#but feel free to ask more specific things if you want to know something more detailed

[nottapossum]

Itty Bitty Sinners 2.1💖Whatever It takes 💕🩷

Summary:

⚠️Read⚠️

This section is about Angel dust and Clara so there will be talks of PTSD, Death, Sexual assault, Bedwetting, Addiction, mental health issues, negative self image. And more. (Each chapter will have its own warnings)

Valentino is in this section...more than last time.

Diapers are also a major theme in this section. Be aware of that too.

If something is too triggering or just may be too much, you will see these emojis in sections to warn you.

⚠️: Assault happening in scene. (Probably won't be too major, but be weary)

🥀: Talking about assault.

🖤Dark themes like death

🟢: Addiction drug/Or alcohol.

⚡️: Injury.

🧷: Padding/diapers (sfw only but in case it makes you uncomfortable)

Then In the end note I will explain what happened in those scenes so you can skip them if you need to.

(I may use this in the future, because I know a some of people had to skip FKB and now I got to try and remember what happened so I can do a recap in the first chapter in MKB. Hopefully this works out and I can use it more) 

And if I need to add anything. Please Let me know. Feel free to suggest some emojis for any triggering themes for future fics.

⚠️Every trigger in this chapter is super mild. Probably have nothing to worry about. Only talks of getting assaulted, anxiety, delayed emotional response, self lothing, and injuries. ⚠️

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“Okay, everyone! Let's get this trust circle started!” Charlie announced to the group with her normal overenthusiastic voice.

How can someone be so peppy all the time? It made absolutely no sense to Angel. They're in hell for christ sake!

The ‘trust circle’ She was referring to was more like a square since it was only Charlie, Vaggie, Pen, and Angel.

Husk was at the bar, cleaning some glasses, Niffty was running around bug killing, and no one could tell where Alastor was when he wasn't working! The guy seems to just disappear randomly.

“Who would like to start?” Charlie asks the group.

Pentious smiles and raises his hand. “Oh I would!” He says enthusiastically.

Angel tried not to roll his eyes.

“Pentious!” Charlie cheers. “The floor is yours.” She says, gesturing for him to step forward.

Pentious smiles and slivers closer to the center of the room so everyone could see him properly.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat. “I would like to share that these past few weeks have been the best I can ever remember. Since working with you two, I've felt happier, healthier, and I do hate myself a lot less. You both have provided a safe space for me here, and I couldn't thank you enough for that.” Pentious says, specifically to Charlie and Vaggie.

“Aw, Pen. I'm so glad things are working out so well! You've made so much progress! I'm so proud of you!” She says.

They said more… but Angel was so tired of hearing how great Pentious is all the time.

“Angel? Would you like to share?” Charlie asks.

“Nope.” Angel says simply.

“Come on, Angel.” Charlie says. “It doesn't have to be something big, it can be anything! Oh! How about your regression journal? Have you written in it at all?”

“No.” Angel answers, holding his crossed arms closer to his chest.

“Oh…okay.” Charlie says.

“Angel, come on. Please just share something?” Vaggie sighs. “You said you were going to start participating.”

Husk looks over at them, glaring slightly at Vaggie and Charlie.

“And you said this was optional!” Angel argues back childishly.

But Charlie interrupts. “It's okay!” Charlie says. “Trust can't be forced. It's perfectly okay if you don't want to share anything, Angel. It's not a requirement.”

That somehow made him feel worse than he already did…

“So, I have a project for you two to work on this week!” Charlie announces, changing the subject. “We have already talked about apologizing, so I want to focus a bit on forgiveness!”

“Forgiveness?” Pentious asks.

“Yup! I'd like you both to write a paper! It doesn't matter how long or short, it doesn't even need to be very good. But I want you to write about someone in your life that has hurt you, that you need to forgive.” Charlie explains.

“And what does this have to do with redemption?” Angel asks her.

“Redemption is working towards forgiveness for wrongdoings, if we can offer forgiveness, it's possible to receive forgiveness as well! So, think really hard about it, and you can share it with us next week.” Charlie says.

Angel felt a burning sensation in his chest.

Forgiveness.

How was that even possible here?

“Okay, you're both free to go until tomorrow.” Charlie says. “Let me know if you have any questions!”

Charlie and Vaggie collected their papers and stuff and started to put them away in the office.

Pentious grabbed a notebook to get started on the stupid assignment, but Angel couldn't think of a single person in his life who was worthy of forgiveness…

No one that he hasn't forgiven already at least.

Does she not understand the kind of people he has to see every day? They're not exactly the remorseful types.

Hell was full of the absolute worst kind of people whose motivation is focused solely on pain and suffering.

Why would anyone want to forgive anyone here!?

“Charlie! Charlie!” A small innocent voice asks.

Charlie smiles at the small bug-like sinner. “Yes, Niffty? What's up?” She asks.

“Can I do it too?” She asks. “I want to learn!”

Charlie and Vaggie smile at each other, then both back at Niffty.

“Of course, Niffty! Are you interested in redemption too?” Charlie asks her.

Niffty shrugs. “I don't know, I just want to be part of it.” She says. “It looks fun! I want to be part of the group!”

“You're always welcome to join us, Niffty.” Charlie says.

Niffty smiles as they continue to talk. She shows Charlie her regression journal and everything she has written in it so far.

And Angel’s remains blank. . .

So, even Niffty was better than he was at this.

Angel walks upstairs to his room to get away from them all…

It's not that Angel didn't feel happy for Niffty, he just didn't need to hear about how great it was that Niffty was going to get redeemed…

How great it was that they're gonna have another successful patron…

Now they have two…

How great was that?

It was so….so great.

Angel’s phone starts vibrating violently in his pocket.

…fuck.

He pulled out his phone and his heart sank at at terrifying all too familiar photo as the screen identified the caller:

‘Valentino’

Well, time to get back to reality.

~~~Past, Clara~~~~

Clara never knew how to react properly to things.

Her and Odette have always gone out during exorcisms to collect weapons for their mom, and they've always done it well.

They knew how to avoid angels, to remain unseen, and to act fast.

Well…they always knew…

...before.

But then they were cornered.

Clara remembered brief moments, only mere seconds of the event:

The shadow flying above them,

The angel appearing in front of them,

Their mother asks them if they're okay.

When recalling the events later, Odette remembered every detail, and explained it in every detail to their mother when they all made it home.

Her and her younger sister coped with stress and traumatic events the same way; Though they were very different, they were both age regressors.

Odette was a middle regressor, ranging from age 9-12.

And Clara ranged from 1-4.

Regressing was always so fun for them! Clara got to be the younger sister for once, got to relax, not worry about anything, and she wouldn't need to know all the answers to everythine all the time.

She can just be a kid! She can have some fun!

When they got back home, Odette immediately slipped, she hugged their mother tightly and explained how scary that was for her.

Carmilla, their mother hugged her and told her they were safe now and that everything was going to be alright.

Clara wanted to regress too.

She wanted to cry.

Wanted her mom to help her.

But she couldn't…

She couldn't react, no matter how hard her family tried to talk about it…nothing was processing properly!

She couldn't think about it, when they talked it just made her feel…less there.

She didn't feel much like crying.

She didn't feel like regressing.

She didn't feel anything.

Just…internally froze.

Like what she just experienced didn't happen…it wasn't…real.

She felt pain in her chest and she had an awful headache from the stress but…

No emotions whatsoever.

What's wrong with her?

She decided she'd just try and forget about it and help her mother with her sister instead.

Odette was a fairly independent little, being a middle regressor, but she always likes it when Clara was there, little or not.

They did some puzzles to keep their mind off the event, every time Odette or her mother said anything about it, Clara excused herself from the conversation, finding any excuse to do so:

‘I'm gonna get some water.’

‘I need to use the bathroom.’

‘I think I heard something outside.’

She felt so uncomfortable thinking about it…but she didn't know why.

Her mother asked her specifically if she was alright, and Clara simply nodded and brushed her off, avoiding any and all questions and conversations about it.

She focused only on working, social media, reading, anything really!

She focused on her sister, what she needed.

She just can't face what happened and how it affected her.

She just can't!

~~~Clara, Later:~~~~

The angel attack was a while ago, and Clara was fine.

Totally fine!

She doesn't stay up awake thinking about it…

Well, she didn't last night, so that was great progress!

The emotions are far more severe than before, but it's too late to react now!

She can't tell her mother she's scared of Angel's!

It was too late!

She hadn't even regressed since the attack, despite her mother's advice to do so, because she doesn't want to break down.

She can't regress until the emotions pass, and she's back to normal.

Odette was doing fine! She processed it fairly well, she's acting completely normal! Why can't she be more like her?

“Clara! Have you seen my squid? I can't find him." Her sister asks from the other room.

Well, normal for Odette at least.

“No, I haven't.” She calls back, not too loudly, only enough for Odette to hear.

Odette appeared in front of her sisters’ door to glance in her room. She hums and then walks away to continue her search. "Strange. I just had it..."

“I'm sure it's around here somewhere.” Clara says. “Did you check the kitchen?”

Odette blinks. “I was just about to.” She says in a way that told Clara that no she hadn't thought to look there yet.

She turns back to her laptop…

And when the bad emotions start to overwhelm her again, she closes her eyes and takes some deep breaths to calm herself down.

They're okay.

Her family is safe.

The Angel is gone.

And there's nothing to worry about!

Though angels continue to haunt her thoughts every day…

There's nothing to worry about, so she'll stop worrying.

….eventually.

🥀~~~Angel, Later:~~~🥀

The work day for Angel was relatively normal…

He didn't expect it to end any differently than any other miserable day.

He worked until 3:00 am filming Valentino's new film.

Something about a pizza delivery guy or…was it a mafia boss again? He's not sure.

Why do people like Mafia bosses so much?

Was it really that sexy? He didn't get it.

But maybe he's just biased.

But it doesn't matter.

It's all the same at this point…and he remembers them less and less as he keeps doing it.

With the mixture of dissociation and drugs…

It's like he's not even there anymore.

“That's a wrap everyone!” Travis announced to everyone in the studio.

“I expect everyone to be back here first thing tomorrow!" Val shouts. "Angel, did you hear that?” Valentino asks him.

“Yes, Valentino. I'll be here.” Angel promises.

Valentino smiles. “Good Boy. I expect you all to be here before noon or so help me-”

Angel didn't bother hearing the rest, he just walked out of the studio, eager to get back to the hotel to get some well deserved rest.

He was walking home tonight since he couldn't find a cab and didn't feel like calling one.

But it was fine. What's the worst that can happen?

He had a bit to walk, but it wasn't too far.

He was going straight to bed when he got back, that's no question.

If he even makes it to his bed, he may end up sleeping on the floor again.

It was a risk, but it might be worth it.

If he makes it back that is…

His eyes are already forcing themselves shut.

Ugh…shit.

Normally when they're this late, he'll just stay with Val but-

He really didn't want to risk it tonight...

He'll make it…

He'll be fine.

Just keep….going.

⚡️~~~Husk:~~~⚡️

Husk woke up to his phone going off.

Ugh! When and why did he set Angel's ringtone as this super annoying polka music?

"Angel?" Husk asks, answering the phone.

There was a delayed response: ..."Husk? That you?" He asks.

“Are you high? It's Five in the morning. Why are you calling me?” Husk asks.

Angel takes a bit to respond again. “Huh ...oh yeah, yeah I'm high. But also, I kinda need your help.” Angel says.

“What's going on?” Husk asks. "Are you alright?"

“Uhmm some guy jumped me. Idiot thought I had money, hilarious, right?” Angel asks him, chuckling.

“What? Can't you take a cab home?” Husk asks.

“Normally, yeah! That would be a great idea! Good for you but…uhm. I can't really move, my leg is sorta bending the other way, and I keep losing...ugh what's that word?" He asks. "It's like when you're not dead and aware of everything happening....Well, whatever it is, I keep losing that."

“Where are you? I'll come get you.” Husk says, getting out of bed and getting dressed as fast as he can.

“Awesome, fantastic.” Angel breathes out. "...that's great, Husk."

“Angel? Angel?” Husk asks, a little louder than his regular register but not quite shouting.

“What?” Angel asks.

“Where are you?” Husk repeats.

“Oh that! Yeah…uhm. I…” Angel breathes heavily against the phone, not giving Husk an answer.

“Angel…stay with me, please. Where are you?” Husk asks again.

“I was walking home.” He says. "From the studio...I'm not sure how far I got but..."

…

“Angel? Hey!” He called. "Can you hear me?"

…no answer.

Shit.

Husk hung up the phone and practically flew downstairs.

Husk makes it to the main room where he runs into...of course, Alastor.

Sigh.

Great.

That's just what he needed.

“Husker? You're up early.” Alastor says to him with that annoying fucking smile. "Eager to get to work?" He asks teasingly.

“I'm not in the mood, I need to go get Angel, he's hurt somewhere.” Husk tells him, not caring to react to Alastor's mockery.

“Oh dear. Well, where is he?” Alastor asks, tone more serious now.

“I…I'm not sure. But I'm going to find out.” Husk says, grabbing the first aid kit Charlie always keeps in the lobby.

Husk starts to make his way to the door.

Alastor hums. “Well…”

Husk pauses at the door to hear what Alastor has to say...

“You're going to need better transportation then.” He says.

Husk doesn't know what Alastor means by that, but decides to let Alastor lead the way.

If he didn't care about Angel, he wouldn't be too eager to receive the radio demon's help.

But he seemed to have the right idea, so he followed Al's lead.

They walk outside and Alastor summons an old-looking car from the 1920s.

"Get in, we'll drive in the direction of the studio, keep an eye out for Angel." Alastor says, staring up at the car.

"Do you even know where it is?" Husk asks him, getting into the car as he was told.

Alastor rolls his eyes. "Believe me, I do."

Husk raises an eyebrow.

“Don't ask.” Alastor says.

They start to drive in the direction of the studio, Husk's head out the window to look out for the spider.

“There he is.” Husk announced after ten minutes of driving.

Alastor stops the car and Husk hops out of the car to run to Angel.

“Angel? Can you hear me?” Husk asks, pulling the spider into his arms. "Angel?"

Alastor hums, taking a look at Angel. "He's still breathing, that's a good sign."

Husk starts to argue: “But he's-"

“He'll be fine, Husker. Let's get him bandaged up to ensure he heals properly, then get him into the car.” Alastor says. “If anything else needs to be done we can always ask Charlie for help. Surely she knows a doctor, vet, or something.”

Husk agrees, setting the first aid kit next to Angel, focusing on cleaning the dried blood on his head…

He was still so beautiful…even while laying on the floor like this.

How could someone hurt someone else this beautiful?

The injury on his head wasn't too bad, he probably just hit it on the pavement when he passed out, the worst he had was a concussion if anything.

And that will heal itself in no time.

