#Tumblin Out

[sun-marie]

I was looking through my blog and I realized I don't think I ever? actually posted my Azulow zine piece here? so. oops! 😅

But yeah, last year I had the pleasure to be part of this amazing Azulow zine, Pas de Deux, a digital zine dedicated to the FE Fates pairing Azura/Laslow, which is still available for download!

Please enjoy some Azulow Family fluff in this no-deeprealms AU <3

[winesoakedwool]

thinkin about critical role c3 culminating in the intermingling of three different groups of heroes from different generations representing a complex coalition of the divine, infernal, and apathetic coming together to combat a plot devised and carried out over a century, whose success or failure may take many forms, but all of which promise a new world order born out of the suffering of many

[that-thoughtful-waffle]

Ive been gone 7 months wdym I didn't miss anything

[singmetheblues]

Well, I rolled and I tumbled and cried the whole night long.

[carelessplum]

I talked about tumblr and explained Goncharov to my co-workers at lunch today 🤭

[number3]

Happy 3rd to whatever the fuck this was

what a week huh?

[shotmrmiller]

kinktober: cockwarming (john price x reader x simon in underground fighter au)

You're no fan of real-time violence.

Movies can never replicate its visceral reality— the sharp metallic tang that clings to the air, mingled with salt and the bitter stench of the swill these local colors call beer. Even worse is having to be the one to patch Simon up with trembling, blood-slick fingers and your molars sunk into the thick of your tongue to keep your lunch where it belongs.

So when Simon sends you Price's way with a firm palm on your arse and his spit still warm on your lips, you're grateful. He'll keep ya busy.

You're not counting his blood money, if that's what he was thinking.

"Course not, love," Price says, the rings on his thick fingers glinting under the dim light overhead as he opens the door to his office. It smells of worn leather, polished wood, and layered on top is the heady aroma of tobacco, rich, unmistakable. (You will not stay if he lights one of those puppies up. You like your lungs how they are.)

"Tha's wha' the bill counter is for." You can feel the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes— a steady presence at the base of your spine, guiding you forward with a subtle push.

You'd expected him to let you pluck a book off the well-stocked shelf that's been beckoning you since you laid eyes on it and curl up on his couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Maybe even chat you up with small talk, ask about your week, school/job, and how you were adjusting to this new life.

Not with his broad front curling around your back, breath warming the shell of your ear, while you stare at the smooth, raised skin on his knuckles— which is less furry than the rest of him— in hopes that you don't fall apart around the thick of his cock. He's got a hand flat on the desk, small finger slanting to the side probably from where it healed wrong, and the other's signing off paperwork you couldn't even try to understand with a clear mind, much less one that's spinning from the sheer want for friction, relief.

Your arse pulses hot from where he'd reprimanded you earlier for squirming too much.

"Quite obedient. Simon's taught ya well." He hisses when you tighten up involuntarily, indignation cutting through the sluggish heat you've been burning in at his remark. Obedient. Taught. As if you're some kind of lap dog, yipping and rolling over for a treat. (Or in this case, a cock.)

"Easy, love. Jus' a joke." The hand he'd had on the desk comes to squeeze at the meat of your ribs, a small gesture, before weaving down to your cunt, fingers spreading, feeling how well split you are around his length, lips spread wide. "I'd hate f'you to turn my own guard dog against me, eh?" His apology comes in jerky little circles, smearing slick over your neglected clit, coarse hair of your mons coated milky white.

Each stroke of his fingers only bows your spine, winding it like one would a key on the back of a doll, your muscles coiling with tension, bodily response not your own after being denied release for god knows how long.

The sharp tap on the door goes completely unnoticed by you, but not Price. His pace remains steady, continuous, as Simon walks in through the door with crimson peppered on his cream wifebeater.

"John." Through bleary eyes, you see Simon settle in the chair across from you both, legs long, knuckles angry red and swollen as he palms himself over his denim. "Gaz may or may not 'ave goaded Soap into a fight."

Price's hand stops abruptly, desperation clogging your throat, the coil beneath your navel cranked so tight you might just scream. His voice rattles you from behind. "And?"

Simon's got his jeans bunched to his knees now, cock resting heavy atop his thighs, quads' ridges shifting as he gets comfortable. He might just be a tad bigger than what you've got sitting snugly against the plug of your womb.

"They're tumblin' outside, among civil folk. I doubt gettin' 'em out will be as painless this time 'round."

Price snarls and you find yourself empty, straddling Simon's hips, your inner thighs burning at the width. "Bloody fuckin'—," the sound of his belt buckle peters off soon after he walks out the door.

Your hands can feel Simon's shoulders flexing as he runs a fist up his length, eyes heavy lidded and focused on the creamy slick dampening your curls. His cock sits long on your stomach.

"'ave a seat, then." Amusement curls his lip, usual pink scar on his lip stretched silver. Your knees don't reach the cushion he's on properly, so you place your feet right above his own for leverage, legs folded tight.

His fingers dimple your waist as you lower yourself onto him, breath rushing out of your lungs as he fills you, aching, burning, a stretch you'll never really get used to, the pinch deep in your core causing discomfort to clump your lashes together until you're flush against him.

"Sit real pretty now. Gotta wait f'r Price t'give me my earnin's."

You're gonna rip his ear off with your teeth if you don't get to come soon.

"Claws in," he mutters, thumbing your pebbled nipple through your shirt. "Won't be too long."

(It was too long but worth every bloody second in the end.)

[navybrat817]

In a Red Dress

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky has to debrief after a mission, so you decide to stop in for a visit. In a red dress.

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Established relationship, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, flirting, teasing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Happy FriYAY! I started this in January for @tumblin-theworldaway and finally finished it today. Love you, Aqua! I hope you can relax soon. Could be considered a follow up to With a Bang. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Your heels clicked along the floor as you left the elevator, reminding yourself for the umpteenth time that it wasn't Bucky’s fault that his team extended their mission for another day. Unforeseen circumstances were to blame, completely out of his control. You also couldn't hold it against him that he had to debrief after he messaged you that he arrived back home safely and unharmed. It was part of the job. Still, you missed him and wanted a bit of attention.

Which was why you showed up at S.H.I.E.L.D. in a silky red dress and Bucky’s dog tags under your coat. No bra, no panties. Which he realized when you walked into the conference room, unannounced, and removed your coat.

It was fun to put the fire in his steel eyes.

“Welcome home, Bucky,” you smiled as the room went silent. “Don’t mind me. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Your burly boyfriend was out of his seat and didn't tear his gaze away from you, the tension thick as you tossed the coat away. Today was a good day for your self confidence. You wore it like a second skin, feeling as beautiful on the outside as you did inside. You knew you looked good enough to eat and you wanted him to devour you.

And as much as you loved him in his black shirt and tactical pants, it hid the wall of muscle you wanted to trace with your hands and tongue.

“Hey, baby. Fancy seeing you here,” he said, his eyes dropping to your chest. Your nipples hardened against the fabric and you wished he’d latch his mouth to them. “And speaking of home, I thought I was going to meet you there.”

Your shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I got impatient since you were late. Plus I wanted to show you my dress,” you said, doing a happy twirl. It was reminiscent of New Years. The soft fabric hugged your body tight like your black dress did, but this one left little to the imagination. “What do you think?”

Steve, ever the good friend, averted his gaze, but a scowl crossed Bucky’s handsome face when you both realized that other agents looked your way. You hadn't expected to be the center of attention for anyone else, but it didn't matter to you if others looked. Why would you want them when Bucky had you under his spell?

At least they were smart enough to look away when Bucky’s metal hand clenched.

“Well? Do you like it? I thought the dog tags were a nice touch,” you added, running a finger along them when he remained silent. “They really do go well with everything.”

“Come here,” he said, beckoning you with a metal finger. You knew he meant business when he didn't use his dominant hand. “Now.”

You maintained an aura of innocence as you walked toward him, watching him his lips as your hips swayed.

“I can see your nipples through your dress,” he said low enough for just the two of you, but poor Steve with his enhanced hearing likely picked up on it. “And I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you permission to wear a dress like that in front of other guys.”

