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lovesickonmybed · 2 months ago

Text

amateur | 18+

masterlist | series masterlist | info abt palestine | donate to gaza

pairing | college roommate! vi x innocent!reader

synopsis | in an attempt to break the tension your roommate suggests a little game of truth or dare that quickly turns humiliating.

warnings | 18+ mdni!! college roommate!vi, innocent!reader, humiliation, underage drinking, an excessive use of 'cupcake', temperature play, college au, dom!vi, sub!reader, possibly ooc vi?, fingering gone wrong, dubcon, foot stuff, a very minor amount of puppy play, panty play, boot worship, masturbation, toys, and hair pulling.

word count | 3.5k

a/n | ahh i'm really excited to be writing again and actually feel good about what i'm putting out!! thank you to @joeloverture for checking this over for me and being the reason i even watched arcane in the first place!! this fic is named after amateur by scene queen btw <3

Nobody expects to sleep with their roommate, and nobody expects to become their roommate's little plaything. When you met Vi you weren’t sure how you’d get along, she was confident and outspoken, you were quiet and reserved. The first week you hardly spoke, that was until she pulled out a brand new bottle of Absolut. She motioned for you to join her on the floor and set out a shot glass for each of you.

“I feel like I hardly know you, play a little game with me, Roomie,” Vi says as she leans back against her bed, her legs crossed over one another. You were both dressed in your pajamas, Vi in a black tank top and matching sweats, you in Hooters tank top and black shorts.

“What kind of game are we talking here?” You ask, mirroring her movements from before as you try to get comfortable on the rough carpeted floor.

“A little drinking game that I like to call truth, drink, or dare,” Vi smirks, setting the bottle of Absolut on the floor between the two of you. You stare it down nervously, the closest you’ve gotten to drinking is the one glass of champagne your parents allow you on New Years.

“Uhh…I-I don’t know. I’m not much of a drinker and is that a real game or-” Before you can finish your sentence Vi cuts you off.

“Yes, it’s a real game…I’ve played it before, alright? Why don’t you give it a few rounds and see how you feel, yeah?” Vi asks, trying her hardest to convince you to play. It’s been a long, very awkward week. You sigh and give in to your need to break the tension between the two of you.

“Okay,” You sigh, “Fuck it, I’ll play. Just don’t make me do something insane or I’m asking for a dorm switch,” You threaten half jokingly.

“Hell yeah, I can work with that. I guess I should explain the rules, it’s pretty much just truth or dare but if you feel like pussying out you take a shot,” Vi explains excitedly. This might be the happiest you’ve seen her all week. You’re still not entirely sure what her major is but anytime she comes back from class she looks bored out of her mind or simply annoyed that she has to go. The only time you’ve really seen her happy is when she comes back from boxing practice or the gym. You do have to admit that she looks pretty good all sweaty, it makes you just want to-

“Hey! You zoning out on me? Let’s start, cupcake,” Vi says, snapping her fingers in front of your face and literally snapping you out of your almost dirty thoughts about her. Your cheeks heat up at the nickname and you pray she can’t tell you’re blushing.

“Shit, sorry. Uh yeah, you can start,” You stumble over your words and half pray that she’ll ask you something outrageous so you have an excuse to take a shot, it might help your nerves.

“I usually let the guest start but if you insist. So, truth or dare?”

You sigh, taking 5 seconds to make up your mind about which to pick. “Uhh, truth.”

She chuckles, “Y’know I should’ve expected you’d pick the safe option. Hmm…I’ll start decently tame. Do you smoke?”

“Like cigarettes or-”

Vi laughs loud, “I’ll take that as a no. And no, I’m talking about weed.”

Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, “S-Sorry…I grew up pretty sheltered I guess.”

“You could say that again, Cupcake.”

You hate how hot your cheeks get when she calls you that. You dig your fingers into the carpet, playing with the rough material to try and get yourself to chill the fuck out.

“I guess it’s my turn to ask, huh.” You look over at her side of the room hoping something will give you an idea. Her side of the room is covered in posters of bands you’ve never heard of. A cork board with a few pictures from back home sits above her small desk area. There's a girl with blue braids in a couple of the photos and another girl with darker blue hair in the others. You wonder who they are but until you get some alcohol in you it’s unlikely that you’ll ask. “So Vi, truth or dare?”

Vi smirks, “Why don’t you give me a dare, and make it good.”

You rack your brain for an idea, you haven’t played truth or dare since you were a kid so it’s more difficult than you had anticipated. “Uhh…show me the last thing you looked up.”

Vi rolls her eyes and opens up her phone, “Let me see here…if it’s porn I don’t want to hear any complaints. You asked to see this, Cupcake, just remember that.” Her phone screen illuminates her face as she opens up the safari app. She chuckles and hands her phone over to you to look. Your eyes scan the screen and you sigh with relief. Her last search was ‘Magihjy’ underneath the search bar in blue reads ‘maglight.’ You can’t help but laugh.

“How the hell did Google even know what you were trying to say? And what do you even need a maglight for?” You question.

“Me and Google have a relationship you couldn’t even begin to understand,” She jokes. “And for the maglight, I’ve heard it’s good to keep on you for self defense. My punches and some metal could do some pretty good damage. You also never know when you’ll need a flashlight so…y’know,” Vi explains.

“Huh, good point.”

“My turn again roomie, truth or dare?” Vi asks.

You decide to be a little riskier this round, “Dare.”

Vi smiles, “Thought it would take a lot longer to get you to pick dare. I dare you to…put ice in your panties.” You wish you could wipe the shit eating grin off her face after she says that.

“Seriously, Vi? That’s so childish!” You exclaim, you really don’t want to do it but you also don’t want to break and take the first shot.

“You could always take a shot instead…” She teases, holding the bottle out to you.

You weigh your options and decide it’s better to just do the dare, you don’t want to look weak over some ice, “Fine.” You get up from your seated position on the floor and walk over to your shared mini fridge where a cup of ice you had gotten only about 30 minutes ago is sitting. You sigh and pick up the cup, “At least watch if you’re gonna make me do this,” You groan.

“Nobodies making you do anything, but if you want an audience so bad I’ll indulge you.” Vi turns to face you as you scrunch up your face in annoyance. You pull your shorts and underwear away from your body and begrudgingly pour a bit of the ice into your pretty pink panties. You yelp as you feel the ice against your skin and Vi laughs at how you squirm uncomfortably.

“How long do I have to keep this in?” You whine, hating how the ice feels against your skin. It’s starting to melt a bit against the warmth of your skin. You hate that it feels kind of…good against your clit.

“Hm until it melts sounds pretty good to me, let’s hope you last that long,” Vi smirks.

You shoot her a glare as you sit back down, shifting uncomfortably and trying your hardest to not let a little whimper slip out. “I’m so getting you back for this.”

“And I’m looking forward to it, cupcake.”

“Vi, truth or dare?” You ask, the annoyance clear in your voice. You catch her giggling at your discomfort and you shoot her a glare.

“Truth,” Vi says with a smirk.

“Tell me an embarrassing story, and I don’t mean some bullshit story about how you tripped in front of a crush. Give me something good. It’s the least you could do considering there’s ice actively melting in my underwear,” Your anger makes you ramble and all it does it make Vi laugh.

“Okay! Okay! Calm down, don’t get your panties in a twist,” She laughs. She leans back on her palms and looks up at the ceiling as she tries to recall an embarrassing story. She sighs and makes eye contact with you, “There was a girl back home I was dating for a bit. She was way more experienced than I was, I mean I was a fuckin’ virgin at the time. And she asks me to finger her,” Vi’s cheeks start to turn pink, “I hadn’t even tried to finger myself yet. But, I wanted to impress this pretty girl I had already spent an hour making out with and grinding on so I said I would. So there I am with her in my lap, pretty legs spread wide just for me. I’m doing good…at first. Massaging her clit, feeling up her tits just how she likes.” It takes everything in you to not whimper, your mind wanders to how you’d look on her lap with her hands between her thighs. You snap out of it as she continues her story. You do your best to look like you’re listening and not fantasizing.

“But as soon as it comes time for me to actually finger her it all goes downhill. My virgin fingers end up in the wrong hole, nothing kills the mood quicker than a finger to the urethra,” She laughs. She moves forward and pours herself a shot as you take in what she just said.

You try to choke out a question, shocked from her confession, “You really-”

Vi cuts you off. “Yep. Was that a good enough story for ya, cupcake?” She asks before she throws back the shot. Her face grimaces as it burns against her throat.

“Y-Yeah…why’d you take a shot? You told the truth,” You ask, cocking your head in confusion.

“Would you be able to tell a story like that and not have a shot after?” Vi teases, leaning back against her bed.

“Probably not,” you chuckle.

“So, truth or dare?” Vi asks. She sounds confident and that scares you, you know whatever’s coming next will be just as humiliating as the story you made her tell.

“Truth!” You answer a little too quickly and a little too loudly which makes Vi laugh.

“You scared or somethin’?”

“N-No, I don’t have a reason to be scared. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Okay then…tell me something, roomie. You seemed awfully squirmy when I was telling you that story, and don’t bullshit me and tell me it’s just the ice in your panties. I have two questions for you.” You open your mouth to speak but she cuts you off with a glare and a pointed finger, “Ah, don’t tell me I can’t ask two questions when I just told you about the time I accidentally fingered someone's urethra, I earned these two questions.” You can’t really argue with that logic so you sit back and let her proceed.

“First question for ya, are you a virgin?” There’s a smugness in her voice as if she already knows the answer, and you’re sure she does. She runs her tongue over her teeth and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Uh…yeah, I am,” you answer softly, looking down at your lap.

“I should’ve known, squirmy little thing like you could barely handle hearing the word clit. Anyway, follow up question. Are you into women?”

You’re a bit shocked by her question, you didn’t expect her to come right out and ask it like that, “Yeah…I-I haven’t done anything with a woman besides kiss though. That was years ago anyway…”

“Do you know how insane it is to me that you got no action in high school? I mean…look at you, you’re hot, cupcake,” Vi rambles, motioning to your body. Your immediate reaction is to hide your face, you look down at the ground and let your hair fall over your face as you feel your cheeks heat up once again. You mumble a soft, “Thanks…” and let silence fall over the room.

Vi scoots forward a little and smirks as she nudges you with her foot, “Go on, it’s your turn again.”

“Truth or dare, Vi?”

She smiles, “Truth.”

After her last couple comments you decide to get a little more bold, “How many people have you slept with?”

Vi holds out her hand and starts counting on her fingers, she gets to 19 before she laughs, “I’m just fucking with ya. I’ve only been with three people. All back in high school. They all said I was great, if you were wondering.” Vi moves a little closer, her foot is leaning against your inner thigh, still a few inches below the hem of your shorts. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Did you top or?” You trail off.

“Sometimes, it depended on what we were both feeling. I like doing whatever will make my partner feel good,” Vi starts to rub her foot against your inner thigh as she continues, “I got pretty good at giving head and other things…do you need me to teach you a thing or two?”

“I-I-” You’re flustered, you don’t even know where to start. The feeling of her rubbing your inner thigh is nice but you want it higher up. You want her to touch you where you need it, where you’re practically pulsating. You finally get the courage to use your words, “Are you a good teacher?”

“The best,” she answers quickly, she moves closer and moves her foot up higher to your clothed cunt. She looks up at you, “As badly as I’d love to put you on your back and eat you out, why don’t we start with a different lesson, something a bit more simple.”

“But what if I want to get put on my back and eaten out?” You half joke.

“Respectfully, I think you’d come if I even breathed near your clit.”

You choke on air and start laughing, “Fair enough.”

Vi looks around the room, her eyes landing on her signature combat boots sitting by the door, “You wanna get off tonight I’m assuming?”

You nod, “Y-Yeah…I do.”

Vi smirks, “Stay sitting there for me.” She gets up from her spot on the floor and goes over to the door. She grabs her boots and slips them on, taking her sweet time lacing them up. She goes over to her nightstand next and grabs her mini wand. She sits on her bed and looks down at you, “Take off your shorts.”

You’re quick to comply, leaving yourself in a pair of grey panties and your Hooters tank top. You sit on the floor awaiting your next instructions from her. Submission comes natural to you, you want her to tell you what to do, you want to be good for her.

Vi motions for you to come over to her but as you get up to stand she shakes her head. “Crawl to me. C’mon puppy.” You whimper in response as you sink back down to your knees, you hang your head in embarrassment as you crawl over to Vi. You sit down in front of her boots and look up at her as you sit back on your knees.

“There’s my good girl,” Vi says, reaching down to caress your face. She slides her thumb against your bottom lip and uses it to pull your mouth open. She tilts your head up and leans down, “You’re gonna listen to me if you wanna get off tonight, got it?” You nod dumbly, ready to do whatever she says.

She smiles and pulls away from you, “Kiss my boots.” She leans back on the bed, resting on her palms and smirking down at you.

“Kiss your boots? Aren’t they dirty? I haven’t seen you clean them once this week.”

“Well it’s a good thing I have a good little puppy like you to get them clean for me, huh?” She mocks.

“Yes ma’am,” you answer bashfully, scooting yourself back before dipping your head down and kissing the tip of her boot. You look up at her for approval and feel your cheeks heat up as she smiles down at you. You kiss her boot all over before moving to the next one. Vi praises you as you do, “Good girl, giving my boots the love they deserve. Maybe they’ll give it back to you if you’re good enough. Bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Pretty little virgin getting her second kiss in such a pathetic way. Bet you’re soaked, huh?” You nod in response, continuing to kiss her boots like you were instructed. Once you feel you’ve kissed it enough you sit back on your knees and wait for your next command.

Vi looks down at her boots and looks back at you with an almost proud look on her face. “Would ya look at that, pretty girl got them sparkling for me…” Your cheeks heat up once again. She leans down and ruffles your hair as if she’s petting you, “Such a good girl for me. I think I owe you a reward, hm?” She teases.

“Please…I worked hard for it,” you plead. You stick out your bottom lip dramatically and give her puppy dog eyes.

“Oh how could I say no to a face like that,” she chuckles, “Go on mount my boot for me, puppy.”

She doesn’t have to tell you twice, you mount her left boot, you panty clad cunt pressed up against the leather. You wrap your arms around her leg, practically hugging it and look up at her as you start to slowly grind yourself against it. Vi reaches down and grabs your front waistband, she slowly wrenches it up, the fabric forcing itself between your lips in a humiliating yet pleasurable way. Vi holds her grip and nods for you to continue. You bite your lip and smile down at the ground as you grind your cunt against her, the worn out leather is much more pleasurable than you imagined it would be. The added friction of your panties being held taut by Vi makes it easy for you to soak right through that flimsy little pair.

“You’re doing so well, cupcake. C’mon be a good girl and let me hear how good you feel.” Vi grabs her mini wand and stuffs it into her panties, pressed against her clit. She turns it on and bites her lip to keep herself quiet.

You follow her orders, no longer holding back your whines and whimpers. “Shit, Vi, it feels so good,” you moan, letting your head fall back. You stop being ashamed of how you’re feeling, of what she’s doing to you. You let go and be vulnerable for her, just like she wants.

Vi pulls a bit on the waistband of your panties, matching your rhythm. She uses her other hand to keep her wand pressed against her clit. She’s squirming and whimpering on the bed while she helps get you off. You moan her name and continue making a mess of her boot and your panties. At the beginning of this week you would’ve never imagined this is how you’d end up. You squeeze around the fabric and let out a shaky breath, “God, Vi…ngh it’s so good…so fucking good.”

Vi smirks and pulls harder, practically bouncing you on her boot, “Tell me how good it feels, cupcake. Gonna make you ruin my boot and lick it back up all nice and clean. You wanna do that for me, don’t you? Wanna be a good little puppy for me, hm?”

“Yes, god! G-Gonna ruin your boots…gonna lick it up…gonna be s-so good for you,” you stutter. This feels so much better than when you’d hump your pillow and lazily play with your clit.

Vi keeps muttering praise, her eyelashes fluttering as she feels herself getting closer. She wrenches your waistband up even higher until it reaches your breasts and pushes her boot harder against your cunt, trying to get you to come. “Make a mess for me, c’mon sweet girl, make a mess for me,” she moans.

