#I've been thinking about doing this one for a while

[shotmrmiller]

Sitting disgruntled in Johnny's kitchen with a shirt you had no choice in wearing because it's either this— a deep navy cotton tee that hangs loose on your frame, his unmistakable scent wrapped around you like an uninvited guest or your own shirt which lay in his bathroom sink, sopping wet and decidedly out of commission.

The locksmith was taking their sweet time, and the rain showed no signs of stopping. You could've stood outside and braved the freezing cold misery standing by your very locked car (with your keys inside) but even you weren't so proud as to decline Johnny's offer of waiting it out at his place.

Although you almost turned right back around when he gave you a grin that showed far too many teeth at the sight of you at his front door, only to smile even wider— the carved out skin on his chin stretching taut— when his sharp gaze lingered a little too long on your chest.

"Oi."

His hands had raised up, cool-hued eyes now molten hot. "I'll be good, promise."

You'd meant to loaf around in his living room, with a scratchy, thin white towel around your shoulders for warmth but he'd have none of it, arguing that you'll catch a cold and while he'll do many things for you— the emphasis on the word many with a stare you could physically feel grazing over your face, the bare curve of your shoulder and the chipped polish on your toes was dizzying— he isn't a very good nurse.

And with Johnny, giving him rope means he'll want a cowboy.

Naturally.

It's mildly disarming, watching him flit around his kitchen, tossing whatever he has in his pan with one hand. Oddly domestic. The whistle of the kettle punctuates the air, and without missing a beat he places a lid over the pan and reaches for the cupboard. And here you'd thought he'd been raised in a barn.

"Ye will 'ave tea 'nd some scran," he says, the words thick with his accent, "And I'll 'ear none o' it."

You bite the inside of your cheek and lie. "The locksmith's going to be here soon, I've only time for tea." But of course, Johnny sniffs your bluff out and he isn't one to let it go unnoticed or unchallenged.

He slides the warm mug across the counter toward you, his roughened knuckles brushing against yours just enough to send frissons up your arm. "Aye," Johnny drawls, dragging the word out in a way that has heat crawling up your spine. "I'm sure."

Then there's a fork in your face, a piece of chicken pierced through the teeth. "If ye willnae eat, then I'll feed ye." A soft curl of steam rises from it, carrying a savory aroma that hits you square in the stomach, twisting it into knots of hunger. "Open."

It hovers too close to be casual, so you encircle his wrist, your fingertips barely encompassing it— your fingertips don't even graze each other— and tilt your head back slightly.

"It disnae bite." But by the looks of him, the blue of his irises electric in its intensity, he just might.

So you take his offering. A bit on the bland side, but completely edible.

"Not so bad, aye?" Johnny's tone is light, words sliding out with an easy lilt, but there's something about the way he says it that sets your teeth on edge. He leans back, a smarmy smile curling his lips, thoroughly enjoying this small victory.

"It needs more salt." He shrugs a bulky shoulder as he turns, picking up another piece and offers it to you.

You eye him warily. "'M watchin' my sodium." Johnny nudges the fork closer, and this time you open your mouth to tell him to piss off, or at least add more goddamn salt, but he takes advantage of the opportunity and sticks it in and it's hot. So bloody hot, it sears your tongue before you can even think to spit it out. The heat spreads, sharp and unforgiving, and you instinctively jerk back, but he grabs your face, fingers feathering along your jaw and your cheeks dip under the pressure.

Then he's blowing into your mouth and it's clumsy, frenzied, and entirely too intimate, his lips hovering just shy of yours, his nose brushing yours as he mutters a quick apology between breaths. You're caught somewhere between mortification and disbelief, your hands frozen mid-air as Johnny blows one more time before pulling away.

"Didnae think it was hot enough t'burn ye," he tosses over his shoulder. Johnny's turned away now, broad back to you, plating the food but you haven't taken your eyes off him. The way he'd quickly closed the space between you two, taken control of the situation— it's as if he knew what he'd been doing even though he pretended otherwise.

Your phone blessedly rings then, a much-needed distraction and you almost choke on the cooled chicken as you scramble to answer. Your voice comes out half-garbled as you manage to blurt, "Hello?"

The locksmith's here, finally, and you're grabbing your sodden shoes, keeping his shirt because it's incredibly soft, and being unwillingly walked to the front door.

"I'll be seein' ye, hen," he says, his gaze unapologetically focused on you. His smile still has too many teeth.

"Right. Thanks." Your tongue feels foreign in your own mouth, numb and uncooperative, and you run it along the edges of your teeth. The rain has softened into a gentle drizzle and you all but run away, shoes splashing against wet pavement, your car coming into view in seconds, the locksmith moments later.

Fucking finally.

(Not if you see him first.)

[dogboyautism]

I used to work there and I hated this fucking shit. The name was usually the store manager no matter whoever was at the station, it (at least for my store) says your food is in the "prep" stage as soon as it's received which leads to people calling and saying "I see on the website that it's been prepping for 30mins why is that-" when it's usually bc they ordered a pizza during the FRIDAY NIGHT RUSH, and after that we'd usually switch gears into making their shit first bc we'd know they were hawking it. This creates a domino (HAHA) effect where both people learn that "oh if I call they'll do it faster" and the queue of orders gets disrupted, which leads to mistakes and MORE PEOPLE CALLING THE STORE saying shit like "it says here that [name] has been preparing my order for [long pause] 45 mins now. Did they forget about it or what?" Which is so fucking frustrating to deal with on top of everything else; I was hired to just answer the phone btw, I ended up doing opening, closing, food prep, "oh you're getting a license? That's so cool Jacob, and you're already 18 so you could pick up deliveries when we're busy! No pressure ofc kiddo, we know you're only just learning to drive."

Anyway, this system is based on one I've worked with anytime I've worked with food. At a McDonald's I worked at 3 years prior they used it pretty much verbatim, and that was well before you could order from there. They used it in the drive thru and we were all told that our "times" were "closely monitored," the "best in the state," but still always "closely monitored." But the system: just a couple of buttons you press to move shit along in the digital ticket window. At McDonald's we did had a screen with orders just to the side of the drive thru window that we were told to use for repeating people's orders and to clear them off once they left. At Domino's it was that (they had a drive thru there too) and to keep moving through those tickets. And like no duh, if you've ever worked fast food I'm sure you've seen the exact same thing, I'm only bringing it up because of how soul crushing it all is.

You're told the times get watched and it's constantly on your mind if you give a shit about your job. You shouldn't, but I was 14-18 when I worked those places I gave waaaaay too much of a shit. At Domino's I'd never known the times got shared with customers until I ordered lunch once and decided to watch it on my phone while I was in the store for fun, which it wasn't. It gave my a sense of dread anytime I got near that shit after, especially when I did answer the phones and I starred at the timer for how long I was taking an order. Euhg. Thinking about it still makes me anxious.

can I pay extra to not have a pizza commissar breathing down Sara's neck

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

How can I answer my child's (probably soon) question of "what is sex?"? The standard answer I've been taught (If a man and a woman love eachother very much) is so off base. Like sure, that can be the case, but sex can be casual, doesn't need a commitment or romantic feelings, can involve multiple partners, obviously identities and sexualities can be whatever two consenting adults/informed adolecents want it to be... but it also kinda feels weird to answer that with just a full on lecture when for them it's a question like any other

hi anon,

god, this is one of my favorite questions! I love sex ed with kids - it's such a privilege to get to help shape how they'll think about these things as they grow! - and I loooove getting to see parents who don't want to give their kids the same unhelpful bullshit :)

the answer varies a lot depending on age; for the youngest kids, I promise it is okay to leave it at "that's something adults do together with their bodies, because it can be fun and feel nice" - we can add the nuance that sometimes teenagers have sex to the conversation later, because really little kids are unlikely to care. if they're curious about WHY adults do this mysterious activity together, or what's nice about it, it's okay to give your precocious squirt a little more insight! many kids discover masturbation at a young age, and it's alright to acknowledge that touching genitals can feel good and be fun to do as long as it's happening at appropriate times and places. (I've always been fond of this article on the topic.) it's a great way to practice naming body parts, normalize sexual pleasure and bodily exploration, and emphasize that while touching your own body alone in privacy can be fun, it's not okay to touch others or for others to touch you without your consent and that safe adults should always be informed if someone is touching the child in unwanted ways. you're right that it doesn't need to be a lecture; if they don't have any further curiosity after the initial answer, drop it!

if the kids are a little older, they may want to really get into it - I find my 4th-6th kids usually have some vague ideas about how sex works and will have questions accordingly. I've had to field questions about why someone would want to put a penis in their mouth (and how to avoid pee while doing so), explain what a harem is (thanks, Hamilton), and keep from cringing when the kids joked about someone ejaculating on someone else's face (jesus christ). they know things, and the best approach is to just meet them where they're at to answer their questions and gently challenge and correct misconceptions that they may have. here, the answer to "what is sex?" can expand tremendously, complete with conversations about how and when someone might be able to decide that they're ready to be sexually intimate with other people (and how to do so safely). kids at this age are opinionated, curious, and getting really good at rotating complex concepts around in their brains, so if they want to chat about it, encourage it!

[geeeemmmmmmm]

"Baby I'm Yours"

A/N:I've been randomly just getting ideas for fics all day and I needed to write at least one so as always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy:)

Summary:A new receptionist at the tower is being more friendly than your used to, luckily your boyfriend Bucky comes to the rescue for you

Warnings:Receptionist is kinda touchy(not much) other than that just some fluff(please say if I've missed anything:))

WC:1.4k

Your day was going well so far, you had just left your shared apartment much to Bucky's dismay as he wasn't required to come in today so you had to go in alone. As you walked in your eyes were darting around trying to find Keira, the old receptionist that you enjoyed talking to on your way in and out but instead you encountered the new guy, Jamie. "Where's Keira?" you asked puzzled as she was never not here and quite frankly you were confused "She left, some family thing" the man replied not seeming to care about what happened to her "Oh well I'm Y/N" you smiled sweetly reaching out to shake his hand as he quickly grabbed your hand and shook it for a little longer than most but you didn't notice "I'm Jamie" he replied in awe. "Well I'll see you round then!" you said happily as you pulled your hand away before him and walked off to greet Nat who was keeping the elevator open not noticing how Jamie watched you with lingering eyes as you disappeared into the elevator. 

