#I think I need to get a bit better at drawing before I attempt any big pieces

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

The Facade of You

I wanted to write him off putting and cocky at the same time, but that sure is a fine line. Reader is a bit of a spitfire when they probably should keep their mouth shut. (And I love that) ~2.3k words

When the Arkham Knight wants something, he gets it. Driven. Focused. Torrent in his mission and desires. You knew it from the moment you met him. Knew it the second you swung the aluminum baseball bat at his head, and he stopped your swing without even a flinch.

This was going to be a problem. Well, more of a problem than it already was.

Most of Gotham had evacuated because of whatever insane plan Scarecrow had crafted. Most, but not all. You had shored yourself up in your apartment, ready to ride out whatever happens from the comfort of your own home.

Was it the smartest decision? Maybe not. But you had survived blizzards in July, streets lined with living plants, and some guy who liked to run around hosting tea parties while wearing a top hat. So, you think you could be forgiven if you thought you could handle some threats of fear gas and anarchy.

And honestly, you probably could have. If not for the figure wearing armor worth more than your whole apartment breaking through your window.

On any other day, you probably would have screamed at the sight of the stranger standing in your living room. But tonight, there's no neighbors to call the cops, no vigilantes with time to spare patrolling the streets to hear you cry for help.

So you swung. Swung your bat right for his weird, glowing helmet with all your strength.

His fingers caught and curled around the metal before you even registered him moving. Everything seemed to go still, your instincts practically screaming at you to flee. You didn't need to see his face to know that he's smirking at you, head tilting like what you did was interesting, but pointless.

The silence stretches as you try to tug the bat from his hold, but the man doesn't even seem to move. No, he only starts to laugh at you, laughs like this is the last he expected, like the entire situation is ridiculous.

It draws a scowl to your face. So what if he's covered head to toe in armor and weapons? He broke into your apartment to what? Revel in your misery? Make fun of you? And you're just supposed to take that?

You open your mouth to confront him, to demand answers, when he laughs again, low and still full of disbelief, "Of course, of course you're still in this damned city. I shouldn't be surprised. Always in places you shouldn't be, aren't you."

He punctuates his words with a low, long drawl of your name, the letters falling off his tongue and through the modulator of his helmet as if he's said them a million times.

He drops his hold on the bat, but it hardly matters when your own grip starts to slack at the sound of your name, "Who are you," You demand, every hair on edge as the stranger starts to pace your apartment, almost as if he's looking for something to occupy himself with.

"You aren't supposed to be here, you know," he murmurs, picking up a framed photo, "It's not part of the plan. But I suppose I'm to blame for not expecting this of you."

You step forward, anger clouding your better judgment at the sight of him picking over your things like they're his own, "Put that down."

He turns his head towards you, lifting the photo to your field of vision, "This? It's hardly important."

You grit your teeth at the sight. It is important. More than he could possibly understand. Yours and Jason's smiling face shines from the picture behind the glass, your figures illuminated by the rare summer sun Gotham gets. It's one of the only pictures you have of him, some of the only evidence he was ever in your life.

You lunge forward without warning, dropping your bat in a bid to grab the frame. He easily side steps your desperate attempts. Something seems to shift in the air as he practically purrs, "whoops," and drops the photo from between his fingers.

The breath leaves your lungs as the glass shatters, leaving the photo in a pile of shards and broken wood. Your gaze snaps back to him, outraged, "Who do you think you are? How dare–"

"You can call me The Arkham Knight," he cuts in simply, stepping on the shards– on the photo of Jason– like it's less than nothing.

"What do you want," You hiss, biting back insults over how insane you think he sounds. You match his step forward with your own backward motion, keeping space between you.

"To make Batman pay," he drawls, honest and never slowing his steps towards you, even as you rapidly run out of space between you and the wall.

You shift your free hand to your pocket, trying to fumble for your phone without him noticing, "Then why are you here? I'm not Batman."

He finally stops stalking your every step as your back hits the wall, lingering only an arms length away from you, "No," he relents, "You're not Batman. But he does feel responsible for you."

"He feels responsible for everyone," You protest, fingers tapping blindly across your phone. Your voice shakes, even as you try to hide it. But it's hard not to be intimidated by the man towering over you, by the unblinking whites of his mask shining on your face.

He sighs, like whatever game he's playing suddenly went dull, "It's a shame you were here. Really. It would have been better if you'd left the city."

You press send on your phone. At least, you hope the (ideally) coherent message you're trying to get to Babs without seeing is sending, "Are you going to kill me?"

He recoils like the idea repulses him. It's the first bit of proof you've gotten that he even has feelings outside of whatever front he's been putting up. But he settles back into that lazy, uncaring pose, nodding towards your pocket, "Go ahead, sweet thing. Call Barabra. Call Dick. Call Bruce, even. They won't help you. Even if it wasn't such a busy night, you've never been their priority."

You tense, frozen under his unwavering gaze and the revelation of his words. His jabs don't bother you. He's clearly trying to get under your skin. But, he– The Arkham Knight– knows. Your mind races as your breathing shallows. He knows about Batman– everyone. But how much does he know? How much could he know? Their identities, that secret, it always felt untouchable.

It nearly makes you tremble. Is that why he's here? To get back at them somehow through you? It hardly makes sense if it's true. Jason's the one that cared about you– that wanted you to be okay.

His words feel like a trap. The idea that he wants you to call for help is just another game he's letting you play. But you pull out your phone anyway, your eyes never really leaving him even as you dial a number with trembling fingers.

The line rings. And rings. Then, "Hi, it's Barbara–"

"Babs, I need–" You start, only to be cut off by the continued message.

"I can't answer the phone right now, but leave a message after the tone, and I'll be sure to get back to you!"

Your heart drops, and you don't get the chance to consider your options before the Arkham Knight is plucking your phone out of your hands to end the call. He tosses your only hope of getting help towards your couch.

His voice is mocking, when he speaks again, "See? They can't even save themselves. How could you think they'd bother with you?"

"Why are you here," You ask instead, desperate to ignore the growing pit in your stomach, the fear creeping up your spine.

He hums, and reaches up to grab your chin, turning your face this way and that to study you. "A lapse in judgment. Curiosity. A weakness for the past. It hardly matters," he mutters, more for himself than you, "What matters is what to do with you."

"You could leave me here," you suggest quickly, grabbing at his wrist to keep him still, "Pretend you never saw me. I won't get in the way. I'm– I'm no vigilante. I won't be any trouble."

He scoffs, dropping his hand from your face, "This city would eat you alive. You can't handle what's coming."

"And what's it to you," You snarl, sounding braver that you feel and driven by the annoyance course through your veins. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself. (Just not necessarily against military trained rouges)

That seems to snap him to attention, and you regret your words immediately. You've essentially given him a reminder that you mean as much to him as the photo he left broken on the floor. And if he wanted to send a message to Batman, it would be easy to start with you.

"It's nothing to me," he hisses back, but even the modulator in his helmet doesn't hide the tightness– the near lie– of his voice, "You're in over your head, doll. If anything, you should be grateful I'm showing you the truth."

Your blood runs cold, your tone sharpens, and your eyes narrow. He doesn't have the right. Jason's the only one that's ever nicknamed you doll. His eyes always seemed to shine when he said it. "Don't call me that," You warn, words dripping with malice.

He honestly snorts at you, unimpressed by your threat, "What's wrong, doll? Hit a sore spot?"

You throw yourself at him, aiming a fist for his dumb helmet as your heart pounds in your ears. If he's going to make an example of you, use you against Batman, you're not going to lay back and just let him pick at your wounds.

He catches you like he expected it, hauling you into the air as you scream obscenities and curses, kicking and hitting your fists against his armor until he dumps you unceremoniously onto the couch. You scramble for your discarded phone, and he's quick to pin you down, his knee braced to your stomach to keep you from moving as he knocks your phone out of reach.

He huffs as if this is just a minor setback, reaching down to fix the wrinkles forming in your clothes every time you struggle, "And here I thought you liked being called doll."

"Not by you," You practically spit, all rationally thrown out the window as you continue to squirm. You bring your nails up to his arm, trying to dig into any weak spots in his armor for a chance to escape, to make him hurt.

"Only by me, sweet thing," he coos, and your world stills to a halt as he clicks the faceplate of his helmet back.

Jason Todd is grinning at you. It's not quite right. His eyes are wilder than you remember, his smile too forced, too tense. There's more scars across his skin than you recall there being. A stark white brand stands out on his cheek. But it's him. Undeniably him.

"Now where'd all your fight go," he questions, fingers trails up to rest on your throat, "no need to look all surprised, doll."

All you can offer is his name falling from your lips, eyes wide, and face shell-shocked.

He tuts, fingers flexing ever so slightly against your pulse, "Is that really all you have to say?"

"They told me you were dead," you choke out, unable to fight the tears threatening to well in your vision.

"They lied," he says simply, as if that answers anything. He lifts his hand from your throat to press his thumb against your lower eyelid, the light pressure forcing your tears to spill onto the fabric of his glove.

"Jason–" You try again, wanting answers, comfort, anything you can latch onto.

He only shushes you, "I don't blame you, sweet thing, for falling for it. That's just what they do. They lie. Change the narrative to fit their twisted perceptions. But I'll help you. I'll tell you everything you need to know. All you need to do, is come with me."

It's a bad idea. You feel it down to your bones. Jason, your Jason, isn't the one digging his knee into your stomach, isn't the one collecting your tears on his glove like they're a trophy. But he is Jason, and he's only ever done what's best for you. So going with him has to be right, has to be what you're supposed to do.

You nod. What else could you do? How could you even think to deny him when his face lights up in the shadow of how he used to smile at you?

He stands, and it takes every bit of strength you have not to surge forward and beg him not to when he clicks his helmet back shut. The Arkham Knight– Jason– offers you a hand, and you don't need a second thought to take it.

You shouldn't. You really shouldn't. He said it himself, he didn't plan for you to even be here. But his grip is steady in yours, and he keeps turning his head to check on you as he leads you across your apartment and to the window.

Relief clouds your mind, the idea that everything could be okay as long as he's back. So you follow him, don't ask questions even as he leads you down the fire escape and towards a suspiciously armored truck.

You don't press, even as he barks orders at the driver that's dressed more like a soldier than a chauffeur.

You let him tell you that you made the right choice. That he's going to fix all of this, that you being here will help in the end. You let him guide you through Gothams ruined streets, far away from your home, from where the memory of him is shattered on the floor.

And if you left your phone ringing over and over again on your couch in a frantic attempt to reach you, you're far too blinded by the echo of the boy you're chasing to care.

[ryukatters]

don’t go - k. bakugo

a/n: I’m so horny for this man I can’t even think straight. This was supposed to be short and fluffy but now it’s turned into this. I would say sorry but I’m not. (Yes I am alive)

pairing: katsuki bakugo x fem! reader

wc: 1.5k

content/warnings: smut, unprotected morning s*x, begging, overstimulation, bkg is obsessed with you, also completely not proofread

Your boyfriend Katsuki is clingy. Very clingy— in all senses of the word, and you’re convinced that if you open a dictionary right now his name would show up as the very definition of it. Bakugo would live under your skin if he could, or at the very least come up with a way to keep you in his pocket. 

As lovely as your boyfriend is, his innate urge to smother you in affection poses a problem in times like these— early mornings where you have to get up and get ready for work. 

“Katsuki, I need to go to work. Go back to your side of the bed.”

“Just quit,” he murmurs, “I’ll take care of ya.” 

“As appealing as that sounds, no. I need to get up and do my part as a functioning member of society.” Any attempt to leave your shared bed is shut down by Bakugo, his strength easily overpowering yours as he wraps his arms around you and lays on top of you. 

“But you’re my pillow,” he says with a bit of a sigh, pressing his into the crook of your neck, melting further into you. His hot breath tickles your skin, and it’s enough to have your heart pounding along with a familiar warmth in between your legs. Katsuki is observant to a fault, he knows you better than the back of his own hand, and knows just what to do to turn you into putty. 

His hands snake up under your (read: his) shirt, kneading your breasts. You let out a sharp gasp as he tweaks your nipples and sucks a love bite at the junction of your neck. He hums in appreciation as he slowly leaves a trail of wet kisses down your stomach, stopping just as he reaches your underwear. 

He traces your slit, eyes darkening as the fabric begins to dampen with your slick. “So wet for me already, baby.” It’s not a question, it’s a fact that he already knew. Katsuki wastes no time sliding the garment down your legs. He takes a moment to run his hands up and down both your thighs before prying your legs further apart, exposing yourself to him completely. He can feel his mouth water at the sight of you. 

Katsuki can’t help but moan the minute his lips attach themselves to your clit, sucking fervently. “Always taste so good, princess.” 

You take a moment to glance down, which proves to be a mistake. Katsuki’s practically making out with your pussy, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re nothing short of lovesick. His vermillion orbs draw you in, and they’re absolutely magnetizing. You have to close your eyes to stave off your orgasm for a little longer. 

Katsuki can’t help but grind against the edge of the bed to feel some sort of release. He’s so fucking hard. He thinks he’s growing delirious. Katsuki swears he can cum from the taste of your pussy and the sound of your angelic voice filling the room with a sweet symphony. When you let out a particularly breathy call of his name, he has to will himself not to finish in his boxers, which is already usually a difficult enough task on its own, but now it's almost impossible from how impossibly hard he is with morning wood.

You grind against his mouth, hands carding through his hair as your orgasm rapidly approaches. Katsuki is more than eager to be used as a means of getting there. Even as you cum, he continues to fuck your hole with his tongue and lapping up your pussy. It’s only when you begin to push him away does he feel the need to lean back, a loud pop reverberating as he does. 

“You gonna be a good girl and let me take care of ya?”

“Mmm, fuck. Yes, ‘ki.”

“Good girl,” he coos, his lips pressing against yours with fervor. You allow him to deepen the kiss, sucking on his tongue. He moans appreciatively, hips stuttering as he continues to grind against you. The head of his cock bumps against your clit over and over, smearing precum all over your pussy. His tip just barely presses against your fluttering hole, and you can feel your insides ache with anticipation and utter need.

