#this might be pretentious of me to say but I think I really was the reason the hq fic rec fandom started to write their thoughts about fics

[hella1975]

this isn't meant to like. make you give your opinion on Discourse™️ or anything I just wanted to ask, but I keep seeing people upset about taylor dating mr. 1975 and I can't figure out if it's bc he's a terrible person or just a greasy alcoholic 😭😭😭 do you know what's up with that guy??? like on one hand I like not knowing things about celebs and I should keep it that way. but also

i, unfortunately, do know what's up with that guy and it's that he's said something problematic about every faction of society at least once. for me i have some weird, reluctant fondness for him because he is just a train wreck and he's such a twat all the time that at least it's nondiscriminating, and i also like that when he sings about mental illness it's bc he's actually BEEN THERE and been publicly a mess bc of it and been addicted to drugs and acted like a dick, and he ACKNOWLEDGES THAT, but also at no point am i gonna jump on the 'he's an amazing person' parade bc generally he is just a sleazy idiot. it is weird watching people suddenly dragging up every single thing he's ever said to be like 'look! this is why he's bad for our tay tay!' when the running joke with matty healy is that he's just a prick. like u dont need to expose his moral fibre. u can just say he's a prick. and also as funny as the jokes are she's still a grown woman who's been around the block a few times when it comes to dating. i think she will be okay maybe

[glindyupland]

I just think it’s silly that so many people complain about Villain Amaya as “wasted potential” and that “we were robbed” like-

My pals, post canon fan fiction is right there. The desire to free her husband is right there. Either by touching an evil book while being too eager to remember the obsidian oil, or being possessed by contact (ie what she believes is true loves kiss) when trying to reason with him in the dungeon.

We don’t need a rewrite, we can have a continuation. Both can be true. Amaya is a complex character, she can handle it.

[miserye]

I hate looking through my fic lists because IT MAKES ME WANNA READ THEM ALL AGAIN

[nowendil]

hm. might have just felt the first flutters incoming of gender plate tectonics

[intergalacticaquarium]

Just outlined the next chapter and got some of it written and have I mentioned before that my core competency as a writer is writing angsty arguments that drive forward character devopment bc it is and I have

[katierosefun]

A slightly random question: how would you compare Goblin vs Hotel del Luna? (My personal impression is that Goblin is somewhat overrated, while Hotel del Luna is vastly underrated)

it's hard for me to say, honestly, because i remember really liking goblin when i was in high school and not really caring a whole ton for hotel del luna when it first aired--but as the years have gone by, i now don't really feel that strongly for goblin, but i honestly adore hotel del luna.

(also, oh god, this answer got long, hang on)

i think for me, personally, though--it's really a matter of which story has slightly stronger and more coherent themes. don't get me wrong, kim go eun and gong yoo have insanely good chemistry (a shame that . . . kim shin and eun tak fell in love while she was still in high school, when i was 16 and also a high school student, i didn't see what was so bad about that, but now i'm kinda like . . .. mm .. .. . not the biggest fan of that). outside of that, goblin also had perhaps honestly game-changing levels of cinematography and the ost really changed the trajectory of kdrama osts ever since. there are also some genuinely beautifully written lines in the show, as well as some very emotionally-charged moments (i remember crying so hard from the first episode alone).

however. at the end of the day, i think, goblin is very much so a romance-centered story, and that might be why i don't feel quite as strongly for it. absolutely no hate on the romance genre overall, but for me, personally, korean dramas (and really, any story in general!) is much stronger when they have a combination of dynamics and messages that touches all aspects of life, not just romance.

so that's where hotel del luna is admittedly stronger, i think. even though both hotel del luna and goblin are both centered around very ancient supernatural-esque beings, hotel del luna seems to stand out more in my mind because of how it touched on themes that were also so . . . very human? and that mostly has to do with the fact that the very premise of the show: a hotel run for ghosts who need to rest or heal somehow before moving to their next life--really invites those kinds of human messages. (the bride who didn't want to let go of her fiance, the father and son who wanted the driver to know that it wasn't his fault, the victim of sexual harassment who was full of so much justified resentment, even the frickin' tiger who just wanted to go home--even though even these little stories are smaller-scale, they all speak to something that a lot of people can somehow connect to.)

and, of course, there's the strength of jang man wol's character. don't get me wrong, i do love kim shin--and there are some very obvious, very distinct parallels between the two characters, but i think man wol was a little more compelling to me because she was so obviously bitter, and i think that sort of sticks more to audience members. (it's hard! it's hard to be kind to people when you've been so badly hurt! jang man wol's bitter and mean, but for some reason, that speaks to a lot of people, including myself lmao)

and, while we're at it, i think i should give a nod to gu chan seong and jang man wol's dynamic, because i feel this answer would be incomplete without it. what i liked about chan seong and man wol's relationship was that, unlike the kind between eun tak and kim shin, there was always this question about whether or not chan seong and man wol are actually bound to each other via fate. for eun tak and kim shin, it was pretty obvious (eun tak can see the sword! she is absolutely the goblin's bride! etc etc etc).

for chan seong, he was just Some Guy. no special ability to see ghosts, living a mostly normal life outside of these gosh darn flowers that keep getting sent to him on his birthday because his dad, of all people, made a dumb (but well-intentioned!) mistake. he's just like us, floating around and absolutely terrified of ghosts and also exasperated, and i don't think either he or man wol actually planned on falling in love.

(which is why it's a little bit disappointing to learn around the last few episodes that they are, in fact, somehow bound by fate. still bitter about that.)

but even if they were bound by fate, there was something a little bit more natural about their relationship--i know that hotel del luna has been criticized for not fleshing out chan seong and man wol's relationship as well as it could have (which i agree to, to an extent!), but maybe it's iu and yeo jin goo's fantastic acting, maybe it's just that i like to romanticize, but their relationship also just felt. oddly human. (because idk. i think there are a good chunk of lonely creatures who very badly want to be loved but don't know how to be loved, mostly because of their past. and i think there is also a good chunk of lonely creatures who have loved someone so wholly, even though they knew deep down that it might not end well. to love is to love in spite of that, anyways.)

[shamblz]

Oooooh I'm about to start threatening to quit at work

[wasppilled]

personally i do not like cavetown's "boys will be bugs". nor the idea that people may associate me with it in the context of being a trans man who likes bugs. something about it feels infantilizing to me like idk. obviously cavetown is trans himself but something about that song rubs me wrong somewhere in the vein of "infantilization of transmascs" and i just do not care for it.

