#Keyed Entry Set

[cult-of-the-eye]

Ok so I think the reason why I'm finding tmagp creepier than tma is the fact that I can so easily imagine someone going insane over terrible IT

[miscgallery]

[Day 4: AU] a close call!

(bonus doodles and context under cut)

peaky are sort-of "robin hood" characters who are rich themselves, but don secret identities to target corrupt politicians, government officials, and billionaires when the law fails to punish them. most of what they do is dig up dirt on their chosen target and bring it to light for the general public.

one of their targets had invited esora (current ceo of the shimizu group) to a mansion party. they decided that this would be a good opportunity to gather more intel and do a little snooping around the mansion.

esora attends the party proper with yuka as her "bodyguard". things are going well until the power goes out and a gun is shot. the room immediately dissolves into a panic, and yuka scoops esora up before making an emergency exit through one of the massive windows. kyoko and shinobu throw out a rope ladder and yuka grabs it at the last second before they make their escape.

[namegoeshere12]

so the superawakening passives got datamined. You need 5/5 and then some to get to them. They're all really busted and make many a unit much more usable, but the highlight for me is this one:

Gloria (Alt. 2) can summon Fighting Zone. This will be the first time that Fighting Zone is not limited to a Master Fair unit (Sygna Suit Aura Cynthia, Neo Champion Hop).

[redwing4life]

Home Cooked Meal

CHAPTER 4 | ASHES TO EMBERS

can be read as a stand alone :)

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbour!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut (finally) - dirty talk, pet names, oral f and m receiving, fingering, tit play, praise kink, hand kink?, ball play, hair pulling, unprotected PinV sex, aftercare, reader and bucky have dinner, swearing, fluff, let me know if i missed anything!

SUMMARY: You surprise Bucky with a home cooked meal after his shift, and it’s the best damn thing he’s had in years. The pasta was pretty good too.

WORD COUNT: 10550 (ngl i rechecked this three times cuz i didn’t think i wrote this much but turns out i did in fact write over 10k words im sorry lmao)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER // NEXT CHAPTER

Call me when you get home x

Your text still sits on Bucky’s lock screen, read but not opened, as he gets changed out of his work clothes.

It’s fair to say that the message intrigued him when he first read it half an hour ago, just before he left the firehouse. His legs sped up your building stairwell faster than normal, desperate to find out why you’re awaiting his call.

Knowing you would have said so if you were in immediate danger, Bucky sifts through the multitude of possibilities that await him on the other side of the ring tone; none of which ease the butterflies in his stomach.

He walks to his kitchen, phone in hand, to get a glass of orange juice. Pulling up your contact page, he presses ‘call’ and grabs the carton of juice from the fridge door.

You answer after just one ring, eager to hear his voice.

“Hey, Barnes!” God, Bucky loves your voice.

“Doll.” His voice is soft, tone rising at the end with curiosity. “You asked me to call, what’s up?”

The firefighter swoons at the adorable giggle you let out, the sound distant from the mic as though you’ve tried to hide it. “I was worried you didn’t see my text.” You admit.

Bucky pictures you biting your lip anxiously, an accurate prediction for your current state.

“What are you doing right now?”

Glancing down at the yet-to-be-filled glass in front of him, Bucky leans a hand against the kitchen island. “Just about to get a drink, what are-“

“Don’t!” You cut in. “Don’t get a drink, I need you to come over.”

“What, now? What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, James. Just come knock, okay? I’ll see you in a minute!”

And with that, the call cuts off with a dull beep; Bucky brings the phone down from his ear and stares at it in confusion. You’re being weird, never having hung up on him like that before.

Alpine meows from above the fridge, drawing her owner’s attention away from the phone, only to tilt her head at him.

Even Alps is confused.

Deciding to just do what you told, Bucky slips his phone into the pocket of his dark jeans, returns the orange juice to the fridge and sets off for the front door. He finds himself checking over his appearance in the entry way mirror, eyes scanning over his outfit before he smooths out his hair.

Although he won’t admit it, Bucky’s spent a lot more time in front of that mirror lately; checking his collar isn’t twisted, his hair isn’t too messy and there’s nothing stuck in his teeth. The need to look good, to look good for you, hasn’t gone unnoticed by his colleagues.

He considers using the spare key you gave him and letting himself into your apartment but shakes the thought away.

She asked you to knock, Bucky. Not break in.

With one final nod in the mirror, Bucky leaves his apartment, stepping into the hallway he’s spent so many mornings and nights in with you.

Old jazz music greets his ears when he approaches your door, the soft melody sneaking through the cracks of the door frame. Bucky smiles to himself at the thought of you dancing in your kitchen, heart warming when he notices your humming.

Knocking thrice, the firefighter steps back and nervously stuffs his hands into his pockets. You always make him nervous, those darn butterflies stirring in his stomach whenever he’s about to see you. And when he does see you. Actually, they’re there even when he imagines seeing you.

He takes a breath when he hears you shuffling up to the door, but nothing could prepare him for the sight when it swings open.

Rusty red fabric flows from your neckline to the middle of your thighs, small flowers dotted over the slightly orange colour. Two thin straps perched on your shoulders leave plenty of skin on show as your usual sun-pendant necklace sits between the v-neck of your dress. Which, by the way, perfectly presents the soft swell of your breasts.

It takes everything Bucky has to not drool at his breathtaking neighbour, but it takes even more to not dive on you and finally taste those pink lips.

Your skin is ablaze beneath his eyes and you revel in his reaction, the exact response you wanted when you pulled on the dress two hours ago.

“We’re matching.” You grin, taking a moment to enjoy Bucky’s red henley.

“It’s almost like we planned it.” A chuckle escapes him, eyes trailing up from your thighs to meet yours.

“Speaking of plans,” You reach out to pull Bucky closer, tugging his forearms until he pulls his hands out of his pockets, “I have a surprise for you.”

Is it letting me look at you in that dress all evening? Your neighbour thinks - hopes - as you lead him into your apartment.

Closing the door behind him, you take his hand in yours once more to guide him to your little kitchen/diner area. If you weren’t looking ahead, you’d see Bucky’s cheeks flushed pink at your touch. Seeing your hand encompassed with his own will never fail to drive him crazy.

When he eventually looks up from your joined hands, he’s stunned to a halt. You turn back to him when you feel him plant his feet and your features twist into a nervous expression.

“I- Doll, what is all this?” The firefighters eyes are wide at your ‘surprise’.

Your small dining table is set up for two; cream place mats lay beneath charcoal gray pasta dishes with wine glasses sitting at their corners. There’s even a little vase with pink and yellow tulips in between the two spaces.

“Well, remember that time when you told me you haven’t had a proper home cooked meal in years?” You watch Bucky closely as you speak, waiting for some sign of approval.

“You mean this morning?” He turns to you in wonder, thinking back to your conversation as he gave you a lift to the cafe. “I don’t know what to say, doll.”

You roll back on your heels, hands scrunching your dress at your sides. “Is it okay? I know it’s a little cheesy and it’s last minute but I thought it would be a nice surprise for you after working all day. I mean, it’s not exactly at your home but it’s pretty cl-“

Bucky takes two long strides towards you and brings his hands to cup your cheeks; your words die on your tongue when he looks down at you with tender eyes.

“It’s perfect, Y/n.” He smiles, stroking his thumb over your cheek bone. “You could feed me Alpine’s food and i’d still bow at your feet, sweets.”

Now you’re the one blushing. You heart skips when Bucky’s eyes drop to your lips with hunger in his gaze.

“Always so good to me, aren’t ya?” His words tempt a whimper from deep within you, a submissive whine held back by the last of your restraint.

“Well-“

The oven beeps, its sharp tone darting between your bodies and making you step back from Bucky’s hold.

“Uhh” Your mind is all over the place as the firefighter watches you with amusement, “I- I should, I mean- the pasta must be-“

“Go, doll.” Bucky shakes his head laughing quietly.

Your dress sways as you spin away to the stove, stirring various pots and tidying up the counters. Your neighbour watches you in awe, unashamedly enjoying the view; you just look so goddamn sexy in that cute little dress while you cook for him. He wishes he could come home to this every night.

“You need a hand with anything, doll?” Bucky’s voice sounds from behind you.

“Actually, yeah!” You glance over your shoulder. “Come here.”

If you keep bossing him about, Bucky’s gonna struggle not to tear that sweet little sundress right off you.

Settling in at your side, Bucky cocks his head. “What d’ya need?”

You scoop some of the creamy tomato sauce onto a spoon and bring it to Bucky’s lips. “Try this for me.”

With bated breath, you watch his full lips wrap around the end of the spoon, his eyes bearing into yours as he drags the sauce into his mouth.

Bucky has no business looking as dirty as he does in this moment; you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows before his tongue juts out to catch a few missed drops. And just when you thought your panties would survive the sight, a moan ripples from his throat and you clench around nothing at the sound.

“Good?” You murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice when you cross your legs.

He notices.

“Delicious,” Bucky takes the spoon from your hand and stretches across you to place it back in the pan, his right hand brushing against the small of your back, “you did great, sweets.”

Fuck. Me.

You regather your composure and ask Bucky to get the wine from the fridge. He pours you both a glass, setting them back on the dining table gently before returning the bottle to its home.

“Hey, could you bring the bowls over, please?” You call over your shoulder.

You plate up the sauce coated pasta while Bucky places the dirty pans in the sink, both working around each other like a fine tuned machine.

Before you can do it yourself, Bucky is picking up the bowls and laying them on the place mats, winking at you as he does so. He pulls your chair out for you, nodding for you to join him.

“For you, Madame.” He jokes, allowing you to sit down while tucking you in.

You watch him round the table and take his own seat. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

Bucky grins at you. The orange glow of sunset shines through your windows, catching your features with grace. Your eyes shine beneath the light and Bucky can’t help but find you angelic.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I don’t know if I said that earlier but, god, you look stunning tonight.”

Dropping your head, you play with the hem of your dress shyly. Your hair falls into your face, forcing you to push it behind your ears, though Bucky wishes he was close enough to do it himself.

With rose tinted cheeks, you look up at Bucky through your lashes. “You say that to all your neighbours, Barnes?” You raise a brow with your teasing voice.

Bucky throws his head back and laughs heartily, a sound you’ve come to adore.

“Only the ones who cook for me.” He winks.

“Doesn’t Ms Scott bring you pies every couple weeks?”

“And I tell her she looks ravishing every time.”

You giggle and tell Bucky to dig in, though you could happily sit and talk all night. While you both stop every now and then for a forkful of food, conversation bounces between you as it always does.

Tonight isn’t much different to a typical evening with the firefighter next door; usually you share some snacks and beers, cozying up on the couch as you watch tv. It’s become ritual for you to send Bucky a video of you playing the piano each evening, his phone playing the video on loop as he sleeps. It’s strange, but the music creeps into his dreams and keeps them peaceful, keeps him away from that burning building.

It’s been a few weeks since the night he was sent home early. Both you and Bucky felt a shift that night; waking up in his arms left you craving more, though you’ve yet to tell him as much. You left him sleeping peacefully that morning when you left for work with only a couple hours of sleep under your belt.

Bucky hated waking up to find the other side of his bed empty, no longer feeling your heat. The note you left him eased the disappointment slightly, your neat handwriting promising to come back in your breaks. Neither of you have addressed how right it felt to sleep beside each other that night, despite spending all of your free time together with unspoken words hanging over you.

Instead, you dance around each other like two ghosts doomed to never touch. The bond between you is stronger than any you’ve ever had, the magnetic lure undeniable for you both.

Your glasses have been emptied and refilled twice now - dinner long since been finished - and you’re starting to feel the buzz; those butterflies in your stomach have turned into a swarm of confidence, your brain taking a backseat from its usual overthinking.

“You expect me to believe that you broke down the door before Sam could? The same guy who beat you at your physical a few weeks back?” You tease the brunette, a challenging brow raised at his rather unimpressed face.

“What are you trying to say there, doll?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches when you tilt your head slightly, eyes shining with amusement beneath the exposed hanging light bulbs.

“Nothing to worry your cute little head about.” You watch Bucky relax into his chair slightly as you reach for your glass with a smirk. “Just that I doubt Sam has any difficulty kicking a door down, not with the way he’s built.”

The scoff to end all scoffs ripples from your neighbours throat; his bright blue orbs glare into you and his features twist into a scowl. Oh if looks could kill…

Bucky’s tone is flat, “Didn’t know you were such an admirer of Wilson’s build, Y/n.”

The lack of a pet name sends your confidence wavering, but not enough to keep you from having a little fun.

“Well, you know,” You bring the glass to your lips, “he’s hardly difficult to miss.”

Watching the deep ruby liquid pass over your lips, Bucky fights to hide the fury that’s flooding his veins, forced to look away from your smug grin.

He knows, he knows, that you’re lying through your teeth, trying to get a rise out of his usually impenetrable facade, and yet he can’t help but feel jealous.

Bucky’s painfully aware that he has no right to feel so possessive, not when he lays no claim to you. But the twist of his stomach is proof that he doesn’t much care.

“Maybe I should just give you his number and you can cook him a meal next time.” Bucky grumbles.

“Oh, that’s alright, I already have his number.”

You’ve never seen Bucky’s head snap up as quickly as it just did, his gaze pinning you to your spot.

“You what?”

Gently, you place your glass back on the table. “Yeah, Steve gave him my number last week so he could get in touch.”

The fire in those blue eyes burns brighter with each word, his body so still that his chest is barely moving when he breathes. In fact, you’re not even sure if he is breathing. Hell, he’s not even sure if he’s breathing.

“Is that right?” Bucky’s gruff voice is laced with possessiveness, the low tone travelling straight to your panties till you swear you feel yourself throb. You wonder briefly if you have a jealousy kink and the sweet arousal dripping from your cunt only confirms your suspicions.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, “In fact, i’m going out for coffee with him next week.”

“Huh.”

Bucky’s chair screeches against the hardwood floor as he pushes himself back. You follow his movements with amused eyes when he stands up and grabs your plates before storming to the kitchen. You twist in your chair, watching him place the dishes in the sink and flick on the tap.

“James, what are you doing?” You ask.

“What does it look like i’m doing?” Oh he’s grumpy, grumpy.

Bucky’s shoulders are tense beneath his tight henley, his sleeves now rolled up as he starts scrubbing at the plates. It’s quiet while he concentrates on his work, only accompanied by the music still flowing from your speaker.

From the corner of his eye, the firefighter sees you rise from your chair, ears honed in on the sound of your feet pattering towards him.

It’s now hard for Bucky to focus on anything but your breath on his neck, goosebumps littered across his skin like a rash. You stand right behind him, tracing your fingers up from the small of his back; Bucky’s muscles tense momentarily before melting at your touch, just like always.

“Ask me why i’m seeing Sam next week.” You order, hands still roaming the taut fabric on Bucky’s back. The command makes him pause and clench his eyes shut. Why are you making him talk about this when it’s tearing him apart?

The brunette turns in your hold but you don’t release him, instead settling your hands on his waist.

“Why are you seeing him, doll?” Bucky sounds despondent, brows furrowed in confusion as he looks down at you.

“He asked me to teach his nephews to play the piano, Buck. I’m meeting him and the boys on Wednesday, Sarah too.”

A shocked ‘What’ tumbles from his lips as the information sinks in, his frown slowly falling away as he processes your words.

“Yeah…” You grin, though it’s more like a smirk, content with yourself proving he was jealous.

In a desperate attempt to save his ego, Bucky rolls his eyes playfully. “I knew you weren’t really attracted to that dumbass.”

You scoff and pat his chest lightly. “Sure you did, Barnes. Now scoot, you wash ‘em, i’ll dry ‘em.”

With his hands on his hips, he stays still as you nudge your way to his side, stretching to the window sill where your dish towels lay. Bucky’s never been in this position before, it’s always him who’s teasing you; this is new territory for him and it irks him that you riled him up so easily.

Once he shakes his head clear, the firefighter returns to face the sink and starts washing the dishes again. You wait patiently while he works, humming along to whichever song is playing.

“You like the old stuff, huh doll?” Bucky grins warmly at the slight sway of your hips, your radiance beaming like a lantern.

You giggle sheepishly and bite your lip, unknowingly sending Bucky spiralling. “I thought it was fitting for tonight, really leaning into the whole ‘housewife’ role.”

He raises a brow, “Does that make me your doting husband then, sweets?”

Realising what you said, your cheeks heat up instantly and your eyes widen. You attempt to backtrack but your words stumble over one another as though you’re a little school girl.

Bucky, however, is basking in the familiarity of control; your rosy cheeks never fail to bring a smile to his face, and boy is he beaming right now.

“I meant- It’s- You know what I meant, James.” You shoot daggers at him, though the idea of being married to your neighbour sends your heart into overdrive.

That swoon-worthy laugh greets your ears with haste, Bucky’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his chest reverberates with its force. It’s impossible to bite back the grin that’s fighting its way onto your lips.

Small tendrils of chestnut hair tumble from behind his ears, begging to be pushed back, but the buzz from the wine has dulled and you can’t find the confidence to do it, no matter how much Bucky’s eyes are pleading you to.

“You know, it’s sweet of you to teach the boys how to play.” He looks at you in adoration, the image of you spending time with Sam’s nephews triggering a warmth to spread in his chest.

A breathy laugh escapes you as your gaze falls to the kitchen counter. You blush at the compliment and slowly start drying the dishes again.

“Do you spend much time with them?” You ask with a brief glance his way.

Bucky shrugs, “Yeah, Sarah is always throwing barbecues for the squad. They’re good kids, and I bet they’ll love you!”

“Oh God, I hope so. I’ve never taught before and i’m scared they’ll hate me and i’ll destroy their dreams and-” You ramble away without noticing the frown tugging at your neighbours brows.

“Teach me.”

Huh?

“What?” You freeze.

“You said you’ve never taught before,” Bucky steps closer to you, his cologne swarming around you like a warm hug, “so practise on me. Teach me something.”

You almost laugh at his words, mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that he’s joking. But Bucky doesn’t move, his blue eyes study your own, body so still that you fail to conjure a laugh. He’s not joking.

Hesitation is written across your features, drawing a single shake of Bucky’s head. “Come on, sweets. Please? For me?” He pleads.

“Okay.”

It’s scary how quickly you succumb to Bucky’s wishes; you fear you’d do awful things if only he asked and you’d even do it with a smile. You’re so doomed.