Alastor took one of Angel's boots off to wrap up his leg. “It's broken. It'll probably take him a few days to get this back in shape.” He says.

Husk nods, turning to what appeared to be his final injury… his stomach was stabbed pretty deep. “His head is fine.” He explains. “I think stitching this up may be a good idea though.”

Alastor nods. "Need me to do it?" He asks.

Husk shakes his head and grabs the needle and thread. "No, I got it...thanks." Husk stitches him up the best he can, no way was he trusting Alastor with something this important, not if he can help it.

Alastor smiles at him like he just did something absolutely hilarious. “Alright, you lift the top of the hin, I'll try and keep his legs straight.” He says.

Husk nods. The two lift the spider and try to get him in the car.

"Husk, you need to move right!" Alastor complains.

"I am moving right!" Husk says.

"My right!" Alastor says.

“We're facing the same way!” Husk says.

"Hey, some people are trying to get some sleep, Assholes!" Someone in one of the buildings shout.

Alastor makes his weird buzzing sound. "It's five in the morning, wake the fuck up already!" He shouts.

Husk sighs, feeling like this will never end.

They do manage to get him in the car though.

They may have hit Angel's head and leg, again, and dropped him once…but he's fine. (It was all Alastor's fault, Husk decided.)

And finally, without another word from either sinner, they headed back to the hotel with no issues.

Alastor and Husk carry the spider once again to get him upstairs and to his bed.

Alastor would probably use magic, but Husk thinks he might be worried about Angel too.

Which confused him to no end, he never thought Alastor would care about another man.

"Take him" Alastor says, handing Husk is legs.

Husk readjusts his hold on Angel so Alastor can remove the top sheets of the bed to fix it.

Husk is very careful not to move too much, he wouldn't want to irritate the spider's leg more.

Fat nuggets is woken up and starts oinking at Husk, probably just worried about Angel...or he was just being a pig, Husk wasn't sure how smart they are.

When Alastor was done fixing Angel's disaster of a bed, he moves the top sheet and blanket so Husk can set him down.

He takes off Angel's other boot, deciding to leave his sock on.

Alastor then gently tucks him in, making sure he was nice and comfortable. His broken leg was elevated over the blanket on top of an extra pillow.

Fat nuggets hopped on the bed and rested by Angel's arm, nuzzling him gently, hoping he'd wake up.

"Well, that should do it." Alastor says, summoning his cain again. "I will be off then." Alastor turns to Husk. "If you're so worried, you can take a few hours off to keep an eye on him. I know how scrupulous you can be when it comes to the damnned thing." He says, rolling his eyes.

Husk wouldn't normally comment, but he turns to Alastor before the deer could leave. "Hey…uh- thanks.” He says. "For helping me out there. I'm not sure how I would have gotten him home without you."

“It was my pleasure. I do help run this hotel, it's my responsibility to take care of our patrons after all.” Alastor says, fiddling with his staff.

Husk nods. “Sure. I appreciate it either way.”

Alastor hums, obviously not knowing how else to respond. "Of course. Well, Ta-Ta." He says before he exits through his shaddow.

Husk sighs and sits down on a chair next to Angels bed...

He does have this habit of worrying about people too much...he supposed.

Caring too much about them...

He promised himself he wouldn't do this again.

Get so protective of someone that he couldn't stop thinking about them, constantly worry about them.

But while Husk was disappointed in himself for letting him care... Angel needed someone to worry about him.

Heaven knows he won't worry about himself. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

'And I don't know what we might face

But I know I can't replace you

So I'll do anything to save you

And I will try to make your dreams come true

Whatever we go through

I know I, I'll be your keeper

I'll be your armor

Whatever it takes, I'll make the mistakes

I'll make the mistakes

Whatever it takes.' ~Whatever it takes, Hazbin hotel.

Possum: I'm feeling very anxious about this chapter...idk.

But I've been stuck on it and re-writing it for...what is it weeks? Idk. A while! So here it is. I hope it's better than I think it is.

If not, there's always the next chapter, which I can garentee will be better!

I'm pretty excited for it! I just had to get this one done and over with so I can keep going.

So...let me know your thoughts 😅

@todayimfour @trophyxtissues2 @abby5577 @ask-dusty-boy @im-not-paying-my-taxes @stormy-is-hyperfixated @attagirljessy @legeufygeuber100 @thatswhat24 @hinata-chan-utaitelover @babiegurlmuffin

[crescentfool]

recently, i’ve been thinking about what a 100% social link/confidant run is like from the perspective of the persona protagonists, rather than the player. i’ve always been a sucker for thinking about the type of narrative created by a person’s gameplay choices (it can be so fun and deep) so!! i wrote this analysis / musing.

some notes before we start: this was written with the lens of persona 3 being the most recent game i played- but the concepts are applicable to the p4/p5 protagonists as well! no spoilers for any of the games are mentioned; this is moreso a general discussion of ludonarrative dissonance with the game mechanics and narrative and how it makes for fun angst (ft. personal interpretation).

(more under the cut!)

the framework: game mechanics

in all of the games, the social link system’s existence coincides with the social stats mechanic. certain social links require a specific set of stats in order to initiate it, or surpass a certain rank. each game has around 20 of these- each of which represent the major arcana (+ some bonuses, e.g. aeon / jester / faith / councilor).

for any players going for a 100% social link run, this basically requires each social stat to be maxed out. anyone who’s followed a guide for a 100% run would know that the beginning of the game tends to be very “strict” with how time can be used, most of which involves getting the stats raised  as soon as possible.

outside of characterization and worldbuilding, completing social links are incentivized for a variety of gameplay reasons. so how could this completionist play style affect the protagonists?

prioritizing social stats over everything else: a general view

regardless of which protagonist you want to put under a petri dish, with a 100% run, you’re essentially asking the protagonist to form amicable bonds with 20 or so people, give or take. granted, not everyone becomes adjoined to the hip to the protagonist.

personally, i feel that forming 20 different bonds over the course of a year would be rather strenuous. during these 100% runs, the protagonists may feel that they’re spreading themselves thin trying to dedicate their resources to multiple different people as well as raising their “social stats.” i find the implications that this has on said bonds is so, utterly fascinating.

while this isn’t reflected in the game and would be better represented within a fic, i find it difficult to believe that this type of behavior doesn’t have any ramifications on the quality of the protagonist’s closer relationships (or their self-image, for that matter).

just… imagine calling one of your close friends but then they consistently give responses along the lines of “lmao sorry i’m busy doing other things,” and they rarely make the time of day for you. how would you feel? gameplay-wise, this deterioration of the relationship is best represented in persona 3 with social links reversing if you haven’t spent time with them in awhile.

part of my fascination with this concept is influenced by my own experiences. trying to maintain so many relationships can be difficult to keep up with and it quickly gets overwhelming (see dunbar’s number for more information). jumping between so many people also makes it difficult to focus on a few relationships meaningfully- meaning that relationships may be limited to being simple pleasantries. even then, ‘successfully’ keeping every relationship satisfying comes at the cost of being unable to pursue your own development and interests.

overall, i think that trying to do so many things ends up lowering the quality of the relationship(s) involved, especially when you also consider the fatigue from going to school as well as fighting shadows.

playing the therapist friend / listening role: a general view

another aspect of the 100% run that i think about is how the protagonists rarely open up to other people. a good chunk of SLs follow a storyline of the protagonist acting as a therapist friend/helping the other person through one central issue. some SLs are an exception to this and have a more casual “we’re just hanging out vibe.”

basically, SLs tend to be weighted toward the other character’s growth, moreso than the protagonist’s (which is handled by the main story). that said, the idea of mostly playing a listening role across most of your relationships and not having many that you feel comfortable to speak freely about your own stuff… feels really unbalanced and unhealthy?

i do think that part of the lack of “input” can be attributed to the silent-protagonist approach taken in the games (which is a whole ‘nother topic). but!! i find that each protagonist’s options, while limited, are fun to think about! some of the traits and interpretations i’ve seen for the differing protags, to name a few, include:

being afraid to open up / get attached and keeping people at arm’s distance as a result

needing to be around other people, even if it’s just listening them, to distract from their own struggles / pretend nothing’s wrong with them

enjoying helping others, being a good and careful listener who can provide an appropriate and helpful response

the willingness to prioritize others over themselves; a lack of self-preservation

compulsive people pleasing

at its worst, the lack of “protagonist talking” or equal reciprocation in response could be misinterpreted by the other person as disinterest (like they’re talking to a wall). alternatively- the lack of “personal tidbits” could be taken as, “you don’t trust me enough to be able to open up, huh.” and i just think that seeing this in a fic would be the biggest shitshow ever (and i would read that).

concluding thoughts:

overall, i feel that the protagonists taking a predominantly listening approach to several relationships at once can lead to compassion fatigue and general burnout. the protagonists are rarely at the receiving end of being listened to and/or having their issues worked through… and that’s kind of sad?

while the 100% social link run can provide great power to any persona fusions (and other cool battle abilities + hijinks)... i ultimately think that there’d be a lot of mental strain that would make achieving this much more difficult when you take a narrative-emphasized approach.

i do realize that it is possible to see the general vibe of this post as “100% social link is bad,” but like… there’s something i find really appealing about the messiness of attempting to manage so many relations at once- only to fall short in several of them and attempting to salvage the last bits of their sanity. when you think about the complications of the 100% SL run from the shoes of the protagonist… yeah!! that’s the good shit!

anyways! if anyone knows of any fics with this kinda vibe for the p3/4/5 protags… feel free to drop it in my askbox… i like them all VERY much :3c… and if this raised any food for thought- i’d be equally honored! let the protags go through shit i wanna see their emotions and coping mechanisms damn it! 👏

[selfdestructivecat]

If I see one more person misconstrue good-faith criticism against Thomas Sanders and the way he’s handling his series, I’m going to scream.

Yes, there are people who genuinely despise the man, and are nitpicking anything that can prove that he is an evil person. There are people who are constantly pestering Thomas about the long wait, demanding the content they want this instant. Those people aren’t being productive with their criticism, and I can understand being frustrated with them. Hell, I’M frustrated with them!

But there ARE valid criticisms. Thomas has recently been very bad with handling questions about the series, as his recent Twitter posts have shown, and he hasn’t been transparent about what’s going on with Sanders Sides.

If you don’t take anything else away from this post, THAT’S what we’re upset about. We aren’t upset about the wait itself. We will GLADLY wait days, months, YEARS for this series we love. We already HAVE waited years, and we likely will continue to do so! But we don’t know what’s going ON. He has given us very few updates, and in the few updates he has given us, he has been INCREDIBLY VAGUE.

And he CAN BE VAGUE, just ACKNOWLEDGE IT.

“Hey guys! This series is taking longer than I thought it would for reasons I don’t feel comfortable disclosing! I can’t give you an exact date for when the next part will be out because I don’t know when it’ll be done, but it will take a long time! Please be patient, thank you!”

THAT’S IT! That’s all we want! But as far as I know, he hasn’t announced an official hiatus or anything of the sort. He has just said that he’s “working on it”, which doesn’t tell us ANYTHING.

If he is prioritizing Roleslaying or another project, THAT’S FINE! Just TELL US, so we don’t expect something we aren’t going to get!

People have brought up how the series used to be as part of their argument, on both sides. The production quality was lower, but updates were more frequent. I won’t argue about which era of the series was better. But the point I want to make is that Thomas set up a precedent. After years of this series, we’ve come to expect this type of update schedule.

And now, obviously, it’s changed. And that’s FINE. But when a precedent has been established, and then it’s changed without any kind of announcement, it’s reasonable that people are confused and kinda thrown off! And we would be a lot less confused if Thomas would TELL US WHAT’S GOING ON!

I don’t know Thomas personally. I’ve never interacted with him. I’m sure he’s a lovely man. But he can be a wonderful person AND be irresponsible interacting with his fans. Not every bit of criticism thrown at Thomas is a direct attack against his character! Kindness and irresponsibility aren’t mutually exclusive! And yes, there ARE people using these recent tweets as attacks against Thomas as a person. You can be upset about that. But there are also people analyzing these responses and (rightfully so in my opinion) asking for some accountability!

I understand that he’s frustrated! I would be as well, in his circumstance! And there ARE people who are being incredibly rude and unhelpful in demanding that Thomas pump out Sanders Sides content at a faster pace! That is incredibly unreasonable!

But that isn’t what everyone is saying to him! Many people are being perfectly polite and asking for the smallest bit of clarity! And yes, this can also be really frustrating! But it isn’t completely unwarranted! When you don’t say anything, people ask questions! And the best way to stop people from asking questions? ANSWER SOME OF THEM!

You can still be a fan of the series that Thomas made AND be critical of him and the series. The fact that we take the time to express and convey these criticisms in a manner we hope to be constructive is a testament to the love we have for it, and the potential we don’t feel it’s reaching. So don’t you DARE suggest that we are any less part of this fandom, or “fake fans”, because we see some flaws in the system. We can love something and acknowledge it’s flaws. You are no better than us because you are standing on the other side of this argument.

If I’ve missed anything, which I likely have, then feel free to correct anything I’ve gotten incorrect. I know my perspective may have some gaps. But I’d like to have a conversation with someone who disagrees with me, rather than someone seeing the words “ts criticism” and immediately assuming that we are ungrateful little shits who hate everything Thomas stands for.

Once again, I apologize for the wave of criticism on my blog. You are more than welcome to unfollow or block me of that makes you upset, no hard feelings on my side. But I wanted to say something, and I doubt my stance will change. I hope, going forward, that we can discuss the ups and downs of this series without fingers being pointed or accusations being thrown. From BOTH sides.

[love-and-ejoy]

“He’s a 10, but...”: Pharmacy Edition!

-He’s a 10 but he asks why it takes you so long to pour some pills in a bottle and slap a label on it

-He’s a 10 but when you tell him that you’ve sent a request already and that he should call his doctor, he says, “Isn’t that your job?”

-He’s a 10 but he insists that you don’t know what you’re talking about, the doctor prescribed it, of course he needs this medication, remove the prior auth immediately!

-He’s a 10 but it’s your fault, personally, that his doctor didn’t give him more refills.

-He’s a 10 but “The doctor said it would be ready when I got here!”

-He’s a 10 but the computer is lying and he’s never ever had a copay in his life and he’s calling corporate when he gets home. No don’t put the Xanax back he needs it.

-He’s a 10 but can you ring his entire cart up with 29 coupons and a complaint already formed for the front end manager

-He's a 10 but if you whisper the word tadalafil behind a paper while nobody else is in a 25 mile radius, the entire country will know he's taking Viagra, how could you be so insensitive

-He’s a 10 but [excruciatingly loud truck noises in the drive thru but refuses to pick up the phone to talk]

-He’s a 10 but “How do you spell that?” “J-O-H-N Szierbajeck”

-He’s a 10 but he swears a coupon card is cheaper than his insurance.