[wegc]

perv!channie and reader finally fucking but she teases him the whole time until he has had enough. “you’re such a fucking pervert” and “you’re so disgusting” all while she’s grinning at him and riding him like her life depends on it. he’s literally a second away from cumming as soon as he’s inside her. “you really think you deserve to cum? after fantasizing about fucking your best friend’s sister?” she denies him to cum for so long that he finally snaps and flips her over, pounding into her like a madman. “such a tease, you whore” and “don’t have much to say now, huh?” she cums so hard but he’s not done. even after he cums, he aint done either…

OK IM DONE AHHHHHH (please feel free to finish or add on or write more to it bc i would v much appreciate it)

i’m ascending. something about cocky!reader paired with a perpetually flustered, perv!chan is such a mouthwatering combination.

perv!chan whose cock twitches inside you every time you humiliate him with yet another reminder of how repulsive and depraved he is; he can’t bite back immediately because you’re right. he’s nothing but a disgusting pervert and he’s fortunate that you aren’t completely appalled by him.

when you grip the base of his cock and guide him inside your dripping cunt, chan feels like he could pass away beneath you. every delusion of his, whether it emerged in his bedroom or your washroom—a mere room away from you—was coming true and it was far better than he had ever imagined.

all he can do is pant and whine under you, taking in the sight of your tits bouncing in his face and the cute flush of your face, which scrunched up in pleasure. most importantly, the feeling of your cunt—the warmest thing in the world—took his breath away; his cunt, all his—he’d make sure of it.

the overwhelming feeling of being inside you, the epiphany and high of all his dreams and desires coming true right before him has his poor cock pulsing inside you, seconds away from cumming. each flutter of your cunt, each moment your fingers teased his nipples or when your hot, wet mouth whined against his had him feeling lightheaded—he knew he wouldn’t last long.

and your teasing—while it did turn him on, it also infuriated him. god, you were such a fucking brat—a mouthy little handful. did you frankly know what he thought of every time he stroked his cock to the image of you? you wouldn’t be behaving so pretentiously if you knew all the things he yearned to do to you, all the positions he’d bend you in, all the fondling and groping he had dreamt of, all the mean and obscene remarks he’d taunt you with, all the ways in which he would make you beg for more. you had no fucking clue.

before you even realize it, you’re pulled off his cock and manhandled to your hands and knees, where the drilling of chan’s cock seizes your breath. he’s suddenly so deep inside your cunt—you swear the tip of his cock might kiss your cervix—and you can scarcely catch some air every time he snaps his hips to go harder.

chan would grin, smacking your ass, laughing shakily at the sounds of your yelps and wailing with each drag of his length. your face is buried in his pillow, but even that hardly muffles your loud sobs and pleas.

“god, you don’t ever shut up do you?”

“fuckin’ brat, you want more?”

“dirty little thing, you’re just as gross as me.”

“you feel like a whore, don’t you? doesn’t it make you feel dirty, knowing everything i’ve done? you hate that you like it, don’t you?”

chan, who fucks until dawn, cumming continually inside you and pulling out periodically to observe and engrave the way his cum oozes out of your gaping hole. he feels so pleased as he takes in the bruises and marks he’s littered on your body, marking you as his. or even better, the way your eyes gloss over, looking at him desperately with tearful eyes. your hair is dishevelled, draped messily across his ruined sheets, and your lips are bruised with his kisses and nibbles, lipgloss pathetically smudged away.

“so fucking pretty—my pretty girl, yeah? you wanna go again? can’t go without me, hm? need me so bad to stop all that fussing, right?”

“you’re all mine now, you know that? can’t fuck you just once—can’t have you looking at other people.”

[leclerc-hs]

tachycardia! pt. 1 - cl16

pairing: doctor!charles leclerc x nurse!reader (alpha/omega au) summary: in which you don't always get along with the arrogant alpha doctor warnings: LIGHT a/b/o dynamics, angst??, none really (yet!), badly translated french, NOT PROOFREAD word count: 1.7k author's note: hi so this is the first part!! I'm thinking about turning this into like a "blurb" series, like i'll do a bunch of parts with them but they won't be toooooo long. emphasis on the LIGHT a/b/o dynamics because i am STILL leaning all about it but I'm sure the more I write the better with it I will get. I def will discuss more about it during smut scenes. let me know what you guys think and what else you would like to see happen between them!! don't be shy!!! xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

IT WASN’T HATRED, per se, but more so the fact that you both knew how to get under each other’s skin so easily. 

The amount of time it took for Doctor Leclerc to make some sort of asshole comment as you entered the doors of the hospital was little to none. It was almost a predetermined ritual at this point. So common that you should’ve been more concerned with the premise that he might’ve memorized your schedule just so it’s his face you see first thing every time you arrive to work. 

You had made a solemn vow to yourself long ago never to become romantically involved with a doctor. Any doctor for that matter. The allure of dating a doctor might have seemed appealing in theory, but they tended to exude an air of pretentiousness, rudeness, and arrogance that left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

Doctor Leclerc was what you would consider the living embodiment of this, a constant reminder of the vows you made in the first place. Yet, the fact that he was probably the hottest fucking man you have ever seen, made it hard to not want to blur the lines sometimes. His chiseled features and commanding presence were sometimes a magnetic force, no matter how much he annoyed you.

So, you wonder why, even as you’re leaned against the nurse’s station with an elbow propped on it, you can’t help but stare at the muscles of his back poking through his scrubs and white coat, as he pours a cup of coffee into his mug. His massive shoulders rising and falling as he picks the coffee pot up and places it back down.

-

“Did he say something to you?” You ask as you press a tissue into the hands of one of your co-workers, April. You didn’t know that well, but nurses stuck together regardless.

“I’m fine,” she says, but the tears welling up in her eyes, made you know better. “I just need to stop being so sensitive.” The words hang in the air, a fragile façade masking the turmoil within, and you recognize the weight of her emotions despite her attempt to downplay them.

“He must have been a proper douche,” you remark, the water from the bathroom sink running over your hands as you meet April’s gaze through the mirror. “What did he do?” Your tone carries a mix of concern and frustration.

Her hesitance to disclose wasn’t rooted in desire to withhold information, but rather in a reluctance to escalate the situation unnecessarily. Aware of your tendency to stand up to Doctor Leclerc, she treaded cautiously. You turned back around to face her, an eyebrow raised as if you’re saying spill the beans already.

“Well,” she begins, her grip tightening on the crumpled tissue in her fist, “all I did was ask if the symptom the patient was experiencing was a common side effect of the medication we prescribed her, just to be sure.” You cross your arms over your chest, you can feel the agitation growing in your chest. “He wasn’t mean in front of the patient, but he pulled me aside after and told me how unprofessional it is to be questioning in front of a patient.” Her voice wavers with a mix of frustration and hurt.

Your lips press into a thin line as she recounts the encounter. “He then told me that I should’ve paid better attention in school and then maybe I would know the answer,” she emphasizes, tinged with a hint of bitterness. The word “maybe” lingers in the air, weighted with insinuation, as if Doctor Leclerc’s implication stung deeper than mere criticism.

“What an alpha asshole!” you exclaim, your frustration evident in the forceful wave of your hands. “Don’t listen to him.” You offer her comfort, a smile of reassurance accompanying your words, a silent vow to stand by her side.

April’s lips curl upward into a small, grateful smile, her eyes softening as she murmurs a heartfelt “thanks”. In that moment, her expression speaks volumes, conveying both appreciation for your support and glimmer of relief.

-

You saw him before he saw you. 

As you step through the doorway into one of your patient’s rooms, a pang of exasperation washes over you, accompanied by the silent question of what you did to deserve this particular form of punishment. It feels like a cruel twist of fate to find Doctor Leclerc attending to one of your patients, whom had just recently had a coronary angioplasty and a stent placement. Despite the urge to roll your eyes, you summon all your professionalism and force one of the biggest smiles onto your face. It’s a façade of warmth and cooperation, masking the internal tension brewing beneath the surface.

There he stood, a figure of authority on the opposite end of the bed, his arms folded across his chest as he chuckled at whatever anecdote your patient shared with him. His laughter, though genuine, seemed to echo with a hint of superiority. You can’t help but notice the subtle flex of his jaw muscles as his head tilts back briefly. The sight of his scruff and the contours of his muscular neck send a tingling sensation coursing through you.

