#try to draw something serious challenge (impossible)

[waterlogged-detective]

🎲 can I offer darcy or doe a kiss from pembroke? whichever you'd prefer! ref is in pin :3

Send me 🎲 for a normal kiss from one of my normal guys

They’re underwater!! :D

[hoshifighting]

I’ve always thought about this but, how would seventeen react to you faking your orgasm

seungcheol “wait, what?” he’ll say, eyebrows furrowing as he pulls back, looking at you like you just pulled the rug out from under him. “are you serious right now?” he’s not mad, but you can see that competitive side of him flare up. he wants to know if he’s not doing something right. “come on, babe, you gotta be honest with me. if you’re not there, tell me so i can fix it.” he’s the type to take it to heart. seungcheol wants to please you, and if he thinks he’s not, it hits him hard. but if he realizes you’re playing with him, oh, you’d better believe he’ll turn it around. “you think you can fake it with me? nah, i know you better than that. now let’s see you really enjoy it.” and from there he’ll definitely give you a show, making sure you feel every bit of pleasure until you can’t help but give in for real.

jeonghan “let’s see if you can keep that up, hmm?” he’ll definitely ramp it up, hitting all the right spots, making sure you’re squirming and gasping for real this time. jeonghan knows how to play the game, and he’s determined to make you admit you’re enjoying it. “really? you think i wouldn’t notice?” he’d tease, the corner of his mouth lifting. “you’re cute, but come on, babe. you gotta do better than that.” he’d be so amused, finding it kind of funny that you’d even try to pull that on him, jeonghan isn’t one to let that slide. he’ll take it as a challenge.

joshua’s the type to notice the little things, so when he catches on that you’re not being completely honest, his brows would furrow a bit. “wait, why are you… faking it?” he’d ask, his voice soft, but there’s a hint of disbelief in it. “did i do something wrong?” he’d sound genuinely worried, because the last thing he wants is for you to not enjoy yourself. if you tell him it's because you wanted him to do this or that, like speed up; “you know, if you wanted me to go harder, all you had to do was ask baby.”

junhui’d be totally thrown off. “huh? wait, you didn’t…” he’d stammer, pausing to look at you, his brows knitting together. he’d be a bit hurt at first, like, did he not make you feel good enough? “are you okay? did i mess up?” but then, as you explain, you’d catch a glimpse of that funny side of him coming out. “oh, so you just wanted to see me work for it?” he’d tease, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “well, now i’m gonna make sure you feel it, every inch of it.”

hoshi hears that little moan you let out, and he pauses, tilting his head like a puppy. “babe?” he’d ask, a little breathless, his brows raised. “did you just…?” when you finally confess, he’d burst into laughter, his bright smile lighting up the room. “ya! you little sneak!” he’d tease, shaking his head. “you’re lucky i love a challenge.” he’d dive right back in, he’d ramp it up, making sure to work you up until you’re genuinely moaning for him.

wonwoo’s usually pretty observant, so when he hears that breathy fake moan, he raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly to look at you. “really? is that how it’s gonna be?” he chuckles. and then he’d hit you with those slow, deep thrusts, a wicked smile on his face as he watches you squirm. “come on, give me the real thing this time,” he’d tease, stimulation you where he cans, tits, clit, neck.

woozi’d pause for a second, giving you that signature eyebrow raise, looking way too cute to be caught off guard. “no, you didnt.” he’d frown, trying to process what just happened. “you can’t just go around faking it like that. let’s see how long you can keep that act up. i’ll make you cum so hard that faking it won’t even cross your mind.” makes you double tired.

minghao'd know exactly when you're faking it, that sharp intuition of his kicking in right away. he'd probably play along at first, all smug and calm. “is that how you really want to do this?” he’d chuckle, making sure you know he’s about to make it impossible to fake anything next time, drawing it out until you're absolutely ruined.

mingyu would take it personally. if you fake it, he’d definitely pout for a second, confused. “did i… not do it right?” but once he gets over the initial hit to his ego, he'd go all in to prove a point. “you won’t have to fake it next time, trust me,” he’d mutter, then absolutely rail you until there's no mistaking how good he’s making you feel.

seokmin would probably be a combination of adorably flustered and a little offended. “wait, really? you faked it?” he’d sound almost hurt but would quickly turn it into a challenge. “no way i’m letting you get away with that.” he'd get serious real quick, making sure you’re not faking anything next time, putting in extra effort just to hear you scream his name for real.

seungkwan omg, seungkwan would be so dramatic about it! “you WHAT?!” he'd be half in disbelief, half ready to give you a lecture on honesty. but deep down, it’d spark his competitive side, and he'd be determined to make you feel it all the way. “okay, no more faking. i’ll make sure of that,” and then he’d put in work to have you trembling for real next time.

vernon would be the most chill about it, but he’d definitely call you out. “wait… did you just fake that? i mean why would you—” he’d ask, eyebrows raised. “nah, we’re not doing that again,” he'd say in his low, calm voice, all serious, before starting to pound into your again, reaching for your clit, or your weak spots, working harder so you don't act it.

chan would know exactly what’s up. with his own praise kink, he’d catch on quick if you weren’t really into it, and he’d take it as a confront. “oh, you wanna fake it with me?” he'd smirk, his hands gripping your hips harder. “lemme show you what it feels like to really cum.” he'd flip the script, making sure he works you over until faking it isn’t even an option.

[dark-fics-4-you]

Drabble Idea: Rafe being a sorry little bitch after getting high and being abusive to reader. Something like he comes into the room and he asks something along the lines of “Are you mad at me? I said I was sorry, I didn’t mean to” and reader is just shook still. Then maybe dubious consent f oral receiving?

Heartless

Warnings: dubcon/noncon, abusive relationship, domestic violence, manipulation, toxic relationship, oral f!recieving

You slammed the door behind you, blinking hot tears out of your eyes. Taking a shaky breath, you walked over to your vanity, drawing your hand close to the cut on your forehead. You touched it delicately, replaying the scene in your head repeatedly like that would help it make sense.

Expectedly, the genuinely concerned conversation you had tried to have about your boyfriend’s drug problems had transformed into a heated argument.

“You can’t control every aspect of my life, Y/N,” Rafe spat at you, anger flashing in his eyes, no doubt further fueled by the coke in his system.

“I’m not trying to control your life Rafe! I’m just trying to make sure you have a life to live! That you don’t throw everything away for some nose candy!” You threw your hands up, exasperated and tired.

This conversation was long overdue, and you had tried putting it off as long as possible, giving him the benefit of the doubt until it was impossible to ignore. He had a problem.

“You don’t understand what it’s like, Y/N-!” Rafe snapped at you. His face was growing red, one of the veins in his neck starting to pop out.

“Oh I don’t understand? You think I don’t have issues I wish I could just block out with drugs? You think that just because you get into fights with your dad that you’re entitled to be a coked out zombie 24/7?” You knew it was a fucked up thing to say, but you really didn’t expect his reaction at all.

Large hands grabbed and pushed at you and before you could register what was happening, you felt your forehead smack against the corner of the dining table, body crumpling beneath you as you fell to the floor.

You looked up at your boyfriend in shock, and he probably looked even more shocked than you did. You pressed your hand to your head, surprised when you felt a wet warmth at your hairline. You pulled your hand away and you realized why the look on Rafe’s face was so scared.

Crimson stained your fingertips.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to do that.” His voice was shaking, frantic, and when he reached down to you, you flinched away.

You looked up at your boyfriend through teary eyes, terrified, before you got up and ran into your shared room.

You pressed the warm washcloth to your head, sniffling as you dabbed the blood away.

A sound from behind you caught your attention, and you looked in the mirror to see Rafe, head hung and an apologetic look in his eyes.

“… Are you mad at me, Y/N?” He quietly asked, voice barely reaching your ears.

You felt a pang in your heart at his regretful tone.

“No,” you choked out meekly. It was true, you weren’t mad at him. You were terrified of him.

“I really didn’t mean to, it’s just- just sometimes i get so angry. And I feel like when you aren’t listening to me, it just pisses me off even more, you know?”

You didn’t know, but you nodded your head, a few tears falling past your lashes as you stared past him.

“Let me make it up to you, Y/N.” Rafe cooed, drawing closer to you, pressing against your back and wrapping one arm around your waist as the other hard found your neck, not squeezing, just resting there to put you on edge.

“Rafe, I really am not in the mood right now-” you gasped when his hand moved to roughly squeeze your breast, fingers teasing your nipples over your shirt and bra.

“Are you sure you’re not in the mood?” He challenged, walking you forward towards the mirror.

“Yes, I’m serious Rafe,” you begged, “Cut it out!” You turned to face him, but he caged you in against the bathroom counter, hands finding your hips and lifting you to sit on the counter before pulling at your shorts.

He kneeled before you as he pulled your shorts down, holding your legs when you tried to kick at him.

You gasped when he buried his face between your legs, licking and sucking at the tender flesh. Your fingers gripped the sides of the countertop, legs shaking when he pushed a finger in and began to curl it inside you. You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips when he pressed a second finger into you.

“You know, it’s really hard for you to convince me that you’re that mad at me when I can turn you into such a pathetic mess so easily, princess.”

[brainddeadd]

The One Where Jack Meddles

Trevor has loved Yn Hughes since the day he met her.

Yn Hughes has loved Trevor Zegras since the day she met him.

Jack Hughes is sick of his sister and best friend pinning for each other and decides to do something about it.

Quinn Hughes thinks that if anyone is going to date his little sister, Trevor's the best option.

Luke Hughes just wants Yn to cook him some damn food.

The warm sun cast a golden hue over the Hughes family lake house as laughter and music spilled out from the large deck. Friends mingled, drinks flowed, and the scent of grilled burgers wafted through the air. Yn Hughes stood at the edge of the lake, her toes dipped in the cool water as she watched Trevor Zegras playfully toss a football with Jack. She couldn’t help but smile; he looked effortlessly charming, his hair tousled and eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Hey, Yn!” Jack called, glancing her way. “Are you going to join us or just stand there all day?”

“I might just watch you fail to catch that pass,” she shot back, her playful tone masking the butterflies in her stomach.

Trevor turned, flashing a grin that made her heart skip a beat. “I think I’ll catch it just fine. Want to make a bet?”

She bit her lip, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “What’s the wager?”

“If I catch it, you owe me dinner. If I drop it, I’ll owe you a night out,” he replied, confidence radiating off him.

Yn felt her pulse quicken at the thought of spending more time with Trevor. “Deal!”

As the sun set and the sky turned into a canvas of pinks and oranges, the party transitioned to the deck. Laughter echoed as everyone gathered around a fire pit, drinks in hand. Luke leaned against the railing, glancing between Yn and Trevor, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“Hey, Yn, can you whip up something delicious for us later?” he called out, clearly fishing for her attention.

“Only if you help me clean up!” she shot back, playfully rolling her eyes.

Jack, watching the banter unfold, took a deep breath. He had watched Trevor and Yn dance around each other for far too long. Tonight, he would do something about it. He stood up, a spark of determination in his eyes, fueled by a few drinks.

“Alright, everyone!” Jack announced, his voice loud enough to draw attention. “I think it’s time we talk about something serious.”

“What’s up, Jack?” Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jack glanced at Trevor, who looked both curious and nervous. “Trevor here has been hiding a big secret!”

Trevor’s eyes widened. “What? No, I haven’t—”

“Yeah, you have!” Jack pressed on, ignoring Trevor’s protests. “Trevor loves Yn!”

The words hung in the air, a sudden silence enveloping the group. Yn’s heart raced, her breath caught in her throat as she turned to Trevor. His face was a mixture of shock and embarrassment, turning crimson under the dim light of the fire.

The silence broke into a chorus of teasing laughter and playful jeers. “Wow, Trevor! You really need to be more vocal about your feelings!” one friend shouted.

“Dude, you can’t just drop that bombshell!” another added, grinning at Trevor’s discomfort.

Yn felt a thrill of hope wash over her. Did Jack really just say that? Trevor’s gaze met hers, wide-eyed, as if he was trying to gauge her reaction.

