#And when you do crawl out you'll still be missing your heart and have to fight off two demons

[john-dracena]

wait you guys thought Owen was a coward for not transitioning and that that fear was not completely understandable, relatable, and something deserving of more empathy and care?

did we like, watch the same movie/final scene specifically

[phantasmique]

Synopsis: You're pregnant by the King of Curses, but as violent as he is, there might just be some gentleness beneath it all.

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism; a tiny, tiny dash of blink-and-you'll-miss-it spice; murder (it's sukuna).

Part two.

There were many things to consider as a consort to the King of Curses. His proclivity for violence, his cold indifference towards humanity. He's crushed thousands of lives beneath the palms of his hands, spilt blood and sliced flesh beneath his talons simply because the urge had struck him. He's cut down women just like you, for something as simple as breathing too loudly.

It hardly comes as a surprise whenever you wake in the morning, long before the sun has crested past the horizon in shades of gold and lilac, only to learn that another one of your fellow concubines has fallen to your lord's ire. Slain for reasons that you have longed since elected to ignore. They mattered little in grand scheme of things, and they often came down to small, tedious motives: She took too long to respond to one of his questions, she stuttered when she responded to him, she gazed at him for too long without permission.

You've learned long ago not to care. You've snuffed that part of yourself out. Crushed it underfoot as easily as one would do to a troublesome insect. Empathy will not ensure your survival in the King of Curses courts, and you've done well to persist after all of these years.

To nod when expected, to keep your eyes leveled to the floor unless ordered otherwise, to speak only when spoken to even while the urge to berate him burns at the tip of your tongue like something molten. A hot ember in your mouth, but you refuse to spit it out.

You learned how to read him. To see the subtle ticks and expressions that would show on his face, using them as a guide for his fickle moods. You knew your place. You knew how to survive. And as exhausting as it was, it was manageable. All was well, until it wasn't.

❃ "You're pregnant." It was clipped, blunt, detached. Said so candidly, as though he hadn't said something that had your heart plummeting down into the pit of your stomach like a stone. You had looked up at him then, wide eyed and openly gawking from your place posted at his feet with something like a scoff threating to spill past your lips. Your mind had scrambled, crawling for an explanation, longing for an answer.

That isn't possible. Curses aren't capable of reproducing. You know that he was human once, a long time ago, but that bit of his humanity must have long since perished. Right?

Pregnant. That shouldn't be achievable for you to produce a child with a curse. That had been a small shred of peace, a truth that you had clung to. That you had kept close to your chest, knowing that regardless of how many times he'll take you, carving a place in you for his pleasure, that you'd never have to bear his heir.

You do love your lord, in a twisted sort of way. He isn't merciful, or kind in any capacity. The brutal, corrupt entity that he is. But he does provide a safety that you might not otherwise had, a home and leniency towards your village that others have not been afforded; thus, a grace extended to your family.

Still . . . someone like Sukuna as a father. Was he even capable of such a thing?

It's true that your time of the months was late, but that had been easy to excuse. Your monthly blood had been overdue before. Delayed by stress and anxiety. And with Sukuna as a lover, you would not dare to sleep with another man. Not that you'd want to, anyway.

But surely he was lying. That wasn't possible. You couldn't be pregnant. Not by a curse. Not by him.

Your mouth had opened, lips parting to speak. To gasp or to deny his claim you weren't sure, but he had silenced you before you could even attempt to force a word out. Lazily lifting a single hand while all four of his eyes slipped down to settle on you, glaring red and piercing in the dark of the shrine.

"I wasn't a question." His nose twitched just the slightest, as though he's caught the scent of something odd, but you were certain the there was a smile nudging at the corners of his lips. As though some part of him was pleased.

Your voice was snagged. Dead in your throat. You had to draw in a tight, shaky breath to even attempt to form a sentence. "That's not pos-"

"I can smell it on you." He answered. Still lounging on his throne. Undisturbed while your world crumbled. " It's practically wafting from your pores. Make no mistake woman, you're carrying my heir."

❃ You had expected a swift death after that. There was no way that the King of Curses would ever entertain the notion of a lowly human bearing his offspring. Tainting his blood line. But the killing blow never came. It nearly made your unease worse. You aren't ignorant to his diet. His taste for human flesh. For the blood of women and children. It made you feel like a pig for slaughter. Meat being preserved for a feast. You've always been a prisoner here, a slave to his wiles, but now you were an animal, a brood mare. You've only ever had to try and save your own skin. To worry for your own life, but now you weren't afforded the luxury of selfishness. You had an unborn life growing in your belly and it had terrified you.

❃ But instead of shunning you, Lord Sukuna was showering you with a sense of possessiveness that you have never experienced from him before. Sure, you were used to the marks. The blotches of plum and blue and crimson that he would scatter along the flesh of your neck and breasts, the tender pink lines that he would mar along your skin, branding your hips and thighs from his talons. But his greed extended little beyond that. You were free to wander the courtyard with the other courtesans at your side. Small moments of serenity that you were all given in between your duties. Free to gossip, and read, or nap beneath the Sakura and plum trees; admiring the petals as they fall and glide across the currents. Carried off far past the shrine walls.

Sometimes, you'd imagine that those petals were you.

Now those small blessings are a peace that you are no longer extended. Guards now follow your every move. Stalking behind you closely like shadows. Silent, constant, and close. Always looming. Always there by Sukuna's decree to monitor and scrutinize you.

❃ You were no longer ordered to sit along the steps, posted at his feet like a loyal dog. He had you perched on his lap instead. Cradled on his thighs. Constantly gripped by at least one of his hands in some compacity. He had become keen on holding a palm to your stomach whether he fully realized it or not. Keeping it flat on your abdomen as though he was shielding your unborn child from the world, with the massive height of his body pinned along your back. Keeping you clutched to his chest as he was waiting for a threat to try and snatch you from him.

He'd keep you there for hours, seated between his massive thighs while peasants and aristocrats alike would get on their knees at the base of the throne's steps, bowing on their knees and begging for mercy and exemption from his slaughter. All while you were in something that was suspiciously close to an embrace. Not that you would voice such a thing to him. Not even with the safety of carrying his child offering some sort of immunity. Not at the risk of invoking his anger. But with how tightly he kept you secured in his arms, his chin raised over the crown of your head, there was little else to call it. And you loathed how much you were beginning to find comfort in it.

❃ Of course, he'd always find ways to shatter that sense of delicate security, whether or not he truly meant to. Namely when he had a servant executed. All because the young man had paid you too much attention; foolishly asking you if you needed any assistance navigating the gardens given your "delicate condition" as he had put it, offering his hand for you to take in the means to help you in your steps. All it had taken was for his fingertips to brush along yours.

In second he was there. Living, breathing, rosy cheeks and a kind smile. And then red. A crest of blood fanning out from his neck. And those gentle eyes. A brief flicker of life in them, and then dull. Muted like a set of worn marbles.

His severed head met stone with a heavy thud, rolling and rolling softly until its traction was halted by grass and moss. His body followed only moments later. No longer held up by spirit and blood, it gave beneath its own weight; knees buckling to collapse like a felled tree.

Despite the balmy nature of the breeze, gentle and humid, you felt frozen. As though your veins had been rushed with chilled water. You couldn't breathe as you stared at his body, disconnected and lifeless like a child's toy that's been carelessly broken and discarded.

"Pathetic vermin. He should know better than to touch things that don't belong to him." His shadow stretched over you then, eclipsing you from the light as the moon does the sun. His cursed energy prickled over your skin, seeping past the barrier of your garments to brush over your flesh, locking your limbs in place.

"A simple warning would have sufficed," you mumbled. Forcing your words out past the heavy feeling of your tongue. They feel broken and hushed all at once, but you can't stop looking at the way the rich maroon seeps out across the fresh green of the lawn, mixing with the morning dew.

His voice slips out into your ears then, a low rumble, possessive and unyielding. "I don't do second chances."

❃ You could hardly call a being like Sukuna soft. He was all hard edges. Harsh. From his brash, unyielding attitude to the rigid planes of his body. Taut muscles and serrated talons. Violent teeth that were honed to tear through flesh and snap bone, but it was undeniable that something in him had relented. Turned malleable by the sight of the bump peeking out from the layers of your skirts. Not quite tame, but . . . tolerable.

❃ He had requested - ordered - that you sleep with him in his quarters from that point onward. A command that split through the haze in your skull like the snapping of a neck.

Your brain was still cloudy. Fogged over and drawn blank by an intoxicated thrum, limbs lax and exhausted after he had drawn orgasm after orgasm from your body. Tipping you over the edge and under a rush of pleasure with a sadistic kind of delight; a sharp, wolfish smile had been split across his face.

The mere idea of getting up from your place on his bed and shuffling your way back to your sleeping quarters on wobbling legs, smeared with cum and sweat had seemed horrendous, but you knew what was expected of you. It had been muscle memory when you nudged your body up from the bedding, slipping your legs over the edge as you scanned the floor for your tattered jūnihitoe; ripped and torn in his fervor to have you naked. Discarded somewhere carelessly.

Then a hand was gripping you. Holding you tightly by the nape of your neck as one would scruff an untoward cat. It had a cold dose of fear skirting beneath your flesh, shivering down your spine and locking you in place as easily as the grip on your neck.

"You're to sleep here from now on."

It was firm. Final. No room for you to argue. And you didn't.

❃ It's lead you to an unexpected discovery. The King of Curses can purr. You had hardly believed it when you first heard it. A low, repetitive hum that had roused you from your sleep in the night. A guttural noise right beneath your ear, breaking periodically in between the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It had caught you entirely off guard. So much so, that in the moment, you assumed you were imagining it. A hallucination brought on by sleep. But the longer you stayed awake, forcing your eyes to remain open as you lifted your head to stare at the slumbering King of Curses, it was unmistakable - he was purring.

Like a kitten would. A soft, gentle sound that juxtaposed horrendously with an entity like him. It nearly made you laugh, but you had just enough wit and self-restraint to contain the sound before it could bubble up to the surface.

You aren't certain how long you had remained that way. Slightly propping yourself up to admire him in the dark, tracing over his face as the light of the moon poured into the room, painting over his skin in hues of blue and soft white; painted by the night.

His scowl softens in his sleep. The furrow between his brows fading into something placid, that arrogant grin - more of a snarl, really - now neutral. He almost looks harmless in moments like these. No glinting teeth or glaring, burning eyes. It's here that you can imagine that he isn't a possible threat. That he won't place you between his fangs and bite until there's nothing over left except for scraps and shards of bone.

❃ He's kind in his own way. A thought that you never once expected yourself to have. Not in regard to him, at least. But he tries, in his own way, to be gentle. When walking with him in the past, you were always expected to trail after him by a few paces, never at his side, but now he makes an effort to guide you at his side. Keeping a hand secured to the small of your back so that you don't fall behind. Now he he's forgone that all together and has taken to totting you around all together as easily as if you were made of feathers and cushion.

It's become a chore to move. Your sense of balance has been altered for the worse, thrown off by the weight of your belly that longs to tip you forward. And the swelling of your feet does little to help, smarting and uncomfortable. You're a stranger in your own skin. Sluggish, as though you've been packed in tight and tugged down by stones.

He's rushed you before in the past, glaring down at you from over his shoulder without a shred of sympathy. He appeared as though he was possibly considering in finally smiting you down, inconvenienced by your lumbering as you willed yourself to follow after him down the corridor in a sluggish waddle.

"Walk any slower and you'll truly be testing my patience."

On any other occasion you could have brushed it off. Ignored it as simply as the other comments he's made at you before, but your ability to control your temper has become poor as of late. Turned brittle and weak by the changes in your body. It's made your tongue loose and sharp, and without thinking you had snapped:

"My apologies for my current state, my lord, but this is just as much your doing as it is mine. So unless you intent to assist me, I suggest keeping your comments to yourself."

As soon as you blurted it out and registered the sound of your own voice, you fully expected to have you head struck clean from your shoulders. You always imagined that the last thing you ever see would be the carmine flash of his eyes before your vision went dark.

His eyes are indeed on you. Still observing you from over his shoulder. They narrow, thinning down into a familiar scowl, and you're certain that this is the end of line for you. It's fallen silent. The world drawn to a hush as you count down the seconds till your death. It's involuntary when your hands drift down to cover your stomach, fingernails clinging at the silk as though it might possibly protect your child.

