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[navybrat817]

In a Red Dress

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky has to debrief after a mission, so you decide to stop in for a visit. In a red dress.

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Established relationship, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, flirting, teasing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Happy FriYAY! I started this in January for @tumblin-theworldaway and finally finished it today. Love you, Aqua! I hope you can relax soon. Could be considered a follow up to With a Bang. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Your heels clicked along the floor as you left the elevator, reminding yourself for the umpteenth time that it wasn't Bucky’s fault that his team extended their mission for another day. Unforeseen circumstances were to blame, completely out of his control. You also couldn't hold it against him that he had to debrief after he messaged you that he arrived back home safely and unharmed. It was part of the job. Still, you missed him and wanted a bit of attention.

Which was why you showed up at S.H.I.E.L.D. in a silky red dress and Bucky’s dog tags under your coat. No bra, no panties. Which he realized when you walked into the conference room, unannounced, and removed your coat.

It was fun to put the fire in his steel eyes.

“Welcome home, Bucky,” you smiled as the room went silent. “Don’t mind me. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Your burly boyfriend was out of his seat and didn't tear his gaze away from you, the tension thick as you tossed the coat away. Today was a good day for your self confidence. You wore it like a second skin, feeling as beautiful on the outside as you did inside. You knew you looked good enough to eat and you wanted him to devour you.

And as much as you loved him in his black shirt and tactical pants, it hid the wall of muscle you wanted to trace with your hands and tongue.

“Hey, baby. Fancy seeing you here,” he said, his eyes dropping to your chest. Your nipples hardened against the fabric and you wished he’d latch his mouth to them. “And speaking of home, I thought I was going to meet you there.”

Your shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I got impatient since you were late. Plus I wanted to show you my dress,” you said, doing a happy twirl. It was reminiscent of New Years. The soft fabric hugged your body tight like your black dress did, but this one left little to the imagination. “What do you think?”

Steve, ever the good friend, averted his gaze, but a scowl crossed Bucky’s handsome face when you both realized that other agents looked your way. You hadn't expected to be the center of attention for anyone else, but it didn't matter to you if others looked. Why would you want them when Bucky had you under his spell?

At least they were smart enough to look away when Bucky’s metal hand clenched.

“Well? Do you like it? I thought the dog tags were a nice touch,” you added, running a finger along them when he remained silent. “They really do go well with everything.”

“Come here,” he said, beckoning you with a metal finger. You knew he meant business when he didn't use his dominant hand. “Now.”

You maintained an aura of innocence as you walked toward him, watching him his lips as your hips swayed.

“I can see your nipples through your dress,” he said low enough for just the two of you, but poor Steve with his enhanced hearing likely picked up on it. “And I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you permission to wear a dress like that in front of other guys.”

Any other guy who said that to you would've been smacked, but hearing it from him only made your eyes fill with amusement as you tilted your head. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to wear this, Sergeant.”

“Baby,” he whispered. You knew what calling him by his rank did to him.

“I should be able to wear what I want and when I want to. We both know that,” you continued, sliding your finger down his chest instead of poking it like he expected. “But you have my permission to break someone's fingers if they try to touch what belongs to you. Because I do belong to you.”

Your declaration fueled the fire within. There was no hesitation on your part. No doubt. And after being apart for a short time, you wanted him to hear you say you were his girl.

“Yeah, you do. You’re mine,” he said with a raspy touch of confidence that would’ve soaked your panties had you been wearing any. “And I’m all yours, but I still need to debrief.”

You huffed, but the conviction in his tone was admirable. “Fine. I’ll just wait here,” you said when he frowned. Both of you knew the classified information wasn’t meant for your ears, yet no one spoke up for you to leave. Were they afraid of pissing your boyfriend off? “You know, I really do love that grumpy look of yours. It gets me so wet.”

Bucky’s cheek twitched when one of the men coughed. “You're being a fucking tease.”

“Is it teasing if I let you have me?” You asked, tapping your chin. “Teasing you would be letting you go to bed with blue balls.”

Wordlessly, he lifted a hand and clutched the dog tags. He yanked on them hard enough to move you closer, his eyes not leaving yours when you gasped and shivered from the heat-filled look. You considered it a win that you didn’t collapse. Because he was going to destroy you and you’d love every second of it.

“Be very careful what comes out of your mouth next, baby,” he warned.

You smiled, more than ready to give him one more push. “I’m more interested in what’s supposed to go inside my mouth.”

His nostrils flared when you opened your mouth and showed him your tongue and throat. He put a hand on the back of your neck and tilted your head back, lightly nipping at your skin below your jaw. “I should put you on your knees and fuck your throat in front of everyone. Or put you over my knee and spank you ‘til you squirm. Show ‘em that you really are mine.”

You giggled, a soft and tempting sound. “Why fuck my throat when my pussy is nice and wet for you?”

“Gentlemen. I think the Bravo Conference Room is available. Let’s finish this up there,” Steve announced, his chair scraping against the floor and pulling you out of your spell. “Told you that you should’ve just gone home, jerk.”

“Fuck off, punk,” Bucky said, keeping a firm hand on you so you couldn’t look at any of the men filing out. The smirk he gave you was nothing short of predatory once the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone. “Since you need my cock so badly that you can’t wait until I get home, bend over that table and let me give it to you.”

Your giggle quickly died in your throat when you realized he was serious. “You’ve never fucked me in one of the debriefing rooms. Someone could walk in,” you reminded him.

Yeah, you showed up wearing what you did. Yeah, you teased him. But it was all in good fun. He wouldn’t actually fuck you on the table.

Right?

Your cheeks grew hot at the next words out of his mouth. “You think I give a shit about if someone walks in?”

He let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist, carefully dragging you to the table. You loved every part of him, but something about his unashamed want of you made your heart soar. Maybe it was because of how much he healed and allowed himself to have a piece of happiness. That some part of him from his past, the man he used to be, surfaced and blended in with who he was now.

Heaven sent and survived the depths of Hell.

“Now, I should spank your ass raw for this little stunt you pulled. Letting them see you in this dress,” he said without any real threat behind his words. “But I won’t do that until we’re home.”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes,” you smiled, expecting him to bend you over. But he brought a hand to your cheek instead. “Bucky?”

His gaze moved to your lips as he murmured, “Not fucking you until I kiss you.”

His mouth met yours not in a frenzy, but with a smile. The kind that told you how happy he was to be back with you. It wasn’t long before he shifted, the hand on your cheek slipping to your chin so he could deepen it. The soft slip of his tongue ignited your entire body, feeling his heart beat faster as you brought a hand to his chest. A reminder that he was alive, home, and loved you.

You loved him, too.

Your eyes stayed shut for a few seconds after he pulled away. “Missed you, Bucky,” you whispered.

“Missed you, too,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “Now bend over.”

The air rushed from your lungs at the switch from want to tenderness to need, your chest pressed against the table as he pushed your dress. Part of you wondered if he would’ve made good on his threat and fuck you in front of the other agents. He liked to toe the line of wanting to show others you were his and not wanting them to see intimate parts of you.

Which made you wonder what he’d do if someone walked in. He said he didn’t give a shit, but would he stop and try to cover your body with his own? Or would he keep fucking you?

You wouldn't mind either way.

“Spread ‘em,” he ordered, which you immediately obeyed. The low whistle made you shut your eyes before he dragged a finger along your exposed slit. “Didn’t even bother covering your pretty pussy with underwear. Probably best since you would’ve ruined them with how wet you are.”

“You’ve ruined all of my panties, Bucky,” you said, the distinct sound of his belt buckle and pants zipper making you moan. “And I’m ready for you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? Your pussy ready to stretch around my cock?” He asked, making you shriek when he unexpectedly brought his flesh hand down hard on your ass. He only used the metal when you were in real trouble. “You better not have fucked yourself with a toy before you got here.”

“I didn’t! I haven’t even touched myself,” you promised before he stretched over your back. “I just need you in me.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And though you interrupted my debriefing and I may need to stab a teammate or two, you’re still my good girl. And good girls deserve rewards,” he growled in your ear, nipping it for good measure as you moaned. The head of his cock teased your entrance, your core clenching in anticipation. “I’ll fuck you and you’ll come all over me, just like you want and just like I need. And you’ll take it ‘til I’m done with you.”

You reveled in being his good girl, even when you were bad. How no one else could take his cock the way you could. How he made you soak your sheets day and night with your essence because being fucked by Bucky Barnes made you gush like a geyser. It was obscene.

“I’m your good girl and I’ll take everything you give me,” you said sweetly, knowing he’d fuck you whether you said it or not. “So let my pussy welcome your cock home, please?”

The soft kiss to your neck was almost like an apology before he pushed into you, both of you moaning. He’d check later to make sure you weren’t sore since he didn’t stretch you at all, but the slight ache when he bottomed out always bordered more on pleasure than pain. The overwhelming sensations of him inside you made your eyes roll back and he hadn’t even started thrusting.

“So fucking warm. And wet,” he grunted in your ear when he finally moved, his pants rubbing against your bare thighs. “Jesus fuck, you’re soaking me.”

Bucky robbed you of your breath when he leaned up and gripped your hips, hammering into you. You tried to grip the table, but all you could do was let him pull you back and forth. He was relentless like this, powerful, dominant. Making you take it, just like he said you would. Funny how minutes ago you were the one confidently teasing him and now you were a whining, needy mess. All because his cock shut your brain off.

You didn’t need to think like this anyway. You could be his doll, just for him to play with and love. In your pretty red dress or nothing at all.

“Harder, Sergeant,” you begged, your moans spurring him on.

“Not hard enough for you? Needy little thing,” he groaned, the sound of him burying himself inside you over and over echoing in your ears. “Missed this cunt. Missed you.”

Your pussy gripped him tight, the heady bliss making your vision blur. “Missed you. M… Missed your cock,” you slurred.

He chuckled, not slowing his pace as he leaned back down to tickle your cheek with his scruff. “So fucking cute when you get drunk on my cock.”

You wondered some days where he learned to talk dirty before you remembered that you had a large hand in that. He loved telling you how greedy your pussy made him. How he loved watching his spend slide out of you so he could fuck it back in. How he’s shocked some days that he can fit inside you, so he must’ve turned you into a perfect cocksleeve.

His cock made your mind down, but your pussy made him run his mouth.

“Gonna make you sit on it when we get home. Fuck, gonna make you ruin the sheets when I fuck you into the mattress,” he rambled, making you moan louder. You didn’t care who heard. Let them hear what he did to you. What he turned you into: his needy slut. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you moaned, his thrusts pushing your breasts harder against the table, your nipples hard and aching for him to touch them. He would later. You could wait. But you couldn’t wait to fall over the precipice. “‘M gonna come.”

“Do it. Won’t stop you,” he encouraged. He no doubt felt how close you were with how you clenched around him, your back starting to arch. “C’mon, baby. Come all over me.”

Your eyes fluttered as your body tensed, your walls pulsing around him your orgasm surged like a tidal wave. The ripples tore through you, ebbing and flowing as you moaned his name. If you could drown in pleasure, you’d want his name to be the last word that spilled from your lips.