He’s teasing you. You’re overstimulated yet somehow unsatisfied. Your pussy is craving to be stretched out, and Katsuki is making sure he’s doing everything but that. He likes getting you like this— needy, clingy, nearly delirious as you beg for him. He likes to think of it as reparations for how insane you make him feel on the daily. 

You’re not sure how much more you can take. 

“Katsuki, please,” you whine, lifting your hips to grind against his dick, hoping to get what you want, what you need. You look up at Katsuki and for a moment, you think you’ve got him— think that you’d be able to look at him with those doe eyes and get what you want easily, like always. He never could refuse you.

But he merely smirks, and uses one hand to press you back down into the mattress. 

“Tell me what you want, princess. You know I’ll make it good for you.” 

“Want you to fuck me, ‘ki.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whine sweetly. 

“I’ll give you what you want baby,” he affirms, the timbres of his voice reaching the depths of your soul. He uses both hands to press both of your legs by your shoulders, cock lined at your entrance. I always do, don’t I?

You can’t stop the moan that tumbles out of your lips as he fills you up. Katsuki presses a kiss against your forehead, relishing in the way you tighten around his dick. 

The familiar coil that’s been forming in your tummy is threatening to unravel, if your stuttered moans and breaths are any indication. Katsuki seems to know this too, as he pulls out right before you hit your climax. You whine at the sudden lack of overwhelming pressure, and Katsuki’s quick to silence you with a hard stare. 

His breath ghosts against your lips, vermillion eyes burning into yours with intense, unspoken passion. “What’s wrong, princess?”

You shake your head in the negative. “Wanna cum, Katsuki. Please.” 

He starts thrusting again, slowly and with purpose. His eyes never leave yours. It doesn’t take long for you to be on the brink of an orgasm again. “You want to cum, right baby?” He smiles when he sees you nod. “You can cum,” he says carefully, “but only if you do one thing for me.” 

“I’ll do anything Kats,” you manage to choke out. Katsuki continues to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. You really would do anything, Katsuki’s own desire and utter want for you is so persuasive that you feel compelled to follow. 

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, lips pressing a chaste kiss against yours. “Stay with me, today.” There’s an urgency behind his words despite them being said so softly. 

Fuck it. 

You barely manage to let out a stuttered “yes, ‘ki,” before you reach your peak. The pleasure rolls over you in waves, tears threatening to spill as Katsuki continues to drill into you, chasing his own high. A few particularly rough thrusts punctuated by staggered moans let you know that he’s cumming. 

Katsuki manages to plop right next to you, bed shifting under his weight. You lock eyes as you both try to catch your breaths. He gives you a quick smile before pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple, one arm wrapping around you to pull you against him.

“So…” he starts, his eyes brimming with satisfaction, lips upturned into a smirk. He knows he’s won. “Ready for round 2?”

[court-jobi]

Hi! What are headcannons for izuku and wife reader in bed?

Oooo more headcanons for anon, comin' right up~ 18+ only, babes-- SFW here if you fancy!

A/N: Y'all are sending me the most darling asks! Due to board meetings and theatre prep I'm still working through this week's requests, on top of some long-awaited fics I can't wait to share... but I have a three day weekend ahead of me! thank you so much for all the inspo! keep em coming if there's something special you'd like to see~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Fem!reader

SPICY MARRIED HEADCANONS!

Your Izuku is a fairly traditional man who's set on claiming you as a life partner first before getting fully intimate with you. The very night you proposed to one another ((#whenaskingfeelsright)) tested that restraint out of pure excitement for the future with you. His chest could have burst-- but also settled with such deep love, he's truly never slept better.

His mind might have rushed a million miles an hour with plans of your life together at the tip of his tongue, but the amorous dial was tuned down only by his lightning-sure concern for the concussion you were nursing that night... You wanted more from him, through lingering hands trying to draw him close and coax him into the bath with you...

"I don' think that's smart right now, love," Izuku purred down to you over the edge of the bathtub he drew for you, "want it as I might. I think we need to keep you nice and relaxed and calm while you recover for a bit. Is that ok?" "I am calm," you mumbled against his neck, laying a little kiss there. "I am relaxed. N'so are you. Yer so r'laxing." "M'sorry, baby, but I have to take care of you. All of you- including this big brain of yours," Izuku kissed it for good measure. "But believe me.. I want nothing more than for my beautiful wife-to-be to feel better enough to show her how much I wanna love on her..."

And love on you he can. Well.

It's not that you haven't tested the waters together. The day your makeouts turned heated -when you'd started grinding atop his thigh in a shallow attempt to get off, he'd been so flustered. It's clear from that early interaction; Izuku hadn't had a wealth of experience till you dated.

But once he realized he could bring these sounds out of you, make you melt into him, by his hand alone...

"Like... J-just touching you? That- this feels good? Yeah.. y-yeah, I can do that.. Tell me what feels good, love. Tell me just like this, m'listening.."

VERY vocal- very, very vocal. Not necessarily in volume, but in range. Izuku's voice flips at every little sensation, often. Every little graze of his cock will have him squirming in his seat. You can barely brush a hand or blow a quick rush of air along his tummy, and he will shudder involuntarily. He'd be so flighty and hyper aware of it at first-- at least until you assure him you're addicted to the sounds he makes, and that you love knowing how real those sounds are, hearing him moan with his whole chest- all for you.

Wanted low to no lights on at first... then you tried setting some mood with some smokey blue or purple ambient light, letting it bathe you both in just a bit of hue. Turns out, Izuku loved the change instead of cowering for the lightswitch: not simply for how ethereal it made you look, but how his insecurities just melted away in the light. Turns out, he was pinpointing every single one of his scars with cruel precision; and that's not how you view him at all. You helped him see light was nothing to fear-- he just needed the right filter of your love to let him see himself better.

And when you finally were gifted that private night all to yourselves after your getaway drive from the excitable venue space

-when you were settling onto your knees on the wedding suite's bed with exploring hands and barely any clothes

-when you asked Izuku ever so gently if he wanted to go to sleep or go to bed, he learned just how much he'd been missing out on:

You mean he can run his hands all the way up and down your bare back? He can scoop you up into his arms and just play with your tits? He can kiss every inch of you with nothing in the way-- and you LET him? He only ever wanted this with you, and has his dream fulfilled.

Loves anything praise. Whispering into his ear, raking through his hair with loving hands, pulling when you want him to look at you. He'll praise you endlessly too, especially when he's particularly lovesick for you.

"you're so warm... I've never felt this warm in my life. Oh God, mmmmmng, ugh y're just perfect, mmmmmng baby, b-babybslowdownicantbreathe NNNNG!!"

Izuku is gone over you. Slotting himself against you and shoving himself into the heat of you is a homecoming for him. He'll push and thrust with every breath he can manage, lost in every sensation while begging for more, begging for praise, begging for your touch like it's life-giving. Missionary is his die-hard favorite, but Lotus a very close second- for the views alone.

Morning sex? Izuku is down. Post-brunch playtime? Izuku is already having his 'second breakfast'. Naptime cuddles turn a bit more on the frisky side? Guess who's fault that is. Jumping to dessert before dinner? Guess who again. Izuku Midoriya holds no set 'spicy hours'; whatever his wife wants, his wife gets.

(personal take) but I'd think with how hard that man works, how much thought he puts into everything he does, how he ties such a great deal of his personal commitment and worth into his pursuits... it would be extremely hard to get Izuku out of 'work mode' and into a spicy headspace very easily.

He can't get turned on with just a single look at you. You're a sight for sore eyes at the end of the day- no doubt in mind about that! But he's gonna take some TLC before he's ready to jump into bed.

But give him a backrub, a hand massage, or the space to vent out all his leftover feelings and frustrations. Izuku will feel free, once it's all off his chest... then he'll look to you expectantly, ready and waiting for some beloved cockwarming. His chin will lift, some bidden tears may form at his lash line, and he'll look to you to relieve the rest.

"M'head's too full, honey. C'you make it stop? Please..?" "I just want you. Just want you." "Don' wanna talk about it anymore. Day's done. But this-- this, I want. This, I can do. I-I can be... I can be 'me' here.. right? You still love me like this?" "No one can settle me like you, sweet girl. Nothing comes close, feeling like this. Oh baby, please-- please can I have you? I'll be so gentle, I promise, please?"

When you're away for work (after your intimate life has been established), he truly thinks he's sore outta luck whenever he can't be with you in person... but you have other ideas to the first time you call him after the first four-day stretch of radio silence due to top-secret meetings... when he stretches while getting up from his seat and moans over the phone by accident...

"Careful how much noise you're making, sweetie," you have to tease him- just a little, "that does things to a girl."

"W-what?!"

"You heard me."

He's buffering. Chucking low, which only makes it worse.

"I do miss you," he offers shyly.

"I miss you too," you answer wistfully. "So much, my love."

"What have you got left? Two weeks?"

"Three, hun."

He hums a little agitated again, and you re-settle in your seat,

"'Zuku, what'd I just say?"

He's laughing incredulously now.

"Aw c'mon, you're turned on just hearing me stretch? I can't even complain how much I miss you?!"

"Nope. Not allowed.. unless you're trying to start somethin'~ "

He's quiet for a beat- off his guard. Izuku is scared to say something else, bc the soft noise in his throat is beating at him to come out. Had you been in front of him, you might have been able to see that shift.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Goodness, you're trouble..."

"You miss having trouble around~"

This makes him sigh, knowing all to well. "You know I do..."

"How much, teach?"

The formal petname both alarms and pleases him, you're sure about that. It's the first affectionate nickname you'd called him... but knowing he'd have to face his class of twenty with a straight face, the fact that you're sighing that title now gives him thoughts. Dirty thoughts.

"Don't call me that..."

"Awww why not?"

"Because my students call me that! And I have to be there in an hour and run them through evac drills today, and they're gonna be callin' after me, nonstop.."

"mmm so you're busy?"

...it's a trap... But Izuku falls straight into it.

You see it now, 13 hours away: Izuku, testing the accuracy of the clock on the wall with the one on his watch. Izuku ,sliding his morning coffee back onto the counter. Izuku, with the glow of morning sun still climbing through your windows in the front room, walking to make himself comfortable, calculating the riskiest wager and clearing his voice from away from the speakerphone.

You're rewarded for your soft voice that drips with desire; he's sat in his oversized papasan chair you two normally double up in for a nap- you can hear the creaks from the receiver, where he takes a knee before turning into it, already sinking his hand onto his partially unzipped fly.

He'll talk about anything and everything relating to you in order to make these next three weeks fly by faster. Anything to get you on a plane back home. Anything to get you back in bed.

"Not too busy for my pretty girl."

[fickle-tiction]

“So, what’s this I hear about you being deathly ticklish?”

Years of training was the only thing that kept Bruce from freezing in his tracks at the voice suddenly inches from his ear. He continued tightening the small screw on his grappling hook, ignoring the sudden pounding of his heart.

"Deathly is a stretch." Maybe if he didn't turn around Diana would get bored and walk away.

"But the 'ticklish' part is not?" Naturally, Diana reached over and goosed Bruce's side when she said 'ticklish'.

Despite the fact that he was expecting the touch, Bruce still flinched away from the nimble fingers gently pinching in just the right spot to make him squirm. He sighed, knowing she wouldn't drop this any time soon. "Who have you been talking to?" He asked, setting his tools down and turning so he was face-to-face with his assailant.

Bruce never failed to surprise Diana. She was expecting him to lie, or threaten to kill Clark. She did not think he would accept defeat so easily. "Is this common knowledge?" Diana asked, wearing a sly smile. "Why am I just now finding out about it?"

"It's on a need-to-know basis." Bruce was too experienced to dart his eyes around in his search for escape. He already knew Diana would be able to read his next move before he even decided on one. Now his only goal was to mitigate the damage she was sure to inflict upon his ego.

"And Clark needs to know, but I do not?" Uh oh. That was a dangerous tone. Bruce did not like being on the receiving end of that one bit.

"Clark doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself."

"Unfortunately for you, we share that trait."

Bruce was too dignified to try to run away, but that didn't mean he had to just lay down and take it. When Diana reached out a hand, presumably to latch onto his sides, Bruce seized her by the wrist. He was in the process of throwing her over his shoulder when Diana's free hand found it's way to his topmost ribs.

Bruce bit his tongue in his haste to stifle his laughter, but he could not hide the full body flinch from Diana's keen gaze.

"So it's true!" She laughed with delight. She easily pulled her hand free and crowded Bruce against his workbench, hands roaming over his torso in search of a better spot that might draw his laughter out.

"Why--are you both--so--fascinated by this?" Bruce was trying to shield as much of his body from Diana's wandering fingers as he could. Unfortunately for him, Diana was faster. When he drew his arms in to protect his ribs, she tickled at his stomach. When he pushed her hand away to shield his stomach, she wiggled quick fingers under his chin. When he shrieked and slammed his chin down towards his chest...well, her eyes lit up and she chased after that sound.

"This is why." Diana laughed as she gently tickled at the thin skin of Bruce's neck. His shoulders had come up to try and protect his neck, and he had both hands latched around Diana's wrists. Diana didn't seem to mind, ignoring his attempts to stop her and testing to see if his ears were as bad as his neck.

They were worse.

"Diana!" Bruce gasped, jerking away from the nails gently scratching the shell of both ears. The laughter she had been so desperate to hear finally came out, and Bruce was helpless to stop the onslaught of giggles pouring out of him.

"Clark did not mention this." Batman was not only giggling, but blushing. His cheeks had taken on a soft pink glow, and the hapless smile stretched across his face seemed to take 10 years off him.

"Dihihihihi come o-hahaha-on!"

Diana decided to take pity on him, and move on. She quickly tickled down his neck, across his collar bones, down his ribs, ending at his stomach.

"Jehehehe-Jesus Chri-hihihihihi-st!" Bruce cackled, practically folding in two at the onslaught of sensations.