But the killing blow never comes.

"You're a testy thing today. I'll ignore it - just this once." The rumble of his voice is the only warning you get before he's shifting on his feet to face you. A pair of hands fasten around your hips, a single strong arm slipping around to support your spine as you're suddenly lifted from the ground to be held to his chest. It happens so suddenly that it nearly disorients you. A complaint rises up from your chest, but as soon as you register the relief that melts over your feet at the absence of carrying your weight, it has you falling silent. Settling to sit complacent, and at ease in his hold.

❃ He's come to tolerate your defiance. No doubt pardoning you because of the heir you carry. But there were many instances where he would not relent, no matter how stubbornly you tried to remain in your opinions. Namely in regard to the denial of indulging in a very particular craving.

Initially you had thought nothing of it when Masami had tripped. Somehow stumbling on her skirts and collapsing down onto her knees in a nasty fall. You had rushed to her as quickly as you could, some of the other girls following in suit to crowd around her.

She had raised her hands then, facing them up towards her face so that she could inspect the skinned flesh there. Inflamed pink and riddled with small red abrasions that marred the heels of her palms.

Small wounds in the grand scheme of things. Something that you yourself have obtained throughout the years, but not once has the sight of it achieved such a response. You're certain that you could smell the blood beading past the parting of the skin. It wasn't a scent that you've learned to associate with blood, all pungent and iron. This was pleasant. It was rich, enticing, melting along the summer air like something buttered and warm. It made your mouth water. Suddenly your stomach was too hollow. Famished.

Your focus narrowed down, and you couldn't help but to admire how the sunlight glinted delicately along the red. Glittering faintly like flecks of gold on the seeds of a pomegranate. You wondered then, what it would taste like to run your tongue along her palm. To have the blood spread into your mouth.

It wasn't until someone said your name, loud and sharp, that snapped out of your daze. Jerking in place as though you had been stung. It wasn't until you met Masami's stare, her eyes wide and a little panicked that you realized that you had been staring. Focused intently on her wounded hands with the same hunger of a dog eyeing a slab of meat.

Sukuna had found out, of course. He had eyes and ears everywhere, shadows tucked into every corner; and no matter how quietly one might whisper in the amongst themselves, he always manages to hear.

He had shocked you honestly, when he had taken to approaching you about the topic rather than opting have Uraume slip human flesh into your meals. Still, you had refused. This was something that you could not possibly get yourself to budge on. The thought of it made you nauseous, it had your stomach turning despite the hunger pinching at your gut.

Reduced to a complete stranger in your body as the child in your womb altered it into something unrecognizable. Riddling it with twisted urges that made you want to run away from yourself. Haunting you with a hunger that would keep you awake at night, fantasizing about a craving that should make you fall ill. That should have you trembling with dread, and yet your mouth would only water at the thought.

The stare that he had leveled you with unamused. Arresting as it fixed you in place and forced you to still. As motionless as a statue as he looked down his nose at you, all four of his eyes latched onto your form in glints of searing red; a glint of fangs showing past his curled lips.

"Do not forget that it is my child you're carrying. Denying your hunger is only prolonging the inevitable. You'll cave eventually."

And he was correct. He typically dines alone, but since your pregnancy he's taken to having you accompany him for his meals. He had respected your demand that you were only served human food. Though you never missed the almost arrogant way that he would observe you as you plucked rice into your mouth. Like he was relishing in yourself induced suffering. Like he was waiting for you to break. The curiosity in his eyes always present, but like a challenge you tried you hardest not pay attention to the scent of cooked flesh permeating around the dinner table.

Try as you might it wasn't long until you had all but stolen a cut of meat from his meal, cooked rare and bleeding. And like some sort of ravenous animal, you had scoffed it down, clutching it with trembling fingers that shoved it in your mouth quicker than you could fully chew. Unable to pay your guilt, or the delighted expression on his face any mind as the famished pit in your gut finally felt something close to relief.

❃ As much as you love your child, there are times where it's already begun to display too many shared characteristics with their father. Namely the ability to disturb you and ruin your sleep. They get restless in the night; like clockwork, tossing and turning in your belly and battering the inside of your stomach with a near constant stream of kicks.

They weren't even born yet, and already they seemed to be throwing a tantrum. Pitching a fit as though they were demanding to be released.

It would force you awake, keeping your eyes wide open while sleep stung at them, weighing them down with the temptation to slip closed. But as soon as you would begin to nod off, it's as though the baby in your womb knew, and they'd make sure to punish you with a harsh nudge of their little foot. It's a wonder how something so small can deliver such a harsh strike. Enough to have you wincing; the air hissing sharply through your teeth while you glare up ceiling like you might find salvation in the shadows settled there.

"Are you determined to interrupt my sleep, woman? Why do you keep whining and huffing?"

As enticing as you usually find the sound of his voice, the sudden sound of it rumbling across the quiet is only grating. Your annoyance flaring, worn thin by the bout of kicking that's being delivered to the tender stretch of your stomach.

It had your voice cracking out with equal irritation. Unrestrained in your ire. "That's because your child won't stop kicking at me."

You can't stop yourself from turning your head over to glare at him, meeting his scowl, finding the intense red of his eyes in the dark.

"How annoying." He grumbles, face pinching into a peeved grimace. It makes you tempted to try and climb up from the bedding and leave his quarters all together. Perhaps you could take a walk around the estate until the baby settles. Sometimes if you speak to it, or hum lowly in those old lullabies your own mother had sang to you as a child, they calm down. Soothed by the sound of your voice.

It's as though Sukuna can sense your intent, and in a blur, he's gripping you by the torso to tug you up to his chest in a grip that's uncharacteristically gentle. Nestling you against his body as though you could possibly break.

He's done it before and yet it always manages to shock you into silence. To have you fall quiet and motionless lest you break whatever spell has fallen over him.

It makes you wonder if this is what it would feel like to be a rabbit drawn in to slumber with a wolf. Nestled against its fur, expecting a flash of snarling, drooling teeth, but only finding comfort and warmth instead.

"Troublesome, aren't you?"

There's the desire to retort. To give some sort of scathing remark in defense of yourself. To remind him that the child in your belly is very much his doing just as much as it is yours. Then one of his hands is slipping across the swell of your stomach, smoothing over the skin in a gesture that should be too soft for a man like him.

Using the same hands that are covered in blood from slaying thousands, sorcerers, men, women, and children, to cradle where your child rests. It clicks then that he isn't talking to you.

You dare to glance up at him, and it quickly confirms that his attentions are pinned down on your stomach. The expression on his face is tired, exasperated, but you swear that you can see something almost tender melting at the irritation there.

You wince when the baby lands another kick just beneath your belly button, directly where Sukuna's palm sits, as though they can feel the pressure of it.

"Restless, are you?" He muses, caressing his thumb along the bump. "There's plenty of time for all of that later. There will be many a sorcerer for you to torment once you're older, but for now it's time to rest. Let your mother sleep."

It's so conversational, the way he speaks to them. Talking as though they might possibly answer, and with how strange a being like Sukuna is, you truly wouldn't be surprised if he revealed to you that he could communicate with your unborn child in some manner.

You can feel the baby shifting, some part of its body brushing against your stomach as it moves. And act of defiance possibly, and you half expect to receive the sting of another kick, but it never comes.

You're practically holding your breath as you await another strike, yet there's nothing. Only calm. Only the dim sound of your steady breathing and the soothing hush that's fallen over the dark of the room.

Finally, there's peace. The warmth of Sukuna's body seeping into your back like the steam of a hot bath and just as easily it has your limbs unwinding. The weight of sleep engulfing your body, causing your eyes to fall heavy, the lure to slip shut falling over you like the comfort of a blanket.

His voice purrs out then, low and hushed, thrumming along your shoulders while he whispers a delicate command.

"Sleep."

But that time, you're certain he was speaking to you.

[navybrat817]

why is Thunderbolts Bucky so 🥵🥵🥵 please eat me up

I agree, nonnie!

Eat You Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky comes home after a mission and wastes no time making up for the time apart.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Established relationship, oral sex (f. receiving), light dirty talk, mention of cockwarming, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I was inspired. 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!

“Just landed. Safe and sound. Tough mission, but successful. Missed you. Be home soon.”

You reread the message, your heart rate picking up. Bucky had been away on a mission for a few days and couldn't reach out much. God, you missed him so much. Knowing now that your man would be home soon where he belonged, you let out a breath of relief and smiled.

You rushed to your bedroom and wasted no time getting ready for his arrival. The message was to the point: He was safe and sound, no injuries, and a tough mission meant he’d need some stress relief. Why not let him play with the person he missed most?

Your heart raced when you heard the footsteps outside of the bedroom door, waiting in anticipation in the middle of the bed. In a few moments, you two would reconnect. Being without him in your home for a few days left you longing. You missed his smile. His dry humor. The sight of him reading a book in his favorite chair. You missed all of him.

Bucky slowly pushed the door open, and you lost your breath when he met your gaze. The heat in the room spiked, but you shivered, your body suddenly feeling cold after days without his touch. His massive build took up most of the doorframe and he was still in his black tactical gear, a fingerless glove covering his right hand. Your beautiful soldier looked like he was still on a mission, his shoulders tight and jaw clenched.

And you didn't have a stitch of clothing on, your legs open and ready for him to do whatever he wanted.

His eyes darkened as they scanned your body, his breathing ragged. Whether it was from the mission or the relief of being back with you, the tension thickened in the air. His gaze paused at the juncture between your legs, his breath catching as he took in the sight of you, before he growled, “Look at you. Such a sight to come home to.” Stepping forward, his voice thick with desire, he added, “I could just eat you up.”

The room seemed to shrink as he stepped closer. His eyes never left you as he closed the distance, his gaze filled with adoration and hunger, his presence overwhelming. Everything about him was overwhelming in the best possible way. Your heart raced as he crawled on the bed, but you didn’t flinch. You were ready for him.

“If that's what you need, Sergeant,” you breathed, a teasing challenge in your smile. He exhaled sharply as you slid a hand down your torso, his chest rising and falling faster, as if he was holding himself back from taking you right then and there. “Then you'll get it.”

You could handle whatever he craved... and more. Maybe you'd make him beg for it for once the way you begged so many times before. No. You wouldn't be cruel enough to make him beg. At least not tonight. Not when you both needed it.

“Trying to touch what’s mine?” He grabbed your wrist before your fingers could reach home, your skin warm under his gentle grip. He was one of the most powerful men you knew, someone with enough strength to rip you in half if he wished, but he would never use his strength to hurt you. “You miss me?” The ache in his voice was more than desire. It was longing.

“I won't touch. It’s all yours.” Your chest tightened when he released your wrist, your eyes suddenly burning with unshed tears, your hands itching to feel his body and know for certain he was really there with you. “I always miss you when you're gone.”

You didn't like eating meals alone now since you had come to expect easy and tough conversations as the two of you moved around the kitchen and sat at the table. You enjoyed exploring your surroundings together, but craved nights cuddled up together on the couch as the television played in the background. Building a home with the ex-assassin was a dream come true.

He hovered over you and tilted your chin, giving you a second to take a breath, before he leaned down and claimed your mouth in a feverish kiss. The ferocity made you gasp, your arms wrapping around him to hold him close. Your nipples brushed against his shirt as you deepened the kiss, desperate and needy. The kiss was a promise, expressing everything you wanted to say before the night was over.

That you loved him, that he was all you needed, that your house was a home because he was back with you.

His hair fell in his face as he broke the kiss and moved his gloved hand between your legs. You mewled when he teased your slit, his stare as seductive as his touch. You rolled your hips up, seeking out more friction, wanting him to make good on his promise to eat you up.

“I missed you,” he whispered, gliding down your body with the grace of a large cat. The muscles in his back rippled as his shoulders spread you open for him, your hands gripping the sheets to keep you from grinding against his face. “And I missed this. Your taste. Your smell. Your sounds.”

You whimpered when his nose brushed your clit. “Bucky, please,” you begged, his hands taking hold of your hips and digging in. And here you thought neither of you would beg tonight.

But Bucky Barnes wasn't a heartless man. He showed mercy when he had to, which was why he took pity and licked a stripe up your pussy with a groan. Flames spread along your body as you threw your head back and moved your hands to grip his hair. He ate pussy skillfully, effortlessly, and all you could do was hold on and ride out the waves of ecstasy.