With a triumphant grin, Bucky plucks the dish cloth and plate from your grasp and carefully places them on the sink’s edge, before taking your hand in his and guiding you to your piano.

Nerves prickling beneath your skin, you trail behind him and silently revel in his touch. It’s hard to not stare at his perfect body as you stumble around furniture, the sharp muscles of his shoulders rippling as he tugs you with him. Flicking off the speaker on the way, you fall onto the small piano stool beside Bucky, and with such little room, your left thigh is pressed up against his. The solid curve of his muscles prod into your flesh and yet despite the fluttering it causes in your stomach, you’re far more focused on his hands.

From the bulge of his toned biceps to the trail of prominent veins in his forearms, your eyes drag down Bucky’s arms till you pause at the sight of his large hands. They lay spread across the span of his thighs, his right pinky finger mere atoms away from your exposed skin where your dress has ridden up. You find yourself craving the sparks that alight with his touch, so you adjust your position to make sure your leg brushes against his hand.

It certainly hasn’t gone amiss to the firefighter that you’ve taken a liking to his hands. Sure, he’s caught you staring at them before, but the hunger in your gaze right now is greater than ever.

The corner of Bucky’s lip turns up into a smirk as he reaches for your hands once more, lifting them to rest on the ivory keys of your piano.

“Wanna hear you play me something before you give me a lesson.” He admits, his words more of a demand than a question.

When you fail to respond, still caught up in scanning the crevices of his calloused hands, Bucky nudges your shoulder.

You shake your head with a dazed frown, “Huh?”

A playful chuckle falls from his pink lips, “I said play me something, sweets, before you start teachin’ me.”

You giggle sheepishly, sighing an ‘Oh’ before you gather your thoughts. Bucky returns his hands to his lap - a movement you struggle to ignore - giving you free rein of the instrument.

Running through some songs you could teach him, you settle for one of your favourites, or more accurately, one of Bucky’s favourites. The cool surface of the keys is harsh beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the Bucky-induced-heat flushing through your veins, hands stretching into place as you prepare the opening chords.

Rhythmic tones swarm around the two of you as you begin playing, masterfully dancing across the keys like it’s a second language. Your graceful motions always bring Bucky to a halt as you entrap him in your art.

He recognises the song straight away, lips turning up at the sweet melody. You didn’t even have to ask to know what he wanted to hear, you just knew. Bucky’s head feels light at the sight before him. A knowing grin has settled on your soft lips, your body ever so lightly swaying to the music, clearly getting lost the sounds.

It’s impossible not to feel the adoring stare of your neighbour, no matter how hard you try to ignore it. Warmth is pooling in the depths of your heart where it feels like you’re bleeding out, your love for Bucky forcing out the blood till the only thing circulating through your veins is him. No longer able to cope with the feelings swarming within you, your fingers abruptly stop mid song before you turn to look up at the firefighter.

“Okay, your go.” You state, but when Bucky raises a bemused brow your way, you continue to instruct him. “Come on. You’re gonna do the left hand, I’ll do the right.”

“Yes Ma’am!” Bucky chimes with a mock salute, earning him a glare.

It takes a few tries to move his fingers into the correct positions, both because he’s apparently wholeheartedly incapable of doing what you say but also because you may or may not zone out every time the veins of his hands stick out as he moves. But it’s still entirely his fault though. Entirely. ‘Maybe like 98% his fault. That’s seems fair.’ You think.

“There you go!” You cheer when the firefighter successfully plays the right notes in tandem.

“Would you look at that, not so useless after all.” Bucky winks at you and you blush lightly.

Glancing at him hopefully, you ask him to play the first chord you taught him.

“Oh, umm-“ He stutters, fingers flailing about and pressing random keys in search of the right pattern.

“Here, let me…” You chuckle sweetly at how utterly lost he looks and move to help him.

Leaning forward, you drag Bucky’s fingers over the ridges of ivorite, slowly placing them on the correct keys. You feel his lust-filled eyes trained on your face while you work, though it’s getting harder and harder to focus under his stare.

A frown tugs at your brows when your mind goes blank as to where Bucky needs to put his left hand, his still-wandering gaze burning into you and spreading to your cunt faster than you care to admit.

Of course, Bucky notices your breath quickening, chest stumbling up and down with shaky pants. His proximity is intoxicating and the will to fight it is slowly slipping past you, fingers itching to trace up Bucky’s thick arms to his neck so you can finally pull his lips to yours.

Bucky reads every inch of your skin like he’s studying for an exam. From the clench of your jaw to your eyes fluttering shut, he knows that he’s winning this tussle for control.

“Bucky…” You breathe, the wavering sigh rolling from your tongue like a stray secret.

“Yes, doll?” Bucky smirks with glinting eyes and you bite back a whimper.

Opening your eyes, you keep them trained on where yours rest on his. “I can’t focus with you looking at me like that.”

Bucky knows exactly what you mean but he can’t help but toy with you. “Like what?” He cocks his head with faux innocence that fools no one.

You turn to look up at the firefighter, eyes meeting his half lidded ones, the blue of his eyes barely visible behind his lust-blown pupils but the blue you can see is so impossible dark that you wonder if they were ever light in the first place.

Taking a breath, you wet your lips so briefly that Bucky nearly misses it. Nearly. “Like you want to kiss me.” You say, barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” Bucky sighs, leaning in closer, “I want to do much more than that.”

Your body is alight with need. Craving his touch, a breach of the barrier between you, you practically whine your reply. “Then why are you just staring?”

“Well, I wanna remember you like this; sweet, angelic, so perfect in your little sundress.“

With the back of his hand, Bucky nudges the hem of your dress higher till his whole hand is spread against your thigh. You quash the aching desire to glance at where your bodies meet and lock your eyes on Bucky’s, whose lips are turned into a knowing smirk.

“Gotta savour it while I can.” He says as he pushes his palm further to your inner thigh, his pinky finger mere inches from your heat.

“Why?” You ask, heart racing.

It dawns on you that you may actually pass out when the firefighter leans in close to you, nose pushing your hair aside to expose the soft skin of your neck which now sits defenceless to his advances. The heat of his breath is electrifying, lips nearing your pulse point eagerly.

Bucky’s lips ghost over your skin as he explains, “Cause once I’ve had my way with you, you’re gonna be a hot fucking mess, sweets.”

A breathy moan tumbles from the depths of you chest at the crude insinuations of his words; your eyes flutter shut, an unintentional reaction that you’re grateful for as it hides the way your pupils roll to the back of your head.

Through the dark span of your eyelids, you picture exactly how Bucky will make you a hot fucking mess. Spread legs with his tongue delving through your folds, back arched as he pounds into your pussy with vigour, his hands guiding your hips back to meet his as he fucks you from behind. The images bear too much for you yet you can’t stop picturing the salacious scenes, not when your neighbour is pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

“James…” You sigh, voice carrying the weight of a thousand pleas.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

Nodding your head desperately, you whine, unable to form any words beneath his sinful tongue.

“Words, doll.” Bucky says, lips hovering over your ear. He’s struggling to hold back but can’t let himself touch you the way he wants to until he hears you spell it out for him.

Turning your head slowly, you peer at Bucky with half-lidded eyes and a slack-jaw. “I want you, James. Please.”

That’s all it takes to disintegrate the final remnants of the firefighter’s self-control before his full lips meet your own with a hunger that’s been brewing for months.

Bucky’s lips glide across yours, slotting between your own so easily it’s got you believing this is not your first kiss. It’s soft and sweet but so goddamn sensual that you can’t help but moan into his mouth, the now open gap giving him the perfect chance to slide his tongue inside.

You bring your hands up Bucky’s body and rest them on his neck, fingers tentatively feeding through the hair at the nape of his neck while you jostle for control of the kiss.

Forced to pull back for breath, you take a peek only to find those strikingly blue eyes already on yours.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky whispers, “you don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“Probably not as long as I have.” You scoff.

“Then let me make up for lost time.”

“Wait, what do y-“

Within moments, Bucky is lifting your legs over the bench and is knelt between them, his large hands teasing the hem of your dress as he keeps your thighs spread apart.

Your mouth is agape with surprise while you grab onto the piano behind you for stability, a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins. And as if he can read your anxious thoughts, Bucky looks up at you with the most sincere expression across his soft features.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, despite the deep desire shining in his eyes. He wants you more than anything, but he needs to know you want him too.

It’s an easy answer and you’re shaking your head faster than you care to admit, but the memory of Bucky’s prior words flash through your mind and you still just as quick.

“No.”

Watching intently as he runs a hand from your ankle up to your knee, the firefighter rolls his bottom lip between his teeth when your breath hitches.

“Then promise me you’ll tell me if that changes?” Bucky asks.

You reach down and run your fingers through his chestnut locks, tucking the few loose strands behind his ear.

“I promise.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweets.”

A hearty laugh reverberates through you, but you’re quickly silenced by Bucky’s lips on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He kisses his way up to your heat, slowly pushing your dress higher and higher till the only thing between you and his mouth is the crimson lace panties covering your mound.

A sound you can only describe as a growl ripples through the room and you glance down at your neighbour to find him practically drooling at the sight of you. But then his eyes are on yours, his hungry, half-lidded eyes, and he’s tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Your breathing becomes laboured at his touch, your body, your mind, all of you at his mercy.

“Bucky, please…”

“Ah ah ah-“ The firefighter tuts, “-since when do you call me Bucky?”

You frown, back arching slightly in search of some friction on your core, too aroused to process his words properly.

“Look at me, Y/n.”

The stern nature of his tone lures your eyes to his once more. “What?” You ask, confused.

“I haven’t spent months goin’ crazy listening to you use my name only to have you call me Bucky when I’m finally between your legs.”

The throb of your pussy spurs you on and you tilt your head teasingly. “Touch me, James.” You say, and he obeys.

Bucky glides his hands up to your hips and drags your panties lower and lower, his lips chasing the lace till there’s no where left to kiss but your slick folds.

He hovers over your heat with bated breath before forcing himself to close his eyes and ask if you’re still okay with this.

“More than okay, James.” You answer truthfully.

“Good, cause I’m fucking starvin’.”

You feel his mouth on your pussy before you’ve even processed his words, tongue delving between your folds like he really is starving and you didn’t just feed him the best dinner he’s had in years. Though something tells him that title is about to be beaten the second you cum all over his face.

Your mouth curves into an ‘o’, the most pornographic of moans escaping you at the sinful sounds of Bucky’s mouth on your cunt. Drowning in increasingly intense waves of pleasure, your senses are dialled up to the max; with every flick of his tongue and suck on your clit, you find yourself falling deeper in your arousal. It becomes impossible to listen to anything Bucky’s telling you.

“Y’taste so sweet, doll.”

“Doing so good for me, aren’t ya? My good girl.”

“Let me hear you, doll, need to hear how good you feel.”

Whether it’s praises or orders, there’s no chance in hell of you understanding a word that falls from his lips, though Bucky doesn’t mind. The clench of your soft thighs around his head tells him all he needs to know - that even if your heads not fulling comprehending him, your body is. And the sheer amount of slick glistening across your cunt is enough for him to know that you’re ready for more.

The sensation of Bucky’s finger tracing along your pussy lips sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your hips lifting off the stool.

“James- oh fuck-“

Words die on your tongue when Bucky eases a finger inside you. White hot pleasure builds at your core, burning the last remnants of your self control, its embers coaxing a near-scream out of you.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweets. That’s- shit you’re so tight, pussy’s squeezing me and it’s just one finger.”

You mewl and squirm beneath him.

“How you gonna handle two of ‘em, doll?”

Bucky’s mesmerised at the sight of his finger gliding in and out of you, drenched in your sweet juices, too beautiful of a sight for him to give up by eating you out. But when you groan at the suggestion of two fingers, he drags his gaze upwards and is greeted with a view that’s evening better.

You, draped against the piano, head tilted back and brows drawn together while uneven sighs tumble from your swollen lips. God, you look heavenly, Bucky thinks. He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud, but it makes little difference seeing as you’re rather preoccupied with the thought of Bucky fucking another finger inside you.

“James?” You call, reaching down to cover your left hand around the one at your sex, the other tugging on his hair.

“Yeah? Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?” He panics, thinking you’ve grabbed his hand to stop him.

Instead, you look him in the eye and say “Are you gunna fuck another finger inside of me or what?”

An awe-inspired grin spreads across Bucky’s face at your question. He keeps his blue orbs on yours while he presses a kiss to your clit and pushes himself higher till he’s inches from your face.

He rests a hand against the piano, caging you in and says, “Anything for my girl.” before a second digit joins his first.

The stretch knocks the wind out of your chest but Bucky hardly gives you any time to adjust, his fingers pumping in and out of you even faster than before. His palm slaps against your bundle of nerves with every thrust, the force riding to your chest where your tits bounce in rhythm.

“So damn beautiful…” The firefighter says.

You look up at him through your lashes and pull his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. With clashing teeth, the wet slapping sounds only feeds into the moment and Bucky’s suddenly very aware of the tightness in his jeans.

With each passing second, the cord in your stomach is getting so close to snapping that your mouth isn’t even moving against Bucky’s anymore.

“Fuck, James, I’m- I-“

“Shh, I know.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You gonna cum all over my fingers, doll? Gonna let me see you fall apart?”

You nod feverishly.

“Good girl, now let go for me.”

That’s all it takes for the damn to break loose and the fiercest orgasm of your life to rack through your body. It reaches every part of you, all the cracks and crevices you never thought could be touched, yet here you are, feeling every inch of yourself set on fire.

“That’s it, doll, that’s it.” Bucky comforts you while you lay victim to the aftershocks of his work, slowing the thrust of his fingers till your breathing evens and he moves to gently circling your sensitive clit.

“Holy shit…” You sigh, a satisfied and totally fucked-out grin playing across your lips.

Noticing how your hazy your eyes still are, Bucky smiles to himself while pressing loving kisses on your forehead.

“You did real good for me, sweetheart.” He listens to you hum beneath him as he moves to kiss your temple. “Y’look so pretty when you cum, you know that? Even prettier than I imagined.”

You twist in your seat to face your neighbour. “You’ve imagined this too?”

“Every night, doll.”

“Huh…”

Though Bucky’s eyes remain fixed on yours, it’s obvious that his mind has slipped away; he’s now clouded by memories of his x-rated dreams, ones that have ended with him pumping his embarrassingly hard length into his fist one too many times, and his cock twitches in his ever-tightening pants. You notice the movement at his crotch and, emboldened by his confession and the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you decide to take back some control.

“What have you pictured doing to me, James?” Your tone is so sweet, so innocent, that it takes a moment for your words to register in his brain. But when it does, boy, does a fresh wave of blood rush to his cock.

“You sure you wanna know? Cuz it ain’t all sweet and innocent.” He warns.

You say nothing and let your actions do all the talking; you slide a hand down to meet his left, the one still nestled between your sticky thighs, and tug it away from your cunt. With your eyes locked on his, you raise Bucky’s cum coated fingers to your mouth, slowly wrapping your lips around them and sucking your sweetness away. Making sure to give the firefighter a show, you swirl your tongue around his fingers before taking them as deep as you can, a knowing look in your eyes when you notice Bucky clenching his jaw.

After releasing his fingers from your swollen red lips, you press a kiss to the palm of his hand. “Tell me.”

What you can only describe as a growl rises from the back of Bucky’s throat and before you know it, you’re being carried to your bedroom, legs bound tightly around his waist while your arms wrap loosely around his neck.

He sits down on the edge of the bed; hands resting on your hips and edging lower to your ass, his fingers grip the supple flesh to keep you in place.

His force on your hips is pushing you down on his ample bulge, sparking a flash of pleasure straight up your spine that escapes you with a moan. Bucky chuckles softly with a sinful grin as you tilt your head back at the feeling.

“You wanna know what I’ve imagined us doing, doll?” The firefighter grabs your chin to bring your attention back to him. He runs the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, tugging on it and letting it bounce back into place.

“I’ve pictured us just like this.” He drops his hand to your neck, tracing the curve of your collar bone till it meets the strap of your sundress. “You, naked and beautiful as ever, riding my cock like I know you can.”

You gasp lightly when he tugs your strap till it’s tumbling off your shoulder.

“And you’re telling me just how full you are, how stretched your little pussy is around me, choking my cock like a damn vice.”

Bucky’s filthy words send your hips into motion without warning; you grind your bare cunt over his crotch, the tent in his pants settling between your slick folds till his shaft is enveloped with your warmth.

“Does that sound good, doll? To have my cock buried inside you when you bounce on it? Fuck, I bet your cunt is dripping for me again,”

“It never stopped, James.” You whimper, your sensitive clit sending jolts up your frame as Bucky guides your hips over his.

“That’s right, you’re never gonna use anything else to cum ever again. You got me now, doll. I’m all you need. Me, my cock, I’m gonna ruin everyone else for you.”

You don’t even notice that Bucky’s hands are on the zip at your back, slowly pulling it down till the fabric are your chest goes slack, and with the straps already draped over your shoulders, the flowing material cascades around you, tumbling to your hips and leaving you defenseless to Bucky’s insatiable blue eyes.

“Fuck me, sweets, you’re- god- you’re perfect.” He leans in and kisses your collarbone. “So,” kiss, “So,” kiss, “perfect.”

Your eyes flutter shut, lost in the feeling of his touch, and Bucky smirks when he sees you. He teases a hand up your soft skin till it sits just beneath your tit, daring to reach up and play with you in the ways he’s always dreamt of.

“Is this okay?” He asks, earning an even more passionate grind of your hips as you push your chest closer to his open mouth.

He chuckles, “Needy, aren’t ya, sweets?”

You whine.

“Hmm, lucky for you, this is exactly what I imagined doing to you, what I’ve dreamt of for months…”

His lips wrap around your hardened nipple with haste, the warmth of his mouth a welcome sensation. He sucks at the sensitive nub, this tongue reaching out to soothe you afterwards. You throw your head back and moan loudly.

The sound of bucky loudly licking and sucking on your tits is driving you crazy, to the point where your hips are stuttering over his, practically drowning in the feeling till you have no control over your movements.

“God, I love your tits. Wanna act out every dream I’ve ever had of you. Fucking your tits, your throat, your cunt, anywhere you’ll let me, doll, please. I’ve needed you for so long.”

You blush at the word love, surpressing the hope that is stirring at the possibility that your tits aren’t the only thing he loves. Has he really wanted this as long as me? You wonder, picturing everything he just revealed he’s been wanting.

