#the artists were the ones who got screwed over

[thetrekkiehasthephonebox]

dear lord

[spitdrunken]

man. still have NOT managed to get my hands on the book of bill because it's sold out literally everywhere over here, but have any of you seen the new 'how not to draw' vid on the disney youtube channel that features bill? it really got me thinking.

notes: fourth wall breaking, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships, implied sexual content, implied mind control

it's heavily implied that the video takes place in a world where gravity falls is supposedly fictional, like our own. bill literally says he's going to break the fourth wall! because i'm a sucker for fourth wall breaks and characters being aware of their own fandom (to an extent), i simply just HAD to run with this scenario.

i just like the idea of 'you' being just a person, some totally, in the large scheme of things, insignificant human walking the earth. you have a tendency for escapism, perhaps. you have always been drawn to stories. you like gravity falls. maybe it was something you watched while you were younger and recently rewatched, or an interest that had never waned. regardless, bill cipher, charismatic and unapologetically evil villain that he is, is one of your favourites.

you doodle him on the edges of paper when you're supposed to be doing anything else. (regardless of anyone's artistic skills, it's not difficult to draw a triangle with a top hat and an eye, is it?) and in this world, you are hardly the only one who likes him, who, perhaps, ships himself with him, who thinks about him a lot. who makes drawings and writes or reads fic. you don't think it's all that unusual.

in a stroke of luck or, depending on how you look at it, the exact opposite, the universe's idea of a cosmic joke, you are the one to catch bill's eye. (it's, after all, much easier to infiltrate the dreams of someone who already has you on their mind. makes sense, doesn't it? a tentative, wavering link had been formed already.) there, in your dreams, he tells you what to say--triangulum, entangulum. meteforis dominus ventium. meteforis venetisarium--and the next morning, you remember it clear as a memory.

you do it. for funsies. why wouldn't you? you don't expect it to actually work. he's a fictional interdimensional demon. why would it work? but much to your surprise, and horror, because surely a screw must've gotten loose for this to be happening, one of your little doodles has life blown to it. as a response to your summon, a tiny little bill cipher darts across your paper, alive but still confined.

(you've given him an in. now, he only has to take the crack you've opened for him, dig his fingers in, and tear it open.)

oh, he'll be funny! he'll be exactly what you thought of him. perhaps he even voices a line of dialogue you swore you wrote down somewhere days prior. yes, he's read whatever you wrote or read, whatever you looked at. he's keeping it himself for now. it's not easy to inflate his ego further, but you might have succeeded. rather than a meatbag, bill first looks upon you with the eye of someone presented with a puppy. fundamentally lesser, but capable of being something with the right training.

he urges you to make a deal with him and the promise he'll act out whatever fantasy you've been cooking up in that brain of yours, even if it's gross and weird and physically impossible!

he'll warp your dimension to make all of it possible!!! it's great!!! don't worry about it!!!!!!

…you don't do it. you don't touch the paper. you've seen the show, and you aren't stupid. bill nearly balks. he'd expected you to be the easiest mark of all time, but he suppose he forgot that even puppies have teeth. that's fine. he can work with this. because even though you have not let him in yet, and you refuse to shake his hand through the paper, you don't seperate yourself from him just yet.

you could oh so easily take the piece of paper he's on and throw it in the nearest shredder. or set him on fire. in you, he recognises lingering curiosity, and the excitement at having stood out, at being chosen, in one way or another. it's not hopeless yet.

he can play a bit of a longer game, then. he's been at this for a long, long time. he'll tolerate the paper he's on being folded into a little square and tucked into your breast pocket, granting him a view of your life and the world you're living in. (all the time, his hunger grows.) your decision not to throw him away ends up being your downfall. spending so much time with bill, letting him joke around with you, complaining about your problems… it takes a while for you to realise that, for a while now, he has not been speaking out loud anymore, but instead through your mind.

a connection that cannot be cut has been formed in between two of you.

on bill's part, he had thorougly expected to be bored. but perhaps it's your genuine interest in him, not the things he's offering, which he does not often see. (he's been down this road before. won't end well. but...) the sheer mundanity of your life that makes him wish he could twist and turn it all around. or just a random alignment of the stars. the heart doesn't always follow logic. in this scenario, at some point, bill realises that he has become genuinely invested in you, too. and at that point, you'll never manage to slip away. he's already dug in his heels in your mind far enough. you had no adequate protection.

he still wants to take over your world. he still wants to escape the discomforting flatness of the paper you've summoned him in. but, perhaps, you two could share that meatsack of a body of yours, before things get that far.

[r-2-peepoo]

I just saw a really stupid take from a Star Wars fan (I know, absolutely unheard of! (heavy sarcasm)) so here is a reminder:

People who ship clones with Jedi are more than aware of the power dynamic. That’s a huge part of what makes them interesting. If we were to to ship Cody with basically anyone else other than Obi Wan, it probably wouldn’t work as well because Obi Wan is precisely the last person who would ever want to pressure him or cross his boundaries.

The Jedi were totally screwed over and backed into a war that goes against so much of what they stand for and on top of that, now they have an entire army of brand new humans to lead. All of those brand new humans are totally unique and just experiencing the world for the first time, even though they’re all mature adults too. It’s a totally screwed up situation which puts so much added pressure onto the Order, so we throw romantic feelings on top of that and we’re not supposed to find that absurdly compelling?

Obi Wan is literally defined by his empathy and his kindness. The reason shipping him with Cody works so well is because there is no one who represents what the Jedi are meant to be better than him. Goodness is at the core of his character. There would never be a day that he didn’t value Cody’s wellbeing over his own feelings. Not to mention that they’re both so dedicated to their beliefs and responsibilities that a relationship is never even realistically an option while the war is going on.

Codywan is about the yearning. It’s about them both knowing they have feelings for each other and not being able to do anything about it because they are fighting for something much bigger than themselves. It’s about the infamous “after the war” conversation that they never got to have. It’s about them meeting again on Tatooine years later, finally on equal footing and completely alone in the galaxy, bonded together by their grief.

That’s why people love Codywan. The suggestion of anything otherwise is just an insult to the hard work all the artists and writers have put into making some of the most incredible fanfiction and fanart and fanon lore I’ve ever seen in any fandom ever.

P.S.— the portrayal of something in a piece of media doesn’t equal the condoning or promoting of that sort of behaviour. I thought we’d long since established that. Let’s use our brains here.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Could u do a Tom Blyth x reader where they’re roaming the streets of Berlin late at night after a day full of filming and the public don’t really know if Tom is in a relationship and then a few fans see you and Tom together. They post it on social media and it blows up and you read the comments and find very negative comments about you . The next time you and Tom go for a walk, you are very on edge and Tom notices this and asks you what’s wrong and he finds out you’ve been reading hate comments and he posts smth on his social media abt it or smth

Thank you :) I love ur work so much 💗

Noticed in Public || Tom Blyth x gf!reader

A/n: I love this! Thank you anon :) Also included my own little twist of reader being his hair and makeup artist.

Warnings: none!

Wc:

Divider by @pommecita

"I've been waiting for this all day," Tom lets out a sigh of relief as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, your arm wrapping itself around his torso. The two of you were on your nightly stroll around the city of berlin.

During the day, Tom would be filming on set and you would be doing his hair and makeup. You enjoy the time you would spend with each other during the hustle of filming days, but you most enjoyed the alone time you would have, exploring around the city that you would be in for a couple more months.

Berlin never slept. There was always something to do around even in the late hours of night. And you and Tom never got bored; whether it be exploring different parks, trying out different restaurants, or just walking around with each other; talking about everything and anything, enjoying each other's company.

You and Tom walk along on the many bridges in Berlin, people littering it. The good thing about hanging out in the middle of the night was that fans spotting the both of you was very rare. Tom's fans didn't weren't even fully sure that he was dating someone; let alone his own hair and makeup artist. Your relationship with him was very private, only with a few pics of you together but no one though much of it.

With an arm still around his torso, and his around you shoulder, pulling you closer to him, the two of you walk past a group of girls who probably were in their late teens. You couldn't help but notice their whispering as they looked at the two of you, Tom oblivious to this.

Feeling your arm slightly loosen around his torso and your attention somewhere else, he tilts your chin up, placing a kiss on your lips. "You okay?" Tom looks down at you as he studies your features. You nod, giving him a smile, "Yeah, of course."

He then peppers your face with kisses as you squeal making him laugh. "Are you Tom Blyth?" One of the girls from the group calls out from behind us as we both look back then look at each other. "Busted," He says before he walks fast, his hand pulling you along as you follow him off the bridge.

~

The next morning, you woke up beside Tom, his arm haphazardly thrown across your waist. For some odd reason, you woke up with a weird feeling in your stomach, you just weren't sure why. "Morning," Tom groggily says as you cup his face and place a kiss on his forehead. "Morning," You reply back as a lazy smile makes it to his face.

"You're going to be wearing your locks today," You point out to your boyfriend as he brushes his teeth, your preparing everything you would need to put his wig on. "Great, I get to spend more time with you," He smiles, his toothbrush still in his mouth as you laugh at his cuteness.

When you finish up with his hair and slight makeup, you walk with him to the filming set as you still needed to be with him throughout the day, fixing his hair and makeup throughout the day.

Around lunch time, you felt a buzz from your phone as you see what is was. It was a message from your sister. You and Tom are trending all over tiktok rn. You screw up your eyebrows as you follow the link she sends. Straight away, you recognise the girl to the be the girl who called out to Tom.

You watch the tiktok as she explains how she saw the Tom and a mysterious woman walking on the bridge and how she saw him kissing you, and walking away quickly when she asked if it was him.

She also mentioned that she couldn't quite tell who the mysterious girl was that was locking lips with Tom due to the darkness and the fact that you were wearing a beanie.

You tap on the comment section and scroll through them. A few people immediately saying that it was you since there were already a few pictures released of the two of you together. You couldn't help but notice the hate comments aswell.

Tom always told you to ignore the comments but you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to know what they thought of it, even though it wasn't there business who Tom was dating. The comments stung.

They were the usual, 'she doesn't deserve him,' and the, 'he could do so much better' comments that stabbed you deep. Your mind lingered on it throughout the rest of the day. Tom could tell something was up when you were removing his hair and makeup.

You would usually conversate and laugh about the funny things that happened on set and whatnot, but this time, you were quiet, not really responding. "Darling," Tom grabs your forearm as you were packing up the desk.

"What's wrong? You've been acting strange all afternoon. If there's a problem, you know we can talk about it." He says softly as all you wanted to do was break down and stay in the comfort of his arms. "It's nothing, I'm just really exhausted. That's all," You try to smile, though it doesn't reach your eyes which Tom notices straight away, not buying your excuse.

"You sure?" He watches you as you quickly pack up everything as you smile at him and hum. Tom knew better than to push you and knew that you would tell him when you wanted to.

~

As the two of you did your usual walk around Berlin and buying random things, you were slightly on edge. Always on the lookout to see if there was anyone watching the two of you. You both decided to get some ice cream and waited outside the parlor.

Your head resting on his chest as he rubs circles on your back. Your eyes catch a glimpse of a group of girls walk your direction, whispering and giggling to each other. You instantly move so that Tom's frame was covering you as they walk by.

Tom looks down at you confused and then looks to the group that just walked by. "Y/n," He softly says to you as you don't respond, burying your face deeper in his jacket. "Y/n, please?" You sigh, turning your head to the side.

'"That girl that called out your name last night on the bridge made a tiktok about it and it's circulating around social media-" "Did you read the comments?" Tom blatantly asks.

"W-What?" You meet his eyes, "I said, did you read the comments?" He moves a strand of hair from your face as you sigh in defeat. "Ok- yeah- yeah I did. I couldn't help it!" You sniffle as hugs you tighter.

"Sweetheart, you know I how I don't like you reading those comments. They don't even know you and have absolutely no idea of how a beautiful girlfriend you are. I love you," He whispers as he kisses your forehead.

A single tear rolls down your cheek as he wipes it away. You go on your tippy toes and kiss him. His arm pulls you even closer to him by the waist to deepen the kiss. "I love you too" You whisper against his lips as you both smile.

tomblythupdates

Liked by tomblyth and 4,298,928 people

What did I tell you guys? Tom and Y/n are the cutest 😭 (edited: HE FREAKIN LIKED MY POST)

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user387: my parents <3

user19: the fact that she’s his hair and makeup artist!

user2984: GUYS GUYS GUYS HE LIKED THE POST AHHH

user102: I KNEW SMTH WAS UP WHEN THAT VIDEO OF HIM GETTING HIS HAIR AND MAKEUP DONE WAS RELEASED

[juleswritesstuff]

Holy hands, will they make me a sinner ?

You seem to have a little secret. Regulus figures you out immediately.

regulus black x fem!reader

warnings: smut

His voice brings you back from the apparent state of trance you had unconsciously fallen into. Blinking rapidly, you regain perception of the walls of your dorm room surrounding you and the myriad of books scattered across your bed.  You shift your gaze to his gray eyes and you find them already set on you.

“If you bore holes in them I won't be able to finish my essay, Y/n” 

“Pardon ?” your voice has a confused edge that almost makes him chuckle.

“My hands” he explains, his tone as neutral as ever “You were staring”

Your eyes go a little wide, like you had been caught stealing the last chocolate frog of the stash. You swallow, trying to compose yourself as best as you can.

“I was doing no such thing” you declare, a bit too solemn and defensive to be the truth.

Regulus pins you with an unimpressed look, his left brow arching just enough to tell you that he isn't buying any of your bullshit.

A defeated sigh leaves your lips. 

It is no use hiding something from Regulus Black. He will find out one way or another, and you got caught right with your hands in the jar.

“Ok, fine” you admit, lifting your shoulders to make it seem like the most casual thing ever “I was looking at your hands”

Regulus’ expression doesn't change, but the glint of amusement flashing in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed.

“More like ogling, I would say” even his tone has a playful bite to it.

You like this side of him. The Regulus who is able to relax a bit and let go when he is surrounded by the people he is comfortable with.

But carefree Regulus also means menace Regulus apparently.

“I wasn't ogling” you grumble, rolling your eyes “I was just admiring them” 

His eyebrows furrow.

“Why ?” he questions, intrigued.

Why, he has the courage to ask.

Well the answer is that Regulus Black has the prettiest, hottest, most gorgeous hands you have ever laid eyes on.

They are elegant, slender, the little veins underneath the pale skin gracing your eyes with their presence with every movement he makes, every flex of his muscles, producing a delicious design that hypnotizes you. 

They are smooth but decorated by light calluses, undoubtedly caused by Quidditch, that create a divine contrast with his otherwise untainted skin.

His fingers are long, lean, clad in silver rings that make your mouth water with how exquisitely sultry they make him look.

And suddenly, but not surprisingly, you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those hands on you, exploring every inch of your body, dancing on your skin like flames dance in the cold hair of the night. The cool metal of his rings being at odds with your scorching hot skin, making you hiss as his skilled fingers create a burning path over your body, traveling everywhere. Your legs, your thighs, your hips, chest, shoulders and stopping right at your neck, wrapping delicately, reverentially around it. Worshipping the sensitive skin, feeling the erratic pulse of your heart and-

“You’re doing it again” his words interrupt your spiraling for the second time that day, sounding dry and apathetic as always, but a hint of teasing twinkles in the otherwise coldness of his eyes.

You really hope Regulus didn't learn to cast a Legilimes in his free time, otherwise you were well and truly screwed.

“You have nice hands, that’s all” you manage to say without giving away all the less than pure thoughts flooding your mind in that moment. “From an artist point of view, obviously” you add, shrugging, trying to make everything less than obvious.

Which is both extremely annoying and criminally hot in your humble opinion.

Bringing up your passion for drawing is futile and you know it. You know he knows the drooling over his hands isn't for the sake of art. You can't fool Regulus Black, not even if you try to.

But pretending is the only thing you can do to not feel embarrassed, holding onto the hope that maybe he doesn’t have you all figured out.

“So you’re saying that your interest is purely artistic ?” he asks, cocking a brow as his head tilts slightly.

There’s something in his voice, in his eyes, that you can’t quite figure.

Your forehead scrunches in confusion.

“Yes, of course” you answer, trying to hide the stutter of your voice as best you can.

You are pretty sure he knows that you aren’t telling the truth, he somehow always knows. He reads you like an open book, and, for someone who doesn’t engage in showing his emotions too often, he is pretty damn good at reading the ones of others. 

So why that question ? You almost expected him to tell you to cut it out and get back to study because that essay isn’t gonna finish itself.

“Would you like to draw them ?” he offers.

This is new, unexpected. 

Interesting.

Your eyes go wide in surprise.

Wait.

What ?

You never brought up the suggestion either. He is a reserved guy and he loathes having eyes on him, so you figured he would’ve never accepted even if you did.

Never, in all the years you have known each other, had he offered to model for you. 

He knew about you having an interest in arts, he even saw a couple of your drawings and paintings and he often asked about them and how they were coming up, but he never asked to be in them.

