#for the sake of the game. let's kill buck

[ice-sculptures]

OH OKAY SLEEPOVER TIME. umm. would u rather.....have bucktaylor endgame and for buck and eddie's friendship slowly drift apart.... OR for buck to die in eddie's arms and taylor is never heard from again. sorry love u

hey spencer you are evil for both of these BUT the mere idea of buck and eddie's friendship slowly drifting apart is fr my worst nightmare so give me the dramatic death scene any day!! i'd readily take one of them dying and haunting the other one for life shaunajackie style if the alternative is the two of them becoming strangers. and if it's ANYTHING like the shooting or the well collapse i just know that ryan & oliver would kill it and i would eat every second of it up 🙏🏼

it's a sleepover!!

[magicalqueennightmare]

Bad Idea

Billy Butcher x Reader

Sleeping with Butcher was a bad idea. You acknowledged it every time but that didn't stop you.

NSFW happenings

It was a bad idea. You knew it. This damn stakeout was MMs idea and while you'd initially agreed that was before you knew you would be teamed with Butcher. Now you sat across from him trying to avoid his eyes as you strained to listen to the com in your ear hoping MM would give the code to everyone to pull out.

"What's wrong luv?" He asked, reaching across the table to let his hand brush against yours. You stiffened and pulled your hand back "just a little tense" you hated the game of playing dress up, of being under different names. You were wearing a sundress and a camisole for God's sake as part of this. Of course Billy was unfairly good looking in his suit, the few buttons he'd left undone and his chain peeking out making you fight the urge to taste the skin there.

He grinned "I know a few ways we could ease that tension" the two of you were playing a married couple, possible contributors but you knew he was very much talking as Butcher not as Anthony Martin, his alias. You shook your head "I bet you do"

As if the very gods above heard your prayers MMs voice rang through your ear "Pull out. Take the scenic route. Everyone meet at the safehouse in two hours, not a minute sooner" you groaned at the idea of being stuck in this getup for two hours but at least the pretenses were gone.

Billy stood and offered his hand which you took hesitantly. It didn't take the two of you long to make it to the parking lot.

You practically fell into his old car and closed your eyes in relief when you felt him pull out onto the road. The safehouse was a forty minute drive meaning you still had over an hour before you could go back.

You kept your eyes closed as you listened to Butcher fidget with the radio and curse traffic. You slowly opened your eyes to look over at him and he was already looking at you considering the two of you were at a red light "How did I get stuck with you on this?" He smirked "Come on now, you like being stuck with me most of the time" you rolled your eyes and waved a hand towards the light "It's green"

You watched Butcher as he drove and again that urge to taste the skin peeking out of his shirt hit you. As if he could read your mind his hand reached for your thigh closest to him and when you moved into his touch a devilish grin split his face "What was that about not wanting to be stuck with me?"

----------

His hand slipped higher, teasing your thigh before you felt his fingertips brush against your clothed core "Butcher" you warned and he cut his eyes at you before looking back at the road "Say the word" you sucked your bottom lip in between your teeth, gnawing roughly on it in an attempt to not moan when his fingers finally slipped under your panties.

He slipped one finger into your pussy and when you let your legs fall further apart in response he chuckled before adding another finger, curling them both up to find that spot inside of you. The moment his fingers brushed against it your hips bucked up slightly as a whimper escaped your lips.

Your head fell back against the seat, as he worked you closer to that edge. A whimper escaped you when used the heel of his hand to apply pressure to your clit. When your orgasm washed over you your hips shook slightly as he worked you through the aftershocks before slipping his fingers free.

He glanced at you before sucking his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. You swallowed hard before finding your voice "Fuck this, pull over Butcher" "That's my girl" he growled before pulling behind the mall the two of you were driving past.

The moment Butcher killed the engine your shoes were off in the floorboard and you were straddling him. His hands moved to snatch the camisole off of you giving him access to the flesh the low cut dress exposed "Who picked this damn thing for ya anyways?" He growled before attacking the soft flesh of your neck.

Your hands went to his hair, tugging the short locks harshly as he sucked and bit whatever flesh he could reach. You rolled your hips down against his and felt him harden under you "I hate you at times you know that?" You cursed and he simply laughed against your skin, cutting hazel eyes up to bore into yours "Really seems like it"

You leaned back to catch his mouth in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth, fingers unbuttoning his shirt further to give you access to his chest. When your fingers smoothed across the skin, nails digging in lightly he groaned "Yeah you hate me"

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

One of his hands gripped your hair, snatching your head back. Your eyes fluttered shut, the pain mixing with pleasure "Eyes open sweetheart. You know you gotta say what ya want" you forced your eyes open "Fuck me Butch, please" he released your hair and pressed another hard kiss to your lips before lifting you off his lap just far enough to release his hard cock from his pants "I got ya" he murmured against your lips as he notched the head of his cock at your core, strong hands holding you in place "Please Butch" you whispered against his lips, too turned on to worry about how pathetic you sounded at the moment.

He pulled you down then, burying himself to the point your hips were flush with his. He swallowed the loud moan that left you at the movement. He smoothed his hands up your back, rubbing circles on the tense muscles through the thin material of your dress "So fuckin pretty with my cock buried in that tight little cunt of yours"

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

When the pain of him stretching you faded to pleasure you rolled your hips and he groaned "Gonna fuck yourself on my cock eh luv?" You left a open mouthed kiss against his collarbone as you started to move, hips straining at the angle but you could've cared less. He filled you perfectly and you were chasing that high, pleasure coursing through you as mixtures of praises and curses left his lips.

"Good girl" he cooed, lifting his hips to meet yours with every thrust. "Gonna come for me? Let me feel that cunt squeezing me?" You moaned in response, feeling your orgasm start to build.

He dipped his head down to your chest, freeing your breasts from the dress to let his tongue flick across the nipple of one while his hand teased the other. He started to guide your hips, lazily dragging you up his cock before slamming you back down "Gonna fill ya up, leave ya drippin. Yer gonna have to sit through talkin with the boys feelin my cum dripping down yer thighs"

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

You whimpered against his neck and when he slipped a hand between your bodies to rub tight circles onto your clit the whimper turned into a moan of his name as you gripped his hair with one hand and shoudler with the other. He fucked you through your orgasm and you could feel his hips start to stutter. Your muscles were gone, pleasure turning them soft. You braced your head against his shoulder "Harder Butcher. I know what you need. Take it"

"Yer damn near perfect" he growled, gripping your hips hard as he started to fuck up into you,chasing his own high. You knew if he kept up this pace and angle when he did cum he'd drag you with him. "You fuck me so good Billy. Feels so damn good" you moaned and his thrusts got harder in response.

You felt another orgasm building and buried your face into his neck, biting down on the flesh there. "Want to feel ye" he murmured, fingers finding your clit once again. You let your pleasure wash over you as the orgasm slammed into you and when you clenched around him you felt his hips stutter right before he buried himself inside of you, the feeling of his release coating the walls of your pussy.

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

You sat like that for a few moments, both of you working to get your breathing back to normal. Butcher moved first, easing your breasts back into your dress and straightening it back into place. His fingertips grazed a few marks his mouth left on your skin "I marked ye this time"

You traced the mark you'd left against his neck "Don't worry I marked you too" you forced yourself back to sit up despite his cock still being buried in your pussy. You smiled at the cocky smirk on his face "I still hate you at times" he laughed "I know luv" he pressed another hard kiss to your lips then looked down where the two of you were still connected "Need help?" You nodded so he gently lifted you off his lap and sat you down in the seat next to him "Lets get cleaned up and we'll head back"

His eyes trailed over you, no doubt taking in your wild hair and swollen lips along with that just fucked glow. "I kinda like ya like this. Fuckin gorgeous" you rolled your eyes as you started attempting to smooth down your hair "This was a bad idea" he nodded "You say that every time, but still keep coming back dont cha?"

You shook your head "Put your cock away Butcher. We gotta get a move on"

[saerins]

𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖…

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 2.5k | content: fluff, pining, mentions of fake dating, jealousy, reader is kind of an idiot, sae loves to tease, best friend otoya, cussing

notes: hello hello i’m on board the sae love train once more , are you guys still with me ^_^

summary: what do you do when your best friend kind of sort of forces you to confess your two-year long crush when you’re not ready to? pray and hope for the best.

“i could just tell him for you.”

“eita, fuck no,” you throw him a warning glare as you chop the vegetables up with scary precision despite not having an eye on them. only because you know if you don’t explicitly tell him not to, that he’d think it’s no big deal and do it anyway.

and let’s say, you’d rather die than let that happen.

sure, you and sae had been closer back in high school; he sat behind you and entertained the secret notes you passed to him, he used to ruffle the top of your head whenever you pouted, he used to buy food for you during breaks.

but that’s all in the past and somehow, the both of you had drifted since then.

otoya deadpans, an unamused pair of eyes looking back at you from their spot across the island. “it’s been what, four fucking years since you graduated? grow a pair,” he retorts, attempting to steal a carrot but getting a slap on the back of his hand instead.

“bold of you to say that to a girl with a knife,” you snap at him, pointing the blade at his face.

to which he merely rolls his eyes, using two fingers to push it aside. “not like you’re that good at using it.” but he sighs when you silently turn your attention back to chopping vegetables. “does that mean i have to put up with your miserable face even longer?”

you and otoya continue to bicker, and you’re beginning to wonder how you’ve tolerated being best friends with him for the past four years. he’s a real piece of work.

“fine, fine,” otoya grumbles after you’re done with lunch, bangs over his eyes. “i promise i won’t tell sae anything, okay?”

that’s after you threatened not to let him hijack your house anymore for food. for someone who’s earning big bucks being a famous soccer player, you can’t make sense of why he won’t just get food delivered. maybe he just likes to annoy you.

“good. or else i’ll kill you.”

your crush on itoshi sae has been somewhat dormant for the past few years. and by dormant you mean that you haven’t tried making any moves because you’re too scared.

itoshi sae. one of the most famous international breakout stars in soccer. one of the most talented playmakers the world has ever seen. that comes with its own sets of pros and cons.

pros? he definitely doesn’t seem like he has much trouble doing anything he wants. he gets paid for every game. he gets paid for gigs. he gets sponsorships all over the place. which basically means that financially, he doesn’t need to give a shit.

cons? the media can be brutal. sae does something that’s remotely questionable and they’re all over it. he doesn’t thank a waiter that one time? automatically labeled as a rude brat by the paparazzi. and not to mention—the amount of girls he’s forced to fake date just for the sake of publicity.

you’re mostly pressed on that last part though, because they’re all supermodels or olympic stars or rich socialites. and compared to them, well, you’re just someone who happens to be in the same friend group and hang out together every once in a while when he’s back in japan. sae doesn’t even hang out much with the group, to your dismay.

it’s a pain, or so he says.

you wonder how you drifted in the first place. maybe it’s just the fame. you wonder if he thinks of you too sometimes.

must be your wishful thinking.

kind of makes you wonder whether he does have a secret girlfriend that he’s keeping from everyone. you wouldn’t really put it past him. it’s not like he has any super deep emotional bonds with any of you (that you know of). eita says he’s definitely single, but you think he’s just saying that to appease you. he already has his hands full having to watch you mope whenever you see news of sae and another girl and yet another dating rumor.

just as well. you think sae could do better than you, spending your friday nights at home, washing dishes at the sink and looking out at the tokyo skyline instead of out partying and living life with countless friends.

you don’t think you’re too shabby though. you’re a fresh graduate with a job at one of the most prestigious companies in tokyo you can think of. it’s not bad. but you can’t help but feel it’s worlds away from the one sae lives in.

the doorbell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts, nearly dropping the white marble plate you’re washing. your eyes snap to the clock in the living room. it’s almost 9pm—right about the time when eita usually comes knocking and asking you for supper.

groaning, you wash whatever’s left of the dish soap away from your hands and sloppily dry them against the bottom of your shirt, grumbling out loud about how you really should stop coming here whenever the fuck you want, eita while you stomp over to the front door.

you open the door, messy hair and bare face and baggy clothes, fully expecting to smack some sense into otoya eita when you feel yourself freeze up at the pair of eyes looking back at you.

they’re teal and framed by pretty long lashes and definitely don’t belong to your best friend.

what the fuck is he doing here?

this is one of the rare times that you’d actually prefer to see eita at your front door instead.

sae raises a brow, giving you a once-over. of course, he’s never seen you in this state—hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled, not a trace of makeup on your face. you’d made sure that whenever there was a possibility that sae would see you that you dressed yourself up as nice as possible. if you’d known he was coming over, you’d have at least dressed decently. definitely not baggy shirt and pants that you can barely see.

“uh… w-what are you doing here?” stupid, but the best you can manage.

he has his hands in his gray sweat pockets, and fuck him for wearing a black compression top. you can just make out the outline of his abs under there, the muscles on his arms already much too obvious with those short sleeves.

“dunno, eita said there was an emergency and i needed to get here,” sae says, wholly unbothered, monotonous as usual. he lets himself in, toeing his shoes off at the entryway, positioning them neatly beside your everyday sneakers.

fucking eita.

judging by what you know, sae was probably on his way for an evening jog when otoya called him. he still has his wireless earbuds in. you wonder if anything’s even playing.

sae takes it off once he catches you staring.

he’s not carrying anything. it’s just him. you wonder if anyone managed to catch him coming over. is his most recent pr stunt already over? won’t do either of you any good if he’s labeled as a cheater.

“so? what is it?” sae asks you, again, while he walks himself inside, curious eyes looking around your apartment, and suddenly you’re hyper aware. you hope to god you didn’t leave any of your inner wear lying around at random places.

in a panic, you rush over to him, blocking his path inside, both hands on his chest as you attempt to push him back to the front door. unfortunately for you, sae’s much stronger than you are, his body not budging an inch.

“it’s nothing, he made a mistake,” you sigh, giving up when you figure that sae’s only going to move of his own accord. “he’s probably just playing a prank on you, that’s all.”

you’re hoping, praying, wishing that sae will just take your word for it and go. because that’s what he does; he doesn’t hover much, doesn’t care about anything much at all. you don’t even know the last time he’s asked about how any of your lives are doing.

the world must hate you though, because sae only offers a grunt in response before looking towards your kitchen (you’re internally sighing in relief, glad that you cleaned your kitchen up before this). “i’m thirsty, you have anything to drink?”

you blink at him, stumped that sae is wasting his precious time in your apartment, but who are you to say no to sae, of all people?