“M’So fuckin’ hard for you sweetheart, I know you can feel me. Dick’s throbbing, doll, it’s s’hard it hurts.”

You pull at his hair so he’s looking up at you again and capture his lips in yours.

“I wanna see you, Bucky…”

He groans and reaches for the hem of his shirt which he waists no time in tearing off. Your chest rises and falls heavier than before, eyes raking his physique just like you had that night he was leaving the shower at his place.

You trail a finger down his abs till it brushes the button of his jeans teasingly.

“All of you, James.” You look pointedly at his crotch. “May I?” You ask and when he nods, you climb off his lap and sink between his legs on the floor, you dress tumbling to the ground immediately.

Bucky’s abs tense as you work to undo the button, your hands tiny in comparison to his body. Next, you work the zipper up and over the bulge of his cock, the teeth desperate to come apart after being so constricted for so long. The two sides of denim snap away from the tent of his boxers, perfectly presenting where the firefighter so badly needs your touch.

He helps you kick off his jeans till the only thing between you is his boxers. You trace a finger up and down his shaft through the cotton, enjoying the sticky patch of pre cum leaking through the top.

“Have you ever imagined me sucking your cock, James?” You ask with half lidded eyes before kissing his covered shaft. “Cause I have.”

Bucky whimpers - whimpers - at your words, his hips snapping up to your face uncontrollably.

You begin to drag down his boxers, trailing kisses down down down, your lips greeting his tip when his cock flicks up against them before your eyes even get chance to glance at him.

Your eyes flutter shut at the salty taste on your lips, revelling in the breathy moans from your neighbour.

“Fuck- pl-please honey, I need your- argh- mouth around me!”

You make eye contact with him from your place on the floor and ask if he’s sure.

“More than anything.”

And with that, you take his thick length into your mouth, lips sealing around his angry pink cock head briefly when your trace your tongue over his slit, before gliding lower down his cock.

You take as much of him as you can, but you need time to warm up having never taken a cock as large as his before.

“You’re so big, baby.” You say as you pull off his shaft with a pop, “Biggest I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

A frustrated groan arises from the firefighter and you feel his hand on the back of your head, gently pushing you to his dick once more.

“Suck my cock, doll, just like we’ve both imagined, nice and deep, please.”

You take the base of his cock in your hands and guide his tip back to your lips.

“Atta girl,” Bucky encourages as you take him deeper and deeper.

He feels you relaxing your throat to take more of him and his balls clench at the feeling.

“Argh fuck, fuck, fuck. Good girl, oh my god, yes!”

His praises and curses cheer you on and you manage as much of him as you can, only an inch or so remaining that’s simply too thick to fit in your mouth. Lord knows how he’ll fit in your pussy, but you’re sure he’ll figure it out.

You bob your head on his length over and over till you’re in desperate need of air. You let your hands work your spit and his precum up and down his hard cock while you catch your breath and watch his beautiful face contort into one of extreme pleasure.

Your chest fills with pride at Bucky’s facial expressions; making him feel good is somehow more rewarding than anything you’ve done in your life and you find yourself content at the thought of spending the rest of your days pleasing him.

Bucky is oblivious to the gratified smile toying your lips and wholly unprepared for your next movement.

“Oh god- oh fuck, doll-” He groans, his breathing staggered and eyes clenched shut when you take his balls in your mouth, the skin sloppily wet from your work on his cock, and now enjoying the warmth of your mouth.

“Oh honey, do that again, felt so go- argh!” He’s interrupted by you tending to his sack once more, your tongue swirling around them and lightly sucking.

You moan around his pretty, swollen balls, the vibrations drawing a sigh of pleasure from your neighbour. The trimmed hair at the base of Bucky’s member is tickling your nose while you fight to taste every part of him.

With a final sharp suck, you release his balls with a small plop, plant a wet kiss on each and flatten you tongue to lick a bold stripe up his length. The tip of your muscle presses into the vein on the underside of his dick and Bucky thrusts upward, his hips bucking as he desperately searches for more.

As you ready yourself to glide his cock down your throat once more, you feel Bucky’s hand on your cheek, pulling you off him.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” You ask with a concerned frown, nervous that you’ve done something wrong to have Bucky stopping you. You wrap your hand around his forearm, the one outstretched to hold your hair, while the other remains enclosed around his cock.

“Nothin’ bad, sweets, it’s just that- fuck-“

You absentmindedly stroke your thumb over his girth, a motion you intend to be comforting but in reality, it just makes him throb even harder in your hands.

“-I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep using your pretty mouth like that.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

He laughs lightly and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Cause as hot as you’d look swallowing my load, I’d much rather cum inside that sweet pussy for our first time.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth before pecking a doting kiss to his forearm and letting Bucky pull you to your feet. His eyes follow yours till he’s looking up at you from his seated position, his hands falling to your hips with an awestruck face.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” His voice is barely above a whisper. You blush crimson.

“Get on the bed, doll.” He orders. “Lay on your back.”

You do as he says and once you’ve settled, he crawls on top of you. It’s quiet for a moment as Bucky stares lovingly down at you, burning the image into his memory to remind him he has everything he needs.

“I should have found the guts to do this months ago…” You murmur, pushing the fallen tendrils of chestnut hair behind his ear. He looks so goddamn perfect; the golden glow filtering through your window catching every feature you’ve spent so long dreaming about, and now he’s here, really here, and you can’t help but stroke his cheek with revere.

“We have now, doll. That’s enough for me.” Bucky whispers. “Are you comfortable?”

You nod, truthfully, both in terms of your position but also for what’s coming. But then his elbows bend out and he’s lowering himself onto you.

“How about now?”

There’s a gleam in his eye and a playful smirk on his lips as he watches your chest heave, your body taking more of his weight now.

“No!” You giggle.

“No? Is this better?” Bucky teases, briefly laying his whole weight over you until you paw at his shoulders to push him off.

“James! You’re squishing me!”

The melody of your carefree laughter has Bucky melting and he pushes himself up onto his hands once more. His lip is tucked between his teeth, enjoying the view as he becomes increasingly aware of his cock now just one slip away from your pussy lips.

Quickly coming to your own awareness of Bucky’s rock hard length pressing into you, you sober up.

“Darling?” You tug on his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb.

Bucky’s brows pinch closer slightly.

“I need you inside me.”

His soft lips are crashing against yours within moments, his hand fighting between the nonexistent space between your bare bodies to grasp his cock and guide his tip to your bundle of nerves.

The sudden taste of how good Bucky can make you feel forces a sharp breath from you. It’s so much yet not enough, all at the same time.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, okay? Let me take care of you how you deserve.”

After a meek nod with your hands finding refuge in Bucky’s soft locks, he trails his cock head down your pink folds till it catches on the dip of your entrance.

Bucky tempts a whimper from you as he slides inside of you, your walls stretching to accommodate his larger than average member.

“Fuck, doll, you’re so tight for me.” The firefighter moans, resisting the urge to snap his hips and bottom out completely.

You’ve yet to make a sound, the sting in your pussy not yet dissipating, and when you glance down at where your bodies meet, you realise you’re barely taking half of him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky’s reassuring voice is ghosting over your ear, “you’re taking me so well, sweets. You need me to go slower?”

You clench your eyes shut briefly, “No, keep going, you’re just so…”

“So what?”

Bucky watches a deep red creep up your neck before returning his gaze to your eyes, that now dance across the room avoiding him.

A gentle grasp on your chin draws you to face the breathtaking man above you and you clench around his dick.

“What happened to the little minx who was practically beggin’ me to fuck her, huh? Don’t get all shy on me now, dollface. I’m so what?”

His words have you spilling yours without second thought. “You’re so fucking thick, James, cock’s splittin’ me in half.”

He groans and snaps his hips fully into yours, making you scream out, “Jamie!!!”

His scalp burns when you pull on his hair harder than before, your moans filling the room like a broken record. Bucky should be focused on the furrow of your brow, your laboured breaths, the way your cunt is choking him, anything about how perfect this feels, but all he can focus on is how with one thrust, you called him ‘Jamie’. And you didn’t just say it, you screamed it.

“Shit, honey, say it again.”

“Ja-Jamie…” You whine and feel Bucky draw his hips back before pounding into you once more.

“Again.” Your neighbour growls.

“Oh my god, fuck- I”

“Again.”

It takes everything you have to open your eyes and look at him. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

“That’s my girl.”

Bucky drives his length into you till his tip is hitting your cervix, the pleasure wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air out of you. You fight to breathe as Bucky drills into you, over and over, softly grunting with every thrust.

“Never felt anything as good as your cunt before, doll. Wanna spend the rest of my life buried inside you.”

You pull his lips to yours and, back arching from the mattress, dive your tongue into his mouth with vigour. He lets you explore his mouth while fucking you deep and fast, the headboard of your bed slamming against the wall and probably driving your neighbour crazy. Oh wait, he is your neighbour, and it is driving him crazy, but in the best way imaginable.

“So goddamn tight, sweets, y’pussy was made for me,” He swallows your whimpers happily, “don’t you think? You feel how good i’m filling you up, honey? Sliding in an’ out so easy, you’re so fucking wet for my dick.”

“Harder, Jamie.”

Goddamn.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll do whatever you want.”

You lose yourself in his thrusts; the sting has long turned into the most pleasure you’ve ever felt, and that’s saying something after the orgasm he lulled from you only a few minutes ago.

“Fuckin’ me s-so good, Jamie.”

“Ah- just like that, baby.”

“I’m getting close, James, need you to go faster.”

Your pleas send Bucky’s cock pulsing and he does exactly as you wish. He fucks you faster, fighting off the desperate urge to cum inside your sweet cunt.

“Jamie…” You sigh.

He grins up at you from his place at your tits, his tongue reaching out to tease your nipples. You push his head down till he takes your sensitive bud in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue over it while he gropes its twin.

The tight coil in your stomach is twisting to its limit and you find yourself dangerously close to cumming around Bucky’s hard, thick length.

“I’m so- oh fuck- i’m so close, James.”

He lifts his head and eyes you with lust blown pupils.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll? God, I can feel you clenching around me, you wanna cream all over my cock? Huh?” He smirks at your pornographic moans. “Bet I’ll look so good covered in your cum, sweets, maybe I’ll let you clean me up, put that mouth to good use.”

“I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum,” You chant several times breathlessly.

“Let go for me, sweet girl, make a mess o’my cock. Cum, doll.”

Your body shudders as your hips grind up into Bucky’s, your walls tightening before he feels you gush around him. Practically screaming in pleasure, you bite down on Bucky’s shoulder to quiet yourself, though the pain travels straight to his member, still fucking into you with force.

“Fuck, James, you’re so perfect, never came so hard in my life- shit-“

He’s groaning into your ear, his balls slamming against you and filling the room with salacious wet slaps.

“You’re so wet and- fuck- I can’t- I can’t hold back much longer.”

You tug on the hair at the nape of his neck and lick up the side of his throat, tongue catching the salty beads of sweat in its path. Reaching his earlobe, you suck on it lightly and whisper into his ear.

“Want you to cum inside me, Jamie. Fill me up, please, I need your cum.”

“Argh, fuck!!” Your words send Bucky over the edge and his hips stutter while he finally lets go.

“Oh god, yes!” Bucky grunts. “Take my cum, doll, fuckin’ take it.”

Your tongue seeks his neck once more, pressing open mouthed kisses as his cock shoots streams of white seed into you, the spurts seemingly never ending.

“Fillin’ my cunt so much, Jamie- fuck- you feel so good!”

As his cock softens, his thrusts slow to a more bearable pace, both of you so sensitive from your orgasms. Catching your breath takes a minute or two, but in the meantime, you coax satisfied sighs from your firefighter by running your hands up and down his back; the light sheen of sweat greets your fingertips as you touch him tenderly.

With no words being shared, you focus solely on Bucky’s breathing, the rise and fall of his back beneath your hands and the weight of his body on yours. It should be uncomfortable, but you’ve never felt so at home in a place, let alone with a person, in your life.

“That was…” Bucky murmurs into your neck.

You finish his sentence, “Pretty damn good.” Laughter ripples through the muscles of his back.

“Yeah,” He agrees and pulls back slightly to look at you, “you feeling okay?”

“If by okay you mean ‘completely and utterly fucked out’ then yeah, I’m great.”

You grin cheekily before pushing his hair behind his ear yet again, an act you find yourself praying that you’ll get to do for the rest of your life.

“How are you feeling?” You ask sincerely.

Those blue orbs flick between your own, laced with an emotion you hope to be love. “Like I want to be with you like this forever.” Bucky admits. “That and completely and utterly fucked out.”

You laugh heartily, bringing a beaming smile to Bucky’s swollen red lips.

“Let me clean you up, doll.” He offers before pushing himself off you, much to your dismay. He disappears to your bathroom for a minute before returning with a damp cloth in hand.

“Can you spread your legs for me, sweets?”

He bites a chuckle at how quickly you obey him and gets to work, wiping away your shared cum from your pussy and goosebump-ridden thighs. The towel is warm and soft on your skin, lulling you to sleep, though you fight to keep your eyes on your neighbour.

“You’re so beautiful, James.” You say, reaching to place your hand on his that sits beside you hip, where he’s leaning his weight.

He smiles sheepishly and focuses on the job at hand. Once you’re clean, Bucky carries you to the bathroom so you can do your business, waiting patiently outside after putting his boxers back on and grabbing his henley for you to wear.

When you step out of the bathroom, Bucky’s holding his he let out in front of you. “You looked a bit cold so I thought you might want a shirt?”

You smile, “Your shirt?”

“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck, muscles flexing at the movement, “You don’t have to, I just thou-“

He stops talking when you pull the henley from his grasp and tug it over your head. It swallows you whole and the sleeves tumble past your hands, but Bucky thinks it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

Grabbing his hand, you pull him back to your room and back into bed, tugging the sheets over you both where you nestle into his chest.

“You’re staying, right?” You ask with the most puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

“Of course, doll.”

Smiling to yourself, you curl up against the firefighter. “Woulda cooked you a meal months ago if I knew that’s all it took for you to finally fuck me.”

a/n: filth. pure filth. so sorry that it took me a lifetime to post this - life got lifey and it took me ages to get this right. it’s my second time writing any sort of smut so i hope it was good for y’all. thanks for all the support, it means the world to me. love you guys, red ❤️

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[maximumzombiecreator]

Since I've had a few people asking about megadungeon stuff recently, and I am an avowed megadungeon megafan, I thought it might be fun to walk through an actual example of megadungeon play that exemplifies what I like best about it.

This post is going to be the first in a series talking about a room from a megadungeon that I ran over 20 years ago (brushing past that fact quickly lest the horrors set in.) It was a major room, probably the most complex and important in the dungeon, and the players passed through it frequently throughout the campaign. In this post I'll introduce you to the room, and then in later posts I'll talk about what it does well and how to use that lesson more generally. Below the cut is a reproduction of the map as I remember it.

Without getting into The Lore too deeply, some dwarves accidentally dug into hell, as one does. Classic trope, nothing wrong with using them. They quite sensibly shut the mine down and sealed if off, but word got out. A human king heard about this, and took over the mine, expanding it into a temple complex to curry favour / barter with hell. It went badly, as such things do.

This concourse connects several wings of the dungeon, spanning several floors. An enormous devil face statue emerges from the northern wall, above the second floor balcony and below the fourth, and a column of light shines through a hole in the ceiling onto the center of the floor. Several floors of balconies overlook the chamber, though the stairs to the fourth floor balcony have long since collapsed.

This chamber was not too far from the main entrance, with the party first encountering it on their second delve into the dungeon, though it would take two more delves for them to gather the courage to enter it. At the time they first encountered it, it was swarming with imps and other little devils worshipping the big face.

I'll summarize the key:

A. Hallway from the Entry Chambers, the first and easiest section of the dungeon.

B. Doorway to the Pilgrim's City.

C. Doorway to the Unholiest of Unholies. Sealed and warded against simple spells.

D. Doorway to the Old Dwarven Quarters.

E. Doorway to the Nobles' Section. Barred from the far side.

F. Portcullis to the Pilgrim's City. The mechanism has rusted out and no longer functions.

G. Doorway to the Halls of the Clergy.

H. Doorway from the King's Inner Sanctum.

I. Doorway to the Archive.

J. Doorway to the King's Inner Sanctum, locked.

K. Doorway to The Indulgences.

Stairway from floor 1 to floor 2.

Light from the hole in the ceiling.

Broken stairs from floor 2 to floor 4.

Big ole devil face. Its eyes are a one-way illusion, allowing anyone within the face to view the room below.

Okay that's a lot, thanks for sticking it out. While I don't want to wander too far off topic into the rest of the dungeon, I'll just briefly note that the Pilgrim's City and Old Dwarven Quarters are easier sections of the dungeon, the Nobles Section and Halls of the Clergy are slightly more difficult, the King's Inner Sanctum, Archive, and Indulgences are very dangerous, and the Unholiest of Unholies is, as one might expect, where the worst things (and best loot) in the dungeon are. This was 2nd edition AD&D, so there was not a presumption of fights being balanced, and traipsing through more dangerous sections of the dungeon at lower levels wasn't uncommon. The players also understood the varying levels of danger fairly implicitly, since the custom at the time was that any time you went a level further away from whatever the ground floor was, things got more dangerous. The only exception to this is the Unholiest of Unholies and I think we can agree that when it's beyond a magically sealed door under a giant devil head the danger is telegraphed.

Next post I'll start talking about what made this room work so well in practice.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Roads Untraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, pregnancy, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Single and pregnant, you discover a super soldier in the dumpster but he might not be hero you think he is. 

[This is a rewrite of a series of the same name which I removed a couple years ago]

Characters: Silverfox!Steve Rogers

Note: I finally did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

‘When he went away  The blues walked in and met me  Oh, yeah if he stays away  Old rocking chair’s gonna get me  All I do is pray...’ 

You sway to the melody as you wipe dry the last plate. You set it in the rack as Etta James’ soulful crooning wafts around the kitchen. Just the simple task of washing the dishes has you out of breath. You can no longer hum along as you’re suddenly light headed with sweat speckled across your brow. Even the breeze drifting in through the open window can’t cool the constant heat brewing within you. 

You brace your lower back as you reach for the dish towel and pop open the cupboard. The music drones to silence as the next some in queue loads. Your rounded stomach presses to the counter as you take a mug and dry it inside and out. Strange, you don’t remember the song starting like that; the strange warbling noise much unlike Marvin Gaye’s rich tones. 