-He’s a 10 but “fill my entire profile”

-He’s a 10 but “no no don’t run through the errors just get me whatever’s ready” “Where is med, med, med, and med? How was I supposed to know there were errors?!”

-He’s a 10 but the concept of offering vaccines to consenting adults who make their own decisions is obviously a crime against humanity

-He’s a 10 but obviously the pharmacist is absolutely overjoyed to not be able to fill his prescription and, despite pharmacist trying for over 2 hours to get authorization, pharmacist must be withholding his medications.

-He’s a 10 but the concept of time is a social construct and therefore he needs a refill of her controlled medications

~~~

[sophiamcdougall]

I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again

I mean, I am. But still.

So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.

So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.

At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.

Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell

So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.

I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.

This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.

Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.

I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.

Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.

We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.

"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."

"A what," he asks.

"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"

"Oh! A turtle!" he says.

"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.

The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.

"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.

"ΜΙΑ ΧΕΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.

"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.

"Μπορούμε να δούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??

The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?

I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.

"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."

"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.

"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!

So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.

(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)

[inkskinned]

"the curtains weren't blue on purpose. why should we care?"

my love! let me ask you this - did you eat breakfast today? this tiny moment in your life. just think about it. did you?

for some of you, the answer is yes and for some of you it is technically and for some of you it is does coffee count. some of you reached for cereal or gmo-free overnight oats or frozen waffles or 3-day-old pizza. sometimes we eat the same thing, every day, for weeks. i get tired of eggs randomly, only to go back to craving them desperately. i'm cuban; i take my coffee like my father showed me, very milky and sweet.

some of us ate in a hurry. some of us hate eating breakfast but if we don't we will get nauseous later. some of us took our meds first or took our meds after. some of us have a kitchen 5 feet wide and sometimes it's the biggest room in the house. some of us are confident there will be food in the pantry and some of us flinch and say well, the paycheck is coming. some of us turn on a podcast while we eat or we scroll our phones or write in our diaries.

some of us are choosing, specifically, not to eat breakfast. some of us are too busy. some of us are pretending we "just forgot," but we are ignoring the warning signs that everything feels too-heavy. some of us are so consumed with anxiety or grief that we can't eat. some of us can't stand up long enough to make our coffee. some of us have no table to sit down and eat.

i cannot tell you what an artist "meant" by their choices. but they did have to make a choice, conscious or otherwise, to give you information. to give you a little bit more light. each of these choices are little stars of data; connecting speckles for you to weave through, drawing a line.

you cannot use a mirror in a dark room. for some of us; we will not care that the curtains are blue, because that will just be a data point and not enough light to see by. for some of us, the blue curtains will be the same as our childhood bedroom. it will make us seasick. for some of us, blue will be the color of frostbite. it might look like a pixel up close; but from a distance, oh! the picture blooms.

i cannot tell you what will stick out for you. what will carry meaning. some of you will read the sentence "i didn't have breakfast today" and say "this means nothing." some of you will read that and say "oh, me neither." some of you will say "this means the character is probably a little grouchy." some of you will say "oh, i wonder if they're okay. why didn't they eat anything?" ... art is a mirror. i am holding hands with you, over space and time, and asking you to feel something with me.

i want you to read my work and find a blue pair of curtains. i want you to read my work and find things in it that i never imagined placing. i have no way of knowing what will resonate with you, that's true. and maybe i just was hungry while i wrote this, and thinking about the eggs in my fridge. but if you found meaning, that meaning is yours. it cannot be erased just because i didn't "intend" it. you created a different world by interpreting my work. it's collaborative! that's beautiful! that's stunning!

just! imagine looking at the night sky and saying - it's stupid to have a favorite constellation or a favorite star. they're just there.

because here's the thing - across centuries and cultures, we look up. we still find meaning in the stars. these beautiful, lovely scattered accidents. are you looking? they call. and we look back and say oh! of course we are!

[6gumi]

which dress looks good on me?

synopsis ﹒your husband aventurine helps you pick out dresses ! ( gone wrong ! )

pairings﹒aventurine x f!reader

cw﹒nsfw MDNI. unedited. 、 established relationship 、mirror sex 、semi-public sex 、reader physically smaller 、mild titplay 、 squirting 、aventurine referred to as “kakavasha” once or so 、a bit of choking 、nicknames used ( baby, sweetheart, more ! ) 、more tba !

note﹒hi hii ! ! decided to change things up w my formatting . . . since the last one wasn’t that good so i hope this new format it looks fine :3 this is a lil short but it’s oki ! ! | reblogs are highly appreciated ! if you want to talk to me, send a rq or thirst . . . feel free to send me an ask ! — millie ♡

it was another day of spending time with your husband, of course . . . he spoiled you a shit ton today, even though you scolded him not to ! but of course, he wouldn’t listen. hmph, typical. you were both in one of the big changing rooms in your favourite place to shop at, examining the dress that hugged your body, the coldness of the room making you shiver. “hmm . . .” you hummed, raising a brow as you took a step closer to the mirror, “ . . aven, i’m not sure about this dress.” you murmured, glancing at your beloved husband staring at you in pure awe, ugh . . he was like a puppy. it was cute.

aventurine whistled, his rough fingertips tracing the outline of your ass, smirking when he felt you jump. “i like it, i guess you don’t then,” he chuckled with a shrug, taking a step closer. “maybe try another one on and see how it looks, maybe something a bit looser, if you prefer. but to me, i like this one.”

“babe, you said that with the five other dresses i tried on earlier.”

“ . . . so?”

“sooo which means that . . . you need to be more with me, you can’t just say “yes it looks good” every single time, y’know . . . i need your honest opinion.” you spoke, crossing your arms.

“well, you did look good in all those dresses you tried on earlier, even this one you still look as beautiful as ever.” aventurine’s pretty eyes roamed over your body with admiration. "your body is perfect just the way it is." aventurine reached out, gently cupping one of your round breasts through the thin material of your dress. "and if anything, you're just getting even more beautiful with each passing day." he leaned in close, nuzzling your neck as he whispered into your ear, " . . mm . . but if you want to look extra hot, maybe we should find something that shows off your cute breasts over here. maybe . . one that allows them to spill right out—“

“kakavasha.”

“what? i was only telling the truth, sweetheart. can’t handle it?”

the dress surely was stunning, accentuating every part of you. but there was something missing . . . like something else needed to be added. hm . . you weren’t sure what. could it be the color? maybe it wasn’t your color? you just weren’t sure. a hand ran through your hair again, slowly trailing down towards the fat of your ass . . . feeling a small yet sharp slap that stung your skin. “you really can’t decide? just get all of them, love. you know i can afford them. unless . . you want me to tell you how i feel about this dress in specific . . both on and off. would that be to your liking?” that smug lil’ smirk on his face . . . you knew exactly what he meant by that. it was risky, but hey . . . you didn’t mind that. you nodded, raising a brow with a smile.

aventurine’s eyes darted over your figure, lingering on the swell of your breasts beneath the dress you wore, he could feel his cock stirring in his pants, straining against the fabric of his boxers. aventurine silently cursed his weakness, his thoughts betraying him at the most inopportune time. “mmh . . . let’s start here.” your husband’s fingers tickled your chin, facing you to the mirror infront of you, as if he wanted you to watch every single thing he does. gripping your hips, he pressed your body firmly against the cold mirror . . his fingers moved deftly, reaching down to flip your dress upwards, sliding his eager digits within your heat . . stroking your wet slit.

“aven . . .” a breathy whimper slipped between your lips as aventurine pressed his thumb against your clit, his other fingers dipping into your folds. He could feel her body respond to his touch, your hips bucking slightly as you tried stifling moans.

“mm . . this dress presents you so well, angel. i like the fabric used . . i also like how these present these tits of yours. ‘s fucking pretty. you can’t expect me to not look at them, can you, baby?” he teased, his fingers brushing over your nipples gently. “if you ever wore this at an important gathering . . fuck. i’d get hard so quick,” his voice . . . goodness his voice. he was so close to you, his body pressed firmly against yours, rubbing his cock against your backside. “speaking of that . . look how hard you made me, baby. just ‘cuz i saw you in this pretty dress.”

the gambler trapped you close against the mirror, cock twitching at the sight of your breasts pressing against the cold surface. his eyes darkened, desire burning in his depths as he looked at the reflection of his wife. your breathing hitched, eyes half-closed, and lips parted in need. "fuck, baby . . . you're driving me insane," aventurine growled, his voice desperate and thick with lust. he adjusted the dress, pulling it down just enough to reveal more of your breasts . . . mouth watering at the sight, his cock throbbing painfully in response. “i’m gonna fuck this pretty pussy . . kay? i’m gonna fuck this pretty pussy.” aventurine’s skilled hands wrapped themselves around your throat, applying pressure with a squeeze. “. . . ‘gonna fuck you hard against this mirror until we get kicked out, kay?”

“ . . okay . . “

“good girl.” his hand squeezed around your neck once more as his cock slid smoothly into your wet heat. his breath hitched as he felt your warmth enveloping him, your wet heat surrounding his dick. your moans and his groans bounced off the walls of the fitting room, not caring if anyone was waiting outside to try on their own clothes . . that’s their problem! “oh baby . . . i will never stop fucking this cunt of yours.” aventurine groaned deeply, losing all control within his nerves as they were all conveyed by pure lust for you. the sounds of the mall faded away, replaced by the slap of your bodies connecting, the soft gasps and whimpers escaping both of you and him.

"this fuckin’ dress . . . fuck i’m gonna ruin it. ruin you, baby.” the gambler breathed raggedly, rough hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pounded into you with no avail or intention of stopping, his eyes locked on the reflection, watching himself taking his pretty wife in the sexiest dress he’d ever seen. “watch me while i fuck you, my little wife. do you see my cock sliding in and out of you? ‘s good . . isn’t it?”

"god, yes!" you cried out, clenching your fists against the mirror, your husband’s eyes locked on the image of your plump tits bouncing with each thrust with your face flushed with passion. “more, aven . . more more more !” goodness . . . you were almost certain that people from the outside heard you both fuckin’ and getting it down in there. in full honesty . . . aventurine didn't care who heard, he didn't care about the consequences. all he cared about was satisfying his desperate hunger for you, feeling your body clench around him. oh . . the way your heat enveloped his member like a blanket drove him crazy. it took every ounce of control left in his body to not cum instantly . . wanting to savour the moment more.

“a—aven i’m gonna cum . . .”

“yeah? cum, angel. cum on my cock . . maybe cum on the mirror too . . give the workers a hard time cleaning our intimacy.” he chuckled, landing a swift smack to your ass. fuck, the sensation was too much for you. your orgasm crashed into you like a tidal wave, overwhelming you completely. with a gasp, you squirted all over the mirror, milking your husbands cock as you did so . . . your vision swam with pleasure, mind hazy with orgasmic bliss. “well then . .” aventurine spoke again, grunting when he emptied himself into you. “did that prove anything? prove how much i liked this dress . . ?”

“sh—shit . . mm . . yes, yes it did . .”

“good. then let’s get this one then, baby. can’t wait to completely ruin you again in this dress when we get home.”

© 6GUMI. please do not modify 、translate 、share my works on other platforms 、or consider them as yours.

[nereidprinc3ss]

Happy 2k babe! I have a request for fluffy Spencer smut based on the song "touch tank" by Quinnie! (the song gives me like golden retriever vibes so maybe you could put something about reader playing with his hair in there? I don't know I'm having later seasons fluffy hair Spencer brainrot and I never make requests, obviously feel free to ignore or change things if this is too specific! <3)

hi angel babe!!! i love this song!! and i too am always having later seasons fluffy haired spencer brainrot!! i wrote this super quick, please let me know if its any good, ILY!!! xo

warnings/tags: fem!reader, softdom!spence, sub reader, fingering, oral f receiving, sorta kinda overstimulation, implicit consent, praise n stuff, not proofread, written at 9 pm on a tuesday night, so fluffy

18+ (smut)

-------------------------------

Spencer is clearly almost asleep on the couch next to you. That’s one of many things you find endlessly fascinating and charming about him—his ability to fall asleep anywhere at any time within minutes. 

So you probably shouldn’t speak. But the stakes are low; it’s barely 7:30 in the evening. 

“Spence?” You whisper. His eyes don’t open, but his thumb goes back to making little passes where it’s settled over your hip. 

“Hm?”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

He smiles, slight but beautiful—yet his eyes remain stubbornly closed. 

“Why not?” 

“’Cause I want you to be awake.” 

“Then you can’t keep playing with my hair like that.”

You pout as if he can see you.

“But I like playing with your hair.”

Spencer hums, and you can tell you’re losing him again as you continue carding your hand through stupidly soft locks. 

“One or the other. You can’t have both.”

“I love you both, though,” you complain. “I don’t know who to pick.”

The grin has been steadily fading from his relaxed face but it flickers back to life for a moment. 

“I’m getting a haircut tomorrow. That should make it easier for you.”

“What?”

It’s the genuine horror in your voice that finally gets him to open his eyes. A little line appears between his brows as he regards you with bleary eyes. 

“What what?”

“You didn’t consult me!”

The momentarily tensed muscles in his face relax and he rolls his eyes affectionately before craning his neck to kiss your forehead. 

“I’m not in the habit of requesting your approval before I make choices like that.”

“Spencer, please don’t cut your hair,” you beg, genuinely distraught. “You can’t. It’s so so pretty.”

“It’s too long, baby. I don’t want to grow it out again.”

“You don’t have to grow it out! Just don’t get it any shorter! It’s perfect how it is,” you insist. Spencer narrows his eyes as you plead with him. But you stand firm in your position. His hair is sort of shaggy, sure—too long to be considered cropped and too short to be considered long. It’s like a beautiful curly halo and it’s perfect playing-with length. “I’m serious. I’m asking you to not cut it short, please. This is what I want for my birthday.”

“Your birthday’s not even—”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top? I love your hair so much and I love you more but I just really don’t want you to cut it, please—”

He’s laughing when he silences you with a soft kiss, and you melt, sighing against him as his hand slides up and down the back of your thigh. When he knows you’ve been sufficiently soothed, he pulls away, still smiling. 

“Oh my god, baby—are you about to cry?”

“Stop!” you whine, burying your face into a throw pillow and screwing your eyes shut. Your nose crinkles up with embarrassment. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and though he’s no longer outright laughing, traces of humor still color his lowered voice as he kisses all over the side of your face.  “I had no idea you felt that way. I didn’t realize I’d be causing you so much emotional distress if I cut my hair.”