You need to snap out of it! You repeat to yourself, a silent mantra echoing in your mind. You were so preoccupied with convincing yourself that Doctor Leclerc wasn’t unbelievably attractive that you failed to notice the scrutiny of two pairs of eyes now fixed upon you. The sudden realization jolts you back to the present, and you redirect your focus to the patient.

You didn’t need to glance at Doctor Leclerc to sense the presence of a smirk tugging at his lips; it was almost palpable, a silent acknowledgement that he had caught you staring at him. Distracted by him. 

“Glad you can join us, mon lapin.” My bunny.

You narrowed your eyes at him, a flicker of irritation igniting within you. That forsaken nickname—he just couldn’t resist. Ever since your first day, when you innocently showed up with a tote bag adorned with colorful bunnies, he had taken great delight in teasing you with it.

“Ne m’appele pas comme ça.”  Don’t call me that.

The patient looked up at both of you, eyes full of delight in entertainment.

His verdant eyes look at you for a few seconds, contemplating something, before looking back at the patient. “I’ll make sure you’re out of here in no time,” he assures the patient, his voice full of warmth. “I just need to check your vitals, and hopefully we can have you out here in a few days.” His words are reassuring, delivered with a blend of confidence and empathy that contrasts with the earlier tension in the room. Despite your reservations, you can’t deny that he provides great care for his patients.

“How has your medication been? Still uncomfortable?” You inquire, while Doctor Leclerc listens intently to your patient’s chest with his stethoscope.

“A little bit,” your patient murmurs in response, pausing between deep breaths as instructed by Doctor Leclerc.

“I’ll make sure you get another dose of aspirin to help ease the pain.” You promise with a tight-lipped smile as Doctor Leclerc removes the stethoscope from his ears.

“I think we need to reconsider the dosage,” you assert, meeting Doctor Leclerc’s gaze.

“We don’t want to risk any adverse effects.” His eyes, a much darker hue of green now, narrow at you, like he can’t believe you’re telling him what to do. “I’ve already adjusted his medication. It’s within the recommended for his condition.” 

He shifts his focus back to the patient, the darkness and annoyance that once clouded his eyes now dissipating. “Everything is looking great! I’ll check on you tomorrow morning,” he reassures the patient with a warm smile before bidding his farewells. As he turns to you, nodding toward the doorway, his demeanor shifts, and a lethal glare meets your gaze. Without a word, you follow him out the room, bracing yourself. You refuse to cower, meeting his glare with a steely resolve of your own. Each step you take alongside him is a silent assertion.

His touch on your elbow sends a jolt of tingles to your stomach as he swiftly turns you around, your back now pressed firmly against the wall. His gaze pierces through you with a lethal intensity. 

“Que pensez-vous faire?” What do you think you’re doing? He pinched the bridge of his nose in between his pointer finger and thumb, with his eyes scrunched as if he got a splitting headache in the span of one second. Like he was in pain. Did you know how strong you scent was? He wondered mindlessly, almost forgetting why he was so mad at you in the first place.

You thought nothing of his actions, too busy feeling the anger swell in the pit of your stomach.

Your eyes roll in exasperation, and your eyebrows knit together in annoyance at the audacity of this man. 

His eyes meet your again and can’t help but think how beautiful you look, even when angry. How he would just love to bend you over his knee and remind you who is in charge.

“Je veille sur mon patient.” I’m looking out for my patient.

He rests his hands on his hips, stealing a glance at his beeping pager before fixing his gaze back on you. His eyes, nearly black, pierce through you. “Non, tu essaies juste de provoquer une dispute comme d’habitude,” You’re just trying to start an argument as usual. He grits through clenched teeth. “His medication is completely fine, et tu le sais!” And you know it!

So, maybe you were trying to start an argument with him. Especially after April’s crying face came to your mind.

He’s so close that you can hardly think around his scent. It’s almost intoxicating.

“Don’t ever make April cry again.” You jab your finger into his shoulder, reminding yourself why you’re here in the first place.

He blinks, and you catch the glimmer of recognition spreading across his features. “Elle n’a aucun courage” She has no spine. He remarks before continuing, “She should learn from you. You probably have spare spines.” He steps back from you before striding down the hallway in opposite direction of the nurse’s station.

No matter how annoyed you were, you couldn't peel your eyes off his muscular back until he was completely out of sight. You scoffed at yourself. How pathetic am I? You questioned yourself repeatedly until you take in his last words to you.

Did he just make a joke?

[the-dixon-effect]

Daryl Dixon - jealous/protective headcanons

A/N: wanted to write some hcs that are going to come up in my next fic!! thank u @taylormarieee ;)

synopsis: all sfw jealous/protective hcs, daryl's a bit angry but we all just love to tease him ;)

when Daryl sees you with another man, any other guy, he's immediately pressed. especially if it's some pretentious fuck like Spencer or Aiden, or a douchebag he doesn't like.

he might ignore you for a little while, just to test the water and see how long you can go without talking to him.

sometimes he looks over at you with a soft, empathetic expression on his face. as a silent way of saying "talk to me, please".

he stares him down with that sultry look. all mean and tough, but you just think it's cute.

he tries to scare him off. grunting in his direction and bumping into his shoulder, especially if you're near.

what he doesn't realise is that you're just trying to tease him, get a reaction out of him.

and it works every time. he always comes back to you, because in truth, he just can't stand being away from you.

one day he'll confront you and ask what the deal is with whoever's taken an interest in you. "What the hell's his deal? Y'all goin' on a date?"

he'll also confront the guy eventually. "Hey. You listen ta' me. If you hurt her, say anythin' to her that hurts her feelins', I will beat yer ass into the ground. Hear me?"

of course, the guy is immediately freaking out. thing is though, you were never interested in him in the first place. you wanted Daryl, wanted him to protect you. and you got your way.

he'd approach and say, boldly; "Hey, Y/N, ya' deserve better. S'much better than tha' piece of shit,"

you explain to him that you never liked the other guy in the first place, and that it was a certain archer that you really have a crush on.

suddenly he goes all flush and tense, fidgeting with his fingertips and wondering "why does she like me?"

"Daryl, I love the way you get protective over me, when you threaten other guys and act all tough and mean. I actually think it's kinda cute."

he's stuttering and nervous, but he's sure of one thing; he loves you.

[tornioduva]

Dungeon meshi and body proportions

Ok, i'm feeling the rush i got from binging the manga this last week is starting to fade away, i'll be back to being a normal person soon i think. at least, that is before i find a new something for me to dive into uhuh.

Before that happens, i want to praise Ryoko Kui for one last think. The design of the characters!

For years i've expressed (maybe not so much online) my hate towards the "anime style", this homogenization of traits and beauty standards to an artificial degree, and the mass spread and consumption of it. yes, trends exist for a reason, this is not the first nor the last art current to be popular and i'm not the first detractor of one in history. I do think there is something uniquely harmful in this one though, and that is why i'm able to find the energy to be such a pretentious dipshit about it. That is a discussion for another day though.

All this to say that going through Dungeon Meshi and seiing these characters, plus (and in a way because of it) all the additional sketches of the daydream hour bonus sections, was such a breath of fresh air! (at least for what concerns japanese exported stories)

All i could say and praise in regard to character designs in general is perfectly expressed in this video, which i recommend you to watch if you want to hear my opinions (and the video author's too, uhuh):

I want to leave you though with at least one specific praise for me: Falin.

i've seen countless time people (online) just not understanding how people's body work, how much differences there can be and how proportions do distribute and affect the body. in anime I see a lot of short and tall people (mostly women girls) that share the same proportions despite their actual height, and that often leads to think "yeah, she is short" and than she's tall when around someone, or (most often) the contrary. same lenght of limbs, same head to body proportions, and little details like this.