It was a boring day without Bucky being there, he always finds spare time in his day to talk to you more like he isn't already dating and living with you but you kept your cheery composure up as you went to the front desk to say bye to Jamie. "Hey Y/N!" he said hurriedly as if you were about to run off on him "Hi Jamie" you replied sweetly, like you would to anyone but this just hooked Jamie in more as he tried to get some small talk in and you compiled for awhile. "Uhm it's getting quite late and my boyfriend will be worried" you said trying to still seem nice as you glanced at your watch then at Jamie as he stumbled his words around to eventually get a sad "Oh cya then" out as you started to speed up your pace out the door, eager to get home to your favourite person even though it wasn't even that late you just wanted to be at home.

Bucky was almost pacing a hole in the ground in front of the door as he already heard your footprints approaching. He was ready to almost tackle you with one of his bear hugs. You open the door with a sigh of relief ready to be met with what you're convinced is the love of your life as you're pulled into him. "Hey Buck" you said only slightly muffled by his chest as he was basically trying to merge you into him, "Hey Doll" he breathed out acting like he needs you more than the air he breathes, which is honestly true in his mind. It's not often you two are apart even for just a day so each of you are always more clingy with each other after you're apart. "God today was boring without you" you said as you managed to get you and Bucky to your couch without him letting his arms unwrap from your waist "How do you think I feel" he chuckled in reply as you just gazed at him as you blushed, even after months of dating Bucky still always manages to get you flustered.

The night was just a simple one, your favourite kind. Bucky was glued to you, always having his chin resting on your shoulder as you fixed up a small dinner for you both while he tried to distract you by kissing all down your neck "If you give me a hickey Barnes" you threatened as you cupped his cheek trying not to let out a laugh as he almost pouted at your words and just returned to looking at you, admiring everything he could see. After dinner you returned to the couch and laid down as Bucky's weight on top of you was such a comforting, maybe a little suffocating feeling but you were happy that he's so comfortable with you to display this much vulnerability and affection to you. His beard tickled your neck as he asked how your day was "nothing much to report, it was boring without you" you told him as you mindlessly ran your fingers through his hair, while you smiled just never getting over the fact that you found someone as perfect as Bucky. Right after saying that you heard tiny snores being emitted from your boyfriend "let's get you to bed" again you laughed as you tried to get him up but he wouldn't budge and just kept lying on you. You just gave up, it's impossible to move a super soldier against his will, even worse an unconscious one so you just inhaled his cologne that you'd always loved on him and shortly after you fell into a soft sleep.

You woke up with a massive grin on your face as you then realised you and Bucky had overslept, now normally both of you would be unphased but Tony had told everyone that there was an extremely important meeting today at 8AM sharp, it was currently 8:15 AM. You left off the couch and sprinted to the shower for the quickest shower known to man while Bucky got dressed and left out some clothes for you. It was a challenge to get to the meeting in time and Jamie saw you run in and tried to get you to talk to you "Can't talk sorry man" you said running by him as Bucky closely followed noticing how Jamie just moped in reply as you and Bucky ran to the elevator. While Jamie saw that your necklace fell off, the necklace that Bucky gave you on your birthday, the necklace that you never took off as it was so precious. Jamie didn't know any of course, only that you'll surely come back and this will give him an excuse to talk to you more.

You were distraught when you naturally reached for your neck to hold your necklace only to find that it wasn't there, you ran to Bucky holding back tears as you didn't know what you'd do without it because it means so much to you. "Shh it's ok y/n I promise" he cooed as he saw that you were about to break into tears and quickly brought you into his side. He spent the rest of the day asking his teammates if they had any clue where it was and if they had seen it but of course no one knew and just replied with a simple "Sorry Buck, I haven't". You were frantically retracing your steps searching for anything to see where it was when you came to the conclusion that it must surely be at the front desk and at least it was the end of the day so you went to find Bucky and went down in the elevator also checking if it was somehow in there. You ran up to Jamie the moment those doors opened, he somehow managed to sneak out a sly "Lost something?" before you as you were panicking "Y-Yes yes do you have my necklace?" you almost yelled at him so desperate to get it back as he just chuckled and smiled while he tried to grab your hand while you took it from him. Before you had to say to Jamie to let go of your hand Bucky came to rescue. "Found it, baby?" he said as he glared at Jamie while pressing a kiss to your cheek noticing how uncomfortable you were near Jamie. Bucky almost growled at Jamie saying "Thanks for finding my girlfriends necklace, you won't be needed again" he said with his most intimidating stare as Jamie just gulped looking like a deer in headlights absolutely dumbfounded you were dating the winter soldier. You just tucked yourself back into Bucky's side as he wrapped his flesh arm around you and walked out of the tower giving Jamie one last glare.

"Thank you for that, I don't know what I would've done without you" you whisper while staring at your necklace glad that it's back on your neck. "Anything for my girl" he spoke back in his normal soft tone around you as he blushed at you going on your tiptoes to kiss him. "Baby I'm yours" you said to him holding back a smile as you gripped his face with your palm as he just laughed and tucked you into him and softly kissed your head, perfectly content with you. "Wouldn't want it any other way" he whispered as you two slowly walked back home enjoying each other's embrace.

A/N:Bloody hell once I get writing, I cannot stop. I hope you all enjoyed!

[ignis-et-glacius]

I'm going to use FO4 as my example as it's the only game I've played so far and my knowledge of FO3/NV is second-hand

To be fair, it looks like most people are actively trying to rebuild a semi-functional society but then some bigger faction has to come and fuck shit up

Looking at the Commonwealth, people have been trying to "return to normal" using the leftover ruins to build stable cities and settlements; but then the institute comes out and starts kidnapping people for experiments that go no where and then dumping those failures on the civilians up top, leaving them to contend with Super Mutants and other horrors

so then your SoSu comes along and helps the Minutemen/Railroad/both (I think you can be the leader of one while doing quests for the other) get back on their feet

And right when things are looking better. You have new settlements built, you're helping runaway synths, maybe you even destroy The Institute so now there's (at least theoretically) no more Mengele #731 bs happening, everybody's getting into the flow of things again

Then the Brotherhood shows up in their goddamn Hindenburg 2.0, come to fucking ruin the shit you just spent weeks and months on; all the farmers, merchants, and civilians you have been helping now have to fall back on hard times because they have these pseudo-military cult assholes shaking them down for food and supplies even though those things are still scarce

AND THEN ON TOP OF THAT, because there's no real economy (I know there's caps but until someone can give me that version of The Gold Standard I consider them to be about the same as paper money, worth as much as the metal it's printed on) or job market post bombing it only makes sense that a few people would turn to raiding to survive (seriously, listen to some of the raider convos for a minute. While some of them are chem fiends looking for a fix, a good number of them are just regular people (some are basically kids) that feel they have no other way to get food, protection, and caps. Hell, Nuka World seems to be an outlier; which if you become the Overboss and follow through with Gage's plans, now YOU are leading one of those big fuck-off factions come to ruin everything)

In the end, if you destroy the Institute, the Prydwen, and the Nuka World Raiders; if you settle things in Far Harbor and have Acadia be a safe haven for all those runaway synths you've been helping

The only happy ending we get is in our minds and headcanons for what happens post game

TL;DR big fuck-off genocidal/fascist factions ruin everything everywhere and make people resort to doing horrible things.

Minutemen 4life

bethesda fallout dares to ask the incredibly brave question of "what if a big bomb blowing up meant that everyone decided to suddenly stop being human and instead just became roving packs of raiders forever and ever"

[ramp-it-up]

Make it So

Read Good Morning

Summary: The wink was all a part of his plan.

Word count: 3.9 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic is in the Knock You Down AU, and is the answer to this ask. Please let me know how you feel by commenting, reblogging, and interacting. 😉

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Reader is 8-weeks pregnant and asks for rough sex. Bucky gives it to her. Angst, yearning, sex in an established relationship, pregnant reader, Bucky is a simp for Furmoaså, flirting, teasing, Bucky speaking google Romanian, praise and degradation, but also degradation, shower sex, very rough sex, rough oral, ass slapping, face slapping, spit play, masturbation, hand job, blow job, raw p-in-v, after care.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

Bucky didn’t mean to listen in on your conversation with Peach, it just sort of happened.

He was walking into the living room from his home office, the one he’d been working out of since Atlanta. After everything that happened to Peach, and what he and Steve had to do after, Bucky had taken no chances.

The incident rattled him, and he’d been keeping closer tabs on you while handling his art dealings remotely.

As he rounded the corner, Peach’s voice came through the speakerphone loud and clear.

“And that was the most amazing sex I've ever had in my life. I wonder if Steve'll ever get that riled up again. D’you think I’d be that lucky?”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a smirk. He knew Steve too well. He could almost guess what type of sex play he'd gotten up to with his wife. Seemed that Peach was his perfect match.

But then he heard your laugh, light and beautiful, and the sound stopped him in his tracks.

“Knowing you, Peach,” you replied, “you’ll probably get him riled up every damn day with your crazy ass.”

Bucky leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he watched you.

You were curled up on the couch, the New York skyline glowing behind you through the massive windows. Your laughter faded, and your fingers toy absentmindedly with the delicate gold necklace he gave you for Christmas, the one that held a tiny charm of his and your initials.

Then you sighed, your voice softening.

“I wish Bucky would be rough with me again,” you admitted quietly, your gaze distant.

“Don’t get me wrong, the sex is amazing. He treats me like a goddess. But it’s like I’m porcelain now. The thing is, I’m pregnant, not bedridden. My doctor said I was healthy as a horse today and my cervix is sound. If women have been doing hard labor while pregnant since the beginning of time, I can take a rough fucking.”

Peach snorted, her laughter ringing out over the phone.

“First world problems, hun. Lots of women, and men, would kill to be Bucky Barnes’ fiancée. Just talk to him.”

You bite your lip, looking pensive. 

“Nah, I’m just being hormonal and crazy. You’re right, I have everything I need. Now, about the wedding, which venue on the island…”

But Bucky wasn’t listening anymore. He was too busy committing your words to memory, the longing in your tone stirring something deep in his chest. He was glad that you had Peach to talk to, but he was tasked with taking care of you, with fulfilling your every desire.

Bucky thought back to when he first spanked you and how much you loved it. His cock stirred when he thought of how your body responded to him. He did miss it.

You wanted for him to stop holding back? To stop treating you like glass?

He would make it so.

—---

The event you attended that night buzzed with energy amid a sea of sharp tuxedos, glittering dresses, and the faint hum of a jazz band weaving through the air. 