You set the mug on the shelf and back up. Another noise peaks your attention, too tinny to be a snare. You rub your stomach mindlessly as you sling the cloth over your shoulder. You waddle across the tile to the folding table beneath the window. You tap pause on your phone and the bluetooth speaker goes silent. 

Your fingers pick the damp fabric away from your bump. These days you can’t avoid getting soaked. Even as you can’t forget about the burden of your condition, you’re still oblivious to how it gets in the way until it does. You sigh as you listen for another clue. 

A pained deep grunt floats up from below. Distant but decisive, another rustle beneath the unexpected noise. You lean over the table, a hand on the ledge as you push the pane higher. You bend, stomach pressed to the speaker, and peer down. You expect another dumpster diver searching for empties to trade in; rather you meet a most unexpected sight. 

There is a man in the dumpster, alright, but he isn’t moving. From there, you can’t see very clearly. You squint at the figure strewn among the trash but the zigzag of the fire escape obscures your eye line. 

You shouldn’t go and see. Not only is it a lot of effort, but it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be wandering into alleys to check on strangers in dumpsters. You don’t know any good reason someone might be swimming in garbage. Nor do you think they would want to be bothered.  

Still, the prickling in your neck urges you to do something. There’s just something so peculiar about the angle of the arm you can see clearer than the rest of the body. At least they’re moving, even if they sound agonized. 

You take your phone and untether it from the bluetooth speaker. You unlock it and keep your thumb ready to dial out. You move as quickly as you can, not very, and waddles along the back of the couch into the entry way. You take your keys from the hook near your door and step into your cushy slides. 

You turn back the latch and leave the door unlocked behind you. The slides shift on your swollen feet as you rush down to the elevator. God, your back hurts. You try not to lean too far back as it only adds to the pain. You need a belly belt but they’re so darn expensive. 

You’re out of breath as you step on and turn to watch the numbers count down. You’re still panting as you reach the lobby and push through the front doors, leaning into the heavy grated iron until it creaks loudly. You clamour down the steps to even ground and your hips pang. 

You put your hand under your stomach, trying to lift it and ease the pressure in your hips. You blow out between your lips as you have to slow down. You shuffle across the grass and into the paved lobby. The stink of the trash brings you back to those early days of morning sickness. And afternoon sickness. And night sickness. 

You try not to inhale too deeply as you step between the brick buildings. You bring your phone up, ready to hit those three digits in a heartbeat. You should’ve done so already. Even if you do, it’ll take hours for anyone to come out here. 

You stop and listen a few steps from the dumpster. You don’t hear anything now. You look up at the sky, dimming towards evening in a mixture of pink and blue, the moon peeking palely through the hue. You grip your phone tight, keys jangling with your movement as you continue forward. 

“Hello?” You call out, “is someone in there?” You linger near the corner of the dumpster, the trash reeking in your nostrils, “do you need help?” 

No answer. You stare up, wondering how you might see inside. If you weren’t built like a keg, you might be able to see from the lower level of the fire escape but you can’t even make it one rung. You blink and call out again. 

“Hello? Are you okay?” 

You wait for a response. Silence again. Maybe they found their way out on their own. You huff. So much for all that. All you’ve done is added to the pain in your arches. You turn on your heel and a groan gurgles and plastic crinkles noisily. 

You stop again, wavering, and peer back over your shoulder. A hand appears over the tops of the dumpsters edge and grips it. You face the large metal bin as the knuckles strain within the stained brown leather, fingertips poking out nakedly, blood and dirty tinged across the flesh. A long grunt follows as the figure drags himself to look over the top. 

“Sir, are you--” you begin, voice catching at the sight of the cowl and the man’s square jaw. The white star on his chest stuns you. It’s him. Everyone knows that uniform, that face, even under his helmet. New York’s own Captain America. 

You gape as the super soldier strains and swings himself out of the dumpster with one arm. His other is hanging limply as his feet hit the pavement. His knees crack and buckle. He drops down onto them and hisses. 

“Captain America?” You utter dumbly. 

He puts his fist to the ground and leans on his arm. He hangs his head and heaves. He drags a leg forward, planting his foot, and makes himself stand. He pushes his shoulders back and winces, reaching to cradle his dangling arm. 

“Steve,” he rasps, “goddamn.” 

You don’t expect the obscenity. Not from him. He leans against the dumpster and turns his chin up. He gnashes his teeth as he grips his arm and jerks, moving the heavy bin with his effort. The pop of his shoulder is sickening as he growls tightly. He stomps his foot and as he shakes out the arm he just put back into place. 

He reaches up and peels off his cowl as he puts his head straight. He looks at you as he wipes the streak of blood from lip to chin. His blond locks are streaked silver and his face is lined. He looks much older than the magazine covers and the TV screens. The magic of editing, right? 

He swipes the sweaty hair from his forehead and huffs. 

“Steve,” you rest your phone on your stomach, “are you okay?” 

He pushes himself away from the dumpster and puffs, “I’m fine. Just... a hiccup.” 

You stare at him. He looks tired and worn. You believe him when he says he’s okay. He's a super soldier and the world has seen his many feats. Yet he looks completely hollow. 

“Are you sure? I could call someone or...” you step forward and point to the slash that borders chest and shoulder, “you should clean that out, shouldn’t you?” 

He looks down and grimaces, “had worse. I got comms. HQ doesn’t care about a few scratches.” 

He goes to step forward and stumbles slightly. He snarls and kicks his foot into the gravel. He wiggles his knee and bends to rub the joint. 

“I...” your mouth opens and closes. This isn’t the man you’ve seen in the media. He's not smiling and golden and shining. Still, he’s the Captain. “I live above,” you gesture upward, “I could help... or maybe you can just... sit for a little bit. Get yourself straight?” 

He looks at you. As if for the first time. His forehead smooths as the tension eases from his jaw. His gaze slowly crawls down to his stomach and you see the dimple in his cheek. 

“Your husband okay with that? I’m a bit of a mess,” his tone is lighter as he fixes his grip on his cowl. 

“Oh no, I don’t have--” you chew your lip and look at the brick wall, “it’s just me. But I have first aid kit and learned to stitch in summer camp. I think I can still remember how.” 

He glances around and nods, “got a back door?” 

“Yeah, it’s... past you,” you nod in his direction. 

He pivots stiffly and cranes to see around the dumpster. You near him and your keys jingle again. You follow him to the metal door with the glass window and you shove the key in and twist. You pull it open a few inches. It’s heavier than the front door. He grabs it and wrenches it all the way back. 

“Thanks,” you murmur. “There’s an elevator.” 

“Hm, fewer people see me, the better,” he sniffs as the door clanks behind him. 

“It might take me a while,” you warn, “I’m slow.” 

“What floor. I’ll meet you,” he offers. 

“Sure, it’s three.” 

“Number?” 

“310.” 

“I’ll find it,” he states and marches towards the stair sign. 

You go to catch the elevator, stewing in disbelief on your ascent. You step off and continue on to your apartment. He’s already there. He stands with his hand on the frame, looking over his shoulder as you waddle down the hall towards him. 

“It’s unlocked,” you say. 

He opens it and waits for you. You thank him as you enter and he follows. He locks it and lingers behind you. You put your hand to the wall as you slip off your slides. He gently lays his cowl on the corner table and bends to unlace his boots. You hang the keys on the hook and place your phone on the small table. 

He leaves his dirtied boots on the mat and limps forward. You stand in the open doorway of the living room and peek back at him. He looks around reluctantly. 

“Please, sit down,” you insist and wave through the doorway before you pass through. 

“I...” he begins and you hear his uneven gait down the hallway. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.” 

“I have a steam cleaner,” you assure. “Sit, I’ll get the kit.” 

He stares, his eyes once more scanning the space. Does he think this is a trip? That you’re some covert agent who all too conveniently found him? That’s absurd. Look at you. 

You shrug off that ridiculous idea and cross to the kitchen. You open several drawers before you remember it’s in the bathroom. Of course. Your brain likes to play games these days. You grab the metal tin from under the sink and return to Steve.  

He pulls off his gloves and balls them on the side table next to the couch. You come around the other side of the couch and sit, leaving lots of space between you. You squeeze the kits as you’re once more out of breath. 

“You okay?” He turns the question on you. 

“I’m not the one bleeding. Just pregnant,” you smile. 

You balance the kit on your stomach as you lean back. You sanitize a needle and weave it with surgical thread. You put that aside and fish out an alcoholic swap. You shift the kit aside and push on the back of the couch as you try to sit forward. You shake and he helps you, a humbling assistance. 

“First,” you turn to him, “we’ll see how deep it is,” you tear open the swap, “can I...” 

“One sec,” he dips his fingers into the fabric and tears the sleeve, renting the fabric like tissue. His arm is thick and well-toned despite the years. A centurion like him can’t complain for the shape he’s in, even battered. “I can do it myself.” 

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be easy.” 

You reach as he angles towards you. You gingerly dab around the gash and he tenses. He takes a sharp breath, “you don’t have to be so gentle. I can handle pain.” 

“Right,” you work more diligently. 

He’s quiet as you tend to him, picking out gravel and some metal slivers. You worry that you might miss some. You lean in closer and he steels himself at your proximity. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “just you and...” the kid?” 

“We all make mistakes,” you chuckle. You can only laugh about it, as scared as you are. 

“Mmm,” he flinches as you sweep down the length of the cut. It’s not that deep, mostly superficial. 

“Let me put some steri-strips on, shouldn’t need the stitches, ” you say as you sift through the kit with one hand, “if you’re hungry, I have leftovers. You like chicken?” 

You don’t know why you’re offering. Maybe it’s because you owe him. Like everyone in the city. It’s your chance to give back to the hero who gave so much. Or maybe it’s because you’re so damn lonely talking to your own stomach. 

“I should go,” he insists as you place a strip across the cut. 

“Up to you,” you say, “I don’t mind either way, but I’m not going to chase Captain America out of ym apartment.” 

He doesn’t say anything. You finish dressing his wound and gather up the wrappers and all. You crumple it in one hand and rock yourself to stand. You’re overly aware of him watching you. You touch your stomach and rub it, soothing your nerves. You find him watching the movement of your hand. 

“You must be pretty far along,” he says. 

“Six months. Chicken tortellini, if you want. I was gonna reheat some. I haven’t eaten since work.” 

“Work?” He frowns and stands, moving better than before. “Should you be?” 

“I’m at a desk. It’s nothing. HR got me some ergonomic stuff. Nothing compared to what you do.” 

You put away the kit and toss the garbage. You wash your hands before you search out the container of pasta in the fridges. You sense him behind you, just in the wide archway that peers into the kitchen. You reach into the cupboard you left open and take the single plate that isn’t in the rack. 

“So, you want some?” You ask. 

He’s silent with contemplation, the shift of his weight creaks in the floor, “I appreciate it, yes, please.” 

“I might have something you can change into,” you say. You wonder why you’re doing all this. Maybe it’s that maternal instinct kicking in. “The father, before he took off, left a few things.” You peek over your shoulder, “he was a bit smaller than you.” 

He shrugs then winces at the careless gesture. “Do you mind if I wash up before I eat? I smell like garbage. I don’t wanna overstep--” 

“Go ahead, it’ll take a while to warm this up,” you say. 

Another long lull. He taps his fingers on the wall and inhales deep enough for you to hear, “promise, I’ll get out of your hair after dinner.” 

“Please, take your time,” you say as you put the tortellini in a glass pan to rebake. He backs away and you sense his hesitation, “oh, down the hall, to the left of the bedroom at the end.” 

“Thanks,” he intones, “oh, uh, just realised, you know who I am...” 

Your brows pop up and you stop before you can put the pan in the stove. You look back at him and give your name. He nods. 

“Pretty,” he comments, “also, it’s just Steve, not Captain.” 

[baibeebrii]

obsession •

stepson!anakin x stepmom!reader

mdni 18+ ~~~~

word count - 3k+

warnings- reader met anakin when he was a minor, age gap, stepson/stepmother, perv!anakin, unprotected piv, praise, sub!anakin/dom!reader, breeding kink, overstimulation, forcing, multiple orgasms (anakin), oral (f recieving), cheating

info - marrying a skywalker definitely wasn’t on your things to do, but when working led you to meet kahn skywalker. your life changed.

until his perv of a son lets you know just how much you mean to him.

not proofread.

dating kahn was fun, you guys have been casually seeing each other for about two months now. nothing serious. just a fling you thought. until kahn mentioned how he wanted you to meet his son, you were taken aback.

"kahn are you serious?" you question.

he smiles, "yes, i want him to know the woman i'm going to marry."

you felt odd, you guys have only been together for maybe two months, this wasn't appropriate.

"kahn, maybe it's too soon" you trail off, peeling at the hangnail on your pointer finger.

kahn's smile falters, "oh" he looks down at his lap, "i'm sorry i didn't think"

you feel bad, he obviously cares about you, and for him to want you to meet his son. he must think of you as special.

you start to smile, "okay, i'll meet him. when do you want to do it?"

kahn lifts his head up, smile plastering his face, "right now?" he says.

again, shock hits your face, "my son should be home from his mothers house any minute now"

you couldn't believe it, he was going to make you meet this kid no matter your answer.

you were mad, rightfully so, but before you could say anything this door swings open.

"dad i'm home"

"anakin, my boy, how are you?" kahn jumps up to greet his son with a hug, releasing the hug kahn turns to a very red faced you sitting on the couch. in a not so "meet the son" outfit.

you had on some short shorts and a tight baby tee.

you were mortified.

"anakin this is the woman i've been telling you about, y/n this is anakin" kahn says not seemingly to notice the discomfort on your face.

you stand to shake the boys hand, not ignoring the fact his eyes rake over your entire body, taking in every curve and arch.

if you weren't embarrassed before, you sure were now.

-

it's been about three months since meeting anakin, and he's been nothing but friendly. you're happy the meeting went so well. you've been spending more time with him. coming over after work when he texts he's having trouble with his calculus homework.

being a 17 year old in high school is hard, he'll say the entire time you try and explain an equation to him.

you would laugh and tell him to focus and get it over with. he'd laugh and turn his attention back to his homework, not forgetting to glance over his arm to watch as your chest moves when you slouch back into the dining room chair.

"ani, im home" kahn's voice is heard from the entry way, "oh honey, i didn't know you'd be here" he says kissing the top of your head.

"little ani here needed help with some homework"

you said, turning to look back at anakin and you swear you saw the grip on his pencil tighten after hearing you use his nickname.

"well, i'll get started on dinner for three. rather then two" kahn says walking back to the kitchen. setting his keys on the island.

anakin finishes his last problem before putting everything away, you get up and start walking to the kitchen to be with your boyfriend before feeling a slight touch in your wrist, turning you face anakin.

his eyes are on the floor, fidgeting with his fingers, "can you come upstairs? i want to show you something" he says with a whisper.

you nod and follow him to his bedroom, the farthest room from the stairs.

stepping inside you take notice to all the knick knacks placed around the room, all the scattered clothes and papers.

you step in first, heading to sit on the end of his bed.

"what's up ani?" you question as he doesn't turn from the door.

you're confused, and question the boy again.

he finally turns to you, eyes a darker shade of blue, something you haven't seen before.

"ani?" you say quietly, but loud enough he hears.

a small groan escapes his throat, "say it again"

"what? anakin what is going on?" you're confused, this isn't typical anakin behavior.

he grabs your hands, rubbing his thumbs across your own.

"please say it again mommy" anakin says just above a whisper, hands gripping just a bit tighter on yours.

you're shocked, in utter disbelief. never once has anakin called you mom, never have you asked him either. this shouldn't be happening.

"ani? what are you talking about?" a soft moan leaves his mouth when you say his nickname again.

"you do crazy things to me" he says, eyes still not meeting yours.

you don't say anything, too confused and shocked to even think of words at this moment, anakin takes notice

"i'm sorry" he says, tears brimming his eyes, looking to the floor

"hey anakin, it's okay, come here." you say bringing him into a hug.

you feel unsettled by what just happened, but to an extent you understand. he's a horny teenager.

"i won't tell your dad, okay?" you say grabbing his chin to make him look at you. his eyes are filled with tears as his face is completely red. tears threatening to fall, "thank you" he says pulling you into another hug, inhaling deeply to never forget your scent.

-

the wedding was beautiful, you never expected to get married to someone so quickly, but kahn skywalker just has that effect. he proposed to you during your seventh month together. getting married very soon after that.

honeymoon was amazing. you and kahn travelled all through greece for a month, before returning to your shared home, with your now stepson.

as soon as you guys stepped in the door, anakin was there to greet you guys, not hiding the fact he went to hug you first. despite his fathers arms out, wrapping your arms around anakins shoulders, you can feel him squeeze slightly as he inhaled deeply.

"missed you so much" he whispers into the crook of your neck, before pulling away and hugging his dad.

you didn't want to admit it, but the butterflies in your stomach was something you enjoyed.

anakins birthday came and went and you had an 18 year old in the house.

he was still the same anakin, sweet and shy, tending to follow you around the house like a lost puppy.

"ani, im gonna shower, i'll make dinner when i'm done" you say to the boy on the couch in front of the tv. he gives a sound so you know he heard you and you went upstairs.

walking to the bathroom, with a change of clothes, and a towel. turning the shower on and stepping in.

you needed this shower after the day you had, work was hell, your manager was berating you all day. you couldn't seem to do anything right.

thirty minutes into the shower you decided it was enough and got out. getting dressed and doing all your nightly routines. you got to grab you dirty laundry, something missing from the pile.

you look around everywhere for the pink pair of panties you were just wearing, were you wearing them?" you question as they are seemingly gone.

not wanting to keep anakin waiting any longer for dinner you throw your clothes in the hamper and head downstairs. anakin gone from his spot on the couch.

cooking dinner was easy, you decided on something quick tonight. some chicken alfredo noodles.

dinner was done, warming on the stove to keep warm until kahn got home from work.

you haven't heard anything from anakin in the time it took you to cook. you go to look for him.

stepping to his door, reaching for the handle. you stop.

moans and whimpers fall quickly, you're about to walk away, not wanting to disrupt, when you heard you name fall from the boys lips.

you stop, frozen.