Any other guy who said that to you would've been smacked, but hearing it from him only made your eyes fill with amusement as you tilted your head. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to wear this, Sergeant.”

“Baby,” he whispered. You knew what calling him by his rank did to him.

“I should be able to wear what I want and when I want to. We both know that,” you continued, sliding your finger down his chest instead of poking it like he expected. “But you have my permission to break someone's fingers if they try to touch what belongs to you. Because I do belong to you.”

Your declaration fueled the fire within. There was no hesitation on your part. No doubt. And after being apart for a short time, you wanted him to hear you say you were his girl.

“Yeah, you do. You’re mine,” he said with a raspy touch of confidence that would’ve soaked your panties had you been wearing any. “And I’m all yours, but I still need to debrief.”

You huffed, but the conviction in his tone was admirable. “Fine. I’ll just wait here,” you said when he frowned. Both of you knew the classified information wasn’t meant for your ears, yet no one spoke up for you to leave. Were they afraid of pissing your boyfriend off? “You know, I really do love that grumpy look of yours. It gets me so wet.”

Bucky’s cheek twitched when one of the men coughed. “You're being a fucking tease.”

“Is it teasing if I let you have me?” You asked, tapping your chin. “Teasing you would be letting you go to bed with blue balls.”

Wordlessly, he lifted a hand and clutched the dog tags. He yanked on them hard enough to move you closer, his eyes not leaving yours when you gasped and shivered from the heat-filled look. You considered it a win that you didn’t collapse. Because he was going to destroy you and you’d love every second of it.

“Be very careful what comes out of your mouth next, baby,” he warned.

You smiled, more than ready to give him one more push. “I’m more interested in what’s supposed to go inside my mouth.”

His nostrils flared when you opened your mouth and showed him your tongue and throat. He put a hand on the back of your neck and tilted your head back, lightly nipping at your skin below your jaw. “I should put you on your knees and fuck your throat in front of everyone. Or put you over my knee and spank you ‘til you squirm. Show ‘em that you really are mine.”

You giggled, a soft and tempting sound. “Why fuck my throat when my pussy is nice and wet for you?”

“Gentlemen. I think the Bravo Conference Room is available. Let’s finish this up there,” Steve announced, his chair scraping against the floor and pulling you out of your spell. “Told you that you should’ve just gone home, jerk.”

“Fuck off, punk,” Bucky said, keeping a firm hand on you so you couldn’t look at any of the men filing out. The smirk he gave you was nothing short of predatory once the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone. “Since you need my cock so badly that you can’t wait until I get home, bend over that table and let me give it to you.”

Your giggle quickly died in your throat when you realized he was serious. “You’ve never fucked me in one of the debriefing rooms. Someone could walk in,” you reminded him.

Yeah, you showed up wearing what you did. Yeah, you teased him. But it was all in good fun. He wouldn’t actually fuck you on the table.

Right?

Your cheeks grew hot at the next words out of his mouth. “You think I give a shit about if someone walks in?”

He let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist, carefully dragging you to the table. You loved every part of him, but something about his unashamed want of you made your heart soar. Maybe it was because of how much he healed and allowed himself to have a piece of happiness. That some part of him from his past, the man he used to be, surfaced and blended in with who he was now.

Heaven sent and survived the depths of Hell.

“Now, I should spank your ass raw for this little stunt you pulled. Letting them see you in this dress,” he said without any real threat behind his words. “But I won’t do that until we’re home.”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes,” you smiled, expecting him to bend you over. But he brought a hand to your cheek instead. “Bucky?”

His gaze moved to your lips as he murmured, “Not fucking you until I kiss you.”

His mouth met yours not in a frenzy, but with a smile. The kind that told you how happy he was to be back with you. It wasn’t long before he shifted, the hand on your cheek slipping to your chin so he could deepen it. The soft slip of his tongue ignited your entire body, feeling his heart beat faster as you brought a hand to his chest. A reminder that he was alive, home, and loved you.

You loved him, too.

Your eyes stayed shut for a few seconds after he pulled away. “Missed you, Bucky,” you whispered.

“Missed you, too,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “Now bend over.”

The air rushed from your lungs at the switch from want to tenderness to need, your chest pressed against the table as he pushed your dress. Part of you wondered if he would’ve made good on his threat and fuck you in front of the other agents. He liked to toe the line of wanting to show others you were his and not wanting them to see intimate parts of you.

Which made you wonder what he’d do if someone walked in. He said he didn’t give a shit, but would he stop and try to cover your body with his own? Or would he keep fucking you?

You wouldn't mind either way.

“Spread ‘em,” he ordered, which you immediately obeyed. The low whistle made you shut your eyes before he dragged a finger along your exposed slit. “Didn’t even bother covering your pretty pussy with underwear. Probably best since you would’ve ruined them with how wet you are.”

“You’ve ruined all of my panties, Bucky,” you said, the distinct sound of his belt buckle and pants zipper making you moan. “And I’m ready for you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? Your pussy ready to stretch around my cock?” He asked, making you shriek when he unexpectedly brought his flesh hand down hard on your ass. He only used the metal when you were in real trouble. “You better not have fucked yourself with a toy before you got here.”

“I didn’t! I haven’t even touched myself,” you promised before he stretched over your back. “I just need you in me.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And though you interrupted my debriefing and I may need to stab a teammate or two, you’re still my good girl. And good girls deserve rewards,” he growled in your ear, nipping it for good measure as you moaned. The head of his cock teased your entrance, your core clenching in anticipation. “I’ll fuck you and you’ll come all over me, just like you want and just like I need. And you’ll take it ‘til I’m done with you.”

You reveled in being his good girl, even when you were bad. How no one else could take his cock the way you could. How he made you soak your sheets day and night with your essence because being fucked by Bucky Barnes made you gush like a geyser. It was obscene.

“I’m your good girl and I’ll take everything you give me,” you said sweetly, knowing he’d fuck you whether you said it or not. “So let my pussy welcome your cock home, please?”

The soft kiss to your neck was almost like an apology before he pushed into you, both of you moaning. He’d check later to make sure you weren’t sore since he didn’t stretch you at all, but the slight ache when he bottomed out always bordered more on pleasure than pain. The overwhelming sensations of him inside you made your eyes roll back and he hadn’t even started thrusting.

“So fucking warm. And wet,” he grunted in your ear when he finally moved, his pants rubbing against your bare thighs. “Jesus fuck, you’re soaking me.”

Bucky robbed you of your breath when he leaned up and gripped your hips, hammering into you. You tried to grip the table, but all you could do was let him pull you back and forth. He was relentless like this, powerful, dominant. Making you take it, just like he said you would. Funny how minutes ago you were the one confidently teasing him and now you were a whining, needy mess. All because his cock shut your brain off.

You didn’t need to think like this anyway. You could be his doll, just for him to play with and love. In your pretty red dress or nothing at all.

“Harder, Sergeant,” you begged, your moans spurring him on.

“Not hard enough for you? Needy little thing,” he groaned, the sound of him burying himself inside you over and over echoing in your ears. “Missed this cunt. Missed you.”

Your pussy gripped him tight, the heady bliss making your vision blur. “Missed you. M… Missed your cock,” you slurred.

He chuckled, not slowing his pace as he leaned back down to tickle your cheek with his scruff. “So fucking cute when you get drunk on my cock.”

You wondered some days where he learned to talk dirty before you remembered that you had a large hand in that. He loved telling you how greedy your pussy made him. How he loved watching his spend slide out of you so he could fuck it back in. How he’s shocked some days that he can fit inside you, so he must’ve turned you into a perfect cocksleeve.

His cock made your mind numb, but your pussy made him run his mouth.

“Gonna make you sit on it when we get home. Fuck, gonna make you ruin the sheets when I fuck you into the mattress,” he rambled, making you moan louder. You didn’t care who heard. Let them hear what he did to you. What he turned you into: his needy slut. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you moaned, his thrusts pushing your breasts harder against the table, your nipples hard and aching for him to touch them. He would later. You could wait. But you couldn’t wait to fall over the precipice. “‘M gonna come.”

