#where do you even GO from a statement like that lmao!!! god. its so frustrating. it is so so so fucking frustrating

[readymades2002]

it is very frustrating because my mom does not know What The Deal Is but she certainly Suspects (for good reason. to be fair to her.) and she has Insinuated and she has Implied but she has not asked anything specifically. and its...not unreasonable for her to do this i guess because the last relationship i was in i didn't tell her for a year and a half. because the relationship BEFORE that was my first and it was with a girl and i asked her EXPLICITLY AND URGENTLY to not tell my dad about it because he was a massive homophobe and i knew this and saw this where she did not and she told him anyway and i have not trusted her since though, having few other options, i have continued to confide in her things that i should not confide in her that have then mysteriously made their way through all our shared coworkers back to me. and its.....its so. i don't know what to do about it. she..."stalked" is the wrong word but she followed my blog against my wishes and knowledge as a child and the more i lost trust in her and stopped talking to her the more she pried into my private life. i know my sister had similar experiences with her. and it has created this cycle where i keep trying to keep her out for my own privacy and dignity and safety and she just gets even more desperate and pathetic trying to get in after breaking my trust over and over and OVER again but i live with her and depend on her for far too many things and so it just. is this. awesomesauce

[itsnsfwalways]

Edge Of My Seat

warnings: female reader, mean dom! mgg, degradation (like.... really intense humiliation and ownership talk), slight daddy kink, exhibitionism, overstimulation, choking, squirting, deep subspace, branding (oops), fluffy aftercare (quite a bit of tears oops again)...... i think that’s everything. good luck.

prompt from the lovely @slutforthegubes / @spencersbed (literally one of my favs): i was thinking maybe a fic where you and him are out with the cast but you keep teasing him. when he almost cums his pants is when he decides enough is enough. he makes up an excuse for y’all to leave. the whole car ride home he edges you. once y’all get him he takes you over his knee and spanks you. after he deems fit, he overstimulates you and makes you beg for him to fuck you. when he does finally fuck he absolutely rails you. afterwards he gives you aftercare. he puts lotion on any marks, cleans you up, cuddles you and makes sure you are okay.

A/N: the fact that this has taken me a month to write..... i’m so sorry bre LMAO. i hope you enjoy and that it hits all the right spots !

See, it wasn’t necessarily your fault that you were riled up. Matthew didn’t touch you once this morning, besides a few kisses and your morning cuddles, of course, but no funny business whatsoever! You knew that you were meeting the crew for lunch later today, and made it your mission today to show him what he’s missing.

“Come on, baby, right here,” he whispers to you, touching your waist as if you were a flower ready to break while he guides you into the table, sitting next to you and immediately putting a hand on your thigh, unable to go a few minutes without any physical contact.

A whimper almost escapes your throat at the touch, so worked up over, what, not getting off before noon? God, who have you turned into? Shaking your head from side to side to clear your thoughts, you turn your attention over to Matthew, who’s already ordering you two drinks, his left hand moving in the air as he speaks to the waitress while his right thumb continues to rub small circles into your thigh. Your eyes zero in on his gorgeous hands, because, wow. His long, skillful fingers didn’t even have to be near you and you turned into a sex-deprived slut around him, only wanting one thing.

You turn your body more towards Matthew, sliding your hand under his shirt to rub his back while your other sneaks around the front, softly tracing over his stomach. He hums, glancing over to you before squeezing your thigh, thinking you just wanted some affection right now, but his eyes harden when he feels you trace his happy trail, just barely touching the skin but it’s enough to make him inhale sharply, covering it up with a cough.

“What are you doing?” Matthew lowly asks, his nails beginning to dig into your thigh, sending goosebumps down your arms in excitement. You shrug, slowly bringing a finger down to trace across his hip, going across his inner thigh to ghost across his growing bulge. You do your best to cover up the smirk crawling on your face but you catch Adam’s eye when you look away, blushing when he says loudly, “Hey! What kinda funny business are you two doing?”

“You wish, Rodriguez,” you laugh, placing your hand on top of Matthew’s bulge and looking back to him, raising your eyebrows to see if he’s okay with it. And of course he is, but you were breaking the rules, and you knew he was going to make you pay for it when you got back. Perfect.

Palming him slowly, you watch as he stutters his way through ordering for the both of you, knowing you’ll be able to see the indents from his fingernails for at least a day with how hard he’s gripping you. You hand your menu over to him with a completely innocent look on your face, and can feel him twitch underneath you when he takes it with clenched teeth, handing it over to the waitress with a tight, “thanks.” Sweeping a hand through his hair, he moves his eyes over to you, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Better stop now, little girl. You’re already in for a punishment for being such a greedy mess while I’m trying to enjoy lunch, don’t want to make it worse by continuing it, hmm?” When he pulls back, you bite your lip to attempt to contain your smile as you shake your head slowly back and forth, beginning to unzip his pants extremely slowly, not breaking eye contact with him. His bottom lip finds itself between his teeth as he stares down at you, not being able to smack your inner thigh because he was literally right across from his friends, and more importantly, his coworkers.

He lets go of your leg finally, grabbing his glass and gripping it with more force than necessary, his blood boiling at the sheer disobedience you were showing him. Deciding the best option for him would be to ignore you, he begins talking to AJ about something random, you honestly could care less, but decide two can play at this game. Tracing him through his underwear, his cock very distinguishable, you turn your attention to Paget, noticing Matthew’s eyes flit to yours when you begin speaking.

“Thank you for those flowers you sent us the other day, I meant to have him tell you,” gesturing to Matthew, squeezing him harshly through the fabric at the same time, “They were gorgeous, have them as our kitchen centerpiece now.” Paget laughs with you, taking a sip from her glass.

“Of course! I’m glad you like them. It feels like forever since I’ve seen your pretty face, your man likes to hide you quite a bit you know,” she points, squinting her eyes at Matthew, who just shrugs, looking briefly over at you. “You need to bring her out to hang with us more, I’m getting bored of just you.”

You laugh out loud at this, but catch yourself before you can really start digging your own grave. You watch him roll his eyes, fake laughing which sends Paget into another fit of giggles, while you just continue to pet him through his clothes, not stopping as the food is dropped off in front of you, Matthew sending the waitress a tight lipped smile as he shoves a bite of food in his mouth, giving him an excuse to groan deeply, the sound going straight to your clit. He refuses to make eye contact with you as he mumbles out, “This food is so good,” not even acknowledging your hand on top of him. Alright, fine.

Your hand finally wraps around his cock, pulling him out of his underwear and watching with a small grin as his lips part and he takes a slow breath out while staring down at his food. Feeling him twitch in your hand, you take it as a sign to begin slowly pumping up and down, taking your time to swipe your thumb across his tip everytime you reach the top. One hand snaps down to meet your thigh under the tablecloth, squeezing hard enough that his fingertips go white from the pressure, while the other moves down his face to hide his mouth, eyes darting across the table.

“Hey, Matthew, did you ever get that script I sent over your way? What did you think of it?” Paget asks, both yours and Matthew’s heads snapping her direction. You turn back to look at him, eyes twinkling with mischief as you put a fake innocent look on your face.

“Oh? I never heard about a script, what’s it about, babe?” You ask sweetly, biting your tongue between your teeth to keep from laughing at his reaction when you squeeze the base of him and he jumps up. His eyes flash dangerously towards you and you feel his nails dig into your thigh before he clears his throat to answer.

“Yeah, I-I did look it over, the Horse Girl one, yeah?” Matthew stutters, turning his head back to Paget and running a hand through his hair. She nods and you make eye contact with her, winking before moving your attention back to Matthew, who, unsurprisingly, refused to look back at you.

“I think it might be a good... a good fit,” he pauses in between his words, eyes slipping shut for only a moment, which fed your ego nicely. “Should be easy to just be an idol of someone, plus my only ‘big’ scene would be having sex with her, so,” he shrugs, picking up his glass to take a swig as your hand stops its movements. Paget’s eyes meet yours and you can tell she’s just as confused as you are by his statement.

“Alright, player, not in front of your lady,” Shemar laughs, gesturing to you and sending Matthew a questioning look. You turn your head back to him and begin pumping him again, much faster this time.

“Ouch,” you say plainly, swiping your thumb over his tip to collect some of the precum gathered there. Slowly bringing it back to your lips, you nonchalantly suck it into your mouth, not breaking eye contact as Matthew’s hips buck up into the air. His lips part, eyebrows raising as he grows even harder, watching your wet thumb slide out of your mouth seductively. His jaw tightens, a vein popping out in his neck when he brings his arm around you, pulling you closer next to him and making it look as if he’s kissing your head to apologize. His tight voice sends shivers down your spine when he whispers,

“If you don’t stop right fucking now, Y/N, I swear to god, I’m going to bruise you purple.”

Pulling away, he watches through clenched teeth as you return your hand to his cock, leaning up to ‘kiss his jaw’, but really muttering, “That a promise or a threat, sir?”, squeezing hard around his base. Your other hand moves to go underneath his shirt, scratching your nails down his back.

Matthew let’s out a harsh cough at that, licking his lips before pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, and biting, his hand slipping to your waist to pinch the skin there. Pulling your bottom lip into your mouth, you move your attention to your food as you begin to pump your hand faster, trying as hard as you can not to move your shoulder and give the two of you away.

Matthew grips onto your side harshly, squeezing the extra pudge on your body in his hands so roughly you know you’ll have bruises tomorrow. His spine was tingling, with pleasure, anger, frustration, and frankly, complete shock. He knew you were far from innocent, but exhibition was normally his thing.

Feeling him beginning to pulse in your hand, you start to speed up your hand once more before it’s completely ripped away from his lap, and you watch with a smirk as he stuffs himself back inside his pants, the veins in his shaking hands prominent from how tightly he’s had them in fists or grabbing you.

“Guys, I’m so sorry, there’s an emergency at home that Y/N and I have to go take care of, I hate to leave but we need to go, now,” Matthew stands up, taking your jacket off your seat and directing his last words towards you, nostrils flared in anger as he manages to keep a smile in his face. You try to suppress your grin as you stand up, waving goodbye to everyone quickly as Matthew grabs your wrist and pulls you away.

“Sorry guys, someone’s a little frustrated today,” you call out to them, your laugh being cut short by a sharp gasp when Matthew digs his nails into the inside of your wrist. He definitely shouldn’t be playing with you like this in public but, fuck, you always had to cross the line didn’t you. As soon as you’re out of everyone’s vision, he places a strong hand on the back of your neck, similarly to how you’d pick up a kitten by their scruff.

“You are so fucking lucky we are in public and with my goddamn friends right now or you would be bent over that table in two seconds. Who the fuck do you think you are, almost making me cum where you could be photographed and the whole world would know my girl is a fucking misbehaving cockslut. How embarrassing would that be for me?” You suck in a sharp breath of air at his words, barely registering you’ve made it to the car before he’s ushering you inside, shutting the door behind you and making his way to the drivers seat. Buckling your seatbelt slowly, you begin to rethink everything you did tonight, maybe you went a bit too far. Trying to gain any brownie points, you whisper out, “I’m sorry, sir,” but this just sets him off even more.

His fingers tighten against the wheel as he pulls out of the parking spot, refusing to make eye contact with you. The truth is, he was so fucking close and one move could have him cumming in his pants. But he decides to have a little fun with you instead, after all, you were still being a naughty little girl just asking to be punished. His hand reaches down to grip your inner thigh, fingers pressing into the skin harshly, light scratches coming from his nails digging into your skin. “I think you’re sorry you didn’t get to see me finish, but my good girl would never do something like that, you know who would though?” He pauses to smack your thigh once, quickly, before massaging the reddened area afterwards. You clear your throat before muttering out, a soft, “who?”

“A filthy whore would. But you’re not a filthy whore, are you? Are you, Y/N?” He pushes, smacking your inner thigh once more. You try to clench your legs together but Matthew pulls them apart quickly, gasping when his nimble fingers tug your thong down your legs, lifting your butt up to allow him to slide it off of you. He bunches the fabric up in his hands, and you can’t even start to answer his question before the lacy underwear is pushed into your mouth. He finally looks over at you, your wide eyes staring back at him while you force your hands to stay at your sides, feeling the way his fingers trace shapes along your thigh. “Since you don’t want to answer, I guess you are, which is such a shame. Here I was thinking I could let you cum, but if you’re just here for my pleasure,” he pauses to tut at your whine of protest, “I’ll just use you for me. Spread your legs.”

The harsh command parts your legs instantly, your pussy clenching around nothing but the cool breeze that hits it when your skirt shifts up your leg. You watch as Matthew slips his middle two fingers into his mouth, eyes focused on the road as he wets the digits. He pulls them out after a few seconds, leaving the trail of spit connecting his lips to his fingers as he leans forward to spit harshly onto them, bringing his dripping hand over the center console to land directly on your pussy. His fingers immediately move to collect your wetness before beginning to massage very slow circles around your clit, not allowing you to have him where you really want him.

“Listen closely, you fucking slut,” Matthew spits, glancing over for only a second to make sure you’re looking at him- as if you could be looking at anything else. “You’re not going to cum until I tell you to. I don’t want to feel you fluttering around me, no squeezing my digits, because that means that I would be pleasing you, correct?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth with furrowed eyebrows, nodding slowly and attempting to say, “Y-yes, sir,” but your words come out garbled from the makeshift gag. Matthew’s middle finger trails down to trace your weeping hole, tapping lightly on the wetness surrounding his favorite place.

“I’m not here to please you, stupid girl. I’m not here for you to play with, I’m not here for you to toy with, and I’m definitely not here to give filthy whores what they want. Have I made myself clear, or does my dumb little cockslut need to learn her place?”

Chills run down your body at his words and you can’t help the whimper that comes out, having to tighten your hands in fists to stop yourself from clenching, knowing that he’d be able to feel it. Your head tilts to the side to look out the tinted window, hearing Matthew laugh at your reaction, before feeling his finger slip barely inside you, shallowly fucking you so it only just passes his first knuckle.

You sharply inhale through your nose when a second finger breeches you, the two fingers beginning to massage the inside of you, rubbing against that one spot that has your legs shaking. You hum loudly, letting Matthew know that you’re close, but he only speeds up his digits, moving his thumb to rub circles against your clit, the sudden pleasure causing you to clench tightly around him. You can’t even begin to think of what you did wrong before his fingers are out of you and inside his mouth, sucking them deep into his throat to clean them of you, ignoring the harsh exhale you let out. He finally turns to you, laughing at the redness in your cheeks before taking out the panties from your mouth, slipping them into his pocket before he yanks you towards him by your throat, releasing it to slide his still-damp fingers past your lips. You do your best to give his fingers the best treatment you could, sucking them deep into your mouth while tracing your tongue in between them, your stomach swirling with need.

He finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth and doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath before your back is pinned to your seat and his hand is between your legs once more, slipping inside you easily and only curling faster into your g-spot when you moan loudly, your back arching against the arm on your chest, whining when his thumb returns to your clit, so on edge from this morning. He starts off by making small circles directly on your sensitive bud, ignoring your whining, before pulling his hand back and smacking your dripping sex, a loud moan filling the car.

“Tell me what you’re not going to do,” he demands, two fingers returning inside of you and immediately going to work while you try and think. Your mouth opens and closes as Matthew brings you closer and closer to the edge, watching you stay silent while your legs begin to shake. You gasp out, “Not going to c-cum, not going to,” clenching your fists as you interrupt your words with a sharp whine, unable to keep yourself from pulsing around him.

You almost shout ‘no!’ when he pulls his fingers out of you, but you aren’t even able to catch your breath before he’s going back and forth on your clit, watching you with his lips between his teeth as your breath stutters and your eyes roll into the back of your head, a pathetic, “please,” falling from your mouth. Matthew chuckles, moving his fingers to pinch your clit harshly.

“Who does this pretty pussy belong to? Remind me, darling.”

His even tone sends shivers down your spine as you pant out, “You, sir. It’s yours.” He hums, beginning his slow, circular movements once more. “That’s right. It’s mine, which means what? That I’m the one who controls when, and if, you ever come. I’m the one who decides what you receive, what you deserve, and when you deserve it. Do I need to repeat myself or does my dumb puppy understand?”

Your body thrashes in your seat as you nod quickly, trying to hold back as best you can. “Yours, yours, yours, yours, yours,” you repeat over and over, catching Matthew’s attention when he turns his head over to look at you. Pulling his fingers away from you, he places them in your mouth once more, his eyes moving back and forth between the road and your pretty face, tears already glistening in your eyes.

Removing them finally, he pats the side of your face twice, wipes his hand on his pant leg, and returns it back to the wheel, completely ignoring the panting girl in his passenger seat. He sniffs, trying to hide his grin as he asks, “You green, little love?” You nod immediately and repeat the color back to him, shifting in your seat, but stopping as soon as a hand clamps down on your thigh, pulling them apart. “You keep those there and shut the fuck up til we get home. I’ll deal with you then.”

It feels like forever til the car pulls into the driveway with a harsh stop, causing the seatbelt to dig into your neck slightly. Matthew scoffs when he notices you swallow and take a deep breath, mumbling out, “God, you’re pathetic, even my driving turns you on.” He runs a hand through his hair quickly, turning to you when you haven’t moved, nerves fizzing all throughout your body. “Out. Run along inside, little girl.” His voice dropped to a low, sturdy tone and sent a chill down your back, his eyes scarily calm as he stares you down. With shaky hands, you exit the car, rushing up the stone steps quickly while you mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to experience. The click of the door unlocking barely even registers when you here the familiar sound of the car door shutting, sending a rush of adrenaline through you. Toeing your shoes off at the door, you rush up the steps into the bedroom, almost feeling as if you’re being chased by a scary monster. Which, in a way, you kind of were.

You were just finishing hanging up your coat when Matthew walked inside the bedroom, leather shoes still on which you can’t help but lick your lips at. He just looked too good in them, mixed with the pale pink button up he put on this morning, his appearance alone was enough to send shivers down your spine. The expression he gives you let’s you know how much trouble you’re in, nothing but a simple smirk on his face while he methodically rolls up his sleeves. He motions you over with two fingers when he takes a seat on the chest at the end of your bed, which, to guests, looked fairly normal. You had come to learn, however, it served one purpose and one purpose only: the perfect place for him to sit while he spanked the living shit out of you. Hesitant steps brings you to stand in front of him, almost eye level with him when he takes your hips in his hands to force your body in between his spread legs. The silence in the air cuts through your body like a knife while he slowly unzips your skirt, watching as the fabric drops to the floor before glancing up at you. “Such a shame you couldn’t be good enough to keep your pretty little thong on until we got home,” he tuts, pulling the lacy black fabric from his front pocket to twirl it around in the air. Your face burns from the movement and he grins, hair wild around him making him look almost feral. Unhinged.

The underwear suddenly flies off of his finger and lands somewhere in the room, forcing your vision back up to his eyes. He reaches up with one hand to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, using it as an excuse to grip the back of your head with his fingers and yank you closer to him. A gasp is pulled from your lungs when Matthew tilts your head back, forcing your eyes to the ceiling so he can start biting down your neck. His teeth follow the artery down the side of your throat, pinching it just hard enough to make your pulse spike and he’s able to feel it on his tongue, the throbbing sensation going straight to his cock. He pulls away just for a second to murmur delicately in your ear, “Do you know how badly you’re about to get it, you filthy, fucking brat? I’m about to destroy you.” His words fall from his lips like honey, swirling around your head and leaving you basking in the gentle, sing-song voice he uses with only you that you don’t even notice when he pulls away until he forces your chin down to look at him. Matthew smiles gently, very gently, at the way your eyes remained unfocused for a second, because he was going to enjoy this, enjoy you. Chills pop up on your skin when your brain finally realizes what he just said to you, mixed with how nice he was being right now. This was the calm before the storm.

Your eyes meet his finally and he purses his lips at you minutely, squinting his eyes as he studies your face. You have half a mind to try and apologize but when your lips part, no words can fall out because you know, you know there is no going back. It’s almost like he knows what you’re thinking when he asks you softly, “You’ll use your colors when you need them, yes?” And waits for you to nod and mumble out, “yes, sir,” while looking down at his lips. He leans in closer to you, stopping an inch away from your parted mouth to ask, “And what are they, sweet girl? Why don’t you remind me?” You have to shut your eyes to breathe for a second and Matthew allows you to have this time for yourself right now, knowing how rough he’s about to be. “G-green, yellow, red, sir. I know em, I’ll use em,” you sigh out, leaning your forehead against his to ground yourself.

“Mmm, that’s a good girl. Why don’t you lay yourself over my lap for me then? Think you can manage?” He hums, the vibration from his throat mixed with his breathy whisper makes it impossible for you to not obey his every command, obediently turning your body to lay across his lap, head resting on his thigh while your feet hold you lightly on the floor for now. You know that they will be limp by the end of this, but you can at least try to have some dignity in the beginning. Matthew stops your thoughts quickly by starting to massage your ass, starting with the left cheek before moving onto the right, alternating between harsh, pointed grips underneath his fingers and soft, slow circles with his palm. “Normally, I would make you tell me everything you did wrong here, ask how many you think you deserve, that sound about right?” He questions, nails digging in to scratch the skin around your hips. You whimper in the back of your throat and squeeze your eyes shut, breathing out, “yes, sir,” to appease him. Matthew hums, moving his hands down to scratch at the back of your thighs, the sensitive skin causing you to suck in a harsh breath of air. You press your forehead deeper into his thigh at his next words, choking on a gasp.

“See, Y/N, I just don’t think you deserve that. You wanted to be a nasty whore in front of all of my friends, so why should I give you that common courtesy when you’re just a little slut?” He punctuates the end of his question with a harsh slap, the pinky ring he put on today biting into the skin of your ass. You barely have time to apologize before he slaps you again, this time on the other side. His other arm reaches for your neck, holding the back of it similarly to a scolded child, tightening his grip when he shouts, “Answer me!” and spanks you once more. The pain bites through you like you fell on ice and Matthew revels in the high pitched whine that rings throughout the room. “You shouldn’t, sir, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, just punish me,” you cry out, pressing wet kisses to his thigh.

Fuck, Matthew liked hearing that and tilted his head back, biting his lip, the rush of power that ran through him at your words had his hands shaking. He feels you choke out a cough around his hand and releases your neck from the tight grip he had it in. He sniffs, running a finger lightly down your spine. “I’d apologize for that but I just don’t really care,” and you can sense the grin on his face when he spanks you once more and has you moaning against his leg.

The feeling is beyond words, the stinging sensation not even pain at this point but pleasure, it feels like every spank is bringing you closer and closer. Matthew’s pant leg has to be soaked by now from your drooling mouth but you don’t even notice, only letting out rough gasps or ‘thank you, sir’. Suddenly, you feel a smack on your upper thigh, and, without even thinking, reach a hand down to cover your skin.

Before you could even blink, Matthew had grabbed your waist, placed you sitting on the wooden chest, and was walking towards the closet, not speaking a word to you. Grateful for the break, you brace yourself with your hands on the chest and try and get yourself back to Earth, wiping the drool off your chin with a grimace. You can feel your sticky, shaking thighs and ass burn from the direct contact but your face burns even brighter when you feel the wood below you become damp from your dripping center. You couldn’t remember how many spanks you had gotten at this point, your head was starting to get hazy and your body was on fire, needing Matthew’s touch. Your head snaps up when the clicks of Matthew’s shoes grow louder and your stomach drops when you see the metal handcuffs in his hands, no change in the calm manner he’s presenting. A rush of heat goes through you when you see the damp circle on his thigh from your mouthing at him. He squats down in front of you to bring the handcuffs up, gliding the cool metal down your face while watching every small change your facial muscles make. A chuckle comes from the back of his throat suddenly and you look up to say a small prayer before looking back at him, watching as he taps the cuff to your bottom lip. “You’re real brave for trying that one, Y/N. I mean,” he pauses to shake his head from side to side, laughing harder when he sees your thighs clench. “You just can’t help yourself, you stupid, stupid girl,” and then your face burns and your core burns and Matthew grabs your face in his hands and forces your eyes onto his.

“Ask me again.” He sounds desperate for it, need filling his quick plea and your mouth drops in his grip, wide doe eyes looking at him. He shakes his head, drawing his lips into his mouth for a moment before tilting his chin up at you. “Ask me to hit your pretty little face again.” He whispers this last part onto your lips, just barely allowing his bottom lip to skim yours before he pulls back to watch the way your eyes slip close and a soft ‘please’ escapes you without hesitation.

