#I can write more of the words in sentences

[hwallazia]

MIRROR MIRROR – 최산

⋆ synopsis. your boyfriend convinces you to try something... new.

pairing. boyfriend! san & fem! reader

wc. 1,6k

warnings. smut (mdni!), soft dom! san & sub! reader, mirror kink, size kink, pussy slapping, reader’s body is defined as “tiny” (comparing it with san’s), fingering, clit play, overstimulation, praise (like fr they’re whipped for each other), dirty talk, pet names (jagi, princess, sannie & more), teasing & mocking (the dynamic duo 🙂‍↕️), this is not proofread it’s almost 4am y’all.

nic’s notes ⋆ y’all can totally blame @dirtyrichboys for this one (literally had the time of my life writing this)

“don’t pull your eyes away from the mirror or i’ll stop.”

san grunted as his skillful fingers pumped inside you at a primal pace, the squelching sound of your gushing pussy delighting the man. your core was quivering, unsure of what to do, what to plead for. your fingers clutched onto his thighs as if your life depended on it.

the view was starting to become unbearable, but you were getting closer and closer to the edge.

and san was enjoying himself way too much.

san’s frame outlined yours, his broad shoulders doubling the size of your tiny core. his strong upper body supported your crumbled body, muscly arms manhandling you as he pleased. he snaked one arm over your uncovered waist, keeping you in place, still, as the other glided over your thigh so that he could work you open with his fingers. your glistening juices shined under the dim light of his room, your puffy pussy lips enveloping san’s fingers perfectly, greedily sucking him in, begging for release. san chuckled as he felt how desperate you were to come.

‘cause yes, he could feel it. the way your body trembled against his, the way you were struggling to keep your eyes open and not hide yourself in san’s neck or chest, the way your walls clamped down on his fingers tighter with every passing second.

he had you there.

the shit-eating grin that appeared on his face almost pulled a pathetic whine out of you. you were desperate, you couldn’t stand staring at your shaky reflection any longer, yet you couldn’t close your eyes.

no, because san said you couldn’t. no, because if you did, he’d stop.

and girl did you want him to stop.

“what’s wrong, jagi?” he teased, his tone drowned in an ocean of sins. his natural honey-dripping voice was now replaced by a low, deep baritone. “need to come?”

the arm that held you in place sneaked down your valley, index connecting with your swollen clit. you started squirming as you followed his movements, a strange anxious feeling bubbling inside you. “n-no! sannie—” 

you pleaded, too late.

his index and middle finger quickly started their ministration, stroking each nerve and spot that had your toes curling; your words cut off mid-sentence. you couldn’t help but scrunch your eyes, incapable of bearing with the overwhelming feeling. you rocked your head back, skull hitting san’s firm chest. and that’s when san pulled his fingers out of your seeping cunt, hand gliding up your cheeks to squeeze them, pressing them together gently enough so that he didn’t hurt you.

“what did i tell you, princess?” he groaned in a velvety voice, sharp and authoritative. “keep. your eyes. on the mirror.”

his stern voice cut through thin air, immediately pulling you out of your haze. you opened your eyes wide enough to be able to stare at your figure in the mirror. his fingers returned home and slammed into the warmth of your inviting, pulsating hole, your weakened body jolting upward as your back arched into a perfect crescent moon. he replaced the fingers he kept busy on your bundle of nerves with his thumb, applying the perfect amount of pressure so that your moans grew more breathless and desperate with each passing moment.

his feline, sharp eyes peered holes into your divine reflection, hungrily watching your every movement like a hunter to his prey: every twitch of your cunt, every shudder that ran through your core, every whine that you exhaled satisfyingly.

but he was lowkey watching his reflection as well.

every now and then, his eyes would drift off and fall into his well-built, pumped bicep. then he’d mindlessly look at his body, overshadowing and completely covering your shuddering figure. fuck, you looked so cute, helpless and pliant under his touch and command.

you shifted incessantly in your place as you felt the coil inside your stomach starting to snap, your eyes watering immediately. your bottom lip quivered as you softly whispered. “sannie, please—“

the combination of his thick fingers pistoning into your wet entrance and his fat thumb playing with your puffy bud was starting to become unbearable, too much. san hummed lowly, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against your back.

he was so in love with you and everything about you.

“fuck baby, look at you.” he hushed, spreading wet, lingering kisses all over your neck, his tongue greedily lapping its side. “doing so good f’ me.” he closed his eyes for a bit, immersing himself into the aura of the moment, the dreamy haze he always felt whenever he had this kind of intimacy with you. “i love you, i love you so much.” he repeated mumbling, meeting your teary-eyed expression in the mirror. “you’re so beautiful,” he paused for a brief second, taking in the view: you, leg-spread with his fingers working you open, slowly pushing you into the abyss. “my beautiful girlfriend.” his head fell down your shoulder, sticky forehead meeting your sweaty skin. “i’m so lucky i get to call you mine.” 

you nodded even though he wasn’t looking at you. “yes, sannie. yes,” you breathed sharply. “’m yours and—ugh!— ‘nd only yours..” you confessed, though it wasn’t news. your voice cracked but you couldn’t care less.

you could’ve closed your eyes and just get lost into the heat of the moment, but you simply couldn’t. you had already disobeyed your sannie once, you weren’t going to do so twice. 

and that just explains the effect this man has on you, how whipped you are for him, how much you’re drawn to his love.

san’s dark irises returned to your reflection, a soft glint sparkling in them. “that’s my pretty girl.” he kept on going with his ministrations, his smirk wider as your moans grew in volume; body twitching more violently now. “i can feel you, baby.. you’re right.. there,” his working thumb slowed down its pace to a stop, withdrawing from its position; a chill breeze sending shivers down your shoulders. he raised his hand right above your oozing cunt before landing light slaps on your swollen clit, sparks blowing inside you.

you twitched, whining wantonly. “fffuck, sannie..!” you exhaled. “if you keep doing that—angh!” your back arched as he hit your pussy with another sharp smack.

you suffered while trying to keep your eyes on the mirror, nails digging into san’s muscly thighs. until you couldn’t handle it anymore. “sannie.. no more, i can’t—fuck.. i can’t, please..”

you begged him for an ounce of mercy, which meant he allowed you to hide your face in his chest as you came undone for him.

and san would never tell you this, but he loved every time you did that.

so how could he possibly resist that?

he sighed, intoxicated by the effect your words and pleas had on him. “fuck, yeah—yeah, jagi, come,” he grunted. “just let go and come, my princess.”

you immediately gyrated your head, a desperate hand flying straight to san’s neck. your fingers pressed against his nape as your half-lidded eyes finally fell closed, frowned brows and your jaw hung open complimenting your blissed-out expression. a string of breathy moans and pants fell off your tongue as you came undone for him, legs throbbing as clear liquid sprayed out of your gushing cunt. 

your hot breath fanned san’s exposed chest, a weird wave of coziness and possessiveness washing over him. he continued mumbling praises right above your ear, riding your orgasm better than you could ever. 

the shuddering ceased and your limbs went numb, totally spent and lightheaded.

san’s hands abandoned your overstimulated pussy and shifted upwards, adjusting your body so san was cradling you, dilated irises staring right into your soul in the most endearing and romantic way.

san smiled at the sight, sweetness pouring out of his lovely grin. “there she is.” he cooed at you, “there’s my girl.”

he leaned closer, almost towering over you to press a tender kiss on your forehead. you stared up at him, consumed by his loving gaze.

until something hard rubbed against your arm, which was pressed against his abs. 

oh.

of course you had felt his erection poking your lower back moments ago, but you were so lost in the feeling, so gone that thinking about anything else was the furthest thing from your mind.“wait but, what about you?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“ah that?” he stared down his hard-on nonchalantly, immediately brushing off your concern. “don’t worry, i’ll take care of it in a moment,” he said with a sweet smile plastered on his face, he gently moved you off him, adjusting you on the tangled sheets until you were lying comfortably. slowly, he crawled out of bed, circling around the mattress before leaning down, his body hunching over yours. a soothing hand reached up, tenderly brushing a few stray locks of hair from your face. “you must be exhausted, so just stay here while i go and get something to clean you up.” he offered with that silky voice of his. 

you grabbed his arm before he could stand up and walk away. “but i want to.” you volunteered. “please?”

oh no, not the puppy eyes. he sighed and sat down next to you, mumbling in a low whisper. “how could i say no to that..” 

| masterlist

[buckysm]

2:15 am (and i miss you)

ᯓ★ part one, part two

ᯓ★ Bucky Barnes x fem ex hydra AVENGER reader

ᯓ★ word count 8.4k+ (this was going to be 5k but then i ended up writing about 2.5k worth of smut... so!! beware)

ᯓ★a/n: this is weeks late, life happens, shit happens we get back up to write bucky barnes faniction. {para @dove4444 te amo, perdon por la espera <33333}

ᯓ★ summary: Tensions rise when a ‘friendship’ builds that leave both of you wanting more. Everyone can see how his eyes never leave you. If only you could get your head out of your ass and see for yourself.

ᯓ★ series warnings/ tags/ tropes: canon? what canon?, haters to lovers -- except you never hated him and he just resented you-- midnight rendezvous, friends to lovers, separation, Anxiety, angst and fluff and smut,  Bucky Needs a Hug, Protective Bucky Barnes Bucky Barnes issues related to past trauma, not so platonic cuddling, slow burn, jealous Bucky Barnes Miscommunication Bad Ass Reader Soft Bucky Barnes, Mentions of torture off screen ------[PART TWO WARNINGS: unhealthy coping strategies, miscommunication, smut, dry humping, cursing in other languages (Spanish and Russian), dacryphilia, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, p in v unprotected sex]

You needed time to heal after— two days of bed rest, stitches, and recovery for a heavily sprained ankle. And unfortunately for Bucky, that meant no clandestine meetings at quarter past two in the morning. 

He tried his best to keep away. After the initial reunion, he handed you into the infirmary and avoided everyone like the plague. They avoided him right back; he couldn’t blame them. He felt as if a storm cloud enveloped him without you, knew he had murder in his eyes. It cost him to hand you up to the doctors, a pang in his heart at having you taken from him once again. He told himself it wasn’t like that, and you would be back in his line of sight before he knew it. His subconscious disagreed, so he trained for hours until he passed out in a mat, warring voices in his head quieting down with exhaustion that pulled at his body, made gravity stronger. Phantom hands yanking him down into oblivion mid-workout. He toed the line of danger training without a spotter, but once the black started to spot his vision and his dry throat burned with rage, —he was a super soldier, neglecting hydration helped him pass out faster— he knew to go to the mat so when he did pass out, at least he wouldn’t injure himself.

One of those days he came to the Black Widow frowning from above him.

He grumbled an intentional incoherent sentence, not feeling like interacting. The redhead’s brows furrowed further. Unimpressed with his antics.

“Get a grip, Barnes, this self-pity schtick has to go. Here.” 

He felt more than saw the weight of a water bottle against his stomach. Almost snarled before remembering himself. This was a bit embarrassing. He sat up and grabbed at the water with resentment in what was meant to be one fluid movement, but came out clumsy and sluggish. His head pounded, his vision clouded. Embarrassing. Begrudgingly, he unscrewed the water bottle and finished it in slow, measured drinks under Black Widow’s judging gaze.

Said redhead dropped to a crouch, eye level with him, frown unfurling, and even he could see the concern in her eyes and the unpleased twist of her lips.

“Barnes, look. I long ago forgave you for the scar you gave me, and I know that you hold yourself guilty for— don’t give me that look, you know you do. Anyway, the others wanted to stage an intervention— No, before you start, let me finish! They care about you. —No. I know that face, I’m going to ignore all your passive-aggressive expressions now, you petulant child— I know you don’t like to think much about what happened during— well, yes, I know you remember. Haven’t you ever stopped to think why the fifty-sixth floor stayed destroyed? Huh? Yeah! Thought you didn’t. I know you pay close attention to Tony, so I know you know he is prideful and a perfectionist. He wouldn’t leave a floor wrecked just because. And before you get angry. No, he didn’t tell anyone why he let it be. And I know for a fact that he turned off the cameras. I couldn’t find any trace of the feed for the floor, and I am Black Widow — it didn’t take me long to figure out he had forgiven you no matter how much he teases you. Yes, he was hurt, but he ultimately understood that it wasn’t a choice, and he cares, in his own asshole way. He— We care about you, Barnes. And I know things have been awkward with Steve— since you tried to kill him and all--, but if you don’t see that he cherishes you then you have been lying to yourself. And she cares too! Did you know she has been accepting visitor? She’s about to be discharged to her own room tomorrow morning. She didn’t need to stay in the infirmary but Tony worries, and I know you do too. So there is no reason to stay away from your friend— no rational reason. And it pains me to see hope bloom in her eyes once the door opens and the way she tries to cover up it’s shatter when it’s not you. You two understand each other. You are best friends. Whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. We live together. She wears her heart on her sleeve. You just have to learn to read her tells. She will never outright say what she means to say. She will veil her true feelings with insults and sarcasm. Now take a shower and go to her, you big fucking idiot. You reek.” She sprang up in one smooth motion, leaving him with a fond stern look and scolded, all of reminded him of his sister.

That was the longest she had spoken in front of him ever, even putting every interaction together. He didn’t have time to unpack everything, though. Bucky was left reeling, jaw clenched to prevent it from slacking open in shock. His breaths came in faster and faster. He missed you so much. He couldn’t stop thinking about having you in his arms, wanting you back there forever. But Black Widow was right. He reeked. 

His thoughts ran a mile a second, his body going through the motions without needing instruction. Made his way to his bathroom and showered, and did his night routine on autopilot. 

 It was late… you were most definitely sleeping. His every thought hyper-focused on you. On the fact that you weren’t there, your absence a heavy and loud presence in his heart.

  Bucky stared at his bed, bones weary and freshly showered. He would lie to himself if he said he contemplated sleeping there, visiting you tomorrow. He needed you now— needed you always—But his need for you felt more pronounced at that moment. His body was tired, but it yearned to hold you more than it did sleep. He needed his nightly dose of you. And even then that wouldn’t be enough, needed you close needed you in ways that had him blushing and running himself a cold shower. He shook his head, trying to lose memories of him jerking himself off at breakneck speed, to find some sort of release of the lust full torture he found himself in just by thinking about you— never mind breathing in your scent.

He threw himself on his bed. Trying to keep away, truly he did. But between the lands of consciousness and unconsciousness, he saw you. Screaming for him, crying out as you were tortured. He couldn’t take it. His heart pounded as he ran his fingers aggressively through his hair. 

He knew you deserved all that was good in the world, and that excluded him — but that didn’t calm down the tension in his body palpable through his teeth. Bucky tried to breathe in, tried to think rationally, but his limbs moved on their own accord as if deciding for him. 