That never stopped you from sketching him from afar, though. Those gorgeous features deserve to be portrayed.

But why the sudden proposition ?

You aren’t stupid. Regulus might know you like the back of his hand, but you could say the same about him. And this, whatever this might be, is not like him at all. 

Regulus never does anything for nothing, there is always an explanation, a reason to his every move. You think even his breaths are perfectly calculated.

But this time the why gets lost on you, and the harder you try to understand the less it all makes sense.

“I can see the gears in your brain twinsting and turning,” he says, calm and composed as ever.

He is sitting on your bed, the quill he was using to write his Charms paper now abandoned next to him. His back is perfectly straight, leaning on the headbord to support his weight. The raven strands of his hair create soft waves that frame his face in a delicate and enchanting way. His lips are stretched in a rare, playful smile, curling up slightly on the left side.

He is beautiful. Dangerously so.

“It’s just-” you are confused, there is no doubt about that, but most of all you are intrigued “You have never asked me before” you point out.

“I know” 

That’s his only answer. Simple, concise. Enigmatic. 

Just like him.

“So why now ?” 

The question escapes your lips before you can stop it. You can’t help it, curiosity is consuming you, and the possibility of learning a new part of him makes your skin tingle with excitement.

“Why not ?” he retorts “There is a first time for everything, right ? So why not now ?”

There is still that glint of something in his eyes. You don’t know what it is, you don’t think you would be able to give it a name even if you knew, but it's there, and it’s strong.

“I’ll get my supplies then” 

You slowly get up from the bed, feeling your heart in your throat in a mix of anticipation and nervousness, and you retrieve your album and a pencil.

When you sit back down you notice that the books have been neatly stacked in a small pile next to your bed and all the papers, previously scattered all over your sheets, are nowhere to be seen.

“Figured we might need the space” he says, like he read your mind.

“Thank you”, you give him a small smile before opening your album, turning the pages one by one, until you find a blank sheet, ready to be filled.

“Where do you need me ?” 

The way he utters those words with the utmost nonchalance, apparently unaware of the effect they have on you, nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

Everywhere, you think, before mentally smacking yourself.

You need to get a grip, for Merlin’s sake.

“Right there is fine,” you manage to say without your voice faltering “just angle your hands towards me, so the light is right”

He does as he is told, adjusting his position and moving his hands a bit to the right, veins in full display and rings shining under the warm rays of the sunset seeping through the window.

“That’s good” you state, your mouth suddenly dry.

He is a bit far, and the light doesn’t hit as perfectly as you had expected, but you’ll work with it. If squinting your eyes a bit is the price to maintain your mental sanity then so be it.

Then you start drawing. The only sound filling the room is the gentle scraping of your pencil as your eyes focus on the white sheet in front of you, your gaze shifting to his hands ever so often to take a peek at them, like you haven't learnt every detail by heart.

You can feel his eyes on you. You try not to focus on it, but the shivers those pools of the color of a summer storm send down your spine are difficult to ignore.

“You’re straining your eyes” he blurts out of the blue. And it’s not a question.

Observant as always.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, your gaze never leaving the paper “this distance is good for perspective” 

“But it’s a problem for the lighting”

Those words make you lift your head up, your brows knotted in a frown.

How does he-

“And what would you know about the lighting ?” you eye him suspiciously, a small grin curving your lips.

“I guess all your rambles about that muggle painter weren’t in vain” he says, and there’s a cheekiness in his tone that is completely new to you “Caravaggio, right ?”

Your grin turns into a full smile.

“Right,” you nod, your eyes widening a little “I can’t believe you actually remember”

“I remember a lot of things,” he remarks defensively.

“Only those important enough to you” the teasing in your voice is light, playful, as your pencil glides on the sheet swiftly, adding strokes and shadows here and there.

There’s a beat of silence.

One second. Two. Three. And then-

“Exactly”

Your hand halts every movement, freezing completely. You look up from your paper and you find his gaze already on you.

Suddenly you are lost. Your heart is beating so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually able to hear it.

The implications of that single word swirl in your brain, creating a hurracane of thoughts that almost gives you whiplash. 

He doesn’t give you the time to even think properly about what he may have just suggested, because he decides to speak again. 

“I can come closer if you need me to” his voice is lower, deeper, oozing with that same something he’s had in his eyes since he caught you staring at his heavenly hands.

You want to scream. You have no idea of what the hell is going on and it’s confusing the shit out of you.

You know he is asking for that forsaken drawing you still have in your lap, but it somehow doesn’t feel like it. The electricity in the room is so high it feels like an open cable sending sparks flying everywhere, setting the air on fire. 

The only coherent thought in your brain is a chorus of yes, please and nothing else.

So you cave.

“You can,” you manage to say, because the necessity to protect your sanity might be strong, but the need to have him close to you is apparently stronger “if you want to”

His gaze is so penetrating you feel it in your soul, consuming you from the inside out and setting your whole body ablaze.

It’s compelling, hypnotizing even. 

“This is not about what I want, Y/n”

Oh, the way those words leave his perfect lips, making shudders erupt all over your body should be studied. 

Your world shifts on its axes and it starts spinning ten times faster. Because he knows. 

He knows. 

“We're not talking about art anymore, are we ?” you ask, swallowing soundly as your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Were we ever talking about that in the first place ?” his question is rhetorical. He doesn’t need an answer because he already knows it. He figured you out, like he always does.

So what was the point in pretending anymore ?

“No,” you admit “I guess we weren't” your trambling hands move the paper out of the way.

There is a spark in his eyes. It’s foreign, thrilling even, and it makes your skin prickle in the best way.

Suddenly he moves. He shifts his weight forward, approaching you slowly. The veins in his arms and hands bulging from the pressure and knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.

“So tell me” he whispers, crawling to you bit by bit, like a hunter advancing towards his prey. He seems to be calm, poised, totally in control of his body as he comes closer and closer.

It’s his eyes that betray him. 

They have always been the window to his feelings, talking more than his mouth even did. And right now they are burning, engulfed by a heat that makes your legs weak and your heart roar. The realization hits you, a rush of adrenaline running through your veins.

They are hungry.

“Tell you what ?” you stutter, unable to regain a hold of yourself. You can’t breathe, your palms are sweaty, you feel hot all over and he is close, so damn close.

He stops right in front of you, mere inches between your faces and a tension so heavy you can cut it with a butter knife.

“What you want” the warmth of his breath delicately caresses your skin. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, his eyes following the movement intently almost making you squirm under his gaze.

“You seem to know what I want” you say breathlessly, your body heating up in response to his proximity. 

Those hands, protagonists of some of the filthiest dreams you’ve ever had, are right next to you. Close enough to graze the skin of your thighs with his knuckles, but never indulging in the act. Like he is teasing you, waiting for you to beg for it. You shift your gaze to them and you swallow hard, the need to feel them on you growing stronger every second that passes. 

You are about to fucking combust.

His silver eyes are still fixed on you, intense and magnetic, as they follow your line of sight.

“I won't move a muscle unless you tell me to, Y/n” 

Those words, mouthed so close to your lips and mixed with the low, velvet-like husk of his voice, make your legs clench and your stomach churn in the best way possible.

You can’t take it anymore.

You move forward, abandoning your position on the bed to place your legs on each side of his hips, almost straddling him. Your hands are on his shoulders, helping you to keep your balance, feeling the lean muscles underneath the shirt as you hover over him.

His head tilts up, eyes sharp and hot and glued to yours. You hear him suppress a hiss as your thighs brush his hips. His arms are still next to him, hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white.

He is restraining himself. From touching you. 

Your thoughts are clouded, your mind hazy and completely out of it. The only thing you want right now is for him to place those perfect fucking hands on you and never stop.

“Do it” your voice is so weak and breathy it’s a miracle he hears you.

“Do what” he mouths, so close to your lips it makes your head spin.

You’re needy, desperate even, but you don’t care. You don’t have time to think right now. You want to feel.

“Touch me” you beg.

“Where ?” he sounds just as gone as you are, and you finally crumble.

“Everywhere”

It’s nothing more than a whisper but it shakes the both of you like an earthquake. 

You meet in the middle, your lips colliding and completely knocking the breath out of you.

His mouth is sinful, greedy, chasing yours with a hunger that almost makes you melt on the spot. You get lost in the softness of it, in the ungodly brush of your tongues making you moan breathlessly. You bite and nibble and lick and he follows you, matching the languid pace just as eagerly, as your hands tangle in his hair, pulling at the black strands delicately. The low groan that escapes his throat sends goosebumps all over you.

You are so focused on the filthy dance of your mouths that you almost miss the agonizingly slow graze of his fingers on the exposed flesh of your legs, gently tracing a path on your thighs.

The metal of his rings meets the hotness of your skin and you hiss.

Oh, it’s just as delicious as you imagined.

“Ah- fuck” you pant, millimeters away from him. Your head feels light, dizzy. 

You feel like you’re dreaming, lost in your own fantasies.

But his hands running up and down your thighs feel too fucking good to be just a product of your imagination. They travel slowly, excruciatingly so, making you lose your mind with every new inch of skin they explore. 

Until they sneak under your skirt, reaching your hips to gently knead the supple skin, applying enough force to bring you forward.

“Sit” It feels more like a plea than an order but-

Holy shit.

A gasp escapes your mouth before you can stop it.

Every cell of your body threatens to explode as he pushes your weight on him all the way, making you straddlle him completely.

“Fucking finally” he curses, more to himself than to you, like he has been waiting for this moment his whole life.

His eyes are dark, fogged up by lust and need, and it's the lewdest thing you have ever witnessed.

“I have never seen you like this” you whisper directly on his lips, nibbling on the plush flesh.

He smirks, smirks for Salazar's sake, as his fingers move, reprising their mission to make you lose every ounce of control.

“It seems you were busy looking at something else”

His thumbs rub the skin of your inner thigh in a hypnotizing manner, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

You whimper as they get closer and closer to your core, your grip on the junction between his neck and shoulder tightening in pleasure.

But he must take it as some sort of sign of discomfort because he halts suddenly.

“Want me to stop ?” he asks, his eyes searching for yours, the veiled concern in them making your heart stutter.

“Don’t you even dare” you say, a mere breath away from him before you dive in, capturing his mouth again.

It's messy and dirty and you get addicted to his taste way too quickly.

His hands move up, massaging your skin at every caress of your tongues, until they reach the hem of your panties.

He moves away from your lips for a quick moment, and he looks at you.

The silent ‘Can I ?’ written in his eyes almost makes you swoon.

You nod your head.

“I need words, chérie” he whispers sensually.

The combination of his right hand so close to your most sensitive spot, his left one traveling up to your hip, holding it tightly, posessivly, and that fucking pet name almost make you cum on the spot.

“Yes” you practically beg.

Only then he resprises his journey of exquisit torture along your body.

“Shit-” you quiver as he kisses your neck, branding the sensitive skin with his lips and teeth. His hands move, fingers skilled and sinful as they reach your heat.

You mewl as they make contact with the light material of your underwear.

“Jesus Christ” hs hisses a groan “you’re soaked”

A series of choked out whimpers leaves your lips as he strokes his fingers over your panties, feeling your wetness through the fabric.

“Fuck- Reg” a moan ripples from your lips when his thumb brushes your clit tentativley, making you gasp. Your hands fly to his hair, lightly pulling the soft strands with trembling fingers.

“Look at you, all horny and needy over my hands” his voice is tantalizing but you can hear the breathlessness, the strain in it. He is affected by this just as much as you are and it makes you go almost feral.

“Please” you breathe. You don’t even know what you’re begging for. Your mind is too hazy, too fogged up by lust and need to have a single coherent thought in it.

But he sure does know, because his digits move your panties to the side, just enough to glide over your slickness, making contact with the tender skin of your folds and spreading your wetness all over.

Finally, finally the hands consuming your every thought are on you, right where you had craved and imagined them the most.

You arch your back in ecstasy, biting your lip.

And it’s when his middle finger eases inside of you, slowly breaching your velvety walls, that you lose it completely.

The air gets knocked out of your lungs, liquid fire engulfs every cell of your body, every nerve and muscle consumed by pleasure.

“Regulus-” it’s the only thing you manage to mewl as he slides in and out of you in a rhythm so sensual and sultry it makes you melt. The cold metal of his ring meets the warm, sensitive skin of your cunt with every prod, creating a delicious contrast.

You never break eye contact, your gazes locked together drinking in every little detail, every wave of bliss swimming in them.

“Is this what you fantasized about, love ?” he pants right on your lips “All the times I caught you staring, is this what you were imagining my hands doing ? Fucking you senseless, feeling how tight and needy you are ?”

His words are as dirty as his eyes as he slides another finger into you, making you inhale sharply and stretching you out so good you could almost cry. 

“Ohmygod” you moan as your hips start moving to their own accord, meeting the prodding of his fingers eagerly, riding his hand like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

“But this is not the only fantasy you have, right chérie ?” he asks, going faster, harder, pumping mercilessly and leaving you a blubbering mess.

His left hand leaves its place on your hip and moves up, grazing the soft skin of your stomach, the supple and tender flesh of your breasts, the natural dip of your collarbones, worshipping every inch of your skin in their path, until they reach their goal.

“I bet you thought about this too, didn't you ?” 

You were always sure this would remain just one of your daydreams, the kind of dirty thought that should remain in your mind and nowhere else. But Regulus Black was Regulus Black and reading you was one of his favorite hobbies.

It still comes as a surprise, though, when he delicately wraps his hand around your throat, resting it there, feeling every pulse of your heart, every pump of your blood and adorning your neck with the prettiest fucking necklace you could ever ask for.

“Yes” it’s nothing more than a breath, but it sends him into a frenzy. His right thumb rubs your clit relentlessly, adding to the unforgiving pace of his fingers sliding in and out of you with lewd, wet squelches. The whimpers coming out of your mouth are raw, filthy and downright pornographic as you feel your orgasm approaching.

Your head is in the clouds, a hundred thousands miles from earth as the only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his hands on you, fucking you to your release as the one on your neck squeezes the faintest bit, enough to almost send you over the edge.

His left thumb leaves its place right above your jugular, moving upwards to caress your jawline, your cheek and, lastly, your lips.

You can feel the digit caressing the red, bitten flesh, brushing it with reverence, worshiping it with his whole being. His heated gaze is bewitched, entranced by your mouth parting, welcoming him past your lips, and lightly grazing the pad with your teeth, before enveloping it wholly, letting him feed you the taste of his finger.

“Bloody fucking hell, Y/n” he rasps, voice low and dangerously close to pleading as you suck on his thumb like it's the tastiest treat you have ever put in your mouth.

The hand on your cunt speeds its pace, pounding in and out of you like a fucking machine, the vibrations on your little bundle of nerves getting more intense by the second, sending you over the edge in a mess of moans and whimpers.

“Reg, fuck, I'm-”

You reach your release with his name on your lips, back arched and hips rolling to help you ride your orgasm on those unholy fingers of his. 

Your vision is blurred, your brain fuzzy and overwhelmed by bliss as you slowly come back to your senses.

It takes you a few seconds to regain control of your body and mind, but when you do you are graced with a vision you are sure you will never forget.

The ever composed and collected Regulus Black is right in front of you with his expression contorted in pure lust, eyes bleary and unfocused, hair tousled by your hands relentlessly stroking them, lips red and glossy from the heated kisses, tie loose, crooked and shirt crumpled.

He is a mess.

The hottest mess you have ever seen.

You're still not fully out of your head space when he speaks again.

“You're loud” he grins, his tone teasing but still a little raspy.

“You're filthy” you bite back weakly, your voice hoarse and strained. 

“Maybe” he says “but I think I'm not the only one” 

The fingers that have been inside of you not even a moment ago are now in front of you, coated and glistening with your essence.

He slowly brings them closer to your mouth, and you don't even think twice before eagerly welcoming them inside it.

The taste of yourself mixes with the metallic tinge of his rings as you suck leisurely, restraining a moan before he takes them out with a wet pop.

“Sale fille” he groans in french, lowly and right on your parted lips, before he dives in an alluring kiss. (Dirty girl)

It's slower than all the others you shared, but it's deeper, sensual and it almost gets you worked up all over again.

His tongue meets yours in a erotic dance and when the taste of your very essence coats his tastebuds a moan rumbles in his throat.

“You're sweet” he murmurs, nibbling on your lower lip gently.

“Want me to find out if you're sweet, too ?” You offer with a teasing smile on your lips . His hands might be your biggest fantasy, but they sure as hell are not the only part of him you fantasize about.

“Eager, are we ?” he questions playfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “Not today, chérie”

The little pet name creates butterflies in your stomach and makes your cheeks warm, but doesn't hide your disappointment. 

“Why ?” you ask, your hands going to fiddle with his tie.

“As I told you, this is not about what I want” he explains, his arms circling you in a loose hug “and I don't know if you noticed, but it's pretty late”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, and only then you realize that the sun has already set and the room would be totally surrounded by darkness if it wasn't for the few magic candles lighting up automatically when twilight hits.

