of victory, paltry as it is.

But your feeling of triumph is incredibly short-lived as, with deliberate care like he’s excavating a fragile artefact from the ground, Gin swipes the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. Your mouth tingles where he touches you and you stand stock-still, gazing up at him with wide eyes.

Gin raises his hand to his mouth and, slowly, his tongue glides across the pad of his thumb, licking off the sweet tasting gloss that had been formally coating your lips. You can only stare at him, transfixed, watching his tongue slide back into his mouth.

“Tastes sweet.” Gin remarks in that teasing lilt of his. He still hasn’t let go of your face. “But I think…”

You’re given no time to react before suddenly, he is pulling you in, one hand clamping on your waist, leaning down to your mouth-

Oh, fuck.

This isn’t possible. It can’t be. As long as you’ve known him, Gin has always held you at a very specific arm’s length – far enough to leave you in a perpetual state of yearning, but close enough so that he can have you yanked back to him by a crook of his beckoning fingers.

That he could cross this barrier any time he liked to kiss you and chose not to, only to do it now, is almost inconceivable.

But-

His lips are surprisingly warm against yours, which is funny because his hands are cold. But heat is all you can think about, your body surging with it, a blush rising to your face, your mouth opening for him without a thought. He invades your mouth like he invaded your head, leaving you no room to say a word, he won’t allow for any feeble denials or pointless questions. There are many ways to communicate, after all – words are just one of them.

Your back meets rough brick wall and you give a muffled grunt. Gin has your wrists pinned either side of your head and you feel like a butterfly on a slab – yet your cunt doesn’t seem to have the common sense to be wary of him like your brain does, because you can feel a telltale throb of excitement between your legs as he easily holds you in place, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“Gin - sir-“ you stumble over your words.

“Shsh.” He hisses, and you shut up.

He pauses as he looks you up and down, even though his eyes are shut as always. A teasing smile curls at his lips and you dimly note he’s probably never seen you dressed up before, at least if you don’t count work Christmas parties. It seems he doesn’t have any problems with what you’re wearing, since nothing catty leaves his lips.

“I was right,” Gin nods slowly, his words a slow, measured singsong, like he’s about to read you a story. “Things like this gotta be savoured, y’know? I wonder…do you taste so good everywhere?”

Your mouth drops open, and your cheeks turn hot. Is he implying what you think he is?

“I- that’s-“ you splutter, because he’s always had the power to turn you into a gibbering moron even when he isn’t casually dropping sexual innuendos like a bomb.

Gin chuckles and gives your cheek an affectionate poke, before he tips his chin down, and slowly, with elegance, sinks down onto his knees. You can only watch him, transfixed, as he settles comfortably between your legs and he doesn’t have to tell you to part your legs – you do it without even thinking about it. You make the mistake of looking down.

Gin is looking up at you, between your spread thighs, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly that you know you’re going to have bruises where his thumbs are digging into your flesh.

And his eyes are open. Oh, fuck me sideways. You think, your own widening.

“Be a good girl and hold still.” Gin says in a silky voice, and now his eyes are open the gleam of amusement in them is all too visible to you. You could almost kick him for keeping them shut most of the time – they’re a beautiful shade of pale blue. You don’t have time to admire them for long though. Gin has business to attend to.

And attend it he does. He barely needs to do anything to keep you pressed against the wall, you’re rooted to the spot as his hands slide up your thighs, taking the gauzy material of your dress along with them. Cool air brushes up against your legs, but that isn’t the reason you’re shivering.

He smirks at the sight of your underwear – you’d worn something somewhat sexy to try and get into the spirit of tonight, but not a thong since you knew you’d be sitting down a while and didn’t want to think about it the whole time. So instead, he’s greeted by black panties with lacy panels on the sides, heated flesh just concealed beneath it.

“Now these,” Gin says in a singsong voice, snapping the elastic against your hip, the pop of noise in the stillness making you jolt. “Are the kind of panties you’d wear if you wanted to get fucked.”

“G-Gin…” you mewl.

He snickers at your embarrassment, eyes shifting back to your crotch. Teasingly slow, like you’re a dessert he wants to savour, he starts to peel your underwear down, fingers massaging your flesh, kneading it. He leans in, his breath hot on your core.