His mind a passenger to his body as he was pulled by an invisible string holding his heart hostage, tethered to you, throughout the building to your door.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You couldn’t sleep, or rather you had been knocked out for a while, sleeping on and off, drifting between the blurred line of realistic nightmare and nonsensical reality, dozed in a wide array of medicine, and found yourself squirming at two a.m. in the morning. 

You were unable to move much. Your leg was elevated to aid your heavy sprain.

Your eyes were heavy, blinking slowly in the darkness. You were so uncomfortable, and you had to sit with one big fact. Squirmed with it. You wanted to see him. You distracted yourself from any other thoughts, from processing whatever the fuck happened in the warehouse, the new drops in the bucket of blood and death, with memories of his arms around yours. You had relished in life giving away beneath your hands, just as they had relished in breaking your bones. You glared at your palms as if they would give you an answer to why you didn’t feel guilty. You had to kill your way out, no one was coming to save you. He would’ve. You could see it in his eyes, he was about to fight Captain America to get to you. You shivered not knowing how to take it. He had been so relieved, and so had you.

Your inhale was shaky. You tried to think of him, but— your greatest fears had come true those long hours before you got to escape. Half unconscious with pain you thought you were back in Hydra. When you screamed in pain from the torture, you thought those nights with him had all been a nice dream. That the beautiful man with the sad blue eyes had been a hallucination. The cruel eyes from not too long ago blurred into those of  your past, of older memories from Hydra. A variety of eyes: twin flames, mirrored each other with sadistic pleasure and glee. There was a twist in your gut that didn’t let you give up, told you there was a man with soulful eyes and a gorgeous smile waiting for you. Pure grit brought you back online, moving your body in ways you hadn’t since your hydra days. Killed so many. You were scared that you didn’t care. Bucky was real, had hugged you so tight—

But an anxious, paranoid part of you still thought so.  You hadn’t seen him in days, and the rational part of you knew he was real, but a dark and needy side of you needed him here to believe it. A heavy sensation of being trapped grew in your body, your limbs heavy and achy impeded you from moving much. Frustration built in your chest, rising and rising. Your breaths came out fast and shallow. You didn’t know how to manage it, needed to move, needed him. 

A knock at the door dragged you from your haze. Hope failed to bloom in your chest, too many times had it grown only for someone that wasn’t Jamie to come into the hospital room.

You couldn’t see through your distress. It was late, and you didn’t want to be bothered— not by anyone who wasn’t him. You slid a hand under your pillow, fingers curling around the grip of your knife. 

You knew those soft footsteps, familiar with them even in their uncertainty— you were dreaming. “Doll?” Oh, how you missed him.

You placed the knife on the bedside. “Jamie?” You weren’t able to keep the excitement and relief from your voice.

“I had a nightmare. I had to check for myself. I’ll let you sleep.” His voice was gruff, worried. Worried.

Yes, you were in fact dreaming, a pain medication-induced nice dream. Your Jamie was proud, he would never— this was your dream, you could do whatever you wanted and you wanted him around you. “Come here. There’s enough room for the both of us.”

Dream Jamie didn’t hesitate. The bed shifted with his weight. You flinched when you felt cold metal against you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I can move—”

You giggled softly.  The dark haze dissipating from your mind by his presence. “It’s alright, Jamie. You’re so cold. Get under the covers with me.” You yawned. Now that you weren’t in distress, your subconscious pulled you towards sleep—deeper sleep, since you were already in the sandman’s territory.

There was an awkward shuffle as he got inside the covers.

You curled around the cold metal arm as best as you could with restricted movement. You yawned again. “G’night, Jamie. Try to get some sleep. We’re safe here; nothing can hurt us in my dream. I’m so glad to have you in my arms I missed you so much. So happy you’re real and here, even if it is a dream Jamie.” Your words murmured. You rubbed your face into his cotton shirt. The pounding of his heart lulled you to sleep.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You thought you were dreaming! Did you dream of him often? It didn’t matter. He would ponder about this new revelation later; now he would focus on your soft, pliant body against him, and tiredness overtaking him.

Bucky’s consciousness came to him in phases, each one more forceful than the last, crashing into him in waves. The first sensation he became aware of was warmth. His body relaxed against it. It was familiar, as he had dreamt of it. The next thing he noticed was that the warmth was tangible, had soft give to it— he could feel it. He rolled his neck against foreign pillows… His eyes flew open, muscles tensing slightly with alarm. 

Your soft sleeping body cocooned his left side and enveloped his usually cold metal arm— which was at that moment the same temperature as your body. He so badly wanted to give in again. Burrow into your warm, soft skin. He barely had time to overthink it. His groggy mind almost reached consciousness before a soft murmur from your lips brought his thoughts to heel.

“Shhh, go back to sleep, s’early Jamie, sleep.” You didn’t seem to care about him not being a product of REM. You curled up tighter around him. Your smile bigger than last night, cheek pressed against his metal arm. And never had he felt any semblance of gratefulness toward Stark. But the new arm sent feedback to his brain. A weapon of destruction cradled and enveloped softly by your body. Somehow you trusted him, he felt less a weapon with no agency and more a person. He liked touching you with his metal arm. He knew that it was tainted but your touch made it pure. Bucky acknowledged that he would’ve never gotten you here with him if it weren’t for that still-wrecked floor. Unwanted tears prickled in his eyes. Would he ever live up to this forgiveness?

He didn’t want to think anymore so he followed the laced command in your sweet, sleepy voice urging him back to dream land and succumbed to his dreams.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The air around the two of you shifted after the one-person intervention. And yes, of course, the team noticed, but they chose to say nothing. They were glad that Natasha had gone in to talk to him by herself. Although she never did retell what happened, but it seemed to work. And while they liked to tease Bucky— some billionaire philanthropists more than others— they were happy for him; he seemed a little more calmer than before. Settled into himself. 

While he never directly came out and touched you in front of them. He started orbiting you blatantly. Taking a seat next to you during the rare shared meals. Glaring at anyone who dared take his spot next to you on the couch. Walking into a room and making his way to you. 

Two particular instances engraved themselves into the minds of the team members who were lucky enough to behold it. 

The first event took place in the morning. It started like any other. You chit-chatted with Steve and Nat as you made two of your breakfast bagels. They might’ve thought you had woken up hungry that day were it not for the two cups of coffee you set in front of the plate holding the two halved bagels.

Tony tinkered with a toaster in the background, his eyes looking up slowly when Bucky walked in fingers not stopping their ministrations on the machinery. 

And the team had been so wrong. Yes, Bucky had a strong disposition, but the way he had always stared at you, so intently. It should have been obvious. It was like their eyes opened after the mission had gone wrong.  The man was so obviously besotted with you. 

It couldn’t be more clear as the usual dark storm cloud that hung over him dissolved when his eyes found you. He strode toward you with one track mind. 

You spoke to him before your gaze found his, as if sensing his presence.“Hey there, I just made you my favorite breakfast. Grab our plate, here’s your coffee. Dark and joyless like you.” You turned to look at him with barely veiled glee.

Steve’s brows furrowed slightly, concerned. He used to make those kinds of jokes with his Bucky, but he didn’t know how this Bucky would react.

Tony’s eyes furrowed with concern—

Bucky huffed and pursed his lips. But his eyes, they were accustomed to his eyes being perpetually set in a glare. 

His gaze was soft, voice softer, “Doll… You know me so well.”

Your grin was dazzling and you were the only one that missed the way his stare lingered a bit too long on your lips.

DOLL??? Oh, you guys were clearly fucking. Natasha smiled, amused, and raised an eyebrow at Steve. 

Steve gaped at Bucky, lost and forlorn. He had spent so long tiptoeing around the man who used to be his best friend. 

Bucky didn’t seem to care that there were other people in the kitchen, long gone was the man who didn’t show up for breakfast. You curled your fingers around the handle of the two coffee cups, concluding the chit-chat. He grabbed the plate with his metal fingers. Then, so slyly as if with half a mind, he reached out his right arm toward you, near your hips. His fingers slid inside the loop of your jeans and yanked you toward him.

You let out a surprised yelp and laughed. “Jamie! Careful. The coffee will spill!” You didn’t seem the least put off by his actions. 

They had no clue when it started, but somehow, in a few months you had gotten through the broken and hurting Winter Soldier and got to Jamie. 

Jamie. Bucky never let Steve call him that. It was bittersweet. Your chattering voice faded as he dragged you out of the kitchen. It was then that he came to a conclusion. Bucky was a different man, and he wanted to get to know this version of him.

And they felt guilty, they had given a half ass try to get through to him, put off by his glower, you weren’t perturbed by his grumpiness nor his mood swings. Letting him be silent whenever he got too in his head. Chatting to him about whatever until you eventually drew out a small smile perceptible in his usually clouded expression.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You had found yourself in the proud position of Bucky’s friend, closest and best — you did sleep in the same bed—, yet you still felt like screaming in frustration. It wasn’t enough. You weren’t unhappy per se. You had him in your arms every night…Your cheek pressed against his warm, sturdy chest. The only thing between keeping your skin from his was a thin, flimsy shirt. And maybe it was wrong for you to, but you longed for more, to touch without restraint. Had feelings with more-than-friends connotations. Not that you had many— any— real friends before you were recruited here. So while you knew there was a difference between platonic and romantic love. You tried fooling yourself into thinking it was platonic. But you wouldn’t go and kill around 15 people for just about anyone, and it hurt. You wanted him to see you the same way you did him. Rare nights where it was you holding him instead of the more common inverse. 

You’d scrape your fingernails softly through his scalp. Hope would make your heart full, inflating it with every hum of pleasure he let out in his sleep. But then he’d wake up shy and closed off, cheeks red with what you perceived as embarrassment and your heart would collapse once again, hope seeping out and leaving acid in its wake.

But he’d do certain things that would make your heart race, exhilarated and frustrated, leaving you reeling and confused.

Your feelings grew despite your protests, so you kept them locked in nice and tight, hidden even from yourself, for as long as possible. 

You were full to the brim with tension, and one particular instance made you lose it, the container breaking with pressure and spilling all over the place. 

It went like so. It was early afternoon, and sunlight spilled from the high windows of the tower, casting a warm glow on the room. 

Natasha was telling you all about these two guys; they were inviting her and you to a double date. You were certain in your decision not to go. The man you’d be paired up with was the same one that frequented the bar with the team; he had brown eyes and a sleazy smile. Nothing like your Jamie.

You were doubling down on your decision when he walked in.

“Hello, Doll, Nat.” His greeting was gruff, but a few months ago, you would’ve thought him possessed.

Natasha’s eyes glinted with mischief and calculation. She gave you a feral grin before turning around, her expression slipping easily into neutrality. “Bucky, it’s so good that you’re here. You can help me convince her to go out with me.”

Jamie cocked his head, expression unreadable. “Sounds fun, Doll; you need a girl’s night.”

This was it! The perfect opportunity to gauge his reaction to you going out with someone else! “It’s a double date with the guys from communication.” You deliberately left out the part where you didn’t want to go, wanting to push a grand reaction. —It never came.

You saw his full body tense for a moment, and for a second, your heart soared… only to crash instantly when he gave you a terse smile. His voice was disappointingly steady, “Why don’t you want to go?”

You knew your body was overreacting, knew you were blowing it out of proportion, but your heart shrivelled nonetheless. You tried still, couldn’t swallow down the frustration try as you did.“I like my men a little bit older…” Your mouth answered for you, giving him a cheeky grin. 

He turned his full attention toward you, and your body viscerally recoiled from the look in his eyes. An angry and resentful glint in his eyes. So familiar—the way he used to stare at you before the first meeting at two a.m.

“You should go.” His words were final, a command. 

You didn’t understand, and you almost sobbed then. You prided yourself in being able to count the number of times you had cried on one hand. A chasm was growing between you, distance expanding with every word. He didn’t want you that way. Pinche ilusa! How could he ever want you that way? You snarled instead of crying, “Alright, I will, but don’t expect me here at two in the morning.”

His smile was bitter, mean. “I won’t.” 

Your returning smile was filled with spite. Anger bubbling in your throat, you saw red. “Pinche pendejo, deveras.”  (Such a fucking prick), it hurt to smile. You didn’t even want to think about the last time you used your Spanish. But his hardened eyes and clenched jaw brought out the most impulsive sides of you. 

Beside you, Nat and Bucky tensed. You lifted your downward gaze toward them. Their heads were cocked to the side, assessing… You’d never slipped into your native tongue.

You took a deep breath before speaking, “I’m going to get ready, Nat! See you at eight!” Smiled at them both before prancing to the elevator, assuming a mask of joy, heart sunken in.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The elevator doors closed in front of you, taking you from him. The Winter Soldier's gaze lingered on the spot where you'd disappeared, his eyes burning with a mix of longing and frustration before snapping toward his adversary.

The soldier was full of rage. Flowers had bloomed through the cracks in his stone heart only to wilt because of her.

The redheaded sensed the obvious danger, and spoke in a language the soldier didn’t understand. He understood her disappointment with him, which displeased the soldier.

“говорить демон.” The soldier growled, beckoning the demon to speak, try and save herself. 

She had been a friend…The redheaded demon responded in his language. “You were taking too long, and I couldn’t take any more of her sulking… So speak up or forever hold your peace, soldier. You don’t get to wallow in self-pity and watch life passing you by, cursing time for moving on and not standing still, you can’t unwind the clock, soldier, you can only go forward… So decide carefully before it’s too late.”

Bucky couldn’t breathe, bereft of oxygen. What had he done? Had the soldier really come back because of you? The threat of losing you?

He somehow found himself in his room. He didn’t quite remember how he got there. His brain a haze of frustration and defeat.

His room felt wrong, empty, and cold. He didn’t even approach his bed, knowing how that whole schtick would go. So Bucky paced and paced, his mind running around in circles. 

And what was that whole thing about liking older men? How was he supposed to take it? 

He knew he had fucked up. But he wasn’t about to go crash your date… So he went to his training room. Came back to the land of the living hours later, an unknown familiar face framed by gold hair staring down at him. Warmth pressed against his mouth and he drank greedily.

“…can’t keep hurting yourself like this, Buck.”

Bucky groaned in response and in acknowledgment. Looked at his friend’s concerned eyes. His chest ached with nostalgia, love, regret… everything. “That’s my line, punk.” His voice came out unsteady.

The ground moved underneath him, yanked by his metal arm toward Steve into a tight hug. For a moment Bucky’s arms hovered uncertainly and he could feel a Steve’s large body shake against him. So he hugged his friend back. He had been neglecting Steve.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, Stevie, it’s alright.” His voice was fond. He was yanked once again. Twin grips on his shoulders shook him with more force than merited. 

“No, you stupid idiot! It’s not alright…” For a moment Steve looked like he wanted to say more, but he knew how Bucky was, so he kept in his spiel and sighed dramatically. “Come on, let’s get some food in your poor body.”