Your eyes widen.

“How long have we been here for ?” your voice has a panicked hint to it, making Regulus laugh.

“I'm pretty sure dinner is getting served right now” he says nonchalantly, like it's the most normal thing ever to engage in sexual activities with your best friend and miss supper because of it.

“Which might be for the best,” he adds.

“Why ?” you ask in genuine confusion.

“Because I’m the only one lucky enough to hear your dirty little sounds” he says with a shit-eating grin before kissing you again.

Thank you for reading 💖

[ohnoitstbskyen]

So, considering what's going on with Riot right now, do you think Arcane Season 2 got caught up in all of this restructuring?

Yes and no. Arcane season 2 is part of the reason for the restructuring.

As I understand it, internally at Riot, after Arcane was a huge (and more importantly: prestigious!) success, the decision was made to basically hand the entirety of the game's lore and story over to the Entertainment division within Riot. These are the people in large part responsible for projects like Arcane, K/DA, Heartsteel, that animated series China got, all that sort of thing.

The writers at Riot were basically told to flat out stop producing new content and lore for the game - that's why there's BEEN no new story content for League for over a year - because everything was going to be consolidated under the Entertainment division from now on. This is why Riot started talking about "One Runeterra" and "Arcane is going to be canon" and so on.

The success of Arcane convinced executives that what League of Legends needs is a singular cohesive brand with its most successful public property leading the charge, Arcane is going to be the gateway drug, the hook on the end of the line that brings new players and new paying customers into the exciting world of the League of Legends multimedia IP universe!

Nevermind that Arcane's story and worldbuilding is fundamentally incompatible with >checks notes< the overwhelming majority of Runeterra as it exists and enormous compromises would have to be made to either the world of Runeterra or Arcane itself to make it work. Arcane is the big shiny prestigious mainstream Emmy-award winning project that every executive wants to put their name next to, and like companies Pivoting To Video in 2015 because Facebook showed them inflated viewership stats, Riot Games is Pivoting To Arcane. It's better than them pivoting to crypto and NFTs, at least, although I know for a fact that high ranking people at Riot tried to make that happen too.

Now, the primary cause for all of these games industry layoffs is that interest rates aren't zero anymore. Borrowing money isn't free, the curve of constant growth has ever so slightly slowed, taking on debt is becoming a little tiny bit more risky than it was previously, and corporations are responding to this with massive rounds of layoffs and constriction to show "financial responsibility" and prove to shareholders that they are prioritizing core growth strategies and blah blah blah etc. They're also trying to kneecap the growing labor movement in the games industry and exert downwards pressure on wages, but the interest rates seem to have been the main thing.

In Riot's particular case, a secondary reason is they want to pivot the focus of the company to support their One Runeterra pipe dream, so a lot of the people who got fired at Riot are writers, artists, creative leads and sometimes extremely senior and successful staff who are now surplus to requirements. This is also why Riot shut down Riot Forge in the same round of layoffs - can't have a bunch of talented indie devs going off making video games that don't adhere to the new One Runeterra policy. What if someone played Mageseeker and got confused how there can be mages all over Demacia but somehow there are no mages in Arcane's Piltover and Zaun. That's a plot hole! People write snarky articles about that sort of thing. It turns off new consumers! What if Cinema Sins makes a video making fun of it?!?

So yeah. A bunch of cocaine-addled fame hungry executive vultures at Riot are absolutely gagging on their own d*cks to put their name next to Arcane related projects, and since they were going to be screwing hundreds of people out of their careers, healthcare, and in some cases their fucking visa status anyway, it seems to have presented a nice opportunity to clear the board for their latest Visionary Scheme for the company IP.

That is as I understand the situation, anyway. I'm a bitter old man and most of what I hear is second hand and anonymous gossip through my social networks, take what I say with a grain of salt, but I've followed this company for (oh god) twelve years now and I have developed a tragically keen understanding of how its executive class operates.

[nickfowlerrr]

Bellllaaaaa hiiii:)

I’m hooked on biker/bartender bucky(even tattoo artist bucky) with fucking Tats right now and I’d totally love if you could maybe write him and chubby/plus sized reader having a flirty relationship, maybe they’re like a fling or something. She works at his bar/tattoo shop, whichever au you pick, and they’re just fucking flirty and so naughty together lol

Smut is always welcomed!!

Thank u bby in advance<3 mwahhh🥺💋

about how it started..

pairing: bartender!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. pining. flirting. smut. a little tiny hint of voyeurism/exhibitionism. if i’m missing something pls lmk!

words: 3.1k

notes: thank you, mickey, for sending this and sorry it took so long! i kind of wanted to incorporate more mention of his tattoos but i felt like i kept screwing it up so i kept it very vague - i’m sorry. but i hope you like this! i really love the idea and i’d love to do more with them in the future, too (including more of his tattoos too 🥴), so thank you, thank you, thank you!! 🥰

also this gif isn’t necessarily the bucky i was picturing but the visible tattoo feels right so whatever 😌

i hope you guys enjoy this! thank you in advance for reading and reblogging. as always, feedback and comments are always welcome and so appreciated! 🖤

You know you should be checking tables right now. You know. But goddamn if you can’t take your eyes off of the brawny, blue eyed, six foot something beauty that is Bucky Barnes.

You’re leaning against the far end of the bar, eyes fixed on him with no plans of trailing anywhere else.

He’s making another Sex on the Beach for the less than subtle, leggy, bleach blonde who’s been fawning over him since she got here. When she and the other college girls showed up, seeming to have already been pregaming, you knew tonight wouldn’t be uneventful.

You could obsess over the fact that the twenty one year old, who looked like she stepped right off a runway, was currently pushing her chest out and twirling her perfectly styled hair as she continued rambling on and on to Bucky, but his disinterest was clear to you as he kept a polite smile and entertained her as he finished the drink.

That, and because you had no right or reason to obsess over who was flirting with him and when.

Right?

You pushed the thoughts away as you admired Bucky’s profile. The way some of his hair had fallen out of his bun and hung around his perfectly sculpted face. How his brilliantly blue eyes shone still through the dark strands. And god did you envy his perfectly shaped nose. Your eyes fell to his lips as he smiled at something the girl said, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care, you were so caught up in the beauty of it. He gave her the drink before he tucked the loose hair behind his ears.

You watched as the girl held out a twenty with a sultry smile and a wink before Bucky took it with a small laugh as she sauntered off back to her friends.

He put it in the cash box and then pushed up his sleeves as he took the time to count out how much the bar had made so far tonight.

You swear your mouth went dry as his tattoos were on display now. The dark ink that told story after story lining his forearm, and though you couldn’t see them right now, led all the way up his strong arm only added to the endless list of things that made him attractive. The artwork was mesmerizing. Just like him.

“You just gonna stare at me your whole shift, sweetheart?” he says to you without looking over, a smirk playing on his lips.

You take in a breath before pushing off the bar and walk over to meet him where he stands.

“Who says I was staring at you?” you question and lean over just slightly to glance at Torres who was pouring shots at the other end of the bar.

Bucky turns to follow your gaze and gives a laugh when he sees who you’re referring to.

“You and Torres, huh?” he plays along, smirk never faltering. He finishes his count and tucks the box back under the bar before he turns fully to you, blocking your view of the younger man completely, not that you cared.

Bucky walks into you, backing you up until you’re forced into the dead corner of the bar. You nearly stop breathing when he leans into you, his cologne invading your senses, his warmth surrounding you as he keeps you trapped between him and the bar, his thick arms on either side of you. Your lips part on an inaudible gasp when his lips brush against your ear.

“He know I was guts deep inside you last night? How you were screaming my name, begging me not to pull out? So fuckin’ desperate to be full‘a me,” he reminds you as his hands find your waist and he squeezes your softness before pulling you flush against him and letting his hands slide down to your ass. “How many times did you come again? I think I lost count,” he taunts as he leans over you and gropes you shamelessly.

You can see out past his shoulder as he nearly nuzzles into your neck, your eyes growing heavy with desire as your lips stay parted in heated awe.

Your eyes meet the blonde Bucky had just served as she looks on in a bit of a stupor before blinking and turning away with a hint of a blush warming her cheeks.

“Watch it, Barnes. You’re gonna lose out on tips if you’re not careful,” you warn playfully, if not a bit breathily.

When he starts kissing your neck, your knees become unsteady as a warmth starts to grow in your tummy.. and lower. Your hands latch onto the front of his shirt in an effort to stay steady.

You’ve noticed he’s been getting more brazen every day, more teasing and touching when he knows full well people can see, and the fact that he really doesn’t seem to care sparks a bit of hope that maybe this could grow into something more than what it started as.

But as Bucky nips and then gently kisses your pulse point, all thoughts fly right out the window as your main focus is solely on not melting into a puddle right then and there.

“Don’t care,” he says against your delicate skin, placing another kiss to your neck before you push him back just slightly. “What?” he asks as a half smile adorns his face when he stands up straight again, looking down at you.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish right now,” you say as you hold his smoldering gaze.

“You think I won’t fuck you right now?” he challenges, his seriousness sending a thrill up your spine.

You let out a nervous, disbelieving laugh as you push him to turn around. “I think you have some patrons waiting for your attention,” you say, ignoring the desire burning deep within at his words.

He sucks his teeth as he walks back over to the lively area of the bar, but not before eyeing you with a look that promises he isn’t done with you tonight.

You watch him back before spinning around and coming out from behind the bar to start checking tables.

—

You’re leaning over a newly emptied table close to the bar when you feel his heavy gaze on you.

The low cut scoop neck of your top already offered a generous view of your cleavage, but as you’re leaning over to wipe the table down, you’re sure he can see right down your shirt. You hide your smirk as you walk around the table and make a show of leaning over once more, your tight black skirt that hugs your tummy riding up your thick thighs as you do. You’d forgone underwear under your opaque black tights and wonder for a second how much he can see as you bend further over the table.

You don’t have much time to wonder as suddenly Bucky is right up behind you. You stand up against him, your ass brushing against his crotch. His hands are on your skirt as he adjusts it back down for you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, voice low and husky.

“Cleaning a table,” you answer innocently as you stay where you are, enjoying the feeling of his large hands on your wide hips and his solid chest at your back.

“Yeah? Cuz from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re purposely being a little tease.”

“Me?” you say in faux offense, turning to face him. “I’d never. Just doing my job, boss.”

He pushes you back against the table just slightly, “So, you’re telling me you haven’t been thinking about how hot it’d be if I came up behind you, ripped your tights open and fucked you stupid right here on this table?”

You swallow hard as you feel yourself growing wet at the scene that plays out in your mind. The bar is near empty as you’re both getting ready to close up but the idea of Bucky taking you right here and now, onlookers be damned, has heat creeping up your skin.

“Say I have. What are you gonna do about it?” you whisper wantonly, eyes swimming with lust.

A sinful growl escapes him as he presses himself closer to you. You can feel his growing bulge against you and it takes everything in you to not let out the whimper that threatens to slip past your lips.

Joaquin left twenty minutes ago after him and Bucky served last call, so it’s just you two and the lingerers who are slowly making their way out.

“What am I gonna do about it?” he repeats as his hand comes up to hold your chin. He leans down, face to face with you as he continues headily, never taking his eyes off yours, “I’m gonna fuck you stupid. Right here. On this table,” he breathes each sentence before he finally takes your lips in his. It’s gentler than you expect as your eyes flutter shut and the sound of the entrance door closing behind the last patron signals that you’re alone now.

You sigh into his mouth before you pull him closer, the kiss growing more heated with each moment that passes.

You let Bucky ruck up your skirt as your hands fumble with his belt before you start working on his button and zipper. You stop him for just a second, grabbing his hand, “You rip ‘em, you buy ‘em,” you tell him, earning a grin from him.

“Deal,” he says before easily tearing your tights and turning you around, forcing you down against the table.

“No underwear, huh?” he taunts as he rips your tights even more, his thick fingers wasting no time in playing with your wetness on full display for him.

Your legs are spread as you moan at the delightful feeling of his fingers pushing into your sex, opening you up for him as he scissors his fingers inside your tight heat before curling them the way he knows you like.

“Fuck, Bucky, please,” you whine as you clutch onto the table, pushing your hips backs and trying to fuck yourself on his hand.

“Jesus, fuck, you’re perfect,” he swears before landing a stinging slap to your ass and pulling his fingers out. He quickly tugs down his jeans and frees himself from his boxers, his erection hot, heavy, and throbbing.

“Make me so fuckin’ hard, you know that?”

You only mewl in response as he runs the head of his cock through your folds, teasing you. He doesn’t have as much patience as he normally does, though. He’s been thinking of you nonstop since you left his apartment this morning. Been wanting you close again from the second you left his bed.

He knows this was just supposed to be a fun fling, but from the first time he kissed you, he knew he was done for. He knew he’d only want more.

And he was right.

He wanted all of it with you, not just sex. He wanted to spend his days cuddling you in his bed, watching movies, talking about nothing; hell, he even had to stop himself from texting you the other day to see if you were busy when he had to go get groceries because he wanted your company.

He was hooked on you completely.

But this “fling” was your idea and he didn’t want to run you off with the idea of commitment so soon. So for now, this would have to do. And who was he to complain about the nights he got to spend flirting with you, teasing you, taking you apart only to put you back together in his arms come morning.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as the head of his cock catches along your slick entrance, a hiss emanating from him as you gasp at the feeling.

He slowly lets himself push in, deeper and deeper until his hips are flush against your ass and he’s filling you completely.

Your soft moans urge him on as he begins to fuck you, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass filling the quiet of the empty bar. As he starts to thrust harder, the squelching noises of your fucking grow louder and louder as you moan without care, your hips hitting the edge of the table over and over with his every thrust.

His hands frame your waist as he holds you tight, rutting ever deeper inside of you, his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly as you whine and gasp in pure pleasure, the coil in your belly tightening with each glide of his cock along your walls and every nudge against your g-spot. Bucky slips a hand down and finds your puffy clit, circling it as he feels you getting closer, your walls squeezing him tighter and tighter.

Your toes are curling in your shoes as your feet arch and slip against the floor when the muscles in your legs and core tighten and strain as your walls clench down on his thick cock and your orgasm hits you hard.

In the same instance, Bucky growls as the swinging of the entrance door sounds. You don’t even bother to look up as you’re lost in the euphoria of your high.

“We’re closed,” Bucky barks, his hips never faltering as he continues to fuck you while your eyes screw shut in overwhelming pleasure.

You vaguely hear a fumbling apology and the door closing once more as Bucky buries himself inside of you, leaning over your bent body and rutting into you as his groans and moans tumble heavily from his lips. With one more thrust, you sigh breathily as you feel him spill inside of you.

The weight of his body on top of yours is a comfort you can’t help but revel in as he holds you still and gets all of his release out, your velvety walls milking his cock as he fills you with his hot come.

He’s breathing heavily as he comes down from his orgasm and gently pulls his cock out of you. You instinctively press your legs together, your thick thighs making it easy. You push yourself up off the table after a moment and turn around, fixing your skirt as you do.

“Fuck,” you breathe under your breath happily. “Maybe lock the door next time?” you suggest playfully, “Or, at least turn the ‘OPEN’ light off.”

“Next time?” Bucky says with a raised brow and a smirk as he fixes his pants. “You like getting fucked in the bar that much?”

“Well, you did say something about fucking me stupid.. And not that that was bad at all, but, I’m not feeling very stupid right now.”

He licks his lips as he takes you in, taking your hands in his and tugging you close. “Why don’t you come home with me and I’ll get you there,” he says smoothly.

“That’d make it three nights in a row,” you say, a little unsure. “You sure you wanna risk it? I might not wanna leave.”

“I might not want you to,” he says, surprising you by how soft and sincere his voice is.

You meet his eye and swear you could drown in the glimmering blues as he smiles that schoolboy smile. You let out a shaky, nervous laugh.

“You fallin’ for me, Barnes?” you tease playfully - just a hint of hope laced in your tone.

He surprises you again as he takes hold of your chin, peering deep into your eyes, before he brushes his nose against your, his lips inches away from your own as you breath each other in for a second.

And then he kisses you.

Soft, yet firm and as you lose yourself in it, a deep yearning for Bucky that you’ve kept down from day one rears her head once more.

You part for a second to breathe before you crash your lips into his again, pulling him closer to you by the front of his shirt.

Your tongues glide against one another as he slips his in expertly before kissing you deeply.

He lets his forehead fall to yours as he parts from you.

You're breathless as he wears a nervous smile you’ve never seen on him before.

“Say I have. What are you gonna do about it?” he repeats your earlier taunt, trying to hide his anxiousness as he waits for you to respond.

You suck your lip as you consider him, biting back the smile threatening to take over your face.

“I’d tell you that, maybe, I’ve fallen for you, too,” you admit shyly, looking up to see his cocksure smile back in full force, just the way it always is.

“Then I’d tell you to take me back to your apartment,” you say, leaning into him for another sultry kiss. “So you can fuck me stupid,” you breathe against his lips, “as many times as you want.”