Falin you can tell at a glance she is a tall woman before she's around anyone, even when she is standing near her brother who is taller than her.

Kui did her homework in studying bodies and variations, and, whether consciously or not, she differentiated her in body in subtle but fundamental ways: her head being slightly smaller than her body, the neck being fairly long, and her having somewhat broader shoulders.

I accept that there might be an element of suggestion at play here, considering also how she is dressed most of the time, but I really do think there is a direct effort at differentiation here.

This is the first time in a long time (in a series like this at least) where i've seen a woman carrying herself around others and the space around here kind of like a person like me, tall, would; at first i didn't think much of it, but then i saw her near other characters and....i don't know, i felt a warm, joyful feeling, seeing that i was right in recognizing that trait and being right.

I was especially happy in seeing her next to marcille. not so much for the height difference, but for how different they were in proportions and mannerism. A lesser manga i fear would have used marcille's body type and way of moving and interacting as the default for most other girls, but here she was uniquely herself!

Now, i could've used more extreme exemples to show how this author rocks in body types representations (while aknowledging there could've been even more diversification still), given there are far larger, taller and stranger women, but to me, nailing the little, most subtle details in such a chirurgical manner shows a greater level of mastery and comprehension. As such, Falin left me with a deeper fascination than most other characters.

Sorry for this wall of text, but i needed to let my happy thoughts go, so that i could be free again uhuh.

Feel free to tell me that i'm wrong, or that i should just accept anime media as is. i'm just really happy Dungeon meshi exists as is and i want Ryoko Kui to keep refining her craft, and drawing beautiful women and dwarves.

Plus, this was very much a stream of consciousness, i didn't go into technical details about what i think conveyed what i described, but if someone is interested, or does not get what i'm saying (while expressing it in a curious and gentle way, i won't respond to spiteful assholes), i'll be happy to make a follow up post in which i try to dissect this! For example, i didn't reread the whole manga to find examples of her, i just went to the wiki uhuh. in a follow up post maybe i'll try to go through chapters and pick more specific examples of her.

Anyway, have a good day!

[starlightshadowsworld]

Heroes of Olympus but when Jason returns to Camp Jupiter, he's pissed.

He doesn't cower at the sight of his camp but stands taller. A steelness in his eyes no one at Camp Half Blood has ever seen before.

But one those in Camp Jupiter know all to well.

"Twelth Leigion Fulminata, stand at attention."

He doesn't even need to raise his voice as every single Roman demigod stops what their doing to look at him.

The only thing on their faces is fear.

"Oh would you look at that, you do know how to follow orders." Says Jason, strolling forward and.

Two centurions scramble to get a seat for him, Jason sits down nodding in thanks and dismissing them.

"Does anyone care to explain, just what the fuck has been going on here in my absence?"

Octavian raises a hand and Jason snorts.

"Augur, why am I not suprised? The floor is yours."

Octavian nods, a grin on his face and began to explain what had occurred.

All the while Jason listens, his expression giving nothing away. When Octavian finished, Jason sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair.

"If there's one thing I can't tell you idiots off its for making my life boring. Your dismissed...actually one last thing Augur?"

Octavian paused, turning back around to face Jason. "Yes, sir?" Jason frowned "wipe that smug look off your face before I do it for you."

Octavian went pale, all traces off amusement gone from his face.

"Thank you. Your dismissed, get out of my sight." Octavian left without a second word.

"Jason"

"Praetor Ramirez-Arellano"

Reyna winced, and she wasn't the only one. Jason never called her by her title unless they were in the Senate.

He was hurt.

"Do tell me, has Augur Octavian missed anything in his explanation?" Reyna shook her head, for as pretentious as he was Octavian had spoken the truth.

Jason rose to his feet.

"Oh but he did, he neglected to mention that there were 3 Praetors standing before us. Now, unless the rules have changed their are only supposed to be 2."

Jason looked past Reyna, his gaze resting on Percy who waved awkwardly. "State your name."

Percy, feeling very much like he was intruding in on something answered him. "Percy Jackson."

Recognition flashed in Jason's gaze, and he softened momentarily. "Percy Jackson, son of Posideon? Formerly apart of this Camp?" He asked, gesturing to his orange Camp Half Blood top.

"Yup."

Jason nodded "apologises, Jackson. Your friends and I traveled here, you may wait in the Senate. I will release them to you momentarily." Percy grinned "thanks, erm... Sorry about all of this I really didn't know."

Jason held up a hand "that's quite alright, you are not at fault for this." Percy left and Jason's smile vanished.

"Tell me, when did the Senate allow for a new Praetor to be reinstated? And why someone so new? I'd get if it was due to an it emergency field promotion, but that wasn't the case."

He couldn't even look at her and it hurt.

"I thought you were dead, Jason.

Jason laughed, but there was no humour in it. It sent chills down everyone's spines.

"Really? Than please, show me the search parties, point me to the evidence you collected that bought you too such a conclusion. For that matter, where's my funeral pyre?"

Jason shook his head, anger and sadness in his eyes. "Don't bullshit me. You didn't think I was dead, you didn't even look. And frankly I don't think you cared too."

He looked Reyna in the eye. "You replaced me, with a Greek. I get shit for being named after a Greek hero, but none of you had a problem with this. You wanted to replace me, Reyna. I'm sorry it didn't work out for you."

He shook his head, turning his back on her.

"Jason, wait I-"

"We have several guests at our gate that we need to welcome. I've already had their weapons checked but you've proven how little you trust my authority so you might want to hurry up on that."

And with that he left to the Senate.

Jason swapped his outfit with Percy who apologised once again.

"Really man, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. My Leigion had been trying to get rid of me since the day I showed up. Unfortunately for them, I'm more valuable alive than dead." Explains Jason, Percy frowned.

"Well, fuck em." He grinned when Jason laughed in suprise. "You are definitely something else, Jackson." Percy grinned wider "see you're learning fast. I think we'll be good friends you and I."

Jason raised an eyebrow "you sure? Most of my friends stab me in the back." Percy nodded, a sincerity in his eyes that made Jason almost believe he wouldn't.

It felt too good to be true.

"Well, I'll just have to prove you wrong." Percy put a hand out "Percy Jackson, son of Posideon and former Praetor." Jason shook his hand. "Jason Grace, son of Jupiter and current Praetor."

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

[olderthannetfic]

I always see people who have never been antis, talking about/questioning how some antis even ARE antis when you look at their taste in media - ie the ever famous joke of "Hannigram is #problematique" "but it's a show where he eats people" or whatever.