Steve tried to help Bucky walk, which ended up with Captain America being whacked upside the head. The blonde turned to Bucky with fake offence, instead deciding to drag him to the kitchen by force. Oh, how things changed…

Steve had changed…he managed to beat Bucky in a stare-down. Even in his forties after the serum   that only happened once in a blue moon. So Bucky found himself eating a sandwich and a big glass of electrolytes with resentment. His leg bounced with vigor. 

He kept his eyes on his plate, avoiding Steve’s too observant eyes, eyes that knew him since childhood.

As soon as the last bite had been swallowed, Bucky looked up. Only to regret it instantly. Steve had a resolved expression. A glint in his eyes that told him to run. So he did. Not ready for whatever conversation he wanted to have.

“Where’s Banner?” He pushed off the table in a harsh, sudden movement.

Steve’s face fell, confused and hurt. “Huh?”

“I need a cigarette.”

He got furrowed brows and a cocked head in response.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

A few blocks away, your leg bounced anxiously. Unbeknownst to you mirroring the person who caused your stress, .

You sat across from Nat, your date an uncomfortable breath away.  The tension between you palpable as you struggled to make small talk with him. Thigh pressed to bouncing thigh. You wanted to turn pleading eyes to Nat. And for what? You had come here out of your own volition. Fuck. You needed a smoke. You tried to convince yourself you wanted to be here. If he didn’t want you, you deserved someone who did.

A meaty hand slid against your bare skin. Ala mierda… Yeah, no… Abort.

“Calm down, baby… you are all… amped up… how about we go outside and—”

“That’s a good idea.” 

You got a sleazy grin and a flash of eerily perfect teeth. His were a charmingly imperfect; he wouldn’t call you baby. He would call you doll….

“I am going outside by myself. I need a smoke. Besides— I left my lighter at home.”

“I-”

“No, thank you. Sorry, Nat.” You flashed your not-so-sorry gaze toward her. 

She was amused. “Go! by all means. I’ll get the check.” She moved her hand, shooing you off.

A grip on your arm stopped you. “Don’t tell me it’s because of that creepy guy with murder in his eyes.”

You shivered, giddy with pleasure. It was too obvious of a response for it to fly over your date’s head.

“It is! He stares at you like you hurt him. Like he wants to tie you up in his bed and never let you leave!”

Your wicked grin was enough for him to let you go with a huff of disgust. You didn’t care, kissing Nat’s cheek. “Goodbye, you evil woman.” 

She spanked your ass, sending you off. You turned one last time toward her, grinning. Your smiles reflecting glee and mirth.

You walked around the city for a while. Savoring being able to do so without recrimination. 

You weren’t delusional; you should’ve known better. Yet you were so blinded by self-doubt that you closed your eyes.

Bucky wasn’t loud with his emotions, ever. He swallowed them whole, drowned in them. Even if he wanted you, he was too prideful and scared of being hurt. Countless sleepless nights and nights where it was avoided deliberately to see each other told of a man who was interested in you in some capacity.

You weren’t dumb, you just chose to ignore the evidence. Turning a blind eye to the staggering difference in the way he spoke to you versus literally anyone else. He gave you preferential treatment. You cuddled every night for fucks sake! And you doubted that he cared for you? He couldn’t sleep without you, and vice versa! 

You checked your phone. 2:03 a.m. What were you stalling for? 

You smiled all the way back to the tower.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The third time the elevator doors pinged, Bucky’s hope had worn out. Expecting Steve or Natasha. The latter had come from the double date alone. “I told you to leave me alone to— what had you called it?— wallow in self-pity and the consequences of my own actions or whatever.” He raised a shaking hand, knuckles cracked and bleeding— he was embarassed to admit he had succumed to his baser needs and punched a wall out of frustration— taking a drag of a cigarette. It tasted radioactive… but it smelled like you. He coughed softly.

An achingly familiar laugh startled him from his stupor. He swerved around with wide eyes. A kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar… “What are you doing here? If you’re here to tell me about — I don’t want to hear it.” He grumbled. Yes, you were friends, but he really, really didn’t want to hear about you sleeping or even breathing in near another man. He took another drag of your cigarette. Filled his lungs with smoke, his blood with chemicals. Okay, yes. He got it now.

“You big, stupid man.” The candor of your voice dripped with irritation. You stomped toward him, heels clacking against the floor, and snatched the smoke from him in harsh movements.

He grunted in response, out of his depth, and turned his gaze toward the skyline. He was aware of your every movement. You took two drags and stomped a perfectly good half of a cigarette with your heel.

He turned to glare at you, giving you a once-over. Fucking helllll….. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Bucky needed to dump cold water on himself ASAP. He was reminded of the many, many long showers he had jerked off in before joining you in bed. They were always futile, super soldier refractory period, and your soft skin, and— you were wearing a mini skirt and a top that accentuated your tits. Bucky mentally clutched his 100-year-old pearls. His breath hitching. Eyes catching on thighs— THIGHS. And boobsp—BOOBS!Before meeting your pleased predatory gaze. 

You took one step toward him, he took one step back.

“I’m going to ask you something, please answer me honestly— Why don’t you want to hear about my date?”

“Why are you here and not with your date?” he ground out his non-answer.

“Why are your knuckles bleeding? Why are you smoking my cigarette?”

“Why are you here and not with your date?” He repeated, body tense, ready to pounce, touch, taste. You looked so beautiful. The soft night lights illuminating your tinted lips, your glittery eyelids, bringing the color out of your iris.

“Well, I found myself seated next to him and thinking: Jamie wouldn’t say that— but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t you.”

This time when you advanced toward him, his feet stayed planted in place. Your took your time advancing toward him. And you were taller now, easier to reach with those long heels. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed up against him.

His arousal grew to unavoidable levels. Pushing against your hip. “Fuck, doll. You can’t— I’m wrong for you, all messed up and angry. And from the forties…” His fingers clenched and unclenched on his sides. He was lacking in excuses to touch you. His limbs itched to hold you. Dig into you.

“Well, I hate to repeat myself, but I see I have to. I’ve told you I like my men a little bit older… And maybe I’m a bit messed up too. Because seeing you all fucked up and angry…. Well, I wasn’t upset.”

“I can’t sleep without you. I dream of you, I—”

You smiled with glee, “I know, Natasha was all too pleased to explain to me the mechanics of ‘morning wood’”

Bucky groaned in response. Letting his hands, metal and otherwise, slide against your hips. It was nothing like cuddling; his intentions were impure. They had always been, but he had not felt any past guilt over his arousal, unashemed in his guilt, he felt no need to neglect his urges no— unless you told him otherwise.

He could tell you had some snarky response in the makings. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that cocky grin off your face. If you thought he would be taking the subservient route, you were gravely mistaken. At least right now he needed to be in control, needed you to trust him. Needed you. 

Your eyes glinted with snark, your mouth opening to tease. His hand coasted up your back, to your nape, his fingers gliding into your hair to pull you toward him. Your eyes widened in surprise, pupils blown out. Good, you thought too much; he needed to make your brain shut up for a bit.

He held his breath as he leaned in, hummed with satisfaction once your lips pressed against his. Your lips, so soft against his. He needed more. He gripped your hip, conscious of the strength in his metal arm, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you, but he did want to leave a mark. You gasped in pleasure. Your hands yanked on his hair, and he groaned against your lips.

He set his sights on a wall three paces away, pushing against you. So malleable under him, succumbing so easily to his ministrations, like putty under his hands. His blood sang with the escalating volume of your noises. With each step he took forward, you met with a step back. You gasped as your back met the wall.

“Jamie... please," your voice was so whiny, so desperate it made his cock hurt with arousal. Blood rushed in his ears; he needed more, needed you begging. Undone.

He yanked on the base of your hair with one hand, exposing your neck for him. He was oh so happy to kiss and lick your skin. You whined and shifted against him... sensitive. His other hand slid down your skirt until it met skin. Groaning against your neck, he slid his hand up, up, finally reaching your perfect ass. He couldn't feel any underwear... Fuck... he might've been from the forties, but he had internet access, and he could call a spade a spade, or in this case, a thong a thong. He yanked on the flimsy thing, so it snapped back against your skin.

You whimpered and panted, eyes closed in bliss. He could feel your hips shift, as if chasing after stimulation. And who was he to deny you?

He placed both hands just below your ass, lifting you up and pulling them apart, a silent command you gladly followed with a whine and a curse word in Spanish.

You locked your legs around his waist; his erection pressed against your warmth, and his soft cotton pants were doing nothing to help his desperation. He gave up on holding himself back when your lips met his once again, your hips jerking against him.

It was the best thing he had ever felt since... ever. His fingers spread on either side of your ass, your back supported by the wall. He was beyond words, and so were you.

His cotton pants were soaked with your arousal, hiding nothing. He could feel everything: your pussy open for his cock to grind on, your underwear had twisted to the side. He lost all ability to think, his conscious motor skills deciding to go offline, the only movement he could do was jerking his hips. His lips opened to pant like a dog. It was your turn to kiss him, sloppy and uncoordinated, as he ground against you.

He had half a mind to be aware of his strength, but each time he tested the waters, pressing harder against you, you moaned louder. So it wasn't long before he realized you could take it, take all of him.

His body trembled with built-up tension. It felt like nothing he had ever experienced. His hands flexed and tightened on your ass, pressing you harder against him, making the friction so much sweeter. He chased the pleasure with a one-track mind, couldn't think of anything but your scent, skin, taste – for years, he had felt numb, and you brought him back to life. He hadn't thought he'd be able to feel such exquisite pleasure; it was you who had his hips jerking, dry humping like teenagers. He didn't care.

Your fingers clawed at his back, nails scratching his skin; you had long ago stopped kissing him, opting instead for panting against his neck.

Pleasure built and built, mind-numbing. You were saying something... begging for him... He threw his head back and groaned as his pleasure crested, stars exploding behind his eyes; he couldn't see...

His hips jerked with aftershocks, breaths harsh against your neck; his pants were soiled with his come and your arousal. Your legs slackened, dropping to the floor. Most of your body weight rested on the wall, the rest supported by his hands. He had two functioning brain cells, both reminding him of his selfishness.

You didn't look displeased with him, though; your skirt was bunched up at the hips, top in disarray. Your eye makeup was a mess, and he loved that. Your panties were slid to the far side, showing off your glistening cunt.

His knees hit the floor before he even realized what he was doing. He felt your thighs shake against his skin as he leaned in to look closer. Your clit was swollen and dark. He leaned in to kiss, to suck. Fingers pressed against his face, pushing him away.

“S’ too sensitive," your voice wavered.

Bucky furrowed his brows, looking up inquisitively at you.

“Came. Twice," you clarified, tone shaky with satisfaction.  your gaze followed his movements as he stood up to cradle your face, tilting your head to kiss you softly. He sucked on your teeth before stopping the kiss.

“Huh, didn't notice. You felt too good I went crazy. Too bad though, I want to feel you come on my face and on my cock."

You smiled, satisfied, a cat who finally got the cream “Sure, later," you muttered against him.

“Whenever you want, doll face," he smiled down on you. You looked fucked all the way to next week, and he hadn't even dicked you down yet. “Come on, let's get cleaned up."

You hummed, wrapping your arms around him in a silent request; he obliged happily, carrying you bridal-style all the way to his room.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Jamie was so soft, so careful with you. Your head was hazy with the aftermath of pleasure. No orgasm in your past could hold a flame to the explosive bliss from the earlier encounter.

Your head was hazy as he led you to his bathroom, your mind too fucked out for processing his room. You complied with whichever way he tugged your limbs, sliding off your rumpled clothes, until the only thing on your body were your high heels.

He knelt in front of you, his touch tender, as if apologizing for moments ago when he ground on you without thought. His cool metal fingers skated up your calf, reaching up to support your knee, as his other hand worked on the latch of your heels. He pressed a kiss to each ankle before standing up in front of you.

You blinked slowly, your eyes trained on him. He was still clothed. Why was he still clothed? Your gaze caught on the wet patch on his pants, outlining his half hard dick. Praise super-soldier metabolism.

You planted your feet on the white marble floor, your arms stretching out toward him, fingers curling into his shirt and yanking. “Off."

He grinned softly – you would never, ever get enough of his smiles – before sliding his shirt off in one swift movement.

Your breath caught in your throat—fuck, he was beautiful.

“Beautiful Jamie," you said, taking a step closer. You slid one hand up his chest, using the other to trace fingers along scar tissue. He was so… captivating, so utterly himself, that you felt like you were the only person in the world who got to see him like this “Only for me, only I get to see you like this." You turned to throw him a challenging glare.

“Doll, I wouldn't have it any other way, and I don't share either. Call me old-fashioned –"

“If I see you with another woman, James, I swear to God, I will break my killing streak. And all three of us will end up in a –" Rage had barely simmered from the image before he had yanked on your hips to pull you into another kiss.

“Easy there, Doll, there's no one else," his voice was so satisfied, an assured tinge to his candor, in a way you knew it only got for you. You were so fucking stupid for not noticing.

“Good," you yanked on his pants. “So... super-soldier dick... how long can you go? I bet we can get Jamie junior tired."

He laughed loudly, the sound enough for you to shiver with pleasure. “Doll, I don't think you could keep up with me; you'd pass out. You don’t understand how many times I can go if it's with you."

“Well, surely you can keep count if I'm passed out... set a record."

His laugh was disbelieving. “I don't want to fuck you when you're unconscious; I want you awake and making those sweet, delicious sounds."

“Another time, then – take off your pants."

“As you wish."

You tried, you really did, to focus on cleaning yourself once you'd gotten inside the shower. But you didn't fight the urge to slide your fingers into his scalp and help him clean his hair. Forcing him into a crouch to aid your reach, resting his face on your shoulder.

His touch was gentle, a silent decision to wash each other. He went first. You pressed your fingers, massaging the soap against his skin, fingers traveling lower, your eyes fixed on his cock. He was beautiful. Your fingers reached his hips; he was fully hard at that point, leaking. You couldn't stop yourself; you had planned on teasing him, but his cock was too pretty, red and wet with pre-come. Your soap-slicked hands circled his cock... and damn the groan that fell from his lips was unlike anything – the groans before had been rough, taking. This one was desperate, needing.

You took him in both hands, dragging your thumb against his leaking tip. He threw his head back and groaned, fingers digging into the skating over your waist.

You dragged your touch up and down his length, your eyes studying his every movement: his clenched jaw, and tightened face. He was holding his sounds back; that wouldn't do. You tightened your grip, fastened your pace – only to have your movements halted by his tight grip on your wrist. His gaze was heavy on yours. “The next time I'm coming, I'm doing it inside you."