His tongue is skilled, you knew that already, but now you’re getting a real firsthand experience with it. He isn’t shy about nuzzling up against your cunt, nails digging crescent marks into the flesh of your legs as he licks inbetween your folds, hot and mercilessly and you keen out loud. If anybody comes outside for a smoke right now, you are so fucked.

But all of it – the thrill of getting caught, shock of Gin touching you, the roughness of the brick scraping your bare skin, the chilly bite of a spring night and the way your head is swimming from nasty cheap wine and boiling-over lust…all of it throws what’s going on into blinding focus.

“Gin…” you keen aloud, wanting to pull his pretty silver locks but you don’t quite dare, so you settle for resting a hand on his shoulder instead, your fingers clamping down on him in a voice grip. “Oh, fuck…nngh…”

He just gives a muffled chuckle and amps up the pace, his long, slender fingers creeping up to tease at your clit while his mouth attends to your cunt. Your legs are wobbling as you try to maintain your balance, but it’s not easy when he’s working you over like this, reaching places you could never manage with your own fingers…how the fuck is he so good at this?! It’s like he has a perfect, 3-D map of where everything is and exactly what to do to drive you insane. Your head has gone from verging on a headache to pleasantly, blissfully light and fuzzy, electricity zipping up and down your limbs, heat blooming in your core. He has to stop or you’re going to explode, but if he stops now you think you really might die…

“I’m coming…” you gasp out, tilting your head back, breath coming out in stuttered gasps. “Gin, please, fuck…don’t stop…”

Fuck you. I love you. Fuck you. The words ring over and over in your head as – for once - Gin obliges you.

The feeling is so intense that for a second you’re practically swooning, supernovas of lust and relief exploding like fireworks behind your shut eyelids. It’s ridiculous – you’re against a brick wall outside a bar, you can smell cigarettes from a nearby ashtray, it’s chilly and any moment somebody wanting their nicotine fix could see you. Yet your heart is pounding, warmth painting your face, swelling in your chest and yes, the satisfaction of seeing Gin leaning back, licking his lips and slowly rising to his feet like he did nothing more taxing than tying his shoelace helps. You hurriedly make sure your dress is safely floating about above your knees once again, smoothing it down with shaking hands. As illicitly thrilling as it is to do this outside, you don’t want anybody who passes you to immediately know just what you’ve been doing. Though you’re sure it wouldn’t be hard to work out – you probably smell of sex now, overpowering the perfume you’d picked out to wear tonight. Of course Gin would figure out a way to exert his influence by masking your scent as well as ruining your lipgloss.

How are you supposed to go back inside now? Well, obviously, you aren’t. Gin’s made that abundantly clear – no toy of his is to go exchanging clumsy kisses with other men until he’s bored of playing with them, and if he has to go to extremes to prove his point, so be it.

He's a fucking cruel bastard.

You nearly ask, What are we? Out loud, but thankfully before you can speak, Gin grabs your wrist and starts tugging you along after him. He doesn’t explain himself and you stumble after him on unsteady legs, still tingling with the afterglow and feeling the phantom touch of his tongue on you.

There’s a taxi waiting in the street outside, the driver sitting patiently, checking something on his phone. Your eyes snap to Gin – how long has that been there? When did he order it? But you don’t get to ask any of these questions, before Gin steps across to the back door and opens it, practically bundling you inside.

“Take this one home, will ya?” he says cheerfully to the driving, reeling off your address and you’re astonished that he knows it well enough to be able to repeat it off the top of his head. “She’s had enough to drink, I think.”

“Gin, what-? Why-?” you blurt out, trying desperately to get some semblance of an explanation for all this out of him.

Surely he can’t have done all that for his own amusement. You never were sure if Gin was fully aware of how you felt. Most people in your office tend to be wary of him at best, so your skittishness with him could easily be attributed to that. But Gin is a very perceptive man, so perhaps those times when he would lean over you as you worked to point at something on your screen, or stood too close to you whenever you were in the lift together, or when he’d send you these secretive little smirks across the room…maybe that was more than just a tease. Was he trying to tell you all along that he knew?

He leans in close to you, one hand gripping the door, and your heart flutters in your chest, wondering if he’s going to kiss you again, wanting him to but also feeling that familiar swoop of fear and excitement-

He just smiles and boops your nose and unceremoniously shuts the door on in your face, and the car speeds away into the night. And belatedly, you realise something else, something that makes your legs clamp together – He took your fucking panties.