Bucky, always cool, stood by the bar nursing a whiskey, his piercing blue eyes tracking your every move.

Though the room brimmed with industry elites, what most people wouldn’t notice was the nearly invisible network of security personnel scattered throughout. They blended seamlessly, laughing and chatting, but their focus was razor-sharp. They were there for one purpose: to keep you and Peach safe. Bucky and Steve had made sure of that. 

Tonight was supposed to be a perfect night out for you and Peach, and nothing was going to compromise it.

Across the room, you stood in a floor-length gown that hugged every curve in a way that made Bucky’s throat dry. The light from the chandeliers danced over your skin making your glow even more radiant in the soft illumination.

As an art dealer, Bucky was no stranger to beauty, but you? 

You were untouchable. You were his. 

Pride swelled in his chest at the thought that you were carrying his child, and were soon to be his wife. But that pride was quickly joined by a flicker of possessiveness every time someone let their gaze linger on you for a beat too long.

It wasn’t just your beauty that held everyone captive, it was the light in your eyes, the warmth in your laughter as you chatted with Peach and Steve, your joy radiating in a way that lit up the entire room.

And yet, even surrounded by admirers, your focus always found him.

Bucky looked immaculate tonight, his sharp suit tailored to perfection. The dark fabric stretched over his broad shoulders and framed his muscled physique in a way that made you weak. His eyes roamed the room with the practiced ease of someone who saw everything, but when they landed on you, they lingered.

Then came the moment that almost undid you.

From across the room, Bucky raised his eyebrows and gave you a wink, followed by a slight nod. A small, playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips, subtle, yet devastating.

Your breath hitched, your pulse quickened. That wasn’t just a wink. It was a promise. Yes, ma’am. I’m going to fuck your shit up tonight, don’t worry.

Or maybe it was just your hormones.

But the way his lips curled into that smirk, the glimmer of heat in his eyes, it set off a wildfire in your veins. That damn wink triggered something primal, sending your thoughts spiraling. 

Suddenly, all you could think about was what he would do to you later, the unspoken promises that he’d made.

Your heart raced, your skin flushed. 

For a moment, you forgot where you were, distracted by the sheer force of his presence. It was maddening, the way he could unravel you with something so small.

And he knew it.

When you returned to the table after a chat with Peach, he was waiting. Ever the gentleman, Bucky rose to pull out your chair. But it was the brush of his fingers on your wrist, the heat of his breath as he leaned close to murmur in your ear, that nearly did you in.

“Ești absolut uluitoare, Frumoaså,” he whispered, his voice low and rich. You are absolutely stunning, Beautiful.

Bucky speaking Romanian was your weakness, and he knew that very well. Your breath caught as you sank into your chair, your pulse hammering at the base of your throat.

“Thank you,” you managed, voice barely above a whisper.

It didn’t stop there.

Every time you looked his way, he was already watching, his gaze burning into you like a brand. His hand brushed yours casually as he refilled your glass, but the touch lingered just long enough to set your nerves aflame. His thumb ghosted over your knuckles, warm and deliberate, though his eyes stayed fixed on the glass.

“Ești bine, iubirea mea?” he asked softly, his tone teasing. Are you okay, my love?

You swallowed hard, nodding. “I’m fine.”

But the heat in your cheeks and the ache between your thighs told a different story.

His lips twitched into a rakish grin, and he leaned back in his chair, legs spreading slightly. It was casual, and unassuming, unless you were the one watching. You couldn’t stop your eyes from trailing down to his crotch, betraying you in a moment of pure weakness.

Bucky caught you looking, and with a wicked gleam in his eye, he spread his thighs wider.

You grabbed your water and took a long sip, praying for composure, but it was useless. He was enjoying every second of your unraveling.

Later, on the dance floor, he turned the teasing up another notch. His hand pressed firmly against the small of your back as he guided you closer, his touch maddeningly confident. The two of you swayed to the music, but he kept just enough space between you to leave you yearning for him.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear.

“I’m fine,” you whispered again, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. 

“Hmmmmm. I’m not so sure about that.”

His hand slid lower, just above the curve of your hip, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over the fabric of your dress.

Then he leaned in, his voice a deep, velvety whisper.

“Dacă asta e bine, abia aștept să văd cum vei arăta mai târziu când ești nebună după mine.” If this is fine, I can’t wait to see how you’ll look later when you’re crazy for me.

The exotic words sent a shiver down your spine, your knees nearly buckling. Before you could respond, he spun you effortlessly, pulling you back into his chest with a hand sliding up to the nape of your neck.

"I want to be very rough with you tonight. I got so excited that I ordered a new velvet flogger. For your nipples."

Your eyes widened and you had to swallow before you started to drool.

"I know you're already very sensitive, and I figure I can flick so that it delivers an extra sting."

Bucky watched your eyes dilate as your cunt clenched around nothing.

"Shame it won't be here until tomorrow. But, vrei să fii o curvă pentru mine diseară?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. Do you want to be a slut for me tonight?

You nearly choked on air, your head spinning as his words settled over you like a challenge.

“You’re driving me insane,” you breathed.

“Good,” he replied, lips brushing your ear again.

“Te vreau. Și îți promit, Frumoaså mea, o să-ți dau tot ce meriți când ajungem acasă.” I want you. And I promise, my Beautiful, I’ll give you everything you deserve when we get home.

By the time the night ended, you were a tightly wound coil, your nerves singing, your body burning with anticipation.

As the elevator doors closed behind you, Bucky’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his hand sliding over the gentle curve of your belly. His hardness pressed against your back, a reminder of what was coming.

“I’ve arranged for Sylvia to make a house call tomorrow,” he murmured against your ear, his lips brushing your hair. “You’re going to need it.”

Your breath caught, your mind racing as you imagined what he had planned for your stylist to make another home visit the day after she came to get you and Peach ready that afternoon.

He hummed softly, his lips grazing your neck. 

“Sper că ești pregătită, Frumoaså. I hope you’re ready, Beautiful. 

“Remember, green for go, red for stop,” he added, his voice velvet-soft.

Your knees were weak, so Bucky had to hold you up and against him as he elevator ascended

—-

Bucky made sure you had a snack and some water, taking care of your needs before giving you exactly what you craved.

With a tenderness that contrasted the fire in his eyes, he pulled you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as he undressed you, his hands working tenderly. 

You followed him to the ensuite, where he turned on the shower, the multiple jets hissing to life in the spacious enclosure. The air was thick with water vapor. When he turned back to you, something shifted in his gaze, something dark and hungry.

Your gaze was on his rock hard and leaking cock.

"Do you want to fuck?"

He said it so simply, but it was enough to make you wetter than you were the second before.

"Yeah," you breathed, already melting under the intensity of his stare.

In an instant, he had you pressed against the shower wall, your cheek against the cool tiles. One hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back, while the other pinned your arms behind your back. You arched into him, feeling the heat of his body flush against yours as he took control, moving into your slick pussy surely and swiftly with no preparation.

Bucky started fucking you, the way he knew you liked it. You moaned and he slapped your ass, causing you to keen.

“Oh. Yess yes yes yes.”

“Fuck. Me,” he grunted into your ear.

He pulled back on your arms to pull you harder onto his cock and groped your tits.

“Jesus. So Gotdamned tight, what do you mean?”

Bucky said it through gritted teeth, almost offended that you felt so good around him, making him go even harder.  You whimpered and moaned as he pressed you harder into the wall.

“Been waiting so long for you to get rough with me, Baby. Stretch me out," you pleaded.

Bucky was in the zone, pulling almost all the way out and destroying you with long, deep strokes. When he looked up to see you smiling into the wall, he leaned forward to lick your cheek. You laughed.

“Yesss, baby.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, want more of you inside me.”

Bucky grabbed your shoulders and stroked harder, faster, deeper, causing you to gasp for air.

“Oh my god.”

“Fuck!”

Bucky rocked back on his heels and grabbed your hair, pulling your head back as he slapped both of your asscheeks. You tightened impossibly around him.

“Ahhh! Yes, yes, yes!”

He bent your head backward and kissed your forehead as he plowed into you.

“Oh my god you feel so electric Bucky.”

He grabbed your arm and positioned your hand at your cunt, urging you to play with your clit. Except he didn’t use as many words.

“Yes, Good Girl!” was his chant as he smacked both ass cheeks again.

Bucky opened his mouth in a silent growl as you arched into him, convulsed around him and came all over the shower floor. You sagged against the wall, but Bucky wasn’t done yet. 

Far from it.

“Ahhhh, oh my god,” he surged up inside you, deep and hot, but he didn’t cum.

“Give me your fucking color.”

You were loving it. 

“Fuck yesss! Green!”

He pulled out and let the water run over you two for a minute, and then he plunged his hand into your pussy from behind.

“Another one Furmoaså. Your pleasure belongs to me.”

“Oh God….”

“You keep calling me that. “S’ not my name.”

All you could do was scream as he relentlessly made you cum on his hand again, and then he turned you around, kissed you like his life depended on it, then pressed on your shoulders to make you kneel. 

Your mouth dropped open automatically as he grabbed your wet hair and held you still as he slid his wet cock over your tongue. He fucked your face as you looked up at him and he slowed his strokes into your throat lest he cum down it.

"Make sure you breathe, my Love. Tap my thigh if it is too much."

Bucky's cock was always too much, but you were focusing on breathing through your nose. Instead of tapping his thigh, you grabbed both of them and pulled him further into your throat.

"Shhhhhitttttt, Furmoaså." Bucky's head hung back on his neck.

You reached up and stroked his cock, the part that wasn’t in your warm, wet mouth. Bucky let you take control and gag on him, pushing yourself into the wet curls at the base of his cock.

When you stayed down, he had to pull you off with a sharp, “Gotdamn it Baby,” and you smiled evilly up at him as you spit on his cock. He grabbed your hair to fuck your face again, cooing filthy praises down at you.

“Ah, shit, you look great, taking my cock like this, yes, yes, yes. Oh. yes.”

Your head started knocking against the tiles and he backed off, but you chased his cock, burying your nose in his pelvis again.

“Ohhhh shittt.”

You pulled off and started sucking him vigorously, using two hands and getting super sloppy with it; convenient, since you were in the shower.

“That’s it, show me, show me what a good cock slut you are my beloved. Show me. Good girl.”

Your head swam with the degradation and praise as you worked him, and yourself, into a frenzy.

Bucky's knees got week as you gagged around him again.

