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navybrat817 · 3 days ago

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Where Worlds Collide - Intro

Pairing: Silver Fox!Sugar Daddy!Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Female Reader

Summary: Your boss forces you to be eye candy for an alpha at a gala, but things take a turn for the better when you meet another alpha. Does it matter that you don't belong in his world?

Word Count: Over 9.2k

Warnings: Smut, v. fingering, possessive behavior, dirty talk, instant connection, A/B/O dynamics, talk of bonding, misogyny, unspecified age gap, insecurities, world building, choking (not our reader… yet), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: I'm pretty proud of the intro to this world, lovelies! @whisperlullaby, @targaryenvampireslayer, @tavners, here it is! Ant thanks to @queenoftheworldisdead as well. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Soft music drifted from the ballroom as you stepped into the lavish venue. You’d never been to a gala before. Your family wasn’t wealthy enough to receive an invitation, nor did your last name carry any influence. The only reason you were there tonight was because of the alpha on your arm, all thanks to your boss’s insistence that you accompany him.

It was an evening of style, grace, and luxury, and you didn’t belong.

You held your breath as you walked deeper into the ballroom, the glittering chandeliers casting a refined glow over everything. A mix of alphas, betas, and omegas socialized and gossiped, their glamorous evening wear glittering under the lights. You had designed a few of the dresses and suits, but none of the people wearing them would recognize you. The alpha you worked for always took the credit. Complaining about it wouldn’t help. After all, you’d only sound like an ungrateful omega and hundreds of other omegas would beg to take your place.

You couldn’t wait for the day you quit.

Chet’s grip on your arm brought you back to the present. “Keep quiet and smile,” he ordered, a haughty expression on his face as he led you through the place. You didn't want to judge all men named Chet, but you had pegged him as a douchebag the second he went in for his fitting and he was proving you right. You couldn't even enjoy that he was objectively handsome since his personality made him less attractive.

“I am smiling,” you said. Wrinkling your nose at the overwhelming mix of scents and expensive colognes and perfumes, you did your best to make your smile look natural. The servers looked like they were doing the same as they served everyone. It was strange how a room so enormous could make someone feel so small.

“Then keep smiling,” Chet ordered through his grin. “What you do or don’t do is a reflection of me.”

“I know,” you muttered. Because it was all about him and you were just his omega arm candy. You really should’ve demanded overtime pay from your boss, but that conversation wouldn’t have ended well.

“As it stands, perhaps I made the right choice by bringing you,” he said, nodding to a few older gentlemen. “I can smell their envy.”

You did notice a few more men looking your way. A few women as well, not hiding that they were whispering about you. Trying to hide your vulnerability, you held yourself the way you thought a goddess would. You also held yourself with pride since the dress you wore was your own design. A sleeveless black dress with a middle slit, it was bold and alluring. The glitter throughout the fabric made you shine like stars in the night sky. The finishing touch was the matching collar, a tasteful way to protect you from any alpha who even thought about marking you.

Reaching up instinctively to run a hand over your collar, you felt your heart ache. Your inner omega wanted a mark, but the thought of being tied to someone was somewhat terrifying. You respected omegas who wanted to go the traditional route by staying home and being submissive, but you didn’t want to be submissive outside of the bedroom. You wanted a partner who would view you as an equal.

Your false confidence didn’t last long when Chet’s grip on you tightened, your body immediately going stiff. You’d have to take a long shower and dry clean your dress just to get rid of his scent. “Loosen up,” he ordered.

“Maybe I’d loosen up if you weren’t digging your fingers in,” you whispered.

“You’re my date. It’s my right to touch you,” he sneered. He had no right. It didn't matter if he was an alpha and he was rich. The urge to slap him across his face was so strong your palm itched. “So, get the stick out of your ass.”

A shiver rolled down your spine when you heard a low growl come from another alpha. Glancing around, you didn’t see anyone looking directly at you. It probably had nothing to do with you because why would anyone care if an alpha was bossing you around?

Chet’s hold on you loosened nonetheless. “And just so we’re clear, you have no intention of sleeping with me?” he asked as an omega in a revealing dress sauntered by. Your date didn’t bother to hide how he was undressing her with his eyes.

“That��s right,” you said. You made it clear to your boss that sex wasn’t an option, and he was oddly on your side. Maybe he thought Chet could sway you if he tried hard enough. If he even thought of using some sort of alpha command on you, nothing would stop you from lashing out and making him sorry.

“Then you’ll have no problem finding your own ride home should I choose to leave with someone else,” he said.

“So, I can’t make you look bad, but you can leave with another omega?” you asked.

“You got it. You’re smarter than you look.” He tapped your nose with a condescending grin. “And here I thought you were just a pretty face.”

The prick was pushing his luck. “Listen you-”

“Chet, my boy! Good to see you!” A man interrupted, uncaring that you were speaking.

“Shane,” Chet smiled. “Always a pleasure.”

The bulky alpha shamelessly looked you over, his scent almost making you choke on your next breath. “And who might this be?”

“Pretty, isn't she?” Chet cut in before you could answer, puffing his chest out. “Doesn't say much, but I’m not exactly interested in her conversational skills, am I?”

You bit your tongue when they chuckled. Be seen and not heard. It was insulting.

“Come join me, but leave the omega,” Shane said unapologetically, taking another look at your chest. What would happen if you threw a drink in his face? “As entertaining as she would be, we have business to discuss, and we don’t need the distraction.”

“Of course,” Chet smiled, turning you toward the bar as Shane walked away. “Since he doesn't want you around, why don't you take advantage of the free drinks until I get back?”

“I’m not-”

“And not that you’d have any extra cash to tip, but it’s taken care of,” he continues, your face hot at the assumption that you couldn't afford to tip the staff. “Just behave and try not to make a fool out of either of us, you got it? Wouldn’t want your boss to hear about it if you do.”

Biting back a retort, you freed yourself from his grip. There wasn’t enough liquor at this party to get you through the rest of this evening. “Don’t worry about me, alpha. Go have fun,” you said, your eyes burning as he walked away. A few heads turned your way when your scent soured. It wasn’t enough that you had to attend an event where you didn’t belong, but your date just had to rub salt in the open wound by reminding you of such. “Fucking asshole,” you muttered, making your way over to the bar to order a drink.

Plastering a smile back on your face when you got the bartender’s attention, you ordered a whiskey on the rocks. You wanted something that would go down smooth but leave a little burn. You also preferred opting to watch the bartender make a drink in front of you instead of grabbing a glass of already poured champagne. The drinks were likely fine, but better safe than sorry. And like hell would you accept a drink from your sorry excuse for a “date” if he offered you one. He was lucky you-

An intoxicating scent hit you out of nowhere, making you grip the bar as you inhaled. Plums, whiskey, sandalwood. The blended aromas had your mouth watering, and a whimper threatened to slip out. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Desire burned in your stomach. As quickly as the scent excited you, it seemed to wrap itself around you in a soothing embrace. How could a smell leave you hot and bothered and also feel like a hug?

No… It couldn’t be your mate.

You caught a small movement out of the corner of your eye, and you stopped breathing when you found a pair of blue eyes fixed on you that belonged to a devilishly handsome man. He leaned against the wall, his wool-blend black suit fitting his thick body like second skin. Streaks of gray lined his luscious brown hair and peppered his beard, too. He looked like the kind of alpha who would have omegas kneeling at his feet, and it frightened you how badly you wanted to get on your hands and knees and crawl toward him.

His. Mine.

Lifting his tumbler to his lips, he kept his eyes on you as he sipped the expensive liquor. You wanted to look away but couldn't as the air crackled between you. He had you under some sort of trance you couldn't snap yourself out of. As frightening as it was to have a scent hit you so strongly, a feeling like this hit you square in the chest, the thought of him staring at another omega that way nearly made you hiss because you didn't want anyone else on the receiving end of those blue eyes.

He smirked like he read your mind and pushed himself off the wall. You did whimper out loud when you realized just how large he was. Dominant, assertive, yet there was something almost playful in his smirk when he finally broke his gaze. You greedily inhaled with the hope of catching more of his scent when he strode toward the nearby balcony, smooth and fluid as a server quickly took the empty tumbler from his hand. The men at the gala were all posturing, but no one could match the confidence of that alpha.

So how were people not surrounding him, begging for a scrap of attention? Was he untouchable among those who deemed themselves untouchable? He certainly didn’t look like the kind of man who chased after anyone. No, people went to him.

He wanted you to follow him, right?

Downing your drink in one gulp, your feet moved before you could stop yourself. “I don’t need this alpha,” you whispered, the words bitter in your mouth as you followed his path. If you were smart, you’d walk the other way and not look back. Yet the thought of never seeing him again made your heart ache in a way you didn’t want to examine.

Does he know?

Studies over the years showed that not every bound pair was the same. Some couples felt the bond instantaneously like a firework exploding. Others felt it like a small burn that slowly consumed them over time. For a few, the spark took a long time to ignite. You couldn't ignore this burn if you tried.

You welcomed the slight chill in the air as you stepped onto the large balcony. It was lit up with sparkling lights, yet it didn’t take away from the stars that shone in the sky above. The alpha who caught your eye stood by the railing, alone, like he was looking over a kingdom. You felt foolish for going out there to bother him.

Steeling yourself with false confidence again, you walked over to stand beside him. You weren’t close enough to touch him, wanting to leave him a respectable amount of space. You could always use the excuse that you just needed some fresh air if he asked what you were doing.

Stealing a glance at him, you didn’t want to believe that you had a true connection with this man, that he could be your mate. No way would an omega like you be his match. Would he even want an omega like you? One with dreams to do more, be more?

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice thick like honey and the whiskey you drank. Of course, his voice would be a powerful weapon. But he wasn’t scenting you, or trying to tear your collar off, or doing anything to indicate that he felt the sort of spark you had. Maybe that was for the best.

“It is,” you sighed, looking out at the view. You couldn’t deny the beauty and how much easier it was to breathe since you weren’t surrounded by the suffocating bodies and scents. “It really is something.”

“I was talking about you.”

You whipped your head toward him so quickly you nearly hurt your neck. The flare of heat in his eyes hypnotized you again, but this time you didn’t want him to draw you in. A man of his stature, his power, he could chew you up, spit you out, and leave you a shell of yourself. But seeing him up close, his laugh lines, and the touch of softness in his gaze, you wanted to know all about him and the life he lived.