“yeah, sure, juice?”

sae shrugs, “whatever.”

you turn your back on him, slowly taking your carton of apple juice and finding the nicest glass that exists in your cupboard, cursing yourself internally for not preparing for unexpected guests enough. you do this slowly partly because you’re trying to calm your stupid heart down, still not fathoming why on earth sae’s wasting his time with you.

carefully, you rehearse yourself in your head, where you’re going to step, how you’re going to walk over to him—you really are just hopeless. count it your bad luck that the moment you turn around, you nearly drop the glass because you’re forgetting a really fundamental issue here: your merch.

“no no no, uh—” you leave the glass on the countertop, scurrying over to where sae’s staring and thumbing at something on your coffee table.

sae looks at your flustered reaction, giving you way to grab your things off the table and stuff them in the drawer where they’re out of sight. he blinks at you, a slight amusement bubbling inside him.

“wow, big fan, huh?”

you don’t know what’s worse: you being your most unpresentable self right now or that sae just caught you having some of his merch.

“so you have some of eita’s merch lying around too or is it just mine?”

you could die of embarrassment right now.

back still turned to sae, you desperately search your brain for answers. thinking on the spot doesn’t seem like your strong suit right now.

“it… was a gift.” believable, right?

sae hums, as though he’s contemplating. “why just mine then? why not oliver’s or my brother’s?”

fuck.

“i don’t know, maybe yours was the only one that wasn’t sold out.”

“ouch.”

you didn’t mean to indirectly insult him but what’s a drowning girl to do?

sae sighs when you keep quiet, still staying out where you are, trembling too much to move. “didn’t know you were in love with me.”

this time, you whip your head around to face him—that same stoic expression of his unchanging on his face. “am not!”

his brows shoot up. “but you bought some of my merch.”

“i told you, it was a gift.”

you need to get paid for still standing up on your own two feet right now. your head’s way too giddy from the interaction, considering.

“even that figurine over there?” sae’s finger points to a small toy just barely visible behind the nooks of the bookshelf. it’s a small figurine; something sold a few years back when sae was just first starting out. you’d bought it because, well, you’d thought chibi sae looked cuter than actual sae. (especially now when he’s just staring blankly at you.)

“that was…”

“a gift?”

you think he’s making fun of you now at this point.

“anyway, we’ve established that there’s no emergency here so why don’t you just go?” you’re pretty sure sae won’t ever talk to you again—not after coming across what he did tonight. he probably thinks you’re a freak, probably questions why he even considers you his friend (to which you’re now wondering if that’s even true at all).

you make a mental reminder to yourself to kill otoya eita tomorrow.

sae lets you push him towards the entryway, apple juice long forgotten on the countertop, collecting condensation with water pooling below the glass.

“you must like me a lot, huh?” he ponders out loud as you continue pushing him towards the door. you see a hint of cockiness in his stare now, the slightest tug of a smirk on the corner of his lips.

“i do n—”

“be careful what you say,” sae cuts you off, toeing his shoes back on, looking glamorous as ever and you nearly forget that he looks straight out of a magazine even in his sportswear. “‘cause i’ll believe you.”

part of you wants him to just go already so your knees can buckle under, but part of you wants to ask him what he means. what’s he insinuating? isn’t the answer clear enough.

but now it’s way past nine and he’s all ready to go yet he’s still standing at your doorway, waiting for your answer. you want to scream no, you want to keep your secret safe, you don’t want him to know about the crush you’d been harbouring. but he told you to be careful what you say because he’ll believe you.

“s-so what if i do?” you stutter, failing to look him in the eyes, your stare focused on the air in between you.

sae’s features soften ever so slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to give in so quickly, but it isn’t one of disgust. it’s more like one of pleasant surprise.

after what seems like an eternity, sae finally opens his mouth.

“you must’ve gotten jealous a lot with all those girls i’d gone out with.”

your fist instinctively connect with his arm, his stoic finally giving way to a grimace, palm rubbing his triceps in pain. out of all the things to say, he chooses to say that? you think he deserves it.

“you know what, sae? you can go back to your fake girlfriends, i could care less,” you snap at him, pouting. you hate that despite how ignorant his words are that you can’t find it in yourself to hate him.

sae exhales sharply, chuckling softly when he sees your pout, and you feel as though it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this even though it’s not. his hand comes up to ruffle the top of your head gently, and you’re reminded of when he did this to you back in high school.

“can’t do that, can i?” he tells you, that soft disposition gone and the stoic mischief coming right back. “not when i’m in front of who could be my real girlfriend.”

your heart might’ve forgotten how to beat.

sae leaves you standing there, left to your own devices as he exits your apartment, fully aware of his effect on you.

not long after he leaves (while you’re still standing in the doorway), your phone buzzes in your pocket. you fish it out and see his name there for the first time in a long time.

you smile to yourself as you read his message. okay, so maybe you’ll spare eita’s life for now.

[soobrat]

a bet and a promise; jcm

🖱️⤻ pairing; afab!reader x fratboy!q 🖱️⤻ word count; 6.2k 🖱️⤻ genre; smut 🖱️⤻ synopsis; your friends have a serious gambling problem and they've created a betting system so punishing that you have no choice but to play along. unbeknownst to them, they've just forced you to interact with someone you've been trying to avoid 🖱️⤻ warnings; q is a fuckboy, dubcon (q pushes mc's head back down when you try to come up but mc is okay with it), dom!q, sub!reader, reader is slightly bratty, piv, pet name (bunny), brief fingering, blowjob, brief face fucking, breast play, cowgirl then missionary, q can be casually cruel, reader is also slightly a pushover

⌨️⤻ I love asshole the boyz idk about you. Also I love how dramatic mc is in this lmao.

Your friends take good care of you. They’re perceptive and protective so there’s no getting away with hiding that you’re hurt about something. You’re thankful for them. Here’s the thing, your friends also love a good bet.

“Missy… you’re up!” Kim Jimin delivers a swift pat to your back that makes you jolt forward. You’re completely lost, and looking around at the circle of girls does nothing to help. “Up?”

“I bet fifty bucks you won’t go up to Ju Haknyeon and do aegyo.” She leans forward with a sinister smile. And so the game begins. You’re somewhat new to the group, so they agreed to spare you for now. Turns out “for now” is over.

You cautiously glance over at Haknyeon and his frat buddies. They’re a rowdy bunch, raising their red solo cups as they engage in loud conversation. They’d ridicule you until you ran home crying for sure.

“Come on, be serious.” Lee Soojin elbows Jimin, making her perk up. “What? It’s been long enough.” You let out an exhale of relief. Of course Soojin would step in, the logical and caring person she is. 

“No, not that. Ju Haknyeon is easy.” Soojin scoffs.

Her words nearly cause you to crumble to the floor. They were going to kill you tonight. This was your first bet for god sake. 

“That is not true! He would laugh right in her face.”

“You guys are so cruel.” You whine and they immediately ignore you. “Yeah, but you know who’ll be way better?” Soojin leans in but her eyes are focused on the rowdy boys. “Ji Changmin.”

You feel as though your heart had fallen out of your ass and splattered onto the waxed wooden floors. 

“Hey…” Park Soeun finally adds more to the conversation than reactionary noises. She gives you a quick look to check how you were fairing. You were staring at nothing with your mouth lolled open like your face had gone numb. She winces before looking to Soojin and Jimin. “What about Lee Jaehyun? That would be fun right?”

Jimin and Soojin ponder for a moment. “I can see him snickering and going “what the hell?” which could be fun.” Soojin considers. They’re all so casual about sending you to potential social suicide.

“But that’s not as good as Changmin. That would be stellar.” Both girls exchange a look that communicates how golden this bet is. Soeun sighs beside you, giving you a comforting rub on your back but nothing could soothe the imprint Jimin’s hand left. 

“I wanna spice it up though. I bet one hundred dollars she will go through with it.” Soojin raises her eyebrows and is met with a surprised sound from Jimin. “Now we’re talking. But you do know if you lose you’re in the trenches with her?”

“I’m confident on this one.”

“You guys have a serious gambling problem!” You finally pipe up after shaking your initial shock

“Shaddup.” Jimin pushes you out of the comfort of the circle. The outside world is so cold, full of unfamiliar faces and opportunities for awkward conversation. But most of all, facing Changmin again. As you inch slowly toward the group you see his figure on the opposite side of their circle. A lollipop stick hangs loosely from his lips, a flash of orange pops through when he adjusts his tongue. 

He had a lollipop on that chilly night, too. The last Saturday of October and the last time you were at a party. You’re convinced he scared you from them for good. You didn’t like them in general, but you fought through your introversion for your friends. It took a lot of begging and offerings to get you to this one. You kept asking why they couldn’t just go without you but now it’s very obvious. Parties are the perfect place for painful bets. The more painful the bet, the more likely the bet maker will get paid.

Bets were not the reason you ran into Changmin. Poor Jungeun was the victim that night. You were looking for a bottle of liquor she requested to get her through her dare. The kitchen was completely empty making you wonder if the closed floor plan made it more discreet. It was dark but you used your flashlight to look amongst the bottles for the one she requested. 

All you heard were loud voices approaching before bodies started bumping against you. The kitchen was at full capacity in no time and people had the nerve to cram in even more. As if they couldn’t tell there were already too many people there. You cradled the bottle in your hand and wondered how the hell you were going to get out. People were pushing themselves flush against you without a care in the world. 

An elbow flying way too close to your eye socket made you throw all caution to the wind and start pushing people. They couldn’t see anyway, and you were politely mumbling “excuse me’s” on your way out. You used counters bordering the kitchen to map your escape when you run headfirst into somebody. Already annoyed by how reckless people were being you groan loudly to clearly communicate your irritation. Why hasn’t someone turned the lights on by now?

“Someone’s having a bad time.” 

For a second you didn’t recognize the voice of the man you ogle at for an entire lecture. The same man you’ve dedicated pages and pages of your diary to. “No, but it’d be nice if people used their brains for one second.” The moment you stop speaking a blinding light was being shone on your face.

“You couldn’t be talking about me, right sweetheart?”

The light inhibited your vision but the sound of his smooth-tongued affect was enough for you to identify him. Your brain filled in the blanks of his crooked grin and gaze with a hint of condescension. Everything about him should turn you off but there's just something about him.

Your attempt at sentences is cut short when the lights finally come on, long after you actually wanted them to. Now Changmin can take in your pathetic body language in all its glory. He just scoffs, as if in disbelief at who had gotten smart with him. “Are you always this rude to strangers?”

“I– I w– um…” You were downright panicking and it sent your brain into overdrive. Coming up with a response was hard when all you could focus on was how warm he felt pressed against you. The firm plane of his chest had no choice but to be in direct contact with your arms cradling the liquor. A person behind you knocks you even closer so your faces are nearly touching.

“You really hurt my feelings,” Changmin feigns emotional turmoil before dropping it almost immediately. “you should give me that alcohol as a repayment.”

“No, I’m giving this to my friend.” There they were, your first coherent words to Ji Changmin, the man of your fucking dreams. Well, not really, your first sentence was even worse.

“You just keep wounding me, princess.” He pops his lollipop from his mouth before sliding a finger under your chin to lift your face. “How are you gonna make up for it?” His lips coasted along yours making your brain completely useless. Your heart was beating so fast that you considered going to the hospital. The two of you being so close to kissing did a lot of things to you and none of them were good.

You imagined meeting Ji Changmin in the kitchen of a house party time and time again like they do in movies. You both would complain about how parties suck and you’d be uncharacteristically smooth until he throws you over his shoulder and takes you into a vacant bedroom. This was nothing like you imagined. It was humiliating and he was reveling in it. You knew he was an asshole but you were too naive to think he’d do anything to upset you. 

“I-I gotta get this to her-”

“At least promise you’ll make up for how rude you were.” He pouts and you feel your ears start burning hot.

You barely escaped with your dignity but you finally managed to get out of that hot, sweaty hell hole. You promised him, of course, but only because you prepared to avoid him like the plague. He probably laughed about you and your stupid shocked face with his friends. 

You take your time getting close to him because the minute you’re face to face it would confirm whether or not he sees you as some big joke. Chickening out on the bet was not an option because not only would you have to fork up your meager paychecks, but it’ll also be your turn again and again until you properly follow through with one. They’re going to know if you don’t actually walk up to him. They can see on either side of their huddle. The only blindspot was right in front of Changmin. And what were you gonna do, just awkwardly stand in front of him and hope he doesn’t say anything?

Every option felt like pure torture. He and his friends already think you’re pathetic. They’d probably be so confused, thinking you officially lost it. You physically cringe as you imagine going through with this. You were getting embarrassed regardless, but there was no way in hell you were doing aegyo.

Since they couldn’t see you, they were going to go up and ask Changmin if you actually did it, so there was only one solution. You plant yourself in front of him with a huff, gathering the tiny bit of courage in your body to look at him.

He chuckles as he takes you in, leading everyone else in the huddle to look at you. “Looking extra sexy tonight baby.” Sangyeon whistles and you break eye contact. Before he can even say anything to make you give up you rush out your request.

“My friends are making me do aegyo in front of you for a bet and I refuse to do so so could you just tell them I did when they ask you okay thank you bye-”

A chorus of wary woah’s make it hard to leave but you still try, your suddenly stiff legs stepping away from the group. They’re causing commotion so that’s good, makes it look like you did what you were dared to.

“Why should I.” Changmin raises his voice over the commotion and actually makes you stop. Shit, that was your one out and you never considered he would reject you. Of course he would. You’re a nobody trying to order him around. You turn back, your tail between your legs as you squeeze your eyes shut. 

“It’s just a stupid bet, I know you don’t care anyway.” You try to appeal to his nonchalant image but he immediately shoots it down. “No, I meant why should I help you when you didn’t follow through on our promise.” He ends his questions like a statement and you can’t help but think you’re not supposed to answer. He’s just pointing things out, he doesn’t want to hear your excuses. 

“I-I’m sorry, I got really busy and I just never saw you again.” Your tone is unconvincing but it might just work. He probably never noticed you before you met in the kitchen. “Ah,” Changmin steps toward you, away from the huddle where everyone can see. “So you’ve been too busy to come find me?” He coos as he brushes your hair out of your face. You flinch away subconsciously but he doesn’t retract his hand, something you’re quietly grateful for. As his eyes rake over your features you can’t help but block out the noise in this intimate little moment. He’s fucking with you, you’d have to be an idiot not to see, but you can’t help your breath being taken away as his fingers coast across your jaw.

“But you still manage to stare at me for the entire duration of our class together. Kinda like you’re doing now.” His more assertive words shatter the illusion you just made for yourself, letting all the noise break through and overwhelm you as you grapple with your mortification. Blood can’t even rush to your face, you’re way past acute embarrassment. The feeling of everyone looking at you and every laugh possibly being directed at you makes it difficult to do anything other than look around, rooted in your spot. “Let’s revisit the promise, shall we?”