I thought I'd weigh in as someone who could, hypothetically, be called an ex-anti (which, thankfully, nothing ever really came out of it - it was just very 2014 keyboardwarrior-esque behavior of me being a chronically online young adult who would share posts in a group chat making fun of certain shippers, or reblog posts about how 50shades is The Most Problematic Media Ever to exist -- basically I was an anti with anti-lines of thoughts, but i never, like, a ran a Shipping Discourse Blog or whatever)

For me, personally, it was a few different things. I can now see how it's incredibly hypocritical that teenaged me shipped Light/L, while still thinking that Dramione was Bad And Abusive. It ultimately boiled down to a) being pretentious, and b) just not understanding media or what proshippers REALLY believed, with a side of c) not realizing that nuance exists. like i was pretty late to join tumblr, I think I immigrated here during PEAK "yourfaveisproblematic" era which definitely did have an impact on my opinions and my tastes.

to elaborate, a.) being pretentious. i mean this one just kinda goes without saying. "I engage in media in a way more intellectual way than you do, don't you know that? You're a filthy and disgusting person who writes Snape/Hermione because you're an actually disgusting pedophile IRL who would probably date your own student that you're abusing if you could. Meanwhile, I'm a very smart, good, and pure person. When I read Uncle Vernon/Harry, I'm doing it in a G-d honoring whump way that clearly condemns abuse, incest, and rape. Unlike YOU who only writes harmful stuff as a way to get people off :/"

(as an aside, i think this line of thinking will ALWAYS be present in fandom and popculture in some way, sadly. ie the recent trend of people hating on booktok bc the books are 'trashy' and how these porn addicts should read real classic literature instead.)

as for b.), not understanding media - i cannot emphasize enough that i was GENUINELY stupid and disconnected enough to think that proshippers REALLY WERE pro-All Of The Degenerate Dead Doves That They Wrote.

why did i feel this way? why did i understand that Lolita clearly isnt pro-pedophilia, but for some reason i thought that someone shipping weecest was? well, first of all, i think that fanfiction is (generally) seen as Less Serious than classic literature, and fandom is a fun place, so i guess i somehow thought that every fanfic/fanartist who wrote Problematic Things, especially Problematic Things that they portrayed as Sexy, really DID enjoy the thought of that Actually Happening To Real People.

and i think THIS is the bulk of why antis ARE antis. i'm not calling them all stupid - i do think BEING an anti is stupid, but at the same time, there are people who are truly smart and good-intended people who just have some really off color opinions about, like, homestuck ships or whatever. Lawlight is okay because notebooks that kill people don't exist so it's IMPOSSIBLE for the Harmful Aspects of Light/L to be romanticized! but schoolyard prejudiced bullies DO exist and are a REAL problem so Drarry is BAD (*truly completely unaware of the fact that there's 'realistic' aspects of the Light/L dynamic and 'unrealistic' aspects of Drarry - such as, for example, Hogwarts arguably being even MORE of a fantasy setting than DN is.*) I know that media literacy is the hot buzzword of the year to throw around in 2024, but, like, i really did not have media literacy.

as for c.), not realizing nuance exists - ok "nuance" might not be the best word here, but i dont know how else to describe it. like, each time ive typed the word "problematic" out in this ask, i've done so in a very tongue in cheek/ironic/retroactive way, but, like, those posts about how Everything Is Problematic, Including Your Fave ARE true. and i didn't like the fact that my favorite media or favorite person might've Made A Mistake! i need to Talk About Its Issues Because I'm So Betrayed That My Dear Sweet Comfort Media Would Do This To Me. I Need To Prove I Clearly Condemn It.

like, i legit morally could not justify reblogging a twilight post without adding in the tags '#this is my guilty pleasure it sucks that the books were so racist though' or whatever. Most people were lucky enough to avoid that line of thinking, but there was an actual group of people who felt a genuine need to virtue signal all the time, partly bc, hey, they WERE passionate about talking abt #issues in media, but also bc of a subconscious fear of If You Reblog A Singular Piece Of Hetalia Fanart, You're Literally A Nazi And Will Get A Callout Post Written About You.

and during all of this i was at the tail end of my high school experience (yes i know im younger than most of your audience, ha). i was going through A Lot emotionally, going through a lot of life changes, and lived in a very . . . interesting household/place where i couldn't do ACTUAL good in the world that i was passionate about. so to make up for the fact that i was genuinely in no place to do legit activism, clearly i had to save the gay community by arguing about johnlock queerbaiting or whatever.

^ and honestly i do think that is the position of most antis. theyre isolated and cant seem to do Enough in the Real Scary World so they have to resort to talking about how bad of a person someone is for "shipping abuse", bc theyre not in a situation where they could, for example, ACTUALLY fight the good fight to end abuse or raise awareness for it.

There was way more to it and way more that I could say, if I wanted to, but this post is long enough as it is and probably doesn't make much sense.

I feel bad for antis, honestly, or at least the ones who are antis in the way I used to be.

--

Oh yes, passionate young fools who think they can at least fix the internet if not their lives make up most of the cannon fodder. Some of the ringleaders are just mini dictators and wannabe cult leaders, but most anti-leaning types are just traumatized or clueless, even a lot of the ones who do serious damage and don't just mock shit in private with their friends.

[emlovessid]

@jegulus-microfic january 23, perform, 486 words part one, part three

After he gets over the shock enough to sweep up the shards of his mug from the floor, Regulus sits down on his couch and pulls out his phone, googling James Potter. While there was still a tiny sliver of him that wasn’t completely convinced, there’s no doubt left in him now as he looks through the search results.

Because pictured under the headline Global superstar, James Potter, set to headline summer tour across the US is the very same James who was here in his flat only last week; in his kitchen, in his shower, in his bed.

Pulling up his contacts, he clicks on James’ number and brings his phone to his ear.

After ringing a couple of times, James answers, “Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”

James isn’t wrong. While they text back and forth, and literally can’t stay away from each other whenever James is in town, they haven’t really progressed to just chatting on the phone; until now.

“How’s Edinburgh?”

“Oh, you know. Raining.”

Regulus looks out his own window at the rain that has been steadily falling for days; it comforts him, like he can almost pretend that James is just across town, instead of in another country.

“So, this is a little embarrassing, but I’ve just come across a bit of information that makes me think I might be the least observant person on the planet,” Regulus begins, the sound of James’ laughter filling his ear.

“Okay, go on.”

“I heard your new song.”

“Oh, they’re playing it already? I sent you a vinyl with a very nice thank you card that you were supposed to get before it was released,” James groans. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, of course not. It’s a beautiful song. It’s just,” Regulus pauses, a little nervous as he says, “You’re James Potter.”

“Yes?” His confusion is obvious in his voice, and Regulus can imagine the exact look he’s sure he has on his face right now.

“You’re James Potter. And I had no fucking idea.”

A pause. “Wait, really? Holy shit, I definitely thought you knew.”

“Here I was, imagining that you perform in pubs in front of like, fifty people. When you’re actually out there performing in front of fifty thousand. I’m such an idiot.”

He can hear laughter in James’ voice, laughter he’s definitely trying to hold back as he says, “I’m sorry. I really thought – it’d be a bit pretentious of me to introduce myself and be like, I’m James Potter, you might have heard of me, you know?”

“Oh this is definitely on me, not on you,” Regulus says. “Anyway, just wanted to fill you in on that revelation. Now I’m going to go off and listen to your entire discography. And read every article ever written about you. Bye.”

The last thing he hears before hanging up is James’ booming laugh.

[mylovelies-docx]

Dinner & Diatribes

A/N: Hey, wow, look at me posting another fic!

This one has also been in the works for a while (if you know when Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier came out, you might realize just how long).

Highly suggest giving the song a listen! Or anything by Hozier, really. I finally get to see this man in concert, so I'm ecstatic!

This is 5k words of pure smut. No plot. I'm not sorry about it.

Plot (or lack thereof): You and Bucky attend a dinner party for a couple you saved on the last mission. Unbeknownst to the couple (or maybe they just don't care), they're being total cock-blocks.