“Oh. I like being in your throat like that, missed that neck.”

“Slap my face, Daddy.”

Bucky froze, the cum threatening to claw its way out of his dick.

He positioned your chin and watched you smirk after he tapped you soundly, but not too hard. You gasped and smiled as he slid his cock to the back of your throat again and alternated strokes with slaps.

“Yes… yess… and don’t cough.”

You let him use you, your pussy soaked now. As if reading your mind, he commanded you.

“Finger your cunt, you naughty girl…”

You circled your clit as he fucked your face, and your mind faded to bliss as you pleasured yourself. 

“Fuck your cunt for me Furmoaså.”

You nearly came just from his words and you managed to stuff three fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace for a few more seconds until you came, you body humming.

Bucky kneeled on the floor and shared a filthy kiss with you, moaning into your mouth as he took over finger fucking you. You were a moaning, incoherent mess as you stroked his cock furiously. 

At one point, you begged him to spit in your mouth and as he did, you came all over his fingers.

You sucked your juices off your fingers as you looked into his now black eyes.

“Back in your pussy.”

Your eyes rolled as you fucked yourself again. You opened your mouth for him to spit again as your other hand continued to stroke him.

“Let me taste.”

Bucky licked your covered fingers.

“Fucking delicious,”

He stood up, sliding his cock back between your lips.

“Mmmmm nasty girl…”

And he fucked your mouth again as this time you came all over your fingers.

“Good fucking girl.” 

Suddenly, he pulled out and bent you over plunging back inside you and grabbing your hair as you screamed.

“Oh, fuck, your cock feels so good. So green, I’m cumming!”

“Do it, love it when you cum for me, fuckkkkk!”

Bucky stroked and stroked inside as you came and you just had to take it. He fucked you until he groaned loudly, pulling out to jerk his hot cum all over your back. 

Despite the warmth, suddenly you were shivering but you were in his arms the next second as he whispered how proud of you he was.

Bucky quickly and tenderly washed you and wrapped you and your hair in thick, fluffy towels, his hands gentle but deliberate as he lifted you into his arms.

Being held by him made you feel so safe. He carried you out of the bathroom, cradling you close to his chest, the tension from earlier melting into tenderness.

“You okay, Furmoaså?” he whispered. 

His lips pressed to your temple as he gently sat you down on the edge of the bed. You nodded, a lazy, satisfied smile spreading across your face as you leaned into him. 

“More than okay,” you murmured, eyes heavy with contentment.

He knelt in front of you, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks before kissing your forehead, then the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. The kiss was slow and tender, a stark contrast to the ferocity from earlier.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “You know that, right? I’m so proud of you. You take everything I give you like the queen you are.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, warmth flooding through you as he tilted his head, studying you for any sign of discomfort.

Satisfied that you were okay, he stood and padded over to the mini-fridge tucked in the corner of the room, pulling out a chilled bottle of water and a small container of fresh fruit.

He returned, sitting beside you on the bed. He opened the bottle and handed it to you first, watching as you took a long sip before setting it aside. Then, he plucked a piece of ripe mango from the container and held it to your lips.

“Eat, baby,” he urged softly, his voice full of care. “You need to replenish after all that.”

You giggled but obeyed, letting him feed you piece by piece. Between bites, his large hands worked their way down your body, massaging your shoulders, arms, and thighs, easing any lingering tension. He was meticulous, ensuring every muscle was relaxed and that you felt utterly adored.

“Bucky,” you whispered, catching his hand and threading your fingers through his. “You spoil me.”

“Damn right, I do,” he replied with a crooked grin. “I’m gonna keep spoiling you for the rest of my life.” 

He leaned down to kiss the inside of your wrist before rubbing his thumb over the pulse point there. After he’d made sure you were hydrated and fed, he guided you to lie back against the soft pillows. 

“Still feeling okay, Furmoasa?” he asked again as he slid into bed beside you.

You turned to face him, snuggling into his chest, your leg draped over his hip. 

“I feel amazing,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“For what?” he asked, his tone genuinely curious as his fingers traced lazy patterns along your back.

“For knowing me. For taking care of me,” you said, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “For making me feel so loved.”

His expression softened, and he cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin.

“That’s because you are loved. So, so much.” he said, his voice tender, yet steady.

You smiled, leaning into his touch, but his brow furrowed slightly, as though something was on his mind.

“Furmoaså,” he started, his tone soft but serious.

“Yes?" you replied, your brows lifting in curiosity and heart rate spiking with anxiety.

“I know that sometimes you keep things to yourself, because you think you’re in your head and you don’t want to bother me, or you’re embarrassed, or you think it’s just your hormones talking.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he gently brushed his thumb over your lips, stopping you.

“Let me finish,” he said with a small smile. 

“You don’t ever have to keep things inside with me. I don’t care if it’s something small, something big, something filthy���,”

You giggled.

"...Or something you think is ridiculous. I want to hear it. I want to know what’s on your mind.”

Your heart ached at the earnestness in his voice.

“You’re not a burden, and nothing you say or feel is embarrassing or silly. If you desire something, need something, or even just want to vent, you come to me. Don’t let it sit there, spinning in your head, okay?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you nodded. 

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

“I mean it,” he added, brushing his knuckles along your jaw. “You can trust me with anything. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“I will,” you promised, leaning forward to press your forehead to his.  “This is why I’m in love with you.”

“And loving you is my job,” he said, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Besides, I like it when you tell me what’s on your mind. Especially when you want to be a whore for me. Makes it easier for me to provide for you.”

"So you're just doing your job," you teased, eyebrow raised.

"Now you understand."

This time his wink made you laugh softly, the tension in the air dissolving as he kissed you again, long and lingering, before settling back with you tucked safely in his arms.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you into a sense of peace and your body and soul completely at ease.

“Get some rest, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

And he was.

-----

Wanna know what Steve & Peach got up to?

Read Ties That Bind

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

De-aged Danny shenanigans with an adult Damian taking after his father.

Danny, about 6: *drigging through the trash*

Damian, 26: Hello? Are you alright?

Danny, whips around to look at him with glowing green eyes: hissssss

Damian, blinks: Oh, dear....Are you hungry?

Danny, suspicious:... yeth

Damian, nods: If you come with me, we can either go to a batburger down the street or my apartment a block over. I have a washer and dryer I can run your clothes through while you bathe.

Danny: Are you trying to kidnap me?

Damian: If I was, I'd be a fool to say so

Danny: mm twue...why else would you want to help me though?

Damian: one. It would be irresponsible of me to level a toddler alone, in an alley, in Gotham.

Danny, pouting: I'm not a toddler

Damian: Two. I will never hear the end of it from my siblings whether or not I help you, but it'd be more teasing than lecturing if I do help you.

Danny: Why would they do dat?

Damian: If you don't have any place to go, I might just tell you. But only if I can make sure you don't tell the wrong person.

Danny: I'm good wif secrets!

Damian, amused: We shall see. And now third and final reason. Are you aware your eyes are glowing green?

Danny, gasps and slams his eyes shut: You're not supposed to see!

Damian, softly: It's okay. I understand what that means. One of my elder brothers' eyes glow the same way. It must have been very scary for you to die

Danny, sniffling: It was... does his eyes weally glow green?

Damian: They do. His usually glow when he gets angry, is it the same with you?

Danny, now blinking blue glowing eyes at Damian: mmm? No? Green is too much bad emotion

Damian: Bad emotion?

Danny: Mad, um, strezz? No, the bigger one!

Damian: Panic or anxiety?

Danny, points at him with a bounce: Yeah!!

Damian, amused and concerned: I see

Danny: mmm let's see, um, and scared?

Damian: Interesting. Jason's eyes are usually an indicator of angry, but I know he likes to cover his fear and concern with that same anger. I shall look into it. On that note. And what does glowing blue mean?

Danny, blinks: Blue?

Damian: Yes. Did you know your eyes are glowing blue now?

Danny, shocked: No! They didn't do that before!... At least I don't think they did?

Damian: Well, they're a very pretty shade of blue.

Danny: Maybe... Maybe that's how my parents noticed...

Damian, trying not to frown: What did your parents notice?

Danny, turning his big teary eyes on Damian: That I'm not fully human anymore. They didn't notice. They never noticed!

Damian, slowly reaching out to the kid to see if he'd accept a hug: Sounds like your parents didn't deserve you.

Danny, giving into his childish instincts and flinging himself into Damian's arms to sob his little heart out: They didn't even know I died! It's not fair! I'm not weally human and it's their fault! I hate their stupid po-po- THING! It shocked me and it hurt and now I'm dead and it's their fault!

Damian: *gently rocking Danny til he tires himself out*

Danny, sniffling: It's not fair...

Damian: Something I've found is, it never is. Every stray my father has housed has had an unbearably harsh life, and I, being his blood son, was no different. My mother and her father raised me for the first ten years of my life, and I've come to understand that my childhood was not a good one. It took me a long time and a lot of patience from my eldest brother to come to realize what I was missing.

Danny: Like, Jazzy?

Damian: mm? Who's Jazzy?

Danny: My big sister. She's a big know it all, but she tries...

Damian: Well, that's-

Danny, jolts in Damian's hold: Tried! *GASP* Jazzy doesn't know mom and dad didn't kill me!! *pause* um, kill me again?

Damian: Well, we'll have to tell her, won't we? You wouldn't happen to know her full name? I can ask my family to contact her while we get you cleaned up

Danny: Yeah! Her name is Jasmine Fenton! She goes to a big big school here! That's why I came here! I just... I got lost..

Damian: That won't do

Damian, pulls out his phone and calls Barbara while starting to walk to his apartment: Gordon. I have a request.

Barbara: Yeah? Whatcha got, baby bat?

Damian: Can you look up a Jasmine Fenton? I have something she will probably want back.

Barbara: Holy shit! Is that a child??

Damian, sighs: Yes, it's her little brother. He ran away from a bad situation with his parents and got lost trying to find his elder sister.

Barbara: Alright. I'll check out her entire life to make sure she's safe to- wait. Damian, is that kid's name Danny?

Damian, realizing he never asked: One moment.

Damian, looks down at a sleepy, but curious Danny: Is your name Danny?

Danny, beams: Yeah!!

Barbara: Caught that, but, uh, Damian, Danny is supposed to be 20, not...4? 5? Not a tiny child

Damian: umm... Danny did you used to be older?