You’re back to looking at Changmin and his raised brows but you can’t focus. You run out of the frat house and suck in the fresh air. You plant your hands on your knees as you huff, laughing derisively. You were stupid if you thought you’d be able to avoid him forever. And you were even more stupid if you thought you could convince him to go along with your plan. Why you were the ultimate dumbass? You thought that maybe Changmin would’ve been courteous to you. Maybe he didn’t tell his friends and laugh at your expense. Clearly you’re just a desperate joke to him. Well, there goes another crush.

“Hey, need a ride.” Changmin jogs out beside you, smiling to illustrate just how guiltless he was. He had discarded his lollipop at some point, but the orange stain on his tongue remained. You stand up straight, attempting to fix him with a serious look but your self-pity seeps through.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about this.” You raise your arms in confusion before letting them fall back to your sides. “Your friends aren’t here right now, so you don’t have to talk to me anymore.”

"It’s not about them. What's funny is how hard you're trying to hide that you wanna fuck me." 

Now you feel the blood rushing to your face as you gasp. “No, I- it’s not funny, Changmin.” You insist, but you can’t quite get the bite you desperately need.

“I'm serious.” Changmin steps in front of you and keeps you from leaving with a complicated expression that you try to unravel. “You at least wanna kiss me. I don't understand why you're holding back, just do it." He steps forward as if to egg you on. You open your mouth to protest, but you can’t tear your eyes away from his lips as if you’re insane enough to consider it. Is this why he fucks with you? Because he’s waiting for you to act on your urges? Or he thinks that if he picks at you enough you’ll jump him out of pure frustration. Your heart kicks at your ribcage, alerting you to how much it’s working.

Changmin pushes in only an inch closer until you have nowhere to look but his sultry gaze. You gasp silently, feeling arousal take root and blur your reasons for apprehension. The two of you seem to magnetize, slowly drawing nearer until you only slightly feel his lips. Your heart leaps and your brain screams at you to just devour him already.

“Go Changmin!” His huddle had traveled outside in search of him, hooting and hollering at what they see. You snap away, ducking your head and covering your lips as if it’ll conceal anything. Jimin is the first of your friends to push through the huddle before they’re all speed walking toward you. “Hi Changmin! Can we talk to our girl?” Jimin says in a high voice that’s very unlike her. She and the rest of your friends seem to be brimming with anxious energy as they look at either of you. 

“Sure.” Changmin smiles before directing a pointed look at you, and you know it’s about that damn promise. Once he’s reunited with his group they crowd around you. You back away, “What is up with you guys?”

“We know you didn’t do the dare.” Jimin starts with her usual tone, bar a little anxiety peeking through. You sigh, wilting as you await their celebration. “Yeah, yeah whatever how much do I owe?”

“We’re gonna drop it.”

Your eyes snap open before you look at Jimin warily. “Why?”

“In the strangest turn of events, you seem very friendly with Changmin now and I just feel like that’s enough turbulence to last you a year.”

–🖱️▷

Your mom might have been right about you being a sexual degenerate. All you did today was masturbate at the thought of Changmin and debate following through on your promise. Everything and one is screaming at you to leave him alone. Your friends even apologized for making you interact with him once they found out about your crush and avoidance of him. With no bet or anything pressuring you to face him again, you should be saying good riddance. 

“At least promise you’ll make up for how rude you were.” He pouts and you feel your ears start burning hot. You’re not even sure what that means and his body against you isn’t helping you think straight. 

“O-okay? I will…” You don’t know what you agreed to but it was fine. You already decided you’d never speak to him again. He looks down at you like he’s unimpressed with your answer. “You will what?”

“I’ll… make up for it?” You drop your confusion with a frustrated sigh.

“How about this, if I can’t have this bottle, maybe you can get me a different drink.” He stops to pull his lollipop from his mouth. He moves it to yours, tapping it against your bottom lip. You focus on the deep brown of his irises as you wordlessly poke out your tongue and scoop it into your mouth. “At your place. Promise?”

It was bad, really bad. You forgot where you were, sucking on the ball of candy he just had in his mouth while your mind went to downright deplorable places. But the bliss was oh so sweet. Drowning in his eyes while your stomach dissolved into a pit of lava. You craved that feeling again, and you need to feel more than a whisper of his lips. 

He wrote his number on your hand and you let him. Mostly because you were transfixed with how he held the cap of the marker in his teeth. Of course he kept a marker to write down his number in his pocket, because that’s who you were dealing with. This is the same man that made Hyunjin cut her hair off and cry during your morning lecture after he broke things off. Thinking about his effect on you makes tears and a pixie cut seem worth it. Just a little taste, that’s all.

You pull up his contact where his number resided for “safekeeping” and open a new conversation. 

___: I wanna make good on my promise

You chew on your lip, plopping on your couch but keeping your eyes trained on the screen. Milliseconds felt like years as you waited for a response. Your body was already getting excited at the idea of seeing him again. And feeling him in ways you had to stop your mind from wandering to during class. 

Changmin: good ;) I’m free in about 20 mins, is that too soon?

In a last ditch effort to preserve your dignity, you wait, ignoring your core screaming at you to hurry the fuck up. This man could very well ruin your life, the least you could do is make yourself seem less keen. You’re proud of yourself for making him wait this long in the first place. 

___: nope, I wanna prove I’m not a promise breaker

Changmin: of course you aren’t

Changmin: that would make you bad news

Maybe you are with the things you’re fantasizing about. A few more texts exchange flirts and your address before your promise is finally fulfilled. Well, not yet. He still has to get here. If milliseconds felt like years, the minutes it took him to get here felt like they were aging you substantially. Technology is advancing, generations are passing, and are those flying cars whizzing by? But it happened, there was a knock at your door. 

Pulling your door open revealed a smirk you should be used to but aren’t. You can’t push past your brain fog of seeing his dark hair hang over his brows to make a coherent sentence. His eyes are already drinking you in and it’s too much to handle. You’re a bit thankful that he lets himself in, closing the door behind him. 

“I-I, you… there’s alcohol in the kitchen, I’ll get it.” You motion disinterestedly behind you, still in a daze while you stare at his torso wrapped in a tight black t-shirt. 

“No,” he says almost under his breath, pulling you closer by your raised arm before grabbing your face. Your body goes limp as he brushes his bottom lip against yours before capturing it in a short kiss. You lean in for more, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pushing him into the door. His hands slide down your back before squeezing your ass through your jeans. Changmin drinks the moan you let out, tongue delving inside your mouth. 

Never had you felt as slutty as you do now, rutting against his crotch in search of friction. He lifts one of his hands to tug on your hair and you open your mouth wider. Your tongues swirl around each other in a lewd display of how turned on you both are. “wasn’t the drink I had in mind.” He mumbles with a smirk, punctuated with isolated pecks before devouring you once more. 

Your hands find their way to his waistband, unbuttoning his jeans before dragging his zipper open. You sink your hand into them, cupping his hot bulge and squeezing which makes him groan. He bites your lip and mirrors your actions. His hand ends up inside your underwear, feeling the embarrassing mess you left behind. “Fuck, were you touching yourself?”

You nod, trying to dive back into his lips but he pulls away. “Thinking of me?” You bite your lip, nervously peaking through your lashes before nodding again. He chuckles before kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, and finally leaving a peck on your lips. The flutter of your heart is undercut by his hand suddenly closing around your throat. “You should’ve waited.” He says so low it’s almost inaudible. 

Strangled noises wiggle their way out but you don’t get to form a syllable before he’s resuming your heated kiss. His fingers push past your swollen lips and spread you wider with a slight ache. His fingers are a little thicker than yours and you didn’t use your dildo tonight. He takes care of that, scissoring you open while he sucks on your tongue. You’ve never moaned so unabashedly before but he brings it out of you with such ease. 

“You made me wait for how long and you couldn’t even wait 20 minutes?” He waits for your response as he stares down at you as if his hand isn’t tightening around your throat. Telling him how long you were actually waiting would make you look better but back talk didn’t seem smart right now.

“‘m sorry.” You croak out before squeezing his bulge again.

“Feel nice?” You can’t tell what he’s referring to until he slips his hand from your pants and cups your hand over his bulge. You nod despite the restriction and he seems pleased. He licks your bottom lip, looking as if he wants to devour you whole. “Lead me to your room.”

He finally lets go of your throat and pulls your hand out of his pants to hold it. With your breathing irregular you guide him to the bedroom. Every resounding thud of your heart feels like it’ll send you to an early grave. You’ve never been so cock hungry in your life. He lets go of your hand and shuts the door behind the two of you. You watch as if in a trance as he takes off his jeans and underwear. He isn’t facing you so you don’t see his hard cock. You take the time to appreciate his ass though. 

Cutting your ogling short, he turns around, and you watch him the entire time he walks over to your bed. He lies on it with his legs spread, so mouthwatering as his long cock stands at attention. He strokes it, fingers grazing over each vein when it should be yours.

“Since you love my dick so much, come play with it. I need to catch up anyway.” His lidded eyes rake up and down your frame, making you feel much barer than you are. You climb onto the bed, crawling up to what you crave most. He drops his hand away and you can hear him let out a soft noise just in anticipation of what you’ll do next. 

Mimicking him moments before, you close your hand around his shaft, core clenching at the groan you’re rewarded with. Situated between his legs, you’re surrounded by his warmth while you pump his hot length. He bucks into your hand each time you drag your fist down. A bead of precum falls from his slit and rolls to the rim of his head. You lick it up, following the trail until your tonguing at his slit. He exhales shakily, watching you with knitted brows. As you press the tip of your tongue against it, saliva travels down and pools where your tongue and his hole meet.

Your pumping becomes more rigorous the more turned on you get from pleasuring him. You couldn’t get enough of his taste, the way he feels against your hand and tongue, or his reactions to you. His soft, rhythmic moans make your stomach flutter. You lift your tongue, watching the strings of your spit and his precum connect the two of you. Impassioned, You dive down and captured his tip in your mouth. He throws his head back as you suck and swirl your tongue. 

You have to move your hand down to compensate for each inch you take in until you pull your hand away completely and feel him at the back of your throat. “You’re so nasty~” He muses about your passionate mouth you assume. Your ears perk up when you hear the sound of paper flipping. Your eyes flit up to see your diary previously and stupidly set on your nightstand in one of his hands. He laughs when he catches you looking, pushing your head back down to choke on his cock when you try to shoot up. 

He bucks into your throat as he keeps you down, face flush as he reads through the pages. “Here it says you want to fuck over and over until there’s so much cum between us that it fuses us together?” He laughs in disbelief. “That’s really disgusting, bunny.”

The mortification you feel merges with your overflowing lust until you can just sputter and moan in response. He lifts your head by your hair, allowing you to speak, but you just want his cock again. 

“Anything to say? Wanna defend your ego?”

“I want you to cum down my throat.” You reply breathlessly. A thick layer of saliva coats your mouth, chin, and starts down your neck.

“That’s about what I expected from someone who’d write shit like this.” He tosses the diary back on the nightstand. “Your brain is rotted from all your lewd fantasies.” Instead of pushing your mouth back on his cock he pulls your body on top of his. “We’re all caught up now.” He gives you a few meager pecks that don’t satisfy you nearly enough. 

You sit up and peel your shirt off your frame and he reaches to fondle your bare chest. Lifting from his lap, you pull off your sweatpants and underwear and toss them to the side. You use your shirt to wipe all the spit from your face and neck and it’s finally time. Though, his hands on your chest prevent you from leaning down and making out with him to your heart’s content.

“I wanna kiss you.” You whine, grinding your crotches together. His jaw quirks open, watching you with a twinkle of endearment in his eye.

“Will you whine and beg for it?”

“I will if you want me to.” It’s the fullest your voice has sounded since he walked through your door. So unabashed in declaring your obedience to him. Content with being under his spell. 

“I love girls like you.” He whispers, still not letting up only squeezing the flesh of your breasts, keeping you in place.

“Please?” You gasp lightly as you rut against his dick.

“Again.” He demands so quietly that you barely hear it. You’re completely immersed in a bubble, feeling separate from everything else as you focus on him. “Please? Please.” You beg shakily, close to your breaking point.

“Sit on it, bunny.” He effectively rejects you and you huff, reaching below you to position his tip under your swollen lips. He flicks lightly at your stiffen buds, pushing them in with a salacious hum when you sink down on him. “Good bunny.”

You sink until you’re fully seated on him, wiggling your ass to contrast with your betrayed pout. You wait and wait, grinding on his cock in the meantime, but he just continues to fondle your tits and deny you his lips. You watch in awe as he moves his lips to your hardened nipples, suckling and licking them all while he watches you smugly. You’ve done nothing but be a good girl. “That’s not fair.” You whine, raising your hips and dropping them down to earn the very reaction you receive. His lips leave your nipple to moan then hiss, grabbing your hips and squeezing them.

“You mad at me?” He asks insincerely, clearly not caring about how he’s torturing you. When you huff he just starts flicking his tongue against your nipples again. You whine, giving up on your pursuit to focus on properly riding him. You bounce on his cock, earning whispered praises as he watches you with satisfaction in his eyes. “Atta girl, keep it up.”

Each drop of your hips sends him plunging so deep you can taste him. It borders on overwhelming but you can’t stop. It seems to have the same effect on him as he clenches his teeth and sinks his nails into your breasts. Focusing on teasing you was hard when your lips were all fat and swollen, encasing his cock in a soft paradise. You don’t see it coming when his hands slip from your breasts, falling forward until your chest to chest. You smile wistfully and brush your thumb over his lips. The slight annoyance on his face from giving in earlier than expected was extremely sexy. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, gasping when he grips your ass and starts slamming you over his cock. 

His presumed plan was working so far, distracting you from getting your way until you finally close the space. Despite his annoyance, he kisses back eagerly, grinning when you can’t keep it up with his incessant pounding. You just rest your lips against his, breathing each other in as you moan helplessly. Something about your pitiful whimpering unleashes a feral side of him. 

“Uh huh? Feel good getting your pussy plowed?” He growls, filling the room with the sound of his cock plunging deep inside you, burying himself to the hilt. The sound of your cunt suckling desperately to milk him for all he’s worth. He bites your lip and tugs at it before grabbing your jaw. “Want me to fill you up until I’m spilling out of your little hole? I can do that for you.” He laughs cruelly, your whines and pleading expression spraying the fire in his groin with gasoline. Your mouth drops open, noises muted as you clench ever tighter around him.

“Gonna cum, bunny?”

You nod incessantly, chasing after your high as if never else ever mattered more in the world.

