#sweet jesus i spent so much time on that first drawing........... im never drawing a skirt with a pattern again.

[im-smart-i-swear]

im sick so i drew my girl nika to cheer myself up,,

#felix net i nika #fnin #my art #she has a tooth gap now!!!! and pimples!!!!! i dont make the rules!!!!!!!1! #her outfit in the first drawing is what she was wearing on the cover of 'orbitalny spisek' btw<3 #ughhhhhh im having Nika Thoughts (tm) AGAIN #im not gonna elaborate rn tho cause i Dont Feel Great #maybe ill ramble about her tomorrow #i love drawing her sleep deprived and tired and pissed and sad<3333333 shes got Problems #sweet jesus i spent so much time on that first drawing........... im never drawing a skirt with a pattern again. #it turned out pretty cool tho i think!! #i used so much orange....... gee i wonder why:) #god i want atumn to come already. i want to wear sweaters and sweatpants and i want to be able to sleep at night without feeling like im in #a fuckin furnace!!!

[narcoleptic-drag-queen]

omg welcome to the season 11 train it's the best one to be on 😍 2R for Branjie (shock) if u would like pls!!!!! love u love ur writing 💖💖💖

This took me like 25 drafts because this is my first branjie!! God help me! I love you and I hope this is at least decent!!

2 - “Do you kiss all your friends like that?”

R - Party Games (7 Minutes in Heaven, Truth or Dare, etc)

-

Brooke has been avoiding Vanessa for around a week, now.

She’s been avoiding parties (Vanessa’s favorite place to be), the library (Vanessa’s favorite place to study), the cafe that’s just around the corner from her apartment (Vanessa’s favorite place to get donuts) - any place that Vanessa could even possibly be, Brooke Lynn has avoided like the goddamn plague.

It’s funny how an abrupt, accidental kiss can make your best friend suddenly the scariest person on the planet.

She’s spent so much time moping around the apartment that Yvie had invited her to a party with her and her girlfriend, after a week of rolling her eyes at Brooke on the couch and yelling at her that ‘just because you’re sad doesn’t mean it’s not your night to do the dishes, asshole’. 

Now, as she sits in the middle of Scarlet Envy’s living room, staring down at the green beer bottle pointing directly at the girl she’s spent upwards of a week avoiding, she thinks that maybe this had been a bad idea.

“Well?” Silky says from across the room. “Are y’all gonna kiss or not?”

“Shh,” Nina giggles from beside Vanessa. “Give them some time to process.”

Brooke very carefully does not meet Vanjie’s eyes, her last few texts and the tiny ‘seen at 3:03 am’ resting below them suddenly the only things she can think about.

Brooke: can we just pretend that never happened

Brooke: god im so embarrassed

Brooke refuses to be the one to make the first move. The last thing she wants is to make anything more awkward between them - though it seems impossible to, right now.

“Process?” Scarlet repeats, frowning, and Yvie rolls her eyes fondly. 

“Girl, we all know they’ve got crushes on each other. This could be big for them,” she tells her, although her teasing tone is clearly directed towards Brooke, who can feel the blush creeping in on her cheeks.

“We’re just friends,” she says quickly, laughing nervously. “Jesus Christ, you guys. It’s just - weird. Friends don’t kiss each other.”

“Don’t they, though?” Vanessa pipes up, and Brooke’s eyes snap to her, surprised. She looks irritated, giving Brooke a hard look that she can’t quite decipher. “Unless you meant last week in a different way?”

“What?” several people ask, voices a little shrill and very excited, and Brooke tries her best to sink into the carpet.

“That was--” she begins, but Vanjie’s cutting her off before she can make it very far.

“Save it,” she says, and Brooke’s heart sinks at her tone. She’s clearly still mad at her. And with this stupid party game - Brooke can only hope that at least some semblance of a friendship can make it out the other side. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” Vanessa continues, her mouth flattening like it does when she’s upset, and Brooke feels like she’s going to throw up as she watches Vanjie gets up onto her hands and knees, crawling over to where Brooke is sitting criss cross across the room. “Dear Lord and Jesus, help me now!”

At least she can still joke about it, Brooke thinks as Vanjie makes her way across the carpet. All she can hear is the pounding of her heart in her ears. Maybe she’ll get over this. 

I don’t know if I can, though.

It’s like she blinks and suddenly Vanessa is just inches from her face, her brown eyes glittering and her lips pursed in thought, eyes darting all over Brooke’s face. Something in her expression softens, and Brooke feels something within her lighten in response.

“You ready?” Vanessa asks, her voice even gravlier now that she’s lowered it to almost a whisper, and heat pools in Brooke’s belly in response. She sucks in a shaky breath, struggling for a response.

Vanessa’s face suddenly takes on an offended expression, her mouth falling open slightly with shock. “Kissing me wasn’t that bad, bitch!” she cries, her voice suddenly a lot loud. Brooke jumps, blushing as their friends erupt into excited noise. “Or was it?! Is that why you ran away?”

Brooke shakes her head frantically, her heart dropping once again. Realization is beginning to curl at the edges of her mind, hope suddenly fluttering madly in her stomach. “No, V, it was so - I just thought - you seemed like you didn’t--”

Vanessa kisses her.

Brooke’s brain short-circuits, and all she can even think to do is kiss back, and hard, melting into Vanessa’s soft lips and sticky lipstick and sweet perfume. Brooke recognizes it as the cupcake flavored one she’d given her at Christmas, and the heat in her belly grows hotter, making her bury her fingers in Vanessa’s thick hair to bring her closer, closer, closer.

Vanessa gives a soft moan, deepening the kiss, and tingles run all the way across Brooke’s body, down to the tips of her toes and fingers. She sighs, rubbing her thumb across Vanessa’s cheekbone, something within her settling like the world has suddenly aligned.

“Alright, horndogs!” Nina laughs from across the room, and a hand that must be Silky’s lands on Brooke’s shoulder, gently pushing her away from Vanjie. “We didn’t come here to watch a live porno.”

Brooke blushes, drawing away from Vanjie with a sheepish smile that only grows at the sight of Vanjie’s smirk. “Do you kiss all your friends like that, Miss Brooke?”

“I’m gonna have to say no,” Brooke laughs, and Vanessa’s smirk turns into a soft smile.

“You promise not to run away after this?”

“I promise,” Brooke says, and she lets Vanjie yank her up when she stands, unable to keep herself from grinning like a loon when Vanjie doesn’t let go once they’re up.

“If you would excuse us for a second,” Vanjie announces, her voice mockingly cordial. “Miss Brooke and I have some business we must be attending to.”

Brooke doesn’t think she’s ever felt this light.

send me a pairing, number, and letter!

#i love them and now i want to write more #branjie #prompts #writing #ask game

[the-gory-gardner]

Hi I'm Honey! Part One: Baby Soulmate

(A/N: Different Meeting/Soulmate AU- Soulmates Drawings On Skin Will Appear On Their Soulmate's Skin

Character(s): Honey Reynolds, Age: 5, Jesse Cromeans, Age: 20 )

Honey Reynolds & Jesse Cromeans (Platonic Soulmates) 

Young Jesse Cromeans groaned as he woke up with an excruciating headache. God as much as he loved getting drunk the hangovers sucked. At least he had a place to himself to get though it; being in a frat house would probably make it ten times worse. 

It was also a good thing he didn't have any classes today, he didn't think he could handle his professor's droning on right now. Jesse was very much planning to stay in his bed until his stomach growled loudly. He sighed getting up to find his phone and call some take-out. Could you have Chinese for breakfast? 

Once Jesse found his phone he went to grab only to stop at the writing on his wrist. It couldn't be. 

Hi Im Honey

It was a soulmark he had heard of them everyone had since nearly everyone had one. There were different types of finding soulmate. The possibilities varied among people, some couldn't see color until they met there's, they had a red string that would lead to them, some many things. 

From the mark and it's childish handwriting it was either a soulmark of the first thing his would say to him, or their drawings on skin would appear on each other. Well there was only way to know for sure. He pulled a pen from one of his drawers writing right under the original mark. 

J- Hello?  

After a couple minutes of waiting another mark appear. 

H- Hi Im Honey whats your name?

J- Jesse Cromeans. 

H- Jesse? Are you a boy or a girl?

Jesse squinted his eyes thinking of the childish writing and how 'Honey wrote. 

J- I'm a boy how old are you Honey?

H- Five and a half 

Jesse hit the wall-lightly- with his head, his soulmate was a fucking baby. Maybe they were platonic soulmates. They had to be. After some thought he wrote a reply. 

J- Well Honey I'm twenty 

H- Woah your a big kid Jessie 

The mute boy decided not to make a comment about the nickname. 

H- Do you have a job my mommy says big kids and grown-up have jobs

J- No I don't have a job but I do go to big kid school. 

Jesse could not believe be just wrote that. 

H- Is it fun I just start kindergarten it's okay we color a lot and we learned about soulmates today. 

J- Yes it's pretty fun, and is that why you chose to write on your arm? 

H- Yeah we talked about all the different soulmates. So I got a book from the reading corner in class about them. 

His little soulmate spent the rest of the day writing and doodling on his arm him replying as simply as be could. Whatever 'friends' he had at his college were not informed about his discovery. The last thing he needed were people cracking jokes about him having a little kid as a soulmate. 

Several weeks later he got a message from her quite late, at least to him he didn't know whay her timezones were. He had just walked out of a frat party he was a attending to get some air when he saw the message appear. 

H- Hello Jessie are you up? 

J- Yeah kiddo I'm up it's night here is it night there? 

H- Yeah it's past my bedtime 

J- Then what are you doing up. 

H- I had a nightmare. 

Well Jesse wasn't sure how to reply to that. He'd never helped anyone though a nightmare let alone a little kid. 

J- Do you want to tell me about it? 

H- There were a bunch of spiders and a big red box and I could hear people yelling they sounded scared. 

Jesse raised an eyebrow that didn't sound like a normal nightmare. He'd heard of some soulmates sharing dreams and since it wasn't his dream maybe she had another soulmate, an actual romantic one. 

J- That does sound scary but it's okay because it's just a dream and dreams can't hurt you okay kiddo. 

H- Really? 

J- I promise

H- Okay

H- Jessie you said it was late where you are so why are you up did you have a bad dream too? 

He smiled a bit it felt like he could almost hear her concern such a sweet little thing. 

J- No I'm just studying. 

H- What's studying? 

J- It's when you read and look up things so you can get smarter. 

H- Oh maybe I should do that so I can get really smart then maybe mommy and daddy won't say I'm stupid. 