You nearly squeal as you're taken off your feet in the next second, Bucky’s strong arms holding you securely as you wrap your own around him.

“That I will happily comply with,” he says, kissing you hotly as you smile into it. You pull away just slightly to speak.

“We didn’t finish closing,” you laugh.

“Don't care,” he says, kissing you again as he easily walks to the bar, holding you with surprising ease that you aren’t sure you’ll ever get used to before he sets you down. “We can do it tomorrow,” he excuses, grabbing his keys from behind the bar and flicking the lights out. You grab your jacket and bag from the shelf you kept them on and follow behind Bucky as he locks the doors, escorting you out and to his car.

Before you get there, he turns on you, both of you stopping in your spots.

“We really doing this?” he asks, wanting to make sure this is really what you want, too.

You smile and nod.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

He lets himself smile in return.

“So I can call you mine, now?” he asks, grabbing your hand, pulling you to him.

“I’d be good with that.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“You sure? Cuz once we make this official, I’m gonna let everyone know. I might never shut up about it.”

You can’t help but laugh at how excited and proud he sounds. “I think I’m okay with that,” you smile up at him, meeting his lips in another kiss before he leads you to the car and opens the door for you to get in.

You know you’re okay with that. It’s what you’d been hoping for from the first time you’d kissed, for this to lead to something real, something more. Now here you were.

He wanted to officially call you his, and Bucky was finally, truly yours.

[delirious-donna]

tw: narumi x reader, possessive gen, unwanted attention, drunk stranger, wet cat boy narumi, unprotected sex, cute little cat cafe date

Narumi wasn’t entirely sure what had come over him when he had volunteered to take on the extra mission, despite it being his well-earned day off. Eiji had sworn it would be a cakewalk, in and out in less than an hour, he’d said. It wasn’t even a Kaiju level threat, just some low-level grunts that he could smack around to boost his popularity. A silly mistake… 

Six hours later and he was hurriedly showering to rid himself of the ick that clung to his skin and hair like some kind of glue. He ground down on his molars as he imagined your sweet little face, sad and searching for him. It might be the middle of high summer, but his mind conjured a picture of you shivering in a cold wind at his absence. 

His clothes flew from the dresser, tugging on jeans and shirt whilst running his fingers through the mess of bi-coloured hair to bring into some semblance of artistic mess rather than looking like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. Narumi gave one last half-hearted glance in the mirror, damn near whining when he wasn’t quite perfect with his appearance, but the tick of his watch forced him to propel out the door despite it.  

You were due to meet outside a new cat café that had not long opened in the prefecture, a treat that he was excited to indulge you in. It was only a ten-minute walk from the gate of the base, but he was already running late. His pace quickened as he turned the corner before skidding to a halt when he saw you waiting for him outside the café. 

You really had gone all out with the cat-themed clothing, all you were missing was a tail and that thought alone might have been arousing had he not been glaring at a man invading your personal space. It was only late afternoon, but the man smelled strongly of sake. His steps were unstable, and although you presented a strong façade, Gen could sense you were terrified.  

Your hand tightened around the keys in your pocket, sliding the metal between your fingers just in case. The man was just some down on his luck drunk, not a real threat but it was better to be safe than sorry. He had spotted you whilst you waited for your boyfriend to appear and taken an immediate interest in your attire. It was only now that you decided that it might have been best to wait until you got inside to don your fluffy ears, an accessory especially picked for your favourite kitty boy. If only he knew who might appear at any moment, of the danger he would likely be in if Narumi was to see his display of unwanted attention. 

He was getting too close, with every step back you took, they matched it, and you felt a nervous whimper build in your throat when his hand reached out towards you. 

“Will you purr if I tickle you behind the ear?” he slurred, gesturing towards the cat ears sat atop your head. 

Your eyes screwed shut but the touch never landed. Instead, a cracking noise followed by a pathetic scream split the otherwise silence of the street. Peeking through your fingers, Gen stared back with an impenetrable expression on his handsome face. 

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. No amount of good publicity was worth putting you in danger,” he whispered the last part ominously, regret evident in his striking vermillion eyes. 

Listening to your instincts, you launched into his arms, trusting him to catch you. The prolific Captain did one better, bracing your weight without giving an inch of ground, securing his arms around your body and squeezing tight. You thought he might have been smelling your hair as you laughed out your gratitude. 

“Oh, Gen… you’re my knight in shining armour!” 

Narumi downright blushed and it was adorable, the pink hue warming his cheeks and the tips of his ears looked hot beneath his bangs. For a time, he simply held you, his large palms full of the roundness of your backside and your nose nudging happily against his. At last, he cleared his throat. 

“Uh… I mean—shall we?” 

~  

The cat cafe was a complete success; however, Gen was flooded with filthy wanton thoughts and images throughout the entire session. The cats were cute as heck, but not nearly as cute as you were. He had watched you use the cat toys dotted around for customers to interact with the playful felines, thinking continually of how you might mewl and purr for him if he were to play with your— 

Oh, he was torturing himself with these ideas. Images of you stretched out on his bed in nothing but those dainty little cat ears and maybe a fun little cat tail plug? If you were for it… he wondered how he would even broach the subject, his clothes feeling hotter and more suffocating the longer he mused.  

It was a good thing that your perceptive skills were far more honed than his. It wasn’t difficult to sense the wayward direction of the Captain’s mind, sinful tendrils of energy leaking from him, without his realisation, to wrap around your limbs and caress your skin. To say you didn’t like it would be a bald-faced lie. 

And that was how you came to find yourself mewling for him in the dark of his room. The loss of your sight only heightening your other senses as your boyfriend lost himself in your tight cunt and whispered delicious fantasies against the sensitive inside of your thighs. 

His hand groped for your exposed tits, the swell of them pressed up from the tight hold of the blouse that had been opened just enough to bare you to the cool air and his earlier hungry mouth. The long languid strokes of his tongue along the length of your sopping slit were enough to make you grind against his face in earnest. 

“Such a needy little kitten. You gonna purr for me?” he smirked up at you from beneath dark lashes, silver hair messy from how harshly you had tugged and twisted on the strands. 

His crooked almost non-existent smile flashed in the dark room before he suckled your clit between his lips again, drinking in your moans like they were his lifeline. 

“Need more,” you begged, fixing your lopsided cat ears and trying valiantly to coax Narumi into fucking you dumb. Your hips rolled, practically rutting yourself against him and the lust-blown pupils spoke of how affected he was by your actions. 

Your stomach pressed against the mattress when he flipped you over without warning, hands grasping your hips to raise your ass. The blunt, fat head of his cock teased your folds before catching against your fluttering hole. 

He sank in on a low groan, making you see stars as he bottomed out in one long stroke. A hand gripped the back of your neck, pressing your cheek into the pillow. The position meant you could only just see the feral expression on your lover’s face as he hissed like an angry cat. 

“You’re mine!” 

[lenavonschweetz]

Hunter Insert

Dean Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: You really didn’t mean to, but somehow you’d stumbled upon something called Tumblr - and in turn fanfiction. You may or may not get addicted to reader inserts featuring your favorite teammate. You may or may not get caught.

Warnings: Smut, second-hand embarrassment, adorable Dean, fanfiction cliches, fanfiction cliches turned on their heads, fluffy smut.  It’s ok (and quite adorable, honestly) to laugh during sexytimes.

A/N: This is just a reworking of one of my most popular Bucky x reader fics!  Tweaked for the Supernatural world and storyline. No Beta, so be kind!

You’d had a thing for Dean Winchester for longer than you could remember.

It probably all started when you met Sam Winchester at school.  The tall goober took to you immediately.  Your calming presence and warm smile lured him in and you became fast friends, giving Sam a bond he hadn’t felt in a long time.  You were the only one he trusted enough to tell the truth about his family and their business.  He spoke of his older brother with bucket loads of admiration, though he would never admit it to the man in question.  When he told stories of their shenanigans back in the day, his eyes would light up but then his smile would fall just as quickly when he also recalled his father.  You fell in love with the idea of a man glorious enough to make even displaced, ‘unwanted’ (his words, not yours), and jaded Sam smile like the kid he never got to be.

They say reality never lives up to the stories, but lord almighty were they wrong.

You first met Dean when the business of his dad’s disappearance was in full swing.  A regular weekly movie night at Sam and Jessica’s place having turned tense when an unknown figure had broken in.  You remember your eyes had wandered to his dark figure, speaking to Sam in hushed tones, head reeling as you realized this was the man who haunted your dreams. The infamous older brother and monster hunter, Dean Winchester.

You hadn’t believed in love at first sight, but the way his impossibly hazel eyes made your heart clench… Well, there was no denying this is exactly what was happening.  

After Jessica had died you sat out the first leg of their search for their father, wanting to let them catch up.  It wasn’t until after their father was long dead, and the apocalypse was well on its way that you joined back in - or rather, were dragged back in.  Being the only woman currently in Sam’s life - though platonically, of course - the universe seemed to have it out for you and after having to save you from demons at least twice, the brothers claimed teaching you how to defend yourself and dragging you along with them would be safer than leaving you to whatever fate there was to be had.  You even became an incredibly capable hunter.  Though this was all after Sam had effectively ended the world with a demon lover who screwed him over, Dean died then came back thanks to the help of an angel - Castiel - who joined in your asinine little game, and the apocalypse really started.  Because life with the Winchesters was never simple.

And through all your years together, there was always the looming reality - or rather, fantasy - of the Supernatural books by Chuck Shurley.

At first, the fans were harmless.  There was the convention incident where reality and fantasy got a little too close, but Chuck assured you he was going to stop writing the books.  

He lied, obviously.

Still, the fandom was mostly benign - and rather small, actually, with only some fanatics here and there. Although perhaps your favorite attention to come from the ‘fame’ was from Tumblr.

Folks from all over the world posted about the boys - or rather their ‘fictional’ counterparts. Artists’ work would pop up from time to time, usually of the boys, but yours were there - even if they were pretty scarce. 

The art was amazing.  Some funny comics, some lewd drawings, some gorgeous renders - all talent.  But somehow, from Chuck’s descriptions of you and the boys, these artists rendered the most flattering, wonderful, and accurate works.  It was incredibly humbling and awe-inspiring all at once.  It even got you to start reading the books!

And you couldn’t blame them for the way the brothers were almost always shirtless or naked. They were like Greek statues, for God sake!

Your character was pretty popular, up until Chuck’s latest book where he started hinting at your little crush on the older brother.  Thank God the boys never read them, or you’d be in deep shit.

Some users sided with you “she’s only human! And he is just so…well, look at him!” Lewd pictures were attached to that post.  Others condemned you. “Seriously? How could he ever notice someone like her? #DeanDeservesBetter” “What’s Chuck thinking?”, “Worst.  Ship. EVER!”

Those stung, you’d admit. But if growing up in the 21st century taught you anything, it’s that fans were only jealous and no one was safe. You could ignore the hate though.

What you couldn’t ignore was the fanfiction.

Oh goodness, the fanfiction.

What seemed to be most popular were the reader inserts with your gorgeous teammate, and you didn’t mind indulging in them one little bit. Some were sweet and cute, others left you dashing for a cold shower after. It stunned you that these writers were able to capture Dean’s mannerisms and personality so well! And these works were just so addicting!

It became a daily thing, finding a new fic, and reading it in the safety of your room where no one could see or judge. You read reader inserts, stories with original characters, and may or may not have found a guilty pleasure in a teensy bit of Destiel (who could deny the two perfect specimens would be hot as hell together?? But you would never tell them).  You steered clear of the Dean x Lisa fics, though, like your life depended on it.

That was one torture you just couldn’t expose yourself to.

Then you stumbled over the one that changed everything. A new fic by one of your favorite authors that featured Dean (of course) and…you. It was a prompt you hadn’t read before, one where the two of you had to share a motel room with only one bed and things got hot and heavy. Your heart raced as you indulged in this fantasy, thinking of all the times you had to share a room with your teammates, though there was always more than one bed. You had never shared with Dean, as he usually bunked on the couch while you and Sam each bunked alone, but a girl can dream can’t she?

And dream you did.  Especially with Dean’s constant flirting and sexual innuendos.

The story became a constant thought in the back of your mind and when Sam hangs back at the bunker and leaves you and Dean to take on a duet hunt together, you felt your heart stop. At the motel when checking in, you were given one room and your mind ran ramped.  Had he read your phone’s history? Did he find your Tumblr? What if he had read the sinful story you’d found and wanted to live out the fantasy with you (another of your favorite prompts). The thoughts had you following silently behind your partner, heart racing as he smiled at you while his deft fingers unlocked the door. Steeling yourself as you walked inside behind him, you dropped your bags and spun around to find… 2 beds.

Oh.

Well, you supposed your dirty fantasies were just that; Fantasies.

----------

The night crawled on with no notable incidents -unfortunately-, and when it was finally time to call it a night, you both fell into your own beds.

Sleep evaded you for hours. The thought of that perfect body lying just feet away from you swam in the back of your mind. You could easily get up, crawl into bed with him, and make all your dreams come true. The fantasies that filled your head made you anything but tired.

Well, that, and the fact that Dean was snoring like a mother fucking buzz saw.

Your wide, dry eyes stared up at the ceiling as the loud rumbles filled the room. Dean had come a long way - with your help - and no longer had nightly episodes or memories of hell. Of course, they still happened on occasion, but they were a rare occurrence now.  The hunter often found himself sleeping soundly through most nights, including this one.

He was the only one who would, it seemed, as you tossed and turned, doing your best to tune out the irritating sound. You put earplugs in, then headphones playing music, then even tracks of white noise.  A forest, a stream, the ocean each one louder than the last.  They all usually knocked you right out on a hunt.

But Dean snored over all of them.

You did your best to ignore it, you really did, but when he rolled over onto his back and started with a newfound volume, you’d decided you’d had enough.

“Dee.”  You say lowly, hoping that he’ll sleep through the disturbance, but that his subconscious will hear his name and disturb his sleep just enough that he’ll shut the hell up.

The resounding snort proves that theory wrong.

“Dee!”  You snap, louder now.  Nothing.  “Dean!”

A few moments pass…

Nothing…

Maybe it worked!  Maybe-

Yeah, no,  there he goes again.

Groaning loudly, you sit up and reach for your phone.  Fine, if his hard-sleeping-ass can sleep through all that, then he could sleep with the light from your phone filling the room as well.

You open your favorite app, the blue screen greeting your tired eyes.  Switching over from the homepage feed, you type ‘Dean x reader’ into the app’s search bar and your screen is immediately flooded with fic after fic.  Pursing your lips, you decide to narrow your search.  It doesn’t seem like you’ll be falling asleep any time soon, so what would the harm be?  You let your thumbs fly over the screen’s keyboard.

Dean x reader smut.

Happy with your amendment, you hit ‘search’ once more and decide to take a walk on the wild side.

Immediately, your screen is flooded with sin and you bite back a smile.  With your screen’s light as low as it’ll go, you click on the first story and settle into a comfortable position, facing away from Dean and the window as you immerse yourself in the fic.

You’ve probably been reading for about an hour or so when your bladder decides it’s time for you to get up.  Sighing quietly, you leave your phone on your pillow, creeping through the silent room.  As soon as you’ve taken care of business and washed up, you tiptoe back to bed.  As you all but fall into the sheets, feeling like you can finally sleep, you realize your phone is not where you left it.

Hell, it’s not even in the bed.

Sitting up in fright, your eyes dart across the room and the sleeping man in the bed opposite yours.  When you see the dimly glowing screen on the bedside table, you sigh in relief, telling yourself that your sleep-deprived brain probably just didn’t register you putting it away.  Locking the screen with sleepy eyes, you drift off to sleep with visions of Dean trailing kisses down your neck flitting behind your eyes.

----------

The morning comes much too quickly for your taste, but you push yourself out of bed to face the day ahead.

You grab your bag quickly, packing up all your belongings as you and Dean prepare for your hunt.  He’s uncharacteristically quiet this morning, barely meeting your eyes as you two embark from the motel room.  Shrugging it off, you follow behind him and before you know it, the two of you are standing before the doors to a known haunted office building.  It’s far too early for anyone to be there, so breaking in is easier than you’d expected and the two of you don’t run into any trouble as you make your way to the top floor.

Once there, you put your plan into motion, Dean taking a defensive position as you sneak into the manager’s office.  You find the haunted artifact like you’ve done a million times before, and you note the sudden shift in the air once you touch it.  It’s almost too quiet as you do your work, but by the way Dean hasn’t even flinched in his spot is a good indicator that things are - miraculously - still going as planned.

Finally, your work is done - the artifact turned to ash and the ghost successfully placated.

----------

You don’t allow yourself to breathe until you and Dean walk into yet another motel, this one only a few towns over from your rendezvous point with Sam.  You’d spend the night here before making the remainder of the journey in the morning.  Exhaustion hits you like a freight train as you trudge to the room, and you find yourself hoping against hope once more that your favorite fics may come to life.  But when your eyes fall on two beds once more those hopes are dashed.