His voice rings mockingly in your head, the last thing he said before sending you on your way, the mirth in his voice brimming over.

“See you on Monday.”

[swaglet]

do you guys like my fuck you email

My issue is that I am not a trumpet player and was only a trumpet player in the absence of any other trumpet players, and that was what I thought was expected of me. It seems as if part of your plan to motivate me to get better at trumpet has previously been to tell me that people who have been playing trumpet far longer than I have are showing me up and doing better than I am, on more than one occasion at least, and not to mention in front of other students. I also have been afraid to speak up about anything that is bothering me because the last time I tried to bring up concerns that were not only my own but other students' as well, I was locked in the lobby away from other students in [concert hall] surrounded by faculty & staff and was under the impression that I was viewed as a danger to myself and/or others, and painted as hysterical. After that, it has seemed to me like I am viewed much differently. I have no idea how to bring up any issues I have when that is an outcome that could happen again. I have repeatedly demonstrated that I know where I am supposed to be on the field, and I am playing trumpet while marching as best as I can as someone who has only been playing it for 3 years with little guidance until recently. My frustration comes from not improving despite practicing, especially while having no desire to practice an instrument I not only do not enjoy anymore but have been made to feel inferior at. I am having trouble even wanting to find any success at all when this is how my semester has been going and having all this as the consequences of the work and effort I have put in.

I have no issue with quickly catching up when changes are made or when I miss rehearsal. The reality is that my trumpet skills are subpar compared to my skill on the rest of my instruments, I look and sound like a joke when I play the trumpet in our ensembles (especially when other people in the ensemble are playing with me), and I cannot explain how demoralizing it is to deal with that for an entire semester. I don't want to look and sound like a bad player when I know I'm not and can do better at other things. That is where the negativity is coming from. No matter how much help and lessons I am (graciously and kindly) given, I will still only have been playing the trumpet for 3 or 4 years. I will continue to sound like a mess of an 8th grade trumpet player at 23 years old while everyone next to me has been playing their instruments for years longer and sound just fine. I am not okay with bringing the ensemble down like that, and when factoring in how much progress I can realistically make, it is not looking great. I have tried to explain this before, but it was met with locking the other students in another room and preventing them from leaving and everything else that happened, so out of fear I have said nothing else. When I have tried to say something, I feel as though I have been dismissed so I just have no idea what to say anymore. I am sort of afraid to talk to you about anything.

It is so frustrating that you have never seen the kind of musician I am, and all I have to offer to you is how mediocre I am at the trumpet, and that is ALL you see me as, instead of everything else I can do on anything else. I cannot stand coming to band or rehearsal or lessons when I know that's your view of me and everyone else's view of me. Especially when I have not had a single opportunity until very recently to show that that's not how I play and not what I am. This semester has destroyed my self esteem and my love for making music.

I apologize for all of that. Anyways, your first paragraph was entirely correct and I agree with you. I am completely fine with scheduling times to work on jazz music. I will see you in a bit with the trumpet folder.

Thanks,

[my name]

[alarici]

matthalle, tbc?? (1,300 words)

(some was already posted) @neallo sorz im late

Nothing happens at an expensive pub in South London. The lights are low, dark wood and frosted glass. Vermouth distilled in the 80s. Loafers and calf leather Oxfords.

Matt’s chilled lager sweats in his hand.

Halle stares out the window. Another odd Tuesday. They’re both three drinks in.

It’s fine company.

—

Thing is, Matt has always been taken by vicious blondes. Call it a character flaw, a rule of his life. Since Mary in the first grade. Linda, Mello. Maybe the Amane chick was a bit of a departure, not so vicious, but just barely. A change of pace but not of theme.

And really, who could blame Matt’s blue balls, six months in a one-room with Mello. Lockdown, for the detox and even more for the mission, for fancying Amane’s pigtails and perky tits.

Halle is another beast altogether. Matt’s learned about her three older brothers. Military father, granddaughter of a minister. All-girl’s finishing school in Massachusetts, Oxford, Cambridge, UN, Interpol. Matt imagines she’s the type to wear vintage La Perla under her pantsuits. He knows her heels have red under soles, and that her perfume is worth more than his two year lease in Covent Garden.