Jesse suddenly felt like ice water had been dumped on his head. 

J- Your parents said you were stupid? 

Jesse had to write the message very slowly otherwise he thinks he might of written something a five year shouldn't read. 

H- Yeah but thats just cause A.J's really smart mommy and daddy said he's a pro-prodi- a really smart kid. 

J- Whose A.J? 

H- He's my big brother he doesn't play with me says he doesn't want to play with dumb little kids. 

Jesse had to take a moment to calm down before writing again. If she was telling the complete truth and not just exaggerating like some little kids did. Well let's just say he hadn't been this angry since he'd finally left home. 

J- Honey if there's one thing I've learned about you in the last couple of weeks it's that you are one of the smartest kids I've ever met. 

Jesus Christ she was making him sappy. 

H- You really think so Jessie? 

Why could he hear the quiver in her voice? 

J- Yeah I do kid. 

He got worried when Honey didn't immediately respond. Before he could get really concerned she wrote him back. 

H- I wish we were family. 

Jesse wasn't sure how to respond to that so instead he wrote the first thing thay came to mind. 

J- Maybe were not family but were soulmates do you know what that means? 

H- What? 

J- It means that were always going to be there for each other I'm always going to be here for you. 

Again he had to wait for a reply. 

H- I really like you Jessie 

J- I really like you too kiddo now get back to sleep it's a school night. 

H- Okay Night Night Jessie. 

J- Night Kiddo. 

After that there were no more messages for the night but he was much too exhausted to go back to the party. He really hoped his little soulmate would be okay he didn't know what he would do if she wasn't. 

To Be Continued...

#Honey Reynolds #Jesse Cromeans #Chromeskull #Laid To Rest #Jesse Cromeans & OC #submission

[themaskedwriter]

Home

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Saturdays are not for housing superheroes, and you don’t care if one of them is your army buddy and the other a cyborg who, okay, is kinda cute when he’s not clutching his twitching arm like it’s his goddamn teddybear. So of course, your tiny house becomes a tiny superhero central.

Author clues: An occasional angst queen with a sweet tooth who lives in a very fine country.

Generally, when the phone rings in the middle of the night, it’s never good news. It’s death and mayhem and all manners of misdeeds just waiting to ruin your night, your morning and possibly the entire week that follows. Your solution had been to move around a lot. If you never stay long enough in one place, then death and mayhem and all those misdeeds never get a chance to catch up with you. Unless-

“Someone better be dying,” you grunt when you answer, not bothering with greetings or pleasantries. Anyone calling at, fuck, 3.22 am can frankly go fornicate themselves.

“I need your coordinates.”

“No.”

“Come on, I promise, it’s just for the night.”

“Last time you said that, Wilson, you stayed for a week and Captain America bled all over my couch.”

At the other end of a very unstable line - is he fucking flying and calling? - Sam winces, because yeah, last time was a fucking rollercoaster of bad, and you ended up moving as soon as they were out the door and refusing to answer Sam’s texts for two weeks just to be sure you could get some actual peace and quiet.

“No one is bleeding. Much.”

“Sam…”

“I swear on my sainted nana’s grave no one will be bleeding when we get there.”

We? Jesus, did someone shoot Captain America again? You groan and roll over, pressing your face into the pillow.

“It’s just one night, I swear, we just need someplace to lay low before we can move on and haul ass back to base.”

You hate Sam Wilson. You do, you’ll put it in writing, you’ll write a goddamn op ed for the fucking New York Times listing all the reasons he is a terrible, terrible friend. All you wanted was a nice, quiet life, a little time to figure shit out after an honorable discharge from the Army, and then that idiot had to go and become a goddamn superhero with his goddamn wings and the goddamn Avengers as his goddamn squad. He owes you. He owes you so much and he’ll owe you even more- Aw, fuck.

“I’ll give you twelve hours before I kick you out on your asses.”

“You are the best, I’ve always said that, you know. The best. The goat-”

“Please, never call me that again.”

“Sourpuss.”

“I’ll bill you for anything you destroy,” you mutter, ending the call before Sam can say anything.

Rolling over on your back again, you breathe in deeply through your nose, staring at the light ceiling panelling. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You text Sam your coordinates, telling him where to find the spare key because you draw the line at getting up to act as a welcome committee at this unholy hour.

>>Thanks, I owe you one. S

>>U owe me several. Don’t expect mints on the pillows and dont. fuckin. wake me. >:(

>>You’re adorable when you’re cranky. We’ll be there in about an hour.

>>Fuk u

Sam Wilson is a terrible, terrible friend, but at least he doesn’t actually wake you. He’s even up and looking far too chirpy when you crawl down from your sleep loft four hours later. Seriously, fuck Sam Wilson. Fuck Sam Wilson, and-

“I like your digs.” He hands you a cup of coffee and thankfully does not attempt a hug.

“Yeah, well, makes running away from unbidden houseguests easy,” you grunt back, taking a sip of the glorious coffee.

Sam snorts, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “As if you could fit actual houseguests in here. You’re lucky I spent half my childhood playing Tetris, or we would’ve had a problem getting in here.”

You glance over his shoulder, at the blanket-covered lump on your couch. Granted, the damn thing is from IKEA and required at least five curse words for every step in the assembly instructions, but the covering is a nice, pale shade of beige. “So who’s bleeding all over my place this time?”

“No one’s bleeding, I patched ‘im up just to preemptively get you off my ass.”

“So he was bleeding. That why you needed to crash?”

The way Sam hesitates makes it clear that blood loss is not the culprit here. You glare at him, and Sam Awful Terrible Friend Wilson rolls his eyes at you and walks past you and up to the couch, pulling down the covers.

“That’s…” You stare. There’s no better way to put it. “Sam, he’s- Why is his arm detached? Why is it wriggling?”

“We had a minor snafu. Barnes got dosed with something and it made his arm go a little haywire. It’s wired into his nervous system, so we had to do an emergency detachment until the thing is out of his system so he won’t helicopter himself into the sky or, you know, hurt anyone.”

“So why is it still twitching like a zombie limb? Please, don’t tell me he’s turning into a zombie. I can’t deal with a zombie apocalypse. I use Zombies! Run, but that’s the closest I ever want to come to the undead because even with that I fucking jump out of my skin when I start hearing heavy breathing in my ears and-”

“He’s not turning into a zombie, jeez!” Sam tosses the covers back in place, covering up Barnes and the twitchy arm. “It’s still receiving faint signals, so it’s acting like a nervous grandma. It’s completely harmless. Ha! I gotta remember that one when he wakes up.”

Jesus H. Christ. Where is a brick wall when you need one? “Sam!”

“Stark’s coming to pick us up in two hours, we’ll be out of your hair. We’ll even take the arm with us.”

You give an indignant sniff, heading back to the little ladder that leads up to your loft. “Fuck you, Wilson, I’m going back to bed and won’t come down until you and Terminator over there are out of my house.”

“Aw, come on! We’re delightful! Look, Barnes is even more delightful because he is asleep so you won’t even have to deal with him being Mr. Personality!”

You could tell him that from your perspective, Barnes is the preferable option in this situation because he is asleep and thus not bothering you. Instead, you opt for a succinct reply in the form of your middle finger and start to ascend the ladder, coffee mug tightly gripped in one hand. Saturdays are holy, okay? Saturdays are for waking up late, having coffee and then crawling back to your bed where the covers are still warm and just wait for the sun to rise high enough in the sky that you’re tempted to go outside. Saturdays are not for housing superheroes, and you don’t care if one of them is your army buddy and the other a cyborg who, okay, is kinda cute when he’s not clutching his twitching arm like it’s his goddamn teddybear.

To be fair, Sam cuts out his little comedian act, and shuts up. There’s the odd shuffling from below, but nothing more, and you manage to doze off, wrapped like a burrito in your covers. It’s almost enough to make you forget that you have houseguests.

Until Sam pinches your toe.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he whispers, shaking your foot and you’re surprised you don’t kick him in the face.

“Piss off.”

“Delightful. We’re rolling out in five. I told Stark to bring you some decent breakfast as thanks.”

Well. Breakfast is an acceptable offering. There better be waffles, or you might need to kick Stark. With a grunt, you start extricating yourself from your covers, rooting around until you find a cardigan to wrap yourself in. Sam’s by the couch when you get down, ripping the covers from Sleeping Barnes and shaking his shoulder.

“Hey, Princess Elsa, our ride’s almost here.”

Barnes, who seems to appreciate sleeping as much as you do, tries to turn over and away from the rude awakening, but apparently manages to tickle himself on the detached arm, because the man gives a very high-pitched yelp before he very ungracefully tumbles off the couch and lands on his ass.

“Morning, Barnes.”

“Fuck you, Wilson,” Barnes grumbles with a glare that is… impressive.

“There’s coffee if you can inhale it in the next five minutes,” Sam tells him, shrugging of his umpteenth cuss-out in the last six hours.

“Bring… coffee…”

You’re not a rude host. Unwilling, but not rude. Coffee is a glorious drink, and you would never deny anyone the elixir of Life and General Functionality. You pour a cup for the man, bringing it to him, and Barnes stares at you, then at Sam, then takes a second to look around, mouth slowly falling open.

“Wilson, I think I’m-”

“What? You still not sobered up from the funky gas?”

“Either that, or I fell through the looking glass. Am I gonna grow and have my legs sprout through the window? Because that is not good,” Barnes says, gulping down his coffee and then peering up at you. “I’m not sure if you’re real, but either way, I have very impressive thighs. Hi, I’m Bucky”

He fires off a smile that is probably meant to look charming, but only succeeds in looking loopy. Sam, finally getting a fraction of the embarrassed he should be for dragging himself and this crazy ass man into your home, groans and facepalms. It is hilarious.

“Sam, I hate to say this, but I like this guy.”

“Sam, the hallucination is talking to you.”

“I’m not a hallucination,” you tell him, leaning down to pinch his left shoulder. “It’s a tiny house, made even tinier because yikes, you are built.”

Barnes, Bucky, yelps and his coffee sloshes dangerously against the edges of his mug.

“Well, that just seems very unfair to me. And Steve. Oh, jeez, and Bruce. Do you have anything against swole?”

“First of all, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, and second of all, if you’re Bucky Barnes then I’d very much like to know who the fuck taught you the word ‘swole’.”