You were in so much trouble.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“I don't think I’ve seen you at a gala before. I would've remembered you,” he stated. You weren't sure what to say to that. “I’m James, but you can call me Bucky if you’d like.”

You blinked a few times. “You’re James Barnes,” you whispered, not having to belong in the inner circle to know who he was.

James Buchanan Barnes. One of the wealthiest alphas in the city, his family came from money and it was no secret that Bucky, as he liked to go by, wasn’t bound to anyone. People assumed that he didn't want to share his wealth with anyone beyond his charitable donations, or that he was either extremely picky in choosing a mate. And here he was talking to you. This was the man you thought could be your mate.

You were in way over your head.

“I am,” he said, looking at you expectantly.

It took a moment, but your name tumbled from your lips as you shifted toward him. He inhaled when a breeze rolled in and you hoped your scent got to him the way his scent got to you. The way his eyes darkened, it had. Your inner omega wanted to purr with delight.

Time stood still when he took your hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s a pleasure,” he whispered, his lips brushing your knuckles. “I hope you don’t mind me being forward, but…”

“But what?”

You held your breath when he turned your hand and ran his nose along your wrist with a small growl. It was bold, intimate, possessive, and you got impossibly wet from the action. Had Chet or another alpha done that, it would've been a different story. “You smell divine,” he whispered against your skin.

You whined before your inner hackles went up, making him pull his mouth away immediately. He at least had some level of respect and sensed the shift in your stance. “How many omegas have you said that and done that to?” you asked when you had no right to feel jealous.

He didn’t look put off by your question, and he didn’t let go of your hand either. “I’ve come across a few delectable scents before, but I don’t think I’ve ever described anyone as divine,” he answered, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. An intense longing behind his eyes had your knees weak. “I haven’t smelled anyone like you.”

This alpha was telling the truth, but he wasn't a boy scout either. He knew how to fuck, you could tell, and he likely broke hearts without intending to. You didn’t want to be the next victim if a quick fuck was all he was looking for.

“I haven’t smelled anyone like you either,” you admitted, grudgingly pulling away. His heady scent made it hard to concentrate. And standing close to a man who wore a suit that cost more than half a year’s rent was another reminder that you were a girl playing dress up, nothing more. “I should go. I shouldn’t be here.”

Bucky stopped you from turning away, his grip on your arms tender so you wouldn’t feel threatened. “And why is that?”

“Because I don’t belong here, and I don’t expect you to understand that,” you replied.

It was bad enough to let your guard down by following him out there, and you couldn’t let him seduce you more than he already had. You were lucky the very presence of him didn't trigger your heat. And how would your story end? He was a rich alpha, and you were a struggling omega. Was happiness really in the cards?

Your eyes widened when you heard the rumble in his chest, his scent producing a soothing aura that wrapped around you. Your lip trembled slightly as the rumble faded. Bucky could’ve let you walk away, yet he was comforting you. It made you want to cry.

“I may understand better than you think,” he whispered. Did he? Did he feel alone in that crowd of people there? “But help me understand why you feel that way.”

You rapidly blinked to keep the tears at bay. What was there for him to understand? “Okay,” you whispered back. The fact that he wanted you to talk to him meant something. “For starters, that crowd is kind of… well, awful from the short time I observed and interacted with them. They think they’re better than everyone else because they have so much, but they have no right to look down on others.”

The people in the gala simply flaunted what they had without a second thought. Being there made you appreciate your friends and their genuine interactions more. They worked hard for everything they had. They wouldn’t have anything against people born with a silver spoon in their mouths if they showed a little humility.

Bucky's chuckle surprised you. “Money doesn’t equal class, and believe me when I say they aren’t worth taking up any space in your beautiful mind,” he said, giving you a small smile. “To be honest, I came out here to get away from them because, save a select few, they're fucking assholes.”

You found yourself smiling, too. No wonder he has been standing by himself. “Is that the only reason?” you asked curiously, reaching up to touch his perfect hair simply because you could.

He looked at you, a mixture of lust and something soft. Standing like this you felt like a couple. “I may have wanted you to follow me, and I’m glad you did,” he said, his tone calm and casual as butterflies filled your stomach. “You’re the first person I’ve considered approaching in a long time, but you looked a bit upset when you went to the bar. I didn’t think bothering you would win me any favors.”

You exhaled. Was he the alpha who growled when Chet gripped you too tightly? “I…” you shivered when another breeze rolled in.

He shrugged his jacket the moment he spotted you shivered. “May I?” he offered.

You hesitated. Bucky had a powerful scent, and how would it look to Chet if you wore another alpha’s jacket? Chet wasn’t your alpha, but he could run his mouth and get you in trouble with your boss. It didn’t matter that you wanted to quit one day. Today wasn’t that day because you financially weren’t ready. That was the excuse you made up in your head.

But your inner omega wanted Bucky’s scent to surround you and you replied in a small voice, “Yes, please.”

Bucky carefully placed the warm jacket around your shoulders. “I know the crowd bothered you for good reason, but who specifically upset you and how can I fix it?”

“My date,” you answered. You didn't have it in you to lie to him. It also wasn't up to him to fix it.

Bucky hummed, running his hands up and down your arms. It helped warm and relax you. “What’s his name?” he asked, his eyes landing on the collar around your neck. You wondered what he would do if your mating gland was exposed, and you had to push that thought away.

“His name is Chet and he’s discussing business with some alpha.” The change in his scent was subtle. He seemed too confident to be jealous, but he didn’t seem pleased either at the thought of you being with someone else. “They were extremely condescending, and I couldn’t exactly throw a drink in their faces or put them in their place since I’m just an omega.”

Bucky snarled quietly, his eyes blazing. “You’re not just an omega,” he said. He was upset on your behalf. Was he not like other older alphas who wanted omegas to be subservient? “Maybe I should have a chat with them.”

You purred before you could stop yourself. Bucky offering to stand up for you felt better than you wanted to admit. “You don't have to do that,” you said, running your fingers through his hair again. You wanted to soothe him the way he soothed you. “Besides, I’m not really on a date with Chet. He just wanted me to be eye candy for the night.”

Bucky almost snarled again, but raised an eyebrow instead. “And you agreed to that? I have the feeling you aren’t the arm candy type.”

You giggled. He was right about that. “Didn’t really have a choice thanks to my boss,” you told him.

“Your boss? What exactly do you do for work?” he asked carefully.

He asked a lot of questions, but you didn't mind since he seemed genuinely interested. Maybe he assumed you were an escort. “I'm a designer,” you answered, smiling to yourself. “At least, I want to be. I’m just an assistant at the moment.”

“Let me guess. Your boss is an alpha, makes you do the grunt work, and takes the credit?” he mused, humming when you solemnly nodded. “And he convinced you to come here tonight because Chet is a client?”

“Something like that. It was either that or I get fired,” you laughed bitterly. “And if he fired me I’d get blacklisted, then I’d have no job, no money at all, and I’d lose my tiny apartment and…”

His nose wrinkled when you trailed off. You were so embarrassed, and you couldn’t stop your scent from souring. Talking to one of the richest alphas ever about your problems wasn’t something you thought you’d experience tonight, but that soothing rumble and smell came out again to help you breathe easier.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” he said with a touch of firmness so you knew he didn’t pity you. You could take a lot of things, but not pity.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you said, smoothing out some of the fabric on your dress and not wanting to dwell on the topic. “I actually made this,” you told him. It was silly, but you specifically wanted to hear something nice from Bucky to make you feel better, which was bad. You shouldn’t want compliments from him or want him period.

He parted his jacket so he could look you over. Unlike Shane leering at you earlier, Bucky seemed to take in the details of your design with a careful eye. “You made this? It’s stunning,” he said with pride that rivaled yours. You lost your breath when he ran the back of his finger along your torso, heat spreading through your body like a wildfire. “Like you.”

Your mind raced, the heavy weight of his gaze pinning you in place. The longer you stood there, the more you wanted him. You had to snap out of it. “You’re dangerous,” you whispered, shaking your head as his hand fell away. “I should go inside.”

He stepped back, his eyes searching yours. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you replied honestly. Some of his actions were forward, but he wasn’t pushy. He was the sort of predator who probably gently played with his food before he sank his teeth in, yet you weren’t completely afraid of the bite. “Though I’m wondering why you don’t have a date tonight. Keeping your options open?”

Maybe he really did want to live the bachelor life.

The corner of his lip tugged when you narrowed your eyes. “I come to these things to make a short appearance. That’s all,” he explained. Even the wealthy had obligations. “Unlike some alphas my age, I’m not interested in having a date for the sole purpose of eye candy. And because most of the people here are fucking assholes, I don’t usually find anyone to take home.”

“So, you aren’t interested in taking me home?” you tried to tease. If he said no, you could lick your wounds later since you’d likely never see him again. If he said yes, you… Well, you didn’t know what you’d do.

He reached out and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you close enough that you felt just how big he was. A shudder wracked your body, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you. “I’m very interested in taking you home,” he breathed.

You lifted your eyes to him, his desire matching yours. “I-”

A young giggling couple stumbled out to the balcony reeking of booze. They took a few steps forward and Bucky moved you out of the way before they could crash into you. The ferocious growl he let out made the laughter cease, but it had you purring like a bitch in heat. “Leave,” he ordered, keeping his arms tight around you. The underlying threat in that single word had the couple rushing back inside, but they had effectively ruined the moment.

“I think that alpha almost pissed his pants,” you teased to cut through the tension.

“He’s lucky he didn’t tumble over the railing,” he said, loosening his hold on you and taking in your expression. You felt naked under his stare. “You aren’t ready to leave with me just yet.”

“I’m still here with a ‘date’,” you reminded him to cover up any feelings or doubts in your mind.

Other than Bucky being wealthy, powerful, and smelling like a sinful kind of heaven, you didn’t fully know him. Something within you felt like you did, but going home with him for the night… What if you disappointed him? What if he decided he didn't want you?

He gave nothing away as he stared at you while you felt like your eyes told him everything. It wasn’t fair how in control he looked when you were close to spiraling. “Let’s go sit inside,” he suggested, finally cracking a smile when your face scrunched up. “No one will bother us, and I’d like to keep talking to you even if you don’t decide to leave with me.”

“I guess it wouldn't hurt to sit with you for a few minutes,” you said, especially if he would keep others away from you.

His hand on your hip felt like it belonged there as he guided you back inside. The scents and mindless chatter didn’t bother you as much now, likely because all you could really smell and concentrate on was Bucky. Did his kisses taste like plums or whiskey? Both?