The control he had over you was a funny thing, it wasn’t that he had you on a leash, metaphorically, it was you that had him chained and owned. You owned him and he was thrilled to be able to show you just how much he appreciated that. His hand leaves your face slowly and you open your eyes immediately to watch him stand, his prominent bulge now inches from your face. “You can do better than that. Beg for me. Now.” His voice grows dark and he grits his teeth together, unimpressed with your whine. You swallow, looking up at him incredulously before managing to spit out, “Please, I’m so sorry, sir, please hit me. I want you to slap me til I beg you to stop, please, sir.” Matthew watches as your eyes grow glossy with unshed tears and your lungs have you panting for air before you see his hand pull back a ways. You close your eyes in anticipation, lips turning into a sedated smile while you wait for the slap.

The rush of adrenaline never comes and your eyebrows crease in confusion before you open your eyes to see Matthew smirking at you, arms folded in front of him, metal cuffs swinging back and forth in his hand. “You didn’t think I was going to give you what you wanted, did you? Cute performance, though, seems I’ve taught you well. A good little actress you are,” he pauses to laugh at your pouting face before unlocking the handcuffs, not even acknowledging the shocked gasp you release at his words. When you’re still sitting in front of him seconds later, he rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers at you, “Up, now. God, Y/N, do you ever listen?” He sounds annoyed with you, your mind tells you, and your body scrambles to appease him, jumping up so fast you almost fall. His hands catch your shoulders easily, it was second nature at this point, before he spun you to face away from him, forcing your arms parallel behind your back to click the cuffs into place on your wrists. With each touch, his fingers leave behind trails of fire on your skin, and you revel in the hidden gentleness behind each rough touch he allows you to have. Matthew gives your top arm a tug and hums contently when you stumble backwards into his chest, moving your body like a ragdoll back onto his lap, being careful to make sure your neck doesn’t slam down on his thigh. Your fingers grip your arms as you test your mobility, which was, not much to say the least. Matthew’s left hand resumes massaging your ass, and your face snaps back to him when you feel it. How did you not notice it when he first walked out?

Adorned on his middle three fingers were three large silver rings with his initials on them, reading out ‘MGG’ in a bold font. They were something he didn’t wear too often, but when he did, God. He liked to wear them so the letters were facing his palm, and allowed for each spank to mark his initials into you, to claim you as his. Matthew meets your eyes and grins, moving your head to face the floor slowly by taking your chin in his hand and turning it slowly, not breaking eye contact until you’re physically unable to keep looking at him. His hand goes down to tug at the chain between your wrists, lifting them up just enough to put a strain on your shoulders before letting them fall harshly onto your lower back. “Too bad you’re all chained up. Can’t even say no to me branding you, can you? Cuz you like it, you filthy girl,” he teases, finally smacking your ass twice in a row, a light one to warm you up to the metal first before actually allowing himself to let go. You squeeze your eyes closed and let out an almost laugh at the sensation, the feeling completely different. This was painful, and Matthew knew it, which was why he forced your eyes down. He didn’t want you to know when it was coming, to give you time to prepare. You deserved to be punished and he had no problem dishing that out.

A particularly harsh smack rips a moan from your throat and your legs start shaking, you had to be absolutely dripping on him at this point. “Please, sir, oh my god, please,” you cry out, unable to catch your breath when the next one comes, another moan falling from you. Matthew pauses when he feels you choke on a breath, instead going to trace over the quickly forming marks on your backside while he lets you catch your breath. “What are you begging for this time, Y/N, hm? I know my dirty slut isn’t asking to cum, not after being so disobedient today.” The feeling of him writing his initials over and over into your skin mixed with knowing that they will bruise by tomorrow causes you to squeeze your legs together to push off your orgasm, wanting to be good for him.

“I-I’m trying, Sir,” you gasp out, wrists tugging at the restraints. You rest your forehead harshly on his thigh, trying to focus on your breathing when you hear the slap before feeling it. Matthew starts again, hitting you quickly three times in a row, moving his hand to slip his thumb into your open, panting mouth. You suck his finger deep into your mouth, grateful for it, but Matthew has other plans, deciding to hook your cheek and turn your head to lay on his leg, your face dripping mascara when you make eye contact with him. The curls around his face stick to him with sweat, his eyes blazing and lips a dark cherry color, likely to his obsessive biting. His eyebrows raise in a condescending manner, eyes flickering to the wet patch you’ve made on both of his legs now before examining the handiwork he made on your ass. He rests his hand to thumb over the indents, clicking his tongue when you hiss from his actions. “Color?” He simply says, spinning the M ring around with his thumb. You whimper out, “Green,” trying unsuccessfully to stop your hips from bucking up.

He looks unimpressed at your actions, eyebrows raised when he lifts you up so your wet core is pressed to him, you legs straddling his thigh. You try to lift yourself up for a second but Matthew holds you down harshly, ignoring the small, “Sir,” you whisper out from how close you are. He ignores you and begins to slide your hips back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness around onto him. Your eyes are wide when he flexes his leg to meet your clit perfectly, whimpers falling from your mouths like prayers. “G-Gonna cum,” you cry out, holding your elbows behind you as your stomach tightens and your legs begin to shake. Matthew shakes his head in front of you, tsking lightly before reminding you, “That’s not how we ask,” and continuing to grip your hips and have you grind on his thigh, leaning forward to bite at your neck and darken some of the marks he left there before. You whine deep in your throat and open your mouth, tongue falling out when Matthew pulls back to look at you. “Please, can I cum, sir?” You whimper, hair sticking to your forehead when you tilt your head back to try and hold it off. Immediately, a hand is wrapped around your bared throat and tugs you closer to him, pulling and pushing you by your throat rather than your hips as his other hand moves to grip your ass in his hand, smacking it once. “No. You can’t,” he commands, stopping his movements and holding your hips down so you’re unable to move on your own. Matthew watches with a mock sympathetic expression at your creased eyebrows and open mouth, a sad cry leaving it which he can’t help but roll his eyes at.

Tucking his thumb into your mouth, he pulls your mouth open and leans forward slightly, the feeling of him spitting onto your tongue from behind your closed eyes is enough to make you drop your head forward onto his shoulder. Matthew doesn’t allow this to happen of course, instead lifting you up onto his other thigh, his grip on your hips not releasing when he begins forcing you to start grinding on him again. You hiss at the stimulation so quickly after you were that close but say nothing, he can tell in your wide eyes that you not only know you deserve this, but you want it. “Got to make my thighs even, yeah? Can’t have a mess on one leg and not the other.” Your eyes move to the thigh you just rode, bottom lip finding itself between your teeth at the large wet patch left behind, glistening in the light. Moving your head back to make eye contact with him, you whimper from the nonstop pace he had set, getting closer to the edge than you thought was possible. “S-Sir, I can’t,” you stress, a clinking sound ringing behind you as you try and move your hands, groaning when they don’t budge.

“Someone’s a little frustrated it looks like, too bad your hands are tied, bet they’d be tugging on my hair like a proper whore,” he finishes this with a harsh tug on your own, pulling you backwards so he can see all of you. Your eyes slip closed and you curse at yourself for being so bold earlier, what the fuck were you thinking. A harsh ripping sound forces your eyes back open and you see your shirt fall off your body, mouth dropped open as you watch his hand immediately move to slap your left tit, moving to pinch your nipple harshly. He looks up at you, a smug expression on his face when he shrugs, gathering the pieces in his hand to toss aside. “It was in the way, I don’t know why you were still wearing it.”

It adds a new element, the fact that you were stark naked in front of him and he was fully clothed, wearing a button up and those tight black pants that squeeze his thighs so well. You buck your hips up in his hand when you start thinking deeper at the power that he just exuded effortlessly, how he didn’t even need to try and you gave yourself to him. “Sir,” you whine out, a tear slipping from your eye in frustration when you feel your toes curling. He gathers your face in one hand with a soft smile, wiping the tear with his thumb before slipping it into your mouth, knowing your body better than you do as the action calms you more than you thought was possible. He leans forward to ghost over your cheekbone lightly with his lips, murmuring, “I don’t really care that you want to cum, darling, it’s not about you, is it?” into your temple, before pulling back. You shake your head, mewling when he slips his thumb out of your mouth and smacks you harshly against the face, lifting your legs up at the exact moment that would have sent you over the edge.

“Fuck,” you cry out, gasping at the slap and trying to stop your hips from bucking up in his grasp. Pulling your lips back into a smile, you blow the hair out of your face before looking up at him. Alright, so you weren’t going to come for a while, if at all, tonight. That also means that he’s going to be spending a lot of attention bringing you to that edge. Good enough. You watch as Matthew tries to figure out what has you smiling, fingers gripping your hips harsher to make you bite your lip to suppress a whimper. Standing up slowly, he moves you to kneel in front of him, forcing your head down with his hand on the back of your neck. He pets your head for a second, running his fingers through your hair gently.

“What’s got you so smiley, puppy?” The nickname he spits out at you sends a rush to your core and you whine at the way it makes you feel, like you’re so small and he’s so big, and god, is this a lot. “T-thought about your attention on me, Sir. Like it,” you moan out, pulling on your restraints and huffing when they don’t move. Matthew’s fingers tighten in your hair, and you feel the cool leather of his shoe sliding up your thigh. Your lips part as you realize where this is going and you can’t lie at how much you want it.

“Yeah, I got a bit of an attention whore as a pet, didn’t I? A tragedy, really, could’ve had you coming three times by now, but, you wanted to be a brat, so my hands are tied,” he comments, talking about you as if you were just a plaything to him. Your core throbbed when you felt the toe of his boot run along it, sliding underneath you so you rested directly on top of it. Matthew’s hand in your hair kept your head facing the floor as he continued. “It’s like you’re just too dumb to do anything unless I tell you exactly how to, you’re just a needy little thing who wants to cum, that’s all you are.” His degrading words mixed with the thrill of riding his fucking shoe rips a sob from your chest, a mess of “please, sir” and “yes” coming from you. He lifts your head up to get a look at your eyes before continuing on. “I’ll make this real easy for you, okay? Yes? Use your words,” He slips his thumb into your mouth and mocks you when you try and speak while your lips wrap around him, laughing when you whine and buck against his boot. He tilts your head up as says slowly, “You’re going to stand up, let me undo the cuffs, and get onto the bed. Then, I’m going to join you and you aren’t going to touch me once, okay? Got to train you somehow.”

Your cheeks burn at his last statement, whispering out, ‘fuck’, before shakily standing up, with his help of course, and turn around silently to let him undo the restraints. You hear them clink before you’re released, Matthew’s hands massaging each wrist for a few seconds before returning them to your side. You roll your shoulders once before moving onto the bed without another word, staring up at the ceiling as Matthew disappears back into the closet. Finally resting your head back onto the pillows, you attempt to shake out the tremors in your legs, whimpering at the cool air on your wetness. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, matching the throbbing in your core and you can’t help but whine in desperation.

Matthew returns shortly after, wearing just his briefs and his button up, shoes and pants left behind. You feel him place something next to your feet on the bed but before your head can turn his fingers are on your chin, making it impossible for you to move. He meets your parted lips with a quick kiss, smiling when he pulls away to rub your cheek with his hand.

Pulling his hand back, he slaps you across the face once, relishing in the harsh gasp he rips from you as your head turns to the side. His fingers move back to squish your cheeks together, his lips pursed as he studies your frame. Your voice shakes when you whimper out a pathetic, “please,” but Matthew just scoffs.

“Please,” he mocks, your spine burning white hot from the humiliation. “Didn’t bring you up here to beg, especially that badly, Y/N, I’m disappointed.”

You can’t help the whimper that escapes as he tuts quietly to himself, shaking his head from side to side. His index finger moves from its place on your cheek to slip slowly between your lips, a chill spreading through Matthew as he feels your breath shake on his hand. He pulls it out suddenly, not giving you time to process before he spits down your throat, your eyes rolling back into your head on instinct.

“Getting too mouthy for my liking. Can you learn your place and shut the fuck up, little girl?” He scolds, angry eyes burning into yours while keeping his tone even. You nod automatically, licking your lips once before pressing them together, catching Matthew’s eyes drifting to watch you. He moves his fingers to trail lightly down your neck, brushing over your collarbone before going further down your body. You hear him chuckle to himself when you place your hands under your back, not trusting yourself enough to keep your hands away from him. His eyes look back to yours for a second before he grabs your nipple between his thumb and first two fingers, trailing the hard nub around them. His touch is gentler than you expected, your eyebrows pinched together when he moves to your other nipple, the fact that he was just playing with them right now was not like him.

“Not enough for you, hmm?” Matthew quips, bringing his fingers to travel down over your stomach, your breath hitching when he caresses both of his thumbs over your pelvis, pressing down just enough for you to let out a whimper, the tight knot in your stomach begging to be released.

“I think,” Matthew starts, completely pulling away from you to grab one of the items he put next to you. You debate turning your head to see but you know that the outcome would probably not be in your favor. Matthew’s hands come back into your eyesight and your mouth drops a little at what’s in his hands, a flogger with many leather strips hanging from the handle.

“Mm, you excited, puppy? You shouldn’t be, because what you showed me today is that my bitch thinks she’s allowed to use me like that. I think, you might need a little reminder of who the fuck I am. Because you know your place, don’t you, Y/N? Speak up, now.”

The grin on his face terrifies you in the best way, and your voice cracks when you whisper out, “Yes, sir.” He hums, flexing his fingers before wrapping them around the handle and beginning to run his other hand through the ends. “Tell me then,” he pauses for a while, turning his head back to lean down and whisper in your ear, “Who do you belong to?”

“You, sir, I’m yours, I belong to you, please, please, pl-,” your whimper is cut short by a swift hit across your chest, back arching off the bed at the sensation. He managed to hit you directly on the nipple with one of the strips, feeling harsh pinpricks of pain course through your body and leaving you gasping for air.

“That’s right,” he condescendingly praises, lightly dragging the flogger over your body. “I think you might’ve forgotten that I fucking own you. You are MINE,” your right tit this time. “My property.” Left. “My whore to fuck as I please.” Right. “And my fucking slut to use.” Two fingers slip deep past your lips for only a second before he’s removing the digits, a loud moan leaving you when he begins slapping your tits with his bare hands, feeling the slight sting of his rings still on.

“Fuck, Sir, please, I know, I know, please, I’ll be such a good slut for you, please, just fuck me,” you cry out, legs shaking from the pain flooding your system, your brain turning it right into pleasure. Matthew laughs at this, a genuine belly laugh, dropping the flogger on the ground next to you. His hand grabs you by the throat, pulling you slightly upwards so you’re forced off the bed a ways.

“Good luck,” he whispers, releasing you before finally beginning to unbutton his shirt, taking his time taking his eyes up and down your naked body, small red marks already appearing from how hard he’s grabbing you. Dropping the shirt behind him, he moves to sit between your legs, forcing your hips to come off the bed and into his lap, a small, “thank you, sir” coming from you. He smirks at you, taking his thumb into his mouth to suck it past his lips, his cheekbones protruding and your mouth watering at how fucking hot he looks, watching closely when he pops it from his mouth and he grins at you, leaning forward to spit directly on your pussy. “I wouldn’t be thanking me just yet, pretty thing.”

A gasp escapes you when he brings his thumb down to your throbbing clit, the slightest touch making your hips jump but you force them down, closer to him. He begins to trace small circles on you, feeling you start to flutter already from the gentlest touch. “Close already, are we?” You whimper out, nodding quickly. “‘S a shame you had to be a bad girl then.” You hold back a groan at his words, clenching tighter to try and hold off your orgasm.

Feeling this, Matthew smacks your inner thigh, hard, and slides a finger into you, shaking his head back and forth when he sees your legs start to shake. “Don’t get all coy on me now, go ahead and relax. Wanna feel how aching you are for me without having to worry if I’ll be able to take my finger out of your greedy pussy.” He finishes his sentence by slipping another finger inside and beginning to curl his fingers towards himself, finding that soft spot inside of you instantly. Your neck cranes backwards while your lungs beg for air, unable to breathe at this point, let alone hold off your impending orgasm. Matthew senses this, and withdraws his fingers at the last second, smirking at the loud whine you release.

“Tell you what,” he starts, pausing to spit roughly on your clit, glancing back up at you when you cry out in frustration. “If you can put that dirty mouth to good use and beg for me, I’ll fuck you. Use those crocodile tears and give me a good performance.”

You gasp out, shaking your head from side to side as your hips start bucking, which Matthew puts a stop to immediately. “Not... not a performance, please, sir, please please please please please fuck me, I’ve been so-so good and haven’t touched once! I’m so sorry, please just fuck me, I’ve learned my lesson, please.” You’re crying by the end, your body on fire and the bubble in your stomach feels like it’s ready to burst, hands shaking from the adrenaline.

“Again.” Is all you hear from Matthew, and you lift your head up and whine, staring up at him with eyes filled with tears, not breaking eye contact as he pushes his fingers inside of you once more, finding your special spot with ease and pressing. Your eyebrows knit together as you moan, cutting yourself off to rush out, “Sir, please, use me, please just get yourself off, fuck me like a toy for your pleasure, please just fuck me. Need you to hurt me, Daddy.” The title you give him spurs him on further and you sigh when you feel him get up and slide his briefs down, your head lolling to the side in exhaustion and, to be fair, preparation for what’s to come.

“Hey,” Matthew snaps, pulling your spaced-out eyes back to see him in between your legs once more, watching as he leans forward to massage his tip against your wetness, coating himself in seconds. “Eyes on me. I’m giving you my cock and you can’t even say anything to me? Don’t care where you are, I’ve trained you better.”

You can feel the degradation as faraway as you were and you blink up at him before nodding quickly, thanking him as if your life depended on it. He leans forward, one arm going to lift up your back, his free hand guiding himself slowly inside of you, simultaneously moaning with you as he sinks deep into your pulsing walls.

Without giving you a moment to think, he sets up a brutal pace, his hips snapping forward and hitting your swollen clit with each thrust, repeated moans and screams falling from your lips as you try and keep breathing from how good he’s fucking you. You can feel his hard, hard cock inside of you, and you know that if you were to look you would be able to see him poking through your skin slightly.

As if he was reading your mind, Matthew pushes down on your stomach and a scream rips from your throat, the pressure from both sides making it impossible to think anymore. “Y’fuckin like that, nasty girl, can see me fucking your tight cunt through your stomach, yeah? Yeah?” He presses down harder until you scream out, “Yes!” thrashing on the bed underneath him. He groans, removing his hand to hold onto the headboard in front of you, keeping his fast, deep pace as he stares down at you.

“Hardest I’ve been in my fucking life, I swear, got me fucking whipped for this cunt, but I know you’re just as bad for my cock, huh, baby? Gonna feel me for days.” He moves his arm out from underneath you to cup one of your cheeks, watching with a smile as you nuzzle into it out of habit. He leans down to kiss you sweetly, too sweetly for how he’s fucking you, his lips meeting yours and just sitting there for so long, just giving you his touch before he’s peppering small kisses on your lips, before pulling away and humming, and you hear the slap before you feel it against your cheek.

He’s fucking cruel, watching with a grin as your head rolls back and you clench so tight you almost push him out, but he slides back inside easily and resumes his borderline torture on you. His fingers make their way over to pinch your cheeks together, your tongue falling out automatically which Matthew hums at, spitting slowly into your waiting mouth. Some of it falls down your chin, but Matthew catches it with his thumb, sliding it right back into your mouth. You whimper around him as your legs begin to shake again, unsure of how long you’ll be able to hold off.

“S-So close, Sir,” you gasp out, cutting yourself off with a loud moan when his hand moves from your face to push your legs over his shoulders, fucking harder into you than he had ever tonight, reaching spots so far inside of you that you weren’t even sure existed.

Breathing felt like a chore at this point, you didn’t know this level of pleasure existed, as if you were completely filled and satisfied, but also on fire and so close from the biggest prize of your life. You try and express this in a whine, and hearing Matthew tut, as well as his hips stutter once, you know what’s coming next.

His hands wrap around your throat and begins to use it as a handle to pull you on and off his cock, choked moans and gasps being ripped out of your vocal chords. Matthew groans deeply, pulling his left hand away to smack you across the face once, throwing your head to the side as your back arches off the bed, the new angle allowing him to slip even deeper inside of you.

“Stay there, stay right fucking there. God, my cockslut doing so well for me, letting her owner fuck her so hard, so deeply.” His left hand grips your hip, using it as leverage as he begins to pull on your neck harder, speeding up the pace. A mix between a gasp and a whine falls from you, chest rising and falling quickly as you try and comprehend how fucking good this feels.

“G-gonna cum,” you cry out, whining when you see Matthew shake his head side to side, causing you to squeeze tighter around him to try and hold off. Matthew chokes on his moan and his hands fall from your body, hips stilling inside as he sits up more. While you’re grateful for the opportunity to breathe again, it’s short lived when Matthew smacks you across both cheeks, not even giving you a second before backhanding you on both sides. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as your body shakes underneath him, pussy fluttering around him as you try not to cum.

“Oh, you fucking liked that didn’t you, you dirty slut. Think I should take a picture of you like this to show to the world, let everyone know how filthy my girl is. What would they think, seeing you so close with my handprints across your face, saw how rough you like it.” His head’s tilted back, lips dark red and bruised from how hard you were biting them, chin glistening from your wetness, looking like a devil in an angel’s body. His tongue peeks out to swipe along his teeth, chest heaving but he stares down at you with a grin on his face, watching your body thrash, bark arching and falling repeatedly while your hands clench into fists as you try and hold off your orgasm.

“Please, please, please!” You beg, openly crying and squeezing the absolute life out of Matthew. Hearing you sob underneath him, he finally takes mercy on you, bringing a hand down to rub fast circles on your clit, the other tightening around your throat, squeezing as hard as he knew you could take.

“Give it to me, come on, let go for me. Need it so bad, now, Y/N,” he moans, looking into your open eyes before finally spitting in your open mouth, the bubble building up inside of you finally shattering and you scream, your body convulsing as you cum, and squirt all over the sheets, Matthew, and yourself, feeling as if your orgasm would never end.

It was like your pussy got stuck by lightning, you didn’t know this kind of pleasure was possible, it was like every nerve in your body was exploding, every atom being stimulated by Matthew, and you knew your voice was going to be sore tomorrow but you couldn’t stop moaning, the feeling otherworldly. You vaguely felt him release your throat, gasping as you tried to catch your breath, feeling as if your entire body had a vibrator held to it, the aftershocks hitting you again and again as you tighten and release Matthew’s cock again and again.

Matthew swore he saw God that day, watching your head roll back into the mattress and cum so hard he had to hold you down to keep you still, fucking you through his own as he came deep inside you, unable to wait after being drenched with your squirt. Your moans sounded like a choir in his ears, spurring him on to make sure to get every last bit of your orgasm out of you, groaning lowly in his throat before resting his forehead in the crook of your shoulder, continuing to slowly thrust in and out of you. His arms tighten around you immediately when he feels how much your body is shaking, lifting his head up to get a look at your eyes.

“Oh precious baby,” he murmurs, smoothing out your hair around your face. Your eyes were looking right through him, not even realizing he was there as you basked in the warm cloud you were currently on. He leaves a few kisses on your temple before trying to pull out of you, a loud whine stopping him quickly. His thumbs brush away the tears that had already started falling, hearing you moan, “No, no, no, no, no.” Slipping his thumb in your mouth, he rushes out,

“Okay, okay, not going anywhere sweet girl. Mm, you wanna tell me your color, honey love? You feeling good?” The hand in your mouth moves up and down as you nod slowly, eyes drifting back to the ceiling. “You did so well for me, pumpkin, such a good girl. Do you wanna go take a nice, warm bath? Make you feel so much better, how does that sound? Good?” You blink slowly up at him, squeezing them shut when they start to burn with tears. Matthew wipes them away faster than they can fall, biting his bottom lip nervously. You had never been this far under before, he was sure, and to have you so unresponsive made him a little scared. He just wanted to take care of you.

“Babygirl,” he breathes, pulling his thumb from your mouth to wrap around the back of your head and pull you closer to him, head tucked into the crook of his neck. Your bare chest is pressed against his and warmth spreads over your body, happy to be close to your dom. You hum contently and light suck on the skin your lips touch, holding it gently between your teeth, not even processing the groan Matthew lets out. He makes sure that he’s feeling you breathing under him, mind moving a million miles an hour trying to think of what he should give you first. Nuzzling your head out of his neck, he presses his lips to yours, lightly sucking on each of your lips to distract you while he pulls out.