Bucky Barnes, the most handsome centenarian in the entire world, is a delight, all smiles and jokes, and Sam is terrible for dragging him away. A godawful wind kicks up outside, heralding the arrival of Tony Stark, and you decide this is way too many superheroes. One is acceptable. Two is pushing it. Bucky, having realized he has in fact not shrunk, takes his time looking around while they head out and ends up clipping his head and oh, how people would blush if they heard the downright filth that Sergeant James B. Barnes lets out as he stumbles down the stairs.

Stark makes a joke about custody exchanges, and you tune out more than half because he brought breakfast, and oh sweet Mary above, there are waffles. Sam and Bucky say their goodbyes, and you wave them off, too engrossed in the gorgeousness of waffles drenched in maple syrup and topped with fresh berries. For this, you could almost be okay with a superhero or two crashing for a night.

Not that you’ll ever be.

You have limits.

So of course, your tiny house becomes a tiny superhero central. First it’s Sam, again. Then it’s Stark. He almost gets his ass kicked out when he goes on and on about how you can live with the bare minimum of technology. You definitely kick him out when he wants to chip your house so people won’t have to call you at the asscrack of dawn to let you know, not ask, they are incoming. He does get back in your good graces by giving you a double serving of waffles.

Then, in quick succession, it’s Steve, Sam and Rhodey, Bucky, Barton and Bucky again. Most of them are okay house guests. Barton wins points by appearing genuinely interested in how you’ve set up your living space, quizzing you about layouts and building and the pros and cons of having your entire life confined to 240 square feet. He also loses those points when you wake up to find him sitting on the edge of the sleep loft, overlooking the house. Sam and Rhodey together is not as big of a disaster as one might think, mainly because Rhodey occasionally pulls rank on Sam and honestly? Thank god. Steve, bless him, tries to bend over backwards to not put you out, and his calls all include at least 75 permutations of an apology for calling.

Bucky.

He keeps his arm in place for the next couple of times. On the rare occasions when he’ll call in the middle of the day, he’ll always knock and wait until you open, he’ll insist on “earning his keep”, which is how you come to be the recipient of flowers, breakfast, and a very rare bathroom concerto that Bucky doesn’t know you overheard. The man has a very good singing voice, and it makes your heart skip a beat when he croons “It’s Been a Long, Long Time”. He’s the easiest to get along with, even one early morning when you wake up to his shuffling and cussing because your coffee maker refuses to cooperate. He doesn’t mind the quiet, doesn’t fret around like Stark (who insists that the laptop loaded with every streaming service imaginable and the usernames and passwords for each laid out on a sticky note that he left there is absolutely not a pity gift but a sound investment for both of your continued sanity).

“D’you like this?” Bucky asks one evening, his voice floating up from the living room area.

“I mean, it could be worse. I could be housing Stark for the night,” you quip, rolling over and making something that might be construed as a tumble to get to the edge of the bed.

“I feel like that might have been an insult wrapped in another insult. But that’s not what I meant.”

You can only see Bucky’s feet in the soft light of a lamp, peeking out from the covers. He always sleeps with his feet facing the door, always on his back. The only time he hasn’t was the first time when Sam brought him, and something in you feels bad that Bucky can’t relax even in his sleep.

“No?”

“I meant… this. Living in a small box. Moving around all the time. It’s… Doesn’t it ever get hard? After I got- When I got back, Steve almost had to fight me to move into the Tower. I wanted to go home, you know. To Brooklyn. I don’t know, it was a stupid thought, but I kept thinking if I go back, it’s all still there. The apartment we lived in, the same streets and the same shops and… my family. It felt weird to make another home, but now I don’t know if I could move again.”

His voice is soft, a far cry from the persona he’s portrayed as in the media. The Winter Soldier is hard edges and cold steel, but Bucky Barnes… Bucky Barnes is soft, a whisper in the darkness and a longing for something that’s no longer there.

“It wasn’t that hard for me, because I needed this. I was out there, in all of that big space with nothing but orders and trusting that someone else knew what we were supposed to do. I’d had a place back in Atlanta before, and I’d packed up all my stuff and rented the place to some college kids. They’d already moved out when I got back, and I thought I was gonna go nuts the first night back. That place had felt like a shoebox before I shipped out and now it was so… big. Had a friend who made these kinds of houses, so he helped me build one pretty much from scratch and my first night here I slept like a baby.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it.” God, he sounds almost a bit panicked, like he’s insulted you.

“No, I don’t mind. It’s not for everyone. I just feel I have myself better together on less than 300 square feet. I mean, I don’t go from house to house. This is still a home. It’s just a home I can move around with when I need to see new places.”

There’s a little huff. “Like the middle of nowhere, New Mexico?”

You glance back to the small window next to your bed, at the clouds tinted in burnt orange and vivid pink, the sun setting slowly into the vast horizon. “Yeah. I’ve never been here. I wanted to see it, and now I have.”

“You know, that sounds like I’m gonna wake up in the desert tomorrow morning because a bird is trying to steal my covers.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes,” you tease, crawling back to roll yourself into your own covers again. “I wouldn’t leave you with that blanket. It’s my favourite.”

“Yeah.” His voice is almost a whisper, but you can still make out his next words: “Mine, too.”

When he leaves the next morning, something feels different. He’s tentative at breakfast, burns a few pancakes and once again clips his head on the doorway heading out when Nat touches down the quinjet to pick him up. Breakfast changes hands, Nat fills you in on some gossip. Bucky’s shoulders are slumped when he trudges up and into the cargo hold.

“Wait!”

You run inside, depositing the bag of breakfast on your counter, grabbing the blanket from the couch and folding it into a mess that would pass exactly zero inspections before heading back out. Nat’s joined Bucky on the quinjet landing, and she quirks and eyebrow when you all but thrust the bunched up fabric into Bucky’s arms.

“A bit of home,” you blurt out, immediately feeling heat creep up your cheeks. “Can’t hurt to have more of that.”

Bucky chuckles, “No… I guess it can’t.”

You move three days later. The New Mexico desert makes you restless, makes you itch for something else. For a couple of weeks, you drift further and further north, looking for a place that doesn’t put you on edge. You plough through the Midwest, but there’s always something. You text Sam just to become annoyed and feel something else. He calls a couple of times, facetimes you on your birthday so the whole gang can wish you happy birthday. you smile, taking a screenshot to save the memory for a rainy day. They’re all there, sitting around an obscenely big dinner table, glasses raised, mouths open mid-sentence. Stark looks magnanimous as always, sunglasses perched on top of his head, Steve’s got an expression that’s somewhere between his Captain America-smile and a genuine Steve Rogers-grin. Bucky… Bucky is not there. Or at least you can’t see him. Maybe he’s at the very end of the table, obscured by the others. Not that you care. You don’t. You absolutely don’t. You definitely don’t look for him in the picture every time you bring it up.

You move again. It’s too calm. You’ve had no superheroes visiting in two months, no late night calls inquiring about coordinates. Stark’s laptop is shoved into a drawer where you can’t see it, there’s a new blanket draped over your couch pretending it’s always been there.

>>Coordinates?

The text from the unknown number comes in late one evening when you’re gearing up to let bygones be bygones and forget the Midwest ever existed. You could cry with how happy it makes you, even though a text means one or more of them is in trouble and maybe you should be a little worried, too. The Avengers are good people, but they’re not unlike cats, dragging others with them. Like murder bots and weird aliens. You dutifully send your coordinates, biting your lip before adding:

>>Don’t wake me, and don’t make me wake up to bad guys on my porch

>>They scare the neighbours

>>I have a reputation to think of

Your only neighbours are trees, but still. No one likes bad guys.

Setting your phone down, you tuck yourself into bed. Whoever’s coming knows where to find the key to get in. Stark, again, wanted to set you up with some biometric doohickey that would make it impossible for anyone not in the system to get in, since “keys are so unreliable, look at Parker, he could probably pick it after five minutes on youtube”. He stopped talking when you pointed out your house is a glorified box on wheels, and that there are far easier ways to get in than to pick the lock or even rush the door. You’d had to tell him he was not allowed to turn your house into a tank.

When the sun rises, waking you up with a well-placed ray right in your eyes, you expect to hear… something. Sam, Nat and Steve are all early wakers, there would be the telltale sounds and scents of breakfast being prepared. Tony, much as he tries to vehemently deny it, snores. God, is it Barton? You raise your head, and let out a sigh of relief to see the loft empty save for yourself and the sparse furnishings. Could still be Barton, he’s just learned to stay out of your nest and accept that he’s not top of the pecking order here.

But when you get down from your loft, there’s no one there. Blinking, you look around, as if whoever texted you last night will jump out from some impossible corner. The couch is untouched, everything is where you left it. Was it Bruce and he couldn’t de-Hulk so he slept outside? You check your phone to see if there are any unread text or missed calls, but there’s nothing.

>>Did you leave already?

The reply comes within seconds.

>>No. Outside.

So… Bruce? Furrowing your brow, you go pull a pair of sweats from the hamper, yawning wide before you head for the door. You’re not exactly sure what to expect, but finding the clearing you’ve set up camp in empty is… anticlimactic, to say the least.

“Hello?” you call out, stepping down the stairs, a shiver running down your spine from the cool morning air.

Nothing. The wind sighs in the tops of the trees, a crack from a branch breaking the calm. Ahead of you, something catches your eye, far too colourful to be part of the wooded area.

“What the hell?”

Folded neatly on the ground is your blanket, your old blanket, the one you gave to-

“Sam told me you’d been moving around a lot. Figured maybe you could need a bit more home.”

You yelp and whirl around to find Bucky sitting on the stairs, filling up the doorway and smiling smugly at you.

“How-” You look at him, then around at the clearing and back to Bucky, pointing at him. “You- What?”

“Sorry, I… thought it would be fun. It was creepy, wasn’t it?” He scratches the back of his head, getting of the stairs, approaching you slowly. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Are you okay?” It’s second nature by now to give him a once-over, to expect bruises and scrapes and, let’s be honest, blood. Seeing nothing doesn’t necessarily mean he’s okay. These yahoos are notorious about playing off little things like internal bleedings, cracked ribs and concussions.

“What, no! I mean, yes, yes, I’m okay. I wasn’t in any scuffle. Haven’t been for a while. You can check me if you like.”

Pursing your lips, you look him up and down while you circle him, prodding at his ribs, his hands, his cheekbone. Satisfied that he’s not injured, you come to a stop in front of him.

“Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you again, but… why are you here?”

“Been travelling. Sort of like this, but without the… tiny house, was it? I thought about what you said, about home and all that, and I realized that maybe I need to reevaluate what home means. Going away to figure out what I miss and what I need.”