He brought to a corner near the bar, far enough away from the mingling crowd that you still felt a bit of privacy. You kept his jacket around you though the room was considerably warmer than it was outside, not quite ready to give it back to him. “Drink?” he asked, angling his chair so that his knees were touching yours. There was no table in front of you. Anyone looking would see how close you were.

“No, thanks,” you said. You already downed a glass of whiskey and your head was spinning thanks to him.

You felt his gaze on you for a full minute before he spoke again. “Your ‘date’ isn’t the reason you’re hesitating to leave,” he said, scratching along his beard. You bet it would feel wonderful between your thighs. “Is it me? Am I too old for you?”

You had to laugh. “You’re a gorgeous silver fox, so that isn’t the problem,” you said. Beneath the suit you knew he was in great shape, too.

He smiled a gorgeous smile, appreciating the compliment. “So it isn't my age. Do you think I won’t treat you well?”

“I know you’ll treat me well,” you answered, avoiding his gaze. You knew that in your core. “But I’m afraid of what happens in the morning.”

He forced your gaze back to him with a large hand. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, his thumb brushing your cheek.

Everything.

“I’m afraid if I get a taste of you it won’t be enough for one night,” you said, your heart pounding as he stared into your eyes. Like he was staring deep into your soul. “And it isn’t fair that you have that kind of power over me.”

He looked almost impressed with your answer. “I appreciate your honesty,” he praised, his thumb sweeping over your lips this time. “And it won't be enough. Once I get a taste of you, I won’t let you go.”

It wasn’t a matter of if with him, but when. “You couldn't possibly want me for more than one night,” you said. He knew you were just a struggling designer’s assistant and didn’t run with this crowd. You lived in different worlds.

“I’m going to want you every night.” He tilted his head when you shifted in your seat. “You feel it, don't you?”

You feigned innocence when he held your gaze, your heart racing. God, he had felt it. Was it an explosion, a slow burn, or something else? “Feel what?”

Bucky smirked, not at all fooled. “That you’re my-”

“Don’t say it,” you begged. Speaking the word would make it real and it wasn't something he could take back. “Because if you don’t want that or me, we can just go our separate ways and ignore it.”

He hadn’t marked you, and you hadn’t claimed him either. You didn’t know what it would feel like to have his knot, so you couldn’t possibly miss it. And neither of you would have to depend on the other. You could walk away with as minimal damage as possible, and you’d find a way to remain whole. So would he.

The low growl Bucky emitted made the nearby guests move away, but you weren’t afraid. “Ignore it? I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. I would've fucked you right out there on the balcony if that couple hadn't interrupted us,” he said, your body hot and needy at the thought of him fucking you while you looked out at the view. “I’m lucky finally finding you didn’t send me into a rut.”

You thought the same about your heat. “Bucky-”

“Our scents call to each other. We call to each other,” he said, placing his hand on your chest. How did your heart feel fuller from his touch? “Tell me you didn't feel a connection when you caught my scent and looked at me.”

“I felt something,” you admitted.

“And it compelled you enough to follow me outside, to open up to me,” he said. You couldn't deny that. “You may say you don’t belong here, but something inside you says you belong with me.”

“And that doesn’t bother you? Scare you?” you asked. Having mates could be wonderful, but what if he wanted that pull with someone who wasn’t you?

“No, it doesn’t,” he said. There wasn't even a whiff of fear, likely because he had nothing to lose. “In fact, I think you should quit your job and move in with me.

You looked at him like he suddenly grew another head. “Quit my job and move in with you?”

“Yes. Your boss doesn't deserve to have you as an assistant, and you wouldn't have to pay rent if you stayed at my place.”

You didn’t attempt to laugh off his request since he was completely serious. “You realize that sounds insane, right?” you added. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary though. Some couples who took their time building their bond still moved in right away.

“Insane would’ve been marking you the moment I saw you and dragging you home the way some alphas do,” he said.

You bristled. “It’s too soon for you to mark me,” you said, even as your mating bond throbbed.

“Don’t worry. I won't mark you tonight,” he assured you. Hurt crept up for a split second before he ran a finger along your collar. You visibly trembled and realized that he did want to mark you. He just wasn’t doing so tonight out of respect for you. “But you can still be mine in every other way until that day comes.”

You opened your mouth to argue. He hadn’t marked you, but you still felt owned. “You really think people want you with an omega outside of your tax bracket?”

“You think I give a fuck what they think?” His handsome face twisted in a scowl as he looked around. “And if they even think about insulting you, I’ll ruin them. It’s that simple.”

“It isn’t that simple,” you said.

“Why not? I know you're meant to be mine and you know it, too.” He touched your collar again, your mating bond throbbing almost to the point of pain. “You won’t need to worry about money or a roof over your head because I’ll give it to you. And a space to design your own clothes and make your dream come true.”

It sounded too good to be true, and nothing in this world was free. “I have my rent. If I break my lease-”

“I’ll pay what you owe.”

Your rent was probably pocket change to him. At least you didn’t have a roommate you’d have to worry about. It was always too risky to rely on someone else to help with bills and utilities. “And all that in exchange for what? Being your whore?”

He snarled, and you were delighted to hear that sound. “Trust me, doll, you may want me to fuck you like a whore, but I’ll treat you like a goddess. Like my equal,” he replied, his promise touching something deep inside you and drowning out most of your fear.

You just wished the remaining would fade away.

“I want us to be equals, but do you realize that you’d have all the power until I get my designs off the ground, right? I’d have to rely on your money, your roof over my head,” you said, swallowing the small lump in your throat. Did he realize what he was asking of you? To push aside the small amount of pride and independence you had? “I’ve done fine on my own and to have to depend on you is something else altogether.”

You hoped he at the very least realized how vulnerable you were right now by opening up more.

He looked vulnerable, too, as he moved closer. “I know it’s a lot to have to depend on me, but with me you wouldn't have to do this on your own. My finances don’t mean I have power. You’d have power, too,” he said. You wanted to believe you would. “In fact, I think you’re the only person in this entire city who could bring me to my knees. That’s power.”

You smiled a little. Could you really bring him to his knees? “As flattered as I am that you want to take care of me, do I have to decide tonight?” you asked. He was saying all the right things, and it was tempting, but there was so much to figure out beyond the living arrangements.

“We can discuss it more tomorrow if you’d like,” he said, looking around as you let out a breath. He had no doubt in his mind that you would spend the night. “Have you seen your date?”

You looked around, too, not at all worried when you spotted him. A complete contrast to how you felt at the beginning of the evening. “He’s…” You gestured to the bar where Chet was flirting with the loosely dressed omega from earlier and staring right down the front of her dress.

Bucky growled and swept his eyes over you, no doubt catching how you pressed your thighs together from the sound. A growl really shouldn't be that sexy. “Not a very faithful alpha, is he?”

“Well, he isn't my alpha, remember?” you pointed out. Someone like Chet would never be. “My boss only ‘suggested’ that I go with him tonight, and I made it clear I wasn't going to sleep with him.”

There was another hint of a growl before he smiled. “Wait right here. I’m just going to tell the young pup that you’re going home with me.”

You gripped his arm as he tried to stand. “Easy, old man. I didn't say I was going home with you,” you teased, knowing full well you were in fact leaving with him.

“Old man?” he smiled.

You shrugged. “You called me ‘doll’, which sounds like something an old man would say.”

“I think an old man is exactly what you need.” His eyes flashed with a deliciously dark promise that he was right and you’d enjoy every single inch of what he’d give you. “And you didn’t explicitly say you'd go with me, but we both know I’ve swayed you to go to my place.”

“You alphas are so cocky.” You refrained from rolling your eyes since he was right in this instance. “But maybe I should just stay here a bit longer and make you work for it since you want me so badly.”

He chuckled. “You’d rather stay here? Fine by me,” he said, leaning in close. “I’ll just slide my hand up your dress here and now and feel just how wet you are for me. I doubt anyone would notice if I made you come on my fingers. They’re too caught up in themselves.”

Your eyes closed when he touched your thigh. “You think I'm wet for you?”

“I know you are. I can smell it. Can practically taste it. You’ll let me taste you, won't you?” he purred, and you could only tremble as his hand moved higher, your legs parting to give him more access. “In fact, why don't I drag your ‘date’ over and let him watch while I lay you out and feast on your cunt? Show him what you'll never give him a taste of?”

You weren't sure if the pool of arousal was from the thought of Bucky eating you like a starved man, making that sad excuse for an alpha watch while he got you off, or both. You wondered what it would be like to taste yourself on his lips. “And why would you let him see what I look like when I come?”

He seemed to consider your question. “That’s a good point. He shouldn't see how you look when you come.” Bringing his hand to your face, your breath hitched when he caressed your cheek with such care. “But you’ll never have to hide that beautiful expression from me.”

“Hey!”

You pulled away from Bucky in time to see Chet storm over. “Shit,” you whispered when he furiously looked between you and Bucky. You were shocked smoke didn't come out of his ears.

“What the hell are you doing? I said enjoy the free booze, and do not embarrass me. You can't even follow a simple instruction,” he snapped. You refused to bare your neck when he showed his teeth. He wasn’t going to embarrass you either. “The only reason you can even step foot in this place is because of me. You fucking sl-”

Bucky was out of his seat before you could blink, his hand wrapped tight around Chet’s throat and cutting off the remainder of his insult. A few patrons gasped and stopped to watch as Chet clawed at Bucky's hand, but no one stepped in to help. The anger that poured off your alpha was enough to deter anyone from getting involved. And you were loving every second of it.

“She’s my mate,” Bucky said through his teeth, making Chet’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Biology may say you’re an alpha, but you’re nothing. And I’m tempted to crush your windpipe for insulting her.” He squeezed harder and smirked when Chet wheezed. “When her boss asks how the gala went, you’re going to sing her praises. If you don't, I’ll hunt you down and make sure you can never knot anyone ever again. And that’s just the start of what I'll do to you.”

It was almost humiliating how turned on you were by Bucky's dominant display. You thought you’d be an omega who wouldn’t want an alpha acting like, well, an alpha, yet his defense of you meant a lot. “Bucky.” You stood up and smiled when he looked at you, his anger shifting to something softer. “You can let him go.”

Chet fell to the ground and coughed once Bucky released him. Your alpha bared his teeth with a snarl and Chet showed his throat like an obedient dog. It was clear who the top alpha was.