“Good girl. So beautiful. And all mine,” he murmured before he shoved his tongue inside your hole, your eyes rolling back and mouth parting. Your super soldier had his head buried between your legs like he never wanted to leave.

“I… Oh, fuck!” you cried, his gloved hand reaching up to toy with your breast. His fingers teased your nipple, his metal thumb rubbing your clit, and you couldn't stop yourself from pushing your hips closer. You had no shame in humping his face as his tongue moved along your sensitive walls, his beard leaving the most delicious burn with each movement.

And if you smothered your lover with your cunt tonight, he’d proudly saunter up to the gates of whatever heaven you sent him to with a smile.

He pulled his tongue out, his mouth sucking on the swollen bundle of nerves as your thighs trembled. You lifted your head high enough to catch the feral look in his eyes. Pleasure climbed within you so quickly it left you dizzy. “Such a pretty pussy. Should write poems about it.”

“Oh, God,” you moaned, your head falling back again, heat filling your body.

“My name,” he growled, pushing two metal fingers into your wetness and pumping fast, knowing you wouldn't last much longer. You were right on the edge, ready to fall. He’d be there to catch you. “Say my name when you come.”

You didn't say his name as his tongue entered you once more. You shouted it, chanted it like a prayer, and soaked his mouth with your juices. He moaned as you fluttered around his tongue, and he continued to lap at you, trying to drink down every drop. He swept you up in waves of bliss and you were lucky you didn't drown.

Sparks still burst behind your eyes as he sat back to admire his work, making you clench around nothing as he licked his lips. You held out your arms with a whine, needing him close once again as you came back to yourself. He stretched out on top of you and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, your essence lingering on his. Your hands roamed where they could reach and it sent a thrill through you when he moaned.

“Hi,” he whispered after a moment, smiling and making your heart pound all over again.

“Hi,” you sighed, shutting your eyes and smiling, too, when he kissed each eyelid. You were lucky enough to witness this soft side of him, trusted enough for him to be vulnerable.

“You okay?” He kissed your forehead this time.

“Better than okay. You’re home,” you replied, breathing him in before you opened your eyes. Your heart stopped momentarily under his soft gaze. “Are you okay?”

He was the one out there fighting to keep the world safe. Not only that, he still fought the demons of his past from time to time. It wasn't fair, but you were there to help as you could.

“I’m good, doll. I’m home. Everything I need is right here,” he said, rocking his hips. You moaned when you felt how hard he was through his pants. He deserved to feel good. “And we have some lost time to make up for, so no falling asleep on me.”

“Lost time? It was only a few days,” you teased, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear when he huffed.

“A few days too many,” he said, not teasing at all as he leaned up to unbuckle his belt. “Drives me crazy being apart from you.” He would never leave you if he didn't have to.

“I know. I was just teasing. We can make up for every second you were away,” you assured him, knowing he wasn't done with you tonight by a long shot. You were fine with that since you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you. “Bucky?”

He paused before he could push his pants down. “Yeah, doll?”

You traced a heart on his forehead, wanting to erase the pain he endured and replace it with only good things. “I love you.”

He blinked the mist from his eyes and leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you, too.”

When you finally fell asleep the following morning with his cock buried deep inside you, he whispered again that he loved you and that he couldn't wait to eat you up all over again once you woke up.

That's two back-to-back Bucky fics in a little over 29 hours from me with him being in love and not afraid to eat you like his last meal. 😂 Are you lovelies sick of me by now? I hope not. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[latin5mamii]

warm.

warnings: long chapter but i think you like them

genre: fluff, cuddle session

summary:A cuddle session with your needy boyfriend is just more than enough.

author's note:I know i've been inactive these days but with school and everything it's just impossible😔...but here you go this fluffy and comforting one -shot that i hope you'll like! If you have any other fluff idea about Jude or any other player that i write for please let me know!🤍 ( i need to write fluff these days...)Plus please don't ask about the third pic please...

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“C’mere,” Jude murmured, his arms open wide, just for you.

You stood in the doorway, watching him sprawled out on the bed, his head propped up on one arm, the other patting the empty spot beside him. His eyes met yours, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Without a word, you walked over, crawling under the covers next to him. Before you could fully settle in, he was already pulling you close. His arms wrapped snugly around your waist, pulling you against his chest, your legs tangling under the blankets.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, the familiar scent of him immediately soothing.

Jude chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Good, because you’re always cold,” he teased, his fingers tracing slow patterns across your back. “You’re like a little human ice block.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your knee. “Rude.”

“Just being honest,” he said with a grin, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. “But lucky for you, I’m always warm, so it works out.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the kind where no words were needed. His fingers continued their lazy journey along your spine, the rhythm of his breathing steady and soothing.

After a few moments, you felt him shift beneath you, his hand sliding down to your hip as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Missed you today,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

His words were soft, almost like an afterthought, but they made your heart swell. You smiled against his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

“I missed you too,” you murmured back, your voice quiet, almost as if you didn’t want to disturb the peaceful bubble that had formed around the two of you. You shifted a little, resting your head more comfortably against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. It was a rhythm you had grown to love, one that never failed to calm you.

Jude’s arms tightened around you ever so slightly, like he was afraid you might slip away if he didn’t hold on just a little closer. His hand moved up to your hair, fingers threading through the soft strands in gentle strokes. You could feel the quiet affection in his touch—unhurried and patient, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.

You melted at his touch, leaning into him as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, soft and lingering. There was something about the way Jude kissed you, like he had all the time in the world, like nothing else mattered but the moment you were in.

His lips trailed down to your jawline, leaving a series of gentle kisses that made your heart race just a little faster. You sighed contentedly, your fingers slipping into his curls, twirling the soft strands between your fingertips.

“You always do that,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

“Do what?” you whispered back, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“That,” he breathed, his hand sliding down to your hip, his thumb gently tracing circles through the fabric of your shirt. “You play with my hair when you think I’m asleep.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers stilling for a moment before brushing another curl away from his forehead. “I like the way it feels,” you admitted, your voice quiet, almost shy.

Jude hummed, a deep sound of contentment vibrating through his chest. “I like when you do it,” he whispered, his lips brushing the skin just below your jaw. “Feels nice.”

You smiled against his skin, your fingers continuing their gentle motions. Jude’s thumb sketched lazy circles on your hip, and you could feel his breathing slow, as if he was on the edge of falling asleep. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional sigh from him. Your fingers continued their slow dance through his hair, your mind wandering to how easy this felt, being wrapped up in him, his presence always so steady and reassuring.

After a while, Jude’s voice broke the silence again, this time softer, almost like he wasn’t fully awake. “Stay like this… don’t move.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back, leaning in to press a kiss against his collarbone.

He exhaled softly, his arms tightening just a fraction around you, as if he wanted to keep you even closer than you already were. It was in moments like this that you realized how much he craved the quiet, the stillness.

“I mean it,” he murmured after a beat, his voice low and drowsy. “Don’t want to fall asleep if you’re not here.”

You smiled at his words, feeling the warmth in your chest grow even more. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that, but it never failed to tug at your heart. Jude had a way of making the simplest moments feel like they held the entire world. His need for you wasn’t loud or overwhelming, but quiet and steady, like the beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you repeated softly, shifting slightly to tilt your head up to look at him. His eyes were half-closed, his lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks, and his lips were curled into that soft, lazy smile you adored.

He blinked slowly, eyes barely open, but you could still see the glint of affection in them. “Good,” he murmured, his thumb resuming its slow, rhythmic circles on your hip. “Because if you did, I’d have to chase you down.”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest at the thought. “You? Chase someone down? You can barely get out of bed in the morning.”

Jude huffed, his sleepy smile widening into a grin. “I’d chase you for sure. Might take me a while, but I’d get there eventually.”

You giggled, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him with a playful gleam in your eyes. “Oh yeah? How long do you think it’d take you?”

He squinted as if he were seriously considering the question, his fingers still idly tracing patterns along your back. “Depends on how fast you’re running. If you’re sprinting, maybe an hour. If you’re walking, I’d say… ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes? You think I’m that slow?” You gasped in mock offense, gently poking him in the side.

Jude’s body shook with quiet laughter as he caught your hand and pulled it to his chest, keeping it there. “Nah, it’s not that you’re slow, it’s just that I’d be really motivated. I’d catch you quicker than you think.”

“Oh, so you’d be fast for me?” you teased, your smile widening as you watched the way his eyes crinkled at the edges.

“For you? I’d be unstoppable,” he replied with a sleepy confidence, his free hand moving up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Nothing could keep me from catching you.”

You felt a soft blush rise to your cheeks at his words, and you buried your face back into the crook of his neck to hide it. Jude always knew how to say the right thing, even when he was half-asleep. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled into his skin, your lips brushing against his collarbone.

“And you love it,” he teased, his voice low and warm.

You smiled against his neck. “Maybe.”

“Not maybe. Definitely,” he said with a lazy grin, and you could feel the rumble of his laugh in his chest. “You definitely love it.”

You huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Jude had a way of getting under your skin, but in the best possible way. He was right—you did love it. You loved the way he teased you, the way he made you laugh, the way he held you like you were something precious. It was all so easy with him, so natural.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, your voice muffled by his neck.

He chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath your cheek. “I know. That’s why I get away with so much.”

You lifted your head just enough to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so you admit it? You know you get away with stuff?”

Jude gave you an exaggeratedly innocent look, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a grin. “Who, me? I’m an angel.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “An angel, huh? You’re more like a menace.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d wounded him. “A menace? That’s harsh. I’m deeply offended.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled at the sight of him being so playful, so at ease. Moments like this, where it was just the two of you tangled up in each other, teasing and laughing, made you realize how lucky you were to have him. He made everything better, even the quiet moments.

“Okay, fine. You’re not a menace,” you conceded, resting your head back on his chest. “But you’re definitely not an angel either.”

“I’ll take that,” Jude murmured, his hand drifting back to your hair, his fingers resuming their gentle strokes. “As long as you’re here, you can call me whatever you want.”

 You didn’t need to say anything else, didn’t need to fill the silence with more teasing or banter. Just being here with him was enough ,more than enough.

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[hopelessdazai]

✿ 》 Will you talk to me again?

╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; I don't expect this to do well because its not smut but it'd be nice !! reblogs appreciated, support your creators :)

╰⧼ ☀️ features.. ⧽ ; dazai x gn!reader, WC ; 784

╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; angst, reader isn't alive, letter from dazai. he's trying very hard to keep himself stable but it's not working™.

To my dearest ______ .

It's been a while, hasn't it? I hope you don't mind me writing to you like this, it's simply been too long. I'm sure you're still angry at me, so seeing you physically isn't my best interest right now! haha, I'm sorry. you know I'm just joking around, don't you? I'd love to see you in person. I'm sure you would've punched my arm if you heard me out loud right now, wouldn't you? I'm glad I'm spared of the bruises.

what does someone put in a letter? that's what I was asking myself before I even began writing. I decided that the best way to do something like this was to just write whatever I feel true as pen touches paper. I hope it makes sense to you, at the least. if I'm pouring my heart out on some paper only for it to be misunderstood, it feels like a waste, no?

though, i'd be lying if i said it wouldn't be rather cute to see you try to fathom what I mean. did you know you scrunch your nose like a bunny sometimes when you're reading? I'm sure you're doing that now too. you'll get wrinkles very at this rate ..

but anyway, I managed to prank kunikida the other day! you remember that hair dye trick I'd told you about? I managed to break into his apartment and swap out his shampoo, at last! he came into work the next day with black hair, it was hilarious, you should've been here! he was so angry with me. beat me black and blue!

oh, _____. I got a new heated blanket for our bed, you know? it took a while to save up for it, and I had to cut out some other necessities, sure. but it makes everything so much better! I hate cold beds, I'm sure you know that better then anyone. haha, back before we moved in together when I'd break into your apartment and crawl into bed with you. I'm sorry for the amount of locks I broke, but your place was so cozy!

... you know, it's been really hard without you here. I miss you so painfully, and I don't mean to call into the void without even an echo, but its killing me to pretend I'm fine about any of this. I'm not fine with this, how am I supposed to be? I wish it was just a bad dream.