He raises his right hand to drag the fingertips along the soft blanket, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It sounds cheesy as all hell, but your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat, because he looks so content, so relaxed.

“Yeah? Did you find the answer then? What’s home?” you ask, cursing your voice for sounding breather than you ever intended it to.

“See, I packed light. Couple changes of clothes, toothbrush, the regular stuff… and this.” He takes a firm hold of the blanket with both hands, pulling it from you, shaking it out. “And I missed a lot of things in the beginning. People… things… comforts. But I learned to make do without all of those. Only thing I couldn’t get past missin’…”

You watch wide eyed as Bucky wraps the blanket over your shoulders, tugging at the ends to bring it in tightly over your chest, cocooning you in it.

“…is in this blanket,” he finishes, his gaze focused on where his hands holds it close. “I missed mornings with you. Even the first morning when I woke up feelin’ like a drunk sailor after pub crawl thinking Stark or someone had shrunk me down to the size of a bean. I missed your tiny house and your couch and your coffee and… and you.”

And you.

Maybe it’s another cliché, but you can’t help the smile, the sudden joy that bubbles up along with the sensation of right. All these days that have somehow bled into months of moving, of unease, they are drawn into this moment. They breathe a sigh of relief, settling. This is it, this is what all that drifting was about. Finding the spot where your roads would lead you to stand toe to toe, wrapped in a well-worn blanket and realize that home can grow from a warmth that accumulated over so many mornings. You push at Bucky’s hands, making the blanket part, tugging the ends from his grip to sling your arms around his neck, bringing him into it.

The kisses don’t happen until later. First, there’s the quiet, the seconds and minutes wrapped in the blanket. Then, there is breakfast and coffee strong enough to make a spoon stand up straight and slightly overscrambled eggs and Bucky’s voice drifting from the bathroom with hums breaking up the lyrics. You kiss him like you want to taste him, commit him to memory, pulling him down by his neck and drawing in a sharp breath when drops of water fall down the neckline of your t-shirt. He kisses like he’s finally at rest, safe even when his attention is diverted.

>>Coordinates? Bit banged up, wings took a hit, out of your hair before tomorrow

>>image.jpeg

>>Sorry, find another safehouse, this one’s occupied

>>TMI WAY TMI DO NOT SAY ANOTHER WORD

>>It was just a selfie!

>>IN BED

>>Get ur head out of the gutter /JBB

>>I hate you guys

You smile at the final message, setting down the phone and curling up against Bucky with a sigh. The sheets are a mess by your feet, Bucky’s body heat enough to keep you both warm.

“Occuped, huh?” he smiles, tracing your lower lip with the pad of his thumb.

You nod, pressing a kiss to the finger.

“Welcome home.”

#fic

[prorevenge]

After months of putting up with my roommate from hell, I got the revenge of lifetime and screwed her over out of a fuckton of money and got her to pay rent and life has never been sweeter! (This is a long one)

This is a long one but very much worth the ride, so buckle up. (also, English isn't my native lang, sorry if there are any mistakes)

This story takes place a couple of years back. During college, I lived with several roommates, all of them were nice and we got along well, except for this one bitch, let's call her Karen. if Satan and Hitler had a child and that child had a child with Stalin and Cruella de Vil, that would be Karen for you, she is a loud-mouthed stupid, egocentric bitch who has the face that scare the shit out of a toilet. She would never clean up after herself, she would always leave her plates and things at the spot where she last used them. I have lost counts of how many times, I caught her stealing my clothes without asking and if you so much as touch her clothes she loses her shit on you, or her drinking our lactose-intolerant roommates almond milk and any time we confronted her for drinking it, she would shrug and say "I only had a sip, stop being so stingy." She plays her music loud at night, invites stranger without giving any heads up, a time or two she didnt pay rent even though her parents are FILTHY RICH and she is wearing gucci and prada shit, Karen also fucking lies about everything, even things that are not worth lying about. like if she woke up 7, and you ask her, she'll lie through her fucking teeth and say she rose with the sun rise because she is a natural. (ps, this is something i actually heard her say to her parents while she was skypeing them....so cringy, who the fuck says that? but i digress)

Months we have fucking put up with her, of course we tried to get other roommates but unfortunately when we all moved in everything, all documents and contracts were done in her name so kicking her out would require a lot of effort and most of us were busy with school and work and life happens. So we ignore it as much as we can and try to move on.

We are now all seniors and in our final semesters, meaning graduation was coming, AND Karen is planning a backpack trip across Europe with her friends as a graduation gift to herself, this is important so remember this.

One of our roommates and my closest friend, Sasha, has had a crush on a guy that lives down the hall. Any time the two of them are together, Sasha and the Guy keep giving each other googly eyes and blushing faces; it was sooo cute. Sasha is a verbal autistic person and has never dated anyone because she has a hard time with socializing and understanding social ques and subtlety, which lets face it, that is the core of dating, especially flirting but with a lot of encouragement from me and the final roommate, Lola we got her to ask him out. He said yes. She was so happy, you guys, she flew back into the apartment and did an hour of happy dance with her arms flailing about and a shit eatin grin on her face; needless to say we were all so happy. Karen caught wind of this and it just so happens at that time she was having relationship problems, I guess her bf finally realized he's dating human garbage. Not one to be outshined, Karen behind all of our backs went to the guy's place and spun lies about Sasha, saying she is a serial cheater and even made a fake account for Sasha's so called bf. the guy never called Sasha, and eventually weeks passed by he told us why but by then Sasha felt like the damage was done and lost interest in him.

I. WAS. FUCKING. FURIOUS.

This, this level of dickery and bloody pettiness is the straw that finally broke the camel's back and I vowed I wouldn't fucking leave until I served my slice of justice. Here's another character that you must know about, Prof C. His wife two years ago was in a horrible car accident and as a result is in a wheelchair, this is especially problematic because she was a stay home mom that took care of their two special needs kids and they have a toddler at home. Home life is a mess for him, he is running ragged between working and single-handedly is taking care of his family, the uni took pity and also feared the workload would see one of their best and most beloved teachers leave the school struck a deal with him to help him out. In all of his classes there will be quizzes and midterms, this doesnt change, but assignments you submit and he corrects at the end of the year, this is important cuz our uni has zero tolerance on proffs that dont constantly update the students course works so that students have the chance to improve their grades.

Karen, the lazy and stupid bitch she is, is somehow skating through his assignments, even though they require a shit tone of research and writing. I accidentally learned that one of her older friends told her that she only needs submit the paper on its due date and to only write the first 3 pages and use a paraphrase tool for the rest of the paper so the plagiarism software wont detect it and would think its original material and when the end of the year comes, submit a hard copy but with the first pages being her actual work and the rest being completely plagiarized, professional work. Prof C won't know cuz the likelihood a man as busy as him thoroughly checking the work of 120+ students is pretty low. I grinned. A plan was beginning to formulate in my head. Oh, sweet mother of Jesus, she is going down! All semester long I let her do this for all of the 7 papers, one of them which is a term paper that has 20% on it alone, all the while I spied and gathered all of her pass codes, social media, her student ID, everything.

The end of the year came and I compiled all of her assignments, both the original one with the paraphrasing tools she used to circumvent plagiarism and the one she finally handed them in, and I even made photos were there are side-to-side comparison of the assignments. This is a good start but not enough. So, One day chillin at the living room I open a conversation about relationships, Karen is two timing her new boyfriend and is sleeping with some other Person. so, I ask her questions like "don't you feel guilty for cheating?" and "You do realize this is wrong?" and I even paraphrase my words in a way that is vague but also clear, for example I would say "It's not fair, so many people work so hard everyday to be successful and you are here cheating and lying your way to success." Karen, narcissistic as fuck, would respond with snippets of I dont care and how she isnt cheating, she is only having fun and that everyone does it so why not her too. This is too good to be true, even her answers are vague, its like god put his hand on my shoulder, looked me right in the eyes and said, "burry this bitch". and Id be damned if I didnt. As you probably have guessed it by now, I was recording EVERYTHING. The recording plus the photos, and her assignments were more than enough evidence, I sent an anonymous email to the Professor, and i tell the girls so that they can prep for the shit storm thats coming. Three weeks later, results are out. she failed and LOST HER SHIT. She was screamin, crying, wailing, what a sight to see! you best believe, the girls and I were laughing. She tried to talk to the prof, but he was not having it. she cried and begged for a second chance but he said a hard no. So now she has two options: she goes ahead and doesn't graduate with us, and takes on a whole 'nother semester for one measly course or take summer course and cancel her trip to Europe, which mind you she spent a fuckton on, something like 13, 000$ and I know it could have been much cheaper but Princess Karen only wanted the best so yh. The next couple of weeks she spent sleepless nights because she was calling and cancelling all the reservations she made, tryin to get her money back BUT (again, GOD really was out for blood that day) because the cancellation was so close to some her trip most places refused to refund, or some charged her cancellation fees. She only managed to scrap 5.5 K back together, lossin 7.5 K. OUCH!

Its not over, having damning evidence I, with earned gusto, told her she was going to pay all of the bills till we move out, which was in two months, payback for all the times she was late on payment or defaulted and she would from now do her part of the house chores or else Im gonna send it all to the admin and faculty dean and she will fo sho be kicked out and all those uni years will have been for nothing. She hated it, she fucking threw tantrums and cussed me out but my god if she didnt do whats told. she cleaned her stuff, apologized to Sasha for what she did, I forced her to come clean to her BF (dont know the guy but the few times i met him he was super sweet to us and i felt bad for the guy), I watched her actually do the dishes for the first time in like years. IT was fucking amazing and I don't regret it one bit. In fact, anytime I feel sad now as an adult, i kick back my feet and reminiscine and a slow shit eatin grin draws itself upon my face.

tl;dr roommate was super mean, i found out she was cheating on her assignments and so i snitched on her and as a result she had to stay the summer and retake the class again or else she wouldn't graduate.