“That’s my girl,” he praised as your limbs went lax.

You throbbed around him until he pulled out, making you whimper since he didn't come. You wanted him to finish inside you. He had you on your back with your legs spread wide before you could beg for it, keeping your dress up as he speared you once again. He thrust fast, needing his release just as badly as you needed yours.

“Need to see your face when you milk my cock,” he grunted, licking his thumb and bringing it to your clit. You whined, jerking underneath him as he rubbed the swollen nub. “Oh, stay still. You can give me one more.”

You almost denied him before you felt the coil tighten within you again. You never thought you could have back-to-back orgasms until you started sleeping with him. But it shouldn’t have surprised you. He played you like his favorite instrument and you were his good girl.

You could give him one more.

“Come with me,” you panted, staring into his darkened eyes as his face twisted in ecstasy only you could provide him. “Please.”

He couldn’t resist that last bit of begging.

The waves crashed again, adding to your first high, as his mouth opened in a groan, filling you in hot spurts. Watching him tip over the edge was a sight to behold, his cheeks tinged as his hips stilled and both of you tried to catch your breath. He laid across you after a moment, the weight of him making you sigh.

“Welcome back,” you smiled as your breathing evened out.

He stayed inside you as he brushed his lips against yours. You were going to make a mess all over the table when he pulled out, but it was worth any grief either of you got. “Good to be back,” he whispered, his hand on your cheek again in a tender display as his eyes scanned your face. “So beautiful.”

“Me fucked out or the dress?” You smiled.

“Both,” he smiled back, your face warm.

“Thank you,” you breathed, your heart still racing fast. You suddenly wished you were in bed so he could properly hold you. But he’d have you home soon enough for that. “Hope I didn't get you into any trouble,” you added. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Steve gets it,” he assured you, briefly closing his eyes when you brushed your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry we got back late. He’s right. I should've just gone right home.”

Your heart clenched a little at that. Missions were important and not easy on either of you, but it was his job. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you made it home safely,” you said, arching your back. The table wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were too fucked out to care.

You also didn't want to be apart from him since he was back.

He wrapped an arm underneath you to ease some of your strain. “Still teased me by showing up like this. I might fuck your throat and put you over my knee tonight,” he groaned, squeezing a breast through your dress before he straightened out the dog tags. “But then I’m going to hold you after and not let go.”

You smiled, looking forward to it. “Yes, Sergeant.”

And you'd be sure to thank Steve later for clearing out the room so you could welcome your man home.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business! Hehe. 😇 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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[niki-phoria]

EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU, I LIKE IT, I LOVE IT

pairing: fushiguro megumi x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 505

notes: sorry for the late post, i've been too busy reading zb1 fanfics to write anything lmao, possibly ooc megumi, not proofread, title from soulja boy - kiss me thru the phone

it wasn’t often that FUSHIGURO MEGUMI allowed himself to be vulnerable. even with the people he trusted the most, it always felt as if there was a wall separating him from others - a barrier preventing him from fully allowing himself to feel any love or comfort in fear of it being ripped away again. 

it was hard - even if he pretended like it wasn’t. 

you had come to see many different sides of megumi over your time at jujutsu high. you had watched his glares become softer and long silences shorten until he would freely share his ideas with you. somehow, when it came to you, all of his defenses had failed, one after another. he found himself looking out for you - watching over your training sessions; following after you during missions; waiting at your bedside when you got hurt. 

something about megumi was different. something about you was different. 

falling for you was fast. it happened before megumi had realized what was happening. brief glances had become nervous touches, and nervous touches had become long conversations that lasted far into the early hours of the morning until megumi found himself lying beside you in your bed, falling into a deep sleep almost as quickly as you did. 

the morning had come quickly and quietly. sunlight seeps into your dorm room through your open blinds, casting your sleeping figure in golden light. megumi watches intently as your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm; stray strands of hair frame your relaxed features. 

despite himself, megumi smiles softly at the sight. he reaches up before gingerly resting his hand against your cheek, stroking his thumb against your skin. “y/n,” megumi whispers. you stir in response; your face twitches as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. the feeling causes heat to spread across his face and goosebumps to rise along his skin. “come on. we have a mission.”

you lazily wrap your arms around his waist, tugging your body closer until your head rests against his chest. megumi does his best to ignore the butterflies swarming throughout his stomach to little avail. “not yet,” you rasp out, nuzzling yourself even closer to him. 

he purses his lips. your body is warm beneath the covers as you nuzzle yourself even closer to him. as much as he hates to admit it, megumi would much rather lay in bed with you then watch you risk your life to kill a curse yet again. 

“gojo-sensei will be upset if we’re late,” he sighs. cool hands slip underneath the fabric of your shirt, tracing shapes into your bare skin. you startle momentarily at the feeling, but don’t move much otherwise. “y/n…”

you simply frown in response, tightening your grip around his waist. “five more minutes,” you murmur. megumi freezes when you blink up at him with flushed cheeks and tired eyes. “please?”

it wasn’t often that megumi allowed himself to be vulnerable. but with a request like that, how could he ever say no?

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if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

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[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 29, Unarmed, Redux - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, manipulation, one last super soldier betrayal.

Word Count: 1.3k

Previously On...: You and Bucky finally have the long-awaited talk.

A/N: Ew, Steve.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

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There was a gentle knock on the hospital room door, and Steve stuck his head in. “Hey,” he said softly. ��Tony said you were awake. Is it okay if I come in?”

You shared a quick glance at Bucky, who shrugged. “Sure,” you said.

Steve shuffled into the room and stood awkwardly at the end of your bed. “I’m so glad to see you awake, Pocket. You really had us scared there for a minute.” Steve was using his official Captain voice, which immediately put you on edge. Why?

“Why are you acting weird, Stevie?” Bucky asked, and you were glad he also seemed to sense it.

Steve coughed into his fist. “I was, uh, actually hoping I could speak to Pocket alone for a minute, Buck.”

Bucky looked at you, then made a move to get off the hospital bed, but you held your hand out, stopping him. “No, Buck– stay; we’re not done.” You turned back to Steve. “I’m sorry, Steve, but I’m not ready for him to go just yet.”

“Oh, okay… well, I can come back later…” he began, but his manner was so bizarre, he now had you on your guard.

“I’m sure whatever it is you have to say to me, you can say in front of your best friend, Steve,” you said carefully, taking Bucky’s hand again. 

Steve closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “I suppose you’re right, Pocket,” he said after a moment, “considering this concerns him, too.” You and Bucky exchanged a glance, both curious and a little wary of what the captain might have to say.

Steve gripped the bottom railing of your bed, as if relying on it for support. “I owe you both a sincere apology,” he said eventually. “You have to know, it was never my intention for things to go as far as they did; I never meant for you to get hurt, Pocket. You have to believe me.”

You were stunned into silence, not knowing what exactly Steve was referring to, and not sure you wanted to.

Bucky’s eyes widened in realization and he sat up straighter. “You son of a bitch,” he said, catching on to something you obviously hadn’t grasped yet. His entire body tensed up, and he spoke in a tone you’d never heard him use with Steve before– low, and angry. Furious. “I can’t believe you would fucking do that to us. To me. After everything.”

Steve looked down, refusing to meet Bucky’s eye, and you saw his cheeks redden with embarrassment. And shame.

“Uh, maybe it’s the after effects of the anesthesia, or the extensive blood loss, or all the recent head trauma, but, uh, I am not following,” you said, looking between both men. Bucky was staring daggers at Steve now. “What am I missing? What are you apologizing for, Steve?”

Bucky’s jaw was hard, and you could practically feel him grinding his teeth next to you. “You wanna tell her, Rogers, or should I?”

Steve swallowed, then eventually looked back up at you. “I was the one who approved Jade for the Russia mission. I… I made sure that she didn’t get on the Quinjet until it was too late for Bucky to get her off, so that he’d have to take her along.”

“What?!” you practically shouted. “Steve, why would you do that? You saw what happened to Rhodey because of her! Why would you put Bucky in danger like that?!”

“The same reason he put her in the room next door to me, doll,” Bucky said. “And the same reason he insisted I’d be the one to train her, even though I begged him to do it when she started becoming a problem.”

You frowned, not sure what to make of what Bucky was saying. Surely Steve wouldn’t… he couldn’t…

“I didn’t make you do anything, Bucky,” Steve said softly. “I just… manufactured some circumstances. You made your own choices.”

Things were slowly clicking into place for you. “Hold up,” you interjected. “Steve, are you saying you deliberately put Jade in Bucky’s path?” You looked at him, waiting for a response, but his silence and avoidance of your eyes was answer enough. “Why would you do that, Steve?” you asked, suspecting you already knew, yet not wanting to believe.

“When Bucky and I were younger,” Steve began, continuing to avoid your gaze, “back in the ‘30s and ‘40s, Bucky never stayed with one girl for very long. Didn’t want to settle down, commit himself.” Steve sighed and you felt Bucky tense up beside you. “He never meant to break anyone’s heart, but it still happened, all the same. When the two of you got together, I knew it was only going to be a matter of time… before he got… bored, and moved on.”

“Now listen here, you fucking punk,” Bucky began, moving to stand. You put a hand on his thigh, urging him to stay seated.

“Let him talk, Buck,” you said calmly, much more calmly than you actually felt. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

The look Bucky gave you was pained, as though he was terrified you were buying into Steve’s excuses. Steve seemed to think so, as well, because he continued, seemingly emboldened: “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt like that,” he went on. “I thought it would be better, for the both of you, if you realized it sooner, rather than later, when you’d both gotten in too deep, that it just wasn’t meant to work out between you.”

You gaped at him, speechless, while Bucky clenched and unclenched his fists beside you. “When you got shot, Pocket, when I saw how Bucky reacted to the idea of losing you, I… I realized his feelings for you were the real thing, that I never should have meddled. Not only did I help set you up for needless heartbreak, but I put you in danger. And I’m sorry.”

“You’re full of shit,” Bucky said, standing up now. He walked over to Steve, poking him in the chest.  “You can pretend you were doing it out of the goodness of your heart all you want, but I know better. I know you. What was your endgame, huh? Swoop in and play the white knight? Be a shoulder for Pocket to cry on until she was vulnerable enough to give into you?”

Steve swallowed thickly, and you could hear the unspoken answer in it. Yes.

“I never meant for you to get hurt,” Steve said, looking to you with pleading eyes. “You have to believe me.”

“You have no idea what you’ve done!” Bucky shouted at Steve. “What you cost her, us!” He shoved Steve backward with both hands, and Steve took it. “She almost died– twice! She got shot, she lost our baby, all because of shit you helped put in motion! I don’t know how I can ever forgive you, man!”

“You’re not innocent in this, Bucky–” Steve began, and then realization overcame him. “Wait– what do you mean, ‘lost your baby?’” He looked to you. “Pocket, you were pregnant? Bucky was the father?”

This was too much. “Get out, Steve,” you said quietly, with no emotion in your voice.

“Pocket, I–” Steve tried, but you interrupted him. “I said ‘get out,’” you reiterated. “You may be my captain, but you and I? We can’t ever be friends again. Not after something like this.”