"Clark only spoke of your stomach being sensitive." Diana was deftly avoiding Bruce's hands once again. "We will have to compare notes later."

Bruce shook his head, not confident that he could form any words between his near-constant laughter. He couldn't slip past Diana, though not for lack of trying, and he couldn't catch her hands long enough to gather his sanity. There was only one other tactic he could think of. Bruce darted his own hands out, latched onto Diana's sides, and squeezed as fast as he could.

"Bruce!" Diana gasped, hands finally leaving his body as she drew her arms inwards to protect her sides.

"Does Clark know about this?" Bruce was panting as he caught his breath, but he did not slow down his attack. When Diana brought her arms in to block her sides, Bruce went for her stomach. When she laughed and gently pushed him away, his hands darted up to her neck. When that didn't get a response beyond her pushing his hands away, Bruce seized his opportunity and buried his hands into her armpits, fingers wiggling furiously.

"Ohohohoh my!" Diana laughed, jerking away from Bruce to try and protect herself. Bruce followed after her, using her distraction and his bulk to his advantage and wrapping Diana in a bear-hug from behind.

"Not so fast, Princess." Bruce had his left arm wrapped around Diana's waist, and was squeezing her hip. His right arm was stretched across her torso, and his hand was buried in her left armpit.

"You--are--terrible!" Diana laughed, hands loosely wrapped around Bruce's wrists as she let her laughter flow freely. It was not lost on him that she was allowing him to get his so-called revenge.

"You started it!" Bruce pointed out, walking his left hand up Diana's side, gently digging into her ribs at random.

"Actually," A voice said in Bruce's ear, causing him to let go of Diana and whirl around, a batarang appearing in his hand from seemingly thin air. "I did." Clark smirked, unphased as the sharp blade was held to his throat.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Bruce grouched, the batarang disappearing just as fast as it had appeared.

"Clark, you must see this." Was all the warning Bruce got before those damn nails were back to dancing across the shells of his ears.

"Son of a bihihihihihihitch!" The laughter was once again pouring freely from Bruce. He knocked Diana's hands away and clamped his hands over his ears to keep them safe. "I thought that was going to be our little secret?" He had to turn to say this to Diana, and that's when he realized just how close the two of them were standing. One look at their faces, and he knew it was not an accident that they were crowding him between them. "....now wait a minute."

"I call his stomach." Diana's snaked around him as she drew his back against her chest.

"Clark, if we work together we can take her down." Clark looked like he might be considering it, but Bruce couldn't be sure because Diana's fingers were suddenly wriggling into his armpits as soon as he finished speaking.

"Tempting, but I've never seen you laugh before." Diana eased up, not wanting to overwhelm Bruce. Tickling him would not be any fun if it was overstimulating. "I call his neck." If Diana's smile had been scary, Clark's was downright terrifying.

"Di, we can definitely take him down together." Bruce's eyes stayed fixed on Clark's hands, and when he reached out for him Bruce did his best to flatten himself against Diana to get as far away as he could.

"Oh, so you're ticklish and a traitor." Clark didn't seem at all bothered by the hands gripping his wrists. "That calls for drastic measures."

"I hate both of you." Was the last coherent thing Bruce said for quite a while. It turns out deathly ticklish was a fitting description after all.

[revelboo]

What's your favorite song title?Also can you update Sunny and Side's storyline?

Sure! And depends on the band and the mood I'm in, I guess. Favorite by I Fight Dragons is Save World Get Girl or The Devil You Know, by Ludo it's Scare Me or Overdone, for The Matches it's Clumsy Heart or Little Maggots, for Motion City Soundtrack it's Better Open the Door or Give Up/Give In.

I got him, a RED TFP Optimus and a RED G1 Thundercracker off Mercari for a bit over $30 total. Guessing maybe someone selling off an Ex’s collectibles

Sunstreaker added

Can't Finish What You Started Pt 11

Sunstreaker x Reader, Sideswipe x Reader

• There's a new tension between the three of you, almost a physical weight dragging at you, making you more aware of the twins. Keep catching Sunstreaker watching you when you're sketching, sometimes drifting over to sit at the desk, chin on a fist. Staring at you as you draw until you can feel his optics on you. Like right now. “Do you want to draw, too?” Because the silence is starting to get creepy.

• “No.” Venting as you scrunch your little nose at him before returning to your sketching, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the Decepticons taking humans. Or how much you need his protection. You can’t even defend yourself can you? Can’t fight. No natural defenses unless he counts screaming at unpleasant decibels. Tapping a servo against his chin, he reaches with his other hand to pull a sketch you’d abandoned his way to look at.

• “Is there something you do want to do?” You ask with a sigh, because you don’t know what to do with melancholy Sunny. Prefer him standoffish and sure of himself and a tiny bit egotistical. Eyeing his glossy yellow paint, you sit up. “I know you’ve got a polishing cloth hidden on you somewhere,” you say and he frowns until you point at his arm. “Smudge.” And he magically, or at least it is to you despite his attempts to explain subspace storage, produces a rag, hesitating when you hold out both hands. It’s as big as your blankets when he hands it over and you suspect your blankets are just old cleaning cloths. But they’re warm, so you’re not complaining.

• “If I was your size, I wouldn’t be so bossy,” he mutters when you imperiously wave at him to lean his arms on the desk. And then you’re leaning your almost nonexistent weight into rubbing the cloth on his arm in little circles. Surprised at how relaxing it is, almost being lulled by it as he shutters his optics. Has anyone ever taken care of him like this before? He’s always the one worrying over everyone else, taking care of himself. But this is nice.

• You almost don’t notice the rumbling at first and it takes a minute to realize it’s Sunny doing the alien robot equivalent of purring if you had to guess. Biting into the inside of your cheek as you polish the smudges away and listen to the rhythmic, rumbling sound, you study his face. He’s different when he’s not frowning about something, younger somehow. When Sideswipe returns, you shoot him a warning look. For all the good it does. Sighing when Sides flicks his twin in the back of the helm and Sunny almost knocks his chair over lunging to his feet with a growl.

• Grinning and evading Sunny, he glances at you and that’s all it takes for Sunny to get him in a headlock. Struggling as you fold your little arms and watch. Unbothered by their sparring. “How come you’re polishing him?” He pouts, trying to get loose as Sunny growls at him and gives him a shove. “Because your paint is a lost cause just like you,” Sunstreaker says, without any real heat. And as you roll your eyes at both of them, Sideswipe can’t help but grin. Because Sunny had let you help him instead of insisting he could do it himself like he always does. Accepting help from you.

Previous

Next

[zeyris-daydreams]

Serendipiter - yandere!aventurine x reader

Someone who deliberately orchestrates events to appear serendipitous to others.

- Example: The serendipiter always stayed two steps ahead, creating 'happy accidents.'

a/n: thoughts of aventurine bending fate regardless of his luck rotted me today…

———————

To be or not to be? Well, Aventurine begged to differ. To bet, or not to bet? That was a question he was actually willing to ask, one he was also willing to answer. To be sure of your choices you had to make them first. Then own up to them, no matter the outcome.

That is what he expected you to do.

Your surroundings were the least important thing here. You sat in a VIP room of Penacony’s grand hotel, at a round table. In front of you was the IPC’s gambler. Aventurine, the cornerstone.

“Come now, we don’t have all the time in the world” The blond looked at you from behind the cards he held, their backs turned to you. He reclined in his red seat, almost lazy and casual. “Any of these, it’s not that hard.”

You held your hands on your lap, scrunching the material of your uniform. That’s right. Your teeth were grit together, and you bit the inside of your cheek. This choice wasn’t hard, all you had to do was draw a card out of the seven presented to you. Any of them.

Yet, knowing Aventurine’s luck, you knew your chances were nearly zero from the get go. Your wrist ached in protest as you reached out to the cards, uncertain. Your fingers shook, and you couldn’t still them.

”The odds are in your favour, why the hesitation?” He leaned forward, resting his chin against his hand, elbow on the dark table. He donned a sly smirk, a knowing one. Your cards have been dealt before you even made a choice, but there was no backing away from it anymore. You had to own up to it.

All you had to do was pick a card. Pick a card that he hasn’t picked, one out of seven. That should make your chances increase significantly, but within all the gambles you faced against Aventurine, you haven’t won once.

You didn’t want to test your luck. You didn’t want to know the coming failure. Sometimes it was better to avoid the elephant in the room, but you did it too long. The comfort of the luxurious seat helped nothing. It only caused you to tense more. You remained silent. One out of the seven.

One.

Aventurine raised his brow, pulling his sunglasses up to his hair from their previous position on his nose. “I could help you pick, then. Maybe the left side.” His grin returned, one too elated during this situation.

Was he conning you? Your freedom was at stake, your chances of getting out of this were at a risk. To live is to take chances. Left side. Left.

You frowned. If he suggested such a side, it must mean that he expected you to pick otherwise. Did he? If you picked right, would you play into his ploy? Did he expect you to pick left to spite him? Maybe Aventurine was attempting to trick you, were you to think you went against his wishes, you’d choose left, precisely because of your suspicion. What was correct?

Sweat collected at the edges of your forehead, stopping shy of your brows. You felt hot and cold at the same time, palms sweaty despite how cold they were. Yet you couldn’t muster a word from how deep in contemplation you were. You couldn’t tell what choice would be playing into his plan, what choice would jeopardise it.

But you had to say something. “I need to think.”

Aventurine hummed, watching your hand rest on the table. His own moved over, so close to covering your own. Instinctively you pulled your arm back, resting your palm back on your lap. “I don’t think there’s anything to think about. I mean, all you need to do is pick a card, right?”

He wasn’t wrong per se. There was nothing to think about besides the mind games you assumed he was playing. The cards were unmarked, there was nothing to analyse. You bit at your bottom lip, sure you’d tear through the skin.

Perhaps this was merely aimed at prolonging your doom. You couldn’t lose if you chose inaction. You wouldn’t face it if you chose ignorance. But he knew what you were up to, and so he idly looked at his watch.

”I’ve got a meeting coming up in fifteen, decide quickly, yeah?”

The nonchalance he said this with made you feel irritation simmer back to the surface. Here you were, at risk of losing your freedom, and he treated it like it was nothing. To Aventurine this was nothing impressive.

He learned to risk his life like it was nothing. Your situation was nothing impressive.

Yet you hesitated. He took everything away from you already, freedom was nothing comparable to this. Aventurine knew freedom was nothing. Even ones ‘free’ suffered, and sometimes ones chained lived better lives. Perhaps it was cruel to say it out loud though. ”Honey, you gambled with me willingly for so long. How is this any different?”

He wasn’t wrong, but this wasn’t entirely true either. You gambled for a chance to lessen the debt placed upon you, one you never realised you had. One you never asked for, never expected.

Foolishly you used the luxuries available to you, taking them for granted. Blissfully unaware that each of them was counted as debt to your name. It was all too easy for the gambler to arrange it. You were too trusting, too naive.

If someone found a gem like you before him, an unpolished crystal, they’d shape you to their own liking. Aventurine didn’t like the idea. If anything, he had to encase you first. And so he did, and you didn’t know.

Before you realised, the goods within your hotel room were all IPC property. It was unfair to you, maybe, but Aventurine never claimed to play fair. He never claimed to even out the odds for everyone, he never said he believed in justice.

This was the last gamble. You’d leave debt free, with the things you previously gambled away. Or you’d be his.

Your throat felt tight and you wished you didn’t need to breathe in. You made your choice suddenly, jerking your hand to grab the card you deemed fit. The one you decided to be your pass to freedom, in accordance to the mind game you assumed he played.

It didn’t matter however. Pick right or left, the outcome would be the same. Were you just this unlucky, or was he just too lucky? Maybe you were the balance to his neverending fortune.

After countless gambles to win back your money or lessen the debt, you knew you wouldn’t win. Nothing mattered.

As you laid the card on the table, you looked at an ace. The ace Aventurine showed you while shuffling the seven cards. But it was the outcome he already saw before you even considered your possibilities.

”My, my. Would you look at it?” he picked the card with his thumb and index finger, turning it over in his fingers. “Out of six to choose this one, you must be tremendously disadvantaged” He grinned, white and pearly teeth shining due to the light above both of you.

You expected this, but the blood from your face drained anyway, your stomach twisting as though it wanted to rid itself of the food you had to eat earlier. One you never asked for, but as Aventurine said, you should accept things that are given your way.

To bet, or not to bet. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was to take accountability for your choice. Or at least attempt to.

Because as you processed your current doom, Aventurine pressed all the cards into a stack, shoving it within his pockets. All of the cards were aces, and he wasn’t going to let a chance ruin it. Ultimately, he was lucky. But he wouldn’t leave it up to fate to give you to him.

Aventurine, in his career, learned that the only way to achieve things was to seize them with his hand.

[inlovewithdob]

Again?

(I kinda hate this also first time writing smut so not sure if face riding was the best idea but I hope it’s still enjoyable to read but stiles makes everything better)

18+ mdi, not proofread

It had started off as a regular friday night movie-marathon sleepover, with “Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith” selected as the evenings choice (for the hundredth time). Your right cheek smooshed against his chest facing the block of screen in front of the awkward shaped couch holding up your cuddling bodies. Until the scene where anakin wakes up all sweaty and shirtless from a bad dream sparked something in you and your hand began to absentmindedly draw “innocent”little shapes along his torso dragging lower and lower. Right before your sneaky little fingers made its way beneath his flannel pants, his slender fingers encircled your wrist preventing them from going any further. “And what do you think you’re doing?” Stiles questioned, amused by your actions.

“Nothing” you chirped, to quickly to hide your sheepish tone.

“Huh that’s funny, cause it looked like you were getting a bit handsy there” he quipped with a raised brow.