“Apologize,” Bucky commanded. Not only did Chet cough out an apology while avoiding your gaze, a few others said “sorry” as well. That was how powerful this man was. And you wanted him more than anything.

“Thanks for the free booze, Chet. And don't worry about me getting a ride home. I think you should worry if that omega still wants you after your… performance,” you smiled, linking your arm with Bucky’s. “Have a great night.”

There was no need to fake your confidence as you and Bucky walked out together. It didn't matter at the moment what they thought of you. All you could think about was how Bucky defended you, and how he called you his mate. It was out in the open. He…

Oh, God.

“Thank you for defending me, but you do realize you just told everyone that I’m your mate, right?” you whispered. That gossip would spread before the night was over.

“Is that what I did?” he asked, smirking when you hissed and glared. “And you don’t need to thank me. He had it coming.”

The smirk was still on his handsome face as the valet brought his car around. What the hell were people going to say? He didn’t care what they thought and neither should you.

“Listen, Bucky, just because you…”

Bucky held your face in his hands, leaning in so close you felt his breath against your lips. His mouth barely grazed yours, carefully teasing you with the promise of what was to come. “Just because I what?” he rasped, and you swear you felt more slick stain your already ruined panties.

“You better get me off before we get to your place,” you said instead of finishing your original statement because you truthfully forgot all about it when his lips touched yours.

Your insides tinged with more heat and desire when he nipped your bottom lip. “You better say my name when I get you off.”

“Should I say Bucky or James?” you smirked.

“Bucky. Reserve the name James for when you’re upset or extremely serious,” he winked, thanking the valet before helping you into his vehicle. You had never been in a car this nice.

“And you won’t mark me tonight?” you asked once he got up, touching the back of your collar to make sure it was still secure.

“We still have a lot to figure out before I mark you,” he said, leaning over as you sighed in relief. “But before we go…”

His mouth landed on yours, both strong and soft as he took possession of yours. The entire gala could've gone up in flames and you wouldn't have noticed since all you felt was him. You tasted his hunger when his tongue plunged inside, and there was a hint of desperation, too. He was starving for you and you moaned, deepening the kiss to show that you were just as eager.

You panted when he broke the kiss. “Don’t make me regret trusting you,” you breathed, your eyes once again giving everything away.

His nose bumped yours affectionately as he dragged his lips to your forehead. You didn't expect such a fond gesture from him, and you had to bite your tongue so you wouldn't blurt out how nice a kiss to the forehead felt. “You won’t regret it,” he whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss against your skin.

Your heart felt full, and your inner omega wanted to shout with joy. “Take me home then.”

Bucky sped off a moment later, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him. Your core ached as you looked at him, giving you a chance to once again take in his profile. The saying of aging like fine wine probably rang true for him. You imagined he was always good looking, but he was both rough and refined thanks to his age. People who said perfection didn’t exist clearly never saw him before.

“You like what you see?” he asked.

“I do, but you know that,” you answered, his jaw clenching when you pulled your dress up to reveal your legs. “And didn’t you promise to get me off before we got to your place?”

The sexual tension that had been building up spiked, and you sensed his need to claim you in some capacity was rising to the surface. “Give me your panties,” he ordered, giving you a sharp look. “Now.”

“You’re bossy,” you smiled, pushing your dress higher. He swore under his breath when you gripped your underwear and slid it off, your slick practically dripping from the flimsy fabric. No one ever got you that wet before. “But I kind of like it.”

He chuckled, licking his lips. “You like it because it’s me,” he pointed out, snatching the underwear out of your hand once it was within reach. You watched with a whine as he brought it to his nose and deeply inhaled. “Fuck…” he growled, bringing the fabric to the tent growing in his pants next and rubbing all over it in a filthy display. Watching him ruin his pants with the scent and slick of your pussy had you soaking the seat beneath you. “Spread your legs and show me that pretty cunt.”

You trembled when he took his eyes off the road. Pulling your dress over your hips, you obediently spread your legs and let him get a good look at what would soon belong to him. “You like what you see?”

“Just wait until I tie you to my bed and get a real look before I fuck you. It’ll be a shame to wreck something so pretty, but you’ll thank me for it,” he replied, looking back at the road as he sped up. Oh, you’d thank him over and over. “Touch yourself, but don’t put your fingers inside.”

Bringing your hand between your legs, you gasped at how sensitive you were. It was like you were in heat, but fully aware of your surroundings. “Like this?” you asked, moving your fingers along your folds.

“Just like that,” he whispered, his gaze darting between you and the road. You hoped one day he’d fuck your throat while he drove. “Now give me your hand.”

You presented your glistening fingers to him, giving him the opportunity to grip your wrist and suck the wet digits into his mouth. You felt his mouth water from your taste, the groan of arousal in his throat making you shake. He didn’t stop until he licked your fingers clean. “You taste just as divine as you smell,” he said, releasing your hand and reaching over to cup your mound. “And I need more.”

“I need more, too,” you moaned, his palm rubbing your clit and building that ecstasy within you. He teased your dripping hole with another finger, but didn’t push inside yet. You arched your hips, trying to get him to breach you. “Please.”

“That’s a good girl saying please,” he praised, finally pushing a thick finger inside. You clenched around him so tight, your body wanting more. “Fuck, you’re tight. And wet. Made just for me. Imagine how good you’ll feel once you’re stretched around my cock.”

“Want your cock,” you moaned, opening your legs wider. “Want your big cock inside me.”

“Yeah, you do. You want my big, bare cock in your soaked cunt,” he said, pushing another finger in, your slick coating them. You didn’t let anyone fuck you bare before, but you’d let him. “You want my knot, too.”

You moaned, an image of you on your hands and knees flashing in your mind, Bucky’s strong hands pulling you back to meet every thrust until he locked your bodies in place. You could practically feel his teeth sinking into your neck to fully seal your fate. Or would he make love to you, linking your fingers together and kissing you with care as he tenderly pushed his knot in? It didn’t matter. He’d give you everything, and you wanted it all.

“Are you hard just thinking of fucking of me raw?” you moaned, the need to rip the top of your dress open to reveal your breasts strong. No… If your dress was going to get torn to shreds, he could do that himself. “Coming so deep inside me you’ll drip out of me days later?”

The next growl he let out was inhuman, his fingers curling until you cried out. “My good little omega has a dirty mouth on her,” he smirked.

“I do have a dirty mouth. You should fuck it sometime,” you smiled sweetly before your mouth fell open, his expert fingers fucking you deep. Talking dirty to him helped stamp down your emotions a bit, but they were threatening to surface the more he touched you. “Bucky.”

“That’s it. Say my name. Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded. Your back arched, gripping the leather seat until your hand ached. Your body certainly knew who owned you. “Tell me who’s going to take care of you.”

You bit your lip to hold back your whimper, your heart pounding out of control. No one took care of you. No one wanted to until tonight, and you hadn’t wanted that either.

He stopped moving his fingers, keeping perfectly still as you hissed in frustration. Was he really going to build you up and not let you finish? “Tell me,” he demanded again, gentler this time.

Your eyes burned, but you swallowed your pride. Again. “You, Bucky,” you whispered, trusting that he’d be an alpha of his word. “You'll take care of me.”

He cooed when you whimpered, slipping a third finger in and moving them again. “That’s my girl. My good omega. I know that wasn’t easy for you to say,” he praised, so proud of you. Part of you was proud of yourself, too. “Do you need to come?”

“Yes!” you cried out, desperately trying to ride his fingers as the pressure grew. You were so close. Just a little more…

“Then do it. Get that slick all over my hand and seat,” he said, pushing against your bundle of nerves once more as your body locked up. “And say. My. Name.”

Waves of pleasure rolled through you, colors blurring your vision as you cried his name. Your eyes rolled back as the squelching sound of your cunt filled the car, his fingers helping you ride it out. You were drowning, unable to breathe until you broke through the haze. You felt ruined already by his fingers. Oh, his cock was going to destroy you.

“Fuck, that’s it. Give it to me. That’s my good girl. Can’t wait to feel that all over my cock.”

He only removed his fingers when you whined and licked your essence away with a low moan. The beautiful bastard still looked so put together, and hadn’t swerved once while he drove. “Holy shit,” you exhaled, your walls still fluttering. The orgasm took the edge off while leaving you wanting more. “Did I… soak your hand?”

“You did,” he confirmed, your face hot. “Fuck, I’m going to need an entire weekend to eat your sweet cunt just to start,” he said, flashing you a smile. “And you make very pretty sounds when you come.”

You managed a smile as you slumped in the seat, your dress still bunched around your waist. “What do you sound like when you come?” you asked breathlessly.

“You’ll find out,” he promised.

You trembled again when he put his hand back on your thigh, your hand immediately covering his. You needed his touch to ground you, but didn’t want to say so. “I just realized something,” you said once you fully caught your breath.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“If you’re my mate but you haven’t marked me yet, and you plan to pay for… well, everything for me for the time being,” you said, a laugh bubbling up when you saw that your window was fogged up. You drew a little smiley face, making you laugh more before you glanced at him. “You’re kind of like my sugar daddy.”

The look on his face before he laughed made him look younger, the sound affectionate and happy. How many managed to make him laugh like that? “Does that mean you’re going to call me ‘Daddy’?”

“Don’t push it, old man,” you giggled. Though if anyone could sway you, it would be him. “Why don’t we just stick with ‘alpha’ for now?”

“That and Bucky,” he suggested, turning his hand so your palm rested against his. “I like hearing you say my name, doll,” he added in a whisper.

“I like saying your name, Bucky,” you said, your brows furrowing. “But who came up with that nickname?”

He chuckled again, your skin tingling when he lifted your hand to kiss it. “You don’t want to hear about that.”

“Yes, I do,” you said.

He stole a glance at you. Through the heavy scent of your orgasm, you detected joy seeping from him. It made you feel happy, too. “Okay,” he smiled, running his thumb along your hand. “I got the nickname a long time ago…”

You twisted more in your seat to face him as you listened, lost in his voice and smile. There was so much you had to learn about your alpha. His likes and dislikes. What he would be like before, during, and after his ruts. He had a lot to learn about you, too. You wouldn’t give up on your dream of becoming a designer, and accepting his help may not be such a bad thing.

And maybe accepting the fact that you had a mate to depend on wouldn’t be such a bad thing either.

So, what do we think so far? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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no-144444 · 2 days ago

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who's he?- l.norris

summary: you've always been more famous, but now jack whitehall has decided to address it

pairing: lando norris x fem! moviestar! reader

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You sat beside Lando, giggling beside him as the night went on, awkward and long. F175 was a good idea on paper, but it was also the most hunger games-esque things you’d ever seen, and every single person there could feel the awkward and uncomfortable air in the room.