Steve looked distraught. “But you can forgive him?” he asked, jerking a thumb toward Bucky. “He fucked her, and you’re gonna let that slide?” 

“Language, Steve,” you said mechanically, almost as if automated. “And whether or not I forgive Bucky is none of your business. All you need to concern yourself with is that I don’t forgive you. Now, please; get out. I can’t stand to look at you.”

“Pocket, please–” Steve tried one last time, but Bucky started backing him up toward the door.

“She said ‘out,’ Rogers.” Bucky said, holding the door open. “And if you don’t want me wiping the floor with your ass, I suggest you do as she asks.”

With a final, forlorn look in your direction, Steve Rogers turned and exited the hospital room.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

[tsams-and-co-memes]

((Frank is Pisces theory post here, please consider giving it a look if you haven't done so already!))

If you'd like to elaborate on your thoughts in the form of a comment or reblog, be my guest! I'd love to hear what everyone thinks :)

#tsams #sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #the sun and moon show frank #sams frank #sun and moon show frank #tsams frank #the sun and moon show forkface #sams forkface #tsams forkface #sun and moon show forkface #tsams pisces #poll time #all opinions are welcome #I'm not here to judge anyone

[gothgleek]

Angus Tully x Gender Neutral!Reader

This is something I wrote after I made this post. Not a ton of biting in this unfortunately but I did write a lot of smut so hopefully it balances out.

Summary: Your boyfriend had an oral fixation and you couldn’t help but experiment with it from time to time.

Notes: Minors DNI, smut, aged up Angus (20s), reader receiving rimming/ass eating, minor spit play, sexual experimentation, established relationships, gender neutral reader. Border by @saradika-graphics

Please like, reblog, and comment if you like my work!

Rimming, ass eating, frontage, established relationship, minor spit, sexual experimenting, gn!reader

You were well aware of your boyfriend’s oral fixation. Angus loved going down on you. If he had a particularly hard day at work, he gets on his knees immediately without a word. If you had a hard day at work, Angus wouldn’t hesitate to use his tongue to lick away your stress. He kisses his way down, and despite your pleas, he takes his time to lick and taste your skin. When he finally reaches your center, he can only moan in pleasure when you lock your thighs around his head.

Additionally, Angus could hardly let a day go by without leaving bite marks on you. The first time he did it, you were focusing on paperwork when he came up from behind you and bite your shoulder. You jumped in your seat with a screech while he simply stared at you and asked what you were up to. It wasn’t a hard bite, especially when the two of you actually started having sex.

When you looked at your torso the morning after the two of you fucked, you would see a constellation of his teeth marks on your skin. It hurt to put clothes on sometimes. Nonetheless, you didn’t mind or ask him to stop as a strange part of you felt honored to be his chew toy. In fact, today you are encouraging him to push his oral fixation further. The idea came from a skin mag you found shoved in the back of the convenience store. When you brought up the subject Agnus one day, he could hardly contain his excitement.

Another way for him to taste you? He would absolutely give it a try.

Which brought you here- ass up, face down on your bed waiting for him to come to your room without an inch of clothing on you.

You pushed your ass back, burying your face in the pillow.

The bed creaks as Angus crawls onto it and suddenly you’re all too aware of your surroundings. The green linen bed sheets, the wooden bed frame, and pale yellow walls. Distantly, you wondered how long it would take for all those colors to blur together when Angus made you cum.

He places a kiss on the small of your back and slowly works his way upwards, kissing the back of your shoulders, then your neck. He takes his time kissing your neck and you know each kiss is a spot he will bite later on. Even if you wear turtle necks or scarves or cover it with makeup, he has marked you as his and his alone. His finger catches your chin, turning your head so you can kiss him.

Another thing about Angus? He’s an excellent fucking kisser. You don’t know how considering you are his first serious relationship and his numerous boarding schools left much to be desired in terms of relationships. But you couldn’t complain not when his tongue did that thing when you kissed. The kisses on your back were gentle and brief. This kiss however? It’s sloppy and all consuming. Angus puts his hand on the back of your head to deepen the kiss. His tongue sends shivers of anticipation through your body and you return the passion. Your chin stays firm between his fingers however, so he pushes you away so your foreheads rest against each other.

“Not yet,” Angus breathes. “There will be time for that after. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

He presses a rough, yet quick kiss against your lips and releases you. Your hands catch you so you’re on all fours as he works his way down your back. The bed dips as he settles behind you. His large hands catch the meat of your hips as Angus presses kisses against the fat of your ass. He’s warming you up, because despite it being your idea, he knows you’re a little nervous. Angus gives you a gentle bite on one cheek before giving a symmetrical bite on the other. He bites around your ass cheeks a little harder every time and you know you’ll be sore in the morning.

Angus digs his thumbs into you, spreading you open and you can feel his warm breath against your hole. You wish you could see his face right now. Was he biting his lips? Were his pupils dilated with lust? Was he drooling? Before you can ponder further, Angus dives in between your cheeks.

“Oh!” You breathe out as his tongue slides across your hole. Your toes curl and you push against his face, wordlessly begging for more.

”I’ve barely done anything,” Angus teases and you can feel him smirk.

“Can you do something?” You plead. He indulges, just barely, with the tip of his tongue pressed against your hole, just barely penetrating it. You fall face first to the mattress so you can push back against his tongue. Angus keeps you in place though.

“Why are you so needy?” He bites the curve of your ass. “Do I spoil you too much?”

You shake your head. “You don’t spoil me enough.”

“Do you think you can do better than me?” Angus asks, rubbing one hand against the bite he left on your ass as he doves between your cheeks again. You can feel his hot breath against your wanting hole. You hate that he’s so close. So close yet not doing anything about it.

“Touch yourself for me,” Angus says, pulling back from your hole. Angus sat you upright so he could lean over your shoulder. “Show me how much you want it.”

You waste little time putting your hands between your legs. Angus loves watching you touch yourself. Not because he wants you to get off. No, no, no. He likes watching you touch yourself because he knows you can’t get yourself off without him anymore. Your hands aren’t as soft as his, your fingers aren’t as long, nor is your mouth as dirty as his.

“You look so pretty touching yourself,” Angus bit down on your shoulder. “Tell me, are you close?”

“I need you,” You shake your head furiously. “Please touch me.”

Chuckling as he gives your shoulder one last bite, Angus obliges. He pushes you back into your forearms and spreads your cheeks apart. He gives your asshole a warning lick. When your body relaxes, Angus gives quick circles around your hole. He then pushed his tongue all the way in, as far as it could go. Angus smiled to himself as he felt the muscles in your ass clench under his palms. He licks up and down your asshole and you push your ass against him. Grabbing your hips, Angus buries his tongue inside you again. You touch yourself matching his pace. Slowly he slid his tongue in and then out. He spat in your hole before sliding his tongue in again, pushing his saliva in deeper. You shivered from the feeling.

“Angus,” You moaned. “I’m getting close.”

One hand left your hip and traveled between your legs, replacing yours. Both your hands fisted the bed sheets as his fingers and tongue worked their magic. Your moans grew louder while Angus kept his pace, just pressing his tongue down a little harder.

Your knees dug into the mattress when your orgasm hit you. Your eyes shot open and you could barely take in your surroundings, all the colors blurring together. Sparks danced in your vision as pleasure shot through your spine and spread to the rest of your body. His fingers kept its pace, elongating your orgasm so he could listen to your voice moaning his name over and over again. Angus pulled his face away so he could watch your shaking body overwhelm with pleasure.

Eventually waves of pleasure subsided and your body fell into the mattress, feeling like jelly. Lazily, you rolled onto your back and looked up at Angus between your legs. He was still fully dressed and palming his cock through his pants.

“My turn,” He smirked.

You smiled up at him. “I’m all yours.”

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #angus tully imagine #angus Tully smut #the holdovers #the holdovers smut #the holdovers fanfic #the holdovers fanfiction #mine #smut

[lixis-sin-cauldron]

A Birthday Treat [Eraser Head | Shouta Aizawa]

Rating: Explicit 18+ content MINORS DNI.

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa (Eraser Head) X fem!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Kinks and Warnings: noncon, somnophilia, teacher/student, drugged references.

Summary: Aizawa takes Mic's advice about giving himself a treat for his birthday.

Can also be read on Ao3 here: A Birthday Treat

Big thank you to the @lemons-does-nothing​ for beta reading this. Feel free to reach out to them if you need a Beta too!

By clicking ‘keep reading’ you are actively consenting to see adult, and possibly disturbing, content; and in doing so, saying that you are of an age to see it, and that you’re emotionally capable of handling it!

"Shou, you’re supposed to treat yourself on your birthday!” Yamada whined as Aizawa again turned down his suggestion of a birthday celebration.

“Not interested.” The fatigued instructor replied, shutting the bedroom door in the blonde’s face. 

He could still hear muffled words from Yamada trying to argue through the door as he returned to his desk to finish that night’s workload. It was an argument that repeated itself annually and, while sometimes the loudmouth won, Aizawa had zero interest in being dragged around this year.

As the night drew darker, it seemed Yamada was respecting his choice and did not return to continue his birthday debate. At least for now.

As he finished his work, Aizawa sighed, leaning back in his desk chair as he stretched. Glancing at his phone showed that midnight had passed some time ago, indicating it was now Aizawa’s official birthday. He already knew to expect further protests when morning came, but for now, he was able to enjoy the silence.

Treat myself? He laughed at the thought, arm resting over his eyes, there is nothing I have any inter- an image appeared in his mind, contradicting the incomplete statement. There was one thing Aizawa was very interested in. Swallowing at the passing imagery, he attempted to bury it by reaching for his phone to browse for something to distract the thought process that had begun.

Zipper undone and member in hand, he did his best to relieve himself as he watched some preferred videos, breath heavy as he pumped his fist but nothing met the particular itch his brain had this night. With a defeated sigh, he released his aching shaft and stared at his ceiling. What he wouldn’t give to have something real around his cock right now. Lips… soft hands… the warm, wetness of-

“Fuck.” He growled into the empty room, eyes shut tight as he fought the craving he felt. The urge building within.

Yamada’s words flashed into his mind once more as he fought his irritation, his breathing calming as he considered them.

“Treat myself…” he glanced at the balcony of his room and his face went dark with resolve as he fixed his pants and stood, “why the fuck not.”

He moved quickly, taking only a few minutes to reach his destination from the facility dorm. Not wanting to try and explain why he was out so late or why he was moving towards a third-year dorm.

Or how he knew that the lock of a particular balcony door for one room had yet to be fixed. 

Or exactly why he knew that the student in that particular room used sleep aids...

It was best no one caught him to ask such things he thought as he stared at the lovely woman sleeping soundly in her bed, unaware of the teacher standing over her.

Aizawa was silent as he watched the object his recent obsession affection rest, taking in the shape of the form molded around her by the blanket. As if in reaction to his stares, she shifted and the cover fell away revealing the large t-shirt covering her upper body, her chest moving gently as she snoozed.

He could feel his growing arousal as he watched her pert breasts rise and fall. Leaning on the mattress with a knee, he discreetly tugged at the blanket and guided it until only her feet were hidden. To his delight, the tee had ridden up as she slept; revealing the delightful pattern on the panties that hid her treasure from him.