“Um, I—” Trevor stammered, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “I mean… it’s not that simple.”

Yn couldn’t help but smile, her heart fluttering. “What if it is?” she challenged gently, stepping closer to him.

Trevor opened his mouth to respond, but Jack cut in again, waving his hands dramatically. “Look, can we just agree that you two should stop pretending? Everyone here sees it!”

Quinn nodded, smirking. “Yeah, I think Trevor’s a great option for Yn. Just look at them!”

Luke leaned over, a mischievous grin on his face. “As long as Yn promises to cook me dinner, I’m all for it.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible,” Yn laughed, but her gaze never left Trevor’s.

Trevor finally found his voice, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “I’ve liked you since the day I met you, Yn. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

A wave of relief and joy washed over her, and she took a step closer. “Then maybe you should try saying it now?”

Trevor’s nervousness faded as a smile broke out on his face. “I like you, Yn. Like, really like you.”

The cheers erupted around them again, but this time, Yn didn’t care about the audience. She took another step closer, feeling emboldened by Trevor’s confession. “I like you too, Trevor. More than I can say.”

The laughter and teasing faded into the background as Trevor took her hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “So… dinner? Just the two of us?”

“Definitely,” she replied, her heart soaring.

Jack leaned back with a satisfied smirk, raising his drink. “And to think I did all of this for some good food!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius, Jack,” Luke teased, rolling his eyes.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Yn and Trevor shared a lingering gaze, finally free from the tension that had held them apart for too long. The night was just beginning, and for the first time, everything felt perfectly right.

[docholligay]

Foreign Films to Expand Into

I saw a post regarding the writer’s strike that suggested Americans maybe make the effort of watching a foreign film, and while I agree, I didn’t think its tone was super helpful. Don’t get me wrong, I’m the queen of “Pull yourself out of a rut!!” but I don’t think “Americans are so fucking stupid they don’t realize other countries make movies” is actually trying to help anyone, so much as add to the idea that I guess the rest of the world is being forced to watch Captain America at gunpoint. 

But I DO want Americans to watch foreign films, in the same way that I want them to watch indie films, and I want people of all nations and stripes to expand their understanding of what they’re used to, to push themselves into something else they might like. I think my family would say that it’s fair to call me a person who is open to experience. I love to try things! That’s why I have the book draw, that’s why I go see movies I’m not sure about, that’s why I actively seek out foods I’ve never tried. You deserve to make your life interesting, to be challenged, to provide enrichment in your enclosure. You are worth the effort of a richly textured life! And movies are often a pretty cheap way to go about stepping outside of your comfort zone. I can’t wait to hear what you thought of any of these! 

Obviously, if you are not American, one  of these may not be foreign to you. Yes, I know that. 

I don’t hold out that all of these are hidden gems--some of them are, or were, extremely popular movies. Many of them won awards. But I do hold out that these are some of my favorites, and I would love to share them with you. I did, however, try to avoid anything that I thought already got a lot of play on tumblr: I don’t need to tell anyone here to watch Parasite, Portrait of a Lady on Fire, or any given Ghibili movie (Though you should watch Grave of the Fireflies--it’s my favorite). 

Pan’s Labyrinth (Mexico and Spain): This is my favorite foreign film of all time and I am breaking my, “I’m not putting any movie on here I don’t need to tell you to watch” rule right away because it is in fact one of my favorite movies of all time, American or foreign. It is a lush story about fantasy, facism, courage, and the horror of childhood. Warning: This movie is very very intense. Do not be fooled by the fact that Del Toro also does like fucking…Hellboy. He also can make very serious, very good movies, and he does not shy away from the brutality of the Spanish Civil War. If you liked Labyrinth but you’re fully grown now and I want a story about fantasy bargains for the adult crowd, this is for you. 

The Orphanage (Spain): I love Spanish horror, and so it was really, really difficult to only pick one. But this has been one of my favorites for years, a classic Spanish slow burn that deals with the long shadow of childhood and the line between the supernatural and the natural. If you like pensive horror movies like The VVitch, I really think you should give this one a try. 

Hero (China): I know a lot of y’all are into wuxia now, but back when this came out it wasn’t a thing I had ever heard of*. Hero is, as the title might imply, a sweeping historical epic with fantastic fight scenes and gorgeous cinematography. If you enjoy stories told in multiple interpretations, high-flying wire work, and with some ideas about war, peace, and truth that tempt without asking too much of you, you’ll love this. 

Cold War (Poland): Listen, I love Cuarón, Mexican and Spanish movies absolutely dominate my list of foreign films I’ve watched, but I genuinely thought Cold War deserved the edge over Roma for the Oscar that year. It’s a fairly short movie for the times, coming in at less than 90 minutes, and it wastes not even one second of that film time. Cold War is a bittersweet love story not only with two people toward each other, but feels deeply critical of Poland while recognizing the impossibility of unbraiding yourself from it. If you love impossible, bittersweet, happily never after love stories with stark and striking cinematography, you’ll adore Cold War. 

Tigers Are Not Afraid (Mexico): I adore an unflinching take on childhood, and this movie is absolutely that. It essentially asks, “How do children survive in a world full of trauma?” and the answer is that sometimes, they don’t. This movie is a little frenetic, admittedly, but the ways fantasy and imagination is woven into a group of street children orphaned by the cartels is something I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I first saw it, and I think the final shot is pitch perfect. If you liked Pan’s Labyrinth this is required viewing, as I think it shares a lot of themes. 

The African Doctor (France): “Holligay, if you put another fucking downer movie in this list I am going to BEAT YOUR ASS” Okay, okay, we’re going to ignore my general predilections and everything from here on down is fairly life-affirming or comedic or easy. This is about a little village in France in the 1970s that gets an African doctor. It’s sweet, and funny, and you come away from it feeling good. Also I still laugh every time Seyolo responds to the fact that most of the villagers had never seen a black person with: “So what? Now they will.” If you like sweet fish out of water stories with nice endings, this is for you. 

Om Shanti Om (India): I maintain that this is the best movie to watch if you’re brand new to Bollywood. It mostly avoid the worst of its excesses while delighting in all of its strengths. It is a genuinely fun film with fantastic songs, and a shockingly together storyline for a Bollywood movie (affectionate). I’ve actually done a full review of this one, but in the short version: If you loved Moulin Rouge and wanted more of that mix of tragedy and silliness on a operatic level, I think you’ll be in for a treat. 

The Warrior’s Way (South Korea and New Zealand): Okay, this movie is not good, and also it manages to be bad. But it’s in English, so if you’ve been sitting there like my dad going, ‘I am not gonna read a movie” well, here you go. If you’ve ever said to yourself, “I want to watch a Western, but I wish it were actually a HK style cheesy action movie” BOY HOWDY AM I HERE FOR YOU. I watched this one insanely drunk and still managed to be like, “wow! This is so bad! Maximum valid!” If you thought RRR** was good, but too deep, you will have the BEST time with The Warrior’s Way. 

Anyway, this is, of course, an incomplete list, and I’m sure I’ve forgotten something I love, since this was just made off the cuff. I would love to hear if you watch or like any of these, and also, if, looking at this list, you have a recommendation for me, let me know! There are so so many fucking movies out there, and so many fall through the cracks. 

I’m thinking about doing another one of these on “Indie movies you might have missed” and also “Movies that were made before you enfants were born” (30+ years) so let me know if anything like that is interesting! Or, if there’s a category you think I might know about you’re into, let me know also.

*I actually have a lot of emotional attachment to Hero, as I have a very distinct memory of standing in the Hastings, in front of the small foreign-film section, and it being the first foreign film I picked up. I was, I think, sixteen, and I had decided that I was going to be worldly, and interesting, and cultured, and so I took a deep dive into cooking from other cultures, and watching foreign films, and buying old art history textbooks, reading classics, and listening to opera, and formal manners. Basically becoming the person I wished I were, that poised Grace Kelly type, even if I was born to the drone of the grasshoppers on the wind. To quote Reba Macintire, “You know I mighta been born just plain white trash, but Fancy was my name” and all that. And this movie was a distinct part of that, in that it was the first, in a long line of me trying to be a more well-rounded and interesting person. 

**RRR (India): Actually on that note, watch RRR. It’s a fantastically fun Indian action film that I keep meaning to watch again because I got a little too drunk for drinking on an emopty stomach the first time I saw it, so it might actually also be good, but I do remember enjoying the shit out of it and there is a scene that has such Fareeha vibes to me.

[ranger-rai]

Cold Eyes, Warm Food pt.6

“Are you all like a band or something?”

Rai stood there a bit confused, also impressed at their synchronized introduction but it didn't mean much to him.

“You serious mate? Vea questioned in disbelief. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she had become used to people noticing her on the street or a steady growing social media presence but the idea of someone about her age not recognizing her just seemed impossible.

“N-no we’re not a band. We are a Poke-TRI Games team!” Konani clarified, she was also confused at how someone didn't even know they were a very well known team.

“What’s Poke-TRI Games?” 

This question from the ranger caused jaws to drop. They couldn't believe this, who didn't know what “Poke-TRI Games” were?!

—------------

The Poke-TRI Games are a set of three challenges that test the speed, power, and resourcefulness of the teams involved.

A team must consist of three trainers and one Pokemon partner of their choice. One trainer each must compete in one of three events, and whoever has the highest score by the end of their competition or finishes in first place will be considered the winner.

Every region has at least four teams that compete locally for a chance at the grand shebang, the “Cross Regional Championship!”

Now you may wonder: “What kind of competitions do they compete in?”

Well I’ll tell you, these competitions cover three important aspects that determine only the most skilled of teams.

“Test of Power and Accuracy” section of the “Poke-TRI Games" requires less mobility and more power and skill with ranged attacks.

The two variations of this trial are: “Quick Draw Target Practice” and “Defender”.

The “Knowledge of Land" portion of the Tournament tests’ challengers' knowledge of terrains and their senses to find hidden treasures. The two variations of this challenge are: “Treasure Hunt” and “Free for All”.

Finally, we have the “Skill of Agility” where the trainer and their pokemon ride together in a test of their endurance and ability to traverse long or dangerous distances over land, sea, or air.

The two variations of this challenge are: “Long Distance Race” and “Dog Fights”. 

These challenges, combined with the various locations and challengers from all over, have proven time and time again to be the greatest determining factor of who is the greatest in all of the known regions!

—----

Konani clicked off her phone’s screen once the video had finished playing, Rai watched the informative video to get a better idea on just what these three women were involved in.

“So you three are like some kind of super marathon sports team?” Rai questioned the three women while scratching his head, still a bit confused but curious.

“S’bit of a simple way of puttin it, but yea.” Vea responded with an eye roll, she wasn't quite sure why they were wasting time talking to this guy but they were doing it for a lot longer than she expected.

“At least we are trying to stay a team…” Konani added as she sulked a bit more, annoying Vea but she was running low on steam at this point to argue back.

“Is this because of that manager issue? Why don't you all just go to the organization and see if they can refer someone to you all?” Rai suggested, his idea made sense in a normal context, but there was a difference with these women.

“Well we tried that but managers through the organization dont do more than the bare minimum, they leave so much work on the team. we even had to schedule our own interviews for a while.” Konani explained as she picked herself back up a bit, helping the ranger understand that this matter wasn't so simple.

“If we’r gonna have a manager then they gotta be fighting hard like us and get things done! We never even got a sponsor with any of our last managers, who can't even do that much?” The crimson haired woman complained with a sense of pride.

Rai did understand however, what would be the point of sponsoring a team if you weren't trying to make them a success?

Rai began scanning over the women, noticing how despite their anger, fear and sadness that they all were still incredibly determined.

He could tell how hard their pokemon had been trained and well taken care of, and even though they were incredibly casual and made up for the day he could see some scars and scratches, true signs of effort and hard work. He knew these women meant business.

An Idea had been forming in his head and he was sure it was probably going to go badly, he couldn't let their hard work be for nothing.

“Hey, so I know it’s none of my business but I might know someone who can help you.” The ranger finally spoke up in an attempt to give some hope at this moment, his voice sounding a little uncertain.