“You can take the king,”  Dean says, and you suddenly realize those are the first words he’s spoken to you all day aside from the business of the break-in earlier.  There hadn’t even been one famous Dean innuendo all day.  “I’ll take the queen.”

You raise your eyebrow at that but don’t argue, even though you know damn well that the man who is almost twice your size probably needs the larger bed more than you do.

No more words are passed between the two of you as you prepare for bed, each taking their turn in the bathroom and shower before turning the lights out and settling down to sleep.  It doesn’t take long for sleep to tickle at your eyelids, but it’s chased away almost instantly when Dean’s buzz saw snores kick to life again.

Groaning quietly, you toss a pillow at the human-grizzly bear before rolling over to grab your phone and headphones from the bedside table.  He continues, of course, and you go to your favorite app once more.  Using your phone this late at night and right before you sleep is bad, you know, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with that man rumbling only several feet from you.

You open a new fanfic, this one’s warnings staring you down as you read “smut, language, NSFW gifs” and you can’t fight back the smirk that plays on your lips.  Again, you roll onto your side, back towards Dean, as you get to reading.

You know your breathing has picked up pace as you get past the fic’s casual banter between friends and the sexual tension sets in.  Your legs squeeze together of their own accord, your chest warming in arousal as you envision Dean speaking to you the way he’s speaking to Y/N in this fic.

Within a few minutes - and a few lines - the sexual tension explodes into a full-on kiss, the smut slowly building as a result.  You scroll quickly, devouring every detail before your fingers slow as the top of a gif comes into view.  It’s sinful, to say the least.  You watch the way the man’s hips swivel into his lover’s, her head thrown back as he buries his head against her throat and himself deep into her.

Your lip is back between your teeth and you can’t bring yourself to scroll on just yet.  Instead, you let yourself take every detail in as the image loops, again and again, your arousal growing with every second.  Oh, what you wouldn’t give to have Dean moving against you that way.  His heavy breath fanning over your collarbone as he grinds against your most sensitive skin.  You have to bite your tongue so as to not moan into the silent room.

Wait…

Silent.

You realize at that moment that the violent snores from the other side of the room have died completely, silence overtaking their absence.  A silence that has you tentatively glancing over your shoulder and only to immediately regret it.

Even in the dark, your eyes find the hazel ones that are only inches away.  Hazel eyes that are damn near swallowed with lust.

Oh.  

Oh, Jesus.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Kiddo?”  His deep voice rumbles in the quiet room, sending your heart galloping as you jump up to sitting, desperately burying your phone against your breast in an effort to hide its contents from him.

“Nothing.”  You say, your voice scarcely above a whisper.  You don’t miss the smirk on his face and frantically reevaluate the past several minutes in your brain.  When had he woken up?  When had he snuck up behind you?  How much had he read over your shoulder?

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”  He says, teeth dragging over his lower lip and it seems for a moment that he’s debating on whether or not he wants to take this any further.  When he speaks again though, he makes his choice very clear.  “Looks like you’re being a very bad girl.”

The room is so fucking quiet that the lump that you gulp down is painfully audible.

He didn’t just say that…did he?  You chuckle humorlessly, trying desperately to break the obvious tension and play off of the joke he is so obviously playing on you.  Dean makes comments like that all the time.  That’s just how he is with you!  Any moment now he’ll chuckle like he always does.

But then he doesn’t laugh with you.  Just stares as he scoots closer on his knees until his frame is right against the bed, pulling you by your thighs until he’s encasing you - palms on either side of your legs that are now thrown over the side of the bed.

You’reDreamingYou’reDreamingYou’reDreaming…

“That…that was too far, wasn’t it?”  He suddenly asks, rocking his weight back on his heels.  Bless him, he looks so uncharacteristically shy and you must look completely dumbfounded.  He waits with bated breath as you open and close your mouth uselessly, desperately searching for words.

Finally, you spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did you just quote the fanfiction I read last night?”  OH MY GOD, you mentally scream.  Why the fuck would you expose yourself like that?? What if he just thought of that himself??

But then what if he didn’t?  Because that line had definitely stuck out to you when reading the night before…and suddenly, you remember why it had.  That was the last line before you left your phone to go to the bathroom.  The last line you’d read with tired eyes before you set your phone down, unlocked, on your pillow and - ohmygod!

“You read that!?”  You screech, gripping your phone tighter.  You gasp so hard you damn near swallow your tongue.  “You put my phone on the bedside table! Dean, you totally snooped while I was peeing!”  Alright, you could’ve kept that bit to yourself.

He’s biting that damn lip again, and you know he can tell that’s exactly where your eyes are zeroed in on.

“Maybe?”  He says, voice small as he admits his secret to you.  “I didn’t mean to!  I just…I woke up when you shut the bathroom door, and the screen was shining right in my face - I just-I got up to lock it so it wouldn’t bother me, but then I saw what you were looking at and…”  He clears his throat.  “Y/N, I…were you reading porn…about me?”

Your face is no doubt a thousand degrees of embarrassment.

“It’s not porn!! It’s fanfiction, and-”

“It literally talks about me fucking you.”  He deadpans, eyebrows raised.  “In explicit detail.  It’s porn.”

You’re silent for a few moments, staring him down as you wait for him to back down.

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Ok, fine!  It’s porn, are you happy?”  You huff, crossing your arms and finally ditching your phone to the pillow beside you.  A sudden terrifying thought causes you to freeze. “So…are you going to tell Sam?”

“Why the fuck would I tell him?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you honestly think I’d tell him something so personal?!”

“I don’t know!”  You repeat, floundering as you toss your hands up before crossing them again in a pout.  “It’s embarrassing.  You know I tend to jump to the worst-case scenarios…”

“Y/N, I would never out you like that.”  You would have to be blind to miss the way his eyes drag over you in your nightclothes, and you are suddenly very aware of your lack of bra and just how cold it is in the room.

He seems to notice too, his eyes zeroing in on your breasts and the way your nipples are pressing against the soft fabric encasing them.

“Do you…do you want me like that?”  He asks, his voice dropping back into the husky tone it had been before his awkward detour.

“No, Dee, I was just reading porn of you for the fuck of it.”  He chuckles at that, his palms coming to rest on your thighs as the embarrassment between you two eases - making way for a choking tension.

“Really?  Ah, well, then I guess I can just go back to bed, then.”

“Don’tyoudare!”  The words are out before you can stop them, but at this point, you don’t much care.

“Oh?  Then what should I do?”  His hazel eyes are dark, gazing at you from below thick lashes as his hands creep higher up your thighs, pushing your oversized t-shirt up to expose the soft cotton covering you from his gaze.  “Should I do this?”

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as he leans forward, lips pressing against the soft skin on the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, please.”  You beg, arms falling at your sides to support you as his mouth grows closer to where you really want him.  Only he doesn’t quite reach, his eyes twinkling playfully at you.

“Words, Y/N.”  He grumbles lowly, splayed hands pushing your legs wider to give himself better access to your heat.

“Dean, please-”  A squeal escapes you when his teeth drag across your hip bone.  “Put your mouth on me.”

Nothing you’ve ever read could’ve prepared you for the way Dean touches you.

He moves slowly, his palms running from your inner thighs to behind your knees to pull your legs over his shoulders.  The movement has your stomach flipping, eyes never leaving his as he drags his tongue up the material hiding your core from him.

He chuckles at your moan, eyes batting as he presses the point of his tongue against your clit beneath your panties.  To be honest, you’re not sure which one of you is enjoying this more what with the way his fingers tighten against your legs, his eyes closing in concentration as he laps at you.

In your wildest dreams, you never thought Dean would be touching you like this - at least not outside of the fiction you were reading.  But, oh, is he touching you - playing you, more like it, plucking your strings until you’re practically singing for him.

You could cum just like this, light pets of his tongue teasing your sensitive skin, but then he’s tugging the panties from your form, diving right back into your bare skin and you’re keening at the contact, your fingers knotting in his long hair.  He groans in response to your moans, forearm flung lazily across your hips to keep you still as he wreaks havoc on you.

You open your mouth, ready to chastise him but the words instantly make way for cries as he finally swipes his tongue through your folds - fucking you with his mouth as he watches your form writhe.

“God, you taste amazing.”  He moans, and you have to hold back a giggle.  “What’s so funny?”  Do you admit that you’d read him saying those very words far too many times to keep count?

But then he’s pulling away, leaving you whimpering at the precipice of release and the sight of his strong torso being revealed to your ends any thoughts you may have had.  Especially when he reaches down and rids you of your own shirt, kissing across your collar bones once they’re exposed.

“You got any protection?”  He asks suddenly, teeth scraping at your throat and you are suddenly aware of the fact that this is real life, not a fic, and wow you’d lost count of how many bareback smuts you’d read.

Not that the thought of Dean cumming inside you wasn’t the hottest thing ever, but the idea of pregnancy was something you didn’t even want to entertain at the moment.

So, begrudgingly, you pushed him off gently, bending down to rifle through your bag - hey, it never hurts to be prepared.  You roll your eyes at his chuckle as you bend over, shaking your exposed backside at him - where he has taken your seat on the mattress - before rising to hand him the small, metallic square.

He toys with it for a few seconds, watching as you stand with a lip tugged gently between your teeth and your eyes flicker to the semi-hard shaft against his thighs. Long fingers enter your line of sight, coming to cup himself, stroking a few times as you watch him.

“See something you like, baby?”  He asks, free hand coming up to run his thumb against your lips.  You nod slowly, shivering at the new pet name, eyes never tearing from where he teases his cock.  You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, Dean’s thumb accidentally catching where it had been against your lips and then he’s growling and pulling you to him.

Your lips crash together, a flash of pain as your teeth clack momentarily, but you’re far too lost in Dean’s intoxicating proximity to care.  He seems to share the sentiment as your hands weave through his hair, pulling him closer as he moans and strokes himself faster before you straddle his strong thighs.

You consider grinding down against the taut muscle momentarily, but then Dean’s rolling the condom down his shaft, his knuckles brushing your folds as he does and all you want is for him to fill you up to the brim.

The desperation is clear on your face, wrapped in hooded eyes and a deep flush as you inhale deeply every time Dean’s knuckles brush you.

“Oh, my god!”  You huff, getting ever so impatient.  He chuckles at your tone, tugging you higher on his lap so that - finally - you’re aligned.  A brief moment passes as you two eye each other hesitantly, your nerves on fire as you consider what it is you’re about to do.  

You’re about to fuck one of your partners, one of your best friends…the man you’ve been fantasizing about for years.

“Ready?”  He asks softly, testing the waters as he runs the head of his cock through your lips.  Any hesitation you may have had melts with the shiver that travels your spine, and then some when Dean growls as you bare your nails into his shoulder blades.

“Dean, I swear to god, if you don’t fu-ck me!”  You squeal the tail end of your sentence, Dean’s own groan disappearing into the skin of your shoulder as he slides home.  Pain and pleasure flood your senses and suddenly you are highly aware of just how long it’s been.

“Shiiit,” Dean sighs at the tight fit, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and holding you still as he struggles to hold himself off.

It’s been a while for him, too.

“Jesus, you’re tight.”  He hisses between his teeth, his brow as scrunched as yours no doubt is at the moment.

“And you’re huge.”  He laughs then, the movement of his abs against your sensitive skin enough to have you sighing.  “I, uh, think you’re good to move.”  You say quietly, testing this theory with a slight brush forward of your hips.  When delicious friction reaches your clit at the action you moan lowly.  “Oh, yeah.  Very good to move.”

And move he does, giving you a few moments as he slowly builds up the pace before falling back and letting you take the reigns.  Your hands find his strong pecs as you fall forward at the sudden shift, and a shit-eating grin crosses your face.  Dean misses this, however, as his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure.

“Fuck!”  He groans when you begin to rut against him, dragging your clit against his adonis belt as his cock head catches against your insides perfectly.  He doesn’t seem to mind this change, panting openly and quite vocally.  Well, that is until his hands find your thighs and hold on tight.  “Shit, slow down, baby…I don’t know how long I can last if you keep that up.”

You’re about to apologize, a flush very evident on your skin before Dean is manhandling you onto your back, your legs cast wide in his grasp.

“Let’s slow things down a little.”  He teases, kissing your nose as you giggle and let him set the pace.

When he does, it’s dizzyingly slow, his teeth dragging against your skin as do his fingertips and after a few minutes of sinfully slow rocks of his hips, he is very quickly stringing you towards the edge.

“Dean,”  You whimper, your walls beginning to flutter around him.  The groan that milks from his chest is nothing short of sexy and you return one of your own.  His name becomes a chant on your lips as pleasure rushes through your bloodstream, your nails digging into his taut back and after a few more thrusts of his own, he’s emptying inside the condom.

The high fades slowly, your skin buzzing in sated pleasure as a lazy smile takes place on your face.  Dean is quiet, almost shy as he retreats to the restroom to clean himself and dispose of the condom.  You snicker quietly to yourself at the thought that this detail is often left out of the fics you read, but the pleasant ache between your legs certainly isn’t.

“Well,”  He says as he returns, slipping under the covers with you.  As you shift, something digs into your side and when you bring the offending object above the covers do you realize that your phone had remained in the sheets that whole time.  You hand it off to him as he tugs you closer, waving him to put it on the bedside table.  “Aren’t you glad I decided to snoop?”  He teases as he takes the contraption from you.

“Yeah, Yeah, Dee.  But not as glad as I am that we can save on rooms by just booking us one bed from now on!”

You both chuckle at the jest, your giggles soon dying into labored breathing as your energy drains quickly against the warmth of Dean’s body wrapped around yours.  Your eyes drift shut of their own accord, not noticing how Dean hesitates at placing your phone on the charger…again.

“Hey, baby?”  He asks hesitantly, his eyes widening as he scrolls through your Tumblr feed and exposed to all sorts of sin.

“Hmm?”  You hum, sleep tickling at your mind.   That is until your eyes fly open wide at his following question.

“What’s Destiel?”

FIN

[incorrectbatfam]

I h3ad cannon athat all the batfam members have had/are still in their emo/goth phases.

Example:

Bruce dressed as a bat and punches criminals at night (I also head cannon that he listens to the rolling stones and MCR)

Anyways thoughts?

Also what were the other batfam members emo/goth phases like?

Dick: He was hella neurotic in his late Robin/early Nightwing days. That plus his mullet and guitar tells me he probably tried to live out of a used van he bought for $700 after a fight with Bruce only to come home a week later when someone knocked on his window.

Jason: He's the theater/classic lit goth. When he was younger he would read by the glow of a candelabra even though the lights work perfectly fine. Post-resurrection, he graduates to the biker anarchist who has no problem launching a molotov at a CEO's mansion.

Tim: He's from the 90s. He's sitting in that Y2K grunge-emo-punk gray area where his playlist is a mix of the Clash, Nirvana, and Green Day. He's coloring his hair with Kool-Aid, playing with makeup, ripping his own clothes, and talking about new songs on AOL.

Damian: He's aiming for dark academia, but that's hard to pull off if you know what American schools look like. He annotates the margins of his books with notes he thinks are insightful but are actually just basic observations. Also he listens to Imagine Dragons.

Duke: This kid isn't emo or goth, he is a punk through and through. Sassing the cops? Jumping off a bridge? Leading a ragtag vigilante team? If he wanted to, I bet he can pull off a leather jacket with some homemade spikes while blasting Bad Brains and Death.

Cullen: Canonically, he watches anime and Supernatural, and I've made a lot of Tumblr references with him. He's definitely your quintessential 2010s emo nerd—Black Parade, fandoms, the whole shabang. He also definitely followed Dan and Phil.

Stephanie: She strikes me as the early 2000s pop-punker—think MySpace and Avril Lavigne. She probably had a Not Like Other Girls phase that she quickly grew out of. I can see her cutting posters out of magazines and sneaking her MP3 under an oversized hoodie.

Cassandra: She canonically listens to Killswitch Engage, so I like to imagine what she was like as a baby metalhead. Maybe she thrifted a Pantera shirt and chopped her hair with safety scissors. And at concerts she's absolutely up front when the wall of death happens.

Barbara: I think she dabbled in a little bit of everything without ever outwardly expressing it. Her playlist is all over the board, from softer rock to screamo. She also experimented with makeup a little, like black lipstick, and is more involved in the activism side of things.

Harper: She's definitely industrial punk with a huge emphasis on the DIY aspect of the subculture. She strings soda tabs into chains, turns old screws into boot spikes, and even learned to give herself tattoos. She also absolutely has a drawer full of patch pants.

Carrie: She's a TikTok e-girl, leaning into the pinks and purples along with black and white. She turns fishnet leggings into gloves and has a bunch of animal ear headbands. She also listens to Melanie Martinez and Tame Impala regardless of if they count as alternative.

Kate: Queer people play a huge role in the punk scene and vice versa. I can absolutely see Kate jamming out to an early Pansy Division track or searching places like Bandcamp to support smaller indie artists. Also she has a jacket that says "Nazi punks fuck off."