(source) story by (/u/let-the-write-one-in)

#prorevenge #by /u/let-the-write-one-in #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

[shsldepressedlesbian]

Jesus Christ please tell me mORE about these characters I only know three things about them but I’m invested

hahhshahha im glad people wanna hear about them,, ok here we go, character info dump:

like i mentioned in a previous ask, the characters were created using sets of nine images, and thus they went through a certain degree of changes, though not all of them

if anyone wants to see me make the fic,, then i just might do it-

heres funfacts about the characters, cause as i noted before, i lovv them all very much:

Yuuki Mori, Ultimate Wedding Planner

Likes: bubblegum, streamers

Dislikes: wooly sweaters, dodgeball

D.O.B: October 12

Height: 5'1" 

- the protag girl,,

- for the most part, a very friendly and hyperactive gurl

- always carries around bubblegum with her

- her interesting in wedding planning stems from her grandmothers encouragement, as well as having many relatives, and thus shes attended a lot of weddings in her life

- neat freak

- surprisingly athletic

- social!! but shes a little judgemental of people

- would never intentionally insult anyone outloud

- incredibly persistent

- also has a very sharp memory and eye due to her job as a wedding planner, which helps with investigating

- avoids conflict if she can

- not hard to convince

- trans and bi, like all dangan protags are suppose to be

- smells like bubblegum flavored cake and lavender

Emica Abiko, Ultimate Student Council

Likes: blank paper, lavender

Dislikes: deadlines in general, decaf

D.O.B: May 25

Height: 5'5"

- the mom friend

- tries to be as friendly as possible but shes this close to snapping

- is surviving on pure will and caffeine

- orderly

- has a strong sense of responsibility and leadership

- her dad is actually the principal of the school, which is the whole reason why shes student president in the first place. because of this, she doesnt really believe she deserves a spot in the school

- ambivert

- 'takahashi PLEASE put that down-'

- smells like vanilla coffee and stress

Arata Abe, Ultimate Historian

Likes: globes, sunshine

Dislikes: tiny dogs, flat earthers

D.O.B: June 14

Height: 5'7"

- a classy man

- very curious

- and nosey

- writes everything down in his trusty notebook, which helps with investigations

- doesnt just study japanese history. hes interested in the past of almost all countries

- very neutral on almost everything, doesnt have many opinions of his own

- but one thing he does have a strong opinion on is hating hetalia (who doesnt?)

- dresses like a victorian

- acts like he hasnt had a social interaction with a human being in years

- smells like old books and cats

Mitsuo Nakashima, Ultimate ???

Likes: dark rooms, wifi

Dislikes: confusing websites, superstitions

D.O.B: December 25

Height: 5’6”

- has not slept in a week but its fine

- very insistent on keeping secrets

- not even his classmates know who he or his talent is

- chooses not to tell anyone his talent (for some reason)

- does not believe in luck. at all

- for a tired guy who has no sense of left or right, hes pretty cocky

- probably has a tragic backstory

- spends most time locked in a dark room

- will fall asleep in a random hallway

- it might be the fatigue and coffee talking, but hes surprisingly intelligent

- smells like dirty laundry and ramen

Asuka Ando, Ultimate Student Council Treasurer

Likes: jewelry, mythology

Dislikes: delinquents, air horns

D.O.B: January 11

Height: 5’8”

- that one blonde chick in every slasher

- very cocky because of her position

- convincing and manipulative

- also good with management as you would expect from a treasurer

- was a math whiz in middle school

- despite acting in control, shes very reliant on emica telling her what to do

- hides behind bigger people

- collector of jewelry

- smells like chokingly sweet perfume and bleach

Manabu Ueda, Ultimate Astrogeologist

Likes: tea, stargazing

Dislikes: broken glass, slime

D.O.B: October 25

Height: 5’8”

- a polite boi, admirable

- more or less on the quiet side, tho he can and does step in to say stuff, and he does enjoy conversation

- his talent is something he grew from his own ambitions, but rather, it was more of a family line thing. he still does enjoy astrogeology though, which is why he chose to continue it even when he got a chance to study something different

- as you would expect from the ultimate astrogeologist, he contains many facts about space hes willing to share

- compliments others pretty often if we’re being real here, overall more of an optimistic realist

- however, even then, hes more of a ‘act first ask questions later’ type of guy as well

- a bit on the vain side?? very proud of his looks

- is very attracted to women who can beat him up-

- smells like expensive perfume and moondust

Seiichi Miyamoto, Ultimate Slam Poet

Likes: ink, protests

Dislikes: alcohol, peer pressure

D.O.B: August 26

Height: 5’5”

- best boy

- despite having the public image of a very loud and passionate young man, in person hes a lot more quiet and polite

- very good with voice shifting

- pulls at his tie when hes nervous; because of this, its always loose around his neck

- was the rep of his class

- slam poetry is a form of venting for him

- has strong opinions

- cares more about others health then his own

- not shy, just very nervous

- smells like nature and scented markers

Tamotsu Fujimoto, Ultimate Tomb Guide

Likes: sand, the heat

Dislikes: slippery ice, pens

D.O.B: November 19

Height: 6’4”

- the dad friend

- has known masa since they were kids(they met in a hospital), and thus they are very close friends

- mature but also laid back

- gives good hugs

- muscular

- wasnt actually born in japan, but grew up in it for the most part

- his parents were archaeologists, and they traveled alot. he was always particularly interested in the history of egypt, rather than becoming an archaeologist like his parents originally wanted him to be

- strong sense of justice

- usually believes in redemption

- acts as a form of transportation for the others when their tired, especially masa and satoru

- smells like tropical drinks and stuffy places

Kamiko Yamasaki, Ultimate Tapestry Seamstress

Likes: luck charms, quiet

Dislikes: being the main subject of attention, jumpscares

D.O.B: March 13

Height: 5’3”

- babey

- grew up in a superstitious household

- believes that she has terrible luck and uses everything bad that has ever happened to her as proof

- because of her supposed bad luck, she spent a lot of time locked in her house, sewing tapestries as a way of keeping busy, before being invited to sailing integrity

- has a good eye and knowledge of fabrics

- has a whole collection of sunhats. sadly, she only brought two different ones for the cruise trip(not like she was expecting more than a weeks stay hhshshs)

- has a large family

- has many bandaids on her fingers due to accidentally pricking herself on sewing needles multiple times

- interested in folklore

- very apologetic

- has a low sense of self esteem

- because of her ‘bad luck’, she blames a lot of bad stuff on herself, even if it doesnt even involve her

- sensitive

- grows quickly attached to others

- likes to stay close to anything that she believes would bring her ‘good luck’

- smells like sunflowers and dirt

Kenta Inoue, Ultimate Parkourer

Likes: sneakers, tetris

Dislikes: being told what to do, stuck up people

D.O.B: February 17

Height: 6’3”

- angrey boy

- incredibly short tempered

- no one remembers seeing him ever smile

- healthy parent relationships? whats that??

- will stomp curb you

- easy to get flustered up, though he wouldnt admit it

- will not stop until hes defied gravity

- defining feature is his allstar sneakers

- smells like varying cologne and sexual frustration

Chieko Endo, Ultimate Chemist

Likes: friendly gambling, working out

Dislikes: romance stories, people coming up from behind her

D.O.B: January 2

Height: 6’0”

- the intelligent one

- serious and calm, keeps a clear head

- a true neutral

- has mastered the art of poker faces

- apathetic

- has a strong dislike of romantic things

- sharp minded

- surprisingly agile and athletic

- can recite the periodic table from the top of her head

- is always looking above the tip of her glasses

- no one: chieko: *anime glasses gleam*

- chieko, to seiichi: ‘ah, so your the twink’

- so edge, such cool

- smells like roses and melted wax

Masa Shibata, Ultimate Dream Interpreter

Likes: fiction, horoscopes

Dislikes: spiky rocks, flashlights

D.O.B: December 31

Height: 5’11”

- mythic bab

- tries to act all mysterious and wise but sometimes accidently slips and reveals she really is just a normal teenager who spends way too much time on tumblr

- has known tamotsu since they were kids(they met in a hospital), and thus they are very close friends

- actually spent a lot of time in the hospital as a kid 

- very blunt

- not good with human emotions at ALL

- not good at picturing stuff, will draw and whatever ends up on the page will -genuinely either impress or surprise her

- a little lazy if you will

- very interested in horoscopes

- holds grudges

- tamotsu translates her weird way of speaking a lot

- knows like fifty ways to get to sleep immediately

- instead of saying ‘good morning’, she asks ‘how was your dreams?’ to people

- keeps a dream journal, not for herself, but for everyone else

- smells like clean warm laundry and sheep

Fumiko Ogawa, Ultimate Lucky Student (or Blackjack Player)

Likes: the color red, praise

Dislikes: trivia facts, strip poker

D.O.B: July 3

Height: 5’9”

- has more of a gambler aura rather then a lucky student aura

- very proud of herself

- soaks up praise and compliments like a sponge

- a family girl, especially looks up to her older brother

- an attention seeker

- knows how to get what she wants

- doesnt really like the title of ultimate lucky student which is why she goes by ultimate blackjack player

- is actually not even a fan of talent schools??

- dresses like a 1940s stage dancer

- smells like raspberries and cash

Kohaku Ono, Ultimate Murder Mystery Novelist

Likes: horror movies, plot twists

Dislikes: overdone tropes, being looked up to

D.O.B: May 9

Height: 6'3"

- a polite bab

- very honest

- handy in investigating due to their knowledge and imagination

- has very low self esteem

- considers themself a borderline 'villan', despite doing their hardest to be nice to everyone

- warns everyone about themself, but characters who were in the same class as them have just gotten use to it

- very uncomfortable with praise and being called a 'role model'

- helps others to their best ability

- compares many situations to varying books, including their own

- unintentionally ominous

- writes using a typewriter rather then a computer or laptop

- smells like peppermint and typewriter ink

Aika Kouki, Ultimate Vintage Collector

Likes: buttons, dial up phones

Dislikes: being ignored, boredom

D.O.B: August 10

Height: 5'5"

- would and will add 'chan' to the end of everyones names

- grew up in a family that was very about keeping things 'old fashioned'

- resents the term 'boomer'

- talks like a 2000s teen

- very energetic and cheerful

- uses old fashioned slang often

- 'thats wack, brosiki'

- expresses interest in being other people

- very praising of others, often talking how 'jealous' she is of them

- overall very positive

- she and yuuki have known each other since grade school, even though they arent paticularly super close friends

- watched a lot of sailor moon as a kid

- modern tech impresses her more then it should

- smells like 1950 perfume and the outdoors

Satoru Takahashi, Ultimate Marine Biologist

Likes: sea otters, the water

Dislikes: his height, fish nets

D.O.B: December 5

Height: 4'8"

- its the tiny boi

- would unironically threaten your kneecaps

- is very sad about not seeing any marine animals during their cruise

- is insecure about his height but wont admit it

- often asks taller, stronger people to carry him on their shoulders(kenta refuses, but tamotsu is fine with it)

- very bold

- says whatever comes to his mind

- it started out as a joke, but he probably has a tentacle kink-

- adventurous young lad

- usually very friendly, but not hesitant to call out what he feels is bullshit

- calls kenta, mitsuo, and chieko 'edgelords'

- spaces out a lot

- smells like salt water and wet fur

Usagi Shimizu, Ultimate Runaway/Explorer

Likes: the forest, music

Dislikes: closed in spaces, car lights

D.O.B: September 1

Height: 5'4"

- very quiet

- has had many foster parents

- technically, shes listed as the ultimate explorer in the academy, but everyone refers to her talent as 'ultimate runaway' due to her reputation

- shy, but can be loud if she wants to

- surprisingly smart when asked questions

- usually calm, but it isnt hard to get her riled up

- everyone expects her to be some sort of delinquent due to her history of running away from her many homes, but really shes basically the opposite

- usually goes with whatever everyone agrees to

- takes many pictures of nature, and posts them to social media

- blushy

- smells like bushes and granola bars

#cruise to despair

[yourbrother-crutchie]

Dear evan hansen secret santa!