Danny, shrinks into himself and his eyes turn green: Ye-yeah... I don't know why I'm little... mommy did something and it Huuurt and hurt til suddenly I was free and I ran and hid in a bus

Damian, soothingly petting his back: Okay, it's okay, we'll figure it out.

Barbara: Take care of him for the night, we'll contact his sister tomorrow at a reasonable time. I'm not finding anything too concerning on her yet so she's probably safe

Damian: Copy that. Goodnight, Gordon.

Barbara, teasing: Goodnight, mini-Bruce!

Damian, flushes, but doesn't deny it before hanging up and glancing towards Danny: That was Barbara Gordon. A family friend. She'll help us find your sister, but you'll be staying with me for tonight.

Danny, sleepy: Okay..

Damian, slipping into his apartment lobby and going straight up the stairs, ignoring the gaping attendants: Don't fall asleep just yet. You will be fed and bathed first

Danny, huffs, but straightens up: What food?

Damian: That depends, I only really have vegetarian food so I suppose we'll have to find something you'll eat

Danny: Sam is vegetarian! I eat vegetarian sometimes with her!

Damian: hm? Very good, then it should be easier for me to feed you

Damian and Danny have a wonderful time. Danny is fed, watered, and cleaned up before being set up with a quiet sound machine to sleep. Damian has a crisis over wanting to keep Danny and suddenly understands his father's adoption habit. He sets alarms to check on Danny throughout the night, but it's otherwise uneventful.

[aquanutart]

I revive Shocking and heal them before continuing. As I do, I realize that child me also thought Revives were important, because I have way more than I have potions to heal Pokemon after reviving them. I should have bought another Max Potion instead of those Revives--but we've come too far to second-guess.

I forgot I named my rival Ash. It was one of the default rival names you could choose, and I think I just picked the first one. Unlike JELLYPOOO the Metapod, I didn't really know what to name my rival.

My apologies to the real Ash. I know it's not really you!

He leads with Pidgeot, and Blastoise quickly knocks it out. We're off to a good start!!

He sends out Alakazam, who does some serious damage with Psychic before Blastoise can even attack. We retaliate with Surf, but... it does barely anything?!

I use my last Max Potion to bring Blastoise back to full health. We might get hit with Psychic again, but on the next turn we'll switch out and--

NO!!! BLASTOISE!!!

It's okay!! I'll revive you!! But right now--who am I going to send out--??

I remember that either Psychic and/or Ghost is weak to the other type and to itself. I've only been playing the TCG for so long, which simplifies it to Psychic is weak to Psychic, and I remember it's different from the games. I know the Ghost Pokemon in this game are weak to Ghost and Psychic, but is Psychic also weak to Psychic? I can't believe I forgot--?!!

Ghoulie will definitely get hit for super effective damage, so I don't want to send them out. Will Hypno take double damage from Alakazam--??

On the chance that Hypno can survive the damage and maybe do double damage as well, I send Hypno out.

Wait!! Psychic is RESISTANT to Psychic!! Hypno, we can tank the hits!!

All right!! Since half of our attacks will do no damage (Flash and Dream Eater) and one is ineffective (Confusion), we are left with one viable strategy: Headbutt Alakazam until it gives in!!

The battle between the two great Psychic-types begins! Hypno's incessant headbutting is wearing Alakazam down, but Alakazam keeps using Recover and undoing all of our work!

If it's to be a battle of attrition, I worry about how few healing items I have left. Still, I revive and fully heal Blastoise while Alakazam is using Recover. It's a matter of keeping my team together.

Then, suddenly, Hypno crits!! Alakazam has no chance to recover! Alakazam fainted!!!

Blastoise!! I'm so glad you're okay again!! Go for it!!!

Shocking comes in to handle Gyarados!

Blastoise joins in one more time for Arcanine!

And Beauty strikes the final blow against my rival's starter!!

WE DID IT!!! Blastoise, Hypno, Ghoulie, Shocking, Beauty, Kitty--everyone--WE WON!!!

Everything we went through--the years I spent trying to be someone else, the years I was afraid to talk to anyone, the years I felt like I couldn't be accepted or respected as myself, the years I felt like I couldn't speak up and had to be what others wanted--somehow, we got through it all and made it back together, to do what we set out to do.

I was talking and I mentioned that I have my old Game Boy and original Pokemon cartridge. I said, "I think they still work."

I was told, "The internal batteries on the Game Boy cartridges have run out. They're all dead."

"Oh," I said, trying not to show how crestfallen I was. I felt like I was losing nerd cred for not knowing that, although I never kept up with that type of info anyway. I'm here for the fantasy and imaginative aspects of games, and tend not to follow the competitive or technical details.

I tried not to feel anything as I went home. If they were real animals, I reminded myself, I would have had to say goodbye long ago.

But like so many other people, Pokemon was my childhood. It was all I thought about and dreamed about, and the closest thing I could imagine to heartbreak was the knowledge that they weren't real. I spent nearly all my time writing longhand self-insert Pokemon fanfiction--far more than I spent actually playing the game. My Pokemon were with me in my imagination wherever I went. I started playing Pokemon Blue when I was 5, and the last time I had played it was probably when I was 9 or 10. I remembered I had turned it on again one more time after that, not to play it, but to look at my childhood Pokemon.

It was during high school, after a move overseas that completely upended my life, and I was struggling with the crushing blow of being taken away from everything I knew and trying to make sense of anything (least of all adolescence) in another language. All I wanted was to go back to childhood and have everything go back to how it was before.

Seeing my Pokemon, just as I'd left them, had comforted me. I had looked at their stats pages, taken photos of them with my digital camera (that I don't even know if I still have), and then turned it off without doing anything.

That was probably 9 or 10 years after the games came out. It had been a long time since then. I had long since taken the AA batteries out of my Game Boy Color and left it untouched. I didn't even have AA batteries anymore.

It had worked then. But now it had been 27 years... I thought about not trying to turn my cartridge back on. As long as I didn't turn it on, I could believe my Pokemon were still there, the way I remembered them.

On my day off, which happened to be Pokemon Day, I googled and read that some people on forums and Reddit were still able to play their original Pokemon games.

Then... it was possible. I went out to buy toothpaste. At the store, I asked where I could find AA batteries.

It was a big thing for me to be able to go to the store and buy things myself. When I moved at age 13, I felt like something went wrong with growing up. It was difficult to follow what people were saying, and people didn't always understand what I said either. I had been introverted even in English, but now I had enough negative experiences that I became afraid and stopped trying to talk to people altogether.

I threw myself into video games and reliving childhood memories. The internet was where I could communicate in my first language and understand. I lived online and didn't interact with the real world. On the internet I felt like I was understood and could find people who shared my interests the way I did, but in the real world it always felt like I could get hurt if anyone knew me.

I realize now that I could have had a better experience overseas if I'd known how to adapt and socialize, but this was not something I knew even in English, and trying to learn in another language made it ten times harder. I'm sorry now for missing out on interactions that I know I could have had, but I just didn't know how. I wouldn't know how until I learned, and it took me a long time to learn.

I grew up online, in the company of others who had trouble fitting in with the real world, even in their own language. Those experiences shaped me, and the friendships I've made and support I've received online are invaluable to me. The internet gave me a way to live, and through it I learned how to interact with others. But in many ways, for many years, it felt like my life was put on hold and I stopped growing up.

Several years ago I moved back, to not far from where I was born, and I was able to work for the first time. I began to interact with people and feel like I had a place in the real world.

After shutting myself away for so many years, every little step I made out in the world felt terrifying. But every little thing I did on my own made me feel like I was living for the first time.

Even something as little as going to the store and buying a pack of batteries.

I was directed to a shelf at the end of an aisle, and found myself looking at a rack of lithium AA batteries. Did they not sell the old kind anymore?

I walked around to the other side and was relieved to find the familiar black and brown Duracell batteries I'd known from my childhood. I felt more confident about putting in a battery that looked the same as I remembered. The smallest pack they sold was an 8-pack for $12.99. I really didn't need 8 batteries. I didn't have any other devices that used them.

I thought, what if I turn it on and it doesn't work and I'll have wasted $12.99?

I also thought we might already have batteries. I might be able to say, "Mom, do we have any batteries?" and she'd pull out two AAs from a drawer somewhere and I'd save my money.

But somehow I felt like part of what was important about this was being an adult and being able to buy my own batteries.

Yet... what if it just ended up making me sad? Was it better not to know?

I went to the checkout with just the toothpaste and stood hesitating at the edge of the checkout line.

If I didn't get the batteries now, and it turned out we didn't have any batteries, I wouldn't try it. I knew I would just put it off until even more time passed, and then... "Are you in line?" someone asked me.

"No," I said, and I turned around and went back to the shelf.

I bought the batteries.

At home, I took out my original Game Boy Color from the drawer where I left it, the one my dad had surprised me with when I was 5 years old and that I had brought overseas and back.

I put the batteries in and turned it on without a cartridge first to make sure the batteries were inserted correctly. The Game Boy logo scrolled across the screen and it made the familiar blinging Game Boy startup noise. I turned it off again, satisfied.

I took out my original Pokemon Blue cartridge, momentarily having to remember which way it went in, and slotted it in.

I turned it on, watched the whole Pokemon Blue intro out of nostalgia, and then pressed START.

My heart leaped for joy.

MY POKEMON!!!! MY POKEMON ARE ALIVE!!! 🥺🥺🥺

My original Pokemon, that were with me in 1998 when I was 5-6 years old, are still with me 27 years later. I want to cry!!! I love the old sprites, I'm SO happy to see them again 😭😭😭 the Pokemon look so little and cheerful at the same time, which I love 🥺🥺🥺 I know there are people with many more hours on their games, who have leveled all their Pokemon to 100. But these are my Pokemon who were with me through my childhood, and I spent many more hours making up stories about them than actually playing the game. I'm so happy to see them again 😭😭😭

All I want is to see my Pokemon. My other Pokemon are in boxes. Now, how do I get to the nearest PC? Where am I?

Oh... Oh. I have to confess something. When I was a kid, I was scared of the dark cave areas, and whenever I got to them, I stopped playing for a while. (I was stuck at Mt. Moon until I was like, 7.) So I never actually beat the game.

And here I am on Victory Road, with the team of Pokemon I was taking to the Elite Four, without an Escape Rope.

The only way for me to see my other Pokemon is... to finally make it through Victory Road, after 27 years?!