“Don’t you fucking cum.”

You let out a panicked whimper, “Please??”

“Uh uh.” He shakes his head at you with a threatening glare. “You cum when I say so. You said you’ll do what I want you to. I want you to hold it.”

Hold it? You only heard about this in the filth you consume. It never worked when you actually tried it. You were on a one way train to disobedience and it worried you as much as it thrilled you. “I-I can’t! I can’t!”

“You better.” He delivers a punishing smack to your ass, making it much harder for you. You squirm against him, his arm anchoring you flush against his body. You had no choice but to be this close, to only focus on him and the viscous slam of his hips. The pressure builds fast, faster than your attempts to clear you brain and try not to be a brat. Oh, but being a brat was so tempting. What would a punishment entail? Changmin spanking you, overstimulating you, tying you up? All those sound like wet dreams you’ve had, swearing into your pillow when you woke up and realized it wasn’t real.

And just like that, your hand are clenching his biceps as your cunt spasms around him. You cry out, your orgasm crashing over you like a ton of bricks and continuing to loom for longer than you could handle. Your body twitches against his, begging incoherently to be punished.

He flips you onto your back and you smile blissfully, hoping he’ll scold you, slap you. Maybe you liked it when he teased and tortured you. Even before he stepped in your house. 

“What did you say? Punish you?” You go to nod but he grabs your cheeks, squishing them and forcing you to look at him. “You have a mouth. Use it.”

“Yes. Please.” You breathe. He scoffs. “You can’t help it. Just a desperate whore by nature, huh?” You shake your head and he coos sardonically. “Yeah, I know you can’t.” He delivers a swift slap to you pussy that has you gasping harshly and clamping your legs shut. “Oh, what? I thought you wanted to be punished? Open your fucking legs.” He doesn’t let you open them by yourself all the way, just shoving them open and slapping your mound again. You start to shut them but he glares at you. You whimper and spread them far, clenching your eyes shut. You can hear how full your channel is with your slick, and how saturated your lips are with each smack. The filthy noise bounces off the walls, filling you with even more embarrassment. You can’t turn and hide your head in your shoulder with his hand holding your head still. You just wince and whine, taking your punishment. It’s the least a brat can do.

Once your legs are shaking he places himself between them again, shoving just his tip into the entrance. “I’ll give you what you wanted now.” And with that he bottoms out with a swift slam of his hips, his dick twitching inside you when you squeak. He grabs both your legs and swings them over his shoulder, getting a good look at how each languid roll of his hips affects you. You’re a mess, mumbling and whining like an idiot for his cock. And he loves it. “Good fucking bunny.”

His hips thunder against yours, stuttering once pleasure starts to crawl up his legs like fractal branches of electricity. His eyes roll back, fingering curling into your flesh until his knuckles turn white. You’re even wetter than before, and he can feel you start to clench for dear life again. Getting this worked up to your pussy getting spanked? Changmin really loved girls like you. 

“You love it. You love it when I fuck with you.” His voice cracks slightly, losing all control as his climax starts to sneak up on him. “Yes! Fuck– I love it so much!” Your voice is unstable from his thrusting and from the incoming orgasm shutting down your body. Your confession kicks his climax into high gear, his hips going static as he starts to fills your pussy. He drops your legs and pulls his cock out, spraying it over your folds and then on your lower belly. He moves closer to shoot the rest of his substantial load onto your tits and you hold them up for him.

When he finishes he looks down at you like a painter admiring his latest masterpiece. Maybe it was a little hasty to consider you a keeper, he should know better with how clingy girls get with him, but he couldn't help it. You look so joyous to be covered in his cum, smiling goofily with a hoarse chuckle.

"You're golden, sweetheart." He leans forward and plants a short kiss on your lips.

He was gone as fast as he arrived, but he remained ever present. You were officially chained to the man. Willing to do whatever would make him moan and cum for you like that again. It’s a shame because you really liked your hair.

likes and reblogs are very appreciated! 🖱️⤻ tbz masterlist

[molsno]

yeah finnster fucking pisses me off why the hell wouldn't he. every fucking tranny I know has been bullied and beat and abused and raped by every tme bitch in their lives and then when I try to talk about it by posting about transmisogyny not only do I get held to this impossibly high standard but even when I meet it I STILL get treated like shit! a bunch of fucking cis bitches and terfs and cuntboys and theyfabs will harass me, bait me into fucking up, call me a man, call me a rapist, make up stupid bullshit lies about my sexuality so they can turn people against me, tell me to kill myself, and they do this not just to me, but any tranny who dares to stand up for herself and her community. for fuck's sake, I'm so fucking privileged for a tranny just because I can afford to rent an apartment all by myself and I have a cozy office job and nobody irl can even tell that I'm trans, and I STILL get subjected to this shit! and then I'm forced to see every other tranny, people I love and care about doing so much worse, people who can't afford homes, who are being abused by their partner or their family, who get harassed and stalked irl, and THE MOST I CAN DO is to write fucking tumblr posts explaining our oppression and PLEADING for people to recognize how fucking aeful we have it.

and then along comes this fucking cis dude who wants to make a quick buck by capitalizing on the transmisogynistic culture war. he starts dressing up as a girl and streams himself playing video games and going on omegle to trick straight dudes into thinking he's a "real woman" for clicks, and he makes fucking bank for doing it! he wpild be fucking NOBODY if he didn't do this shit. he'd be just another fucking white dude streamer. but no, instead he has hundreds of thousands of fans who won't fucking shut up about him! the dude posts his fucking birth certificate to "prove" that he's really male, he keeps releasing these stupid fucking trap videos, and people fucking send him clothes and makeup and all kinds of shit that none of us could ever hope to afford! he lives so fucking comfortably and every fucking time that ANYTHING inconvenient happens to him he receives loads of support from his stupid fucking fans. and then when we complain about how he's fucking exploiting our struggles for cash those bitches rush to call us gender essentialists, terfs, gatekeepers, all this stupid fucking bullshit that they don't even understand because they don't have to deal with ACTUAL gender essentialists, gatekeepers and terfs. I get it! you think cis men make for better trannies than us! it's so much easier when you can jerk off to him and let it be your dirty little secret. you don't have to contend with the fact that you like girls with dicks, because if you did, then you might have to think about seeing us as actual people and giving a shit about us! I hope finn dies but I hope all you bitches die too you seriously make me so sick

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

Bucky swore — he swore — that no harm would ever befall you, but he couldn’t fight against your own body. It would not stop him from tearing down mountains and breaking every law to keep you alive, though.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✰ 3.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, sick fic, hospital environment

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✰ We're finishing this insane month with a bang, folks.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✰ Angel by Sarah McLachlan

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✰ Whumptober 2022 —   Masterlist

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Bucky had kept watch over you for days - several very long fucking days. The illness that had you in its grasp was worsening every hour, but ever so stubbornly, you refused to get help, or let him call Stephen just to check you over. 

Each day that passed brought him closer and closer to a nervous breakdown. 

“It’s just the flu, Buck,” you had mumbled after a violent coughing fit. Bucky just stared, incredulously, into your much too flushed face that was soaked with sweat, and then glanced down your body to see your shivering frame wrapped in a dozen or so blankets. 

If this was just a flu, he would sell every single damn gun and bullet he owned, and turn in his patch. Presidency be damned. 

Bucky had seen what pneumonia could do to a person - when he and Steve were kids, Steve had been struck down more times than Bucky could count on both hands with numerous chest infections, and bouts of pneumonia that almost killed him.

It was a cruel twist of fate that you lay here before him just as sickly, and frail.

You had been so out of it that night that you didn’t even realise Bucky had moved you from his apartment, and onto the games room couch, where he and the others could keep an eye on you. Bucky hadn’t let you rest at home either - he told you it was so he could keep an eye on you himself while he ‘worked’, but the truth he omitted that the clubhouse was, in fact, closer to the hospital, than your home.

They all understood that when his Queen was down and out - whether you were a friend or a foe, you would incur his fury if even a hair on your head was out of place.

Bucky had settled himself next to the couch on the hardwood floor so he could watch your face for any sign of unusual discomfort, and he compulsively stroked your cheek with his thumb - a quiet but soft ritual of reassurance, that you were still here. 

Quiet footsteps approached his side and Bucky glanced from the corner of his eye to see Peter. “Hey, boss,” Peter whispered and Bucky nodded once, too focused on you to think of anything else. “How is she?” Peter asked quietly, peering over Bucky’s shoulder to look at your face that was much too pale. 

“‘M not sure,” Bucky mumbled back. He carefully moved some of your hair from your face when your eyes finally opened. “Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered and he watched you smile weakly.

The dimmed lights of the clubhouse did no favours for your worsening pallor, and Bucky felt helpless. He had fought with you over whether to go to hospital and you had adamantly refused. Even after Steve, Sam, Peter, and Natasha chimed in, you foolishly stood steadfast at the fact you were not stepping foot in a hospital over the ‘flu’.

Bucky knew the real reason, though. Hospitals were hard enough to stomach when he or one of the guys landed there, but for yourself? Hell would freeze over before you’d step foot in there willingly, for your own sake. 

He watched your bleary eyes focus on his face until they fell shut again, the flood of exhaustion too much to fight against. “That’s it, baby, need you to rest up,” he said quietly, resting his palm against your cheek so he could keep the hair from your face. 

“Buck,” Steve spoke up, and Bucky turned his head to look at him. “She’s getting worse by the hour-”

“I am not fuckin’ taking her, Stevie,” Bucky argued, though he was losing this argument and his resolve the longer he sat in front of you and heard your wheezing breaths. “She’ll hate me, I can’t do it.”

Peter’s hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed. “Boss, you might not have a choice,” Bucky looked up at him, only to see him staring at you. “I have a bad feeling, I can’t shake it.”

“No hospital.” 

Bucky’s gaze snapped to your pale face and he stared, shocked that you had woken so soon. Your breathing was laboured, your voice alarmingly weak, and it looked like you were fighting for every second you stayed conscious. 

“Sweets, we have to-” Peter started, crouching down to your level next to Bucky.

“I said no hos-” A violent coughing fit wracked your frame and Bucky launched forward. 

“Easy, easy,” he soothed, manoeuvring your shaking body so you would be sitting up. “Hang on, baby, hang on,” his palm landed hard against your spine between your shoulders, and Peter was ready with a bowl when you coughed up a hawk of phlegm. 

With you sitting up and forward, Bucky slipped in behind you to hold you to his chest. It was killing him, seeing you like this - he could feel every rattle and cough in his own ribs.

Bucky was so preoccupied with soothing you; he missed the shared look of worry between Steve, Sam, and Peter. If Natasha hadn’t gone to bed after spending the whole day with you and missed this violent fit, she would have taken charge and called an ambulance, regardless of Bucky’s protests. 

The coughing fit eased and the rattle of your lungs only instilled a sense of fear in Bucky that finally overrode any need to comfort you. 

You had to go, and you had to go now.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, mindful to keep up the soft touches on your back and shoulders while you fought for breath. Peter moved the bowl away and walked back to the others, talking quietly amongst themselves. “We have to go, I’ll be there the whole time, I promise. You remember that promise I made you?”

You nodded slowly, and rested your head against his shoulder. “Please, no,” you whispered hoarsely. “If I have another fit, I’ll let you.”

Bucky sighed and looked up at his family, all of whom were watching the two of you like hawks. “Okay, just rest, baby, I’ll take you if you have another fit,” Bucky said, loud enough for the others to hear. They looked uneasy and Sam went to say something, but Bucky silenced him with a sharp glare - you had made a compromise, it was okay. 

You relaxed into Bucky’s chest and he tried his hardest to calm down, desperately ignoring the way your chest stuttered with every breath. 

It was going to be okay. 

Time seemed to drag the longer he sat with you in his lap, your ragged and heavy breaths that hitched with every single inhale and exhale drove him to the brink of nervous collapse. 

Steve, Sam, and Peter were still sitting at the bar playing a game of cards, for which Bucky was immeasurably grateful that they had stayed up with him, even under the illusion of ‘club business’ - he had to pretend everything was normal, that he wasn’t untethered. 

Cards hit the bar with a slap and Bucky heard Steve grumble, annoyed at yet another loss, when it happened. 

Bucky was watching old cartoons on the TV mounted to the wall when he felt you shift slightly, and he looked down to see your one visible hand in the bundle of blankets lying abnormally still. You always had a slight twitch in your sleep, and if you were positioned right while lying next to him when you slept, you would tickle his side or neck and wake him.

“Okay,” Bucky mumbled, “you’re alright.”

A single bead of sweat trailed down the side of your face and down your neck, where your pulse was racing. Bucky frowned and gently grabbed hold of your chin, tilting it backwards so the back of your head rested against the couch. 

You were pliant - a limp weight in Bucky’s arms. 

There was no visible change to your pallor, aside from your lips being abnormally pale compared to what they were before, and there was no change to your breathing. 

Bucky, however, could not help feel ice cold dread burn through his veins - the heavy weight of it settled deep in his stomach like an anvil.

“Can you hear me, doll?” The cards on the bar behind him stopped shuffling, and Bucky heard the bar stools creak and scrape against the floor. “Baby?” He watched your face for any sign of acknowledgement, any sign that you had heard him. 

Nothing.

He could feel the presence of the others standing behind him and he willed his heart to settle. “I think she’s asleep.”

“You feel it, too?” Bucky looked up at Peter and gaped. How the hell?

“Yeah,” Sam cut in. He moved to sit in the recliner next to the couch. “I do.”

Your face twitched, and Bucky stared wide-eyed with fear, searching your expression for something, anything. “I don’t-”

“Boss,” Peter started, and Bucky looked at him quickly. He was shuffling his feet against the floor like he was preparing to run. “Boss, we gotta go-” Peter pointed at your face and Bucky turned to look back at you.

Horror struck, he watched your lips become tinged with blue, and your breaths, once laboured and slow, turn into shallow pants - almost like you were gasping for air that wouldn’t come.

All hell broke loose. 

“Buck-” Steve yelled, but Bucky had already pulled you flush to his chest, and slipped his arm under your knees, and the other behind your shoulders. 

“Fucking MOVE!”

Peter sprinted to the door and ripped your car keys from the wall, his light feet pounded against the cement when he ran to your car to start it. The car revved to life just as Bucky reached the doorway.  

“Go! Go, go!” Sam shouted, grabbing the keys to their bikes. Steve caught his keys when Sam threw them, and Peter ran from your car to his bike.

“Parker! You’re up front!” Bucky heard Steve yell as he ran to your car, ignorant of the break in hierarchy - you were fucking dying, to hell with it. “We’ll be right behind you!” Steve shouted, and his bike roared to life. 