She hasn’t let him verify the panties hunch. But to be fair, he hasn’t tried and hasn’t asked. They get along. Every elephant in the room can be shut out with booze, or blow, or chatting about this case or the weather in Nairobi, the coups in Bolivia, the semiconductor shortages, the latest episode of Doctor Who.

—

Nothing happens at the bar. Amongst the suits and the highballers, they talk. It's difficult to find someone else who's been through the same shit as you, these days. They're all dead.

Halle knew Mello. Matt knew Mello. Halle's beautiful. Matt's got a tender spot for beauty, being a mediocre creature of god surrounded by chosen ones and manmade smiles.

Something does change when Halle offers to take him running. Him. Running.

Asthmatic kid on the playground. Five years out from a coma and a collapsed lung and a bullet dug out of his thigh.

She says she'll go easy. He imagines she just wants to see him in pain.

So be it. His doctor tells him he needs to exercise. He's entered the latter half of his twenties. Things stick out, and his skin folds where it didn't used to. Which is great. But the Ritalin work the same anymore, and he's tired all the time.

Mainly, he just wants to watch Halle run in front of him. What is he without someone like that—running ahead, egging him on, prodding him or leading him until he's blue in the face. Blood on his tongue. Her firm ass far below eye level.

She smiles, and they set the date for Sunday. 9 AM. The devil's hour!

Matt, his beat up trainers, ratty gym shorts from the charity shop, long-sleeved T-shirt, Hyde Park.

Halle, gym shorts, hair in a tight ponytail, sports bra, no tank top.

It is August. It's also London—overcast, sky considering an afternoon shower.

At 9 AM, it's cool enough to bother with a shirt if she’d chosen to.

So Halle's first one-uppance is her abs. Matt hasn't had abs since he was wasting away in a hospital bed in Tokyo, still blissfully unaware that his friend-lover-boss had died. And still, those were coma abs. But Halle has her tanned skin in England. She smiles at him. He studies a freckle on the back of his hand.

"One lap. If you stop, I'm throwing you in the pond, Jeevas."

The case of the month involves a series of bodies washed up on the banks of the Thames. A rare one close to home. Matt's on standby—they don't need tech work for this, and he has a contract that says he doesn't have to do anything in the field. If Near doesn't dare venture out of his tower, why should he? He’s bored. Bodies in the Thames—what else is new?

The momentary crack of sunlight is oppressive. Halle's pace is punishing. The doctors in Japan had done a great job, so his English doctors said, at repairing the muscle in his inner thigh. They'd also told him, he, “wouldn't be running any marathons any time soon."

Halle knows. She's a bit of a cunt, Matt's learned.

He trots along.

If there's one thing two years semi-sober have taught him, it's that pain offers no worthy gain. It just sucks—but the alternative is what? Admitting defeat.

Matt’s been waving a white flag since he was twelve. This is supposed to be his second chance. A life. Standing in the presence of someone undeniably better, but still standing.

Ten meters before the end of the lab, he doubles over and hurls into a flowerbed, turns, and smiles up at her.

"Happy, you fucking übermensch?"

"I don't speak German." As though übermensch isn’t a loan word.

"You went to grade school there." Matt knows the gist of her story—military family. Childhood all over the world, and the dead sister. From an old German family that came to the U.S. at the dawn of World War Two.

"You don't speak Japanese." She counters. She knows he spent some time there. It’s not in his need-to-know file, but most of the group knows the outline of how he ended up working with Near five years after the end of the Kira case.

"I was only there for, like, a month. おはよう."

"Also, I went to grade school in the states."

"You can’t be German and work for the C.I.A," Matt quips. She’s American.

"I had noncitizen coworkers."

"Like, spies and defectors?"

"Yeah. If you can talk, you can run, Jeevas. We're going around again."

—

It happens, inevitably, when Matt’s still weak in the knees. He’s just taken a shower at Halle’s place—a beautiful loft with a waterfront view—and he’s sitting awkwardly on the edge of her bed wearing her—“my old boyfriend’s clothes.”

Her old boyfriend was clearly at least half a foot taller than Matt. His loungewear does not fit, but it’s clothes, and she offered a shower and clean towels.

When she gets out of the shower, she hasn’t changed.

He gives her the once-over.

“Man, you can just ask.”

“Good boys don’t talk back, Jeevas.”

“You didn’t say any—”

She drops the towel and smiles. “Aw, you’re still shaking from our run.”