You sniffle away any unfortunate emotional reactions and turn your head back to him. He’s ducked down slightly, still peppering kisses over your jaw and neck, and you lace your fingers through the contentious hair. 

“Obviously I’m not the boss of you. If it makes you uncomfortable I want you to cut it. But I really like it how it is.”

He hums against your throat and the vibrations send a chill down your spine. You arch against him unconsciously. 

“You are definitely the boss of me. I don’t know anyone else who I like receiving orders from so much.”

“Hotch,” you whisper, and you can feel Spencer’s teeth against your neck as he smiles and presses another loving kiss to the sensitive spot above your collarbone. 

“Not the kind of orders I was talking about. And I don’t particularly care what Hotch thinks of my hair, honey.” He kisses tenderly until he earns a tiny whimper from you—which sates him enough to raise his head until you’re eye-level again. His hand, however, has other plans—it creeps south, slipping under the waistband of your pajama pants. “What if we compromise? I just get it trimmed so it doesn’t keep getting in my eyes when I have a loaded gun in my hands, yeah?” You nod dutifully, looping your arms around his neck as his fingers dip beneath your underwear. When you don’t reply verbally, he prompts meaningfully, “okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, voice small as you look into his searching eyes. 

For a few moments, when he finally pushes his fingers against your clit and begins rubbing with slow, gentle strokes, his eyes are everywhere on your face—then they focus back on your eyes, watching with that habitually intense interest permeated with a sense of devotion—like he wants to see exactly what pleasure looks like reflected in your irises. Like he could see through them to your brain and watch your dopamine transmitters working overtime. A soft moan escapes through parted lips, which seems to spur Spencer on. He drags more arousal over your aching bud and openly chuckles at your airy sigh of pleasure, unable to resist from giving you a short kiss. 

“Feels good?”

“Mhm,” you breathe. 

“Mhm,” he agrees, kissing you again just as quickly before pulling back to study your face once more. “Pretty girl.”

“You’re pretty,” you insist, with what little brain power is available to you as you rake one hand through his hair. He smiles, eyes pinging between your own and your mouth like he can’t decide where to look.  

“I’m pretty?” he asks, speaking over another quiet, yet unabashed moan. You nod, hips bucking slightly off the couch cushion as he speed up the motion of his hand. The grin widens and his soft amber eyes soften further. “You’re so sweet.”

You give him a moan he can’t ignore and he takes it as a signal to slip two fingers into you, sighing in what sounds like relief just as your breath catches. The way he seems to feel your pleasure will never get less erotic. Once he’d explained it—something to do with mirror neurons—but whatever the reason, watching the way his arousal rises with yours is exhilarating. 

A squeaking sound is expelled from your lungs and your whole body tenses, propelling you maybe an inch upward involuntarily. 

His lips part the same as yours—but only allowing another dry laugh to pass between them. 

“Relax. I’ll come to you.”

You hum as he leans down and kisses you back into the pillow—a proper kiss, this time, lips parted and the tip of his tongue grazing yours—all the while, still pumping his fingers much deeper than your own could ever manage. Each moan and gasp he allows you to release freely, only barely parting from your lips every few seconds to let you breathe and make your noises. When his fingers begin pumping faster, and you can hear it, you whine, knees clamping shut as the small of your back jumps away from the couch. 

“Fuck,” you pant against his lips. 

“Need you to keep your legs open, baby,” Spencer reminds you gently, giving you a peck and a moment to relax as his hand stills. 

“I don’t think I can,” you admit shyly, still wriggling. “Um, can you—can you use your mouth, please?”

Your boyfriend chuckles again and your cheeks get warmer. Momentarily you allow yourself to be grateful that his face is pressed too close to your own for him to be really be looking at you. 

“You still have to keep your legs apart for that.”

“I know. It’s easier when—when you’re not inside.”

The smile in Spencer’s voice when he replies gives you butterflies as if he’s not knuckle deep in you already. 

“I bet you think that’s true.”

“It is!” you whine. 

“You’ve never had your thighs wrapped around your head so tightly your ears pop, have you?”

“That did not happen.”

“Only once,” Spencer reassures you. “And I happen to like your thighs. So no harm done. Go lie down on the bed.”

You let out a small chirp as he withdraws his fingers from you and your waistband snaps back into place against your skin. 

“Where are you going?” you ask suspiciously, once you’re on semi-steady feet and watching him rise from the couch too. At once he kisses your forehead and grabs your ass—the contrast is dizzying. 

“To wash my hands,” he says, popping the fingers that were just in you into his mouth like a preliminary clean up. “Go,” he urges, jutting his chin in the direction of the bedroom door. You hang from him just a second longer, biting back a smile, before tearing yourself away and only half-skipping to the bedroom. 

Only a moment or two after you flop joyfully down on the mattress, he appears in the doorway again, immediately noticing the way you’re practically vibrating with excitement and unable to hide your grin as he approaches. It seems the smile is contagious—he’s sporting one of his own as he climbs over you. 

“You’re adorable,” he murmurs toothily, kissing you once and then speaking again, “I love you so much.”

It’s exactly the kind of thing that makes you feel all soft and shy and giddy and speechless—even as he gives you one more parting kiss and then is sitting up to slide your pants off. 

Maybe even especially then. 

The sweetness dissipates only a little, still hanging thick in the air as you kick your bottoms off, and he leans back down, pushing your shirt over your chest and pressing kisses to your ribs and down your tummy. He doesn’t waste much time, only taking one brief detour to suck a mark and sink his teeth into your inner thigh until your breath catches loud enough to appease him. Then it’s all easy—his cool fingertips trailing up and down the backs of your thighs as he kisses all over and around your core. Intimacy with Spencer is definitely a spectrum, and while you can always feel the depth of his love for you in every touch, right now it’s so tangible, so potent you can feel it in your teeth. 

You coo when one of the kisses finally sticks, lacing your fingers through the hair you love so much and pushing it out of the way as he laps gently at you. He looks as beautiful as always in the golden hour light as it filters through the window, but you’ve always thought he’s just that extra bit prettier when he’s eating you out. 

Visually you’re entranced—it’s only when he begins easing you into the deep end with the flicking of his tongue that your brow knits and you gasp. 

“Spencer,” you whisper, and it melds into a louder gasp. “Baby.”

He hums into you, reaching around your thigh to grab one of your wrists. You allow him to drag your hand from his hair and intertwine your fingers, his hand on top of yours, pressing them against your stomach where he sweeps his thumb back and forth over your knuckles.

The display of tenderness only makes you ache deeper in your belly, singing in airy, open-mouthed praise for him with a moan you know he would describe as pretty. Spencer says things like that often. He always talks about you like you’re an art form. When it comes to talking about touching you, he’s especially poetic. 

When he begins to suckle, your moans get a little more explicit. 

But he likes those ones just fine, too.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, though it’s a little choked, as you writhe just slightly against him. “That’s so good—oh my god.”

The hand that’s not holding yours rapidly changes position—pressing your thigh to the side with his elbow while he slips his fingers inside you once more. 

At that, you really do choke, your body attempting to sit bolt upright but set off balance by the way your hips buck. You moan, loud, lilting, head still lifted to watch as he begins fucking you with his fingers. Your fingers brush through his hair several times before you’re anchoring your hand in it and falling back. 

“Wh—please, baby, I can’t—”

But you can, and you both know it. You always do this; your body sends you signs that you’re over-indulging and fights to escape the stimuli and Spencer has learned to recognize your false flags for what they are. His hand speeds up along with his tongue and you cry out again, fighting to keep your legs open and your hips on the bed as every nerve in your body seems to light up neon. 

“Oh—Spencer I’m gonna come,” you warn, all high pitched and synthesized into one word. He simply hums a long mhm in acknowledgment, and decides at that moment to brush his fingers over that spot inside of you which proves to be exactly the right button to trigger your detonation. 

You can’t help the way you twist then as your orgasm washes you out—jaw dropped as your final keen starts loud, sputters into silence, and melts into an exhausted whine as your hips wind down. Spencer (wisely) adjusts his position, letting go of your hand only so he can sit up as your thighs clamp shut hard. But he’s still pumping his fingers as you writhe, his own mouth hanging open and groaning as you mewl. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, ready to beg him to stop—but as usual, he knows your body better than you do. An orgasm that you had thought was on its way out gets a second life and you can’t even breathe as you feel it so deep within you, pinpointed to one spot of focus, that you have to curl in on yourself, keeling onto your side because it’s simply too intense. 

Either your vision goes black or your eyes are simply closed—regardless, time ceases for an unquantifiable moment, and you come to with Spencer rubbing your back and murmuring your name. 

“What did I do to you?” he laughs, not unkindly.  

Your back arches as mild aftershocks trickle through your system. 

“I don’t know,” you slur. “Dark magic.”

He allows himself to be pulled on top of you once more, and you tangle your hands in his hair again. 

“But you’re okay?” he murmurs, using his dry hand to play with your hair and brush over your cheek. 

“Mhm,” you nod, eyes fluttering shut once more. Then you laugh, sudden and unexpected to both of you. “I think. That was intense. I felt that one in my soul.”

You smile as he exhales a laugh against your skin. 

“Okay,” Spencer sighs after you catch your breath, bumping his nose against yours before sitting up—this time, not allowing you to pull him back down. “I need to take a shower. You should come with me.”

“Five more minutes,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows. 

“But this is your last chance to wash my hair before it’s a whole inch shorter tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you laugh, but it turns deadly serious very quickly. “Spencer, I am not letting you cut a whole inch off your hair. I need that inch.”

“For what?” He snorts. 

You smile big, glad he didn’t see your joke coming for once. 

“Handles! Duh!”

[kamiversee]

Sukuna’s Fuck Buddy ꨄ

[ { Synopsis } ] ➤ You agree to be friends with benefits with Sukuna, not exactly expecting to get ruined in different ways every week.

[ { Need to know } ] ➤ This is a What-If scenario that stems from my fic; The F*ck List— A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt.

[ { Content & Warning } ] ➤ f!reader, dirty talk, tw; spitting, degrading, manhandling, pet names, fingering, unprotected sex, language, brief/slight exhibitionism, & Sukuna has a filthy mouth.

[ { Paring } ] ➤ Sukuna x f!reader.

[ { Word Count } ] ➤ 4.2k

"A whore," Sukuna commented, clearly joking but his words had made you uneasy.

It was oddly specific. You hadn't thought much of it when he called you a whore the night prior, since, y'know, you liked being degraded. But, something about that being his assumption for your occupation was a crazy coincidence.

Especially considering how hellbent Gojo always is on telling you not to call yourself that. The more you thought about it...

Gojo got upset at something from Sukuna's party, he didn't want you to call yourself a whore all of a sudden, Sukuna seems to have believed that was your actual job, and you remember how pissed Gojo seemed as he thought about you sleeping with Sukuna-

Holy fuck. Are the two connected somehow? Is something going on? What does Gojo owe Sukuna? Does Sukuna know you only slept with him as payment to clear Gojo's debt? Is-

A finger had poked your forehead and you blinked out of your thoughts.

Sukuna was chuckling, "I was joking, woman. Calm down." He uttered, "I actually thought you worked at one of those beauty stores."

You raised a brow, still feeling uneasy with the man. "Beauty stores?"

"Sephora, Ulta," He shrugged, "Wherever the fuck. I pictured you being one of those cute little cashiers."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment...?" You murmured.

"Or working at McDonald's, I don't know, I didn't think too hard on it-- jus' wanted to fuck you," Sukuna admitted honestly.

Your expression drops, "Oh..."

His hand had gone to your chin and he tipped your face up, "Do you want me to want something more from you?"

His gaze was intense like always, causing chills to slip down your back. You shook your head, "I mean, no... I only wanted you to fuck me."

"We could keep doing this," Sukuna suggested with a shrug, "Make' it a weekly thing."

You batted your eyelashes at him a few times in thought. At the time, things definitely would've gone differently had you not answered his request but... Somewhere deep down inside, you wanted to make it a weekly thing.

"Really?" You had asked the man, taking him by slight surprise.

Sukuna had wholeheartedly expected you to disregard his suggestion to you but, you didn't. "Yes, really," He replied before stepping closer to his bedside where you were seated and leaning toward you, "Let's fuck every week."

You stared at him with wide eyes for a long moment, contemplating numerous things in your head. Technically, you should've said no. You should've moved on from the topic, y'know, brushed his offer off entirely.

Yet there you were, steadily nodding your head in agreement before uttering a simple, "Okay."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Which takes you to right now, a few weeks after said agreement where you find yourself in the backseat of one of Sukuna's cars, your legs sprawled out over his as you sit prettily in his lap.

Since agreeing to be friends with benefits with Sukuna, you and him have met up once a week, sometimes twice, just to fuck each other.

In Sukuna's right hand was his cell phone, the device up at his ear as he conversed with someone as if his free hand wasn't occupied with toying with your dripping cunt-- thick fingers fucking so deep into you and curling just right against your slick walls.

Your back was against his firm chest, lips parted with heavy pants and soft moans spilling from your throat as the lewd sound of Sukuna finger fucking you filled his vehicle.

Trying so hard not to be loud in courtesy of whoever he was on the phone with, you bit your lower lip, “Mmmh… Sukuna…” You mewl out gently.

He’s been at it for a while and you could even feel how hard his cock was against your ass, his tip leaking and member twitching beneath the fabric of his sweats every time you squirmed.

Sukuna sighs heavily and pulls the phone away from his mouth only to bring his lips to your ear, “Shut the fuck up. If she hears you, I’ll stop…” Pausing mid-sentence as your cunt squeezes tighter around his fingers, he smirks, “Slut.”

“P-Please… hah… don’t stop,” Your voice was filled with pure and utter need, just as he liked.

Sukuna angles his head down a bit, planting a soft and all too teasing kiss below your ear, his breath tickling your neck, “Then shut up.”

You’re nodding, closing your mouth, and swallowing down your own moans as he purposefully shoves his fingers into you at a rougher pace.

In and out and in and out, your pussy was gushing around his fingers— mouth opening and jaw dropping every now and then as he hit all the right spots.

“Fuck,” You curse under your breath as your torso leans forward and you shoot a hand down to grab his wrist.

Sukuna’s speaking to whoever he has on the phone but you only register a few words every now and then. “Mhmmmm,” He hummed and you swore that was directed toward you as your eyes flickered back— he knew you were close.

Sukuna’s fingers slid almost all the way out of your hole just to tease you, his fingertips slipping up to flick over your clit. A breathy moan leaves your lips as he rubs your clit aggressively, drawing circles over the bud and making your legs draw together.

“M’gonna cum,” You whine out quietly, struggling to keep your noises in.

He wanted to make things harder for you so he smirks, “Yeah?” Sukuna taunted, “Gonna’ make a mess? Hm?”

Your head just barely angled back to look at him, seeing that he didn’t bother to move the phone away or mute it so whoever he was talking to heard everything he just said. This overwhelming feeling of embarrassment and arousal shoots throughout your body and your face twists up in pleasure as Sukuna sinks his fingers back into you.

“No, not you,” He spat to whoever he was talking to on call, smirking at you afterward, “I told you I was busy when we first got on the phone…”

Your hips jerked forward a bit as you unintentionally moved to ride his fingers, panting and maintaining eye contact with the man. He nearly felt like he was getting high off of merely watching you grow so stupidly drunk in lust. 