He reached over and grabbed your hand to play with while Jack Whitehall made his way through the tables as the Williams car was revealed.

“You alright?” you asked, leaning in to him.

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “All good.”

He was doing great. 2024 had been the hardest season of his life, and he genuinely couldn’t have done it without you. Every time he came home and saw you there, taking time out of your own busy schedule to make him feel better, it meant the world to him. He was eternally grateful.

Jack pulled up a chair beside the two of you, getting ready for the interview. “Evening guys,” he smiled, settling in beside you. The Williams reveal was over, the lights came up again, and the camera was turned to Lando, Jack and you.

“Give it up for my main man James Vowels!” There was a break for cheering. “Now, there is only one person I want to talk to tonight,” he announced into the microphone and the crowd went wild. They thought he meant Lando. “Y/n Y/l/n!”

The stadium erupted in laughter as Lando got cut out of the camera angle, zoning in on your and Jack. Beside you, Lando was laughing harder than anyone, squeezing your hand as he giggled uncontrollably. You were pretty famous, being a huge movie star. At the beginning of your relationship back in 2021, everyone was a bit confused on why you’d picked him, since F1 wasn’t huge back then. Ever since then there’s always been jokes about how he’s less relevant than you, or less famous, etc. Honestly, you find them hilarious.

“Y/n, how are you feeling about tonight, have you ever seen anything like this?” he asked.

“No, I have not,” you smiled, trying to hold in your own laughter.

“How does it compare to the Oscars?”

“There’s usually less drummers, for sure,” you joked and the crowd laughed. “But yes, I am very excited to be here.”

“Do you think Lando’s taking it away this year?”

You turned to Lando and he smirked, shaking his head. “I hope so,” you shrugged, turning back to Jack.

“I won’t be famous enough if I don’t,” Lando added, giggling into the microphone.

“Mate let’s be honest you were never famous enough for her,” Jack teased. “I hope you win this year for your sake,” both you and Lando were uncontrollably laughing now. “So, how was your break? Got a chance to Netflix and Chill?”

A boom mic was lowered into your face.

“We did, y’know,” Lando nodded, pushing the boom away. “Wankers.”

“Please do not curse Lando,” Jack chuckled.

“That's not a curse word,” he smiled cheekily. “But yeah, we had a nice break. We spent some time with our families and friends, and we went to see Daniel in Perth as well, which was great.”

“You and Daniel are quite close, aren’t you Y/n?” he mused.

“Yeah, I’ve worked with his partner a lot before, so we’re pretty close.”

“And he introduced us,” Lando added and you nodded.

“Wow! Daniel Riccardo the match-maker, will he be officiating at your wedding?” Jack asked, referencing the fact that there were a lot of engagement rumours over the break for the two of you.

You looked down at your hand confused then held it up for the cameras, showing no engagement ring on your finger, then looking at Lando confused, who giggled.

“It’s on my to-do list, alright?” he chuckled.

“Better be soon, or else you’ll be too irrelevant to marry her,” Jack joked. “And now, we have the wonderful Kane Brown, give it up!”

The cameras turned to the singer, and Lando smiled at you.

“It’s a good idea,” he whispered. “Asking Daniel.”

“I don’t see a ring on my finger, Norris,” you pointed out again.

“Soon,” he nodded, sincerity in his eyes. “So soon.”

“I'll believe it when I see it,” you chuckled, but you knew he was serious.

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navigation for my blog :)

mclaren masterlist

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yanderenightmare · 3 days ago

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Okkotsu Yuuta

♡ TW: noncon, yandere, kidnapping, bondage, bully reader

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about the major power trip Yuuta went through once he figured out how to control his cursed energy.

Here’s this loser who’s been bullied all throughout life for being such a loner, who suddenly gains unlimited and unsupervised power to do whatever he wants. And he’s never once stood up for himself out of fear that Rika would take it too far—but he’s fully in control now and free to do all those things he’s been too scared to do before.

You used to be one of those bullies back in the day—one of those pretty girls who would laugh and sneer at him while other goons would do their worst of swirlies and wedgies and gut punches. He hasn’t seen you in years already, but there hasn’t been a day he hasn’t thought about you. Old, twisted emotions of hatred and want brewing in the darkest pits of his gut. He can still remember that evil look of glee in your eyes each time you’d say or do something horrid.

He wonders if he has that same awful look in his eyes now as he stands over you—terrified, lying in his bed with your hands and feet tied.

He doesn’t even remember how he got you there. He must have blacked out completely, and yet, the knots of rope are tied so neatly he must have known what he was doing.

You’re in what you wore to bed—a pair of panties and a little crop top. He’s actually never seen a girl so bare before—only two flimsy articles away from being naked. It makes him blush—big and dour-eyed, scanning every curve of your smooth skin, feeling his throat get tight.

Your mouth’s taped shut—he isn’t interested in anything you’d have to say. But he’s left your eyes. He can’t tell if you recognize him. But the fear within them makes him feel so good he’s never been harder in his entire life.

Still, he doesn’t know if he can go through with it. It’s a strange feeling—how your shivering and tears make him feel both ashamed and yet so very horny he might cum in his pants just from looking at you.

He thinks of the you from back then—what an absolute bitch you were—all your mean words and hard glares, ugly comments whispered in your friend’s ear while looking down on him, giggling behind a hand as if it were some big secret you were talking shit—as if you hadn’t just poured rotten milk over his head in front of everyone.

Yeah… you deserve this.

You try worming away from him once he crawls on top of you, but the way he’s tied you makes it a pointless struggle. It should make him feel worse, but oddly enough, it just makes him want to touch you more. Your skin is so soft it gives him chills, manhandling you just the way he sees fit.

It seems crazy to him that something with teeth as sharp as yours can also look like the sweetest thing in the world. To anyone else, he must look like the bad guy. But he knows, and you know—you’re no victim.

With your hands tucked under your back, you’re completely pinned beneath him as he straddles your legs. You whine, but he pays you no mind—carefully lifting your top up further.

His body sags with a sigh at the sight. They’re even more perfect than he’d dreamed, and they feel even better in his hands—soft and squeezable.

It’s so fucked up—you have the ugliest personality he knows, and yet you're just as pretty as he remembers. He hates you, and yet you’re the only one he wants this way.

He bends down and wraps his mouth around your nipple—it’s perky and warm and makes him groan with a shudder—rocking his clothed bulge against your thigh with a string of moans.

He can’t believe your pussy is just a thin little layer of cotton away—waiting for him just beneath a pink print of cartoon bunnies. He doesn't know why, but he really likes that more than the black lace he’d expected.

Suppose it makes you fit the role more—his prey.

Just knowing he’s going to fuck you makes him feel like the most powerful guy in the world. He wants to make you cum until you can’t even remember your own name. He wonders if you’re a virgin, too, but he doubts it.

“I’ve seen you had so many tongues down your throat, it wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve had dick just as much.”

But that’s okay. He’s going to make sure this time is special.

His body drapes yours with all its weight as endless thoughts of what he’s going to do to you flood his head. He moans, making drool spill over your chest where his mouth covets your breast while he keeps rutting into you—he’ll make you feel so good you fall in love with him.

And it’s sad how the thought alone instantly makes his boxers fill with stickiness.

And it’s only sadder as the post-nut-clarity hits because he’s left with a heavy feeling of grief for not having filled your womb instead.

♡ OKKOTSU YUTA masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yuta okkotsu #yandere yuta #yandere okkotsu yuta #yandere yuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuta #jujutsu kaisen yuuta #jujutsu kaisen yuta okkotsu #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere jjk #yandere x you #yandere imagines

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poseidonsworst · 2 days ago

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Twine is AWESOME you don't need to know any coding to make a game! There are macros you can learn to do more things, and if you know html or css you can make it pretty.

But I wanted to throw in a few Interactive Fiction recommendations!!

With Those We Love Alive by porpentine (also the author of the amazing article Hot Allostatic Load and you should read it if you haven't already!) Her entire body of work is awesome, they're a master of IF as a medium and a genre. WTWLA changed my whole writing style when I was young, and is still a huge influence of mine to this day. I come back to it every four to five years to meditate on how I've changed. Bonus game: Howling Dogs

You play as an artificer unable to dream, charged with creating treasures for the Empress. Explore, breathe, and add to Porpentine's vast collection of arms.

Midnight. Swordfight. is my second recommendation. It's fun, trippy, humorous, and NSFW at certain Unexpected points (mind the polarbear). The Countess has thrown down her glove, and you have until midnight to prepare for the duel!

Galatea by is a parser unlike any other in my opinion. From the site: A conversation with a work of art. "47. Galatea. White Thasos marble. Non-commissioned work by the late Pygmalion of Cyprus. (The artist has since committed suicide.) Originally not an animate. The waking of this piece from its natural state remains unexplained."

Colossal Cave Adventure: This you should play for the history of it! Will Crowther made it based on his experinces in Mammoth Cave, the longest known cave system in the world! He made it for his daughters, and it's maybe one of the first text based games ever made and certainly the first popular one.

Violet: (I'm getting tired and starting to remember less and less about the games I've played) from the site: "Calm down. All you have to do is write a thousand words and everything will be fine. And you have all day, except it's already noon."

Photopia: "Will you read me a story?"

"Read you a story? What fun would that be? I've got a better idea: let's tell a story together."

Queers In Love At The End of The World: exactly what it says on the tin, how will you spend your final ten seconds on earth?

Depression Quest: If you've only heard of this in the context of its creator being harassed by gamergate you're missing out on an incredible portrayal of what it's like to live with depression.

The Uncle Who Works For Nintendo: "You are 11 years old. You are sleeping over at your best friend's house. You and your friend like videogames. Your friend has a lot of cool games. And, believe it or not, an uncle who works for Nintendo. And he's coming to visit at midnight. A narrative horror game. Five endings."

My Father's Long Long Legs: "An interactive horror story about family, unease, and loss."

I really wanna recommend this incredible twine game that told its story from two different perspectives, told side by side with black text on white on one side and white text on black on the other, but I can't for the life of me remember what it's called!! If anyone knows of what game I'm talking about and can find it I'll be eternally grateful.