"nghh y/n mommy please" can be heard, your name being said like it's a prayer.

your thighs press together, this is wrong you think to yourself, yet you don't move. placing an ear to the door to hear better.

more moans and whimpers are fallen from the red and swollen lips of anakin. your name being repeated over and over again as he rubs his leaking cock with your used panties. 

you listen for a few more minutes before the sound of his hand grow louder and more erratic, whimpers falling from his lips as it gets harder for him to be quiet while reaching his climax.

few seconds later and your name is being said as all motion stops.

he came to the thought of you while using your dirty underwear.

you quickly rush from the door, down the stairs to the kitchen to finish plating diner as kahn should be getting in any minute. 

do you tell your husband what you heard?

you couldn't, you didn't want to get anakin in trouble.

dinner was good, beside the fact all you could feel was anakins eyes on you, and the feeling in your stomach.

this is so wrong.

you needed to stop this.

-

you decided the week kahn would be on a business trip was the best to confront anakin, better to have his dad away so he doesn't find out.

it's a little past 9pm when you walk to anakins door, knocking slightly.

"ani? can i come in?"

your met with some shuffling before the door is open, and a tired looking face greets you with a small smile.

"oh did i wake you?"

"no, was just laying in bed. what do you need?"

"can i come in and talk?"

he moves from the doorway to allow you in, you walk towards his bed. him following after shutting his door.

the only light in the room is his bedside lamp, illuminating a nice orange hue.

"ani, i need to talk to you about something"

he nods

"a week ago, i came up here to grab you for dinner but i stopped when i heard noises coming from your room." you started.

anakins face instantly grew red, and his face dropped to the floor.

"i went to walk away, but then i heard my name, ani you can't be having these thoughts about me"

you stopped talking, giving anakin a second, you just embarrassed him.

he doesn't speak, so you continue "i'm your dads wife. this isn't appropriate"

he looks up at you, teary eyed, " 'm sorry " he slurs out, obviously fighting back crying.

your heart broke, you didn't want him to feel bad for what he did, "hey, anakin. it's okay, im not mad at you" you say grabbing his cheek, wiping his tears.

he leans into your touch, with a slight whimper.

"i'm sorry, please don't leave me" he says, grabbing your wrists.

"i'm not gonna leave you ani, please calm down"

he's still crying, "i just love you so much, i need you" he's now practically in your lap, your rubbing your fingers through his hair.

"ani, i'm your step mother"

he cries more, grabbing at anything he could.

"mommy" he sobs out, bringing his head up to look at you, he's broken. face red and puffy with tears.

your heart breaks, you little ani feeling this bad, "ani it's okay, stop shhh" you try and soothe him.

you lay him back on the bed, letting him rest on you as you cuddle him.

thirty minutes pass, he's calmed. hiccuping in your lap now.

"wanna talk?" you say running your fingers through his hair. he nods and sits up to face you.

"i'm so sorry y/n" he says, grabbing your hands, "please don't hate me"

"i could never hate you, it's okay"

he stares at you, eyes wide, so innocent.

"please let me be a good boy for you"

you tilt your head, "ani no, this isn't appropriate"

"i hear the way you moan with my dad, how fake it sounds, let me show you how much you mean to me" he says, his once blue eyes, dark and lidded.

he listens when you and his dad have sex?

such a naughty boy.

his hands go up your arms to your shoulders, "please let me be good for you mommy"

you can't deny the heat forming, this shouldn't turn you on.

but to have anakin, sitting in front of you. BEGGING for you, crying for you, it's something you'd never imagine.

"ani.."

he stops you, "please, i've loved you since i met you, look" he jumps up to grab his camera off his desk.

he flips through all the pictures, you doing normal things, you cooking, you showering, and worst of all. you sprawled out in your bed, dildo in hand pleasuring yourself.

fuck

this is insane, you thought. this is wrong. he's been watching you??

he wasn't done, he pulled a box out from under his bed.

all your missing underwear, you knew the washer wasn't eating that many.

"see, i want you. i crave you"

he says. on his knees, infront of the bed.

you can't deny the throbbing in between your legs, this was disgusting.

but you loved every second of it.

you knew anakin was attracted to you but you didn't think he was a pervert.

"such a dirty boy anakin, what do you do with all this?"

he moaned, "i touch myself" he says shyly.

how can he be so shy after showing this to you.

you loved it.

"show me"

his head jerks up, confusion on his face. but your serious. sitting back to make room for him on the bed.

"be a good boy anakin, show mommy" he waste no time in undoing the strings to his pants, pulling them down and climbing on the bed.

god he was big, much bigger then your husband.

"oh ani, you're so pretty baby"

you moans, before grabbing his throbbing cock, red angry tip leaking precum. just for you.

his pace is slow, agonizing, he's wanting this to last for ever.

"baby you can do better then that, i want you to cum for me. think you can do it?"  you say running your fingers through his hair before reaching the base and jerking.

the moan that fell from his lips, was nothing but sinful. the pace on his cock increasing, rubbing himself raw.

you say nothing but praises, letting the boy know how well he's doing, and how you're so proud.

you can tell he's getting close when your movements become sloppy and erratic. whimpers escaping his mouth, before his release shakes his entire body.

you help him through it, kissing his head and rubbing your hands on him to help ground him.

he's on cloud 9, he feels so good and to have your hands on him. he's soft cock, slowly getting bigger again, the thought of your sweet pussy engulfs his mind.

the sweet smell he's gotten from your panties, he wants the real thing.

"m-mommy need your pussy, please" the redness on his cheeks, the mess he's made on his stomach. is all too much for you to keep your composure.

"since you've been such a good boy, you can eat mommy out"

you barely finished your sentence before your pants and underwear are being thrown off and his head his between your legs, lapping up all your sweet juices, inhaling your scent.

he takes you clit into his mouth, sucking harshly, inflicting a harsh groan from your throat.

he's eager and eating like this is his last meal, he starved. wanting nothing more then your pussy in his face.

"oh ani, you're so good to me" you moan out cause him to rut against his mattress. he’s pussy drunk, letting his tongue touch every inch of your soaking pussy, you’ve never felt this good.

you didn’t think it get better, until you feel a warm finger entering you. your back arches, god he is making you crazy.

“anakin, oh my god” the right coil in your stomach burning. anakin continues his actions, curling his finger as his lips are attached to your clit.

“ani, im gonna cum, keep going, don’t st-“ you were cut off by your own orgasm, ripping through your entire body. you’ve never came this hard.

anakin moans, face soaked with all your juices, lapping up what he could.

“mommy did i do good?” he asks with innocence in his eyes, you brush his blonde curls out of his face, “so good baby”

he climbs up to lay with you, cock still painfully erect, taking notice, you reach down and touch him so gently. he moans and thrusts into your hand.

“should mommy help you baby?” his head nods frantically, hoping you’d give him what he wants.

“lay down on your back” you say pushing his chest till he’s laid flat. climbing up to hover above him. his cock so close to you, he could feel the heat radiating from you.

moaning as you grab him, guiding the tip through your folds, pushing it slowly into you as you sink all the way to the base.

he stretched you so well, reaching every part of your body. loving how full you felt.

he looked beautiful under you, absolutely stunning. hair all disheveled, lips red and puffy, tears staining his face, you wanted to ruin him.

lifting yourself so slowly, feeling every inch of his beautiful cock, humming as you sing back down, with more force.

picking up pace, bouncing so heavenly on his cock, anakins brain cannot think straight. his mouth agape as the only thing falling from it is moans, sweet boy can’t even think straight.

fucking yourself, using anakin as if he was just some fuck toy, he loved it. his hands finding your waist gripping it so hard you’re sure there’ll be bruises. loving the thought of him leaving marks on you drove you to bounce harder wanting to reach your climax.

anakin became frantic, “mommy gonna cum, inside please, fill you up” he’s ranting.

“hold it anakin, not yet” not wanting to lose your own orgasm. fucking your self harder, ignoring his pleas.

anakin cums, cums hard inside you. filling you up, making such a mess. his eyes open wide, “mommy, im so-“

“disobeying mommy, what a bad boy” you say still with his cock buried deep inside you, rocking back and fourth.

“too much mommy” anakin says, lightly pushing you. you hold yourself firm on him, “baby mommy’s not done, mommy wants to cum around your pretty cock. you’ll do that for me right?”

his head shakes, wanting nothing more then to please his beautiful mommy. “yes yes let me make you feel good” you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

you slowly pull off, and lay down at the head of the bed, “come here baby, make me feel good” motioning with your hands.

he climbs on top of you, eager to please, you spread your legs so he fits so perfectly. you nod your head, giving him permission to re-enter you.

he does so with a fast thrust, beginning his relentless pace, wanting nothing more then to make you cum around him. feel as your pussy flutters, squeezing his cock.

“mommy” he rambles, “so good so good”

you’re in bliss, he’s fucking you so good. your husband long forgotten. he’s never made you feel this good, you never knew this much pleasure was possible.

“oh baby, you make mommy feel so good” he moans into the crook of your neck, loving hearing how good he’s doing. making you feel so good. he lives for it.

your close, the way his cock is abusing that spot inside you, has your toes curling. you tell him how close you are, he’s holding out for you, you can tell how he so badly wants, no needs to cum.

“such a dirty boy, fucking his mommy like a bitch in heat” you couldn’t help but toy with him. edging him on.

few more thrusts and he’s coming again, filling you up for a second time.

“ ‘m sorry mommy” anakin says, slowly thrusting into you, not wanting to upset you.

“baby, it’s okay, we can stop-“

“no, need your cum”

he thrusts back into you, cock rock hard.

how does this sweet boy have this much in him, you didn’t question it when he started pounding that one spot, with his hand moving to you clit rubbing it in slow circles.

“ani” you moan out. “please like that”

he just moans as he continues his rapid pace, bringing you to your climax, squeezing down on his cock as your juices spill making a mess of his bed.

his fourth orgasm isn’t long after, chanting about filling you with his cum.

he slumps down on your chest, soft cock still inside.

“such a good boy for mommy, you did so good baby” you say while rubbing circles on his back.

he sits up, and pulls his cock out, watching all his cum ooze out of you. mesmerized in how you squeeze down on nothing.

he takes his finger and pushes his cum back inside of you, leaning his head on your shoulder, “want you pregnant with my baby” he whispers into your ear

who knew he could be so dirty.

he lays next to you, cuddling into your side, arm wrapped around your waist.

“i love you mommy”

you smile, dragging your fingers through his hair, “i love you too baby”

“i made you feel better then my dad?”

“yes, god yes”

you could feel the smirk on your skin, “is this a one time thing?” he asks so shyly. as if he wasn’t just pounding your pussy with such disrespect.

“no baby, you’re mine forever. understand? you’re all mine.”

he smiles, pleased with your response.

“what about dad”

you completely forgot about your husband, what the fuck were you gonna do?? your just fucked your stepson.

his cum still leaking out of you, you realize how fucked you were gonna be.

“guess this has to be our secret, okay?”

anakin nodded, half asleep. absolutely exhausted from his multiple orgasms.

you sighed, pulling the blanket over the two of you, drifting to sleep yourself.

wishing that hopefully, your husband never finds out so you can keep fucking his sweet innocent son.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n :

WOAH

first post, please tell me what you think.

i just love the thought of anakin being so whipped for you, he’s so submissive.

[bweirdart]

#mARTch 2024

text version (with more info!) under the readmore! please check it out if you're confused about anything <3

F.A.Q

do i have to draw every day? no!!!! there are skippable days built into the event, please use them whenever you need them! i really don't want anyone getting a wrist injury!

can you share my art? yep! i try to share entries to @bweirdevents daily during the event!! the tags can get busy tho so i might miss some posts OTL sorry

what are the tags? #mARTch is the main tag, but this year you might find posts in #mARTch2024 too!

wait, i'm confused about a prompt... full breakdown of all the prompts below ↓ with helpful hints if you're stuck!

_____

INTRO WEEK

this week is all about your artistic identity ... technically, you don't have to draw anything new this week if you have some art that already fits. the starter days are:

1 ⭐ self portrait who are you? it doesn't have to be you IRL .. if you feel more comfortable drawing a fursona or mascot, that's fine too! if you don't wanna draw, you can also just share old self portraits today and talk about why you drew yourself that way!

2 🤍 inspirations see how this day doesn't have a star? that means it's optional and you don't have to do it at all! but if you really wanna- tell us all about what inspires you to create art! this could be anything from the people that inspire you, the shows you like, the pins on your big messy pinterest board, or concepts that you're drawn to! you can draw something about it, talk about it, or just post your inspirations! anything is fine

3 ⭐ fav thing to draw what do you like drawing most? backgrounds? animals? one specific animal? bust of your oc facing left? cars? the same anime boy over and over and over? no judgement!! show us :)

_____

STUDY WEEK

this is the week we actually start drawing from reference! polished art is not required at all, quick sketch studies are fine! please don't burn yourself out

4 🤍 plant

5 🤍 body

6 ⭐ animal

7 🤍 object

8 🤍 food

9 🤍 face

10 ⭐ hand

these ones are pretty self explanatory! you can do them as realistic studies, or adapt them into your own art style, it's all fine! you can reference from your own photos or from resources on the web.. have fun!

_____

COLOUR WEEK

this is the week for playing with palettes and working on your colour theory skills! if you're really struggling with these ones, don't worry about drawing scenes or characters, you can just have fun splashing colours around on an abstract canvas!

11 🤍 RGB a set or primary colours typically used in digital/screen art - red, green and blue!

12 🤍 CMYK a set of primary colours typically used in traditional/print art - cyan, magenta, yellow ... and key (black!)

for both of these days ↑ you can add in black and white. and feel free to combine the two days into one, if you're struggling with a three-colour palette! use all six!

13 ⭐ WARM COLOURS the warm side of the colour wheel, reds oranges and yellows!

14 🤍 MONOCHROME monochrome doesn't mean black and white ... it means one colour! that can be any colour at all- shades of red, shades of purple, shades of green .. or yeah, grey if you really want!

15 🤍 COMPLIMENTARY complimentary colours are the ones opposite each other on the colour wheel! they're kinda married

16 🤍 YOUR FAV COLOURS pick any palette that works for you! where's your comfort zone? what looks nice to you? what colour combos do you always go back to?

17 ⭐ COOL COLOURS the cool side of the colour wheel, purples, blues and greens!

_____

CREATIVITY WEEK

this week is all about vibes! try to create something that matches the mood of the prompt .. they're vague on purpose! don't overthink it, just draw from the heart!

18 🤍 SMALL you could draw something that's really small, like an ant .. or draw on a canvas that's really small .. or use a really small brush .. get creative with it!

19 🤍 DANGER try to capture the adrenaline .. the rush .. the fear that you associate with the word danger!

20 ⭐ SOFT soft colours, soft textures, soft vibes ... whatever makes you comfy!

21 🤍 MIDNIGHT darkness and secrecy .. spooky witchy vibes .. the tranquility of a forest at night .. the fun of a late-night party .. there's lots of ways you can take this!

22 🤍 POWER what does this word make you think about? superpowers? control and oppression? literal electrical power? something else?

23 🤍 CHILL chill as in calm? or chill as in cold? who knows .. it's up to YOU!

24 ⭐ LOUD try to draw something that feels LOUD! BRASH! IN YOUR FACE! how can you convey sound through art?

_____

FUN + GAMES WEEK

this week is just for enjoying yourself! take it easy and have fun! also .. another reminder! there are skippable prompts! if you're tired and struggling to get to the finish line, please don't hesitate to skip a day!!! or multiple days!! as many as you need!!!

25 🤍 TRY A NEW ART STYLE copy the art style of a show you like, ask a friend if you can try their style, draw the eyes a new way, develop a totally new style on the spot... whatever you want!

26 🤍 DRAW WITH YOUR NON-DOMINANT HAND righties, draw with your left! lefties, draw with your right! ambidextrous nation ... our time to show off!

27 ⭐ DRAW WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED don't peek! try to draw something without looking! if you really want, you can colour it with your eyes open after you draw the lines/sketch with your eyes closed... but please try not to cheat with the actual drawing part!

28 🤍 RE-DRAW SOMETHING OLD find some old artwork you like, or something you feel like you can do better on now, and give it another go!

29 🤍 RE-DRAW A MEME find a silly picture on the internet to redraw .. do you have any in-jokes with your besties?

30 🤍 DRAW A GIFT FOR A FRIEND create something for someone you love <3

31 ⭐ FREE CHOICE final day! you can draw anything you want today! show off your skills! draw something you've been meaning to draw! whatever!

_____

please refrain from reblogging this post after march ends - next year's prompts will be different, thank you! if you have any additional questions, don't hesitate to shoot me an ask!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Keeping a suspense file gives you superpowers

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

Two decades ago, I was part of a group of nerds who got really interested in how each other managed to do what we did. The effort was kicked off by Danny O'Brien, who called it "Lifehacking" and I played a small role in getting that term popularized:

https://craphound.com/lifehacksetcon04.txt

While we were all devoted to sharing tips and tricks from our own lives, many of us converged on an outside expert, David Allen, and his bestselling book "Getting Things Done" (GTD, to those in the know):

https://gettingthingsdone.com/

GTD is a collection of relatively simple tactics for coping with, prioritizing, and organizing the things you want to do. Many of the methods relate to organizing your own projects, using a handful of context-based to-do lists (e.g. a list of things to do at the office, at home, while waiting in line, etc). These lists consist of simple tasks. Those tasks are, in turn, derived from another list, of "projects" – things that require more than one task, which can be anything from planning dinner to writing a novel to helping your kid apply to university.

The point of all this list-making isn't to do everything on the lists. While these lists do help you remember what to do next, what they're really good for is deciding what not to do – at all. The promise of GTD is that it will help you consciously choose not to do some of the things you set out to accomplish. This is in contrast to how most of us operate: we have a bunch of things we want to do, and we end up doing the things that are easiest, or at top of mind, even if they're not the most important things.

GTD recognizes that you can be very "productive" (in the sense of getting many things done) and still not do the things that you really wanted to do. You know what this is like: you finish a Sunday with an organized sock-drawer, all your pennies neatly rolled, the trash-can in your car emptied…and no work at all on that novel you're hoping to write.

You can't do everything, but you can control what you don't do, rather than just defaulting into completing a string of trivial, meaningless tasks and leaving the big stuff on the sidelines. Organizing your own tasks and projects is a hugely powerful habit, and one that's made a world of difference to my personal and professional life.