Hello sweet child! First of all merry christmas/ happy Hanukkah/ happy holidays 💕 I love your blog and I hope that after this we could maybe talk! Hope you enjoy 💙 *I thought it may be easier to post here than the other way I posted it 😄*

~~~~~

���Pleaseee Evan! Come out with me! It’s the first real snow fall of the year. You know that the ice rink is ready. We skate every year together.” Zoe begged me. We met in year one before we were sorted into different houses.

I always knew that I would be sorted into Hufflepuff, but when the hat was placed on my head, I remember feeling very calm about the fact that I could also be sorted into Slytherin.

Zoe was a Gryffindor. I knew it the moment I met her. Despite us being in different houses, she is my best friend, and I love her more than anyone.

I snap back into reality, and back to the conversation I was having with her. “And your brother is coming with us?” I squeak out. It isn’t that her brother was scary… he was just very…. intimidating. Yes, that’s the word. He always walked with such a drive and purpose that it was very powerful to watch.

“He has a really hard time making friends Evan. It’s the least I could do. What’s the worst thing that could happen? It’s just our regular annual ice skating! Me, you, Alana, Connor and now Jared.” She said cheerfully.

“Jared too??” I raised my eyebrow at her. Jared was my friend when we were younger, before we came to Hogwarts. Since he was sorted into Slytherin, he’s basically avoided me, but always acts like we are best friends over the summers.

“Yeah, he and Connor have actually been talking lately. And he’s friends with both of you, so I was hoping that would make you more comfortable with it?” She gave me the biggest puppy dog eyes and was basically begging me to go with her tonight.

“Okay, fine, but you’re making hot chocolate after.” I gave in and grabbed my skates and my winter gear.

Zoe was beyond giddy when I finally accepted her offer. The snow outside was large and fluffy, and coming in plenty supply. I couldn’t wait to go out and play in it. Zoe has that way of drawing the excitement out of me. It must be her smile. It’s subtle, and it makes me feel like I’m a part of a secret. It’s literally perfect.

We walk to the main doors where Alana, Jared and Connor are meeting us. The closer we get, the more anxious I feel about talking to Connor.

I’ve never really spoken to him much. Just the odd “Hello” in passing to be polite because he was Zoes brother.

The only person that knows about me being bisexual is Zoe. She also knows that the reason I’m so intimidated by Connor is because of how attractive he is. She keeps doing things like this so that we can talk. I don’t know why I finally caved now.

“Heyyy guys. It’s about time!” Jared said awkwardly hugging Zoe. “You’re late, but that’s alright.” Alana chimed in. “Lets go.” Connor mumbled.

He looked very to himself. Even more than I am and I didn’t think that was possible. Maybe it will be easier to get to know him. “So what are you doing over the holidays?” I ask Connor while we walk towards the frozen pond. “Nothing really. Just basic Christmas stuff. How about you?”

His answer were short and clear, but I could hear the want in his voice. The want for human connection. “Oh my mom and I celebrate Hanukkah! It’s my favourite time of year honestly. All my friends celebrate Christmas so I’ve also started to, but I like the intimate celebration between my mom and I.” I didnt realize I was rambling until we get to the pond.

“Sounds fun. You’ll have to explain Hanukkah to me sometime. If that’s alright?” I nod my head enthusiastically. I was a lot less anxious talking to him than I had anticipated.

“Ev!!! You may need to be my support system so I can get adjusted to skating again!” Zoe said to me as she started to lace her skates on. “Why would I expect anything less?”

Before I know it, we are all skating and having fun. Zoe and I are skating laps and Jared is trying to impress Alana, but she’s performing way cooler tricks than him. I look over and see Connor getting frustrated as he keeps falling and picking himself up every 2 minutes.

I skate over to him fast and offer a hand out for him. “Would you like some help?” I offer. He looks offended that I would even ask him that. “I’m fine. It’s just been a while.” He says and slides as he tries to stand. I catch him mid fall and we are in a position where I have him dipped.

As soon as I realize what position we have going on, I want to let go, but instead I pull him back to standing. “See….. not that hard. Just uh… let me know if I can help Connor.” I gave him the best smile I could muster up and skate back to Zoe.

“Thank you for trying.” She says whole heartedly. “I really appreciate it.” We start to speed skate straight down the middle of the pond when I feel a slight tug on my skates and I fall down hard on the ice.

“BEAT YOU HANSEN!!” Zoe yelled from the finish line. I hear Jared laugh hysterically “EAT SHIT HANSEN LOOOL” He yelled at me from where he was with Alana.

Connor looked at me and smirked. He started to skate slowly away. That smirk made me physically want to drool. It’s pulling on my heart too much. Just when I’m almost back to Zoe, I feel my skates pull another time.

“Okay!! This can’t just be marks in the ice. We were the 1st people on it this year.” I tried to figure out what the problems are.

“Evan! Are you seriously forgetting everything I taught you in 2nd year??? I spent so long teaching you to skate!” Alana said defeated. I got up to skate again, but fell to my left hand side.

I look over and see Connor smirking at me and he skates over. “Do you need a hand?” He says so sexily. It was quite passive aggressive with flirty mixed in.

I start to take his hand, but when he is about to help me up, but instead I pull him down and he stumbles so he landed directly on me.

“Your eyes are stunning.” I whispered in aw as we laid there on the ice. His whole face immediately went a deeper shade of red if possible.

I knew that everyone would be looking at me and Connor right now, but for some reason it just didn’t bother me. I only saw Connor. He shakily moves his face closer to mine to the point where we are just centimetres away.

“Please just kiss me.” I breathe out, instantly embarrassed about what I just said out loud.

But my whisper was loud enough for him to hear, because just like I asked, he kissed me. It was magical, and surreal and everything I could have hoped for.

I hear literal fireworks going off so I break the kiss with Connor and look over and see that Zoe and Alana had made fireworks.

Zoe laughed hysterically as she skated over to us. “Its about time!!! You two have been crushing on each other for at least 2 years yet, and neither of you have had the balls to say anything! The match maker strikes again!!!” She screamed in victory.

Connor rolled his eyes, but grabbed my hand tightly with his. “Yeah , I guess she did. Thanks Zo,”

“When will you set me up Zoe?? You free tonight?” He asked non chalantly. “In your dreams Kleinman.”

We all walked back to Alanas room and Zoe made us all hot chocolate. “Sorry for making you fall earlier. It’s just hard to impress someone who is already a million times better than you,” he laughed and scratched the back of his head.

“ So you were the one making me fall!! Jesus I knew I wasn’t just getting bad at skating. You’re the worst.” I teased and kissed his cheek.

Skating today was the best decision I’ve made in the 6 years I’ve been here.

(( THIS!! IS!! CUTE!! THANK YOU SO MUCH OMG <3 <3 and youre so sweet omg!! <3 im always up for chattin hmu 

#submission

[baekhyunsahoe]

BBKY92 has posted!

By some small miracle, chanyeol makes it back to his apartment, jongin in tow. He thought they had taken uber pool but apparently not so they were having an impromptu drunken sleepover.

Chanyeol’s place is mini sized. It’s got zero bedrooms, one bath, and a small kitchen. they nearly trip over and die over the shoes at the door but somehow manage to land on the bed [if you can even call it that]. It’s nothing more than a futon on the floor with a bunch of pillows and some stuffed animals.

Jongin’s sprawled on his back, chanyeol side eyes his sockless state of foot that had probably been sockless since the start. That guy never liked socks. Chanyeol never liked sweaty feet from not wearing socks. It could not go on like this. He’s about to voice his views on this matter when jongin drops his phone on his own face.

Chanyeol bursts out laughing, jongin’s groaning background noise.

“are you okay?” chanyeol asks to be ‘polite.’ Jongin scowls and the phone slips out of his hand again. “you are not okay.” Chanyeol confirms.

“my screen is so bright dude.” Jongin complains. “its blinding”

“you can change it on your settings.”

“I did – oh shit!”

“what?!”

“kyungsoo called me.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widen. A mad kyungsoo was basically the end of your days. Or jongin’s days at least.

“why didn’t you answer it?” chanyeol asks in horror.

“I didn’t hear it!” jongin yells.

Chanyeol shakes his head and reaches for his phone. “oooooooo. he called me too.”

“seriously?!”

“deadass.”

“oh my god… I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up here any second now…” jongin blinks up at the ceiling seemingly having accepted his fate.

“fuck that.” Chanyeol scoffs laying on his side and snuggling the nearest pillow. “tell him youre staying over. Im sure he can survive one night without you.”

“okay.”

“okay.”

“okay.”

“okay.”

“stop saying okay.”

“okay.”

“I changed my mind, have him come here and get you the fuck out of my bed.”

“im sorry.”

Chanyeol throws a stuffed toy at him, reminds himself to say sorry to rainbow [his alpaca] later for using him as a weapon, and reaches for his laptop.

“I’ma throw up.”

“go to the bathroom.”

“okay.”

Chanyeol barely gives jongin the time of day as the younger male wobbles to the toilet. That’s what he gets. He had spent a whopping $80 earlier and it did not even include tip yet.

The alcohol is still rampant in his veins, chanyeols cheeks are flushed despite the cool temperate of his room. His eyes feels heavy, sleep threatening to overcome him soon. But he had some business he had to take care of. It was only 6pm [ they had been at the beer and chicken place for 4 hours before migrating to the nearest bar and ordering more rounds ] [ thankfully lit!jongin had been in a friendly mood and paid for it that time ]

Chanyeol quickly logs onto his tumblr and in five seconds flat uploads his video, checks bkhyn92s page, sees no updates, and slams his laptop shut. He lays down and is idly wondering if he had a password lock on there when he feels jongin collapse next to him, out like a light.

-- it isn’t morning yet when chanyeol wakes up next.

Its his turn to yack it.

Feeling like he was going to give birth through his mouth to a mutant chicken beer and soju blob chanyeol barely makes it to the bowl of his toilet.

“help me im dying.” He says to his shower curtain. it is of no help as the 2nd round causes chanyeol’s eyes to water.

After making a blood oath with himself in his mind to never drink again, chanyeol’s got the taste of tooth paste in his mouth instead of well. We don’t need to describe it.

The time on the microwave glimmers at him in the darkness.

10;30pm