C/W: Smut, smut, smut (18+, Minors DNI)

Kinks: Edging, choking, hair-pulling, spanking, fingering, public sex, semi-public sex, overstimulation, cock warming, Bucky's metal hand (yes, it is a kink), reader is cock-drunk for half of the story. Probably more, let me know.

“Save some people one time, and they think they’re obligated to your free time,” you mutter into Bucky’s ear. He laughs softly and tightens his arm where it lays around your shoulders. Bucky knows that there’s no real venom behind your words, just disgruntlement that you’re not spending the evening alone like you had planned.

A destination wedding. How cliche. You didn’t know the couple, but your publicist insisted that you and Bucky attend their wedding. You’re currently sitting around a cramped table in the hotel restaurant, sipping greedily at your alcoholic beverage hoping to take the edge off.

The couple nearly broke down your and Bucky’s door an hour earlier, insisting that you join their wedding party downstairs for dinner. Their pounding on the door kept you from getting pounded by your boyfriend, and now you’re frustrated beyond belief. This nice dress should have been crumpled on your hotel room floor next to where you’d left your panties earlier. You wiggle in your seat as you’re reminded of your bare ass against the leather.

Buck reaches his metal arm across his body and rests his palm on the top of your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. “The head is a talking type, yeah?” he whispers to you, nodding towards the head of the table who had been droning on (and on) about how they’d met their significant other at a galaaaa and they’d had canapes and spaaarkling waaaater while looking out from the verandaaaa in Viennaaaa. 

Seriously. Could they be any more pretentious?

You roll your eyes and bring your glass up to cover your mouth as you say, “Sounds like Tony before he ate a slice of humble pie out in the desert.” Bucky nearly chokes on his drink, spluttering and coughing into the back of his hand. He quickly recovers with an apologetic little smile and wave when the wedding party gives him a look, appalled that he’d dare interrupt the speech. They all face forward again when Bucky places his glass back on the table.

Bucky leans his head down so that his lips brush the shell of your ear.

“You better watch yourself, doll.” Bucky’s hand on your thigh slides to where your legs come together, too far to be of any use to you at the moment but tantalizing as the cool metal heats from the warmth of your skin. “The more we interrupt, the longer we’ll be here in hell.”

A smirk curves your lips as you place your hand on Bucky’s cheek and guide his head so you can whisper in his ear. The roughness of his stubble against your soft palm has you thinking of where else you’d like to feel the burn of his beard.

“I’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’ll do to me tonight.”

Bucky’s normally soft blue eyes find your own, and his gaze darkens as he stares intently at you. Your own pulse rises to match the thud of his heart where your palm has slipped down to cup around his neck. 

Bucky uses the arm on your shoulder and the hand between your legs to pull you closer on the padded bench. Your dress was too short to tuck underneath you as you sat down, and you’d been so turned on earlier that the slick between your thighs had escaped and caused your thighs to stick to the leather. The abrupt movement vibrates your skin, sending pleasure straight to your core. You close your eyes at the sensation and the feel of Bucky’s warm breath across your face. He’s pulled the thigh he was holding so that your knee is hitched up over his leg, leaving you open to the cool breeze flowing from underneath the table. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he coos softly, “You want me to tell you what I’d rather be doing right now?”

You breathe out heavily as your thigh brushes against the bulge in his pants, opening your eyes to look into Bucky’s bright gaze. “Tell me.”

His metal fingers inch their way up your thigh, coming closer and closer to where you want him most.

“Or would you rather I show you?” he breathes against your mouth right before he places a small, hungry kiss on your lips. You hum, trying to follow him as he pulls his face away. He nestles your head against his shoulder and acts like he’s paying attention to the speech again, but his index finger ever so gently runs along your slit, gathering the wetness that only continues to grow as he caresses you.

You whimper silently, aware that the people next to and across from you could look over at any moment and see Bucky’s hand at your exposed core. You grasp at his shirt and ever so subtly shift your hips. Bucky tsks softly and moves his arm down off your shoulders and around your hips so that he can hold you in place.

Bucky’s voice is husky in your ear. “You don’t want these people to see you grinding on my hand like the needly little thing you are, do you?”

You gasp as one thick finger suddenly thrusts inside you. You press your forehead hard into Bucky’s chest, barely stopping yourself from crawling into his lap and straddling the hard length that’s straining against the fabric of his slacks.

Just then, the person that had been talking for the last eternity finally ended their speech. Bucky curls his finger once inside of you before extricating his hand from between your tense thighs. You whine at the loss as Bucky very casually licks his finger and pulls his arm away from your hips. He shoots you a shit-eating grin as he claps for the next person standing up to speak.

“You wanted to know what I’m gonna do with you later tonight, right? I’m thinking something like that.”

You laugh as it sinks in. Bucky is only teasing you, and he’d never intended for you to get off on his fingers – or even come close to it – here at the table. Or at all, if he’s thinking of edging you all night. You can scarcely speak, thinking of what all he has in mind for tonight.

The dinner drags on. Bucky refuses to do anything more than kiss along your neck, or gently graze your nipples as he reaches across you for something, or hike your leg higher over his so that he can quickly rub your clit with his thumb for no more than a few seconds. 

You’re nearly out of your mind with lust by the time the end of the party is in sight. You’ve been able to drown out everyone’s voices with the brief feel of Bucky’s lips and hands, with the dirty visions of your anticipated release later tonight. 

You’re so wound up that you barely register the parting words of the final speaker until you notice everyone turning away to reach for their glasses. You compose your features into an expression that you hope is passable despite the heat suffusing your face and chest. Your unsteady breaths are barely concealed by the fake little laugh you let out as you raise your glass with everyone else. Your eyes travel from Bucky’s slick and shiny fingers all the way up his arm and to his face. He’s looking at you with eyes that promise so many things once you’re alone.

“And a thank you to our very special friends: the Avengers. Thank you both soooo much for taking the time away from saving the world to help me celebrate my world.”

You snap your gaze away from Bucky’s heated one and chuckle a little awkwardly as you look around. Everyone is looking at you now, and you hope like hell they’re oblivious to what Bucky has been doing to you for the last hour. You’re extremely conscious of the fact that you’re basically sitting in a puddle of your own juices, so turned on that you’ve soaked through the side of Bucky’s pants where your core has been trying and failing to grind against him.

The dinner party begins to make their goodbyes and stand to leave. A spike of anxiety shoots through you at the thought of having to stand up and expose the shine and slick coating Bucky’s leg and the seat beneath you. Your hand clenches around Bucky’s knee and you turn your face up to look at him. 

He gives you a soft smile and places a kiss on your temple before reaching for something on the table and ‘accidentally’ spilling a large glass of water as he pulls his hand back. All the contents in the cup cascade over the side of the table and into both of your laps. You jump up at the cold liquid hitting your sensitive thighs and feel Bucky jump up behind you, his entire lap soaking wet.

“You okay, dollface?” Bucky asks as he wraps you in his arms and pulls you away from the rapidly spreading puddle at your feet. You nod your head and wrap your arms around his waist. You’re so lust-rattled that you’ve turned into a needy and clingy little thing, unable to think any coherent thoughts until after Bucky lets you cum.

Bucky wraps his arms low around your waist, hands perilously close to groping your ass in front of everyone. You feel his cock pressing hard into your abdomen as you cling onto his front, causing you to shimmy against him. Bucky sucks in a quick breath before making his excuses and guides you both out of the dining room. He pulls you away from him so that you can walk beside him normally, but he grabs your hand in his large one and squeezes so that you know he doesn’t want to let you go.