“I know, I know, I know, honey, here, I’m still with you little one,” he tries to console you when you whine into his mouth, his fingers moving to replace his now softened cock. His hand moves to cup your dripping sex and he gently pushes a finger inside, but by the look on your face he knows you felt empty. “You can warm my cock later, but I’m gonna sit you up right now, my love,” he whispers, sliding his finger out of your quivering heat.

Pulling away slightly to make you chase his lips, he uses this as an opportunity to gently lift you up and sit in his lap, arms deadweight over his shoulders and your forehead pressed to his sternum. He wraps one arm across your entire back, holding you tightly towards him while the other hand strokes your back up and down. He continues to murmur, “good girl,” and humming in the back of his throat, knowing the deep vibrations from his vocal chords is soothing to you. The change in position allows him see all the marks he’s left down your back, nail scratches, small angry red marks left by gripping you a bit too tightly. He also gets a look at the top of your ass, handprints and small ‘MGG’ clearly visible all over. He winces while looking at that, maybe he went a bit wild on that one. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he feels you move your lips against his chest, whispering something too quiet for him to pick up on.

“What was that, baby?” He asks, pitch raised as if talking to a young child. You repeat what you said, his heart clenching at your small voice asking him, “Bathtime?” Stroking your hair softly, he holds you to his chest, lungs releasing all the air inside of him. He pinches his eyes shut and his voice cracks when he coos,

“Yeah, sweetheart, we can go take a bath now, do anything you want. Oh, little one,” he murmurs, feeling your tears fall onto his chest. He takes your face in his hands, studying your expression carefully. Your mouth parts slightly and he takes it as a sign to place his thumb back inside your mouth, watching you hum in appreciation. Lifting you up carefully, he brings you over to the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub with you in his lap while the water begins to run.

A small whine catches his attention from where he was pouring epsom salts into the bath, his head snapping to yours quickly. Your big y/e/c eyes stare up at him, still very hazy but recognizing where you are now. Releasing his thumb from your mouth, you begin to mumble, “Love you, love you, love you, love you,” over and over again, reaching your arms over his shoulders to hug him tightly. Feeling his arms wrap around your back, you breathe in his scent, senses overwhelmed with HIM. His lips kiss the side of your head as he sighs into your ear, squeezing you closer.

“Love you so so much, angel. Oh, you have no idea how loved you are, pretty thing.” You hum quietly, shaking your head back and forth. “Oh, you do know then?” His fingers run up your side lightly and you giggle, trying to lift yourself away from his skillful fingers. Pulling away to look up at him, you lose your words for a second when you see the bright smile on his face, eyes looking at you with nothing but appreciation, love, and a bit of worry still in them.

“Tickles, Daddy” you say around his thumb, having placed it back in your mouth already, as your eyebrows crease slightly because you think it makes you look intimidating. He hums, turning the water off behind him before his attention returns to you. A small chuckle leaves his lips when he sees your expression, watching with a lovesick smile when your lips turn up and you place a small kiss on the tip of his thumb. He swipes the digit across your lower lip, leaning forward to give you a kiss, sighing deeply into it.

“Why don’t I put you in the tub and you get all cozy while I go get some things for you? Oh, baby, don’t cry, only for one minute, okay? Daddy’s good girl can do it, so brave,” He consoles you, not liking the way a pout rested on your lips.

“Promise?” you ask pathetically, voice cracking while you let him slide you into the warm water, his arms getting wet when you hold onto him for longer than needed.

He can feel his heart breaking at your bambi eyes, overwhelmed with the amount of care he needed to give you right now. “Be back so quickly you won’t even notice, okay?” When you huff out all your air, he takes it as a sign to slip away and quickly grab everything he needs to, leaving you alone in the tub.

You bite your lip, reminding yourself that you were Daddy’s good girl, she could last a few minutes without him. Whining quietly to yourself, you rest your head on the side of the tub, feeling the effects of the last few hours catch up with you. While you were doing this, Matthew was running around the house like a mad man. He first grabbed the biggest glass of water he could find, some dark chocolate and peanut butter so he could get some protein in you, and finally grabbing the robes he threw in the dryer when he first got home. It was a habit of his at this point, he always wanted you to be warm, cozy, and safe.

You hear the record player turn on in the bedroom and perk up, the soft sounds of jazz slowly filling the space when Matthew walks through the door, arms full of different items that he places on the table next to the tub. He smiles down at you, taking your outstretched hands in his as he slides in behind you, pulling you closer to him by wrapping an arm around your waist. Soft kisses are pressed behind your ear as he sighs deeply, finally able to relax and completely focus on taking care of his baby.

“Look at you, my perfect girl, did so well for me. I got some lavender oil, you wanna put a few drops in the tub?” he asks you gently, holding the glass bottle in front of you. His other arm caress up and down your side, making it difficult for you to focus on anything else. “Y/N,” he draws out, his soft voice getting you to turn your head and look at him. “Lavender, yes or no?”

You nod slowly then, taking the dropper from the bottle and placing four drops into the tub, feeling so much praise when Matthew continues to tell you how good you are. A happy squeal comes from you when you curl back into his chest, feeling his laughter reverberate off of you. His hand reaches up to hold your head against him, the two of you sighing as you sat in your own little perfect world, nothing but love and calmness filling the space.

Hearing you sniffle, it breaks the silence you were surrounded in, sending a hot flash down his spine, Matthew’s arms pulling you back to look at him, your teary eyes making his fill with worry. Before he has the chance to speak, you choke out the most pitiful, “Bad girl?” His hands take your face in them immediately, bringing you close to kiss your forehead and shake his head back and forth. “No, baby, you’re my best girl, so good for me, so so good for me. My Y/N was just a little naughty today, yeah? But Daddy’s not mad, pretty. Got such a good girl for me.” When you shake your head back and forth in his hands, his eyebrows furrow, pulling away to look at you eye to eye, wincing when he sees how goddamn faraway you were. “Do you want to tell Daddy what got you so worked up? Maybe let me know your color, little one?”

You let out a wet sob, looking at his kind eyes staring at you with so much love that it physically hurts. “I just wanted you to touch me, b-but you would only let me kiss you! N-No lovin on me, but y-you are so good to me and I was being selfish,” you finally end, suckling your bottom lip before Matthew’s thumb replaces it, his other hand moving to cup the nape of your neck. His lips softly kiss your swollen eyelids, then your nose, then your lips, removing his thumb for a moment to pour his love into you.

“Not selfish, sweet pea, just gotta tell me you want me. I know I’ve got an insatiable puppy, who I love very much, yeah?” He smiles sweetly at you, pushing your hair back behind your ears to tsk, seeing another tear roll down. “I think you’re also just a little overwhelmed, should’ve let you eat more before I went so rough on you.” You can barely think of what he’s saying with the way he’s holding you and how kind his tone is, like you were a little child he needed to care for.

A cool glass pressed to your lips pulls you out of it, looking up at him while you drink it slowly, not having to lift a finger as he tilts his hand up for you. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips, watching as you drink almost the whole glass, turning your head away when your done. He drinks the last few sips in one big gulp, placing it to the side before unwrapping the chocolate bar. His thumb presses against your lip as you bite into the piece he gave you, the bitter flavor having you crinkle your nose in response. Matthew laughs at you, placing the other half in his mouth.

“I know, sugarplum, not too sweet, but so good for you. Got some good antioxidants in there.” He continues to hand feed you half of the bar, eating the other half for himself after you bite each square. It takes more coaxing for the peanut butter, but he knows that you trust him with your entire being right now and you’ll listen to anything he says. It’s almost unreal the minimal amount of effort he has to put in for you to do what he says, something that takes some getting used to, but, god, does he relish in it.

You feel his hands start to rub soap up and down your body, taking his time near your shoulders, neck, and back to give you gentle massages. A long sigh fills the air as you lie there, feeling so well-cared for by him. A cup of water rinses off the suds from your shoulders, but your eyes have slipped shut a long time ago. Matthew takes his time washing your hair next, scratching your scalp and making sure to not tug on any knots, you can worry about those later. Right now was just to take care of you.

He feels you shift in his lap while he’s rinsing out the conditioner, his eyes snapping to watch yours open, still very far-away. Leaning his head down, he gives you a kiss on the nose, feeling so full of love when you giggle at his actions.

“Love you, Daddy,” you whisper, feeling like any louder would ruin the moment. He places the cup on the table, turning you around to face his chest as he hugs you, kissing the top of your head. Your eyes fill with tears out of nowhere and you tighten your arms around him, making it difficult for him to pull you away to look at your face. His hands hold your cheeks while his eyes search yours back and forth quickly.

“Hey,” he gently starts, a small smile on his face while he wipes your tears. “I love you so much, little love. So so much. You’re quite far away still, aren’t you? Still feeling green?” His body can finally relax when you repeat the color back to him, tension dropping from his shoulders from the verbal confirmation. “Good girl, so good,” he hums, the praise sending flutters to your stomach. “Thank you for telling me your color, angel. Do you want to get out and Daddy can put some lotion on you? Got some ouchies we need to take care of.”

After receiving your nod, Matthew unplugs the drain and stands you up, helping you out of the tub and immediately into a robe. The two of you walk back into the bedroom, his arm around your waist while you lean on him. He had changed the sheets when you were in the bath, not wanting you to have to lie on the soaked fabric. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you allow him to braid your hair quickly, knowing that you hated lying on the bed with wet hair splayed everywhere. You hear the elastic wrap around the ends and then his arms are around you, head tucked into your neck to kiss you softly.

“You warm enough for me to do your butt, honey?” He whispers, grinning when you nod happily. This was one of your favorite parts of aftercare. He gently slips you out of the robe, letting you get comfortable on your stomach before he sits crosslegged next to you, gently ghosting his hand down your spine.

“I’m using special lotion today, do you want aloe instead?” Special lotion was what you always called the cream Matthew put on your marks, something your faraway self once muttered when he was taking care of you. With no surprise, you agree with him, and he uncaps the pot, beginning to massage the cool cream on your ass. His heart clenches when you hiss at the ring marks, immediately spitting out, “I know, I know, shh, it’s okay.” His thumb traces over them, cock growing when he feels how indented his name was into you. He snaps out of it when he feels you shift under his hand, continuing to apply the lotion on your ass, and a thin layer across the scratches on your sides and back.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N,” Matthew breathes, caressing your back while you turn your face to look at him. “Just, such an angel for me. So so lucky to have my good girl.” Your cheeks turn pink and you try to hide your face in the pillow, not making it far before his hands turn your body over to look up at him. Crawling over your body, he rests himself on his forearms, dipping his neck down to plant soft kisses on your lips. After a minute, he pulls away to lift up the covers and shuffle the two of you under them, immediately wrapping his arms around you to tuck your head into his chest. This was his form of aftercare just as much as yours, he needed to remind himself that you were there and his and that you loved him.

“No more cryin’, honey, don’t like to see those tears on my girl, okay?”

His arms hold your naked body to his chest tightly, like if he let you go the world would end. Feeling your soft sighs hit him every few seconds was enough to make his eyelids begin to droop, and hearing how even your breathing has gotten, he figured you had already fallen asleep, and finally allowed himself to breathe. You were safe, loved, and cared for. He’d just have to get some food in you when you two woke up from the nap.

THREE HOURS LATER

Your eyes slowly flutter open, the bright golden sunlight hitting them from between the gap in the curtains. Turning your body to face Matthew’s once more, you exhale slowly, trying to get out of the sleep haze you were in. Or maybe you were still under.

Perhaps your thinking was enough to wake Matthew, the dom side of him always just knowing when you were up. He groans lowly, tightening his arms around you to pull you tighter into his chest, feeling him kiss the top of your head a few times.

“Still floaty, baby?” He softly asks, holding the back of your neck in his hand, the feeling so deeply comforting to the both of you. You shrug, muttering out, “dunno,” before looking up at him finally, seeing his tired eyes already crinkled from the wide smile on his face. You lean up to press a soft kiss on his lips, just holding them there and allowing Matthew to suck softly on your bottom lip, shushing the small whimper that comes out of you.

“Love you, baby,” he whispers, smiling softly when you repeat it back to him. “You know you’re my good, perfect girl, yeah? Gave me a good fright seeing you so sad over me,” he frowns, tracing your cheek with his thumb. You nod slowly, whispering “good girl,” to yourself, smiling when Matthew tugs you closer to him, thumb moving down to play with your bottom lip.

“Feel like I should also let you know I changed into a pair of clean shoes when I got home, don’t want my girl to actually be dirty,” and you whine into his chest, blushing at his loud chuckle.

“Who knew I had a squirter as my little love? Why’d you hide that from me?” Matthew fake pouts, and you blush, trying to hide your face in your hands, but Matthew’s quick to pull them away by your wrists. Trailing a hand slowly down your face, he turns your jaw to examine the bruises on your neck, small, but distinct fingerprints outlined on your otherwise unblemished skin. He tuts, to himself mostly, placing his fingers over the purple marks and lightly pressing down, reveling in the gasp you release.

“Such a shame your pretty pussy’s much too sore to take me, because I’m doing that again and again and again to you, very soon, my dear.”

A/N: so...... yeah. lol. i’m sorry ? idk what to say after this. that was a lot. hope you liked it !!! i’m ASS at taking requests (seeing as this took over a month) but i’m going to see if i can get into blurbs or little drabbles or whatever they’re called hehe so send in requests !! (i’ll have to dm you for clarification for my piece of mind if it’s a long piece, so expect that haha)

- lana xx

[emerald-chaos]

Daydream

**gif not mine! credit to the owner**

So, I couldn't help myself. This is a continuation of my previous Bucky fic Insomnia because I just really enjoyed the dynamic between Bucky and the reader. I had a lot of fun writing this part and I love building things up between the two of them. If you guys like this or are interested in seeing more - please let me know! I love talking with people and hearing their ideas and such.

Much love xo.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2079

Warnings: cursing, struggles with mental illness, mentions of sex (nothing entirely explicit but better safe than sorry), alcohol use, and really poorly written jokes lmao

Fingers threaded into hair.

Hot, opened-mouth kisses marking every surface of your neck.

Nails trailing down his back leaving raised, red lines in their wake.

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you let your head fall back and continued to rock your hips into the man in front of you.

Strong hands tighten their hold on your hips, sure to leave purplish-blue bruises for the morning.

“C’mon, baby,” he grunted, face buried in your neck as he helped your body to grind against his, “I got you. Let go, fuck, let go for me.”

A pair of slender fingers snapped in front of your line of sight, tearing you from your daydream and bringing you harshly back to reality.

“Hmm, what was that?” You blinked a few times before you turned your attention to the redhead who you, apparently, had been having a conversation with.

“Are you serious?” She laughed, “I’ve been talking for the past 10 minutes! I looked over and you had that far off, glossy look in your eyes. Not to mention you’re bleeding.”

A hand found its way to your lower lip and you realized she was right. You had been so lost in wet dreamland that you chewed a layer of skin off of your lip. You hoped she didn’t notice the heat rising in your face as you cleared your throat, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pressing the tissue against your injured lip, “guess I got lost in thought.”

“Is it one of those flashbacks again?” She asked kindly, facial expression softening.

You nodded quickly, knowing fully well that the statement was a lie. Your gaze drifted over the woman’s shoulder to the subject of your previous thoughts. It would be easier to explain the common occurrence of your PTSD than it would be to explain that you were reminiscing on the hot, steamy, passionate sex you had the night before.

Bucky was situated across the room, leaning against the counter as he talked to Rogers and Wilson. The unfortunately tight, black, short-sleeve t-shirt he was wearing left nothing to the imagination. It accentuated every muscle of the body you had gotten to know so intimately not more than 10 hours ago. His muscular arms were crossed at his chest and he was sporting his signature scowl. Everything about the sight sent a shiver down your spine. You finally had a taste and you wanted more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your friend’s voice gained your attention once more.

A small smile found its way to your lips as you met her gaze again. Apart from Bucky, Nat had always been a good trauma buddy of yours. From the beginning she had been someone you felt like you could confide in and someone who would understand your troubles. Sometimes you wondered if a requirement of joining the avengers was to have a fucked up, tragic backstory.

“I’m okay, Nat.” You reassured, “Just got lost in my head again.”

“Whatever you say. Maybe the party tonight will help you get your mind off of things,” She mused as she pushed herself from the couch to stand up. She paused briefly before she turned to you again, “you are coming, right?”

“Yeah,” you snorted, “Tony actually threatened me if I didn’t go this time, so, I guess I have to.”

After the last party you skipped out on, Tony cornered you in the hallway and gave you quite the interrogation. Then he went on a spiel about how staying in your room all day and all night was bad for you and that if he didn’t know better he would think you weren’t appreciative of what he’d done for you and blah, blah, blah. Tony really was a good person underneath all that hair gel. All he wanted was to help you break out of your shell and give you the family he knew you were lacking. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be a pushy asshole.

“Good, I’ll see you there. I’m sure Barnes will too.” A devilish grin painted her lips as she watched your jaw drop. Before you had a chance to say anything she was off down the hallway.

Fuckin’ Natasha.

*******

A pile of clothes littered your bed as you slipped another dress over your form. Not once in your life had you ever been concerned about what you were wearing or what you looked like, but there was something about tonight that made you want to turn heads. Your eyes raked down your figure as you twisted from side to side, admiring the way the black dress hugged your body in all the right places. Not to mention the thigh high slit in the dress showed off probably the only body part you weren’t self-conscious about. Tony, being the theatrical and over the top man he was, once said that you shouldn’t show up to his parties if you weren’t dressed to court a royal or to bring a man to his knees. Guess you were shooting for the latter.

As you put the finishing touches on your look for the evening, you felt that familiar heavy feeling settling into your chest. Your body always had a tendency to go into fight or flight mode when you became too familiar with anything or anyone. It felt like every fiber in your body was screaming for you to retreat into sweats and stay in your room, to not allow yourself this opportunity to enjoy the people you’d grown so close to. You know what happens when you let people in.

Grief, trauma, coping - it made it really difficult to live a “normal” life. Everyday tasks are daunting, it can be next to impossible to have intimate friendships or relationships, and not to mention the intrusive thoughts that infect your mind on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Here you were, the happiest you’d been in years. You were finally in a place where you felt loved, comfortable, safe - and yet your mind was trying to self-sabotage again.

You took a moment to close your eyes and take several deep breaths. When you opened your eyes you locked eyes with your reflection in the mirror and made a pact with the girl staring back at you. The intrusive thoughts and self-doubt couldn’t continue to have a hold over you anymore. You gave yourself a small smirk and nod as you made the decision to throw caution to the wind and give the party a try. What’s the worst that could happen?

*******

Come to find out, the worst that could happen would be your competitive nature overcoming the rational, thinking part of your brain; which in turn would lead you to enter in a drinking contest. Thankfully a small portion of your pink, smooth brain was still functional enough to tell you when you’d reached your limit. Now you sat comfortably on the couch, legs tucked underneath you as you joyfully watched your friends argue.

“Dr. Banner, my friend, you are one of the most intelligent people I know. However, you are wrong.” Thor stated simply as he finished the rest of his drink.

“Thor, for the last time, water is not wet!” Bruce retorted, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You let out a loud snort before thinking, “Oh yeah, water. I should drink some water.”

Your feet planted themselves on the floor and slipped back into your pair of shoes. As you made your way to the kitchen you were pleasantly surprised by your balance and coordination, considering how much alcohol you’d consumed. Seems that drinking with Thor has done wonders for your tolerance.

While you were busy searching the refrigerator for a bottle of water, you were also oblivious to the soft sound of footsteps coming into the kitchen. After retrieving the beverage, you closed the door and turned to leave. Instead, you turned right into the chest of a figure that was definitely not there a moment ago. You yelped as you clutched a hand over your chest dramatically, your face filled with horror as though you’d just come face to face with the grim reaper.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes!” you scolded.

Bucky was holding his abdomen as he leaned back, consumed with laughter at your reaction. You huffed and wanted to be offended, but he looked so damn cute laughing that you couldn’t help but join him. You pushed his chest playfully and grumped as you hopped up to sit on the counter, opening the water to gulp about half of it down. Bucky couldn’t help but grin at your pouty state as he finished up his laughing fit.

“My apologies, sweets. Didn’t realize I’d be makin’ ya scream twice in one day.” He teased, grinning even wider as he did so.

Your jaw dropped at the comment, quickly looking around to make sure no one else was in the kitchen to hear what he had said. After seeing that the coast was clear you kicked your foot at him out of annoyance, only for his metal hand to catch it smoothly. The two of you locked eyes, motionless for a moment before he moved closer, sliding his hand from your ankle to your thigh. In the moment, you damned yourself for choosing this particular dress. The closer he got, the faster your breathing became. The contrast between his cold embrace and your flushed, warm skin sent a shiver down your spine. Abandoning the water bottle, you ran your hands up his abdomen and chest until they rested on his shoulders. Following a small nudge from his knee, you parted your legs to allow him space to stand between them. The heat in your face at an all time high as he pressed his flesh hand to your cheek.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you.” Bucky whispered as he stroked the apple of your cheek with his thumb. Each word that left his lips had you feeling way more intoxicated than any liquor you’d had all night.

As quickly as it started, his touch was gone and his back was turned as he opened the fridge. Before you had a chance to open your mouth to ask what the hell just happened, Tony was entering into the kitchen.

“Well, well, well. Surprised to see you here, Annie.” Tony beamed as he laid eyes on you.

Yes, Tony had nicknamed you after little orphan Annie. Yes, he also referred to himself lovingly as Daddy Warbucks. Yes, any person in their right mind would probably be offended, but you were just fucked up enough that you found it kind of hilarious.

“Wish I could say that it’s a pleasure, Tony.” You grumped back, upset that you’d been cockblocked and by Tony no less.

“Never lose that spunk, kid.” Tony winked as he turned to see Bucky retreating from the fridge with a beer in hand. “Inspector Gadget! Good to see you too.”

As much as you didn’t want to encourage him, you couldn’t help but laugh. Much to your dismay, Bucky simply raised his bottle to Tony as if to say “cheers” and padded out of the kitchen.

“He has such a way with words.” Tony teased as you rolled your eyes.

A sigh left your lips as you slipped off the counter and back onto the floor, muttering a “goodnight” before leaving the kitchen and heading back to your room. Although you wanted nothing more than to find Bucky and finish what he had started in the kitchen, you came to the conclusion that you were probably too drunk and definitely too tired.

Back in the comfort of your bedroom, you went about your normal nighttime routine. As you exited the bathroom, you couldn’t help but notice a piece of paper that had been slipped beneath your door. Grabbing the paper from the floor and plopping back onto your soft mattress, you opened it to read the note that was scribbled in black ink.

Never got the chance to tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight. Gotta say, I’m a big fan of that dress.

Sweet dreams.

- B.

When you finished the note, it felt as though you were floating on cloud 9. Even when you laid your head down and tried to welcome sleep, Bucky’s words were still replaying in your head over and over again - like they were lyrics to your new favorite song.

Turns out you were down for Bucky Barnes, and you were down bad.

[todrokishoto]

bnha boys x tickles

character(s): bakugou, deku, denki, kirishima, todoroki

warning(s): tickles, blood (nosebleed), swearing? 

a/n: random idea i had. enjoy this hc/scenario thing while i work on some longer fics. p.s. i’ve never really written headcannons before so idk if i did it right lmao

B A K U G O U 

mans isn’t ticklish 

trained himself to tolerate it bc being ticklish is for the weak 

won’t tell you that tho bc it’s a valid excuse sometimes ok??

like,,, let’s say you’re tracing mindless patterns on his abdomen right

the two of you are just lying on his bed in his dorm room

and while it might have been innocent enough on your part

he can’t help but be... flustered as your hand moves awfully close to the waistband of his pants 

feeling his cheeks heat up, straight up refusing to let you see how much your touch affects him, he swats your hand away with a grunt

“that tickles, dumbass,” he huffs, his voice slightly strained. you pretend not to notice. 

your eyebrows lift upward in surprise at his statement. not once had he ever mentioned he was ticklish. propping yourself up on your elbow, you let your eyes trail over his features, studying him. 

his eyes are closed but only after mere seconds of feeling your gaze, they open back up. his crimson orbs stare into yours, neither one of you breaking the prolonged silence. you, frankly, didn’t want to. bakugou, on the other hand, refused to - fully aware his voice would betray him again. 

he couldn’t believe he had just lied about being ticklish. but, letting you believe your soft touches had tickled him rather than admitting they made him feel things he know he shouldn’t seemed like the most logical option. yes. there was no way he’d reveal his less than innocent thoughts. 