“Whatever” you mumbled, stubbornly burying your face back in his chest to not give him the satisfaction of seeing your flustered expression

The curve of his pointer finger hooked underneath your chin to face up at him again “oh come don’t be embarrassed. I know what shirtless anakin does to you, but I’m not jealous since I know you find me hotter and I get to reap all the delicious benefits” His finger was quick to block your lips attack to his. Grinning when his ears caught your mumbled “jerk”

Your pouted lips part to start your whine but then get immediately smashed with his. He must’ve have been waiting for this since the movie started, because he almost can’t bear to wait a single second longer before his tongue pierces its way through your mouth’s opening, deeply exploring its surroundings and groaning at the lingering taste of peach rings still coating your taste buds. The air in your lungs gets momentarily knocked out with how tight and quickly his veined protruding arms lock around your waist. With your hands instinctively following the curve of his chest towards the nape of his neck slipping the brown fluffs between your fingers. Pulling with a slight -but aggressive- tug, emitting a delicious almost-whimper that found its way up his throat. That was your tipping point, physically feeling the pool of arousal leaking into your panties.

“Sti…need more-please” your wines cutting out with every roll of your aching core against his rapidly growing bulge. Desperate for that delicious taste of friction.

“Sit on my face baby” your expression visibly changed at his reply.

That’s not something you’ve guys ever even talked about it. Let alone- done. You weren’t sure if his words were an accident. Or his horniness got the best of him (wow shocker). I mean…you didn’t hate the idea. He was the first to initiate going down on you most of the time. Devouring your overstimulated cunt until you had to literally pull away his latched mouth by a fistful of his hair. Blocking out his whines of protests, ‘taste so good’ ‘more baby please’. Needless to say you both thoroughly enjoyed the activity. So I mean face sitting could only be better. But of course, you still had your doubts.

“What?”

“You heard me, I want you to sit on my face” his golden orbs darkening by the second, boring into yours.

“How much porn have you been watching?” You tease, in an attempt to lighten the mood

“None, I already told you you’re the only porn I need.” He pauses to readjust the needy hard-on straining the tight material of his jeans “just want your pillowy thighs squeezing my eyes out. Want you to use me, ride my face. Need it”

“But sti” your quick to protest. “What if I choke you? Or suffocate you? Oh god, or if I like I don’t know, drown you in my come? Is that even possible? Whatever. Oh my god and what if I?- AH”

Your ramble comes to halt with the insert of his finger inside your dripping heat erupting a moan from deep within. You were to busy word vomiting to realize he was sneakily pulling your attire to the side. A whine soon following when he pulled away.

“Baby” he murmurs, “drowning in your come, buried in between your thighs, literally sounds like the perfect way to die”

“I just don’t wanna hurt you” you mumbled, chin drooping towards your chest no longer holding eye contact.

His features softened “The only way you would hurt me is if you don’t sit on my face” he spoke gently, “and if it makes you feel any better, I’ll tap your thigh three times if it’s to much” (spoiler alert. He doesn’t)

Your plump lips flash a small smile, grateful he was making sure you were comfortable and showing that he wants it as well.

As soon as you nodded, his hands were quick to rid you of those flowy pajama shorts and panties that were no good anymore from how soaked through they were(another to add to the collection). Already guiding your hips to straddle above his overly eager face.

“Are you sure about this?” Not even trying to hide the uncertainty in your voice

“Couldn’t be anymore sure, now please baby, sit on my face, need it” you could feel the bruising indents his palms were already starting to leave on your hips from how tight his grip is to control himself from just plopping you on his mouth and never letting you back up.

His encouraging words sparked enough confidence to start slowly lowering yourself onto his awaiting mouth. Your core slowly makes its descent down but abruptly stopped

“Stiles I don’t know about thi- AH” his patience snapped. And took matters into his own hands, and sunk you down himself. Not even letting you adjust to the new feeling of the upturn of his nose lodged in your pelvis or the tip of his tongue rapidly assaulting your dripping cunt, selfishly lapping up his favorite flavor.

“Fuck this is amazing” he groans, circling the tip of his nose around your sensitive nub.

It’s all to much. The sensations intensifying by the second. Unforgivingly lapping at your folds ignoring your pleads of overstimulation. His sweet little praises flowing from his mouth are complete dichotomy to the other sinful things it’s doing. The thin sheet of sweat beading its way down your flushed body. The sounds of pure bliss tumbling past your parted lips only encouraging him to redouble his ministrations. Not even hiding or embarrassed in any way on how his hands rummage for any skin-on-skin contact they can locate. Whether it’s tweaking your pebby teats, cupping the curve of your ass to stimulate a grinding movement against his overjoyed face. Or just down right palming and stroking himself.

“So clo-OH-se- need more-AH” you wale, your hips gyrating against his nose’s peak on their own accord.

“Shh baby, I got you” he murmurs gently as if he isn’t completely devouring your sex. Neither of you both were ever good at lasting long, leading to several breaks between rounds. Picking up on your slight tenses and chocked gasps. And upgrading to an ungodly pace. It only took one more dive of his skilled muscle before gushes of white-hot heat ascended through your quivering body. The pleasure band located in your lower tummy snapping emitting a loud cry from both of your lips. The feeling of your tangy arousal drenching his face paired with the sound of his name tumbling from your flushed lips in whiney moans didn’t help with the painful hard on he’s struggling with currently. God he will never get over how good you look when you come.

The movements of his tongue doesn’t falter, only slows down enough to drag out your blissful high for as long as possible. From the way he looks underneath you, it would seem like he’s the one who just got the life sucked out of him. But he’s a giver and finds comfort in your happiness (and also got to eat you out and play with your breasts which is always a win). Once your panting smooths into a more normal breathing pace, he carefully lifts you up from the waist and lays you down against the couch while he gets up, and whispers a “be right back”. But you barely notice, already sleepily getting situated on the plush cushions searching for comfort and warmth. After a bit he returns and a smile grows on his face at the sight of you curled up with his pillow to inpatient for him to bring back a blanket. But he still gently lays it on top you. And takes it upon himself to clean up the mess of crumbs your junk food made and pressed ‘off’ on the tv remote.

Once the living room looked ‘good enough’ or clean enough to not receive a scolding by his dad. He found comfort in laying next to your unconscious dazed out body, sandwiching you between his warmth and the couch sealed off with a fluffy blanket on top of you both. Of course he somehow managed to trip and let out an embarrassingly high pitched yelp, awaking you. “Sti?”

“Shh shh go back to sleep” he murmured, quick to let you get back to your much needed slumber and wrapping his arm around your tank top clad waist impossibly closer.

“Love’ou” was all you could manage to respond in your drowsy condition

“I love you to” he punctuated with a soft kiss to your forehead. But his gentle demeanor morphed into a more cheeky mischievous one.

“Soooo, when can we do that again?”

[bull-at-the-gate]

Sehkmet the Just. Devoted Paladin of The Lord of the North Wind; The Wyrmking; King of Good Dragons; The Platinum Dragon Bahamut

More silly Tavs. haha can we tell that I started out drawing animals and have for way longer than I’ve drawn people?

Sehkmet’s an Oath of Vengeance Paladin and always keeps her word, or will die in the attempt.

I imagine she’s been resurrected once before after falling in battle against the cult of Tiamat.

She devoted her life to serving as an instrument for Bahamut’s vengeance after losing her clan to followers of Tiamat as a wee cub.

So she’s very devout, but also gets to be a whole himbo, as a treat. She and Hollow (my durge) would ask together with full earnestness ‘what animal is the pink panther’ and Sehkmet would probably forget after a week.

Some Headcanon-y Things

Heals by giving lil’ forehead kisses and will absolutely not tolerate anyone hiding injuries, she’s lost too many a good ally to let that slide.

Helps with cooking by prepping the food so Gale has a little less work to do; Can freeze food for later too

White Dragonborn are more adapt for the cold, so Sehkmet’s got a thick downy fur, ideal for cuddling; everyone has slept with at least once for the best platonic cuddles (maybe minus Lae’zel until much later)

Has no idea what a shirt is, not really, but she prefers to go without when resting. Only somewhat understands modesty, everything for Dragonborn is extremely internal so she understands in concept, but not necessarily for herself

Does laundry for everyone, finds the repetitiveness to be meditative and is particular about strong smells, so doing it is a win-win. Patches up any holes she finds too.

Fascinated by hair, loves to style it and learned how to when a few war clerics taught her to. Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale all thought she was giving them *the look* but she just wanted to play with and style their hair.

I need to practice muscular bodies a bit, but she’s built like a seven-foot tall truck and hits like a train.

Can only see out of one eye, lost total use of her right one while training to join her order but the vision had been failing most of her life.

She was a secret fan of *The Blade of Frontiers* before meeting Wyll because she’d heard he also only had one functioning eye and was still able to be a champion of the people.

did not, however, realize she was older than him. She’s still a fan.

Spends at least one evenings each tenday polishing and caring for the party’s armor, after proving to Lae’zel she did an acceptable enough job to be entrusted hers as well.

Scarily fast, especially out of her armor. She was too slow, once, to save a cleric who’d trusted her to be their shield. She’d vowed to never be too slow again, and she always keeps her word.

Offers mercy and a second chance unless it’s been proven to her that a beaten enemy won’t do better; She follows Bahamut’s own words on the matter, no justice without mercy and no penance without forgiveness

Would probably be a theater kid

Spars with Lae’zel and Karlach on the regular in camp. I like the idea that Dragonborn can replace teeth but it’s not common knowledge yet, so it’s funny to picture:

Karlach knocking out a couple teeth and being extremely apologetic and starts looking for the teeth

Sehkmet’s just confused because she’s assumed her whole life everyone’s teeth regrow and is confused why Karlach’s dragging Shadowheart over with her old teeth asking if she can put them back.

Lae’zel is amused (Gith definitely would also be able to regrow teeth, selectively bred warrior race and all) and uses the moment for one of her lovely little Githyanki supremacy tangents.

Sehkmet is just standing there, staring at the horizon in concern, like ‘You all don’t regrow teeth?!’ and thinking about how many belated apologies she needs to make

Karlach is still holding bloody teeth

Lae’zel and Shadowheart are fighting (flirting) again

Astarion is over by the cookout bugging Gale and watching the show

Gale and Wyll are still thinking at least they’re normal

the Emperor is still imploring you to eat a tadpole.

[synthetickitsune]

Joshua (Seventeen) | Nicknames fluff | 0.9k words | gn!reader A/N: @hanniedream we're even now, stop indulging my brainrot or we'll get stuck here >:(

You feel his eyes on you while you’re saying goodbye to his friends. It’s nothing new, Joshua generally likes to keep his eyes on you to make sure you’re alright, especially as the night draws to an end. But when you meet his gaze this time, something is wrong. It’s just a flash of something you can’t decipher in his eyes before it’s gone and he smiles warmly at you, inviting you into his open arms. When you close the distance between you, he pulls you close and kisses the top of your head before waving the guys goodbye. 

Once the doors are closed, he holds you just for a second longer so you can’t escape, chuckling at your weak attempts to struggle out of his arms. You don’t move far, just enough to look at him.

“Is everything alright?” you ask him. He tilts his head a little.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” he seems confused, his thumbs stroking your waist to provide comfort.

“I don’t know, you looked a little upset for a second there,” you explain and he seems to immediately catch up, shaking his head with another smile.

“I think I’m just tired and wanted them gone already.”

You don’t think that’s all there is to it, but you let it go. You don’t have any proof, and besides - you’re a bit tired too. It’s easy to let the worry melt away when Joshua holds you in bed, your back against his chest and his lips meeting the skin of your neck between every word he speaks.

Truth be told, you forget about the incident the next day and don’t think about it anymore. Largely because Joshua now makes an effort not to make you worry. It’s childish anyway, and so he pays attention to his expression any time he sees you interact with your or his friends. It’s nothing, and you’re cute. No need to make you worry. 

You only remember now that you see the same look on Joshua’s face that he had that evening after you get off the phone with your best friend. The slight frown on his face, his lips turned downwards. You wouldn’t say he looks hurt, but it’s not far from it. His eyes immediately grow wide like he’s a deer caught in the headlights when he realizes you saw and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words leave him. 

“Shua, what happened?” you whisper. You put your phone down on the counter, but before you can go to him, he’s already standing in front of you. Wordlessly he helps you jump onto the counter before stepping between your legs and caging you in. You blink at him, suddenly flustered by his closeness and the position as he rests his forehead against yours. “Shua?”

“You never use any nicknames for me,” he states with a slight sigh. Better to rip the bandaid off, he figures. “You give everyone else one, though. Why not me? You don’t even call me Joshie anymore.”

You stare at him, stare at the soft look in his eyes, the slight pout to his lips. He doesn’t sound upset but it’s obvious it’s bothering him, and you wonder for how long did he let it steep inside him. 

“Is that it?” you ask, not laughing, not judging, just making sure.

“Yeah,” he whines a little, “It’s stupid but it’s been on my mind for a while. Why don’t you call me anything but my name?”

“I heard you mention you don’t care about nicknames much, so I thought you’d prefer if I called you by your name,” you try to remember what was the occasion, but your memory fails you.

“Sounds like something I’d say,” Joshua hums in acknowledgement, soothing your worries by rubbing his hand across your thighs, “But I think I’d like it if you called me something sweet. Something simple.”

“My love?” you try immediately, laughing at the spark in his eyes when they meet yours. “Just love?”

He thinks it over before prompting you to say both again. His smile grows while he listens with his eyes closed, blindly leaning closer to you until his lips are on yours.

“I like when you call me yours,” he smiles into the kiss. He doesn’t pull too far away after you part.

“Just mine then,” you tease, cracking up at the sight of his offended face. His lips part and he scoffs.

“You can lose your partner privileges as fast as you get them.”

“I’m not the one who was whining about not being called anything but my name, Joshua,” you point out. However, seeing the playfulness drop from his face, you reach your arms out and hug him. “You’re cute, my love.”

He hums, his hands sliding down your thighs and to your back, returning the hug with more strength than you were prepared for. You squeak, but he doesn’t let go, not until he leaves a lingering kiss on your cheek. “I like that one.”

“I’ll experiment around with them, this one just felt right for the first one,” you promise, squeezing his shoulders, “Feel better now?”