“Do it. Won’t stop you,” he encouraged. He no doubt felt how close you were with how you clenched around him, your back starting to arch. “C’mon, baby. Come all over me.”

Your eyes fluttered as your body tensed, your walls pulsing around him your orgasm surged like a tidal wave. The ripples tore through you, ebbing and flowing as you moaned his name. If you could drown in pleasure, you’d want his name to be the last word that spilled from your lips.

“That’s my girl,” he praised as your limbs went lax.

You throbbed around him until he pulled out, making you whimper since he didn't come. You wanted him to finish inside you. He had you on your back with your legs spread wide before you could beg for it, keeping your dress up as he speared you once again. He thrust fast, needing his release just as badly as you needed yours.

“Need to see your face when you milk my cock,” he grunted, licking his thumb and bringing it to your clit. You whined, jerking underneath him as he rubbed the swollen nub. “Oh, stay still. You can give me one more.”

You almost denied him before you felt the coil tighten within you again. You never thought you could have back-to-back orgasms until you started sleeping with him. But it shouldn’t have surprised you. He played you like his favorite instrument and you were his good girl.

You could give him one more.

“Come with me,” you panted, staring into his darkened eyes as his face twisted in ecstasy only you could provide him. “Please.”

He couldn’t resist that last bit of begging.

The waves crashed again, adding to your first high, as his mouth opened in a groan, filling you in hot spurts. Watching him tip over the edge was a sight to behold, his cheeks tinged as his hips stilled and both of you tried to catch your breath. He laid across you after a moment, the weight of him making you sigh.

“Welcome back,” you smiled as your breathing evened out.

He stayed inside you as he brushed his lips against yours. You were going to make a mess all over the table when he pulled out, but it was worth any grief either of you got. “Good to be back,” he whispered, his hand on your cheek again in a tender display as his eyes scanned your face. “So beautiful.”

“Me fucked out or the dress?” You smiled.

“Both,” he smiled back, your face warm.

“Thank you,” you breathed, your heart still racing fast. You suddenly wished you were in bed so he could properly hold you. But he’d have you home soon enough for that. “Hope I didn't get you into any trouble,” you added. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Steve gets it,” he assured you, briefly closing his eyes when you brushed your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry we got back late. He’s right. I should've just gone right home.”

Your heart clenched a little at that. Missions were important and not easy on either of you, but it was his job. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you made it home safely,” you said, arching your back. The table wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were too fucked out to care.

You also didn't want to be apart from him since he was back.

He wrapped an arm underneath you to ease some of your strain. “Still teased me by showing up like this. I might fuck your throat and put you over my knee tonight,” he groaned, squeezing a breast through your dress before he straightened out the dog tags. “But then I’m going to hold you after and not let go.”

You smiled, looking forward to it. “Yes, Sergeant.”

And you'd be sure to thank Steve later for clearing out the room so you could welcome your man home.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business! Hehe. 😇 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[entertainment]

just tumblin' in with Dallas Liu and Ian Ousley to check out some Avatar: The Last Airbender fanart (and potentially inspire some new art??)

[jobean12-blog]

https://www.tumblr.com/mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler/764923950712143872

Miss Jo! Pretty please can we have something with Javi or Marcus or Joel based on this post? With a cherry on top? Kthxbye!!! 🩷😘

Worth the Wait

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Since the moment you and Marcus have met it's been charged and when you finally get the chance to act on it, it explodes.

Author's Note: This isn't necessarily part of my usual Marcus and princess/wife reader story. This is just what I want. HAHA! And when @tumblin-theworldaway shared the incredible photo below with me and then @blackwidownat2814 shared this incredible post with me, I knew I had to do something because I literally cannot with this man. Anyway, thank you to my dear friends mentioned above for sharing and thirsting with me, I love and appreciate you and thank you all for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: there is definite softness, lots of tension, it's hot and heavy and they can't get enough of each other smut- all of it. He's so yummy I might die.

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

His skin is on fire.

You can feel your pulse in your throat as you stare.

It’s hard to breathe. To think.

He looks up and down the length of your body, your perfection reflected in the heat shining in his eyes.

There’s no sound other than the mix of your heavy breathing and then he steps closer.

The heat of his body so close to yours makes your voice come out thick. “General.”

Just the sound of the accolade on your lips tips him into desperate hunger.

A long stretch of silence passes where he just looks at you, staring, eyes fixed on yours. But it’s not static. It’s a transition in his expression from unbridled desire to sincerity, and it steals your breath.

“Are you hard General?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

A gasp catches in his throat, and he swallows.

“Are you wet?” he counters.

A small smile pulls at the corner of your mouth and your attention shifts to his lips. It’s intentional, the way your eyes take forever as you look at his nose, his cheeks and then his lips again.

“Are you thinking of kissing me?” you ask him.

He stares right back at your mouth.

You lean in and press your lips to his warm, soft, and then you suck before a gentle bite, one that makes a rough growl roll up his throat.

He stretches forward and his large palms cup your face. Your hands fist into the lush fabric of his tunic and the kiss turns explosive.

The feel of his hands, his lips…you perceive it in every part of you and you want him to devour you.

As if sensing your urgency, he pulls back and takes your hand, gently tugging you away from hidden shadows and toward his chambers.

He watches as you walk over to his bed and slowly unravel the toga from your body. It slides off your skin, revealing your nakedness inch by inch.

His expression is full of awe, and he waits only a moment, savoring the sight of you, before he moves with slow but purposeful steps until his chest brushes yours with his ragged breathing.

Your name is an urgent whisper on his lips, and you reach up to carefully pull his cloak free of his broad shoulders. Piece by piece you undress him, your hands sure and deliberate but still trembling with the feel of his warm skin beneath your fingers.

Your fingertips trace the outline of his face, the rough hair that lines his jaw, the angle and slope of his nose, and the soft plushness of his lips. You stretch into him, pressing your bare chest to his, and he lets out a shaking groan, sliding his hand down your side to grasp your hip.

He lays you on his bed and settles between your legs, taking your knee and pulling your leg over his hip.

You can feel him against you, rigid and hot.

“Are you sure?” he whispers.

“It’s all I want Marcus.”

His mouth drops to your collarbone, tracing the delicate outline, then your neck, where his lips play along your skin as they move upwards toward your chin. He nibbles lightly then soothes the spot with his tongue.

Your head cranes back with a silent plea for more and he gives it to you. The scratch of his beard ignites your skin, and the softness of his lips relieves it as he sweeps his mouth over your jaw to nibble your chin again, a hot trail of lips and teeth.

“Gods woman…”

He cuts himself off when his mouth finds yours already open and searching for his. You grip the back of his neck, urging him to kiss you harder, to touch you.

The sound you make when his thumb slides across your nipple is nearly one of pain and he does it again, and again, in small, pressing circles.

Your heart pounds beneath his hand as he holds you there for his mouth and bends, sucking wetly, biting sharply, and his hips press forward and back, pushing himself right up against your clit until you’re scratching at his shoulders trying to get his weight to push you into the soft cushions, push your legs apart, push into you.

You let your hand slip between your bodies, grasping at his silken skin, and stroke him. He begins to move forward and back, lips distracted and hungry over yours.

You’ve spent weeks with him, stealing glances and staring, soft touches when no one is looking, dreaming about what’s beneath his robes; the slowest most torturous foreplay, and there’s a fever under your skin that makes you impatient.

And he’s unable to remain still over you, stubbly jaw razing across your sensitive nipples as he kisses down your ribs. He fumbles between you, his fingers sliding lower and easily into you. His thumb grazes your clit over and over and you’re so swollen, desperate, and pushing up off the bed so he can reach deeper with his long, thick fingers.

His cock brushes against your thigh and then his hand disappears and he’s there, closer, and with a small, synchronized gasps he’s pushing forward and sliding into you.

“Oh Gods,” he says. And “fuck me,”

It turns into a frenzy. He’s moving. Not just moving but absolutely fucking you. So deep. In and out, groaning into your neck.