Resisting exploring the new sight, his gaze drifted to her shirt and began to guide its fabric up to reveal more. His breath struggled to remain steady as his fingertips trailed across her skin as he adjusted the shirt's position, watching as more of her flesh appeared.

He snapped away as she shifted in her sleep again, but he returned gingerly as she settled. Hand hovering as he finished his objective, he took in the sight of her bare chest moving in tandem with her breath, begging for his touch. Licking his lips, dry with anticipation, he carefully - almost delicately - brushed his fingers across the tender mounds. 

As the tips of his fingers brushed across her nipples, the peaks began to harden in response. He sucked in a breath at the reaction, yanking his hand back to cover his mouth. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he considered how he should proceed.

While he wanted to take the time to explore every inch of the darling student whose existence had consumed his every thought… he didn’t have that luxury. With no idea how heavy her sleep was or how long her medication would last, she could be awoken by his actions at any moment. He had come this far, it would be a waste to get caught - to ruin everything - if he didn’t get to have some fun.

Now calm, Aizawa leaned closer to cup a breast, massaging the ample flesh while his finger danced the edge of her bare tips; enjoying the sensation of it hardening from his touch. Once he was sure that wasn’t enough to awaken her, he dared to do more. The bed creaked as he came to lay next to her, hand moving to cup the far breast while he blew a subtle breath of air against the aching tip of the nearer one, evoking a nearly muted moan from the woman.

Eager to hear more from his lover, he encapsulated the delicate point with his mouth and sucked gently. His tongue circled the nub while his hand caressed the other tip.

He was nearly ready to erupt right there, finally enjoying her almost enough to send him over the edge. Yet he fought the urge, releasing his mouth from her, looking up at her sleeping face. She had begun to blush at the stimulation he provided which brought a smirk to his lips.

Deciding to press his luck further he released the soft hill, gliding his fingers back down between her legs, slipping underneath the elastic band of the cotton undergarments. A question that had burned in the back of his mind was answered as he felt the curls that carpeted her warmth.

Head resting against her breasts, he relished the exploration of the downy mound until he felt wetness on his fingertips. A struggled groan from the sleeper came as a finger slipped into the slick folds, touching the sensitive nub that was nestled within them. He teased it; circling, rubbing, and pressing against the heat of it. Her breathing became more ragged as he continued. Beneath heavy eyelids her eyes moved, her lips parting to let out small but sweet moans. 

Eyes still on her face, Aizawa captured her nipple in his mouth once again and added to her arousal, desperate to hear more.

Her legs twitched at his encouragement, unconsciously spreading for more. He was happy to abide by the request, his fingers moving from the twitching bud to her depths. He began with a single finger, easily slipping his middle digit into the damp entrance, feeling the pulsating walls of her insides cling to him eagerly.

As he pumped his hand rhythmically within her he concluded that he wasn’t leaving until he filled her properly. No matter the cost.

One finger became two as he began to work on her, spreading her with his fingers to ready her for what would come next. Her body quivered as he found certain spots reacted more than others and soon his pace increased. His lips detached from her breast to readjust for easier movement and to watch her face as he plunged into her, his thumb doing its best to rub the swollen bud above her entrance.

Finally, to Aizawa’s delight, her hip bucked against his hand as her insides tightened around the fingers, threatening to keep them. Her velvet walls shuddered at the release. His breath shook at the feel and sight of her ecstasy, his pants as tight as possible as his body responded to the show.

He withdrew from her slowly, watching for any sign that she was waking up. To his relief, and amazement, she did not stir, chest heaving from the orgasm. He would need to find out her prescription for himself. 

It took all remaining self-control - as little of it as there was - to not rip the thin barrier from between her legs and thrust into her for his own relief but the best course of action was to give her body time to calm down, she would be far too sensitive right now and that could easily wake her. No, he would take a little more time to enjoy her body before he opened his real present.

A low whine came from the bed as he repositioned himself above her as if a cat were crouching over its prey. Fighting the urge to make her suck his fingers clean after toying with her, he instead used his clean hand to grip her chin and position her face to plant soft kisses on her lips, face, and neck. He wanted to enjoy the unspoiled taste of her before he moved on to his next goal.

Once satisfied, he repositioned again; balancing his weight carefully, he sat over her chest while making sure not to apply any pressure. Once sure of the position, he unzipped and reached into his trousers. Purposely using his sullied hand to coat himself in her, he withdrew the swollen member which twitched at the cold air of the room as it was exposed. Precum dripped happily down the shaft, no longer impeded by anything. 

He stroked himself slowly, happy to have some relief from the agonizing pressure that his pants had caused him. He made sure to hold himself just right so he could feel her breath, which had begun to calm, as he stroked. Making sure not to press too hard, he guided the tip to kiss the sleeping girl’s lips. 

A low groan escaped Aizawa as he felt her tenderness and he did nothing to stop the sound, almost wanting her to wake up so he could shove into her mouth to keep her from crying out at the sight of one of UA’s teachers hovering over her with his cock out. However, she didn’t stir as he traced her lips, coating them with his clear liquid.

Curious to see just how far he could go, he guided himself to the part in her lips and applied pressure. There was resistance but soon they parted and the head of his manhood slipped inside. He shuddered as the flesh surrounded the tip, although he could not go too far as he met with the barrier of her teeth he didn’t mind as he angled himself to slide into the pocket of her cheeks. His hips ever so slowly as he pumped into her jaw.

He wanted so badly to reach down and guide her mouth open so he could slip inside, feel her tongue encircle his shaft, the warmth of her throat. The mere thought mixed with the feel of her made him pull out, panting and holding back the urge to cum. As good as it may feel to use her mouth, he had to hold back from his release just a bit longer. He had a goal and if he came now, the clarity of what he had done would drive him to run before fulfilling it.

Needing time to calm down before he blew, Aizawa sat on the edge of the bed and considered his prey. Her face needed to be cleaned off of any remnants of his indulgence, her breast was a bit red but that would fade before morning, and obviously, her clothes would need to be put back once he was done. Nothing else caught his eye as a potential indication of his visit as he created the mental checklist.

Once he had settled down enough to continue his fun, he removed the blanket completely from her and positioned himself between her spread legs. With delicate movements, he took hold of her panties and began to slide them off. Carefully lifting one leg to remove its hold, he left the garment clinging to the other. 

He swallowed at the sight of her legs spread before him, her womanhood exposed. He wanted to play more, to feel her quiver against his tongue and taste her as she came over and over. Yet he knew it was either that or what he really wanted, he wouldn’t be able to handle more with how worked up he was.

Any reservations Aizawa may have had about his current actions faded away as he withdrew the foil package from his pocket. He cursed as it crinkled loudly whilst being opened, even though he knew by now that it wouldn't wake her. Stuffing the wrapper in his pocket, he sheathed his engorged flesh in the rubber. As much as he would prefer to feel her properly, the evidence he would leave behind would be far too obvious.

His body quivered with anticipation as he adjusted himself to prod at the dampness between her legs. Sliding his length up and down her moist slit he counted himself in her dew, grazing the aroused bulb as he grinded. While lube was preferable, it hadn’t been something to consider in his unusually irrational mindset as he rushed from his room. Covering himself in her juices was the best alternative to avoid hurting her. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt his beloved.

When he was sure he was suitably slick, he directed his head to her dark haven and began to ease himself into her; one hand holding his girth as he guided it while the other hand pressed into her thigh, holding it to assist with his access. A sigh of delight escaped him as her warmth surrounded him, her body tensing at the intrusion. Allowing a few moments of bliss at the penetration he began to slip slowly, inch by incredible inch, inside of her until he felt the end of her depth and could proceed no deeper without causing pain by pressing against her cervix.

“Fuck…” Aizawa moaned in elation as she encompassed his manhood, pulsing and shivering as it tried to accommodate the unknown object. After who knows how long of lusting after her, he was finally one with her, feeling how truly perfect for him she was. 

Now he was inside, he lifted her legs and held them together with one arm, having them find purchase against his shoulder. The action caused her to squeeze tighter around his manhood and encouraged him to continue. Once her legs were secure, he moved; withdrawing himself as much as he could handle before his need propelled him to enter once more. His hips rocked at an agonizingly slow pace as he pumped in and out of her, he stared with adoration as her body swayed oh so tenderly in time with his movements.

Her breasts bounced gently with the rocking and the erotic scene of it only elevated his lust at the sight. He leaned forward against the angle of her legs, pushing them towards their owner, and put his weight on his free hand as it rested near her sleeping form and began to increase his tempo. 

Heavy panting came from the teacher as he fucked the sleeping student, moans and whispers of unintelligible words of affection escaped his lips, his eyes fluttering as he began to lose himself in the feel of her. She trembled as small bouts of pleasure rolled through her as he used her body.

Her shallow breathing began to match his ragged tones as moans slipped from her mouth, darling whines, and soft squeaks of ecstasy as her body reacted to him. Her brow furrowed as her sleep-addled mind tried to process the feelings he was invoking; the bed began to creak as his motions increased and pressed deeper into her, kissing her deepest parts with his cock.

Any fear he held of rousing her no longer mattered to him, he wanted to see her face flush from the bliss he was filling her with. To see her eyes wide and glazed as he plunged into her with abandon. As her face contorted in her sleep, unable to comprehend how her body felt, he wanted to comfort her.

“It’s okay,” he purred in a quiet voice, “it's me, you’re safe.” He moaned, her name tumbling out alongside the reassurances from him as he thrust into her.  Her feet waved above them in his arms as he started to lose his control, falling into the feeling of her heat enveloping him to wring every drop of his love.

Finally, after all the withholding, Aizawa allowed himself release. His body shuddered violently at the feeling that had been denied for so long. A sharp gasp ripped itself from his lips as he climaxed. His head hung as he shook, a black curtain of hair swayed as he let the electricity of it move through him. Beads of sweat rolled down his face, a few drops fell on the exposed chest of the woman he arched over. 

As the feeling subsided, he stared at his slumbering lover and then sighed as he finally leaned back, relieving the pressure of his weight against her quivering legs as he moved and shifted them to lay beside him while he was still inside her tender flesh. 

Combing his fingers through his tangle of hair he brushed the mess back over his head and took in the sight of the woman he had just violated. Her chest heaving, face flush with feelings she couldn’t understand, wet from his sweat and her womanhood drenched with arousal. A momentary glance at the ceiling and a deep sigh of personal resentment, he cautiously pulled from her, careful to keep the overflowing rubber attached as he did so. Once clear of her, he stepped off the bed quickly and entered the bathroom attached to the dorm room. 

Once removed from his tired member, he tied and pocketed the used condom before grabbing a washcloth and returning to the bed.

As delicately as he could, Aizawa wiped down the victim of his abuse and returned her clothes and cover to their original locations. After a final glance around the room to ensure no evidence of his presence remained, he exited quietly while making a mental note to push the maintenance request to repair the lock to high priority.