My last recommendation is one I've already sent you to! I highly suggest you click around and explore the Interactive Fiction Database for lots more!

i think the near-extinction of people making fun, deep and/or unique interactive text-based browser games, projects and stories is catastrophic to the internet. i'm talking pre-itch.io era, nothing against it.

there are a lot of fun ones listed here and here but for the most part, they were made years ago and are now a dying breed. i get why. there's no money in it. factoring in the cost of web hosting and servers, it probably costs money. it's just sad that it's a dying art form.

anyway, here's some of my favorite browser-based interactive projects and games, if you're into that kind of thing. 90% of them are on the lists that i linked above.

A Better World - create an alternate history timeline

Alter Ego - abandonware birth-to-death life simulator game

Seedship - text-based game about colonizing a new planet

Sandboxels or ThisIsSand - free-falling sand physics games

Little Alchemy 2 - combine various elements to make new ones

Infinite Craft - kind of the same as Little Alchemy

ZenGM - simulate sports

Tamajoji - browser-based tamagotchi

IFDB - interactive fiction database (text adventure games)

Written Realms - more text adventure games with a user interface

The Cafe & Diner - mystery game

The New Campaign Trail - US presidential campaign game

Money Simulator - simulate financial decisions

Genesis - text-based adventure/fantasy game

Level 13 - text-based science fiction adventure game

Miniconomy - player driven economy game

Checkbox Olympics - games involving clicking checkboxes

BrantSteele.net - game show and Hunger Games simulators

Murder Games - fight to the death simulator by Orteil

Cookie Clicker - different but felt weird not including it. by Orteil.

if you're ever thinking about making a niche project that only a select number of individuals will be nerdy enough to enjoy, keep in mind i've been playing some of these games off and on for 20~ years (Alter Ego, for example). quite literally a lifetime of replayability.

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bunni-v1 · 3 days ago

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Pure Vanilla Sfw & Nsfw Headcanons

🍓These are shorter than SMC's, purely (hah) since there's less to say about nsfw headcanons. He's a really simple guy, alright? Anyway, I hope you enjoy these. I'll be working on the poly hc's soon and also some requests -- cookie run related and not. Love you all MWAH!

MDNI (Seriously I'll find you)

Tw: None?; Grammar errors

Info: Pure Vanilla Cookie x Reader; Fluff; Angst (only a little); nsfw

-Pure Vanilla Cookie is a gentle soul. His hands are soft and kind to any and all he meets, and he does the most he can to keep the peace amongst those he holds dear. His calm demeanor makes him seem like the perfect candidate for a partner, but I’m gonna be 100% this guy has issues.

-He has very real trauma from the Dark Flower War that keeps him up at night, despite how much he tries to hide it. Betrayal from one of his dearest friends also haunts him, despite things being… different now… it sticks with him as it would any normal cookie. He’s insecure to a level that a god-king should not be capable of, but he certainly feels that insecurity deeply. Oh, and he never got over White Lily Cookie.

-It’s also very likely that he wouldn’t deem himself ‘worthy’ of being loved in such a manner, especially after the situation with White Lily. He can’t save his friends, he can’t save his subjects, what would he do if he couldn’t save a lover? It would be better not to have his heart broken like that.

-Not to mention his experience with relationships is… sparse. Other than White Lily Cookie, he hasn’t really had much romantic experience – nor did he want to. His focus is often set elsewhere, and his humility can frequently get in the way of forming genuine connections with others.

-He’s so incredibly old now, he feels like his time has passed. Besides, any cookie who might proposition him is far younger, and while he respects them he wouldn’t want to get in the way of their opportunity to connect with someone who could be a better match.

-Not to mention he gets propositioned a lot. Many cookies like the idea of him, but few can actually handle how patient and gentle he really is. It doesn’t upset him, nor does he hold it against them, it’s just how the world seems to work out.

-Excuses, excuses, excuses with him. They’re never-ending.

-Then, of course, there was you. The sweet cookie you were, you had the patience of a saint. Any excuse he came up with, you seemed to find a way to prove him wrong. (You make him second guess if he really is patient, with how much you wait on him and work to prove him wrong).

-He isn’t testing you by any means when he pushes you away. Pure Vanilla Cookie really does believe you could do better than him. (Him! How could you do better than him!?) He’s trying to save you from himself, but the more steadfast you are the more he starts to fold and bend to what you like.

-It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy having you around, he quite prefers it when you’re by his side. You’re also so very pretty, he gazes at you when you aren’t looking more than he’d like to admit (his staff gives him quite the stink eye for this one). Your patience with him is admirable, and you make such an effort to get close to him. You’ve more than proven that you are serious about your confessions to him.

-After (literally) a thousand years, he decides just to try again. Leading you on was cruel, especially when he reciprocated your feelings, so he makes the effort of a confession – and great cookies above it was sweet.

-He brings you to his pagoda, a place you frequently spend sitting quietly next to him. He knows you’re fond of it, especially of the white lilies that bloom around it. You sit next to him as usual, staring off into the distance in thought while he watches you through his lashes. Your beauty is something he loves to behold, and he wonders if the kingdom would be alright if he did so for the next thousand years. Just like this, quiet and alone in the place you’ve both made your own.

-You laugh when you catch him staring, and his dough burns hot – both from the melodious sound and from being caught so shameless. He doesn’t let it linger too long, taking your hand in his with care he hadn’t shown you much yet. It’s a bit odd for him to suddenly be physical with you, but when he looks at you, and I mean looks at you, you understand what's happening.

-He tells you how he’s grown into his fondness for you, that he appreciates your patience with him and giving him a chance to think things over in himself before pushing him into a choice. He expresses what he loves about being around you and how he feels like himself when he is near your side. How he aches when you aren’t around, and that he worries for you all the time even though you’re more than safe in the walls of the kingdom.

-He goes on for so long that you have to cut him off and tell him you get the point, which just makes him laugh because that is something he likes about you. You never let him get too far ahead of himself or too deep in his head before you pull him back up for air.

-And, while you might’ve fallen first for his gentleness and his kindness, he falls leagues harder than you ever could. After his confession, he goes out of his way to have you around, and it’s not until nearly all of your things are within his room that he realizes maybe he got a little too deep a little too fast.

-Then you smile that smile and all his thoughts are washed away in favor of following after you on whatever adventure you had planned in the kingdom for the day.

-As a partner, believe it or not, Pure Vanilla Cookie is not physically affectionate so much as he is verbally affectionate. He prefers showing his love through words and acts of service. He will run himself ragged to make sure you won’t worry about anything. You’ll have to step in and stop him at times because he will go to the ends of earthbread for you.

-He’s so giving, always thinking of things he can do for you or gifts to get that would make you smile so widely at him. It’s something the other Ancients tease him relentlessly for, especially Golden Cheese and Hollyberry.

-Though, they are all fond of you in their own way. It’s been a long time since Pure Vanilla has been so… contented with things. He finds pure joy in doting on you, and he feels secure having someone who loves him as he is. None of them can disapprove of you when you make him so happy.

-They tell you embarrassing stories of him when he was younger, not a hero or a god, but a regular cookie who tripped over his own two feet and made a fool of himself. They tell you plenty of embarrassing stories about him having earned his power too and believe that to be true, but the ones they seem most fond of are those before they rose to their current titles.

-Pure Vanilla always huffs and pouts, but doesn’t interject much more than that when he sees the wide grin on your face. Seeing you get along with his long-time friends is very important to him, so he’s glad they’ve taken a liking to you.

-Even Dark Cacao Cookie seems to like you, humoring your little jokes and jabs as you give them. He feels as though he’s chosen the right cookie to love – though, he supposes you chose him and he just followed your lead like he always does.

-There is one tiny dilemma, though… White Lily Cookie. See, it’s not as though she is a threat to your relationship at all. She would never and could never interfere, even if she still held feelings for Pure Vanilla (if she ever did in the first place). Pure Vanilla is just a trainwreck of grief and regret surrounding her, his dearest friend.

-His love for you has never wavered, not once since he fell for you, but for a moment when he sees her, he’s terrified that it might. All of those feelings hit him at once, and he is again that reckless young cookie at the academy following her around like a lost puppy. She looks at him and his heart races, then it sinks to the pits of his stomach.

-How could he be so selfish to consider hurting you in such a way, for even a moment? He and White Lily Cookie were no longer the same as they were before their falling out, he knew that, and yet his past crept up on him like a monster in the shadows. It makes his stomach churn.

-But you lay a hand on his arm, and you give him this look like you know exactly what’s going on, and suddenly it’s all alright. You’re right here, and you’re all he needs. He knows that more than anyone else.

-That doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting in your chest when you see the way he looks at her, but you know your Pure Vanilla. He would never do anything to hurt you, he was the kindest and most loving cookie you have ever had the privilege to share your life with.

-Now, with that established, we can divulge into him as your partner.

-As I mentioned he’s very giving, but he’s terrible and receiving gifts from you. He’s not used to it, and he may outright refuse to accept it, but if you push him he’ll give. He always loves what you give him anyway, even if it’s the smallest insignificant thing. It always gets displayed somewhere he can see it, or he makes a way to use it in his daily life.

-It takes him a while to be open with you. He feels his feelings and thoughts are a burden on you, so his worries usually go unspoken unless you notice them yourself.

-If you notice something and point it out, he’ll tell you what's wrong. He wouldn’t want to lie to you and make you more worried about things. He downplays it a lot, though. It takes a lot of stubbornness on your part to get him to open up and admit when he’s feeling really bad.

-He does let you in little by little, and you get to see more of Pure Vanilla as he is beneath all the smiles and passivity.

-I also mentioned that he’s verbally affectionate over physically. He gives you so much praise it makes your head spin in circles. Everything you do is worth praising in his eyes, even silly little things like finding your way through the castle or grabbing yourself something special to eat one day.

-Constantly mentions how lucky he is to have you, his admiration truly knows no end. Ah, and he speaks of you all around the kingdom. Other cookies think you’re a literal saint thanks to him, and you’re treated with so much respect by those in the cookie kingdom.

-Gingerbrave, Strawberry, and Wizard Cookie all adore you, and get so very excited when you offer to go on an adventure with them. (Much to Pure Vanilla’s worry and dismay.) The way you interact with them makes Pure Vanilla’s chest ache at the sight. You’re so wonderful with children, he loves seeing the way you handle them with love and care. Makes him wonder what you might be like with children of your own… Ah, that’s not a trail of thought he should go down too far just yet. One day, though.