[peanutheaddd]

Hello! I absolutely love all of your art; the style, the writing, the comedy. All of it, really. And I've been looking at your swap art, (because who hasn't, honestly?), and I was wondering....

Dimension travel bullshit is my favorite type of crossover, so what do you think would happen if your swap au happened to meet the regulars? I think it would be interesting, mostly because the "villains" would see their lives if they chose different coping mechanisms, and the "heros" would see how their life could have been if they gave in to their negative side. But the "good guys" would also find a sense of empathy for their counterpart, because they went through very similar situations, they just had different circumstances.

But also this train of thought started because Dogman has a house, and had one even before he was Dogman, and Greg doesn't. And how their living situations would be talked about, or whatever.

Anyways, anyways, I'm rambling. I just find crossover meet-ups very interesting and fun to play around with. This wasn't a draw request, (although you could do that if you wanted. Hint-hint, nudge-nudge. Winky face.), I just wanted to see your thoughts! Love you!

THANK YOU FOR THESE ASKS AND FOR ALL THE KIND WORDS 😭😭😭😭😭💪💪💪💪💪💪!!!! i lwk never thot abt having swap and canon meet so this was very fun to think about tehe!!!!!! the drawings below are under the anons scenario of the peteys switching places tehe 🤭🤭

it would def be Very jarring for petey and swap dog man . theyre used to the other person being high energy and silly 24/7 that seeing the other person being Serious and aloof would make them Rlly uncomfortable . like anon said it would def make them appreciate their versions of dog man / petey altho theyd never admit it LOLLLLL

CONVERSELY swap petey and dog man would be having the times of their lives GOLIIJNNNGGGG petey and dog man have the dynamic of guy who is going through the horrors x guy who is going lalala (thinking abt the plot in .. brawl of the wild methinks. where petey isolates himself from lil petey bc he thinks he can never be a good person and then it Very Abruptly switches to the b plot of dog man throwing up bc he kept eating chiefs stupid claymation clay.) so that dynamic would go up a notch if the peteys switched places LOLLLLLLLLL

i think for the most part dog man and swap petey would spend most of their time tgth js having fun and getting up to shit . they see the other person less as a different dog man / petey but more like a new friend who happens to look like dog man / petey LOLLLL theyd start taking the switch more seriously if it lasts a while bc then theyd start missing their respective sillies really bad

ultimately they are overjoyed to get their own peteys back ^_^ hehe ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL!

[calebsangelbby]

・❥ IT'S JUST A DREAM...

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rundown :: caleb comes back from a mission while reader is sleeping. unable to control himself, he decides he doesnt want to wait until you're awake.

WARNINGS :: NSFW! 18+, porn with no plot, somnophilia, softdom!caleb, sub!reader

a/n :: bit of a gross fic i've concocted but hey, we don't kink shame around here!!

he shouldnt be doing this.

god, he really shouldnt be doing this.

he cant help it. the way you looked so cute and vulnerable laying sound asleep, basically inviting him in with the position you were in. laying on your back, arms placed on your stomach, one leg straight out and the other bent in; giving perfect access to your core.

caleb stands still; too scared by his thoughts to do so little as move. maybe if i just touch her once, it'll be like i wasnt even there... she won't notice.. fuck- he's convinced himself that he's perverted, that he's sick in the head. and perhaps he is, perhaps he's just like the twisted creeps on the internet, but that doesn't stop him. he's been away from the warm embrace of your cunt for way too long, his self control is too slim to worry about if you're conscious or not.

dropping his bags right where he was, he marches over toward you with great quietness. he stops right before he touches the bed, looking over you like a predator to his prey, imaging what exactly he wants to do to you thats so subtle that you wont wake up to it. after a moment of thinking, he decides he'll only take your panties off to jerk off to, then he'll go to bed with you. and thats exactly what he does.

with gentle yet shaky hands, he bends down and proceeds to attempt to rip your underwear off without really touching you, occasionally having to adjust the growing buldge in his pants. he manages to tear them halfway before he feels you move, beginning to change your sleep position to one that is on your back. he freezes completely and immediately removes his hand from your body, immobile with fear.

all he can do is stare at your ass while you're turned over. he physically cannot wait any longer as he brings an arm down to the bed to lift himself up, face directly on your butt. he's moving on autopilot at this point, unbuttoning his jeans with haste precision while inhaling your sweet scent; every exhale comes a moan as quiet as he can make it.

once his cock is finally out of his trousers, it's already twitching against the bed. caleb has no shame anymore; grinding his hips on your sheets and taking in your backsides aroma while whimpering into you. he has zero power over what he does, all he can do is think with his dick, mumbling small "ohfuckohfuck"s into your undies, bringing himself closer and closer to the edge. he's truly just a mess with his out-of-place hair and rolled back eyes, all for you.

everything was going swell until you slowly began to regain consciousness, somewhere in between awake and asleep. "c-caleb?" you whispered into the night, feeling for his hair. "caleb is that you? what're you.."

but instead of stopping his movements, he only speeds them up, egged on by the sound of your voice. "shhhshshh baby.. it's just a dream.. go back to sleep for me..." he mumbles back to you, grabbing your arm and using his other hand to grope at your asscheek. you let out a soft moan thats really only a sigh, and thats what sends him over the edge.

white hot spurts of cum cover your blanket and bedsheets as he snuggles his head closer into you in an attempt to quiet himself. "o-..ohmy fuck pips i-.." he murmurs, eyes remaining shut while his grip on you tightens.

after he's done working himself. he leans back to look at the mess he's made. drool strings from your panties to his lips, orgasm bright prominent on the covers, red marks on your wrist, underwear halfway ripped. he couldn't be more perverse.. truly.

only for you, though. ;)

[aurumacadicus]

Lol. Lmao even.

--

"So, what does a typical Avengers meals look like?" the interviewer asks, smile wide and mean.

Steve hates these types of questions. Everyone knows he and Thor eat like horses. There are pictures of them with their own table laden with food after really strenuous battles while the rest of the team sit at a different one floating all over the internet. Sometimes Bruce joins them, if he'd been Hulked out for a long time.

It's a question to shame Natasha and Tony. It always is, no matter how sincerely the interviewer smiles or insists it's just to see that they're real people. No one gives Steve side-eye when he talks about eating three bagels smothered in lox and cream cheese, but if Natasha mentions ice cream, there are half a dozen articles about how that ice cream goes straight to her thighs. Tony gets pitying looks for trying to keep up with a literal god and the peak of human perfection as he's told he's looking great--for a man his age.

Clint seemed to fly under the radar. He used to gloat, until Bruce had snapped that it was probably because there was a webpage dedicated to pictures of him crawling out of dumpsters during battle after a particularly vicious interviewer had asked Tony if he worried about getting too fat for his suit, and left Natasha visibly rattled when asked if she was taking steroids to stay in shape. He'd apologized immediately after, but Clint had stopped taking joy in being the disaster Avenger when Natasha and Tony started glancing at watches with smiles growing more plastic by the second.

Steve has half a mind to tell the interviewer they all eat protein-filled gruel designed by SHIELD just to get her attention away from them, but Natasha had scowled at him the last time he'd tried to stage a rescue in front of cameras, and he'd taken it as the warning to back off that it was.

"I've gotten real into smoothies," Tony answers, and he actually sounds enthused. "And Natasha's my willing guinea pig. These heathens," he adds, waving at the rest of them. "Wouldn't know a good flavor profile if their lives depend on it."

"He's figured out a chocolate and almond butter recipe with coconut water that tastes just like an Almond Joy," Natasha adds approvingly.

Steve watches the interviewer's face twist with fake sympathy as she winces and hisses through her teeth, hand clenching into a fist on his thigh. He just has to let this happen, he reminds himself. Then they can go home and he can remind Tony and Natasha that they are probably the healthiest normal people in all of SHIELD. Maybe Tony will make that protein-packed smoothie that tastes just like caramel apple pie for him that is probably supposed to embarrass him but he actually really likes.

"Ooh," the interviewer says with another wince. "But aren't smoothies just full of sugar? Wouldn't it be better to eat whole fruit?"

Natasha raises an eyebrow. She opens her mouth, but closes it again when she notices that Tony is openly gawking at the woman like she's personally reached over and slapped him. She leans back in her seat, brows furrowing together as she clearly tries to puzzle out why he looks so shocked.

Tony blinks, once, hard, before he says, "I used to do cocaine, Christine. I think a little sugar from fruit juice is fine."

There's a brief pause as the words sink in, and then Clint spews the water he'd been nervously gulping, and Bruce starts howling with laughter, and it pretty effectively ends the interview there, because no one has heard Bruce laugh that hard outside of the tower and Natasha looks seconds away from guffawing as well.

[vainvenus]

mind games. | ln4 | pt.5

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You finally tell Max what's been going on and despite your current state and despite being a bit skeptical he believes you.

Includings: Dark!Lando Norris, gaslighting, breaking and entering, paranoia, controlling + obsessive behavior, belittling, petnames, this is so short i'm sorry 💔

An: I've got a Dark!Charles x Tennis Player!reader in the crockpot rn...

@eclipsedcherry @slutforvoldy

The Uber was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the faint sound of the radio playing something neither of you were even remotely paying attention to. Max tapped his fingers against his thighs, glancing outside the window before he looked back over to you like he was trying to put a puzzle together with a few missing pieces.

"Okay." He said, exhaling sharply. "What was that back there?"

You inhaled, clenching the fabric around the hem of your dress as you stared down at your shoes. You almost didn't know how to explain all of it, the small things he had been doing to mess with you, how it was so obviously him who had been in and out of your house, shuffling things around so that only you'd notice. You shook your head. "I don't know how to explain it. It'll...I'll sound crazy."

He crossed his arms over his chest, raising his brows as a silent sign for you to carry on. "Try me."

You sighed. "He's...messing with me. Like in my apartment things have been moved, not enough to be a problem but enough so I know. Putting my shoes in a different order, rearranging my perfumes, putting my keys on the hold instead of the counter. Small things." You had explained and he nodded along, his brows furrowing a bit.

"Then stuff started going missing. Like my perfume and ring. And he...he was wearing it, Max. He was wearing it tonight, my ring just for me to see it so he could fuck with my mind like he's been doing all week. Like the press conference when he made me seem like I was crazy for saying he didn't defend in that face."

Max had just stared at you for a while as you finished explaining all of what Lando had been doing. The silence was almost more suffocating than when you first caught a whiff of your perfume when Lando was close enough. It made you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Say something, Max."