Bucky managed to manoeuvre you into the passenger seat with little fight. You were a deadweight, and that terrified him more than any nightmare he had ever experienced. 

Hell, this was a nightmare come true. 

“Baby, stay with me,” Bucky rushed, his hands eerily steady while he buckled you in. He slammed the door shut and slid into the driver’s seat, forgoing his own belt in favour of peeling out of the lot behind Peter. 

You coughed wetly next to him, and Bucky turned to look at you - his breath hitched as fear twisted his gut into a fisherman’s knot when a rivulet of phlegm dribbled from the corner of your mouth. 

Your lips were too fucking blue. 

“Baby,” he called, his eyes returning to the road as he ran red light after red light. “I’m takin’ you to the hospital, stay with me, c’mon!”

The engine roared as the revs climbed, his foot heavy on the accelerator with unprecedented desperation. Your car needed a set of red and blue lights - an ambulance was much too slow, compared to the speed Bucky maintained. 

Peter was riding ahead, close enough to create a triangle formation with Steve and Sam who were right on Bucky’s tail, their bikes tearing down the road and ready to intercept and prevent anything from getting in the way. 

Another coughing fit wracked your already slumped frame just as Bucky pulled up to the hospital. “Fuck!” He flew out of the driver’s seat, not caring that the car was still running. You fell easily into his embrace when he pulled you from the passenger seat and against his chest once more.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted, gesturing with his head towards the emergency doors of the hospital. “Go!” Steve ran through the double glass doors and Bucky could see a group of nurses run to him while he pointed towards the two of you. 

God, he never wanted to feel your deadweight in his arms ever again, Bucky prayed, adjusting you so your head lolled against his shoulder. 

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Bucky murmured against your temple, jogging towards the doors, where a medical team of doctors and nurses waited. It was a mantra he’d chant on repeat if you would just wake up. “They’ll help, I’ve got you.”

There was a faint hiss by your ear, and the soft feel of cotton against your palms and tips of your fingers when they twitched against the fabric. A steady beep echoed by your head, and the smell of disinfectant burnt at your sinuses, but no matter how hard you struggled, you could not open your eyes. 

Where am I? 

“She’s improving with the course of intravenous antibiotics,” a soft voice, one that was entirely unfamiliar, began. It was coming from your feet and you strained to hear it over the combined noise of instruments cluttered at your head. “However, we will continue to keep her for observation.”

A ruffle of fabric, then paper, and another voice spoke. “Thanks, doc.”

That voice. Bucky. 

There were footsteps and a small sigh, then the sound of someone sitting down in a chair. You could hear the sound of a phone keyboard - clack clack clack.

No matter how hard you tried, your eyes refused to open. Your chest felt like it was in a vice, a band around the entire width of it that constricted when you inhaled. 

The person shifted in their seat, and then a hand - one that you had held so many times before - held your own. Callused, rough, but ever so soft, and gentle. Bucky, he was sitting right next to you, and you needed him; stuck in the darkness because your eyes refused to open, and you were scared.

The monitor by your head beeped at an increased rhythm, and you felt Bucky’s hand grip yours tighter. 

“Doll?” His chair scooted along the floor and you could feel his presence at your side, much closer and within reach - if only your body would let you reach out. “You’re alright, you’re safe.” You heard a quiet plunk when Bucky placed his phone on the surface by your head, and then you felt his now free hand against your jaw. “Can you open your eyes for me, baby girl?”

Bucky’s thumb brushed your cheek when your eyelids fluttered, and they slowly opened. Your vision was blurred, but you could make out the cotton sheets over your legs, and the plain sterile walls that enclosed you on all sides. 

“Hey,” Bucky breathed and your eyes roved lazily to meet his, the soft smile he wore enough to steady your heart rate. “How’re you feelin’?”

You blinked once, your mind still much too foggy to comprehend anything. Bucky seemed to realise this. “You’re in hospital,” he squeezed your hand and leant forward. “You gave us all a hell of a scare last night, doll.”

The flow of oxygen to your nose began to annoy you, and in your groggy state your arm moved to tug it away when Bucky stopped you. “No, no, leave it, you need it.” A quiet whine left your throat in protest and Bucky smiled gently, bringing your hand back down and placing it on your stomach. 

“Wha’ happen?” You slurred, staring at Bucky through half-lidded eyes.

“This ain’t no flu, sweetheart,” Bucky sighed, staring back into your face. You suddenly noticed that his eyes were puffy. “You basically stopped breathing on me last night. I broke a dozen laws trying to get you here,” he chuckled. “You’ve got pneumonia, and a chest infection.”

Your eyes widened slightly at the news and Bucky leaned back in his seat, rubbing his face with one hand, while the other still held yours. 

The door to your room opened and Bucky looked over, while you continued to stare at him. Pneumonia? 

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky said quietly as Steve came into your field of very limited vision.

Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder, offering him a cup of something, and then Steve looked at you, a soft smile on his face. He looked relieved. “Hey, Sweets,” he said quietly. “Gave us all a damned heart attack last night.”

Guilt churned in your stomach and you frowned, looking between the two of them. “‘M sorry.”

Bucky sighed, and Steve shook his head. “No apologisin’,” Steve started, walking back towards the door. “Though it would be good if you weren’t so damn stubborn.” The door clicked shut behind him and Bucky chuckled, shifting in his seat again. He looked so uncomfortable.

“Wan’ you,” you murmured, squeezing his hand slightly. 

Bucky raised his brows around the cup he was sipping from, and he looked at the bed. It was true, he pulled money from the club’s stash to make sure you got a room on your own - by some miracle it was enough, but the bed was still fucking small.

“I don’t think I’d fit, baby,” he whispered, placing the cup by your head and leaning forward again. 

“Don’ care,” you insisted, using what little strength you had to lift his hand and tug on it. 

“Alright, alright,” Bucky stood, letting go of your hand so he could take his boots off. “Those drugs they have you on made you needy, huh?” You nodded slowly and Bucky smirked. “No funny business, missy, doctor's orders.” 

A huffed laugh escaped before you could stop it and you coughed harshly. Bucky only winced in sympathy. 

“No funny-” You tried when it passed but Bucky shushed you. 

His hands snaked their way underneath your shoulders and hips, lifting you up with a playful grunt of exertion, and moved you to the side of the bed. “Don’ be an asshole, Barnes,” you murmured, rolling your eyes. 

Bucky grinned cheekily and moved your legs over so he could sit on the edge of the bed. “Never, baby,” he breathed and you smirked. Asshole, you thought sluggishly. 

“I’ll get you back,” you threatened. Bucky rolled his eyes while he adjusted some of the wires to loop up and over your head. 

Finally, Bucky shifted up the bed and laid back, lifting his legs with a loud and dramatic groan. You had to resist the urge to laugh at his antics, so you settled on poking him in the side while he tried to get comfortable. “Hey!” 

The monitor by Bucky’s head picked up in rhythm when the change of position made you feel woozy, and Bucky frowned. “C’mere,” he moved his arm to rest under your shoulder and pulled you close. You cuddled up to his side and rested your cannulated hand on his middle. “That’s it, need you to take it easy for me, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured against your forehead. 

Slowly you adjusted to the new position, and took as deep a breath as you could. 

“This is a hell of a lot more comfortable than those damn chairs,” Bucky murmured into the crown of your head. “How you feelin’?”

“Sore,” you whispered back sleepily. Every inhale was an effort against the elephant on your chest, but with Bucky holding you, you could forget about it, if only for a moment. 

Bucky’s hand rubbed your shoulders and back for a while, and you were almost lulled into a comfortable sleep when he spoke again. 

“I almost lost you.” 

His voice, always so strong and full of authority, wavered with unbearable fear.

With every last ounce of strength you had left, you moved your arm so you could rest your hand over his heart, the beat steady and true. 

“Love you,” you slurred, the current of sleep doing its damndest to pull you under. 

Bucky’s free arm moved so he could gently grab hold of your cannulated hand, and with practised ease, he intertwined your fingers as your eyes drooped shut - unable to fight against the current any longer.

“I love you more, sweetheart.”

This ‘experience’ with pneumonia is almost identical to the one I had as a teenager with my mother. That shit is scary!

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[beesmygod]

So TotK seems to be clicking where BotW wasn't. Any insight on what the key differences are that work for you?

note: i played botw up until the calamity ganon fight and then went "yeah ok ive played a zelda game before", put it down and never went back. didnt play the dlc

i dont think anyone would be surprised to know that im a "majoras mask was the best zelda" guy but the reason has little to do with the "darker tone" or the lore but because reusing assets allowed the dev team to greatly (GREATLY in this case holy shit) expand on the actual contents of the game itself. i love gold/silver best for the same reason.

botw is like running around an empty movie set. theres nothing in that fucking game. at the time, due to the proliferation of crafting mechanics infesting literally every AAA game, it felt like nintendo was more focused about hitting all the checks on a checklist of tired mechanics that were included just for the sake of saying they had it. crafting! weapon durability! open world! pbbbbt.

none of these things proved to be enjoyable to me. keeping in mind that ive been playing zeldas since the snes (skipping only a handful of handheld games), the changes felt like steps away from what makes zelda games unique. crafting felt like an arbitrary step between me and potions. i wanted to swing my master sword with power, not experiment with clumsy weapons that stop existing after i finally get a feel for them. and the open world, frankly sucked.

mm rewarded me for my curiosity. experimentation and exploration would lead to interesting or gratifying results (did you know theres a paper airplane in ikana canyon...). botw is like playing in the window xp background. theres barely any landmarks, except shrines, or anything to do outside of getting the yiga clan's ass. theyre easy to pick out because theyre literally the only people on the road. the world is put to waste; i cant play with it, i can just observe and be extremely artificially hindered by its vastness.

this doesnt really fit anywhere else in the above open world rant, but trading the shrines for small and sparce dungeons was a huge let down. i was hoping for a series of cohesive puzzles intended to help my mastery of my newest weapon or ability. you know. like a zelda game

totk fixed this and every other problem in the best way possible; the devs dumped a ton of toys into my playpen, gave me a hot glue gun, and told me to go buck wild. i love to build a horrible contraption to solve my stupid problems or kill me instantly. i love that experimenting with weapons involves actual experimentation if you desire or you can have an inventory exclusively full of spear type weapons with vastly different properties by gluing a bunch of rocks or monster parts to it. but most importantly....the "stock up->head out->explore->return" loop no longer feels like i have to go to the dmv over and over.

sure, the depths are artificially large in the way that the map in botw was; theres not a lot to do except reveal the map and do plot stuff. but the overworld was given a complete overhaul using the empty map as a starting point. theres actually stuff to look at, ruins to explore, caves to investigate, holes to jump into, and all that shit in the sky to explore. the sky map might be sparse but its meticulously crafted so that just the process of explorating the archipelagos feels like a puzzle you need to solve, as opposed to a hurdle you have to jump.

there is so much more to do in totk that im pretty sure im over 20 hours in and havent done any of the regional main quests. ive been running around picking up side quests, uncovering the map, exploring the depths, fucking around in the sky, and dying my clothes. but its not annoying or overwhelming. it feels more alive and less like a weird map in an abandoned gmod server. im having fun.

for crit: imo, one of the biggest criticisms i have for both these games is that the voice acting is horrendous. nintendo has too much money to be tapping people who sound like they just got out of the shenmue soundbooth. zelda was not improved by voice acting and they should probably go back to everyone just having short exclamations like "HEH HEEH!" or "hmmm...".

also link doesnt roll anymore and its really fucking me up. im really struggling here lol. i keep trying to do dark souls shit and every fight involves me accidentally zooming in with the sheikah slate instead of locking on, hitting l1 istead of shield, and whistling for my horse instead of drinking estus.

also nerf rain

[an-android-in-a-tutu]

Was rereading Father Knows Best by DarkHeartInTheSky and got to the bit where Cas, despite needing Sam and Dean to find out what happened to him in order to you know, get rescued, hopes that they never find out what John has done to him. Partially out of a desire to spare them the heartbreak but also because, deep down, he's afraid they will side with John and let the incident slide for the sake of their relationship with their father.

So that's buck wild and it makes me imagine a fic with a similar premiss (possibly in season 12 so we can get Mary in there) where John comes back and ends up convinced Cas is a monster who's manipulated/brainwashed his family but he's less immediately successful at trying to get rid of him and Cas just ends up. Covering the whole thing up.

Initially I think he just doesn't view it as a problem. Every Winchester he knows has at least pointed a weapon at him the first time they've met, and Dean stabbed him in the heart. John mistaking him for a demon and trying to exorcise or kill him is, if anything, an endearing personality quirk. Cas does his best to be reassuring and gladly moves on from the incident when John seems accepting.

But then as it becomes clear that John genuinely means to kill him and he starts getting closer to actually being able to do so, Cas just. Keeps covering it up. Initially his excuse is that he doesn't want to cause problems for the newly reunited family and that surely John will come around if Cas keeps proving he's not a threat, but as things get more serious it becomes clear that he fears that if the conflict came to light it would not end well for him. Sam and Dean (and Mary) would either not care, not believe him, or most likely, acknowledge that John is in the wrong but still ultimately side with him. By the time things are really bad Cas is convinced that if the Winchesters find out what's happening they'll kick him out, maybe to protect him, mostly to keep the peace, and when they fail to convince John to drop his vendetta, Castiel will never be allowed to come home again.

Meanwhile like every single Character is having tense hidden family drama with or because of John (or both) and John for his part is just. Straight up living in a psychological horror. Not only has his family adopted (what he perceives to be) a horrifying monster as one of their own & he's the only one who can see that, he's also living in a constant state of warfare with that monster that it refuses to acknowledge. He'll think he succeeded at killing, injuring or containing Cas in the middle of the night, only to find him spotless at the breakfast table in the morning acting like nothing happened. He's convinced he's trapped in a sinister game of cat and mouse with a creature that always has the upper hand and is slowly losing his mind with paranoia. He thinks Cas is a mastemind but really he's just like. Desperately covering up his injuries because he's irrationally convinced that if people find out John is trying to kill him they'll yell at him.

[twinhood-2dot0]

Superhero media

I watched Guardians of The Galaxy Vol. 3 and Blue Beetle a few days ago and like I don't really have very many topics so here you go :P.

Popularity of superheroes seem to have a lot of ups and downs. Ever since they started appearing even, and now seems to be on the downturn. It reached its peak in 2019 with Avengers: Endgame and then seems to be tapering off. The movies still make hundreds of millions, buuuuut.

Blue Beetle.