“No longer feels like my own partner is excluding me, yeah,” he sighs dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. You smack his shoulder lightly and roll your eyes. You stop yourself from asking if he’s going to hold this against you for long - even though it was his fault for not bringing it up sooner. “I love you, my love.”

“I love you too,” you smile. It really does sound nice.

[yukinohoshikuzu]

Oh, I am not done with you yet, sweetheart

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Content: Gojo Satoru x f!reader

Content warnings: nsfw; explicit content; oral (f! receiving); slight overstimulation; slight dom!Gojo

Summary: Practically a detailed description of Satoru going down on you until you see stars

a/n: my first ever smut and first ever one shot, tell me what you think (^_^*); English is not my first language, sorry for any grammar mistakes

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You rolled on your back and looked up the ceiling. You had the whole bed to yourself as Satoru was now concentrating on packing his stuff to go out and meet Nanami about a case to investigate. You could not draw your gaze away from him. He was half-naked, with only a pair of sweatpants hanging way too low on his hips. You licked your lips and squeezed your thighs to ease the uncomfortable feeling of your excitement. You didn’t want to bother him just about 30 minutes before an important meeting but you wanted him too much.

He didn’t pay attention to you as he was real busy with getting his things together. Again you watched his movements in silence but it didn’t take you too long to decide to let him know about your painful lust for him.

You slowly crawled off the bed and got close to him. You leaned on his strong, naked back, hugging him gently from behind. You always loved how tall he was compared to your shortness.

“What’s up, beautiful?” He asked softly.

“Hmmm… “ You whined a little, rubbing slightly against his muscles.

“What is it?” He asked again and you could hear from his tone that he was smiling.

“I’m just…” You let him go so he could turn around and face you. “You know…” You bit your lower lip.

Satoru bent down to hold your waist. A familiar smirk appeared on his face. You ran your hands up his arms and stopped at his neck, your fingers playing with his undercut. He gave you a quick kiss. Too quick for your liking.

“What do you want?” He asked again teasingly, raising his eyebrows. His bright blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

“You.” You replied and it was your turn to kiss him.

“Ah… you know I would love to but I can’t do it now.” You pouted.

“Not even a quick one?” You drew circles on his bear chest.

“I need all my strength and concentration for the meet up. But it will be the first thing we do when I get back.” He smiled, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

You let your arms fall and let out a defeated sigh.

“Yeah… okay.” You said, feeling a bit frustrated but perfectly understanding his words.

He gave you a final kiss on your forehead and you laid back down on the bed. You were trying to look for a distraction but you kept finding yourself staring at the man again and again. All you could think of is his thickness inside of you. You kept attempting to adjust yourself in a way that would help with the fire between your legs but it was impossible.

After a little while, Satoru noticed just how restless you were. He caught your glance and walked over to the bed to sit down next to you.

“That bad, huh?” The side of his lips curled up in a devilish grin.

“You better hurry back.” You mumbled.

“Oh, I will.” He nodded then his eyes wandered over to your body, down to your core then again back up to your eyes. “Hmm…”

“What?” You asked confused.

“It would be very rude of me to leave you like this.”

“Agreed.” You said quickly which made him smirk again.

He gently touched your thighs. Up until then you only felt your sweet spot burning but from his touch, your whole body caught up in flames. It was almost unbearable.

“Let me help you. And we can have fun when I come back.” He shifted and placed himself by your legs. He made you open your thighs and he kneeled between them.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” You asked, your voice getting weaker by the second.

He leaned on you and started kissing you deep. His lips swallowed a moan coming from your chest. You could feel the hardness in his pants and you lifted your hips just to try and get more friction. He did help you by rubbing himself on you a little bit. You were so turned on, you could have come just by him grinding on you like this a little more. But he stopped and lifted himself up. You growled in frustration.

“Don’t worry, love. It’s not over yet.”

He placed wet kisses on your neck down to your collar bone. He squeezed your breasts and pinched your hard nipples over the soft fabric of your shirt. He lifted the cloth just enough for him to kiss down on your stomach. He easily pulled down your pants and panties then made you spread your legs again. You were laying in front of him with your burning cunt and wetness exposed. He bit his lower lip at the sight. The bulge in his pants was real obvious now. It made your mouth water. He caught your eyes on his hardness and smiled teasingly.

“Not yet.”

He bent down and kissed your inner thighs. He moved slowly, closer and closer to the place where you needed him the most. He placed another kiss just right next to your cunt. You were holding your breath. Every second without his touch was torture. He spread your lips gently, the sensation of his long, cold fingers were making your head spin. He leaned so close you could feel his warm breath on you. Then finally his tongue gently reached your clit.

An uncontrollable, loud moan left your lips. He licked a slow stripe up your slit like he was just tasting you the first time. You lifted your hips to get more, to get closer to his lips but he was quick to pin you down with his strong hands.

“Always tastes so good for me.” He hummed, then went back to his meal.

His tongue made quick moves on the top of your clit. You were breathlessly throwing your head back in the pillows, clenching the blanket under you. You could feel the heat of your climax building up in your core the more you felt of his work. He knew you were getting close so he switched and now placed his whole mouth on you, almost literally kissing with your cunt, applying more pressure on your clit. 

The wetness and the warmth of his mouth along with his hard tongue didn’t even take a split second to send you over the edge and immediately reach your high. Your moans and groans got stuck in your throat as you breathlessly reached your climax that lasted a bit more than usual. You came back to reality with a gasp, trying to gain back control over your breathing. Satoru gave a sweet little kiss on your wetness one more time. You looked at him with tears in your eyes, the relief of your orgasm spreading in your body. He had a satisfied grin on his face, his eyes wearing a darker blue shade from his own lust. You wiped your face and was just about to move to kiss him but he didn’t let you leave.

“Oh, I am not done with you yet, sweetheart.” He said, his voice lower than usual, strong hands grabbing your hips.

You couldn’t even say a word. The previous heat was now crawling back in the lower part of your abdomen, your body realizing you do want more. You laid back, letting him have your way with you once again.

“Good girl.” He purred, his words already sending waves of pleasure down your body.

He kissed your thigh again and put one thumb on your clit. He begun rubbing it, giving you a different feeling from his tongue. Deep sighs left your chest. He gave your entrance a short lick then stopped rubbing you just to replace his thumb with his tongue again. He was making circular motions this time. The feeling sent sparks up your spine, your sorcerer’s name leaving your lips with a groan.

“Hmmm…” He growled adding more pleasure with the vibration of his voice.

He barely started but you already felt close to another orgasm. He was licking you faster now, driving you to the edge when he suddenly stopped just to change to sucking on your clit. You jolted from the sensation and felt your knees getting all weak as it sent you over the edge to end up with an even more intense climax than before.

You were panting, trying to catch your breath again. You expected him to stand up now but he was just watching you calm down, not moving from his spot. Feeling dizzy, you tried to get up again but there was no way to move away from the man’s grip. You stared at him, eyes wide.

“You distracted me by being all needy, I am not going to let you get away with this so easily. I want you to come one more time for me, love.”

“Satoru… “ You begged “I don’t think I can…”

“Oh but you will.” He smirked and leaned back to your cunt to give it a painfully slow lick covering the whole length of your fold.

You were now whimpering, your thighs already shaking.

He stopped and you felt him sliding one of his long fingers inside of you. You gasped and looked at him. He held your gaze without even blinking. Once he felt you got used to it, he gently added a second finger. Your eyes rolled back and your head fell back on the bed. He started to move his fingers in circles. You groaned and grabbed the sheets under you. He changed and curled his fingers to perfectly massage your G-spot. Your body twitched, your walls getting tighter around his fingers. He knew you were close again.

“Such a pretty face. Always such a good girl for me.” He praised, his voice still low and soft.

He moved back and put his mouth on your clit again while speeding up the moves with his fingers. You cried out with pleasure, gripping his messy white hair and lifting your hips as much as he let you. He put more pressure with his tongue and moved his fingers inside of you just a bit harder when your whole body started shaking. Your walls were clenching around his fingers and he knew you were coming again. You let out a sinful scream and cried his name. Whimpers leaving your throat under his touch, feeling your whole body orgasm giving you shivers from head to toe.

He slowly removed his fingers and added some more kisses on your thighs, patiently waiting for you to come back from your most intense high. He moved back up to be close to your face. You shifted a little to turn to him, your body all tired from the treatment it just got. He smirked at you once again and got closer to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“Thank you…” You breathed.

“Hmmm…” He hummed, giving you another kiss on the forehead. “I really have to go now, love.”

“Of course…”

“But…” He stood up and looked back at you. “You better be ready for me when I come back. You made me incredibly hungry.”

“Yes, sir.” You smiled, throwing yourself back on the bed, feeling a delicious fatigue.

Satoru’s lips curled up in a cheeky grin and he came over to you for a last sweet kiss.

[pikachic]

Hi it's me again. TMA/POKÉMON AU??? YES HELLO PARDON ME I NEED TO THROW MYSELF AT THIS OCCULUS AU YOU'VE GOT GOING ON IF YOU DONT MIND

*BUSTS DOWN THE DOOR* I’M SO GLAD YOU ASKED

I’ve had this AU simmering away for a while and but haven’t posted that much about it, so thank you for the excuse to scream about my extremely self indulgent Pokémon x The Magnus Archives AU

*ahem*

Introducing:

POKÉMON OCULUS

(Here’s an illustration I did after getting your ask - Champion Jonathan and his ace Pokémon, Vigitera!)

This AU is set in the Ervenis Region, a relatively small island region off the coast of Galar. It closed its borders two years prior to the main storyline, shortly after its Champion went missing during a series of attacks in its major cities and his predecessor was found murdered. Since then, an acting Champion has been instated and the borders have been reopened, but the Champion still has not been found. Most Ervenisans believe he is dead.

However, the Ervenis Champion isn’t as dead as everyone thinks, and his disappearance is only the first in long chain of events that will shake Ervenis to its very core, orchestrated by a man who aims to rule over a ruined world governed by nothing but his own will and the fear of people and Pokémon alike, and who will stop at nothing to bring that goal into reality.

More lore under the cut!

(Some of the AU-specific names and terms might be placeholders in that I haven’t been able to come up with anything better lmao)

(Also some of the art might be a bit old)

General Lore Stuff

Jon is the Champion who went missing, and Gertrude is his murdered predecessor.

Martin is Ervenis’ Pokémon Professor

Martin being the Professor is literally perfect.

Be. Because.

All of the Pokemon Professors (except for the newest ones) are named after trees.

And Martin’s last name is BLACKWOOD. Which is an ACTUAL TREE.

(My first rough attempt at drawing Jmart in the Pokémon art style)

Also jmart are extremely married

They’re Ervenis’ favorite power couple

(Professor Blackwood for half of the main plot: *sighs.* …I miss my husband. I miss him a lot. I’ll be back.)

Their Pokémon ship name would be Londonfogshipping

Martin has a Galvantula (most likely a regional form), a Sinistea, a Frosslass, and a Togekiss

Jon, in addition to AU-specific Fakemon, has a Gardevoir and a Luxray

Jon also has a shiny Appletun on his team and Martin has a Flapple. Make of that what you will :D

Also yes there are Fakemon in this thing

I have never designed any Fakemon before except for one thirty-minute period of time from when I was ten but I’m not going to let that stop me

(Initial Fakemon sketches! Three guesses as to which characters get Sqwyrm and Manickregus and the first two don’t count)

(Also Ervenisan Yamask has another form, which evolves into Ervenisan Cofagrigus which is inspired by the Do Not Open coffin)

(I have a whole list of Fakemon designs I want to make but 90% of them aren’t fleshed out at all)

Tim and Sasha are Professors in their own right, and also Martin’s assistants/fellow researchers

Tim has a Houndoom because I saw another TMA Pokémon AU that gave him one and I really liked the idea, he also has a Ludicolo because I lost a debate with my friend who is also into both TMA and Pokémon

Sasha has a Dartrix and a Meowstic

Most of the Avatars are gym leaders

(Yippee gym leader designs!)

(Not pictured because I ran out of steam before I could draw them: Michael and Helen, who run a double Electric-type gym; Daisy, who runs a Dragon-type gym; Karolina, who runs a Ground-type gym; and Jared, who runs a Normal-type gym)

Elias is the acting Champion in Jon’s absence and the secret leader of Team Chrysalis

The current Elite Four consists of Peter, Simon, Maxwell, and Annabelle

You might have noticed that Jon and the gym leaders are all wearing (mostly) black pendants/brooches

This is part of the Ervenis’ region’s “gimmick:”

Metafestation (which is. Almost definitely a placeholder name)

Skilled trainers can use special items called Metalenses to tap into the psyches of Pokemon and Trainer to manifest the shape of their desires and the power of their emotions in reality.

You basically give the Pokémon a JoJo Stand

Each Metalens must be specially shaped and cut to suit unique trainers and Pokémon, and since using poorly made Metalenses may have disastrous consequences on its users, only a handful of people have the qualifications and legal authorization to do so

(Gerard Keay is one of these people!)

Metalenses are usually worn as pendants or brooches so they’re close to the user’s heart

For the Metafestation power-up to be strongest, the trainer and Pokémon must have a shared goal/desire and a deep bond

(This bond does not have to be a positive one. It just needs to be strong.)

These Metafestations have their own typing system, though no one’s been able to figure out exactly what it is yet.

It’s the Fears. The Fears are the typing system.

Though most users of this system aren’t aware of it, Metafestation comes from achieving a delicate balance of both desire and fear.

When I first came up with this idea, it was JUST Fear, but I felt like that was a bit dark for frickin POKÉMON so I added the desire aspect

After all, what we fear and and what we desire often go hand in hand

You desire safety because you fear its absence, you desire light because you fear the dark, you desire freedom because you fear being confined, etc.

For example, Professor Blackwood desires companionship, and fears being forgotten. Most of the Metafestations he and his Pokémon create are foggy and cold, but in a way soothing at the same time.