Tension filled the air as he had his turn, took his time cleaning you. He was so clinical it was driving you insane. But you could tell he was restraining himself, his movements rushed; he had an end goal in mind.

You dried off quickly, not mentioning the fact that showering would prove futile with what you had in mind. The night was young; it was barely 3 am.

The anticipation was thick in each deep breath you took. As soon as you had crossed the doorway to his bedroom, you couldn't restrain yourself. You turned toward him, but he beat you to the first move, yanking on your arm and throwing you over his shoulder; you laughed as he spanked your ass.

The next moment, your body was airborne before your back bounced softly on his bed.

You leaned on your shoulders, breasts heaving with each breath, thighs open.

“Do you know how much I've wanted you, how long... I thought I was going to go crazy with how much I needed you," he said, crawling on top of you. Kissing you once chastely, your breath hitching. You were out of your depth; this was a completely new situation, and you were loving every second of it. He featherlight kisses peppered over your jaw, below your ear, along your neck – your body twisted and turned – over your collarbone, down... “You're so beautiful, Doll— I had to restrain myself back there. You deserve worship." His gruff voice was all the warning you got before he latched on to a nipple and sucked, cool metal fingers rolling your neglected nipple between his fingers, awakening erogenous zones that made their debut with a bang.

“Ala puta, mierda..." This bliss was unlike anything. Your hips jerked, your cunt pounded with need. Warm fingers slid your pussy open, circling your clit. You could feel every nerve sing with pleasure. Your toes curled, the balls of your feet pressing down against the bed.

He slid one finger into your cunt, and your whole body jerked in response. “Ala madre – ala madreeee!" Your head lolled, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You couldn't form coherent thought; your brain deciding to go offline.

Pleasure built and built, still sensitive from the past two orgasms. Just when you found yourself at the precipice, you were left bereft of pleasure, cut off from his touch. You looked at him with betrayal.

“No need for that, Dollface— you'll come soon. I want it to be on my cock— give me a second I’m going to get a condo –"

“NO!" You wanted to feel him and you wanted him inside you now .

“All right, Doll, and while I would love to put a baby inside you, I'm not sure I'm ready to share you yet –"

“I’m on birth control! I'm clean; I haven't – in years." Your voice was desperate, he smiled slowly at the neediness in your tone.

He shut you up with a kiss, fingers digging into the soft of your thighs, holding you open for him.

You felt yourself lose clarity, tears streaming down your face.You needed his cock inside you now.

You didn't have to wait long; soon enough he pressed his tip inside you. He was big... You babbled and pleaded for more to no avail. His fingers traced your skin, grounding you, as he slid in inch by delicious inch, until he was fully sheathed. Your body writhed under him with pleasure. It was a tight fit, bordering on a little bit painful. The slight pinch only made the feelings more heightened as your cunt pulsed around him.

You tried to beg him to “move," but none of the languages in your repertoire seemed to be available. So you were left a whining mess. He got the message. Felt his cock slide out of you only to slam into you so hard you saw stars. You could feel the exact moment he lost control, went feral and pussy-drunk. His thrusts were severe and hard, thrusting himself until your pelvises slammed together, the sound of your skin meeting his echoing through the room.

You were crying out, nails searching for pleasure on his back.

It didn't take long for your pleasure to peak; it ebbed and rose in waves. You weren't sure where your orgasm ended and another one began. Had started to come down only to have him pinch your clit and –

It was so good; you took everything he gave you greedily, you had been fulfilled a while ago your needs met ages ago. You were there for him to fuck however many times he wanted—  drenched with your arousal and his come. His hips would stutter, and you'd feel a rush of his come, warm and drenching you. He'd slow down for a few moments, making you think it was over, hips sputtering softly inside you. He'd kiss your skin softly in apology and harden inside you again.

He made good on his promise. Once you were close to passing out, he stopped.

Your full body shook as he cleaned you with warm towels, your mind unresponsive as he moved your limbs softly to slide on one of his hoodies and boxer briefs.

You were halfway to dreamland when he wrapped his arms around you, the room reeking of sex.

“…Doll... Mine... Love... Love you..." His voice was soft, and it barely processed as you fell asleep in his arms.

Did process enough for you to reply a sleepy, “Love you more."

Please remember to leave your kind thoughts in the comments (they fuel me), and if you enjoyed support with reblogs, ok thanks for reading love ya hope you enjoyed 🫶🏻!!!!

[dinkerr]

loser vi who needs you as motivation when she's studying for her finals!!

warnings: fingering, praise, reader is very kind, reader is the best supportive gf, vi is a loser, vi is lowk dumb in this i'm so sorry, i think that's it

vi was laying on her side, her eyes boring into the bright screen of her laptop while she messily wrote seemingly important words and sentences into her book, her hand beginning to cramp from the repeated motions. you were laying behind her, propped up on your elbow with her ass tucked against your lower abdomen. you could see past her shoulder enough to see what she was reading and writing about, occasionally moving forward to kiss the reddish pink hair on the top of her head every time you notice her write something important down.

you know your girlfriend is smart, in many aspects you wouldn't expect. she's good at maths and writes phenomenal essays for english- a very interpersonally and emotionally intelligent person in ways you've never been able to find within someone else.

but she's never been good at foreign language in any aspect whatsoever.

"baby, 's too much." she whines, her back arching away from your torso when you curl your fingers inside her. her boxers were discarded awhile ago, since she opened her laptop and told you that it was too hard for her to remember all of the syllabus in hiragana (me too). you don't even know why she chose this as one of her electives, especially when you tried to talk her out of it at the beginning of the year. you're starting to think she only chose it for this.

"read back through your notes. i watched you write it down earlier." she murmur into her soft hair, watching as she dropped her pen onto her mattress to begin flipping through the past her pages of her book at just the same speed of someone who's slightly panicked, bored, and wants an orgasm.

your fingers are pumping in and out of her at a relatively slow pace, one that you knew had her as equally frustrated with her work. "there you go," you coo, moving your hand away from your face to brush some of her hair away from the crown of her head to kiss it, said hand reaching to pick up her discarded pen to underline what she was looking for in the middle of the page, the letters that just looked like small drawings to her.

the repeated sound of her pussy squelching like a whore from your fingers has never paused for one second on the past thirty minutes, and it's the same with her moans. her inner thighs and your shorts are coated with her cum and arousal from when she was doing good.

"uh," she started, her voice slightly hoarse but still whiny in a way that was so sexy you're sure you'd never tire of. "hiragana is a simplified form of kanji along with katakana. there are forty six curvy characters, contrary to the sharp corners katakana has." eighth grade level definition, but it was good enough. "it's the most commonly used and spoken alphabet used in japan." she added, resulting with your fingers pumping in and out of her at a much more rapid pace than before, earning a soft whimper and moan slipping past her lips.

"can i-" she began, only for you to cut her off. "you can." and from your permission, she's cumming around your fingers with a loud moan, practically burying her face into her pillow with her heart shaped lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as you finger fuck her though it, her crooked glasses falling onto the mattress.

"that's my good girl."

[elliesanqel]

can you do reader eating sub!ellie out plspls🙏

consume

sypnosis; after you try on a new skirt you bought, you notice oddly submissive behaviour coming from ellie, making you determined to take advantage of it. warnings; e!receiving all, spitting, slight praise kink, eating sub!ellie out, fingering, soft dom!fem reader, overstim, multiple orgasms, mdni. a/n; thankyouuu for this req anon, hope you like it! i literally had to pause halfway through writing this cause sub ellie makes me feel things. ۫ ꣑ৎ .

you stand in front of the mirror, turning at different angles as your eyes travel all over the new skirt you’ve bought in order to assess how it looks on you. it hugged your body perfectly, your ass showing out the bottom a little. you loved it. you turned to face ellie who was half laying half sitting on the bed, watching your every move while she acted nonchalant. “you like it?” you ask innocently, voice soft. causing ellie’s eyes to shift up from where they weren’t supposed to be, to your eyes.

she nodded softly, a small hum coming from her at the same time. you frown in response. you knew ellie was never really the type to give full ass descriptions, but she’d normally at least say something. but all she could focus on was the wetness beginning to form in her boxers from the sight of you in that skirt, her pussy aching and pulsing.

“come on, whats wrong with it?” you ask, oblivious to what was going on, voice impatient as she let your question hang in the air for a bit. your brows furrowed when you noticed her slight squirming, her eyes squeezing shut and open. “nothin’. ‘s nice, baby.” she breathes, as if it took all her willpower to form that sentence.

small beads of sweat lined her forehead and her cheeks flushed a rosey pink. you knew something was up now, your eyebrows furrowing further. you walked over to the bed and sat next to ellie, your hand resting on her thigh. “whats up with you? you stressed or something? you look…weird.” you admit, your eyes scanning her whole body to try and catch something, and you did.

you noticed her thighs squeezing together, a pathetic look on her face as it looked like she was trying to hold back a moan. her head bowed a little, eyes squeezing shut and her voice fragile like it could break with the smallest bit of more contact. “fuck…” she muttered under her breath.

your eyes widened a little, now fully understanding what was going on as you watched her practically unfold in front of you.

“hm, i get it.” you grin, crawling a little closer to her as you cupped her chin gently, pulling it up. “look at me.” you command, her eyes immediately opening as she wasn’t really used to you saying such things. “is someone a little more needy than usual?” you ask with seduction practically dripping from your words.

she had to hold back a whimper, her lips thinning. “shut up.” she groans, but there was no real snap to it. you laugh at her, how pathetic she was sounding. you let go of her chin, moving on the bed so you were in front of her knees that were now up. hey eyes never left you, not even for a second, her heart rate quickening. your hands gently took her knees, spreading her legs apart slowly, crawling in between them and causing her eyes to widen and her lips to part. “what are you doing—”

you cut her off lightly. “shhh, let me take care of you, baby. just relax, mhm?” you whisper softly. it wasn’t often ellie was so submissive like this, you loved it. really loved it. she was such a loser when she was like this and it made you want to make her scream your name and beg for you to let her cum. the thought alone was enough to make you wet. “you’re so pathetic like this. needy for me, aren’t you?” you tease her, knowing she wasn’t able to protest.

“fuck you…” she whispers, no bark to her tone, even she knew she couldn’t protest. her head fell back against the bed, her eyes squeezing shut as she spread her thighs apart further, giving in to the dominant act for now. you grin as she doesn’t argue, your hands reaching forward and undoing the button of her skinny jeans, letting your hands linger on her waist for a bit before pulling them down and fully off. her pretty thighs greeting your eyes. you reach forward for her boxers next which did indeed have a wet patch. god she was such a loser for you.

your soft hands pulled them off her waist and down her legs, her hips lifting to help you. once they were off you tossed them to the side, looking back at her. her expression was a mix of neediness and something else—as if she was embarrassed.

you had to admit, fuck she was beautiful. her pussy gleamed with wetness in front of your eyes, her plump thighs spread apart and her pretty waist lay against the bed, her hoodie that had ridden up so you could see the bottom of her small boobs. you wanted so badly to compliment her but the need to just take her then and there was a more overpowering thought.

you lowered your head, looking at her eyes that never left you, your hand wrapping around her thigh while you took your other hand, softly touching ellies pulsing clit, swirling it with your delicate fingers. the movement caused ellies back to arch off the bed and her head to throw back, an unusual whore-ish moan falling from her parted lips. well shit, that was fucking hot. especially coming from her.

“god—” she gasped out as your fingers continued their movements on her puffy clit. a grin plastered on your lips. you take it further, wanting to get everything you could from her by slipping two fingers inside her throbbing pussy, curling them just right. “uuhhh, shit…” she whimpered, her head curling back further as her hips buckled up on your fingers, her back arching off the bed again. “fuck, don’t stop.” she whined out quickly, sounding like the most desperate loser ever—she’d normally never say anything like that. her hips continuing to buck against your fingers.

you grin, pumping your digits in and out of her cunt faster and faster, needy whines, groans and curses coming from her parted lips. her walls began pulsing around your fingers, you knew she was close but you also knew she’d never admit that so you gave her all you could, circling her puffy clit with your thumb as your fingers pumped in and out of her, her hands gripping the headboard behind her.

her face contorted in pleasure, her walls clamping down on your fingers as she shook vigorously, a needy moan falling from her lips as she comes on your fingers, the white liquid coating your fingers as it dripped out of her and onto the sheets. “oh shitttt.” she sighs out, breath ragged and eyes squeezed shut.

your face lit up at the sight before you. the same girl who loves being the one in control now had her cum all over your fingers. the irony.

but oh, how you were no where near done with her yet. you slipped your fingers out of her needy pussy, a small whine emitting from her at the loss of contact. you took your cum coated fingers into your mouth, licking up every last drop of ellies release, relishing every last drop as if it was your lifeline and making sure not to waste it. after all, it was very rare where you got to taste this loser and see her like this.

her eyes widened, clearly not expecting that from you. “wha—” she begins, but you quickly cut her off. “shhh, i’m not done with you yet. spread these pretty legs further.” she urge, voice seductive and low. she shakes her head as if she wasn’t just begging you to keep going 5 minutes ago. “no. i wanna give you—” you cut her off again, but not with your words.

you lean down and your lips make contact with her puffy clit, her head throwing back once more. “shit!” she gasps out, her plump thighs squeezing around your head which actually only egged you on. you gave her soft puppy licks, licking the cum, from her release that was left on her pussy, off. gathering it all up and swallowing it. your tongue worked magic on her, dipping into her aching hole every so often. she looked down at your head between her thighs, already seeing you looking up at her through your lashes as you ate her needy cunt. she had to admit, seeing you down there looking at her like that was a very pretty sight.

upon seeing you, her head fell back again, her teeth finding her bottom lip and her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. that face making you feel yourself getting wetter.

her hand found your hair, her fingers tangling with it and pushing your face closer. a very different demeanour from earlier when she thought you were done with her. like hell were you done. your hands reached to grip around her thighs, continuing your movements with your tongue. everytime your teeth made slight contact with her clit it drew loud moans from her. one hand left her thigh and slid up her stomach, slipping under her hoodie and cupping her small, warm breast, kneading it gently as you swirled your fingers around her hard nipple every now and then. “oh—oh my fucking goddd—” she cries out, hips bucking up against your face, nose against her clit.

“doing so well. being such a good girl for me, fuck…” you mumbled against her pussy, continuing your licks, the praising sending her almost rolling. you softly pulled back, looking at her swollen cunt, opening your mouth and softly spitting, letting your saliva fall down onto her as you quickly made contact again. the sensations of all your touches causing her to almost cry out of pleasure, a soft gasp escaping her lips when you spit on her folds. she was new to all this but god she loved it.

she was beginning to feel herself coming back to earth, her stomach clenching once more and her walls began pulsing around your tongue. “go on, baby. i know you have it in you, one more for me.” you egg her on, whispering against her pussy. she was shaking alot more this time, her second orgasm dawning on her. “c-cant…” she moans out as her eyes rolling back even further.