The next morning Aizawa was doing his best to ignore his friend’s expected berating for refusing to celebrate as they walked to the main building for the day. It was an easy enough task to ignore the leather-clad hero’s ranting due to the overwhelming pounding of his heart filling his head. Anxiety and fear filled him, alongside acceptance, of what he was sure to come as they approached the building.

As they walked, Aizawa’s eyes instantly caught the form of his desire approaching encircled by her typical group of friends. Her group showed no reaction to the sight of them besides the standard greeting towards their teachers.

“Good morning, Aizawa-sensei. Present Mic-sensei.” She spoke, giving the warm smile that made his heart skip whenever he saw it. She gave no sign that her view of him had changed.

The pair replied in kind to the greeting and continued their stroll, Yamada returning to his argument happily.

“I’m just saying-”

“Fine.” Aizawa agreed, cutting Yamada’s tangent off.

“H-huh? Really ?” He asked excitedly, having never once gotten his friend actually to agree before.

“Yeah, whatever…” Aizawa glanced back at the group of students as they drifted away, “I suppose you’re not completely wrong. Treating myself on my birthday isn’t the worst idea.”

(Please check this post if you would like to be included!)

——Tag List ——

@underratedmage​ @tomurasprincess​  @smolladyy @smolsleepykitten @sarcasticjellybeansblog @snowstained @trxnda @sexyxes @niicevibe @hoe4katsuki @hawksadmirer @crazymar15 @bealtaineneedscoffee @simpingqueen @raekah @ragelthegreat @pwettystuff @limbomoon @lilleeboi

#aizawa shouta #eraserhead #aizawa #shouta aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #tw: noncon #dark content #tw: somnophilia #bnha fanfiction #please advise me if i miss an important tag or tw #sin #don't forget to reblog with tags to bring a smile to my face #please consider a like comment and reblog #i love comments

[bisexualbuck]

excess of it

word count: 5k | tedtrent, mutual pining, Roy pov

[READ ON AO3]

Everywhere Roy goes, he comes across Ted and Trent just stupidly pining, staring adoringly at one another with unconcealed loveful eyes.

And he can't fucking escape it.

OR, Roy needs a break and he can't catch it.

The first time it happens, Roy thinks he’s imagining things.

It’s early one rainy Tuesday morning and he’s woken up two hours before his alarm rang. Suffice to say, he isn’t in a great mood as he walks through the still empty corridors of AFC Richmond. He doesn’t expect anyone to be there but the cleaning staff.

However, there are hushed voices coming from the coaches’ office. Something makes Roy stops in his tracks, though he could not say what. Perhaps it is the soft quality of the voices, the gentle rolling of words spoken in trust and quiet.

As discreet as he can, Roy walks closer, still hidden.

It’s Ted and Trent in the office, both their chairs brought close together and their bodies angled toward one another, yet untouching.

From his viewpoint, Roy can’t see Trent’s face but he can see Ted’s and, well. That’s quite a sight to behold. For all that he wears his heart on his sleeve, Ted has never worn such an open expression of openness in front of Roy.

Ted’s smile, though small, is as bright as the noonday sun in July.

Strangely, Roy feels like he is intruding on something precious and so, instead of barging in the office like he meant to, he turns back, footfalls still quiet, and makes his way out to the pitch, undeterred by the rain.

Roy doesn’t think too hard on it.

It was weird but he caught enough of the conversation to understand they were speaking of their kids, reasons enough for the soft look caught on Ted’s face, Roy figures.

Right.

He gives them ten minutes before he ventures back inside, and, this time, they each sit at their own desk, a respectable distance between them and no indication that they were having an intimate conversation just minutes earlier.

.

It’s not a one time thing however.

.

It starts slow at first.

Mostly, it’s looks. Just lingering looks when the other isn’t paying attention. Sometimes they’re just brief glances, stolen snapshots of the other that Roy just happens to notice.

Roy will turn to ask Ted something and find him staring at Trent’s profile as he writes in his notebook. Other times, Roy will want to commiserate with Trent, only to find Trent’s eyes being preoccupied by the sight of Ted telling one of his colourful nonsensical stories.

He can excuse the looks.

Though soon enough, Roy starts witnessing little strange moments between Ted and Trent that have him pause before he shakes himself with a reminder that this is none of his business.

Whatever this is.

.

Weeks go by.

The looks turn into touches, the touches into long conversations filled with private jokes and references that fly over Roy’s head, every word English and yet still a language uniquely their own.

One time, he finds Ted massaging Trent’s palm for some reason, but he turns back on his tracks and doesn’t ask about it.

Clearly, there is something brewing between Ted Lasso and Trent Crimm, but Roy cares nothing for it. He would have before he got to know Trent, but now that the both of them have made their amends and have become friendly if not yet friends, Roy will just ignore the whole thing until they make it official.

This tentative pining is painful to witness as it is.

.

This is where it should have stopped.

In an ideal world, Roy would have been able to continue on with days without being inconvenienced by a pining of such epic proportions – but that’s not what happens.

By some sadistic turn of events, it seems that everywhere Roy goes, he comes across Ted and Trent just stupidly pining, staring adoringly at one another with unconcealed loveful eyes. And he can’t fucking escape it.

He tries minimising the amount of time spent in the office but even this proves useless. The Fates are out for Roy Kent and they will make sure that he suffers. Perhaps it is revenge against his breaking up for Keeley that he should bear witness to brewing love when he himself ran away from it, so fearful of how it might end that he ended it before its time.

Fuck, he’s being so dramatic.

Still. He thinks he’s allowed it, as they are definitively making his life hell.

.

“You know I love our chats.”

Trent’s voice is so open it makes Roy want to punch the wall.

.

“Your hair is softer than I thought it’d be.”

The pen Roy is holding breaks in half. He doesn’t turn how Ted would know about the softness of Trent’s hair.

.

“Your neck giving you troubles?”

“It’s nothing, I just fell asleep on the couch last night.”

Before Ted offers, Roy already knows what he is going to say.

“I could massage the knot out for you, I took a class in college and boy, let me tell you, my A was well-deserved. These fingers are quite nimble, I’ll have you all melted like ice cream on a sunny day in no time.”

Trent Crimm flushing bright red isn’t something Roy thought he’d see in his lifetime, and yet here it is is – and it’s his cue to bolt it out of there.

.

They are laughing, once again standing closer than any just-friends would be. Ted reaches for Trent’s knee, squeezes it before he seems to recall himself and snatches the hand away.

Roy has seen teenagers flirt less awkwardly.

It’s driving him insane.

.

Roy is tired. His knee has been acting up all day, and the only thing he wants is to go home, get an icepack, and watch a stupid film he will never admit to actually liking.

It’s a struggle not to limp back down to the locker room though, by some miracle, he manages it. He only needs to pick up his phone that he forgot at his desk and then he can lick his wounds in private where no one will offer him sympathetic comments.

If only Roy had it that easy.

When he walks into the coaches’ office, Roy finds Trent fucking Crimm sitting on Ted’s desk, his legs sprawled and chest angled down to Ted. Ted himself is on his chair, gazing up at Trent with adoration and – oh, God – lust in his hooded eyes.

They aren’t doing anything but talking, and yet the air is charged with a tension so thick it threatens to choke him out.

“For fuck’s sake,” Roy barks.

He walks right out, phone be damned.

.

The three coaches are discussing what new strategy to implement after the West Ham fiasco. Trent is nowhere to be seen just yet, it’s unlike him as he has never once been late, but Roy is too focused on his conversation with Beard and Ted to wonder why that is.

Not that he’d worry about it.

He gets the answer minutes later anyway when Trent speed-walks into the office, glasses askew on his face and his hair tied up in a bun so messy it’s not even attempting to keep the hair away from his face.

Trent drops his messenger bag, yanks his notebook out of his breast pocket, and then he is rushing to join them, trying and failing to appear composed.

“Well, hello there, Sport,” Ted welcomes him with a bright smile. “Everything alright? It’s not like you to be so late.”

“Quite,” Trent replies, slightly out of breath. “There was a bit of a glitter incident this morning, that’s all.”

That’s when Roy notices it. Trent’s cheeks are covered with specks of glitter that catch the light as he talks. It reminds him of Keeley and how she would put golden glitter sometimes, it makes me sparkle, she’d say. Roy regrets never telling her she didn’t need it to be shine brighter than anything he’d ever seen.

“You’ll be finding it everywhere for months,” Ted quips. “One time Henry and I, we were making these Christmas cards to all our friends and family, and we decided to have this glitter fight because Henry didn’t much agree with my choice of color coordination. Now let me tell you, Michelle was right mad at the mess we made, I’m sure she’s still finding glitter all these years after.”

“I’m sure,” Trent replies easily.

Ted’s gaze narrows. Ah, so he’s noticed the glitter as well. Roy feels like swearing all of the sudden.

“You’ve still got some there,” Ted says softly.

And then. Then he brings his thumb to his mouth where his tongue comes out to meet it in a slow, almost sensual gesture, his lips all but kissing it, his eyes never leaving Trent’s.

Trent stands rooted in place, mesmerized, his own eyes wide and unblinking as he stares up at Ted. Ted who brings his thumb to the spot of glitter on Trent’s cheek and starts wiping, conscious and gentle.

Roy is also stunned, though not for the same reasons.

Slowly, he turns to Beard. Are you seeing this shit? he asks without a word. Beard gives a slight nod to confirm that he is, indeed, seeing this shit.

Why is Roy still in the room? He should have left as soon as Trent walked in, honestly he should just walk away any time he sees Ted and Trent in the same vicinity, but for some unfathomable reasons, Roy is still standing there. His attention is returned to the two men who are making his life hell with their longing and rampant sexual tension.

Ted’s hand drops away from Trent’s face.

“Thank you,” Trent whispers, his voice so low Roy barely catches it.

For fuck’s sake. Have they forgotten they aren’t alone in the room? They are lost in their own little world of two, nothing existing around them but each other’s eyes and smiles.

“Sure thing, darling,” Ted tells him, his accent undermining the rhyme.

Trent giggles.

Trent Crimm, the man who’s made many a professional footballer cry with his scathing exposés and sardonic questions, the man who Roy used to think was always so composed and assured, that Trent Crimm giggles.

Roy snaps.

He spins around, grabs Beard by the arm and drags him away from this insanity that they’ve been witnessing.

Of course, neither Ted nor Trent notice their leaving.

.

“We need to do something about this,” Roy declares.

“Do something about what?” Higgins asks, confused about the brusque intrusion but ready to roll with whatever dilemma his dear Diamond Dogs bring about, and fuck, Roy will never admit that he thinks of himself as a Diamond Dog or he’ll never hear the end of it.

“Ted and Trent,” Beard quips.

“Oh, alright.”

Higgins doesn’t appear to be surprised at this, but of course he wouldn’t be. Roy is sure that half of the club has noticed the tension between the gaffer and the ex-journo, and the other half is sure to follow soon.

“So you agree we need to do something,” Roy says, a tad desperate.

“Well.” Higgins pauses. “No?”

On a good day, Roy Kent has a set amount of patience which is not much admittedly, but still, he has some of it. Today has only just begun and already it hasn’t been a good one. It’s been weeks of this dancing around, these yearning looks and hopeful smiles and broken smiles that only come with assured unrequited feelings.