Chanyeol settles on his bed, trying to ignore jongin cuddling rainbow the alpaca and is about to drift back off into much needed sleep when his phone vibrates loudly.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT.

BZZZZZZZT.

Ignore it, chanyeol thinks.

BZZZZZZZT BZZT BZZT BZZZZZZZZZZZZT

Don’t ignore it, chanyeol reconsiders.

With a dramatic FUCK MY LIFE muttered under his breath, chanyeol answers without looking.

“WHAT.”

“hello chanyeol.”

He blanches. That voice.

“s-soo?”

Do kyungsoo, the guardian of the seven rings of hell. No jk. But he totally can be if he ever applied for that job.

“nice of you to answer. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t.”

“of course. Um.”

“jongin there?”

“yeah. He’s knocked out.” Chanyeol says apologetically hating how he was going to get the blame for jongin’s idea to get shitfaced in mid afternoon.

“is he ok?” kyungsoo asks, instead of the SEND ME YOUR LOCATION for proof chanyeol was expecting. Kyungsoo was a bit overprotective in the cutest and deadliest way possible.

“he should be.”  chanyeol kicks jongin in the leg to see if he is alive. Jongin groans. “yeah hes fine. Did you want to come swoop him?”

“no way. He might yack in my car.”

Such a caring bf. That’s bae. Jongin was a lucky guy.

“well don’t worry, hes safe here with me. Unless he tries to draw a penis on my face. Then I cant make any promises.”

“my relationship turnover was coming up anyway.” Kyungsoo jokes darkly. Chanyeol snickers despite a small voice in his mind squeaking pls don’t hurt me through out this whole conversation. “by the way, I heard you were going on a date with Baekhyun tomorrow.”

Jesus did jongin alert the media? Was there a new snapchat filter for this too? which countries still didn’t know? Has that billboard for rent been bought out to make a glowing neon sign yet? Did he make a medical breakthrough to relay messages to fetuses in the wombs as well? You know, since he felt the need to open his big mouth and tell everyone.

“uh. Yeah. I guess.”

“I’m pretty excited to see how this turns out.”

“do you know Baekhyun?” chanyeol asks curiously. One part of him felt kinda weird talking to kyungsoo on the phone while his boyfriend was spooning an alpaca.

“we went to the same music school together.”

“oh.” Chanyeol, the greatest conversationalist ever. Replies.

“he’s a nice guy once you get to know him. Don’t be offended by his ratchet self. He may seem like a thot, but that’s just an image he tries to maintain.” Kyungsoo says helpfully.

Chanyeol meanwhile is trying to do some math in his head. Did he hear correctly? Was he still drunk? Why on earth would anyone want to up hold their thottie honor? This is why chanyeol was single.

“don’t tell him I told you this, but hes still pretty down in the dumps about his break up. He was actually serious about that guy. It just didn’t work out you know?”

“uhhuh.” Chanyeol wanted to know more but at the same time he didn’t want to pry. He was raised to be respectful of other peoples business. Baekhyuns secrets, personal and his, didn’t need to be told to him by someone else.

“I could tell you more if you want.”

“sure.”

That previous paragraph never happened.

“he’s probably going to try to smash.”

“what.”

“yeah. Havent you heard the best way to get over a guy is to get under another one?”

No. of course not. the last time he checked he hadn’t subscribed to the Thotsmopolitan.

“are you sure about this?” chanyeol asks swallowing hard, the feeling of nervousness deep-throating him.

“yup.” A yawn. “I might have said too much.”

“wait. So should i… you know.”

“if you like him, you shouldn’t.”

Ah yes. that made total sense. Don’t get into the pants of someone youre feeling.

“because that will automatically make you look like a fuckboy. it’s a test of sorts. That’s why im telling you. I think youd be a good match for him.”

“why is that?”

“youd just balance each other out.”

Chanyeols starting to wonder just how much kyungsoo knew about him. Whenever he third wheeled it was all good times; karaoke bowling pet cafes… nothing ever deep. Perhaps jongin be talking shit?

“anyway. Good luck tomorrow and have fun! Tell jongin he better be home before I wake up with breakfast ready or else.”

“yes sir!”

“goodnight chanyeol.”

sweet

��  “So you’re chanyeol?”

“yes. last time I checked.”

Baekhyun looks amused despite the judgemental tone of his voice.

Chanyeol just looks uncomfortable.

The date came sooner than he would like [he had a mere less than 24 hours to prepare himself and half those hours were him hungover on soju]. Now he found himself sitting  in the same chicken and beer spot [seriously was there no other place to go to around these parts?] with jongin’s music teacher for company.

“and when was that?”  Baekhyun asks innocently sipping at his water. Chanyeol takes note of his hands. Theyre very pretty. Like the rest of the guy. Except when he opens his mouth. He seems to be snarky but playful which isn’t bad, but chanyeol is socially awkward at times like these.

He swallows a weird lump in his throat. “um.” He didn’t quite know how to answer that.

“kidding!” Baekhyun laughs. “I don’t need to know last time you checked.”

Then why did you ask, chanyeol thinks crazily. He sips his water too with a pained smile. Baekhyun was seriously intimidating and he didn’t know why. Maybe its because they were both sober and what kyungsoo had said echoes back and forth in chanyeol’s mind like a 1980s horror cartoon. ‘he’s gonna wanna smaaaaaaaaaAssshhhhhhhhh’ kyungsoo replayss in a creepy singsong voice.

“want to get something to drink?” chanyeol blurts.

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. “do you want to get me drunk…?”

“no! no. I just.” Chanyeol rambles, horrified at the insinuation. He wasn’t a fuckboy!

“chill. I wanna get me drunk.” Baekhyun winks. “a pitcher and a bottle of chamisul sound good to you?”

“sounds good, yeah, great actually.” Chanyeol agrees nodding his head repeatedly. Baekhyun laughs again.

“someones eager.” Baekhyun comments. “or a raging alcoholic.”

Chanyeol pouts but he realizes Baekhyun is just teasing.

The alcohol arrives soon enough and after the first two soju bombs chanyeol is feeling less stressed and more relaxed. Baekhyun looks the same, a sign he must have high alcohol tolerance. Whos the raging alcoholic now?

“tell me about yourself.” Baekhyun drawls, gaze focused solely on chanyeol. His pretty eyes are outlined with black liner, and despite appearing as sober as fifteen minutes ago has a slight pink glow dusting across his cheek bones. “why are you single.”

Chanyeol blinks, has to seriously come up with an answer to that question. He ends up laughing awkwardly, scratching his head. “oh I guess I just don’t really have much time to date and plus its hard to meet people nowadays, I think… “

“How long have you been single?”

“Um… a few months,” A FEW YEARS, his mind and penis scream at him in devastation.

“Ooh. No hook ups or anything?” Baekhyun asks casually pouring a shot for the both of them.

Chanyeol isn’t sure if he should confess to not having boned in A FEW YEARS or to try and seem cool by saying he got hoes in different area codes. But he didn’t wanna be a fuckboy. gods, was this a test? There was no winning!

“No…” he ends up answering honestly. He takes his shot without Baekhyun and downs his beer.

Baekhyun looks truly surprised. “wow. So you’re saying you haven’t gotten laid in months?” he whistles, and takes his drink.

“its not really a big deal to me,” chanyeol explains hastily, defending his unwanted chastity belt.

“uhhuh.” Baekhyun nods, pouring yet another set of beer and soju. “hooking up isn’t a big deal to you.”

“no!” chanyeol exclaims. “no, I meant. Like. Nevermind.”

Baekhyun smiles coyly at him through his eyelashes. “cheers to that.”

“cheers to what?”

“hooking up.”

They down their respective alcohol even though chanyeol isn’t sure what the hell that meant but strangely finds himself not too worried. Baekhyuns presence is becoming comfortable, and with every shot, chanyeol feels like he can be more and more himself. Baekhyun laughs a lot at his reactions and stories, and chanyeol is captivated everytime Baekhyun opens his mouth, looks at him, pours drink, takes a shot, anything really. Baekhyun is truly gorgeous, and attractive af. There was just something about him and chanyeol is suddenly thinking about baekhyuns previous question except about Baekhyun – why was he single?

[frankthomas090-blog]

abby winter yoga - The New Angle On Abby Winters Lesbian Porn Just Released

In town for a bit on business, he wants to have some casual fun. 5 inches and THICK- his emphasis. Hes at the top end of length for my preference, but self describing it as thick got my attention. Sometimes theres just an instant connection or chemistry, drawing you in so fast with a new person you just kind of dance around the usual screening process.

Described his cock as 7. Average height, better than average build, green eyes. Hes my age, 31, but with the right combination of personality and body- I can look past it. Gimme that thick dick. This Ginger was respectful and straight to the point from the get-go on Plenty of Fish. Hes former Army- he had a pic up in his dress uniform. He sends me his number, we text briefly, and make the plan to meet that same day.

I appreciated his ability to be direct without being rude or vulgar. I like em young and hung! Also, I give it a 95% hes well endowed- orange is the new Black. At no point did he ask for nudes, or ask endless intimate questions- I give it a 50/50 chance of being a satisfactory encounter given our lack of communication beforehand, but I cant resist a Ginger to save my life.

He passed with flying colors. Im telling you, this isnt rocket science. I feel my lady business respond immediately. In our very brief texting we went over our Dos and Donts, as well as both agreeing we like aggressive AND passionate sex. Dont ever forget that.

The way hes kissing me I can already tell this will likely be a very good encounter. " Its early afternoon, what a great way to spend it. Upon his arrival I am freshly showered, bed is made, and Im wearing t-shirt that says "MEETS OR EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS. He sits next to me, we awkwardly exchange hellos, and then he moves right in to kissing me. Not overly eager, not sloppy, makes you want it right meow.

Hes not pushing my body down while shoving his tongue down my throat. He starts lifting up my shirt after pawing me and groping for the goodies- having discovered my nipples are pierced and briefly sucking them, its time for layers to come off.

He peels his layers off as Im taking mine off and comes right back to mauling me so expertly I couldnt resist. Hes kissing me like hes excited to see me, and hes real good at it. Hes maneuvering me onto my back while he takes a top position.

Moving his head lower he pulls my panties off but with such reckless abandon theyre still on my left leg. Good kissers are also known to be good lovers, from my observation. Youre taking your clothes off, too. I dont recognize the alphabet hes writing, maybe its Spanish.

The moment he kisses my thighs its all over. His eagerness to put his mouth on my slit is palpable. He didnt just dive face first into my nonsense salad- first he ran his tongue up my outer labia on both sides and it felt soft and gentle and GIVE ME MORE. Fuck God sounds totally different when Im cumming and yelling nonsense. Right around now is where I learned Im actually bilingual, but whatever language I was stuttering out can only be whispered or shouted; theres no in between.