“Whot’er you going on about mate?” Vea was reaching the end of her rope today and this uniformed cook was only pushing her closer to the edge.

“Do you really know someone who could be our manager?!” Konani had perked up as though she had never been sad a day in her life, this honestly surprised the ranger.

“Uh, well she probably CAN help, but if she will help is the big question. Rai knew the phone call he would make wouldn't be too pleasant but there was a chance it would be alright. A very, very small chance.

“I think we should hear him out!” 

Konani looked at Vea who was preparing to object to this impromptu business meeting, giving her maroon haired friend an adorable begging face that would make even the cutest Skitty jealous.

“Yea sure, whatevr’!” Vea dismissed as she knew that face had gotten her friend out of many more arguments, and she silently cursed herself that she still couldn't beat it.

Rai chuckled a bit, he could tell that these two were definitely good friends. His eyes were once again locked with the fair skinned woman on the opposite side of the table.

She had been silent for this whole conversation, she had been staring down the ranger with a serious gaze however he seemed unfazed as he gazed back into the piercing eyes that had caused many to freeze in place.

Their eye contact remained unbroken, an act that was impressive from her friends view as they looked to see who would break first in their standoff.

After a few moments of silent staring Tia gave a nod to the ranger who immediately gave a nod back before he reached for his phone, walking off to make a call to his contact.

“Hey, it's me. So I have an interesting situation here…” 

[girlierest]

The long debate of what is it really that makes everything I draw so fucking fundamentally hideous that it appeals to zero people. And whatfuckingever, draw for yourself as if my concepts and driving force was never for myself, I'm still mad someone who literally only draws half naked men facing left said that to me, who actively went out of my way to challenge myself by doing something new every time I pick up my tablet pen. Like are you fucking serious there isn't a ton of repetition or even a hard pattern between my body of work. Even the colour palettes I try to mix up to cover my bases. I don't want a weak spot/a colour I can't work with.

I know it's the style. It's too western, ofc it doesn't fit Gnshn standards. I could, and have, illustrated whole scenes. Never gets as much traction as someone's 15 minute doodle. The style is so ugly and western. The colouring style isn't painterly, isn't cel shading, isn't clean enough. I'm working on the colouring, idk if I even want to change my style or if I'm even capable. It took forever to even get to a point to step away from anime eyes and weak necks.

It's also not realistic enough. Not painterly/perfectly rendered enough. It's too cartoony, not a flawless portrait.

Idk where I'm even going with this rant. I would love to be an artist, and yeah whatever if you draw that technically makes you one in some capacity, but unfortunately I love art. And I'll never be good at it evidently. And it's fucking frustrating that I still care enough about it to try. It's not even remotely innate. Never had a talent for a damn thing in my life so it's just been conscious practice, drills, mistakes, experimentation, and repeat. For years. Nearing a decade. That's so fucking pathetic.

Idk what exactly to do. Putting it down and stepping away means I will need to relearn everything again inevitably because it has always been an acquired skill with years of daily practice in to improve, still going. If I step away from digital I will literally forget the already shit skills I have now, which means I have to relearn everything again. Hell, getting a Surface Pro and using it regularly for one semester in college resulted in having to relearn drawing on a normal tablet on my other computer all over again.

The dissatisfaction of accomplishing nothing also stems from broken childhood dreams. I've always wanted to be an artist. Since circa 2016-2017, I found a viable way to actually be one and aspired to it. Should I just fucking stop? I've had to talk myself down and out of my stupid fucking delusions of grandeur that I might one day succeed at these seemingly impossible goals for me specifically, but easily attainable for literally anyone else. It's so fucking frustrating.

[souplovingwerewolf]

I just forced my friends to watch this last night and we turned it into a try not to laugh challenge. We all failed multiple times. It's just.... everything about it is so... I'm sorry I NEED to talk about it. Because honestly, this movie deserves an analysis and I have much to say. Spoiler warning I guess

The thing about this movie is that the premise is actually... pretty good. Like, The idea of a movie about an artist who struggles to find her place in the world and with feeling like her passion/career isnt a "real career" and might become obsolete is really nice, since it's relatable to a lot of artists nowadays. And having part of the movie take place in a Harold and the Purple crayon type "drawing reality" world is a genuinely cool concept, and allows for there to be a lot of wacky and creative character and background design choices. And having Paige start out as a bit of a bad person, but learning through hardship and experiences to be a better person is awesome. Even the concept of the twist villain and his motivation is cool. Having the villain be a disillusioned art teacher who just wants people to respect his, and others, passion but is going about it the wrong way is cool! and while most of the dialogue is absolutely buttcheeks, there are rare moments where it's actually decent. There is real potential here!

But my god, I don't think I have ever seen a premise executed this badly. It's almost impressive. People like to call bad movies "fever dreams" but I've never seen a movie genuinely feel like a fever dream than this movie did. Literally everything is wrong with it.

First off, every single concept that could potentially be cool is mentioned for literally one minute and then dropped for the entirety of the movie. They bring up like 10 different major plot points and then immediately abandon them, never to be seen again. Like Paige's sister gets introduced and she's like a bad guy who's working for a big evil corporation that wants to feed drawings to AI and profit off them. Is she seen for more than 5 minutes? No. Do we ever hear about that corporation again? No. And then at one point they just randomly mention that anyone who stays in the drawing dimension for too long becomes a drawing. They mention this ONCE and it's never brought up again. Never. And this is a consistent theme throughout the movie! This movie feels like it's directed towards goldfish or mosquitos or something else that can't remember things for more than 3 seconds.

Also, the few plot points that DO stick around have the most poorly explained and inconsistent lore I have ever seen. Like the concept of the pencil of intelligence and the power of drawings is incredibly confusing. Was it the pencil that held the power? Or the drawing dimension? Or the drawings themselves? Absolutely nothing about how anything works makes any sense.

Also, the pacing. Oh God, the pacing. This movie seems to be allergic to building any kind of tension or a consistent plot. Every scene slowly fades out into a black screen (yes, I'm serious) after 5 minutes, and when it returns the characters are doing something completely different, or there are suddenly different characters shown. Coupled with them throwing random topics in like they'd been a major plot point the whole time, this makes feeling any kind of connection to the characters and the adventure impossible, because every scene feels like an out of context clip. Like, there's a scene of Paige and one of her friends having a bonding moment and opening up to each other that, in any other movie, would feel like a pivotal moment for their bond and characters, but we barely hear the friend talk, and they basically NEVER interact before this scene in any meaningful way, so it has no impact.

Oh and the Constant, CONSTANT flashbacks. Now, you can do a movie that switches between flashbacks and the present well, but the issue here is that it's very hard to tell what's a flashback and what isn't, since not only are the scenes completely random and unrelated anyway, some of the flashbacks are from things that happen FIVE SECONDS before the previous scene, which just makes it feel like the creator put the scenes in the wrong order.

This movie feels like it's trying to speed run the plot, and yet it's still an hour long, mostly because a lot of scenes just have character saying the most drawn out, repetitive dialogue ever, or straight up repeating THE SAME voice lines. Half the time I felt like I was being lectured by my mom and she was making sure I got the point for the 10th time.

The animation is also just lackluster, lacks any kind of life, and keeps repeating frames, the humor feels like if you asked a 12 year old to prompt chatGPT to write a "Gen Z joke", and even though the creator claims he was developing this for 6 years, one of the first jokes in the movie is an Ohio joke, which would have made no sense even 3 years ago.

Oh yeah I almost forgot. The most powerful and plot significant character (besides Paige) is a self insert of the creator that is literally his PROFILE PIC. And he just looks weird as hell throughout the whole movie because he's this blue child with an ice cream sandwich on his head and brightly colored clothes that for some reason has this deep man's voice. Like yes, I get it that he's a drawing in this dimension and he can look like whatever he wants and that's the point, but it doesn't change how bizarre it is to see someone's profile pic as the main character in this movie. Also I'm sorry but his design is ridiculous. It works as a PFP because that's just a still image and is kinda supposed to look weird and distinctive but I could not take this little ice cream boy seriously at all.

The whole movie is just an absolute mess. That being said, I really enjoyed watching it just for the sake of laughing my ass off, and I'd recommend you watch it too. It's funny as shit.

PLEASE watch the whole beatboxing puppy movie im BEGGING. its SO bad its called Our Drawings Princess Movie its free on youtube pleeeeease its so bad. me and my friend watched it we need a fandom for this movie

[theharpermovieblog]

#HARPERSMOVIECOLLETION

2023

I re-watched Elliot (2017)

I wanted to rewatch this because it's a creative way to deal with a miniscule budget. And, we should all support independent art and entertainment.

In a futuristic dystopian nightmare, a worker drone named Elliot often escapes into a digital world and a digital avatar. After meeting a woman in that digital world Elliot goes on a journey to find her, while becoming unsure of what is real and what is not.

The VHS horror franchise of films doesn't necessarily represent what actually shooting a movie on VHS was or is. I've always thought that shooting a movie on VHS tape that isn't part of the "found footage" genre was a bad idea. So to film a straight 4th wall film on VHS with a 4:3 aspect ratio and with almost no money is insane to me. Especially a sci-fi/horror.

Back in the 1990's there were several microbudget sci-Fi films and Christian films made on VHS tape. They did very little to draw in the viewer's attention, mainly because they were ugly and poorly written and directed. While very odd curiosities, I found them extremely bland. It seemed impossible to me to shoot something decent or engaging on VHS.

Elliot, a film made in 2017, with an estimated budget of $7,500, has managed to not only film something interesting on VHS, but to do so by embracing the same limitations those 1990's films faced. Staking it's flag firmly in a very lost and never-loved style.

Elliot is about escapism and creating a digital persona online. It's an easy theme to crack and the metaphor for our own lives isn't a very deep one. The dialogue isn't stellar and feels like it was written by a love-lorn sci-fi nerd with no understanding of pacing and no ability to have real social interactions. (No offense to the socially awkward nerds). The acting is amateurish and the characters aren't very three dimensional. Outside of it's interesting execution, it's a very basic film, which I certainly have major issues with. I wouldn't recommend this to anyone, outside serious filmmaking fans and oddity junkies. It's main draw comes back to those 1990's films and the feeling that you could find yourself watching this movie on late night tv, maybe even public access, and repeating, "why the fuck am I watching this?"

It's a grainy and difficult to see collection of images, full of cheap homemade sets and costumes. The special effects are little more than flashing lights, interesting makeup and decently used, but dated editing techniques. It's runtime is an hour and seven minutes, which makes it pretty easily digestible, but I wouldn't want much more of it.

So why do I like it?

What I find fascinating about this film, is that it's proof that budgetary restrictions and bad equipment can be overcome by creative decisions and a complete disregard for one's limitations. Old independent film, especially old independent horror, wasn't always judged on its fantastic filmmaking, but for it's creativity when it came to completing a film in outside of the mainstream.

There's nothing perfect about Elliot from a storytelling perspective, but it definitely makes me consider a type of filmmaking I have long disregarded as a pure waste. For sure, VHS filmmaking has something to offer the horror genre outside of found footage. Elliot gives me a few very interesting images, moments and an underdog feel, if a bit pretentious about how artistically deep it wants to be. But, mostly, I like it because it fuels in me a desire to try the challenge of a microbudget VHS horror myself.

(And a shout-out to the gothic industrial soundtrack. I dug it.)

[churchfabricsolutions]

Best Reasons Why You Need To Install A Scuba Wall For Church

If you’re like most churchgoers, you probably attend services on a regular basis. And if you’re like most churchgoers, you probably take your time getting ready. That means there’s usually plenty of time for someone to sneak in and steal something valuable—like your church’s collection plate. Well, there’s no need to worry anymore! By installing a scuba wall for your church, you can make it virtually impossible for anyone to steal anything. Here are four reasons why you need to install a scuba wall for your church right away.

Religious Reasons

Churchgoing is a religious tradition that millions of people around the world participate in. There are several reasons why you might want to install a scuba wall for the church. 

One reason is that it can help create a sense of community. When everyone is confined to the same space, it creates an environment where people can get to know each other better. This can be especially beneficial if there are any tensions or disagreements between members of the congregation.