“S’kuna…” You mumbled.

His cock ached in his sweats and he nodded, “Mhm, yeah, y’know what, I’ll call you back— I have a needy whore to take care of.”

You turned your head to face forward as he said that, once again feeling embarrassed and even squeezing your legs together a bit. The sound of Sukuna scoffing is heard and then his phone is, quite literally, tossed somewhere else.

He shifts and his now free hand goes to your hip as his other kneads into your pussy, making you dizzy in satisfaction as you continue trying to keep quiet.

“Look at you…” Sukuna taunts, “You’re about to cum, aren’t you?”

You nod stupidly, feeling the knot in your core build as your orgasm approaches, “Y-Yeah… fuck, please.”

“Hm? Please what?” He scoffs, as if he hadn’t had a tendency to strip you of your climax multiple times.

“Hah… Let me cum, p-please Sukuna,” Your voice was a needy but quiet whine and he bit his lower lip once he acknowledged you were still following his orders of being quiet.

Sukuna snickers, “Uhuh, I will,” He hums, “Jus’ keep squeezin’ around my fingers,” He leans forward so he could speak into your ear, low and rasped voice driving you over the edge, “Yeahhhh, like that— Fuckin’ whore.”

Your jaw drops and your mouth forms an immediate O shape as your eyes flicker, back arching, and whimper escaping your throat— you cum hard while still trying to be quiet, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you do so.

There’s a slick sound of Sukuna still toying with your cunt as you come undone and then he sits back, parting his legs a bit as you readjust into his lap and his fingers slip out of you.

Sukuna coos, “See? Was that so hard? Now here,” He moves one hand to your throat, forcing your back to be against his chest as his other hand goes to your lips, “Clean yourself off my fingers, messy girl.”

His digits that’d just been inside you prod at your lips, tapping your lower one before you part them and Sukuna pushes his fingers in. He was such a nasty man, forcing you to taste yourself and clean your slick off his fingers— you couldn’t stand him sometimes.

Not to mention how he teases you as he does so, “Taste good, right?” Sukuna asked.

You whirl your tongue around his fingers and then pull off them with a hard and firm suck, a slight pop emitting from the action, “Mhm…”

“Good,” Both of Sukuna’s hands go to your hips and he lifts you up. You hardly realize what he’s doing until he forces you to turn around and face him. Then, he makes sure you remain hovering over his crotch as he works his cock out of his sweats, his eyes on yours as if he were seconds away from devouring you.

Sukuna looked ravished for you, tired of the past minutes he spent on some tedious phone call when he could’ve been buried inches into your sloppy hole. His eyes were low-lidded, maroon shade dazed with this feral need for you.

Oh, he was about to fuck the shit out of you— as he typically does. You’d picked up on that much, how his eyes would change, his breathing grown heavier, voice low and pitched with this sexy rasp that made your cunt flutter.

“Do me a favor,” Sukuna suddenly voices out, making you blink out of your daze. Your hands were on his broad shoulders, keeping yourself hovered over him. “Sit on this dick ‘nd make another mess f’me,” He instructed, words causing you to look down at his hard, slightly curved cock that’s been freed from his clothes.

It’s so damn intimidating— the way his veins bulge, how his hand jerks at his shaft in quick pulls, tip sticky and leaking precum as you stare with pretty wide eyes.

Your legs were straddling his already so, after a moment of admiring his cock, your eyes flicked back up to his face. Sukuna was glaring at you, impatiently waiting for you to plop down onto his twitching member.

His gaze sent a chill down your spine and your body was finally moving again. You lower yourself steadily as you glance down again but because of how slow you were living and how needy Sukuna was, he goes to grab your hips and pulls your cunt down to his cock, tip pressing up against your hole.

Both of you let out a heavy exhale in sync and you rock your hips forward just a little bit to ride his flushed tip.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me, woman,” Sukuna breathes out, voice more airy than he would’ve liked.

You smirk, “Sukuna…” Your gaze lifts to his face once more, “You’re drippin’.” You whisper tauntingly.

His brows tense and his cock suddenly pushes up a few inches into you, a shallow thrust made in reaction to your words. Sukuna’s dirty talk was rubbing off on you and it drove him crazy. The hands on your waist grip even tighter, sure to leave marks as his fingernails dig into you and he slams you down on his dick.

Your eyes widen, face twists up, and a sluty moan leaves your throat, “Oh fuck-,”

“Told’ you not to fuckin’ tease me,” Sukuna huffs out in an aggravated tone. His big rough hands slide up to your waist and he holds onto you tightly before forcing you to ride him at the pace he wanted.

You’re moving to keep up with his motions as best you can, using your legs to lift yourself up and then plop your cunt down on his cock over and over— sucking him in deep and tight each time you go down.

Meanwhile, Sukuna’s forcing you through it, making sure you don’t slow down for even a second. “Needy ass couldn’t even let me finish my phone call,” He grunts out, “Pussy just needed my cock, huh? She’s that greedy?”

Your cunt just flutters and gushes around his dick, walls closing around his shaft as a moan slips past your lips, “I… ah, oh-, fuuck… m’sorry.”

“Aw, you’re sorry?” Sukuna mocks, “No you’re nottt, you wanted me off the phone, didn’t you?”

You shake your head, “N-No…”

“No? Hah,” That smirk of his starts to appear and his hands slide down your body, caressing your skin as you ride him in earnest, “You wanted them to hear?”

Your hips stutter in movement and your eyes widen, “I-“

“Wanted them to hear how desperate you are for some cock?” Sukuna huffs out, hips suddenly snapping up into you, “How dumb you get once it’s in you? Hm?”

“F-Fuck, Sukuna-, ah, mghh.” You whine, hips coming to an almost complete stop as Sukuna fucks his cock up into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as his tip rams up into your cervix.

To make matters worse, he slaps your ass, “Did I say you could stop? Keep fuckin’ ridin’ me.” Sukuna orders meanly, making you whine as you find your movement again, earning a smirk from him in response to how your hips match his thrusts.

There was this slight shake to his car as you bounced up and down on his cock and he kept fucking it up into you, making it hard for you to think or even moan properly.

 He smirks and then holds your hips again, slamming you down slowly but roughly along with his words, “Mmmgh, just. like. that.” Sukuna groans, tossing his head back and breathing heavily.

The sight of him with his head back and neck exposed was so damn sexy, causing you to lean forward and move to his neck, pressing sweet but messy kisses all up and down his exposed skin.

Sukuna starts smiling, “Good girl.” He suddenly praises and your hips begin to rock back and forth, making his brows tense, “Aughhh, fuuuck, keep goin’, m’close.”

Because you had slowed again, you’d assume that he enjoyed it so you continued with a steady rock of your hips, keeping his thick length buried inside you as you did so.

He lets you continue like that for a minute or two but after that, he huffs, “I said ride me, whore. Don’t fuckin’ slow down.” Sukuna grunted.

For someone who was taunting you about being needy, he sure as hell had a thousand demands on how you should be riding him— as if he doesn’t know his dick is hard to take at some point.

Your brows furrow and your lower lip sticks out into a slight pout, one he finds so fucking cute. Sukuna moves his hands to your thighs, somewhat under them to aid you, and then he’s forcing your pussy to slick up and down him again.

You let out a little scoff before looking off to the side, “Shit…” Sukuna was thrusting up into you again, bullying his cock into your dripping cunt and forcing you to ride him through it.

“C’mon,” He smirks, “Take it—, fuck me.” He suddenly breathes out.

A shocked moan exits your mouth and your eyes are glossy as they find his, “W-What? Mmh…” You breathe. Did he just say what you thought he did?

“You heard me,” Sukuna’s smirk widens and slowly eases into a sexy almost fucked out smile “I said fuck me. Fuck me like you wanna make me cum,” He huffs, your body responding through upping your pace, “Yeahhhh that’s it.” Sukuna breathes, head flying back again.

The car creaked and bounced with the frantic movements of sex occurring inside, windows fogged, your tits jumping almost in his face, plush walls clamping down on his dick so good that he felt like he was losing his sanity.

Oh Sukuna was addicted. He can’t have any other woman on his cock that’s not you, not when you ride him so well and certainly not when your hand is abruptly felt on his throat.

Sukuna lets out a groan that’s treacherously close to a moan, his head tipping up from the seat as his eyes find yours, “Oh? You kinky fuckin’ woman, chokin’ me like this…” He grunts, smiling again afterward, “Can hardly feel those small fingers of yours…”

Truth is, he could feel your fingers. Blood rushed to Sukuna’s face and his cock, his mind dazed for a second as you choked him whilst riding him. He would never submit to you but goddamn you were making it difficult.

Your hole just sucked him up like a vice and your walls were so snug and warm, wetness coating his dick and even parts of his thighs. He was about to cum but he didn’t want you to think you’d got the best of him.

So, Sukuna tips his head to the side and brings a hand to your wrist, “This is cute but,” He pulls your hand off his neck, “Lemme show you how it’s done, pretty girl.”

Your lashes bat in disbelief before Sukuna’s manhandling you again, flipping you both over as his large muscular frame looms over yours. His big hands go to your legs and he spreads them fast and wide enough so that he can slam his cock back inside you.

Your back is arching off the seat of the car as soon as he pushes all the way into you, the sudden change in position making his leaky tip reach deeper than before.

One hand is propped up by your head and the other goes to your throat, Sukuna’s fingers carefully wrapping around you and feeling the way broken moans vibrate against your throat.

“Mmph… ah, ‘kuna,” You slur out as his thrusts pick up all over again. Something is mumbled under your breath and he finds it funny how you could barely get it out.

Tilting his head, “Huh? What was that? Speak up.”

You groan, “Harder,” His eyes widen and his hips just ram down into you at a merciless pace before you get out what you meant, “Choke m-me… mmh, f-fuck… h-harder, oh my… ahh, ngh…”

“Harder? You want me to choke you harder?” Sukuna repeats and you nod, earning a slight laugh from him, “Of course you do, slut.” As the last word leaves his lips, his hand is squeezing around your throat, making it hard for you to breathe while he recklessly pounds into your cunt.

“M-Mmmh,” You hum, eyes rolling back as that damn curve of his knocks into you just right, “F-Fuck. Ohmygod, f-fuuck…” You curse between a whine.

His face is hovering over yours, “Feel me in there?” You nod and he bites his lip for a moment, “Yeah?”

Sukuna just thrusts harsher and harsher, and then faster, pelvis crashing into yours over and over as the lewd sounds of sex escape his car with how sloppy it was getting. His cock was covered in you but only greedy for more, plunging in and out of you as he groans at the way you just suck him back in every time he pulls out.

“Want me to slow down?” Sukuna suddenly suggests. Again, you just nod, almost too fucked out to speak anymore. “Awww, but you’re takin’ me jus’ fine at this pace,” He praises, making your cunt throb about him.

“S’too… y-you’re so… hahh… mgh, f-fucking big-,” You moan out weakly.

Those words make his thrusts stutter and he grunts, “What? I’m what?” Sukuna questions, almost like he needed to hear you say that again. His face leans down to yours and his lips ghost your wet ones, “What am I? Say that again.” He whispers.

Your heavy breaths brush up against his lips as both of you hold such intimate eye contact with one another, “B-Big, S’kuna… S-So fuckin’ big…” You cry out, gentle tears beginning to leave your eyes.

The man unintentionally beats his cock down into your messy cunt, “Big? Ohhhh, don’t fuckin’ tell me that.” Sukuna groans, again sounding all too close to a moan, “Take it.” He huffs.

You nod yet again, “Uhuh… m-mmh, oh…”

“Yeahhh, take it you whore.” Sukuna huffed, “Every fuckin’ inch like a good girl, mhm-, fuck,” He finally moaned, eyes flickering for only a moment.

He was too into it, too into you— literally. Sukuna felt like he was in your stomach, the bulge of his cock so prominent with his every thrust. Never was he really gentle with you, not during the sex at least, there was no need to be. You liked him rough and he knew that.

“M’gonna cum inside you.” Sukuna suddenly warns, hips sloppy against you, “Fuck my cum nice ‘nd deep inside you,” He huffs, feeling how you twitch around him.

Then, Sukuna stares down at your face, his hand still around your neck as he gets a sudden thought, glancing down to your lips.

“Open your mouth,” Sukuna orders, his voice deep. Your lips are parting without a second thought and Sukuna looks you dead in the eyes as he spits onto your tongue. First, it’s one messy drip, then another filthy glob.

Oh that was nasty, he was nasty. And the fact that his action only turned you on even more really said something about you.

“Swallow it,” He demands right after, watching as you shut your mouth and do as told. Then, he feels the movement in your throat against his palm and he chuckles, “Fuck, that’s sexy… You’re such a nasty lil’ slut f’me, I like that.”

Sukuna leans down to you and the grip on your throat grows tighter, his lips moving to swallow yours up. It was a messy and heated kiss, your moans and whimpers being drowned out as his tongue slithered into your mouth.

The wet slick and slide of his mouth over yours filled the air and all you could hear was that and the brutal smack of his hips down into you as his cock unforgivingly kissed your cervix. Over and over and over again until your orgasm crashes over you.

Only then does Sukuna pull away from your lips, a messy wad of saliva hanging between the two of you as he speaks slowly and his voice makes you lose it because of that damn breathy rasp, “Pussy’s creaming ‘round me, shit.” He breathes out, slowing down his thrusts just so you can pay attention to it, “Hear that? Hear how she gushes ‘round my cock?”

It was messy, sloppy, and slick as he dragged his dick in and out of your pulsing walls. This is what it was like to be Sukuna’s fuck buddy. Whenever or wherever he wanted to take you, he would— spewing such filth out to you as he did so, no matter who heard him.

He didn’t care, he just wanted to make sure you heard him, heard his every nasty word because he knew you liked it. Hell, that’s why you’re cumming around his cock now, moaning beneath him, legs shaking, and tears streaming down your face.

Just as you’re coming undone, so is he, pace picking right back up as he fucks his orgasm into you— warm seed coating your walls as he leaned to your ear, groaning out a repeated and breathy ‘take it’ as you whined and suddenly clawed at his back.

“Take every drop,” Sukuna moans into your ear. You think he might have a breeding kink-, “Fuckin’ slut,” He adds on.

He’s going and going until he thrusts in hard one last time and stills himself. His breathing was so heavy in your ear, heavy like pants almost-, almost like you’d drained him of everything he had.

Sukuna remains still for a while before he shifts only a little, lips moving to your cheek as he kisses your wet skin. Then, it’s slow but his tongue slides out and he licks whatever's left of your tears off your face.

Your face twists up in slight discomfort due to his wet tongue and the fact that his heavy cock was still inside you wasn’t making things any better, “…Sukuna,” You sigh, “D-Don’t you have a phone call t-to return…?”

He smiles at how you remind him, despite your fucked out state and how ragged your voice was. Sukuna slowly moves to lean up but, he doesn’t pull out yet, “Mhm, I do. And uh,” He sits back a bit and pulls your body along with his, making sure he never once slips out of you, “You’re gonna keep my cock nice ‘nd warm in the meantime.”

His words catch you off gaurd, “But-“

His hand goes to your lower abdomen and Sukuna traces his fingertip over the slight print his dick makes against your skin, “You don’t want to?” He asks, tipping his head to the side.

Blinking, you just let out a sigh after a long moment of thought, “No, I do…”

“Alright then,” Sukuna smiles, “But if you make any noise, I’ll video call instead and show them the needy woman I gotta deal with,” He comments finally with a cocky little wink.

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

[boyfhee]

✶ TOUCH OF LOVE !

aka how they hold you while kissing!

pairing enhypen x gn reader genre fluff warnings kissing ofc notes been in drafts since sept SHES FREE!!!!!!

HEESEUNG

⋆ he just lets his hands wander, so kisses with him always lead to something more almost every time. however, having his hand on your waist is his birth right. even when you two are out, his hands are on your waist to remind you he's right there. at home, give him one look and his hands are already navigating towards your waist with that teasing look in his eyes. it's mostly to pull your closer and guide his lips towards you, the perfect excuse to kiss you and to watch you go breathless. it's an innocent act but you know exactly what he's trying to do. his thumb rubs along the strip of bare skin; if not, he'll just slide his hands under your shirts and tees, as he'll ask if he can kiss you, and if you say no— he's always ready to change your mind.

JONGSEONG