He offers a lopsided smile, and stares at her breasts. They’re better without the fitted blouse, he decides. Her abs, still damp, are fun, too.

“So, what’s the safeword?” He asks, on the verge of reaching out to touch.

Halle looks about to slap his hand away. Instead, she smiles. Her K-9s are sharp. No surprise.

“My dog is well trained, no?” She reaches for his face, instead. Unchipped French nails gentle at his cheek.

“You decide.”

And that’s that.

—

Through their three month (and no longer) tryst, Matt learns that he likes being choked—of all the things, Mello never choked him. That the post-runner’s jitters—the endorphins—collide with the sex endorphins and leave him just plain happy. Halle makes fun of how much he smiles during scenes. When she’s choking him, when she’s on top of him, setting the pace, giving him nothing.

The best time is in Monaco. Matt tagged along on one of her assignments. Intel—it’s always intel. For a week, they look like the wet dream of a young couple on holiday. She picks out his clothes, dresses him like a fucking douchebag. Sends him to get a haircut.

They don’t go to any races. They only visit one casino, and that’s strictly business. The only place to take a jog in Monaco is the hotel’s luxury sports center. They pick side by side treadmills. She isn’t able to reach over to up his tempo. But she does give him a withering look when he slows. He doesn’t mind.

After dinners at hotel steakhouses or casino bars, they retire to their room. There is no being tied to bedframes or hot candle wax. Halle never uses anything besides her two hands. Long nails. Soft fingers, pressure points. Give and take.

They're both clever enough to know it can never last, but that's the fun part.

[sevcasejay1chicago]

sweetheart if you don't mind ofc Whould you write me a imagine of me and Will Halstead pliss

Refrigerator Light- Will Halstead

Summary: After locking eyes at Molly’s three years ago, you find yourself slow dancing in the refrigerator light with your husband, Will Halstead.

Warnings: none really. Hints to drinking and morning sickness, but nothing blatantly obvious.

Authors note: Writing for Will is a bit out of my wheelhouse, but I hope you enjoy it! Sorry for the wait!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time you met Will Halstead was across the bar at Molly’s. It was karaoke night, so Stella and Brett forced you onto the small stage after a few drinks to help convince you a bit easier. You sang “Can’t Help Falling In Love” by Elvis, but in a female key. Will had barely been paying attention to the karaoke as everyone that got up there was pretty mediocre and couldn’t catch his attention. However, as soon as you started singing, Will stopped talking mid sentence and turned his back to Jay and some of the other intelligence unit in favor of watching you. He was so mesmerized that he missed the way Jay and some of the other occupants at the table started joking about love at first sight and what not. They were right.

You had your eyes closed as you sang until you felt a pair of eyes burning into you. You slowly slipped your eyes open and scanned the crowded bar until you locked eyes with Will Halstead. You had heard of him and passed by him in the ED when you and Brett dropped off patients, but Brett was more of a talker and normally filled the docs in while you stocked the ambo. You recognized him immediately and he recognized you. You felt an emotion that you haven’t felt before. Like you finally found your home, your answer to living. Something clicked when you finally locked eyes and there was no denying the fact that you found love at first sight.

Anyone in the bar that was paying a bit of attention noticed the change in the atmosphere. The song went from you just singing it to having meaning to you for someone in that bar. The emotions in your voice gave it away to those who were paying attention, but what you did once you finished singing sealed it for those that were pretty oblivious. Once you finished, you put the microphone back on its stand and pushed your way through the crowd, Will doing the same. When you finally reached each other, you noticed he was just slightly taller than you as you peered up at him with a grin.

“Hi.” You whispered, letting Will take you by the waist and pull you closer as someone else got up and followed your love song with another slow one.

“Hey.” Will whispered back, bringing his face closer to yours.

The connection was palpable. A warmth was spreading from the two of you as you danced, your arms wrapped around his neck as his wrapped around your waist. For the majority of the song, you guys slow danced and stared into each other’s eyes. Unknown to the two if you, Stella, Brett, Jay, and Kim were all snapping pictures of the two of you. They knew this was going to be a forever thing. Luckily, they believed it because now, a picture of the first kiss you shared at the end of that song is on the mantle next to your wedding picture.