Though a small handful of them are spindly and laced with puppet strings and reflect his desire to wield his cunning for good.

(However, he hasn’t been able to properly use his Metalens in years. The first and only time he tried after his husband vanished, it backfired horribly, consuming both him and his Pokémon in a chilling fog and sending them spiraling into unconsciousness. It took weeks for them to recover, and Professor Blackwood bears a physical scar of the incident in the streaks of stark white in his hair.)

Of course, most people don’t have just one desire/fear. The Metalens just channels the strongest ones, and most users don’t achieve more than three separate tertiary types of power-ups.

One of the biggest exceptions is Jon.

He desires many things: Safety, love, knowledge. He also fears many things: Being manipulated and controlled, abandonment, the unknown.

When he was a child, something happened to him that scarred his psyche in such a way that he could channel all of his desires and fears.

It’s what makes him such a potent conduit for the power-up system, and what makes him a prime target for:

Team Chrysalis

Team Chrysalis is a criminal organization/sort of cult disguised as something innocent: The Magnus Institute, the region’s main research institution that Professor Blackwood works at

The AU’s main plot gets kicked off when Professor Blackwood finds evidence that his husband, the missing Champion, is still alive

If this were a real game, the main story on the side of doing the gym challenge would be helping Professor Blackwood look for clues about Jon’s whereabouts and about The Magnus Institute’s hidden goals

Professor Blackwood also figures out that it’s very likely that Elias had a hand in Jon’s disappearance

(Professor Blackwood for the other half of the main plot: *slams down the Do Not Open coffin in front of Elias* It’s a coffin. There’s a name engraved on it. “WHORE!” IT’S EMPTY!! *grabs Elias by the collar* AND YOU’RE GOING IN IT!!!)

The Elite Four are also part of Team Chrysalis and fully on board with its plan

Though Annabelle might have her own machinations going on

Team Chrysalis plans to reshape the world as they see fit by summoning a Legendary Pokémon that’s a warped physical manifestation of the fears and desires of all living creatures, and simultaneously embodies and feeds on those fears and desires

(It’s basically all the Fears mashed into one eldritch monstrosity)

(I’m mildly worried this sounds too similar to some existing legendaries but at the same time I’m just spitballing and having fun here)

To summon this Legendary, they need a lynchpin capable of channeling all of those fears and desires

This lynchpin is Jon because of course it is.

Team Chrysalis’ whole plan actually only serves to grant Elias immortality and make him king of a ruined world but shhh none of the team members know that

I have zero idea what the Legendary would look like, I just have the fact I want it to have “Pan” in its name

The climax of the story comes when Team Chrysalis starts their ritual and the end of the world. In order to stop them, their Vessel and the Legendary must be defeated.

You are challenged by The Archivist!

The Really Self Indulgent Part

I started working on this at the same time that my friend was watching through XY for the first time

So at some point when coming up with all of the story stuff my brain went “what if I stuck Ash Ketchum into the story?”

So Ash is there now. For some reason lol

He’s 19 now and is just doing his thing and traveling the world

As usual, he takes on the player’s role, challenging gyms and helping Professor Blackwood in his investigation and eventually helping him take on Team Chrysalis

(I made this shitpost in like. Less than an hour lmao)

Ash is so done with these evil team leaders trying to destroy the world

Greninja is also there because tHIS IS MY AU AND I DO WHAT I WANT *MANIACAL LAUGHTER*

And I think that’s it for an overview of Pokémon Oculus!

I have a bunch more stuff for this AU, mostly spitballs and WIP writing snippets, and I do plan on making more art and Fakemon designs eventually (especially now that I’m getting better at emulating the Pokémon art style)

Thank you for reading this far, and feel free to ask me anything about this AU! :D

[curlycow01]

Only you: The Chase

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After escaping hydra, you and bucky move to Romania to live your lives in peace, but the universe has other plans

Warnings: None really

a/n: I didn't originally think of making a series, but I had a couple ideas so why not write them down? hope you enjoy my attempt at writing a sequel. thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged the first one. Special thanks to @wintrsoldrluvr and @lanabuckybarnes

Series Masterlist

Only you part 1:

Your breathing was ragged as you willed your legs to go faster in the dark. You were running into darkness, but you didn't care, as long as you got away from them.

Scorching red hands grabbed you from behind, their touch burning deep impressions in your skin as they yanked you back. The hands wrapped around your head to keep it still.

Your gaze landed on a familiar chair and your eyes widened with fear as Bucky was brought in, his shoulder length hair barely covering his eyes, which were so empty, completely devoid of any emotion.

They threw him in the chair and machines tortured him, his screams booming in your ears. You cried out for him, you wanted to move, to do anything to help him but the hands firmly gripped you, forcing you to watch as tears pooled in your eyes. The hands slowly suffocated you, breathing was getting harder-

You woke up with a start, gripping the mattress beneath you as you tried to steady your breathing. "Doll?" You shifted to see Bucky, sitting on a chair, with his elbow on the table.

''I'm okay" you replied in a low voice. "Another nightmare?" he asked quietly. You nodded. You both were getting nightmares since moving to Bucky's tiny apartment in Romania 2 years ago. Sleeping beside each other helped, but Bucky often stayed up at night, watching over you while you slept.

Bucky gets up and walks over to you. He lowers himself beside you and takes your hand, gently rubbing the inside of your wrist. You shift closer to him, needing his warmth. He pulls you to his chest, his light blue shirt matching the color of his eyes. You inhale his scent, which instantly calms you. Bucky senses this. "Better?" he murmurs softly. "Loads" you whisper, already feeling a bit drowsy.

"Take a nap" he suggests, his voice low and soothing. "I'll hold you" he tightens his grip slightly and you're encased in his arms as you slowly drift asleep.

You wake up a few hours later, with Bucky still holding you as he slept. You stayed in the same position, listening to his breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart. He stirred a few minutes, his arms around you loosening.

"Hey" you whisper "sleep well?" "No nightmares" he confirms, his voice raspy. "Same" you smile. Bucky leans back a bit, but his arms are still around you. "I was thinking" he starts. You hum to let him know that you were listening.

"I read somewhere that plums help in remembering things, makes memories last longer." He takes a pause before continuing "Maybe we could go and buy some?" "Sure" you answer "I've never had plums before" He kisses the top of your head "You and me both doll"

After escaping Hydra together, Bucky started remembering parts of his life from the 1940s. He wrote them down in a notebook so he could piece them together and wouldn't forget again. You both visited the Smithsonian, which had information about Bucky during the war. He also read about Steve, who was close to him in the past.

Unlike Bucky, you didn't remember anything about your past, Hydra brainwashed you too hard and broke your mind. You didn't even know your name. Bucky offered to help, but you declined, saying that it would just be a reminder of what Hydra took from you. Your life was with Bucky now, and you were more than happy with it.

A few hours later, you both went to the Street Market to buy some plums. Bucky wore a black cap and a jacket with a brown hoodie. He was wearing a red henley underneath. He always hid his metal arm in public, other than it drawing unwanted attention, he was a little insecure about it. You were the only one who got to see his metal arm, he was comfortable and trusted you with his life.

A sea of deep purple plums were before you. Bucky was beside you, already picking a few. You reached out and grabbed one, feeling the smooth exterior and handing it to Bucky's gloved hand.

"It has spots on it" he observed. "Oh" you frowned, picking another one and inspecting it before showing it to him. "perfect" he smiles. You paid for the plums and both of you stepped on the street. Bucky took a bite out of a plum.

"How is it?" you ask curiously as he finishes eating it. "It's good." he states hesitantly. "But you taste better" he says teasingly, his eyes having a glint of mischievousness as he pulls you closer to him. A blush creeps on your cheeks "Now I'm thinking you had an ulterior motive to buying plums" you mutter.

He suddenly stills beside you, and you gave his arm a slight squeeze. "Everything okay?" "That guy across the street" he whispers "I- I think he recognized us" Your heat skipped a beat. "Should we go and check?" you ask nervously. Bucky moves forward, you following closely behind him.

Before you both could cross the street and reach the guy's shop, the guy bolted from the back. Bucky reached first and glanced at the newspaper on the counter.

You took the newspaper in your hands. The headline in Romanian said: Bombing in Vienna kills 12, including the Ruler of Wakanda, King T'chaka. A suspect was observed at the scene. A blurry shot of Bucky was under it, his face barely visible.

"This isn't true." you say firmly as you slam the paper on the counter "You were here with me this whole time! In Romania!" "You weren't in Germany!" Bucky stayed silent as you defended him. "We should head back to the apartment" you say in a low voice. He gives you a small nod. You both rush back to the apartment, but just as you were about to enter, Bucky steps infront of you. "Somebody's inside" he whispers, his face darkening. "Stay behind me"

He goes inside, his footsteps completely silent. You follow behind and see someone standing near the fridge. Captain America. you realize, the dark blue helmet reminding you of the picture Bucky kept in his notebook.

He turns around and faces you and Bucky, who was still standing infront of you. "Do you know me?" Captain America asks. "You're Steve" Bucky answers, "I read about you in a museum" The Captain places Bucky's notebook on the table. "You're lying" his gaze falls on you. "Who's she?"

Bucky glances at you, his eyes softening before he turns to answer. "Hydra brainwashed her too, but we escaped from them" Steve waits for a moment before speaking "Was that you in Vienna?"

"He wasn't" you answer before Bucky could, and you step beside him. "He was with here with me the whole time." "We don't do that anymore" Bucky finishes. Steve seems convinced. "Well, the people who think that he bombed the Conference are coming here, and they don't plan on taking either of you alive."

Bucky takes off his glove covering his metal hand. "Good strategy" he states in an emotionless voice. "This doesn't have to end in a fight Buck" Steve says. You hear multiple sets of footsteps climbing the floor. "It always ends in a fight" Bucky replies. "You pulled me from the river" Steve says urgently "Why?" "I don't know" Bucky answers "Yes you do" Steve presses firmly.

A grenade is thrown through the window, but Bucky is quick to kick it to Steve, who covers it with his shield, absorbing the impact. Armed Special Forces Soldiers break in through the window with a loud crash. They don't get the chance to fire their weapons as you and Bucky swiftly disarm them and knock them out with a couple of well-placed punches.

"We have to get out of here" Bucky murmurs to you, his breathing slightly heavy. You nod and cross the room and punch through the wooden floor to grab a bag with supplies and few notebooks containing Bucky's writings about his past.

"Let's go" you say, handing him the bag. He straps it to his chest. The door breaks down and more soldiers enter, but you and Bucky leap out the back door and land on the roof of another building. You both start sprinting away from your apartment building.

"SO MUCH FOR LIVING IN PEACE!" you yell while running. Bucky suddenly stumbles forward, causing you to stop running. "What the-" In front of you stood a man covered head to toe in a black suit, his helmet resembling a cat. He lunges forward at Bucky, but you tackle him away, causing you both to fall through the entrance of the tunnel-road.

You fall on your stomach onto the hard concrete, you aren't hurt badly, thanks to the serum. A pair of familiar hands grab you by your waist and help you up. "You okay?" asks Bucky. You nod. "They're still after us". Wasting no time, you both sprinted through the tunnel as cars sped by. A motorcycle was heading your way, threating to collide, but in one swift motion, Bucky grabs it, causing its rider to fall off and replacing himself as its driver. You quickly sat behind Bucky, wrapping your arms around him for support.

The engine roared as you both sped through the dim tunnel. "You know, this isn't how I imagined taking you on a drive" Bucky says with a hint of amusement in his voice as he takes a turn. "We're literally getting chased by a man in a cat suit and this is what you've got to say?"

Your eyes widen as you glance at the rear-view mirror to see the man in the black suit jumping from car to car like a panther, and leaps to your motorcycle, just barely managing to slash the back tire with his claws, sending you and Bucky tumbling to the ground.

The man hovers over Bucky, about to strike, but Captain America jumps forward and throws him back. You and Bucky get up as SUVs pull up and German Police surround you four, pointing guns at your heads.

Captain America stands beside you and Bucky protectively as Iron Patriot flies down, aiming a machine gun at Bucky. "Stand down" he commands "Now" He turns to Steve "Congratulations Cap. You're a criminal"

One of the cops pushes Bucky to the ground to cuff him, and you try to stop him but realize fighting isn't the play here. More chances of getting hurt and therefore reducing the likelihood of escaping. Bucky knows this. 2 cops cuff your hands behind your back and pin you to the ground alongside Bucky.

You shift your head slightly to look at him, your cheek against the cool cement as you gazed into Bucky's eyes. "I made you a promise doll" he whispers so only you could hear. "I'll get us out of here" his eyes burning with fury.

"And I'll tear apart any person who'll try to take you away from me"

[simplyzeeka]

Episode 2. Season 1

Lingering

But I'ma be someone to know soon

Come fuck with me

I aint got no plans for the weekend

Don't know what you was thinking.

Warnings: MDNI! Sweaty Terry in a wife beater, subtle flirting.

Summary: Where Syrae and Terry meet two times too many and sparks seem to fly yet again.

Author's note: everything in italics is a flashback.

Previously on Something Seasonal

Were degrees worth it? A single piece of paper, that only showed that you were eligible to work in a certain field. It didn't guarantee that you would even find work. Syrae often wondered all of this when it was time to open a book and study for her damned Dental Science degree.

With an assignment yet to be submitted, she had to grab her laptop and use her favourite cafés Wi-Fi, since the Wi-Fi in her ran down building was down every other week. Unfortunately for her (and her bank account), that meant she also had to constantly buy something to stay in the café. “Just a coffee will do, thanks.” She said to the waitress with a kind smile before turning back to her laptop.

She was stuck, tired and honestly so over life in general. Having to constantly click in and out of tabs to search for textbooks she couldn't afford was beginning to seem tedious, and she wished she would've gone to the local library instead, but something about the dust there always had her feeling a little itchy. As if her place was any better.

“Fuck me.” She groans lowly, taking off the glasses on her face and placing them on the table. She quickly saved her work and shut her laptop. Clearly she was not going to be the most productive.