“what?” he grumbles, quirking a brow questioningly. “take a picture. it’ll last longer.” 

you fish your phone out of your pocket, holding it up above him. “okay—” 

your words turn into a squeal as he smacks the phone out of your hand and grabs your arm, pinning it above your head. he hovers above you, eyes full of mischievousness, his teeth exposed by the grin dancing on his lips. you stare back up at him, eyes wide, body tense as you attempt to gauge his next movements.

“how ‘bout a taste of your own medicine, huh? since you seem to find it so funny.” 

and before you can protest, his fingertips dig into your sides, eliciting careless giggles from you as he tries his best to find your most ticklish spots. 

K A M I N A R I 

would tickle you on the daily just to hear your laugh

pls he’s a total sucker for your squealing giggles. they’re his favorite

this boy will find any excuse to tickle you; pinching your sides, blowing raspberries on your stomach while lying in your lap - you name it 

one of his favorite ways is to use just a teeny tiny bit of his electricity, making the ticklish that much more unbearable 

we all know his love language is physical touch, so he just can’t help himself really

but don’t even think about tickling him. boy will practically screm bloody murder and literally run away from you like a child running away from their parent when it’s time for bed 

you’re bored. so bored, in fact, that you’re even thinking about purposefully provoking your boyfriend’s explosive friend just for some entertainment. you quickly scrap the idea, not feeling like being the target of his harsh words today. 

your boredom quickly dissipates, however, as the yellow locks of your boyfriend come into view. he’s chatting animatedly with kirishima and sero, his back facing you. you put a finger to your lips as a pair of red eyes look at you curiously. luckily, the redhead understands and says nothing as you sneak up to the table they’re currently seated at. 

“hey, babe!” you greet loudly, your voice dripping with fake innocence. 

before he can turn around, your hands are at his sides, pinching and poking with all their might. an odd sound - something between a gasp and a grunt - escapes your boyfriend at the feeling and he flails his arms, desperately trying to escape your hold. 

you underestimated just how ticklish your electric partner is, it seems. because before you can dodge it and sero can warn you, denki pushes his chair backward, knocking you over in the process. your boyfriend whips around immediately at the sound of your body colliding with the floor. 

“oh my god, baby, i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean—” his apology trails off at the sound of your loud laughter. 

you’re clutching your stomach with one hand, attempting (but to no avail) to silence your laughter with the other. denki rubs the back of his neck, eyes full of confusion, while he tries to regain his breath from your surprise attack. once again, he catches you off-guard as he crouches down next to you, his fingers finding your tickle spot with ease. 

your laughter gets louder and he smirks. “not so funny now, is it?” 

K I R I S H I M A

mans has a hardening quirk

aka he can just harden his skin, so tickling him is basically impossible 

once in awhile, when he knows you just want revenge for the times you’ve been tickled by him, he won’t activate his power 

but still, he barely chuckles, which makes you frustrated™

he doesn’t really tickle you on purpose that often tho bc that’s not manly

will tickle you accidentally while rubbing your arms or breathing on your neck while cuddling 

you’ll squirm in his hold and he will just apologize with a laugh and hold you tighter

you sigh, shuffling ever-so-slightly, stuck within your boyfriend’s tight grasp. the two of you had been cuddling on one of the sofas in the common room, but he had succumbed to his exhaustion and had fallen asleep next to you.

normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. you had no issue being his pillow once in awhile and his cute, little snores made it impossible for you to wake him. today, however, he had fallen asleep in the crook of your neck and his soft breaths were tickling you. with every exhale, your body tensed as you tried your best to remain still.

“kiri,” you whisper, his nickname slipping past your lips with gentleness. “babe, wake up.” 

he stirs at the sound of your voice, his breathing halting momentarily. you wait in suspense but he only buries his face further into your neck, a long breath fanning against your exposed skin. you squirm instinctively. your movements must have alerted something in him because he begins shuffling shortly after. 

you can’t see his face but you can tell by his breathing that he’s slowly but surely waking up. you practically hold your breath, praying that he will move before you have to voice your discomfort. unfortunately, luck isn’t on your side it seems. 

“kiri, i love you, but please move,” you plead, pushing against his chest softly. his red eyes are filled with confusion as he props himself up to look at you. “you’ve been tickling my neck for the past fifteen minutes. i was going insane.” 

he pouts then. “aw, babe, you should’ve told me. you could’ve woken me up, y’know?” 

“yeah, i know,” you sigh, rubbing your neck where his breathing had been just a few seconds prior. “i just didn’t want to wake you, is all. you’re so cute when you sleep.” 

“you’re cuter,” he quips enthusiastically, poking your nose with his index finger. “okay, your turn to cuddle me instead. i’m not ticklish so lay wherever you want.” 

M I D O R I Y A

i feel like this broccoli bean would be ticklish everywhere?

either that or he’s not ticklish at all

maybe his body’s been beaten so many times that his nerve-endings are either overly sensitive or they barely feel anything 

idk™ BUT

sweet, freckled little izuku would also not tickle you without consent

we stan a respective king 

he would be so careful to apply a little bit of a firmer pressure to not tickle you

sweetie had been to flustered to ask if you were ticklish when you first started dating and it was too late to ask now 

you’re sitting next to him on the gras outside of the doors, relishing the feeling of the nice evening air against your skin. the two of you are chatting mindlessly. well, izuku’s doing most of the talking and you’re mainly listening, but you don’t mind at all. 

his arm is grasped between your two hands as you gently trace the scattered freckles and scars adorning his skin. he had been so flustered when you had grabbed it, unable to will the redness away from his cheeks. you had only giggled in response. 

izuku didn’t know why you seemed to be so fascinated by his scars. you had always asked questions about them, wondering if he remembered where he got them. always made sure to call him handsome on days where he was particularly bothered by the markings on his body. 

he loved it. he loved you. 

but as your continue to trace them, your touch featherlight, he can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine. he squirms, his hand clenching together and forming a fist. you take notice and halt your actions immediately. he turns to look at you, meeting your wide eyes. 

“did i do something wrong?” you ask quietly, feeling the guilt claw its way to your chest. 

“no!” he practically shouts, his voice a few octaves higher than normal. he clears his throat. “n-no, you didn’t. it’s just that... heh. i’m, uh, kind of sensitive in certain spots, i guess? and while i really don’t mind you touching my scars, you were so gentle and i-i just... it tickled.”

his chin tilts toward the floor, his bashful gaze flickering away from yours. you notice the pink dusting across his freckled cheeks but decide not to point it out, desperate to make your boyfriend feel at ease again. 

“zuku, say that next time! i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to tickle you. i didn’t even know you were ticklish, to be honest.”

he rubs his neck, peering over at you once again. he grins sheepishly. “i-i never told you, i guess. usually, i’m able to resist the urge to squirm, um, like that.”

“you’re so cute!” you gush, grabbing ahold of his hand once again. “i’m ticklish too, y’know. but i’ll let you find my tickle spots on your own.”

and, for the umpteenth time that night, your boyfriend blushes as he thinks about exploring your body to find your very own tickle spots. 

T O D O R O K I 

we all know he had a shitty childhood fck u endeavor

he never had tickle fights with his parents or siblings when he was little

so poor bby probably doesn’t even know he’s ticklish until you accidentally find his weak spot one day

let’s say you’re both cuddling in your bed right?? and things are getting a little heated 

so,,, you detach your lips from his, placing a kiss on his cheek, then his jaw, then his neck

and let me tell you - this poor boy doesn’t know what to do 

he tenses up immediately, slamming his chin down to protect his exposed neck, his jaw banging against your nose in the process 

“y/n!” he calls out immediately, chest heaving, his body still tense as if on high alert. he reaches out to you when he spots you holding your nose, your brows furrowed in discomfort. “i’m so sorry. i don’t— are you alright?” 

you nod, releasing a hum to confirm your response. your nose is throbbing, but when you open your eyes and meet shoto’s wide bicolored ones, your pain subsides quickly. poor boy looks so helpless - torn between reaching out for you and distancing himself. 

“hey, sho, it’s okay. i’m alright,” you remove your hand clutching your nose to shoot him a smile but you stop midway, noticing the crimson liquid on your palm. 

“you’re bleeding,” your boyfriend observes quietly, the guilt obvious in his voice. “i hurt you. i’m so sorry. i... what you did made me feel weird and my body just reacted. i, uh, i’m sorry.” 

he scrambles out of your bed, reaching for the box of tissues he knows you have stashed in your desk. he hands you a handful of them, awkwardly lingering by the foot of the bed as you wrap the paper over your nose, clamping your fingers shut around it.

you shake your head with a gentle laugh. “sho, it’s okay. i didn’t know you were ticklish there. i can’t really control what my body does when i’m tickled either, so i don’t blame you.” 

“ticklish?” he repeats aloud, almost as if testing out the word. 

you nod, the innocence of your boyfriend once again surprising you. you feel your heart ache slightly at the thought of him not knowing what the action is. had nobody ever touched him enough for him to find his tickle spots? 

“yeah. most people are ticklish somewhere on their body. usually either on their waist, their armpits, feet or neck - like you. it’s normal. typically, when people are touched where they’re ticklish, they’ll squirm and laugh.” 

he nods and you remain quiet as he processes the information. then, much to your bewilderment, he leans forward and grabs ahold of your side with his fingertips. he pinches gently and you jerk, narrowing your eyes at your boyfriend smiling harmlessly. 

“so, is that your tickle spot, then?”  

[maria-akira]

good girls don't get used: michael langdon x fem! reader — PART 2

—♡—

READ PART 1 HERE

summary: michael langdon, your ex, falls into a bet wherein he needs to (fake) date you. if he falls inlove again, he loses, and doesn't get the prize.

warnings: making out, pre-smut???, michael as a tiktok fuckboy, + me not proofreading this hahah sorry

italicized bold words are direct lyrics from the song :)

please excuse any errors. enjoy!

—♡—

It had been a few hours since Y/N arrived at home. She changed into an oversized shirt and a comfy pair of shorts. To be honest, she has never tutored anyone before, except for her baby brother Aaron. With Aaron it was just 1+1 or 2x3, you know? The basics.

"Mom, someone's coming over tonight!" She called out from upstairs,

"Who will?"

Y/N didn't know what to say. Her parents knew about Michael, and how they broke up. She didn't want her mom to know that it was him who would be coming over. Why hide it? She'll see him anyways.

"Michael! Michael Langdon!" Y/N went downstairs to finally face her mom.

"Wait, your ex?"

"Yeah.."

Her mom laughed, "Oh my, looks like something's gonna happen~" She said in a sing-song tone while she prepared dinner.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Oh my goood mom! That was 2 years ago, he just asked if I could tutor him. Apparently, he's failing."

"He's what? Failing? Isn't he one of the top students in your batch?"

"Yeah, I honestly don't know what happened to hi—"

Ding Dong!

Oh my god, She felt her heart beating fast.

Y/N walked to the front door and opened it, and there he was. Michael Langdon in his grey sweatpants and black hoodie.

"Hey, Y/N." Michael greeted, giving her a smile.

Y/N looked him up and down,

"Hi." She gave him a sarcastic look and stepped out of the way, gesturing him to come in.

Y/N's mom squealed, "Oh my, Michael! Look how you've grown!" She squeezed him into a hug and it made Michael laugh.

Aaron came down the stairs to see what the fuss was about. When he saw Michael, he rushed towards him and hugged his thigh.

"Michaeeeelll!! You're here!" Aaron giggled

Aaron loved Michael a lot. When Y/N and Michael were still together, he would always play with him.

"Hey, slugger! Now you've grown alot too, huh?" Michael kneeled down to his height and ruffled his hair, "Yup! I'm a big boy now." Aaron said proudly with his chin up.

Slugger. That was the nickname Michael gave him.

"Is Michael staying over?" Aaron pouted and gave her puppy eyes.

Y/N panicked. How was she gonna explain?

"Well, he actually came over to study for school, but he—"

"Of course I'll stay over! Anything for you, slugger." Michael cut her off. Y/N widened her eyes, making a 'what the fuck are you doing?!?!' expression at him.

Y/N faked a cough, "Aaron, go stay with mom okay? Michael and I will be studying now."

Aaron whined and crossed his arms. "But I wanna play with Michaaael!!"

"You'll do that later. After all, he said that he'll be staying over." She looked over to Michael and gave him a sarcastic smile.

—

After a few moments of arguing with Aaron, Y/N and Michael finally went upstairs. "Your room changed alot." Michael said as he looked around her room for the first time in 2 years. Once Y/N shut the door, she stormed over to Michael.

"Langdon what the fuck was that down there?!?! I only allowed you to come over, not stay over! Where will you even sleep?!"

"In a bed, duh."

Y/N slapped his forehead, causing Michael to wince at the pain.

"Are you that stupid?! Sleep on the fucking floor!" She hid her face in her hands out of frustration, then lifting her head again. "You know what? Fuck it. I don't care anymore."

—

"So if you move negative four here, what will you get?" Y/N asked, pointing her pencil on the equation. It's now 8PM, Michael and her were studying the last subject for the day, which was Math.

Michael analyzed the problem, then wrote down the answer. "Fifty.. three?" He slid the paper to her direction. While Y/N was checking his solution, he received a message from Duncan.

Dunc 🖕🏻: how's tutoring going?

Michael: its fine ig, lmao im staying over 😴

Dunc 🖕🏻: yooo what?? where you gonna sleep?

Michael: beside her? idk im still gonna play video games with her brother so i guess i'll sleep beside her 😶

Michael: brb shes done checking my solution

"Michael," She called for his attention, He let out a hum in response. "Your solution is correct.. But to avoid confusion, change this into an arrow instead of an equal sign, because it isn't the final answer yet." Y/N pointed out his mistake and circled it with a mechanical pencil.

Michael smiled. despite this 'trying to get her trust back' thing, he thought that Y/N was adorable like this. Focused with academics. He admired her alot.

Y/N looked over at Michael, "Langdon, are you even listening?" She snapped her fingers in attempt to catch Michael's attention.

Michael went back to reality, "Yeah. I get it now, thanks Y/N." Michael got his paper back and saw all the check marks. While Michael was distracted with his paper, Y/N stood up and streched. "They're all correct?" He looked up at her and asked in fake disbelief. Y/N rolled her eyes, "Duh, what are all the check marks for, dimwit?" She furrowed her eye brows and made her way to the door.

She glanced over at the clock beside her mirror, it was already 8:15 PM. "Hey, we have to go down for dinner now." She looked over to him and opened the door. Michael stood up and made his way to the door, stopping by the mirror, "Damn, I'm hot." Michael said as he praised his reflection in the mirror. When Y/N heard this, she furrowed her eyebrows and looked at him.

"Yeah sure, maybe in a different planet." She insulted, playfully hitting his arm.

"Oh c'mon Y/N, you miss me." Michael leaned on the wall with the support of his arm. Y/N shut the door.

"What makes you say that, Langdon?" She crossed her arms and leaned against the door.

"I've seen the way you look at me, baby. Admit it, you miss me, you wanna kiss me, you wanna be mine all over again."

"Don't hit me with your 'say you miss me, say you wanna kiss me.' shit, Langdon. I'm not that stupid," Y/N pulled on the neckline of Michael's hoodie, signalling him to come closer. Now, their faces were a few centimeters apart.

"Let's face the facts here, Langdon. Actually? you want me." She pulled him even closer, her lips ghosting over his. Michael moved closer in attempt to kiss her, yet to no avail. Y/N smirked and pushed him away. "You know, you're better than that." She gave him a little tap on the cheek and left the room, slamming the door in his face.

Michael was speechless. Y/N did change, a lot.

—

"So what brings you here, Michael?" Y/N's father asked, eating a slice of steak that was on his plate. "I'm currently failing some of my classes and I asked Y/N if she could help me. Luckily, she agreed." Michael looked over to Y/N and gave her a smile. She kicks him under the table, causing him to flinch.

"Will you be staying over, Michael? It's getting late." Y/N's mother asked this time, "If that would be okay with you, Mrs. Y/L/N." Michael replied, looking over to Y/N again.

Well, let's say that everyone looked at Y/N after Michael said that.

The silence made Y/N glance at them, "Why are you all looking at me..?" She said in a confused tone, her mom shot her a 'is it okay if he sleeps in your room' look. Y/N sighed, "Fine, he'll sleep in my room." Now, everyone went back to what they were doing.

After dinner, Y/N's mom called up Michael's parents to inform them that he would be staying for the night.

Y/N was washing the dishes tonight, and of course Michael volunteered to help her.

"Why did you even volunteer? You hate washing dishes, Langdon." She said as she cleaned a dirty plate with the soap filled sponge.

"Oh c'mon, Y/N. Can't I change?" He replied, rinsing one of the dishes that Y/N cleaned.

Y/N scoffed, "You? Change?"

Michael elbowed her side, "Hey, I did change!"

"Whatever." She went back to what she was doing cleaned the rest of the dishes, ignoring Michael's statement.

After a few more dishes, her hair started to slip away from the loose ponytail she made earlier. Her hands were slippery and full of soap, if she were to wash her hands and fix her hair, then go back to washing the dishes, her hands would be wet again. Plus, the drying towel was on Michael's side. So she asked for his help.

"Michael," Her voice was soft. Softer than usual. "Yea?" Michael replied, still rinsing the dishes.

"Can you please tie my hair up? It's slipping away."

"Hold on." Michael shook the water off his hands and dried it using the towel beside him, while Y/N turned her back over to his direction. Michael removed the hair tie and bit on it. He started gathering her hair from the top, combing his fingers through her soft, silky hair. He was very gentle. After he gathered her hair, he removed the hair tie from his teeth and tied her hair, careful not to tug too hard.

Y/N turned around to face him, "Hm, maybe you did change," Michael was curious when she paused. "Because you used to be so aggressive when you tied my hair." She joked and finished off the dishes that were left.

—

It's now 11 pm. Michael is in Aaron's room playing video games, and Y/N is alone in her room, doing some extra school work that was due for next week.

Like any other Friday night, girls like Y/N's age would be out partying like there was no tomorrow. After that one time she was really drunk and a guy touched her inappropriately, she never went out partying again.

Once Y/N finished her school work, she decided to take a shower. She wanted to take advantage of Michael's absence and stay in the shower longer than usual. Like a typical teenage girl, she would blast music in the shower, dancing and singing like she had a whole audience to perform for.

Y/N wrapped a towel around her body and left the bathroom to get her clothes from the dresser. Little did she know, Michael was back from her brother's room.

"I see you still have that body, huh?" Michael smirked and looked her up and down. Y/N turned around to see Michael on her bed. Her instincts told her to scream and throw an object at him, so she did.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Chill, it's not like you haven't sent me your nudes before." Michael dodged whatever she threw at him and laughed.

"Yea, and I regret sending those to your ugly ass. If I could turn back time, I would've sent them to your hot bestfriend, Duncan was it?" She turned around again to get her clothes from the dresser. Michael walked over to her and grabbed her neck from behind,

"What did you fucking say?" He growled in her ear. She smirked and bat her eyelashes innocently at him.

"I said, I would've sent them to Duncan. You should set me up with him, hm?" Y/N knew what she was doing, "Aww, is little Mikey getting jealous?" She mocked in fake sympathy. She removed his hand from her neck, turned around to face him and gave him a pout. 

Michael was furious. What has gotten into him? He doesn't even love her. He just fell into a stupid bet just to fuck some girl's pussy after he fucks with her ex's feelings. But why does he feel like this? Like he needs to have Y/N only for himself?

Before Y/N went back to the bathroom to get dressed, she just had to get on Michael’s nerves again, as if she wasn’t already. At this point, she could literally see fire in his eyes. He was really mad. But why?

"Look at you, Mikey. You can't respond when you react." She giggled and gave him a quick nose boop as the cherry on top for her little act. But she wasn't getting away so fast. When she turned her back on him, Michael aggresively wrapped his hand around her neck and pulled her, securing an arm around her waist.

"Where do you think you're going, you little shit? You aren't getting away easily after that stunt." The grip on Y/N's throat slowly tightened. "W-Wh... Why are you so mah-d.. Huh?" She managed to choke out.

Michael left soft kisses against her neck, while slowly loosening the grip on her throat. "See, Mikey? You're the one who misses me." Y/N whimpered, using her free hand to pull on Michael's hair in hopes of prying him off, but he was stubborn. Y/N whispered in his ear, "Whatever it is you're trying to do, Langdon, I'll never give in." She pushed her elbow into his ribs, causing Michael to groan. Finally, Y/N goes back to her bathroom to get dressed.

Once she leaves, Michael punches the nearest wall in frustration. He hated rejection. The girls that he usually fucked with never turned him down, they always wanted more. Why wouldn't it work on Y/N?

Michael sat on the long side of her bed, still thinking about what happened earlier. He couldn't believe that she could play with him like that. It made him look like he was the desperate one, which he is.

He took out his phone to text Duncan about what happened.

Michael: yo dunc, something happened

Dunc 🖕🏻: what happened? slr i'm at a party

Michael: bro she's a tough little shit. i did the usual thing that i would do to another girl, she didn't give in at all. instead, she's playing with me.

Dunc 🖕🏻: lmao man step up your game, she isn't your usual girl

Michael: dumbass you think i'm not?

Dunc 🖕🏻: duh??? if you were actually stepping up your game then you would've fucked her there and then 🙄

Michael: whatever.

Once he heard her bathroom door open, he immediately hid his phone back in his pocket. He looked over his shoulder to see Y/N already dressed in her pajamas. Michael didn't know what to do. His angelic side says to 'go and say sorry', yet his devilish side says to 'try harder and fuck with her feelings even more.' Of course, it was obvious what is choice was.

Y/N plopped herself on the bed and grabbed her blanket that was near Michael. She then placed the blanket over her and locked eyes with him.

Michael crawled beside her and placed the blanket over him as well. They are a few inches apart. Y/N turned the TV on, clicking on Netflix. Though she tried her best to ignore Michael, she can't help but think about what happened earlier. She liked it. No, she loved it. She loved the fact that she was able to get on Michael's nerves, and how he reacted to it. It was hella attractive to her, and the smell of Michael's perfume wasn't helping her either.

Now, Y/N was watching some cartoon show that she loved. "Are you kidding? You still watch cartoons?" Michael complained, gesturing at the TV. "Yea? What about it? I bet you only watch porn." She shot back and pulled the blanket towards her, leaving Michael without it.

Michael laughed, "I just can't believe a girl like you would watch cartoons. I find it cute." He pulled the blanket towards him, sticking his tongue out to tease her.

A few minutes passed by and Michael was on his phone, scrolling on TikTok. The same sound that kept repeating for almost a minute caught Y/N's attention. Was he watching the same video?

Y/N paused the TV and looked over to Michael's direction, averting her gaze to his phone. She took a good look at the video. a shirtless boy with a gold chain, with LED lights in their room.

"You've been watching that video over and over again, Langdon. Do you like him or something?"

"Yea, I like myself."

Like myself? Oh my god, no.

"What do you mean..?" That can't be him in the video.

"That's me."

Y/N's mouth dropped, "Wha— huh? How? I mean, yeah.. but?"

Michael let out a laugh that he had been holding in, "But what? Look, I'll show you." He handed her his phone, which allowed Y/N to have a closer look of the video.

"So you're telling me you blew up on tiktok by thrusting a phone on your pelvis??" Y/N stared at the amount of likes, a fucking million.

"Uh, yeah? That's how TikTok works? Look at the comments." Michael tapped the comments icon and Y/N scrolled through it.

'yo im down bad 😫'

'can we keep him a secret pls'

'chill i have a bf..'

'break my back 🤪'

Y/N bursted out in laughter, "Oh my god, if only they knew." she gave his phone back and Michael looked at her with a puzzled look.

"Knew what?" He asked, "You couldn't even 'break my back' two years ago, Michael!" She said in between giggles. "That was two years ago, Y/N! Two fucking years. I was a virgin!" Michael defended himself, then immediately realizing what he said.

Y/N wasn't aware that she was Michael's first.

"Wait Y/N, the last part isn't tru—"

She smirked and grabbed her phone from wherever she left it. She opened Twitter and decided to tweet about what Michael said, just for fun.

just wanted to let yall know that @m_langdon admitted that 2 years ago he lost his virginity to me 🤩

"What are you typing and why are you smiling?" Michael asked with a hint of fear in his voice. He feared that Y/N would do something that would tear his reputation down.