⋆ traces his fingers along your jaw. even when you two aren't kissing, he has a habit of gently turning your face towards him, by your chin or jaw. it amuses him how shy you get when he tilts your head up, there's a mischievous glint in his eyes as his lips hover just above yours, yet never really giving in too quick. his kisses are always so gentle and he holds your face as if you're made of porcelain. his fingers occasionally tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ears as he tilts his face a little more to deepen the kiss— it's never really enough. and even when you pull away, he continues to hold your face in his hands, just staring at your pretty eyes and tempting lips.

JAEYUN

⋆ holds the back of your head while kissing you, the other one pulling you closer. kisses with him are addicting, they're dreamy yet also like a thrill ride at the amusement park. it always starts with a peck, always, and then his lips stay on yours for a little longer. and before you know, his hands are on your nape, sweet nothings whispered as he pulls you closer, preferably his lap if you two are on the couch or bed. kisses with him tell a story because he loves the way you laugh when he tickles your sides, and how you cling onto him with arms around his neck to reciprocate the passion. don't be fooled by his smile because it's misleading, for when he feels you pulling away, his hands travel down to your waist, sometimes lower, down to your thighs, and you dive back in just as quickly as the first time.

SUNGHOON

⋆ kisses with him are captivating because the way he puts his hands on your cheeks makes it harder for you to pull away. his fingers are always caressing your cheeks, especially when you two are cuddling. you could talk non stop about your day and he would listen quietly, humming in between, brushing your cheeks ever so softly. first, his lips land on your forehead, then cheeks, and then the corner of your lips. and then a pause as he looks at you quietly while his eyes fail to hide what he wants. he just stares at you with that love sick smile, telling you to continue talking about your day, but he's already pulling your face closer and kissing you softly with a slight smile as you realise that maybe it's time to shut up.

SUNOO

⋆ to hold your hands and pull you in for a kiss has to be his favourite thing in the entire world. just his fingers intertwined with yours, thumb caressing random patterns on the back of your palms as he gives you his cutest and sweetest smile before kissing feels like a fairytale. and sunoo knows better than letting your hands go. he would put your arms around him but still hold your hands, slowly sliding them up your arms until they reach your shoulders. he holds you close, he can't believe he gets you hold you like this. you can't help but smile at his love struck gaze, and his hands go down to yours again, a kiss planted on your palms to remind you he's always by your side, before leaning in for the much anticipated kiss.

JUNGWON

⋆ he doesn't have a specific way to hold you either, but if he had to choose it would be by your lower back. it makes it easier for him to pull you closer. his hands are restless when it comes to you, always busy playing with your hair, or occupied with fingers laced with yours, but they always end up finding solace on your back. you're fixing his hair and his hands automatically go to the small of your back, it's a light touch, but it never fails to give you butterflies. he tilts his head looks at you with the softest smile, pulling you a little closer— you know what's coming with the way you cup his cheeks tenderly, pulling him down for a kiss. he smiles, giving your back a light squeeze and you step closer, it's his way of saying he appreciates everything you do.

RIKI

⋆ if anything, he likes to pin you against anything to see you flustered. his hands brush over your neck, tickling your skin as you laugh. he likes to distract you amidst kisses, hands on your neck while kissing you ever so gently despite his playful actions. he's playing with your hair while you're telling him something and you can feel his fingers graze over your neck softly and when retract with a laugh, saying it tickles, it only gives him an excuse to pull you closer by your neck for a kiss. there's a smirk on his lips, you know it's going to become a game of tickles and laughter with kisses stolen in between, it goes until you two are wrapped up together on couch and out of breath. and just when you think it's over, his hands go to your nape and pull you in again.

[mvybanks]

Imagine getting into a fight with JJ and depriving him of your touch and sex. Maybe you stay at Kie's or something, just to give him time to deflect on what he did wrong. And he's so sexually frustrated to the point where he could cum just by eye contact or hand holding. Like he's that down bad for you

the one where jj folds first (18+)

a/n: oh god that man won’t last long😭 this was supposed to be really short and then it turned out into a blurb (kinda) so enjoy🤭

warnings: sexual innuendos, explicit, not proofread 18+

—

“JJ, man, are you even listening to me?” John B asks his friend as he notices that JJ’s eyes are stuck on a fixed point — more specifically, on you. The brown-haired man rolls his eyes in annoyance before he adjusts himself on the bar stool. “Are you guys still in a fight?” He inquires, referring to his firend’s girlfriend. As a matter of fact, you and JJ have been going through a fight for over a week now, and he’s never gone this long without touching you before, which is torturing him.

You know how to make your boyfriend crumble and apologize first because you’re aware of all of his weaknesses: you. It might seem like bragging, but you’ve known JJ long enough to be sure that he can’t live his life without having his hands on you all the time. Perhaps you wanted to torture him a little bit more when you agreed to go to the only bar in town tonight, one where a little birdie (a very tired John B) had told you that he and your boyfriend would be.

Your tongue plays with the straw in your glass as you chat with Kiara, your best friend, although you’re well aware of the fact that JJ’s eyes are scanning your every move — from the way your tongue swirls around the straw to play with it from time to time to the sight of your exposed legs, caused by your bunched up dress. He’s about to combust, that much you know. After all, you chose to wear this particular dress for a reason tonight: it drives your boyfriend absolutely insane.

To be completely honest, JJ doesn’t even remember what you’re fighting about now, all he can think about instead is the way your fingers are gripping the cold glass in your hands and how your tongue licks your bottom lip to get another taste of your drink or the way your breasts are basically spilling out of that ridiculously small sundress. His jeans have never felt tighter. He swears the bulge in his pants is about to break his zipper from the lack of your touch. He’s used to have you all the time, hell, you live together, of course his hands are used to being all over your body any time he has the chance. However, now that you’ve decided to sleep at Kie’s to let him rethink about his actions, he misses the warmth of your body late at night and the feeling of your lips first thing in the morning.

The moment you decide that you can’t keep a straight and emotionless face anymore, you turn around to look at him, accidentally making eye contact for far too long. You’re set on ruining him for good when, as you keep playing with the straw between your lips, you wrap your hair in your free fist and move it over on shoulder, giving him a great view of your perfect skin.

He groans. He audibly groans in public, and he’s so grateful for the loud music because there’s no way people wouldn’t have heard him otherwise. He thinks he’s about to release in his underwear just by looking at you, that’s how bad it is.

Yes, JJ is absolutely losing this fight. Who is he kidding, really?

“I’m putting an end to this right now.” Is all he says to John B before he raises from his seat and walks over to you. As much as you’ve been teasing him, your heart is also racing at the thought of having him close to you after over a week of no physical contact. You need him just as bad.

Once he approaches you, he only leans down to get near your ear before he whispers just for you, “My car. Now,” and grabs your hand to force you down the stool, as you wave goodbye to a very confused, although amused, Kiara.

“I haven’t heard an apology yet, JJ, so don’t —“ You start when the two of you finally reach the exit and you can hear each other, but he’s faster and immediately interrupts you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what I said or what I did, but I won’t lie to you, princess: I don’t even remember what we’re fighting about right now.” He takes a step closer to you, your faces inches away from each other as he rasps, “I can’t stop thinking about fucking you in this dress right here, right now,” his hands wander down your body, feeling the soft material of your clothing under the pads of his fingers, “And I swear, I’ll show you how sorry I am if you let me show everyone around here who you belong to.”

And let’s be honest for a second, in what universe would you ever reject this man?

[lovelybrooke]

Things the Twst Boys Find Interesting From Your World.

Inspired by this post, here are things I think the twst boys would find fascinating from your world.

masterlist

---

Ace: 

He's kinda basic and is interested in your holidays. I don't think he's able to wrap his head around religious holidays, which makes sense because most religions sound strange when you explain it to someone that knows nothing about what you're talking about. I think he really likes the idea of Christmas, he wants free gifts. 

Deuce: 

This is kinda hard to explain, but I think Deuce is interested in all the different types of subjects your world teaches. Because when you think about it, so much of this world revolves around magic. Even though there are people who don't use it, most people have a basic grasp of it. So I think he'd really want to know how schools function without magic. 

Cater:

Social media and influencers, one hundred percent. Like he'd be so fascinated by the idea of YouTube and Instagram and TikTok, but he's also really into the drama of it all. Explain influencer beef, no matter how niche it is or how well he'd be able to understand it, he's hooked for days. Imagine him finding out that you had a sizable following on one of those apps, oh lord. 

Trey:

This applies to lots of characters, but food. He's really interested in all the different types of pastries, especially ones that are your favorite. He probably tries to make them to the best of his abilities purely based on your descriptions. 

Riddle:

He's really interested in your world's history. He thinks it fascinating how diverse your history is, and will constantly ask you questions regarding your culture and history. He never gets bored of it either because there is just so much to tell. Like no matter how basic you think your history is, it's so cool to Riddle. 

Jack: 

I'm gonna say something that might be controversial, but Jack gives off the vibes of someone who says he doesn't like reality T.V. but actually really does. I don't care, he'll eat up all the reality T.V. from your world and somehow be able to keep track of all the drama. 

Ruggie: 

Ruggie is fascinated by slang that you use, as strange as that sounds. A lot of it overlaps, but there is eventually some phrase or word you say that they just don't get and it cracks him up. I think he'd try to emulate some of your phrases, to varying success. 

Leona: 

I feel like Leona is just fascinated with humans in general. Like, he's met humans before, but the idea of an entire world with only humans surprises him, and he isn't able to comprehend how your society was able to function. He just can't wrap his head around it, no matter how much you explain your world to him. 

Floyd: 

Surprisingly, fashion. I read on his wiki that he got really interested in fashion after coming on land. I think he'd really want to know about how people in your world dress, even if it is similar to how people In Twisted Wonderland dress. I think he's really fascinated about how different cultures dress, and how clothing has changed over time. 

Jade:

Plants, all types of plants. Like they are definitely more boring than the ones in Twisted Wonderland, but he doesn't care. He's such a nerd for plants, especially mushrooms. There was this video I watched a while ago of a woman talking about all the different ways to cook different types of mushrooms, and I think if he watched that video he'd fall in love. 

Azul:

Kinda specific but card games. It's canon that he likes strategy games, so I think he'd really be interested in all the different types of games, but would probably prefer physical card games rather than online ones. I think he'd secretly really like how cute Pokemon are.

Jamil:

He's also interested in your food. Unlike Trey, he's more interested in the complex dishes of your world rather than just pastries. I think he'd genuinely want to try to make every dish he could with you and try them all, especially ones that pertain to your culture. 

Kalim: 

He's really interested in your music, it's so diverse. He'd definitely be the type of person to say he's interested in all types of music and mean it because he genuinely is. Like show him Chappell Roan and then Laufey, and then Baby Metel, it doesn't matter, he loves it all. 

Epel: 

I know this is kinda basic but sports, he loves sports. I think he finds the concept of the Olympics so cool, especially on the more obscure sports like skateboarding. He definitely would get really into whatever sport you played or are into. 

Rook:

I think Rook would be fascinated by the beauty standards of your world. I think he'd imagine it to be less critical of people, because of the abscess of Beastmen and Fae, but is surprised to learn that it's actually the opposite. This makes him want to learn about all the different types of things people consider "beautiful" in your world. 

Vil:

I mentioned this in a separate post, but he is super interested in all the different types of movies from your world. So many people tend to forget that he literally made a club about movies, and just boil him down to "pretty boy obsessed with looks." He'd watch all those commentary videos on movies and if it were possible, watch all your favorites. He'd also really be into the movie stars, especially since he has no concept of how famous they are. 

Ortho: 

All different types of tech. Obviously, Twisted Wonderland is more advanced, but it's still interesting to learn how your world is able to function without magic. I think since a lot of tech is similar, he'd be really drawn to the gaming consoles of your world and all the silly tech. 

Idia: 

This is kinda basic, but video games. He really likes all the different games from your world, and would love to play them if he could. We know he likes gotcha games, so I could imagine him wanting to play games like Genshin or Star Rail, but I could also see him really enjoying puzzle or strategy games. 

Sebek 

I read on his wiki that he enjoys reading, so I could imagine him being really interested in all the literature from your world. He's kinda surprised that humans were able to write so much on their own, and while he doesn't want to admit it, he wants to read all your favorite books from your world. 

Silver

I also think Silver is really into history, and finds the history of your world really interesting. I think he finds the progression of your weapons really fascinating. He also finds the technological advancements so cool. 

Lilia: 

Some might say this doesn't count, but Lilia is interested in literally everything. Like he can't pick one thing to be interested in, because your world is so complex that it would be a disservice to pick just one thing. He does, however, find your war history interesting. Just don't explain the concept of "mutually assured destruction" to him, it might make him too sad. 

Malleus: 

I think he'd love to learn about art from your world, specifically architecture. Like we know he likes gargoyles and all, but I could see him really enjoying classic architecture and how it changes from place to place. It would totally inspire his own works as well.

---

A/n: Tell me your ideas because some of these were really hard.

[kyber-crystal]

i will follow you into the dark || bradley "rooster" bradshaw

summary: your first instinct has always been to push people away when they get too close, but for some reason, you have trouble letting one pilot go. but little did you know that he had settled into your heart from the start and has no intention of leaving. (in which you have Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even notice—5 occasions that solidify your love for him, and 1 time you realize it)

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE), near-death experiences, brief mentions of violence, also my writing LMAO

a/n: hi guys i haven't posted a full-length fic in a LONG time but here we go :) this fic won the vote so it's going up first! hope you enjoy :)

I. meet me in the middle

“Mav!”

You and Maverick turned around at the same time. “Which one?”

“The pretty one,” Rooster stated. 

“Be more specific.”

“I am being specific, Captain.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Fine, I need your daughter.”

“You always need her for something.”

“Sorry, pops,” you grinned and clasped Maverick’s shoulder, and walked over to Bradley. “Come to kidnap me again, Bradshaw?”

“Actually, I’m hungry.”

“Then…go eat? I don’t see what any of that has to do with me.”

“I’m going to dinner, and I want you to come along,” he explained. “So, let’s go.”

“Is that why Cyclone was grumbling about someone spilling coffee all over him earlier? I knew it had to be you that put him in that mood.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