You can’t hold back anymore, falling forward against her leg and moaning her name, a string of curses leave your lips as you come against the fabric of your panties and the leather of her boots. You rest your head against her leg and take a minute to catch your breath. Vi suddenly lets out a high pitched whine and grips your hair as she rides out her orgasm, she whines your name along with some curses and praise for you. You feel her grip loosen and she lays back onto the bed. You slide yourself off her boot, smiling dumbly. “Want me to clean it up, Vi?” You ask softly.

She chuckles from the bed and gives you a thumbs up, “Have at it, cupcake.”

You lower your head back down to her boot and start licking up your come. You lick her boot till it’s clean and shiny. When you’re done you crawl up on the bed with Vi, laying next to her. Her hair is a mess and her cheeks are flushed, “Thank you for that,” you whisper. Vi smiles and pulls you into her, “Anytime, Cupcake.”

#vi arcane #vi arcane drabble #vi arcane imagine #arcane #vi x reader #vi x reader smut #arcane vi #vi x you #vi x y/n #vi arcane smut

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reignpage · 2 months ago

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helloooooo! i’m literally such a fan of everything you post and you’re literally one of the best smau authors on here periodt 🖤

how do you think the jjk men and jjk boys would react to their gf asking another man for help with something or seeing another man help them? like with setting up furniture or opening jars or fixing up their car?

Gojo:

on a mission you partner off with some other guy MAN IS STANDING THERE, JAW ON THE FLOOR HE'S FUCKING BUFFERING LMFAO "uhhhh, sugarplum cupcake sweetness chocolate mouse honeybee? I'm right here???" "don't take another step or god as my witness I will smite this entire country down" and then when you sigh and agree to partner off with him just so you can get this mission done, he's all smiley again, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and skipping off into the sunset

Geto:

on a date you ask a server for some tissues it's so harmless, so normal, so common sensical you'd never think he'd care but when you turn back to him, he's got that psycho killer smile the one that looks so peaceful, so kind and patient that your heart drops to you ass and you realise your mistake "I could have gotten tissues for you, pretty." "did you not want me to get tissues for you, angel?" "could that monkey really fetch tissues better than I could?" will not tip the server might even send a curse after him tbh

Choso:

jealous of his own brother you're at their home and you ask Yuji for a glass of water since he's already in the kitchen man starts sulking he's all depressed, fucking rain cloud over his head, and he looks like he just presented you with a drawing he did in class and you told him you're happy he gave it his best effort lol "I wanted to get water for you" "why did you ask Yuji?" "Yuji can't get water better than me, can he?" will make Yuji return the water so he can get it for you himself, gets a whole new cup and everything

Toji:

you ask a plumber to fix a leaky pipe under your sink comes home and sees a pair of men's shoes and he's readying a fucking weapon cocks a gun and everything marches in all ready for some guerrilla warfare sees you waiting for the plumber and realises the situation will backseat help "nah, you need to twist harder" "how much experience did you say you have?" when guy leaves, he's all moody and grouchy "no, I don't fucking care" "waste your money on some fucking plumber, that's on you" will break it when you're not looking so he can prove a point "it's hard to get good help these days ma, good thing I'll do it for free"

Nanami:

you're at work you ask a colleague for help with a document instead of him doesn't say shit he's trying to rationalise it in his head "she just didn't want to bother me, that's all" to everyone else, he looks fine but you see his jaw is tense, brow twitching once in a while, and he's flicking through papers much harder than he needs to have to smooth talk him "are you okay, kenny baby?" "I thought we had an agreement that pet names have no place in the office, honey." ride home is quiet, not really tense since you know why he's upset, and it's making you laugh a little when you get home, you have to hug it out of him and whisper sweet nothings until he relaxes "yes, you're right, my love. I was feeling a little possessive there. please come to me if you ever need help, even if it's the most minor thing. I would never turn you away." me personally, I wouldn't wait until we get home, I'm sucking him off in the car, hell under the desk, hell right in front of everyone

Sukuna:

you ask some random person in the street for directions whilst out sightseeing kills them you ask someone to get something on the top shelf in a supermarket, you don't even know Sukuna's there he kills them you trip, a guard on the estate catches you and you say thanks kills them changes out the entire guard doesn't even say shit, just does it without further thought or discussion

Yuji:

offended if you ask someone else to spar with you "HEY! I could spar you. I'm really good!!" will try to join in tries to show off his moves and the type to laugh really loud randomly to catch your attention you're going to have to throw him a bone because everyone else is getting annoyed if maki glares at you one more time, you'll cry "yay!!!! me and my girlfriend are the best sparring duo the world has ever seen" mood switches so easily, never holds a grudge

Megumi:

you're at a bookstore you ask for some guy's opinion, a recommendation or something he does that horror movie neck turn, the slow one with the jaws theme song doesn't say anything either just starts brooding oozing dark energy in the corner muttering to himself as he reads a book and if you tease him about it, he might actually just summon mahoraga tbh you have to butter him up and he'll let it go for the most part. just be aware you're never going to that bookstore again tho

Inumaki:

pikachu face when you ask panda to explain a joke to you you gonna do him like that??? with his BOY???? starts cursing all of you out "caviar!" and if you both ignore him, he'll start zipping down his jacket menacingly texts you "panda doesn't know shit, I'm the memelord, you should ask me" "panda's not explaining right!" spams "bruh" everywhere, in ur dms, in the group chat, on his insta/snap stories. fucking tweets it

#jjk reactions

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gothgoblinbabe · 5 months ago

Text

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts (pt.2)

Logan Howlett x fem reader

divider credit

Warnings: MDNI/18+, mostly porn w little plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), fem!reader, being referred to as a girl, use of pet names, very light choking, filming sex/making a sex tape, swearing, I believe that is it but if i missed any pls lmk <3 I also didn’t proofread this one as much as I usually do so forgive me for any mistakes or inconsistencies!

Summary: [based on this ask] I don’t know what to really say for this one cause I feel like the ask explains it perfectly lol, but part 1 is here if you want to read it but this also works as a stand alone thing. I did tweak a couple of things from the ask but nothing major!

Word count: 5.5K

Since you and Logan had gotten to know each other a little better, you were over his and Wade’s apartment sometimes more than your own. He’d begun to make himself comfortable in yours too, finding himself waking up in your decorative sheets with the morning sun shining onto the pictures taped to your wall. It was a comfortable routine you’d started; waking up in each other's beds, going out to eat at some 24 hour diner when neither of you could sleep, talking with each other till the sun came up. Weekends with Wade even turned to weekends with Wade and Logan, your legs slung over your boyfriend's lap with his arm around your shoulder.

Unfortunately for him, though, you and Wade would not budge on Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

“I still don’t get it,” he grumbled next to you on the couch, quirking an eyebrow at you and his roommate, “what the hell are they famous for, anyway?”

“Well,” you began to explain, raising the remote to mute the TV, “their dad was a really famous lawyer, he defended O-”

“Nope,” Wade piped up from beside you through a mouthful of chips, “you know that’s not the real reason they’re famous, cupcake.”

You turned to narrow your eyes at him, “C’mon, you don’t mean -”

“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes flickering from you to the muted TV so he could read the subtitles without missing a beat.

“What?” Logan finally asked, clearly frustrated that neither of you would clue him in.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and laughing a bit to yourself, “Okay, so, Kim? The main sister?”

He nodded, “the one with the huge -”

“Yes, her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, she used to date this singer Ray J and in the early two thousands, they made a sex tape. It got leaked somehow and she kinda shot into fame and I guess her family followed,” you explained simply.

“You should show him the tape,” Wade chimed in again, taking the remote from your lap and unmuting the TV.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna do that,” you shook your head, “I don’t think he’d wanna see it.”

“You’d be right,” Logan agreed, cringing a little.

“You two should make your own, then. You can finally be famous for somethin’ else, peanut!” Wade suggested, poking at his roommate's shoulder, “plus, with a pretty girl? Man, that would blow up.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. That was seemingly the end of the discussion, except Logan couldn’t get Wade’s words to leave his brain.

You two should make your own, then.

It stuck with him to the point that he was staring at his ceiling that night, listening to your steady breathing as you slept beside him, still unable to think of anything else. It was a bad idea, wasn’t it? He couldn’t ask you to do that with him. Could he?

He couldn’t shake the image of you on the screen of some camera, your back to his chest as he fucked you from behind and you batted your pretty eyes at the lens. He’d never let another soul see it, it would be something just between the two of you - something he’d definitely keep to watch a million times over. He looked around his apartment the next day after you'd gone to work to see if maybe Wade had an old camera somewhere - one he wouldn’t miss if he never saw it again. He dug out a silver camcorder from the junk drawer in the kitchen, turning it over in his hands. It looked like one you’d find on a shelf in a radioshack - when they were still around - something you’d use to film a kid’s high school graduation in the mid two thousands. As long as it worked, it would do. He fumbled the thing open, pressing a couple buttons before the screen finally lit up and gave him the option to look through the album. There were only three things on there - a blurry picture of Wade’s shoes, an even blurrier picture of half of his face and a twelve second video of him trying to film Logan while he swatted the camera out of his hands and onto the floor.

He found a charger and hooked it up to the wall, already thinking over how exactly he was going to approach the subject with you. If he was going to be able to do what he’d been thinking about, that camera had to be charged to last for at least a couple of hours. He’d planned to stay the night at your place and figured he’d try to work up the nerve to ask then.

He found himself on your couch later that night, his thighs spread while you sat in his lap and played with his hair. He was leaving kisses down your throat, his hands on the sides of your thighs.

“Can I ask you somethin’, sweetheart?” he mumbled into your skin. He pulled his face away to look into your eyes.

“Hm?” you raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

He almost felt dirty for what he was about to ask of you - like he was perverted for even considering it when you looked at him so sweetly.

His eyes moved from your face to his jacket laying beside him and he reached into the pocket, pulling out the small camera.

“I kinda wanted to try somethin’ a little different.”

Your lips parted when you realized what he was holding, eyes flickering from the device to his face. He watched your lips curl up into a smile. You knew instantly what he was about to ask when you remembered your conversation from the night before.

“You wanna film a sex tape?”

He swallowed hard, fearful that you were about to scoff and lift yourself off him. Instead, you rested your hand over his that held the camera, “I wonder where you got that idea.”

You took it from his hand, flipping it open and turning it on. You held it up and hit record, smirking when he rolled his eyes at you.

“I didn’t say I wanted my face all in it,” he scoffed, a smile tugging at his lips.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you only film me?” you pulled the camera from your face, quirking an eyebrow at him, “uh-uh, babe. If this is gonna be our sex tape, I want you in it.”

He huffed, glaring at you through the lens.

“Besides,” you continued, “you’re acting like you're the only one who's gonna like it.”

“So, you’re not upset that I asked?”

You shook your head, “Upset that a hot guy asked to film himself screwing my brains out? Hell no.”

He gnawed at his bottom lip and watched you fiddle with the camera, clicking through settings and trying out filters. Screw your brains out, huh? He could do that. He wouldn't admit it even if you asked, but he was turned on beyond belief from the idea that you’d watch it when he wasn’t with you - he liked the idea of putting on a performance for you, giving you what you want so you’d stuff the little vibrator you kept in the drawer of your nightstand inside your aching pussy when you watched it back, your eyes trained on his face and remembering how good he’d made you feel.

“It’s kind of an older camera,” Logan began, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, “maybe we should test it out, see if it works?”

“Oh, should we?”

He stood up in seconds, his strong arms holding you up by your thighs as he carried you to your room. You giggled, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. You held the camera up to film yourself. Your face was in frame, Logan only visible by the back of his head as you stretched your arm out.

“This is my very sexy boyfriend, taking me to bed,” you narrated, kissing the side of his face.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, burying his face in your neck as he nudged your door open with his foot. He dropped you onto the bed and you kept the camera trained on him as he crawled over you.

“You’re gonna keep that damn thing on my face the whole time?”

He leaned over you with his hands on either side of your head, his bulging muscles even more prominent from your angle underneath him. His tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, licking over his lips. You wouldn’t mind if the whole video was just from this angle.

“You look fucking hot.”

He was a little taken back by your compliment. Even after months of sleeping together, he still wasn’t used to the praise, dismissing you with a scoff or simply hiding his red face.

“Look who’s talkin’.”

Logan snatched the camera from your hands in one quick swipe, sitting back on his heels so he could get all of you in frame. You sat up, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere off the bed, leaving you in your bra and jeans. You looked angelic underneath him with your hair spread around your head like a halo, your chest heaving in excitement. You bit your lip and grabbed the end of his shirt to pull him closer to you, lidded eyes staring up at him.

“Fuck.”

He groaned, letting you pull him down and slip your tongue into his mouth. He haphazardly placed the camera on your bedside table, glancing at it momentarily to make sure it was on before diving back onto you.

His hands slid up your back and under the band of your bra. He unhooked the clasp and pushed the straps down your shoulders, pulling the garment from your chest and licking his lips in awe. It didn’t matter how often he saw you naked; each time was like the first.

His mouth latched onto your chest almost immediately, swirling his tongue and sucking in a way that elicited a moan from your lips. Your back arched and he hooked his arm around your waist to pull you as close as possible. He was sucking dark marks into your soft skin, leaving each one shiny with his saliva. If there was one thing you were sure of with Logan, it was that he really loved being messy when he toyed with you.

He dragged his lips from your chest down your waistband, leaving tender kisses on your stomach and sides. Over time, he’d slowly gotten more affectionate - more loving and emotional - during sex. He always showed it the best he could, but he was clearly becoming more comfortable being vulnerable with you. He still had his animalistic and rough ways about him, but now it was combined with soft kisses to your nose and forehead, mumbled praises into your mouth and declarations of love while you panted from the pace of his thrusts.

Logan stopped at the waistband of your jeans, his fingers popping the metal button with little hesitation. You wordlessly lifted your hips for him to drag them down your thighs, leaving you only in your panties. He leaned over to grab the camera from the table, leaning back a bit to get you in frame.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he huffed, his free hand immediately sliding between your thighs to graze his fingers against the damp fabric, “all for me?”

You nodded, hooded eyes and parted lips posing for the camera, “yours, all yours.”

Logan was chewing on his bottom lip while he admired you from behind the camera. He knew without a doubt that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever been with; none of those dirty magazines or tapes he’d seen over the years could even compare to what was in front of him now. You were positively heavenly, a type of beauty so alluring that it bordered being otherworldly.

He finally used his free hand to remove your panties when you lifted your hips, set on recording as much as he could from the perspective he had because fuck, it was a good one.

Laying in front of him - completely bare - with the camera focused on you made you feel vulnerable and a little shy and Logan was always able to read you.

He wanted to focus on you even more, but he instead handed the device over to you when he sensed your mild discomfort, the lens facing him.

“Here,” was all he said, letting you bring the camera up to your eye before he tugged his t-shirt over his head. He knew you clearly enjoyed filming him and even if he didn’t love the idea of being the object of attention, he wanted you to be comfortable and he’d sacrifice his own comfort for you any day. So, once he was shirtless, he stood off the bed in front of you to strip himself of his jeans and boxers, letting his hard cock spring up to hit his stomach when he took off the latter.

You had - fortunately for you - figured out the zoom option on the camera and used it to perfectly frame his leaking cock as the only thing in the shot, bobbing when he moved towards you to take the device back. When he did, he set it on the table next to the bed, messing with the same zoom option so that the shot was of you sitting up with your legs spread and your cunt aching to be touched.

Settling himself on his stomach between your legs, he hiked your thighs onto his shoulder, his mouth inches from your heat.

“Do me a favor, sweetheart,” he began and you nodded, ready to agree to anything he asked of you, “be as loud as you can, yeah? Wanna be able to hear ya’ on tape.”

He instantly delved his tongue into you, making you gasp. You tenderly rested your hands on his arms that were hooked around your thighs as if you were encouraging him to stay there.

He ate you every time like he was starving, his cheeks and chin always slick with saliva and sap from between your legs when he finally pulled himself off you.

You did as he instructed - though, you were probably going to do it anyway - moaning openly as he licked stripes up your dripping cunt so he could circle his tongue around your clit.

“Oh my god,” you whined, your thighs clamping around his head out of instinct. He let you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark strands to help angle his head and making him growl with his mouth still suctioned to you.

You felt around beside you for the camera, fumbling with it till you had the lens angled at him in between your legs.