Y/N gave him a mischievous grin, "Oh nothing, just tweeted about what you said."

Michael's face fell, and Y/N hit the tweet button.

"Did you twee—"

"Yeah, go check your Twitter. I tagged you too."

Michael shot her a slight glare and went to his Twitter.

Y/N's tweet already had 5 retweets, 14 likes, and 8 replies.

"You did not." Michael said, shocked at how she would do something like this. "Ooh sorry babe, I just did." She faked a pout and formed a letter 'L' with her hand.

Michael felt embarrassment fill him, he wanted to scream at her so bad. He never thought that she would go this far. She was never like this.

He took a deep breath, "Why did you tweet that?"

"And you have the audacity to ask why?"

"Delete that tweet, Y/N." His voice was demanding and dark.

"Or what?"

Michael slowly started to kneel on the bed and hover over her. "You don't want to know."

Y/N smirked and fixed her posture, "Infact, I'd like to know. Care to tell me?” 

Michael clearly wasn’t having any of her shit, he was more than angry. He wanted to release all of his frustrations, and he was gonna do that. 

He trapped her by placing a leg on each side of her left thigh. Surprisingly, Y/N did not shrink against the headboard of the bed. She remained in her place. Their faces are centimeters apart now, 

“Now what, Langdon? Just gonna stare at me? Pathetic shit.” She cupped his face and stroked his cheek mockingly, then dragging her thumb against his bottom lip. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael swatted her hand away and crashed his lips again hers. The kiss was so intense, Michael hasn’t kissed any girl like this, it was a foreign feeling for him, and especially for Y/N. Michael’s free hand started roaming throughout her body, tickling her soft flesh. Meanwhile, Y/N was tugging on Michael’s hoodie, “Take this off.” She pulled away from the kiss and gasped for air. Michael took off his hoodie and revealed his naked chest infront of her.

Y/N felt weak. She wanted to fight this feeling so bad, which was lust. But it was too late.

"Fuck me, Michael.." Y/N whimpered, ashamed of her current state. Michael ran his thumb over her bottom lip, "What was that? I didn't catch it." He pouted, teasing her. Y/N couldn't believe herself. She promised herself that she would never fall for any of Michael's antics, yet here she is— completely submitting to him.

Y/N cleared her throat, "Fuck me please.." Michael cocked his head to the side, amused. He was enjoying this. He loved it so much. He finally had Y/N where he wanted her to be, wrapped around his little finger.

Michael's lips ghosted against her cheek, his breath warming up her skin. "Gladly."

And it begins now.

—♡—

this took me like 3 weeks im sorry 😔 nonethelEEEESSSSS i enjoyed writing this despite some breakdowns here and there <3

tags (ily all sm <3): @kitwalker02 @angelicmichael @deademobitch @iheartfrogs101 @tatestripedsweater @mrs-march-ahs @no-mercy-bby @hawtghostgirl @vixemi @antichristwifey @bitchchatter @fallwiththesun @booksandfandomsarelife1 @roseelizabeth666 (im sorry if i missed anyone!!)

—♡—

[deaddovecoterie]

confessions

co-written with @whoseblogsthis

Peeta Mellark x Fem!Reader

Prompt: “Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you!” 

Fandom: the hunger games

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning(s): swearing, unedited, two oblivious dumbasses in love

Genre(s): angst, fluff

A/N: LMAO HI GUYSSSS. so i had the INSANE privilege of writing with my mutual, friend, and insanely talented writer, @whoseblogsthis, ky. i obviously couldn’t have done this without her and im so so blown away by her and her talents. this is basically our child and baby and so im basically screaming right now cause we just finished this and its 1:01am. ANYWAY i really really hope you guys love this as much as we loved writing it <3 mwuah love you all

main stuff -> y/n (your name)

-> e/c (your eye colour)

-> y/l/n (your last name)

Peeta Mellark. 

He was your constant; your rock. You could rely on him for anything and everything.

He was the steadiest thing you’d had in your life for a long time now, but as he took your wrist and led you upstairs away from the party, you couldn’t help but feel the anger bubble up in your chest. 

“Peeta, what—”

“Why?” he nearly shouts. Peeta is mild mannered. He’s many things, actually; polite, charming, and personable, but angry was not one of them. It didn’t scare you like you’d always expected it to, but rather frustrated you. 

“Why what, Peeta?” you hiss back. 

He looks at you as if you had just grown two heads, his brows knit together in disbelief.

“You’re joking,” he breathes. You shake your head, not understanding what he is trying to get at. You defensively cross your arms, knowing the juvenile element would annoy him, but having nothing to do with your hands increases your already anxious state.

“That guy,”

“That guy?”

“Yes, y/n, yes. That guy that was just a little too friendly with you? So close to you that he was practically crawling under your goddamn skin? What were you thinking?”

You laugh at him, unable to contain it. “I can handle myself perfectly fine. Why are you being such an ass?” you all but shout at him. “It’s none of your business anyway?” 

“Hm, let’s see y/n, he could’ve, god, I don’t know, taken advantage of you?” 

You scoff, unable to handle his cliché statement. 

He brings his hands up and pushes his hair back, looking up at the ceiling as he exhales heavily through his nose. You squint at him, unable to read the emotions on his face. 

“What is up with you?” you whisper, not quite sure if he was able to hear. Your eyes narrow, unsure of what his next words might be. 

“For someone so smart, you can be so goddamn oblivious sometimes, y/l/s.”

“Oh my god, what is with all the stupid riddles tonight? I can’t read your mind! You can’t expect me to just know things,” you exasperate, throwing your hands out in front of you. “For someone who’s supposed to be good at communication, you’re doing a pretty shitty job of displaying it,” you spit, throwing his words right back at him. 

“Fine,” he hisses, starting to move towards you.

You cock your eyebrow at him, your bodies coming closer, nearly closing the gap.

“Fine?” you question.

“Yeah.” he huffs out, repeating the word with an heir of finality, “yeah.” His breath warms your face, the scent of vodka invading your senses.

Your cheeks heat up, suddenly very aware of his proximity. You watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly. He can’t meet your eyes, his heart hammering against his chest so loud that it feels as though you can hear it. His head drops along with his gaze, studying the floor before chancing a glance at you. Peeta lets go of a breathy laugh as words tumble out of his mouth.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he breathes, his words choked, hardly audible, him now looking you right in the eyes. Your stomach does a flip once, unsure of his next words. Blue eyes stare at your e/c ones that are clouded in confusion. You can feel his frustration start to build as he takes a step back from you, his voice rising and hands coming from his sides. 

“I’m in love with you,” he bursts out. 

Oh my god.

You stare at him in shock, his proclamation stunning you. You blink once, twice, as his words echoing through your head.

His hazel eyes bore into your e/c ones, willing you to say something, anything, to let him know you heard him. But yet you stand there, unable to find the words. 

Nothing is coming out.

Say something, you beg yourself, wanting to scream out an answer, yet your mouth continues to remain shut. You swallow hard, your tongue feeling like sandpaper. How could you be so oblivious to his feelings? You and him have known each other since childhood, yet there you are, standing only inches away from him, the truth finally known. It seemed 

The look in his eyes is absolutely heart-wrenching; if you hadn’t just heard him, you’d have thought he had lost his best friend. In a way, you guess, he had. 

Peeta just shakes his head softly, shrugging his shoulders in such a way that makes you want to reach out and take his hand. His dark waves fall over his eyes and he turns around, facing the door.

“I—” you begin, but you know it’s too late. 

“Just, um, forget it, y/n,” his voice soft, small, “I’ll see you in environmental studies.”

He opens the door and steps out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. You want to scream, to tell him to come back.  

“Dammit!” you exclaim, throwing your red solo cup as hard as you can at the wall. The contents spill all over, some of the liquid splashing on you but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You reach to pull at your loosely braided hair, a habit of yours that came out whenever you were experiencing an excess of negative emotions, before you realize where you are. You harshly rub your eyes with the heels of your hands as you remind yourself to breathe. 

In, out . . . In, out. 

“Get it together,” you tell yourself, taking one last deep breath. “Okay.”

You turn to head back downstairs to the party, nothing on your mind except finding Peeta and setting everything straight, hoping at this point that that was even a possibility anymore. 

God, you hated this part. You hated having to make up. Saying sorry was never your strong suit, your pride always getting in the way. But this? This was not a matter of pride. This was about finally coming to terms with the truth that you so desperately tried to avoid for years. 

You almost trip as you descend the stairs, looking everywhere for Peeta but unable to find him anywhere in the crowd. 

Spotting a head of wavy bronze hair by the water cooler, you rush over to your english lit classmate, who is also a friend of Peeta’s; Finnick Odair. 

“Hey Finnick,” you say once you reach him, trying to keep your voice even. He greets you with his signature smirk before bringing his cup to his lips and taking a sip.

“Ah, y/n, having a good time I trust?”

“Trying to,” you grumble. Finnick gives you a quizzical look before you proceed; “Have you seen Peeta?” You can’t help but notice the slight crack in your voice when you say his name.

“Yeah,” he confirms, “I saw him leave a few minutes ago. Seemed pretty upset.” 

“Yeah, wonder why,” you mutter bitterly, knowing he wouldn’t hear your words above the music. 

You bite your lip, weighing the option of asking Finnick to help you find Peeta. Half of you wanted to go and find him yourself, your need to get the weight off your chest as quickly as possible, the other half of you wanting to stall for as long as you could.

 “Could you text him? Ask him where he is?” 

“Why can’t you?” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, your cheeks burning. “Because, I—” 

“Wait,” Finnick’s smile widens. “Wait, are you the reason he’s upset?” 

Your silence is enough for him. His dopey smile falters for a moment, an emotion that you could only define as realization sweeping over his face. He shakes his head softly, pulling his phone from the pocket of his hoodie and opening his texts. His thumbs glide swiftly across the screen as he compiles a message to send to Peeta. 

You can’t have been standing there for more than a minute when his phone dings. Finnick flashes you the screen. 

From: Pita Bread 

I’m fine... at the pond. 

“Thank you, Finnick, really,” you breathe.

He just nods, taking another sip of his drink. 

You rush out of the frat house the party was being held in, running across the street to Panem University’s main campus, willing your legs to go faster. 

The pond was at the northern end of campus, smack in the middle of Tribute Hall and the Coriolanus Snow Study Center. You see a silhouette sitting on one of the few stone benches surrounding the body of tranquil water, tossing handfuls of what you can only assume is trail mix at the ducks that liked to take up at the pond. 

You slow down, bringing your footfalls to a trot, then silently padding your way over the grass towards him. Your chest is heaving from the exertion as you try to make your breaths even.

“Peeta,” You call out, your voice void of any venom as you stalk towards the boy. You’re almost inclined to slap him because of how he acted. No rational person could expect someone to give them an answer to a question as heavily weighed as that right away. 

He stands up once you reach him, refusing to look you in the eyes. For a fleeting moment, you catch the grief-stricken look in his usually bright eyes and it’s enough to keep you from raising your hand at him. 

“Why did you leave like that?” you breathe out. He shrugs a shoulder with almost casual indifference. “Peeta.” you nearly plead, looking at him as your eyebrows knit together.

“What did you expect me to do?” he says feebly. 

You look up at the night sky, inhaling deeply as you hurriedly send off a prayer to whatever higher power that you can say everything you want to say to him, in the way you want to say it. 

In a way that says something to him. Means something. 

The stars seem to twinkle brighter, almost like they received your message. God, this is so hard.

Peeta is still looking anywhere but at you, his focus now on the ducks idling in the water. 

“You could have waited for me,” you say. “I mean, come on! That was… big. A big thing to drop on me,” you add, “so of course I was shocked. But if you had just waited for me . . .” 

“What?” he snorts, finally looking you in the eyes. “What would you have said that couldn’t have possibly made me feel like more of a fool than I already was? What—” 

“I love you,” you blurt. 

Here it goes.

“And not in a ‘you’ve always been there for me, so I’m kind of indebted to you’ kind of way but in a way that’s like, ‘I want to do cheesy stuff with you because I know it will make you smile.’ That’s like, I would do anything, anything to prove to you that I’m worthy of your love. Peeta, you’ve seen everything I was and everything I am, and it just— I just couldn’t believe when you said that . . . But I— I trust you with everything in me and it frightens me, because you know I’ve been hurt before, but I can’t deny that everything feels right when I’m with you. I just. I want another chance. If, if you’ll let me.” You breath the words out, hardly anything but air coming out.  

“Y/n, breathe.” 

“Right,” you exhale, your mind swirling around, making vertigo seem like a walk in the park. 

“You’re not . . . unworthy of love,” Peeta begins but he stops, trying to figure out his words. “What Cato did to you, it doesn’t mean you’re undeserving of love. He’s.. an asshole, who’s going to get what’s coming to him. I— I’m sorry for dropping it on you like that, but seeing you with that guy, he just reminded me so much of Cato, and it made me so mad because I didn’t want you to go through that again, and I.. couldn’t help but think it was my final chance to tell you how I felt.” 

“Final chance?” 

“Y/n, I’ve loved you since like year six.” 

“Peeta, you absolute dumbass!” you exclaim, quickly going to cover your mouth as your own words shock even yourself. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . wow,” a laugh nearly escapes your lips. “We’re both oblivious fools, huh?” 

Peeta’s brows furrow in confusion, as you let out a soft chuckle. His head is tilted slightly to the side, his soft curls falling into his blue eyes. This moment is one you’ll always remember, you think to yourself, already trying to commit it to memory. The way the trees slightly sway from the late summer breeze, the moonlight reflecting off the water; best of all, the glint in Peeta’s eye when your gazes meet. It’s so cheesy, really, but you couldn’t care less. You’ve played it over and over in your head for years, different scenarios always being formulated, but nothing you could have ever dreamt of could compare to this moment. 

“I’ve loved you since year seven,” you tell him, every word of it true. “I can’t believe it took us both this long. Could have avoided the whole Cato fiasco of year twelve, I suppose, if we had just . . . had the gall to tell each other back then, I guess,” you say, the last sentence mumbled.

“Yeah.” Peeta laughs, a genuine deep laugh that reaches his eyes. It rouses the butterflies that have been in the pit of your stomach, the fluttering making you nervous as you watch him scratch the base of his neck almost embarrassedly. 

“So,” you say, dragging the ‘o’ sound. “Pretty sure this is the part where most people would kiss.” 

“Do you want to kiss me?” 

“No, not you, Peeta. I was talking to the duck behind you,” You frown, unable to contain the scoff that passes your lips. “Yes.. yes, I want to kiss you,” you breathe, your pulse hammering.

You step forward, your hands reaching up, gliding against his cheeks, his hands resting on your waist. In a moment of bravery, you place your lips against his. They’re soft, and he tastes like cedar and bread, and it’s like coming home, being in his arms as his lips move against yours, the breeze chilling your skin but his warming you. 

There are no words spoken between the two of you as you both pull away. His eyes are still closed, his long eyelashes resting against the tops of his cheeks; the corners of his mouth are pulled up slightly. 

God, he’s beautiful. So beautiful. That word is usually reserved for sceneries, sunsets or pretty dresses, but in this moment, you can’t tear your eyes away from him. 

“Finally!” someone shouts, causing the both of you to jump back from each other, acting like two first years getting caught passing notes in class. You look around before your eyes land on Johanna Mason, leaning against the statue of the university founder Alma Coin that’s off to the left of the entrance of the study center. Finnick is with her, his signature smirk gracing his elegant features once more. “We were wondering when you two would have the balls to tell each other how you felt.” 

“It seems everyone knew but you two,” Finnick adds with a deep chuckle. 

“Alright, Finny, I think we should leave the two lovebirds alone.” Johanna says, turning away. “Be safe, you two!” 

“If you need anything,” Finnick winks at Peeta. “You know where to reach me.”  

You laugh softly, leaning your head against Peeta’s chest. His arms wrap around you, encasing you in him. His cheeks rests on the top of your head, his breaths evening out as you listen to his steady heart beat. 

This is it. This is home. 

[dragimal]

now that s5 is over and I’m starting to wind down from the high of the finale, I think I can finally grasp *exactly* why I have mixed feelings on s5. to be clear, I absolutely ADORE TMA as a whole, and still consider it one of the best pieces of horror media I’ve consumed. but s5 left me feeling... not bad, but off, even when there’s plenty I still rly like abt s5

it mainly comes down to 2 things for me: 1) the severe tone shift, and 2) Martin being Fucking Weird for a lot of the season

a lot of ppl have talked abt how s5 just wasn’t as scary as the previous seasons for various reasons. one kinda inevitable reason was simply that a lot of the mystery of the horror had been revealed at that point, and a monster is never as scary once you can see it clearly. but I think the bigger reason is that the format shifted from horror anthology to.... sociology anthology. like, every statement of s5 felt like a sociology paper on fear and systemic abuse, rather than something meant to chill the reader

this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, honestly-- like I said, much of the mystery had been revealed, so I think it was an understandable move to try to shift the narrative somehow. also, I love sociology papers! I think they’re interesting to read, and s5 gave us some rly creative frameworks for some of them (the poetic carousel, Oliver’s professional assessment, Jared’s garden--)

however, I do think the tone shift was still a bit jarring, esp considering what the audience was used to up to that point. perhaps that’s an appropriate move, to match a plot point as game-changing as the literal apocalypse. BUT that doesn’t mean the tone shift still wasn’t a bit of a let-down, in terms of horror and tension

like, yeah a lot of the mystery was gone, but Hill Top Road ended up being the big mystery of s5... and we weren’t even fully aware of it til almost the end of the season? sure, there was plenty of fan speculation, but we were also considering SO many other possibilities, Hill Top was never rly a core theory until VERY late in the game. like, the mystery seemed to take a backseat to the sociology papers, if that makes sense, lmao

literally the ONE episode to give me chills down my spine like the good ol’ days pre-s5 was MAG196: This Old House. Annabelle vaguely threatening Martin, and ending on, “You have no idea who’s listening, do you?” fucking SUPERB, I was absolutely DELIGHTED by the possibilities of that one line! like, what did it mean? were we gonna go full meta??

but the last few eps after that were... frankly kind of a letdown from that spike of tension? I think those last eps are what rly cinched this idea for me-- that s5 was literally like reading a sociology paper. it rly all was just, arguing about the possibilities, considering the consequences, and making decisions. which, again, isn’t necessarily bad, but it’s not horror-- it’s a thought exercise with an apocalyptic garnish

EDIT-- I forgot to say, I think this is part of why MAG200 simply didn’t hit me the same way it hit others. it was intellectually satisfying-- it tied up loose ends, closed character arcs/relationships, left some delicious ambiguity-- but not emotionally cathartic, if that makes sense? like, I was expecting to cry, but I didn’t even rly get teary? I was grinning and delighted by all the satisfying conclusions, but I didn’t feel that emotional RELEASE that I was expecting and hoping for

as for jonmartin, I want to be clear here. I am NOT one of those ppl that thinks jonmartin came out of nowhere in s4-- I think the buildup pre-s5 was excellent, and their finally being together at the end of s4 was so so earned and rewarding. I’m also NOT one of those ppl that thinks arguments = abuse. I think when I briefly criticized jonmartin in s5 in the past, ppl got this impression that like, I think that jonmartin miscommunicating and having bad coping mechanisms... means that they’re bad for each other and abusing each other? and that’s just not the case?? 

I admit that my initial response to some of the jonmartin weirdness may have been a bit harsh, but even at the time I still loved jonmartin and was simply looking at their relationship with a critical but loving lens

what I have a problem with is that Martin pulls just as much bullshit as Jon in s5, and NEVER gets called out for it

this post I made a while back gets more into the details that bother me, but essentially, there’s always been this rly uneven “accountability scale” (idk what else to call it) for Jon vs. a lot of other characters-- in that, Jon always gets called out for his bullshit, while a lot of other characters don’t. now a lot of this is perfectly explainable as Jon being the main character, so we simply see his fuck-ups AND the subsequent consequences more often than any other character. and there are plenty of characters that I absolutely do NOT blame for going a bit overboard (I give Melanie and Tim in particular a ton of leeway here, given their respective situations. they more or less have full rights to bully Jon imo)

but, the problem is, there are also a LOT of moments where other characters say something absolutely horrific to Jon (namely Basira and Georgie in s4), like imply that he’s responsible for problems he had absolutely no control over, or fucking blame him for literally being groomed into an Archivist by people/powers he couldn’t even grasp... and those accusations are just left to sit and fester in Jon, completely uncontested

the nice thing abt s5 is that most of this is addressed-- like Basira’s completely unfair double-standards for “monsters”, and Georgie unknowingly blaming Jon for his trauma, etc.-- in very satisfying ways.

.... except for Martin.

without rehashing that linked post too much, Martin’s main problem in s5 is that his go-to response to trauma is denial. he denies the fact that he wants to kill avatars for his own satisfaction (which is a completely reasonable desire on its own tbqh!), and instead continues to lie to himself (for quite a long time) that killing avatars is actually helping anyone but Jon and Martin. he denies that Jon’s become a real full-fledged “monster”, and refuses to acknowledge all the baggage that comes with that

this denial unintentionally projects a lot of rly fucked-up messages at Jon, like: Jon is now a freaky horrorshow (even when he’s doing something completely innocuous, like talking casually about his powers); Jon’s fears over losing his autonomy/identity to the Eye, and his fears over his proven abilities to hurt others, are invalid; monsters inherently deserve to die, despite Jon technically being one; Jon not being able to use his powers “well enough” is some failure on his part

now, none of this is to say Martin’s characterization on its own is a bad thing-- I actually think it could’ve been interesting! it’s a perfectly reasonable trauma response, it tracks for Martin’s character pre-s5, and could have been a rly interesting perspective to explore.... if it was ever actually challenged by the narrative or other characters

I think the closest we got was Martin’s conversation with himself in his own domain, when his double calls him out for fantasizing a happy ending where Jonah is dead and Jon and Martin kiss (OUGH.... JONNY YOU HURT ME..), but that still never rly addresses the hurt that Martin’s denial causes Jon

and god, I was rly holding out-- Martin seemed to chill out on the denial a lot after the first third of the season, and I was hoping it might go a similar route as Basira, where it would just take a while to rly address Martin’s issues. but then Jon and Martin have their argument in MAG194, and I was fully on Martin’s side of it, UNTIL he said, “You weren’t meant to enjoy it this much!” (in reference to Jon killing avatars), and when Jon calls him out, Martin just brushes over it! 

BOY when I tell you I went BALLISTIC.... FUCK YOU Martin, YOU’RE the one that went all Kill Bill and PUSHED Jon to feel the same way!! JESUS. like I get that that wasn’t the core of the argument there, but oh my god that one bit...

and once again, to make myself perfectly fucking crystal clear here, this is coming from someone who relates heavily to both Jon and Martin. I can see exactly where Martin is coming from for many of his decisions, and the trauma that’s led him to mentally protect himself like this. so it only makes me more frustrated to see him refuse to face his own issues, while still (understandably) expecting Jon to face his issues. yes, Jon pulls a LOT of bullshit in s5 that he deserves to be called out for (and called out he is!), but accountability goes both ways, Martin! you can’t demand responsible behavior from others if you’re not willing to extend the same courtesy!

[onthepageoftears]

What Was Lost —  Pt 1 (Jaskier x Reader) || Witcher

A/N: Okay so i started writing this and it was superrrr long, so i decided to split it into two. The second part will come out tomorrow, don’t you worry. Anyway, this is yet another entry for @thewitcherbingo​ so I hope everyone enjoys! Also, this was based on a post in the witcher tag that is linked below :)

Summary: Y/N, a famous bard, is cursed by a sorceress and loses her voice, leaving her only hope to get it back with the famous Witcher and her rival, Jaskier.

(based on this post)

Bingo Square Filled: Rivalry

Warnings: mentions of loss, grief, death, sex, drinking all the good stuff lmao; also fluff and angst!!

Word Count: 2,257

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

(Pt 2)

Loss was not something you were unfamiliar with.

The haziness of loss clouded over you throughout your whole life. One step after the other, you experienced what it meant to be disappointed and left behind — never really on purpose, but that didn’t mean you weren’t bitter about it. Bitter at the world, yes, but also at yourself.