"I honestly don't know what to say. Do you really think Lando is capable of doing that?"

Your brows furrowed. "Do you not believe me?"

He quickly shook his head, putting his hands up and waving them in attempts to calm your own nerves when he saw how your mood had shifted. "It's not that I don't believe you, Y/n. It's just..."

"It's just what?" You spat.

"It's just weird, okay? How is he even getting into your house without a trace? No signs of breaking in or anything?" He questioned and your brows furrowed. You never really thought about that until now. Never a broken lock or glass, it seemed like he just effortlessly went in and out as if he lived there.

"I... don't know." You mumbled and Max seemed like he was trying to figure it out, bouncing his knee a bit.

"Does he have a key?"

The question through you off a bit, your brows furrowed. He shouldn't have a key, the only people you had given a key to your apartment would be Max, your best friend and that was about it.

"Weird."

"I know. Just...please. I need you to believe me so I don't feel like I'm crazy and it's all in my head."

The Uber had come to a stop and you almost forgot it wasn't just the two of you in the car. You have Max a pleading expression, your eyes searching for any bit of closure. One person. You just needed one person who believed you, one person who didn't make you feel like you were losing it.

"I believe you."

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling like some weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You unbuckled your seatbelt and got out, leaning against the car door. "Can you at least stay?"

"Y/n. Nothing is going to happen to you, he can't get in without a key, right?"

"No, but-"

"Look, I can't stay. If he comes to the door, call me then the police." He stated. It was practical and logical and maybe you would have found comfort in his words if it were under other circumstances but right now you couldn't.

"Just...Just check the apartment with me,” You said, your voice quieter now. “Please.”

Max sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. He was tired, confused and still trying to wrap his head around everything and he was just ready to get back to his apartment. But the way you were looking at him—like you just needed this one thing—made it impossible to say no.

“Alright,” He muttered. “Let’s check.”

You let out a breath of relief and unlocked the door. Max followed you inside, flipping on the lights. The place was silent, undisturbed. Still, he went through the motions.

Checked the kitchen. Empty.

Checked the bathroom. Nothing.

Checked the bedroom, even looking in the closet because he could tell you were too nervous to do it yourself. Still nothing.

You stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around yourself. “See? He’s not here,” Max said, trying to keep his voice even.

You nodded slowly. “I just had to be sure.”

Max exhaled, giving you a small nod. “I get it. But you’re fine. Lock the door behind me, alright?”

You hesitated. “You’re sure I’ll be fine?”

“He’s not gonna break in,” Max assured you. “If he shows up, call me. I’ll come right back.”

You didn’t love that answer, but you knew pushing wouldn’t do anything. So you just nodded again. “Okay.”

Max lingered for a second before turning for the door. “Goodnight,” He said over his shoulder.

You locked the door the second it shut behind him, standing there for a moment, listening.

Silence.

Forcing yourself to relax, you went through your usual routine. Makeup remover, cleanser, moisturizer—the same steps you always took, letting the repetition ground you. By the time you stepped into the shower, the tension in her shoulders had started to ease.

The hot water helped. So did the silence.

By the time you were done, wrapped in a towel, you felt like you had washed most of your worry away.

But the second she stepped into her bedroom, you froze.

Lando was there.

Sitting on the edge of your bed like he belonged there, fingers idly picking through the things on your nightstand. He turned a small bottle of perfume in his hand, rolling it between his fingers like he was trying to commit the shape of it to memory.

His head tilted slightly when he heard you.

"You started using this one when the other went missing." He murmured, holding it up for you to see. "I like this one a little bit better, less gourmand."

Your grip on the towel tightened. "Lando—"

"You took your time, love." He set the perfume back down, finally looking at you. He smiled, slow and unbothered. "Did it help clear your mind? Use that new body scrub you got the other day?"

Like this was normal. Like he belonged here.

You kept a tight grip on your towel and your gaze on him to keep track of any and all of his movements. "You need to leave. Right now."

"Or what? You'll call the police? Only for them to tell you it's nothing?" He questioned before continuing.

"Or maybe you'll call Max? He's known from the start." He scoffed, placing the perfume bottle back on the little shelf for all of your scents and upon hearing that you could practically feel your heartbeat in your head.

"He's..what?"

"He's known from the start. He was so good at playing along I definitely thought he would blow it at some point. Playing dumb and going along with everything especially the press conference this morning."

"No."

"Yes." Lando mimicked how dramatically you had said it, shaking his head a bit as he kept his gaze on you.

"I honestly thought you would be smart enough to put the pieces together. He showed up so conveniently tonight, he's the only one with access to your bag where your perfume mysteriously popped back up."

"So why did you let me leave with him tonight?"

"Why not? It gave you a false sense of security. You don't even know who to trust now, do you?"

He was right. Max was one of your closest friends, even beyond the team. You and him just had this undeniable connection that made everything feel effortless. The bond between you two was something you cherished, and if anyone were working with Lando, Max would be the last person you'd even consider accusing.

"You just can't seem to catch a break, baby." Lando questioned, his tone fueled with fake sympathy as he pouted at you and you could nothing but glare at him, one hand bunched around your towel and the other at your side.

Lando tossed the something at you and you didn't even bother catching it. You heard the metal clatter onto the floor before you looked down at what it was and it was a copy of the key to your home. You looked back up at him, watching as he crossed one leg over the other, watching your reaction with a kind of intensity that made your stomach sick.

"You can give that back to him. I've got a copy now." He said as if this were the most normal thing he had done and he tilted his head at you as he watched how all of this was starting to settle in your mind.

"You should just make this easy for the both of us. There's nobody you can call that'll believe you." He stood up from his spot on the bed and grabbed his keys from his pockets. You glanced over at them, seeing one that looked exactly like your house key.

"Get dressed. We're gonna go for a little ride."

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Lando."

He chuckled, releasing a small sigh as his smile lingered. "Do you really want to test me right now? Every odds stacked against you, and yet, you’re still making dumb choices?"

His tone and gaze reduced you, making you feel like a child failing to understand something simple. He spoke with quiet authority, his eyes fixed on you—both possessive and assured, as if you were his to claim, his to control, without resistance or complication.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your grip on the towel tightening—of course, he noticed. The slight tremor in your hands, the way you chewed the inside of your cheek as if he was feeding off your fear.

"Get dressed."

Me bc I actually hate this chapter

[sparrolina]

This was really fun, so here's my board for Mer Moon! (just as a warning, it contains some MINOR SPOILERS for The Stars and the Sky)

Some of these are more backstory related right now (like knowing that the staff won’t come to help him). But they will be explored in future chapters so I've decided to include them. I've also rambled a bit under the cut, so you might need prepare yourself if you decide to read it 😂

In a lot of ways, Moon hasn't had the easiest life so far. He's been separated from his family at a young age, trapped in an aquarium for 20 years, forced to become a test subject for countless experiments - all before being put on display for the masses and forced to entertain them. For years, this life was the only one that he had known. And he's learned a lot of bad behaviour and unhealthy coping mechanisms because of it.

After arriving in the ocean, Moon's emotional control steadily grows worse. He finally has the chance to experience things that he has never done before (like catching his own meals). And he's determined to make the most of it. Fazbear's handlers aren't around to stop him any more. So why not have some fun and push everyone's boundaries for a while? What's the worst that anyone can do?

And yeah, he tries to be good now that he's free. But it's hard to be happy and act like a functioning Mer when there's so much that he doesn't understand. Celeste can only teach him so much - and despite everything, a part of Moon wishes that he could be more like his friends. What would life be like if he was a social butterfly like Sun? Or if he wasn't the oldest and had to be the one who keeps everyone safe? (He might love to rub it in Sun's face that he's 10 minutes older, but the responsibility can be exhausting sometimes).

Moon will always be known as the troublemaker of the group. The one who acts reckless and stupid and does the wrong things. But at his core he is someone who cares. He doesn't mean to upset anyone (Well, except Calvin. But who doesn't want to upset Calvin?). And he cares about Sun and Celeste so much that he wants to take their pain and shoulder it for himself (He's suffered a lot already. He knows that he can handle a little more). But how can he do that when he can't bring himself to express his feelings to them? (Do they know that he loves them? He really hopes that they do.)

Instead, Moon tries to show them in other ways. Like helping Celeste and protecting her from those who would do her harm. Or by trying to be patient with Sun when he mentions missing Michael at the Aquarium. Moon doesn't know how Sun convinced himself that life there wasn't as bad as it was. They lost so much to that place and its unforgivable that their childhoods and their innocence were stolen at such a young age. But Moon pushes away the pain and forces a smile onto his face so that Sun can live out his fantasy. He'll play along if it means that Sun keeps that smile on his face. He can't lose his adoptive brother because he's the only family that Moon has. (Especially after Celeste...)

Despite his faults, Moon doesn't want to hurt anyone or cause them pain. He just wants to be loved and enjoy his newfound freedom. He's desperate to understand what it means to be a part of a family. And even though he doesn't think that he deserves it, he's going to treasure every single moment that he has with his friends.

They're his world after all. And he'd do anything to keep them safe.

SHRIEKS

YOUR MOONS!!! GIVE ME YOUR MOONS!! (And maybe refs too and feel free to add extra explanations to certain things or bonus details /nf)

Big moon and angst fan and also trying to get into other peoples stuff more, curious to see what other people have,, apologies if my digital handwriting is hard to read my handwriting kind of sucks all around

[tttabii]

LIPSTICK STAINED SMOOTHIE -

THANOS / CHOI SU-BONG X READER

warning : just fluff

────୨ৎ────

YOU WERE BROWSING THROUGH YOUR PHONE, waiting for Thanos to finish engaging with another overzealous fan. Being his assistant had its perks, but dealing with his constant complaints about free coffee from fans was not one of them.

Everywhere he went, people handed him iced Americanos, lattes, mochas—anything coffee-related. At first, he accepted them with a smile, but now, after what had to be his fifth cup today, he was done. "Bro, I swear if I get handed another damn coffee I'm going to throw it against the wall," he said, under his breath, as he began to walk back over to you.

He held yet another cup of cold brew in his hand, looking at it like it personally offended him. You didn't even look up. "You could just....not drink it."

"I tried. But they watch me. They see me standing there and just waiting to see if I'm going to drink it or even try it. I can't just throw it away in front of them." He sighed again with frustration, then noticed your own drink.

A bright smoothie. A colorful and thick smoothie. An ice cold smoothie. The polar opposite of the rotten, watered-down coffee he had been inundated with all day. 