He plants his knees into the mattress and moves, there is nothing but the sound in the darkness around you; the iron railings of the bed creaking in protest and his grunting and moaning as he fucks you, fast and messy.

His calloused fingertips slip over your chin and mouth, and he follows with his tongue and teeth. Your hands are everywhere, his chest, his hips, his stomach.

The words that start to slide from your parted lips are cut off by pleasure. You’re begging with unintelligible sounds for him to keep doing whatever he’s doing that’s so good. You’re screaming under him, his rhythm frantic through your release and you’re amazed at how he looks, moving over you.

You’ve seen him stand tall and strong over everyone else in the room, seen his face light and careless with a laugh crinkling the corners of his eyes, and seen his rath, expression hard and face bloodied from battle.

But you’ve never seen him like this. Naked, damp with sweat, with his hands propped beside your neck as he stares down the length of your bodies, watching himself. Arms flexed, lip caught between his teeth, relishing the sight of him slipping in and out of you.

“I can’t,” he murmurs. “I can’t stop looking at you.”

He bends, his curls falling over his face and brushing your forehead. His mouth moves to yours and then down, sucking at your jaw while his hips slow to a gentle rock but still he pushes so deep.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” he asks. “Wanted you?”

You smile into his neck before kissing it gently.

“For as long as I have,” you admit. “From the moment we first saw each other.”

He grabs your hip, holding you in place and kissing your shoulder, his lips moving up your neck, to your ear. “Since that moment, yes. But I think even before that…”

He begins to move harder, in earnest, with firm hands and the deep shove of his body in yours and his unapologetically wild mouth.

Every thrust pulls a hoarse grunt from his throat, and he tilts your hips, greedy for more, while his fingers slip between you to rub. You can tell he knows how close you are when he pulls back to watch, his eyes so close to yours, teeth pressed to your jaw as he growls out tiny sounds of encouragement.

You close your eyes under the weight of your orgasm, but he bites down on your chin, hissing a low warning, “open,” and grabbing your ass to pull you harder against him.

Your release explodes around him, and he gasps your name, hips faltering and then gaining speed before he grunts into your neck and you feel him shake over you, pushing deep and spilling inside you.

His breath is warm and rapid against your neck, his hand sliding up over your breast and down your waist, along the curve of your hip, your thigh, and back again, over, and over.

He meets your gaze and kisses you once, softly, before pulling out. You watch as he grabs a cloth by the beside and cleans you, his touch gentle, even though there’s so much man to his movements, to him; the shadow of hair below his navel, the muscular line of his shoulders and the way his large hands slide down over your stomach and between your legs before he lays back down next to you.

You love the possessive flat plane of his palm, the confident command of his fingers when he touches you.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs into your neck.

“I’m more than,” you answer, trembling under his light caresses.

He nods and kisses your collarbone, lightly tracing a trail of kisses up your neck. He lingers at your chin, and you feel him smile into your skin.

“What?” you ask, feeling your own smile grow.

“I left marks,” he nearly growls, his cock already an urgent presence against your thigh again, heavy and pressing.

Already, again, it feels feral, grabbing and biting. He flips you onto your stomach, sliding his cock between your legs as he sucks on the back of your shoulder. His touch is frantic but somehow assured. There’s no ‘can I?.’ No ‘do you want.’

He lifts your hips, thighs bracketing yours, and pushes back into you, groaning at the warmth, the softness, and the view he has from behind you.

Your sounds are wild and desperate, and his hands are curled tightly around your hips.

It’s too much.

You need more.

“It’s too good,” he grates out. “You are perfection.”

His hips circle, tender then brutal, making you cry out before he hits deep, and you clench around him. He comes again, the curls that frame his forehead sticking to the drops of sweat.

He falls heavily over you, but quickly wraps you up in his arms and turns you both over, tucking himself behind you.

His lips press to your neck, voice thick with sleep and emotion.

“The day has been long, and my body craves sleep but nothing more than you. I don’t know how long I can rest knowing you’re here. In my bed.”

You hum in agreement, smiling into the corded muscles of the arm he’s tucked under your neck and wrapped around you.

“I’ll wake wanting more,” he whispers, partly rueful and partly in warning.

“And I will always give it you.” You mutter the words before your eyes close and your breathing steadies in rhythm with his.

[sammy8d257]

"There's a room where the light won't find you, Holding hands while the walls come tumblin' down, When you do I'll be right behind you

So glad we've almost made it, So sad they had to fade it,

Everybody Wants to Rule the World~"

-Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears

And here it is! The long awaited AvA "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" MAP is complete!

I can't believe it's out for everyone to watch. It was such a delight to work with everyone on this project and I can't even begin to imagine how excited everyone is to finally see the results of all their hard work!

40 parts with 35 participants! And you know what? Everyone absolutely kicked it out of the park

Please take the time you check out everyone's credits below and give them your support!

In a separate post I'll share the MAP Call image, the Thumbnail, and the Credits image without their words because I think they make great backgrounds!

And I hope you enjoy this crowning MAP!

Credits (Check out the Video Description for Full Credit Links!):

Intro & Part 23: Sammy8D257 (yours truly)

Part 1: Pegg @sticksfight

Part 2 & 20: Mary @mary-games-and-arts

Part 3 & 13: NivousNiv @nzn43

Part 4: Rubtix @rubtix-a-betz

Part 5: zkylearnstherope @zkylearnstherope

Part 6: AveryBug [Youtube]

Part 7: Whirld @whirld-of-color

Part 8: Sticky @sticks-without-stones

Part 9 & 25: Vita1/Galactic Bastard [Youtube]

Part 10: Wildcrest [Youtube]

Part 11: Eclipnet @eclipnet

Part 12: Urantum [Youtube]

Part 14: Danrishy @danrishy-ava

Part 15: Marsh @marshmallowart

Part 16: Lara Prisma @lara-prisma-avm-ask-blog

Part 17: Jack What-Stasis @what-stasis

Part 18: KikoQueenoftheRats @kikoqueenofrats

Part 19: dazeyyt [Youtube]

Part 21 & 33: Maechery @maechery

Part 22: Ghosty [Youtube]

Part 24: Reptilia @reptilia0freptiles

Part 26: FireflyFlareNight @fireflyflarenight

Part 27: Ella @ellathebirb

Part 28: Celentinel [Youtube]

Part 29: Ravienski [Youtube]

Part 30: Wxlfy @wolfydoesstuff

Part 31: Oaks @veryoaki

Part 32: Sabre @sabretoothedhorse @ohhhsosleepy

Part 34: Flanik @flanik

Part 35: Theo/Purple @cindersnows

Part 36: Yumesz [carrd]

Part 37: Jadeactuallysucks @jadeactuallysucks

Part 38: Storge @storgicdealer

Outro: Allu @allunary (w/ bkgs help from NivousNiv)

Thumbnail Credits:

Victim: NivousNiv

Purple: Maechery

King: Lara Prisma

Dark: FireflyFlareNight

Background: Sammy8D257

[cera-writes]

How about Nightcrawler falling for Remy's honorary sibling?

Moonlight Sonata

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x gn!reader Tags: fluff, humor, flirting, baking, slight competition, developing feelings

The scent of fresh pastries mingled in the air, a peculiar scent that had become strangely comforting to Kurt Wagner.

He stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching you knead dough with surprising finesse for someone who could lift a priceless artifact from a guarded vault without breaking a sweat. You hadn't even noticed him yet. You were in your own little world it seemed.

Gambit, ever the charmer, had introduced you to the X-Men as a "distant cousin" from New Orleans with a knack for "acquiring rare finds." Professor X, ever the pragmatist, saw the potential in your unique ability to manipulate probability, making you an invaluable asset for training the team. But over time, Kurt had discovered you were more than just a valuable asset.

You possessed a dry wit that rivaled Logan's, a fierce protectiveness that mirrored Ororo's, and a surprising talent for pastry. Your μπεκλαβές (mezeklaves), a flaky Greek cheese pie, had become a favorite amongst the X-Men, even the health-conscious ones (though they wouldn't admit it).