He hustles you to the elevator and rapidly presses the call button. You turn so that the arm holding your hand is pulled into your body, cradling his bicep between your breasts. You grab at the other and entwine your fingers, lowering your hands so that his knuckles press into your mound right above your aching clit. You whine loudly at the feeling, uncaring of the people around you.

Bucky curses and pulls his hand away from your heated flesh. Pushing his now free hand through his hair, Bucky looks quickly around the lobby. He spots what he’s looking for and drags you through a door at the end of the room. Before the door even closes, he grabs both of your hands in his metal one and pushes you against the wall with your arms pinned above your head. He uses his flesh hand to grab at your knee and pull it up to his waist. You moan at the feel of him pushing against your center.

“Hell, sugar, you can’t do that in the middle of the fucking lobby.” Bucky rubs his nose along your jawline and up into your hair, breathing in deeply against your scalp. “There’s paparazzi standing right outside those windows.”

“Don’t care,” you whine, using your position to grind satisfyingly against his cock. “Need you, Bucky. Please.”

“Jesus, doll,” Bucky groans low in his throat, “you’re gonna get us in trouble.” But he’s as addicted to you as you are to him, so he drops your wrists and pulls you up into his arms, letting you wrap your legs around his waist and settle against him fully. You throw your head back against the wall and look above you, seeing dozens of sets of stairs spin into the highest reaches of the hotel.

Your moan bounces up into the echo chamber of the stairwell when Bucky thrusts his hips against yours roughly, fighting against the fabric of his pants to feel your wet heat on his cock. He grinds himself between your legs, the rough fabric covering his hard length providing the friction you've been looking for all evening. You gasp and tighten your legs where they've pulled Bucky in as close as you could get him, wanting – needing – to feel him buried inside you.

"Are you close, baby? Close to coming all over me in this stairwell?" He stops grinding for a moment to bounce you higher up the wall, putting a millisecond's worth of intense pressure on your clit. "Huh?" Bucky prompts.

"Yes," you mewl pathetically. You have one hand pushing against his shoulder while the other clasps his neck and pulls him into you, the stimulation too much for your body to know if it wanted Bucky to make you come or not.

Of course, you want it, your brain tells you. You want it oh so bad.

"Bucky. Please. I'm – ah."

"Yeah, baby?" Bucky teases you, using one hand to turn your face so that he can look into your cloudy eyes. What he sees there must spur him further in his own desire, because he suddenly plants a hard kiss on your lips and pulls away from you.

You drop down, barely catching yourself in time for your wobbly knees to support you. You nearly cry at the loss of contact, tears starting to form in your eyes. But as quickly as Bucky had dropped you, he scoops you up and over his shoulder. You feel a firm smack against your skin where your thigh meets the swell of your backside, and you can't help but cry out as the sensation travels through your skin and vibrates deep inside your pussy.

"Quiet, doll," Bucky admonishes as he climbs the stairs three at a time, "not a sound until we're in the room. Got it?" He asks again with another smack.

With your ass on full display over Bucky's shoulder, all you can do is wrap your arms around his waist from the back and feel the rush of blood flow to your head. 

"Good girl," Bucky hums at your silence. He massages the juncture of your legs, his long fingers nearly inside your slit. You gasp quietly with every bump as Bucky powers up the stairs to your floor.

Once at the correct level, Bucky wrenches open the stairwell door, making sure to keep you balanced up on his shoulder. He walks quickly to your room, digging the keycard out of his pocket and swiping it against the reader. You can’t see the red light, but you hear the indicator deny your entry.

Bucky curses and tries again. Another error code. 

You whimper pitifully from where you dangle, close to crying if Bucky’s cock isn’t inside of you soon. “Bucky. Baby. Please. I can’t wait anymore.”

Your cries force another curse from Bucky’s lips. He can’t stand how painfully needy you sound. Can’t stand not giving you exactly what you want from him.

He grabs the handle with his metal fist, forcing it downwards and breaking the locking mechanism. Finally gaining entry, Bucky walks in and kicks the door closed with his foot. Not wasting any more time, he throws you onto the bed, where you bounce several times on the plush surface. You spread your legs wide, laying there for several seconds. You enjoy the view of Bucky’s eyes on your exposed pussy as he shucks off his suit jacket and unbuttons the shirt beneath.

As his hands get to his belt, his eyes trail up from your glistening folds and pierce directly into your lust filled gaze. “All fours. Now.”

Not wasting a second, you turn over onto your stomach, pushing yourself up onto your knees and hands. You spread your legs apart, granting access for Bucky to slide in between them. But instead of a dip in the bed behind you like you’re expecting, you feel Bucky’s large hands grab onto your hips, pulling you backwards towards the edge of the bed.

You squeal in anticipation, feeling Bucky’s long legs press into your thighs. One of his hands circles around from your hip and cups your pussy. The other slides up along your spine until it reaches the back of your neck, forcing your top down until you’re resting on your elbows instead.

“I’m going deep, dollface. Take a nice big breath for me.”

If Bucky hadn’t reminded you, you’d probably have suffered from hypoxia since you’re sure you haven’t taken a breath since turning over.

You suck in a lungful of air as Bucky’s hand on your neck slides back down to your bottom and gives a quick slap. You shudder against him and almost collapse onto your face as he takes the hand from your pussy and lifts your thigh up and over the leg he plants on the bed.

Without a second’s hesitation, Bucky plunges his cock directly into your aching hole, filling you full to the brim.

You cry out in shock, your pussy spasming around his girth. No matter how many times you’ve taken him and no matter how wet you are, your body always forgets just how massive he is.

“That’s right,” he breathes, giving you a moment to adjust. “Just like that, baby.”

You moan and arch your back, hoping to accommodate quickly to this angle. When Bucky said deep, he meant deep. You can feel his cockhead nestled right up to your cervix, barely any room to spare. You’re so full – it feels as if your lungs can’t expand around his presence inside you. 

You take in gasping breaths, so turned on that you can barely hold yourself up. Bucky’s flesh hand soothes your backside, rubbing gentle circles around the red handprint you’re sure is there.

“Breathe, darlin’,” he reminds you.

Once he sees your chest expand with oxygen, he slides out nearly all the way before plunging back in fiercely. You scream in pleasure as he continues to pump into you with abandon, feeling the way his abs flex against your buttocks, how his cock slams over and over into your slick hole, how his balls slap against your clit. You can’t help the whimper that leaves your mouth on a particularly deep thrust, tears welling up and spilling out of your eyes. 

You reach one arm forward, grabbing for a pillow to bury your face in. The sensations are so intense that you need to bite down hard on the pillow, just needing to release the pressure building and building inside of you. You inhale your own hot, humid air as you struggle to take everything Bucky is giving you.

You’re so close to coming that you can’t think straight, but the rest of Bucky is so far away. You need to feel his whole body against you, need to feel his heat along your back and taste his tongue in your mouth.

“Bucky,” you whine, reaching a grabby hand behind you and looking to grab onto any part of him that you can reach. 

Your fingers barely scrape along the V of his lower abdomen, but Bucky scoops up your hand with his flesh one, the metal one still holding your thigh over his leg.

“What is it, baby?” he huffs. “What do you need, kitten?”

“You,” you gasp, leaving a trail of spittle from your mouth down to where you’ve had your jaw locked onto the pillow.