But while good to-do lists can take you very far in life, they have a hard limit: other people. Almost every ambitious thing you want to do involves someone else's contribution. Even the most solitary of projects can be derailed if your tax accountant misses a key email and you end up getting audited or paying a huge penalty.

That's where the other kind of GTD list comes in: the list of things you're waiting for from other people. I used to be assiduous in maintaining this list, but then the pandemic struck and no one was meeting any of their commitments, and I just gave up on it, and never went back…until about a month ago. Returning to these lists (they're sometimes called "suspense files") made me realize how many of the problems – some hugely consequential – in my life could have been avoided if I'd just gone back to this habit earlier.

My suspense file is literally just some lines partway down a text file that lives on my desktop called todo.txt that has all my to-dos as well. Here's some sample entries from my suspense file:

WAITING EMAIL Sean about ENSHITTIIFCATION manuscript deadline 10/24/24 WAITING EMAIL Russ about missing royalty statement 10/12/24 WAITING EMAIL Alice about Christmas vacation hotel 10/8/24 10/20/24 WAITING EMAIL Ted about Sacramento event 8/12/24 9/5/24 10/5/24 10/20/24

WAITING CALL LA County about mosquito abatement 10/25/24 WAITING CALL School attendance officer about London trip 10/18/24

WAITING MONEY EFF reimbusement for taxi to staff retreat $34.98 10/7/24

WAITING SHIPMENT New Neal Stephenson novel from Bookshop.org 10/23/24

This is as simple as things could possibly be! I literally just type "WAITING," then a space, then the category of thing I'm waiting for, then a few specifics, then the date. When I follow up on an item, I add the date of the followup to the end of the line. If I get some details that I might need to reference later (say, a tracking code for a shipment, or a date for an event I'm trying to organize), I'll add that, too, as it comes up. Creating a new entry on this list takes 10-25 seconds. When someone gets back to me, I just delete that line.

That is literally it.

Every day, or sometimes a couple of times a day, I will just run my eyes up and down this list and see if there's anything that's unreasonably overdue, and then I'll send a reminder or make a followup call. In the example above, you can see that I've been chasing Ted about Sacramento for months now (this is a fake entry – no plans to go to Sacto at the moment, sorry):

WAITING EMAIL Ted about Sacramento event 8/12/24 9/5/24 10/5/24 10/20/24

So now I've emailed Ted four times. Maybe my email's going to his spam, and so I could try emailing a friend of Ted and ask them to check whether he's getting my messages. But maybe Ted's trying to send me a message here – he's just not interested in doing the event after all. Or maybe Ted is available, but he's so snowed under that he's in danger of fumbling it, and I need to bring in some help if I want it to happen.

All of these are possibilities, and the fact that I'm tracking this means that I now get to make an active decision: cancel the gig or double down on making sure it happens. Without this list, the gig would just die by default, forgotten by both of us. Maybe that's OK, but I can't tell you how many times I've run into someone who said, "Dammit, I just remembered I was supposed to email you about getting that thing done and I dropped the ball. Shit! I really was looking forward to that. Is it too late now?" Often it is too late. Even if it's not, the work of picking up the pieces and starting over is much more than just following through on the original plan.

Restarting my suspense file made me realize how many of the (often expensive or painful) fumbles I've had since the pandemic were the result of me not noticing that someone else hadn't gotten back to me. In essence, a suspense file is a way for me to manage other people's to-do lists.

Let me unpack that. By "managing other people's to-do lists," I don't mean that I'm deciding for other people what they will and won't do (that would be both weird and gross). I mean that I'm making sure that if someone else fails to do something we were planning together, it's because they decided not to do it, not because they forgot. As GTD teaches us, the real point of a to-do list isn't just helping us remember what to do – it's helping us choose what we're not going to do.

This is not an imposition, it's a kindness. The point of a suspense file isn't to nag others into living up to their commitments, it's to form a network of support among collaborators where we all help one another make those conscious choices about what we're not going to do, rather than having the stuff we really value slip away because we forgot about it.

I have frequent collaborators whom I know to be incapable of juggling too many things at once, and my suspense file has helped me hone my sense of when it would be appropriate to ask them if they want to do something together and when to leave them be. The suspense file helps me dial in how much I rely on each person in my life (relying on someone isn't the same as valuing them – and indeed, one way to value someone is to only rely on them for things they're able to do, rather than putting them in a position of feeling bad for failing you).

Lifehacking gets a bad rap, and justifiably so. Many of the tips that traffick as "lifehacks" are trivial or stupid or both. What's more, too much lifehacking can paint you into a corner where you've hacked any flexibility out of your life:

https://locusmag.com/2017/11/cory-doctorow-how-to-do-everything-lifehacking-considered-harmful/

But ever since Danny coined the term "lifehack," back in 2004, I've been cultivating daily habits that have let me live the life I wanted to live, accomplishing the things I wanted to accomplish. I figured out how to turn daily writing into a habit and now I've written more than 30 books:

https://www.locusmag.com/Features/2009/01/cory-doctorow-writing-in-age-of.html

A daily habit of opening a huge, ever-tweaked collection of tabs has made me smarter about the news, helped me keep tabs on my friends, helped me find fraudsters who were trying to steal my identity, and ensured that all those Kickstarter rewards and other long-delayed, erratic shipments didn't slip through the cracks:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/25/today-in-tabs/#unfucked-rota

Daily habits are superpowers. Once something is a habit, you get it for free. GTD turns on decomposing big, daunting projects into bite-sized, trackable tasks. I have a bunch of spaces around the house – my office, my closet, the junk sheds down the side of the house, our tiki bar – that I used to clean out once or twice a year. Each one was all-day, sweaty, dirty job, and for most of the year, all of those spaces were a dusty, disorganized mess.

A month ago, I added a new daily task: spend five minutes cleaning one space. I did the bar first, and after two weeks, I'd taken down every tchotchke and bottle and polished it, reorganizing the undercounter spaces where things pile up:

https://www.flickr.com/search/?user_id=37996580417%40N01&sort=date-taken-desc&text=tiki+bar&view_all=1

Now I'm working through my office. Ever day, I'm dusting a bookshelf and combing through it for discards to stick in our Little Free Library. Takes less than five minutes most day, and I'll be done in about three weeks, when I'll move on to my closet, then the side of the house, and then back to the bar. A daily short break where I get away from my computer and make my living and working environments nicer is a wonderful habit to cultivate.

I'm 53 years old now. I was 33 when I started following Getting Things Done. In that time, I've gotten a lot done, but what's even more relevant is that I didn't get a ton of things done – things that I consciously chose not to abandon. Figuring out what you want to do, and then keeping it on track – in manageable, healthy, daily rhythms that bring along the other people you rely on – may not be the whole secret to a fulfilled life, but it's certainly a part of it.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/26/one-weird-trick/#todo.txt

[naivegh0ul]

What about finally Older Simon Ghost Riley breed the innocent reader? PLEASE

(Love your work, please continue<3 )

I'm glad you like my work :) Hope you like this one!

(warnings: smut, fem reader, older!ghost, fingering, PiV, loss of virginity, brief mention of overstimulation)

(word count: 2,104)

Ghost had been tinkering with his car in his garage with the door open when he heard your sweet voice. "Hey, love." He said as you handed him a cold bottle of water.

He'd taken to calling you 'love' after he saw how you reacted to it the first time, and you still shiver the same way, but now he gets to see the way you glance away from him, clearly embarrassed.

"Hi, Mr. Riley." Is what you responded. He loved the way you called him 'Mr. Riley', the way your lips moved around the words, it made him want to bend you over the hood of his car and fuck you until those words were all you knew.

Ghost watched as you walked towards him, eyeing up the hood of his car, and Ghost could almost swear you were thinking the same thing he was. "Nice car." You complimented.

"Thanks. Want a ride?" He offered you, smirking slightly as he took a sip of his water. He watched your eyes widen slightly at his words and you nodded your head.

Ghost opened the passenger door for you, even buckling you in, treating you like a proper passenger princess. He climbed into the driver's side after, and he could see you staring at him from the corner of his eye but he didn't say anything about it, he only smirked.

The engine roared as he turned the key, and Ghost pulled out of the driveway, speeding off down the street. He drove fast to impress you, and he saw the giddy little smile you had on your face. So cute, he thought, and he bravely leaned over and placed a hand on your thigh.

He saw you jump at the contact and Ghost smiled a little, rubbing his thumb back and forth on your thigh comfortingly. When you looked over at him, your eyes so big and pretty, Ghost just couldn't resist. He squeezed your thigh, sliding his hand further up.

You didn't say anything, instead you parted your thighs slightly, which Ghost took as permission to keep going. His fingers moved to your inner thigh and went up, brushing his pinky finger against the fabric of your panties.

Ghost pulled his hand away teasingly and he heard you let out a tiny whine. "Shh, love, be patient." He cooed as he pulled the car into an empty parking lot and turned it off.

The sun had started to set, and there was no one around, making the setting like something out of Ghost's dreams. "Come here, sweetheart." Ghost said, patting his lap as he leaned back in his seat.

He watched as you obediently climbed into his lap, mauvering yourself around for a moment before settling down. He looked up at you, seeing those gorgeous eyes looking right back at him.

"Mr. Riley, I…" You started, looking away embarrassedly. Ghost cupped your cheek and guided you to look back at him gently. "Talk to me, beautiful. Do you want this?" He said, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb.

You relaxed, and Ghost smiled a little. "Yes, I do. I've just… I've never done this before." You admitted softly, lips pouting so cutely.

Ghost's eyes widened and he felt himself chub up in his jeans at the revelation. "Oh, darlin', you're a virgin? Come here, let me kiss you. We'll take this slow, alright?"

You nodded your head and leaned closer to Ghost, pressing your plush lips against his own carefully. Ghost had to refrain himself from bucking his hips up at the feeling of your lips on his, that feeling is something he's been dreaming of for months.

He moaned, tasting your strawberry lip gloss on his tongue and he prodded at your lips with the muscle, demanding entry. When you parted your lips, he pushed his tongue in immediately.

Ghost licked into your mouth, his tongue sliding along yours and sucking on it. "You taste delicious." He groaned as his hands slid down to your hips, toying with the waistband of your skirt. They slid further down and rested on your thighs before squeezing lightly, and he smiled when you squirmed and looked away.

"Let me make you feel good, baby." Ghost whispered, his voice rough and filled with lust. His hands grabbed your hips again and he began to rock you back and forth on his lap, making you rub yourself on him.

"That's it, rub that pretty pussy on me." You shuddered at Ghost's bold words, your eyes squeezing shut as you did what he said. Watching you grind your clothed cunt on Ghost's erection had him letting out a shaky breath, his head falling back against the headrest.

Ghost just let you do what you want, letting you control the pace. His hands stroked up and down your thighs the whole time, gripping them each time you mewled when your clit brushed his zipper.

The way you writhed on Ghost's lap, your hands holding onto his shoulders tightly, your soft thighs bracketing his, it was enough to make his control waiver.

His hands gripped your hips and pulled you back, shushing you when you made a confused noise and tried to get closer to him. One of Ghost's hands slipped beneath your skirt and began to rub his finger along your slit through your panties.

You jolted, hips jerking and back arching at the feeling. You clenched around nothing and let out a needy whine, moving your hands from Ghost's shoulders to his arms, groping and grabbing his biceps as his finger brushed your clit.

"Right there, sweetheart?" Ghost teased, smirking at you as you moaned, the sound echoing through the interior of the car. Ghost felt how wet you were, your panties positively soaked. "Fuckin' look at you. So wet, all for me."

The way your thighs were twitching, your moans getting louder and more high-pitched, Ghost could tell you were close. He doubled down on his efforts, focusing on your swollen clit.

"Are you close, baby? Gonna make a mess of these pretty panties for me?" You nodded your head, overwhelmed tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Ghost shoved his hand underneath your panties and pushed two of his thick fingers into your sopping wet hole.

Your back arched and you cried out, clenching down on Ghost's fingers as you creamed over his hand, your juices spilling down his wrist.

Seeing you like this, back arched and lips parted around a moan, it made Ghost snap. He pulled his fingers out and grabbed your thighs roughly.

"You have any idea what you do to me, sweetheart?" Ghost growled as he yanked your panties down, the task difficult in the position you two were in. Instead of getting you to sit up and pull them off that way, Ghost just grabbed the sides and tore the thin fabric off you.

"You have any idea how many times I saw you wearin' those slutty fucking skirts and I just wanted to lift them up and get on my knees for you? Hmm?"

You gasped at Ghost's filthy words and the way he ripped your panties apart like it was nothing, "Mr. Riley-" You tried to say but Ghost quickly silenced you with a kiss, pressing his lips to yours roughly.

"Little girl," He growled against your lips, the sound of a zipper being opened permeating the air. "I am going to ruin you." Suddenly, you were being lifted up the hips and pressed against Ghost's chest with his tip nudging at your hole.

He whispered dirty things in your ear as he slowly pulled you down onto his cock, cooing sweetly when you flinched and moaned at his size. "Takin' me so well." Ghost praised.

Ghost watched as you sank down on his cock, watching as you took all of him easily. "Good girl." He cooed, a proud lilt in his tone as he watched you panted and whined on his lap.

After a moment of Ghost letting you adjust to his size, he slowly dragged you up by your hips and dropped you back down, smiling as you squealed and kicked your legs at the feeling.

You tightened up around Ghost, your face contorting into one of pure, pleasure-filled bliss. "Does that feel good, baby?" Ghost asked with a smirk as you opened your mouth to speak but all that came out was a weak string of moans.

Ghost laughed meanly at your feeble attempt at speaking. "Come on, use your big girl words." He said. When you didn't respond, Ghost's smile widened. "Don't tell me you're cockdrunk already. Aww, poor thing."

When you tried to hide your face in Ghost's shoulder, he pulled you down onto his cock and gripped your face tightly, your cheeks squishing together. "Keep those pretty eyes on me, sweetheart." Ghost said, shaking your face back and forth lightly as he cooed and pouted teasingly.

"Mr. Riley." You mumbled. eyes teary and desperate as you rocked your hips back and forth, trying to get your message across. "What, love?" Ghost played the innocent act, pretending as if he has no clue what you're trying to tell him.

You let out an embarrassed whine, trying to look away and hide your face again. "Eyes on me." Ghost reminded you with a stern look, smiling as you nodded your head obediently. "Good girl." He leaned forward and kissed you passionately, his hand slipping off your face down to the side of the seat.

All of a sudden, you're lurching forward as Ghost leans the seat back. "Now," Ghost started as his hands slid up and down your thighs, squeezing them to his heart's content. "Ride me."

You looked down at Ghost with wide, unsure eyes. "It's alright, sweetheart. Ride me like one of your toys. Be a good girl and ride this cock."

Nervously, you did as he said. Lifting yourself up carefully, shivering at the delicious drag of Ghost's thick cock along your walls, before you dropped yourself down with a moan.

"There we go, baby. Just like that." Ghost groaned as he watched you fuck yourself on his cock, his head falling back against the headrest as you clenched around him. He felt you speed up, the sound of your thighs slapping against his echoing throughout the car,

He noticed you'd gotten quieter and when he looked up at you, he saw you staring intently down at your stomach, watching as a bulge appeared and disappeared. "Fuck!" Ghost grunted, immensely turned on by the fact that his cock is so big that it causes your stomach to bulge each time you sit down on him.

Ghost's hand shot out to your lower abdomen, pressing down on it and watching as you mewled and whimpered, your eyes rolling back at the feeling. Ghost grabbed your hips, deciding that you were going to slow for his liking and he flipped the two of you around so that you were laying on the seat and Ghost was thrusting into you.

You looked down as Ghost fucked you, obsessed with the way his cock filled you completely to the brim. He made your brain fuzzy, made your thighs shake and your mouth spill filthy moans.

The car smelled of sex and him, that distinct musk that always made you go crazy whenever he was near you. Ghost angled his hips upwards slightly while you were mid-daydream, causing his cockhead to ram right into your sweet spot.

You cried out Ghost's name, wailing, "Mr. Riley!" Ghost shook his head at your words as he continued to fuck you, breathing heavily as his balls slapped against your ass and his cock twitched inside you. "Simon, love. Call me Simon." He panted.

The sudden intimacy of him allowing you to call him by his first name hit you like a truck, causing your back to arch violently at your thighs squeezed around Ghost's waist as you came. Not only was your neighbour, the mine you've been pining over for months, taking your virginity in his car, he's also allowing you to call him by his real name.

"Simon!" You repeated over and over as your cunt clenched, tightening around Ghost's cock. Your eyes rolled back once again, profanities mixed with Ghost's name coming from your open, drooling mouth.

Ghost takes the opportunity of your open mouth to spit on your tongue, ordering you to swallow as he continued to fuck you into overstimulation. "Shh, sweet girl," Ghost shushed you when you whimpered and complained about how sensitive you are. "I want at least two more of those from you."

1000 followers special! Thank you guys so much for 1k followers. I wanted to give you something special for the occasion and I hope this is okay! Love you all <3

[paleopinesofficial]

🚨WIN OUR NEW DLCs! 🚨

Enter our 👻🎨Spooky Paleo Pines Art Competition for a chance to win the new Paleo Pines Halloween DLCs before anyone else!

Entries are accepted until September 25, 2024 1:00 PM BST - keys will be set out to the winner that day!

Entry Rules Below 👇

👩‍🎨 RULES 🎃 All types of visual art is acceptable - digital, paint, clay, etc! 🎃 Reblog this post with your entry! 🎃The winner will be chosen by the Paleo Pines Dev Team. 🎃 We are accepting entries across all our social channels! 🎃The winner will receive a full copy of Paleo Pines with the DLCs on Steam.

Happy creating! 💚

[luna-azzurra]

Some tips to help you improve your writing style:

1. Read widely: Reading a variety of genres and authors exposes you to different writing styles and helps you develop a broader vocabulary and an understanding of various sentence structures. For example, if you want to improve your descriptive writing, read books by authors known for their vivid imagery like J.R.R. Tolkien or Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

2. Write regularly: Like any skill, writing improves with practice. Set aside dedicated time for writing, whether it's a journal entry, a short story, or an essay. Consistency is key. By writing regularly, you'll become more comfortable expressing your ideas and develop your unique voice.

3. Be mindful of your audience: Tailor your writing style to suit your target audience. Consider their level of familiarity with the subject matter, their interests, and their expectations. For instance, if you're writing a scientific paper for experts in the field, use technical language and provide in-depth analysis. On the other hand, if you're writing a blog post for a general audience, use accessible language and relatable examples.