Tonight, however, the kitchen was empty except for you. Kurt, ever the teleporter with a conscience, decided to make his presence known with a gentle, "Guten Abend."

You whirled around, a dusting of flour on your cheek, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Kurt! Ya scared the bejeezus outta me." Your voice was laced with an accent similar to Gambit's, which Kurt found endearing.

Kurt chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to emanate from the shadows themselves. "Apologies, Meine Freund. I did not mean to startle you." He bamfed beside you, the brimstone scent that clung to him momentarily overwhelmed by the aroma of butter and sugar.

"No harm done," you said, patting some flour off your apron. "Just surprised to see you here. Thought you preferred the… darker corners."

"There is a certain charm to moonlight," Kurt admitted, "but the company is even more delightful."

Your smile faltered slightly, a flicker of surprise in your eyes. "Are you… complimentin' me, fuzzy elf?"

"Only stating a fact," Kurt replied, his own blue fur dusting a faint pink. "You bring a certain… warmth to the kitchen. A welcome change from the usual… chaos."

Your smile returned, wider this time. "Well, someone has to keep Remy in line," you said, a playful jab at your honorary brother. "Though between you and me, I'm the better cook. Jus' don't tell him that."

Their conversation flowed easily, filled with shared stories and laughter. As the night deepened, Kurt found himself lingering longer, captivated by the way your mischievous glint sort of mirrored Remy's in your eyes. When you finally stretched, a hint of weariness in your movements, Kurt surprised himself by blurting out, "Perhaps you would… care to join me for a walk… under the actual moonlight, I mean."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Just the moonlight, huh, Kurt? No shadows, no surprise teleports to some forgotten realm?"

Kurt felt a familiar warmth creep up his neck. "Only… pleasant company, my friend. I assure you."

You considered him for a moment, then a slow smile spread across your face. "Alright, Kurt. But if you try anythin', I won't hesitate to manipulate the odds and send you tumblin' into a vat of flour."

A teasing glint flickered in your eyes, and Kurt couldn't help but grin back. "A vat of flour, you say? Sounds like a messy proposition. Perhaps a stroll on the balcony would be a safer choice?" He gestured towards the large glass doors leading outside, moonlight already casting an ethereal glow on the patio furniture.

You dusted a stray bit of flour off your shoulder, your gaze lingering on him for a beat longer than necessary. "Maybe you're right, fuzzy elf. Sides, I wouldn't want to risk ruinin' these." You gestured towards a fragrant pan of pastries cooling on the counter. "Remy's been braggin' about my skills to Stormy all week. Gotta keep up appearances, right?"

Kurt chuckled, a warmth blooming in his chest. "Storm wouldn't dare challenge your culinary prowess, even with Remy vouching for her. But perhaps I could offer a different kind of challenge on our walk?"

You quirked an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your voice. "Oh yeah? And what kind of challenge might that be, Nightcrawler?"

Kurt leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "How about a test of your probability manipulation skills? We could see who can find the most… interesting object under the moonlight."

A slow smile spread across your face, the mischievous glint in your eyes mirroring his own. "Now that's a challenge I can get behind. Just don't come cryin' to me if you end up teleporting into the Danger Room by accident."

Kurt threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet kitchen. "Never underestimate Kurt Wagner, Schatz. Let's just say, I have a certain… affinity for finding unexpected things."

With a playful wink, you grabbed a clean dish towel and wiped your hands. "Alright then, furball. Lead the way. But be warned, I have a knack for finding trouble… and sometimes, trouble finds me."

Kurt offered you his arm, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "Then perhaps tonight, trouble will find something delightful instead."

Together, you stepped out onto the moonlit balcony, the promise of a playful competition and a blossoming connection hanging heavy in the cool night air.

[semperamans]

How genius of you to include that bit about Benny listening from the other side of the wall?!? Holy shit!! BUT I raise you Benny watching. Can you picture it? It's a simple mistake as he trudges in from the bar, a glance ventured through a crack in the door. He doesn't know you and Johnny designed it that way to gauge his curiosity. Your hand reaches for him, begging for him to come closer, but the words don't come out with Johnny stealing the breath from your lungs. So Johnny grunts, "Go on and give her what she wants. She's such a good girl. You wouldn't disappoint my little babydoll would you?"

oh i just - i need a nap (i just woke up)

benny stands there all deer-in-headlights as you beg for him. he’s heard you like this before - so loud for such a little thing - but he’s never had the pleasure of hearin’ his own name tumblin’ outta those rose colored lips. it’s one long whimper of benny.benny.benny.benny as you drop your forehead to the mattress, shoving your ass into the air, allowing johnny to massage the rounds of your flesh as he fucks you with the fervor of a crazed man. he is crazy. s’gotta be because shouldn’t this whole thing upset him? there are so many tangles in the blurred lines. so much love and too many people and it’s not natural, johnny thinks, but neither is how tight you’re squeezin’ his cock. “go on baby,” johnny coos, runnin’ his fingers down your spine. benny’s cock twitches in anticipation. “ask ‘em. use your words.”

“benny,” you plead, soft voice still muffled by the comforter. johnny tuts. wrapping your hair around his knuckles, yanking just hard enough to bow your back. the angle is delicious; johnny can feel every buttery fold of your gushing wetness and god benny’d love this.

“try again, pretty. you can do it.” his sentence is cut up, cut off by his own grunts of pleasure because jesus christ no one feels like you do.

“benny, t-touch me. love me. benny, please.” your hand reaches for him, shuddering with the oxytocin overload pulsing through your veins. “love you, benny. please.”

n’benny’s got that look in his eyes and johnny knows he’s gonna give in - gonna give it up - n’sure enough those blues flick up, holding johnny in all his glory. he’s so pretty, johnny thinks: cock hard, bulging in his jeans, eyes wide, hungry.

“go on,” johnny says amid the sound of your wet squelch. “fuck - give ‘er what she wants. she’s such a good girl. aren’t you baby? who you gonna be good for?”

“our benny,” you sob, letters wet and round. “our benny. our benny.” you promise in time with johnny’s thrusts.

“s’it baby.” johnny praises, rewarding you with a scratchy kiss on your shoulder blade. “m’gonna pull out n’let benny have a go. s’that okay?”

“yes yes yes. love you. love benny.”

“i know ya do baby, n’benny’s gonna take such good care of ya.” johnny looks at benny again who looks like he could cry “aren’t you?”

“yeah,” benny whispers. johnny almost loses him to the squeak of the bed springs and the thump of the headboard and the sheer power of your love and devotion. “g’nna be so good to her. promise.”

johnny knows. he knows. fuck he knows he’s so lucky to be in love with the two of you. he’s got such a pretty view: your red round cheeks jiggling against his hip bones, benny’s slow walk toward you, his veiny hand on your cheek, the way you stare up at him like he’s god himself.

“hi baby,” benny whispers. “gonna take care of you.”

he seals his promise with a kiss - tasting the depth of your devotion - and the rest is history.

[fan-goddess]

First Week Of School

Request: By @slytherincursebreaker for me to make a written version of this artwork that I highly recommend you go look at before reading! They never cease to amaze me with their work!

Summary: Penelope it seems has been using words she doesn’t fully understand…

Authors Note: As you can see I had too much fun writing about domestic Michael. But do I care? Nope!

Taglist: @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee @slytherincursebreaker @tumblin-theworldaway

Warnings: Pregnancy, hormones, smutty talk, discussions of a sexual nature (if I miss any let me know!)

Michael Gavey never thought he would ever have kids, let alone a wife, or even a girlfriend at that. Yet that all changed when in his first class of his first year at Oxford, he met you. Granted, he’d been an absolute idiotic prat, as he himself had put it. Yet somehow you kept on coming back to hang out with him with a smile on your face.

Even when Oliver Quick abandoned him in the pub at the drop of a hat just so he could get five minutes of stupid Cattons time and attention like some kind of desperate puppy, you managed to sneak away from your much more popular friends and catch up with him while he was headed back to his accommodation. And when he asked why, you’d said it was all to ask if he was okay and wanted someone to talk to.