Roy is sick of it.

He’s sick of this hopeful tentative thing forming before him, this something of magnitude that only reminds him of how alone and stupid he feels. Because he had a something, and he threw it away, and now he stands before Jamie’s door at 4AM everyday and there’s an inkling there, a possibility he won’t let himself acknowledge.

Feelings isn’t something he knows to deal with all that well.

“It’s better not to meddle,” Beard agrees. “They’ll come to their senses at some point.”

“When though?” Roy grunts. “They keep making moon eyes at each other, and I am this close to throw them into a closet and throw away the key.”

Beard’s left eyebrow rises as he thinks it over.

“No,” Higgins says. “We shall do nothing of the sort, I’m sure they’ll act on their feelings soon.”

His expression turns from certitude to doubt.

“I hope so, at least.”

Roy swears.

.

So they have decided not to intervene. Great, Roy can do that.

Except that he really can’t. He’s tried it, and he can’t.

And this is what breaks him.

It’s late after a match. Richmond has lost because that’s what they’ve been doing since West Ham, even with fucking Zava on their team.

The mood is down, even Roy is too tired to be angry about the loss. He wants to go to bed and forget everything for a few blessed hours before his alarm wakes him up at 3:30, before he has to ignore his own maybe-perhaps-but-surely-not pining and the strange little thrills he gets when Jamie directs a bright smile at him.

The team trickles out, the locker room quiet and subdued, until there is no one left but Roy, as well as Ted and Trent who are sitting side by side, each on the opposite end of their bench in the little corner Trent has all but called his own.

“This is just a bad pass,” he is saying. “This is a great team you have, they will find their footing again, and you will help them get there.”

Trent’s reassurances fall on deaf ears. Ted forces a smile on his lip that’s more of a grimace than anything.

“Just gotta believe, right?”

There’s none of his usual pep in it.

After a short goodbye that’s very telling of his true state of mind, Ted is fast out of the door. Roy turns to Trent to bid him good night as well, but the words die on his lip at the wretched sight he makes.

Standing, hand frozen mid-air in an aborted motion, Trent stares, lost, in the direction Ted went in. carved onto his expressive face is a look of absolute heartbreak, of helplessness too.

This is the face of a man in love who can’t do anything about it. Roy knows this face very well, he sees it every day in the mirror.

“Why don’t you tell him?”

Trent startles out of his staring.

“Beg your pardon?”

Roy doesn’t deign answer that with a sentence, a pointed look will suffice. Trent’s face does something very complicated, several expressions flashing across it at the same time before being replaced by another myriad of unspoken feelings.

It settles on resignation. It looks oddly out of place there.

“I don’t plan on telling him.”

There’s finality in it. Trent goes to their shared office to retrieve his messenger bag as if there is nothing more to say. Really, there shouldn’t be. Roy doesn’t have to say anything to that, what he already said is more than he was planning on. It’s also very clear that Trent doesn’t want to continue this particular conversation.

They should go their separate ways and pretend this conversation never happened.

So why can’t Roy let it go?

“Let’s go for a pint,” he says.

Trent turns to look at him, his eyebrow rising in question.

“Not the Crown and Anchor,” he replies.

“Of course not, who the fuck do you take me for.”

There is a moment’s hesitation in which Roy thinks Trent will say no, and the decision whether to keep on drilling him about Ted will be made for him. But Trent surprises him once again.

“Let me call my father, tell him I’ll be late to pick up my daughter.”

.

They sit across each other in the booth of a small pub Roy has been going to since he was a teenager. No one cares that he’s Roy Kent here and the beer is good.

“Why are you being a knob about it?” Roy jumps straight at it. “Just tell him and put us out of our misery.”

He’s not used to see Trent look like this – defeated. For as long as he’s known him, Trent Crimm has been assured, always looking for weaknesses in others so that he could write about it. Then Roy got to know the man and not the journalist

To see him with his shoulders down and his eyes tired, it’s wrong.

“I don’t pretend that you can understand,” he says tiredly, “the unique kind of agony that is falling for a straight man.”

Roy’s mind flashes to Jamie Tartt for some bloody reason, and he hastens to bury the thought hard and deep.

“Why are you so sure he is,” Roy replies, so flat it isn’t even pretending to be a question.

He isn’t certain of it, but to him, it does look quite obvious that Ted isn’t straight. No one talks that much about rugby men’s tights without being interested in more than the sport.

“Even if he weren’t, I’d be the last person he would ever be interested in, or have you forgotten the article I wrote disclosing his panic attacks?”

Breathe, babe, you can’t forget to breathe, yeah? That’s what Keeley used to tell him, and he really is trying to breathe but Trent, with his sad, resigned eyes, isn’t making it easy. Once more, Roy wonders why he decided to step in.

Then he thinks about witnessing another bout of pathetic pining and shivers.

“Trent, I’ve never pegged you for a complete imbecile.”

“Why, thank you.”

Roy swears he can feel the white hairs growing upon his head.

“I can’t risk losing everything,” Trent continues. “I was aimless as a journalist, quitting was the best decision I’ve ever made, and being here? This is what I’ve been missing. I’m– well, I’m happy here. I’m writing about something I care about and believe in.”

“So you’re really not going to say anything?” he asks despite already knowing the answer.

“I’m not planning on confessing my misguided feelings to Ted only to be let down no. Though I suspect he would be unbearably kind about it.”

He would be so fucking nice about it. Roy can picture Ted’s big brown eyes shining with regret and apologies as he gently explains that sorry, he isn’t feeling the same way, but Trent is for sure a catch.

Not that Roy thinks that would be Ted’s reaction to a Trent Crimm confession of love.

Love. Because yes, of course Trent is in love with Ted. It’s not about fancying him for a quick shag or two. He’s thought it before but there really is no denying it now.

“Fucking hell,” Roy mutters.

“Cheers,” Trent replies and raises his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

.

Talking to Trent solved nothing.

Roy could stop there, he tried, it didn’t work, and it’s not his fault if Trent is a pining no-brain two who refuses to see what’s right in front of him.

Still. He can’t exactly blame Trent for it.

He hadn’t thought about it before Trent mentioned falling for a straight man, but it’s true that, if those feelings weren’t reciprocated, Trent had more to lose than Ted did. It mustn’t have been easy being an out journalist, especially reporting on football.

Roy has caught glimpses of some of it, the unkind jokes, the sneering, the hateful looks.

Even then, Roy tried harder than he should have. In fact, he shouldn’t have tried at all and, hell, maybe Keeley is right and he’s got something of a soft heart beneath all his brooding and swearing.

Said heart pangs when he thinks of her still. Idly, he wonders how long it will take to stop missing her.

There is only himself to blame though, so he shoves the longing down, down with the thoughts of Jamie’s earnest smile and floppy hair, down where he can ignore it.

There is nothing to do about all that, but he can help the two pining idiots get over themselves.

It’s for his own peace of mind, nothing else.

.

Roy doesn’t like Ted’s flat much. It doesn’t feel like Ted at all, it’s empty and subdued and nowhere near as messy as it ought to be.

He knows Ted didn’t have a choice in the colour of the walls or the furniture, but it’s lacking in personal touches.

No matter what Roy’s feelings on it are, this is where he and Ted meet once a month to discuss club matters. At least, that’s what called Ted first called it. In reality, it’s just an excuse for Ted to have some one-on-one time with Roy and make sure that everything is going well with him at AFC Richmond.

Roy allows it because he knows that Ted blames himself for not seeing Nate’s growing resentment.

Also, Ted’s biscuits are very fucking good.

In truth, too, it’s nice. Ever since his break-up with Keeley, Roy has had more time on his time that he knows what to do with it. The early work-out sessions with Jamie have helped. They also make sure Roy is knocked out in bed by 8PM which is an added bonus.

Roy is drinking the tea he’s brought because he doesn’t trust Ted nowhere near a kettle, and Ted is enjoying a cup with so much sugar and milk it has no rights to be called coffee.

Ted’s rambling lulls, and a comfortable silence settles between the two coaches. Some would not think him capable of it, but Ted knows when to stop chattering and appreciate the quiet of a moment.

“I haven’t asked yet,” Ted says to break the silence, his tone gentle, “I think maybe because I’ve been dealing with stuff of my own – which, by the way, I’m finally addressing. But if you want to talk about Keeley with me, I’d listen.”

The urge to tell Ted to shut up, and to change the topic – maybe even straight-up leave. He doesn’t though.

Ted is his friend. Roy is never going to be one of those people who say often what they feel about the people in his life, but he isn’t emotionally stunted. He knows what they mean to him, even if it’s hard to admit it sometimes.

“There’s nothing to say. I broke up with her because I got scared.”

Ted’s eyes widen imperceptibly. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting Roy to open up quite so easily, but he’s quick to smooth his face into an open expression.

“Why were you scared then?” he asks. “It was obvious to anyone looking that you had a good thing going on with her.”

He really did. He loved her, still loves her, and yet he left her because it’s better than being left behind, and Roy has never known to enjoy something without thinking of how it’d end.

“I think because it was too good,” Roy confesses.

“It might not to be too late, you know. You really were a strong couple, and she’d listen to you if you explained the real reasons you broke things off with her. Maybe getting back together won’t be exactly like how you left things, but maybe that’s for the better, too.”

There’s something in the way that Ted says it.

Oh. He knows then, about this Jamie-and-Keeley thing.

“Huh.”

“You may have noticed,” Ted continues, “I haven’t been quite myself lately, or rather I have but not the myself I wanna be. I’ve just been lost in the parts of Ted Lasso that I don’t really like, you know? The parts I don’t like to think about. I think I got lost in it a bit, so much that I thought that was just who I was – but it ain’t. The dark parts are still there but they aren’t all of me, and I know it’s going to get better. I’m already getting better. All those dark thoughts I have, they don’t have the same power over me.”

Roy nods, pensive. He’s glad to hear Ted is doing better after these past few weeks in which he’d dragged this added shadow to his step.

They are men in sports and there’s this prevalent idea of not getting involved, not saying anything even if you see someone struggling. Let them pull themselves up, wait to see if they reach out. Roy thinks it’s all wrong.

Perhaps getting involved, offering insight even when it’s not asked for, is the way to go.

He wasn’t there to offer help when Ted was in the mist of a mental health crisis despite the warning signs. It’s possible he wouldn’t have known how to help then, but he can help him now, with this less tremendous thing.

“So what are you going to do?” Roy asks.

Ted’s eyebrows crease in slight confusion, “What about? The team or life in general?”

“About Trent.”

An expression of absolute bafflement falls upon Ted’s face. It battles with a mix of awe and worry also, a strange combination that should only work for a man as full of contradictions as Ted Lasso.

“What about Trent?” Ted aims for composed and fails miserably.

“You like him.”

“I mean, yes of course I like Trent Crimm, Independent! Who doesn’t? You like him, too, Waterloo, I’ve seen the two of you have several civil conversations. You’re not fooling me.”

Roy’s skin crawls. Having heart to heart isn’t his forte, but he’s started this and he will see it finished.