I don't want to have to write letters to you anymore, ______. I don't want to have to buy heated blankets to try and stop my arms from aching for your warmth. I don't want you to be angry with me, I'm sorry I didn't apologise to you before you were gone. I shouldn't have been so stupid.

i had so many words on my mind that I was too afraid to say. maybe if I faced myself and told you 'I love you' it would've stopped you leaving.

have you met odasaku yet? has he told you any stories of his time? I wish I could hear your voice again. I wish you could answer my questions. even to hear you scoff at my stupidity again would heal me. I'm sorry I was annoying, I just wanted your attention. it stings knowing I'll never get it again.

I can't keep repeating to myself that you're not gone. I can't keep buying your perfume and pretending that you're in the next room over. your pillow doesn't smell like you anymore.

I wish I could apologise properly. I wish I could've stopped you from leaving the house that night. I wish I could kill myself to join you and yet I know we won't cross paths again in the afterlife. you were always too good for me, ______. i was nothing compared to you.

i picked up a homeless dog yesterday. you'd always wanted a puppy, I'm sorry I never let you bring one home. I named it after you. im trying to get used to them, I promise. if I couldn't save you, I'll save your name.

I'm sorry. if I continue writing, my throat will hurt more. its strange, isn't it? crying makes your throat sore. I forgot what it was like for a while, I remember laying in your arms wondering if I'd ever have a reason to cry again. now I can't seem to help myself.

keep your wings clean for me, white looks good on you. its a shame you couldn't wear the wedding attire i wished to see you in one day. you would've looked amazing.

I'll write again, missing you is the greatest honor.

sincerely, your osamu.

[meazalykov]

filming

lena oberdorf x actress!reader

summary: while filming in london, you have a special guest visit you at work

you're standing on set, mentally exhausted but pushing through as you try to channel the villain you're playing. 

the heavy makeup, the dark clothes, everything about the character feels so different from who you are. it's been a long day, and while you're focused on your next scene, your thoughts keep drifting to lena, knowing she's in london too, playing against arsenal with wolfsburg in the champions league semi-final. 

you wish you could be there, but acting doesn’t exactly allow for last-minute trips across town.

"hey, can you turn around for a sec?" your costar says casually, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"uh, sure?" you respond, a little confused as you turn.

the sight that greets you makes your heart skip. lena's standing there, a playful smirk on her face, with sveindis right beside her. 

you blink, trying to register that they’re actually here, in the flesh, on your film set.

"what the hell?!" you exclaim, rushing over to them. "what are you doing here?"

lena chuckles, taking in your costume. "i had to see this for myself. my girlfriend, the horror villain. you look... terrifying, baby."

you laugh, rolling your eyes. "yeah, yeah, i know i look like i just crawled out of the underworld and the SFX makeup doesn’t make this any better. but it's just a character, promise. i'm still me under all this." 

"thank goodness," lena jokes, stepping closer and pulling you into a tight hug. "though, it kinda suits you."

"oh, shut up," you nudge her playfully, feeling a warmth settle in your chest at how easily she makes everything feel lighter. "i missed you."

"i missed you too," she murmurs, kissing your temple. 

you turn to sveindis, grinning. 

"and you! i can't believe you both came here. you know you’re my favorite of lena's friends, right?"

sveindis laughs, shaking her head. "i mean, i try."

"seriously though," you sigh, "i wish i could come to your game. it’s killing me that i can't be there."

"we know," lena says, her voice softening. "but you’re busy, and you're killing it here. we get it."

you nod, biting your lip. "yeah, but it still sucks."

"you'll see us in the final, though," sveindis adds confidently.

"damn right i will," you grin. "you better win."

"we'll try our best," lena says, squeezing your hand.

they don’t stay long, knowing you're in the middle of filming, but before they leave, lena gives you another quick hug, whispering, "i’m proud of you, you know that?"

"i'm proud of you too. now go crush arsenal," you whisper back, your heart swelling with love as they walk away.

you spend the rest of the day filming, but your mind keeps replaying the moment with lena, that grounding presence she always brings with her. 

when the director finally calls cut for the day, you’re exhausted but relieved to be done. 

as soon as you’re back in your trailer, you pull out your phone and check the score. wolfsburg won. 

you waste no time pulling out your phone to call lena. as soon as the ringing stops, you hear her excited voice on the other end.

“hey, baby! we did it!” she practically yells, and you can hear the noise of celebration in the background.

you can’t help but laugh, her energy contagious. “i saw! i’ve been dying over here, refreshing the score like a maniac.”

“you should’ve seen it,” lena says breathlessly, still riding the high of the win. “it was insane. poppi scored the winner, and everyone lost their minds!”

“i’m so proud of you,” you say softly, smiling to yourself. “i wish i could’ve been there.”

“don’t worry about it. you’re working hard too,” she reassures, though you can hear a little hint of longing in her voice.

“well,” you pause, biting your lip, “i’ve got news. i’m taking time off to come to eindhoven for the final. i’m gonna be there.”

there’s a beat of silence before you hear her gasp. “you’re serious?”

“of course! there’s no way i’m missing this. i’ll be in the stands, screaming my head off for wolfsburg.”

“oh my god,” lena breathes out, and you can practically see her smiling. 

“that’s... that’s amazing. i didn’t think you’d be able to make it.”

“well, i pulled some strings,” you tease, feeling a weight lift from your chest just knowing you’ll be there. 

you didn’t really need to pull any strings. the champions league game happens to fall on the week break that filming has. 

“and as soon as filming wraps for good, i’m coming back to germany. i promise we’ll have time again.”

“you have no idea how much i’ve missed you,” lena says quietly, her voice soft now, intimate. 

“it’s been so hard with both of us being so busy.”

“i know,” you whisper, “but we’ll get through it. we always do.”

“god, i can’t wait to see you,” she says, the happiness in her voice clear as day. “it’s going to be perfect.”

“i can’t wait either,” you reply, heart swelling with love. “and hey, tell sveindis she’s still my favorite for scoring the last three games, okay?”

lena laughs, a sound that makes you feel like you’re home even though you’re still on set. 

“i’ll tell her. she’ll be so happy about it since she's a fan of yours.”

“awee,” you joke, leaning back in your chair. 

“you two better get some rest tonight. you’ve got a champions league final to win soon.”

“don’t worry,” lena says confidently, “we’ve got this. and knowing you’ll be there... that’s all the motivation i need.”

“i love you,” you say softly, letting the words settle between you.

“i love you too,” she replies, her voice warm and full of emotion. “see you soon, okay?”

“see you soon,” you echo, smiling to yourself as you hang up. 

masterlist

[mrm0rgansw0man]

hi guys!! i am alive and well and still writing lol, im so sorry to not have pubished anything in so long!! life has just been crazy lately and i just haven't had as much time as i would like to work on things, but you'll be happy to hear that i TEN DRAFTS that i am working on currently and even more things to start!! you guys WILL get your arthur morgan content lol. but for now, heres a quick little something as an peace offering for being gone so long Xx

- a quiet little night ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ -

summary: arthur morgan settles down for the night.

As Arthur stumbled into his little makeshift room, half dead from exhaustion and the cold, it took all his might not to just topple over onto his cot and sleep. Boots and hat and all, in fact he almost did.

It was the slight shift of his blankets that stopped him.

Arthur let out a deep and loving sigh. He quickly undid his boots and took off his hat, setting them both down next to his bed.

'Now what could this be?' Arthur thought to himself with a light chuckle.

Arthur lifted up his blankets- which he noticed he had at least three more in his bed now than when he did when he woke up- and that's when he saw you.

Your hair was wrapped in a scarf, and you were still in your clothes from the day. You had bundled yourself in blankets and practically buried yourself into Arthur's cot to sleep.

Arthur couldn't help the grin spread across his face as he gently crawled into the bed next to you. You stirred, but thankfully didn't wake.

Arthur yawned, already partially asleep as he re adjusted the blankets over the both of you. Once you were both tucked in and as sheltered as you could be from the cold, Arthur leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. He stroked as much of your hair as he could, almost wishing you hadn't fallen asleep in that scarf. But it kept you warm, and right now that was more important than anything.

This move to Colter had been hard, on you in a different way than the others. You were the type that just didn't do well in the cold. Arthur didn't know what it was, but it just sucked the life out of you. You could never truly be warm, your nose ran constantly and you were in pain more often than you weren't.

Arthur at first just thought you needed some more meat on your bones, but now he thought it was something more. Maybe you were sick somehow, making you weaker to the strong weather? You didn't do too well in the extreme heat either.

Never mind that now. Even if the thoughts lingered in his mind like the howling cold winds lingered around the outside of his walls, he refused to let this moment with you go to waste.

Arthur finally laid down fully, gently wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to him. You partially woke, just conscious enough to cuddle into him and gently kiss whatever part of him was closest to you, tonight it was his chin. You had the fleeting thought that you hoped tomorrow night it would be his lips before falling back to sleep.

No matter where you had kissed him, it filled Arthur's heart with joy. He loved you, so god damn much. Coming back to this each and every night, made the troubles of the day worth it. No matter how tired he was, he would always make sure to be there with you and hold you while you slept. To kiss you goodnight, to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you slept.

"Arthur.." You mumbled sleepily. "I missed you s' much..."

"I missed ya' too sweetheart." Arthur whispered soothingly, gently rubbing his hands up and down your back underneath the blankets. "I love you baby.. C'mon not. Let's go back t'sleep..."

"I love you too.." You breathed out, it was said so quietly it was barely audible. Arthur closed his heavy eyes, and listened to the sound of your gentle breathing.

With the sounds of the wind and your breaths as a lullaby, Arthur drifted off to sleep for the night. Dreading the moment he would have to wake up.

so sorry this is short!! i literally couldn't stand going another moment with publishing something im so sorry guys

[murdrdocs]

chad charming with a little girlfriend who’s from the isle and who’s completely inexperienced in more ways than one! chad charming with a corruption kink!! chad charming!!!

corruption kink; egotistical chad (typical); MDNI 18+ w/ CHAD CHARMING

you know this is going to fan the flames of his ego.

compared to how you knew him back at auradon prep, chad's calmer since coming to college, at least you thought he was. less egotistical, finally accepting that he would never be king of auradon, starting to realize that the world didn't revolve around chad. but he's still chad charming, so for now, the world revolved around him and you.

chad's little girlfriend from the isle. his project in some ways, an excuse for him to explain every little detail about auradon, down to why the roads are paved the way they are. he liked feeling needed, you liked the look in his eye when he got to explain something to you, it was a win-win. even more so when chad's experience, and your lack of, worked out like this—the two of you locked away in chad's dorm, sitting on his bed facing each other.

chad's question still sits in the air, hovering around you, breathing down your neck.

you're a virgin? he asked you, his tone incredulous, his eyes wide, and his mouth pulled into a small grin.

you don't mean to respond how you do, but it's second nature to scoff, roll your eyes, and cross your arms over your chest like you're nothing but an impertinent teenager.

he instantly attempts to do damage control.

"no, i didn't mean that in a bad way, okay? i swear." he holds up his pointer finger and draws an 'X' over his heart. "cross my heart."

when you don't make a move to leave, he places his hands on your hips, tugging in an effort to get you to cooperate and move with him. you do as told, shuffling forward until you're straddling chad's waist.

he looks up at you, hazel eyes squinted and his lips parted. "you want me to show you?"

what follows is one of the only times where chad's cockiness becomes useful, because he does know what he's doing. he doesn't second guess himself when he pulls your panties down and lifts up the skirt of your dress. he asks you if you're okay and if you're comfortable, and then as soon as you nod, he has a hand between your legs and pressed up against your center.

there's barely any nervous fumbling, nothing but an adjustment or two. he knows what he's looking for, and as soon as he finds it—a spot deep within you and off to the side—he doesn't miss it again. he watches you the entire time, lashes framing his lidded eyes and the corner of his top lip arched up, the slight furrow between his brows slightly covered by blond curls.

he looks equal parts amazed and concentrated, possibly the most focused you've ever seen him before. having all this attention placed on just you has your stomach churning, a feeling unlike something you've ever felt before crawling up your spine.

you've touched yourself before, you're not completely inexperienced (not that chad knows ... that's something you'll save for another day) but having someone else's hands pleasure you is different. the foreign touch makes it so much better, not knowing what to expect makes you want it even more.

the sudden urge to beg twists in your throat, slipping into your voice box and almost sliding up your throat. but you stifle the request for more, knocking your head into chad's shoulder as your fingertips press into his shirt.

you don't even have to say anything, chad knows what you're feeling.