In all honesty It was probably the first moment is sort of clocked in Michael’s head that he liked you as more than a friend.

He somehow managed to keep hanging out with you rest of the school year. Even plucking up the courage from not even he knows where to ask you for your phone number so he could talk to you during the holidays when he’d be forced to go back to his parents house.

When the next school year came around in September though, it was with great pride when he practically peacocked his way back to campus with you on his arms and his virginity long gone behind him.

And by the end of Oxford, he had a ring in his pocket just waiting to be placed on your finger, which soon was done by the end of that year.

Years went by since Oxford though, and yours and his lives changed for the better as the two of you moved in together in a nice quaint flat and eventually did manage to get married. It hadn’t been a very big event as the both of you only invited just a handful of guests, and yet it was easily the happiest days of yours and his lives.

It had been an especially emotional time when somehow both of you managed to start ugly crying at each other’s speeches.

Yet you easily managed to outcry yourself when two weeks after coming back from your honeymoon in America, or more specifically after a spontaneous trip to the airplane cubicle, you found yourself sitting on the toilet while Michael was away at work with a pregnancy test in hand, and four more sitting on the edge of the bath saying the same thing.

Pregnant.

You’d tried to surprise Michael that same day after finding out by surprising him when he came back from work, but it didn’t help as the so called ‘baby brain’ managed to somehow hit early, and somehow at the near exact time when Michael was walking through the front door about to greet you, you were frantically trying to put out the fire that had miraculously started on the now charcoal bun you’d placed in the about an hour ago in the oven.

“What on earth is going on?!” You hear Michael shout, his voice confused as he watches from the doorway you frantically try to throw the charcoal lump into the sink.

“It wasn’t my fault!” You say practically on the verge of tears as you try to blink through the sudden onslaught of tears.

“Hey hey hey none of that!” Michael says, dropping his leather satchel as he moves closer to you so he can take you in his arms and kiss the top of your head, while rubbing a comfortingly warm hand on your back. “What’s the issue love?”

“I-I-“ You begin, somehow crying even harder at Michael’s warm embrace. “I wanted to surprise you! But I ruined it!”

“We all forget things sometimes love, doesn’t make you any less smart! Now, what is it you wanted to surprise me with?”

“I…” You pause, stepping away slightly so you could grab his hand previously on your back and place it on your belly. “I’m pregnant Michael.”

You could swear you could see the exact moment his mind went numb, and you honestly don’t think you’ve seen a better state of his. Other than when he’s been fucked out of his mind of course.

“Are you serious?” He eventually says, knocking himself out of his little trance to look you dead in your eyes.

“Yeah darling,” You smile, beginning to tear up again when you see your husbands face slowly turn into his own delighted grin. “We’re having a baby!”

“We’re having a baby!” Michael repeats, his voice breaking as his own tears start falling. Scratch what you thought earlier about outcrying yourself in the bathroom earlier today, within five seconds Michaels already managed to outdo you again.

Over the next few months Michael was attentive as he could be with work and all that, and yet you honestly couldn’t have asked for anything better. Even when the baby was being born in the delivery room, Michael was standing next to you with his hand in yours, and very much ugly crying.

“Michael, you aren’t the one giving birth!” You groan, glaring up at him while you continue to groan in pain. Still, your ever sarcastic husband gave his very much expected sarcastic response while you continued to crush his hand in your own.

Though by the next day, you were holding his and yours daughter in your arms. A girl you both agreed to name Penelope.

The years went by quickly with Penelope in yours and Michaels lives, and it was with great sadness when you realised you wouldn’t get your little one to welcome you both home with a smile on her face, as Penelope’s starting date for primary school came soon approaching.

“Can’t she just start next year?” Michael asks, getting into bed with you and kissing the side of your head before grabbing the physics book on his side table.

“If she starts next year, she’ll be older than all the kids there. You don’t want people to think she got held back do you?” You smile, using your husband’s own doubts about her against him as you pretend to focus on your own book.

It takes everything in you not to burst out laughing at Michael’s little grumble he does out of the corner of your eye. You can’t see it, but you know for sure he’s got a little scrunched up glare on his face like he always does when he’s annoyed at something.

The next few days pass and Michael doesn’t bring up the idea of Penelope starting next year again. Though whether that’s fuelled by Michael’s fear of a held back daughter of something else you don’t know, as the first day of school soon approaches.

On the day however, everything starts smoothly as you make Penelope a healthy breakfast to get her through the day and make her a sufficient lunch box filled with food you’re pretty sure has the food she currently claims to like in.

Yet when you, Penelope and Michael get to the front gate of the school, that’s when the waterworks start. And it weren’t even started by Penelope nor yourself. In actuality it was Michael who began sniffling when your daughter walked into class for the first time all on her own, with her bright pink my little pony backpack strapped tight to her back paired with a bright smile on her face.

“Oh honey…” You sigh, putting your arms around him and tucking his head in the curve of your neck. It didn’t matter if his glasses were digging into your skin, or if his tears were leaving uncomfortable wet patches on your shirt. All that did matter was making sure Michael was feeling comforted and loved at that moment while other parents and children awkwardly stood around you.

“She’s not our little girl anymore…” He murmurs, his lips tickling your skin while his breath begins to slowly even out.

“She’ll always be our little girl Michael,” You say, kissing the top of his head before he moves away from you, his face a lovely shade of pink with embarrassment. “Whether she’s beginning primary school or finishing her A-levels, she will always be our little girl. Do you understand me?”

“Course I do you twit!” Michael says, rolling his eyes at not only you but at the mother he heard behind you gasp in shock at his little nickname, even when he most certainly knows he could’ve said a whole lot worse. Especially when he remembers the uni days and the whole range of vocabulary he used back then.

Still he ignores her as he grabs your hand to drag you back to the car so the two of you can go back home and get ready for work. And later that day when 3pm comes around, both you and Michael stand eagerly by the after school pick up point, with you watching with such fond eyes when you see Michael open his arms wide to give Penelope a big hug as she runs up to him, her own arms open as wide as they can go.

“Did you have a nice day sweetie?” You say, smiling as your daughter finally moves to look at you and give you your own small hug. Yet not as big of a one she gave Michael of course, as hell make sure to mention later on.

“Yeah mama!” She says, grinning loud and radiating pure joy as you and Michael lead her to the car with one of her hands in yours and the other in Michael’s. “I made lots new friends today!”

“Any boys?” Michael offhandedly asks, not really expecting an answer, but he certainly reacts like he was looking for one when your daughter actually answers with an enthusiastic yes and a handful of boy names. Totally oblivious to Michael’s genuinely horrified expression that makes you want to take out your phone and take a picture of it to make it your Home Screen picture.

“Well it’s a good thing you’ve made all these friends! Hasn’t it Michael?” You ask with a pointed stare and a harsh pinch to his leg after you’ve strapped in Penelope and got into the car together.

“Yeah yeah lots of friends I’m very proud of you sweetheart…” Michael says with gritted teeth, looking at you with his own glare telling you exactly what he thought of these new friends of your daughter. The topic of which he brought up again later that night, after eating dinner together, brushing teeth and getting into bed.

“I told you we should’ve let her wait another year…” Michael grumbles, glaring at the page of his book that he’d been on for the last ten minutes.

“And what would that simply achieve?” You ask him, turning the page of your own book. “It’s not like you’d be able to convince her cooties are real and to stay away from boys love, as the teachers would just intervene.”

“I could certainly try…” He simply says back, finally turning the page. You don’t engage with Michael anymore as you sigh while switching off your lamp and getting yourself comfortable between the sheets. Though before you shut your eyes you have to pull Michael down slightly to give him a deep loving kiss.

“Night love.” You say, shutting your eyes and acting oblivious to the flustered mess that is your husband sitting beside you. Yet when you hear his own shaky goodnight back you can’t help yourself from giggling slightly, before allowing sleep to take you.

The rest of the week though goes well, with a significantly less amount of tears from everyone while you drop Penelope off and pick her up from school. And by Friday, all three of you have managed to get yourselves in a good little routine.