Now, 3 years later, Will finds his pregnant wife standing in the dark kitchen at 3 am. The only light on is coming from the refrigerator in an attempt to not wake your sleeping husband, but the baby wanted pickles, peanut butter, and vanilla ice cream. So, here you were, eating while illuminated by the refrigerator light, knowing you would regret falling for the craving, but you couldn’t sleep until you fulfilled it.

Will walks up behind you and slides his arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. “Now, Mrs. Halstead, why are we eating like a little gremlin at 3am and not in bed?” He teases, lightly rubbing the slight bump under one of his shirts you slipped on.

You didn’t even bother turning around when you answered, instead you leaned into your husband. “Well, Mr. Halstead, your little gremlin child wanted this and I wasn’t going to be able to sleep until I fed the peanut.” You said, matter of factly around a bite of your concoction.

Will chuckled and kissed your cheek. “First of all, it’s DOCTOR Halstead. Second of all, that’s disgusting.” Will said, finally getting a good look at what you were eating.

You shrugged, putting another spoonful in your mouth before replying. “Not my idea. The gremlin. It’s the gremlin.” You said, shaking your head. “It’s actually not bad.”

Will grunted as he watched you finish what you had left. “Your gonna be saying something different in the morning.” Will commented, inwardly cringing as he thought about the start you would have to your morning in a few hours.

You shrugged, resigned to your fate. “You’ll be there. I’ll hate it and I’ll panic, but you’ll be there and it’s all worth it for this little munchkin.” You replied, glancing through the kitchen doorway as you leaned fully into Will, catching the pictures on the mantle. “For now, dance with me.” You said, turning around and looking up at your husband.

Will chuckled, looking at the time and then back to you. “Baby. It’s 3am and we have no music.” Will pointed out, pulling you into his chest anyways, mostly out of instinct. It was weird to feel that slight divide between the two of you from baby Halstead showing up some, but Will held you as close as possible anyways.

You thought for a moment before giving Will a small, almost bashful grin. Then, you started singing the song that you fell in love to. Will pulled you as close as possible as you rested your head on his chest. Will swayed you both around the kitchen until the song was over, then he leaned down to kiss you. He didn’t comment on the taste of your lips after the little snack you just finished. He just held you and kissed you like he did when you first clicked that night. All in the light from the refrigerator.

[chaifootsteps]

Log Anon here

Now, usually when I talk about other anons I act like some sort of god. Case and point that unending search threat. But now, I’ve been inspired to use my shitty writing skills to make lyrics about how much that anon’s song sucked.

———————————

ANON! Let’s start with the fact that this Rapper thought he was a genius.

Sitting there on a chair hoping that Viv would touch their penis.

Man, the whole thing is unreadable, agreeably irredeemable.

I’m filled with laughter that they didn’t think that grammar matter, making it damn unappeasable.

Here’s a lesson, never randomise where capitalise letters, it doesn’t make it better, make sure you fix this error.

Anon coming in here thinking their Chai’s terror, but you’re a joke so just give up the endeavour.

The damn block you wrote makes you a damn dope

As well next time you write keep the swears out or do you need some bloody soap?

Here’s things you should’ve realised before you started to theorise.

Chai speaks about Viv because Anon’s bring it up most of the time.

“to Survive or to live”, yo, Mr Potatohead, that line should’ve been cut in half since they don’t rhyme so I’m charging ya for this lyrical crime.

The irony of bringing up witch when you fail to spell.

The hell Chai getting caught for? Revealing pedophiles and workplace abuse?

I hope you know what you’re doing because hating that has no excuse.

You’re the damn fool, you drooling tool, for getting all blue because someone can live both on and off the wifi.

Honestly your likability is so low that when you visit, all of South Africa cry.

I’m seeing lines so unrefined, so horribly designed, that would make Shakespeare want to die.

I think the real freak is the one posted a mediocre rap to defend a bad show.

Every argument you bring up blows and annoyingly disrupts the flow.

Poor attitude? At least be brave and show your true account if you gonna diss.

You tried your shot at internet fame but too bad that by next month no one will know this exists.

The reason no one leaves the hate is because there’s still people who still need to learn.

Now where’s your next burns, oh wait, you playing favourites this turn?

Aw man, this is weak, you think you’re making them meek, you’re one weird freak.

Rhyming must be tough for a kindengartener, butthey know how to rhyme different words.