Your mother died soon after she gave birth to you; her short, but wholly loving embrace was only a memory you had from what others told you. Not knowing what it was like to have a mother made the loss of her feel less than what it should have been; you felt complete with the life you had, though the curiosity of what a mother’s touch felt like barely left your mind. Still, being surrounded by the rest of your family kept your loss from overtaking your life, and for a while, you were a relatively content child.

And then, your father didn’t come home.

He had been attacked by bandits — any merchant was at that risk, but never did it cross your mind that your very own father could be a victim. Of course, your naive mind was flipped upside down when you went looking for him and found his cart ripped apart only a couple miles down the road from your village. Everything was taken, including your father’s life, and you were once again reminded of how heavy your heart could feel when something was ripped away from it.

As you tried to make it in the world, you felt loss tracking your every move. It was a cloud that was just on the brink of churning up a thunderstorm right over your head. But, as you grew, the cloud shrank, until it was totally gone. You were finally free of what it meant to lose because you had gained so much. But the freedom from loss never truly left a person, and you would soon realize that despite a large gain, loss would always be lingering around the corner.

—

You were a fiery bard. It was one of your famous attributes, one of the things that kept people coming to your performances. That, and your singing voice. It was an unusually unique thing — your father used to call it a gift that no one knew existed. Your voice was as fiery and passionate as you were, and bards from near and far envied you for it.

And you fed off of that, like a leech from the nearby river. You loved the way other bards watched you perform with a hateful glint in their eyes that could only be described as friendly competition. It was what kept you going — that, and the coin. You had made a name for yourself in your own time, but it was all worth it. You had people nearly begging to hear your voice, others begging to have your voice, and some wishing it was gone completely.

“Jaskier.” You emerged from the cheering crowd and smirked at the fellow bard; your set had just ended and happened to be preceding the young man in front of you. Though the crowd seemed overjoyed, he was quite the opposite.

“Y/N.” He practically seethed. “Quite the show.”

“It was, wasn’t it?" Your smile never left despite the man’s hateful expression.

Though you’d hate to admit it, Jaskier was your best competition. He wasn’t always — once you were almost an inspiration to him, despite you two being around the same age. But as soon as he met Geralt, the mysterious witcher, he finally found what he was good at performing. It was honestly quite sad when Jaskier would go out on adventures, as none of the other bards had the guts to challenge you.

Even though you two had quite the rivalry, you had a lot of respect for the bard. You had seen him rise in his career, seen the good and the bad from him, and in the end, you knew he was quite the talent. You weren’t sure how he felt about you, but that wasn’t something you needed to know — just like he didn’t need to know of your slight admiration of him.

You flashed Jaskier a bigger smile. “I can only hope your performance will keep the crowd excited.”

“Oh, it will, I can promise you that.”

“Your promises hold the validity of a drunken sailor.”

“And your voice the beauty of a Drowner’s bum.” This time, Jaskier smiled. Despite the vile words that escape his lips, he seemed happy to be back.

You rolled your eyes. “A Drowner’s bum is beautiful to someone.” You tapped underneath your eye. “The eye of the beholder.”

“More like the ear of the beholder.” Jaskier’s eyes purposefully ran down your body, then back to your face. “Did you ever think you’d be helping the world if your voice was…gone?”

“Of course not. If that were true, maybe you’d be the one the crowd was calling on for an encore.” You quirked a brow and his eyes flicked to the crowd that was chanting your name. He took his cup of ale and threw the rest of the liquid back into his mouth, letting out a frustrated groan as he slipped past you. “Good luck!” You called, and he scrunched his nose aggressively at you; you only laughed at his gesture and took his seat at the bar.

As you waited for your drink, your mind wondered about what Jaskier said. He was kidding, you hoped, but you thought — gods forbid — if you didn’t have your famously known voice, what would you do? What would make you happy?

You shook the thought away. Ever since you were a child, singing was a way to make the bad times okay. It didn’t cure all your pain, but it simmered it, and because of that you were here. It was silly to think of such events, so you decided to put your mind on more important matters.

The cup of fresh ale was on your lips when you heard the woman speak.

“The mind is a strange thing.”

You turned your head slightly — the voice was soft, but loud. Like a whisper only you could hear. It was especially surprising because Jaskier had already started his performance, where everyone was singing along and making as much racket as they could. Yet still, you could hear the woman’s voice.

She was quite young looking, but her eyes seemed even wiser than what her age inferred — something told you she lived longer on this Earth than anyone you had ever met; which, to be fair, wasn’t saying much. Still, the slight twitch in her smile sent a shiver down your spine.

You placed down your drink. “What was that?”

“The mind.” The woman slinked into the open space between your seat and the man next to you. “It is quite strange, don’t you think?”

“I think I’m too sober for this.” You laughed and took another gulp of your drink. After gritting your teeth from the strength of the ale, you turned to the woman. “Do you want an autograph?”

She kept a steady smile. “No. I want you to help you find what you are missing.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the calmness of her statement. This woman had to be crazy; perhaps she was playing a joke on you. But the look in her eyes told you otherwise. You stuttered. “Ex-excuse me?” You watched as the woman took out a small jar. She opened the lid and gestured for you to look inside. You didn’t. “What the hell is this?”

Though before you could hear her clearly, now her words were just a distant whisper. It was another language, surely, and the longer she spoke the more uneasy you felt. As you opened your mouth to speak, a strong wince of pain burrowed in the bottom of your throat, making you grab your neck with a free hand. You looked back at the older woman, who closed up the jar and waved it in front of your face. Your eyes caught a small rune-like symbol on the bottle before she placed it back in her pouch.

“When you find me, you will know.”

In the blink of an eye, her unsettling smile was gone. And so was your voice.

Just like that, the cloud of loss had returned. Your heart felt so heavy that it weighed you down as you desperately clawed at the emptiness of your throat. You wanted to scream for someone to grab the woman, to help you, for anything — but you couldn't. You grabbed at the people around you, forcing them to turn and glare. But as you dropped to the floor, the people knew something was wrong — they crowded around, towering over you with their fearful eyes and loud shrieks of worry. As you searched the faces for someone who could help, you realized the only thing you could do in that moment was let the world around you go dark.

—

You woke up in a room that you knew wasn’t your own. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened (being a bard had its perks) but it would be the first time you saw a person waiting over you.

“Oh, thank the gods you aren’t dead.” Jaskier’s relieved face hovered over your own, only leaning back once you widened your eyes at his presence. “The crowd was worried. They would’ve had a riot if you didn’t wake up.”

You frowned and opened your mouth to speak. Did I faint? But your voice made no sound.

Panic rose in your chest as you sat up, your hand raising to grasp at your throat. So it wasn’t a dream. Your eyes watered almost immediately, both from the fear that banged against your ears and the scratches you were leaving on your own neck.

“Hey, hey — woah, woah, woah okay, calm down. Calm down, Y/N.” Jaskier sat on the bed next to you and grabbed your hands as they clawed at your skin — despite your silent protest, he held them down in your lap. His eyes scanned your face as you tried to scream the words you were thinking.

“Can you…can you not speak?”

You shook your head and, trying to relax your shaking hands, let out what would have been a long sigh.

Jaskier stared at you for a moment, squinting his eyes as he processed what was happening. He lifted his hands and placed one on his chin. “So you weren’t trying to sabotage my set?” You could only glare at him, but he was too busy mumbling to himself. “Yes, well, either way, it worked.”

You slapped him in the arm, bringing his attention back to you.

“Right. You can’t speak — or sing. Oh. Oh boy. This is not good for you.”

“What do you remember?”

The voice took you aback, and as you swiveled your head to the other side of the room, there stood the famous witcher from Jaskier’s songs. Geralt. You had never had a proper introduction, though you supposed now wasn’t the time.

You closed your eyes and tried to shake the memories back into place — after fainting, you were still feeling a little lightheaded. Still, your mind drifted back to the moment before, when the woman smiled all too politely in your face. I want to help you find what you are missing. But what you were missing?

You opened your eyes and looked at the men who stared back at you. With an eye roll, you made a gesture of writing.

“Ah, yes.” Jaskier snapped his fingers towards Geralt. “The notebook, by the table.”

Geralt picked up the notebook and quill and handed it to you with a nod. “Geralt, by the way.”

You nodded back, somehow getting used to the loss of your own voice. Without dwelling on it too much, you wrote what you were thinking.

Once you handed it to him, Jaskier read your note out loud, “‘She said something was missing.’” He looked up and blinked. “What was missing?”

You widened your eyes at him with a clenched jaw, as if to say ‘how should I know’. He shrugged.

Geralt huffed. “Anything else you remember?”

You closed your eyes and tried to think of the woman. Creepy smile, bright but aged eyes, the clear whisper of her voice, the jar—

You scribbled on the notebook and flipped the page towards Geralt.

Geralt frowned. “A jar with a rune. Looks like a rune for — oh.”

You frowned. Jaskier answered for you. “Oh?”

“It’s old — very old. The only sorceress I know of that uses it —“

“A sorceress?” Jaskier exclaimed for you. He jumped up from the bed, nearly hopping in his spot. “Now this is interesting.”

This time, Geralt spoke for you, “It wasn’t interesting enough with a lost voice?”

“Of course it was. But a sorceress? This could be the greatest tale of all the Continent. And beyond!” Jaskier turned to you with a grimace. “No offense.”

You flipped him the bird. Then, picked up the pen and wrote: Fix?

Geralt nodded at the writing. “I know where the sorceress lives. We can be there in under a week if we leave in the morning.”

“Wonderful!” Jaskier clapped his hands together and smiled way too brightly. “Tomorrow it is!”

You supposed you didn’t have much of a choice. You closed your eyes and let out a silent breath, wishing this nightmare would be over soon.

———————————————————————————————————

Tags: @trees-fanfic​

[yslkook]

I am the person who asked about cultural appropriation and I felt so much better after seeing your post. I believe everyone is entitled to their own opinion and it shouldn’t be used to invalidate other people’s opinions. I have been a kpop fan for a long time and I remember when ddududdudu came out I was a huge blackpink fan back then and I saw the bindi and I felt kind of weird. I didn’t know how to react but I didn’t really like it. I was young and a bit naïve so I think that was my first real exposure to cultural appropriation. I didn’t really acknowledge it before because it wasn’t people I look up to doing it. And I had my reasons for being offended. 1.) I have experienced a lot of racism as an Indian living abroad and have been called all sorts of slurs for being too Indian so I don’t feel comfortable wearing a bindi but others could and when I went online they were praised for their amazing outfits and looks 2.) I had never seen blackpink address their Indian fans or anything to do with Indian culture. Then I went on Twitter hoping to see other people maybe speak up about it but oh my god it was a messsss. People were losing their shit over how it wasn’t even Indian culture cuz it was just a gem and then also that it doesn’t matter cuz Indians don’t even mind if others wear bindis. And there were non-Indian people defending their faves so fiercely to the point they started insulting Indian culture and i was so scared. I was in a kpop group chat back then and I mentioned there that I didn’t like it and they were okay with that. But after seeing what happened on Twitter, I felt a bit scared that people might think I overreacted so I literally told them that ‘I was feeling bitchy’ and ‘forget what I said’. I really invalidated myself and my opinions even though I personally felt offended. Over the years I have realised how big of a problem this is, not just in kpop, but in the media we’re exposed to in general. But it’s more frustrating to see the idols that tell me they love their fans equally and love everyone also take freely from my culture and not give back. I’m at the point where I don’t feel like a fan because kpop is not catered towards someone like me. And whenever I have tried to educate others, people take it upon themselves to shut me out. Like I’m not even trying to cancel your faves, just educate them but for some reason as soon as certain fans hear cultural appropriation they go into full attack mode thinking that their faves are being cancelled. And this made me realise that there is so much hypocrisy and internalised racism present to this day, not just against Indians but so many other minorities. A lot of kpop fans also have double standards when it comes to racism. Even if they support artists of colour, they can still be racist. It’s sad because kpop has grown so much and have a large audience of young people who look up to them. And when these idols get away with feigning ignorance, their fans think that’s it’s okay to do the same too. It’s a dangerous concept for a generation that should be advancing with their thinking, not going back in time. Also I’m really sorry the ask became so long. I might as well have submitted an essay. I had to talk to someone about this after I saw someone tell me that I should be happy that kpop idols wear bindis because they look good in it....meanwhile if I wear it, I get called things I can’t even say on here. Some people just don’t seem to understand that. Also, I know that I mentioned blackpink a lot here but that’s because I used to be a blink so that was my personal experience with them. I know there are groups out there who have done worse and it just makes me sadder. I am put off of kpop but I really do enjoy the music and the whole fun of being a kpop fan. But the ignorance that runs through the kpop industry and some of the fans too really can’t be ignored.

yeah its definitely jarring for elements of your culture to be thrown in your face while people outside of your culture are praised for taking the same things that others would bully you for. a lot of fans seem to be quick to call out racism and xenophobia against kpop idols (which is a very real thing obviously) but turn a blind eye when there are clear instances of 1. fandom racism 2. cultural appropriation and racism being perpetuated by idols/companies

the original intent of cancel culture makes sense, but i feel like now the conversation stems around the fear of being cancelled rather than accepting accountability and doing better moving forward. people are allowed to grow and change...but dismissing that the wrongdoing even happened is not the way. ive mainly heard about this kind of devotion/behavior on twitter though (no wonder kpop stans have a bad name when the first thing that comes to mind is kpop twitter). i feel like people on here are pretty good about not brushing this to the side

you definitely didnt overreact by just calling out that it wasnt okay and it was also wrong for people to say it was just a "gem" lmaoooo wtf. and you obviously cant just make a generalized statement to say that indians dont mind...who is anyone to say that. even a south asian who doesnt mind that much doesnt have the right to say that all indians dont mind if others wear the bindi...because people can have differing opinions (in my opinion). but its pretty obvious when things do and dont belong

you probably didnt send me an ask for unsolicited advice but ill give it to you anyway- anyone (in real life or on the internet) who makes you feel like your lived experiences dont matter are not worth your time. you know your intentions are good by calling bad things out when you see it. if paying attention to kpop on twitter is affecting you that badly, then maybe take a step back and see how you feel. anything that is affecting your internal peace should be re-assessed, protect your peace!! i agree with you, the ignorance cant and shouldnt be ignored by idols/companies and fans!

as far as engaging with kpop despite all of this...it's up to you to determine what level of engagement you want to have. it's definitely very off putting but these days, is no ethical consumption i feel lmao. maybe it would help if you found a niche of fandom that you're comfortable with engaging in. i feel like people on here are very cool and not quick to dismiss things

and no worries about writing a long ask LMAO bc i wrote one right back and had to include a read more...

[a-dozen-moderate-fragments]

This isn’t going to be a manifesto on healing or mental health or any of those things, and not because I don’t have years of personal experience in those areas, but rather because the only experience I can talk about is personal. The things that worked for me aren’t guaranteed to work for anyone else, but they’re all I have. I just want to write down a bunch of stuff I’m thinking about. The story goes a little something like this:

Up until somewhere around two years ago I was very depressed – and I think it started when I was ten or so? One of the things that makes this so tricky to talk about is that I don’t remember most of it and it feels like I only woke up a few years ago. But that’s for another time. What matters today is that for a pretty decent chunk of my life, to varying degrees, I was not doing so great in the general head region. Around the middle of high school (so like 15-16 years old) this showed up as a gradually worsening spiral into self-hatred, suicidal ideation, and a general lack of function that reached its extreme early senior year (18 yrs old), with a generous helping of shitty behavior throughout. I’ll spare the details, but to briefly summarize: an attempt, a deliberately anonymized and untraceable plea for help, two days of protective hospitalization, and three very awkward sessions with a therapist, with whom I did not even slightly cooperate (lmao Sarah I’m sorry for being such an obstinate little shit, and to anyone who was here for the other blog at the time and saw what I wrote about the experience, you deserve the employee discount), and to an extent those things helped, but, and weird flex incoming, I think what really helped me recover my mind and pull my schoolwork and personal relationships out of the nosedive I’d put them in was laundry. Let me explain.

I started doing my own laundry around age 12. No particular reason; that’s just when I decided I was a ✨big boy✨ or whatever the fuck and asked my mom to teach me how to do it. And for a while it was entirely insignificant, just a thing I did in between all the other things I did. After my \\epic crisis moment// though, the task became more significant. As I sat with the flaming rubble of a self I’d left me, I knew three things: that I wanted to take this wreck and twist it into someone better, that I didn’t have the tools to do the job or even an idea of where to look for them, and that I’d start in the laundry room. The person I’d been had in every measurable way fallen the heck apart, but for some reason none of my issues interfered too badly with my ability to do laundry. Admittedly, it did often happen far closer to the last minute than it needed to, but regardless it always got done. No matter how much of a crisis I was in, by god I was going to at least be having that crisis in clean clothes. So when it came time to rebuild anew, that’s where I started. While I was gathering my dirty clothes to put in the wash, maybe I’d also pick up those papers off the floor, or maybe I’d glance through my email inbox while I was waiting for the dryer so I could have a few hours to prepare myself before I had to actually write an email. It took months and months of concentrated work and lots of fragile progress, but eventually, building outwards from “I am capable of doing laundry,” I made my way into one (1) reasonably stable and functioning human.

There were other factors, of course. Another big thing I did was to surround myself with better things. I removed myself as much as possible from people who might bring me back into my old patterns, and as much as possible surrounded myself with stories of positivity and growth and healing, and I learned to sing, and I found people both real and fictional to live for, and if I’m being honest? Part of it was being here on tumblr reading posts about cherry pies and flowers in the concrete and monsters and heroes blended into one, and I’m also sure there’s symbolism in the laundry ritual to dig into about cleansing and wiping away past transgressions and all that christian bullshit, but all of that stuff’s not really what I’m interested in here. I know at the start I said I only can talk about myself, but I think it’s useful to talk about what I did in general terms, to examine how a broken person with no idea how to mend can do so. These are what I take away from my experience with forcefully rebuilding myself: If you’ve only got one solid thing, you screw in a handhold and cling to it for all you’re worth. It can be the smallest or most unrelated thing and it does not matter; it will still crack open the door to further growth. It’s a fundamentally self-driven effort that takes a long time, but it gets a little easier if there’s another person in the equation, whether they be a friend, a family member, or even a fictional character. It’s far too easy to get frustrated with how little progress you seem to be making and give up, but having another person to fight for so they can have a better version of you can counter that. It might not be the 100% healthiest thing to define yourself by how you benefit others, but it helps. Bonus points if one of those people in the equation is a certified mental health professional. Be aware of what your subconscious is telling you as you go. You’re already in a state of reconstruction, so if there’s something you need to change, this is a good time to do it. If there’s something you find yourself idly thinking about a lot, examine it (hint hint trans hint. Not that that’s an obligatory part of this whole process but like. It was for me lmao). It’s hard and it sucks and progress is not linear nor is it guaranteed to stick 100% of the time but I promise it is so worth it and there will come a day when you no longer feel in danger of slipping and I’m proud of how far you’ve come and how far you’ll go.

And I don’t really have anything meaningful to say but as shit has this year has been in general, for the first time I remember I’m happy that I’m alive and I’m so glad I was able to claw my way to this point and I know I’ve got much farther to go but – and this is a radical statement for me – I genuinely do love who I’ve become and I’m excited to see where I go next, how much more genuinely and readily I can love and how many people I can care about and bring with me.

[surteic]

On The Run

Summary: Hydra returns after its final destruction years ago and wants their Winter Soldier back. Meanwhile Bucky and Loki have started forming a tight bond between the two of them and with Hydra being aware of their little project’s new friend, they won’t miss the chance to get their hands on a god too. ATTENTION! This is going to be a sort of Thor:Ragnarok AU! (actually, this will be an MCU!AU pls don’t ask me what that means)

Pairing: Bucky x Loki Genre: idk how to rate this but nothing major, kinda humour Warnings: violence (a bit) Words: 1.868

A/N:  Please keep in mind that my native language is not English, so there might be mistakes when it comes to grammar and vocabulary. I haven’t seen the movies in English either but I’m trying my best to get their characters right. I hope it turned out somewhat good lmao if not then I am terribly sorry.

Chapter-Index

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[Gifs are not mine]

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Chapter 1

Somewhere in an underground Hydra base, USA:

“Any news on where the Winter Soldier is, right now?”  the general asked, facing the big screen in front of him. His arms crossed over his chest. An analyst, probably a soldier as well, turned around in his chair, grabbing his tablet and walking over to the general whose hate filled eyes pierced through the other man’s. Starting to get nervous as the general raised his chin, threatening, he turned the screen to the older man.

“We located him at the Avengers Compound, Upstate New York.” The soldier answered, scared of how his boss would react to the news that the winter soldier was once again united with his oldest friend, Steve Rogers. And apart from that, probably had his memory back after all. Years, decades of torturing him and forming his mind wasted thanks to a man in spandex. Did he still have that filthy suit? After all it had been years since the fall of Hydra, but they were on the rise again. And they would pay.

“Is captain Rogers with him?” the general asked, finally finished with his inner monologue. “No, sir. The captain and a few others are currently on a mission.” “And they leave the winter soldier behind.” He smiled devilish, grabbing the tablet with his gloved hand. The black leather making a soft squeaking noise every time his hand moved. With a stern face, he looked up again, his smile fading. “Bring me the soldier. We need our weapon back. He belongs to us.”

Pure shock and horror was written all over the soldiers faced as the room suddenly went silent. Gazes were exchanged, panic filled the room. “But, sir. The winter soldier has formed some sort of friendship with Thor’s brother! He’s a god we don’t know anything about.” But suddenly the younger man’s voice changed. He became quiet, trying not to cause a scene. “Sir, this will be a suicide mission.” But the general was not impressed at all. Closing his leather coat and turning to leave, he yelled. “I said get me the soldier! And bring me the god too. With him on our side, the Avengers will fall. As they should have years ago.” Then he vanished, leaving his frightened subjects behind.

..

Avengers Compound, Upstate New York: “Bucky, I’ve told you before, this is not going to work.” Loki sighed as he watched his friend trying to hack into Stark and Banner’s lab. “Well, it isn’t going to work if you just stand there. Give me a hand and stop complaining.” Bucky was frustrated. He’d tried everything to get into the lab. Every code he could think of, he searched Stark’s room, his belonging, everything, but without success. There was nothing. He turned around, his long hair falling in his face. “Help me please?” he said provocative, a fake smile plastering his face.

“I will not help you and anger Stark. I’ve had enough trouble with him in the past and I’d rather stay out of that.” Bucky stood up from his bend down position and put the strands of hair from his face. He looked at the god with a frown. “And what? Tony tried to kill me once! If it wasn’t for Steve, I’d be dead! So, get over here and do a lil’ magic trick so that I can see what he’s been working on, since he wants to keep it a secret.” Defeated Loki let his arms hang down beside him.

“Okay, fine. I’m going to help you, but it was your idea and if Stark ever gets aware of that we broke into his lab, I will-“before he could even finish Bucky interrupted. “Yeah, okay. I get it, you’re gonna be a snitch. Now do something!”  

With a snap, they disappeared, the place they’ve been standing on covered in smoke.

When Bucky opened his eyes, it all happened in a blink of an eye, he had a look around. “The lab!” he yelled excited. “Why are you so surprised? You said you wanted in Stark’s lab and now we’re here. You humans are pathetic.” Ignoring the god’s statement, he went to the desk standing in the middle of the room, covered in high tech things. Bucky didn’t know what any of those things were, but they were fascinating. He’d always had a weakness for technology, even back in the day when he and Steve went to the Stark Expo in 1943. He’d wanted to check out more of the technic stuff that was standing in the lab, but his actions were cut off by an alarm going off. He put everything down and gazed at Loki.

“What’s that?” he asked, sprinting to the door, before he remembered. Ah, yes. It’s locked. “I think it’s the alarm.” Loki answered before a green light wrapped around him and his casual clothing turned into his battle armour. Bucky gave him a weird glance. “Really? You had to change first?” but Loki didn’t answer. He shrugged the soldier’s statement off and looked through the big windows that faced the wide grass area where they’d usually train. The floor, along with the glass, started vibrating; a loud noise, similar to one of a helicopter could be heard from outside.

“What is happening?” Loki was confused. As much as he was aware of everyone was on a mission or had the day off. Stark really threw a big party and let everyone sleep off their hangover, unbelievable.