“Fuck, L-Logan,” you panted, lovingly caressing his temple with your free hand.

“Mhm,” he hummed into you, the vibration pulling a whimper from your throat, “you like holding that thing, huh?”

Your eyes were glued to his through the small screen.

“You’re so fucking hot, of course I do,” you sighed, your lips parted and chest heaving.

He scoffed in amusement, continuing to slip his tongue between your folds and prod at your entrance. With his face still buried in you and his eyes closed in concentration, he took the camera from you and set it back on the table. He used his arms around your thighs to yank you further down the bed so you were flat on your back. You watched in awe as he spat a mouthful of saliva right onto your already soaked pussy, using his fingers to swipe his spit all over you. Latching his lips back onto your clit, he easily slipped two of his digits into you, feverishly pumping in and out. Your moans grew louder with each thrust of his fingers, echoing off your walls along with the wet noises that came from your soaked cunt.

“You’re such a good girl for me, lettin’ me eat your pretty pussy,” he rambled, voice muffled by your thighs, “always so fuckin’ good.”

You inhaled sharply when he gently rolled your clit between his teeth, licking after like a balm to soothe the searing sensation. You thought you couldn’t moan any louder until he replaced his fingers inside you with his tongue, angling his mouth in a way that made his nose nudge your bundle of nerves.

“Only good for you,” you managed to choke out, turning your head to the side to bury it in your pillow, “only for you.”

His hand slid up to grope your chest, pinching your nipple between his fingers. He slid it up even further to grab your chin and turn your head so you were forced to look at him.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he grumbled.

“Ah - uh-huh,” you tried to make some noise of agreement but were overwhelmed with how he was expertly tracing your cunt with his tongue.

Until he detached his mouth from you completely.

You groaned in frustration and knitted your eyebrows, silently asking why he stopped.

“Use your words or I’ll stop. Ya’ got it?”

His stern voice sent shivers down your spine.

“Yes, baby, please -“

His tongue was already back in between your folds by the time you said yes. He kept his vice like grip around your thighs, deciding he’d be content if he died right there with his head between your legs.

“Love when you - when you - fuck - eat me out,” you panted, “you make me feel so good.”

You knew how much he secretly loved the praise, catching the way he ground his hips into the mattress to find some sort of relief whenever you told him he was doing a good job, that he was so handsome, that you loved what he was doing to you. He was usually the dominant one in the relationship, whispering praises in your ear while you were underneath him, but you knew him well enough by now to have figured out that he loved when you did it back.

“You’re perfect, Logan, I - ah - I love you,” you gasped when his fingers pumped back into you.

It wasn’t all about sex with you two - though it was a wonderful part of your relationship - and yet he’d discovered that he’d never felt more loved than he had when he was with you, declaring your love for him while he completely devoted himself to you with his face in your pussy.

“I love you, too, pretty girl,” he grunted, “love fuckin’ you with my mouth.”

His filthy words fueled the fire building in your lower stomach and you tugged at his hair in an attempt to warn him.

“ ‘m gonna come,” you slurred, ankles locked on Logan’s back to keep him in place.

“Come for me, beautiful, c’mon,” he coaxed while his fingers abused the spot inside of you that made you whimper to encourage him to keep going, “want it all, want you to come on my face.”

That was definitely what sent you over the edge, mumbling unintelligible praises as he lapped up anything that had spilled out of you and onto his tongue.

“Tastes so damn good,” he heaved, his fingers still working at a consistent pace, “I think I can pull another one outta you.”

You felt tears beginning to form in your eyes from the overstimulation, crying out when he grazed your swollen clit with his teeth.

“ ‘s too - too much,” you tried to pull his head away by tugging his hair, to no avail.

He’d let you go, but not without one more taste of you.

It only took a couple more flicks of his tongue to have you arching your back, tears rolling down the sides of your face as you gushed around his fingers for a second time.

When he finally slipped his fingers out of you and he’d left the comfortable spot between your warm thighs, you could see that his entire lower face was almost completely slick with a mix of his spit and your cum. He was licking his lips, trying to savor the taste of you but making no attempt to wipe anything off his chin or cheeks. He was in love with you but he was also in love with the reality that he got to do this to you, that he got to taste every bit, that you wanted him to. You sat up to give him a desperate kiss - a clash of tongues and teeth that tasted entirely of you. You finally pulled away to admire his face.

Seeing him with his hair disheveled from your repeated tugging, his lips near swollen and raw and his cheeks still shining made you crave the idea of returning the favor.

“Sit on the edge of the bed, baby.”

Though he was usually the one giving orders instead of following them, he obliged anyway. His cock was still leaking in anticipation, hard against his stomach. When you got down on your knees in front of him, he couldn’t hide the excited smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never expected you to return the favor when he used his mouth on you - content with that being a reward itself - but when you did? You usually left him shaking.

You took the camera from the table and handed it up to Logan, eager eyes following the lens.

“Can I suck your cock? Please?”

You knew he loved it when you begged and you always used it to get him exactly where you wanted him, especially when you looked up at him with those pleading eyes.

“Go ahead, baby,” he used his free hand to loosely hold your hair back in his fist, “I know you like havin’ it in your mouth, huh?”

You nodded eagerly, your hand wrapping around the base of his shaft. You hovered your mouth over his tip, letting a glob of spit drip from your lips so you could coat his cock in it before you tried to take him in your throat. You’d done it before, but he was huge and every time you tried to prep to make it easier. Your jaw even became sore sometimes from how wide you’d have to keep your mouth open. You never complained, though, because the mere idea of having the weight of Logan’s heavy cock in your mouth was enough to make you drool.

You spread your saliva up and down, leaning forward and dragging his tip across your parted lips while staring up at the lens of the camera.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, focused on you through the small screen, “such a fucking tease.”

You grinned, placing a light kiss on his tip before engulfing him into your mouth, tongue sliding along his slit to taste the small amount of precum that’d dripped from him when he first sat up. You suctioned and began to work up a pace, taking him as far as you could into your mouth while your hand stroked the rest of him.

“I love giving you head,” you admitted in the most sultry way possible when you popped your lips off his tip, long lashes batting up at him. It wasn’t a lie, either, and that was clear by how sloppy you loved to be whenever it was your turn to be on your knees. If you had at least one thing in common, it was that you wanted to worship each other as much as possible. You wanted to leave him in a state of euphoria the same way he did you, just as messily dedicated to making sure he came.

“Yeah? I can tell, sweetheart,” he still held the camera but his eyes were trained on your face, “such a good girl, sucking my cock like you were made for it.”

You tried to push him further into your throat, eager to see his thighs shake and hear him groan your name. You gagged on his tip and he inadvertently rolled his hips. You hummed, eyes starting to water every time you choked on his dick. You used your free hand to cup his balls and smeared your saliva down from the base of his cock to coat them. You pulled yourself off his mouth momentarily to spit on him again, licking your lips in excitement.

“Fuck’s sake,” he grunted, camera abandoned on the side of the bed so he could place both his hands on the back of your head, “doin’ so fucking good, princess.”

You continued to stroke him with one hand and massage his balls in the other, your tongue still swirling and sucking around him. You popped off him with a smile, spit covering your lips and chin while your hands continued their motion.

Logan leaned back on his elbows and held the camera up again with one hand. When you wrapped your lips around his cock again, he started to roll his hips at a steady pace so he could fuck your throat, grunting every time you gagged around him.

You picked up your pace, stroking his base while your head bobbed up and down in synch with your hand.

“Atta girl,” he panted, “jus’ like that.”

You could tell he was already close because he was sloppily rocking his hips up into your mouth, his thighs beginning to shake every time he hit the back of your throat. He sat up suddenly, grabbing your hair again to slowly pull you off his cock.

“On the bed, hands and knees,” he instructed simply, letting you scramble onto the mattress as he set up the camera on the end of your bed. You understood almost instantly what he wanted, biting back a smile as you laid your chest flat on the mattress, back arched with your ass in the air.

He climbed behind you and placed his knees on the inside of yours to push your legs apart even further. His large hands gripped your hips and he pulled you against him, his hard cock prodding your entrance. He leaned his body over yours so that your back was flush with his chest.

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty pussy like you deserve,” he muttered into your ear, intoxicating you with the feeling of his hot breath fanning the side of your face, “think you can take it, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly and gasped when he dragged the tip of his cock along the folds of your dripping cunt.

“Can take it - I want it so bad, Logan,” you pleaded, pushing back into him. Your eyes bore into the camera, lips parted. It was his idea for a sex tape after all, you might as well be sure to give him a show.

He sheathed himself into you completely in one thrust with an iron grip on your hips, the weight of him pushing into you almost knocking the wind out of your lungs. He began to slowly inch himself out and slam back in again, pulling out a little further each time. He was grunting into the back of your neck while he rocked his hips.

“Takin’ it so good, baby,” he panted, one of his hands moving to your neck and barely applying pressure while the other held his upper body above yours. His lips came to the side of your face and left a kiss so sweet that it could’ve rotted your teeth.

You whimpered when he worked up to a steady pace and reveled in the sensation of him filling you completely. Your fingers gripped the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto so you could stable yourself when his hard thrusts nearly knocked you over completely.

“S-so fucking - ah - so good,” you slurred your words with your eyes squeezed shut. You were slack jawed, nearly drooling.

“Yeah? Can tell you like it,” he huffed, “you’re so pretty, takin’ all of me like a good girl.”

You nodded frantically, whimpering every time he slammed into you.

“You like bein’ on camera, don’t you?” he continued, “you’re really fucking wet.”

You could only moan in response. You were soaking around him, drenching the base of his cock and the happy trail that went up to his stomach. He leaned back on his knees and his pace never faltered.

Your hands outstretched in front of you and you grabbed the camera. You angled it over your shoulder and focused the lens on his face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

He scoffed when he noticed the camera over your shoulder, keeping his rhythm while his eyes were glued to the lens. If he thought too hard about what you might do with the video later, he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Feels good, baby?” you panted, an amused smile creeping onto your face.

He was always the one to talk to you like that - pet names and filthy encouragement - but you wanted to get his face on film when you teased him back - or, at least tried to.

His expression mirrored yours and he grabbed the camera while his other hand kept an iron grip on your hip.

“I think you like holdin’ that thing a little too much,” he brought it up to his face and squinted at you through the screen.

“Mm,” you hummed, your face flushed and body sticky with sweat, “can’t help it.”

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous like this, you know that? God,” he sighed, “can’t get enough of you.”

You would’ve found his words endearing if you could even process them. The intoxicating feeling every time he pushed back into you was enough to render you speechless.

Logan angled the camera down to film the repeated motion, gaping at the mess you left around the base of him every time he pulled back.

“My dirty girl,” he cooed, “you like makin’ a mess on my cock?”

“F-Fuck - yes, yes,” you sobbed before he even finished his sentence. You could feel the pressure building in your stomach, bringing you closer to finishing.

“C’mon, sweetheart, I can feel you gettin’ tighter. Come for me, baby,” he grunted, his hand sliding from your hip to grip your ass.

It only took a few more strokes for you to do exactly that with your legs shaking underneath you.

“ ‘Atta girl,” he growled. He watched you gush around him, zooming in on your dripping pussy as he stretched you out over and over again. You were chanting his name, muttering unintelligible praises against your sheets.

It wasn’t long before he followed suit, his pace becoming sloppy as he spilled into you and let it drip down your thighs. He clicked off the camera and tossed it somewhere else onto the bed.

“C’mere,” he huffed, pulling you up to lean back against him, “love you so much.” He was leaving saccharine kisses from your ear down to your shoulder, still panting.

“I love you, too,” you managed to say with your eyes already half closed. He pulled out and laid you on your side, grabbing some t-shirt that had been next to the bed to clean you up. He wrapped you in his arms from behind and pulled up the comforter to cover you both.

“Can’t wait to watch that back,” he mumbled into your neck.

“Mhm,” you were already drifting off to sleep while he stroked your hair, “me neither.”

Logan fell asleep right after you with his arms still around you and his legs tangled in yours.

—-----------------------------------

Later that same week, you sat on the couch beside Logan in his apartment, flipping through TV channels on a lazy day off. Wade emerged from his bedroom and began frantically tearing apart the kitchen.

“What are you looking for?” you called, turning in your seat.

“My old camera. Have you seen it?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

You thought you hadn’t, at least. You had know idea the camera Logan brought over was Wade’s.

He was pretending to be uninterested in the conversation, hoping his apathy towards the question would absolve him of any suspicion.

You shrugged and returned your attention to the TV. You heard a couple doors open and close before Wade’s voice echoed through the apartment.

“Found it!”

Logan went wide eyed and immediately stood up from the couch.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and looked between him and Wade when he came back into the living room.

And then you recognized the camera in his hands.

“Don’t open it, I’ll buy you a new one,” Logan insisted simply, holding out his hand.

“Oh, my god,” you muttered.

Wade's eyes flickered between you both.

“There’s something on here I’m not supposed to see, isn’t there?”

Logan immediately lunged for the camera and Wade sprinted into his bedroom, slamming his door shut and locking it. Logan pounded his fist on the door and tugged the doorknob.

“Open the door, you son of a bitch!”

You buried your face into the fabric of the couch cushion, anticipating the embarrassment of Wade seeing what was still on that camera.

He opened the door after a minute, giant smile plastered on his face.

“Here you go,” he said in a sing song voice as he handed it over.

You sighed in relief, assuming he’d decided to actually abide by your requests. He closed his bedroom door, only speaking again after you heard the lock click.

“Hey, by the way - can i get a copy?”

A/N: I struggled a lil bit w this one just bc of writers block but I hope it lived up to expectations <3 pls interact if you enjoyed!

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlet smut #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fic #wolverine smut #logan wolverine #deadpool and wolverine

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starpoweredv1b · 17 days ago

Note

With finding out you do like JJK, I gift you this drabble with Nanami.

Nanami isn't a dad. He is still single, and his life is still all about punching that time card. That is until one day, when he is getting off, a colleague begs him for a favor.

"My daughter normally takes the train home, but with all those reports of chikan reports lately, do you think you could possibly take her home?"

She is lucky that Nanami is such a stand-up guy and agrees. Taking time out of his valuble off time, he drives to the nearby college to wait. Still in his suit and tie, he is leaned against the side of his expensive car, always the gentleman he plans to open the door. He gets appreciative looks from girls passing by, but he has no interest in any of them. 'To young' he thinks to himself, that is until he sees his little soon to be passanger. Bright eyes look around the parking lot on the phone with someone, stretching up on tiptoes to try to get a better vantage. Silly little girl, don't you know that isn't how seeing better at a distance works? When she finally catches sight of him, she hangs up the phone and makes her way over to him with a bright smile to match those bright eyes.

"Mr. Nanami?" she asks once she gets close enough to be heard, sweet voice filling his brain like cotton candy and she was just so tiny as she stood in front of him. She would be easy to pick up. Hell, he could do it with one arm if she didn't squirm. Maybe even if she did. "Yes. Your mother sent me to take you home." he says. His voice was full of authority, but still polite. He put his hand out for her bag, but instead, she placed her own small hand in his mistaking it for a handshake instead. Everything about her was tiny. No wonder her mother was worried and asked him to go get her daughter. He would never do anything to her against her will.

In the car, he was now trapped with her smell, too, trying to make idle conversation, but it was hard when she smelt exactly like a vanilla cupcake. It's not the cheap perfume type either. "I'm going to school to be a baker." she proudly tells him the smile on her face makes him want to ruin it with his cock down her throat, but he waits. Ever the gentleman that he is. He doesn't even get home before he is fisting his cock roughly to the scent of her still in his car and texting her mother that he would be more than happy to keep picking up her daughter and making sure she got home safe, free of charge of course.

Over the weeks, he slowly starts getting his little passenger used to his touch. A hand on her back as he guided her to the car. Pushing her hair out of her pretty face when she looks up at him. No, he didn't just trail his fingertips down her face. Everything is slow and methodical until she greets him with a hug after a bad day. Tests and her partner burnt the confections they were working on. She huffed and crossed her little arms as her adorably plump and glossed lips pouted. God did he want those lips around his thumb as he absolutely wrecked her. She wouldn't have to have bad days like this if she dropped out of college and moved in with him. She could make him cute little deserts and breads and he could stuff her tiny cunt full of his hot loads every day. It would be absolutely perfect.