“Look, perhaps you’ve played for the same team your entire life and you never thought about playing for another team. Hell, I know I haven’t, but now I’m wondering and there’s no shame in that. Perhaps for you this isn’t the first time you’ve wondered, maybe you’ve even played that game before, I don’t fucking know.”

“No, I haven’t,” Ted confesses. “I’ve had moments where I thought– but no, I’ve never done anything about it.”

“Right, well. Maybe you weren’t ready or they weren’t the right team for you.” He pauses then swears. “Fuck, I can’t tell you what to do or feel, I’m just saying you should think about it.”

Ted’s eyes falls to his latte.

Silence stretches again between them, not as easy-going as it was earlier but not suffocating, not pressing. The both of them have some introspection to do.

Roy eats another biscuit, chewing with a bit more force than necessary.

“Sport,” Ted drawls. “What a metaphor.”

.

The week that follows their conversation, Roy finds Ted quieter than usual though lighter also.

Often now, Roy bears witness to Ted’s silent musing, gaze targeted on Trent who appears wary about this new development.

Trent in return shoots Roy suspicious glances that Roy simply ignores.

The ball is in their court.

.

It comes to no surprise that Roy, unwilling witness as he is, should be faced with its resolution.

It happens during lunch break. Most of the team is at the cafeteria, including Beard. Roy has finished his meal quickly because to review a few tactics before they are set off to start working again.

Of fucking course, Ted and Trent are in the office, standing close and talking softly.

Roy is ready to turn around and make his exit, yet he’s stopped in his tracks.

Something is happening there.

He could go and leave them to it, but there’s also a part of him that wants to make sure they aren’t being idiots again. So, silent and unnoticed, he walks closer to listen in.

“So there you have it,” Ted is saying. “I think I’ve liked you for a long time but I was too blind to see it. You know what they say about having it right in front of you. But I want to make clear that I don’t expect anything from you, alright? I’m just telling you because I believe in honesty, honesty with yourself and with the people that matter to you. I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t ever keep to myself how I value others.”

“Ted,” Trent sighs and he sounds oh so very besotted. “I’m afraid you’re still blind. I’ve destroyed my decade-long journalism career because it forced me into a position to hurt you. I’m here at Richmond not to write about the club, but to write about you. Ted. Of course I have feelings for you. Don’t be daft.”

Roy can see enough into the room to see the beaming smile of one Ted Lasso and the adoring shine of one Trent Crimm’s eyes.

He’s seen enough, more than enough in fact.

But now, at least, his nightmare has ended, and he won’t have to suffer their pining and flirting any more.

Still quiet, Roy goes away before they can spot him.

As he makes his way back to the cafeteria, Roy ponders about the merits of being brave and facing one’s fears. It may be time to follow his own advice.

There’s this new recipe he wanted to try and make – if he had some guests, it could be the excuse he needed to make it.

Roy arrives at Richmond AFC feeling lighter than he had in weeks. The team is still losing, but his training with Jamie is going great and he has no doubt the prick will outclass Zava soon enough.

More than that, Roy has reached out to Keeley and together and with Jamie too, they are heading somewhere with this something between them. It’s tentative, uncertain, but it’s hopeful.

There’s something to be said about trying, about staying and enjoying it while it lasts because perhaps, if they’re lucky, this thing will last for a long time.

.

.

Roy walks into the coaches’ office lost in thoughts.

His musing is soon crushed though as he finds himself staring in horror at Ted tucking Trent’s hair behind his ear, the both of them gazing openly and lovingly at each other.

No.

No.

This was supposed to get better. They were supposed to stop with the lovey-dovey shit.

Oh, fuck.

By helping them get together, Roy has made it worse – out with the pining, and in with the blatant adoration.

“Fucking hell you two,” Roy swears, already turning around. “Get a room.”

“We are in a room,” Trent points you, “you walked in there.”

Roy doesn’t answer, but he does give them the middle finger.

Good thing that he has his back turned to them, he couldn’t let them know that he’s fighting a smile.

#tedtrent #tedependent #tedtrent fic #ted lasso #roy kent #trent crimm #my writing #this is so messy but also i enjoyed writing it so there you have it #please if you read it and you like it do consider leaving a comment and/or reblogging this post #literally i need feedback to live lol #also i haven't posted in a while and i'm like?? so nervous about this for some reason???

[dreamings-free]

.

#apropos my prev reblog #i legit saw at least one comment under L’s aussie openers post #just ​the other day #saying 'come to *sr**l ❤️🏳️' #(but with that actual fucking flag of course) #and I’m like.. are you this stupid do you really think he’d even consider it ?! #please go to hell.. #.

[campingwiththecharmings]

so over the last week or so i've noticed several people liking almost every fic on my masterlist and, while i am appreciative of the interaction, i just wanted to take a second and ask: if you read something i wrote and enjoyed it, would you maybe at least consider reblogging it? it only takes a couple of extra seconds and is really so helpful and appreciated ❤️

#i'm not trying to sound ungrateful or anything just #when y'all are serial liking my posts and not reblogging or even commenting it just makes me think that #maybe what i wrote wasn't good enough. like maybe you didn't even really like it all. #or at least not enough to share it. or even to tell me you liked it. #and it's...honestly kind of a let down as the one sharing it #like imagine you made cookies and shared them with a bunch of people and no one said anything to you about them #just ate them and kept walking #didn't tell you if they were good or that they even enjoyed them #that's what it feels like when y'all just drop a like and move on #look. i /do/ write for myself don't get me wrong #but i also love hearing your all's reactions to stuff #please just...consider it is all i'm asking #wow okay didn't mean to keep going in the tags lmao #bye

[keikakudori]

I don't think I've said this before but I just wanted to take a moment and say that I don't practice reblog karma. If you want to reblog something from me, be it a meme, a musing, or art, then feel free! I don't care! I like it when people do that! Seriously, I'm always going to advocate for "ah yes, person reblogged a thing I like, I shall reblog it from them" in the rpc. And if I reblog something you like? Please, feel free to reblog it yourself. I won't ever ask you to send a meme in if you reblog one from me nor will I expect it; if you do, it's a pleasant surprise! But if you ever worried about it, consider this your greenlight to know that you are absolutely welcome to reblog anything but my asks/roleplay threads. I consider a reblog from me in the vein of "my humble offering has pleased my friends, yes yes, good" because I'm just that kind of person.

#ooc ; i think therefore watashi wa #nothing really inspired this but it's something i've been meaning to say for a while! #please! feel free to reblog from me! i do not care if you do! #i like it! i want people to go 'oh damn that's fire i need that thing lucifer reblogged' and to reblog it themselves! #it's just nice! #and legit it helps to foster that feeling of connection between me and the rest of you to know that you liked something i reblogged #people decry how the rpc seems to be losing the feeling of community and reblog karma has never sat right with me #ngl it's always felt a tiny bit entitled to comment about reblog karma because this is a community so just reblog from other people! #and sometimes the op of the post is no longer around or they've changed urls or something #so if you can't find the op version of the post? then reblog it from me. #i promise you that I Do Not Care At All #anyways i'll crawl back under my rock now consider this a lowkey psa lmao

[getosugurusbangs]

daily reminder that reblogging posts does a lot more for said post than you might think!!

(the sentiment stands even firmer in regards to art posts… support your favorite artists)

#while it isn’t actually my new year’s resolution. my new year’s resolution practically is just reblogging and sharing more art #and also giving more nice and thoughtful comments under people’s art #because even if you don’t outwardly get acknowledged by said artist. the comments are still very much appreciated #like even just a simple comment about “i like the colors” or “i like the textures” or the way a certain character is drawn makes my day tbh #like.. if i’m spending 8+ hours working on this art piece and posting it online. i WANT people to see it. i WANT people to say nice stuff. #literally my most interacted with post is a funny text post i thought of on a whim #and it has half the likes in reblogs #but my most interacted with art post has almost HALF of a QUARTER of the likes it has in reblogs #it has about 60 reblogs. as opposed to literally 430 likes #and that ratio is insane to me #anyways. if you like a post please consider reblogging. this is the reblogging site for pete’s sake #me.txt

[honouredsnakeprincess]

#please consider reblogging #i would like a wide range of responses #commenting on reasoning in the tags is appreciated

[soundwavemain]

We’ve Still Got Hope

Chapter 1: Waiting

General content warning for descriptions of the dead, people actively dying, and other apocalyptic scenarios.

Casey was used to running all her life. It became a familiar face during an alien apocalypse–turning tail and running like her life depended on it.

Because it did. It does.

Being the only person with, at this point, a decade of formal martial arts training and an extensive understanding of ninjutsu, it surprised no one that Casey turned out to be a natural scout. Her ability to quickly, and more importantly, quietly move through the outside world meant the difference between their survival and termination. She saw the outside more than anyone else on their team. Followed by Leo who refused to be left in the dust even with the responsibility of their world already creasing his brow deep enough to rival Raph’s chasm.

Still, as their resident medic, Leo was more useful in the caves, tending to the injured and ill, than scurrying across the wasteland that they once called home. After liberating a kraang camp, the medical bay–little more than a large cave branching off to the left of the entrance–was at full capacity. It probably wouldn’t empty anytime soon considering Casey’s current mission.

Casey surveyed her surroundings–desolate, bleak nothingness, hollowed-out buildings harboring phantom nightlife–as she darted through the empty city. Her mask’s HUD displayed no live biometrics nearby. She sighed, disengaging her mask despite the multiple Donnie alerts telling her not to. It felt uncomfortable shoving her hair back from its perch atop her head but sometimes Casey found it easier to perform reconnaissance without the distracting pop-ups.

This far from Metro Tower, there weren’t even kraangified humans to worry about striking down. Donnie sent her this way because he got energy readings indicative of a camp jailbreak. He mapped out the general radius of where any survivors would hide. Years of following the genius’ lead meant Casey trusted Donnie’s judgment. Still, that didn’t stop her from grumbling about the lack of activity.

Rotting corpses littered the mapped-out path Casey took. Families, lovers, children–all huddled together in their last moments. It was rare for Casey to find someone completely alone. Usually, one corpse lay not far from another. They died waiting.

Waiting for her to save them. To complete her duties as resident rescuer. To do a damned thing in this apocalypse.

Casey clenched her fists so tight her knuckles went white. She turned from the skyline, trying to shake the vision of all the dead she’s seen over the past eleven years. Raph always reminded her that the lives they did save mattered just as much. And it helped to think of the people she was able to liberate.

But she knew. They all did. No matter how hard they tried, how fast she ran, there was only so much their small team could do to save the vast amount of people under the kraang’s control.

A soft sound brought Casey out of her thoughts. Her mask immediately engaged, snapping onto her face as she braced herself for an attack. She turned this way and that but nothing came at her. Despite the lack of impending doom, Casey remained tense.

Then she heard it again–a whimper. Something so inconsequential that she almost wrote it off as her overactive imagination running on fumes after a three-day scouting mission.  But there it was! Quiet sniffles muffled by something. Casey glanced at the alley below and noticed a dumpster turned over on its side. Down the fire escape, she went until her feet touched the ground.