Oh my god hes licking my asshole- I have sex Tourettes. Do you think Jesus and God can tell youre not swearing AT them? he pushes my legs up and licks up and down, then just down. I can barely take it, stretched to maximum capacity for comfort, and even then hes mildly uncomfortably large. And it consists mostly of very short, hostile sounding 4 letter words.

DONT STOP, DONT STOP, DONT STOP. Once he was done tracing and teasing I felt the warm, wet touch of his whole mouth open around my clitoris, moving his tongue in ways I cant imagine or describe. Holding my body close to his and pushing his hips up into me, my limbs instinctively wrap around him like a slutty octopus. His length is perfectly spot on- any longer and he just wouldve www.abby winters.com been too much.

GOD DAMN YOU HAVE A BIG DICK. Pushing my limits for size, I question if my lungs have enough room to inflate fully while hes all the way inside. Id put him right around 7 inches in length, my preference being 6.

With my pelvis lifted to the right level, hed shove his tongue in me as my insides start to contract with the orgasm. Literally cumming on his tongue. For sure hes wearing the biggest condom commercially manufactured, or a trash bag. My hips would buck but his arms would find their way around them and hold them in place, while my legs stretched upward trying to walk on the ceiling. We didnt transition out of missionary, he sat up and spread my legs wide while plunging into me with force and conviction.

He rolls on a condom and pushes himself inside me- my eyes rolled back so far I saw memories from my childhood. I sound maybe like a dying rabbit as my fingers pull his short hair and hold his head firmly in place. I didnt keep count, I was much too busy screaming his praises to the Gods.

He gets his and we collapse away from each other. As soon as I begin to cum, back go the legs, down goes the head, and hed ride my climax on his face. When I would start to climax, hed withdraw quickly and push my legs up around my head. He puts his underwear back on and Im guessing hes leaving now, sad times, but then he hops back onto the bed and I take the opportunity to snuggle up into his armpit and touch on his body while I bask in the afterglow.

He does this for every single orgasm. Im wrapped around him and mostly content. I cant get my mouth around it right, my hand doesnt wrap around it. Its awkward to handle, do I need a license? I feel like my certs are out of date because this newfangled cocktraption is just outside of my scope of experience.

Good Lord, who taught you to do that? I gift him my mouth because hes more than earned it. I could definitely go for more, but hes not some 20-something with endless stamina. He pounds away at me from different positions, I like him behind me because I like his stroke and how he braces himself by holding my hips down. Clearly he gets most of his satisfaction from pleasing his lady.

Im not going to argue, and somebody has been listening to my thoughts and dreams again because this man was made in a fucking lab just for me. The sun goes down around 4pm right now so thats not a good indicator either. what even is time, man. Im amused I come across that way- Im all about those afterglow cuddles.

Between our rounds we break for cuddles and snuggles- he confesses he assumed, from my profile on PoF, that he was to go after the first round and I wasnt much for affection or cuddling afterward. He enjoys the cuddles too, and doesnt like to just leave after a hookup unless thats her preference. Please me you thick dick Georgia peach!

Take care of your partner after you fuck them. He enjoys my head game but it just makes him want to fuck me. He gets off twice more and I have no idea how much time has passed. HOLD MEEEEEEEEEEE, pet my hair and tell me Im pretty. Fool I dont get to round 3 very often with men in their supposed prime, so whos more thrilled! Hes an intuitive partner and he reads my cues very well, plus he just wants to bring me all the pleasure.

Apparently he doesnt get to round 3 very often, and hes kind of thrilled about it. His size is intimidating and hes more shaped for vaginal feel goods. I like how he lays it down, and I like anal with the right partner. He admits hes never been able to have anal successfully, and I can understand why.

The way hes shaped, getting the head in is not the hard part- he gest wider towards the middle and base, like a fucking road cone. I dont doubt that hell follow my lead and respect my signals if things get too intense. The last time things started heating up Im on my belly and hes pressing the head of his monster cock on my asshole- Im doing word problems in my head about the likelihood of this being a good idea or not.

He apologizes for cumming too soon- I had to hold back my school girl giggle. He flipped me over and fucked me hard up until I told him to say my magic words. What a dear, sweet lover. He actually thought he owed me an apology after our FOURTH consecutive romp. Tell me you love fucking me. Ive got shit to do as well. 10/10 would fuck again.

I tell him point-blank Id like to see him again before he leaves, he happily agrees. We were unable to make it happen, he was just too big and we didnt do enough warmup, but I took about half of him before tapping out. He texts me asking what my plans are for the evening, as hed like abby winters galleries to grab a couple of beers and a late dinner.

Fast forward 24 hours. When posed with options like this, I always ask WHY NOT BOTH? I tell him Im going to shower and meet him at the restaurant bar near his hotel, he instructs me to bring my lube. I dont really do compromises. Or I could come over to his hotel room after and he could just fuck my brains out all night.

Maybe Id like to join him? In the time it took me to excitedly shower and keelhaul the warts off my body, my phone starts showing notifications of other interested men folk. The words fall out of his mouth and he explodes seconds later, to his own surprise. why end with a OR when theres always an AND?

He tells me I cant miss him at the restaurant bar- hes wearing a cowboy hat. (You thought that hyperlink went to the movie reference, didntcha? CANT TALK NOW, THICKEST DICK EVER WANTS TO TAKE ME TO POUND TOWN! Oh goody, I know what Im wearing later. Can honestly say hes a good one.

Test me, Ive got true grit. ) The company was great, hes fun to talk to. Cleaned up, its time for him to go he has things to do. As were leaving I ask how many Magnum XL condoms he has- he says 4. He confesses he doesnt generally have his lady spend the night because hes very affectionate and waking up next to someone hes spent the better part of the night pleasing, can lead to him having feelings.

We need to buy more, STAT. I feel like a teenager again. We talk about our kids, divorce, he tells me about his previous military experience, and what hes doing now. Rolling into Wal-Mart at that hour, with giant shit-eating grins on our faces, buying only condoms.

You think youre big, you aint big until you must have custom condoms. I get what youre saying, were gonna fool around and then I gotta GTFO. Sexy Ginger man with a good head on his shoulders and giant cock, somebody please snatch this man up quick haha or dont, and let him keep sharing that beautiful endowment with all the ladies.

Back to the hotel room, we barely make it to the bed and hes on me. Details from here are fuzzy, but he went down for ages and we fucked around in every position. Dont get it twisted; theres approximately 10 million condoms in my purse, but they wouldnt fit him. Remember, if youre hard to size on either end of the spectrum theres a UK company called TheyFit that you can enter your measurements into and theyll get you fitted with one of their 66 sizes.

We took a smoke break before trying www.abby winters yoga abby winters.com (linked site) again, and he tells me hes half Mexican. This perfect Ginger man is also a beaner. He was made just for me. While he was behind me licking and sucking my clit, shoving his tongue inside my pussy and my asshole, I hear the top of the lube bottle click. At some point I wore his Stetson when we come back inside, naked.

He positions himself at the backdoor and gently adds pressure until I whimper or tense up. Working together slowly, gently, following my vocal cues I take him to the base. Pushed to the hilt we pause. Its more than mildly uncomfortable, but if we take it slow itll feel great.

I can feel it cold and slippery, then hear him stroking it on himself. I swear to Kylie Minogue I cant make this stuff up. Im a little drunk- 3 drinks on a mostly empty stomach, Ill sit on your lap and call you Daddy if you want. He picks up the pace, we start talking dirty to each other. I have not been quiet at all during any of this, but now Im incapable of controlling the primal animal noises Im bleating into the bedding.

He was having some performance issues but was bound and determined to make sure I enjoyed our time as much as possible. I can feel him shaking a bit, hes going to cum soon. Its late, the booze and orgasms are sedating me.

Hes down close on me, wrapping his big hands around mine, entwining our fingers, crossing arms under my chin as he grinds into me. I tell him to withdraw slowly. I wake up hazily to roll over and his arms find their way around me again, hes a perfect big spoon. After several loud, amazing orgasms, he gets down close and pushes himself inside me all at once.

Rocking into me Im wrapped around him in my koala hug. Hes holding me and Im lost in it. I awake fully to him sliding down the bed, tossing my right leg over and burying his face in my morning pussy. Digging my fingers into his back and pulling his short hair, I dont want it to end. Im cold and reach for a sheet, he covers us immediately and Im back out like a light.

He slows down but hes plunging into me with the kind of force and quivering body that lets me know its now. Pushing my skirt up, pulling my panties to the side, he takes my box in his mouth and I hold on for dear life, staring up at the mirrored ceiling I get to watch myself almost cum in his mouth.

Morning sex was more passionate, and a bit briefer. Hes even kissing me with my dragon breath. We havent even hit the floor button yet. When we get to the ground floor we smoke together outside, recap our enjoyment with each other. My back hurts from how he so violently throws my legs back to eat my pussy while Im cumming, both my pussy and asshole are recovering from their respective stretching and beating, and Im walking on a broken toe.

We get dressed together, and he goes to walk me out but as soon as the elevator door closed he dropped to his knees. He tells me after two days with me, he wont be able to fuck for a week. God damn that was good. He reaches up, hits L, and continues his works. 10/10 would fuck any time. I am completely satisfied. This will happen one week from now, when he has free time again.

I scamper home to sit on frozen bags of peas, pound water, and cuddle all my pillows. tt/2i9A4Cy /u/DDfnord Link is directly to this story http://ift. This entry on my sex blog has hyperlinks, if youd like to see it in full I write on WordPress and the blog name is All The Dicks.