Alfred: Before punk and its subgenres, Alfred was canonically a delinquent and in that day, delinquency meant gelled-up hair and moving like Elvis. The hair didn't work out for him, but he was able to catch one of the first shows Buddy Holly played in London.

Selina: Alt cultures are based on not having much and working with what you got. Selina would use the five-finger discount at big-box stores and save her money to support small businesses. She also went around listening to free local rock shows on Fridays.

Bruce: He listened to the Rolling Stones before, but his first real intro to the scene was a handmade zine he found on the floor at school. From there, he explored more underground artists and took up journaling as a way to vent his feelings. And then: Batman.

[beomiracles]

Hii! Firstly I'd like to say congrats on 500! I really admire your writing. If possible, I would love to see a love artist sight story about baker!Soobin and florist!reader, their shops located across the street from each other and they exchange glances frequently, but have never introduced themselves. Eventually something brings them to meet (I'm sorry I don't really have any ideas) and they hit it off instantly.

Again congrats on 500!! So excited to see what's to come 🫶🫶

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... hearing that people admire my writing makes my heart swell ohmy ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞ this idea was super cute omg!!

wc -> 1.4k

pairings baker!soobin x florist!reader (gn) warnings just very cute/nervous two people liking each other vibes

Your knees buckle as you try to balance the three heavy boxes in your arms. Determined to get them inside in one go and not have to walk back to your car again, you grip them tighter as you begin to carefully move forward. You had just made it around the corner, the entrance to your small shop was within your grasp when suddenly a crack in the pavement made you stumble. 

“Woah!” You yelp but quickly manage to regain your balance, only glance up and see the box on top of your stack swaying dangerously close to the edge. Shit. It was bound to fall and it would most likely aim for your head. With a small shriek you screw your eyes shut as you brace yourself for the impact. But it never comes. — Instead a pair of large hands easily lifts two of the boxes, stabilizing the one on top and evading any danger from the situation.

“Hey, are you okay?” A gentle voice calls out and you blink as your gaze shifts to the cute guy from the bakery across the street. His shop had opened not too long ago and you frequently caught yourself staring at the cute guy behind the counter, though never daring to step inside. You would usually pass each other on the way out during closing hours but even then nothing more but shy glances were exchanged. 

Now he was standing in front of you; and you looked like a complete idiot. Picking up your jaw from the floor, you quickly clear your throat as you thank him. “I should’ve gone two times..” you jokingly say as you try to ease the awkward air. He grins, “or you could’ve just asked for help.” — “Soobin, by the way”, he then adds and you blink at him before his words register. “A-ah of course!” You give him a coy smile as you push the door to your small shop open, giving him your own name in the process. 

You lead him past the many flowerbeds and overcrowded shelves of pots and plants; catching him mumbling a quiet “wow” to himself as he eyes one of the larger hyacinths. Finally you reach your small storage room where you set your box down. Soobin follows your lead as he discards the two boxes in his hands. “You’ve got a really nice place”, he says as the two of you make your way back into the main part of the shop. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks at the simple compliment and you smile as you mumble out a quiet “thank you.” A small silence envelops the two of you as you both occupy your gazes amongst the many flowers, neither of you seemed to want the moment to end. “I uh…I’ve seen you around quite a bit…” he hesitantly begins as he scratches the back of his head. — “Yeah, me too…I uh I mean I’ve seen you..not me!” You wanted to slap yourself for stuttering over your words like that. 

Soobin doesn’t seem to mind as his face lights up in a small grin. “Really?” He asks to which you shyly nod. You’re about to reply when the doorbell to the small flower shop chimes, announcing a new customer. Both of your heads turn in the direction of the elderly lady who just entered, clutching a small sheer pink purse in her wrinkly hands. Her expression softens as her gaze falls on you and Soobin amongst all the flowers. 

You immediately recognize the lady and rush to greet her. “Martha, hi how are you today?” Smiling, you place a comforting hand on her shoulder. She was a regular customer as she ventured down the seven blocks from her home almost everyday in order to buy flowers for her sick husband. — Martha gives your hand on her shoulder a light squeeze as she lets you guide her through the vast collection of bouquets. “I’m fine dearest, it’s a rather beautiful day today is it not?” 

Glancing over your shoulder you give Soobin an apologetic smile but he only waves it off as he takes his time to inspect the hyacinth he’d previously seen. Turning your attention back toward the old lady you nod, “it is indeed, are you looking for anything specific today?” You wonder as you help her scour through a few blue lilies. 

Martha nods as she points toward a bouquet of yellow tulips. “Something colorful, I want James to experience the summer weather too”, she explains and her carefree words manage to pull at your heart. “Of course”, you smile as you reach for the flowers she had picked out. 

Once behind the counter you wrap the bouquet in yellow ribbons to match the tulips. “Is that your boyfriend?” She suddenly asks as she peers over at Soobin who was busy going through the assortment of roses. “Martha!” You exclaim as your eyes widen, “he is not.” — The old lady sighs as she pulls her gaze from him, “a shame, he was rather cute… Were you not standing with him when I came?” She then asks and you bite your lip. 

“Yes but.. I barely know him.” You mumble as you finish wrapping the bouquet, reaching for a small card and a pencil. Martha purses her lips as she eyes you suspiciously, “alright.” — You give her a small smile, “anything you want me to put on the card today?” 

After seeing her off and telling her to say hi to her husband from you, you turn back to Soobin who was watching your small exchange with a warm expression. “Sorry about that…she comes almost everyday..” you explain as you fiddle with your hands. “It’s alright, she seems sweet”, he grins and you nod, “she really is.” 

He then turns back toward the roses he’d been eyeing, “do you grow all these yourself?” He wonders with slight astonishment. You giggle as you shake your head, “no that would be far too tedious, besides I can’t provide the right conditions for many of them to grow in this small shop.” Soobin blinks as the tip of his ears turn a bright pink, “ah, of course..” he sheepishly says and you can’t help but find him endearing. 

“I do grow a few out in the back though..” — “Can I see?” He eagerly asks, but quickly realizes how straightforward he’d come off as he chuckles nervously. “I…I mean if that’s okay, you totally don’t have to I just…” 

You have to bite your tongue at how cute he was as you watch him with a big smile. “I would be happy to show you.” 

The back of your shop has an old wooden door leading out to a very small garden, allowing you to grow very few but very beautiful flowers. You spend a good ten minutes explaining the different steps when it comes to planting the seed and caring for it, Soobin listens intently as his gaze follows the movements of your hands. 

Realizing that you had gone on a small ramble you awkwardly clear your throat as you sneak a glance at him. Soobin grins from ear to ear as he sees your flustered expression. “Yeah…that’s the basics..” you mumble as your fingers busy themselves with gliding across a soft petal. — Humming, he rocks back and forth on his heels as he keeps his hands behind his back, hesitating on his next words as he watches you pamper the flowers ever so tenderly. 

“That lady from before…she um, mentioned something about a boyfriend..” He slowly begins and your fingers freeze against the flowerstalk, did he hear that? You gulp as you nod, avoiding to look at him. Gosh, it would be the end of you if he overheard your full conversation with Martha. But his next words surprise you. 

“Do you…do you have a boyfriend?” He shyly asks and you find yourself blinking dumbfoundedly as you glance up at him. “I…I don’t..” You bite your lip as you watch the way he visibly breathes out the breath he had been holding in. “O-oh, that’s a relief…I mean- not a relief but…I mean…” He splutters as his face turns into a bright pink. 

“W-what I wanted to say was…I would like to ask if…maybe you would join me for coffee someday..?” 

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you watch him run a hand through his dark hair nervously, his lips forming into a nervous pout as he awaited your answer. 

“I would love that.”

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[chouettecrivaine]

Odile's Soliloquy [Honkai: Star Rail]

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Characters: Sparkle

Notes: 1.2k words, reader is referred to as prince but it's symbolic, sparkle has definitely disappeared an undescribed loved one of yours at BEST (and killed at worst)

Sparkle was a woman of many talents. An ardent method actor, she could become anything she wanted to be. Since the beginning, her name deserved to be up in lights, glittering over an entire city and catching the ardor of all. This talent of hers only grew until she could don any mask, becoming more mirage than person. Sparkle could be anything. She could be anybody your heart desired.

…except the one your heart desired.

Sparkle was used to flimsy desire. The things that sparked her attention lost it just as quickly. She wasn't used to being enthralled so thoroughly, much less by something she couldn't attain. Sparkle knew she was a woman of taste, though, and she trusted that her enrapture was well founded.

Unfortunately, such trustworthy taste didn't seem to have blessed you as it had her.

The one who had your heart was, quite frankly, a fool - and not even in the fun way. But the universe was made of contradictory sameness, and like always attracted like. They couldn’t see a trap whilst standing inside one, and Sparkle always knew that they’d need to be dealt with as soon as they started poking their nose in the Fools’ business. 

Though, in the end, their presence wasn’t quite as burdensome as Sparkle once thought. They had something that Sparkle had been vying for - someone who occupied her thoughts far more often than she’d care to admit. And yet, despite the fact that you had decided to cast a blundering fool in such a pivotal role, Sparkle couldn’t force herself to be mad at you. After all, what understudy doesn’t secretly wish for the trap door to open beneath the lead’s feet and render them useless for the performance?

So maybe she pulled the lever, cut the rope on the sandbag, loosened a few screws on the lights. Actress or magician? Only someone as gifted in the arts as Sparkle could pull off both in one act. Hidden up her sleeves were numerous cards and secret tricks, all of which gave her the leg up in the battle for your affections. More than simply act the part, Sparkle could become anyone she wanted to be, so of course she jumped right into the role she had been vying for and placed herself snugly at your side. Your partner’s actions were hardly difficult to replicate, and their words weren’t exactly taxing prose. The only admirable thing about them had been their devotion to you - but even then, their adoration was nothing compared to hers. A candle could never compete with dazzling fireworks, after all.

Sparkle knew long ago that she found her calling as a body double, fancying herself a black swan masquerading the lovely, cursed princess. She could pirouette around your questions with ease and take your hand in hers without suspicion. Sparkle was your trickster, and you, her idiot prince; truly a match made in whatever paradise the Aeons fashioned for the departed.

But then, as usual, she got bored. 

She wasn’t bred of you, but of something she thought would always be her weapon of choice; the monotony of a mask. She felt her face plastered into the same smile every day, a plastic facade she could never force to drop an inch. Sparkle wanted more from you: she wanted to feel the maniacal grin on her face once she revealed her plot; she wanted to feel the smug, victorious smirk on her face as she watched yours crumble; she wanted to grimace and scream as she tore into her own chest, trying to claw at the stabbing pain as you ran away. There was so much potential, and an artist such as herself couldn't be expected to hold back at such a critical junction in her career!

Shows that outran their welcome were rarely remembered fondly. Sparkle had prepared for her grand finale, ready to reveal her identity to you just before the curtain closed. When finally she allowed her mask to clatter to the ground, abandoned, she bent her knees and curtsied. Thank you, thank you, for attending the show! What thrilling twists! Way to end with a bang! Her hair fell over her shoulders and swayed by the sides of her face, hiding the uncertainty that turned her appreciative bow into one that hoped to beget your forgiveness.

She had expected a shriek, perhaps a gasp of utter shock - anything but the bemused laughter and sardonic slow clap that met her ears. Rising slowly, Sparkle matched your easy smirk with one of her own, as if she was in on the joke. 

Is the show really over? That’s what you seemed to ask. Sparkle had spent so much time watching you, both closely and from afar, that she could read the unspoken question in the tilt of your head, the slight shrug of your shoulder. Your gaze burned her like a spotlight shining down as she forgot all of her lines.

Well. If all it took for such an adoring audience was to don the mask once more, who was she to deny you an encore?

Sparkle didn’t need to hide herself in entirety after that. Her plan had been successful, after all. Your foolish oaths of true love had been broken by her facade, just as she wanted. But you didn’t run and try to assemble the pieces of what she forced you to break. Instead, you grabbed her hand and changed the steps, pulling her along the stage while she mimicked you as best she could. Sparkle remembered then why she never coveted the true romantic leads before - for any romance to be interesting, there needed to be a heartbreak in the central act.

No matter how precisely she danced, Sparkle realized that the romantic overture would never play while she was center stage.

Most Fools believed that love meant nothing. Everything meant nothing in the vast gaze of the Elation. She knew you would make a fine Fool when the discovery of her facade meant little to you. For whatever reason, something about this costume of hers brought you joy. Her actions brought you memories of true happiness, and when she donned that ugly simpleton’s mask, you could pretend everything was the same as it had been before. Yet, in the form of her that was as close as she could get to ‘true,’’ you never called her name or looked at her softly. You had seen through her disguise from the beginning. If she didn’t need to hide, then you didn’t need to pretend to care.

But now, her greatest tool had become her greatest weakness. Why should she have to hide her emotions when she wanted to let everything out? You had managed to tear her to shreds, and she was restless with the desire to rip off the costume and hear seams pop, show you her tear-stained cheeks and blood red hands so you could kiss it all away. Sparkle was no longer playing a part; she was feeling, which was the one thing a mask could never do.

Having the tables turned on her had been her greatest dream as a bored Fool. But now, she was something far worse than a Fool; a simple idiot who wasted her time wishing it was her name that spilled from your lips with such sincerity. She wanted it more than anything; the day when you pierced through the final mask, when you saw through the puppet named Sparkle and unlocked who she was in her core.

That would be the day when she could shed her swan feathers and finally be yours.

[cuti3patooti8]

Yawll I was supposed to post this Christmas as a gift for a friend butttt erm I got to embarrassed writing the smut so like it came late.... Enjoy! (Also did not know how to end this to save my life y'all)

Word count: 2.6k

Tattoo artist Bully gojo! who picks on you every day. Bumping into you so you drop your books and have to embarrassingly pick them up while he snickers and giggles at you struggling.

Tattoo artist Bully Gojo! who's just too mean and knocks the books out of your hands the second time to look at ur cute pink and white panties while you bend down.

"Whoops my bad I should watch where I'm going"

Tattoo artist Bully gojo! Who makes fun of your big square glasses and the skirts you always wear to class. "You look like a nerd" Gojo chuckled. "You should stop wearing those nerd glasses to class" Gojo laughed as he took your glasses off your face and dangled them from a height you couldn't reach.

Tattoo artist Bully Gojo! watched your boobs as they bounced trying to jump up and get your glasses back.

｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡⁠｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡⁠｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡⁠｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡⁠

You've always wanted a tattoo. Always. You were always scared of getting one until now. You knew that gojo did tattoos in his free time so you gathered up the courage to ask him for one. You went to his apartment after classes were done wearing a white sweater with bows and a pink plaid skirt. Hesitantly you knock. You play with your fingers nervously as you see the white haired boy open the door. "Well look who we have here '' Gojo smirked. "Whatchu want nerd" "Uhm i was wondering if you could give me a t-tattoo" you muttered nervously. "What was that? Couldn't hear you '' Gojo said as he leaned down to hear you better. "Uhm I w-was wondering if you could give me a tattoo gojo" you spoke up looking down at the floor still nervously playing with your fingers. "Of course I can step right in, '' Gojo chuckled. "I mean you know that you're gonna have to pay me right" "yea I brought some money" you muttered again, too nervous to speak up. "Oh no I don't mean like that glasses" Gojo laughed in your face. "Do my homework for a week". "O-okay" you responded meekly just wanting to get it over with. "Who would've thought little miss goody two shoes would want a tattoo" Gojo teased. "So what do you want and where do you want it". You fidgeted in your skirt. Now you were seriously considering backing out, but you decided that you had come this far so you should just get it over with. "Uhm I want one right here" You said pointing to your right hip near your bikini line, "And I want it to say..uhm.. eat m-me" you whispered as you looked down at your feet ashamed. "You're kidding right" Gojo scoffed in disbelief. You sat down on his chair and shook your head. “Then let's get it done” Gojo smiled.

｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡⁠ ｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡⁠ ｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡｡⁠.ﾟ⁠

“Stop fucking moving so much”

“It hurtssss”

“it’s okay baby I'll go slow”

“fuck I can't take ittt”

‘It's the middle of the fucking day and he's already screwing some whore?’

Geto thought as he got his key to open the apartment he shared with Gojo. He braced himself for the sight he was going to see but he didn't prepare himself enough to see you skirt slightly down with Gojo using his ink pen to write something.

“Gojo do you wanna have a smoke sesh with Choso and me later or are you too busy doing” he looks you up and down.

“This”

You perked up at hearing Choso’s name. You've had the biggest crush on him for the longest time and if you could somehow convince gojo to bring you with him you would die of happiness.

“Nah don't worry I can come with you now” Gojo said smirking

“But you're not done!” You exclaimed sitting up.

“Yeah but with the way you were crying like a bitch I thought you might need a break” gojo yawned.

“finish my tattoo pleaseee” you whined. Your begging sounded like music to his ears.

“Don't worry bro I just need to fill in one thing then we can go” Gojo said to Geto as he finished up filling the ‘e’.