She didn't notice his hand on her thigh. She didn't notice it slipped up and up until he was squeezing the fat of her thigh. She didn't say anything when they ended up at his apartment instead of her home, but she did say, "Please." when she ended up across his lap in his secluded parking spot, making a mess all over the front of his pants

Turns out, she was playing the game as much as he was.

-🐱

🐱 anon singlehandedly feeding this account i swear!!! thank you for the gift it made me (s)cream trust.

making reader into his little housewife slowly but surely, god it definitely drives him crazy just imagining her all rounded and glowing with their kid one day, wearing an apron as she bakes for him. thinking about it would literally lead to him going extra deep if he's fucking her. whispering how good she's doing for him as he spears her open to her cervix. circling her clit with callous experienced fingers as he thrusts deep.

he's also the type to give forehead kisses as he cums deep inside. he'll have his hands on the backs of her thighs, her feet on the broad of his shoulders, and cock head kissing the curve of her cervix as he holds her in a mating press. he'll kiss her forehead so sweetly as he bullies her loaded cunt oh my god i need this man so so bad.

also this inspired me to one day write about burnt out salaryman nanami as a chikan. thank you 🐱 anon i am in love with your asks.

#☆.thirsts #☆.🐱#tw.dark content #nanami x reader #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #age g4p

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theharddeck · 2 years ago

Text

i was supposed to sweat you out (rooster x f!reader)

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: reader is totally not jealous that her FWB is being hit on at the hard deck.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: spitting, unprotected sex, non negotiated breeding kink—friendly reminder this is a work of FICTION oh my god use protection and communicate explicitly with your partner beforehand please please please-- explicit PiV sex, a bit of dumbification, m!receiving oral sex

A/N: help i blacked out and wrote almost 4k of rooster smut who even am i listen, i also know it's not original, but i wanted to write frantic territorial sex and this is where it got us. also...don't think too hard about the parallels between this and can't unfeel that okay i'm too repressed to process tysm also yes title is from glitch by TAS

You weren’t jealous.

Jealous was for people with feelings, and if you had feelings about fucking your team lead, then you were stupid, in addition to giving Uncle Sam everything he needed to court martial you.

So, no, you weren’t jealous.

But the tightness in your stomach as a girl sat next to Rooster on the piano was awfully uncomfortable.

She wasn’t even out of line, that was the worst part. She looked nice, she looked like a decent human, and she was pretty, if you were into the girl next door kinda look.

Which Rooster historically was.

She was sitting at a perfectly respectful distance, her sundress was a perfectly respectful length, her face was open and curious and pure and it made you want to stomp over to the piano in the middle of the Hard Deck, and rub yourself all over Bradley’s hawaiian shirt until he remembered that as pretty as she was, he liked himself around you better.

You made yourself look away, tipping your wrist so the soda water and ice remaining in your glass rattled around.

He wasn’t yours.

You knew he wasn’t, just like you knew jealousy was irrational, but it was hard because sometimes…sometimes he acted like it though.

Like when you nearly passed out from cramps and he’d brought over a spare set of sheets while he washed yours, and then wedged himself around you in your tiny bed, so you could know you weren’t alone in the pain. Or when he left a lemon lavender cupcake in your locker, even though no one was supposed to know it was your birthday, because you hated the way people made a big fuss out of nothing. Or the way he looked up at you, awestruck and beautiful, every time you came on his fingers, sobbing his name.

You set your glass down on the bar, louder than you intended, but suddenly everything seemed loud. You didn’t have to stay here, in fact, you needed to get out. Out of the Hard Deck, away from the bright lights and happy people being happy, and no one moping over their fuckbuddies who definitely didn’t have feelings for them–

When the back door opened, you breathed in deep, cool air rushing off the sea and over you and bringing a momentary reprieve. The door swung shut behind, and as it closed, the din of the bar muted, and you let that breath out slowly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You just needed a minute, a moment to calm the hell down, and forget about the distracting man at the piano whom you had no business being distracted by.

You heard the door creak open behind you and you tipped your head back to glare at the universe at large, because without turning around, you knew exactly who had come outside after you.

“Hey,” Bradley’s voice was just gentle enough to make your heart clench, because it wasn’t his fault that he was so impossibly kind, it had you falling in love with him, “you okay? You ran out of there pretty quick.”

“I’m fine,” you said, sounding just as prickly as you felt, pushing down any sense of flattery that he’d been aware of your presence, and your leaving.

“You sound fine,” Bradley said cheerily, coming to stand beside you. You wanted to laugh with him because you both knew you were being dramatic, but you also wanted to shove him like you were 5 on a playground, too full of big feelings to know how to handle them.

“I said I’m fine, Bradley,” you bit out. “Go back inside, okay, I’m fine.”

He was quiet for a moment, and when you looked over at him, you knew it was a mistake. He was watching you carefully, his brown eyes focused and concerned, a divet in the middle of his forehead where his brows were squished together, making him simultaneously the cutest and hottest, and also the most annoying, for being so handsome while he was clearly worried.

“Honey, we gotta talk about it–” he started, but the endearment broke something inside of you, the way he said it like he meant it, like this was real.

“I’m not your honey, Bradley,” you snapped, turning to face him fully. “We’re friends, right, that was the whole deal, so let’s not pretend like–”

Something flashed in Bradley’s eyes and a moment later his large hands cupped your face as he crashed into you, kissing your gasped breath out of you.

It wasn’t your fault your knees nearly buckled.

It wasn’t your fault that the hands you meant to push him away with instead curled into the material of that stupid technicolor shirt, pulling him closer to you.

It wasn’t your fault that he tasted like heaven, like rum and coke and intoxicating, and months of habit had you chasing his taste with your tongue.

You didn’t realize you were walking backwards until your back hit the outside wall of the Hard Deck, and still Bradley covered you. His neck was bent at a horrible angle to meet your lips, but he didn’t seem to mind, melding his body into yours, pressing into you with a familiar urgency.

His tongue traced over your lips and you opened for him, a whimper escaping you when Bradley hummed with appreciation. His hands slipped from your face to behind your head, his knuckles protecting your head from the scrape of the brick wall, and he rocked into you before pulling back.

You felt his breath against your lips and you opened your eyes slowly, needing a moment before you could focus on him.

Christ, he was just so pretty.

Hair unruly from your fingers, cheeks flushed from kissing you, chest rising unsteadily and his tongue darting out to wet his lips, like a tease.

“Now,” he said, his voice gruffer than it’d been a minute ago, “are you done riding my dick for something I don’t even know I did wrong?”

It was an expression.

You knew that, of course it was an expression, but Bradley was pressing you into a wall with his demigod body, and he’d said it in that voice, the one you knew how it felt against your skin, so all you could manage was, “Can I?”

For a moment, Bradley looked confused, bless him.

Then he huffed out a disbelieving breath, like you were too good to be true, lifting a hand from behind your head to rake it through his hair, before looking back at you.

“You mean that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice somehow even lower. “Out here in the open, you’d let me fuck you?”

You shivered at his words, nodding stupidly, and were rewarded by another kiss. This one was just as unexpected as the first, but Bradley’s lips gentle against yours as he coaxed an answering softness out of you.

It was too sweet.

Too tempting, too delicious, to let yourself have tenderness that you knew wasn’t real, and you needed to get a hold of yourself, fast.

Bradley was still being so damn gentle, so it was easy to push his hands away from you, sink to your knees on the sand-covered asphalt outside of the bar. Bradley fell forward, catching himself on the arm braced on the wall, his forehead resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Honey, you don’t have to–” he started, but his hips bucked forward when your fingers started undoing his belt.

“I want to,” you told him, meaning it too much to care how breathless your voice sounded.

Your hand slipped into his pants, palming his length over his briefs and you both groaned softly. He wasn’t fully hard, not yet, but that was better anyways, let you work him up. He was warm, heavy even at half mast, and it took everything in you not to purr when you pulled him out. You looked up at him, tilting your head.

“Help me out?” you asked coyly, sticking your tongue out, and Bradley’s hips jutted forward again when he realized what you were asking.

“You’re something else,” he murmured, his voice a heady mix of arousal and wonder. The hand that wasn’t keeping him from hitting the wall traced down your cheek, ending at your jaw and tipping your chin up.

You were already salivating and when Bradley spit, you moaned, your thighs clenched together as you drooled your combined saliva onto his cock. Bradley grunted, then whispered something to himself as you smoothed your hand over him, the glide made easier by your spit. Already, you could feel him stiffening, and you readjusted to take him in your mouth.

It was never a gentle fit.

Bradley was the kind of thick that he always stretched out your jaw, but, God, did you relish it. As your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, Bradley moaned, the most beautiful sound. You loved how vocal he was, loved how he sounded, how he felt. You tightened your lips, tongue swirling over the tip of him, teasing until you tasted a hint of salt in your mouth, and then it was your turn to moan.

You tipped your head back, encouraging him to slide him deeper into your mouth, your fist twisting around the portion of his cock that didn’t fit in your mouth.

“Shit, honey, that mouth…” Bradley gritted, his voice muffled in his arm. The hand that had tipped up your chin went around to your cheek, and his hips shifted again when he could feel you hollowing your cheeks out.

The motion pushed him deeper towards your throat and you gagged, but kept him in your mouth, soothed by the shaky cadence of Bradley’s breath over you.

“So damn good for me, aren’t you, honey?” he breathed. “So warm and tight; feels so good…”

Your thighs clenched again, and you felt yourself growing wet as his praise washed over you. You held your breath, determined to take more of him, and Bradley grunted as you pulled on his cock with your hand, feeding him into your mouth.

“Need more, honey?” he asked, somehow still cocky, though you could hear the tremor of desire in his voice. “God, you love being stretched on my dick, don’t you?”

You moaned instead of nodding, wishing it wasn’t true but also wishing he’d push deeper. Your hands flexed on his thighs, still covered in his jeans, but so thick and warm, even through the denim. Fuck, the size of him was overwhelming–his heavy cock in your mouth, those muscled thighs under your fingers…you held your breath and you let go of the base of him.

Bradley let out a choked gasp as you took him deeper, your nose brushing his pubic hair as he slid down your throat. You were gonna lose your voice and be so damn sore, but it was worth it for the groan that ripped out of Bradley.

“Fuck fuck fuck–” he gritted, all cockiness gone as he let go of your cheek, bracing himself against the wall. You knew it was taking everything to not rut into you, and you half appreciated it because you weren’t sure you could take it, but you almost wanted him without restraint, just using you, lost in you.

You hummed around him, and Bradley made a sound you’d never heard before, like a whine and gasp, and then he was pushing himself off the wall, pulling out of you, and wrapping his hands under your arms, pulling you to your feet.

“Fuck, honey, you wreck me,” he rasped, kissing you almost angrily. You whimpered as you opened for him, and you felt his tongue sweeping through you, searching for his taste in your mouth.

You felt so empty, too much air and too little of his cock, and you reached for him between you. You felt him jolt when your hand closed around him, stroking over him, and then Bradley was reaching between both of you, shoving his hand into your underwear.

“How wet am I going to find you, honey? Bet you’re just drenched aren’t you, just that hungry for my cock–fuck.”

Bradley broke off when his fingers swept into your panties, and you gasped at the glorious contact.

His fingers were so good, thick and long and calloused just right, and he was absolutely correct: you were all but dripping for him. Bradley pulled his fingers through your folds, pulling your arousal up to your clit and petting gentle circles around it. Your head fell back against the wall at his ministrations, perfect to the point of painful, almost forgetting you held his cock in your hand.

You tightened your grip around him, and Bradley grunted before he matched your pace with his fingers. You felt your knees shaking, and Bradley wound another hand around your ass, before lifting to brace you against the wall. With your feet off the ground, your balance was entirely dependent upon him, and it brought new pressure to the pattern his fingers were tracing over you.

His touch was maddening.

Light and knowing, direct and perfect, enough to drive you wild with pleasure but not to get you there, and he knew it.

“Bradley,” you whispered against his mouth, begged, and the bastard chuckled, but he pulled his hand out of your panties, just long enough to push them to the side, before pulling his lips away from you.

“Shit, honey, I don’t have a–”

“In me, Rooster,” you snapped, surprised and yet absolutely not surprised by the fact that your eyes felt full. You were desperate for him, it was embarrassing, but you needed him so damn bad, for reasons you didn’t dare say, and if he waited for something else, you didn’t think you could bear it. “Please, fucking please, I need you–”

“Shh honey, you’re okay,” Bradley soothed, one of his hands brushing your hair away from your face, a gentle thumb wiping at your eyes. His gentleness made you more desperate, your hips canting towards him. “Are you sure?”

“So sure, please,” you whimpered, your face feeling hot, your thighs shaking. God you were coming undone, like you were just a giant nerve ending that was just need, desperate, hunger, desire.

“Course, honey,” Bradley soothed, his lips brushing against your cheeks, kissing your tears away, his tongue caressing your skin. “I’ve got you, baby, you’re okay.”

You didn’t think you were, but then his thick cock was at your entrance and you could’ve sobbed in relief. He was hot, you could feel him leaking and you needed him to be so deep inside you. You tried to work your hips down on him, but Bradley’s grip on you was stern, and you couldn’t coax him any faster.

As it was, it still felt like too much.

The stretch of him, the closeness, the way he knew just how to soothe you and fuck you and none of it was real and even when he slowly worked you down onto his cock, you were still shaking.

“Please, please,” you whined, trying to move, and crying out in frustration when Bradley didn’t succumb. “Shit, Bradley, please, fuck me like you mean it.”

He growled, fucking growled, the sexiest sound out of a litany of choices, and Bradley’s hips jerked back before he drove into you. Your head hit the brick wall, he was so perfect and he hit you just right, so good, and almost perfect enough to drown out the thoughts in your head.

“Like I mean it, huh,” Bradley grunted, pulling out, the drag feeling like suction with how wet you were, how tightly you were clenching around him. “Like I mean it when I say you’re killing me, is that what you mean? Like I’m going insane every second this pretty pussy isn’t tight around me, like I can’t think straight if I don’t have the taste of you on my tongue, or know the taste of me isn’t on yours?”

He punctuated each question with a thrust, fucking the answers out of your head, and all you could think was yes and more and please.

“Oh you like that, don’t you, baby?” Bradley said, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he lifted you higher up the wall. Your back scraped against the bricks but you didn’t care, you couldn’t focus on anything other than the perfect drag of his cock inside you, so close to you. “I think you like that, I think you like knowing how much you own me, how in my head you are, how even when it’s me filling you. You’re fucking everywhere, all around me, all the time.”

His thrusts pushed you higher, bits of sand and brick grating at your skin and it grounded you, centered you so you didn’t come undone at the words coming out of him.

You were still thinking too much.

He was so deep, so good, but you still…you reached for him blindly, one of your hands finding one of his, bringing it to your throat.

“Fuck, honey,” Bradley groaned, his fingers tightening slightly and you traced your hand down the back of his hands, moaning when you felt the veins on the back of his hand. He didn’t squeeze tight, just enough to remind you he was there, and that he could, and just the thought had a coil tightening in your core, tingles spreading through your toes and fingers.

“Bradley,” you whimpered, tears squeezing out of your eyes. “Baby, that feels so good, feels like yours, please–”

Bradley moaned into your skin, his lips latching onto your pulse point and sucking, and you keened, your back arching off the wall. The stretch of his cock was pulling your panties across your clit, and the driving press of him inside of you was so good, you could barely hear what he was whispering.

“Is that what you want, honey?” he whispered into your skin. “Want to be mine? That’s what it feels like, honey, it feels like my pussy is so wet for me, dripping for this cock. It feels like my clit is so swollen, so desperate for attention; it feels like my girl’s gonna come on my hard fucking cock…”

Yes, yes that was what you wanted.

You were already his, he didn’t know it, but hearing him say it had your mind going hazy, and your thighs trembling.

“That’s fucking right, baby,” Bradley groaned, “I can feel you clenching down on me, can feel my pussy getting even tighter for me. This doesn’t feel like friends, baby, it feels like my girl’s about to come on my cock.

You were lost, swimming in a sea of heat and sensation and Bradley’s words and you were pretty sure you were wailing, praying no one in the Hard Deck could hear you, but even if they could, you weren’t stopping. His cock was so deep in you, hitting you just right, and you knew what you needed to cum.