“yes you can, come on, sweetheart. you’re doing so so well.” you reply, trying to help her as much as you can as you continue dipping your tongue in and out of her throbbing walls. her face contorts once more, her body almost spasming as her moans get out and louder, her walls clenching around your tongue as her cum shoots out, directly into your mouth exactly where you wanted it. “mmm—fuuuuck…” she cries out, her back arching. you make sure to keep ahold of her to steady her, the slight overstimulation taking a toll on her as she’d never had that before.

you lick up every last bit, still making sure to not waste any as it was like liquid gold to you. you give her pussy a soft kiss before crawling out from between her legs, looking up at her dazed face and flopping beside her, well, basically on top of her. you wanted to be as close as possible, her calloused hands finding your waist and holding you for dear life. “that was…” she begins, a smirk growing on your face.

“amazing?”

“fuuuuck yeah. amazing.”

[stevishabitat]

Just remind yourself that generative text AI is just a more sophisticated version of your phone's predictive text generator (autocomplete).

You plug in the first few words of a sentence (prompt) and it offers you words to add based on that. That's it. That's all it does.

Chatgpt is a more polished version that can extrapolate big chunks of text based on bigger piles of data, but it really is the same thing under the hood.

If you would not write the thing based on autocorrect's word predictions, then don't use AI for it either.

If you are intending to make word salad for a shitpost on 4chan... I guess go for it.

One of the common mistakes I see for people relying on "AI" (LLMs and image generators) is that they think the AI they're interacting with is capable of thought and reason. It's not. This is why using AI to write essays or answer questions is a really bad idea because it's not doing so in any meaningful or thoughtful way. All it's doing is producing the statistically most likely expected output to the input.

This is why you can ask ChatGPT "is mayonnaise a palindrome?" and it will respond "No it's not." but then you ask "Are you sure? I think it is" and it will respond "Actually it is! Mayonnaise is spelled the same backward as it is forward"

All it's doing is trying to sound like it's providing a correct answer. It doesn't actually know what a palindrome is even if it has a function capable of checking for palindromes (it doesn't). It's not "Artificial Intelligence" by any meaning of the term, it's just called AI because that's a discipline of programming. It doesn't inherently mean it has intelligence.

So if you use an AI and expect it to make something that's been made with careful thought or consideration, you're gonna get fucked over. It's not even a quality issue. It just can't consistently produce things of value because there's no understanding there. It doesn't "know" because it can't "know".

[literaryvein-reblogs]

oh my god :((( i saw your academic/scientific writing post and thank you! my lecturer keeps telling us to 'comment' on paragraphs or papers and i just have no idea what she means??? I've tried looking at other papers and i just don't understand?? i was wondering if you or any of your followers could help? xxx

It sounds to me your lecturer might mean annotating to add your own comments/opinions on the article you're reading.

Writing Notes: Annotation

Annotation - to actively engage a text by pausing to reflect, mark up, and add notes as you read.

The simplest way to annotate:

Mark: Key words; Phrases; Passages...

...By: Highlighting; Underlining; Bracketing; Placing symbols

Steps to Annotating a Scientific Paper

Locate each of the components (Abstract, Introduction, etc.)

Identify unfamiliar words in these sections that are important to understanding the research.

Define the unfamiliar words.

Annotate each section by summarizing the main idea or paraphrasing important sentences.

Ways annotating improves reading:

Avoid having to re-read as often

Monitor and improve your comprehension

Remember what you’ve read

Reasons for writing notes in the margins:

Identify key ideas and help you remember them

Comment on what you are reading

Question what you are reading

Answer guide questions you previously wrote

Take notes for a class, prepare for a presentation, book club or any other occasion: You can make your annotations as simple or elaborate as you want. For instance, you can use different color highlighters or sticky notes to color code the text for different things such as:

comments and questions

observations

text you want to quote

use of themes

vocabulary words to look up

Reader Annotations

You can go beyond marking up text and write notes on your reaction to the content or on its connection with other works or ideas. A reader might annotate a book, paper, pamphlet. or other texts for the following reasons:

a student noting important ideas from the content by highlighting or underlining passages in their textbook

a student noting examples or quotes in the margins of a textbook

a reader noting content to be revisited at a later time

a Bible reader noting sources in their Bible of relevant verses

an academic noting similar or contradictory studies related to their article or book

Tips for Paraphrasing

Read the passage until you understand the meaning.

Purpose. What will you do with this evidence?

Look away from the passage to write the main points of what you read.

Imagine & write. Imagine explaining that main point to a classmate. Write down your explanation.

Check & cite. Double check your wording against the original. Cite the source.

Other things you should do as you read and annotate text:

Paraphrase important information

Write down thoughts and questions

Write down key terms

List and look up new vocabulary terms

Identify other articles to read

Here's an example of an annotated academic article (with steps and more details). Another example:

Strong readers often mark texts and this visual work is deeply linked to the reading experience. Considering annotation as a critical and creative activity, we can design and practice this skill in a multitude of ways. And, once again, as we link student’s visual experience into their ever growing language arts skills we strengthen their ways of interacting and communicating with the world. –James Shivers

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Thanks for your kind words. Hope this helps! (Do ask your lecturer directly though for further clarification on what they actually meant!)

[itsnesss]

Hi ! So i just want to say i absolutly adore all of your Jun-ho fics !

Can you do a Jun-ho x female reader fic where she is a player and he noticed her while infiltring because of her kindness. Like, she is supporting Han Mi-Neyo, is always trying to be kind ect ?

Sorry if it's strange, have a great day/night !

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | violence, death, psychological distress, trauma, tense or suspenseful scenes, emotional manipulation, romantic tension under high-stakes conditions

word count | 1.07 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The cold of the facility seeps through your green tracksuit, but you ignore it. It’s not the worst thing you’ve felt since arriving in this hell. Hunger, despair, and fear are constant companions. Still, you force yourself to keep your head high.

You refuse to become just another person who pushes, betrays, and tramples others for an extra second of life.

That’s why, when you see Han Mi-Nyeo sitting in a corner, trembling with rage and helplessness after being rejected by a group, you don’t hesitate.

"Here," you whisper, extending a piece of bread you saved from the last meal.

She looks up, distrustful. Her eyes analyze your every move, expecting a trap, expecting you to be like everyone else.

"Why are you helping me?" she asks warily, though her hand clutches the bread as if afraid you’ll change your mind.

"Because you might need it later," you reply simply.

Mi-Nyeo says nothing. She just lowers her gaze, biting into the bread cautiously, as if she doesn’t remember the last time someone did something for her without expecting anything in return.

This isn’t the first time you’ve acted this way. Since the first day, you tried to do the right thing in a place where there’s no room for kindness. You gave your sweater to a shivering woman on the first night. You helped an old man up when everyone ignored him. You shared food with a man on the brink of collapse.

You don’t expect anyone to do the same for you.

And yet, someone is watching you.

Hidden behind a black mask and a number that camouflages him among the others, Hwang Jun-ho has been watching you since he infiltrated this place. He was looking for his brother. He had no time for anything else.

But then, he saw you.

In a sea of despair, you are a point of light.

He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t look at you longer than necessary. But every time you step forward to help someone, his gaze follows you, unwillingly.

Every time you risk yourself for someone else, a knot forms in his throat.

Because in this game, kindness is a death sentence.

The first time his instincts tell him to act is during the night of the massacre.

When the lights flicker and players attack each other, Jun-ho remains still. He knows he can’t interfere. If he does, he’ll be exposed.

But then, he sees you.

You’re hiding behind one of the beds, not out of fear but to protect one of the weakest women in the group. Your body shields hers as you whisper that everything will be okay, even though you both know it’s a lie.

A man approaches with a pipe in his hand, his intentions clear. And Jun-ho feels his heart stop.

Before you can react, the sound of a gunshot echoes through the room.

The other players shrink back, the chaos halts for a second.

"Enough!" a guard orders, his gun smoking.

It’s a coincidence. A stroke of luck. But you don’t see it that way.

You lift your gaze, and in the shadows, you see him.

One of the masked men, standing a few meters away, his posture rigid. You can’t see his face, but you know it’s him.

Because this isn’t the first time you’ve felt his eyes on you.

And though logic tells you all the guards are the same, something in your chest tells you this one isn’t like the others.

You don’t know his name. You don’t know who he is beneath the mask.

But somehow, you know he cares.

And in this hell, that’s enough.

Days pass, the deaths pile up.

Jun-ho tells himself he must focus on his mission. Find his brother, escape, expose everything.

But every time he sees you, he hesitates.

Especially when you stagger back after the glass bridge game.

Your leg is wounded, your pants soaked in blood. You can barely walk, but you force yourself to keep going.

No one will stop for you. No one will risk helping someone else when survival is all that matters.

A guard approaches, ready to drag you away like a broken object. And before Jun-ho can stop himself, his lips have already spoken the words:

"Leave her."

The guard pauses, surprised.

So do you.

You lift your gaze, and there he is, in the black mask, with that presence you recognize even without ever having seen his face.

"Wants her to continue," he adds, his voice firm.

It’s a calculated lie. One that could cost him his life if questioned.

But no one does.

They let you go.

And that night, as you try to tend to your wounds with trembling hands, you hear a faint sound behind you.

"Why are you helping me?" you whisper, without turning around.

A long silence.

Then, a response, so low you almost don’t hear it.

"Because you don’t belong here."

He closes the door before you can reply.

But your hands no longer tremble.

The night before the final game, you wake with a jolt.

You don’t know why, but you feel someone is there.

And when your eyes adjust to the darkness, you see him.

He’s not wearing the mask.

Your heart races. It’s the first time you see his face.

And it’s the first time he allows himself to look at you without barriers.

Hwang Jun-ho.

His expression is serious, but his eyes say what his lips cannot.

"Tomorrow…" he starts, but stops.

There’s nothing he can tell you that you don’t already know.

If you win, maybe you live.

If you lose, it’s all over.

And he, who came here seeking answers, who never intended to get involved, now finds himself with a problem he can’t escape.

Because he wants to save you.

But he doesn’t know how.

You look at him, unflinching.

"You don’t have to do this," you whisper.

He lets out a dry, humorless laugh.

"I know."

But he’s here.

And when he steps forward, when his hand slides over yours, when his lips find yours in a desperate kiss, you know it’s the first and last time he will.

Because in this game, love has no place.

But, for tonight, you allow it.

Because even if dawn brings death, even if the end is inevitable…

Here, in the darkness, it’s just you and him.

No masks. No fear.

Only a whisper before everything disappears.

"Survive."

[thebroccolination]

[FANWORK EVENT FOR THAI QL FANDOM] COMMENT CARNIVAL

DATES: February 20th-March 31st

EVENT DETAILS: Writers of all kinds thrive off feedback, and it's especially so for fic writers, since one of the main reasons we write fic in the first place is to share stories with our community. Without hearing back from the people in those communities, fic writers can get discouraged from writing and sometimes even stop entirely. On the other hand, some of the brightest, happiest moments a writer can experience come from readers. It's incomparable to know that a story you wrote made someone smile, cry, or laugh out loud, and sometimes the only way you'll know it is if a reader tells you.

With this in mind, I decided to organize a festival for the Thai QL fandom community to show our fic writers a ton of appreciation in a carnival of comments. :D

Welcome to the Comment Carnival!

NOTE: Even though this event is exclusively for the Thai QL fandom, if you'd like to use the same concept or adapt it for your own fandom, please take the idea! I'd be absolutely thrilled to see this spread and for more writers to get love for the creative work they've contributed to their spaces.

HOW TO PARTICIPATE: There are two ways to participate in the Comment Carnival. The first is simply to complete as many of the commenting tasks below as you like. That's it! You'll be boosting writers' spirits with your feedback, and you may make someone's whole day with a kind word or thought about the stories they're creating.

The second way to participate involves a chance at a prize! (Hence the carnival theme.)

Below, you'll find a list of twenty Commenting Tasks to Complete. Once you complete at least ten of those commenting tasks, you can enter into a lottery to receive your very own drabble (traditionally a 100-word morsel of fic) written by one of the carnival's participating writers! If you do all twenty, your name will go into the lottery twice!

The event begins today, and on March 31st, I'll put the qualifying participants into the Picker Wheel and choose ten winners. Those winners may then select a series from the list below along with a pairing and trope (ex: "The Heart Killers, Fadel & Bison, brotherly affection") and our participating writers will post drabbles dedicated to the winners.

COMMENT QUALIFICATIONS: For your comment to qualify for the lottery, it must include the following:

At least three sentences about the fic or how the fic made you feel. ex: "I loved the way you portrayed [character name]! I can so easily imagine them saying all of that in canon. I'm definitely going to read the rest of your fic now!"

Copy & paste one line from the fic that you enjoyed. ex: "[quoted line] I'M SCREAMING!!!"

What led you to the fic (previous familiarity with the author, a rec from someone, randomly found it on a tag, etc.) ex: "My friend sent me this and told me to read it, and I'm so happy they did!"

Essentially, the purpose of the event is to give writers some specific positive feedback. In normal circumstances, it's totally fine to leave a simple, "I loved this!" or, "Thank you for writing this!" but for this event, we're gonna go above and beyond for our beloved writers.

WHERE TO COMMENT: You can comment on any fanfiction site (Wattpad, FFN, etc.) as long as you can provide links to your comments. I've just structured the event around AO3 since that's where I'm based and have the most familiarity.

And now the fun bit!

THE COMMENTING TASKS TO COMPLETE: Comment on a…

• work-in-progress (any kind) • work-in-progress that hasn't been updated in 3 months • work-in-progress that hasn't been updated in 6 months • work-in-progress that hasn't been updated in 9 months • work-in-progress that hasn't been updated in 1 year or more • one-shot with a word count under 5k • one-shot with a word count between 5-10k • one-shot with a word count between 10k-20k • one-shot with a word count between 20k-30k • one-shot with a word count over 30k+ • completed multi-chapter fic • fic with fewer than 10 comments • fic with fewer than 5 comments • fic with no comments • fic from before 2020 • fic from 2020 • fic from 2021 • fic from 2022 • fic from 2023 • fic from 2024 • fic from 2025

To qualify for the lottery, you must provide proof of your comments in the linked form below. Provide a list of at least ten links to your posted comments, and you'll be enrolled in a lottery to win a drabble based on the series of your choice from the list below provided by our participating writers.

SUBMISSIONS: Please submit your links through the form here:

As for where to get links: on AO3, when you post your comment, you'll see a button at the bottom that says "Thread." Clicking on that will create a page that starts from your comment. You can use that link for your form.

[This is my extremely subtle way to hype @faillen's Peaceful Property fic pinkies linked, palms pressed. It's so, so, so, so good.]