4. Use active voice and strong verbs: Active voice makes your writing more direct and engaging. It emphasizes the subject performing the action rather than the action itself. For example, instead of saying "The ball was thrown by John," use "John threw the ball." Strong verbs also add clarity and power to your writing. Compare "He walked slowly" with "He sauntered" or "He ambled."

5. Vary sentence structure: Experiment with different sentence lengths and structures to maintain reader interest. A mix of short, medium, and long sentences can create rhythm and flow. For example, a series of short, punchy sentences can build tension or convey urgency, while longer sentences can provide detailed explanations or set a contemplative tone.

6. Use precise and vivid language: Choose words that convey your meaning precisely and evoke vivid imagery. Instead of saying "The flower looked pretty," you could say "The delicate blossom bloomed in vibrant shades of crimson and gold." Specific and descriptive language brings your writing to life and engages the reader's senses.

7. Edit and revise: Good writing often requires multiple rounds of editing. After you finish a draft, take the time to review and revise your work. Look for clarity, coherence, and grammar errors. Consider whether each sentence contributes to the overall message and whether the organization of your ideas flows logically. Don't be afraid to make significant changes if they improve your writing.

8. Seek feedback: Share your work with trusted friends, colleagues, or writing groups. Constructive feedback can help you identify blind spots and areas for improvement. Consider their suggestions while maintaining your unique voice and style.

[transhitman]

This is probably super basic analysis but I've been bouncing this around in my head for a while so:

MOUTHWASHING'S DEHUMANIZATION OF VICTIMS VIA GAMEPLAY

Something that fascinates me about Mouthwashing is how well it uses its medium to characterize the cast. Or, really, mischaracterize them, and demonstrate the ways Jimmy justifies his actions by dehumanizing his cohorts. The flavor text differing between Jimmy and Curly is the most surface-level example. Jimmy comes off as detached, doesn't give commentary relating to anyone but himself. If he says something regarding another crew member, it's usually negative (eg Swansea emptying the vending machine, saying the pills are to "keep Curly quiet" rather than to ease his pain). Curly meanwhile has more personal things to say about the environment. He mentions the bet he made with Jimmy about the rope in the cockpit. To Jimmy, it's just plain rope. Curly comments on how Anya and Daisuke act during game night. Jimmy doesn't comment on the game at all.

So it's not just how they interact with things, it's what the player can interact with period. Most strikingly, Jimmy doesn't allow the player to look at Anya's corpse. He doesn't even comment on it like he would an object in the environment. Each monster that stands in for her also stands in for the unborn child, with Anya tacked on as an afterthought, if at all. Jimmy refuses to see her at all, let alone as a person.

Curly, like Anya's body, can't be commented on. The only interactions you have with Curly are to harm him - to in some sick way try to fix what's wrong with him. Jimmy hates Curly, but at the same time puts him on a pedestal, and so the gameplay reduces him to both an object to be served, and a problem to be solved.

Jimmy has it in his head that he's the only one pulling his weight on the ship. The rest of the characters are doing wildly important things offscreen, of course. Anya is keeping Curly alive on nothing but hopes and dreams, Swansea is presumably salvaging the cryostasis pods in utility, and Daisuke is keeping stock of their supplies. But all of that happens offscreen, where we the player can not see. So it might as well not have happened. All of the characters are affected by this distortion, but Daisuke is hit hardest. He is a competent man, as goofy as he is, but to Jimmy he might as well be part of the set dressing. He's worthless, does nothing, until Jimmy can use him to solve a problem - literally just another tool in his inventory to be exploited and discarded.

And of course Swansea is framed as the antagonist. He's a hindrance from the start, barring the player entry into part of the ship. He has to be confronted to obtain a key item, subdued to progress the story, killed to win the game. He is only an obstacle to Jimmy, not a person with more complicated motives. He is a thing to be overcome.

[multifandomgirl08]

On Sleepless Roads, The Sleepless Go [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: It's the early hours of Nikita's first birthday, and you can't help but look back at the day you brought your son into the world.

Warning(s): Flashback to a year before, post-childbirth (Non-graphic)

A/N: Shorter chapter today before my classes start up again this week. Title from the song Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World.

Words: 1.4k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

It was late at night, a few hours before what would be Nikita’s first birthday. You were staying up because Max’s flight from England was running late. He had finished up the last of his sponsorship obligations earlier that day, and there were weather problems, so they hadn’t let his plane take off until a couple hours ago.

You had stayed up reading your book, drinking tea from your mug that was resting on the end table. The house was silent aside from the sound of the open doors that lead to the backyard.

You looked up at the clock that hung on the wall in the entry way.

11:42 pm, it read. You reached for your mug and took a sip of the tea, it had gone cold two chapters ago. You were just about the close your book and get ready to go to bed when you heard a set of keys in the lock of the front door.

You shut the book placing it on the coffee table before getting up and seeing Max standing in the entryway of the house, his blue Louis Vuitton backpack around his shoulders, and duffle bag in one hand.

“You waited for me.” He said mindlessly placing his keys on the console table.

“I figured that you’d want to be there when I tell Nikita happy birthday.” You said walking closer to him.

Max slid his backpack off, placing both of his bags on the floor. He reached out for your hand, turning off the living room lights, letting you walk in front of him on the floating stairs that lead downstairs. You kept turning off the few lights that were still on in the house, and stopped by Nico’s room first. He was fast asleep in his warm sheets curled up around his pillows.

Max closed to door just enough to let the cats in if they ended up wander around the house in the early hours of the morning. Nikita’s room had a small glow casting a shadow into the hallway. Max had pushed open the door to see Niki lying in his crib fast asleep. Max looked down at his watch for a moment, seeing the hands turn before both of them hit the 12.

You both reached in, kissing him on the forehead one after another. Max ran his hand over Niki’s head.

“Happy Birthday, Nikita.” You whispered. Max moved to sit in the fluffy chair that you would normally read to Niki in. He opened his arms for you inviting you to sit in his lap, while you both looking on into the crib as your son slept.

December 3, 2025 - 12:03 AM

It was a few moments later the nurse placed a swaddle of blankets into your chest, you still couldn’t comprehend the fact that you had just given birth aside from the weight that was against your chest.

“So good, so strong,” Max muttered resting his forehead against your arm. Max’s hand was placed on the baby’s back.

You could hear the nurse say something about giving you a few minutes before they had you start to push the placenta out while taking the baby to get washed, weighed, and changed.

Max kissed your forehead and then the back of your hand that was cradling the baby’s bottom.

“Max, would you like to cut the cord?” The doctor asked. You ran your fingers over the back of Max’s hand, encouraging him to go and do it.

Max went ahead and heard the little cry that the baby let out.

“What do we have?” You croaked having not heard the doctor earlier. Your throat sounded like it had been rubbed raw.

“A boy.” He said, and you could see the tears start to collect in the corner of Max’s eyes. You sometimes forget that Max didn’t get to experience Nico being born.

You had brought a boy into the world, Nikita.

Eventually, they took the baby out of your arms, and Max went with one of the nurses so you could push the placenta out and then get you cleaned up before they brought the baby back.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour. More pushing that felt like a strange ache, and a nurse helping you into the bathroom to clean you up. They ushered you back into the bed, after helping you into a new gown. As you leaned against the pillow, your eyes started to feel heavy. You rested your eyes for a bit before you heard wheels against the tile floor.

You forced them open to see a clear bassinette placed by your bed, and Max sitting in a chair with the baby in his arms.

“Hi, mijn leeuwin.” He said looking up at you. You gave him a weak smile.

“So do you have a name in mind?” The nurse asked.

“Nikita?” Max asked looking at you. He was giving you a way out if you wanted to change it.

You gave the nurse a nod, “Nikita Daniel,” The nurse nodded back to you, pulling a few papers out to write it down before leaving you, Nikita, and Max together.

You sat there in the hospital bed exhusted out of your mind, but let yourself take in the quiet of Max cooing at Nikita. You wanted Max to have as many moment with him as possible.

Max was slow to get out of the chair before walking towards you. He carefully laid Nikita against your chest. You ran a finger over Nikita’s cheek, feeling the soft skin under your fingers.

“I know your not a fan of Nikita as a name, so I thought we could call him Niki for short.” You could feel Max’s eyes trying to meet yours, but you were too busy looking at your son.

“I’m okay with Niki, but I’ll never hear the end of it from Helmut about him being named after Niki Lauda.” You looked up after hearing Max’s words.

You couldn’t help but laugh. Max, always thinking of others.

“After 12 hours of labor, Helmut doesn’t really get much of a say.” Max said nothing to that, just kissed the side of your head before pulling the chair closer to you. Max had laid Nikita in his bassinet after a while letting you get some more sleep. The nurse would come back in a couple of hours to help you breastfeed Nikita for the first time. Max looked in awe of you again, either watching you breastfeeding your child or Nikita eating straight from you. Another first for the both of you to share.

It was in the late hours of the morning that Sophie showed up with Nico holding her hand before Nico got the chance to meet his little brother for the first time.

“Come,” Max said holding your hand as you both walked to the master bedroom. “We should let the birthday boy sleep. It’s going to be a long day.”

“Do you have plans that I don’t know about?” You asked, admiring Max as he got ready for bed removing his stale plane clothes. He was all broad shoulders, and defined arms.

“Maybe.” He shrugged before pulling the bedsheets back.

“Who’d you invited?” You asked as you pushed the thick comforter towards the bottom of the bed.

“The usual people.” That just meant the grid (past and current), Martin, Max’s grandmother, Sophie, Victoria, Tom, and their kids.

“Don’t tell me you ordered a cake.” He said nothing back. You lightly shook your head, oh Max.

You remember him telling you the story of Nico’s first birthday. Max had to blow out Nico’s candle, Luka had thrown a tantrum from not taking a nap earlier in the day. Victoria had apologized profusely afterwords. You always wondered if Max had any photos of that day.

“We’ll blow out the candles for him, and I’m sure Nico will help.” Max said as you both climbed under the sheets.

He had you pulled you up against his chest with his hand resting of your hip. Your fingers were playing with his wedding band. You would have to get up soon to celebrate your son’s first birthday with the family, and somehow you didn’t feel even a little bit tired.

“Sleep mijn leeuwin,” Max muttered into your neck. You could hear that he was falling asleep just from his voice. You pulled the sheets up over your shoulders, and closed your eyes.

It was going to be a long day with people filling up the house, you would need all of the sleep that you could get. Your second oldest was turning 1 and you didn’t want to miss a second of the day.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog

[hatsukeii]

the curious case of kageyama tobio's love life / kageyama tobio x reader

genre(s): crack + fluff! timeskip au (third year/graduation), investigative report format, secretly dating trope, drunk x sober LMFAO

warnings(s): drunk people and house parties... (underage drinking is not! recommended here!), defs multiple/many uses of y/n because of how the fic is formatted but you need to trust the process PLEASE (sorry!) also reader's ass gets slapped by kags as a dare...

wc: ~4k

tldr; below is a transcript, recounted by partygoers hinata shoyo, tsukishima kei, yachi hitoka, and yamaguchi tadashi, of the happenings at hinata shoyo's graduation house party, set on the night of 29th march. any and all hearings have been sworn to be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. they think. probably.

[Report #1- Initiated by Hinata Shoyo]

Date of occurrence: March 29

Time of occurrence: 7:20pm

Location of occurrence: Living room

Kageyama Tobio is the third guest to arrive at Hinata Shoyo's residence, twenty minutes after Tsukishima Kei and Yamaguchi Tadashi. He carries with him the items that were agreed on the night prior- two twelve-packs of beer, one two litre bottle of coke, one Nintendo switch, and two Nintendo Pro controllers. Upon entry, Hinata Shoyo greets him at the door, and the following conversation ensues between Hinata Shoyo and Kageyama Tobio.

[Transcript #1- provided by Hinata Shoyo]

S. Hinata: You're here, what's good! You got the stuff too?

T. Kageyama: Yeah. Where's everyone else?

S. Hinata: Daichi's on patrol until eight, Suga's picking him up when he's done. Yachi's lining up to pick up the cake with y/n-

T. Kageyama: Cool, I'll put the stuff down there. (He signals to the kitchen counter across the living room)

[End of transcript #1]

Kageyama Tobio proceeds to the television, where he sets up his Nintendo on the dock. He then offers a controller to Tsukishima Kei, who accepts, and joins Kageyama in a game of Super Smash Bros. Upon opening the character menu, half of his characters are unavailable for use, evident by the following conversation that ensues between Tsukishima Kei and Kageyama Tobio.

[Transcript #2- Provided by Tsukishima Kei]

T. Kageyama: What the fuck?

K. Tsukishima: For someone who's had this game since release, you're pretty shit if you can barely move past the starter characters.

T. Kageyama: Shut up. [He proceeds to the home page of his console.]

K. Tsukishima: Sure.

[End of transcript #2]

Kageyama Tobio then leaps to the dock, unplugging it for a total of forty-two (Hinata Shoyo estimates) seconds. During its downtime, he is seen to be wiping his neck with one hand, tapping at the screen with the other. The game of Super Smash Bros ensues when he replugs it onto the dock, to reveal a fully unlocked character selection screen. Kageyama Tobio, who plays Sonic the Hedgehog, loses 1:2 against Tsukishima Kei, who plays Sora. But don't tell him that Hinata Shoyo kept count. Thanks.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

[Report #2- Initiated by Yachi Hitoka]

Date of occurrence: March 29

Time of occurrence: 7:46pm

Location of occurrence: Living room, kitchen

Yachi Hitoka and y/n are the sixth and seventh guests to arrive at Hinata Shoyo's residence. By the time they step foot into the house, Hinata Shoyo is three vodka redbulls in, courtesy of Tanaka Ryunosuke and Nishinoya Yuu's contributions to the party's catalogue of available drinks, and is shooting down a fourth with Yamaguchi Tadashi, who is on his first drink of the night. Tsukishima Kei is one can of beer in, and is wrestling Kageyama Tobio on the couch, who is two cans of beer in. Upon entry, Hinata Shoyo slings an arm around Yamaguchi Tadashi, and drags him along to greet the two guests. The following conversation ensues between Yachi Hitoka, Hinata Shoyo, Yamaguchi Tadashi, and y/n.

[Transcript #3- Provided by Yachi Hitoka]

Y/n: What is going on...?

S. Hinata: You're heeeere! C'mon, take a bit from me! [Hinata Shoyo proceeds to tilt his glass too far into his face, and breathe in roughly 250mL of redbull mixed with vodka. He chokes. Yamaguchi Tadashi attempts to worm out of Hinata Shoyo's grasp. His attempt is unsuccessful.]

H. Yachi: If this is what forty minutes looks like, I don't think I wanna know what happens later.

Y/n: Why are they wrestling like... that?

H. Yachi: Men.

T. Yamaguchi: Men.

S. Hinata: [coughs]

Y/n: Understandable.

[End of transcript #3]

Y/n heads to the kitchen counter, where they set a cake into the fridge. Kageyama Tobio breaks free from Tsukishima Kei's sloppy side pin at this moment. Tsukishima Kei heads for the bathroom, and does not return until twenty minutes later. It is unsure what occurred in the bathroom, but not of importance. Kageyama makes a beeline for the fridge, and stubs his toe on the corner of the kitchen counter. He is...unusually uncoordinated, and barges into the space beside y/n, only to grab a third beer and push his way out again. Y/n shoots him a side eye, one that nobody else notices, except for Yachi Hitoka, who is currently writing this report. It's pretty scary, actually, they're a little scary with the side eye. But that is besides the point.

Y/n does not take a drink, but instead heads to the now empty couch, where they pick up the discarded Nintendo Pro controllers off the ground, and invite Yamaguchi Tadashi and Yachi Hitoka to a game of Super Smash Bros. Upon entering the game, y/n selects Sonic as their character. Kageyama Tobio returns to the couch with a can of beer at this moment, and the following conversation ensues between y/n, and Kageyama Tobio.

[Transcript #4- Provided by Yachi Hitoka]

T. Kageyama: Why aren't you picking Ness?

Y/n: I feel like Sonic today, so why not?

T. Kageyama: Sonic's difficult, even for me. Fun, though.

Y/n: I never get to play Sonic, so now that I can, I'm using him.

T. Kageyama: ...Fair enough.

[End of transcript #4]

Following the conversation, Kageyama Tobio does not leave the area. He leans with his forearms against the edge of the couch, and his hands hanging just above y/n's shoulders. He does, however, watch the game and the game only. Y/n, who plays Sonic the Hedgehog, ties with Yachi Hitoka, who plays Kirby. They both lose to Yamaguchi Tadashi, who plays Joker.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

[Report #3- initiated by Tsukishima Kei]

Date of occurrence: March 29

Time of occurrence: 9:02pm

Location of occurrence: Living room

Disclaimer: Tsukishima Kei would like to preface that from this point onwards, his recounts may be liable to errors in continuity and/or accuracy. This is because by 9pm, he was three cans of beer, and one can of Jack Daniels and coke in. Daichi Sawamura, in his fancy police uniform and all, insisted on staying sober, so he will be fact checking any of Tsukishima Kei's recounts up until the point when he leaves the party prematurely. Daichi Sawamura will be aided by Sugawara Koushi, who also insisted on staying sober. For the children, he said. From Daichi Sawamura and Sugawara Koushi's departures onwards, any and all informtaion provided by Tsukishima Kei is subject to human error and inaccuracies. Apologies for the inconvenience.

[The following is fact checked by Daichi Sawamura and Sugawara Koushi]

Hinata Shoyo, who has managed to hold in four vodka redbulls, one can of beer, and half a vodka cruiser thus far, makes the suggestion to play drunken truth or dare. At this point in time, Kageyama Tobio is three cans of beer, and two cans of Jack Daniels and coke in. He is half-asleep on y/n, who looks visibly distraught, like when a guy you're not really into thinks he's allowed to sleep on your shoulder. At Hinata's proposal of truth or dare, y/n speaks into the air, however, it is inaudible to Tsukishima Kei, who has just returned from another twenty minute break in the bathroom. What can be said? The guy needs his downtime away from the rest of these drunk idiots. (This is a Daichi Sawamura approved comment)

In y/n's hand is a red cup, however, it is unconfirmed whether its contents are alcoholic or not. Everybody sits in a circle on the ground of Hinata Shoyo's living room, and in the fourth round of truth or dare, the following conversation ensues between Hinata Shoyo, y/n, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, and Yachi Hitoka.