“In me, Bradley,” you managed, your voice a weak whine. “Need to feel you come, please, fill me up with it.”

“Oh, fuck, honey,” Bradley choked, his hand tightening on your throat and his hips working faster. His pace was bruising, overwhelming, perfect and hard and you felt everything in you winding tighter.

“Of course you want my cum, fucking of course, if it’s my pussy, then that’s where it belongs isn’t it? That’s how you should be, stuffed so fucking full of me, dripping out of you, marked like mine, fucking mine–”

He was groaning, gasping, his hips speeding up and driving into you, and all you could do was take it, like it was what you were made for. You were boneless, euphoric, and when you felt Bradley’s hips stutter and his head drop to between your breasts, your orgasm broke over you. Bradley sagged into you, hips working weakly as he thrust his cum into you, and you felt it everywhere, marking you, like he said. You couldn’t breathe without him, only knew you were still vertical because he was holding you, and you felt so warm, so held, so full.

His.

You didn’t realize your eyes had closed until you were aware of Bradley asking you to open them. Your feet were on the ground, even though your legs were like a newborn deer, and your back was braced against the wall. Bradley was bent in front of you, brushing away your tears with the back of his hand.

“Talk to me, honey,” he said softly, and you heard his voice like an echo, “need to know you’re okay.”

You nodded slowly, which mustn’t have been convincing, because Bradley was still fussing over you, like he hadn’t fucked you halfway into a new religion.

You knew when he saw your back because of the sound of dismay that burst out of him, and then he was pulling off that damn Hawaiin shirt, brushing gravel off your back while your head hung low between your shoulders, still trying to remember how to breathe.

Satisfied that he’d at least brushed the grit out of your skin, Bradley draped his shirt over your shoulders, protecting them, before guiding you to lean back. He licked his lips as his gaze tracked over your face, and you watched him convince himself to say something.

“Did you mean it?” he asked quietly, but this time you heard him more clearly. “Would…would you want that? To be mine?”

It was your turn to stare.

How could he doubt it? How was there any question? Not only after what you’d just begged him for, but before then, always, he had to know how good he was, and how all anyone wanted was to be in the light of his sunshine.

“Obviously,” you said, your voice coming out as an alarming croak. “But we can’t, we–”

Bradley hugged you.

It wasn’t what you expected.

After everything you’d just done, instigated by stop-talking kisses, there was something astonishingly intimate about Bradley wrapping you in his arms, enfolding you in his embrace, and you felt him relax when your arms hesitatingly wrapped around him too. He was warm, smelled like fresh sweat and you buried your face in the soft cotton of his undershirt. He held you tightly, and you thought he might’ve pressed a kiss to the top of your head, but then his hand was smoothing over your back, gentle, comforting.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, softly. “Together, okay?”

You nodded, knowing he could feel it, and he held you impossibly closer. It didn’t solve it. There were still fraternization rules, still some kind of unofficial vetting process you knew Mav and Ice would put you through, not to mention Penny…but as Bradley held you, you let it be enough.

And maybe it was enough, because, as your body hummed with the reminder of it, you were his.

tagging: @callsign-fangirl @bradshawsbitch @mxgyver @withahappyrefrain @teacupsandtopgun @lewmagoo @nancyxsorbet @sebsxphia @laracrofted @roleycoleyreccenter @sushiwriterhere @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @callsignvalley @wildbornsiren @hangmanshoney idk most people follow me for hangman and coyote so hope i did okay by roo

#bradley rooster bradshaw smut #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #misskielwrites

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erwinsvow · 1 year ago

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omg omg hi lovie!! I really loved your fic about secret bf rafe! I was wondering if you have a continuing part? If not Im literally on my hands and knees BEGGING for one!

oh my goodness this is so so so sweet!! you are SOOO nice thank you so much. i loved that lil fic so much :') i imagine they have lots of other encounters before that and also where they're almost caught.. & i think it's super goofy after everyone finds out. in my head one of the boys (i feel like jayj but maybe pope) also have a lil crush on her so it might be fun writing some stuff with rafe getting jealous/the boys getting jealous... what do you think!!!!!

yes of course of course of course. please let me know what else you'd like to see... for now i present how i imagine they met :) eee!

౨ৎ

The first time Rafe sees you, he's guiding Wheezie through the aisles of the library children's section.

"You know, Leah's mom lets her read Twilight. She said it's so good, she was up all night reading it."

"Yeah, well, Leah's mom also drinks too much wine at the club and probably forgot what that garbage is about. Find something here." Rafe glances through the books on the shelf, settling on a bright pink cover. "How's this? Strawberry Shortcake and the Sleepover?"

Wheezie makes a face at him.

"That's for, like, five year olds."

"Look, the pages are scented," he replies, ignoring her and flicking through the sheets to inhale the smell. He holds it over Wheezie's head, trying to entice her into picking it so they can get the hell out of here.

"No, Rafe, that's for little kids!"

"You're a little kid, incase you forgot."

"I'm not five anymore. I need to read what the big kids read. I bet they have Twilight here-"

"No way, Wheeze-" He's interrupted by the girl stocking the books on the shelves down the aisle.

"Excuse me?" you ask. It's quiet, like you don't want to impose.

At first, he's a little annoyed. You are imposing, because you're speaking over him trying to make sure Wheezie's childhood isn't getting destroyed by whatever the hell could be in those vampire books. But then he turns to answer you, and his snarky response dies in his throat.

Rafe’s seen you before. He’s seen you on the beach and at the bonfire, nose in a book, sipping on a drink and keeping one eye on those dirty Pogues you call your friends. He’s never taken the time to notice you, though, not in passing.

Rafe thinks he would remember if he’d noticed you then. You stand before him, a book in your hand, pretty eyes shining and a gentle smile gracing your face. You look nervous, like you don’t want to bother them. He thinks it’s sweet.

Wheezie looks up at him, mouth a little open, not replying. She pushes an elbow into the side of his leg.

“Are you gonna say anything?” He shoots a glare down at her.

“Yes?” he asks, and you approach them slowly. You’re wearing a lanyard around your neck, dangling over your short white dress and sweater, with a card hanging off the end that can only mean you work here.

“I just overheard and I was going to recommend some books for your age group, if you’d like?” you ask, looking down at Wheezie. Then you look up, glancing at him for approval.

“That would be great,” he replies, a little too quickly. You smile widely at Wheezie, guiding her to where you were organizing chapter books.

About fifteen minutes later, Wheezie’s checking out at the counter with two Amelia Bedelia novels and another book about some girls who bake cupcakes. She’s using her very own library card, so Rafe stands back at the shelves, watching you sort the rest of the books on your cart while he leans against the frame.

“So, how long have you worked here, kid?”

“Really?” you ask, glancing up from the Junie B. Jones book you were about to organize. “Are you really gonna try a pick-up line on me?”

“What’s so wrong with that?”

“I know who you are, Rafe. Are you really gonna hit on a dirty Pogue?” He blinks in surprise for a second. Maybe he underestimated you.

“So your little friends talk about me, huh? What exactly are they saying?”

“Contrary to what you might believe, Rafe, we don’t just sit around all day talking about you Kooks.” You turn to shelve the book, hiding a smile as you do.

“Yeah, sure. Well you seem to know a lot about children’s books, that’s why I’m asking. I’m gonna be around here a lot.” You turn to stare at him for a second. “For Wheeze. She loves to read.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He notices Wheezie’s figure walking back towards him, three books tucked under her arm.

“Well, thanks for getting her away from that Twilight crap. Same time, next week?”

“Yeah, it’s a date,” you say, picking up another book. You only realize what you said a few seconds too late. “Wait, not-”

“Yeah, kid.” Rafe smiles at you, and you find it hard to look away. “It’s a date. See you then.”

He walks away with his sister, leaving you to wonder what you just got yourself into.

#<33333333 #rafe brother of eight-year-old wheezie my beloved<3 #rafe cameron #can someone lmk if they like this pls and thanks!

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hazeystar · 2 months ago

Text

i'm broken (tell you i'm fine)

Now I'm begging you to come and pull me out the fire Come and save me, like you did when we were young Oh please, come bring me up from my lowest, take me higher Can you see me through the ashes and the smoke?

Two weeks after the breakup, Buck misses Tommy. He also loves him, did you know?

welcome to my first fic to this fandom because i hold buck and tommy close to my heart and have many ideas for them now

below the break and also on ao3

He couldn’t have been older than ten when they first met.

He had fallen off his bike. Or maybe he jumped. Maybe he just didn’t stop himself from falling.

Either way he was on the ground, his bike somewhere around him. He was just going down the sidewalk, saw an uneven crack and thought nothing (or maybe he thought “What the hell?” and sped up just a tiny bit more).

“Hey! You alright?” There was a voice calling, and he sat up carefully, wincing as he pressed his hands back into the concrete. He definitely scraped them up.

He was blinking away the sun, when a body came in front of him, standing with a bike next to him. “This your bike?”

It was his bike. There was a boy holding it up, looking down at him with a concerned expression.

Oh. He still hadn’t said anything. “Ye—yeah, it’s mine.”

The boy nodded, setting it down next to them before crouching down. He was older than him, that much was evident, just by his voice. “You’ve scratched up your hands pretty bad.”

He looked down at the offending body parts, nodding slowly. “Looks like it.”

The older boy was silent for a couple beats before standing up. The boy on the ground only stared, following the movement. “I’ll be right back.”

He could only nod, watch the other boy stride down the sidewalk and reappear a few moments later, this time with a first aid kit in hand.

The older boy resumed his spot in front of him, opening the kit and holding out a hand.

He sat there, his own hands still on the ground, occasionally sparking with pain.

“Your hand, kid.” The boy gestured again, and he finally moved, placing his hand in the other boy’s. He felt a shiver run through his body when the back of his hand hit his palm. It wasn’t bad by any means. It felt warm, and soft, like coming home.

Slowly, the older boy dusted off the gravel on his hand, swiping an alcohol wipe over his palm before placing Band-Aids on the worst of the cuts. He set his hand down gently, picked up the other one and repeating the process.

“There you go.”

“Thanks.” He finally spoke again, and watched the other boy stand up and close the first-aid kit.

“Try not to get thrown off your bike again,” he chuckled before giving a small wave and walking back to wherever he came from.

He picked his bike back up, staring at it for a moment, his eyes moving towards the chunk of sidewalk that took him out.

He walked the bike over it, making sure to clear the crack before getting back on and biking back home.

Buck was crying again.

It was two weeks after Tommy had walked out of his loft, and subsequently his life.

He’s now an owner of a KitchenAid stand mixer and probably getting close to being banned from three different grocery stores on account of how much flour and sugar he’s been buying.

He’s working and when he isn’t working, he’s been baking. Trying to keep his mind off Tommy.

But now, the red velvet cupcakes are baking in the oven, there’s red food dye drying on the counter that he can’t be bothered to take care of, and Buck is sitting against his island, tears running down his face as he stares at his phone, trying to write a text message.

He got pretty far this time, some ramble trying to explain himself that filled almost half the screen (it was impressive he managed to type that much with all the water on his phone).

How did this happen? It was going so well, six months together and it was wonderful. It was everything he wanted and more. And then he had nothing.

Well, he had the red velvet cupcakes. That he didn’t even realise he’d started baking until he was pouring in red food dye.

They were Tommy’s favourite.

So, the loft smelled like red velvet, the food dye on the counter probably looked a little too close to blood, and Buck was crying because he missed Tommy so much. Why did he leave him? Didn’t he know he loves him, that he-

Oh.

Did Tommy even know that Buck loves him?

The only sound heard was the sobs Buck was trying to choke back as his mind ran a thousand miles an hour. Did he ever tell Tommy he loves him? Did he ask him to move in and didn’t even say he loves him?

Before he knew it, the text he was still drafting was forgotten as he tapped through his phone, bringing it up to his ear once it started ringing.

It only took two rings, then “Ev- Fuck, Buck?”

He was silent, his breathing hitching with a sob with every breath. He didn’t think this far, he hasn’t heard his voice in two weeks-

“Evan?” Came Tommy’s voice again, and shit, he still hadn’t said anything, has he?

“Tommy,” he breathed out. I love you, did you know that? I really, really lov-

“Evan, are you alright? Where are you?”

“Loft. I-” This time a sob escaped, and he couldn’t stop it, it was all too much. His loft smelled like red velvet, and he was hearing Tommy’s voice, and he just wants him here.

“I’m coming over, okay? Don’t hang up, baby, I’ll be over there soon.”

He nodded, then realise he wouldn’t see that. “Okay.”

They sat in silence, broken up only by Buck’s choked back sobs or the occasional car passing Tommy as he drove.

He didn’t know how much time passed, but a timer went off on his phone, and like he was on autopilot, he stood up and pulled the tray of cupcakes out of the oven. He set them on top of the stove, staring at red cakes. There was cream cheese frosting he’d made on the counter, but they still needed to cool, and he'd have to get a piping bag out so he could make them look like the ones they used to get at the bakery near Harbor.

He let out another sob at the memory, sliding back down to the floor. The phone was in front of him, having put it on speaker long ago when he needed another hand to cry into.

“Ev, baby?” Tommy sounded worried and it made Buck cry harder. He missed Tommy worrying over him, being with him, hugging him, kissing him.

“I miss you.”

A sigh, or maybe just an exhale. Then, “I miss you too, sweetheart.”

He cried again. He missed him too. That’s good, that’s good, that means he can still fix this.

“Pulling into the parking lot.”

“Th- Door’s unlocked.” He’d gone out earlier to dump some trash, a great deal of flour bags. He’d forgotten about the door until just then.

“Okay. I’ll be up soon.”

It was quiet again, then the sound of a truck door being slammed. Buck didn’t move from his spot, not even when he heard the door to his loft open at the same time the call disconnected.

“Evan?” And there was his voice, in person. He was here.

“Down here,” he called out, hearing footsteps and then he was in front of him. He knelt down, two fingers hooking under his chin to get Buck to meet his eyes and he felt time stop when he saw Tommy’s face again.

He looked tired, and sad. There was scruff around his chin, his hair was curly in a way that made Buck want to bury his hands in it. His eyes were the same blue, but there were read rims around them. Had he been crying too?

“Are you okay?”

Buck nodded, and then he was scrambling up, throwing his arms around Tommy’s neck and wrapping around him. Tommy sat back properly on the ground as Buck straddled him, arms going around Buck like second nature.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he soothed, arms tightening just a little bit more. Buck whimpered; his head tucked into the crook of his neck as he breathed in Tommy.

“I missed you.” A beat. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, it’s okay.”

But he needed him to know. He pulled away from his neck, not quite leaving his hold but needing to look him in the eyes. “No. I’m sorry. I should have said it better, or maybe I shouldn’t have said anything at all, but I look at you and I just want it to be perfect because you deserve it. You deserve it to be perfect and I don’t know how to do it right. You mean everything to me, and I want you to be around all the time and I- I get it if you don’t think I’m worth it right now, I get it, I do, I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I just, I miss you and I hate not being with you and I’ve been crying because I miss you and I love you and I just- I need you to know that, okay. Pleas-”

He didn’t register Tommy’s breath hitching when he heard him say it, but he definitely registered his lips on his, effectively ending his ramble.

And Buck melted into it. It’s been so long and also not long ago that he had kissed him, but still it felt like that first time. He felt like he was coming home.

“Evan,” Tommy said when he pulled away, his voice wrecked. “I love you too.”

It sent another wave of tears through him, but this time Tommy was crying with him, brushing a few of the tears away. “I love you.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He kissed his birthmark, cradling Buck’s cheek in his hand. “And baby, there’s nothing to forgive. You’re worth everything, Evan, a thousand times over.”

Buck started shaking his head and then Tommy’s thumb was gently pushing against his lips, shushing him before he could even start talking again. “Yeah, you could have said it better, I mean, Evan, I own a house, you live in a loft. I’m sorry too. I should have handled it better too. I shouldn’t have just spiraled, freaked out and left you.” His eyes softened. “I love you. I do. It doesn’t need to be perfect; I don’t need perfect; I just want you.”

He nodded and for the first time since he entered his loft, Tommy smiled. Buck smiled as well.

They were long overdue for a discussion on their last conversation that night. Tommy would go over his fears from past relationships, Buck would explain his thought process, and they would talk for hours about it all. About the last two weeks and six months and where that left them now.