COMMENTING ETIQUETTE: When commenting on fic, please abide by these three points:

Offering unsolicited criticism is widely considered to be rude, so please don't critique a fic in your comments.

If it's a work-in-progress, please don't pressure the author for more updates. That's generally not received well by writers. (If you'd like to be encouraging, err on the side of the suggestions below.)

Keep the overall tone positive!

If any comments break etiquette, they'll be disqualified.

COMMENTING SUGGESTIONS: Writers are people, and people react differently to feedback, but we do share general similarities in what we love to receive from readers. Liiike…

Copy and paste parts you particularly enjoyed: The reason I made this a requirement is because I know it's commonly adored among writers. I've had readers apologize to me for copying and pasting half the fic in my comment section. I promise and guarantee you, if you ever did this, I love you. Platonically and all-consumingly. When we're writing, we're mostly on our own in our heads, in our rooms, maybe showing a friend or two snippets as we write. But when we put fic out there, we have no idea what people are going to respond to. Sometimes your favorite line is ours, too! Or sometimes the line you loved most is a line the writer almost erased! Or a line they're second-guessing. Maybe they hate it! Having someone say, "I'll think about this line for weeks," is wonderful beyond words.

CAPSLOCK: Again, be kind, but some of my favorite comments over the years have been someone so emotional about something in the fic the whole comment is just capslock screaming.

Rambling: Listen, there is no greater feeling in the world than getting multiple comments on a fic because a reader wrote so much about the fic they went past the comment box's character limit. If a fic made you feel so much you want to ramble, then please go for it! A writer spent hours working on the thing you love! Odds are good they'll be delighted!

Characterization: For many fic writers, we're trying to emulate the characterization of a character we didn't create, so when someone says, "The way you wrote this made it feel exactly like something [character name] would say/do. You really know this character!" a lot of us are especially giddy about it.

Kindness: Above all, we're just hoping for some kind thoughts. I know how daunting it can be to share your emotional responses with writers, so you can always just say, "This meant a lot to me," or, "This made me smile," and it will mean the world to a writer.

PRIZES: As mentioned, once you submit a form with at least ten qualifying comments, you'll be entered into a lottery to win one of ten drabbles from one of our participating writers! Right now, we have writers who will write for the following series:

23.5

Bad Buddy

Between Us

Dark Blue Kiss

The Eclipse

The Heart Killers

Jack & Joker

KinnPorsche

The Loyal Pin

Manner of Death

My School President

Not Me

Only Friends

Peaceful Property

Pit Babe

SOTUS

Tale of a Thousand Stars

ThamePo Heart that Skips a Beat

This Love Doesn’t Have Long Beans

Until We Meet Again

Wandee Goodday

If you're a writer interested in volunteering to write a drabble for a series we haven't provided, please DM me. :)

Even if you don't intend on participating, please please please reblog this and get the word out that it's happening.

Thank you!

Special thanks to my writing server on Discord for their brainstorming, their advice, and their suggestions to put this event together. <3

[missfrieden]

Prank

So this is a Crosshair one shot I made on my way home from work. So not as much formated as when on my laptop. A TikTok gave me the idea. As seen with the story below the cut. And I just felt like it had to be Crosshair being a bit mushy. Hope you all enjoy it! Tried to keep it genderless.

Rating: Fluffy, lovey dovey fighting

Masterlist

Crosshair prided himself on precision.

Everything he did, his aim, his movements, his calculations for the always perfect shots, was exact, measured, deliberate. He didn’t make mistakes. He didn’t stumble, didn’t fumble, didn’t miscalculate.

So when he grabbed the crates, expecting them to be full and heavy, only for them to collapse in on themselves like a flimsy crate, he immediately knew something was wrong.

He had checked them yesterday. They had been full, fixed in place, solid.

Yet the moment he lifted them, he used too much force, expecting weight that wasn’t there. The momentum sent him stumbling backward, his grip loosening, the crate folding in on itself as it hit the floor.

For a second, there was silence.

Then—

Laughter. Bright, bubbling laughter filled the cargo hold, and Crosshair’s head snapped toward the source of the sound.

Y/N.

You stood a few feet away, hand covering mouth, shoulders shaking, eyes gleaming with pure amusement. "You—" Crosshair started, but you just grinned, barely containing yourself. "I took the screws out."

His eye twitched.

You tilted your head, smirking as you rocked on your heels. "And emptied them."

"Of course you did."

You knew. You had planned this. You had seen him checking them yesterday.

Crosshair’s annoyance flared, not real anger, but that familiar, sharp-edged frustration that only you could pull from him. He took one step toward you.

Your eyes widened. Immediately, you turned to run. But Crosshair was faster. Of curse he is. The master of the agility of a loth cat.

Before you could get even two steps away, he surged forward, catching you with ease. And instead of simply grabbing you...

He tackled you.

But gently. Because even in moments like this, even when he was messing with you, his instincts never let him forget to be careful with you. The one person he cares more for than anyone.

So instead of slamming you into the durasteel floor, he twisted mid-fall, taking the impact himself, making sure you landed safely on top of him. Batley grunting.

You yelped, laughing uncontrollably as you squirmed, trying to free herself from his grip. "Cross, no—!"

"Cross, yes."

You two rolled, you trying to push him off, him keeping you locked in place, shifting so you couldn't slip away. Your laugh filled his ears, bright and warm, fingers digging into his shoulders as you fought half-heartedly. Because the laughing clearly didn't help in your favour.

Crosshair grinned, pressing his forehead against your just enough to make you giggle even more. Making sure he gets as much of tvat sweet melody he can. "You think you’re funny, don’t you?"

You grinned up at him, eyes dancing with mischief. "Of course, I know I am."

He huffed, rolling again so that you are pinned under him this time completly, his arms bracketing you in. Your breath hitched, laughter slowing just slightly, replaced by something softer, something warmer.

Crosshair smirked, leaning down, voice low. "You do realize this means payback, right?"

Your eyes widened slightly, a nervous giggle escaping her. "Wait, Cross, let’s be reasonable-"

"No."

And just like that, his fingers found your sides, pressing just enough to make your shriek. You screamed through your laughter and wheezes, trying to wiggle away, but he didn’t let up, grinning as he mercilessly tickled you, enjoying every second of your desperate attempts to escape.

You had started this. And now, you are going to pay for it.

Reblogs are very welcome and I am open for feedback, as english is not my first language, so maybe my sentences may be weird sometimes, or I write a word wrong even with google, or I use a wrong word for an item.

Tag: @spectacular-skywalker @clonethirstingisreal @sleepycreativewriter @moonwreckd @sskim-milkk @heidnspeak

[sareenthedreamer]

The Smut Writer

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Smut, Sex, Teasing, Light Begging, Riding, Creampie

Summary: Toshinori finds out you write smut... about him... and the results are orgasmic.

Walking down the halls of UA, you head towards Toshinori’s classroom. The two of you have worked together as teachers for about a year and a half and you can’t deny it – you’ve fallen head over heels for this man. He is always so professional, despite your growing friendship, that you’ve hesitated revealing your feelings to him. To deal with the overwhelming emotions you began writing about the encounters you could only dream about.

You knock and enter at his invitation, shutting the door behind you before leaning against his desk. He knew you would be there to get your laptop.

Toshinori smiles at you, a hint of curiosity tugging at his features. “About that laptop you lent me….”

He was choosing his words carefully, opening up your laptop to show you. “I may have stumbled upon something while trying to locate the document I was working on.”

You can already feel your cheeks heating up, knowing exactly what he found.

“There is a locked file on your computer, and well… it has my name on it.” He has one brow raised and you can see the possibilities are eating at him. You trust him greatly, however you weren’t sure how he would react to your little secret.

Your wordless response prompts him further. “No need to be flustered, I’m your friend. I wouldn’t pry without permission… but it seems my curiosity is piqued now.”

You chuckle. “If I didn’t password protect it, you’d have already been in it.”

It was his turn to blush. “No… Ok, maybe.”

You sigh, unable to blame him, you would’ve done the exact same thing. Seeing your hesitation he tries to talk you into letting him see what’s in there. His voice takes on a gentle persuasive tone, his chair creaking as he leans in closer to you. “I’ve known you for awhile now. I’ve always admired your professionalism and dedication to your work. If it’s something important, I’m sure you would trust me enough to share it with me.”

He was sure laying it on thick. You looked away. “It’s not important.”

Placing a finger under your chin he directs your attention to him. “Not important? Then why keep it locked away? And tell me, honestly, doesn’t ‘Toshinori’ in a locked file make you the slightest bit curious?” His eyes sparkled playfully.

You grumble.I can’t believe I’m about to tell him.You typed the password to the file so quickly that he couldn’t guess it. Leaning back against the desk you folded your arms over your breasts, gauging his response.

Inside the file are dozens of word documents with various erotic titles. Every single one about him. His eyes widen as he scans them, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Well… it seems I stumbled into something rather… private,” he muses, trying to maintain his composure. “These are quite explicit, aren’t they?”

Your face couldn’t possibly get more red. Despite better judgment, you open one for him and take a few steps away so he can read it without you over his shoulder. Or maybe to help your embarrassment die down.

His breathing grows heavier and you see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. You know he is realizing that each sentence is describing him in intimate details you could only guess at.

Head down, your eyes peek at him from under your brows with a finger curled to your lip. You hold your breath.

He finally finishes reading the document and leans back with trembling hands. His eyes lock onto yours with a mix of shock and something else… something more intense. His voice comes out low and husky. “These are…”

Your breath catches in your throat, fear and anxiety overwhelming your mind. He just read your deepest desires which included some pretty explicit hardcore fucking, describing in detail what you imagined his cock looks like.

He stands to face you as he speaks. His usual professional demeanor seems shaken. “How long… How long have you been writing these? Some are quite specific.” His voice carried a mixture of surprise and embarrassment.

You swallow hard, which makes you think of the story where you swallow his thick ropes of hot cum.

“About 7 months,” you tell him. With how many titles are in the file, you would’ve had to write almost one a week.

His eyes widen slightly, processing the sheer number of detailed intimate scenes you’ve written about him. Taking another step closer he lowers his voice further. “Have you ever… shown these to anyone else?”

Reluctantly, but not wanting to lie to him, you bring up an anonymous website where you had shared several of the stories. In your defense you did your best to take out any identifying information about him. There were several hundred views; some posts into the thousands.

His eyebrows shot up, a flicker of surprise and perhaps even a touch of pride crossing his features. He processes the information, his eyes flicking back to the laptop screen before returning to your flushed face.

He sits back down in his chair, eyes glued to the screen as he scrolls through the blog, reading here and there all the while his expression shifts from shock, amusement to arousal. Looking at you intensely he whispers your name and in that moment you fear his next words. What if he thinks you disgusting?

His voice is soft, gentle. “You’ve been writing these beautiful fantasies about me… for 7 months?” He stands up again, moving closer to you, “Do you have any idea how flattered I am?”

You look at him stunned.

Toshi reaches his hand out to gently cup your cheek. His thumb brushes against your lips. “You’ve been pouring your heart out into these stories thinking I would never know.” His face is inches away from yours. “But now I know.”

Your breathing hitches at his words, lips parting from his thumb hanging on your lower lip before he traces along it. His voice becomes more intimate, “Tell me, is everything you’ve written… what you want?” His other hand comes to rest on your waist, pulling you closer. “All of the things you’ve dreamed of… being with me?” His nose almost touches yours.

“Yes,” you say barely audible.

A smile curves his lips as he leans in, brushing against yours in a delicate kiss.

“Then let’s make all those dreams come true.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap as he settles back in the chair. Your head was spinning. Is this one of my own stories? Could this be real?

“Y-you’re not mad?” you ask incredulously.

“Mad?” he chuckles while trailing his hands down your sides. “No. These stories… they’ve turned me on.”

For the first time since this conversation began you smile, then you notice the growing bulge against you in his lap.

He smirks at your realization. “Surprised?” His hand moves to your waist, the other snaking through your hair. “You’ve had this effect on me for months now.”

You attack his mouth, searching his tongue out with yours in a deeply passionate kiss, his intensity matching your own. His lips move expertly against yours, showing he isn’t as innocent as his facade suggests. Your ears are delighted to hear his groans between kisses.

You straddle him in the chair, your skirt covering what’s really going on under you – the large wet spot on your underwear grinding against his boner.

He breaks the kiss to gaze up at you, the desire apparent in his eyes as he takes in the sight of you sitting on his lap. “Fuck…” he groans, hands moving to squeeze your hips and helping you grind against him. “You’re soaked…”

His fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear as he tears them off of you, sliding the remnants out from between your legs and tossing them on the floor. He pulls you against him again, his hardness pressing against your core through his pants.

Smirking at him you reply, “Sorry about the wet spot on your pants.”

“Don’t apologize,” he chuckles with a voice full of arousal as he leans in to murmur in your ear. “I’ll wear it with pride.” You suck in a deep breath when he starts rolling his hips slowly against yours, creating a delicious friction despite the clothing between you.

You grin as he undoes the top couple buttons of your blouse, revealing ample cleavage, his eyes taking in the soft curves spilling out of the top. “Damn…” he mutters, his hands reaching to cup them, squeezing gently as he rubs his thumbs over your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

Moving in closer, you nip at his lower lip; hands digging softly against his neck. He groans into the kiss, breathing heavily and gripping your hips, prompting him to move rhythmically with you. You are dying to know what his gorgeous cock is like.

He senses your desperation. The wet spot growing larger as you rock against him. With a heavy breath he reaches down to his belt, fumbling a moment until you lean back to give him room. You grin as he pulls them down just enough to free his throbbing cock and then sit back down on him. His moans rumble through his chest from the feeling of you gliding along his throbbing shaft, your lips crushing against his. He grips the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white in an attempt to maintain some semblance of control.

An impish grin breaks out across your lips as you take his hands and place them on your hips while lifting yourself so that the head of his cock is begging for entry. You move teasingly against him, just moving the head in and out.

His pupils are wide as he stares into your eyes. “Fuck…” he hisses through gritted teeth, his fingers digging into your hips as he loses himself in the sensation of his throbbing head slipping in and out of your cunt.

“Do you want more?” you ask him seductively.

He nods at you frantically, his throat not seeming to work as he swallows hard. “Yes… More..” You can see the desperation in his eyes, the way he is nodding, almost pleading. “I need more…” he tries to push himself deeper.

You look at him a moment, watching him closely before slamming yourself down the entire length of his shaft, burying him to the hilt inside yourself. His back arches off the chair as you take him in one brutal thrust, his body tensing as he tries to adjust to the sudden overwhelming tightness engulfing his length. He lets out a guttural groan into your kiss, his body shaking beneath yours.

Keeping his hands held on your hips, you start to rotate them, pushing his throbbing dick as far as it will go. He can feel every inch of his length being squeezed as you move.