[Transcript #5- Provided by Tsukishima Kei (aided by Daichi Sawamura and Sugawara Koushi)]

S. Hinata: Who's to SAYYYY...it isn't somebody...RIGHT HEEEEERE! [Hinata Shoyo swirls a bottled vodka cruiser in circles, and spills rougly 15mL of its contents onto his carpet. Nobody notices this. The carpet is not cleaned until the next morning. This will be of importance.]

T. Kageyama: Yeahhhhh...YEAAAAAAH! It HAAAAS to be somebody here, riiiiiiight?...RIIIIIIIGHT? [Kageyama Tobio nudges y/n's shoulders as he prods on. His inquisition is futile, as y/n does not respond directly to his advances. However, they shoot him a look. You know, the look of panic when a guy that you're a little bit into starts totally hitting on you in front of everyone.]

Y/n: Yachi's question was are you into anybody. Yes, I am. Who's next?

K. Tsukishima: Well...it's no FUN if you're not telling us whooooo! C'monnn, a guy hits on you every other day...it's BOOOOORING if you don't tell usssssss...specifics! Yeah, specifics!

T. Kageyama: You're...stiiiiiill getting hit on by OTHERRRR GUYSSSSS? [Kageyama Tobio proceeds to grab y/n by the shoulders, and turn them to face himself. Y/n is visibly taken aback. They shoot another look. the kind of look where your mouth is open and you suddenly stop blinking because you aren't sure how to anymore.]

Y/n: Can we...can we please move on to the next person? Thanks! [Y/n taps Kageyama Tobio's wrists two times. Kageyama Tobio releases y/n from his grasp, and folds his arms.]

H. Yachi: Goooooootcha! [Yachi Hitoka takes a swig from a red cup. Its contents are known to be cream soda and vodka in a 7:1 ratio, courtesy of Hinata Shoyo's contributions to the party's catalogue of available drinks. At this moment, Yachi Hitoka is two drinks in, and that is already two drinks too many.] So, Yamaguchi! Truuuuuuuth...or dare?

[End of transcript #5]

This round of truth or dare continues for another thirteen minutes. No further interactions are recorded between Kageyama Tobio and y/n within this timeframe. Daichi Sawamura and Sugawara Koushi leave the party prematurely at 9:20pm.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

[Report #4- Initiated by Tsukishima Kei]

Date of occurrence: March 29

Time of occurrence: 9:52pm

Location of occurrence: Living room, kitchen

[The following is not fact checked by Daichi Sawamura or Sugawara Koushi, and may contain inaccuracies. Ensure to cross check with multiple reliable sources. As reliable as you can get with a group of hammered, freshly graduated young adults, and their enabling seniors, at least. For the record, Tsukishima Kei has ceased his consumption of alcohol by this point in time. Tsukishima Kei's brother, Tsukishima Akiteru, gives him the talk when he returns home the following day, but that is not of importance. So don't worry about it. Just know that Tsukishima Kei was the second most responsible drinker of the night. Thanks.]

At approximately...9:52pm? Yes, 9:52pm, sure. At 9:52pm, y/n separates from the truth or dare circle, and proceeds towards the kitchen. They are seen filling up a red cup with coke, and nothing else. While y/n is away from the larger group, the following conversation ensues between Nishinoya Yuu, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, and Hinata Shoyo.

[Transcript #6- Provided by Tsukishima Kei]

Y. Nishinoya: No...I'VE GOT a GOOOOOOOOD ONE FOR HIM! ...KAGEYAMA! I...daaaaaare YOU!

K. Tsukishima: He asked for a truuuuuuuuuuth, not a...DAAAARE!

S. Hinata: GODDAMN LET HIIIIIIM FINISHHHHHH....

Y. Nishinoya: Yeaaaaaah, asshooooooole. Leeeeeet me FINISHHHHHH! [Nishinoya Yuu sniffs, and stares into the ceiling for four seconds. Not a single thought is coherent in Nishinoya Yuu's mind.]

T. Kageyama: Whaaaat am I dooooing! I'm gaaaaame enough...for ANYTHING! ANYTHIIIIIING! [Kageyama Tobio possesses a look that is a little insane, and proceeds to...beat at his chest? What the fuck? Did he actually beat at his fucking chest? (This is not Daichi Sawamura approved. Please cross check with reliable sources.)]

Y. Nishinoya: I daaaare YOU! To smack y/n's aaaaaaaass...hahah...ha.... [Nishinoya Yuu falls over to the side. He remains in slumber for the next thirty-two minutes.]

S. Hinata: Thaaaaaat...is CRAAAZY! Kaaaageyamaaaaa...are youuuuu! Gaaaaaame enoughhhhh!

[End of transcript #5]

Kageyama Tobio pushes himself off the ground at Hinata Shoyo and Nishinoya Yuu's provocations. He snickers to himself, and walks to the kitchen, where y/n is placing the two litre bottle of coke into the fridge. Kageyama Tobio proceeds to advance towards y/n, and smacks their behind, before…squeezing it? And then jiggling it in his- what the…fuck is going on? (This is not Daichi Sawamura approved, please cross check with reliable sources.) Y/n snaps around at the abrupt impact, and empties the contents of their cup onto Kageyama Tobio. It's a shame Nishinoya Yuu is too knocked out to witness what he has provoked. Sucks. The following commotion ensues between Kageyama Tobio, and y/n. Please note that parts of the conversation were inaudible from the truth or dare circle's location.

[Transcript #6- Provided by Tsukishima Kei, Yachi Hitoka, Hinata Shoyo, and Yamaguchi Tadashi]

Y/n: WHATTTTT the FUCK KAGEYAMA.

T. Kageyama: [inaudible]

Y/n: Oh...my fucking God! You are! Very drunk!

T. Kageyama: [Turns to the truth or dare circle.] TOOOLD YOU! I'M GAAAAAME ENOUGH! FOR AAAAAAAANYTHING!

Y/n: [inaudible]...NISHINOYA! [Y/n shoots a look towards the truth or dare circle. One of disdain. Contempt, even. In hindsight, the dare was much too inappropriate. Here is a reminder for everybody to apologise at the next available chance.]

T. Kageyama: Soooorry, [inaudible].

Y/n: [inaudible]...God, I should have never did it to you the first time. Not the place. Not! the place! [Y/n proceeds to grab Kageyama Tobio by the shoulders, turning him around. Kageyama Tobio is ushered into the bathroom, alongside y/n. Y/n shoots one more look at the truth or dare circle. Tsukishima Kei, as he writes this transcript, is beginning to understand Yachi Hitoka's slight fear of y/n. It's the side eye. They are definitely a little scary with the side eye.]

T. Kageyama: Ouuuuuu, the BAAAATHROOM! Thaaat's a firstttttt. [Kageyama Tobio wiggles his brows, and it's kind of creepy. Like when a guy is trying a little too hard to get laid, and is throwing every existing pickup line at you. Y/n smacks him in the side of his head, and pushes Kageyama Tobio into the bathroom. They slam the bathroom door shut and lock it. The two do not return until fifteen minutes later. It is unsure what occurred during that timeframe.]

[End of transcript #6]

When Kageyama Tobio and y/n return to the living room, it is approximately 10:12pm. Nishinoya Yuu is still asleep on the floor, and shows mild signs of...nevermind. Yachi Hitoka and Yamaguchi Tadashi have moved on to drunken karaoke. Hinata Shoyo and Tanaka Ryunosuke learn to do the Rasputin beside Nishinoya Yuu's unconscious body. Kageyama Tobio and y/n settle beside Yamaguchi Tadashi and Yachi Hitoka respectively, and pretend to be at a concert where the singers can barely remember their own lyrics and aren't sure what notes to hit. Tsukishima Kei wants to go home, but hasn't gathered a satisfactory amount of blackmail yet. Therefore, Tsukishima Kei stays the night. He passes out on the living room carpet at 12:03am.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

[Report #6- Initiated by Yamaguchi Tadashi and Hinata Shoyo]

Date of occurrence: March 30

Time of occurrence: 12:12am

Location of occurrence: Living room

Disclaimer: Any and all recounts made my Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi from this point onwards may be liable to errors and inaccuracies. Since Tsukishima Kei made the disclaimer, the two believed they too were responsible for making one of their own. They admit that they were not responsible drinkers. They also admit that this will, undoubtedly, happen again.

12:12am is a time of silence. By this time, Tsukishima Kei has fallen asleep on the carpet, just beside Hinata Shoyo’s cruiser spill. He does not wake until 11:13am of March 30. Yachi Hitoka leaves the residence at approximately 11:30pm, alongside Tanaka Ryunosuke and Nishinoya Yuu, who are all picked up by Kiyoko Shimizu. Yamaguchi Tadashi and Hinata Shoyo are positioned at the kitchen counter, where they eat the graduation cake with their bare hands. At this point in time, Yamaguchi Tadashi has ceased all alcohol consumption, tapping out at two vodka redbulls, and two cream soda and vodkas in a 5:1 ratio. Hinata Shoyo, who has thrown up twice between this report and the last, has also ceased all alcohol consumption, tapping out at four vodka redbulls, one can of beer, and one vodka cruiser. Does cake work as a hangover cure? So sinful, so decadent…who gets to eat the happy graduation chocolate sign? Pay that no mind, for it is unimportant. What is of importance, is Kageyama Tobio and y/n’s current form.

Kageyama Tobio, who has tapped out after three cans of beer, two cans of Jack Daniels and coke, and an additional shot of pure vodka, stirs in his half slumber. This is no regular half slumber, but is one of intimacy, and of lovesick vulnerability, evident by his entire body splayed across y/n’s lap. At the time of this report, it is unsure whether y/n has consumed any amount of alcohol, but their sobriety is to be applauded regardless. (Please do not inform Kageyama Tobio of Hinata Shoyo’s comments on his character. Thanks.)

Y/n proceeds to bounce their leg twice, no, three times. Yes, three times is what it takes for Kageyama Tobio to stir awake. Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi advance towards the couch at this moment, with the intention of smearing cake over Kageyama Tobio and y/n. However, upon entering the vicinity of the living room, the following conversation ensues between Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shoyo, and y/n. Please be reminded that Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi are both drunk out of their mind, and that the conversation was one of whispers. For that reason, any and all details of the transcript are liable to errors, redaction, and/or inaccuracies. Apologies for the inconvenience.

[Transcript #7- Provided by Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi]

T. Kageyama: [inaudible]…leave?

Y/n: Do you? [inaudible]…car [inaudible]

T. Kageyama: I don’t [inaudible]…ow. [Kageyama Tobio rubs at his temples. Hinata Shoyo believes he is crying, but also don’t tell Kageyama Tobio he thinks that. (This is not Daichi Sawamura approved. Please cross check with reliable sources.)]

Y/n: Alright. Upsies now, I’ll drop you off. [Y/n pushes Kageyama Tobio’s body off of their lap. Kageyama Tobio whines. Hinata Shoyo is recording this entire ordeal, but there is frosting on the camera from fumbling for his phone with cake-covered hands. It is unclear who is speaking in the video, or what is happening, really.]

T. Kageyama: Drop me…offffffff? BUT I THOOOOOUGHT- [Y/n proceeds to punch Kageyama Tobio in the side, to which he doubles over. Kageyama Tobio begins to giggle uncontrollably on the ground.]

Y/n: Yes. I'm dropping you off, Tobio. Hinata? [Y/n turns to Hinata Shoyo, who throws his phone onto the ground upon being spotted. They leave the couch, and attempt to pull Kageyama Tobio to his feet. Kageyama Tobio is still giggling, and is unable to find his grounding.]

S. Hinata: Y-yeeeeeees...? [Why are they looking at Hinata Shoyo like that? No, seriously, he's getting scared thinking about it again as he writes this transcript.]

Y/n: I think I'll head out, Kageyama needs a drop off and I'm getting tired. This was fun! Thanks for holding the party, happy grad! I'll catch you around, yeah?

S. Hinata: Of COUUUUUUUUURSE...! Youuuu're NEVER! Getting rid of USSSSS!

Y/n: Yeah, of course. See you soon, Hinata. Good luck with the cleanup. [Y/n has finally managed to pull Kageyama Tobio to his feet. They yank Kageyama Tobio by the arm, and push him out the front door.]

[End of transcript #7]

At 12:15am, Kageyama Tobio and Y/n leave Hinata Shoyo's residence. Yamaguchi Tadashi, and Tsukishima Kei do not leave until the day of March 30.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

[Report #7- Initiated by Tsukishima Kei, Hinata Shoyo, Yamaguchi Tadashi]

Date of occurrence: March 30

Time of occurrence: 11:13am

Location of occurrence: Living room

Tsukishima Kei is the first to wake from the stench of the cruiser spill by his nose. God, fuck, everything hurts. Is this what death feels like? A hangover? Also, that spill? Foul, fucking rank. It comes as no surprise that vodka, steeped into the fuzz of an unwashed carpet, would undoubtedly stink. That is beside the point. Tsukishima Kei leaves the ground at the stench, and searches for his phone. He is afraid. He promised to be home by midnight. His brother is going to kill him. Following two minutes of mindless smacking at the ground, Tsukishima Kei finally finds his device. Upon closer inspection, however, the following conversation is shown on the phone.

[Transcript #8- Provided by Y/n]

Y/n: r u dead???? -1:02am

Y/n: hurry up i wanna sleep:( -1:02am

Y/n: im not hearing water istg if ur not showering im gonna fucking drown u babe i dunked SODA all over u -1:03am

Y/n: r u hearing me -1:05am

Y/n: kageyama tobio r u hearing me because i still am not hearing water from my bathroom -1:05am

Y/n: if you don't shower ur sleeping on the ground tn -1:07am

Y/n: tobio r u done omg hurry up i wanna sleep sb -1:27am

[4 missed calls from: Y/n]

[End of transcript #8]

Upon this discovery, Tsukishima Kei wakes Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi, who sleep on the couch for the night. The three ruminate on their next course of action, before the phone rings. The following conversation ensues between Tsukishima Kei, and y/n. Hinata Shoyo and Yamaguchi Tadashi choose to act as bystanders.

[Transcript #9- Provided by Tsukishima Kei]

Y/n: ...Fuck.

K. Tsukishima: So.

Y/n: He dropped it while wrestling you, didn't he.

K. Tsukishima: ...We wrestled?

[End of transcript #9]

[Case Closed]

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

bonus:

When you realise that Tobio's phone is MIA, he finally returns from your bathroom. Barely clothed, he shakes his head, and droplets of water come flying from his hair. His feet are heavy against the floor, and he isn't sure if he'll even make it to your bed at this rate, until you come darting out of your room, phone in hand.

"Tobio, where is your phone?"

"My phone?" His phone, it's in the bathroom, like it always is when he showers, right? Tobio grunts, annoyed at the extra return journey to the bathroom. He swipes at his T-shirt on the bathroom counter-right, that's where his shirt has gone. What meets his fingers is cold porcelain, and he frowns, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Not...here? Good question...where is it?"

You drag Tobio to your room, shutting the door behind you. When he spares no time to roll into your bed, blissfully unaware, you glare at him, and remind yourself that you do, in fact, love the guy. Even if he drunkenly slapped your ass in front of everybody four hours prior, forgot about your warnings and drank much too far past his limit, and has by now, probably outed your relationship to everyone at the party, despite keeping it perfectly hidden for over a year. Unfortunately, you remind yourself once again that you indeed, do love Kageyama Tobio, so this can wait. What is important now, is catching up on lost slumber, and forcing Tobio to join you.

Crawling into bed beside him, you finally melt into his arms for the first time tonight, away from the eyes of the Karasuno volleyball team. Tobio smiles, satisfied with the way that you're relaxing against him, instead of pushing him off and smacking his head. He inhales the scent of your shampoo, slips his hands beneath your shirt to hold your bare waist. This is comfortable. You are comfortable. Better than whatever he was on at that party.

"Oh well, who cares? You probably dropped it while wrestling with Tsukishima."

"...I wrestled Tsukishima?"

author's note:

I hope this is as fun to read as it was to write and i also hope it's actually good because it's so crack that there's not really any fluff until the bonus bit at the end BUT i'll come back with some proper butterfly inducing fluff and or angst soon!! love u all!!

tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @staraxiaa @catsoupki @hiraethwa @laughingfcx @akaakeis @kuroppiii @tulip-room @wyrcan @wishi-selfships @fiannee @bailey-reeds @zzwon

ok thank u for waiting n reading love u all see u soon bye bye

[markrosewater]

Hey Mark I have played against a few UB decks and frankly, they play well with interesting play patterns. But ita not magic. Yeah you can pull off sick combos, the cards are powerful yada yada. Why do I care? It's just ads for other IP. I can love an IP land I still will hate sitting down vs a deck built around it because it's not magic. But I know we long time players don't matter because you're making so much money now

Let me correct another misconception. There are four basic audiences for a Universes Beyond product:

Existing players - These are players who already play Magic, many for a long time.

New players - These are players who have never played Magic before. This is their first set.

Lapsed players - These are players who played Magic once upon a time, but left the game, and this product is bringing them back.

Collectors - These are people who don't play the game, but just buy the product as a collectible. For a Universes Beyond set, this is often people who are fans of the property.

Now that I have the terminology out of the way, let's get to the key question: for a Universes Beyond set, which of these four audiences is the biggest?

The answer is existing players, by a huge margin. The vast majority of Universe Beyond purchasers are people who currently play Magic, many of which have played for a long time. Longtime players very much matter to us, and they, again as a whole, really like Universes Beyond.

Okay, which group is second?

Lapsed players. Universes Beyond has proven very good at bringing back people who used to play Magic. This group is kind of definitionally "old time" players.

Which group is third?

This is new players. New players make a tiny portion of the people buying the product, but new players are important and Universes Beyond does a good job of attracting a higher percentage of new players than other products. Magic is an intimidating game to learn, so drawing people in through a property they love has proven a good entry point. Some of these first time players, once they learn the game, stick around to play in-multiverse expansions. That is, they have the potential to become longtime players.

Which group is fourth?

The collectors. This is, by far, the smallest group. Most people buying Magic are buying it to play with.

So, this idea that Universes Beyond is forsaking existing players for other groups is simply wrong. The reason Universes Beyond is so successful is because many longtime, invested, enfranchised Magic players enjoy it. I get that it might not be you, specifically, but it is a lot of your fellow "longtime players".