-As sweet and loving as he is, he’s fiercely protective of you. He’s lost quite a bit in his life, and he knows he will lose more, he’d like to prevent another loss if he can help it though. If you argue with him, it’s almost always about this.

-He doesn’t like you going to dangerous locations, he doesn’t like it when you leave his side for more than a day or so, and he certainly doesn’t approve of you putting yourself at risk for adventure. Usually, you settle this by just having him come with you, but sometimes even that isn’t enough for him.

-Regardless, the angriest you see him (other than the Shadow Milk incident lol), is when you are at risk. It’s easy to forget he’s very powerful, akin to a god, but he is. He is not afraid to use that power to protect you if he must. (It’s lowkey hot I’m ngl.)

-Now he’s not the type to go overboard with this kind of stuff, he’ll only do what he must to remove the threat if he has to. He is not afraid to be violent if he needs to be, though. Immediately after he will worry over you with such gentleness it will give you whiplash.

-He’s aware his outbursts of anger are uncommon and jarring from his usual demeanor, but he’s just a cookie after all. He loves you very much, and if he can keep you safe he will for as long as you live.

-Jealousy is rare from him, which is to be expected, but he does get jealous. Specifically when he sees you interacting with cookies in a way he can’t interact with you. Physical affection is usually what gets him upset.

-Not that he can’t be physically affectionate, but that he has a hard time being physical with anyone. It’s a difficult thing he struggles with, and while you’re understanding and loving, he can’t stop the rare annoyance bubbling up in his chest when he sees one of your friends touching you so casually.

-It’s the only time other cookies might get to see him frown around the kingdom, a displeased expression etched across his normally gentle features. It won’t fade until you return your attention to him and make him feel validated in his feelings.

-After these stints, it is common that he drags you (pulls you gently by your hand) back to his room and cuddles up to you in the quiet of his bedroom. He’ll whisper his worries at your insistence, and melt into your touch as you soothe him instead of scolding like most others would.

-Oh, and it’s very very bad when Shadow Milk Cookie is involved. Shadow Milk knows just how to get under his skin, and you are an easily accessible soft spot.

-Not only is Shadow Milk far more open in expressing himself than Pure Vanilla is, but he’s very physical with everything. While Shadow Milk may not see you as anything more than a doll to play with, it infuriates Pure Vanilla to see him touch you and flirt with you like you are his when you are Pure Vanilla’s.

-He brings out that possessive side of Pure Vanilla that he represses as hard as he can. He doesn’t want to share you, though. Not with anyone and especially not Shadow Milk Cookie. You are his life partner, the person he loves more than anything in the world, that’s not something he’s ever had before and he doesn’t want anyone else to be able to feel what your love feels like. Allow him to be selfish just this once.

-I also have a belief that ancients have something similar to a beast bite, though it’s less common that any of them “mark” a partner. Pure Vanilla is the least likely to leave such a mark on you unless you seem insistent upon learning about it.

-Functionally it’s similar to the beast bite, but there is no need for biting in their case – they can if they’d like to, though. Instead, it’s just a magical seal that can be placed upon your dough that resembles their souljam. It connects the two of you physically and emotionally.

-When Pure Vanilla misses you, it sends a wave of sadness through you. A longing that is not your own, but feels so familiar to your own that you could easily mistake it as such. His emotions always come in big waves that nearly drown you then quiet down again as soon as they come.

-Pure Vanilla, again, wouldn’t place one on you unless you really wanted it. If you did, though, he would place it right where your spine meets your neck. The little blue mark peeks over the tops of your shirts like a tease, reminding everyone who you are with.

-Just because he is kind doesn’t mean he can’t also be a little possessive of you. You’re wonderful, after all, he can’t risk any cookie thinking you’re available.

-Besides the blue looks stunning on your dough, if he says so himself. And he does.

-Now, onto the bedroom.

-To start I’ll say Pure Vanilla is deceptively innocent-looking. It’s easy to imagine he feels no urges or wants in a sexual sense, but that’s not true at all. He’s just good at repressing them. And he’s repressed them for years and years and years.

-His sexual experience is probably also low, but I can imagine he’s had sex previously with a cookie or two (maybe even White Lily, depending on the circumstances). The important thing is that he has experience, and he’s not as awkward about it as one might think.

-It’s very similar to how he falls in love with you, once he gets a taste he really can’t stop himself from falling further and further down.

-He’s very patient though, so he won’t initiate your first time together. He’d rather you decide that since he’s more than ready to do whatever you’d like. (He’d been thinking about it since three months in, but he didn’t want to move too fast so he just pretended nothing was wrong.)

-When you do decide you are ready, he is there waiting with open arms for you. He makes sure your first time together is all about what you want and focuses on making sure you feel good. He’s a people pleaser in every aspect of his life, including the bedroom.

-But, if he had to pick what he preferred, he’d probably admit to being a service top. He likes to make you feel good, and he wants to know everything that makes your body react to him. He treats it like a secret ancient knowledge that only he is privy to.

-He likes to know you in every aspect of your life, the bedroom is no different. He takes his time always, preferring to go slow and steady rather than fast and rough. He’s a quick learner too, picking up your likes and dislikes with an ease that would make any student jealous. Within two, maybe three sessions he’s got you read like a book. It’s infuriating how easily he manages to get you to melt under his touch.

-If you want to top, he’ll oblige you, though you can tell he really prefers taking care of you over being taken care of. There’s just something so special about being allowed to have you like this. So soft and pliant beneath him. All the trust in the world rests on his shoulders, and he holds it like it is the most important thing in the world.

-And he is so, so giving during sex.

-He takes his time with you, starting with slow and deep kisses that trail down your neck. He worships you like a god, smothering your dough with his affections. Not an inch of you will be left untouched from his lips, burning your skin into his memories so he never forgets how it feels beneath his tongue.

-And he whispers such loving words of admiration, talking about how wonderful you are for him. Mumbling against you that you taste so sweet and that each noise you make sounds like a symphony to his ears. He encourages you to let go, allow him to love you as you are, and let him see all the most vulnerable sides of you because that is all he wants.

-When he tastes your juices he sighs like he is in heaven. His pleasure is only found in you, after all. Your taste is something he could easily fall into addiction for, just like every other part of you.

-You can be rough with him while he goes down on you if you’d like, he doesn’t mind at all. Grab and pull at his hair, grind yourself into his face, and squeeze him between your legs with all your might. They’re just signs he’s doing his job right, after all.

-Oh, he’s a huge proponent of eye contact. While he can’t quite see well all the time, he always has his eyes open and on you when he can help it. This is especially prevalent when he is inside you (or when you are inside him).

-He presses his forehead to yours and watches your face contort in pleasure, allowing you to do the same. It makes the act more intimate, and he feels so much more connected to you like this. Like he can really see you for who you are in these moments, and feel that love that burns for him in your gaze.

-Alongside this, he always holds your hand. Regardless of if he’s going down on you or if you’re riding him or anything he is adamant your hands remain interlocked. It’s another layer of connection that he uses as a means of expressing his love for you.

-If you can’t tell, he’s seriously into body worship. He loves every inch of you, and sex is the easiest way that he can express this to you.

-He uses sex as an extension of his affection for you, rather than something for fun or to stake claim. It’s another form of love to him, and you can feel this through the way he treats you with such gentleness during the whole act.

-I don’t believe he’s into much other than what I’ve listed above. He’s very vanilla (lol) and traditional about sex, preferring things to be simple, sweet, and loving.

-He prefers to keep things in the bedroom, the idea of being caught makes him run hot, but you can convince him to try a few riskier places. Like the pagoda or in quiet rooms near other cookies, so long as the doors are locked and there’s no risk of interruption.

-He does not like being cared for during the deed, it makes him feel guilty that you’re caring for him when he would rather care for you. If you are insistent he’ll give in, but he makes it known he would prefer to be providing than being provided for.

#bunni's treats 🧁#x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk #cookie run kingdom x reader #crk x reader #crk x you #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla crk #pure vanilla x reader #pure vanilla x you #pure vanilla cookie x reader #pure vanilla cookie x you

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backtothefanfiction · 1 day ago

Text

Joaquin Torres x Stark!Reader | Grumpy x Sunshine

Summary: Joaquin and Sam take a trip to the Stark cabin to get something fixed on Joaquin’s suit.

Warnings: fluff, grief, angst, banter

Word Count: 2.6k+

A/N: Okay so I this is based on an ask that came through my inbox. I did make a couple adjustments, but over all the bones are the same. Hope people enjoy!

Joaquin always felt awkward when Sam dragged him out to the Stark cabin for a fix on their suits. Although he had never met Tony Stark himself, the Avenger was someone everyone knew and his loss was still felt all around the world. But the Stark cabin always felt like the nucleus of that grief. More importantly, the shed out back.

"I'm gonna head in and say hey to Pepper," Sam said as they made their way side by side down the path through the woods that lead to the old hunting cabin that had been turned into the Stark's main home during the blip.

"Okay, well I'm gonna- head-" Joaquin's voice trailed off as Sam made a left and began to head up the stairs to the front door, suddenly leaving him on his own, "to- the- uh shed I guess," he muttered to himself much quieter, looking between the cabin and the shed where he knew you would be.

He hesitated at the door to the shed. He knew you'd be in there, you practically lived in there since your Dad died. He knew it was bad for you to isolate yourself the way you did, throwing yourself into continuing his work as a way to manage your grief, but he also felt like he was invading your sanctuary whenever he stopped by.

"YO, FEATHERS! YOU GONNA STAND OUT THERE ALL DAY OR YOU GONNA COME IN!" Your voice called out to him and he took that as his queue to enter.

"How did you know I was out there?" he asked as he strutted in, his eyes scanning the space as he sought you out amongst the converted lab you and your Dad had built together during the blip. The two of you hadn't been too close before then, your Mom wanting you to keep your distance from the man she had accidentally conceived a child with during a drunken one night stand in her 20s, but when she became a victim of Thanos and the blip, you had no choice but to seek refuge with him.

"Cameras," you said, lifting a tablet in the air that showed a video feed of the front door and Joaquin used it as a marker to find you amongst the mess.

"You know I don't have feathers right?" he said as he approached the bench where you were huddled over a piece of tech, a soldering iron in hand as you fused different components together.

"And you two could literally go to anyone else at Stark Industries to fix your suites and yet, here you are." you said sarcastically as you finally met his eyes.