GotG Vol. 3 did make 845 million, which I'm glad for, it's a phenomenal movie. Blue Beetle tho... It didn't have the fanbase of James Gunn and 2 prequels, and well, DC doesn't seem to have much of a reputation, so it was pretty much set up for failure. The movie was meh too. It's not awful, but like, it's so generic. I am very hopeful for Gunn's DC Universe though, I trust him to make good Superman and Batman movies. Plus, Batman: The Brave and The Bold seems to set much later in his career, so I'm hoping to see characters like Nightwing and Robin. I would love to see Tim Drake and Jason Todd too but like, it's very unlikely. Batgirl is slightly more likely tho, which would be awesome but seeing as a completed Batgirl movie got shelved uhhhh idk how much faith they have in her. I wanted that movie so bad, you know how much I love Batgirl. I can't believe they shafted a completed movie. Marvel however... Well, let's just say I hope to god they don't fumble Secret Wars.

Video games are a whole another story. Marvel's Spider-Man 2 was the fastest selling video game in the Playstation's history. And we already know how legendary the Arkham games are. Marvel's Avengers is awful, Gotham Knights is apparently mediocre, and Rocksteady, please, we know you're capable of making good games, hell, you made some of the best games ever made, please for the love of god ditch microtransactions and battle passes, it's not worth it, I really want Suicide Squad: Kill The Justice League to be good. The premise is genuinely so interesting, and your gameplay seems fun. Please don't screw it up for the sake of a few extra bucks. This shit is why I'm socialist smh. Comics are still pretty niche I guess, but I do love the stories.

TV too, seem to be doing pretty well. The Boys is so freaking good, Invincible seems to be pretty popular. Harley Quinn is pretty good, Peacemaker is awesome, we don't talk about the Marvel TV Shows.

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Hello good sir! I’m here to wish you the spoopiest of halloweens.

I wish the same to you my friend!

Now, let me see what I can give you *Spins the wheel*

Something I’m Researching

Old boomer shooters, more specifically BLOOD, for something I’m working on.

Sneak Peak At A WIP

“Good? Bad? *Heh* I’m the guy with the gun!” The blood drenched gunslinger hissed at the raven haired heiress.

“YOU KILLED THEM!” Momo shouted, her stomach churning at the carnage in front of her.

“What the hell do you think bullets do? Make all the ouchies go away? I mean if you hit them in the head it does, makes' em pop like a balloon!” The man laughed cruelly before returning his guns to their place in that coat of his that seemed to hold everything a killer like him could need.

The young woman glared at the killer and the killer gave her an equally withering stare in return.

Soon however the green haired gunslinger relented, and began to speak to the girl who, for the foreseeable future, was his boss.

“*sigh* Listen little lady, I was hired by your mother and father to protect you, they knew who I am and my reasons for even agreeing to galavant around the world doing charity work with you, especially considering I ain’t the type to deal with snobby bitches and bastards like the fuckers at those charity events all too well without shoving two barrels into their mouth before feeding them some double-ought-buck for dinner. Just know this, anyone I put in the ground deserves it, I don’t just kill for the sake of killing, not usually at least.”

Behind The Scenes Of A Published Work

This is actually from a Fic I very, VERY rarely mention, The One Who Will Inherit The Dark, And The Choice He Will Make, which is a Cross-Over of MHA, Castlevania, and Tsukihime.

While I can’t let too much slip about it, I do have more than a few things I can say about the development and early drafts.

Originally it was going to be a Dead Cells crossover, luckily before I got too far into that the Castlevania DLC for the game came out, reigniting my interest in it, and more specifically, Aria Of Sorrow. This meant I almost immediately pulled a 180 to write it.

To begin with, Izuku was going to be working through the castle with Soma, but I quickly scrapped that idea due to how complicated it would’ve been to write. Izuku was also supposed to be a Belmont when I started this, I even had a whole ass explanation with Izuku’s grandma on his father’s side being Julius Belmont’s sweetheart before the fate of the Belmont clan pulled them apart violently, causing a curse to be placed upon her that forced Julius into action if he wished to save his love, and although he didn’t know it, his unborn son. Sadly I changed my mind about that early on, though if anyone wants to they are more than welcome to take the Idea

[actingwithportals]

Since we’re talking about the deplorable Portal movie again, I’m gonna drop my two cents into why this bothers me particularly, on a personal level, in what a Portal movie might do to the story. (Buckle in, this is a long post.)

(Also, for anyone who doesn’t know the “Portal Movie” has been in production hell for literal years and it feels pretty unlikely it will escape that anytime soon, if the movie does eventually get made at all, so this is a mostly theoretical discussion but one I think is important nonetheless.)

(Also also I’m going under the assumption of a Portal movie following the characters and story we already know from the games as opposed to giving us new characters and plot and just centering it around the concept of Portal. This is also theoretical and isn’t confirmed that that’s how an actual Portal movie would go.)

So, I think the objective biggest concern to have with what could possibly go grossly wrong with a Portal movie is the Hollywood need to whitewash characters of color, aka Chell in this instance. Plus how they might handle her muteness, how they would handle her as a woman protagonist, how they would handle GLaDOS as a woman antagonist, and the overall themes of Portal that ultimately centers around these two women characters who both experienced abuse, either from each other or from Aperture itself. But there are people who are more informed to speak on those issues than I am, so I’m gonna leave that to them and talk about something that I’ve got the experience to discuss instead.

My boy Doug Rattmann. (note: I’m schizophrenic.)

In the event of a Portal movie that follows the main storyline of the game(s), Rattmann isn’t likely to be a character we actually see (outside of potential flashbacks), but his presence would be made known because his presence and influence in Aperture are both very integral to the story and Chell’s ultimate success. It’s very likely he would get brought up, even if just by showing us his murals and referencing who he was in life and the role he played as an Aperture employee, and as the only person to survive GLaDOS’s attack that put the facility into the position Chell wakes to find it in.

And I don’t trust like that. I don’t trust that filmmakers with the motivation of fame and financial gain will take a character like Rattmann - a schizophrenic who throughout most of his relevance to the main story is unmedicated and in the midst of a very severe psychotic episode - and treat him with care and respect and sympathy.

We see how movies treat mentally ill people, especially those of us with “scary” illnesses like schizophrenia. We see how we’re constantly reduced to being “crazy and unhinged and morally dubious because the voices in our heads tell us to hurt people”. We see how we’re used as jokes, as villains, as “pathetic” fodder to get killed off for shallow sympathy and shock value, and you know what? I don’t anticipate Rattmann would get a much more nuanced approach from a JJ Abrams film than... that. It’s hard for me to imagine he would be presented to the audience as anything much more than the “crazy ps*cho” who survived because of his paranoia (because “a broken clock is still right two times a day”) and wrote some funny iconic line on the walls in his madness such as “the cake is a lie”. That’s what I fear we’d get, because I know that’s how most of the world sees us. Because that’s how people see me when they learn I’m schizophrenic.

The Lab Rat comic did something that’s rarely seen in a lot of mainstream media I think. It gave us a schizophrenic protagonist who we as the readers got to see both in a successful career - medicated and well and seemingly having an average life despite where he worked - and in the midst of what was a very frightening psychotic episode, because medication was not available to him and he had no other option but to let things progress to that point. And he was Still a hero. He was Still sympathetic. He was Still treated with respect and as someone we were meant to root for and connect with. His humanity wasn’t taken from him, and in fact it shone through clearly. Because psychotic people are still people even when we’re experiencing psychosis.

And, you know, let alone the fact that the comic didn’t drop him into the trope of becoming a violent or otherwise “evil” person when he was unmedicated. He retained the same morals he had when he was medicated - the paranoia didn’t take that away from him. I like to think that my paranoia doesn’t take that away from me too.

I just.. I don’t feel good at the thought of something so beautifully done, something that we almost never get, being reduced to bad tropes for the sake of suspense and theatrics and a good buck. I mean, it might not happen; I might just be critical and overthinking. But it usually does, and I’m usually not. There’s endless evidence in media to support this pattern, and I think it’s a valid concern to have.

I don’t think people can’t be excited about a Portal movie - I know that I would be over the moon if a Portal movie came out that did the source material justice. But people are going to have concerns due to the fact that many things in these games were done with a lot of nuance and care, and it’s hard to believe something like this could be repeated, especially when copied over to a new medium. I mean, as it was recently pointed out to me even Valve themselves dropped the ball by lightening Chell’s character model between P1 and P2. The source material itself still does have its faults despite its successes, so who’s to say people can’t be worried that a movie would do something equally egregious or worse?

Portal means a lot to me. It has for many years and it will continue to mean a lot to me for a long time to come. The validation I found in Rattmann’s character at the exact moment in my life when I needed it most is not something that just happens any day. So I’m going to be critical, I’m going to be skeptical. I’m happy for people who are excited, but please don’t tell me or others that we shouldn’t be concerned.

I’ve got this one really incredible schizophrenic rep that Portal Lab Rat gave us. I’m allowed to fear that getting taken away.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Hey Daddy - Bucky Barnes

a/n: so this one is a little more... lighthearted? idk but it was based on THIS request!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: You join Peter and his friends for a game of Truth Or Dare but you wish you stayed in your room when MJ challenges you to do a task that will definitely out your secret relationship with Bucky.

masterlist

You totally forgot Peter would have his friends over for the night, so you’re slightly surprised when you find him with Ned and MJ in the kitchen, but it’s a pleasant one. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him, being the youngest of the adults in the tower, you developed a great friendship with the youngster and his friends.

“Oh, hello guys! Good to see you again!” you beam at the three of them, Ned greeting you with a little wave and a stunned smile on his face. Peter has recently revealed that Ned might have a tiny crush on you, which you find cute. Though you’re more than a decade older than him, you find it endearing he is crushing on you out of all the amazing women on the team.

MJ nods in your way as she munches on her sandwich, if you didn’t know her better you’d think she is annoyed by you judging by the look on her face, but you’ve learned by now that this is her default expression, almost a happy one.

“Hi Y/N!” Peter greets you smiling. “How was your day?” he asks lightly. He is such a good kid, knows his manners and cares so much for others. The men in the tower like to tease him about his soft behavior, but you think it’s such a great trait.

“A little tiring. Training kicked my ass today, but it was fine. What are you guys up to?” you ask, grabbing yourself a canned soda from the fridge.

“MJ wants to play truth or dare, but only because she wants to make us do embarrassing stuff,” Peter huffs looking at the girl who just smiles with a shrug.

“Oh, I love that game! Used to play it a lot at parties too!” you smirk, remembering the times you played with your friends in the basement of your mom’s house.

“You want to play with us?” MJ offers.

“If you don’t mind…”

“Not at all!” Peter smiles, happy to have another person join their little group. Glancing at Ned you see that he is now blushing, the tip of his ears turning red as he keeps his eyes fixed on the screen of his phone. Poor kid will have to learn how to function around women sooner or later.

The game starts out quite innocent, it’s not even the wild version where you’re drinking, though it popped into your head to pour yourself some wine. But then you decided to keep it PG rated for the kids’ sake.

But as more and more rounds go down, the tasks and questions are getting a little… spicy. When MJ turns to you and asks you the question of the game and you answer before you could even think about it, you know you are in trouble.

“Dare,” you answer and want to take it back right away, but you don’t want to look like such a pussy. But then MJ smirks at you devilishly and you consider just walking out before she ruins your whole life.

“Alright, text all the other Avengers ‘Hey Daddy’ and read the responses out loud.”

The boys gasp as you press your lips into a thin line, knowing well it won’t end good on your side. Especially because there is one person whose response you would rather not read out loud.

You’ve been close to Bucky since day one and though you both were a little ignorant towards your feelings, a few months ago you finally moved your relationship a little further than just being friends. However you both agreed it’s better kept as a secret, at least until you figure out where you really want to head together as a couple.

Now, if you text that message to Bucky there’s no way he won’t write back something that would bust your asses right away, but you can’t back out now, you can only hope he is busy doing something else and won’t pay attention to his phone.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket you lean onto the kitchen island as the kids start cheering for you being a badass and accepting the task.

“Just hey daddy, that’s all?” you ask as you open your contacts.

“Maybe add a winking face,” Ned suggests and you shoot him a glare that immediately turns his face red as he shuts his mouth.

“The winking face is a good idea,” MJ nods.

“Thanks, Ned,” you mumble under your breath as you start opening the text threads, sending them all the same message. Tony, Nat, Steve, Banner, Clint, Sam, Strange, even Rhodey and at the end of the list… Bucky.

“And what, now we wait?” Peter asks.

“Place the phone here so we see when you get a reply and you’ll read them, we can move on until then,” MJ tells you, bossing you around like you’re not even a highly trained special agent who could take her out in a blink of an eye.

The first reply comes from Nat who just asks if you’re drunk. Then comes Banner, who sounds offended that you think he could be your father, totally missing the point of the text. Tony teases you about always knowing you had a thing for him, Steve kindly tells you he only sees you as a sister, Clint just reads the text and doesn’t reply. Sam just sends a simple “control yourself” message back while Strange threatens you to block you if you send another text like this again. Rhodey doesn’t even reads it.

You start to feel relieved when about twenty minutes pass by and no reply comes from Bucky. The game moves on and you almost start to forget about the whole task when your phone lights up again and your breathing hitches when you see Bucky’s name appear on the screen.

“Oh, another reply!” MJ beams as she urges you to unlock the phone and read the reply. When you do so and see his text, you almost just hop off the stool and run out of the kitchen. You consider saying something else, pretending like he didn’t write what he did, but MJ doesn’t take the bullshit and her patience runs short so she simply snatches your phone out of your hand and reads the text herself.

“I specifically remember you saying you’re not into that stuff. What else are you keeping from me about our sex life?”

You let out a long and tired sigh as the room falls silent and they all just stare at you in confusion before MJ slowly slides the phone back to you.

“Our sex life? There’s… there’s a you and Bucky?” Peter asks quietly, not sure what to do with the new information. An anxious chuckle slips from between your lips as you try to find a way to get yourself out of this massive trouble, but nothing comes to your mind. You’ve fought aliens, assassins, you were captured, tortured, went on a hundred mission in your life, yet now three kids defeated you with a game of Truth or Dare.

“Well, um… It’s a funny story, you know—I don’t… fuck,” you mumble, scratching the back of your neck.

“Are you like… together or is it just a friends with benefits thing?” MJ question, shooting you a curious look.

You don’t get to answer, because just as you are about to open your mouth, the man in talk walks in, a puzzled look on his face, phone in his hand, probably still dwelling on your latest message. His eyes spot you first, but then he realizes that you’re not alone and he freezes. It’s not that Bucky doesn’t like Peter or his friends, he just feels so far away from people these days, let alone teenagers who are about a century younger than him.