Another reason to install a scuba wall for the church is safety. If there are any accidents, such as someone falling down a flight of stairs, having a wall between them and the danger prevents serious injury or death. Plus, it just adds an extra layer of fun and excitement to services!

Fun and Recreation Reasons

Church has always been a place of worship and community service. However, it's also a great place to spend some quality time with family and friends. If you're looking for ways to make your church more fun and recreational, consider installing a scuba wall. Here are some reasons why you should do this:

1. It can be a great way to get the whole family involved in church activities. With a scuba wall, everyone can have their own fun while also supporting church services. This is especially important if your church is struggling to draw members together.

2. A scuba wall can provide an exciting new challenge for members of your congregation. Whether they're new participants or seasoned veterans, everyone will enjoy trying their hand at diving or climbing on the wall. This will help to foster camaraderie among members and increase participation in church services.

3. A  Scuba Walls Portable Church can create an exciting atmosphere in any room in your church building. Whether it's used for worship services or special events, having a scuba wall in your space will give people something to look forward to every time they visit your church property.

4. A scuba wall can help keep members active and engaged during down times at church. When there are no special events scheduled or no opportunities for fun within the community, a scuba wall can provide an outlet for energy and activity that churchgoers will love!

Security Reasons

Church congregations and other spaces in which people gather should install a scuba wall to help protect them from potential accidents and injuries. Here are some of the reasons why you need a scuba wall in your church:

First, a scuba wall can help prevent accidental falls. If someone trips or falls while walking around the church, they're more likely to injure themselves if they fall onto sharp objects or stairs that are located behind the scuba wall.

Second, a  Scuba Wall For Church can keep people safe from dangerous animals. If there's ever an emergency where someone needs to evacuate the building quickly, having a barrier between them and dangerous predators can be lifesaving.

Third, a scuba wall can protect people from fires. A fire could start anywhere in a church, and if it spreads rapidly it could cause major damage. By installing a scuba wall firefighters and other emergency personnel will be able to work faster and with less risk of injury.

Fourth, a scuba wall can protect people from falling debris. Tornados often cause large pieces of debris to fall from the sky, and these pieces of wood, metal, paper, etc. could easily injure or kill someone if they land on them unintentionally. Ascending or descending stairs is also risky because steps might unexpectedly give way beneath someone's feet. With a scuba wall in place, large pieces of debris would have difficulty reaching any congregation member no matter where they are in the building.

Environmental Reasons

There are many reasons why you should install a scuba wall for the church. Some of the environmental reasons are that they can help conserve water, provide insulation and soundproofing, and help protect property. In addition, installing a scuba wall can help to keep congregants and visitors safe.

The first reason is that a scuba wall can help conserve water. When water is used for irrigation or to cool buildings in hot climates, it can take up a lot of resources. A scuba wall can use less water than traditional irrigation methods because it allows the water to seep through the structure instead of being sprayed. This also helps to reduce the risk of flooding.

Another benefit of using a scuba wall is that it provides insulation and soundproofing. Churches often have high ceilings and walls, which means that noise from the congregation can be easily heard by those outside of the building. Ascending and descending stairs also create noise, and a scuba wall can help to dampen these sounds. Installing a scuba wall also ensures that people inside the building are not disturbed by noise from the outside environment.

Finally, protecting property is an important consideration when installing a scuba wall for a church. Churches often have valuable items, such as paintings or statues, and want to make sure that these items are protected from theft or damage. A scuba wall can provide security for these items by shielding them from view and preventing access from unauthorized individuals. 

Conclusion  

There are many benefits of having a scuba wall installed in your church. Not only will it make the experience more enjoyable for churchgoers, but it also increases safety. A scuba wall provides an obstacle-free diving environment, meaning that there is no chance of hitting someone with your dive gear and injuring them. 

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (248): Sat 19th Nov 2022

Watched a short documentary about Sunderland. I had no idea that the Bridge on Roker Beach is where Lewis Carroll was when he got the idea for Alice In Wonderland. When I was a kid me and my school crew would spend the night at my friend Pearce’s house and all those years I had no idea what we were crashing probably a hundred feet away from such a historic literary landmark. You would think that there would be a commemorative plaque there to mark this important location (granted there are other parts of the city that pay tribute to Carroll) but nobody except hardcore Carroll fans would know that this thing exists. To be fair this documentary was the only source I could find for this piece of information so like “Laurel and Chaplin”, the play I saw at Edinburgh which claimed that Stan Lauren and Charlie Chaplin were supposed to be on the Titanic, it’s interesting but it might also be bullshit. Tuned into last nights Impact pay per view Over Drive and thought they knocked it out of the park. Impact definitely suffered for the first 15 or so years of it's life from having Dixie Carter running it because she's an idiot who knows nothing about the wrestling business. In order to compensate for not understanding how wrestling works she consistantly employed chancers and liers like Vince Russo, Eric Bischoff and Hulk Hogan who all know something about wrestling but not enough. Russo knows how to get the rating up temporarily by constantly booking bollocks so that people will tune in out of morbid curiosity. Bischoff has a proven track record of having a decent business acumen but as his TNA run proved that sort of dwindled overtime and his decision to take Impact on the road left them in serious financial dire straits. Hogan knew how to make money in the wrestling business but specifically related to how to make money for Hulk Hogan, when it came to trying to buid other start to the point they could be a viabe money draw he didn't seem to have any reative ideas in that department. But luckily those shitheas are all unemployed now and Impact has some genuine creative minds running the show most notably Scott D'Amore who has managed to find a good balance between entertainment an in ring action. The highlights of Over Drive were a great X Division title match between Trey Miguell and Black Taurus which saw Miguel turn heel and win the belt by spraying spraypaint in Taurus' eyes. In my opinion Miguel is one of the ones to watch in Impact and if pushed right could be the next AJ Styles. One of the commentators described Miguel's moveset as "Impossible" in a recent episode of Impact and I think that would be a great nickname / moniker for him: "The Impossible" Trey Miguel. The show was main evented by Frankie Kazarian vs Josh Alexander for the X Division title. I was really pulling for Kaz. I first saw Kaz when he first debuted for TNA 19 years ago. Since then I've gone with him onhis journey from multiple time X division champion to a blink and you'll miss it stint in WWE to a return to TNA where Vince Russo convinced Dixie Carter to put him in a cheap looking SpiderMan suit for some reason. I've followed his career all the way through Fourtune, Bad Influence, Ring of Honor and AEW and he's always put on captivating performances. One thing he's never done is won the world title and I was really cheering him on to be the one to dethrone Josh Alexander tonight. Sadly despite a few close calls Kaz was unable to win the big one tonight but he really got the crowd behind him and hopefuly they will stay behind him and he will end up becoming a Daniel Bryan / Johnny Gargano underdog success story for Impact. The post match saw Bully Ray challenge Alexander to a match for the title at Hard to Kill next year which Alexander accepted. After the showdown Ray turned heel and attacked Alexander with a chair. He then ziptied Alexander's hand to the bottom rope and threatened to piledrive Alexander's girlfriend onto the concrete. unfortunately this being Impact they were unable to go a whole show without some Botchamania worthy bollocks going wrong and the ziptie holding Alexander to the rope broke and so Alexander had to pretend he couldn't save his girlfriend because he was paralyzed with fear of some shit. That unfortunate fuckup aside this was a really good show. a few years ago I had tuned out of Impact and ll but written them off because they had fucked themselves so many times by making bad decisions but they really have rebounded and they're now one of only two wrestling promotions I watch every week alongside AEW.  

[turnips-creates]

[Welcome to Part 2/3! Take a popcorn cup and find a seat]

Challenger #2: @legiomiam {love ya!}

My words were -> leg, build, egg, spin, suddenly

Tagging -> @tananaphone [uno reverse #2!], @pinespittinink, @clockworkgalaxies, @moonscribbler, @samplewriting, @aceofdivinechlorophyll

All y'all's words are -> sanctuary, throne, arrow, ring, snack

My responses under the cut!

{I do still have 1 more of these after, so let me know if you want to be tagged!}

1)

{leg}

You step fully into the room, not needing to announce your presence as your power permeates every molecule within. It wraps me in warmth, drawing the pain of the bruises and bones and blood from my body. My eyes struggle to stay open, my vision blurs, and I wish I could see you step over the dead in a vessel all your own. My legs give out, and I'm on my knees before you reach me. Sight no longer comes to me. I don't need it anymore. Your presence balms my very existence, to the point, I can't help but wonder if this might be what church feels like.

2)

{build}

“We’ll need to find the Lord Priest of the temple.” Cass nods towards the head of the long table of clergy in the courtyard. “They’ll have the ‘key’ we need.” Kal slinks from behind the giant bronze bell to the thief’s side, just out of the moonlight’s reach. Her eyes carefully examine the feast below, the empty intricate wooden armchair at the head, and their possible paths down the tower to the main building. “I don’t sense any spirits here beside those with me,” she notes to Cass. “Something about this place makes them uneasy.”

3)

{egg}

[context: human ‘talking’ with the god sealed in their head]

‘What do you mean weird? I'm perfectly normal, thank you.’ [Cynth – human… sort of.] ‘You can see in the dark. In fact, I bet your sight beats out every other human on Far Hope. Also, my power should have destroyed you since you admitted yourself, you're uneducated in the ways of magic.’ [God… maybe] ‘So, we're calling it uneducated? That's a bit of an understatement, kid.’ [Cynth] ‘I am millennia older than you! How dare you call me ‘kid’.’ [God] ‘So?’ [Cynth] ‘Should I call you ‘Egg’ then?’ [God] ‘Try it. I dare you.’ [Cynth]

4)

{spin}

The gold embossed floor glimmers in stars and blade-like leaves, the bright blue of Moira’s gown a sapphire amidst a metal and dark wood setting. Round and round they spin across the floor, her skirt flaring about her waist in a flurry of crashing waves. She can practically smell the rosin of her Father’s fiddle in her Mother’s small practice room, her Mama twirling her just like this -  Only this time, she dances at a masquerade in the ballroom of the Soleil Family Estate, and her feet touch the floor in sparkling new heels, not dull, worn flats.

5)

{suddenly}

Her brain comes to a screeching halt as those words trip her emergency break. “Little Crow”. There are only two people who ever called her that.   Suddenly, there’s a glass of parskey in her hand, and her birth name is whispered beneath the mediocre rendition of her Father’s composition, so close it would be impossible for anyone else to have heard without a serious audio bug.

Find the Word [x3]

[Part 1/3]

Challenger #1: @awritingcaitlin {love ya!}

My words were -> image, sigh, summon, form, smile

Tagging -> @legiomiam [uno reverse #1!], @sentfromwolves, @saphoblin, @wellofhavoc, @faelanvance, and @diseonfire

All y'all's words are: knife, music, leaf, pirate, picture

My responses under the cut!

1)

{image}

Kal Nyr Sarai wakes to a hangover and a freezing woman. The woman’s lips brush the pulse point at the base of Kal’s throat, and the Imperial Officer shivers at the icy touch. The two women are flush together, from sternum to knees, legs tangled languidly in sleep, and Kal can feel the ache from the festivities tugging the memories of the night before into place. Piece by piece, images of the dark-haired woman in her dress – silver as moonlight and lighter than a gryphon’s feather – dancing, laughing, moaning, enraptured in the revelry of the spring festival.

2)

{sigh}

The sigh leaving their lips brushes over my neck, leaving goose bumps in its wake, as Cynth drops their head on my shoulder in resignation. “Fuck it,” they mumble, going lax in my hold. I tug the band from their hair, letting the dark locks fall to their shoulders, and begin carding my fingers through.

3)

{summon}

The fire bites at the lining of my organs and edges of my bones. They minimized the amount of oxygen in the room, but it seems they're forgotten about a little trick of mine: Hellfire Metal restraints drop to the floor with a couple dull thunks, dripping with molten blanotvium where it came in contact with my skin – where the summoned flames flicker just below the thin barrier. Swinging my legs over the bedside, I go to stand and have to catch myself before my legs give out.