"you're close, right?" you nod, not trusting your voice at all at this point.

"look at me," he says, his free hand sliding up your back until he cups the back of your head. "i wanna see what you look like."

it's like you can see the ego boost flooding his brain when he makes you cum. you see the way his eyes widen just a bit when your pussy clenches around his fingers and your lips part. you see the astonishment and the gratification entering him as you twitch and moan, chanting his name through it all.

chad loves feeling needed, knowing that he's the one who got you here like this. it makes him want to show you more ways he can make you feel good.

[marvelfilth]

Wisdom teeth

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x f!reader

Warnings: ooc! Wednesday, mention of blood

Summary: "I've been successful at keeping this piece of information to myself for the past two months and twelve days, but now it seems that I can't hold back the words from escaping my treacherous mouth. It's almost as if I have no control of what is going through my brain at the moment. I feel like an adolescent cliché."

Masterlist

She doesn't say anything when you help her to the passenger seat of your car, her eyes stay rooted on the spot above your shoulder, dark and unblinking. She sits dutifully and doesn't complain when you bend to fasten her seatbelt, your warm fingers barely grazing her clothed thigh on accident. You think you heard a slightest hitch of her throat, but that might have been your wishful thinking.

Ever since the brooding brunette first stepped foot on Nevermore grounds you were irrevocably pulled in her orbit, always close enough to be seen by her, but never close enough to reach out and touch, not that you'll ever try, you do need all of your fingers intact. Her menacing aura and Machiavellian tendencies never stopped you from trying to reach out and form some sort of connection, even if it was just making eye contact in dark hallways or receiving nearly unperceivable eye rolls whenever Enid dragged you to their room. Not even once in the months you've known her did she grace you with more than a few words and barely noticeable nods, opting to focus on her novel or, in extreme cases, leaving the room to continue her endless investigations.

So when Enid cornered you in the morning and practically begged you to take Wednesday to the dentist's office, you were torn between crushing Enid in a hug and fleeing to the woods to hide out.

In the end, you couldn't miss the chance to get to know the gothic girl a little bit better.

Wednesday pointedly clears her throat and you jump up, bumping your head against the roof of your car, close the door and make your way to the driver's seat.

You suppose her impatience to get back to school makes sense with how overstuffed her mouth seems at the moment, and once you're finally behind the wheel you reach over the console to gently swab away droplets of blood on her lips.

She stops breathing altogether.

"Are you alright, Wednesday?" You can't help, but ask, your hand awkwardly hovering over the console.

She takes a moment to think and you have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming when you practically see gears turning in her head as she struggles to formulate a response, her brows crinkled and lips slightly pursed.

"Your archive. Are we going there now?" She asks.

And there's that.

She refused anesthesia, looking eager to go through all the pain, her eyes shining brighter than you've ever seen. The doctor blanched, stuttering while he tried to reason with her, mentioning how agonizing the pain will be and how he'll probably get fired if he agreed to do it.

It made your skin crawl.

You pulled her away before she could threaten the poor man, promising her anything she wanted if listened to the doctor and agreed to anesthesia.

Her eyes flickered to your hand on her shoulder before she looked back at the sweating man, her eyes narrowing slightly.

You held your breath, looking at her with wide eyes, already regretting your offer, but all she asked for was unlimited access to your family archive.

You suppose her request made sense, given your family's history and her unwavering interest in all things unknown, but it still made your heart clench with an unbidden feeling you'd never name out loud.

"No, we're going back to school. I told you I'll take you there over summer, remember?" You patiently reply, subtly eyeing the grumpy brunette.

She huffs, wincing when it causes her pain and turns to look out the window, her eyes slightly hazy.

You take a deep breath and finally pull out from the parking lot, driving in silence and keeping your eyes firmly on the road until you can no longer pretend like you don't feel her heavy gaze on you.

"What is it, Wednesday?"

"Your face."

You blanch, offended. "What about it?"

You don't think you'll be able to withstand her making fun of your looks. She doesn't seem like the type to do that, but you can't be too sure - she is acting rather out of character.

"It's distracting. Turn around." She demands, furrowing her brows.

Your jaw falls open. "Wednesday, I'm driving."

She huffs and crosses her arms. After a minute of contemplation she starts rummaging through your glove compartment.

"Don't," you groan. You won't let her tear you apart for the mess she'll undoubtedly find there, so you reach for your phone. "Why don't you play a game? Or, I don't know, find something to blackmail me with?" You unlock it and toss it on her lap, your hand falling back on the wheel, clutching it in a tight grip.

Your phone lays untouched for a long moment and you have to restrain yourself from looking over at the ravenette. It's the longest you've spent in her company and she most certainly said more words in the past ten minutes than she did in all the time you've known her, and Enid didn't prepare you for conversations.

Your palms start to sweat a little.

She looks down at her lap and picks up your phone with two fingers only to throw it on the backseat. "I'm allergic to technology," she deadpans.

She stays silent for the next few minutes and you relax, thanking every divine being for making this trip somewhat easy for you.

And that's when she turns to look back at you, her expression sour and displeased, like you just said something really dumb. You decide to ignore her for as long as you can, checking your blind spots and fiddling with the radio to seem busy.

She pointedly clears her throat, pulling your attention. You sigh and look at her.

"What now?"

She frowns. "I feel compelled to reveal something you might find… unwelcome." Her mumble comes out distorted and she winces slightly, her hand coming up to cradle her swollen cheek and you swiftly slap it away, sheepishly looking away at her affronted look.

"Don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Usually, slapping ones hand causes them pain," she retorts, fully turning in her seat to face you. "You slapped my hand. That hurt. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but I prefer to inflict pain, not receive it."

You snort, shaking your head at the smaller girl and she pouts. Wednesday Addams, the girl who'd rather jump off a cliff in a river full of piranhas than show an ounce of human emotion, pouts.

But maybe it's not so strange, considering the circumstances.

You adjust in your seat, your right hand landing on your thigh to subtly fiddle with the rough fabric of your jeans. They're light blue, with flowers all over their back pockets and Wednesday absolutely hates them, which is why, you guess, she's currently staring down at your legs like they're her mortal enemies.

The tips of her ears turn red.

"Must you do that?" She hisses, gesturing to your hand on your thigh.

You blink and place it back on the wheel, noting the way her eyes snap up to glare at the road.

"Are you feeling okay?" You ask, because she's starting to look restless. Her fingers clench and unclench on her lap and she keeps glancing at your hand every couple of seconds.

"No." Her eyes snap up to look at the roof of your car, her face a picture of impatience. "Hold my hand."

You gulp, breath catching in your throat and turn to look at the smaller girl just in time to catch her boring holes into your hand and probe lightly at her cheeks. Your mouth opens to stutter a response, but her scathing look makes you shut up.

"This gauze in my mouth feels terrible, I can't possibly endure it a moment longer. Holding your hand will make the feeling bearable." She looks at you expectantly, turning over her hand on her lap, waiting.

You hesitantly reach out and take her hand. She laces your fingers, letting out a quiet sigh as she sags against the weathered leather, turning to look out the window.

You can't believe this is happening.

This Wednesday is not something you're equipped to deal with. Hell, you can barely manage her regular self, which still comes hard at times, especially when you intrude on her writing time. It's not like you mean to do that, but a certain blonde always chooses that exact hour to invite you over, always wearing a mischievous smirk when Wednesday tenses up upon your arrival.

This feels like walking on thin ice at gunpoint with a ticking bomb in your hands.

"How-"

Her nails dig into your skin hard enough to make you yelp, but you don't pull away, eyeing the stewing girl. She's breathing heavily, her lips opening and closing as she seemingly tries to keep herself from blurting something out.

It's so bizarre you have an urge to pinch yourself, but you don't need that with her nails still digging into your skin.

You focus on the road, afraid to stir the dragon.

Her next words make you jolt so hard the car wavers on the road.

"Every time my eyes land on you my heart skips a beat," she says, like she's complaining about a mystery she couldn't solve.

You grip the steering wheel tighter. "What?"

"One does not typically pay attention to such mundane thing, but I do. Whenever you're in my vicinity I can't help, but be aware of each skipped beat of my heart. The feeling is revolting, and I've had the urge to confess this ever since I woke up." She frowns, and it's quiet for a few minutes as she seemingly gathers her thoughts.

The moment you had in your art shed suddenly comes to mind. You went there after a long day of studying in the library, ready to decompress and finish your latest painting. You didn't expect anyone to be there, which is why you shrieked like a maniac when you flicked the lights on, basking Wednesday's rigid form in warm yellow glow. She stood over your painting, her features stony and unreadable as her fingers traced the outline of a shipwreck on the canvas, the still wet paint smudging her fingers and messing up your precise strokes.

It made the painting even more beautiful.

You dug around your backpack, looking for tissues, taking a step closer when you finally found some. With great hesitance, you reached for her hand, your fingers closing around her delicate wrist. Her lips parted as she inhaled, her pulse erratic under your thumb. She took one look at you, turned on her heel and left, her perfume lingering in the air.

You gulp, when her grip on your hand turns painful. "I've been successful at keeping this piece of information to myself for the past two months and twelve days, but now it seems that I can't hold back the words from escaping my treacherous mouth. It's almost as if I have no control of what is going through my brain at the moment. I feel like an adolescent cliché," she complains through gritted teeth, irritated.

Your face burns the same shade as the red light you've come to stop at. You don't know if you should feel ecstatic or fear for your life, because no matter what happens next, you're sure Wednesday will have your head for witnessing a rare moment of weakness. But your heart always had more power than your head, so you're left with trembling hands and sweaty palms, choking on your breath as you struggle to think of something to say.

"Wednesday, I'm going to have a heart attack," you mumble.

"You're not showing any signs of an impending heart attack, if anything, your symptoms correlate with something Enid usually calls having a crush." She's back to staring intently at you, catching every twitch of the muscles on your face as you try your best to keep your blush at bay. Her hand slides up, enclosing your wrist.

Your heart burns in your chest and you feel the need to correct her, to tell her that what you feel for her is more than some stupid crush. You need to tell her about the way your dark wings tingle when she brushes past you, begging to be released from the confinement of your spine. You need to tell her about the way your heart beats out a special rhythm, hammering against your ribs like a caged animal, desperately leading its owner to the girl who successfully stole it.

You need to tell her how easy it was to fall for her and how hard it got when you realized the extent of your feelings.

You need to tell her something, anything.

You need to tell her everything.

A loud honk jostles you and you look back at the road to keep driving, trying your best to hide your face when a car passes by you, the driver giving you a finger.

"Imbecile," Wednesday mumbles.

"Yeah, what an asshole."

"I meant you. The gesture was entirely appropriate seeing as you failed to pay attention to your surroundings."

"Huh?" You gape. "You're insulting me now?"

"Your observation skills never cease to amaze me," she frowns in thought, "just like your remarkable ability to make my existence less bothersome." The haze in her eyes is gone, replaced by reserve and a hint of fondness.

Your brain short circuits.

You pull over and let your forehead fall against the wheel, still holding it in a death grip.

You would never admit it to anyone, not even on your deathbed, but you swear you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at her quiet confession.

Your smile is so wide it hurts your cheeks, but you don't care as long as Wednesday keeps looking at you like that, like she's trying her best at keeping away the warmth in her eyes. They flicker to your lips when you lick them, and this time she can't keep her emotions in check, her eyes alight with fiery passion.

You can't help voicing your concern. "I thought you didn't like me that much. I mean, you barely speak to me when Enid drags me to your dorm."

She looks at you for a long moment. Her thumb circles your knuckle. "Enid has a surprisingly perceptive eye. She noticed a certain change in my behavior long before I did and decided to act on it. I simply wasn't prepared."

"Are you prepared now?" You breathe out.

"Are you?"

You let out a relieved laugh, and pull her hand up to your lips, placing a soft kiss on her ice cold knuckle. "Wednesday, I've been pining over you since the day we met."

She lets out a barely noticeable breath and you suddenly realize she's been nervous all this time too, you just failed to pay attention in your anxiety riddled state.

"Good." The corners of her mouth fly up.