“I don’t know. We need weapons. Where’s your gun?” Bucky asked as he grabbed the nearest thing he could find in Tony’s lab. The god used his magic skills and let two small knives appear, one in each of his hands. “You really wanna fight with butter knives?” Bucky laughed as he pushed some buttons on the weapon he had found, he assumed it was some sort of a gun. Whilst Loki had changed his small knives into bigger blades, Bucky still did not know how the weapon worked. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” Loki asked worried. “I’ll find out.” Sceptically Loki raised his eyebrows.

Minute by minute the noise started to get louder and louder. It wasn’t until in all black and blue covered people with helmets shot through the window. “Get down!” Bucky yelled as he turned over a table and hid behind it; Loki doing the same. Shooting back Bucky took a glance at their counterparts.

“Shit.” He panicked. “What is it?” Loki asked, getting ready to sprint at the other men and putting his knives in their chests. “You’re not going to run over there, are you mad?! You won’t stand a chance against their guns. Now stay behind that damned table or let some guns appear, Loki.” “This really isn’t the time to argue with me about my choice of weapons, Bucky. Now tell me why they had you so shocked, before we die.”

Putting more bullets in the Hydra soldiers both stood up, making their way to the window. The scene was a mess. Shards of glass everywhere, Stark’s inventions shot and destroyed the lab equalled a battlefield. Well, it kind of was.   “There are too many, I can’t keep them all under control!” Bucky yelled, using his metal arm to punch the remaining soldiers in their faces before bringing them to fall. He jerkily turned around, looking for his partner. Bucky could clearly see that he was out of breath as well. They were just too many.

“Do something, Loki!” he yelled, fighting every man that he came across. “What exactly do you want me to do? I am trying my best!” came as an answer right before a blue lightning struck through the room, taking more than half the soldiers down. Breathing heavily, he nodded, pointing with his gun at the god.

“That. That was what I was talking about. Great job.” He laughed. But Loki was less amused. He shook his head and waited for the trouble to come. “That wasn’t me.”

With a final blue lightning and a shield flying threw the crashed windows, every Hydra agent was defeated or driven back. “Brotherrrrr!” yelled a deep and enraged voice, as a tall man with blond hair was carried inside by his flying hammer. The moment his feet hit the ground, a man, hidden behind steel and a bearded brown-haired patriot, along with other people followed. The helmet of the robot-like looking person suddenly disappeared, revealing an angry black-haired man.

“You two! What have you done to my lab?! Everything is destroyed!” Stark yelled, trying to see if any computer he had in there would still be working. To his misfortune nothing worked. He sighed angrily, approaching the couple and pointing threating at their faces. “You better pray that Friday still  has all the copies or I’ll have your asses.”

“Tony.” Came a soft voice from behind the angry tin-man but he wouldn’t have any of this. “No, Rogers! They are troublemakers! They are not only getting themselves in danger but us as well! I can’t believe I even agreed to let them stay here.” “Our jobs include taking risks, Tony. We’re in danger every day we’re on a mission.” The captain tried to explain but it only made Tony angrier. “That’s the point, Steve! When we’re on missions! Not at home, where everyone should be safe! What would have happened if Peter was here?”

“Hey!” yelled Bucky, trying to calm everyone down and getting control of what was happening right now. After all there where bigger issues to discuss than them being a danger to everyone, as usual. The room went silent as his voice pierced through the destroyed room but Bucky’s focus only applied to Steve. He’d understand.

“Those soldiers, Steve. Hydra’s back.” He gulped, throwing away his weapon.

“What?” Steve remarked, praying to be misinformed.

“Hydra is back. I don’t know what they want but the symbol, Steve.” The soldier pointed to where one agent lay and turned him around, revealing the Hydra sign imbedded on his chest.

“They’re here to get back their most powerful weapon.” Stark said as he looked down the window.

“How do you know?” Bruce asked as he tried to see what Tony saw but failed as the fear of heights took over his body and he backed off.

Pointing to the ground he rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe because of the metal arm that’s sticking out of my lawn? Wild guess.” Squinting his eyes, he took a better look at the arm. “Is that a note? Who even writes notes anymore? Is Hydra living in the 20th century? Looks like they downgraded.” using his suit he jumped from the building and got both the note and the metal arm. Holding the tiny piece of paper right in front of his face he read: “The Avengers will fall once the soldier and the god are ours. There will be no mercy.”

Not even showing his concern and keeping his poker face as usual, Stark sighed, handing the note to Steve and looking at both Loki and Bucky he said, “Looks like they’re after both of you. Congratulations on your adoption.”

TBC

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Masterlist

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Taglist: @starscreamloki​

[goldtips]

okay so ya girl is back at it again. this was originally going to be a reply to someone but well. it got out of hand. i shat all over babylon the anime a while ago and honestly kind of feel bad. there are definitely things that the show does that makes it stand out, esp as a seasonal anime bc you dont expect dir. to spend much time on them!!!! like if we’re comparing this to shows like fanservice anime or any .. mediocre seasonal isekai then ofc this show is better lmfao. the only reason i shit on it is because i expected this anime to be Better ;;;;;;;

mind, i’m not rescinding my statement - as far as i’m concerned, babylon is still a hella frustrating anime because it tries to showcase humans as nihilistic, utilitarian robots that don’t seem to consider the topic of suicide emotionally even though thats supposedly humanity’s defining trait ??? and it deals with the topic of suicide with the care of elephants gallivanting in the fucking savanna :))) the whole show has also been pretty lacklustre in terms of characterization, trying way too hard to be intellectual and feed edgy plot points instead of giving any development - the plot feels reactionary overall and placid rather than exciting. also, the fact that the anime started as a mystery / politico-legal sort of show just makes the transition from that to abstract theory even more forced...........

HOWEVER im promised im going to stop shitting on babylon so lets talk about what the anime does right shall we. more specifically,,, the biblical imagery!!! is great !!!! : D

the show is called babylon. in the old testament (ot), babylon is humanized as a “brutal, callous and proud” woman who “believed that she would reign over the earth forever.” in the new testatment the phrase “she who is at babylon” refers to the new world culture currently at war with the covenant community. in such that rome, as a mistress or whore of the new world, is seeking to seduce and subvert people of god, enticing men to fall “drunk with the wine of her fornication.”

yes,,,, a whore who uses sex to entice innocent men into complying with new culture? who believes herself to be akin to god and also in this context, above the law and morality - im gonna say its not too far a stretch to say that magase was intended to symbolise the whore of babylon.

however, that’s not all - links can be made between the enactment of the suicide laws and the seduction of new culture. who exactly is leading the front? kaika itsuki ( 齋 開化 ), who’s name literally means culture. that aint a coincidence. also, that weirdly-placed reference to roman law / norms during the suicide debate as a way to convince the masses to revert / adopt roman ideology??? also not a coincidence. :))))

in addition, there are two other major biblical events related to babylon:

the book of revelations; and

the tower of babel.

its safe to say that both narratives are being pushed atm.

revelations:

in revelation 17, the spirit of babylon decends upon earth through the whore. she arrives on the back of a beast with 7 heads, “arrayed in purple and scarlet”, “drunk with the blood of the saints, the blood of the martyrs of Jesus.” “seven heads are seven mountains, on which the woman sitteth.” the revelations also prophesizes that she will be defeated by a beast, but it is unclear as to which. there are two beasts in book of revelations. the first beast comes "out of the sea" given authority and power by the dragon/serpent. the second beast comes "out of the earth" directing people to worship the first beast, a "false prophet".

in a similar vein, nomaru had secretly vouched for itsuki’s, providing itsuki with the necessary resources for him to rise up in ranks and become the new mayor. the kanji for ryuichiro nomaru ( 野丸 龍一郎 ) contains both the kanji 野 and 龙 which respectively mean field (i.e. earth) and dragon. they are key references to the beasts of revelation

plus according to nomaru, it was also purely because of magase that the political struggle turned out the way that it did, meaning that she is ultimately the one controlling the entire operation. this mirrors the way she is sitting on the heads of the beast (i.e. the proverbial brains of the campaign that itsuki is heading) 

we also see that when magase uses her powers her eyes and hair glow in a sort of purple/burgundy color to support the imagery as well! 

the book of revelations is the final chapter of nt. it is merely an allegory of struggle between good and evil and doesnt refer to actual people or events. kinda like the show huh. nyyy way, we see that the protag john the apostle writes down what is revealed to him through visions to send it to the 7 churches :))

kinda like how zen keeps on seeing magase through visions and has to document !! his findings and report back to admin? ik this isnt exact but there’s a bit where he has to write down her confession and it really struck me as weird until this bit popped up, maybe that was included to as a way of tying in :))

tower:

according to the myth, there were plans to build a city and tower high enough to reach heaven - god who observes this confounds their speech so that they can no longer understand each other. why? because “now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do.”

while not entirely similar, we see recurring themes in babylon that deal with miscommunication and new ideology. the conflict mirrors the myth in that unity of language (or ideology in this case) and its subsequent discordance once differentiated. 

the interrogation scene in ep 4 deals with reconciling differences. magase asks whether those with different values should be accepted, despite them being contrary to norm. all this time, society has been developing an ideal set of norms - the entire country shares the same values and priorities with no deviation. growth has stagnated. in similar fashion to how god commands for many languages to be created, magase sows the seeds of doubt towards long-standing assumptions and moral values in order to create discordance and push japan into a state of new development

in the new campaign, itsuki proposes to apportion shiniki city from japan and instill new values. this confounds the population and sends them into disarray - the tower that they have created is crumbling, in similar likeness to the parable of babel.

SO TL;DR this show has a really cool starting concept i cant lie?????  i for one am not shitting on its supernatural elements (even though the flow was a little inorganic) in hindsight there’s no point in expecting a show called babylon not to delve into supernatural/biblical elements lol :)))

as a right hoe for imagery and philosophy/ethics, this gave me high hopes but the execution of everything else was way below average. why bring in a discussion about suicide that’s poorly researched + try to be edgy abt it and have the citizens to have support it so easily???? ruins the immersion so much

if the anime really wanted to focus on philosophy there should be some mention of ethical theory to justify his point. like, being aimlessly philosophical only ends up being flowery and pseudo-bullshit lmao. one of hte reasons why i was so frustrated with magase and zen’s discussion in the interrogation room. like woman what was your fucking point. its only wasting screentime if you don’t get anything from the conversation. the philosophy was so fucking unnecessary - babylon could have been executed as an in-depth political/psychological anime instead. WITHOUT THE SUICIDE.

this and the lack of good characters really bummed me out. i think that the show was expecting me to connect to some of the characters before they were fucking killed off but i didn’t end up giving a single shit about any of them so. :) the whole show feels more about the shock factor and gore than about interesting plot.

concept 10/10, execution 1/10

[hobiwonder]

My little bub~

Genre: flufffffffffff

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: namjoon can’t do laundry without hearing you shout in annoyane. 

a/n: all my smol soft anons made me soft :// have this drabble. just wrote it  so its probs not too good lmao okkkk

“Ugh! Why won’t you work!!” Namjoon can hear your frustrated yell from the laundry - for the 10th time - room where he’s trying to separate the whites from the colours. Sighing, he knows he has to probably help you set up the game before your frustration turned your mood sour for the whole day.

You were fighting with the PlayStation again.

“Bub? Is everything okay?” His voice deep voice reverberates through the house, knowing full well that everything was not okay by your standards.

“No!” He can hear the pout in your voice and a few seconds later, soft stomping of your feet as they make their way to him, making him shake his head and smile to himself. You were so impatient.

“The stupid,” you stutter, trying to find words that don’t include explicit swear words before settling with repeating the same insult again, “stupid! settings keep asking me to sign in!”

You’re standing in the doorway, long pyjama shirt with your fluffy bunny slippers on your feet. Eyebrows furrowed in what Namjoon assumed was supposed to be a menacing look but you just ended up looking way too cute with that out on your face and hands crossed beneath your breasts.

“And did you?” You scoff and Namjoon is shooting you a playful look for your increasingly bratty attitude. But of course. He secretly loved it.

“Of course I did joonie! I’m not THAT dumb.” You’re avoiding his gaze, a finger twirling your messy, bedhead strands – you refused to wash up before playing your game, not matter how many lollies Namjoon bribed you with – leaning against the door of the laundry.

“Y/N,” his serious, stern tone has you jumping slightly when you look at his face finally. He’s reprimanding you with a shake of his head.

“You are not dumb. Not even a little. I do not,” he drops the shirt in the washing machine before taking the few steps forward to you, hands pulling you close by the waist while your breath hitches, “want you saying that ever again. Understood?”

You’re not looking in his eyes still. Face pressed against his chest, pout still ever present on your face while Namjoon’s hand’s slide over your back to rub soothing circles. Slowly, your own are going around his back again, barely being able to hold all of him in your arms because of how much bigger he was than you. And so comfy and muscly and manly and-

“Baby? Are you listening to me?” You’re broken out of our thoughts about your beautiful, caring boyfriend as you finally hug him with all your might, tilting your head up to look at his sharp features and voluptuous lips.

“Uh-huh. Understood.” And the smile he gives in return, hand now sliding their way up your back – sending slight shivers down it – before rustling your hair charmingly.

“Joonieeee,” your whine is all the more adorable to him as he laughs at your failed attempts at fighting his hands off of your face as he coos and pinches your cheeks like you’re a toddler or something. Suddenly, his hands are going beneath your bum as he lifts you up – a squeal of surprise coming from you – and sets you down on the counter beside the washing machine, taking a snug position between your legs – pressing light butterfly kisses all over your face while you continue to pout and shake your head to get away – not really tough, you loved it secretly.

“I’m not a baby,” and yet you’re contradicting your statement as you pout with a frown on your face, hands crossed beneath your chest again as you glare adorably toward Namjoon. Who is quite unsuccessfully trying to hold back a smile or a laugh. You don’t know but it makes you more cross! Though the frown is slowly sliding off your face as he closes in on you, smirking face getting closer and closer until his nose nuzzles with your own. The butterflies in your stomach making you feel all funny and tickly with his breath on your lips.

“But you are though. Mybaby,” and then his soft, plush lips and encasing your own, kissing you so softly that your eyes are closing on their own accord while his hands are bringing your own to wrap around his neck before wrapping around your torso to push you even closer to him. Your legs are going around his waist as well and you have no control over your body when Namjoon kisses you like this. Making you want to wrap yourself around him like a snake.

His kiss is soft but deep. Breaking apart only to tilt his head and take your breathless mouth again from a different angle – tongue just barely touching yours while you let out the softest moans.

“You’re Joonie’s baby aren’t you?” His kisses have travelled down your chin, sweetly nipping your lips – making you feel all sticky and achy down south. But he doesn’t give you a chance to respond while takes your mouth in a slow, deep kiss once again. You’re lowly moaning in your throat, legs holding him tighter to you while his hands massage lovingly at your exposed thighs.

And when he finally breaks apart, your head is reeling and you’re dazed as you sway in place. Namjoon can’t help but cuddle you closer, watching you grip his shirt with your tiny, adorable hands as you clear your head.

“You okay bub?” His chuckle is teasing and you don’t have it in you to glare at him…. Or do you? Because that’s exactly what you do.

“Not fair.” Your pout is resurfacing again and god fucking damnit. Namjoon might fuck you right here and not even get laundry done when you’re being this soft and bratty at the same time.

“Stop your pouting baby.” He kisses your forehead in a soft, lingering press of his plush lips before walking to the washing machine again. The swinging of your legs is automatically starting as soon as Namjoon has vacated the space, back to separating the coloured from whites.

“Want to wait for me to finish up and then Joonie and y/n can see what’s that mean game doing?” He says the last part in an animated tone, only to amuse you and you’re buying it already as you nod vigorously, remembering your fight with the gaming console.

“Yeah okay!” And Namjoon can all but shake his head again, finding it too damn adorable for words. Just glad that you’re not asking for something else and for once being statisfied with his suggestion.

“Joonie… can we order fried chicken today too…?” Your hopeful, doe eyes are staring at him, breaking his guard down so fast that not even 2 minutes later, Namjoon is sighing and telling you that you can while you clap away calling him the best ever and attacking him with your small body in cuddles.

Yeah. He spoke too soon.

But it’s okay because you were his little bub that loved so very much.

a/n: love u my lil beans.

[elsaclack]

Girl your recent soulmate AU fic!! It was…Poetic Cinema. The hurt/comfort. The pining and smitten Jake. Amy’s “You were worth the wait.” Gosh everything about it was so beautiful. I love it a lot! If you don’t mind, would you write a fic of when they’re talking about soulmates? The line where Amy reminds Jake that he’s felt his soulmate since he was 7 intrigued me and I’d love to read how that convo went. Love your writing and can’t wait to read what you write next!

HIIIIIIIIIII THIS IS KINDA LATE BUT BETTER LATE THAN NEVER RIGHT

anyways it got angstier than i meant it to?? also originally in my head there wasn’t really any one solid conversation where they talked this through - i kind of imagined it as amy slowly gathering information up over the years as jake peppers little comments into otherwise-unrelated conversations if that makes sense. i did always intend for amy to talk about this at some point in this canon - originally, jake only overheard her talking to terry and rosa about it, but i also really liked the angst potential of jake kind of skirting the subject with her and her coming out and saying this without realizing who exactly she’s talking to.

that’ll make more sense when you read it lmao

anyways the first part is set in the captain mcginley years, and the second part is like...their third or fourth date (bc i’m apparently incapable of leaving perfectly good angst as-is in this au)

His chest feels heated with the intensity of her frustration.

It’s been going on all morning - growing stronger by the hour - and if he weren’t so exhausted and hungover from his evening out with Rosa and Charles the night before, he might have the wherewithal to worry.

As it is, he contents himself with the fresh coffee wafting out of the paper cup in his hand and the knowledge that he’s only fifteen minutes late today instead of his standard thirty.

Amy’s voice reaches him the moment the elevator doors slide open, and he can’t help himself - he grimaces into his cup. Because he recognizes that tone: lofty, arrogant, know-it-all lecturer, at the absolute peak of her soap box in the break room. Her conviction is a burning ember glowing bright inside his chest; through the partially opened blinds he sees her standing near the vending machines, turned inward toward the table where Rosa and Terry are held captive, face scrunched just so the way it does when she’s in the midst of a debate.

Inwardly, he sighs.

Charles is waiting for him, hovering near his desk, gaze flitting between him and the break room with blatant nerves. “Hey,” he says, and though his tone is gentle, it grates against Jake’s head like nails to a chalkboard. “You hungover?”

“Yeah,” Jake grunts, letting his messenger’s bag fall from his shoulder and collapsing back into his seat in one movement. “What’s got her all riled up?”

“I don’t know, I just got here,” Charles settles in Jake’s guest chair and leans in, elbows planted on his knees, as if they’re sharing some big secret. “I think she’s talking about the nature of free will?”

“Wow,” Jake toggles his mouse until his computer screen lights up. “Sounds fascinating. Ya’ think closing that door will drown her out?”

“I doubt it. Jake,” Charles leans in closer and Jake pauses, fingers hovering over his keyboard. “I think it has to do with soulmates.”

He’s not certain - he has no way of being certain - but he’s pretty sure he manages to keep his composure despite the block of ice suddenly dropping into his gut. “Okay,” he says slowly - and blessedly, his voice remains steady. “Am I supposed to care about that?”

A look of bewilderment passes over Charles’ face, before indignation takes its place. “I know she’s your soulmate, Jake,” he hisses, leaning back as Jake jerks forward.

“Keep it down,” Jake hisses back, glancing over his shoulder at the break room. He can’t see her face but her voice is still carrying - and her emotions remain steady, not an ounce of shock among them. “How the hell do you know that?”

“You told me. Last night. After your fifth whiskey. Five-Drink-Jake is a chatterbox, I tell ya’ -”

“Does anyone else know? Rosa?”

“She was gone by then. Unless you told the cabbie on your way home, I’m the only one who knows.”

Jake huffs out a breath and drops his head, relief overwhelming for a moment, before snapping back to attention and leaning in closer. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Jake -”

“I mean it, Boyle, no one can find out about this.”

“You have to -”

“I’m not ready for that yet, and it sounds like she isn’t, either.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the break room; Charles’ anguished gaze flits from his face to the door and back again. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.”

Charles stares for a moment, before his shoulders drop. “Y’know I’ve been looking for my soulmate for almost twenty years?” he says softly. “I’d give - I’d give anything to find them. And the minute I do find them...I don’t want to waste another second.”

He leans back in his seat - triumph filtering in through the earnestness - and Jake drops his gaze and bites out a sigh. “This is so not the time or place,” he mutters, “and I’m hungover as hell - I hate Drunk Jake.”

Charles snorts and prods his arm, forcing his chair to roll backwards. “Go,” he says, “Rosa and Terry just left, she’s alone in there.”

“Alright, alright,” Jake grumbles, hauling himself up to his feet and snatching his coffee cup off his desk before trotting off toward the break room.

She’s facing the vending machines when he steps inside, affording him a moment to just watch her shift her weight from foot to foot. The burning conviction he��d felt is still there, though less-pronounced now; she’s mostly consumed with deliberation, as if choosing what plastic-wrapped crap snack is the most healthy option for breakfast. She tilts her head to the right - likely trying to read the nutrition facts on the powdered donut packaging - and a lock of dark hair escaped from her pristine bun slips from behind her ear to lightly graze against the shoulder pad of her pantsuit jacket.

Oh, god, his soulmate wears pantsuits.

He turns his attention to the coffee table and clears his throat, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning in response to her genuine pulse of fear accompanying her quiet gasp. “I’d go for the jumbo honey bun,” he says as he measures out his cream. “Those are fresh. Vending machine dude just loaded ‘em in on Monday.”

“They’re also...half your recommended daily caloric intake,” she says; he allows himself to grin, now, because the amusement in her voice echoes ten times louder in his chest. “Honestly, it’s shocking that you’re such a high-functioning human being and not...constantly going into glucose-related shock.”

“Hey,” he turns his head and finds her staring at him, brows slightly furrowed, eyes lit. “You think I’m high-functioning?”

She rolls her eyes and turns back toward the vending machine, but he can still feel her struggling between amusement and exasperation. “I’d say you’re high-functioning for someone who puts his body through as much abuse as you do. High-functioning in general? That’s a whole different conversation.”

He laughs as he stirs his cream in - and a thrill crashes through him, one entirely unrelated to his own amusement. He glances over his shoulder to find her watching him, her grin somehow bright and half-hidden at once.

His heart skips a beat.

“So...I heard you in here talking to Terry and Rosa earlier.”

Her amusement fades fast; an odd mix of embarrassment and defensiveness take its place. “Yeah,” she says - and her voice is definitely guarded. “I just - uh, we were talking about soulmates. I guess I got a little loud.”

He leans back against the table, still stirring, watching her run her finger down the glass in an ill-fated attempt and seeming nonchalant. “I couldn’t hear what you were actually saying,” he says after a moment - and a minuscule pulse of relief bursts somewhere down in the pit of his belly. “I could just hear that you sounded kind of upset.”

He lets the statement hang, lets it ruminate in her mind. Dozens of emotions are flitting through his chest, so quickly it’s nearly dizzying; she braces a hand on the side of the vending machine and sighs, leaning forward until her forehead audibly clunks against the glass. “My brother...found his soulmate last night.”

Despite the fact that a distinct heaviness clings to both her words and his heart, he feels his brows rise toward his hairline instinctively. “Well that’s - that’s good, right? Isn’t...finding his soulmate a good thing?”

“In theory,” she grumbles; he winces in time with her own pulse of regret. “I mean, yeah, of course it is.” She turns slowly and leans backwards, until her shoulders press against the glass. “I just - it’s got me thinking, is all. He’s the fifth one of us to find his soulmate - it’s just me and two other brothers at this point.”

“And, what, you’re worried you’ll be the last one? Or that - that you’ll never find yours?”

“I’m just frustrated by the whole idea of soulmates in general.” she snaps. “I mean - think about it! Objectively speaking, the concept of two people who have never met before being, like, perfect for each other - or, or completing each other, being each other’s perfect half - whatever metaphor you wanna use! Objectively speaking, it’s completely screwed up! We want to believe that we as humans are afforded the right of basic free will, right? That our lives are anything we want them to be because we get to make our own decisions and choose our own paths, right? Well, if we don’t get to choose who we love - if some big cosmic entity just randomly pairs us all up, the idea of free will itself is a big sham! Who’s to say we don’t have soulmate jobs, or soulmate apartments, or soulmate clothes - who’s to say that any of our choices in life are our own?”