Not only was she completely over this degree, she was exhausted from having to now work weekdays at the club. Syrae was falling a bit behind on rent, and that meant having to pick up shifts at the bar. “Thank you very much.” She said to the waitress as they placed her cup on the table.“You're welcome, ma’am. By the way, your check has already been settled by that man over there.”

With a frown, Syrae looks over to where the woman pointed. A tall man, piercing, green eyes and an intimidating aura despite the closed smile on his face. A tall man she has worked overnight trying to get out of her head, especially considering his situation.

“Your fiancé know you here?” A question slips past the sly smile she had on her lips. He chuckles, gaze unmoving, needing to commit her beauty to memory.

“It's my bachelor party, pretty sure she doin’ the same thing as me.” A shrug, he wasn't worried, pretty confident he would maintain his fidelity. “Hmm, a shame really.” her voice echoes, flying like pretty little monarchs into his ear and straight to his stomach.

“And why's that?” Curious, he needed to know, even if it would kill him. “Cause I could've given the greatest dance in your life.” because even if it did, satisfaction would most definitely bring him back. “You still can.” A nonchalant shrug, a mistake more than anything… because once lines blurred, it was hard to draw them again.

“Put it on me, baby.” And who would deny him with eyes like that? Syrae wouldn't, and Indigo? Indigo wouldn't dare to.

She knew she shouldn't entertain this in the slightest. The man was fine… too fine for her own good, but not only that- he was engaged… Well married by now and that was a no-no zone.

So Syrae only smiles, mouths a curt ‘thank you’ before she opened her laptop, trying to look like she was occupied.

Her attempts fail, because Terry frowned at the interaction. Clearly not satisfied, he walked over to her secluded table in meticulous steps, not wanting to seem too forthcoming and eager.

“Uh, hey? Hey, I'm sorry. I figured the message may seem malicious, and that's not the-”

Oh but Syrae was already on his ass, interrupting with a sigh and an unbothered look. “Look, I don't know what you thought this was. But that night was work. I'm not some piece of hot ass you could use to cheat on your wife. I might be a…dancer, but that don't mean I'm unethical.”

Terry placed his coffee on the table and raised his hands in surrender, before looking around then back at her. “Woah woah, that wasn't my intention. I wanted to apologise… for anyway I might have acted that night, actually. I had a bit much to drink, and I don't hold my liquor well.” He explains with a small frown.

Syrae's shoulders relax a bit, he seemed genuine for the most part. “Hmm, you were quite bold.” She jokes with a small smile. “I'm sorry, I just get a lot of thirsty husbands asking shit like that, and-”

It's Terry's turn to interrupt, a short laugh. Too short for Syrae's liking because the rumble was a smooth honey that had little dragonflies fluttering in her stomach. “Nah, you good. I get it. I'm not like that.”

“Of course you not…” Syrae whispered, loud enough for him to hear as they inspected each other with gentle smiles. It took a while for Syrae to notice that their eyes lingered a second too long, so she cleared her throat, pursing her lips as she straightened her posture.

Terry broke his eyes from hers, retrieving his coffee from the table before bidding his goodbyes. “Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, Indigo.”

Syrae internally cringed at the use of her stripper name outside of work, but mustered up a smile anyway. “You too. Thanks…again.” Everything about this was so awkward, she was glad when he simply nodded his head and turned to walk out the café so that she could finally release the breath she was holding.

Until a brown object caught her eyes on the floor. She squints and notices that the plain, brown woven leather just so happened to be his wallet. With determined haste, she stood and ran out the café, eyes scanning the sidewalk only to see nobody.

“Damn. Long ass legs.” She did what any other person would. Opened his wallet in hopes of a number, and luckily for her, she saw a business card with a number on it. Mike's Auto Masters. Below were a few numbers on how to contact the owner, followed under a name. Terry Richmond.

“Welp, looks like we gotta catch him again. God, why are all the fine ones taken.” She whispered before walking back into the café to finish her coffee and retrieve her belongings.

“Can't believe that you, Syrae Belles, is bout to break a rule.” Broisa, a fellow friend of Syrae comments as she lays stomach down on the couch.

Syrae rolled her eyes, a sigh resonated deep in chest. “I'm not breakin’ a rule girl.” She stated, “where else I'm ‘sposed to give this man his wallet?”

Broisa was annoying and noisy, Syrae couldn't believe their friendship survived as long as it did. Broisa was a beautiful dark-skinned woman. Working as a bottle girl at the same club Syrae worked in since she claimed pole dancing was too much of a work out for her.

“At the club? Where he met you?” the sassy woman replies as if the answer was that obvious. “You the one who made this whole rule bout not meeting your clients outside of he club, now here you are… breaking it.”

“I wouldn't say he's my client, Broisa. I only danced for him once.” Syrae defended with a sigh as she popped a chip in her mouth. “Yeah, one dance too many. Now he payin’ for your orders in cafés and shit.”

Syrae regretted telling Broisa about Terry. All she needed was one story to spiral everything into some hot fantasy where Syrae and Terry have an affair, despite her screaming men are trash, specifically for that reason alone.

“Broisa, please. I'm just meetin’ him at his shop tomorrow morning and giving the man back his wallet. Besides, ‘member when I told you he's married.” She emphasised the last word with a raised brow.

“How sure are you that he went through with the wedding?” Broisa throws back, “What if he told his wife he cheated and she left him at the al-”

“Woah now girl, cheat? I barely danced on that pole for an hour.” She laughs worriedly, Syrae doesn't condone cheating. Otherwise she wouldn't have shut himself down so quickly at the café. “Besides, he said that his wife went to a strip club herself.”

Broisa hums in apprehension, she has never really understood going to strip clubs for bachelor and bachelorette parties. Hell, she never understood those parties in general. Like hell will her man ever go to a strip club to celebrate his ‘last day single.’ She would turn that into his last day living.

“Anywho, where you go yesterday?” Syrae deflected with a question, “Had me blowing up your phone like I wanted your help burying a body.”

Broisa perked up at the question with a smile. “Tuh, girl! Tell me why Gage popped up on me?”

And just like that, the girls fell into a different conversation.

Syrae couldn't help but hum at the vast space of the auto repair shop. Clearly this Mike guy just recently built this shop from the ground up, everything was so pristine.

Syrae managed to call the number on the car and actually reached Terry himself, so they could arrange a time to meet a little after she found the wallet.

Back at her dusty apartment, Syrae can't help but to light some candles to help soothe her growing anxiety. Something about talking to this random stranger on the phone had her a little too nervous for a plausible explanation.

Still, she dialled the number and then listened to the phone ring as she eyed the flame on the herbal candle. When he heard the baritone of his voice she damn near slid off the couch. “Hey! Hey… uh. Hi, sorry.”

Embarrassing, that was embarrassing. The earth could open up and swallow her whole. If she still smoked weed, she would need fifteen blunts after this phone call. Syrae urged herself to get herself together in her head, needing so desperately to hold onto some sanity and clarity.

“Hey. I'm sorry, who am I talkin’ to?” And fuck did he have to sound so good? The way the phone amplified his voice made him sound finer than he usually does, despite Syrae only having heard his voice twice.

“Oh sorry, it's the girl from the café. I-Indigo? I got the wallet you dropped with me.” She explains, “Got your number on your business card.”

Terry sighs, seemingly in relief as Syrae interprets. “Fuck. Thank you so much, I was stressed out ‘bout that.” He laughed into the line, and Syrae clenched her thighs at the sound. “It's no problem, where would you like to meet to get it?” She asked immediately, needing to get off this damn phone.

There was silence in the line, “What bout tomorrow? I got an early mornin’ at work. You could pass by the shop and drop it off. That good?” He clarifies.

Stupidly, Syrae nodded her head as if he could see her. But she caught herself quickly and cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. That sound good. See you tomorrow then.”

The inside of the shop was quiet, but Syrae heard the faint sound of soft rock playing at the back. That was probably the garage where all the magic happened. Syrae looked around while walking towards the reception desk. “Mornin’, I’m looking for Terry? Terry Richmond. Here to drop off a package.”

Despite her kindness, Syrae noticed the condescending look the woman behind the desk gave her. “I’m sorry ma’am, he went out.” Syrae frowned at the snide smile on the woman’s face. Syrae couldn't help but laugh sarcastically. “Well in that case… Miranda.” She drags after looking at her nametag, “Could you tell him to come back from wherever he is and honour our appoi-”

“Oh, you’re here already? Is everythin’ alright?” Terry graced the women with his presence. Dressed in a loose wife beater that was tucked underneath blue overalls in which he used the arms to tie around his waist. Rippled arms exposed while he wiped oil from his hands with a cloth.

Syrae quickly averted her gaze from his sweaty build and turned to the receptionist. “Yeah, just peaches and cream. Miranda here was just assurin’ security.” being the petty woman she is, Syrae scrunched her nose at the woman for extra measure.

Terry scratched his neck, noticing the obvious tension. Women, he thought, something always had to be a problem. “O-kay. Let’s go to the workshop. Thanks Randa.”

Syrae suddenly frowned at him, because there was no need for them to go in the workshop, she could have just given him the wallet and went on with her day. She did not vocalise her thoughts however, simply followed his lead.

The workshop smelled like a cacophony of strong smells that had her nostrils burning. The faint scent of Terry’s cologne seemed to soothe the burn. It was messy, tools everywhere and car parts. A number of men carried tyres and tools around as loud machines whirring had her feeling a little overstimulated.

The lingering stares from men made her regret her choice of wearing a skirt, and following Terry back here. Why did she follow him back here again?

Thankfully, the man led them into a secluded room, which seemed to absorb all the noise. His office. “Sorry bout the noise, figured here would be better.”

Syrae looked around the office. It was neat, had her jealous about his consistency to keep his space clean. Her room was always a hotspot for clean clothes on the floor with the way she raided her own closet everyday trying to find an outfit. “Yeah,much better.” she responded nervously, because nothing about being alone with this man was better.

“Oh, your wallet.” she said as she dug into her bag and handed him the leather accessory. “Right, thank you. A lot. I was ramming my head ‘bout it.” he laughed and Syrae reciprocated the gesture.

“You should be. Why you put everything in there? The poor thang can barely close.”

Terry let out a shoulder-shaking laugh, one that had Syrae wondering about how he liked his breakfast in the morning, or whether he preferred movies or reading, morning or night. Out of the two times she’s met him, she’s never seen him smile with all his teeth out like he was now. “Oh so you were snooping?” he asked with one thick eyebrow raised.

Syrae rolled her eyes playfully, “How else was I ‘sposed to find your number, which you have quite a lot, sir. You deal with pharmaceuticals or somethin’?” she eyed the man as he leaned on the desk with his arms crossed over his chest,only further flexing his deliciously muscular arms.

“Now what if I was and you askin’ that so boldly.” He laughed and shook his head. “But nah, I don’t.”

Their eyes lingered a few seconds too long, which Syrae broke her eyes from his. “Oh, I bought you some coffee, just to say thank you… for the other day.” she reached her hand towards him with a short smile. “Ain’t know what you like, so I just went with black with two sugars.”

Terry accepted the coffee with a quiet murmur of gratitude, hummed in gratitude at the taste. The coffee was more or less how he took it. “You did good, how you figured I would like it black though.”

“Well, you seem a little… practical and straight-forward. Someone who appreciates the simpler things in life. And you also look a little broody.”

Terry shook his head, taking no offence to her last comment. He often got people telling him that. Even his wife. “Hmm, and what about you?” he probably should not be flirting, he definitely shouldn't be. But just a little banter wouldn't hurt, and Syrae seemed to have a lot of it, it was refreshing.

“What about me?” and she shouldn't be entertaining any of this, but the way Terry was staring her down with those damn eyes. He was reeling her in, hook, line and sinker.

“Are you simple?” The question was, well… simple. But Syrae began overthinking it. The depth of it had her thinking over her entire life. “Hmm, I believe I’m a little more complex than that.” It was a joke, just something to keep the conversation going, although it should be put to an end, because Syrae failed to realise that Terry had long removed himself from the desk. Probably when she was handing him the coffee, his scent tickled her nose forcibly. Old wood and cocoa butter.

“How complex?” It was a leading question, an eager one too. One that had her slowly blinking to think it over, that had her biting down on her bottom lip. Her heart thumped a little faster, because damn Terry’s eyes were so beautiful. He had no reason being as beautiful as he was, had no reason to send waves of heat to her stomach that made the dragonflies grow tenfold. The fluttering caused a slight feel of nausea in her stomach.

Still, despite being so nervous, she smiled. “You tryna find out?”

Fuck, why did Syrae follow him back here again?

Next on Something Seasonal

[latenightdaydreams]

Oh, Author. To be in your presence (asks) one again is such a delight. With you and your divine power (writing)... Will you care to bless this lady by fulfilling her simple request? 🙏

Upon your Sub!König revelation (headcanon), a thought - a need - has been lingering in my mind for far too long. According to the scripture, it has mentioned König loves to be financially dominated. If this is true, grant us with the vision of Reader purchasing the best and the most expensive items - cough, toys and lingerie, cough - in the market as some sort of surprise for König. But it comes off as shocking news to him when he finds out whose is it for... It isn't meant for Reader at all. It's all meant for him. I am quite sure we know what ensues next: Our supposedly intimidating giant in lingerie, being teased and pleasured by toys 🤭

Sigh, what a sight to behold. A sight I shall engrave in my mind. Oh, and to add a little bit of a personal spice preference: Konig addresses Dom!Reader as "Meisterin (Mistress)".

Why such an absurd request? Unfortunately, I have quite the fascination for pathetic submissive men. And what better candidate to push into such abyss but our man König 😮‍💨🤌

Anyway, breaking out of my weird, poor attempt at formal speech. I hope you have a great day/night ahead and have been recovering from the pain you mentioned before 🫂 Take plenty of rest, stay hydrated and eat well, alright? Here's plenty of love that hopefully breaks your device screen and ends up san mothering you: ❤️💕💞💓💗🩷💖💝

You're so sweet🩷 Thank you for wishing me well! I also love how you wrote this hahaha

Submissive König is such a baby girl. I always think of this artist work! @ marndraws on twitter😮‍💨 They draw amazing sub/soft König.