They would start with keys to each other’s places. When Buck’s lease was closer to running out, they’d start the conversation again about moving in together, this time properly, without any freakouts and breakups.

But for right now, they’d sit on the floor in Buck’s kitchen, holding each other for the first time in two weeks. They’d hold each other and cry out their tears, and then Buck would drag them up to frost the cupcakes. They’d eat them on the kitchen counter and then fall into bed together, Buck tucked into Tommy’s arms. They’d both get the first good night’s sleep in two weeks, and they’d wake up in the morning knowing things weren’t perfect, but they weren’t as broken any more.

It didn’t need to be perfect as long as they had each other, so the rest was going to be easy.

#911 abc #tevan #tevan fic #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #they are my everything

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octuscle · 1 year ago

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My latino boyfriend is always making fun of me about how uncultured I am and I'll admit, I come from a pretty basic white family. But while my boyfriend seems playful about it, I think his family judges me a lot for it. And from the little spanish I know, I could pick up that they don't really seem to like me too much. So I was pretty surprised when his mother invited me to their family gathering. But when I got there, my boyfriend wasn't there, but everyone has been treating me really nice- saying I'll fit right into the family. Seems odd to me though, maybe I misread them?

Even though everyone is very nice to you, you feel extremely uncomfortable. Yes, compared to your friend's family, pretty much everyone is uncultured. The townhouse looks like it was just photographed in Architectural Digest. Whereas your friend's Argentine mother would never allow such vulgarity. Incredibly, the family is only here a few weeks a year…. But such a luxury….

They all speak English as if they were born in Oxford. Okay, most of them studied there. But as soon as they want you to miss something, they immediately switch to French. That you understand and speak a little Spanish, they have already noticed. The risk that you could understand them when they speak Spanish is too great.

The mother asks you to take a seat at the coffee table. You sit down and take a cupcake. The butler asks you what he can bring you to drink. You actually want to say, "A tea, please". But without being able to control it, you reply, "A beer, mate." What the hell was that? You didn't say that. You look around in fear. But instead of looking reprimanded, everyone smiles at each other in satisfaction. Fuck, how are you sitting here at the table? You've slid down with your legs wide apart and are lying on the Louis Quinze sofa more than you're sitting. The butler brings a bottle of beer and a crystal glass. You take the bottle, drink a big gulp and burp. "Hehehe, that was a good one" you say laughing with your mouth full after eating half a cupcake in one sitting.

"Tell me Steven, are you a native of London?" asks your friend's brother. "You be' your ass, pal," comes out of your mouth. "Bawn an' raised in Tottenham. An' call me Steve, mate" Fuck, you're from a village in Sussex. Why would you say something like that? "Interesting. But tell me Steve, how do you know my son?" asks the father. You'd like to say that he should actually know that you two play soccer together. But instead you say that you take care of the lawn mowing and stuff like that on their son's soccer team. "How interesting, we are looking for a new gardener for our house in the country. Would you be interested?" "You bet I would, ma'am. Anything's better than this crappy job. I'm getting sick and tired of this damn town, too." The brother of the guy who plays in the soccer club pulls out a piece of paper. "Here's our proposal. Could you start tomorrow?". All you see is the salary. Fuck, that's a lot of fucking money for a little lawn mowing and weeding. You don't think twice and sign it with your scrawly handwriting.

Can you remember that yesterday you were 22 years old, a hard-working student and a promising soccer player? Now you're tending the vegetable garden in a run-down country house in the middle of nowhere. None of the staff has ever seen the gentry here. And somehow no one here can really remember what they did before they started working here as a game warden, mechanic or janitor. Fuck, never mind. All hot men here with an irrepressible urge for hard, good and honest sex. Whatever you were doing before you came here, it must have been worse by far.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #muscle transformation #male transformation #age progression #revange tf

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giggly-squiggily · 1 year ago

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I'd like to request smth from Jujutsu Kaisen, I'd like to request switch yuta and gojo, i find their relationship cute coz they're distant relatives and all hehe

Heyo! Oo, I love this! You know who I need to write more of? Yuta. He's a doll. And Switch!Gojo? BELOVED. I've gotcha covered, anon! :D

CW: Spoilers for JJK 0, angsty- but just a touch,

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @rachi-roo

Things were…odd, after the whole Geto situation.

Rika was gone- at least; her soul was anyway. The curse form she’d taken was Yuta’s now- a sentient vessel that doubled as his technique. It was something both painful and comforting at once- she was gone, but no longer trapped.

Then there was the whole school thing; where exactly do they go from here? The first years were told to return to their usual business, but with most of the remaining curses being special grade, they were left to train and train and…train some more…

His body hurt all over- both from recovering and from the new training program Maki instilled upon them.

And then there was Gojo…

“Good work, you guys! Keep it up!” He called out, grinning behind his new blindfold as the four carried on routine. At a glance, he seemed perfectly fine- joyous even. He laughed at Panda’s jokes and sparred with Maki, gave out little missions to Inumaki and answered basic questions regarding various techniques.

He seemed unfazed.

“He was my best friend. My only friend.”

There was no way he was fine. While the students weren’t told what happened to Geto- the answer was pretty obvious. The way he spoke about him- that untouched softness in his voice with the vaguest hint of grief.

He cared about him- really cared. The pain must have been unbearable.

“There you are! How’s my new favorite distant relative?” Of course getting anything out of Gojo was near impossible.

“New favorite? Do you have others?” He asked, yelping some when Gojo slung an arm over his shoulders, pulling him along. “Who was the last favorite?”

“Jealous?” Gojo snickered, dragging him along as they headed towards one of the indoor training rooms. “To be honest- I don’t really know. I guess that makes you my default favorite. Anyway- you said you wanted to train today?”

“Uh- yes! Yes, I did! Yuta nodded, wiggling free when they got there. “I eh- I train so much with Maki, I’m worried I won’t be ready to fight others, you know? She’s talented, but her way of fighting is just one of many. I want to experience all kinds of techniques!”

“Ah, I see now. Alright- I suppose I can play with you for awhile.” Gojo snickered as he rolled his shoulders, shaking out his hands. Yuta gulped, patting himself down to find…he had no weapon. “O-Oh…”

“That’s fine, we need to work on your hand to hand combat anyway. Tell me- can you throw a punch?” Gojo was on him in seconds, teleporting right before his eyes. Yuta went to block his face-

“GAH!” He gasped when a foot connected with his stomach instead, sending him stumbling back a few feet. He thought Maki’s kicks were bad, but this?

Oh, this was hell.

“Oops- and that wasn’t even that strong of a kick.” Gojo tilted his head at him as Yuta fell to his knees, choking and wheezing. “Hm..maybe hand to hand combat isn’t the best right now. You’re still recovering-”

“I-I can do it!” Yuta got up, straightening his shoulders with a determined glare. “I was just caught off guard, that’s all. Please- let me try again.”

Gojo hummed. Then he smiled, nodding. “Okay, but I’m not gonna go easy on you, Mr. I Can Handle It.”

Another teleport, Gojo was to his left. He went to block-

“AH!” This time instead of a punch or kick, it was a finger- a finger! Pressing right into the soft part of his side. Stumbling back, he covered himself, cheeks pink. “G-Gojo-”

“Yes?” Gojo asked from his other side. Another finger poked him once more.

“EEH!” Yuta all but flailed forward at the touch, tripping on his feet. His knees hit the mats, but not before more fingers attacked his ribs. “Aheahhahahhhahaha! Hohohohohld on! Gohoohoohohjoohohohohoho!”

“What’s wrong? I thought you said you could handle it?” Gojo cooed, kneeling over him as Yuta kicked and squeaked, laughing like a child. “Come on, Yuta- tell me why you're laughing? Is it me?”

“Yohohohohou knohoohoohw whhihihihihihiy! Aheahhahahhaha, Gohoohohohojohoohohoho! Stahhahahp tihihihihihckling mehehehehehehe!” Yuta swatted at his hands, feet kicking up a storm as he tried to squirm away. No matter where he went, Gojo was right there with him, kneading his sides and tasering the soft parts of his belly. “Plehhahahahhahahhahse!”

“Aww, look at you begging! Come on- this is a training day! Use some of those fancy curse techniques you’ve been working on.” Gojo moved to his belly, tapping his fingers along it as Yuta squealed. “Oh man- you’re just like Gumi! Hey- I wonder what would happen if I did this?”

“Whohohohoohho’s Guhuuhu-MEHEHEHEHHEHE!” Yuta never got to ask his question. He arched like a victim of an exorcism as fingers shot into his armpits, clawing at the skin beneath. “GOHOHOOHOHOOHJOHOHOHOHO!”

“Oo, this is really bad, huh?” Gojo cooed, snickering alongside him. “You and Gumi- what is it with kids like you two being so ticklish here?”

Yuta was gonna die. He was gonna die and die and die some more. There was only one way to get out of this…

“Hm? Yuta, whatcha gonna do-whoa!” Gojo was suddenly pulled off, “Rika”’s hands grasping his biceps and adjusting him until he was properly trapped. “Not bad, Yuta. Rika’s vessel has it’s uses.”

“Ahehehe…hehehehe…heh…” Yuta groaned as he sat up, rubbing his belly to alleviate the ticklishness. “Rika…keep him still…”

“Oh? What’s this- Yuta’s gonna get revenge?” Gojo sounded impressed and something else Yuta couldn’t quite put his finger on. “I’m so scared! Oh someone help little ol’ me!”

“Oh, you’re gonna need help alright- here I COME!” Yuta lunged, grabbing onto Gojo’s sides to…nothing. Not even a peep.

“Oo, good move. Now actually tickle me.” Gojo grinned, absolutely unfazed.

“What-but-” Yuta narrowed his eyes, tickling more. He moved to his hips, his waist, his belly- nothing! Gojo meanwhile was lounging as best he could in his trapped state, humming a happy tune. “You have to be ticklish! You have to be!”

“Sorry Yuta- I guess I’m not.” He snickered. Yuta glared before going for ribs, kneading them gently. That’s when he saw it- the slight tension in Gojo’s easy smile.

“Oooooh…you got tickly ribs?” Yuta grinned as he attacked, scratching along his ribcage. Gojo’s easy pose stiffened, his smile tightening as he struggled to remain composed. “I knew you were ticklish! Come on- laugh! You need it.”

“N-Now wahaht gave you thahat idea?” A few traitorous giggles escaped Gojo’s lips, much to Yuta’s delight. “Yuhuhuta, wait- wahahhait not thehehehre!”

“Why not? Does it tickle?” Yuta teased, tapping his way down until he was hovering over his lower ribs. “Is this your most ticklish spot?”

“N-Nohohohoohoho?” The lie was so obvious. Yuta could barely fight down a grin.

“Hehehe~”

“Yuhuhuhuta- YUHUHUUHUHUUTAHHAHAHAHHAHA!” Gojo all but exploded when Yuta prodded his lower ribs, going right for that dreadful spot along the lower third. Squirming his best within the confines of Rika’s grip, he cackled and howled with mirth, head thrown back as his legs did a little jig against the mats. “OHOHOOHOKAY OHOHOHOHOKAY YOHOHOOHU WIHIIHIHIHN!”

“I-I do?” Yuta pulled his hands back, amazed. Rika’s grip loosened…

“HA! You believed me!” Gojo cackled before tackling him to the mat, resuming his tickles.