The logic you bring for Scienceservant name is worse than the smell of a pile of turds.

I ask the same question, is it worth it to do this when you’re nothing but absurd?

Damn, only a cuck can bother someone while trying to suck off another.

ANON! Why the fuck can’t you write?

You say Chai’s hiding but you are too, coward.

You act like you’re the best when your personality, scent and everything else are soured.

Boy, you’re the ending of Danny Phantom, bad, confusing, and an insult to creation itself.

Now go put on your diaper before you go pee yourself.

———————————

At least this won’t the worst rap on this blog

From the ballpit we come and to the ballpit we will all return.

[maramontwrites]

Princess

The prince was chained to the wall of the tower, his hands and feet bound, his head hung in shame. Everything had happened too quickly for him to even comprehend. One moment he was sitting alone in the fields just outside the castle walls, the next he was picked up by one of the dragons who plagued the country. He had been locked in chains before he even got the chance to defend himself.

He knew this wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. He was trained to slay dragons, just like his brothers were, and even though he didn’t really have a natural talent for sword fighting, years of training had at least made him mediocre at it. He had been anxiously awaiting the day he would be send out on a quest to save his future wife, a princess or an otherwise noble woman who would need to be rescued from a dragon. He had not expected himself to be the one who needed rescuing.

He struggled against the shackles in vain, cursing himself for not bringing his sword or even a dagger. The only option he had was waiting for someone to come save him, but what knight would do that when there wasn’t a hand in marriage to win?

“Don’t bother, Your Highness,” the dragon mocked him, filling up the small space with its big body. “Those chains aren’t going anywhere. Not until I’m ready to eat you!”

“What is this even about, anyway?” the prince asked bitterly, words being the only thing left to defend himself with. “I thought dragons only abducted princesses.”

The dragon exhaled in what only could be interpreted as a laugh, an awful and grating sound. “Are you not a princess?” it asked in an amused tone, and put its face close to the prince’s body, surveying every part of it. “You sure look like one.”

“I…” The prince was reminded of when he had asked the same thing about himself to his mother, but she had laughed and told him boys couldn’t be princesses. He had accepted that answer and didn’t mention it again, but in private he would dream of beautiful dresses and dancing at balls and being married to a brave knight who had rescued him from a dragon. He had stopped these daydreams when he had accepted his princely duties, thinking of them as childish, but they suddenly came back now in full force.

“I am not, I am a prince.” The prince pushed the thoughts down again, like he always had, not matter how much it hurt. After all, he was not allowed to be anything else.

He looked down at his own body, noticing his flat chest and masculine clothes. He didn’t understand how the dragon could see him as anything other than a man, like everyone else always did. He sought out the feminine things in himself that the dragon could have noticed, but other than his fantasies, he couldn’t find any. It surprised him when realising that made him disappointed.

“Are you saying I made a mistake? I never make mistakes!” the dragon growled, hot breath bellowing out of his nose and surrounding the prince in an almost unbearable heat.

“No! No, you’re right, I’m a princess!” the prince lied, while pressing himself as closely to the wall as possible. It didn’t feel like a lie, more like a confession, but he didn’t tell the dragon that. “I’m sorry, I was just… confused.”

The dragon huffed, but backed off a bit, and the temperature in the room went down again. “You can wear all the manly clothes you want, but I can always spot a princess no matter what.”

“Of course, you’re right, I’m sorry,” the prince spluttered. Briefly he imagined what he would look like as a princess, with long hair cascading down his shoulders in waves, wearing a flowy dress, torn at the edges and bunched up around the restraints, but still beautiful. Despite the situation, he smiled. If the dragon wanted him to be a princess so badly, he could be one, even for just a moment.

“All this talking has made me hungry,” the dragon growled and approached its prisoner, showing its teeth. “I think it’s time for dinner.”

The prince’s mind snapped back to reality. It didn’t matter whether he was a prince or a princess, he would still get eaten. He closed his eyes and awaited his impending death, subconsciously grateful that he got to live the life that he wanted to for a few minutes, even if he had to die at the end.

But before he could feel the sharp teeth lock into his weak flesh, the clanging of armour and the sound of heavy boots on the ground interrupted, the door of the tower flinging open with force, revealing a figure standing in the doorway.

“Prepare to die, dragon!” the knight yelled, drawing his sword. “I am here to rescue the princess!”