He huffs out a small laugh. “You’ve got me, Sugar.” He takes your entwined hands and uses your combined fingers to rub against your clit. “I’m right here.”

You sob at the pressure, too wound up to truly enjoy using the juices dripping from your pussy on your bundle of nerves. You shake your head, trying to figure out how to get your point across with what little vocabulary is left inside your sex-adled brain.

“You,” huff, “on me. My back.”

Bucky releases your hand and grabs your bicep, hauling you up until your back is flush with his chest and you’re sitting on his cock. You moan and bite your lip hard, leaning your head against his shoulder because you don’t have the strength to hold it up.

“This, baby? This what you’re wantin’?” he breathes against your ear, using both hands on your thighs to hold you up so that he can keep pistoning up into your cunt.

Shaking your head again, you take in the air Bucky is breathing onto your face, getting high off his pheromones. “Want you to – ah – lay on me. Hold me down.”

Bucky growls in your ear. Securing you against his chest, Bucky climbs fully onto the bed without breaking contact, leaving you impaled on his swollen member. The heat radiating off of him has beads of sweat rolling down your back and gathering in your hair. 

He stops at the pillow you dragged down earlier. Spreading his legs wide, he splits you open on his shaft before laying you both down onto the bed. His body crushes you into the comforter, your hips at an angle where they lay on your abandoned pillow so that he’s still able to leverage into you.

Totally ensconced in Bucky’s heat, you can feel every muscle of his as he grinds into you. The pressure of his body on top of yours collapses your lungs, making it hard to breathe. But that’s exactly what you wanted.

Bucky’s long, deep thrusts from your last position turn into short, brutal pumps. Your pussy clings onto his cock so tightly that you don’t think he could pull all the way out even if he tried. His hips beat against your ass, sending jolts to your clit where it grinds against the pillow.

Bucky’s metal grip winds its way up your body and into your hair. He grabs a handful and pulls your head up and around so that he can plant a sloppy kiss against your gasping mouth.

“This is what you were wantin’, ain’t it, sugar?” You nod as much as his hand in your hair will allow. Feeling his whole body working to give you pleasure sends every nerve fiber sizzling down into your core, putting you right on the edge of release.

“Wanted to feel me on you. In you. All over you? Huh?” Bucky’s words are harsh as he pants against your lips between thrusts.

There are no coherent thoughts in your head. You are so close you can taste it, but you need something. Something. Your blissed-out mind can’t think of what it is you finally need to tip over the edge.

But Bucky does.

His metal hand tugs hard on your hair before sliding down underneath you to grab at your throat. What little oxygen you were able to pull in before is now completely cut off, Bucky’s metal fingers dig into the soft flesh and nearly cut off circulation. His human hand snaps down to your clit and rubs harsh circles.

“Come.” He commands.

No sound escapes your mouth as you come hard on Bucky’s cock, spasming around the thick shaft and pulling him deeper into you. The world turns black as you ride wave after wave of pleasure, seeming to fall endlessly into ecstasy. 

When you’ve almost passed out from lack of oxygen, Bucky’s grip loosens just enough to revive you. You breathe in and out harshly, the air leaving your lungs in sharp gusts as Bucky continues to pump into you rapidly. 

“So good for me, baby,” he coos softly in your ear. You babble incoherently as he presses a soft kiss to your temple, breathing in deeply against your hair. “My sweet girl.”

You smile drunkenly at the praise, knowing that if he kept going like this you’d come again soon.

But before you can climb much higher, Bucky raises himself onto his elbows and slides out of you. The slick pop as the head of his cock leaves your tight entrance sends you spiraling at the loss.

“No, no, no, no, no…” you whine, trying to follow with your hips in the hopes that he’ll slide back in.

He laughs at you softly and kisses a trail across your shoulder blades. “Just a second, darlin’. I want to see your face.”

Bucky’s arms slide under your pliant body and flip you over onto your back. He grabs your ankles and plants your feet onto his shoulders so that you’re bent in half. He leans down until your knees are spread wide near your head and his lips are only centimeters away from yours.

If you thought it was hard to breathe before, this position shrinks your rib cage down to nothing, barely allowing for your lungs to expand more than a couple of inches. Bucky uses his metal hand to guide his cock back into your wet heat, setting a slow and languid pace.

His flesh hand comes up to cup your face, bringing you up so that he can kiss you lazily while taking long strokes in and out of your pussy. You huff dizzily into his mouth, trying your hardest to respond to his kisses. You bring your hands up through your legs and slide your fingers into his hair, keeping him close so that you can breathe the same air while he makes love to you.

The slow, gentle lovemaking sends you into a different kind of orgasm – one that starts as a soft fluttering of your walls and slowly morphs into a vice-like grip on his cock. You keen directly into his mouth, unable to pull yourself away from his lips even as you come apart. Bucky licks into your mouth, sucking your tongue and releasing it before nipping at your bottom lip. Picking up the pace, Bucky pumps into you until he reaches his own peak, grinding against you as his balls tighten and his warm seed leaks out of you.

“Bucky…” you breathe into his mouth. Your arms circle around his head and shoulders, pulling him down so that his face is nuzzled into your neck and you can plant soft, almost kisses to his temple.

You feel him grin into your throat and swipe his tongue briefly against your pulse. You giggle softly and tug at his hair. He raises up to look with a small smile on his face, letting your legs fall from his shoulders so that you can take a normal breath. You refuse to lose that much skin-to-skin contact, so you wrap your legs around his hips to keep him from pulling out of you any time soon.

He continues to grin down at you, sweeping a lock of your wet hair from your sweaty face. You smile up at him beatifically, basking in your post-orgasm haze.

He pulls your left arm from around his shoulders with his flesh hand. His eyes trace his gliding fingers as they make their way down your arm until he reaches your hand. He places a small kiss agaisnt the diamond ring sitting on your fourth finger before looking back at you.

“That’ll be us down there before too long,” he says to you, entertwining your fingers together and leaning back down to kiss your lips.

“What?” You question sarcastically. “That’ll be us cock-blocking some heros that saved our lives?”

“No, smartass,” he responds, tugging that same lock of hair from earlier with his metal hand. “It’ll be us not being able to shut up about how much we love each other in front of some heroes that saved our lives.”

“Yeah, well,” he responds slyly, “I’d already gotten you well and truly cock-drunk before Steve and Nat forced us on that ‘mission’.”

“Don’t let anyone on the team hear you say that,” you tell Bucky as you start scratching at his scalp with the hand he’s not currently holding. He closes his eyes and leans back down to rest his head on your chest. “They’re already insufferable since they think they set us up. Don't remind them they've saved our asses a couple of times."

You gasp lightly and playfully smack his head. “Bucky!”

He laughs heartily before he wraps both of his arms around your waist and nuzzles into you further. The movement causes you to feel his shaft begin to swell inside you once again. You wiggle against him and sink down further on his cock. He groans against your sternum as you flex your walls around him. “What, sweetheart? It’s the truth.”

You grab his cheeks with both of your hands and pull his face up to look at you. You pout your lips out in mock offense. “It’s not nice to point it out, though.”

He laughs and gives you a peck on your pouty lips. He rolls you both over until you are laying on top of his chest. His hands fall to your hips again and he looks up at you with mischief in his eyes. “Well, dollface,” he begins. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

You rest your palms on his chest and push yourself up. You grind your hips experimentally and watch as his eyes flash.

“I’m sure we can work something out.”

~•~○~•~○~•~○~•~○~•Fin~•~○~•~○~•~○~•~○~•

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