A Little Treat (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Sub Head Canon

>cw: fem/afab, bondage, toys, oral, sub/dom

1.4k word count

🪀

.

.

While sitting at his desk in the office, his phone goes off. The ringtone he has set only for you. He pushes himself back from the desk to check the message.

“Send $1,000🩷,”

König can’t help but to smile and he sends you 2k and text back, “I sent extra just in case. Love you.”

Standing in the middle of a high-end sex shop, you look down at your phone and smile. König is always so sweet. You walk forward to a classic maid outfit on the rack inspecting it. A kind woman wearing a black suit comes over with a kind smile.

“May I help you in any way?”

“Yes, actually. Do you carry this in XXXL?”

Once you get home, König hears the car pull up. He quickly abandons his work to rush downstairs and assist you. His eyes land on you ask you wait for him inside the car. In a hurry, he opens the driver’s door for you, holding his hand out to help you out.

“The bags are in the back seat.” You say as he kisses your hand.

“I’ll grab them.” König lets go of your hand and grabs four bags out of the back. His eyes widen as he sees where the bags are from. Excitement rushes through his body. “Liebling, what do you have planned for tonight?”

A small smirk crosses your lips. “You’ll see.”

You walk ahead of König as you both enter the house. Going straight upstairs to the bedroom, you sit on the bed as he places the bags on top of your shared dresser. His eyes gloss over you as he walks to you.

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You turn your head up for him as he leans down and kisses your lips tenderly.

“Danke…” His voice was low as he pulls away from the kiss; looking at you with such adoring eyes.

“Are you ready to see what I got?”

“Ja, absolutely.”

“Sit.” You stand and walk over to the bags and bring them to him.

König sits wide eyed as you pull out a riding crop. He can feel his dick tingle slightly, thinking of your ass jiggling once he hits it. Then a pair of handcuffs; his eyebrows raise in surprise. He continues to watch as you pull out many types of toys and his cock gets hard. Then you hold up a maid’s outfit…clearly not in your size. He tilts his head.

“You’ve been such a good boy lately; I want to treat you.”

“Das ist für mich?”

“All for you.” You say, holding the outfit out to him. “Try it on.”

He stands slowly and grabs the outfit. You sit on the bed opening the packaging to some toys as he gets dressed. König stands there looking at himself in the mirror. His muscles bulging in the tight outfit.

Stepping out of the bedroom, König sees you fully undressed. His jaw drops as he looks up and down your body.

“You look so hot König.”

He blushes and looks down at his own body before bashfully looking back up at you. “Ja?”

“Yes… come here.”

He walks to stand in front of you, his pale blue eyes gazing down at you. You reach up to caress his body, feeling his muscles underneath the fabric of the outfit. A hand dropping down to go under the skirt of the outfit, grabbing his hard cock.

“My handsome boy…” The words leave in a whisper as you walk around him, grabbing the cuff and placing them on his wrist.

You turn and walk to the bed, beckon him to follow you. The giant war criminal listens to you, no questions asked. “Bend over.”

He bends over the bed. His muscular ass showing from underneath the skirt of the maid’s outfit. You rub your hand over his ass before spanking lightly. Reaching for the riding crop, you step back and lightly tap his ass. No reaction. You reach back further and hit him with it again. He jumps slightly before letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Are you okay?”

“Ja.”

“Yes what?” You hit him again. A small red mark appearing on his pale skin.

“Ja Meisterin.”

“That’s my good boy.” You spank him a few more times. Reaching down, you grasp his balls and tug on them slightly before spanking him again. His body jumping slightly, making you giggle as you spank him once more.

“Who owns you?”

“You do, Meisterin.” The tone of his voice so tender.

“Good boy. Now lay on your back for me.” He maneuvers himself further onto the bed, rolling on to his back as he waited for your next move.

You go through one of the bags and find tape, nipple clamps, and a small pink vibrator. In one hand you hold the items and walk to the bed. With one finger you begin to flick his nipples, getting them hard. Once his pink nipples were erect, you place the clamps on them.

König winced slightly, but then bit his lower lip. “My little pain slut.” You giggle as you tug on the chain connected to the clamps. Standing off the bed, you walk around it, lightly hitting his abdomen with the riding prop.

König’s eyes are following your every move, watching as you walk in front of him and lift the skirt again, exposing his erection. Your hand wraps around it and begins to stroke his cock every so slightly. Spitting on it to lubricate it. König lets out shuttered breaths as you so this, the tip of his cock leaking even more precum.

Letting go, you get the small vibrator out, turning it on the first setting, then rubbing it on the underside of his cock’s head. His eyes go wide as he feels the vibration. He’s never tried touching himself with a toy before.

“You have to tell me which setting you like best.” You say as you switch through all five settings. On the third quick burst of vibrations, you see König begin to twitch.

“Tha- that one.” He manages to get out. “Bitte meine Meisterin.”

“Perfect.” The tape was easy to pull as you begin to wrap it around his boner, securing the vibrator to him. His legs twitch as he closes his eyes. A firm hand reaching down, grasping his jaw. “Open your eyes.”

He listens, his eyes instantly falling to your breasts. His mind fuzzy with the overwhelming sensation he is feeling right now.  Without breaking your eye contact, you climb up on to the bed and staddle his abdomen. You begin to grind your wet cunt along his solid belly, covering him in your arousal. A moan escaping your lips as König watches you do this with an intense gaze.

“Are you ready to eat my pussy?”

“Please Meisterin, please let me taste your pussy.”

“You’re being such a good boy.” Your legs move up until your lingering over his face, but facing to you can see his body. “Rub your nose in it.”

König uses his strong core to lean up and bury his aquiline nose deep into your pussy; taking in a deep breath as he does. Your smell is like candy to him, he can’t get enough. Slowly his tongue comes out and begins to lick between your pink folds. Thick globs of your creamy arousal being scooped up by his tongue.

In response you begin to rock your hips, matching his rhythm. Fingers going through his hair and pulling tightly. “Just like that.”

You lean forward and begin to stroke the shaft of him cock, his hips beginning to buck up into your hand rapidly. “Someone wants to cum…” You tease, feeling his head nod underneath you as he moans into your cunt.

“Will you cum for me?”

His hips begin to thrust quicker into your hand as his moans become louder. His tongue movements less precise and more erratic, like he is only focused on getting a taste and not actual pleasure for you.

“Good boy, cum for master.”

You lead forward so your ass if hoovering over his face instead of sitting on it. His balls tighten as his cock throbs. He tries his hardest to put his face back into your pussy while he cums, but you don’t give him that satisfaction. Toes curling as you leave him with only the view of your tight ass hole and creamy cunt.

His cock shoots out cum, the thick creamy cum falling on to your hand and his abdomen.

“Oh fuck!” König moans loudly. The vibration on the tip of his now extremely sensitive head was driving him wild. “Please, it’s too much now.”

A mischievous smirk crosses your face as you sit back down on his face. “Cum again for me."

[the-s1lly-corner]

YAYAY hello sillycorner admin!! i love ur stuff yum

i'd like to request jax, zooble and gangle (seperately) with a (gn or fem) reader that's a slinky dog :3 slinky middle of arms (no elbows), slinky between their chest and lower body (so they have no tummy, just slinky!)

if personality suggestions are allowed, optimistic and sweet !! a chill lil guy even

thank u!! mwamwa

Jax, Zooble, Gangle x slinky dog!reader

Writing a bunch of post openings on my new phone to try to encourage my hands to get used to the new feel but the actual posts will be written on my laptop for the time being WOO YEAH BABY

Notes: reader is GN, jax is a little mean to the shock of no one, zooble and gangle can be read as romantic or platonic, jax isnt really... written as romantic... hes actually kind of an ass

CWs: none

JAX

pushes you a lot, but he does it a lot less as you two grow closer... the second he sees stairs he wants to see if he can send you down them and if youll move just like a normal slinky

sometimes puts things hes found into your springs for you to hang onto for him until he wants them later down the line... sometimes it actually does make your constant movement a little less constant- it keeps the coils closer together... its actually a little nice

you sometimes make him sick with how carefree and cheerful you are- no one is that relaxed about everything, youve got to have something going on in there, theres got to be something thats going to make you snap and by god hes going to find it if its the last thing he does

grows increasingly exasperated when each attempt to get you even a little angry fails... youre almost tempted to fake a reaction just to give him the satisfaction... its actually a little pathetic to watch him lose so much sleep over it

ZOOBLE

their singular eye follows you as you bob up and down until you settle into a still position- probably one of the only things they cant ignore because its so distracting... not that they think youre at fault or bad for it, they do think itd cause so many headaches with all the rocking and motion though

youre cheerful in contrast to their... not so cheerfulness. you try to convince them to join you on adventures but they always turn you down... you dont ever stop asking though... never pushy though, you take their answer when they give it to you for that day

you both have unconventional bodies and when you feel a little down about it, they can relate to you. they hate that their body falls apart easy, and that it doesnt feel quite right. and youre not too thrilled about bobbing all over the place and constantly falling over the place at gravitys mercy

they give you an amused huff whenever you try to tell a joke or use your springs as a prop to try to make them laugh... they dont really find it funny but they know you would feel good that they appreciate the effort

GANGLE

she sometimes gets her ribbons stuck in your springs.... please help her get out before it gets worse! its a total nightmare for both of you when she gets more than a little bit of herself stuck in you

cuddling has to be done slowly and you both need to be hyper aware of each others movements to avoid any tangle mishaps

youre both not the most stable either- ribbon isnt the strongest, and slinkys tend to go all over with just a little push

you.... actually both bond over that after you both have a particularly bad day with balance and keeping upright

youre so sweet to her and manage to get her to feel better even when her comedy mask has been broken

when out together on adventures you tend to point at everything you see and ask if she can draw it... a lot of the time youre trying to lighten the mood when things dont go as planned... you use your spring arms to stretch and push the point

[queerprayers]

i've grown up in quite a secular family, never went to church etc, and only in the past couple of years started celebrating serbian orthodox christmas with my mum where we attend part of the christmas eve mass. i want to get to know christianity a little better, and i know ur lutheran and not orthodox but i was wondering if u have any tips for just. starting somewehere? it feels very strange to sit down and think "Im Going To Pray" when ive neither done it nor seen anyone do it before, but i want to explore a bit, if that makes sense. your blog is very nice and calming i feel like you might have some insight :)

Welcome, beloved!

Prayer is quite strange sometimes and Sitting Down and Doing It does not come easily to most, especially if you didn't grow up doing that. I'm honored to be asked and I have a few thoughts.

At some point as a kid I was taught the acronym ACTS—Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication. I was told a prayer should contain these elements. And I don't technically disagree; I think those are all good necessary things. If you want a formula, there's a formula. But I always found "I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time- waking and sleeping" a much more real description of prayer.

We're told to pray always, without ceasing—prayer is something to bring with us. It is to be in relation with the God who is Love, who knows our suffering, and who hears. To pray is to be heard—and to listen in return, even if what we receive may be holy silence. 

Mass is a prayer, one the Church does together. Liturgy is where I learned most of the prayers I say, where I first chanted the psalms. I learned to read in church. Even once a year, it shows us many parts of prayer—it fulfills the acronym, sure, but attending services has shown me that prayer can be somber, joyful, certain, wondering, penitent, musical, silent. We can also think of things prayer can be that we don't want to replicate—Jesus talks about hypocritical ways of praying, of calling attention to oneself, of "heaping up empty phrases."

It doesn't always look like Sitting Down. There are not always words. I sit down (or lie down, depending) and pray at certain times—this was a hard-won habit, that still doesn't come easy—but it's easier for me to use my own words in the woods.. You can be anywhere, and be doing anything. You don't have to commit to a form—do it a little bit differently each time. Ask a question. Confess something. Picture someone you love in your mind, and feel that love. Look at each person on the subway and wish something for them. Set a timer on your phone to spend five minutes tentatively thinking about God—this is a prayer that can be more deeply felt than all the books in the world.

Whatever strangeness or embarrassment there is in addressing an unseen being, in coming to the Universe with your one quiet voice, it is the strange embarrassment of caring, of attempting what seems impossible, of being earnest about this whole being alive thing. The uncertainty of a new relationship, the doubt of whether it all matters, the unfamiliarity of learning a new skill. But you can do strange things, new things, vulnerable things. Love is continuing movement, and each step takes more bravery. You need communication with Love to live in it. 

Of course there are countless people who do not purposefully pray and yet show more love than I could ever hope to. God has met many, and sustained many, without their ever asking, sometimes without them ever knowing his name. But the asking is another kind of love, and I am one of the many who devote myself to even slight knowledge of his face. You have all you need to join me—because you have God.

The need that flows out of you, all the time—the draw you feel to start—is a prayer already. Really, there is no start—only a joining of a current already in motion. A dipping into a well that never runs dry. Others have the words, if you don't. I learn the psalms because, for all my poetry, I can't say it all, and never as perfectly as they do—and because it's a connection with centuries of voices. The practicing of the divine hours is another connection.

But really, putting aside the walks in the woods and the going to church more and the acronyms and the metaphors—how do you pray on purpose? Ultimately, there is no better answer than the one Jesus gave: Go into your room, shut the door, and (without an earthly audience, without looking a certain way or believing a certain thing) pray to the secret, listening God, in whatever language/version you have,

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever, Amen.

You've never done it or seen it before, sure, but it's built into you, to need this. Once you've done it, you will have seen it. Once you've seen it, I expect you'll realize you have done it before, without noticing. You don't have the words, so they have been given to you. You don't have to believe wholeheartedly each word—that comes later for those of us who grow up in it, and it can come later for you, too. Start in the somewhere you have been placed. 

The first thing we learn how to ask for as babies is the result of every prayer: being heard. So cry out.

<3 Johanna