“Now Michael, remember that I’ve got that meeting at work at 3 so I can’t pick up Penelope with you today!” You calmly say, focused on packing your daughter’s lunch box which according to her needs to have a cheesestring and a babybel so she can share with her friend Alex.

It’s adorable, so you allowed it almost instantly. Yet somehow it made it even better when you heard Michael two minutes after trying to interrogate your four year old daughter on whether Alex was a boy or a girl.

“Fine fine…” He groans, moving away with a roll of his eyes to kiss your forehead in a loving gesture. “And don’t worry love I’ll be fine on my own! Just as long as stupid Alex ain’t there…”

“Oh behave Michael!” You sternly say, your eyebrows furrowing in annoyance at his insistent worrying. “And besides. If you do this and behave, I’ll do that thing you like tonight with you. How about that?”

“Really?!” Michael asks, a mixture of surprise and arousal on his face. “Outfit and all?”

“Outfit and all.” You repeat, a sultry smile on your face as you kiss the corner of his mouth next to his lips and move away to grab the finished lunch box and place it in her backpack. “Penelope it’s time to go! Put your big girl shoes on please!”

“Yes mummy!” You can hear her say upstairs as she comes bolting down the stairs with an adorable smile on her face. The sound of which you assume knocks Michael from his little trance, as as soon as she comes down and starts putting her shoes on that’s when Michael comes from the direction of the kitchen with his own adorably bashful look on his face.

The rest of the day for Michael though goes great. As that morning with you he drops Penelope of at school, afterwards dropping you at your own work.

“I’ll see you later love.” He says, kissing you on the lips before you move to get out of the car.

“Oh I most certainly will baby.” You smirk back, making his stomach twist and turn in anticipation for later.

“Such a tease…” He murmurs, before starting the car and driving off to work. There weren’t many classes for the day, as by the time came for him to start driving to Penelopes school to get ready to pick her up, he’d already eaten lunch and popped into the bakery by his work to get her a little gingerbread man for an afterschool treat.

It was all going so well as he waited by the pick up area with the treat sitting in his coat pocket. That is however, before Penelope’s form teacher who he remembers meeting when originally toured around the school, came up to him and asked for a quick chat about something that happened today.

“What happened?! Did something happen to her?!” He frantically asked as soon as he walks inside the teachers empty classroom and sat in a chair opposite her desk.

“Oh no nothings happened to Penelope at all!” The teacher reassures, a comfortable smile on her face. “I do however want to discuss with you about some particular language that she used earlier today during break time on the playground.”

“Oh really?” Michael asks, curiousity on his face when he thinks about the words he and yourself try to use when around her. Though when the teacher begins to speak, pure and utter mortification is only what remains.

“From what I heard of the playground monitor on duty, Penelope was talking to one of her male classmates when she used what she herself called NFI. She explained the situation and the words involved in NFI quite graphically I must say…”

“Oh god I’m so sorry about this!” Michael groans, his head in his hands in an attempt to hide his bright red face of embarrassment.

“Oh please don’t be! I can understand that kids at this age are like sponges as they repeat whatever they hear their parents say and not know the meaning of the words at all. Myself and the teacher who’d been on duty have spoken to her about certain language and repeating what mummy and daddy have said, but I thought best to tell you as she’ll probably listen more to a parent than myself.”

“I will definitely have a discussion with her, and so will her mother too when she gets back from work.” Michael says, standing up and thanking the teacher for her time as he begins to leave the classroom. “Thank you for letting me know.”

When Michael exits the classroom Penelope is already sitting down on a chair opposite, staring at him with a smile on her face.

“Hi daddy!” She says, getting down from the chair to run up at him and give him a hug on his legs when he doesn’t reach down quick enough. “Where’s mummy?”

“Mummy’s at work sweetie, she said so this morning that she’ll see you later and is so sorry for not being here.” Michael says, now kneeling down to get to her eye level.

“It’s okay daddy! I forgive mummy!”

“Well I’m sure mummy is very grateful for that!” Michael says, pausing as he begins to help her put on her coat and continues on with what he was about to say. “Penelope your teacher told me you made a boy cry using NFI.”

“But he started it daddy! He’s a cu-“

“Loser!” Michael quickly interrupts, sternly staring at his daughter. “You can call him loser not that word... At least punch him I'll allow it since he's a loser...” He mumbles those last words, not expecting Penelope to hear him and actually listen.

Though that’s future Michaels problem when in two weeks he’s called into the headteachers office to talk about not encouraging violence…

The gingerbread man that is still in Michael’s pocket gets put in a cupboard soon as he and Penelope gets home while she’s busily distracted trying to put Bluey on the tv by herself. On a normal day he’d not allow it as a form of punishment, but even he can’t deny the enjoyment of those little Australian dogs…

There’s a reason why he sometimes calls Penelope his little muffin after all.

When you get back from work and give him a quick kiss, of course only after saying hi to Penelope who continues to sit watching tv, he can’t stop the words from spilling from his mouth.

“Penelope’s teacher talked to me after school. Apparently she’s been using NFI at break time and made a boy cry…” He says, watching about a hundred emotions go through your face. Though the one he least expects for you to settle on is amusement, as you begin laughing hard.

“She really is your daughter I suppose!” You laugh, practically crying as you wipe your eyes with the back of your hands. “Never thought she’d be showing this early!”

“Oh… bugger off!” Michael groans in mock frustration.

“Careful Mikey you know how impressionable she is!” You continue to laugh, practically red at how frustrated your husband now looks standing in front of you. Again, that little scrunched up expression evident on his face.

“There are so many words I want to call you right now…” He moans, stepping towards you with a dark look in his eyes that you can’t help but feel attracted to.

“Oh really?” You begin, smiling as you wipe the final onslaught of tears from your eyes. “Maybe you can tell me tonight? When we do that thing?”

“Oh is that still on the table?” Michael says, his mood a compete turn around as his face looks surprised and yet also thrilled. “I’d have thought-“

“Oh please baby. You really thought that since you were acting like a spoilt boy you wouldn’t be getting a reward? Well then I suppose it’s a good thing what will be happening tonight is not a reward for you then my love. But in fact a punishment. There will be no outfit anymore, no more of that thing you like for a long time. Do you understand that?”

“Yes ma’am…” Michael murmurs, his eyes dark and hooded as he bends his head down about to kiss you. That is however, before Penelope comes running round the corner with panic on her face.

“Mummy mummy mummy! Please don’t punish daddy! It was my fault!” Your daughter begs with genuine horror in her voice. “Pleeeeeeeease don’t punish him!”

“Oh no it’s okay baby!” You say, kneeling down to take her in your arms. “I’m not gonna actually punish daddy you don’t need to worry about him.”

“Do you promise?” She asks, looking at you with such an adorable pout on her face you honestly can’t think of anything cuter at that moment, even with the reasoning for it lingering in the back of your mind.

“I promise.” You say, bringing her in for a big hug while she burrows her head into your body and wraps her own smaller arms around you as tight as she can.

And as Penelope’s distracted, you make sure to wink at your still flustered husband and mouth three simple words at him that makes him somehow flush an even deeper shade of red.

Definitely a punishment.

[saiyanprincessswanie]

SaiyanPrincessSwanie Reading List Week 213 & 214

A/N: Thank you again to those who recommended fanfics or tagged me. 💜 This week had me reading 50 fics. Absolutely amazing fics here. This has been so much fun for me and I hope you enjoy my reading lists.

As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal-boosting them. The author is listed next to the title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community.  💜💜

Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.

Click HERE for past reading lists.

For my Masterlist click HERE.

Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers

Header by @fictional-affairs

If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.