“AHEHEHE! G-GOHOOHOHOJOHOHOHO!

~~~

“Eh…eheheheh…heh…” Yuta ran his hands over his face in exhaustion, his body like jelly but his chest strangely light. “Thahat…was kinda nice.”

“Heh, yeah.” Gojo was a picture of relaxed. You wouldn’t have known him and Yuta had a full blown tickle fight just from his appearance. That is the way of Gojo it seems. “So- feeling better?”

“Huh?” What was that about?

“You’ve been looking at me like a lost puppy for the past few days. I figured you were stressed about everything that happened. Sometimes, we just need a distraction from it all, you know?”

Yuta stared at him, the words sinking themselves into his skin. “You…you were worried about me?”

“Yeah. You are my student, no?”

“Yeah but- Gojo! Everything that happened! Geto- your best and only friend! The fight, his war declaration- his….” Yuta couldn’t bring himself to say it. “You’ve been through hell and yet- here you are worried about me! You shouldn’t have to put everything away to comfort some kid like me! You….you…” Tears blurred his vision, and Yuta found himself staring up at the ceiling as he willed them down. “God..Gojo…”

The other man was quiet, letting the room fill with the sound of Yuta’s soft sniffling. Then a hand reached out, squeezing his shoulder.

“I’m not gonna lie…I’m a mess.” Gojo laughed, voice a touch choked. “You’re right- everything you just said was right. Minus some things.” Gojo pushed up his blindfold so he could meet his eyes properly. “You’re not just ‘some kid’. You’re my student. Not only that- but a distant relative. I know that probably doesn’t mean much to you, but to me it feels kinda special. Probably some sentimental part of me, you know?

“Geto...I've accepted what he became. I accepted it long before any of this happened. Sure- it hurts. It hurts that this is how it all came to an end, but…I got my closure. That’s all that matters to me now.” Gojo moved his hand up to Yuta’s hair, ruffling it some. “Thank you though. It’s nice to know someone cares about what’s going on with me.”

Yuta couldn’t bring himself to speak, instead smiling through watery eyes as he nodded. The curse faded away, leaving just them side by side against worn down mats.

“I do feel better. Thank you.”

Thanks for reading!

#jjk #jjk 0 #jjk 0 spoilers #jjk spoilers #tickle #tickle fic #gojo satoru #yuta okkotsu #fluff and angst #but just a tiiiny dash of angst #Takes place after JJK 0 be warned #fluff for the soul cause I'm hurting like a mf right now over these characters #they are just- ahhhhhhh

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jeanniebug623 · 3 months ago

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By Eywa, internet loves…it’s been too long. Work, life, health, passing of loved ones…I’m so tired these days. Please enjoy some fluff before, you know, the story hits its peek… 💙🐞

🕸️🕷️ Weaving the Web 🕷️🕸️

Chapter 24: Familiar Faces

Spider stayed quiet and rigid the entire flight to the forest. Quaritch tried to spur conversation with his son but ended up just asking a lot of yes or no questions when anything more resulted in awkward silence. Obviously, his hand hurt like hell but it didn’t stop the colonel from keeping it on his son’s shoulder for some grounding comfort. They didn’t go far outside past the walled kill zone but he hoped being surrounded by all that green would start to perk the kid up.

”There ya go, tiger.” Quaritch said as he coaxed Spider of Cupcake’s back when he shied away, hiding his face in the hood of his sweatshirt. He frowned at the glisten of sweat he could see on Spider’s face. The kid NEVER wore long sleeves or pants outside and Quaritch couldn’t blame him given the heat and humidity. He put on a comforting smile as he pulled Spider’s hood back and remarked, “You gotta be melting, kid. Come on, you’ll feel better with some fresh air and a new coat of paint.”

Spider nodded in agreement but, instead of taking off his sweatshirt, just started to wander around and look for a Spartan fruit plant. Quaritch frowned a bit as he watched his kid from behind but let it go. He wasn’t going to rush him. Glancing down at his gloved hand, hiding the wound, he tested the injury by slowly gripping a fist a few times. He stopped before Spider caught him and went about searching the other direction the boy had gone.

It didn’t take long for them to find enough fruit to dye all of Spider blue. Before he could start peeling the purple skin back, Quaritch asked, “Isn’t there a way to make it last longer?”

“Hm?” Spider mumbled as he looked up. It was the closest thing to a word the kid had said since the night before.

”Well, it seems to wash off pretty quick lately, so…” Quaritch said, as he casually glanced around the surrounding forest, “But you were blue for a pretty long time in the beginning.”

”Oh…” Spider said sheepishly and shrugged, “It’s ok…”

”Nah, let’s make ‘em last in case I get sent out on another mission.” Quaritch suggested, pocketing his harvested fruit.

”Are you?” Spider said suddenly and whipped his head up to meet his father’s eyes for the first time since staring him down with manic terror in his own eyes and a knife to the recom’s throat. This poor kid. His eyes were still red from crying and lack of sleep and now they glistened with fear. He knew it could happen. His father was still an RDA attack dog.

”Nothin’ right now…but that could change at any time, you know that.” Quaritch said softly, “But hey, maybe you can tag along again one of these days.”

Spider’s gaze dropped and he looked away. He would love to do that. To get out of Bridgehead for more than just a few hours? Get away from doctors and prying eyes and Nash MCosker? He wanted nothing more than to be just one of the squad! But he hadn’t been in contact - not even SEEN - a Na’vi since he was first captured. What would his response be given Miles’ strong hatred towards…well, everyone?

”So…” Quaritch said as he cleared his throat and closed the gap between his son and himself to rest a hand on his head, “What’ll make these stripes really stick?”

”Oh…um…” Spider looked around for a few moments then pointed to a tree with smooth bark with a reddish hue, “Sap from those trees help…”

Quaritch ruffled his head with a nod and walked over as he drew his knife from his belt while saying, “Strip down to your skivvies while I do this. And drink some water, would ya? You’re beet red under the eyes.”

Spider was uncomfortably hot. Usually was, even in the air conditioned confines of the city, but felt less obvious and more ignored when he was dressed like a sky person and hiding his dreadlocked hair. Part of him didn’t even want him to get his stripes redone…even though he felt completely unlike himself without them. Whoever he thought he was at this point…

He watched his father stab deep into the tree then pull the knife down at an angle. The sap quickly started to flow and he knew they would only have some much time to combine it with the blue fruit juice before he set. He dropped the fruit he collected and turned away as he pulled the sweatshirt off over his head. He wasn’t so much shy as he was self-conscious…

Quaritch didn’t expect so much sap to flow so quickly and he looked around for something to catch it, “Hey, Spi-…”

The colonel found himself at a loss for words when he looked back to his son to ask what would be a good makeshift container for the sap. His question died in his throat at the sight of his son’s body. He knew Spider had been losing weight and muscle mass. He knew Spider hadn’t been eating or sleeping well. He knew all of the stress and medication was messing with the sixteen-year-old’s body.

But none of that rationale could soothe the heartbreak of seeing one’s son wasting away before their very eyes…

Quaritch was appalled, at no fault of his son’s, by how easy it was to see the dips between his ribs. When the boy turned to throw the sweatshirt over the closest breach, he could count each vertebrae of his spine between well-defined shoulder blades. The sharpness of his hips offered Quaritch no comfort when it was obvious the loincloth had been tightened significantly around the waist from slipping off. He quickly averted his eyes before Spider could catch him staring.

”What?” Spider asked, wondering what his father was going to ask. He did feel much better with the fresh air cooling him down. They locked eyes and Spider froze when he saw it in his father’s eyes. Pity . Of all things; one of the things he hated the most. He didn’t even notice he’d started raising his hand to trace where his stripes usually were on his forearm, even though that had proven a risky grounding technique.

Quaritch caught it before Spider’s nails touched his skin and said firmly with his ears flicking back, “Son…it’s alright.”

The colonel closed the gap between them and dropped to one knee to be at his eye level. Quaritch didn’t know how it was going to be alright, but it would be. He didn’t have the words for it, so he opted to show it instead. He placed his hands on his son’s shoulders. Ignoring how bony they were, he pulled Spider into a gentle hug. It was loose enough that he could pull away if he needed to.

But, to his surprise and relief, Spider wrapped his shaking arms around Quaritch’s thick torso and whispered, “I trust you…”

As much as they could have stayed like that for hours, they were on a time limit and not just because the sap was setting Quartich’s knife into the tree as it dried. Spider wove a leaf into a makeshift container and mixed the paint together. Quaritch watched the meticulous way he tested the consistency to get the right mixture.

When he was done, Spider immediately started painting stripes where he could see. He looked up with a confused look when his father took the paint and picked up where he left off. While Spider had gotten better at accepting his father’s help for the hard to reach places, he still didn’t like anyone other than Kiri helping him…some habits wouldn’t die.

”I got ya, kid, I won’t screw it up too bad.” Quaritch said with a chuckle to lighten the mood. He sure as hell was hoping he wouldn’t screw it up! Normally there was a faded pattern to trace but not this time. Not even a hint of blue remained. And that was his fault. Quaritch should have offered to take him out sooner, but Spider had been so reclusive and covering himself up that he had no clue his son was completely stripe-less.

Spider didn’t argue when his father started painting. He started on his back and Spider tried not to flinch at his touch or cringe when the recom’s fingers dipped in and out between his ribs. How much did he weigh now? Would be able to go back to the gym and try to build his muscle back up? Or go running in the forest or indoor track? He was just so tired all the time…in every definition of the word…

A little over an hour and a half passed, though to Spider he would’ve guessed only fifteen minutes given how quickly he zoned out. Quaritch watched him carefully and didn’t take offense when his son didn’t reply to his questions or small talk.

”Time for the face, tiger.” Quaritch said. Spider blinked out of trance and looked down at his body. When the hell did that happen? Quaritch was happy to see a smile tug at the corners of Spider’s mouth and suggested, “Or do you want to skip it? Do it back home so not to stress out your lungs.”

”No, do it here.” Spider said quickly. Even though everything gave him anxiety those days, going back to Bridgehead so soon sent a prickle through his body. He flushed red from embarrassment and said, “Please, ma sempul…”

Quaritch stared at Spider in shock. Had his son ever called him that…? Yes, he’d been calling him Koaktan and the translation of ‘old man’ made him smirk every time. Spider started chewing on the inside of his cheek when his father didn’t answer.

”Of course, son…” Quaritch said as he reached up to take hold of the mask, “Big breath.”

Quaritch worked as quickly as he could, stopping often - maybe too often giving Spider’s eye rolls - to let the boy get a breath. He didn’t find himself being as careful as he was with the other stripes. Maybe it was the irrational fear of his son suffocating after a few extra seconds without oxygen or that he was just straight up enjoying bonding over this that made him faster or slower. He was happy to say he was done after only fifteen or so minutes.

”Well, not too shabby…if I do say so myself.” Quaritch said with an approving nod.

”Yeah?” Spider asked before giving a welcome and mischievous little smirk, “I’ll be the judge of that…”

Quaritch feigned insult and stood, “All right, smart guy, c’mon then.”

Spider exaggerated his eye roll as he followed his father over to a pool of relatively still water aside from some water dripping off the mossy roots. Quaritch had a pretty smug expression of his own, ready to see his son’s awe at his amazing painting skills. The boy froze. His playful expression slowly faded away as he stared at his own reflection.

Something struck Quaritch. Given Spider’s, up until recently, hidden issue with someone writing warnings on the mirrors, would any reflective surface trigger a negative response? Or was the recom just that bad at painting his kid’s stripes?

”Spider? Don’t keep me hanging, kid, I’m awaiting judgment here.” Quaritch said, nervousness lacing his face. At least his tone sounded strong.

Spider continued to stare at his reflection, eyes darting around his father’s work. After nearly a minute of nothing, the teen ripped off his mask as he dropped to his knees and his father went into panic mode. Quaritch dropped to his own knees and tried to grab the mask to fix it back on Spider’s face. But he hugged it tight with one arm and placed the fingertips of his free hand to his face.

As scared as he was from his boy’s sudden actions, Quaritch didn’t try to grab the mask when Spider had pulled it away. His heart was rattling his ribs loose as he forced himself to just watch his son. Quaritch watched how the kid traced the lines on his forehead, cheeks, and jaw without saying a damn word. Goddamn, he really must have fucked it up…

“Spider, we can just scrub it off and start over…I’m sure we can find something to take it off quicker than waiting.” Quaritch said, disappointed in himself for screwing up something so simple and meant to make Spider feel better after the last several weeks. Especially the incident the night before.

Finally, the burning in his lungs from holding his breath and his father’s voice snapped Spider out of his trance. He fumbled slightly but replaced the mask and took several deep breaths. His father had a sad look on his face when he looked up at him with a bright, surprised expression.

”I look like you!” Spider exclaimed.

”Huh…? What d’you mean?” Quaritch asked, his ears perking up and his brows furrowed in confusion.

”These are your pil !” Spider said, looking back to his reflection again and running his fingers over the mask to trace the stripes again.

Quaritch was still confused. He leaned forward to get a better look at the kid’s face. Na’vi stripes were like fingerprints; they’d never seen a native look exactly the same as the one next to them. The colonel knew what his blue mug looked like but he didn’t put nearly that many stripes on Spider’s face. But the longer he looked…the longer he watched Spider trace over his stripes…the more Quaritch started to see the resemblance.

”Shit, son…” was all Quaritch could say. It was NOT his intention to pull influence from his own damn reflection that stared back at him every day. Was it an exact carbon copy of the recom? No, but he was seeing the stripes on his son’s face were almost exact to the more prominent of his own facial stripes. He opened his mouth to apologize and reassure Spider they could fix it, but he didn’t get the chance.

”I want you to do it again…next time.” Spider started softly, “Every time you do it. I want it to look like this…please. Is that ok?”

Of all the shock and awe the father and son had experienced in the last twenty four hours, this was the most unexpected and heartfelt. Quaritch wasn’t expecting Spider to say he wanted to look like him…even if it was just the boy’s way to feel more Na’vi and less human. The teenager had spent his whole life trying to separate himself from his roots. The roots that grew from seeds that came from the sky.

But even if the seeds came from the sky, the roots were deep in the soil of Pandora.

”Of course I can, son.” Quaritch said soothingly, running a hand back over his son’s hair. “We’ll make sure they never fade again.”

#atwow #atwow fanfiction #atwow spider #recom quaritch #spider quaritch #weaving the web #ao3 writer #long overdue

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destinygoldenstar · 2 years ago

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Is Screen Time An Issue For A Character?

That’s a tough one.

I see quite a few arguments about some shows I’ve watched that ‘oh, this character is bad because they have too much screen time’. Or ‘I wish this character had more screen time to be interesting.’

Basically, too much screen time is now a valid critique to describe why a character is bad or doesn’t work for you. And to that I say…

Uh… no?

I’ll give some examples where I see this critique, but for now I want to state a case of examples where I expected to see this critique online, but didn’t, and I wondered why.

SPOILERS BELOW FOR THE SPIDERVERSE SEQUEL:

The main character of the Spiderverse movies is Miles Morales. Clear as day if you see ANY promotional concept art. The movies nail that home and give you a solid POV character among the Multiverse chaos.

The sequel begins with an over twenty minute backstory sequence involving Gwen Stacy, a side character in the first movie.

(Fun fact: When me and my dad went to see it in theaters together, he said that backstory was over twenty minutes long and that he thought they could've trimmed it down. Animated-phobia gives you weird opinions. He didn't watch Arcane with me and thought nothing of it because 'it was an animated show'. Not kidding.) (Both of my parents are like this, sadly.)

Now, in the context of the movie, it makes sense to include this to understand the full POV of her character going forward. As she is pretty vital to the story.

I tried imagining a version of the movie where we DIDN'T get this intro, went straight to Miles, and we just had to put the pieces together involving Gwen and her actions. And I don't think the movie would've worked nearly as well.

This brings me to another point involving Gwen Stacy in this movie: She's kind of become a protagonist as well, next to Miles.

Is this screen time theft? Under the screen time critique, it probably would seem that way.

And yet nobody I've seen complains. If anything, this solidified her as one of the best movie adaptations of Gwen Stacy out there. In my opinion.

Unlike the first movie, this one is not driven by the narrative of the main character, but rather multiple.

This is not uncommon. And it's an even bigger case with Arcane.

Yeah, this show is phenomenal everyone who says so is right Jinx is an icon Vi is my cartoon crush next to Petra I was crying so hard at the ending and for that alone this show deserves every ounce of praise it gets and I'm kind of an Arcane stan-

*Inhales*

I think I just have a thing for dystopian stories where characters walk through hell.

(Yes I consider TD a dystopian setting, that'd be a nice hot take to tackle one day.)

The Hunger Games is my favorite dystopian setting that I've seen, just because it's very memorable and inspiring. But Arcane is objectively the best dystopian story out there. If I fade out of my Total Drama obsession, this show might be my next target.

Cupcakes. El fin.

I could stop there, but lets talk about why we're here.

Arcane does not focus on the two main characters only as the driving force of its narrative.

Advertisement tell you that our main characters are the two growing war machines who go around calling each other sisters, Vi and Powder (Jinx. Idk how mad people get for which name I use for her. Sorry if I offend you). In fact, there's evidence to back that up. Other than they're the people with dyed hair, that's instant main character. They're the first characters we meet in the entire show. They're the characters with the final scene that closes off the season. EVERY ending to an act is with them. They're the main characters. Boom.

But wait. Nearly TWO THIRDS of this show doesn't even focus on them!

We have all the Piltover characters we keep switching back to. Jayce, Viktor, Mel, Caitlyn for Act 2 pretty much, Silco kind of becomes his own protagonist in Act 3. Really, the only people who remain consistent side characters are Ekko, and the two boys that get blown to pieces by Powder. And... some other people I'm forgetting the names of. (Sorry, I only had two watch throughs of this show so far and I know nothing about League other than the sisters become enemies.)

Now, why?

Why is this the case? I'm not saying characters other than our mains don't get fleshed out at all, but to the point where they're basically major enough to carry their own show? That SOUNDS like a detriment to the story if anything, especially how unfocused it kind of all gets until the end where everyone's in the same room.

Had Vi or Jinx interact with these characters, their fleshing out makes sense, and you definitely see that with characters like Caitlyn and Silco, who kind of need them to function.

But the Piltover gang? Jinx doesn't meet them at all, neither of the sisters meet Viktor, and Vi does meet Jayce, but in Episode 8 of 9.

Why does nobody complain about this? If anything, these guys are stealing screen time.

Well, it turns out, this is all done in Arcane's benefit, rather than fault. We are all the protagonist of our own story, and there are multiple POVs regarding the world.

It's basically if Hunger Games was third person instead of first, and we actually got a chance to flesh out the other rebels/children.

Me personally, and I know I'm not the only one out there, but the sisters were the most interesting thing about the show, and other characters that talk to them were how they caught my attention. That in no way means I don't care for anyone though, and it's COMPLETELY a PERSONAL thing.

So whenever we DO focus on the sisters and their story, not only do we get these other POVS on the scene that could clash with our view of them, but it makes it so that EVERY. SCENE. MATTERS.