You groan, moving like a possessed creature writhing on his cock. He can’t help but let out a long loud moan at your passionate movements, his hands clawing at your hips to keep you close.

“You’re.. fuck… the way you’re moving…,” he gasps, “I won’t last.”

“Oh, Toshi,” you gasp, suddenly lifting yourself again so that just his head is at your entrance. His entire shaft is soaked in your juices.

His breath makes a strangled sound as you tease his sensitive dick, the sudden emptiness making him whimper. “You’re… You’re torturing me…” his voice is ragged with desire, fingers digging into your flesh as he tries desperately to pull you back down on him.

“Please…. I need you.”

Your forehead presses against his as you slam into him a second time, eliciting a throaty moan from you. His eyes roll back in his head while you impale yourself on him once more. His entire body shakes from the force of your movement.

“Fuck!”

With the return of your devilish grin you repeatedly slam onto him, fucking yourself on his cock. Toshi grits his teeth, muffling his moans against your shoulder, the wet sounds of your frantic coupling fill the room, punctuated by your labored breathing.

You keep relentlessly driving yourself on his aching length, rotating your hips and pulling him out to his head and back again. His body trembles with his muscles coiled tight as a spring while struggling to hold back his impending orgasm.

It felt so amazing you could hardly keep it up. As he felt your body start to tire, he wraps his arms around your waist. He is too far gone at this point. He begins fucking you himself, pounding you down onto his cock with all his might. Your fingers fly over your clit as he slams repeatedly into you. You were so close.

Toshi’s thrusts become more erratic, his hips jerking wildly as he chases his own releases. He can feel you clamping down around him, your fingers moving against you. He knows you are close and the thought of you and him coming together pushes him over the edge.

You groan, hard, muscles tensing. Your climax overwhelming you, sending wave after wave through you. “Oh fuck, Toshi,” you pant, pussy convulsing against him, squeezing him for all he’s worth.

His entire body goes rigid as your orgasm triggers his own – pumping waves of hot semen through his shaft as he empties himself deep inside of you. He buries his face in your neck, teeth sinking into your skin as he cries out your name. You squeeze your free hand in his hair, massaging him as you tremble around him.

He stays buried inside of you, face still in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You relax, still straddling him in his office chair, his softening length still inside of you. With both arms wrapped around his neck you rest your cheek on your arm next to his cheek. With your lips against his ear, you gently kiss him. All the pent up desire from all of your stories just released all over.

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to catch his breath, completely spent but unwilling to let you go just yet. Your gentle touch makes his heart race in a way your violent fucking never could. After a long moment he turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against yours. He gently runs his fingers in your hair while maintaining your intimate position together.

“I’ve imagined this… so many times.” His voice was soft, vulnerable. “The way you rode me...”

“Can this be the beginning of something?”

His hand tightens in your hair, pulling your head back so he can look in your eyes. “Something more than just these stories and fantasies?” he asks, “Because I think I’d like that very much.”

You smile at him, never more happier than in this moment. “You just made all of my fantasies come true.”

“And you just made me cum harder than I ever have in my life,” he grins, pressing a gentle passionate kiss to your lips, sealing your newfound relationship.

[nervoushottee]

AHHHHHHHH OMG OMG OMG ITS HERE ITS HERE!!!

He deepens the kiss immediately. Tongue sliding into your mouth, taking, taking, taking. 

Two sentences in and I’m already hooked.

His hold tightens on your hair and he eats at your mouth, as if he can barely control what he’s been trying to rein in. 

JAW DROPPING OMG

He thinks he wouldn’t care if you stuck your finger in it if it meant having you even closer. 

I want to applaud you for how in character your writing is Ezra (does that make sense?). Like this is such an Ezra thing to say that it makes me laugh and swoon at the same time.

The sentiment had been ripped out of his body without him even knowing, every plunge of his blade meant to protect you. A rage like he’d never felt before had taken over when the man threatened to violate you, surprising even him in its ferocity. His bicep was still sore from exertion, and looking at you now, he wants to find ten more men and do the same. 

He wants to kill everyone on this planet just to keep you safe. Just to make sure you never feel that type of fear again. 

UGHH that deep masculine protective man!!!! Like I can almost feel the this urge he has to destroy everything to protect Birdie. Like I’m in the crossfire of that protection yet at the same time I AM the one being protected. How you can make me feel that all by this paragraph I have no idea but I love itttt.

“Here?” he asks, smiling when you curl forward, resting your head against his shoulder. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on. Everything that you’ve wanted the entire time you’ve been stuck here with him swirls and blends with everything you’ve ever always wanted and never got, and when he adds a third finger you look at him with hooded, pleading eyes – only to see dark victory in his own. 

Here? Someone call the doctor. I just passed the fuck out with my eyes rolled back. That four letter word will get me every time. Like UGHHHHH and also, three fingers? Omggg

You taste like you and like him, and he’s addicted, his cock firming with every lick inside your mouth. You whimper into the messy kiss, and it drives him to near madness the way he knows that if he would touch you right now, he’d find you soaked. 

Here he goes again being a FILTHY FILTHY WHORE AND I LOVE HIM FOR IT. Just hungry and drowning in this wanted pleasure. It’s so primal, so raw and so eager from both sides. The want and NEED between them both finally being satiated. As I ’m reading it to me it feels like frantic and rushed almost (in a good way! ) Maybe I was just reading to fast bcc I was so excited lol but it just felt like that rushed and hurried, quick, “I can’t believe we’re FINALLY doing this” hungry sex and I loved every minute of it like I could not stop reading.

Loved loved LOVED this chapter. Love your writing so much and I love Ezra and Birdie. I can not wait to see what Ezra has in store once his injury is healed *smirks*

On The Green: 6

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (finally!)

A/N: This came pouring out of me and thank god for the lovely @the-scandalorian who responded to my frantic “can you read today” messages with the support and grace and filthy heart and mind she always does ❤️ thank you my lovely ❤️ enjoy!

—

He deepens the kiss immediately. 

Tongue sliding into your mouth, taking, taking, taking. 

He fists your hair in his grip, tugging on the strands with a low groan of hunger that slips from his throat and you lean into his strength, matching it with your own. Your mouths move against each other’s, your lips molding to his firmer ones, and he kisses you with experience, with greed, with desperation. His hold tightens on your hair and he eats at your mouth, as if he can barely control what he’s been trying to rein in. 

Your touch slides across his whiskered cheek and slips around the nape of his neck, your head tilting to the side with a soft, muffled moan and he tries to sit up, only to abruptly pull away with a hiss of pain. 

The sound breaks the spell, and worry floods your features. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he assures you, breathless. “Just got…carried away.”

His eyes are still on your mouth, even with his hand over the fresh wound concealed under his thermal. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, shifting to put some distance between your bodies. “I never should have – not when you’re like that. I –”

He cuts your rambling, cupping your cheek to keep you in place. 

“Shhh, Birdie. It’s okay.” A smile tugs at the edge of his lips. “I more than complied with your silent request. In fact,” he argues with a raise of his brow, “one could argue that I encouraged it.”

You match his small smile with a bashful one of your own. 

“Though it is true that I might not be in the best form to…reciprocate, the way I want.”

Hesitation flits across your face. “And do you? Want?”

His gaze darkens, a shadow of lust that seems to overtake the deep brown. “Very much so, Birdie. Very much.”

His admission must pool slick and warm in the cradle of your hips, given the way you press them together. He notices. He notices everything when it comes to you. You pluck your bottom lip with with your teeth, and he can see the clear need on your face - the one you’re also trying to rein in. He knows he’s too injured for it right now, but he can’t wait to see what you’ll be like when you let loose. When you act before thinking, when you take what you want. 

He’s weighing the decision of pushing through his pain to kiss you again when you lean back. 

With eyes on you, he watches as you crawl over and pluck your blanket from your cot, before crawling back over to his. He’s making room for you before you even reach him, a space you eagerly fill with your body. It’s a tight fit, and when you stretch out alongside him, your limbs naturally fold against his. He drapes his arm over your side, and you’re careful not to touch his wound. 

He thinks he wouldn’t care if you stuck your finger in it if it meant having you even closer. 

“Is this okay?” you ask, timid and soft. The warmth of your breath skims across his neck, and his eyes flutter shut. 

He hums. “More than.”

Rain starts to pelt the outside of the pod, a steady drum that fills the silence. He thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep when you speak again. 

“That was close today,” you murmur. “Too close.”

He says nothing for once, his hand sliding a soothing path up your spine. He maps the curve of it underneath his palm, tracing your vertebrae with his fingers. For all the nights he’s dreamed about touching you just like this, it feels better than he could have ever imagined. Even if his body is strung tight, wanting so much more. 

Your hand finds his thermal and twists the worn fabric, clutching it. “I thought maybe I was going to…” You stumble on your words, and he waits, listening to the tremble in your voice. “I thought that would be it. That I would be…alone.”

He knows he should say something in comfort, but the words don’t come. Instead, actions do: a weight in his chest struggling to break free, his hands itching with the need to touch your face. His arm tightens  its hold on you. 

“I couldn’t make it if I was alone, Ez. I wouldn’t – I’d never be able to –”

Your breathing starts to hitch, and he frowns as if in pain and cradles the crown of your head, pulling you close. 

“I need you.” Your words catch on a sob. 

It hurts, the sound. It rips him apart, fracturing his hard exterior, exposing the soft core. Soft, just for you. Only for you. 

You cry and your little body shakes with it, tears wetting the collar of his thermals, the delicate wings of your shoulder blades trembling. The high of adrenaline must be crashing within you, and he presses you tighter against him, petting your hair. 

“It’s okay, Birdie,” he soothes. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

–

After that, you fall into a deep sleep. 

Your body is boneless next to his, melting against him even more. The first time since he’s met you that he can’t sense any tension in your muscles, he takes the opportunity to close his eyes and revel in the feeling. 

It’s been so long since he’s touched anyone – even longer since he’s touched anyone like this. Your small hand has slipped beneath the back of his thermal, your face tucked into his neck and with a careful movement and a wince of pain, he shifts onto his side to see you better. 

The soft curve of your cheek in the dark, the flutter of your lashes as you dream. The slope of your nose, your lips parted only just with soft, steady breaths. He watches the thrum of your pulse beat in the dark, so delicate, your skin unblemished and soft. It calls for his mouth, but it calls deeper than that too. 

She’s mine. 

The sentiment had been ripped out of his body without him even knowing, every plunge of his blade meant to protect you. A rage like he’d never felt before had taken over when the man threatened to violate you, surprising even him in its ferocity. His bicep was still sore from exertion, and looking at you now, he wants to find ten more men and do the same. 

He wants to kill everyone on this planet just to keep you safe. Just to make sure you never feel that type of fear again. 

He guides your head back into the crook of his neck, your nose fitting just right in the well of his collarbone as if it was always meant to be there. 

A soft, sleepy sigh escapes you, and he closes his eyes. Tucking his chin against the crown of your hair, he presses you closer. 

–

You half expect him to wake you up with a kiss, and half not. You aren’t sure how this is supposed to go. 

He's still asleep when you wake up, so you slip out from beside him and take a shower. The warmth of his skin lingers in the small space, water sliding over your sore muscles. 

“I’m gonna fuck that girl raw. Right next to your dead fucking –”

The memory of yesterday twists your stomach, and you scrub harder at your skin, as if the action could remove the words from your mind. They make you feel filthy, but more than that, it’s the mental image of Ezra’s dead body that haunts you. He came out on top yesterday, but if he hadn’t? You feel the weight of a sob gathering at the base of your throat, and you hold your face under the stream of water, letting the sound push everything away. 

You don’t want to cry again. You had cried enough last night – cried in front of him, something you’d never done in front of anyone before, not even your father. Normally it wouldn’t be something you’d let anyone see, but last night…last night you couldn’t help it. The fear inside you had risen to a pitch and then crashed, too many feelings swirling within you: relief that he was alive, pride that he killed for you, shame following close on its heels. True, bone deep terror at the thought of almost dying, and later, the release of desire that had been bottled up for weeks. 

You needed to purge every one of those emotions, and tucked against his body, you felt safe enough for the first time to do it in the presence of another human being. He petted your hair and stroked your back, absorbing it all in an uncharacteristic silence aside from the gentle sounds he made with his mouth. You poured everything out and he caught it all, holding you close until you felt calm enough to stop. 

You had slept better than you had since you got here, and when you step out of the shower to find Ezra digging through the bin that held his clothing, you sense he feels the same. Certainly looks it, even for someone who had been stabbed the night before. 

“Good morning, Birdie,” he greets you, fishing through the med kit. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod, feeling shy all of a sudden. Do you go over and kiss him? Do you talk to him like it never happened? The intimacy last night was so thick it was unbearable: all consuming, quiet and warm, safe from the light of day. A liminal space where the two of you let yourselves act on impulse. Did that still apply?

“I myself was going to take a shower. Did you leave any hot water for me?”

His casual words soothe your nerves. “Yea, there should be more than enough. I wasn’t in there for long.” 

He tosses fresh bandages on the cot next to him, and you see the old ones, crusted with blood, lying next to them. He stands, and the sharp inhale of pain that he lets out has you reaching for him, forgetting all the uncertainty about how you’re supposed to act this morning around him. 

“Are you okay? Did the bandage come off?”

“I took it off,” he says, and your eyes drop to the site of the wound, hidden under his shirt. His fingers lift the material, and you wince at the raw stitches. He drops the shirt, and moves closer. “I thought it would be best to clean it. Who knows where that blade has been.”

A new worry strikes: germs, the constant dust that covers everything on this godforsaken planet. 

As always, he is quick to reassure you. 

“Hey,” he says, using his knuckle to nudge your chin up until your eyes meet his. “You’re thinking about this too hard. You did a fine job stitching me up last night, and fine job cleaning everything before that. I just want to get all the grime off.” His thumb slides over your bottom lip, his eyes tracking its movement. 

The small touch is enough to swallow your worry whole, replacing it with anticipation. He’s giving you the green light, and resting your hands on his hips, you brace yourself against the light-headedness that strikes when he starts to slide his touch down – down your chin, his hand curling around the side of your throat as his thumb traces the line of your jaw. 

“I’ll be right back.”

He leaves you standing there, a girl-shaped pool of want, a loose-limbed trembling thing that aches – but it’s nothing compared to what you feel when he gets out of the shower. 

Opening the door, he walks out in just his briefs. Your breathing hitches, your own clothing too tight on skin that aches to slide against his. 

All pretenses gone, he sits down on his cot and the water droplets that linger on his tanned shoulders catch the light when he reaches for the fresh bandages. “Can you help?” he asks, holding them out towards you. 