I love you 3000 💜 Missy

Need You Now - (Bucky x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie

Mafia Bucky Drabble - @angrythingstarlight

Goldi locked - (Curtis x Reader x Ari x Steve) - @biteofcherry

one for you and me - (Bucky x Reader) - @mellowsaturns

no place like home - (Steve x Reader) - @mellowsaturns

Drugged Courage - (Steve x Reader) - @mercurial-chuckles

Berserk Captain Rogers - (Steve x Reader) - @mercurial-chuckles

Out of My Head - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Stay - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Making Time - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Sunrises and Sunsets - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

More time - (Brock x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

somebody else - (Bucky x Reader) - @lunarbuck

Deception - (Andy x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Fate Part 1 - (Curtis x Reader) - @thezombieprostitute

Fate Part 2 - (Curtis x Reader) - @thezombieprostitute

Guilt - (Bucky x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival

Oh My - (Jake x woc!Reader) - @syntheticavenger

hard drive - (Jake x Reader) - @syntheticavenger

Comply - (Winter Soldier x Reader) - @tumblin-theworldaway

Mafia Bucky Drabble - @angrythingstarlight

A Much Needed Reminder - (Andy x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Hold Me - (Ari x Reader) - @flordeamatista

Losing Control - (Bucky x Reader) - @flordeamatista

till the end of time - (Thor x Reader) - @sergeantxrogers

for so long as you live - (Bucky x Reader) - @witchywithwhiskey

"My King" - (Thor x Reader) - @fluffyprettykitty

Vicious - (Bucky x Reader) - @fluffyprettykitty

Another Ending 1 - (Bucky x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival

Another Ending - 2 - (Bucky x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival

You Should've Seen Him - (Steve x Reader) - @buckets-and-trees

I Will Always Come When You Call - (Bucky x Reader) - @eat-limes-bitches

Love Marks - (Bucky x Reader) - @flordeamatista

Betrayed heart - (Brock x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Hold You Tight: Part 6 - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Cold hearted - Chp 3 - (Multi Pairings) - @missvelvetsstuff

Cold hearted - Chp 4 - (Multi Pairings) - @missvelvetsstuff

Indecent Proposal - (8) - (Stucky x Reader) - @holylulusworld

Leap of faith - (Steve x Reader) - @mostly-marvel-musings

Drabble Roulette: F*ck Machine - Bucky Barnes - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Touching - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Delivered - (Curtis x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Big Pharma - (Steve x Reader) - @ronearoundblindly

Back to the Office - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

liquor - (Thor x Reader) - @syntheticavenger

I know what you did - (Lee B x Reader) - @tumblin-theworldaway

Chivalry - (Steve x Reader) - @mostly-marvel-musings

So, This Is Love! - (Ransom x Reader) - @americasass81

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet - Chp 10 - (Curtis x Honey) - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Your Mark On Me - Part 13 - (Steve x Reader) - @georgiapeach30513

[astr0-physcs]

if enough people like this, i will continue it smiley face

“Well fork me and call me the President.”

You screeched to a halt. That grating metallic country accent fills your ears, and you turn around slowly. You're met face to face with the cyborg that made your blood boil. Boothill. As a member of the IPC, the Galaxy Rangers were the last thing you wanted to see right now. Especially him.

“Didn't expect your grimy ass to show up ‘round these parts.” He smirks, confident. You resist the urge to punch him in the only remaining human part of his body.

“I can assure you, my ass is not grimy. There's no need to project onto me.” You snap back, cocking your hips to the side.

"Relax," Boothill drawled, his southern accent thick as honey. "Ain't lookin' for no trouble. Just here on a lil' job, same as you."

The air between them was thick with hatred, and the tension was palpable. You had a history—an ugly, complicated one.

Your eyes narrowed. "Not here for trouble? That's rich coming from you. You're trouble with a capital T."

Boothill chuckled, a sound that dug into your nerves. "Now ain't that the pot callin' the kettle black. You're no saint yourself, sugar."

You bristled, not liking how Boothill seemed to see right through you. You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to punch him. "I don't need a Galaxy Ranger of all people giving me a lecture.” Rolling your eyes, you turn around, trying to end the conversation. You approach the front desk, smiling tightly at the woman.

“Hi, room for ____.” You say, preparing to give the woman your invitation. The woman smiles.

“I'm sorry, that room is reserved for Mr. Boothill.” You freeze, eyes going wide.

“Im… I'm sorry-?” You were cut off by an arm slinging around you, unbalancing you.

“Yeah, that's us. Sorry for the confusion, ma’am.” Boothill smiled. You try to wriggle out from his arm, but he holds you fast.

“Is- Is this some kind of joke?” You say. Boothill laughs, shaking you around slightly.

“Why would this be a joke, sugar? We’ve got a room to share.” Boothill thanked the woman, taking the room keys. He leads you over to the elevator, pressing the button.

“That is ridiculous! I- I didn't sign up for this-” Boothill cut you off again. “Awh, don't worry. Think of it as a way to catch up with your old pal.”

You bristle again, trying to get out of his arm. “I think I'll pass. I want nothing more to do with you.”

Boothill jostles you again, and you resist punching him in public. “Don't be like that. Sure there's something to talk about. Like the murders…?”

You pause, finally looking him in the eyes. “How did you-”

“Ah, elevators here.”

You two step into the elevator, Boothill’s arm still slung around your shoulders.

“Fine. But ONLY the murders and nothing else.” You whisper. He shrugged.

“Sure, sweetheart.”

“Dont call me that.” You groan. Boothill snickered.

“What, you dont like me callin’ you sweetheart, sweetheart?” He said slyly.

You rolled your eyes, feeling your annoyance growing. "No, I don't," you snapped. "And if you call me that again, I'll punch you in the face." Boothill just laughed. "Feisty as ever, aren't you? It's almost endearing." The man's smirk made your blood boil.

“What room are we in.” You ask, putting an angry emphasis on ‘we.’ Boothill looked at the card in his other hand. “304,” The elevator dinged, a chime that dug under your skin even more.

“Right down this hall.” Boothill pulled you down the lavish hall, and you made a noise of surprise.

“Can you stop dragging me everywhere?” You huff, tripping after him. He met your eyes, teasing and mischievous.

“But wheres the fun in that? You’re so cute when you’re tumblin’ over yourself.” His sharp teeth glinted in the neon lighting.

“Cut it out, cowboy.” You finally shove him off of you. He laughs again, metallic and hoarse. The thought of spending any amount of time alone in a room with him makes your teeth grind. You couldnt believe this. How did Penacony, the biggest hotel in all the cosmos, manage to make this major of a slip up? You groan internally, wondering how long you could put up with this guy before you had to book another room out of pocket.

Boothill pressed the card to the handle, unlocking the door. He waltzed into the lavish room, whistling. “Shoot, this is one fine room here.” He flopped down onto the orange couch, letting out a satisfied sigh. You glared at his metallic form.

“Yeah this would be luxury, except i have to share it with you.” You muttered, glancing at the massive shell filled with liquid. The soft neon lighting reflected off Boothill’s limbs and your irises. The view of the hotel was mesmerizing, and you wish you could enjoy it to the fullest.

Boothill chuckled, hearing your muttered remark. "Aww, don't be like that, sugar," he drawled, sprawling out on the orange couch. "You're hurtin' my feelings."

You rolled your eyes again. “You keep rollin’ your eyes like that, theyll get stuck up there.” You heard the smirk in his remark, and you resist to roll your eyes a third time. He snickered. “Careful now, dont give yourself a headache.”

You sigh, pinching your nosebridge. “You are doing a good enough job.”

Boothill sighs heartily. “Ah, you are so easy to rile up.” You grit your teeth, trying not to prove him right. Ignoring him, you finally turn away from the window. Boothill opened his eyes, the red target meeting your eyes. He raises an eyebrow, a silent question.

“Tell me about the murders.” You say, watching his smirk disappear. He sighed, sitting up.

“Alright, ill talk to you about the victims.” He began recounting what he knew, how each disappearance happened and all the clues pointing to every which way. You nodded along, storing every detail inside your mind. Boothill spoke with a surprising amount of knowledge about the murders. You had to admit, you were impressed, although you would never give the cyborg the satisfaction of admitting it aloud. As you listened to the details, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The whole situation seemed odd. None of the clues made sense, and all the victims had died in different ways. Nothing about the murders added up.

You furrowed your brows in concentration. What could any of this mean? The metallic hum of Boothill’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, sugar?”

Ignoring his tease, you glance back to him. “Well none of those clues make sense. What do those clues mean?” You mused.