Before you could react, he snatched it out of your grasp.

"What the hel-" You stared as he took a long drink, practically without thought, placing his lips around the straw.

Your lipstick was still on the straw.

Your very obvious lipstick.

His lips were where yours just were.

Your mind stopped functioning. 

Thanos made a satisfied sound and leaned his head to the side, sipping again. "Damn. This is so much better than that trash I've been drinking all day."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

Was he unaware of the effect he has on girls? 

"You drank from my straw."

He casually leaned against the wall, completely unbothered, holding your drink in his hand, sipping it like he paid for it himself. "Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow and took his slow sip. "You want it back?"

You glared. "I was drinking that."

"And now I'm drinking it." He shrugged, a smug smirk creeping onto his face as he tapped his fingers against the cup. "We're sharing, Y/n. That's what friends do."

Your jaw dropped. "Since when were we friends?"

He leaned in slightly, tilting his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Since I placed my lips where yours just were."

You froze. The air shifted—something smug and playful lurking behind his words. You could see the corner of his mouth twitching like he was enjoying watching you struggle for a comeback.

And damn it, you hated that your face had to feel hot.

This cocky bastard...

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. "How presumptuous of you to assume I don't have cooties."

Thanos let out a deep chuckle and stared into your eyes while he took a sip slowly. "Then I guess we're infected together."

You rolled your eyes at him, but snatched the drink up and took it without handing it back to him. "There's no way you are serious." 

He let you snatch back without a fight up until this point, but the teasing grin stayed in place. "Hey, you're lucky I'm not trying to steal your food."

You scoffed, taking a sip from the same straw on purpose, staring him down. "You wish you could have this smoothie."

Thanos watched you, an amused glint in his eyes. "Nah. I already got a taste."

You almost choked on your drink.

This was definitely not in your job description.

"You're also fortunate I haven't stolen your heart," Thanos said with a smirk, his voice dropping into something smoother, more teasing. "Or maybe I already did?"

You rolled your eyes, not even giving him the satisfaction of a response, and took another sip of your smoothie—the lipstick staining the straw even more. By that point, you were used to his nonsense, but it was the way he said it so casually, like it was fact, that made your stomach do this weird annoying little flip.

You didn't even have time to think of a witty comeback before he took the drink right out of your hand again. "Su-bong-!" 

Too late. 

His lips pressed onto the exact same straw, the lipstick now transferring onto his mouth as he took another sip and still didn't seem bothered. He didn't wipe it off, didn't even seem to notice —just bounced back into your smoothie, for a second time that day, like it was completely normal. 

You just eyed him, completely flabbergasted by the audacity of this man. "Unbelievable," you muttered under your breath and resolved at that point fighting over a drink with Thanos was not worth the headache. 

He'd just keep taking it back, and you'd probably end up throwing hands in the middle of the event.

You sighed and relinquished your ground. "Fine. Have it. Whatever."

He beamed victoriously, winked at you, and turned to walk back toward the gathering crowd of fans. You shrugged off the insane devastation he would soon wreak. Because the second he approached the crowd, they noticed. 

Noticed the drink.

Noticed the lipstick-smudged straw.

Noticed his lips. 

Eyes widened. Some fans pointed to the cup in his hand and whispered to their friends. Others pulled out their phones and took quick pictures as fast as possible; gasps and noisy squeaking filled the air. 

Thanos, still completely unaware, finished his drink, approached fans for signatures, and took selfies with them heading into the crowd like he was not holding evidence that he was possibly one cheap shot or a single snap of proof in the act. 

And, of course, the internet exploded.

Meanwhile, you were a few feet away, distracted with another coworker, discussing something work-related.

"So we need to check if the next shoot location is confirmed," your co-worker said as they scrolled through their phone. "Also, did you see the plan for tomorrow?"

"Yeah," you said while crossing your arms, "Thanos has another interview in the morning, and then—"

Your co-worker suddenly tensed their body up. Their eyes shifted over your shoulder before widening slowly. "Uh... Y/n?"

"What?" You turned to them and raised your brows. Your co-worker paused.

"Did you and Thanos just... like... drink something together? Like just now?" 

You blinked, "Uh, yeah? He stole my smoothie, why?"

"Did you have lipstick on?" Your stomach dropped. 

"Wait, why?" Your co-worker slowly turned their phone to show you exactly why. Your eyes landed on a new social media post—now already blowing up—with Thanos sipping from your smoothie through the lipstick-stained straw, his mouth lightly tinted in your lipstick. 

The caption? 

"WHOSE LIPSTICK IS THAT???"

Your soul left your body. "Oh my god."

As if things could not get worse, you looked up—just in time to see Thanos smirking at you from across the crowd, still sipping your stupid smoothie. He did that on purpose. You were going to kill him.

[alchemistc]

Actually you know what I don't think I've really seen anyone talk about how TYPICAL of Buck it is to revert to sex as a coping mechanism. Like yeah he's absolutely grown and changed from Buck 1.0 but let's look at his last year or so from his perspective:

Buck discovers new facets of his sexuality. He starts dating a dude who turned him into a feral little jealousy gremlin

Bobby leaves the 118 and leaves them with fuck ass Gerrard. Bobby almost dies.

Buck has a BOYFRIEND and he sees a future with him

Buck finds out something about his boyfriend that he can't square with, and gets frankly awful advice about what his boyfriend went through to make him Like That. He also continues to be not taken seriously about himself, his feelings, his wants and desires, his concerns

Buck gets dumped. He pushed too hard too fast as he tends to do and he gets dumped for it. Rinse and repeat

All of his friends immediately jump down his throat for wanting to talk to the dude who dumped him. He bakes. And bakes. And bakes and bakes and bakes and it doesn't stop him from missing the guy who dumped him

His best friend leaves. And while Buck can understand it it hurts enough to make him act a little out of pocket.

(Can we talk about the way everyone in his life infantalizing him absolutely makes him behave in childish ways in response? No? Okay I'll shut up.)

His sister gets kidnapped? And almost dies?

He moves out of a place he's lived in for five years to help his best friend. He cannot sleep in the new place.

He tries to make new friends but the thing is he already has a best friend and right now all he has available to him are stories about his best friend. So he tells them. To exhaustion.

So yeah. He's disconnected from a lot of his support systems because they just have other shit going on. (I do not blame them for not making him their number one priority and Buck doesn't either but they're still ...missing.)

He runs into his ex. His ex gives him a SCRAP and what does Buck do? He turns it immediately to sex. And he thinks to himself: this is what I'm good for this is what I can offer THIS will have to be enough even though this man has validated me: the way my brain works, the tangents I go on, the over-reactions I have and the way I get obsessive. But Tommy dumped him. So. Sex will have to be enough for Buck.

Like I just think we're undervaluing exactly how much this regression to fuckboy Buck makes sense. He's not doing it to be an asshole. It's a fucking survival instinct and he's been in survival mode since the second Tommy dumped him

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington X F! reader, friends to lovers, flashing (f) WC: 762 Summary: Steve's amazed by the number of things you can fit in your bra when you refuse to lug around a bag with you.

In the last two hours you'd pulled out a wad of fives to pay for the snacks you'd both picked up at the gas station, then a lighter as the two of you sat out on the hood of Steve's car, overlooking Lovers Lake while you had a smoke and last, a pack of minty gum for you to chew and smack on when you got back in the car.

What fascinated Steve was that none of these items had been stored inside a bag like one might expect, all of them pulled out of your bra like it was an entirely normal thing to do. Unable to ignore it any longer and more than a little flustered, he finally breaks his silence on the matter.

"Okay, I have to know. What else do you have in there?", Steve carefully gestures vaguely in the direction of your breasts, looking all kinds of exasperated. You return his look with an amused smirk.

"I'll give you two guesses", you puff your chest out, the answer so obvious it makes him roll his eyes.

"Not them- uh, those. I mean, c'mon. Doesn't it ever get, I don't know...uncomfortable having to wedge it all in there?", he asks trying and failing to choose his words carefully while his eyes flicked back and forth between your face and your cleavage.

You see your chance and pounce at it, especially since he'd set you up for it so perfectly.

"I don't mind a tight fit, Steve", you chew on your gum with a wink, torturing the poor boy as you leisurely blow a bubble big enough to pop.

"You- you know what I uh, what I meant", he tells you while trying his damndest to appear composed, his voice giving him away when it cracks enough to make you snicker.

He does have a point though, you could admit that much as you cut the jokes and decide to answer with a simple shrug. "I don't know. It's something I just got used to. There's enough space for everything I need. And besides, I hate having to carry a bag around. those things make my shoulders sore as all hell", you explain honestly although you can tell that Steve's nowhere near ready to move on from the subject just yet.

"Tell you what. Since you're so interested, how about a game? loser has to do whatever the winner says if you can guess how many other items I've got in here.

"Seriously?", he checks, eyes all round and alert.

"Yup", you confirm.

Knowing of three items already, he thinks hard. Much harder than he ever has before, his eyes fixed on your breasts, trying to ascertain what else might be hiding under your clothing, even working up a light sweat near his temple which makes you giggle.

Steve's making it out to be some sort of life or death deal and honestly, you liked how seriously he was taking this, showing you how much and how badly he wants to get a peek under your sweater.

"C'mon Harrington. Don't wanna be out here all day you know", you chide after another minute ticks by.

"Okay...five?"

Reaching inside, out comes the lighter, the gum and the money again, his eyes still hopeful when you fish out your apartment key followed by a tube of lip balm only for his face to crumble when you finally pull out a spare hair tie.

So close. He'd been so damn close as a really pitiful look of defeat spills over his face.

"Okay, so what to you want from me?", he groans, ever the sore loser.

You might have won but you don't feel any thrill in having done so. If you were being completely honest, you weren't exactly mad at the thought of Steve winning. In fact, you'd quietly hoped for him to do so just to see what he might have asked of you.

Well, you've got a pretty good guess as to what it might be.

Boobies, of course.

You didn't have to. You really didn't have to but the sight of him like this makes you feel oddly compelled to reward him anyway. Anything to wipe that dour look on his face.

Reaching round, you watch Steve's perplexed face with glee as you unclasp your bra and pull it out through your sleeve so seamlessly, winking at him before picking up the hem of your shirt and lifting it up to let him see your breasts bounce free and bare.

"Your undivided attention", you grin at his cherry red face, knowing full well this wouldn't be the last time you let him see them.