“What are you getting” Geto asked as he walked over to see your new tattoo. He burst out laughing after he read it and you turned your head away embarrassed.

“All done princess” Gojo looked up with hooded eyes.

“Don't call me that” you rolled your eyes.

“Wanna come with us”

Score!

“What”

“Wanna come smoke with us”

“S-SURE” you said that too quickly and too loud. “Aw goody two shoes wants to smoke, they grow up so fast” Geto chuckles

You look away from the two of them feeling embarrassed.

｡⁠.ﾟ♡⁠ ｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+♡ ｡⁠.ﾟ♡⁠ ｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡⁠ ｡⁠.ﾟ⁠♡｡⁠.

You guys get to Choso’s house and you start feeling nervous. Shit is this a good idea? Well it's too late now… You felt deep in regret but it all went away when you saw Choso open the door.

“Who's this?” He asks with a puzzled face.

“Wait, I know you, you're that nerd in my English class!” He laughs.

“Haha that's meee” you laughed nervously.

“You here to smoke with us or did Gojo bring you to finish his homework”

“Mhm yea where's the bathroom” you said brushing him off getting tired of his jokes.

“Uhh go down and it's on the right…” he trailed off as you pushed past him.

You were getting impatient and really wanted to see your tattoo. It hurts you thought as you pulled your skirt and panties down a little to see. You smiled as you saw that Gojo decided to be nice and add extra things like cute flowers and hearts around the words. You looked in the mirror with a puzzled face as you saw some extra letters. P.S.G you read as you finally made out what it said. “S.G that's Gojo’s initials” You said aloud. “What does the P stand for then?”. You stayed in the bathroom pondering it more. “Property of Gojo Satoru…” “THAT BITCH”. You came out of the bathroom fuming seeing that the boys already started smoking. “DID YOU FUCKING BRAND ME GOJO” “chilll baby everyone already knows you're mine it's not a big deal” he laughs passing choso the joint. “UGH!” you fumed sitting down next to geto. “Hey, maybe you just need to loosen up. I'm sure it's not even that noticeable,” Choso said as he passed the joint to you. You took a hit and coughed like there was no tomorrow. You took two more hits and passed it to geto. “It is noticeable!” You pouted getting up from the couch and pulling your skirt down just enough for him to see the tattoo without seeing anything else. “Oh shit gojo you just ruined her chances of getting a boyfriend!” Choso laughed as he took a closer look. “Not as if she wasn't already a loser, looks hot as fuck though it suits you”. You blushed sitting back down. After a while you all finished the joints and became giggling, loud, messes. You started cuddling into geto because you started feeling sleepy. “Bro I'm hella hungry” choso blurted. “Same” geto nodded in agreement. They both got up and said that they were going to Walmart and they'd be back. You and gojo sat in silence for a while. “I wanna try somethin c’mere” gojo slurred his words as he motioned for you to come to him. You got up and walked over standing up in front of him. “Sit on my lap baby” feeling too out of it to decline you sat in his lap. “I'm tired gojo” you complained. “It's okay baby I'll wake you up”. he reached in his pockets and got another joint. He lit it and took some hits. “Open your mouth princess”. You listened and opened your mouth. He took another hit and brought his lips to yours blowing the smoke in your mouth. You inhaled and laughed. He kept looking at you longingly with hooded tired eyes. “Take a picture, it'll last longer," you mumbled as you got up. He pushed you back down onto his lap. “Need you so bad” gojo whined. “Can you kiss me please baby”. “What?” You stared dazed and confused.

“I dunno how to kiss” you giggled shaking your head not fully comprehending what he was asking you. “Want me to teach you?” Gojo smiled. ��Sure!”. Gojo started softly kissing you grabbing your hips. Rocking you back and forth on his clothed dick. He licked your lower lip and you parted your mouth slightly. Feeling hot you grinded on him trying to match his pace. Gojo’s pale skin now a shade of pink. “Mhm baby you feel so good” he moaned. You mewled into his mouth enjoying all the pleasure you were feeling. “Mm wait feel weird” you muttered. “Just let go princess” gojo whimpered. Soon you were cumming from all the friction. “fuckkk yeahh” gojo moaned. “Get up doll”. You slid off his lap standing up. “You ever done this before?”. You shook your head. “Obviously not”. “It's okay princess I'll make it unforgettable” He winked. “Ew don't be cringy”. “Just lay on the couch”. You pull down your skirt and layed back on the couch. Gojo got down on his knees. “Wanted this pretty pussy for such a long time”. He went down wasting no time licking, and kissing, basically making out with your pussy. “Taste so good” he groaned. He rubbed your clit and pushed his middle finger in. “S-shit gojo feels so good”. You rolled your eyes back moaning. “So fucking tight baby” gojo mumbled pushing in another finger. He curled and scissored his fingers finding your g-spot. “Right there gojo please please please please!”. “Fuck you look so pretty like this”. Gojo pulled out his fingers and you whined at the loss. “Gonna make you cum on my dick baby”. He unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers. His dick sprung up hitting his stomach. Your eyes widened. “No way”. “Turn around I don't want you freaking out” Gojo giggled. You got up and turned around ass up face down. “I'm gonna go slow okay” Gojo said, sliding it in. His tip stretched you out. It hurt so good. He whined finally bottoming out. “I'm gonna start is that okay baby”. “Mhm” you whimpered. “I need a yes or a no baby”. “y-yes”. He started with long deep thrusts. “Fuck your so tight” he threw his head back squeezing his eyes shut. “I'm sorry m’ sorry m’ sorry, so sorry baby” he whined as he sped up to a brutal pace. You tried to speak but only moans came out. Your eyes rolled back and your pussy squeezed around gojo’s cock. You saw stars, you were so close. “Fuck princess why didn't I pound this sweet pussy before”. Gojo kisses up your back. “Gonna let me fill you up babe” he whispered, biting your ear. “Lemme cum inside baby”. “Mhm yes yes pleaseee” you moaned into the pillows. You felt to good too object and definitely way to fucked out to think about the consequences. Gojo pounded into you a couple more times and you were gone. Creaming all over his dick and squeezing him in tight. “Sh-shit shit I'm cumming baby fuckin-” gojo filled you up riding his orgasm out. He pulled out and you whined at the loss. “Let's clean up before they get back”. Gojo walked to the bathroom getting a wet cloth and wiped both of you down. Gojo put on his boxers and sweatpants, pocketing your panties before you could notice. You were about to argue with him when you guys heard the door open.

“Alright guys we were gonna go to Walmart but we realized Walmart doesn't have food… but like it has food but like food you have to cook, and then we realized they had snacks but snacks sounded like gross so we like went to Burger King but then we like realized burger king is ass so then we like went to McDonald's and we just got a shit ton of food so like yeah” Geto rambled on while Choso just modded his head. “Mhm fr”. You and Gojo busted out laughing at how ridiculous they sounded. “Yeah alright let's eat”.

@cinnatoru @hhhhhhcxx

[the-modern-typewriter]

Escapology

“The game,” Damien murmured against Lysander’s ear, “is simple. Are you paying attention? I’ll only say it once.”

Lysander twisted his head on the plush mattress, trying to get a good look at the other man behind him. He couldn’t. Damon’s grip was firm on Lysander’s wrists, and the weight of him kept Lysander easily pinned down to the bed. Lysander did his best to pretend he didn’t enjoy that as much as he did.

“I’m going to set the timer for one minute,” Damien said. “And, every time you fail to escape within those sixty seconds, I’m going to make the task more difficult for you.”

“I’m not going to fail,” Lysander said. “Do you seriously still think I don’t know how to get out of a pair of handcuffs?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Damien’s voice was perfectly placid by contrast. “Remember, if you want out, all you have to do is say please.”

“Yeah? How about, ‘screw you?’

“Bit early in the night for that. Maybe I’ll let you if you win.”

“There’s no if!”  

Lysander had been working with some variety of lock for almost as long as he’d had proper motor control in his fingers. He’d always had a weakness for locked things, for secrets, and for the physical and mental puzzle of untangling himself out of any situation he’d found himself in. He knew how to get out of something as simple as a pair of handcuffs! And if he did, perhaps, enjoy being restrained it was an enjoyment made greater by the inability to free himself.

He could always free himself.

Maybe, if he couldn’t, he wouldn’t have ended up in this room. With him.

The conversation, in short:

INT: BAR OUTSIDE OF LYSANDER’S SHOW - EVENING

Enter LYSANDER, daring and brilliant young escape artist, who crosses the room through a flurry of impressed fans and people begging to know just how he does it. He comes across a dashingly handsome man in the process of ordering a drink. This is DAMIEN. They look each other up and down, and strike a conversation. It escalates.

LYSANDER

You didn’t enjoy my show?

DAMIEN

Oh, I enjoyed it. But escape artistry is just a con - you always have a hidden way out. A trick.

LYSANDER

You think it’s a trick? I’d like to see you try and hold me!

DAMIEN

Alright.

LYSANDER

Excuse me?

DAMIEN

I said alright.

LYSANDER

You think you would be able to keep me, a professional escape artist, from escaping you? What, do you tie people up for a living or something?

DAMIEN

Yes.

Lysander stares at him.

DAMIEN

I work at Siren, down the road. The BDSM club. I’m a professional rigger.

Lysander continues to stare at him.

DAMIEN

Have I scared you?

LYSANDER

…So when should I come over?

“Do you have any more questions before we start?” Damien asked.

“You could at least cuff my feet for round one. This is just insulting.”

“That wasn’t a question. Do you have any questions?” Damien asked again, this time with an unmistakable amusement.

Lysander shook his head.

Damien pulled back from him and Lysander rolled onto his back. He propped himself up on his elbows and watched as Damien reached over and started the timer on his phone. He let the small silver key drop down on the bed.

“Are you not even going to try and hold onto it?” 

“55 seconds left…”

Lysander lunged for the key. His hands were behind his back, but he snatched it off the sheets with his mouth and spat it back over his shoulder, only slightly showing off when he caught it deftly. He scraped the silver up against the lock in search of the small hole that would spring him free.

The cuffs clicked loose and he looked up towards Damien with a smirk, somewhere between cocky and disappointed all at once.  

“I told you,” he said. “Honestly, after all your talk I thought you might last at least thirty seconds. They pay you for this?”

Damien hummed, not even watching. He was digging something out of his closet.

“You wouldn’t even have got them on in the first place if I didn’t let you,” Lysander added.

“Yes, yes, you’re very impressive. You did miss one detail though...”

Damien turned to face him, and his smirk back was that of a challenge matched.

Lysander’s spine straightened instinctively; a thrill shooting up him, though his brow furrowed with confusion.

“I said,” Damien set a bag down on the bed. “Escape.” He pounced, and Lysander went down again hard with a yelp and a tangle of limbs. He grappled with Damien’s hands, but was shoved down again, relentlessly. His wrists were yanked behind his back and the lock clicked into place. “I didn’t say, ‘get out of the cuffs,’ did I?”

Oh.

Lysander panted for breath, absorbing that new information in with interest. He tried to hold back a grin.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bastard?”

“Usually around the same time they’re begging me for more.”

He still sounded so calm, so implacable. It made Lysander want to wind him up and up and up until he lost it; another puzzle to undo.

“So how am I supposed to win, then?” Lysander asked, musing. “Get off the bed? Get out of the room?”

“Now you’re getting it.” Damien’s hands were busy wrapping a thick belt around Lysander’s arms, clinching them together at the elbow. “Except, of course, for one small thing.”  He stepped back, and re-set the timer, eyes full of a dark heady promise. “You’re not going to win.”

***

The alarm sounded.

Lysander was not winning.

Damien had bound his ankles after he lost round two, then his knees after round three. After a round four, he attached Lysander’s wrist cuffs to his ankles and left him in a hogtie.

Lysander had just lost round five.

He curled his fist around the key, not about to give it up without a fight. He didn’t have to. The only thing he’d been tasked to do was escape, not obey, or behave by any means. He scrambled back, keeping his gaze locked on Damien, his mind racing through his albeit limited options. Every time he’d managed to get himself free in time so far, he hadn’t managed to get past Damien.

Damien, who sauntered closer now with the sort of lethal grace more commonly seen in jungle cats.

Lysander swallowed.

“You’re looking tired,” Damien said. “Want to give up?”

“I want to point out that I’ve undone all of your ties.”

“And yet here you are, still helpless on my bed.”

Lysander swallowed a second time, but it didn’t make his mouth any less dry, especially when Damien went and said things like that. His back hit the headboard.

“I’m not helpless.”

“Not yet. We’ll get there, don’t worry.”

“I’m not – I don’t –” Lysander floundered. He didn’t know how to finish without lying and lying was not allowed for safety reasons.

Damien paused at the other end of the bed, considering him in turn.

Lysander realised after a beat that he was waiting for the end of the sentence. He exhaled, and squared his shoulders.

“Well,” he said instead. “I’m not going to just give you the key.”

“Of course not.” Damien said. He had that amusement in his voice again. He grabbed Lysander by the ankle cuffs and yanked him bodily down the bed. “Come here, then.”

It felt like Lysander should say ‘I don’t want to be helpless,’ but that wasn’t strictly true. He just didn’t want to let Damien do it. It was one thing during his shows when the various ties were complex spectacles, when he had to be conscious of nerve damage and height and a dozen different variables all at once. Damien wasn’t picking anything complicated that would be a particular mess to get out of. Perhaps that was the point.

Lysander kicked, all but throwing himself off the bed.

Damien reeled him back, working the key free from Lysander’s grip, before wrapping an arm around him.

“I’ll let you pick your forfeit,” Damien said, softly. “Would you like to be blindfolded, or would you prefer to be gagged?”

Neither concept was exactly new to him. None of this was exactly new to him, and yet it was different. He hadn’t expected how intimate it would feel, or the way that he couldn’t find the steady calm he usually found when he was working methodically free for practice. What he normally did was rote. It was him against something inanimate. Knots could be tricky but they were predictable.

It was impossible to think of Damien as something inanimate. Lysander’s heart raced, and he felt hyper-aware of his every movement, and the warmth of Damien’s hands and the scent of his cologne on the air. It was a little intoxicating.

For the first time, Lysander considered the possibility that he might actually lose this bet.

(He was fine with that.)

***

Lysander couldn’t see, couldn’t speak, and couldn’t move an inch. He was, well and truly, stuck.

Christ he couldn’t remember the last time that happened.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as he caught his breath, his muscles trembling with a peaceful sort of exhaustion. He couldn’t possibly get out of this anymore, could no longer fight, so it was okay to settle. His defiance had splintered. In the dark, he was a creature of sensation alone, world narrowed down, no audience to think of. It was overwhelming and…nice.

He didn’t think he’d get this feeling again.

Damien carded his fingers idly through Lysander’s hair, laying on the bed beside him. He seemed to be taking a moment to catch his breath too.

“Alright?” he asked.

Lysander made a sound of agreement.

Damien’s nail trailed down, curving along the edge of Lysander’s jaw, tipping his head up a fraction.

“I suppose,” he said, “that you are not a total con artist.”

Lysander huffed. He supposed he could say the same about Damien not being completely arrogant coming up to an escape artist and telling him he’d clearly never been properly tied up before.

“Ready to come out?”

Lysander was back the following week.

They both agreed it was simply excellent practice after all.

[its-in-the-woods]

Down the Rabbit Hole Chapter 4

Chapter one here, two here, three here

Pairing: Walton Goggins x You

Rating/Warning: As always minor get out. Little angst, lots of fluff, handholding, vague suggestions of sex

Slow build like novel damn length okay, Very Fluffy, Pinch of Angst, Relationship Development, Hurt/Comfort, Older man/ Younger(30s) women, Alternative universe, fictional work (IDK WHY BUT I AM PUTTING IT) Probably more as I go.

Synopsis: Working in film as a make-up artist is hard enough, but then Walton Goggins requests you, well it's way too easy to fall down the rabbit hole.

Note: they are both single, all for fun.

WARNING I do not have this all written out, I do have it plotted out, but it may be a little slower for chapters to come out. Please bear with me. Each chapter is roughly 2-3k long.

*releasing this early as I have a few days of being free. Thank you for all the love <3*

Trevor apologized about seven times in text before phoning you and apologizing again. You tell him ten times that it is fine and you were more than okay. Which then leads to about five hundred questions about what happened between you and Walton. The man will not take ‘nothing happened’ for an answer. 

“Trevor-Trev- oh-my-god could you shut up for one second,” You squeak into the phone, the man has not stopped talking since you picked up. 

“You woke up in his house! In his bed-”

“It was a guest room!”

“Are you sure? Did you see another room?”

“You are impossible right now. It was a spare room.”

“But he made you breakfast!”

You groan into the phone. “Trevor-”

“Like does that count as a date? Did you go on a date?”

“We did not go on a date. We did not sleep together. The only reason he didn’t take me home is because you wouldn’t answer your phone and I was beating anyone who asked where I lived.” You rush out, trying unsuccessfully to persuade him from asking again. 

“I give you mad props for beating on Leonard that man is a beast.”