4)

{form}

With a soft hum, tendrils of my magic wrap us in a warm blanket of good memories. I don’t have many – especially without Her – but I have enough, just enough, to power this small spell. Thankfully, bird boy relaxes, the tension cracking across his body until it slides from his form all at once. Finch’s weight is easy to take – he’s light and lean and not nearly as heavy as most of the parts at the yard.

5)

{smile}

“Oh? Has someone finally remembered something?” My small smile grows into a sneer, splitting my face until I can see the reflections of my canines in his eyes. By the flinch, I can take a guess at what I look like in that moment – Finch had told me about the way my eyes glow uranium green with high emotions, how I have a habit of abandoning the human mask I so carefully crafted.

[ev-pierce-writes]

Doll

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x F!Reader

Words: 7.7K

Rating: Very much 18+

Warnings: P in V, oral (fem receiving), light (consensual) choking, praise, James Buchanan Barnes is a sad boy and only you can make him happy, mutual therapy over past trauma, a couple light spanks, and some sexy sparring

Note: Reader had a run-in with Hydra that gave you invisibility powers. Bucky is tasked with training you. Totally not canon, I just kept the parts I liked. Got the idea from a tiktok but I can't find it anymore oops. I'm thinking of turning it into a series of all the places you can fuck Bucky Barnes at Avengers HQ. Enjoyyyyyy....

---

"Alright, so I'm thinking absolutely the first thing you need is a suit. Because we can't have you sneaking around in clothes that give you away."

Tony Stark and Peter Parker stand before you at Avengers HQ, furiously tossing ideas back and forth, trying to come up with ways to build you the best possible suit. Last night had been...interesting, to say the least.

"Who's that?" Stark had said when you appeared all of a sudden from your room. "Come on Agent Hill, don't tell me you're taking in lost kids nowadays."

Your mother had only laughed, slightly inebriated and feeling loose because of all the drinking that was going on in your penthouse apartment. She was hosting one of those parties where too many superpowers drank too much alcohol and got a little too rowdy. "That's my daughter."

Usually, you stay away from such events, go out with friends, and avoid the house until it's all over. For the past four years, you hadn't even been in the house to need to avoid it. But now you're 22 and a recent college graduate and something about the party was drawing you in so you had emerged from your hideaway to join in the fun.

"Alright, Maria, how'd you manage to keep that one a secret?" Romanov spoke up.

Until this point, you'd remained silent, in shock at the sudden attention a group of superheroes had focused onto you. But you couldn't help yourself from responding now. You'd managed to hide away long enough. It was time to come into the open.

"I'm a ghost," you said jokingly, approaching the couch and stealing the drink your mother had been drinking to take a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. The group laughed at your words, unaware of how true they really were.

It was then that you'd performed your little trick, the one that only a few of your closest friends had ever seen. You became invisible.

The laughter had immediately stopped. The girl who suddenly appeared out of thin air had disappeared right back into it. They could still tell where you were of course. The glass in your hand remained visible, floating in mid-air, giving away your position. And your clothes were still perceptible, not being able to change with you. But your features were otherwise undetectable, not even a shimmer revealing your face. You took another sip of the drink, liquid disappearing into an invisible mouth.

"I want her. On the team," Stark had said.

And that was it. The start of your superhero career.

"Explain again exactly how this works?" Parker asks.

You sigh and start from the beginning, again. "I can distort the absorption wavelengths of my cells so that the reflected light is in the invisible range, usually infrared."

"And how long can you hold it for?"

"About seven minutes now," you explain. "It's sort of like holding your breath. You can go underwater for a while, and you can practice holding your breath longer and longer, but eventually, you need to come up for air. Eventually, I have to 'recharge.' But I've been working on extending it."

Stark turns to one of the many holograms of his supercomputer, working with Friday to design a brand new suit to accommodate your skills. You're so engrossed in watching his process you don't even notice the shadowy figure appear in the doorway that leads to the training facilities.

"How'd you get these powers? Agent Hill isn't lacking in skill but it certainly isn't supernatural."

You knew Stark's question would come up eventually. It always did. Over time, it became easier to tell the story, but now you really don't feel like explaining fully, so you tell the short version.

"Hydra. When I was seventeen. They used me as a bargaining chip against my mom in a mission gone wrong and decided to experiment on me in the process. Left me with a lot of scars and a lot of therapy. Almost dropped out of school."

You don't remember much from the experience. But enough for it to leave lasting damage.

"Hydra?" a familiar voice asks behind you. Only now do you notice that Barnes is behind you. How long has he been watching?

You remain silent, just like you did the night before when he'd arrived late to the party, unable to speak under his gaze.

You had planned to leave not long after you joined the festivities. But when the elevator doors opened, a pair of blue eyes halted you in your path. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Crystal clear and icy, freezing you under their gaze. He wore a leather jacket and leather gloves, concealing his metal arm, but you knew it was there, hiding behind the layers.

Barnes had always been the one that caught your eye during your mother's briefings. His transition from the greatest warrior Hydra had to offer, and thus S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest enemy, to the trusted companion of Captain America and official Avengers member intrigued you. At first, he had been more of a schoolgirl crush, the little girl grappling with her new powers seeking guidance in someone who didn't even know she existed. But age had not reduced your admiration of him. Barnes' face was hard set in serious determination and his glance barely grazed over you before turning to the rest of the group. He paid you not a single ounce of attention, yet you felt dumbstruck in his presence.

But Bucky had noticed you that night. Noticed you in a way he wanted desperately to hide, so he disallowed his eyes from lingering on you. Who were you and why were you wearing pajamas at a party and how did you make them actually look good?

And not only did he notice you, but he recognized you. He wasn't sure how, but something at the back of his head buried beneath decades of blurred half-memories told him he knew you. It was a stupid thought, though. How could he know you?

From the doorway, his eyes narrow in concern, making you feel smaller than ever beneath him. How is that 5 o'clock shadow so enticing? You just want to run your fingers across--

Stark gestures at Barnes, completely ignoring his comment. "Good, you're here. Our young Agent Hill needs to get started with her training immediately. I want her in the field but she can't be going in inexperienced. Teach her the works."

It's rather bold of Stark to assume you have no combat skills. And to assume you even want to go into the field. But you follow behind Barnes in silence anyway toward the training facilities. It doesn't matter what you know and don't know. He's going to kick your ass anyway.

"Feet wider," he says, coaching you on your swing. His blue eyes have somehow darkened, and along with the faint beard, he looks positively dangerous. "Not too wide."

"I know how to punch, Barnes," you whisper under your breath. He's not meant to hear your words, but he does anyway.

"Oh yeah? Punch me then. Go for it." His voice is challenging in the way that reveals he knows he could block any swing that comes at him. But he wants to see what will happen. Your mention of Hydra loosened a memory in his brain somewhere, and though he can't quite place his finger on it, the memory told him you're anything but the kid he's treating you like. He wants to know what you really have inside you.

Your annoyance gets the best of you. You aim for his face, the way your mother taught you. And she taught you well, teaching you all the self-defense skills you might need moving through the world as a woman. But she did not teach you how to fight super soldiers. That's an entirely different world.

Unsurprisingly, Barnes predicts your move and his metal arm comes up to meet your human one, halting your punch mid-swing. His palm fully engulfs your fist, your knuckles slamming into the metal with a ringing sound.

"Fuck, that hurt," you seethe through your teeth, gripping your hand in pain. And yet, you still smile. You mean for your words to sound irritated, but they betray how much you enjoy getting a swing in. "Didn't have to do me like that, Barnes."

He ignores your pain, though secretly it pleases him to find how much force is truly behind your punch. Nothing, of course, his metal arm can't take, but strong enough. "Language, kid. Go again. And this time, try not to be so obvious."

Despite his advice, it's impossible. He predicts every one of your strikes and counters them with four times as much strength as you possess. You give him everything you have, and nothing lands.

"This would be a lot easier if you let me use my powers."

So far, Barnes has refused to let you fight invisible, not that it would have done you much good without a proper suit. But you're tired and sweaty, your hair falling from its ponytail and sticking to your face, your muscles aching and your heart beating fast. Barnes hasn't even broken a sweat.

"Unless you learn to fight without your powers, they'll do nothing more than level the playing field. You need to be at an advantage if you're going to survive."

Survive. You've done plenty of that already. You want better than survival. Barnes recognizes the look on your face, the one that expresses the desire plainly. He knows the feeling, drifting from one day to the next and wanting more than that.

His voice softens a bit. "We can call it quits for the day. Get some rest. We'll go again tomorrow."

He didn't intend to be so kind. It just sort of happened, drawn out of him by the not-so-innocent girl who still has a lot to learn but can hold her own better than most.

---

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's8 like the day before, 9 am at HQ, wait for Parker to get his ass up the elevator so Stark can begin, get sidetracked by coffee, and then finally return to the task at hand.

"Give this a shot," Stark says, handing you what looks like nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped paper suit. "Not exactly protective, but it's a new technology. Should conform to your abilities."

"You did this overnight?"

"Of course. Get changed."

The suit has little support and definitely no protection. You feel like a fingernail could rip a hole through it if you pull on it wrong, let alone a knife coming at you from an angry enemy. But it's a start. An impressive start. You stare at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom as you shift, the suit shifting along with you.

Back in the training facilities, where you know Stark and Parker will be waiting, you remain in your shifted form. They don't look up as you enter, somehow having not heard you, and instead are engaged in a heated discussion with Barnes about something you don't understand. So you creep up behind Parker, lean in, and whisper into his ear.

"I think it works."

You feel a little bad, but only for a moment. Parker jumps straight out of his skin, screaming a scream you didn't know was possible from the kid. Stark lets out a laugh as you rematerialize, and Barnes even cracks a smile at your prank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so." Parker's voice quivers.

"Well, what do you think?" Stark asks.

"Very thin," you say, aware that much more is visible than you really want. "I feel like it's going to rip at any moment. And there's not a whole lot of support in this area."

You gesture vaguely at your chest, not knowing how best to explain to a group of men that a sports bra is a necessity for fighting, but knowing you have to make them aware all the same. You can feel Barnes' eyes on you, a little less polite than the others, and you find you like the way he eyes you up, a bit like a puzzle to be solved or a strategy to be devised.

"Right, right, I'll get on that. Only a prototype anyway," Stark responds nervously. "Back to work, Parker. Hill, Barnes, back to training."

Bucky tries his best not to picture what you might look like without that suit, but it leaves little to the imagination as you saunter away to change again.

And so the days move forward. You've never before been so busy or exhausted in your life. You just graduated college, which is a feat in itself, but all the training, all the work, keeps you on your toes so that by the end of the day, both your brain and your body are tired.

Still, you improve and get better at sparring Barnes, even taking him down a couple of times on your own, though you suspect he's going easy on you.

"Again." Barnes is already on his feet and helping you to yours. Today the sparring room is particularly warm, and you've long forgone your sweats for shorts and a sports bra. Barnes has lost the shirt as well, and his chest glistens with sweat beneath the fluorescent lights. Maybe it's the heat or maybe it's him, but the whole thing feels a bit dreamlike. Here you are, sparring with a man who could take you to the ground with one arm alone, and he's letting you kick his ass every once in a while.

But there's no way you can do it again. You feel destroyed by all the slamming onto the mat.

Barnes is doing his best not to be distracted as well, but those tight shorts and the top that reveals your midriff have to be on purpose. It's easy to admit to himself that he likes you, might even be attracted to you. You fight hard and relentlessly, rising to every one of his challenges and not backing down even when you're tired. You've already come a long way since that first encounter, and Barnes has come to look forward to the two hours a day you spend together in the gym. He had tried to tell himself it was the fun of having a new sparring partner, but in truth, he knows it's the determined glint in your eyes, the way you bounce on your feet in excited anticipation of the fight, the way you collapse on the mat after a hard session, chest heaving deep breaths in and out. But what he likes most is your heated gaze when he pins you to the ground, or even better, you pin him.

"Knock me down one more time and you can be done," he challenges. The familiar determination returns, though a flicker of doubt remains behind your eyes. He can tell you need encouragement. "Remember to use your size to your advantage. Don't let me get ahead of you. Keep me guessing."