“Oh,” he breathes out, slowly walking closer to you. “Hello guys,” he murmurs shyly, trying to put the picture together as his eyes fall back to you and he sees how uncomfortable you are. Before he could get another word out, MJ speaks up and just as always, her raw style doesn’t disappoint any of you.

“Don’t worry, your girlfriend is not really into the Daddy stuff.”

You almost choke on your own breath as you turn to shoot her a glare, your hand moving to grab Bucky’s arm gently, sensing him growing more and more anxious with each second.

“MJ, I don’t think Sergeant Barnes is the right person to joke around with,” Ned mumbles, avoiding to even look at Bucky as you let out an airy chuckle.

“G-Girlfriend? We are not—“ Bucky starts, but you cut him off.

“No use to deny, Buck. They know it.”

Bucky huffs, closing his eyes for a moment before he moves closer to you, his hand coming to rest on your lower back. Despite the absurdity of the situation, this small little gesture makes your heart pitter-patter in your chest.

“Is there any chance this could stay between us, kids?” you ask with a charming smile, turning to the three troublemakers.

“I don’t know, what do we get out of keeping it a secret?” Peter purses his lips, pretending to have the higher ground, but you already know what’s about to come.

Bucky’s vibranium arm snaps to the counter top as he shoots a death glare over to the poor kid and though he definitely looks like he is ready to kill any moment, you know that it’s all just an act.

“How about I don’t rip your guts out, kid? That enough?” Bucky growls and while all three of them take a step back with wide eyes and dry throats, you just shake your head chuckling, placing a hand to his hard chest.

“Buck, no need to go all winter soldier on them. They’ll keep our secret, right?” you ask with an innocent smile and all three of them start nodding wildly, as if they just saw a ghost.

Seeing their reaction you realize it’s better if the game ends here and you let them be on their own. You thank for the fun time before grabbing Bucky’s arm and pull him out of the kitchen, heading up to your rooms.

“You shouldn’t have scared them that badly, Buck,” you scold him, but you still actually find it kind of funny, seeing their pale faces and fearful eyes at your boyfriend’s tough guy act.

“Well, they scare me too sometimes,” he mumbles shrugging. “Especially that MJ girl… she is just… weird.”

You can’t help but laugh at his words, a six feet tall super soldier with a metal arm being scared of a teenage girl with a big mouth, that’s quite an interesting concept.

“Hey,” you stop him before the two of you would part in the hallway. He turns back and his blue eyes soften on you. “Do you want to… sneak into my room?” you ask, biting into your bottom lip as you smirk up at him, sliding a hand up his chest, cupping his cheek in your palm. “We could have some fun… Daddy.”

“Wait, are you really into the daddy stuff?” he asks with wide eyes, making you cackle with your head falling back.

“Just shut up and come to my room,” you chuckle, pressing your lips against his as you pull him into your bedroom, shutting the door closed behind you.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[glitch-zero]

Brahms Heelshire Nsfw Alphabet

A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Oh, he’ll let you clean up, usually. But keep in mind that sex always will end in cuddles. No doubt about it. Even if you get up to shower, Brahms willl go and follow you in eventually, demanding as usual.

B: Bodypart (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Brahms loves his chest. His broad shoulders too. Makes him look all mighty and strong, which isn’t a lie.

Brahms also really likes it when you lay on said chest and shoulders.

His partner?... he can’t decide. Whatever he can hold and/or fondle is fair game in his eyes.

…

Though he does like a nice rack. And love handles.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

Even if he’s caught up in the heat of the moment, Brahms still somewhat of a gentleman and will warn you when he’s about to bust one so you can avoid it; or direct it away from your face.

Though if given permission, this man will nut in you every chance he gets. He much prefers to fill you.

D: Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Oh. Oh, this man is into watching you do everything. He’ll jerk off into your underwear while watching you shower. He’s a stinky man that can get away with jerking off behind a wall.

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not experienced at all, but all that lack of sex in his earlier years makes it seem like he’s real good.

All that awkwardness dissolves once you get him going. If he’s on top, he can take the reigns.

F: Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

If you asked Brahms, (with the knowledge that he’ll freeze up and blush so hard his mask turns all hot), he would say he wouldn’t know. Whatever gets the job done.

But he does enjoy holding his partner’s hands. He’s adamant about that.

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Brahms takes it pretty seriously. And even if he’s making a silly face during, it’s not going to stop him from drilling into you till you scream bloody murder.

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Have you seen this man. Do you think this man, having an ungroomed head of hair, a thick ass beard, chest hair so thick it makes him sweat, has perfectly hairless junk.

He’s swamped down there.

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Very intimate. Brahms loves proving how much he adores you. How much he wants to make sweet love to you. Now, he isn’t as poetic as that, but he loves to make sure you’re appreciated every second you’re screwing.

This man cannot fuck. He makes love that just happens to also include fucking your brains out.

J: Jack/Jill Off (Masturbation headcanon)

This man has the whole inner walls of the house to himself. He can drop trou and crank one out whenever he wishes, moaning as loud as he wants.

Then again, if you’re in the same room (expanded on letter K), he’ll pipe down and won’t be as vigorous.

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks)

MAJOR VOYEUR. As I’ve said, this man can watch anyone and anything at all times behind the walls. He loves to watch you masturbate, hear you moan, hear you at your most private. Double points if you moan his name. (He actually might barrel out of the wall and spice things up, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.)

As much hype Brahms gives watching others, he doesn’t like to be watched. He likes to be in control, and he just doesn’t want to be spectated. Give this poor man some head.

Brahms’s other kinks include mild choking and clothing fetishism. He does like biting, but you’re going to have to fish that kink out of him. He’ll kill a man but there’s no way he’ll bite his beloved without consent.

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

You’re alone in this giant mansion. You’re getting that Brahms cock everywhere.

But his favorite place? His room. He loves it, makes him feel good. Surrounded by his territory. You both are safe here, no one’s getting caught, even if it were possible.

M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He’s so easy to turn on. Brahms is so touched starved it’s not even funny at this point. Just tell him he looks ‘kinda hot’ and you’ve earned yourself a clingy, horny Brahms for the rest of the day.

N: NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Please don’t degrade him, oh my god he’s going to cry. He needs to be praised, he needs to be reinforced, tell what he’s doing is good. It’s more rewarding anyway for both parties.

Don’t light candles/use candle wax either, that should be a given. You can probably get away with incense, but even still.

O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Brahms enjoys head as much as the next guy, but the moment you show him some new trick or maneuver he’ll enjoy it a whole lot more. He’s a very dramatic receiver and will not stop looking at you. Hope you like eyes being burned into the crown of your head.

Don’t underestimate his giving skills though. He’s not well versed in oral, but the moment he hits your sweet spot he’s going to absolutely pounce on it. He can feign skill pretty well.

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It all depends on how he’s feeling; Brahms doesn’t choose one over the other. His sweet innocent voice makes it seem like the latter, but don’t be surprised when you get the pounding of your life. It’s just how he is, be ready for both (unless you explicitly ask)!

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t mind a quickie! He’ll bend you over the dining table or pin you to the laundry room wall. Brahms is a big pushover though, and if you want to take it to the bedroom, he’ll carry you right over!

Brahms also enjoys quickies for the sake of how many positions can he get you in! All depends on the room.

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Not much to risk, unfortunately. Living in a big empty house, far away from the big city. He could fuck you on that tiny balcony as much as he wants, but there’s no risk of you both getting caught (plus it’s England and cold, don’t do it outside hello).

If there was a chance, even, he’s game. He’s been jerking off in the walls for years now without so much as a peep, he knows he can shush.

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s always satisfied with a single round, but you better be in for the long haul if you want to wear him out for good. He loves your enthusiasm! But don’t be surprised if on round four you’re exhausted. Your determination is funny to Brahms, but he’s a horny man!

T: Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Brahms totally would have a fleshlight, wouldn’t he. He’d be a creep and fix your underwear on it. But I don’t think he’d own one; he prefers to not leave the house and his parents would never buy such a crude item.

I think vibrators would be too overwhelming. He’d be happy to try, though. He’ll always humor you!

U: Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Fuck yes, Brahms loves to tease. He’ll grab your waist, tickle your neck with his beard. He won’t take his mask off, but you can feel his hot breath emanating from inside.

He haaates being teased though. He gets all huffy, he immediately thinks that you want sex now, but when you step away to make lunch is the moment he gets cranky. How can you leave him like this!!! You know how easily worked up he gets!!!

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Very. Sure, you’d think Brahms prefers to be quiet during his life in the walls, but he’s just a ball of loud moans, ranging in severity. His voice gets all loud and squeaky, begging and whining, you’d wonder if he’s crying at this point.

W: Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Hugs are the only thing that doesn’t rile him up. He recognizes that hold as something sweet, something to treasure, something he’s never felt in so long. Brahms loves to be doted on.

Unless you buck on his hips. Oho, don’t get him started.

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Bushy man. Decently thick. Perfectly rounded tip that has a slight curve. Cut. Seven inches when hard. Sports a noticeable thick vein trailing on the side.

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Everything gets him hard. It’s not difficult to turn him on, just looking at his junk can make a night different.

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Most of the time, he’ll park himself on the nearest nappable surface and pass out with you.

[jujutsu-headcanons]

Gojo Satoru general headcanons

Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.

Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.

He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.

All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.

Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong. 

This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.

That doesn't mean he did the work tho

Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work

Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him

A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone

Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman

Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because

He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further 

He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.

Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop

Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay

He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys

He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight

It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?

He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically

He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it

He has really cold hands and feet

He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o

He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o

It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry

Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"

He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face

He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair

He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts

No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses

His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month

They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses

Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on

Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind

Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle. 

He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know

He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.

So about his driver's license;

He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.

Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets

It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad

This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though

He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-

Gojo has a key

You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did 

Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious

He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess

The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.

He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror

Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes

Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck

He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.

Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru

Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.

He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed 

He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-

It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out. 

Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.

He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral

Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in

Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it

Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it

Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine

Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"

I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there

As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco

He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever

He will literally just stare at you and giggle

It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why

Its because he respects women

He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.

The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one 

He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art" 

When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.

He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.

Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess

He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on 

He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored

This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored

He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power

I canon him as being borderline sadistic

This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated

White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.

He is Sakata Gintoki

He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og

He's hella bilingual

Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine 

He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan

Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months

Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week

Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality

Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.

Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o

Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn

[rpclues]

rare americans lyrics sentence starters

[ collection of various lyrics from all 3 albums ]

" You're not gonna push me around, you can't get me down "

" If it cost me my life man, I'd save my only friend, that's something I could live with; I could take that 'til the end "

" I didn't win the game of life, but I'd give myself a pass "

" How did I get so confused? "

" No I don't have a fucking clue! "

" Fuck you world! "

" What the fuck is your problem, man, would it kill you to smile? "

" I said "fuck it" long ago "

"We're here to help, we're here to help you; you need not worry 'bout that hullabaloo "

" Will you take my word? "

" You've got to do what the fuck you say "

" I was on a good path, watched it all explode, lost everything I knew "

" I don't know what's happening. I'm trappin' in my head again "

" Don't hold on to the past, it's a gas mask "

" What are we waiting for? "

" You don't mean what you say, emotions rage your brain "

" You're the last guy in the world I want to call up with this trash "

" Bro can I hit ya up for a little cash? Man I'm on one leg and it's the last "

" Good luck to ya, kid "

" I made the most of a terrible start "

" I'll ruffle feathers, fuck with folks, but you know me, I'm a good bloke "

" You said you're having strange dreams. Are they good or bad or both? "

" Should we start lovin'? Give this a try? "

" Get off my back, you're killin' me "

" Blind emotion leads to commotion, but part of me likes that game "

" What am I scared of? To lose? "

" Man I feel overwhelmed "

" I feel like breaking down "

" Man I'm just not myself "

" Why can't I just calm down? "

" It's hard living, if your thoughts ain't right "

" I gotta get the fuck, outta my own way "

" Don't beat yourself up man, it'll be okay. Maybe not today, but it'll be okay "

" You're not a monster, just because you said something whack "

" Did you ever have a hunch it was falling apart? "

" I was glad to meet ya "

" Gotta let go if you wanna be free "

" Some things I can't remember, but I sure won't forget "

" I'm sick of waitin' my turn "

" Oh, we, we feel the same rage "

" What the hell are you waiting for? "

" Who knows why we are the way we are? "

" And for my sake I hope you're a good guy "

" How'd I change in such a blink? "

" I feel like I'm barely in the same body "

" Fuck it baby, this was worth the bucks "

" Is this the end or just the start? "

" I'm sorry if I fucked with your mind "

" I just keep going back to the start: thinking over and over and over, again and again and again "

" How'd that work out last week? "

" I don't want to be alone tonight "

[cazimagines]

Oblivious

Request from anon: Hi, I really enjoy your writing, particularly your Zemo fics! I had an idea for one that basically follows the while y/n joining Sam, Bucky, and Zemo through Madirpoor and Riga. Only despite Zemo’s flirting, y/n doesn’t really do anything about it or even notice until y/n along with Sam and Bucky witness Walker (New Captian America) murder a flag smasher in the street. They all go back to the safe house and y/n is like, in shock. “Captian America just killed someone” is all y/n can really say. And Zemo is able to calm them down. Maybe the romance can start then?

Word count: 3.4k

Author’s note: This one-shot can be multiple parts, if you would like to see a sequel please say! If I do decide to write a sequel though it will take me a while as I’ve had a lot of requests, please check out my master list to see what I have coming up next and if requests are currently open or not

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Heels clicked along the pavement as you sashayed along the road, approaching the men before you, two of which you know fondly. The other one, however... not so much.

They all stood close together in a circle, obviously discussing something important but at hearing your voice call out their heads turn towards you, a smile appearing on Sam and Bucky’s faces as they see you. “Long time no see boys,” you say, stopping a few feet away from them to lean on a wall.

They both walk over to you, Bucky pulling you into and hug then followed by Sam hugging you tightly. “Thank you for agreeing to help us out y/n. I know things haven’t been easy for you,”

You fake a smile at Bucky, one you hoped he wouldn’t see past resting your arm around his shoulder. “Anything for my friends,”

He was right, though. These times haven’t been easy for you, especially after Steve Rodgers left. Captain America had always been your idol, ever since you were a little kid you aspired to be just like him. You collected all the Captain America merchandise along with your brother Phil, always arguing with him who owned which toy of his. Meeting Steve had been a dream come true for you. He was the person you were closest to. He helped you come to terms with your brother’s death and whenever you needed help; he was there. You two stuck together through the thick and thin. That’s was how you got to become good friends with Sam and Bucky. You and Steve have always had a complicated relationship, though. You two liked each other and tried to see if you could be something more, but it never seemed to work out. Then Thanos happened. You, along with half the universe, were dusted. For you it was as if you had simply blinked however for Steve it was five years without you. You barely got to see each other again before he went away for good. You couldn’t hate him for it, you understood why he did what he did. He was always telling you about the ’40s, about his childhood, about her. You just wished you weren’t so connected with him. Seeing him there, old, dying. It broke your heart. But times move on. You can’t live in the past as he did.