She’s breathing hard, the vending machine forgotten, and Jake’s struggling to remember how to form words. “I-I don’t - I don’t think it’s that deep, Santiago,” he manages to rasp. “It’s not like - it’s not like you’re losing some part of yourself when you find your soulmate. Look at Terry and Sharon. They just happened to meet at a random farmer’s market and they’ve been so happy ever since, but Terry never would have looked twice at her if he hadn’t felt her freak out when that guy stole her purse -”

“I just - I don’t want some random person I don’t know to come gallivanting into my life, thinking they’re entitled to some part of me, because someone else said so.” she interrupts, quieter than before. “I want someone to choose me because they want me. Not just because I’m their soulmate, and not because the universe made the decision for them. I want them to choose me, and I want to choose them, too.”

“Huh,” he hears himself breathe. “I’ve never actually thought about it that way.”

The tips of her ears flush pink as a wave of self-consciousness washes over him. “You just - assumed your soulmate would eventually find you and everything would be perfect?”

“No. I assumed I’d find my soulmate and everything would be perfect.”

Amy’s chin lifts a degree. “You’re receptive?”

He taps his chest. “Since I was seven years old.”

Her brows raise and her surprise is genuine. “Seven,” she repeats softly, and he nods. “That’s so young.” He pulls a long sip from his coffee, watching her process. “Must be a strong connection.”

He lowers his cup slowly, coffee swishing between his teeth before he swallows. He blinks, and behind his eyelids he sees the chalk-scribbled pavement, hears the distant shouts of a soccer game in progress, feels the ghost of her sheer panic squeezing his chest for the very first time. “I’d like to think so,” he admits as the memory fades, voice barely above a whisper.

She presses her lips together as she nods, before inhaling and plastering on a smile. “Let me know when you find them,” she says with a brightness he knows she does not feel.

“Oh, trust me,” he says as he pushes off the table, “you’ll be the first to know.”

“You sarcastic sunnovabitch.”

Jake blinks, frozen half-way through the motion of licking his ice cream cone. Amy’s staring at him like he’s just gone and grown a second head, her own ice cream dripping down her cone, dangerously close to her fingers. “I’m sorry,” he says once he’s recovered, “what did I do?”

“I just got it,” she says, smug and self-assured, and her conviction tickles in the space between his ribs. “I just understood your stupid little inside joke.”

“...’kay, wanna fill me in, then? ‘Cause I definitely don’t get it.”

“You once told me that I’d be the first to know when you found your soulmate.” He furrows his brow, before the memory comes flooding back all at once. “I thought you were just being your usual annoyingly sarcastic self, but you were messing with me, weren’t you?”

“I’m always messing with you, Santiago,” he nudges her side with his elbow and she huffs, playfully indignant. “But, yeah, I was definitely messing with you then.”

“Well that officially makes you a liar. J’accuse!”

He lets out an indignant squawk around his ice cream. “I never lied to you about us being soulmates!”

“Excuse me, but you most certainly did lie!”

“I need receipts or I’m not paying, lady.”

“You told me I’d be the first to know when you found your soulmate - otherwise known as me - but you admitted yourself on our first date that you told Charles first!”

“When I was drunk! My critical thinking skills were compromised! My judgement impaired! Sober Jake would never in a million years -”

“Dissociate and place blame all you want, Peralta, you lied and I caught you red-handed.”

It’s hard to maintain the facade of defense when her amusement and affection are just short of suffocating; after a moment of grappling, he breaks, a broad grin splitting across his face, which she immediately mirrors. “Fine,” he sighs - not an ounce of dejection anywhere in sight. “I’m sorry that I lied and said you’d be the first to know when I actually drunkenly told Charles first. How can I ever make it up to you?”

She pretends to mull it over - she pretends she can’t feel every last ounce of his affection rearing up like a tidal wave at the way the neon pawn shop lights glow against her skin - and then her bright, happy gaze fixates on his face. “You can take me back to my apartment and pretend to watch a movie while we make out on the couch instead.”

“If I have to.”

She lets out a laugh and snatches his hand, but before she can bound off town the street, he tugs her back with just enough force that she stumbles, right into his chest. He swallows her surprised gasp, humming at the mingling taste of his chocolate ice cream and her strawberry; there’s a distinct splat of her ice cream hitting the sidewalk as she lifts both arms up over his shoulders to curl around the back of his neck, curving his back just slightly to better reach her.

“Never gets old,” she whispers against his lips, fingers gently combing through his hair as they slowly break apart.

“You know what else never gets old?”

“Hm?”

“Die Hard.”

“We are not watching Die Hard. Absolutely not.”

“What if I’m the big spoon tonight?”

“Nope.”

“What if I’m the big spoon and I make pancakes in the morning?”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“Big spoon, pancakes, and I’ll convince Rosa to sub in for you on that stakeout with Charles next week so you can go to that exhibit at the Met?”

“You really are my soulmate, aren’t you?”

[genderfreezone]

Do you like the Evil Within 2?

Yeah! Certainly not as much as the first one (i was not immune to being sad they left out fan favorites Jojo and Ruvik's Cube)

The rest of this post is me rambling about things i didnt like about the game, and then things i did like (most of my issues are how they treat the female characters tbh)

Its missing kind of the action-noir-gone-horrifically-wrong feel of the first game. The scare factor also suffers bc our player character has been through this before, hes a veteran at dealing with this crazy shit, it doesnt phase him anymore and by extension it doesnt phase the player. They really like tripled down on the Evil Corporation thing and both the intrigue and horror suffer for it.

This game did not drink its respect women juice (the first one didnt really either, case in point: Everything About Kidman) Sebastian is surrounded by 5+ female characters and only 2 of them survive (and one of them is his 7 year old daughter hes spent the whole game trying to rescue... and yet they never bothered to give her any kind of characterization or agency. A highly empathetic and supernaturally powerful little girl in a monster-infested hellscape?? HELLO???? Lily really had the potential to be the most interesting, sympathetic, and complex character--especially as she slowly lost her innocence--in the WHOLE GAME, but she was just sort of relegated to Plot Device McGuffin) The rest of the female supporting cast are killed off for Sebastian's Man Pain. In fact, THIS ENTIRE GAME IS CENTERED AROUND SEBASTIAN'S MAN PAIN. Torrez is a walking stereotype, shes literally just Vasquez from Aliens. Hoffman was the most likeable and believeable, except when it Turns Out She Was In Love With Liam Or Whatever (psst, guess what, i dont care. Also O'neal was kind of a dick anyway? I dont care x2)

And you know who i SUPER dont care about? Bland-White-Bread-And-Mayo-Sandwich Myra. Where's the no-nonsense firecracker of a police lieutenant Sebastian married? Not here, thats for sure. Her entire personality is "mother" and "worries about stressed-out husband". We got more characterization of Myra in seb's jornals from the first game, where she never even made a physical appearance! Horror media does this SO MUCH, women are either A. Sexy Lamp B. Hurts Men (Sexily) C. Mother or D. Innocent Virgin. It sucks. Do better.

The story lacked the "digging up old buried memories" and "theres more to this than meets the eye" of the first game. It felt too...... Straightforward. Everyone told Sebastian the truth. EVERYTHING WAS EXACTLY WHAT IT SEEMED. It all felt too simple, too easy, like there SHOULDVE been something else beneath the surface. And yet there wasnt. (I watched markipliers playthrough and i loved his theory that Kidman was actually Lily. It had such potential. Kidman's entire resume for the police station was fabricated, who's to say the rest of her past wasnt fabricated as well? It would retcon a lot of stuff and like 80% of her backstory from the DLC, but you know games like this arent above retconning important shit, and at least it wouldve been sacrificed for something with actual intrigue. Maybe it wouldnt even retcon anything! Consider: tiny Lily is taken by Evil Corporation and dropped off in a non-nurturing environment that would lead her to become the kind of person who would willingly join & work for an organization like Mobius. At least wouldve been a nice excuse for why Kidman and Lilys face models looked so similar... other than... yknow.... "WomEN ARe hArD tO DRaWwwwwee")

Okay okay ive been ranting for long enough. It probably makes it sound like i kinda hate this game, but i dont! It certainly doesnt hold the same place in my heart as the first one (which i still have very glaring issues with lmao Kidman deserved WAAAAAAY better), but i do like it! It brings back salty, grizzled, tsundere Sebastian Castinellos. It brings back spooky monsters that kill you dead. It brings back having a fun theatrical over-the-top villain who takes himself a litte too seriously.

I love Stefano. Probably not in the way some other fans do, but i love him as a ridiculous theatrical over-the-top villain. He sucks! And i love that he sucks! I love him BECAUSE he sucks! Hes terrible and exaggerated and completely up his own ass and ITS GREAT. He isnt as ACTUALLY THREATENING as Ruvik was (even in his bad assassin's creed cosplay. I could go on and on and on about why Ruvik is simultaneously a ridiculous AND frightening antagonist and how much i love it but uh..... maybe later) but hes such a FUN villain! Hes the kind of pretentious art snob shitheel i cannot STAND irl, but in this game i LOVE to HATE him. Hes just SO over-the-top you kinda wonder if he actually subscribes to the pretentiousness he spouts, or if hes just being Exceptionally Extra.

The other villains? Theodore was.... forgettable. His monsters were forgettable. (Its like how i completely forgot that Frank Manera was a character in Whistleblower for like... 5 years lmao i guess this game also kinda followed that "having multiple named/characterized antagonists in one game" thing that Outlast did) Myra, i just didnt care. Her final design was kinda cool, i liked the red clusters of insect eyes. Her monsters werent really gross enough to be memorable. The only reson theyre gross at all is bc they kinda look like theyre made of semen. (I checked the wiki and apparently Myra's white goo is "psychoplasm" and her monsters lost 99% of their gross factor. I just dont care.) The Administrator literally just looked like a 3D human model of Maxwell from dont starve, and i have to laugh every time i see him. Hes not terribly threatening, all he does is threaten characters to work faster and doesnt actually follow through on those threats. He doesnt even make fun threats like HABIT or anything. He thinks hes so powerful and ominous that his mere presence will frighten the player but hes just kinda all bark and no bite. Hes The Big Bad Company Man so you know hes gonna get whats coming to him, and you know Kidmans gonna be the one to do it to him, so hes not even that much of a threat. Hes whatever.

Stefano definitely got all of the coolest monsters. Many Arms Buzzsaw Lady was terrifying and i love her. And OBSCURA was just *Chef's Kiss* Anima was cool, she kinda looked like a mix of Laura and Samara. The Harbingers were neat, but really only bc ive got a thing for gas masks. The rest of the monsters werent really unique or weighty/threatening enough to be memorable. Now the first game is a fucking TREASURE TROVE of unique monsters *muah* you got Sadist, Sentinel, Keeper, Amalgam, Heresy, Laura, Shigyo, the Twins, Alter Egos, and im probably forgetting some!! But holy FUCK!!!!! And if we're includong the DLC?? MOTHER FUCKING SHADE. SPOTLIGHT LADY. LIGHT WOMAN.  SEXY LEGS.  Whatever you call her, i fucking love her. Her design is so simple. Helmet. Sheet. Legs. Her voice? Unnerving as hell. Love it. (Also i just personally love the diving helmet. Also like you know how a lot of games have a spotlight mechanic where you have to avoid the light and if it lands on you, you're fucked? LET'S MAKE AN ENTIRE MONSTER OUT OF THAT. She's PERFECT.) Oh and also those weird crawling exploding dudes. They made gross sounds and it was great. (Tbh Keepers still probably my favorite, if only for horny reasons)

TATIANA HOW HAVE I NOT FUCKING TALKED ABOUT TATIANA. Shes like the ONE female character that i fucking LOVE in the sequel. I love how they finally gave her a personality, and that personality is literally just "fuck you, Sebastian" Oh GOD its great shes SO FUNNY. I just.... god i love Tatiana lmao. I love how she makes you kinda uncomfortable too, like she knows something, but she wont tell you bc youre stupid. I didn't like the kind of "all-knowing guide" thing they did to try and make her creepy (like she's a "guide" but then also turns around and is like "no i wont tell you what you need to know bc you """have to discover it on your own""" or whatever") it serves no purpose since she never gave you any actual information, and it didn't succeed in making her creepier, all it did was frustrate me. She was at her creepiest when she IMPLIED she was doing something behind the scenes or knew something you didn't know and then didn't elaborate (not REFUSING to elaborate, just... stopping talking and leaving the statement to hang in the air, like the "getting her nails done" and "its been a long time, detective" and the "now what makes you say that" from the first game) and she was at her funniest when she was interacting with Sebastian from the sidelines, her snide little comments and sarcastic clapping cracked me the fuck up. Tatiana not treating Sebastian seriously was a fantastic touch for a game that otherwise would probably take itself so seriously it would double back around to being silly. Without Tatiana, it would've been just another male-centric gun-toting "survival horror" game, and for the most part, it was just that. She was definitely a much-needed source of slightly derisive comedy and a definite high-point for me, even if they didn't so a great job of making her creepy or fulfilling her "purpose."

Oh I also really love the COLORS in TEW2. The first game fell into the trap of having the colors be totally washed out that a lot of horror stuff does, but it also kind of worked for it. Especially with the color pallette of our main villain and how the whole thing was His World. The saturation of the colors in the second game is a breath of fresh air and gorgeous to look at, and you can even see the color motifs of the game change with each new villain: the game starts out with Stephano has lots of blues and purples and dark reds, when Theodore takes over we get bright orange and yellow contrasted with black and brown, and in the climax with Myra the game goes back to having washed out colors and white (and with her villain design? Let's face it: they were kinda just trying to do Ruvik again) We did get portions that were still kind of wahed out whites and greens and greys, but it wasnt the ENTIRE game, even the big blood-and-brains splatterhouse sections of the first game kinda had their colors weirdly muted for that "Horror Aethetic."

In conclusion, i do like the evil within 2, but i also had a lot of problems with it. And i complain about these problems because i like the game and know it couldve done better, tried harder, and been a LOT more than it was (the wasted character potential is my real overarching pet peeve, probably becuase i loved the characters in the first game, and character development is kind of my whole jam) . But all in all, it was still a fun monster-zombie romp with at least one entertaining villain and fun-to-look-at designs and environments. It wasn't character or horror or even REALLY story driven in the way I know it COULDVE been, but i still had a fun time and enjoyed myself.

[phoneismybf]

TharnType the Series Ep. 8 Review

I'm not ready for this episode yet people are very exited for the torture (?). Lol.

#TharnTypeEp8 #TharnTypeS #TharnTypetheSeries

It is unsual to see TumTar at the beginning but it is good to see them smile like that. Do you see that big smile from Tar when Tum plays the certain melody? Finally he can smile that free. Well suddenly sad again because of the birthday notification. Hurry up both of you need to clear everything.

Watch TharnType the Series Ep. 8 Engsub

Okay Ai Tharn we knew that you like dark chocolate now but don't emphasis it. We knew who has a darker skin. Yes, khun mom want to see him, why you don't say that he is yours. Hahaha. (I think he remembers what Type said about he is not ready yet, yes, okay, gentleman) Now here he is, the P'San Khrap. Seems he really close to this family already. Liau, wait, Tharn isn't that happy receiving the gift from him. What is this, miss the 14 of Tharn, may be he was a cry baby back then but not now P'. Yes, no more cute little boy, he already have a daddy's little boy at the dorm. Oiiii, such a supportive big bro, yes Tharn is more handsome than him and look at Tharn's smile. He probably said "I love you big bro" in silence.

Ai No.... Euuuu he should go with Tharn to his house so Tharn could introduce him to everyone there. SEE...... EVERYONE HEAR THAT, THIS IS THE REASON WHY TYPE WANTED TO TELL NO ONLY BECAUSE HE IS THE ONE WHO WILL SPILL THE TEA. SO TYPE DOSEN'T NEED TO EXPLAIN OR DECLARE ANYTHING. LMAO. KEEP ASKING PEUN.... KEEP ASKING CHAMP, COME ON CORNER BOTH OF THEM. DAMN not this time guys... Let them "kin" each other, I mean kin the grilled meats. Look at No's apologies, how cute he is. Hahaha

Got an Audy bae... Ready to pick you up. Have a car but live in a condo. What else you could think Ai No beside it is more convenient for practice music, of course to let Type scream without anyone knows what they are doing. LOL.

Peun... Don't judge a book by its cover. The one who know the real Tharn is Type only between all of you. Also he is his wify so don't ever think to say anything bad about Tharn.

Techno really digs everything on Type, he is curious now about their relationship. Ai No... You are a good friend but I'm worry you will spill more. See, even he is the one who mention about P'San first to Type. Meung maeng....

Type.... make a wish for Tharn, please. You never make a wish on your birthday or never wish or pray for other for their own goodness? Why he can't understand? Yes, the bed is all yours don't feel ngao/lonely.

Yes, Long always remember his crush's birthday. I want to dig information from him. I'm sure that he likes Tharn. No excuses with those facebook updates. P'San was Tharn first love, O.K. may the war come then.

WHAT THE F*CKKKKKK. WHAT DID TYPE GIVE? WHAT THE, BAD, YOU BAD BOY. YOU ARE NOT DADDY'S LITTLE BOY ANYMORE. HOW MANY TIMES BOTH OF YOU WILL DO IT? MY RATIONAL THINKING HAS STOP WORKING. CUTE BUT NO NO NO... YOU WERE GOOD TO NOT TELLING AI NO ABOUT THE PRESENTS. "hurry up come, I'm already dying to use the presents" Tharn. WHATEVER LA MEUNG....

YES, YOU HAVE ALL THE FLAVORS, WE KNEW YOUR FAVORITE IS C.H.O.C.H.O.L.A.T.E. He is starving for food not for S yet. Hurry up get him one then do the rounds later. Look at that satisfying smile on Type's face. Why I can't resist his cuteness though. Wow he opened the wraped present, not good boy not good, the owner didn't know it yet. Just say it you just got jealous. I smell something after this, what will Tharn do? Ai Tharn what will you do? Don't tell me that you the one who will start a fire between Type and P'San.

SEE.... TECHNO SPILLED IT AGAIN TO HIS FRIENDS, THE QUEENS. OIII AI NOO..... a little bit but (sigh). "I think he wants to keep it secret to" Type. Hell no, we all know the truth. "then why you still upset, shouldn't you be crazy in love with your boyfriend?" Techno. They were intended to be crazy in love but were canceled Ai No. Yes, help them make up so they can make love later. Mmmm... What?

Ow that smile comes from Tharn. I know there is something odd. Not funny Tharn, if you make, what I think, come true. Type really such an honest person, he keeps the emotion on his face while greeting P'San. YOU ARE JEALOUS AI TYPE. P'San's radar is on, get over that hand P, don't let people burn in jealousy. AI TECHNOOO WHY HE IS SUCH A J*RK. YOU SAID YOU WANNA HELP THEM TO MAKE UP. I can see Tharn don't want him to join too. Ai No... Why? Even Tharn is worry now about Type. I really want to punch this PEUN on his face, WHY HE MENTIONED THAT GIRL. SUCH A TRIAL FRIEND. That hand P' yud leui... Stop it... Now you understand right? Ai No... I can see your reaction, I'll punch you if you still act innocent. F*CK OFF BRO YOU GET ON MY NERVE. STOP BEING CURIOUS AND YOU STILL CAN LAUGH LIKE THAT. DONE WITH YOU. BYE... BETRAYAL. SEE..... I know he doesn't like raw food that's why he ordered the grilled one. But he never tells Tharn because he feels uneasy to say it when Type ordered a lot of raw food. But, it will become another problem if both of them don't talk about it. Bad situation, bad friend. Say it that he is your, Type, or silence and talk later with your present doing (coughing).

A mature and a childish. This will happen. Now Tharn take control, he is upset not to Type but P'San, to much spoiler. Yes, he didn't spit it because his boyfriend fed him and now he is a mature one he can eat raw as he likes at least he doesn't have an allergic. If he has an allergic and never tell Type, this will be problematic. So, just forget the past and go on. Hahhhh, this P'San, he never gives up. I think he still hoping for Tharn to be his again. That's why he always come every year to get more chances. That's what will happen Type, if you never tell other who Tharn is, people will keep coming to bother both of you except you are mature enough to not think about it and live what you both should live.

I'm speechless.... Type, you are more complicated than a girl who say "whatever" when she is asked what she want to eat and go for a war later because she doesn't give any clue. Jebb, why my heart hurt, this is not my problem, this is yours. You are tiring even Tharn said that too to his brother. Yes, you never listen, everything he said those are what he likes and what he hates, you are the one who never learn, you are the one who never understand, never ask, never curious about something might he likes or hate the most. What you think is only those c*ndoms. You even don't know that he likes chocolate. Stubborn, childish, stupid, heartless, what else guys? It is hurting me to see Tharn crying again. He always be honest, he knew you really like that restaurant, he ate and didn't spit. Appreciate it bro. Now he said, P'San is more understand him, Think bro think, don't be so emotional, you look like a girl on their period. LOL. He even said he hate "break up" the most. He already tired, give him more happiness. Don't make him like me, I already tired to find one, I even think to live my life alone. So don't ever make him to freeze his heart. A frozen heart will be very hard to melt. Meung maeng.... Assh*le.

Arghhh I hate this rollercoaster. Yes Type yess I forgive you such adorable human being. But Tharn seems thinking about your words na. So, be careful. His heart is weak, he might be through a hardest path before that you would never think. "You won't never suffer as much as I do anyway" Tharn. Jebb mak Ai Tharn. You stabbing my heart, we are the same don't say that.

So that is the real story about P'San and Tharn. Why it reminds me something. Team up with Type, yes, I hate him too. Thorn was took care of Thanya to hospital and he banged Tharn, he has a thick face seriously even Thorn was hit him that much. Of course he was that cute when he was 14 but it wasn't the right way to bang an under age. Poor Tharn, he was innocent that is why he gave P'San in. We talk about the comfort not the rational. Suddenly blow my emotion, it seriously reminds me something that I don't want to recall. F*ck. I can see something in Thorn's eyes, he knew that his friend is good but also dangerous. Thorn knew his goodness and badness, yet Tharn knew only his goodness. Ironic. Why we are so connected Ai Tharn. (take a deep breath). Marked, P'San.

"If a woman ask you to sleep with her, don't you want to do it too?" Tharn. Bro, mind your age! May be I'm an old fashioned but I'm agree with the statement that we can't do these kind of stuff under 17. I mean take a look on the safest age. If something happen, you will lose your teenage time while you can play and hangout with friends as much as you like before you are busy with those time consuming work. Well if you are gay yes that pregnant will never happen yet it concerns to moral lessons. Others may think were born to be a gay or trapped in a wrong gender. In my situation it is not about you were born to be a gay but it is because you were experienced with a guy in that young age. The age where you were build your pesonality who you want to become. And may be Tharn did the same thing to Tar like P'San did to him. Experience lead him to be like P'San but thanks God that he is mature enough to differentiate what is good and what is bad. The comfort lead him to a guy, first thing that will stuck forever in mind, that's why he couldn't do it with a girl. The feeling and the comfort for man and woman are different. Some people easily to change it but for people like Tharn, me and Type, we already had the experience since the younger age, and we can't change it easily. It already stucked in the heart and mind. More complicated if you bring a word 'sin' to here for people who have religion like me, man, frustrating. I had what Tharn had, I did what P'San did and it has been lead me to live a life full of guilty. But, gratefully they did with girl. I don't want them to be influenced by me about this thing. That's why I whised for a frozen heart, I don't want others to be influenced, until he came melt the ice only by his attitude and went away after he knew me. Then it freezing again. But thanks to him that I can felt the warm again even though it was short and wasn't influenced. That's why I love to see Tharn and Type or every couple in a drama having good relationship, let them be happy even it is a forbidden love. They have a right to be happy.

I do really love the way of Type for making up. I can't resist. He is so, cute. Sugar rush.... Yes Type, P'San is great to be hated. Why don't you tell him that Tharn is yours? See, Tharn also ask the same question. But you're not ready yet. Fine... Slowly, I understand, he also understand. "Don't forget what you have said" Type. He will never forget, Type, as long as you can have a good talk if both of you facing another problem.

MY GOD SUCH A TRIAL SENIOR. I'm done with P'San. Bad ending, next episode will full of tension again. This drama is complicated and tiring, even it just about a story of two persons.

See you soon pal.... I hope you like reading my review. I'm sorry if I sometimes put my personal matter in it. Hopefully it may help you to understand the situation or people like us. Or may be one of you have the same problem. Don't hesitate to tell me. We are at the same wheel. Cheer up...