You looked back at your father, who simply laughed and motioned for you to go. The test flight would have to wait. 

It was 5:30 when you got there, but the usually-crowded cantina had only one other person inside. Rooster didn’t hesitate as he set down his car keys and slid into the booth right next to you.

“There’s a seat right there,” you pointed out. 

“And?”

“You can sit over there.”

“I don’t want to, though.”

“Alright, then.” 

You weren’t even done for the day and already, felt tired and worn out beyond belief. The one thing that had been keeping you going was Maverick’s promise to take you on a Mach 7 test flight. (With the Admiral’s permission, of course. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he had never asked.)

Rooster tells the waitress your order without blinking, and you give him a tired smile as a thank you. 

There’s no animated conversation, no loud comments or jokes or anything of the sort as the food comes out, but neither of you mind. Sometimes, all you needed to cool down from a long week was each other’s company and a steaming plate of fajitas. 

The little routine you’ve established falls into place so easily you don’t even have to think. Impromptu dinners, blasting 80’s music as the sun goes down, taking the offbeat path down to the coast with salt in your windswept hair.  Little to no words spoken, and somehow the silence speaks volumes.

But you don’t understand why he’d choose you to do this with, out of everyone. You’d expect him to drift towards someone less damaged. Someone who could keep up to his free and daring spirit and push him to his limits. Someone who had less baggage and didn’t flinch at every little touch. 

But despite all that he doesn’t leave. Even when everyone else around you seemed to, he was always there, assuring you he’d wait no matter what.

“Don’t worry about it.” He places a gentle hand over yours as he hands his card over to pay later that evening. “Let me treat you tonight.”

“Thanks…” 

He holds the door open for you as you walk out and keeps a ghost of a hand against your back the whole way to the car. You’re trying to burrow into yourself, but he doesn’t stop looking at you. The feeling of his eyes on you sends shivers running down your spine and you nervously shift in your seat. 

“You okay?” Rooster places his hand on the headrest as he reverses out of the parking lot. “You seem quiet tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t press any further, assuming that you’re tired and that’s why you’re unwilling to say much. He knows. He understands. “If you ever need to talk, though, I’m one call and a 15 minute walk away. Or 7, if I sprint.”

This makes you laugh a bit. “If you say so.”

II. waiting on you

As soon as you hop out of your plane, he’s the first one there to greet you and pulls you in for a hug. You have no time to react to it because he’s so quick to sweep you up into his arms. You can smell a mix of sweat and coffee and a little bit of raspberries on him, and it helps bring you back down to reality. 

“You saw me a few hours ago, Roos…please let me go…” you mumbled into his shoulder. His grip on you only tightens further. “What’s with the excitement?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”

Not knowing what else to do, your hands awkwardly reach up to pat him on the back. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Though you don’t say it out loud, you’re also just as happy to see him—it’s comforting to know he’ll be waiting whenever you return from something. And that, you think, is more than enough. 

Rooster carries your things for you without asking, and you’re grateful because your shoulders feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets. Once again, he’s standing close by as you go to your quarters, ever the watchman. If he doesn’t have a hand on you, then his eyes will stay glued to you for as long as they can be. 

“Is that my shirt?” he asks as you step out of the bathroom wearing an oversized vintage T-shirt and a pair of jeans. 

“No.”

“It looks better on you, anyway.” He smirks; you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you a bit longer than normal. “You ready to go? They’re waiting for us at the Hard Deck. Hangman’s complaining about a rematch or somethin’.”

You lean into his side and smile, and he puts an arm across your shoulders. It feels so natural that you almost don’t notice. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

His eyes never leave you, even when he’s in the thick of the game. It’s impossible to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach every time his gaze flickers over to yours. 

Coyote notices your dazed look and nudges Payback in the side. “How is it that everyone knows that Bradshaw and Y/N love each other except Bradshaw and Y/N?”

“Because they’re stupid,” Payback whispered back.

“Ah. Makes sense.”

“So, we need to do something about it.”

“Hm…I’d say we wait it out. They’re going in the right direction.” A small smile graced Coyote’s face as Rooster pumped a fist up in victory before rushing over to embrace you. “A room full of people, yet all he sees is her.”

“You’re so right, man.”

III. rose-tinted glasses

“What are you looking for out there?” Rooster called out.

“Something pretty,” you replied as you stood by the ocean’s edge, the wind fanning your hair around your shoulders. He’s sure that he’s never seen a more mesmerizing sight. 

“I beat you to it, because I already found one,” he stated with confidence, eyes never leaving you.

“Where?”

“I’m looking right at her.”

“That’s not what I meant, silly. Do I look like a seashell to you?”

“No, you’re even better.”

You laugh once again and resume your search. Right then, a glowing scallop catches your eye, and sand dusts your clothes as you bend down to pick it up. It’s smooth and seems to glow in rose gold amidst the early evening light. 

“Would you look at that,” you breathed out, palm extended to show him what you’ve found. “It’s perfect.”

Rooster encloses his hand around yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s cold out but you’re not freezing at all because he’s so close. He’s so close. Your heart skips a beat. 

“Wow…it sure is.”

He kneels down with you, and you spend the next few hours making it a competition to see who can find the most unique set of stones. A strange feeling washed over you as you watched his brows furrow in concentration. Never had you imagined to be spending Thursday night with Bradley Bradshaw by the seashore, and yet, it feels like you’ve done this thousands of times before. 

Everything seems to fall into place. 

IV. for you, i’d cross the line 

“Y/N, hey.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter. Move over.”

You shifted on the bench to make room for him and he sat down next to you. This was probably his tenth time playing his rendition of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ but that didn’t matter; the man knew how to sing. You found yourself leaning into him and listening to his heartbeat, and the sensation lulled you into a peaceful trance. 

You took one good look at your best friend. Sweat lined his forehead and his face was bright red from both the alcohol and heat, but still, you were 100% sure that you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your life. 

The way he seemed to gaze at you made your heartbeat pick up speed. It didn’t matter that he had too one too many drinks in the moments leading up to this, nor did it matter that he was always one to be rather affectionate with you. It didn’t make you love him any less—if anything, it made him all the more endearing. 

“You’re looking at me very…intensely,” you mumbled. “It’s making me nervous.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “A man can’t help it when he’s in love.”

“Was that tipsy you or sober you?”

“Sober me is saying I love you.” He continues playing, unfazed, and the sound of the piano in your ears fades away into nothingness. 

It’s drunk Rooster telling you he means what he says, the confidence boost making him do things he normally wouldn’t. It’s drunk Rooster attempting to serenade you as his warm, alcohol-riddled breath falls against your neck. It’s drunk Rooster talking…but there’s a sober truth hidden behind his words that sends a shiver down your spine. 

You’re nose-to-nose as he starts to sing, and you lose yourself in a sea of gold and blue as his warm thumb grazes over your cheek. As if there’s an invisible string drawing you together, you move closer and closer towards each other. Drunk or not, he was utterly enchanting and you couldn’t turn away.

Once again…you ignore the stirring feeling in your chest at the feeling of his body being so close to yours. 

V. saving grace

You find yourself opening the door to Rooster, who has a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some large Tupperware in hand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you accept them and step aside to let him in. “What is this for…?”

“Thought you’d want something nice to add to the kitchen. You and Mav need to work on decorations,” he said. “Why? Do you not like them?”

“No…I’m…how’d you know these were my favorite, anyway?”

“I heard you talking on the phone to Phoenix about them six months ago,” Rooster explained, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the couch. “I pride myself on being observant like that. Also…I woke up early to cook you that pasta you always go nuts over when we drive to LA.”

“Oh.” Your heart twinged as you glanced over—that damn pasta was your favorite thing on the entire planet. You claimed that nobody could make it as well as the diner in Newport did, except Bradley himself. (He didn’t tell you how many times it took to get it just right, though. He didn’t want you freaking out over that. And besides, Maverick’s pots and pans that he borrowed had already paid the price.)

He paused for a moment after setting the container down on the counter. “I noticed you went home early today. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied as you put the flowers in a vase. But that was no use; he could see right through your monotone response. “Didn’t sleep enough last night.”

Bradley sees your hands tremble slightly. “Sweetheart.”

That’s all he needs to say before you step forward and lean your head against his chest. One arm finds its way around your waist to pull you close, while his free hand smoothes your hair out. A cracked sob escapes your lips and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that if you kept them closed long enough and prayed hard enough, a guardian angel would swoop in and save you. 

“I’m here, it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”

“Please don’t go, Bradshaw,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here, don’t worry,” he reminds you, his hand moving down to rub your back. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, I promise.” 

You reach your pinky out a bit, and the two of you link your fingers together. 

You’re never letting go, and neither is he. 

epilogue—soul ties 

“I’m trying to shake them off. They won’t let up—shit, I’m hit—”

His panicked voice cuts through the buzz of static and you can feel your whole body go numb. What if he doesn’t make it back… The thought alone is too much to bear. 

He curses under his breath and you hear something like that of a whispered prayer and several mentions of Please let me come home to her. Your heart clenches in your chest and you feel like you’re going to puke. Noticing your sudden uneasiness, Maverick grips your hand to keep you steady. 

“Bradshaw, what the hell is going on there?” Coyote nervously rubs at his forehead as he looks up at the screen. “If you die, we’re all going to kill you.”

“Left engine’s completely blown out. I have two bogeys on my tail.”

You bite the inside of your cheek until the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. This couldn’t be happening. There already was a ghost amongst the skies, and Rooster could not afford to become the second…

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I’m going down, guys—” Rooster curses again, and the earsplitting sound of a large blast interrupts him before he can say much else. 

“Bradley!” you shrieked as you watched his radar signal slowly fade off the screen. “No—”

Silence punctures the air and you finally lose balance, succumbing to the black void of nothingness. 

—

10 hours later, you sit outside the hospital room in the cold hallway, a thin, tear-stained blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman and Phoenix had long since given up on getting you to move, so they took turns sitting with you. 

“You should try eating. There’s In-N-Out nearby, I’ll get something for you if you want,” Jake offered. 

You shake your head. 

“Come on. It’s been all day.”

“No.”

“You’re really that worried about him, aren’t you.”

“No,” you muttered bitterly. 

“You claim to not care, yet you’ve been sitting here for the past ten hours.” 

“I don’t care. This is me looking out for him in the same way any colleague or teammate of his would. This is what I’m supposed to do. What we’re all supposed to do.” 

“Y/N.” Jake sounds a bit more serious this time, and this makes you stop trying to bury yourself within your thoughts. “Listen to me.”

“What,” you exhaled.

"The fact of the matter here is,” he cleared this throat, “Bradshaw cares about you…a lot. Not in a simple and innocent ‘friendly’ way. And if you keep pushing him away like you always do, all 'cause you're scared, you're gonna lose him for good. Losing a good man out of fear is never worth the cost."

Your heart stops.

Every hug, every word and cheesy pickup line, every lingering glance and touch and intertwined set of fingers—he'd fallen first long ago, and pulled you down with him. But you let him, and you'll walk to the ends of the earth if it means he'll hold your hand along the way. And that's when everything hits all at once—the realization comes crashing down like a waterfall. 

You were hopelessly in love with him, the man who brings you flowers every Friday night. In love with the man who holds the door open for you, gives you his favorite jackets, and stays up late or wakes up early to learn your favorite comfort meal (even if it means failing 17 times in the process and ruining Maverick's kitchen), the man who serenades you to classic rock ballads with the taste of rum on his lips. 

This was Rooster Bradshaw, and he was your soulmate.

“But I already lost him,” your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words to say, “I can’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That man is going to stay waiting for you until the day his body is buried six feet underground. Deny it all you want, but he’ll keep waiting long after he takes his last breath.”

You let out a long sigh and stood up. “Okay.”

You’re hesitant as you step inside the small hospital room. He’s asleep, but he must’ve sensed your presence and his eyes flutter open. 

“Sweetheart…”

“Bradley.” He moves over a bit for you, and you sit down next to him. “You’re alive.”

“Sorry for not dying. That must’ve disappointed you,” he jokes. If he’s in any sort of pain, he manages to mask it behind a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I waited ten hours.”

“You should’ve gone home and slept.”

Closing your eyes, you rest your head against his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.”

He hums some tune against the crook of your neck; lips brushing over your skin. “But I came back, like I promised. I’m okay, because you are.”

Helovesmehelovesmehelovesme.

As if he could read your mind, he leans in just that bit closer. You look up at him and your heart somersaults in your chest. 

When your lips meet, everything clicks into place and it’s like you finally found the missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for. He was here all along; it made so much sense. Everything else fades away into the background as you get lost in the feeling of him and him alone. You knew from the moment he stuck out his hand and told you with a million-dollar smile “I’m Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, and I can make a mean lasagna or anything else you want,” that choosing him would be the single best thing you ever could’ve done. 

And you were most certainly right about that now. 

“I kept it, you know.” he murmurs as you eventually break away, “I didn’t think it would last as long as it did, but here it is.”

“What…what are you talking about?”

He fingers dip below the scoop of his T-shirt and he brings out the glittering charm, laying it in his hand. “You gave it to me ages ago. It was a while ago but I still remember the exact time and place. August 5th, 2010, 2:26 a.m. We were both on the verge of falling asleep.”

Your heart grows warmer. “Roos…”

Rooster opens the locket, and inside is a picture of you beaming as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. So young and so in love, but not yet knowing how you felt about each other. 

“I think this is what kept me alive up there. I was in the air long enough to think about and reflect on the fact that I was dying, but I knew I had to come home to you. I was dying, Y/N, but you saved me. If you didn’t come into my life right when you did then I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be telling you that I love you.”

He has you at a loss for words yet again. It didn’t matter that you’d known each other for years because he would always find a way to steal your breath. The once-tiny caterpillars crawling in your stomach had morphed into giant butterflies that never stopped fluttering when he came too close.

He leans in and he’s kissing you again; this time it’s like you’re his sole source of oxygen and he’s in desperate need of fresh air. Your grip on his hand tightens as he deepens the kiss, and you pray to God that your heart won’t explode into a million pieces like it did when you thought you wouldn’t see him again. 

I’ve died and come back to life twice now, Rooster tells himself. 

And both of those times, you’re the angel that magically appears to save him from a certain, unfortunate fate. 