He leans back on his hands, thighs spread wide. There is so much of him: the streak of white more pronounced against his damp hair, his broad chest, his firm thighs. Hair that dusts along his limbs, more skin of his than you’ve ever seen. For all the ways you’d imagined a scenario like this happening, it catches you off guard how overwhelming the real thing feels. 

In a haze, you move, coming to stand between his feet. He watches as you slowly kneel between his spread thighs, and the look on his face is almost proud, if it weren’t for the stark, blatant hunger in his eyes. 

Unsure of where to start, you force yourself to focus on the task at hand. 

His stomach tenses when you smear ointment over the wound. His throat bobs with a hard swallow when you lay fresh bandages in place, smoothing them down. Carefully cutting fresh strips of tape, you try to ignore the way his tongue slides along his bottom lip as your fingers gently press them into place around the edges of the dressing. 

You perform a slow inspection to make sure it’s airtight – one that continues, even after you’re satisfied. 

Your eyes flit up to his in question, and the look he returns is as steady as you’ve ever seen it, full of silent permission. 

Splaying your fingers, the air between you feels heavy as you run an exploratory path along the curve of his hip, and up along the ridged muscles along his ribs. His body radiates heat underneath your palm, his skin smooth where it isn’t marred with numerous scars. Lighter against his flesh, they stand out: a thin slice along his ribs, a jagged, ugly looking thing on his inner thigh. When you get to the hair that collects beneath his navel, his thighs tense around your waist, but he remains otherwise still. 

Your mouth waters at the bulge at the crux of his thighs, a slowly thickening heft that forms underneath the dark fabric. Resting your hands on the top of his thighs, you shuffle your knees closer and you can hear his breath catch when you bend forward, pressing your mouth just over his bandage. 

The first sound he makes since you started rumbles out of his chest: a low, husky groan.

“C’mere,” he says, his voice rough. He pats his lap, and giving the bandage another kiss, you obey, climbing up to straddle him. 

When you’re fully seated, his hands settle lightly on your hips, and he takes his time looking. 

“Listen to me,” he murmurs, and you do, enraptured. A live wire in his hold, your body stands on the edge of a precipice. 

“This goes only as far as you want it to. You say stop, I’ll stop.”

“And if I don’t?”

The grin that spreads across his face can only be described as filthy. Filled with intent, something inside him waiting to pounce. You can see it in his eyes, hidden underneath the rich brown. Lying in wait, letting you come to him. You’re both exercising your own amount of restraint – yours is a bundle of nerves, his is a deep chasm of hunger. 

“Then I won’t,” he breathes against your lips, right before he meets them with his own. 

The press of his mouth sparks to life the unlit match inside you that was waiting for this. Your arms wind around his shoulders, his own curling around your waist. His hands press underneath your shirt, splaying over your back, so big his fingers almost touch and you can feel the thick ridge of his cock beneath you. Grinding on it, you almost sob with how good it feels after thinking about it for so long. 

You want to be filled so bad it hurts. 

He keeps kissing you: hands cupping your cheeks to hold you in place, sliding down your sides in a weighty drag, shoving themselves underneath the band of your thermals to grab handfuls of your ass. Back up again to tug your shirt off, molding to your tits to push them together with a groan. His mouth moves to kiss them instead of your lips, his whiskers dragging across the skin just above your bra, his tongue sliding along your sternum with a lick.

Pulling back, he works at the front clasp of your bra. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do everything that I’d like to,” he says, his eyes flicking down to his wound. “But I’m not totally useless.”

He tosses your bra to the floor, and your back arches when he uses his thumbs to rub the tight buds of your nipples right before he replaces the touch with his mouth. He sucks them each in turn, his tongue laving over each sensitive peak, drawing them into his mouth, and biting the plump flesh around them when he cups his hand to push more of it into his mouth. He’s rough with you as his hunger grows, guiding your willing body into position and pressing his hold against your back, his kisses move up your chest to lick at your throat, his teeth catching the skin there. He nibbles on the curve of your jaw, sucks on your earlobe and the crotch of your leggings are soaked when his lips brush along the shell of your ear. 

“I’ve waited so long, Birdie. So long.” His hand slides into the hair along your nape, and he tugs, tipping your head back until you’re looking at him. “I know you have too.”

Your pulse racing in your chest, your belly jumps when you feel his other hand skim along your bare stomach. His eyes stay on yours as his touch skims lower and lower, teasing at the waistband of your leggings. He tucks his fingers inside, a fresh pool of slick wetting your underwear when he brushes against the soft thatch of your pubic hair. 

“Is it wet for me?” he asks. 

Helpless, you nod, swallowing hard. Your fingers curl into his biceps, and his hold on your hair tightens. 

“Can I touch it?”

You nod again, and he grins, a dimple catching at his cheek. His hand slips lower, his wrist forcing your leggings down in the front. 

“The amount of time I’ve thought about doing this. About touching you here.”

Tandem groans of relief sound through the air when his fingers meet the slick wetness that waits for him, his touch sliding through your seam before he presses his fingers up, up, up, your mouth dropping open as he fills you. 

“You already feel like heaven between your thighs,” he says, the words dripping in reverence. “I wish I could taste the bliss that is your cunt.”

The filthy words ratchet you higher, the inside of your thighs straining as you grind yourself into his hand to force his fingers deeper. Like he was being quiet during your exploration only to ambush your senses when he was ready, his words are endless, dripping with intent. 

“Tell me where it hurts, Birdie. Let me soothe the ache.”

“Show me, little one. Show me how you’ve thought about me doing this.”

Your hand wraps around his wrist as you steady yourself, a frown of pleasure etched deep between your brows and you fuck yourself on his thick fingers, your hips never stopping in their roll. His thumb finds your clit, and you cry out towards the ceiling of the pod, a sound that makes him chuckle, dark sounding and pleased. 

A trembling mess on his lap, you’re helpless as he forces you higher and higher, his fingers filling and precise, sliding against a deep spot inside you that you’ve only dreamed of. Just as lethal as he is outside, just as in command as he always is, he plays your body like he’s played it a thousand times before – every stroke tipping you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Fuck,” you whimper, breathless. “Fuck.”

“Here?” he asks, smiling when you curl forward, resting your head against his shoulder. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on. Everything that you’ve wanted the entire time you’ve been stuck here with him swirls and blends with everything you’ve ever always wanted and never got, and when he adds a third finger you look at him with hooded, pleading eyes – only to see dark victory in his own. 

He doesn’t have to goad you to tip you over the edge. 

It’s like a forceful shove off a cliff, your body floating through the air. Your jaw is clenched, your cunt clenching even tighter in pulses that squeeze his fingers and he watches it all with a greedy, proud expression. 

“There you go,” he talks you through it. 

“There’s my girl,” he praises, capturing your mouth in a kiss. 

–

It’s a scramble after that to get back down on the floor. 

He’s sucking on his fingers with a low, desperate groan and you’re tugging his briefs down. 

He’s watching as you take him out, hardening at the way your eyes widen. 

Your hand struggles to wrap fully around him, but you don’t hesitate a second before bending to guide him into your mouth. Your lips stretch around the thick tip of his cock, your tongue sliding along the sensitive underside, tracing the line of a vein. Sliding him deeper along your palate, his balls draw up, his cock hardening to the point of near-pain. Your hand works the thick base while you press forward to fit him along the back of your tongue, and it only takes a couple of deep throated strokes to bring him to the edge, with how long he’s been waiting. 

Wanting. 

Driving himself to madness, thinking about the taste of your cunt. 

At the thought, he sucks on his fingers again, and you raise your eyes to watch, a moan sliding out of your throat to caress the length of his cock. 

“Shit, Birdie. Shit,” he warns, hands fisting the blanket on his cot as he leans back to widen his thighs. They tremble along your shoulders, the muscles flexing under your palm where you stroke the inside of one. You find the scar you saw earlier and glide your touch over it, pressing your fingers into his flesh as you force him to the back of your throat. 

At that, he comes. 

Loud and filthy, the groan that he lets out is strained at the end as he pours over the back of your tongue. 

His fingers clench and flex, his eyes pinched shut as if he can’t bear looking as he fills your mouth with pulses of thick, pearly spend. Weeks of tension drain into your waiting mouth, enough that you can’t catch it all. 

When you pull back to swipe at a glistening thread of it that escapes your swollen mouth, there is something so innocent about the gesture that he groans again, this time a plea of his own. 

Pushing on your shoulders, he slides off the cot to drop to his knees in his haste to kiss you. 

You taste like you and like him, and he’s addicted, his cock firming with every lick inside your mouth. You whimper into the messy kiss, and it drives him to near madness the way he knows that if he would touch you right now, he’d find you soaked. 

He can’t fuck you – not with his stomach the way that it is – but he can do other things. 

So many other things. 

“I knew it,” he breathes into your mouth, guiding you onto the floor beneath him. “I knew it would be this good.”

You preen underneath him, reaching to pull him down on top of you. 

“I want more,” you beg. “Please, Ez. Please.”

The juxtaposition of how innocent you look while begging for something so filthy claws at his insides, his body reveling in the urge to teach you just how many ways he can make you feel good. 

He grins, bending down to devour you whole.

[fungusqueen]

Would anyone want more Spanish-learning posts from me? I keep a Spanish language notebook where I keep notes just for my own reference (including all my notes from class). Depending on how diligently I'm watching a show, I'll try to compile vocabulary lists like the one above, which is basically new (to me) words I've picked up. This list encompasses Season 1 of the Desperate Housewives. It seems like more people are either using Duolingo, or have some increased interest in learning a second language so I figure it might be helpful. Let me know!

[hayatheauthor]

everyone says "reading helps with writer's block" and i somehow chose not to listen but trust me when i say it does! even if the book or story or poem isn't the genre you're writing or vibe you're going for...you don't know when a random dialogue or description or passage can give you that 'lightbulb' pointer to kickstart your next scene or whatever you've been hung up on

so...read. its what made us yearn to write after all.

[wickjump]

im gonna start posting fanfic recs btw whenever i find good ones. both here and my (awfully barren) 18+ account. because there are so many good fics out there with so few hits and fewer kudos and sometimes no comments period and it SUCKS because i REALLY LIKE THEM A LOT.. and i hope that by linking them here and yelling at everyone to COMMENT DAMMIT they might actually do it

seriously though any comment means a lot. most people who read a fic don’t even give a kudos. even if the fic wasn’t top tier, if you didn’t dislike it, hand over some kudos!! and if you liked it, comment!!!! even if the comment is one singular heart emoji it will be appreciated. if the comment just says “great fic!” the author will be happy. your comment doesn’t have to be this long winded gushing or analysis.

so many authors quit writing or lose motivation because the comments are few and far in between or just sometimes nonexistent. trust me when i say authors don’t care about how long or cool or smart sounding your comment is i promise!!!

i hope that mmmaybe recommending fics and telling people to comment might help fics i really like get more support maybe. and i, points at you reading this, hope that you will listen!!!at least a little….at least sum kudos….

[someedensboys]

"What? Me? Please," he retorted sarcastically, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't overthink at all. Never. Nope. Not me." Ben took a deep breath; and then another; and then one more. Honestly, he couldn't think of an answer for his father. "I don't know." Writing was supposed to be his passion, he used to jokingly refer to it as the true love of his life, but after what he went through with that shoddy publishing company it had become his nightmare; and yet he couldn't seem to stop trying. "Maybe that poem I wrote on your birthday card a couple years ago." Though he hardly counted three rhyming sentences to be writing. He liked having his time alone, mostly because it gave him a space to spiral in privacy, but the way he was leaning into the other's touch-- and his words-- made it clear Ben liked this too; he missed it. "I know, I need to do better," he hummed under his breath as he slowly began to relax, the tension in his shoulder's dissipating beneath Cillian's touch, "--and that does sound really nice... "Okay," he finally agreed as he let out another heavy exhale. "I'll stay the night... I just need to run home first, at some point, to grab a few things from my bar so I can make us some drinks..." "Thanks, by the way." He added on with a soft mumble. "For always keeping me grounded, I mean."

"Because you're getting far too in your head about it, Darling," Cillian said, his tone one of gentle concern. He could get himself in a similar boat when he was coding, getting caught up on an error and getting fixated on it to the point of losing what he was trying to do. He knew it wasn't quite the same, but it was close enough he could sympathize to a degree. "When's the last time you wrote something just for fun, hm? No intent of giving it to anyone. Just something for yourself?"

He smiled softly, continuing to gently run his hand over Ben's skin, squeezing the back of his neck, rubbing between his shoulder blades. Whatever he could do to help soothe his boy. "We don't get to spend enough time together," he agreed. "Should take a proper break. Not just for a few hours. Come stay at the main house tonight. We'll have dinner, and just spend some proper time together. Work on making up for not seeing each other as much."

A soft laugh escaped him despite himself. "We're overdue for a catch up. Nothing to feel awkward with."

[queer-omens-in-the-archives]

so we've spent the past three months writing MelloNear daily, and we've worked on enough different pieces in that time that i now have some Thoughts as to the narrative purposes they each tend to serve in our own works (this is not. about canon though i suppose it DERIVES from their canon dynamic. this is very much about how we personally play with the blorbos)

by and large Mello serves to drive the plot, regardless of the position he is put in within the universe. we don't even have to actively be trying to do anything with him -- even in our more Near-centric pieces, as long as Mello is present? his emotions, whims, wants are what shapes the trajectory of the story, his emotional beats are the beats that drive the plot forward. he feels, he impulses, he injects stuff into the sequence of events. things happen because Mello wants them to (or pushes Near to make them happen if/when he himself cannot).

meanwhile Near is much less of a driving force for the plot and more of a reflective force for the story. he isn't IRRELEVANT to the plot, he doesn't do NOTHING, but most of what he does from a plot progression standpoint is reactive. like, he acts not because of an inner drive, not based on his own wants or needs, but largely when his circumstances require action of him. (by circumstances i don't just mean Plot Events. sometimes what he reacts to are his own emotions, like in sweet atonement, when they are so overwhelming that he cannot put them aside to strategise effectively anymore -- the keyword here being "effectively", because even then his first response will still often be to try to strategise.) by and large what Near does do is provide space for reflection, for thought, for analysis. things happen to him, or through him, and he thinks about them a bunch, and he'd leave it at that if Mello wasn't pushing him.

so they make for super neat storytelling when you figuratively drop them together in a jar and shake them around, because it's like. Mello pushes Near into action Near wouldn't take on his own; and then Near adds weight to Mello's direction, provides a deeper sense of spacetime, fleshes out the places where Mello takes him that Mello wouldn't necessarily stop at or consider on his own. like at their core, in the way we write their dynamic, Mello Does and Near Is. and mixing them up, you get: all of the essential elements for a compelling story!

and obviously im not like, talking in absolutes, none of this is true 100% of the time or the only possible reading of them, nuance exists etc etc. but that's the general trends we're starting to notice in our own MelloNear writing over the past few months