You do your best. You really do. You hold your own for almost two minutes, but it's obvious you're only barely staying ahead of him. As soon as you falter, Barnes has you flat on your back on the mat without much resistance, immobilized by a knee on your thighs and his metal arm trapping your hands over your head. His free hand plants by your head and holds him up to prevent him from actually hurting you.

You gasp underneath him, trying to disguise the weird flicker of desire with breathlessness. He looks good from down here, all sweaty and dark and serious. But you're also a bit too tired to care. "I'm out, Barnes. Let me go."

Let me go. Please.

And that's when the memory returns. The full, real memory, the one that has been tickling the edges of his brain since he first saw you. You, a kid, his mission. Kidnap, don't kill. A small voice, your voice, begging. Please, let me go. What has he done?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, standing up quickly.

"Language, Barnes," you say teasingly. But he doesn't laugh, simply exits the sparring room, abruptly leaving you, speechless and alone on the floor. What just happened?

After a moment of confused silence on the mat, you brush it off and stand, heading to your room for a shower. Stark offered you a place to stay at HQ, and you happily agreed. Though you loved being back with your mother after four years away at college, you cherish your independence. A room at HQ offered you just that.

A nice shower would certainly make you feel better after that confusing interaction. You pull on your robe and shower shoes, leaving your clothes behind so as to carry one less thing. But as you pass down the hall toward the showers, you can hear Barnes' voice drift through the slightly open door to his room.

"I remembered," he says. "It was her. I'm the reason she's--" He cuts off, appearing to be interrupted by whoever he's talking to on the phone. You pause by the open door.

"I know that's not me anymore but I'm still responsible," he continues. "I have to tell her."

Again a pause. By now it's apparent he's talking about you.

"No, Steve, we aren't a team. We aren't partners. I'm helping Tony out. I don't care if she doesn't want to work with me anymore, this is part of my redemption. I have to tell her."

The conversation seems over. You rush to the showers, not wanting Barnes to realize you were listening the whole time. Apologize, he said. Apologize for what? You've known him for a whole of four days and he's been nothing but polite to you. Cold, at first, but he warms upon acquaintance. And then he's downright sweet.

So sweet, you realize, for someone so damaged. He has every right to hate the world, and though he walks through it with a healthy dose of cynicism, he never lets that cynicism touch you. If anything, he's outright positive around you, an undeserving brat. A kid, really, though you don't like when he calls you that. You know you can be naive, positive on the verge of artificiality, and yet he never tries to burst your bubble. In fact, he seems to relish it.

The shower feels nice, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. Maybe it's you who has done something wrong? Now you're spiraling. You have to find out what's going on or it's going to drive you crazy.

You know what you have to do. You have just about seven minutes of invisibility before your shifting gives out. In those seven minutes, you can duck from the showers, sneak into Barnes' room, snoop around, and make it back to the showers unseen. Plenty of time. But you have to go nude. Now would be a great time for the suit, but no such luck. Naked it is.

Out in the hallway, all is quiet. Barnes' door is still ajar, but when you peek your head in, the room is empty.

Easy.

Where to start? His phone is a dead end, being one of those ancient flipping kinds rather than a new, high-tech smartphone. He has few personal belongings, the bed is made perfectly, and his closet contains only clothes.

The drawers of the nightstand are empty. Or nearly empty. At the back of the top drawer is unceremoniously shoved a small booklet with a pen stuck between the pages. It's worn and supple, as though held a thousand times and read a thousand more. You flip through, finding a list of names, some crossed out, others not. Your name does not appear, but something about the list tells you these are not ordinary names. These are the names of his victims, people Barnes hurt as the Winter Soldier. Your heart aches and your stomach clenches, the reminder of his past jarring against the kind demeanor you've come to know. But deep down, you know this isn't him, know he's a good man, despite it all.

You know better than most the first-hand horrors of Hydra's super-soldier experiments. Of anyone, you can relate best to the experience Barnes has been through. Your memories of that long week are blurry, but the pain remains, forever seared into your mind. You can only imagine a lifetime of that pain.

The sound of the door opening jolts you from your reverie and you close the drawer quickly. But you soon realize your mistake. Barnes would know he left the door open, would know exactly how he placed his book in the drawer, would recognize something was off. Unfortunately, you're right.

"Hello?" he calls into the darkening room. The evening is coming on fast and the sun dims to barely glimmer, casting the space in shadow despite the large windows on the south wall.

Bucky knows something is off the moment he finds your room unoccupied, having gone there with the express purpose of confronting you about his actions earlier in the afternoon. And though he has no way of truly knowing, he suspects you are now here, in this room with him, invisible to his gaze. Bucky shuts the door behind him and waits.

You're trapped. You don't have long before your powers give out; already the suffocating feeling that begs you to take a breath is coming on. And Barnes has closed the door, effectively sealing you in, as you can't open it without him knowing for sure that you're here. On top of that, you're clothingless. You've run out of options and Barnes seems to sense this. So, he waits, drawing out the moment of tension, building the suspense.

"I know you're here," he says finally, his voice soft and barely audible. "You can't hide that well. Next time, dry your feet off before you go leaving wet footprints all over the place."

Oops.

"I--" you begin, and immediately Barnes' eyes snap to where your voice originates from. "I'm sorry. I overheard your conversation with Rogers. I shouldn't have but I know it was about me."

Barnes sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're right. I have some things to explain. Though I'd much prefer talking to you if I could see you."

You hesitate. "Only a slight problem there. I'm not wearing any clothes."

If it had been any lighter in the room you would have seen Barnes blush. Instead, you watch him pull his shirt over his head. He hands it to you blindly, the shirt off his own back, soft with wear and long enough to cover the tops of your thighs. It smells of him, salty with sweat and sweet with the scent you've come to recognize only as him. You shrug it on and shift back.

"I'm sorry," you say again, having trouble concentrating with Barnes' bare chest at your eye level. Is that an old bullet wound on his shoulder? The reminder of a knife across his stomach? You can't look away, even at the seam where man meets metal.

Barnes shakes his head. "No, I should be the one apologizing."

He pauses for a moment and tries to begin several times before finally forming a complete sentence.

"It's my fault you're like this, that Hydra tested on you. It was me who kidnapped you, it was me who followed orders, it was me who completed the mission and got you hurt. And I'm so sorry."

You're so frozen in shock that the absurdity of the situation doesn't even register. There's nothing under this shirt, no underwear, no pants, no bra. And here you are standing in the bedroom of your greatest inspiration, listening to him apologize for being the one that facilitated your kidnapping, for being responsible for all the injury, the pain, the nightmares, the isolation, the...

It all comes flooding back, the things you had forgotten, or simply chose to not remember, and one of those things is his face.

You thought you'd dealt with impact. So many hours with a therapist, and you realize all you did was suppress the feelings, not confront them. And then you break, all the anger and sadness and frustration flowing from you at once.

"You piece of shit." Your voice begins as a whisper but soon amplifies nearly to a shout. "You monster, you bastard, how could you? How could you?"

All this time you forgave him for the damage he'd done, excused it as brainwashing and manipulation from Hydra. But now that it's you he's involved, you have somewhere to direct your anger, and you take it out as a shove straight to his chest.

He didn't expect that one. The words he understood. He accepted those, accepted that you would hate him forever. But then you're pushing and hitting him with all your force. Barnes could fight back, could hold his ground. But you need this, so he lets you shove him into the wall with a newfound strength. Finally against the wall, with nowhere left to go, you turn to pummelling his chest with your fists, repeating the words over and over, how could you, how could you, how could you.

For a moment, he lets it happen. But eventually, Barnes reacts, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm the fury that rages inside you. Surprisingly, at his touch, you still, slumping against him once the anger is replaced with nothing but sadness. That anger, one you never truly realized you'd harbored since your capture, bled from you all at once, leaving you exhausted.

You don't notice you're crying until a soft thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. Barnes releases your hands and wraps his arms around your sobbing body, pulling you close. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in your ear, his words a whisper against the rage inside your head.

Is it hours, or only minutes, standing like that, wrapped up in him, his skin so soft against your cheek? Time has ceased to exist, melting into the nighttime that encompasses the room in near pitch-black darkness. Your breath calms, your heart rate slows, the tears dry. He's only a man, a broken, misplaced, lost man. But he's also impossibly kind to you, caring enough to train you day after day, to pick you up when you fall down, to ensure you're happy here at all times. That's the man you know and rest your cheek against and seek out for comfort in this moment, despite him being the reason for your anger. But he's not truly the reason for your anger, only an easy outlet standing right before you.

This is not how Bucky had expected this to go. Perhaps to never see you again, yes. But to hold you in his arms, certainly not. And not just hold you, but comfort you. It surprises him how much he finds he likes it. And he can't ignore the fact that you're here in his room, wearing his shirt and only his shirt. He doesn't try anything improprietous, just wraps his arms around your waist, but it's not lost on him that your supple chest is pressed against him and the delicious scent from your still wet hair is filling his brain with a flowery cloud. His stomach clenches at the thought of burying his face in that smell for the rest of the night but he pushes it aside. That's not why you're here. That's not what you want.

But your next words surprise him. You pull slightly away, tilting your splotchy face upward towards his to look him in the eye. You take a ragged breath and speak.

"I forgive you."

Bucky is taken aback. That's not why he made this confession, not to seek your forgiveness. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I do. And I know you think I'm just a kid--"

Barnes lets out a short laugh, cutting you off immediately. "Jesus Christ, that's not true. You're not a kid. You're smart and strong and capable. And you've seen the ugly world for its true self and choose to remain good and happy all the same. I'm not like that and that makes you wiser than I'll ever be."

He takes a deep breath, unsure if he should admit to the feelings he desperately wants to express to you. The way you're looking at him, with a mixture of hesitation and admiration, makes the words tumble from his mouth without a second thought.

"But somehow being around you makes me want to be good again. Not for my sake, but for yours."

"James, I--" You've never used his first name before, but it falls deliciously from your lips, the sound of it nearly distracting him from the finger you run across the stubble on the cleft of his chin. Nearly. He captures that hand in his own, holding it there against his face.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve it," he repeats, eyes falling shut to the feeling of your thumb pressed to the corner of his lips. He still holds you close, the other arm wrapping tight around you, and though verbally he rejected the comfort your warmth offered, his body says otherwise, desperate for the acceptance his brain refuses to give into.

"Stop punishing yourself," you whisper. For a moment, he almost feels that he could.

And when your lips find his, soft and delicate, he forgets why you're even here in the first place, forgets his guilt and your anger, forgets even to react.

His lack of response has you pulling away, worried you've done something wrong, but then he's chasing your lips with his own, leaning forward to meet you halfway, gathering you impossibly tighter to his chest. He pauses, mouth mere centimeters from yours, eyes still shut, a deep breath heaving from his chest. He wants more, wants to kiss you again in all the places that count, but he can't quite yet.

"What was that for?" The question's not an accusatory one but simply curious. Have you always looked at him in this light since day one? Has he just not noticed?

"Are you blind, Barnes?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "None of that last name shit, doll, we've moved on to a first-name basis."

But your words are enough to surge him forward, this time capturing your lips in a dominating kiss that leaves you gasping for air. He takes advantage of your open mouth and presses his tongue to yours, seeking to fill his soul with your all-consuming warmth, to wrap it around him like a cocoon of your scent. His fingers slide down your back and slip under the shirt you wear, his shirt, grasping at the bare skin of your ass, filling his hands with your supple flesh.

You moan softly under his touch, relishing in the feeling of being encompassed by someone so large and so strong. The vibranium arm, which you expected to be harshly indelicate against your relative fragility, caresses you with the same gentility of the other. The intense contact sends your heart racing like it did all the times you were pinned below him on the sparring mat. Will he pin you like that in bed? Hold you down while he fucks you within an inch of your life?

The thought rouses a heat between your legs and stirs butterflies in your tummy. You don't even know if that's where this is going, but it invades your brain anyways. You're sure Barnes can feel your racing pulse beneath his lips when he kisses your neck, sending your nerves haywire as he creeps toward the neckline of your shirt. He inhales your scent, the hot air of his breath fanning your cool skin.