No scene is wasted in fleshing out the sister's story. Everything has a purpose and drives it all to one heartbreaking simulation. There's no wasted space, there's no lack of attention to a certain detail, darn it, it's just right.

(I mean, I guess I would've liked to see what they went through in that time skip, like how Jinx was raised by Silco and processed her new identity, or better yet how tf Vi survived prison when it's heavily implied she beat people to a pulp and got solitary multiple times. But I think Season 2 is gonna cover it.)

Seriously, imagine a version of this show real quick.

Imagine a version of the show that took the Hunger Games approach, and used first person POV on one of the two sisters, doesn't matter which one, they'd both work. Cut out scenes not involving that sister. The other characters that appear revolve around scenes they're in with that sister.

Would that work nearly as well?

I don't think so.

Now First Person POV isn't necessarily a bad thing. Danganronpa is first person. Minecraft Story Mode is first person. Those are probably not great examples, but it can work. (TDDRI, a fic of mine, is first person, and I had to work around that to flesh out everyone else. It can work.)

This show is very hot topic and weirdly paced than what I'm used to. So take everything with a grain of salt as I am nowhere near an expert with this show. The show's story doesn't even get started until Episode 4, as the first three episodes are all flashback to explain where our characters are and why they're motivated to do what they do.

Again, I tried imagining a version of this show where we DIDN'T get those first three episodes, we started with Episode 4, and we just had to ASSUME all the backstory involving the sisters and the titular arcane and put the pieces together through Vi's words and Jinx's hallucinations. I don't think we would have been nearly as invested.

So with these two examples, WHY does nobody complain about screen time involving a character?

Is it because they're just really good pieces of media? Or is there a reason for this?

After all, Spiderverse and Arcane fall under the category of an 'ensemble cast'. A cast of characters in a story where there is no titular main character to drive the narrative, and everyone does instead. It's like if Harry Potter was 'Hogwarts' instead, or some title like that.

But lets take a look at some examples of ensemble casts where there's been a complaint of some sort with screen time:

Total Drama and RWBY.

Now I only like one of these two shows, so I'm gonna put that aside for now.

Total Drama. It has an ensemble cast. The show is about teenagers suffering-I mean competing for a prize, eliminating each other bit by bit as it goes along. Naturally with that setup, early boots are left to dry. But that doesn't stop people from complaining.

Ezekiel gets the most flack for too little screen time, and major fanboys say he should've had more focus. Personally I don't get that based on what role he's deigned to play. Caleb is a more recent example. I thought he was gonna have a bigger role and character than he ended up having, and him being a first boot gag makes even less sense than Zeke. Dawn is a fan favorite who isn't even in that many episodes. Axel is a ripoff of Shawn because of her lack of screen time. Scary Girl is... Scary Girl, who I don't see the fuss about her little screen time as she's comic relief, but the complaint is there. There is SO MUCH bashing about Noah's lack of screen time it is not even funny. So much so that he's sharing screen time with another person.

And who is to blame for this: Well, the characters who make it really far into the game, or course! How dare they steal screen time away from these guys!

I feel like Ripper is the most recent example of this. His character arc was about him breaking a world record. He broke it. It's Episode 5. Now he can leave the show, right-

Nope. He's around till Episode 8. Out of 13. And even then, in Episode 13, he's Millie's partner, which means screen time.

It sounds unjustified because it is. I'm not the biggest Ripper hater, but I definitely see the complaints. (Ripper and Damien swapping places are the only part of the elimination order I would change. Everything else is pretty spot on.)

We already have MK as a pre-merge antagonist and Julia as a post merge antagonist, we don't need this rando bully character as well as it adds nothing. Maybe Ripper would've been better liked if he wasn't a bully and just some morally average comic relief guy, but also... probably not.

But he's not the only fart based character in this show that gets complaints about screen time. Here's where I talk about the first gen.

For what I have seen, the ones with the biggest screen time complaints are Owen, Duncan, and Beth. I don't count Heather cause it's on purpose. I count Sierra because it's a personal gripe I have.

Owen was the original winner of TDI, came back on the show in the second season for a mole subplot nobody likes, and merged season three. He and Noah also got a spinoff.

Beth was the finalist of TDA.

And everyone hates it, including myself.

Then there's Duncan. Easily the character the show focuses on the most. Season 1? 4th place. Season 2? Winner. Season 3? Gone half the season so he's only in 8 episodes not counting what he didn't compete in, but he scored 5th overall. Season 5? Weakest performance, but he still merged. That's 8th place by the way.

By far, THIS is the character in this show that gets the MOST horrendous flack for his screen time. And from what I've learned, if you think this, you probably hate Duncan as a character.

Like, I haven't watched Winx, but I saw videos on YouTube that made fun of Bloom for getting too much screen time.

Somebody do those but with Duncan! I'm not a Duncan hater, but I would like to get a laugh!

So it'd just be easy to say the writers played favorites, it was an issue, and be done with it, right?

Except no.

My GF watched World Tour just recently. (And she was mixed on it.) Her comments regarding Duncan and Gwen were that she wished they had more interactions to sell them (she was routing AGAINST Duncney, basically) and it didn't help that Duncan was gone half the season. She said that it would've helped all the characters involved if he stayed to flesh that out.

To that I went: "Huh. That's interesting how you take no issue with this character's screen time."

But why though? She's not a stan of him, she's a casual viewer, so that can't be it.

And that's when it hit me.

Beth and Sierra. These two make it through an entire season each. And we both collectively hate them as characters. And we hate seeing them on screen.

That's because it's what the characters DO with their screen time.

See what I'm talking about:

Season 1: Duncan is an established character that develops relationships and friendships and learns to open up to people outside of his comfort bad boy zone.

Trent spends 16 episodes sitting still and looking pretty with a guitar. (Okay that's probably not a great example, and I don't hate Trent, but you kinda get it)

Season 2: Duncan is dealing with revenge on Harold for his spoiled relationship with Courtney where he gets abused by her, fights to hold his own, and dumps her.

Beth spends the entire season talking about a fake boyfriend and cheating on it.

Season 3: Duncan, again, is only competing in 8 episodes out of 26, but what does he do? He establishes a new relationship with Gwen, gets her cancelled, forms a friendship with Alejandro, and gets played.

Sierra is there the entire season sexually harassing Cody and passing it off as quirky. We hate to see it. (Seriously, you guys think the love triangle is worse than this? My GF and I agreed we would rather watch the love triangle ten times again, over Sierra being on screen at all.)

What's the difference here? STORY.

Certain characters have story to follow, that NEEDS that screen time to work. Ironically, the plotline of Duncan's that comes across the least genuine, is the season where he's on screen the least. (Not counting All Stars, but they're kind of equal in episodes Duncan's in.)

Again, imagine if we never had that backstory sequence of Gwen Stacy. Yes it eats up screen time, but without it? She would come across as an ingenuine traitor who supposedly ditched her dad for some cool spider society. We NEEDED that sequence.

Duncan is always doing something when the screen is focused on him.

The reason Beth and Sierra don't work despite having all the screen time in the world is that they do NOTHING with the screen time they get. Nothing of value at least. We could've learned a lot about their origins, Beth's underdog status, or Sierra's fanclub, flesh them out as dynamic characters to route for, with different sides of them that slip through time to time that gets the audience thinking.

Nope. Sexual harassment makes up for all of that. (I question why I put up with this show sometimes.)

That would be the case and that's the answer, just do something with your screen time and you're free to have as much as you want.

Except there's ANOTHER key to the puzzle here.

Duncan is in the top 4 of the TD cast for a reason.

He's a main character.

Something Jaune Arc is not.

Hello nemesis my old friend.

Look, I respect people who like RWBY. People can feel any way they want to about a show. Opinions are valid.

If you think Arcane is the worst show ever made, that's valid.

If you think Velma is the best show ever made, that's valid.

It's all VALID.

With that said I think this show is an absolute trainwreck when it comes to writing characters.

Now hold on before you say I hate everything about it, I don't. This show does have SOME merits to it. The music is stellar and I actually listen to the soundtrack from time to time. For a limited budget animation, it's impressive. The choreo is neat. I want these weapons. I actually like quite a few of the side characters. Keep in mind I said side.

But what I look for in a good show is a compelling story and interesting characters to follow.

Something this show just does not have in my opinion.

I keep saying I'll do an analysis post on why Team RWBY are awful protagonists, but I've been busy and my plate has not emptied. But one of my main points regarding them is screen time.

Keep in mind, I've only seen fully up to Season 8. I've only seen clips of Season 9, so whatever I say about 9 may not be accurate.

Team RWBY are the main characters of the show, and yet they have not done a single main character thing throughout EIGHT SEASONS. It's kind of incredible.

If I didn't know the name of the show but saw a clip, I'd assume the main character was Jaune, or Oscar, more on them later.

What have these girls contributed in the battle of Salem's forces?

Season 1: Blake helped stop a robbery. Not even all four of them, just Blake. (So did Sun and Penny.)

Season 2: They broke into the White Fang's secret operation and busted a train into the city to fight off some Grim, in time for Team CFVY to wipe them out. (Those characters appear TWICE in the ENTIRE show, this is the first time. Just to speak my point.)

Season 3: Yang got framed for assault which helped the bad guys. Ruby watched Pyyra die and she blasted an eyeball off Cinder.

Season 4: UH...

Season 5: They housed Oscar, they met Raven, and they took place in the battle of Haven where Yang got the relic. (So did Oscar, JNR, Qrow)

Season 6: They took the relic to Atlas. (So did Oscar, JNR, Qrow)

Season 7: They lied to the general about vital information that could've helped them get one on Salem, and doomed all of Atlas.

Season 8: They caused the death of a kingdom and fell through a hole.

Season 9: UH... (That's not me not knowing what happened in 9, they just climbed out of the hole, basically, as the season has nothing to do with Salem's forces.)

Now, because the main characters are not involved with the main plot very much, does that make them bad?

No. There ARE ways to utilize them outside of driving the external plot.

Some stories are Character vs Self, Internal Conflict. The basis of this show's story is that these kids who grew up to be military soldiers are learning that their lives and the world is not a fairy tale, and they're not the good guys. That SOUNDS like the show is all about internal conflict, right?

Well it's not.

I mean, they DO realize this and make a morally questionable choice with consequences they regret.

In Season SEVEN.

And even THEN, they're treated by gods themselves like they've done nothing wrong!

If you ask me, it should have happened a LONG time ago.

What internal conflicts do these girls have?

Ruby is a naive prodigy who wants to be a huntress and live out a fairy tale reality. And she lives out that dream. Then Pyyra dies and she loses that home. And then she's back to fairy tale land, just doing more crimes and hating authority. And I GUESS she learned a lesson in 9...? I just saw her as depressed.

Weiss is an heiress of a rich company trying to overthrow rule of her father, who hates her. She hates Faunus. She learns not to hate Faunus. And she gains a lot of powers.

Blake is part of a civil rights movement with Faunus and she likes assaulting her own kind and burning their homes. She also has an abusive boyfriend and kills him with a girlfriend by her side.

Yang lost her mommy and wants to find her. She loses her arm. She finds her mommy but doesn't give a s**t because plot. She also gets a girlfriend.

That's like Vi and Jinx's reunion, only they didn't care about seeing each other again after years, they just pointed fists and guns at each other and said, "Where's the arcane?! Where's Silco?! I'm not here for you, I have a police GF now!" "I'm not here for you, I just wanted an easy route to blast Piltover to pieces! Mwahaha!"

See where I'm going with that?

Internal conflict is a key to making characters screen time worth while.

But lets face it, Team RWBY not having very well established internal/relevance to the external conflict is not the full reason why this is a problem with their screen time.

It's their lack thereof.

Three quarters of every season, they're just sitting at some random place that's not even pretty to look at, and the SIDE CHARACTERS do all the plot relevant stuff.

See why I like the side characters better?

Lets look at that chart again:

Season 1: Sun and Penny stopped that robbery.

Season 2: Team CFVY stopped the Grim invasion.

Season 3: Pyyra's story and downward spiral to her death.

Season 4: Nora and Ren the season.

Season 5: Oscar. The tribe.

Season 6: Oscar again as he's responsible for the exposition involved in that season.

Season 7: Ironwood's descent into insanity AND Penny's descent into accidental heroism.

Season 8: Both those characters die. Everyone dies.

Season 9: ...okay, good point, there was no one else.

Okay so maybe Season 9 gets a pass, but the others? Can you really put Team RWBY in a plot summary?

And that's just external conflict talking, let's talk the MAIN CHARACTER with the INTERNAL conflicts throughout the ENTIRE show.

Jaune Arc.

A SIDE character, voiced by one of the writers, has some of the most plotlines to follow due to his internal struggle and conflict in this new war throughout the entire show.

He has something to do in MOST of the seasons of this show. Not unlike Duncan. The only time I think he didn't have anything going on was Season 7.

In the very first season, Jaune has an entire character arc surrounding him trying to find his inner strength with a one off bully character as an antagonist. That sounds fine, so what's the issue?

This character arc takes up FOUR episodes out of 16. A WHOLE QUARTER OF THE SEASON.

"Well, maybe those episodes cut away to other people at some points-"

No. They don't. It's all Jaune in all these episodes.

Season two is less so Jaune focused, but he has a little subplot surrounding letting go of his feelings for Weiss and finding another girl who would gladly take him. I guess it's priority respect because Neptune was into Weiss at the time? But those two wound up never being a thing, so...

The whole time I thought Weiss was just asexual, but then 9 came in to screw that idea.

Season three focuses on Pyyra, Jaune's love interest, and therefore he's vital to her story and her thought process, so much so that the big angst moment in the season is with him and their death kiss.

Season four and five are focused on Jaune's thirst for revenge on Cinder, a member of Salem's forces, for killing Pyyra. He learns about Salem's forces along the way, makes his own opinion about all this lore, and decides to help out due to his personal necessity.

Wow. He has an internal conflict going on, AND he's active with the external conflict. HMM...

Season six is him letting go of his grief after his moral failure from the Battle of Haven nearly getting Weiss killed. And also he pins Oscar to the wall because why not. It's brief but it's also a full on character arc.

Season eight, he kills Penny, a girl he has never interacted with before this point, and he's a grieving mess. So much so that season nine also includes Jaune dealing with MULTIPLE grieving instances and personal failures.

Everyone else got a seasonal break from the story, and yet Jaune could not.

Now, is this a screen time issue?

Yes.

But NOT for the reasons you might think.

Let's go off of Duncan again, a character with a major status in the show's story and conflict from day one. He was designed that way.

Jaune was not designed that way. BUT I don't actually hate his story for the screen time he gets. In fact, he's probably one of the most interesting characters in the show because there's so much time dedicated to his struggle and his story.

The elephant in the room isn't because Jaune has a story.

It's because the main characters don't have a story.

Again, Arcane, that show focuses on a LOT of characters that aren't Vi and Jinx. You could argue Jayce is the Jaune in their universe. But why does it work? Because there is NOT a neglect of characterization of the leads.

In RWBY, there's a serious neglect issue.

And it's not just Jaune. There are other side characters who've been stealing time away from the leads.

Oscar, ever since he debuted Season 4, has been devoted to screen time stealing, and stealing the main character status with a Chosen One narrative and a pretty offensive way of portraying Multiple Personality Disorder. He's the one with the chosen one story, he's the one who interacts with the bad guys, he's toe to toe with Ironwood, he's the one related to Salem, and he does all of it with the personality of a hollow pine tree.

I mean I guess he also has a crush on Ruby, but... I don't want to get into that.

Hell, CINDER, an ANTAGONIST of the show, has more conflict and screen time than the leads. And she's one of my least favorite characters in the entire show, isn't that sweet?!

On top of that, she's a VILLAIN. We shouldn't be routing for her!

Then there's the rest of JNPR. Nora and Ren have a season focused on them, that being season 4. Pyyra is the same case with season 3. Pyyra dies in that season, so she's obviously not getting screen time any further. But Ren and Nora are alive, AND they have a subplot in the Atlas arc. Having a subplot isn't a problem, it just becomes jarring when the main characters don't have an arc and they do.

Penny gets revived and dies in the Atlas arc. That's also a thing.

The fix here should be really simple! Swap roles! Have the side characters sit in the houses with their little arcs, and have Team RWBY on the fields reacting to everything. It wouldn't excuse their lack of inner struggle, but at least they'd be involved with the plot.

There are many ways you could fix this. Like Oscar's role of being related to Salem. Ruby's mom is dead, but like, what if her mom was Salem and was taken out in war and revived/corrupted into this monster figure? That'd be an interesting narrative.

And RWBY is not the only show, the previous season of Pretty Cure, Delicious Party, ALSO has this issue. And arguably they did it worse because I don't even care for the side characters there either. I'd be repeating myself with criticism there:

Yui, the supposed main character, has no character trait other than be a glutton and a stand in for her grandmother, the other Cures are also irrelevant to the plot and just spend their time eating. The boys of this magical girl show are the focus and have all the wishy washy plotlines, and none of them are even that interesting.

I will give RWBY this over Delicious Party to prove I can see its merits:

At least they only have ONE forth wall narration and do know boundaries to that stuff, as opposed to Delicious Party that thinks their viewers are IDIOTS, and needs a narrator to explain EVERYTHING. CONSTANTLY.

(What a new low for that franchise, am I right? At least we have Hirogaru Sky.)

So what have we learned here?

To answer the question: Is Screen Time An Issue For A Character?

No. It's not that simple.

It's what the character DOES with that screen time that matters. And their role in the story that warrants this screen time.

They need to have all the details of their story laid out for you to care about them.

They need every scene involving their story to matter.

They need to have a plotline that justifies the screen time, small role or big role.

They need to be involved with the main story if they are a major character.

They need an internal conflict to keep the time on them engaging.

They need to be doing something.

If they are a minor character, additional screen time is not a bad thing.

A minor character with a lot of screen time could be there to advance the world building, they could be heavily connected to major character, relationship or otherwise.

But the minor characters don't become favorites and neglect focus on the people the story is revolving around.

First Person POV is a difficult storytelling technique when it comes to screen time, but it's not a bad tool. It can be used as a certain perspective for every character involved if done properly.

And just... screen time alone isn't a valid criticism in my opinion. It's WAY more complicated than that.

What's your opinion? Reblog your thoughts, I'm very curious, especially with media with this issue I did not cover.

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