You chuckle at that, Leonard looked like a cross between ex-military and Santa Clause. Thinking of yourself beating on him for touching you was hilariously ridiculous. The man was probably more inconvenienced than hurt. 

“So when is your next date?”

“TREVOR! We are not dating.”

“Yet. You’re not dating yet. Very important.”

You groan and bang your phone against your forehead in frustration.

“And don’t tell me it’s because he is older than you. I know you like to date older men.”

“I should have never told you that. Biggest mistake I have ever made.”

“Dirty old man fucker.” Trevor is cackling away in the background like some James Bond villain. 

“Oh my god Trevor. STAAP it.” You are also laughing, your damn friend was right. 

“You love it, and I know all about it,” Trevor sings songs into the phone.

“What about you and Decon?” You ask, changing the subject as smoothly as you can. At this rate, your face was going to be permanently red. 

“Oh. It was a wild night! I am looking forward to another one.” Trevor made some lewd noises.

“So gross, both of you. But I am very happy you’re happy.”

“I am over the moon,” Trevor is quiet for the first time, “He just treats me so well. I woke up and he was still there. Made sure I was comfy and took care of me”

“You’re so screwed.” You giggle, you had to give as good as you got. 

“Mmm, actually yes I am. And you should try it sometime.”

You groan again, “Yeah maybe in the next lifetime.”

“Oh, pffts. I give you another two weeks and I will be catching you sneaking off to his trailer.”

“I am rolling my eyes. Can you imagine if Liz got a whiff of anything?”

“What would she do? Fire you? You can’t fire a lead request.”

“I am sure she’d find a way. Or make me regret ever being on the show.”

“Pfftts. She can eat a bag of dicks. Actually, she may need to.”

You both break out into laughter at that comment. The two of you talk back and forth for a good hour. Before Travis is off to Decon’s again, you make gross gagging noises at him. Telling him to enjoy the rest of his weekend and you’d see him on Monday. 

You lay back on your bed staring up at your speckled ceiling, you had stuck up a handful of glowing stars to cover the water damage. Mind running over the weekend, running over the last month. You tell yourself that you’re delusional to think that Walton would ever be interested, but the thought is nice. The thought of going on dates, and well more, is delightful. Then again though, at the end of the day, you’re you. A thirty-something living in a studio apartment trying to break into a career that was over-saturated with a lot of talent. You rub your face, yep the picture of a prize.

***

You wake up early, determined not to let the sour mood you found yourself in over the weekend ruin this week. It’s a new day, anything is possible. Or something like that. You are already on the second cup of coffee, as your toast pops. Your phone jingles and you grab it to see who has decided to bother you this morning. 

“Hey, it’s Walton. Trevor gave me your number. We are running behind. See you soon.” Of course, Trevor would give him your number. You grumble at that, also at yourself for failing to realize you’d never given Walton yours. 

Your heart skips a little, you scold yourself for being ridiculous. “No problem, see you soon.”

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Yes, I’d love a coffee,”

“Same as usual?”

Now your face is pink as you stare at your phone screen. “Are you flipping fourteen again?” You say out loud to the room. “Stop this right now. You know better.” You curse and try to calm your damn heart. 

“Yes please.” You text back. 

You shake your head and finish eating your toast and grinning like a damn moron. Brushing your teeth, braiding your hair, and getting mostly looking human. It was a quarter to six in the damn morning anyway. If you were meant to look presentable this early you would have gone to bed earlier. Your phone buzzes reminding you that you need to get out of there. 

Grabbing your phone and purse you head out the door. Do your best to suppress the butterflies as you all but skip down the hallway. No matter how much you try to tell yourself that nothing will come of this, your heart is overruling your brain. Down the three flights of stairs and yep your heart is pounding in your chest enough to feel like a panic attack. You stop just before the front door, you can see the blackout line of an SUV through the glazed window. 

“Just go out there. It doesn’t matter what happens.” You take a deep breath. “And now you’re talking to yourself outside a door like a lunatic.”

Pushing through the door into the grey rainy early morning, you see Leonard standing beside the car with a small smile. The man reminds you of a Grandpa, big and gruff, but at the same time soft and kind. His arms folded across his chest, shoulder-length white beard blowing in the wind.

“Good morning Leonard, I heard I made quite the scene on Friday.” You smile as he opens the door for you.

“Just making sure you got home safe,” The man smiles, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. 

“I would like to apologize, I definitely won’t make a habit of it.” You say, giving his arm a quick squeeze, as you get into the SUV. It was the least you could do, you’d have to ask Walton what the man liked to drink. A small token of thanks only seemed fair. 

“Well, if you stay in my company it may become one,” Walton says with that damn smile gracing his face. He was wearing loose-fitting blank pants, a grey zipped-up jacket, and glasses as he read over the script in front of him. 

“Promise, I’ve seen worse dear,” Leonard says before closing the door and getting into the driver’s seat. 

You look at Walton and can’t help but smile back at him, “Who says I am going to hang out with you more.” 

Walton chuckles, taking his glasses off to look at you, “We will have to see about that.” 

You’re both sitting on opposite sides of a bench seat, but his hand finds yours and you don’t pull away. He talks about walking along the seawalls and a lazy Sunday spent indoors reading novels. You really wished you had been a bit more willing to spend the weekend with him. Somehow you end up telling him about your sketches and artwork. Your thoughts about one day doing prop creation, or maybe special effects. He asks about the sketches and you promise to bring one of your art books in. 

The ride is way too quick, and before you know it you’re being dropped off at your trailer. You thank both men again for the ride and hop into the trailer. 

Liz is sitting in your usual workspace, her face is a tight line that makes you feel sick. Why she was there was another question, the whole crew was supposed to three cities over setting up. 

“Hey, Liz,” You say, trying not to sound like you just walked into a swamp full of alligators.

“Of all the people, I would have expected you to be the most professional.” Your heart thuds in your chest at the words, wondering what the hell she is talking about. 

Sitting your bag down by your cupboard you turn to look at the women. “I am sorry?” 

“You think people didn’t see you leaving with the leading actor on Friday?” The woman sneers at you, her voice low but full of venom.

You put two and two together suddenly realizing what Liz was talking about. For a moment you’re stunned by the fact that the rumor mill had run so fast and far. “He was just making sure I got home safe.”

“Oh give me a break.” The woman hisses, your heart pounding in your ears now. Chest tight making it hard to breathe. “No one is that stupid girl. I saw you get out of the his SUV”

Your face goes red and something inside of you snaps. “First. Do not speak to me like I am a child.” You're angry now, and you’re so over the bullshit. “Second, what happens in my personal life is none of your business.”

“You think it looks professional to be running around after some actor?” She spits back, and your mind races to the rumor Trevor had told you about. 

“Well, it can’t be any less professional than you sleeping with half the production team.” The words come out of your mouth before you register them. It was only a rumor, but Trevor rarely dabbled in things that weren’t at least partially true. 

“You little witch.” Liz’s face is now red and she looks hurt. Yep, Trevor had hit the nail on the head with that one. “I should fire you right now.”

You glare at her, all your inhibitions set aside, you know you have the upper hand here.  “Go ahead, Liz. Fire me. See how well that goes over for you.”

Liz’s face clenches and you can tell you have her cornered. Yes, she could fire you and could make a big stink, but chances are the production won’t sanction it. Not to mention the union would have a fit. You would make sure of that. It wasn’t something you wanted to do, but damn, two could play at this game. 

“You-” Liz hisses standing and moving toward you, but you refuse to move, letting the woman get up in your face. “I will be grabbing some of my product and leaving you for the rest of the week. I hope it goes well.” 

She is gone with a blue tote a moment later. You are left standing in the middle of the trailer taken off guard. The fact that she’d come here, heard from a third party what had happened, and then decided to confront you. Part of you wants to cry and the other part wants to laugh. The most you’ve done with the man is hold his hand and everyone thinks you both were screwing over the weekend. You slide into your chair still a little baffled by the incident, not to mention that Liz would even suggest firing you. Your stomach rolls and you feel a little sick, tears now welling at the corner of your eyes. 

The door opens and you expect Trevor but it's Walton. The smile on his face falls immediately as he sees you.

“What happened?” He asked, quickly shutting the door, placing a breakfast burrito and two coffees on your station.

You shake your head and tears fall from your eyes. Hands covering your mouth as a small sob comes out. The rollercoaster of a morning is finally getting to you. Walton is in front of you gathering you up in his arms. He is warm and gentle, you try not to let the emotions overflow but it's too late. Leaning against him you cry. He smelled like coffee and vanilla, his jacket was soft against your cheek. Strong arms holding you against him as all your feelings spill out. You let yourself cry for a moment before you steel yourself enough to pull back. He's handing you tissues and you plunk yourself back into the chair feeling worn out and dazed.  Walton crouched in front of you eyebrows furrowed as you blew your nose. His hand landing gently on your knees as he comforts you. 

“What's going on Hon?” He asks as he rubs a soothing hand over your knee.

“It's -” You falter, unsure of how to explain the absolute bullshit that just happened. “Liz was upset about me going out on Friday”

Walton looks even more confused. “Why would that matter?” 

You rub your face trying to figure out how to say this. The amount of bullshit that happened was just ridiculous and you really didn’t want to drag him into it. Ultimately, you just say it cause there isn't a way around it. 

“Someone saw the two of us leave together.” You swallow your mouth going dry. “Liz made assumptions and told me I was being unprofessional. She threatened to fire me.”

Walton stands grabs his coffee and takes a sip. “I am not sure how that is any of her business. You've been very professional, and being fired would be detrimental to the whole process. You are a key part of this team, and her sticking her nose in your business is more unprofessional ” 

You just shrug, if you could go curl up in a ball for an hour you would. Just hide away, you can barely look at him. Shame hitting you at the fact you’d lost your cool over something so trivial. 

“It was just unexpected. And very hurtful.” You wipe your eyes, cursing that you need to reapply to your eyeliner. 

“Of course it was.” He comes back over and grabs your hand in his. They are always so warm. “You don't deserve to be spoken to like that. I am tempted to mention this to the PM.”

You shake your head looking at him finally. “It’s not the worst thing that's been said to me. Liz means well.”

Whether that was true or not was up in the air. Liz was a lot of things but she usually wasn’t unnecessarily cruel, which is why it had come off so shocking. The woman didn’t exactly have a way with words, but she had to have meant well.

“She means well?” He looks at you with eyebrows raised, his lips pressed into a firm line. Judging by his expression Walton didn’t believe that any more than you did. 

You swallow, “I- I need to have thick skin to do this job. It's not easy and people are always going to look for ways to judge me or demean my work.”

Walton squeezed your hand, “That may be true. But it doesn't mean I have to like it.”

The door to the trailer opens as Trevor walks in. His eyes look between both of you and then down to where Walton is holding your hand.

“Uhh, I will go wait outside..” Trevor flushes trying unsuccessfully to back himself down the steps. 

“No, it's okay.” You both say. 

Trevor pauses. Then proceeds to come in. Walton rubs his thumb over your hand before letting go. You wish he would stay, but there really wasn’t time for any more sappiness. 

“I am going to head over to costumes. They needed to do some alteration on a piece.” Walton says briskly grabbing his coffee and sliding the burrito across to you. He's out the door before you can say thank you.

Trevor is sitting there with a shit-eating grin, his feet dangling as he watches Walton go.

“So you aren't dating?” He chuckles, turning to lay out his tools. 

You groan, looking in the mirror to fix your eyeliner and clean off some fallen mascara, “He was being kind. Liz was here this morning. Guess someone told her about me leaving with Walt on Friday.”

Trevor's smile fades as he looks at you, “Those milling bastards.”

“Yep. Liz was unimpressed and threatened to fire me.”

“She wouldn't.” He all but stomped his foot. 

“Well, I am sure I will find out in the next few days.” You pray to whoever is up there that Liz would just leave it be. 

“Liz is many things. But she isn't stupid. Firing you would be more of a problem than it's worth.” You knew Trevor was right, but it did sting a little. 

“You're more than likely right. But it still hurts. Walton came in right after the argument and I will-” You look down at your feet remembering how upset he looked. 

“Had a small breakdown?” Trevor added in, trying to look at you.

“Yeah. Snot and all” You sigh as you double-check that everything you need is out and clean. 

“You should go out with him just to spit Liz.” He chuckles as he texts someone on his phone.

“If. And it's a big if. Trevor, I am going out with him. It's because we both want to. Not because of Liz.” You say firmly, that woman would not dictate your life. 

Trevor looks up from his phone.”Two weeks, three weeks, top before you are making his trailer shake”

You make a face, “You're disgusting.”

“You like it!” Trevor smiles, and you do. It was part of his never-ending charm. 

***

Chapter five

*So so much love to every one of you <3*

*If you want to be tagged in the next chapters please let me know*

[billkaulitzwife]

The Outsiders Coping With a Breakup

(ps guys im not over it leave me alone(i also watched the notebook and i hate myself))

Ponyboy

Reading or writing.

How could you ever hurt this little freshman boy he‘s such a sweetheart

He would probably silently cry into a pillow until he thought his lungs were about to collapse or cave in

if this was now … he‘d chain smoke and listen to lana del rey while looking out a moonlit window

he definitely listens to Elvis to get over it.

I don’t know what exactly he would read to get over it but probably some sad ass Edgar Allan Poe. Annabelle Lee lookin ass.

He‘d write the most heart breaking

tear dripping

heavy breathing sad poetry ever.

show him a romance novel.

he’d never stop reading them until he got over it.

just the bare thought of it drives him nuts.

so he reads.

Johnny

if you hurt this man he would probably hurt himself.

he would dream bout it and wake up in cold sweats, tears running down his face.

in all honesty

i think he‘d be artistic with it

he’d somehow turn each and every single tiny thought into something about you

whether it be thinking about a teddy bear then contorting it into nothing but an image of you and him.

he would never be able to look at the places you went together the same.

he would be an artist.

hand him a pencil and he’ll make your heart break and ache.

might etch and sketch on himself to see if you still care.

ps you obviously do.

Dallas

Doesn’t know how.

All this man does is sleep, drink, fuck, repeat.

being honest this manwhore is probably gonna screw every hoe in Tulsa to try and get his mind off of it,

but every path leads back to what he knows best.

he would smoke more,

party more,

drink away all his problems, etc before facing a problem head on.

people may see him as this

uhh

violent gang member hoodlum kid guy man

but deep down hes really just a kid who wishes he couldve given his momma one more hug

a kid that needed to be loved.

a kid that was never taught how to be loved.

Adelaide

crier.

she’s a big ol’ crier, but it doesnt matter since thats not the only way she copes.

she loves to paint and puts every emotion into her paintings.

she may’ve become a kleptomaniac since she needs the supplies.

the curtis boys would

PERSONALLY

kill you if anything happened to her

one heartbreak and shes done for

love? whats that? it isnt real?

dont hurt her no matter what.

she would also turn to cigarettessss (as if she doesnt smoke enough).

adelaide would develop stage five lung cancer before even admitting that love could in the slightest exist anymore.

Sodapop

working.

soda seems like the kinda guy to go through a breakup and cry a lot

but the only thing that really helped was work.

he’d probably get a raise

yk with how hard and how much he’d be working to get over it.

his siblings would warn him about not overworkimg himself

and guess what.

he didnt listen and got really sick from all the stress.

i know for a fact he would keep away from cigarettes even if someone said they help and he believed it

he would only ever listen to the radio

hoping and praying that when he’d hear a love song he‘d hear your voice

Darrell

probably the most sane of everybody while dealing with his bs

he wld obviously be heart broken

but not to the point he needed some insane coping mechanism.

he would probably meditate.

i mean this is the sixties cmon he’s either gonna do wxxd

or meditate.

as soon as a thought of you came up and his mind started to panic he would sit on the couch and

well.

relax.

he probably has the healthiest coping mechanism he’s definitely got his life together

the others are jealous as fuuuuck

Steve

bro wouldnt eat.

every time he thought about the breakup

he thought it was because he was strong enough

or that he was too chubby for his girl.

one time he passed out while on the way to work and the gang freaked out so bad

they couldnt take him to the hospital so they carried him home and stuck a juice box in his mouth

eventually his ass woke up and they all cheered like the war had just ended “HIP HOORAY!”

but then in all seriousness

he needed to get his weight back up so the curtis kids make him eat at their house

even if he says he ate.

theres always snacks for him laying around thay house from then on out

Two-Bit

drinking.

do i have to explain.

in the novel pony said two-bit was famous for shoplifting and his black-handled switchblade…

but for some reason i know he wouldnt shoplift any more.

(he sure did teach adelaide how to tho)

along with his love for “shopping” you gotta remember he’s a heavy alcoholic

he’d drink away all of his problems and thoughts until he blacked out.

his buddies would think its just your average keith

but in all reality he’s really struggling

even though he seems like the usual drunk happy joking guy

HE IS HURTTT.

okay thanks for watching todays vlog

if u ever need to vent please dont be scared to message me bruv im sure Ik how to help.