Everything about this is sloppy, the wet kisses dragged across your skin, his tongue tangled with yours, your fingers tugging at the hair that brushes the nape of his neck. Even his hips against yours are messy and rough, the heat of him leaving your core feeling slick, the wetness of it rubbing between your naked thighs. And then Barnes is sliding his hands back up your body, this time under your shirt, and tugging it over your head, his lips leaving your skin just long enough to toss the item to the ground.

You expect him to keep surging forward, to lift you in his arms and take you to bed like you want him to. But he pauses instead, hands cradling the back of your head, his eyes staring intensely into yours. Or you think he's staring into your eyes.

"Are you okay? Is this okay?" His voice is full of concern but raspy with arousal all the same.

"Yes, James, yes, I need more."

"Well, I would, it's just that you've disappeared on me again." One look at your hands and you know he was looking right through you, not at you. The swirl of emotions--pleasure, arousal, timidity even--sent you shifting without your knowledge. You can't help but laugh.

"Let me see you, doll," he groans, sounding exasperated that he can't rake his gaze across your naked flesh or find all the places he wants to touch you because they're invisible.

"You first."

A heated understanding lights up his eyes, still vibrant in the darkness of the room. Slowly, he releases his grip on you, relenting to not knowing where you are in space. You take an invisible step back to get a better view of the specimen before you. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather from his pants and dropping it to the floor with a thunk. And then his pants are gone and he's left in his boxers, tight against the bulging muscles of his thighs.

And other bulging things. He doesn't hide his attraction to you. But still, you do not reappear.

Bucky begins to worry you're never going to, that maybe he's taken things too for. But then, a soft finger trails across his neck and he jerks in surprise. You're tracing the plain of his chest with a feather-light touch, dipping into the indent between his collarbones, feeling along the puckered scar of a bullet wound and the long slice of a knife. He feels healed beneath your touch, but it's not enough to satisfy the insatiable hunger building in the tightness of his groin. This entire evening has been a long, drawn-out, build-up of tension, and if he doesn't release it soon, it will snap like an overstretched rubber band.

He makes his move.

Apparently, Bucky's senses are just as perceptive here as they are on the sparring mat. His metal hand shoots up and wraps around the wrist of the hand on his chest, despite being unable to see it. The other reaches out and grapples at your invisible body in the dark, somehow finding your waist. He doesn't need to see you to manage to flip you around and press your back against his chest. In your surprise, your invisibility falters, and you flicker out of your shifted form with a flustered squeak, one hand suddenly pinned between your back and Bucky's rock-hard chest.

He holds on with an iron grip and walks you toward the bed, holding you up to prevent you from tripping in your ruffled state.

"You're taking too long, doll," he mumbles into your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with the vibrations. Your free hand flies to the one around your waist, which is slowly creeping upward toward your breast to twist at the sensitive nipple. "I know you like it when I pin you on the sparring floor. I can see it in your eyes. I'll take you like that right now if you give me the word."

Fuck, you want nothing more but you can't breathe enough to get the words out, opting for nodding vigorously instead. But Bucky wants words, gently prodding you forward to get a verbal commitment out of you. He will never take you against your will again. So you manage a long, drawn-out please and suddenly you're face-first in the sheets, bent halfway at the waist, your ass grinding against the delicious bulge pressed against your aching cunt. It pleases you that he has been thinking the same wicked thoughts as you when he slams you to the mat over and over again in training.

Bucky pulls your arm out from underneath you, joining it with the other and holding them together with his metal fist at your lower back, forcing your chest further into the mattress and your ass higher in the air. There's no way for you to move, no matter how hard you try. But you don't try, won't try. Bucky has you right where you want to be.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs in your ear and you breathe an affirmation. His teeth nibble suddenly at your ear lobe and you squirm, the sensation of his breath fanning your skin sending goosebumps along the trail of kisses he leaves down your spine. Somehow, you know this is only the calm before the storm, the gentle caresses of a man who's about to rearrange every organ in your body, all the way up to your heart if you aren't careful.

It doesn't matter to you that it's pitch black in the room; you wouldn't have been able to see anything with your face shoved into the comforter, even if the lights were on. But Bucky's starting to regret having left the lights off, wishing he could better see the curve of your hips, the swell of your thighs, or the bloom of his handprint on your ass when his hand comes down with a smack. He resigns to being satisfied by the mewling gasp that escapes your lips and your soft pleas to Do it again, harder.

So he does. Smack.

And then he's sinking to his knees and you can tell because he leaves a wet stripe of skin with his tongue over the globe of your ass and blows a shock of cool air across the rawness of your skin.  He replaces the sting of his hand with the bite of his teeth and then a kiss to soothe you again. The rollercoaster of sensations has you moaning against the mattress and rocking your hips toward his face and Barnes chuckles at your movement, your actions giving away the desperation you feel to have his tongue move to more sensitive places.

He is happy to oblige. You hadn't even noticed you'd been squeezing your thighs together until he slid a hand up between them, forcing them apart. It's a blessing your legs aren't doing any work to keep you up anymore because they feel like jelly under his touch. The hand between your thighs moves higher still until you feel his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, warm and twitching with anticipation, desire coursing through your veins and dripping from your wet cunt. Your ears barely register that he's speaking, the blood is pumping so hard in your ears, but his words are exalting.

"Look at you, so wet for me." The hand around your wrists tightens just slightly. You are surprised by the extreme control he has over the cool metal fingers, and you almost wish he'd use those on you instead. And then he says, "you like it, don't you, doll, being at my mercy," and you forget all about the arm and decide it doesn't matter what hand presses down with a gentle strength on your clit as long as he doesn't stop. And he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't flinch or twitch or falter, just holds steady until your gasping mewls die down just enough for you to say, "yes, all for you, all for you, all..."

With those words, his thumb slips, between your slick folds into your pussy, finding the soft spongy flesh and pressing down again and you cry out with a careening moan that tapers off into a silent sob. He's taking his time, picking you apart, pulling at the laces that bind you together, and undoing them to release the tension he knows you harbor. But what about him? Is it not torture for him?

You breathe in a rough gasp, enough to squeak out a few more words. "I thought we were going too slow for you."

He laughs, he actually laughs, at your words, but relents.

"I hear you, doll."

I hear you. Oh wow. His tongue replaces his finger and you lose all coherence, able only to blubber some iteration of his name as the smooth muscle traces circles around your clit, finally allowing your orgasm to build with a steady contraction in your pelvis. Barnes moans between your legs like he's never tasted chocolate or buttercream or any of those other wondrous flavors and there's only you. And that moan sends you overboard, the vibrations diffusing down your legs and you tremble into your first orgasm. Your first orgasm.

He keeps going, riding out the waves of your high until you're crying that it's too much, James, too much and he pulls his tongue away from your oversensitized clit only to move down your legs. He's working you up again, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thigh with gentle nips and kisses until your body is craving release again, your cunt clenching around nothing but the memory of his mouth. He is deliberate in his ministrations, methodical in the way he must be with his missions. The flood of your first orgasm has dripped steadily down your thigh and he cleans you with his tongue, dragging upward along the sticky trail of your musky release until his tongue makes contact again and he pulls an orgasm from your desperate body once more.

He still hasn't released your arms.

"You know how long I've wanted to do this?" he groans, as you shudder again into the pleasure of his touch. He kisses back up the length of your spine while you twitch under him, his free hand dragging shock wave after shock wave from your cunt. It strikes you that this man is truly 106, not 26 like his body suggests, and you absentmindedly wonder if that's why he's so good at it, that he's had years to practice. And then his cock is pressing against your folds and you forget the notion halfway through thinking it. "You're so good to me doll, so good for opening up for me. Wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You push backward, or do your best to without the employment of your arms, wanting desperately to feel him inside you. He is warm and all-encompassing and part of you thinks his cock spilling his seed inside of you would complete you like nothing else. But you know that's a bad idea and you can hear him already unwrapping a condom (where did he get that from?) and your body trembles with the anticipation. You haven't even seen him yet but you know he must be big, the way he grunts when the tip of his erection teases your entrance.

When he enters you it isn't gentle like the stroke of his tongue. It splits you open with a rough thrust, the laces of your heart fully undone and releasing you from their confinement. You choke on your own air.

And then he's releasing your arms, and before you can react, Barnes has you lifted, your back to his chest, your knees shoved roughly into the mattress so he can stand and fuck you from behind. The metal arm finds your neck and forces your head back, his lips dragging hot against your soft skin and muttering filthy praise into your ear, his hand gently on your throat to hold you there. Your hands fly to his, not to pull him away, but to convince him to squeeze, just a little bit harder. The pressure is grounding, and then the hand around your waist is trailing toward the bud of your clit and rubbing in urgent circles and you let out a silent gasp as he thrusts into you at a pace astounding for the position you're in.

You come hard, over his hand, around his cock, and for the first time Barnes falters, stunned by the intensity with which you clamp around him and if he hadn't made you come two times already he might have held out a bit longer to pull another one of those stunning orgasms from your slick cunt. But you're sagging, using him to hold you up against the exhaustion of repeated abuse so he releases, riding the wave of pleasure you started. Bucky groans out your name, surprising you with the gentleness of it on his tongue despite the rough hand around your neck.

When he releases you softly back onto the bed, you sink heavily into the mattress, feeling high on pleasure and drunk on his hands. He pulls away and shuffles around the room, and if you had had any energy left you might have complained at the loss of him but as it sits nothing will rouse you from the intense desire to simply fall asleep.

He continues to move about and then... the lights go on? You groan at the harsh treatment of your eyes as they adjust. But Barnes returns and pulls you against him and apologizes for the rude awakening.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters. "Wanted to get a better look at you." His fingers glide along your back and his face nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing into your hair as you press your forehead into his chest. Despite being exhausted himself he trails his hands all over your body, exploring the side of you that has been shoved into the sheets for the better part of the evening. You let him, although your nerves feel fried and oversensitive to touch.

"Watch what you do with those hands," you giggle as his fingertips brush over a nipple, "unless you're ready to go again."

"Already looking forward to next time?"

"You wish," you tease, but already you know for certain that there will be a next time.

[maxwell-grant]

Having asked your thoughts on designing Frankenstein's daemon, might I now ask your thoughts on bringing Count Dracula from the written word into illustration? (I'm definitely in favour of the 'Hairy Old Mountain Man of Horror pretending he's people' look from the original novel; one of the small tests too many Draculas fail to pass is an absolutely tragic lack of the Evil Beard and/or Wicked Moustache explicitly described by Mr Stoker).

Unlike with Frankenstein, where I think the design needs to be painstakingly thought out in order to achieve the best balance of the creature's traits for horror and tragedy alike, I think with Dracula you can actually just take an approach of "whatever works". Because as I mentioned before, I think much of the appeal and longevity of Dracula is how the character's both a layered villain as well as a shapeshifting narrative force that can be tailored to whatever you want to do with. Granted, there are bad or dissappointing Dracula designs, of course there are, but in regards to the leeway you get for reinterpretation, you get a lot more of it with Dracula than with other literary icons.

Like with Frankenstein, I'm gonna bring up how I'd tackle a less grim, more comedy-centric Dracula first, one that's less a force of horror and more of a charismatic villain, and I think to that end I definitely agree that people are sleeping a lot on the hairy old man barely-passing-off-as-humanoid of the original story. Despite very much loving these performers, I'm actually not a fan of takes that mold Dracula too closely to people who've portrayed him, like Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee, partially because I think it's a waste of an opportunity to create your own Dracula design. Since I can't draw (yet), I'll do what I usually do and make a board of images to try and convey some of my thoughts on one way I'd design Dracula.

(Pictured: Kiwi's design for Dracula, Hotel Transylvania concept art, Nandor, Castlevania Dracula, Charles Dance in Dracula Untold, Vladislav, a Transylvanian rug)

I used the images in my other Dracula post and I’ll post it here again because I absolutely adore @kiwibyrd's designs for Dracula and it's main heroes, in particular I love the way it strikes a good balance at making sure Dracula looks distinctly separate from the humans, but not too much that he couldn't conceivably operate in society as just a harmless old man. I also adore the mustache and bushy eyebrows and pointy ears and I think these three are wonderful features to keep on any Dracula design. I'm also very partial to the Hotel Transylvania concept art, even if it makes me incredibly depressed to look at all the great designs they had for Dracula that they threw in the trash because they somehow decided making him look like Adam Sandler was the idea to go with.