Your eyes focus on the man behind Sam and Bucky and you frown, pulling your arm away from Bucky. A man you never thought you would see again was staring right back at you.

He stood a few feet back, knowing he wasn’t welcomed in the warm reunion of friendship. He clasped his hands, unsure what exactly he should do right now, feeling awkward, but as he looked over at you his eyes twinkled with recognition. Now you had been interesting to him. You weren’t a super soldier like Steve and James. Yet you certainly could hold your own against them. He had seen when he had first activated James. No, your strength and fighting abilities were down to your own human powers and he admired that. You were one of the few avengers he might have had an inkling to like if the Sokovia attack never happened. Still, it wasn’t as if you were to blame for it. The people who were to blame had suffered for it. You were merely the pawn in the giant game of chess. Perhaps he could grow to like you, after all, he could admit you were certainly tempting to him, the way your body was shaped excited him, the way your neck was shaped made him want to brush his fingers along it and your piercing eyes felt like they could look into the darkest corners of his soul.

“Why is he out of prison?” you snap, bringing Zemo out of his trance

Sam turns to scowl at Bucky as you all turn to Zemo, who awkwardly smiles. “Bucky thinks we need him,” Sam mutters

“Why would we need him!” you exclaim, crossing your arms and shooting Bucky a glare.

“I am invaluable,” Zemo explains with his hands, his eyes unwavering from you as he answers for Bucky.

“He hates super-soldiers, therefore he will help us in getting to Karli,” Bucky says, stepping in front of your eyesight trying to explain himself.

“That also means he hates you, Buck,”

All of them freeze as you address the elephant in the room. Bucky grits his teeth and steps back, averting your gaze as you and Sam stare expectedly at him but he doesn’t respond so Zemo takes his opportunity to step closer to you, now only a few feet apart.

“I can assure you, getting rid of Karli and her super soldier friends is my priority. Not James,”

You clench your jaw in anger as you look at Zemo. He tilts his head, the side of his lip curling up slightly, hoping you’d take a chance on him. Sighing, you turn to shoot one more look at Bucky.

“Steve wouldn’t have liked this,”

Later you sat across from Zemo on his private jet. All of you sat in uncomfortable silence as you flew to Madripoor. Sam and Bucky did not seem as close as you were to both of them. They both just sat on their respective sides and looked out the window. Zemo had a book on him which he seemed very preoccupied reading, yet there were moments where you could feel his eyes settle upon you. Ignoring his inquisitive gaze, you choose to follow in Bucky and Sam’s lead of looking out the window and daydream the rest of the trip away.

Your mind trails back to Steve. You wondered just what Steve would have thought about you teaming up with Zemo. He would have understood, wouldn’t he? It was the best option you had. Ah, but he had always been such a stickler about the rules. Breaking a criminal out and helping him avoid the law wasn’t very patriotic of you. Yep, he would not have gone through with this plan, he would have found another way that worked. But none of the people here were him. He choose not to be here. You knew you had to let him go.

“Champagne?”

You pull your eyes away from the window, coming back to reality as you see a bottle of champagne in Zemo’s hand and an empty glass in his other hand. He already had another glass full beside him as he looked at you expectantly.

“No,”

“Sure?”

“What part of no do you not understand,” you snap harshly glaring at him then back out to the window

“My apologies,” he says, pursing his lips together as he looks down at the empty glass. He glances over to Sam and Bucky but they both shake their heads as well so he hands the glass and drinks back to his butler and sighs as he opens his book again.

The tension between all of you sticks around as you arrive at Madripoor. Zemo had provided you a tight-fitting dress to ‘appear the part’ of your allice, and it showed off a bit too much of your chest than you liked. It was too bright for you, golden and sparky, cutting off at your upper tight, and had a very low v cut. You try your best to pull it down to cover you some more but to no avail. Begrudgingly, you leave the plane to meet up with the rest of them.

“My my y/n, the dress suits you,” Zemo says, smirking as his eyes trail up and down your body as you walk past him taking a straight beeline towards Sam and Bucky.

“How long will this mission take?” you ask, already feeling the cold air nip at your skin.

“Few hours at the least. I’m sorry that you have to do this, y/n”

“Hey, I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to help you two,” you mutter as you hear a car pulling up behind you

“Not exactly this though,” Bucky grumbles, glowering over at Zemo who motions to the car that had arrived. Zemo opens the door and waits for you to get in however you walk to the other side of the car and get in. Bucky chuckles at Zemo’s annoyed expression as he instead gets into the side, which Zemo held open.

During the mission, Zemo kept getting uncomfortably close to you. Occasionally his hand brushed against your back as he moved past you, or his hand would bump into yours slightly, lingering against yours longer than normal.

You knew why he was doing this. Because of Steve. He knew how close you and Steve were, everyone did. During the fight between Steve and Tony which Zemo had helped cause you stuck by Steve every second. Now that Steve was gone, Zemo was trying to rub that in. Trying to irritate you on purpose. You would not let him get to you.

During the meeting with Selby you stood off to the side with Sam and you were feeling pretty good about yourself that the mission was going well until Sam’s phone rang. You tried to keep cool while also giving Sam the wtf look as to why he didn’t put his phone on silent. You hung out hoping things would go okay, but today wasn’t your day.

Shelby got gunned down in front of you, and the mission was ruined. Running in heels wasn’t ideal, but you had to make do. You followed Sam and Bucky as Zemo split up from you, running off somewhere else. Eventually, you kicked off your heels, believing running barefoot would be better than dealing with the agony of heels.

Finally, meeting back up with Zemo, you were ready to have to fight your way out of this mess, but then someone you didn’t think you would ever see again appeared. Sharon Carter. You two weren’t exactly buddy buddies. You got along for Steve’s sake, but it always felt like a sort of rivalry between you two for his attention.

“Y/n,” she says, finally addressing you

“Sharon,” you say back, feeling the awkwardness seep back in. Sharon didn’t seem bothered however, she even kindly let you have some new clothes and shoes which were much more comfortable than the ones Zemo lent you and more your style.

Walking back into the main room you see Zemo sitting down, once again drinking, Bucky sitting down as far away from Zemo as he could get and Sam standing at the side. You choose to stand by Sam.

“Hey, y/n, you doing okay?” Sam asks as you walk over.

“Better than other days. What are we waiting around for?”

“For Sharon to lead us to a party where she can get the information we need,” Zemo answers for Sam, peeking over at you. You ignore him.

Sharon comes back in and tells all of you not to get in trouble while you are out at the party.

“Trouble,” Zemo jokes, and he once again glances over to you, raising a glass and winking at you as he downs it.

Following Sharon, you head into the party. It was to show off the art pieces she had got a hold of so you thought you might as well look at them as you were unlikely to see any of these genuine pieces again. You could see however Zemo following you. He tried to be sly by checking out the other artworks near you, never exactly where you were, but you could tell because every time you moved to a new place soon enough Zemo would suddenly appear there as well. He leaned into one of the artworks, pretending to study it closely, but the corner of his eyes would flick over to you.

Groaning in frustration at your new stalker, you decide you had to lose him in the crowds. Swaying your body, you enter the dancing crowd and jump along to the music, letting yourself go. You could feel your excitement growing with the crowd as you danced, but with one quick turn around there, you saw him.

Zemo had now entered the crowd and was dancing along to the music as well, pumping his hands in time to it. As you stared at him in disbelief, he notices and takes that as an innovation to dance over to you.

“Dancing is fun, right?” he asks as he claps his hand to the music

“Why are you doing this!” you exclaim glaring at him.

His eyebrows furrow as he looks at you, “I don’t understand what you mean?”

You huff in annoyance and storm away, going to find Sam and Bucky leaving Zemo alone on the dance floor. He watches you go and sighs, moving away from the dance floor. It had been a long time since he last got to socialize with anyone and he was trying with you; he wanted to know you more, but he didn’t want to push you too far either if you were uncomfortable with it.

The next few hours felt like a blur to everyone. Sharon found out where the doctor was and you found out a bit of information before Zemo choose to shoot him. Then the whole place exploded, and you had to fight for your life while Zemo hijacked and car to pick you up. Now you were standing outside the safe house.

Zemo opened up the doors, and with his arm motioned for you to go in first. You roll your eyes at his extravagance and storm in, looking around the place. It was simple, but you could still tell that it was all designer, expensive to Zemo’s tastes. You sit down on the sofa while Zemo instantly gravitates towards the liquor cupboard.

“If you drink so much you won’t have long left to live” you mutter as you watch him pour some whiskey. His head shoots up as he turns sidewards to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Concerned about my health now?”

“I’d rather have you not pass out during a mission, at least till you are no longer of use to us then you can drink yourself to death for all I care,”

“Ah concern for the mission, yes you avengers folks are all the same. The mission takes precedence before anything else,” Zemo says, grabbing his glass and walking over to take a seat on the sofa opposite you.

You give him a cold hard stare crossing your arms. “What do you mean by that” you hiss

He tilts his head, smirking as he sees how riled up you were getting. “I’m simply observing that you have to put your mission before human lives. I know from how much I studied Steve-”

“Don’t bring Steve into this!” you exclaim, leaning forward, baring your teeth at him.

Zemo pauses for a moment shocked, he pulls his head back to observe, his mouth slightly ajar as his eyebrows cast down but realization dawns across his face.

“Ah, you and Steve, you two were an item,”

“It wasn’t like that” you murmur, jumping up from the sofa and pacing around the room to try to alleviate the agitation you felt, your nails digging into your arms as you wrapped them around your body in comfort.

“But there was something,” Zemo replies, watching you pace around the room then looking into the glass bitterly, his grip on it tightening.

You turn your back to Zemo to stare at your reflection in the mirror, seeing the tears swell up in your eyes.

“Why are you bringing this up? Why do you keep trying to annoy me Zemo, what purpose are you getting from this apart from some sick sadistic pleasure?”

It was Zemo’s turn to jump up from the sofa, hurt you could ever think so lowly of him, his eyebrows furrowed as he speeds over to you. He stands beside you, getting a lot closer to you than you would like. You turned your head away so he couldn’t see the tears threatening to fall.

“Do you think that bad of me? Y/n we may not have had the best first impression but know that it is never my intention to irritate or upset you,” Zemo says, trying to move even closer to you, but he moves a step too far and you back away.

“Just leave me alone, Zemo” you whisper, then run out of the room to find a bathroom to let everything out.

Zemo watches your form leave, angrily clenching his jaw, knowing he pushed it too far. The vein in his neck twitches as he grabs an ornament by the side of the mirror. Holding it in his hand, he observes the glass figure, a dove, then chucks it into the ground in rage, feeling an inkling of satisfaction at seeing it smash into a thousand pieces. He grabs more ornaments, at that moment not caring how much they each cost, just enjoy the release of anger he felt every time he smashed one.

-

You could hear the blood in your brain roar through your ears, the feeling of your heart hitting your chest in shock as you stared down at Lemar’s dead body.

Your eyes flicker to John’s who knelt beside him, trying desperately to wake him up, but you knew it was hopeless. Lemar was gone. Your eyes flickered around the rest of the room, Karli and her friend realising how bad they have messed up were already running away from the room. Bucky and Sam looked at each other as if knowing what was to happen. Your eyes finally land on Zemo’s. John had tried to arrest him, but you were able to stop him. Zemo was still useful though you hated to admit it, it wasn’t long however till the Dora Milaje would find him.

You feel a hand brush against your shoulder and snap back into reality, “We need to leave, now,” Zemo whispered in your ear, pulling your arm to make you move.

Gathering your senses, you let Zemo lead you out of the building as you hear a crash from above. Running out into the road, you and Zemo catch up beside Sam and Bucky and watch the disaster unfold.

There was John, in Cap’s uniform, holding Cap’s shield above that man.

Steve.

Steve’s shield.

You feel a scream tear from your lips as you watch John Walker bring the shield down, penetrating the man’s chest, staining it in blood. Tears leak from your eyes as you attempt to rush forward, to try and stop it, but arms grasp onto you, pulling you back.

“NO” you repeatedly cried, trying to worm your way out of the grasp, but they gripped you, refusing to let go. Your knees gave out and you sink to the floor, collapsing in the arms of the person who held you, your head buried in the fur part of their coat as they held you to their chest.

You kept sobbing, shaking as the image replayed over and over in your mind.

“Captain America just killed someone,” you whispered, unable to say anything else. The arms which held you picked you up, quietly shushing you, and carried you down a road, back into the safe house.

They tried to put you on the sofa but you clung to their body, not believing you could survive without their support, so they settle on lying down beside you on the sofa.

They turned you to face their body as their arms draped around you, gently rubbing circles into your back. Burying your head into their chest again, you let the sobs wail out as your chest ached from breathing.

“Captain America just killed someone,” you whisper again to him.

“That wasn’t Steve, y/n, Steve would never do something like that,” he murmured, his accent soothing your nerves.

“But it was his shield Zemo. The very thing I had idolized for so long,”

“A shield which by now no longer belongs to him. He was never Captain America y/n, what we just saw proved that. They will give the shield to someone better,”

You sniff, trying to prevent the snot from coming out of your nose as your bloodshot eyes look up into his, “Really?”

He gently smiles at you, taking his hand off your back to push a strand of hair that was hanging over your eye away.

“Yes, they won’t make the same mistake twice,”

Zemo’s words brought more comfort than you could have ever imagined. His embrace brought you warmth and you could feel yourself slowly stop shaking as he held you. Looking away from Zemo in embarrassment, you instead choose to snuggle your head back into his chest, hearing the rapid beating of his heart which lulled you to sleep.

Tags: @sinister-sleep @cable-kenobi @faustlyaccused @chipster-21 @icarusinstatic @yallgotkik @montypythonsholysnail @bunniwritesx @checkurwindow @huntheimpossible @jayxkelsi @avgravy @prestigious-tea @aloyssiac @hannahbal-the-fannibal @alainabooks143 @jokerprettyprincess @plumsandkiwis @latenightartist-author @e-barba @flutterskies @wonderwoman292 @there-goes-thefighter @multiyfandomgirl40 @freyjasamael @ineffablebean