Your eyes widen. She has dimples.

She turns away nonchalantly and places your intertwined hands on her lap, looking like she just solved the biggest mystery known to mankind.

[lovelyunholyc]

you'd let it slip that one time, when he called you at the time of day he usually does to check in, you'd let it go to voicemail just to be able to save it and conjure up his voice whenever you pleased while he was away.

"i don't have any voicemails of you," nanami had said with a troubled look on his face, and you'd found it so charming that you had to lean in and kiss him.

you'd shrugged, giving him a small, grateful smile. "you always answer when i call, kento."

you know him well enough to understand his logic; he'd never miss any of your calls, even when he's working (you were the only person allowed to contact him past his phone's 'Do Not Disturb' feature) - he couldn't ever risk missing it when you needed him, and you wouldn't think to disturb him for trivial things either.

of course your answer doesn't satisfy him, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his brain. you can't help but laugh a little, kissing his frown away and changing the subject to save him from the stress.

the next day, at that time he usually calls during his break, he receives an ominous text from you.

don't call. and don't answer, i'm leaving you a present.

he worries immediately, but another text pops up once you see he's read it.

don't worry! you'll ruin the surprise! i love you ❤️

nanami tries his best, but he can't help it. instances of something going terribly wrong concerning you and him not being able to reach you in time flood his brain and nearly make him lightheaded. he does as you ask and doesn't answer when your contact pops up on the screen, his self-control waning quickly the longer he sees your photo.

he doesn't know how long he stares at the screen, even when his phone stops ringing.

and then, just a minute later, a notification for a new voicemail pops up, and the tornado of worries in his brain grinds to a halt when everything suddenly clicks, and he's reminded of the short, perplexing conversation you'd had the day prior.

and he feels a little silly.

you pick up on the first ring, as if you were expecting his call.

"my love," you greet, and even though the audio on his phone doesn't do your sweet voice justice, it soothes his heart all the same. "you're not gonna listen to it?" he can tell you're smiling, playful and lovely.

"i'll save it for my way home from work."

"hmm, how do you know it wasn't something naughty, then? what if you start blushing on the train, and everyone notices?"

"darling-" he starts, but uncharacteristically doesn't have a follow-up. he knows no one on his commute cares enough about anything else at that time other than coming home as soon as possible, much like himself, but he lets you have that, if it'll make you giggle like you are now. your laugh is deeply precious to him.

"i can just imagine it - but i wouldn't wanna ever miss seeing you blush." oh, he knows, and has suffered your inappropriate whispers in public just to get a reaction out of him nearly enough to get used to it. nearly. "are you blushing now?"

"no," nanami lies easily, heat crawling up his neck in that oddly pleasant way only you can seem to bring out of him.

you laugh just as easily, see through him just like that, as if he's right in front of you.

"i'm glad you didn't listen to me and still called," you say softly, traces of your sweet laughter still lingering in your tone. "i wanted to hear your voice, too."

nanami hums, doesn't tell you that that makes him smile way too wide for him having lunch alone. he tries to tone it down in case gojo somehow happens to stumble upon his carefully chosen, secluded spot.

"i miss you," you sigh, as if you hadn't seen him this morning and kissed him until he was almost late, like you usually do.

"i miss you, too, darling," he replies just as sincerely, as if he wasn't seeing you in just a few short hours and wasn't planning on holding you until you begged him to let you go so you could get dinner together, like he usually does.

"enjoy your break, handsome." the corner of his lip always twitches up when you call him that. "come home safe."

"of course. i love you."

"love you more!"

nanami knows that if he argues that, like he really wants to every time, you'd be too stubborn to let him win. so he just chuckles and lets you hang up.

despite what you'd teased him about, he does listen to your message on the train. and he does start smiling like a madman, his entire face glowing, lighting up with it, but he can't find it in himself to be embarrassed about it when he's hearing your voice and he's only a few short minutes away from having you in his arms again.

"hi, handsome. i had to think carefully about how to get you to not answer your phone, but it didn't end up being that creative, huh?" you breathe a soft laugh, the gentle cadence of it carrying into your sweet voice. "anyway, here's your obligatory voicemail from me. i'm just kidding - i thought about it, and you looked so sad about it that i just had to make one. you know i'd do anything to make you happy, right? it's only fair, with how happy you make me, too... i hope this will suffice, i didn't really have anything special to say except that i think about you so much it's becoming quite concerning, and i love you so much i feel like i'm going crazy, slowly but surely. look what you do to me!... um, oh- i'm gonna run out of time soon! i can't wait to leave you a million more of these, it's almost as fun as listening to yours... actually, i'll tell you a little secret: i listen to yours every day when i'm missing you most, which is usually right after you leave for work. sometimes i wish you'd come right back even though it's a little ridiculous. um, anyway, i'll think of a more creative way to trick you next time. come back safely, i miss you terribly... i love you more than you know, kento."

[lxvebun]

Sleepy mornings with Suguru brainrot😩🩷

Notes: fics are a little less edited and checked because I don't have access to my pc rn. So I hope it still looks okay!

Content: Suguru x gender neutral reader. Sickeningly sweet morning fluff! Kissing. Consensual kisses while asleep/half asleep. Eng is not my first language. Not entirely proofread lmk if there are any annoying mistakes!

Suguru is an early riser. He finds comfort in getting up at dawn. birds softly chirping their morning song and air crisp and fresh, gently swaying the curtains as the sunlight filters through . The moment the star clustered dark blue sky begins to show orange and golden streaks of sunlight, he's out of bed and running about doing household chores that really can wait until later but he insists on doing now.

Now while the air still feels fresh, now that it's early enough to set the tone for the day. His heart beats a little easier knowing everything is taken care of. Knowing you are taken care of. Even in the smallest of ways like cleaning up last nights dishes so you awake to a nice and clean kitchen, or putting the throw blanket into the dryer so it's nice and toasty for when you eventually stumble out of the safety and warmth of your bed to face the morning breezes coming through the kitchen window

He doesn't enter the bedroom again other than occasionally peeking his head through the crack of the door when he hears you move. Busy wiping down the kitchen counters or watering the flowers. footsteps coming through in your dreams.

All while your sleepy self is missing his body warmth, the rise of his chest against your back and the comforting weight of his arms around your waist. You're not cold, he made sure of that by tucking you in just a little more before leaving the bed. Leaving behind a constellation of kisses to your warm cheeks and sleep ridden eyelids, airy chuckles floating around the room as you whine for him to stay just for 5 more minutes. His Kisses are laced with tenderness and adoration intertwined with silent prayers soothing you back to sleep. you prefer his warmth over the cozyness of the blankets, but in your sleepy haze you'll settle for it for now.

This goes on until it's around the time you usually get out of bed, something his own internal clock has memorized for you as well.

Only then he'll crawl back in bed with you, breakfast ready to be prepared in the kitchen, a mug of hot tea with honey on your nightstand, words of affection and sickeningly sweet kisses resting on his lips and arms wide open for you to crawl into<3

Oh to have the privilege of seeing sleepy suguru early in the morning😩🩷

[vampykween]

toxic ex(?)husband!simon where he's all alone in his home, wife moved out across the city with their two girls, steps on something on the carpet and its the earring the missus lost a few days ago while moving out. it was a simple diamond stud earring, the pair being a gift from him during date night, once upon a time a long long time ago. he might bawl or lose himself in alcohol. or come crawling back; people change after all, right?

simon would actually spiral so hard over this. he's left alone in a house that's far too big, empty with all the furniture you took, along with all the laughter and joy you and the girls brought to the home. he hangs onto the earring as he storms around every corner of the house as if that'll make his girls materialize right in front of him. he's so fucking angry at himself. he vowed to be better than his father, and sure he doesn't drink himself under the table and smack around his family, but was he really any better?

he thinks about cracking open a bottle of Kentucky, the one you got him for his birthday, even though he's always insisted on not doing gifts (you always got him one anyway). if he drinks away the pain, perhaps it'll ease the ache of losing his family (again, only this time it really was his fault), but then he sees your face flash across his mind and he knew you'd hate for him to drown himself in alcohol; at least he hoped you cared, he wasn't sure if you really did anymore and he can't even blame you.

after he's sufficiently drunk, he decides he didn't even care if he drank himself to death in his now empty living room, he considers calling you. it isn't too late, only half past ten, so he knows you're still up; he's not sure what he would even say though. there aren't enough apologies in the world to win you back, you've made that abundantly clear, but god he misses your voice. the voice that nagged at him, that yelled at him, that kissed him with so much love. how could he have taken you for granted? he knows you'll get onto him about calling so late when it's not about the girls, but he needs you so badly it hurts.

"simon?" he lets out a drawn-out sigh of relief, he hadn't expected you to answer really. he goes to respond, but it feels like every word is lodged in his throat. "si, im tired. i really can't with this," you reply tiredness was evident in your tone. he hoped the girls weren't being too much for you, then again it's not like he was ever much more help when you all were under one roof. the way you whispered out the shortened version of his name made his heart race, perhaps this phone call would go much better than he expected.

he finally finds his voice after a moment, "baby... i miss you," he slurs out. he's not sure what he's expecting you to say back.

"you really have a knack for being too little too late, simon. goodnight, and please don't call me like this again. you don't get to drunkenly pour your heart out to me now." well that was definitely not what he wanted you to say. there's an edge to your voice that, despite the situation, sends him reeling. he secretly prays that this will all be some sick nightmare, that he'll wake up, roll over, and pull you into his arms. except he's awake, standing drunk and alone in a house that no longer feels like home.

[alienoresimagines]

can you write [knuckles] for a kiss on the hand? thank you!!

I'm sorry this took so long, I hope you're still around 🥺❤️But here it is, 1.8k long despite my best efforts at keeping it under 1k 😅 I hope you'll like it 💕 Also on AO3 My other Clegan fics here

Never Coming Down (With Your Hand In Mine) | Buck x Bucky

The radio they managed to find doesn't tell them much of interest regarding the Allies’ troops and their progress, but writing any tidbits of information down gives John something to focus on that isn't this camp, this life that isn't really a life but that isn't death either, just some in-between that John is stuck in, unable to do anything or be useful. One foot in the grave and every day wishing a bit more it was both. In the darkest corner of his mind, he thinks that perhaps his death would save Gale from tiring himself to the bone trying to keep John tethered to Earth. Maybe, at least then, he could be useful to Buck. 

The thought is squashed away almost immediately, guilt crawling in his throat. Those few days after Gale had gone down over Bremen were the worst in John's life. The certainty that he was now a piece of something that would never be whole again, with no home to fight for anymore, had been the most excruciating pain John's ever known. Over the course of just a few months, he’s lost more friends than he can count, each loss cutting deeper. But losing Gale hadn’t just felt like losing a limb. From the moment Red’s distorted voice reached his ears through the phone - “He went down swinging, John” - he was an empty shell walking, his chest hollow with no heart, some vital part of him missing. No matter how miserable this camp makes him, wishing such agony on his best friend, his better half is unbearable. If only to spare Gale any additional pain, he’ll plant both feet in the mud until they stop trying to get him closer to that barbed-wire fence. 

Yet, despite desperately wishing Gale out of harm’s way, his being chained to the dirt with him is John’s saving grace. In the darkness of the Stalag, Gale shines brighter than the North Star, and John fights every day to keep himself from the fog in his head to grasp at this soft golden light. It's easier at night, the weight of Gale in his arms a grounding presence, the distinct smell of him feeling more and more like home, but John is starting to make it through some days always there too. Listening to the radio also helps, especially when most days, it's just him and Gale at the table, the others keeping watch on the guards from outside. Soon it'll be too cold for them to do so without it being suspicious or dangerous for their own health, but for now, John is glad he gets to spend more time alone with Gale. His ma always said he fights tooth and nail for those he loves, and right now, he's desperately grasping at the fading rays of sunlight, selfishness be damned.