tags, including people who may be interested (sorry if this list seems off, it hasn't been updated in a while hahah): @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @purelyfiction @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @buckysbeloved @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @vitanileon @lam-ila @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @queenbbarnes @yeehawnana @t-stark35 @thesunsetphantoms @danirose-0420 @callalily2000 @the-untamed-soul @shizzybarnaclee @bananaa @luvfurdogs @shalaniela @unordinare @and-claudia @lgg5989 @katiemcrae @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @nyx2021 @cosm1cfae @ellabellabus07 @vane28282 @bittergomez @littlebadariell @tallrock35 @whotfatemywaffles @hoedameronsworld @aerangi @julia-marshal @uwiuwi

(also if you filled out the general taglist form/top gun taglist form and you're not on here, that means i couldn't tag you for some reason)

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Batman had Danny by his leg. More specifically he was hanging Danny upside-down 40 stories in the air via said leg.

Okay. So Danny maaay have stolen some tech from a lab. Okay, a lot of tech. But Batman thought he was a witness or an accomplice! Not the perpetrator themselves! Does he do this to all his witnesses?

Appearently Danny said that last part out loud and his sass was unappreciated, hence Batman letting go. Unfortunately for both of them Danny didn't want to fall and he instinctually stayed there floating perfectly still in mid air.

Danny may be a terrible liar, but he was a phenomenal actor, especially when he's feeling spiteful. Alright, he thought random bullshit GO! Before Batman could comment, our little menace gave Batman a scandalized look, "You're a meta?!"

"No." The bats scowled even harder than before "Your abilities may have manifested just now."

Oh ho ho, Danny wasn't going to let him get away that easy. "My parents would have killed me if I had the meta gene. I know. They checked." That one wasn't exactly a lie. His parents would have seen any superpowers as confirmation that he or Jazz were ghosts and then it was game over and they did check thier DNA for something a lot when they were younger...huh. Thoughts for later than.

"How do you know you haven't gotten mutated by any of the stuff you deal with? Besides if they were my powers then I wouldn't still be hanging upside down."

Bats grunted in acknowledgment and just stared at him for a few seconds, which was uncomfortable. Lucky for him one of the other bats landed near Batman on the rooftop and asked about the situation. Danny didn't hesitate, "Batmans a meta! I'm stuck!"

"I am not"

"Are too!" Danny quipped back. He sounded kinda childish but he didn't particularly care at the moment. More bats came after the second one spilled the beans on some 'com' thing. They mostly mocked Batman and asked if he was okay, which he was but he would like to be let down please.

Eventually someone called 'Red Hood' showed up and was really really mad that Batman had threatened a kid.

There were fireworks after that. The kind that belonged on a soap opera and Danny wished he had popcorn for it. Unfortunately he was stuck disrespecting physics for the time being.

Or was he? The big bad bats attention wasn't on him at the moment now would be a good time to ru-

Danny screamed, genuinely startled at the sudden free fall. He heard multiple people swear and grappling hooks fire. The next thing he knew he was shaking while holding onto someone for dear life. It had been almost a full year since the accident and yet he still lost control of his powers sometimes when distracted.

Luckily Red Hood is super cool.

----

Aka Danny gaslight Batman into thinking he has superpowers he can't control.

Red Hood is mad Bruce threatened a child.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Are you disabled and do you like visiting zoos? If yes, I want your feedback!

I am giving a presentation this fall on small/easy things that zoos and aquariums can do to be more disability friendly (above and beyond simply being ADA compliant). I’m drawing from my own experiences as well as all the information contributed to the accessibility spreadsheet.

I realized that there’s probably a lot of feedback and great ideas I’m missing because the spreadsheet asks for specifics about facilities, and folk might not remember where something occurred or know enough details to feel like they should contribute. I want to fix that!

So, if you’ve had accessibility issues at zoos and aquariums, and want to share your thoughts on the problems or the solutions, I’d love to hear it. I want as much information as possible to inform this presentation.

Please feel free to comment here or message me! No facility location / dates needed (but if you want to include that, I can add your thoughts to the spreadsheet too).

[ellemj]

Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 10 (FINAL PART)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

*Read parts 1-9 first for the full effect!*

Summary: Everything is out in the open between you and Bucky now, but there are two rules for your new secret relationship.

Warnings: unprotected sex, teasing, possessive!Bucky (hehehe), maybe fluff (?), profanity, use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's Note: We've finally reached the end. I think I'll miss this version of Bucky and reader but I'm pretty excited about the work that I'm planning on putting out here next. Hopefully everyone's okay with the conclusion of this, I didn't want to have anyone riding off into the sunset or anything, but I also didn't want to have a horribly sad ending, so this felt right. You guys should totally let me know in the comments what kind of things you'd like to see from me soon! I don't know if I'll take specific requests anytime soon, but I'd love to at least find out what might get you all excited. Thanks for the umpteenth time to @littlemiss-yeehaw for being the best cheerleader and warnings-writer out there. She also draws some unbelievable shots of Bucky based on scenes in these fics.

           

In the shower, on the hotel bed, in the chair by the window, hell, even on the floor when the two of you rolled off of the bed in the heat of the moment. You’d successfully christened every surface of your hotel room before the clock ever struck midnight. You hadn’t meant to go at it like horny teenagers who found themselves home alone for the first time, but that’s what happened. It’s like you were both thinking about how this may not continue once you get back to the compound tomorrow morning, so you fit as much as you could all in one night.

            Now, you’re laying side by side in bed. Your most recent tryst involved you on your hands and knees with Bucky doing all of the right things behind you, and it thoroughly winded you both. You listen as your collective breaths fill the air, the two of you each coming down from your post-orgasmic highs.

            “Do you think Dr. Raynor will figure this out?” You ask softly, raising a hand and wiping a bit of sweat from your brow. Bucky laughs and turns his head to look at you. He still can’t get past how pretty you look after doing such dirty, animalistic things with him. Even without the super soldier serum decreasing his refractory period to mere minutes, he thinks he’d be recovered and ready for round five just from looking at you like this.

            “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

            “It’s on my mind, yeah.” You admit. You’re probably more worried about it than you should be, but deep down, Bucky’s worried too.

            “So, how do you want to handle it?” Bucky asks, fully rolling onto his side to face you.

            “Maybe we just wait and see what she has to say after observing tonight’s mission and then go from there. I don’t want to say anything first and give her anything to use against us.” He’s listening to your words, honestly, he is. He doesn’t think he could ever miss a word you say. But he can’t stop himself from reaching over and running his fingertips along your flushed cheek. You turn to look at him and he lets his fingers ghost over your lips and down the column of your throat until he reaches the notch between your collarbones. His eyes linger there for a moment. Something’s missing.

            “You never gave me my dog tags back.” He whispers. You’re not wearing them, and neither is he. So, where are they?

            “Yeah, I wasn’t sure when to give them back.”

            “Bullshit, you wanted to keep them.” Bucky teases. You push his hand away from your neck at the accusation, but can’t stop the smile that’s creeping over your features. Fuck, he’s so into you. He closes the distance between the two of you and places his body carefully over yours under the covers, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Even just kissing you sets off fireworks inside of him.

            “They’re sitting on my nightstand, back in the compound.” You tell him, hoping it doesn’t make you sound too obsessed. You had planned to give them back all week, but avoiding him made that a little difficult, so instead you left them sitting beside your bed. It was sort of comforting to see his name every night before you fell asleep, and every morning when you woke up.

            “Keep them.” He insists, pressing another kiss to your soft, soft lips. You get lost in the moment, focusing on the feeling of his tongue working against yours, his scent enveloping you in the most consuming way, and his weight keeping you pinned to the mattress. You could stay like this forever.

            This, of course, is when Bucky’s phone would ring. He groans in annoyance as he breaks the kiss and touches his forehead to yours, looking down into your eyes.

            “Tell me not to answer it.” He pleads. You purse your lips, knowing it’s probably someone from the team calling with some kind of update or new order. Bucky groans again before rolling off of you and snatching his phone off of the bedside table. He answers it and puts it on speaker, confirming that it’s someone from the team.

            “Hey, sorry to call so late. The threat has been neutralized so you guys can head back now and get some sleep, we’ll debrief in the morning.” Sam sounds tired but calm, so it must have been more of a nuisance situation than a major threat. Bucky closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his vibranium hand.

            “Sounds good, we’ll be back soon.” He grumbles. You can tell he’s annoyed that you won’t be staying the night here. When he hangs up the call, he lets out a deep sigh before sitting up on the side of the bed, with the covers gathering around his waist. Without thinking, you crawl up behind him and wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him from behind. He stiffens as if he didn’t expect your touch, but that just makes you lean into him more, resting your chin on his shoulder. You feel him slowly relax and having that effect on him warms you to the center of your being

            “We’re going to go home, get some rest, and debrief in the morning like this was any other mission.” You say, attempting to be reassuring.

            “That’s what you want? To pretend like this was any other mission?” He questions, running his hands over where your arms are wrapped around his abs.

            “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant we don’t have to run in and tell everyone that something might be going on between us.”

            “Might?” He chuckles. You feel his abs shake beneath your hands as the melodious sound leaves his lips. You never heard him laugh much before, and you didn’t expect to like it as much as you do.

            “Hey, I told you that I fell for you, and you said fuck, I’m cumming. How am I supposed to know you feel the same way?” You tease, letting go of him and laying back on the bed, drawing the covers up over your naked body. He turns a bit to face you and starts pulling the covers away from you slowly.

            “Y/n…” He says your name with so much genuine feeling that it sends tingles throughout your body. Has he always said your name like that and you just never noticed before? Yes. “I made you wear my dog tags while I fucked you.” What the hell does that have to do with what you just said? He can see the confusion on your face and it brings a smile to his. He slides back under the covers next to you and begins peppering kisses across your shoulder and collarbone.

            “Bucky…” Fuck, if you start saying his name again there’s no way either of you will make it back to the compound tonight. He quickly makes his way up to your face, attaching his lips to yours for a moment and then tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away. It’s the nicest way anyone has ever shut you up.

            “I wanted to be able to pretend like you were mine. I fell way before you did.” He whispers against your lips. Holy shit. He feels the same way. Bucky Barnes feels the same way about you as you feel about him.

            You know that you have orders to head back to the compound, and neither of you are the type to disobey orders from above, but how are you supposed to pack up and head out after finding out that you have feelings for each other? You can’t stand the thought of traveling back to the compound tonight knowing that you’ll have to put on a show and pretend like nothing happened here. So, why not delay a bit and take what you want one more time?

            That very rational thinking is what inspires you to slide your hand between the two of you and wrap your fist around Bucky’s already-hardening cock. He sucks in a breath at the feeling of your small, soft hand wrapping tightly around him, and he wonders how he went so long without having you this way. You’ve been right across the hall from him all of this time. You’ve been going on missions with him for the last two months, giving each other shit nearly every waking moment, and completely missing what had been there the whole time. Love. He won’t say it out loud yet, he doesn’t want to scare you off, but that’s what it is. He’s sure of it. He loves you. He may not say it but he can damn well express it.

            That’s how Bucky finds himself, for the fifth time tonight, guiding the tip of his cock inside of your perfect cunt. He’s done this enough times now that he knows as soon as he bottoms out inside of you, you’ll tense up and scrunch your eyes closed, trying your hardest to adjust to his size. He watches as you do just that, and then he feels your entire body relax beneath him and he knows you’re ready. He pulls one of your legs up and over his hip as he begins fucking you into the mattress. When your eyes flutter open to meet his, he has to go completely still inside you so he won’t cum right then and there. You laugh to yourself. You know what eye contact does to him and you love it.

            “What’s the matter, James? Keep going.” You taunt, wiggling your hips and forcing his cock to slide into you another inch. He’s only halfway inside of you. He breathes out a slow, calming breath before leaning down and nuzzling his face into your neck, letting his cock sink into you slower than it ever has before.

            “You like rushing me, don’t you?” He asks, giving your cunt gentle thrusts. A soft hum leaves your lips at the pleasure that’s beginning to build in your lower stomach. You’re so focused on the feeling that you don’t even acknowledge his question. “Don’t rush me tonight.” He buries himself to the hilt before stilling once more, drawing a whine from your lips. “We’re making love, not fucking, sweetheart.”

---

            A few hours later that same morning, a very uneventful debrief took place in the conference room at the compound. You and Bucky turned in your mission reports, leaving out the details of what happened in the hotel room, and then you were dismissed to have a few hours of freedom before having to meet with Dr. Raynor.

            Everyone probably assumed that the two of you went off to your respective rooms upstairs, but it took little convincing to get Bucky to sneak over into yours. When he stepped inside and shut the door behind him, the first thing he noticed was his dog tags, right where you said they were.

You kick your shoes off by the door and walk over to sit on one of the small gray chairs that you have off to the side of the room, feeling surprisingly nervous that Bucky Barnes is seeing your room for the first time. Nervous. After everything the two of you have done this week? You’re ridiculous. You watch him as he crosses the room and scoops the dog tags off of your nightstand. He stares at them in his palm for a moment, and for a second you worry that he might pocket them. However, when he turns to you with a soft smile and a mischievous glint in his eye, your fears are assuaged.

“Do you have any rules? For this thing that we’ve got going on?” Bucky asks, taking the free chair across from you and setting the dog tags flat on the coffee table that separates the two of you. You tilt your head to the side, studying him closely. You see what he’s doing. The first night, while under the influence of that chemical, you gave him one rule: no kissing. He returned with his own rule: wear his dog tags while he fucks you.

“I have one. We keep this a secret, just between us, for as long as we can.” You respond, letting your eyes trail over his physique. He’s sitting in your chair the same way he sat in the chair in the hotel room last night. The man knows how to demand attention without saying a damn word. You watch as his licks his bottom lip and then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together in front of him.

“Fine. It’s a secret.” He agrees, his gaze briefly lingering on your neck. “But I have one rule too.” He reaches out with his flesh hand and begins sliding the dog tags across the table toward you. “You’ll never take these off again.”

BONUS CHAPTER

TAG LIST:

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