I deeply adore What We Do In The Shadows, both the movie and the show, and Jemaine Clement's Vladislav is one of my favorite (maybe even my actual favorite) on-screen Draculas. But I also enjoy Nandor just as much, and I think it's really great that as a character he's completely different from Vlad while also being ostensibly a take on Dracula, and in particular I bring up his Jersey look because "Dracula in common clothing" is a criminally underrated concept for a joke.

As a character, I'm very partial to comedy takes on Dracula that play him up as a decadent aristocratic supervillain, the kind that can get away with talking in third person. I also have this idea for a version of Dracula who dresses ostentatiously in finely-broidered Romanian or Transylvanian patterns, maybe even wearing a rug as a cape, claiming that he's carrying the legacy of his people on his back. And of course he's lying, he's not Vlad Tepes and he's not even Romanian, he is just a parasite pretending to have a history to be proud of, but good luck getting him to admit that. And finally, I'd like this version to be played by Charles Dance, and I consider it a tremendous crime against humanity that he has yet to play Dracula proper even despite being in a film with the character's name on the title.

So that's kinda how I would design a take on Dracula for something more comedic or more based around him as this guest character and personality on-set. Now, if we're talking a more serious version, I think the possibilities increase, and I won't be getting into all of them because I may prefer to keep them to myself, but I'll elaborate a few ideas.

For example, the edition of Dracula I personally own comes with these really scratchy, really creepy B&W illustrations related to the story, that I can't find scanned online so I'm uploading them here so you can look at. They don't necessarily depict the scenes but rather some of the story's moments, like Van Helsing staking Lucy, Renfield in a straightjacket, Dracula as a coachman, and they are more focused on conveying the horror of the concepts at play.

Dracula never looks the same way in any of the illustrations, in fact you kinda have to piece him out of them by trying to find teeth or capes or eyes or bat-features to see where he's hiding this time. In the first, it's the half-man half-bat, in the 2nd, he's the shrieking bat silhouette next to Renfield, and in the latter, he's the gaping jaws and eerily humanoid eyes in the wolf. The effect to me almost feels like if you were to look at a bunch of tv static and then see a humanoid shape form for a split second before everything went back to normal, something like you'd get from Slender Man or other modern creepypastas, and I’ve argued before that Dracula’s form of horror is a very modern one. 

In terms of illustrations of Dracula that keep up the original traits while still pulling off horror, I definitely have to hand it to the one at the left of the image above, drawn by regourso on Deviantart (account deleted at present). Going back to Castlevania’s many takes on Dracula, two in particular that stick out to me would be Castlevania: Judgment’s armored dress Dracula, who’s got this great twisted heart/rose motif going on in his outfit, and Dracula’s final form in SOTN where he just sits in his throne and his cape twists into all these monsters, particularly how it’s depicted by witnesstheabsurd’s depiction. 

I’m not particularly a fan of how Dracula’s “final form” in these games is usually just some big demon, and part of what I like about his final form in SOTN instead is that, while it’s not a particularly challenging final boss, I do find it interesting the idea of us never actually getting to see what Dracula’s true final form looks like, only an ever-shifting pitch-black torrent of teeth and claws and bloody veins pouring out because that’s ultimately what Dracula is and brings to the world.

On the flip-side of the rotten old monster, we have the charming seductor Dracula, and while I’m really not a fan of how various adaptations have convinced people that “the point” of Dracula is that he’s a seductive force and an allegory for Victorian xenophobia and I’m reeeally even less of a fan of adaptations that make Dracula some misunderstood tragic hero (and I think I’ve made rather violently clear my feelings on interpretations that play up a romance between him and Mina), that the seductive force part exists is impossible to deny, so conversely, while on one hand we can have Dracula as the gargantuan whirlwind of predatory violence, we can also go for Dracula as the tantalizing lover.

I’ve seen a lot of opinions proclaiming Frank Langella as the best Dracula because he was the best at actually being seductive while still playing Dracula, although I haven’t yet seen his performances. If I had to point at one picture I look at and do buy for a second the idea of Dracula as a romantic character, it would be that particular still of Raul Julia in the left of the above image. And it’s strange for me to think of Raul Julia as attractive because I mainly associate him with his brilliant comedy performance of M.Bison (I know it’s far from the highlight of his career but, look, I grew up with Street Fighter, I can’t help it) but those eyes are definitely looking pretty convincing to me, if nothing else. 

And I’ve included this still of Sebastian Stan in the right because, during a conversation between me, @krinsbez and @jcogginsa about who could be a good fit for Dracula, jcog suggested Sebastian Stan, partially because he’s Romanian, and I’ve learned recently that Stan was actually interested in playing the character in Blumhouse’s upcoming remake. And you’d think I’d hate this idea  considering how much I don’t care for tragic anti-hero Draculas, but who says that’s what he’d have to play? 

Do you have any idea how much actors, who are traditionally known for heroic or supporting roles, usually LOVE it when you give them a chance to cut loose as the main villain?

I’d want Sebastian Stan to put all of his charm, all of his talent, all of his good looks and etc, into playing the absolute most vicious, bloodthirsty and irredeemable Dracula put on screen. Someone who is exceedingly, eerily good at being a lovable protagonist, who’s all smiles and charming eyes and politeness mannerisms and maybe even a funny accent, and then it isn't as funny when he's flying through your window intent on kidnapping babies to feed to his brides, except he may take a moment or two to do so because he's feeling pretty hungry himself right now.

Now, admittedly this is kind of a lot to juggle in regards to a single character, which is why my answer for questions like these inevitably has to be “depends on what I’m going for”. That being said, if I was going to try and cast someone who I think could both look the part of Dracula, as well as respectively, play “cartoon aristocrat” Dracula, “mercurial embodiment of evil” Dracula, as well as realistically be an attractive, even seductive performer who can charm viewers even as the character descends into horrible villainy, and juggle these performances even?

I think I’d have to go with Mads Mikkelsen. Not specifically because of Hannibal (I actually haven’t watched it yet), although it’s definitely a factor, the thing that actually made me pick him specifically is, other than his looks, his voice, his reputation for playing sinister characters, the fact that he loves the role and wants to play it, or how many people are deeply in love with this man, or that people already joke that he looks like a vampire, was watching him in Another Round, and specifically that glorious final scene where he’s just dancing to his heart’s content and just, moving with such spring in his step and such joyful vitality even though he’s past his mid-fifties, and that was the moment where, in regards to how much you all love this man, I went

And now I am going to add “casting Mads Mikkelsen as a dancing Dracula” to The List of Reasons Why I Became a Filmmaker.

[ericspinkhair]

quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.

[demcnsinmymind]

"Hung up?" it asked, eyebrows lifted, grin still on Lance's face, until it stopped grinning somewhat abruptly. Turned inward, thinking it through. Only to start laughing all over again, beaming at Clark with a 10,000 Watt smile.

"I did get hung up in them. Just like them. Just like him" it realized, dragging the fingers of Lance's right hand across both his cheeks to rub at his face for a moment. "Rubbing off on me already. Just like I am on him. Oh I'm loving this" Azathoth chirped, utterly delighted by its sudden realization. "It's so very perfect. And to think that it was almost wasted. Oh boy..." it went rambling right on, chuckling to itself with an amused shake of Lance's head.

It kept playing with the now empty cup of coffee with his left hand through it all, pointer finger drawing ever so soft circles along the inner rim of the cup. Over and over again. Sometimes faster, sometimes slower, sometimes forwards and sometimes backwards. Nonsensical patterns to keep the barely there trace of the coffee in the air, spin it up and down like an invisible miniature tornado of cheap half burned aroma.

It did not fail to notice the subtleties of Clark's reactions to everything that it was doing and saying. The wrinkled nose. The stiff posture. The barely visible twitch of the other's eyebrows as he tried not to roll his eyes again. Tired and exasperated. A brick wall of passive indifference - waiting to be dismantled brick by brick. Just like Lance, Azathoth was more than interested to sneak a peek at what might be behind that wall. Even if for entirely different, far more twisted reasons than just genuine curiosity. Naturally though, that was no easy feat. Seemed impossible almost, but wasn't that even more of a nice challenge?

"Oh, on the contrary. You'll find that I'm very helpful. Dear Lance is starting to make sense of that, too" it went on, giving the other a wink and a click of his tongue. "And I don't doubt for a second that you'll get on the same page very soon. Too smart for your own good, are you not?"

The second Clark requested for it to leave, its entire demeanor suddenly changed. Slowed down, became more intent, serious. With the smile and fun, relaxed attitude wiped right off the host's face. It made him lean forward again, slowly, eyes never leaving Clark's, not even blinking again.

"Sure. But there are things in this book that he's not going to like. Things that he shouldn't hear. Things that might hurt him" it explained, making his voice sound almost as monotone as Clark's now. "I've asked you to give him whatever he wants. He does not want the truth. He does not want plain text. He wants subtext. He wants to find something that helps in there. So good luck finding whatever that is." For a short moment, it was there again, that devilish smirk and glint in the eyes, but it didn't last quite so long this time. Instead, the look on Lance's face became dead serious again. Leaning in closer and closer, almost as if it was going all in for a slow and romantic kiss, stopping only a couple of inches away from the other's face so it could keep them eye to eye.

"And let it be known that if you hurt him, touch him, even look at him the wrong way...I'll be right here, looking back at you."

And that, it did.

Look right back at Clark. For an uncomfortably long time. And it kept looking still didn't flinch or blink - even when one of the coffee shop's barista's suddenly started screaming in the background. Louder and louder, more agonized by the second. Boiling hot coffee was dousing his entire body head to toe - all thanks to a malfunctioning coffee machine. Turning most of the skin on his face, hands, neck and chest into a blistering red mess within seconds. Others were frantically trying to help the man, getting burned in the process too, the machine continuing to spew the brew like a sprinkler all over the place, even as they attempted to shut off the valves. It never turned Lance's head to look at the mess it was making, just kept looking at Clark, no longer smirking or grinning. Just staring. Trying to decipher, study his reaction. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

"You're right. Their coffee is a disgrace. Don't think we'll be coming back here, will we now" it said after a long time, and that fountain the background only stopped spewing its hot black liquid when Lance's demeanour visibly changed again, reverted to whatever it was that made him him. Looking shocked, soon horrified by what just happened. @kxllerblond

SUCH A SHAME...

Oh, he could have rolled his eyes and just nearly did. Funny how even some freaky, incomprehensible (alleged) blind, idiot god could spout the same, tired shit he heard from countless others. He listened to Azathoth ramble on about the fascinating complexities of him and he blinked tiredly and couldn't help with responding, ❝ Best to not get hung up in clear definitions and the like... ❞

The answer was right there in the rambling anyway. He wasn't sure why there was always such an issue with what he was and how he was classified. In truth, he was neither and both. It was a pretty simple in the grand scheme of complex paradoxes. But, it was also just as easy to say he was a dash of human, dash of demon. It was simple and not as intriguing to Clark as this being seemed to think it was.

He wrinkles his nose again at the handshake but the terms are clear and they're terms Clark can see himself satisfying-—as vexing as he know it will be. Still, the grin unsettles him and he scowls as he'd once again reminded that his immense distaste was incredibly justified in his opinion. 

The cambion's gaze falls to his hand more or less being fiddled with and he resists the urge to pointedly jerk it away, merely patiently lets the bastard do as it pleases while he listens to his own confirmed suspicion. ❝ I figured as much. You sort never like to be helpful. ❞ his tired expression doesn't shift much-—the little hybrid seeming comfortable enough to not cower in the thing's presence but not stupid enough to be unaware of it and the sheer gravity of the situation itself.

❝ May I have your little toy back then, please? I'd like to get started on our little homework assignment sooner than later. ❞