Today, the BBC doesn't have any interesting news to keep hold of his attention for long, so he mostly scribbles down what he hears without making sense of the words strung together, too focused on the solid presence of Buck on his right. With both of them being right-handed, it would have been too much of a hindrance to be pressed close enough for their shoulders to touch, but their knees knock together every so often, like silent banter. It sends sparks of warmth down John's spine, the focused tilt of Gale's mouth only amusing him in his boredom. In the past five minutes, he's sent his knee against Gale's in soft presses, alternating between lingering and fleeting touches until the word B-U-C-K is successfully floating in the air, though the man himself seems entirely unaware of it, tongue darting between his lips in concentration. Bucky's debating coding G-A-L-E, just to see if the rare occurrence of his given name will snap the other out of his focus when said man grunts softly as he scribbles, pencil scratching the paper as it nears the edge. John mindlessly hands him a blank piece of paper, more than attuned to all the different ways the other has to ask for something without voicing his desires, eyes trained on the stray blond curl falling on Buck’s forehead. Without lifting his eyes from his piece of paper, Gale extends a pale hand to take John's offering, the contact of their fingers sending a jolt through John's blood. He lets out a yelp, slightly jerking back before diving in to hold Gale's hands between his own, Buck's sound of confusion and protest as his pencil is thrown out of his hold swallowed by John's cursing.

"Jesus, Buck, your hands are fuckin' freezing." John doesn't feel particularly warm but the difference in temperature between both their hands is such that he half-expects the air to start hissing. How Gale can still move his fingers is a mystery to him, and his gut goes tight with worry. Trying to rub warmth back into those hands, John brings them to his face so that he can blow hot air on long fingers. He's deeply aware of how intimate the gesture is, especially in a place like this, and he can feel heat rising to his cheeks but he focuses stubbornly on his task. Keeping his eyes on those hands he’s never held so close to his face is a necessary precaution to ensure he doesn’t dismiss any inch of skin in his mission to warm them enough that he doesn’t have to worry about them falling off, and it has the additional effect of allowing John to study them without fearing being caught.

Gale's hands truly are beautiful. They've always been, and in the years he's known the other, John has spent more time than he probably should have admiring them. How they wrap in a strong grip around the yolk to wield a metal fortress effortlessly, how long, slender fingers bring a toothpick to the plump curve of his lips. Calluses on fingers and rough palms that were still so gentle and kind when they tended to John's wounds just a few months ago. Today, they look frail and dry, the knuckles angry red and cracked from the cold. It hurts to even look at them, those hands that were more suited for piano and gently guiding horses across fields now cracked by misery and cold. Acting on an urge, he presses a kiss to the knuckles of both, a silent promise to warm them and get them better, to get them far from weapons and barbed fences, and back to horses and piano and books.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Gale blinking owlishly at him, perfectly still. Between them, the radio crackles, words floating in the air but never making it to any paper. After a few more seconds, Gale's voice rises too, soft despite his usual deep southern drawl.

"I need my hands back, Bucky." John frowns, still rubbing his palms over Gale's hands to warm them. Admittedly, he knows Gale can't write with his foot, even though imagining it almost makes him smile, but really, nothing the BBC is broadcasting right now is worth the risk of Gale losing his hands to the cold. Unconsciously, he brings Gale's hands closer to his face, just shy of nuzzling them with the tip of his nose, already thinking of all the ways he could get them warm. It would be, like many things, easier at night. With the cold, everybody has taken up to sharing a bunk and no one would notice if Gale's hands were pressed to his skin, under his shirt. Even though the thought of those icicles against more sensitive skin than his palms isn't exactly a pleasant one, he'd do it in a heartbeat. For the day, when it would be too risky for John to hold Gale's hands in his pockets, maybe he could find him some gloves, at least make mittens out of socks, to soften the blow of the cold and the sting of the wind. 

"Bucky ?" Eyes snapping to Gale's, he finds him with his head slightly tilted to the side, cheeks red from the cold. It's then he realizes he still has both of Gale's hands in his. The other looks at him and then back at his paper before raising his brows in a silent question, making John huff. Reluctantly, he lets go of Gale's right hand but immediately cradles his left hand on his lap. He hopes Gale will be satisfied with this, but the other keeps looking at him insistently, a fond glint in his eyes but brows slightly furrowed, as if his left hand being held in both of John's is a math problem he can’t solve.

At the silent question, he rolls his eyes and makes a show of putting his own left hand on the upper part of Gale's paper, making sure it doesn't move from its spot on the table. The paper is smooth against his fingertips, contrasting with the rough feel of the wooden table that has given them more than their fair share of splinters on his palm. He misses the feeling of Gale’s hands in his. For a moment, he had felt whole in a way he usually only feels at night. Gale's hand is starting to get warmer in his, the skin rough from the cold, but John has never held something as delicate and precious as it, save for Gale himself.

Resting their joined hands on his lap, he intertwines their fingers and fights down the blush he can feel creeping up his neck, eyes resolutely on the paper in front of the other. There’s no reason to feel nervous, they’ve slept in each other’s arms so often by now it really shouldn’t matter, but something about the fact that this isn’t about survival forces him to take a deep breath before moving. With one slide over the bench, his side is pressed to Gale’s, shoulders rising and falling in tandem. He’s glad to notice that Buck isn’t as cold as his hands, warmth seeping from his side to John’s as rapidly as the tension leaves the set of his shoulders until he’s pressing back into John.

They'll work slower like that but Gale doesn't protest nor take his hand away, only resettling slightly so his thigh also rests against John’s. Tentatively, he risks a glance at Gale and finds him looking down at the table, face still red but from something John has an inkling isn't the cold anymore, biting his bottom lip softly but mouth nonetheless quirked upwards. It takes every ounce of strength and self-restraint in him not to kiss him, to smother the affection blooming in his chest. Instead, after a bit of silence in which he feels he might suffocate on pent-up love, John squeezes Gale's hand in his and the other seems to focus back on his task, startled. Clearing his throat, Gale starts scribbling again, pointedly avoiding looking to his left, but John doesn't mind, a smile spreading his cracked lips, fondness written plain on his face as he doesn’t look away for a second.

On his lap, Gale squeezes his hand back.

[lowkeyremi]

WHAT YOU NEED S. Geto x fem!reader

"And I'm gon' give you girl, what you fiend, I'm the drug in your veins, just fight through the pain, He's what you want, he's what you want, I'm what you need, what you need, what you need"

➥ In which Geto entertains you when the guy you want doesn't

content: reader is indecisive, geto kinda takes advantage of that??? slightly toxic (look at me stepping out of my fluff comfort zone) slightly suggestive, a little bit of angst

A scream crawls its way up your throat and you throw your phone across the room, no regard for the aftermath of that action. You've been casually flirting with this guy for months and every once in a while he gives you the cold shoulder, ignoring your calls and everything. You know he is because he'll read your messages and not respond.

He called you an "obsessive bitch" the last time this ordeal happened because you had managed to call him 237 times and leave him 400+ texts in the span of a week. He later apologized for calling you that and you forgave him because of your desperation to get with him.

This whole thing has happened four times, and you'll admit those weren't your brightest times. Your friends have told you to stop talking to him because this obsession isn't healthy and if you two did have a real falling out who knows what you'd do.

UnLuckily for you, your favorite distraction was driving around with Gojo and happened to be near your complex. Geto. He of all people has tried to convince you that you don't need this man, and he's proven time and time again that he's the better option (as fucked up as he is) but you won't give up on this guy until he gives you a verbal rejection.

Knock, knock, knock. You know who it is, so you don't bother to open the door. He has a key and depending on how long he's been standing there he might have heard your little tantrum.

After a minute you hear the lock click slowly, giving you a chance to run toward your bedroom and lock the door. You don't want to see him. He's so addictive and bad for you and you deserve a normal man, you suppose. The problem is you're far from normal so of course Geto is the only one who will truly understand you. He's what you need after all.

Those three soft knocks at your door make you tense up slightly as you hide under your covers with your eyes closed imagining what it would be like if you and that normal guy started to date.

"Open up princess. Seems like you're still chasing after that fucking idiot." His voice is like honey and you almost do go open the door for him and invite him into your heart like you always do.

"Go away, Geto. I don't want you here- I don't need you here." Your voice is so small and you hate it. You know for a fact he isn't convinced.

"Geto? What happened to Suguru or Sugu?" He asks softly, you can almost picture it. He's leaning against your door with a smirk on his face.

"I.... I don't. I don't-"

"You don't what? Need me? Who are you trying to fool? Open the door so I can make it all better." His voice lowers a few octaves on that last part and you jump from your bed to open the door. You're greeted by Suguru who's gazing at you lustfully, but you know behind that lust is worry and care.

"There she is, my beautiful little mess. Did you miss me?" He's been out of town for two weeks (you counted the days). Of course the first person he'd visit when coming back was you.

"No. I was doing fine without you." You lie through your teeth. He knows you're lying too. You've never been good at hiding from him.

"I missed you too. I was hoping you'd come to your senses though, and leave that poor man alone. He can't handle you, baby." Suguru holds his arms out for you and you run to them hugging him tightly.

He hears your soft sobs and he knows he's twisted for smiling but he loves it when you cry. "I want him Sugu, I want him so bad." You whine into his chest and he feels your salty tears stain his shirt.

"I know you do, baby, but he doesn't want you. I'm what you need." He reminds you and you cry into his shirt for a good couple of minutes.

When you do come to yourself again, your teary eyes meet his and he smiles at you warmly. You give him a weak smile in return and he has to admit that it made his heart swell a little bit.

"What do you want to do, sweetheart?" He's rubbing your back up and down slowly. The other hand is planted on your ass, giving it a little squeeze.

You keep eye contact with him as you fumble with his belt buckle, "Such a good girl." His look is almost predatory when he sees you drop to your knees.

(one day i'll come back and write smut for this :P)

----------

You're cuddled up against his bare chest. He's so warm and inviting, you hate it. Well, you only partially hate it. You hate the fact that you don't hate it enough.

"Feeling better?" He already knows the answer but he wants to hear you say it. Suguru always wants a verbal response from you.

"Mhm." That's all he's going to get out of you. You're mad that you sucked him off and fucked him. It hurts to know you'll never be in a normal relationship. You love him and you hate him all the same.

"Will you let me keep taking care of you? I want to put a label on what we have." He sounds so sincere and sweet, but you see right through him. He wants you to be his, so he doesn't have to share you with anyone. As endearing as that sounds it also sounds suffocating.

Suguru is already a very demanded presence in your life. There is fear planted in your brain and you wonder what will happen if you come to like that with time. More than you already do.

"You want to be my boyfriend?" Buying time was crucial, you still needed a minute or two to process this. It's not the first time he's asked you this question. Any other time you would have replied without effort but now you wonder what it would be like to have him in your life as a romantic partner.

"Precisely."

He's watching you like a hawk. The way you bite your lip in thought, the way you don't meet his gaze, the way you shift in his arms, he notices it all.

"Okay, be my boyfriend. Give me what that other guy couldn't." A pleased smile makes its way to his face as he hugs you close.

"Best decision you've ever made." He smirks and you look away. Instead of hate you feel butterflies.

He's yours. You're his. This might be the start of something new and beautiful. But who truly knows?

I wrote this for a little challenge hosted by @halosdiary where you write abt jjk men but base it off a song by the weeknd. I was going to do "shameless" but i read my rough draft and hated it so i switched up and decided to do "what you need"! Hope you guys enjoy this little project!!

[ilovenatasharomanoff2-0]

Can you please do a fic where there is angst and smut like scenario, Natasha is always busy with work and always ignoring R which lead them into an big argument and nat got a little bit carried away and slap R but then she realized what she has done and want to show R how much she loves her

Lately

Pairings: Intersex Natasha Romanoff x Fem reader

Warnings: Angst, cunnilingus, one tiny slap, idk, small? Mentions of Natasha having a dick

Word count: 2.2k

11:45.

11:45 was the time your girlfriend entered the city apartment. The atmosphere was dim and moody as all the lights had been turned off, except for the TV that illuminated the room with a random show in the background. As she entered, Natasha carefully placed her computer bag on the floor and slipped off her shoes before proceeding to the living room. She scanned the area, searching for a trace of your presence on the inviting white couches.

Not being able to find you Natasha finds the Tv remote and stops the show that's playing.

With a faint sigh escaping her lips, she takes a few steps down the dimly lit hallway, her heart pulsing with a mix of hope and trepidation. As she approaches the entrance to your shared bedroom, she can't help but wonder if you'll be there, awaiting her arrival with open arms. Natasha slowly turned the doorknob to the side to see your sleeping body on the mattress, a smile engulfing her face as she watched your body move up and down slowly.

She was happy to see you still in the bed. Your relationship had been rocky for the past two weeks. It took a toll on both of you in the long run.