She approached the dumpster, cautious in case it happened to be a kraangified child. Years of rescues taught her that they seemed to just wallow and cry until they perished, consumed by the alien flesh. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. She hated seeing that more than anything. Something about kids being transformed into something they couldn’t even sustain felt like being stabbed in the heart.

Her brownie troop, all calling out for her. Where was she? They needed her.

The lid opened easily enough. No new grime encrusted its sides since people didn’t use outdoor trash bins anymore. Too exposed. Too risky. Plus, the smell of garbage usually caught the kraangified’s attention, bringing them to its source like bloodhounds.

Once open, though, the dumpster released the pungent odor of a rotting corpse. Casey thanked her paranoia for once since her mask, when engaged, minimized most scents due to its filtration system. She peered inside and saw a dead woman staring back at her, gaze unwavering. The woman seemed calm, almost like she made peace with her untimely demise. Her cheeks were gaunt, any visible skin stretched taut over her bones. Her eyes, sunken in their sockets, bore holes into Casey. She broke contact first and looked down at the woman’s midsection.

There in her hands, impossibly small and sickly pale, laid a baby, its hair ruffled up from resting against its mother’s chest. It didn’t seem to have much baby fat which was unsurprising. What with the state of the world and all. But its eyes, too big for an older kid, pointed to the fact that it couldn't be older than two years. That’s when Casey realized the other scent hanging in the air–shit.

Oh. Donnie owed her big time for this.

Casey had about as much knowledge about children as Dr. Delicate Touch knew about feelings. Which meant absolute jack shit. But, one thing she could surmise from what she knew about apocalyptic landscapes was that they would have company soon. There was no question that she could make it out of there before enemies arrived but what of the kid?

She glanced at the baby whose tiny fist clenched its mother’s shirt like a lifeline. Reaching out for it, the baby turned away. It made another noise, louder this time. First smell, now sound–the kid couldn’t help its case. Casey grabbed the baby from the woman’s hands, prying its fist open. It had a tough grip for a baby. It whined at her, kicking its tiny legs and smacking down its little fists onto her arm as she set it on the ground.

Casey looked around for something to clean the kid. Its mother’s clothes were out of the question. She could practically hear Leo shouting at her about the high bacteria content in unwashed clothes and the rate of infection. That also ruled out the cloth scraps covering the kid. That only left…

Oh, ho ho. Donnie owed her so much.

Trying not to think about it too hard–because if she did, she’d start cussing and more noise was the last thing they needed–Casey removed her sash. It wasn’t ideal. Hell, none of this was ideal. Children were hard to keep around in the apocalypse. Small and defenseless and weak–

Casey found her brownie troop, well-versed in combat enough to take on O’Neil, strewn about Fifth Avenue. Their weapons still clutched in white-knuckled grasps, eyes wide open. Watching.

She discarded the soiled sash and picked up the kid who still fought against her. Her HUD alerted her of enemies slowly making their way toward her location. More pop-ups appeared as she docked her weapon. Donnie’s voice kept saying it was a bad idea to put away her weapon when in pursuit. She dismissed his A.I. The kid kept hitting her chest but she just pressed it closer to her side, holding its bottom so it wouldn’t slip off, and ran.

...

Raph always waited for Casey whenever she went on missions. Call it devotion, call it stupidity, but he felt unsteady without her beside him. In recent years, she was the only one who got to see him laidback, at ease–or, as much calm as they were allowed in post-invasion New York City. Around his brothers and the other members of the resistance, Raph tried to keep up appearances. He knew they needed someone dependable to lead them. To keep them hidden, safe, alive.

So he was sterner than he was in his youth, quieter. Leo once joked that he seemed more like Dad than the rest of them. Raph didn’t know how to feel about it. They lost their father during the invasion and the mere mention of him, even years later, still reopened the wound he desperately kept bandaged up, away from view. Leo hadn’t mentioned the resemblance since then.

Before New York City fell, whenever Raph felt stir-crazy, he would run around until he was so out of breath he had to stop. But now he couldn’t go outside. For their safety, regular outside access was prohibited to anyone who wasn’t fast enough to outrun enemies. That left Casey and Leo free from the ban and Raph stuck inside unless a mission called for his muscle.

It wasn’t like he had anything else to do either. Helping out the injured was the most time-consuming option but his hands were too large to wield precision equipment necessary for surgery which meant he couldn’t help Leo in the medbay. Donnie assisted Leo during medical rushes anyway so Raph stuck to tending superficial wounds.

All that work ended the day before and left Raph bored. No one told him that aside from being absolutely devastating, the apocalypse would be boring. There was only so much to do inside a shallow cave system. After about ten laps around each room, someone usually told him he’d dig a path straight through the rocky floor.

He was considering asking Leo to show him a magic trick when he heard the familiar sounds of Casey cursing. A big smile wormed its way onto his face until he remembered his best friend only cursed upon returning home because they were in trouble. Raph readied his sai. He crept toward the entrance and leaped out, ready to cause hell.

Casey stared at him like he suddenly grew two heads, her arms stretched away from her body. They kept a kicking toddler from hitting her. She scowled at the poor baby, hissing out something that sounded like a curse.

“Case!” Raph exclaimed, cutting her off.

She gave him a look. One that read, “You have no idea what hell I just went through.”

Leo chose that moment to show up from the medbay, hands dripping in water. “Ugh, guys. Who moved the towels?” He looked at Casey and Raph, then the kid. “Huh.” He tilted his head. “What. Is that a baby?”

“No, Blue. It’s a fucking blimp–of course, it’s a baby!” Casey shouted.

The baby stopped moving at Casey’s tone. Their face scrunched up, turning red as fat tears rolled down their cheeks. Casey brought them to her hip so she could cover her ears as the baby started wailing.

“Make it stop!”

Raph rushed to her side, taking the baby away. “They’re not an ‘it’, Case.” He rocked the baby back and forth in his arms, pressing them against his plastron.

A combination of the gentle motion and Raph’s soft cooing forced the baby’s cries to trail off. They looked up at him, big eyes staring at him. They seemed so… small. Especially in Raph’s embrace. He brought a big hand to their face and wiped away their tears. Their fingers grasping his surprised him. They had a strong grip for a baby.

Leo joined him in looking at the baby. “Where’d you find the squirt?”

“Only thing alive I found on my mission,” Casey huffed. Her arms crossed over her chest. It drew Raph’s attention to her midsection where her sash was notably missing. “It was hiding in a dumpster with its mother. Probably waiting for help.”

“Waiting for her,” was left unsaid but Raph knew what she meant. He understood her better than anyone. Her insecurities, her faults.

Casey cried herself to sleep in his arms, begging for her troop to be spared.

Raph walked over to her and gave her the baby. He fixed her arms so she held them securely, cradling their head. With the gentle touches and possibly because they were tuckered from everything that happened, the baby began nodding off. They blinked slowly, head dipping forward so their face pressed against Casey’s collarbone. Raph nudged them so they were more comfortably arranged and smiled.

“You saved them, though. That’s good enough in my book,” he said.

You’re good. You did good.

Leo looked between them. His gaze left a prickly feeling on Raph’s skin but he ignored it. Casey didn’t bother looking up. Her gaze was fixed on the baby in her arms. Proof of what she accomplished. All the answer in this blight of a world that she did something worthwhile.

“Serviceable,” she said, sniffing.

It read, “You can’t touch me.” Unmistakably Casey Jones’ tone of complete indifference. Raph knew better. She was his best friend, after all.

I love you. I love you.

Next Chapter

Art by @fanficmaniatic

#quinn i swear you dont have to reblog this one i just wanna get this in the show's tag #anyways hi rottmnt fandom are you sick of me yet? well you will be :] #yes im still promoting my in progress multi-chapter fic if i stop i'll scream #its the doomed team's trauma and love for junior explained fic that no one asked for!!! #i originally set out for this to be junior centric but now it feels like a spotlight for the team's trauma caused by the invasion #but hey if you like this (and my other writings) please consider reblogging this post and leaving a comment on my fic i truly appreciate it #rottmnt #tmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt fic #tmnt fic #rise casey jones #rise casey jones jr #rise raph #rise leo #junior and his totally normal parents #my writing #anyone new to my blog hii im soundwavemain and i call rottmnt movie casey junior because the ORIGINAL rottmmt casey is cassandra jones #rise cassandra jones #sorry Karday i gotta tag you bestie #tcest dni #<- i will fucking block you get away from me

[risingsunresistance]

man idk there's so much to say on the like/reblog thing but i think the main point i feel strongly about is like. please consider that artists dont owe you anything unless you're literally paying them. they could decide tomorrow that they're tired of posting and leaving

if you have an artist you enjoy but you're never sharing their posts, consider why. maybe take a second to remind them that ppl enjoy their stuff, even if it's just by reblogging it or maybe just leaving a reply. maybe even send them an ask if that's something you'd rather do. doesnt boost their posts, but it still gives feedback. i just think feedback is a pretty big motivator even on the smallest posts ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#this isnt me ASKING for replies/asks btw. just an observation in my like 5+ years being here #i have plenty of tags n such to look back on. im good :P #idk ive always cared more about feedback than the actual sharing aspect of reblogs #maybe it's bc im not an ''artist'' tho. just a guy doing this for fun. not working towards growth or doing studies or anything #one fun comment on a skyblock post with 30 notes means so much more to me than a wordless reblog on a 4k note post #i'll think about it for hours. i'll show ny friends. i'll repost it to priv and share with them jdhdh #i save those bc i love KNOWING that someone enjoyed what i made. a reblog doesnt tell me anything #some ppl reblog out of obligation and i always worry abt that when no one is replying in any way #20 reblogs and no tags... did i do something wrong? #idk. something something please communicate to the people you fare abour bc kindness goes a long way #it's not necessary. no one is making you leave comments. no one is making you reblog at all #but just consider how much it can mean to ppl. if you care abour them let them know ya know #chat #not rebloggable just bc i dont want ppl telling me im attention seeking lol

[inkburnt]

Ode to Innocence

Chapter 12: Growing Pains

Fandom: Devil May Cry Mature // Gen // Complete // Chapters: 12/16 // Words: 103,480 Characters: V, Griffon, Shadow, Nightmare, Malphas, original characters Warning(s): Graphic depictions of violence Additional tags: V is not part of Vergil, V’s name is Vitale, witch V, origin story, childhood, coming of age, canon-typical violence, character death, loss of parent(s), sorcery, witchcraft, witches’ coven, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced emotional manipulation, sexual harassment, attempted sexual assault, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, found family AU info  //  Series on AO3

Masterlist

#devil may cry #dmc fanfiction #dmc5 #dmc5 v #dmc v #v dmc5 #v dmc #V is not Vergil #universe: Vita Vitale #fic: Ode to Innocence #Our boy's growing up and moving ahead. ;u; #V's learning to become goal-focused; dedicated; responsible; and it has me crying. #Because he's sacrificing personal things (like self-esteem) for the sake of surviving. #For the sake of being independent and self-reliant and sparing other people the burden HE presents. #Sorry I'm going off omg. #Anyway: If you're enjoying the read then please consider leaving a comment! #Feedback lets me know how I'm doing! ovo #Reblogs help me reach other potential readers too!