Natasha made her way to the closet to change out of her uncomfortable work clothes. She opted for a comfortable compression shirt and cozy sweatpants. She returned to the bed and noticed that you were already resting peacefully. She quietly crawled into bed beside you, wrapping her arms around your warm body. The feeling of your presence gave her a sense of comfort and security that she desperately needed. These small moments of closeness were what she cherished most about being with you.

As you gradually stirred from your slumber a few hours later, you instinctively turned to your side and noticed the vacant space on your bed, prompting you to groan in disappointment. you quickly got out of bed and headed straight to the bathroom to begin your morning routine. You meticulously brushed your teeth and hair, feeling revitalized and refreshed. Splashing some cold water on your face, you headed out of the room to try and find Natasha.

After a couple minutes of trying to find her, you see her in the home gym she designed for you two. She was wearing a White wife beater and blue Nike tracksuit pants. Natasha was doing pushups with the workout video displayed on the Tv in the room.

You slowly enter the room, pushing the transparent door open and looking down at her.

"Where were you last night." You ask her, with a serious tone, not being happy with her at the moment.

"Oh, I was still at work. Fury gave me more paperwork to do as soon as I was packing to go home. I'm so sorry baby." She replies, looking back at where you were and standing up to go and hug you.

You scoot back from the hug and look up at her face. "Natasha, i'm always so sick of you never being here. You know it affects me too, right?" You ask her, your eyes tearing up because you missed her so much.

"Yes- I know that y/n. it affects me too, you're not the only one getting hurt by it." Natasha responds back to you, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes.

"You know, why are we even fighting right now y/n? It's 8:37 in the fucking morning y/n. 8:37!" She says to you, walking away to go take the weights off of the barbell she was using.

"I don't know Natasha - maybe it's because I miss my girlfriend, but she's never here when I need her the most." You say back to her, covering your face with your hands and letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Well, I honestly don't know what the fuck you want me to do y/n. Do you wanna go talk to fury for me? Tell him to cut back my fucking hours at work? Huh?" She asks, anger building up in her voice as she drops the weight, she was holding to look at you.

"Are you even listening to me right now Natasha!?" You tell her, a small smile coming over your face as you were in disbelief with what she was saying.

"Are you even listening to me y/n? I love you and I do want to spend time with you, I do. I just - don't know what you want me to fucking do." She yells back at you, walking a little closer to your body and standing infront of you.

"It's not that hard to do what i'm asking Natasha. To spend time with me? Okay yes, maybe I do want you to come home early one day. What's wrong with that? You're literally gone for so many days of the week and i'm always here wondering about how you are, if you're okay, worrying over you. And then when you do come home, I never get to see you - spend time with you! It's not fair Natasha." You yell back out to her, tears falling down from your eyes now.

"And you know what Nat-"

You were cut off when you felt a stinging sensation come over your face. Your hand immediately going to touch the skin that had been touched.

"What the fuck Natasha." You tell her, your eyes widening as you looked up at her once more. The skin now turning red from where her hand made impact.

"Y/n I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it. Please I'm sorry." She says before bringing you close to her body. Her eyes watering up thinking of what she just did. You didn't hug her back, you couldn't.

"No Natasha what the actual fuck is wrong with you?" You ask her as you walk away to the door.

"Wait-Where are you going y/n? Please, I'm sorry y/n."

"I'm gonna go stay at Wanda's for a few days Natasha." As you spoke to her, tears streamed down your face and you had to pause to catch your breath between each word. Leaving the gym to go pack a bag.

Natasha stood still in the now quiet gym, her mind consumed with thoughts about the recent events that had just transpired. The weight of her actions seemed to weigh heavily upon her heart, and a solitary tear trickled down her cheek. She never intended to cause any harm to you, and the realization of what she had done filled her with disgust and remorse.

You on the other hand got a random bag you found in your shared closet and threw some clothes In there. You already texted Wanda about what had happened between you and Natasha. Once you were done packing you immediately left through the front door, grabbing the car keys off of the accent table and unlocking the car.

After the incident with Natasha, you sat in the car, completely motionless. Tears flowed down your face, and you couldn't help but feel hurt by her actions. Although you knew she didn't mean to hurt you, you couldn't understand why she acted the way she did. Being around her at that moment was an unsettling experience, and you couldn't shake off the feeling.

"Shh, it's okay y/n. I promise." Wanda tells you, holding you close as you cry in her arms.

"I-I just don't understand Wanda!" You seem to convey to her, lifting your head to meet her gaze. Your eyes are swollen and discolored due to the extensive amount of crying you have gone through.

"I think she really is sorry y/n. She keeps on texting you and trying to call you. I know Natasha would never want to hurt you on purpose, y/n/n."

"I know, I know. I don't know what to say to her after that."

"Well, stay here for a couple hours, huh? We can watch some movies and order some, okay? But you have to talk to her y/n.

After quiet contemplation, you slowly and carefully shift your weight, gently lifting yourself off Wanda's body. As she rises from her bed calmly, she extends a compassionate hand towards you, guiding you towards her bathroom. She helps you delicately wash your face, ridding it of any traces of stubborn, dried mascara that stubbornly clung to your delicate skin.

-

"Feeling better?" She asks you, playing with your hair on the couch.

"Mhm. I'm gonna start heading out Wands." You tell her, shifting from your comfy position on her couch.

"You want me to walk you out?"

"No, it's okay; thank you so much, Wanda. I'll text you later.

"Of course, Y/n. It's gonna be okay, I swear.

As you leave Wanda's house, you lower your head and take a slow stride toward your vehicle. The memory of Natasha invades your thoughts, causing a wave of longing to wash over you. You can't help but admit that you miss her dearly, despite the difficulty in comprehending her actions.

As you approach the entrance of your shared apartment, you can feel your heart rate increase as nervousness courses through your body. Your gaze shifts down towards your phone, noting the time displayed: 9:34. As you unlock the screen, you are greeted with a barrage of missed calls and messages from Natasha, causing your attention to shift towards the digital notification center.

With a heavy sigh, you inhale deeply before grasping the key that had unlocked the door and stepping inside. As soon as you entered, you noticed Natasha sitting at the bar, her delicate frame perched on a high stool. Her hands were clasped on her head as if deep in thought, and she looked up as soon as she sensed your presence.

"Y/n?" She asks to you. Her face was filled with red. You could tell that she had been crying a lot.

You remained silent, your body motionless in the hallway.

"I, I'm so sorry y/n. Please."Natasha approached you with a hint of distress in her demeanor. Her arms wrapped around your frame as she drew nearer, seeking comfort and solace. In response, your arms naturally embraced her, offering a reassuring and supportive presence.

"Please y/n."

"I know it was an accident, Natasha; it's okay, Nat, I forgive you."

You perceive the sound of Natasha's sniffles and experience a dampness on your shoulder caused by her tears.

"I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you, baby, please." Natasha continues to weep inconsolably while you offer a comforting embrace. Your gentle touch caresses her back in soothing circular motions, providing a sense of relief from her emotional pain.

"Natasha, you're crying in my arms right now."

"N-no, please."

Before you can respond Natasha starts kissing up your neck. A low moan escapes your mouth.

"Nat."

She quickly drops to her knees and pulls down your sweatpants. She kisses up your thighs, her fingers making their way to your clothed clit. Rubbing the sensitive muscle slowly.

"Please let me show you how much I love you. Please y/n."

"Mmm-okay..." You tell her, Natasha takes that as her sign and pulls down your lace panties. You were already soaking wet. A grunt leaves Natasha's mouth as she moves her face to your cunt. She sticks her tongue out for a second before licking your folds. One of her hands returns to your clit and starts rubbing again, this time faster.

"Natasha!" You moan out, your hands coming to meet her head. Taking a hand full of red hair and pushing her closer to your cunt. Natasha lets a small whine and pushes her nose beneath the hood of your clit. She shakes her head left and right, moaning at how you taste.

She starts to move her hips back and forth, humping the air. Her cock grows each time she hears one of your pretty moans. The hand holding your thigh moves down to her loose boxers. She quickly grabs her cock and moves her hand up and down, wanting to release it whenever you do.

"Feels so good, Nat, mm!" Your head was thrown back as your hands gripped her hair harder.

"Could e-eat you out all day."

"Fuck! Natasha, I'm so close." You moan out to her, her finger stimulating your clit moves even faster. Her head moves closer to your cunt. Her grunts and groans add to your stimulation.

She's lost in eating your pussy. Her hips move faster, and so does her hand, a sign that she's also close.

"Gonna cum!" Your hips buck into her face. The finger on your clit moves to your hips to keep them stable. Natasha's hand moves faster and faster in her boxers. Loud grunts leave her mouth as she looks up at you, your face contorted in pleasure.

With one more guttural moan, you come undone on Natasha's tongue. A whine erupts from her mouth as she shoots her cum in her boxers simultaneously with you.

She pulls her face away from your cunt. The bottom half of her face is filled with your juices. Her full face is covered in red. The silent room is filled with your loud breaths.

"Fuck, come here."

[bitesizedpoetry]

hello x

what are your favourite poetry blogs?

I did not expect this innocuous question to make me so sad. Because I went through my following list and this is a snippet of what stared back:

Almost all my favourite poetry blogs are either inactive or have been deactivated, and now I'm wishing I saved their poems that took my heart in their hands and shook it like a snow globe.

Still, here are my favourite active (at least within the year) poetry blogs in no particular order: also included some excerpts of their writing. And hopefully I didn't miss anyone. If I did, might have thought you were inactive, but I still love your poetry, promise!

@prasannawrites "You offer me your hand to hold & I look to your palm, creating a deity out of this" "…creating small gods from the mundane…" "How could I fit words into a prayer, when I can just as easily warm your hand on a cold night?"

@palladiumfragments "you're only worth something when you're suffering" "you have become the women in the mythology you loved so much as a child." "a dagger is the only thing that awaits you on the altar. you can reinvent yourself all you want but the rot is in the thread."

@amiablesummer "You laugh and laugh, lie down on the kitchen floor where you're not meant to lie, let alone laugh, and you're not meant to die there either. But what if we did, what if we stayed on the floor of the kitchen forever until the world burned from the too-bright sun and the oceans drowned all our utensils, one by one?"

@haikkun "I was a bird once / Tore my feathers in a dream / Though I beheld six kinds of light / Could only chase them via screams"

@kiisuuumii "i am still, just a small rabbit, fur grown in, black, and it is in my nature, still, to be taken, simply, as prey…" "…in the willingness to succumb to nature…" "i place my neck between the jaws of the wolf."

@ellisnightingale "It’s cloudy out, I like that best. Rain dusts the windowpane. So light it hardly makes a sound and the sky is dark again. I’m sure it’s cold but I won’t check, I’ll stay here where it’s dry. I don’t need sun on days like this."

@conversationswithme "I remember more this time, 1:52 in the morning / 10/29 - my cat is dead and I can’t whisper the / ugly in his ear. I have to write it here. / for me. / for you. / anyone. / I remember - that pungent, burnt smell - that / I can’t forget, and now knowing it / was the meat of a small person, / known as me. / I heard she grew up okay, though."

@cherokeeghostwriter "I am / four hours of sleep / meets, uncounted cups of coffee / meets, my fascination with the rain / dripping from the roof"

@memories-beneath-the-skin This entire poem

@leechteethwrites "Some things I could have never prepared for…" "The way the sky stretched itself after I no longer believed in heaven." "…I am still haunted by unshakable cruelties…" "The parts of my mother's girlhood I failed to rescue."

@sincerelygarden "I look at myself and lose my mind" "My instinct is telling me to find shelter / I can not blanket myself with this skin-" "I am in it, I know this. I can not crawl out, I am in it, I know…" "I look at myself and she doesn't make sense to me but I remember when she did"

I remember being asked similar questions years ago, and here are some of my answers when my other favourite poets/writers were still active. Please go through their archives, and you'll find so many hidden treasures. (And if any of them see this now, please start writing & sharing your work again soon. And to the active ones now, please continue writing & sharing, and I see some of you are starting to not be active now too...don't do that pls & ty)

If anyone has recommendations or if you have a poetry blog, please let me know in the replies or reblogs (so that more people can see this, maybe?), or message me privately. This ask made me realise I need more poetry blogs to follow.