Joaquin took one look at the dark circles under your eyes and his heart ached. He hated to see you like this. He had developed a crush on you the first time he had met you. It was a couple years ago now. He had been brought in with Sam and Bucky for the debrief with Colonel Rhodes after the incident with the flag smashers. You had stopped by to have dinner with your Father's old best friend, turning up in a red floral sun dress and denim jacket and he had instantly fallen in love- not that he'd ever had the balls to tell you.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” Joaquin stated, his voice soft, but you hated the tone of pity that accompanied it. It was coming up to the anniversary of your Father's death and your dreams had been plagued with flash backs to the battle where you had watched him lose his life.

“Well thanks Captain Obvious.” you snapped at him resentfully.

As long as he'd known you, Joaquin knew your usual jaded demeanour and hostility was due to your inability to deal with your grief over your Dad, but he also knew this extra spiciness to your tone was due to the aforementioned lack of sleep. “You know I was never actually a captain.” he said, trying to lighten the mood, but it didn't help.

“Okay, then Lieutenant Obvious. Better?” You sassed as you forcefully turned him around to get to the access panel on the back of the wings.

“Remind me again why you’ve got to do this with the suit on me.”

“It’s so you can fly away the second I’m done and stop- annoying-me,” you grunted as you popped the panel. “Uuuhgg, this is a mess. Who the hell has been fiddling with this thing?” you asked, taking in the hazard of wires and switch boards inside.

“The US governement.” Joaquin laughed.

“That sounds about right," you gritted as you took your soldering iron from before and began adjusting and readjusting wires.

As you worked, Joaquin took a moment to look around the room again. There were empty cups, mugs and plates discarded in different places as you had refuelled on the go. The sofa in the corner had a blanket haphazardly draped across it, implying that when you had been sleeping, it had been in here and not in the house with Pepper and your half sister Morgan. It broke his heart.

"Y/N-" he said your name tentatively, wanting to broach the subject and help, but also not wanting you to completely shut down and shut him out and hate him forever.

"Don't." you said, reading his mind without having to look directly at his face as you focused on your current job. "There," you sighed, "try that." you said as you closed the panel again and sat back.

Joaquin turned around, shifting in his suit, his arms lifting as he prepared to let loose the wings at his back. "NOT IN HERE MORON!" you quickly said, fear rippling through you at the thought of the nano tech wings unfolding at his back and smashing into the machinery set up around the two of you. "Take it outside."

"Uh, yeah. Right." Joaquin stuttered nervously as he realised his mistake.

You reluctantly followed him outside for his test flight and was met with the sight of your younger sister running down the steps of the cabin and over to you both. "JOAQUIN!" the young girl beamed, taking him in. She for sure had a little school girl crush on him. And to be fair, you couldn’t blame her, he was good looking, you just weren’t interested in anything right now.

"Hey Kiddo!" he said, embracing her as she ran into his arms to greet him with a hug. "Your sister's just fixed my wing up. Wanna see?"

"Yeah! Of course!" she beamed and the way she smiled made you see all of the same awe and wonder in her eyes as your Father used to have. The look sent a new wave of grief to hit you and you had to turn away from her for a moment to compose yourself. It was so quick you had hoped neither of them had noticed, but when you looked back to Joaquin, it was clear to you he had.

"Well, go on then. Get this over with so I can go back to work." you said, folding your arms across your chest as you encouraged him to let his wings free.

His eyes seemed to linger on you for a moment, trying to find a way to penetrate your armour before he finally conceded. There was a click and a rippling schwing of metal as his wings unfurled seamlessly at his back, shorter at first, but then he pressed another button in the gloves of his suit and the nanobots shifted and extended the wings down to make them larger.

"Oooooooh," Morgan cooed in wonder as she took them in.

"Come on then feathers, you gonna fly or what?" you encouraged him. He sighed in your direction, but ultimately activated his helmet and thrusters and dramatically blasted off from the floor at such a force you and Morgan had to steady yourselves as you were hit with a blast of air.

You both watched from the ground as he began to do a sweep around the property, Morgan running down to the lakes edge to watch him closer as he dipped down to run a finger through the water as he glided above it. You stood there for another minute, watching to make sure there weren't any more problems, but when he started to show off, doing barrel rolls through the air to impress Morgan, you knew it was your cue to return to your work.

“You know, you should be a lot nicer to him,” Pepper’s voice startled you. You hadn’t noticed her when you first came in, but at the sound of her voice, you quickly found her collecting up some of your plates and mugs, ready to take them back into the cabin.

You didn’t respond to her, your body turning back to your work as you pretended like she wasn’t there. You didn’t want the lecture right now. Although she had married your Father and had technically become your step mom, not to mention she was your half sister’s actual mother, Pepper had always felt more like an Aunt to you. She had all the same maternal energy and instincts towards you, but she was more approachable like a friend.

“You know, I invited them to stay for dinner,” she said as she came up beside you. “We’re having cheeseburgers, in honour of your Dad.” she continued, trying to get any sort of reaction out of you, but you weren’t biting. “You know,” she said, after another pause, deciding to change tac, “I think he likes you.”

“What makes you say that?” you said instinctively and you instantly kicked yourself for responding, but you could feel the swell of pride coming off Pepper as she realised she had gotten you to break.

“Because I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” she said wistfully, her eyes looking out the open doorway towards the sounds of her daughter’s giggles as she played with Joaquin. “And no matter how mean you are to him, he keeps coming back.”

“Is that what happened with you and my Dad?” You asked, fishing for information about the origins of their relationship.

“Not quite. Me and your Dad were… a little more complicated. Your dad was always a lone wolf, but he,” she said, her gaze moving to the man outside again, “he’s more of a golden retriever. He may be a bit goofy and over enthusiastic at times,” she said, before turning her attention back to you, “but he’s loyal. And he knows how to have fun,” she stressed as she nudged your shoulder. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about the way you needed to take a break from your Father’s legacy and just learn to let loose again.

You went back to giving her the silent treatment as she shifted the cups and plates in her hands again and went to leave. But as she reached the door, the small voice in the back of your head (you often liked to think was actually your Father living rent free in your brain), told you she was right.

“Pepper!” you called out to stop her. “Thanks.” you said, giving her the first smile that had graced your face all week. She didn’t say anything more back, just gave you an equally fond smile of acknowledgment. After all, Pepper Potts knew she had already said everything she needed to, to finally get you back out of the shed.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Nearly two hours later, you finally made your way up to the cabin for dinner. The sound of laughter and the sizzling sounds and smell of the burgers was almost overwhelming after spending a week alone out in the shed, but you quickly shook it off. Both Sam and Joaquin turned their heads at the sound of the door, but quickly became distracted again by your sister. She was stood in the middle of the living room giving a rather animated account to them of an incident that had happened to her at school. You couldn’t help but smile at the way she captivated them as you snuck through the house to the kitchen.

“Can I help with anything?” you quietly asked.

Pepper turned and gave you a smile. You watched as her eyes scanned you. You had changed since she had left you and even taken the time to run a brush through your hair. You could tell there was something hidden in her gaze, knew she was eager to tease you over it, but she quickly dropped it, not wanting to scare you off after finally being able to coax you back in.

“I’m almost done,” she said, “the burgers will just be another minute or two. Why don’t you lay up the table, ready for everyone.”

You didn’t give her a verbal response, instead headed straight to the draw to retrieve the cutlery and placemats. “Let me help you with that.” Joaquin’s voice came from behind you. You turned your head with a start. You hadn’t even heard him follow you in.

“Uh, thanks,” you said quietly as he took the handful of cutlery from you and followed you to the dining table.

You were both silent as you began to put down the placemats, Joaquin following close behind you and laying down the cutlery. When you had finished that, he followed you back to the kitchen to help carry in the salad and condiments, which you laid out in the middle of the table so people could help themselves.

“I’m sorry- uh I mean, earlier, this afternoon. Thank you for uh,” Your voice froze. Gosh this was awful. You desperately wanted to bridge the gap you had placed between the two of you, but you didn’t know how. “I’m sorry I was a dick!” you finally blurted out.

He let out a little snicker at your outburst, but quickly schooled his features, knowing you were trying to have a serious conversation. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I know, it just… I know I can be a bit…”

“Hostile?” He said, filling in the word you were struggling with.

“Yeah. Hostile.” you repeated.

“It’s okay. I know you don’t mean it. It’s not easy losing a parent. It’s not easy losing anyone.” he corrected himself. “Grief makes us do odd things sometimes. Just know that you’re not alone. Okay?”

“Okay.” your repeated.

“I’m here for you. Come rain or shine. Night or day. You don’t have to do this on your own.”

“I know,” you sighed, your head hanging, almost in shame. “I’ve just… never really been that good at asking for…”

“Help?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Look,” he said, and you watched at he reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a bit of paper with his number on it. You hated to think how long he’d had it sat in there just waiting for the right moment to give it to you. “This is my number. Call me whenever.”

You took it from him and couldn’t help the small smile that danced on your lips as your fingers played with the piece of paper you had been handed. “Even in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep?” you asked him, both earnestly, but with a hint of suggestiveness you hoped he’d pick up on.

He was silent a moment as he analysed you. Wanting to check and make sure you had meant to imply what you had. When he realised you had, he hung his head in an attempt to hide the blush in his cheeks and the shit eating grin that adorned his face. “Yeah,” he sighed, finally looking back up across the table at you, an entirely new kind of tension between you now, “especially then,” he said and you knew that was one offer of help you were never going to turn down.

#joaquin torres #joaquín torres #falcon #mcu #Joaquin Torres x stark!reader #Joaquin Torres x reader #fan fic #marvel #pepper Potts #mcu x stark!reader #Morgan stark #Sam Wilson

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lxvvie · 16 hours ago

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Simon Riley is a sexually frustrated mess of a man.

And it’s nothing a simple wank can’t take of. Maybe.

There’s your soldier, reclined haphazardly on the couch, nursing a ciggie, adrenaline rushing, and so bloody hard his cock might as well be a diamond. It’s a right bastard, and he might as well be one, too, seeing as he can’t be arsed to take care of it himself.

Well, he could if only he weren’t so fuckin’ tired and touched starved and in desperate need of you and bloody hell, come over ‘ere and love him, darling. Better yet, why don’t you fuck him? Help him take the edge off, luv. Help him cum.

“Fuck me, sweetheart.” Not a command, not a plea, but both, rolled up into gravelly cheekiness, pungent smoke, and come-fuck-me eyes. And so you do.

And Simon Riley is a goddamn goner.

He expected the rough and tumble that came with fucking him the way he does you, but this? Nice and painfully slow? What the actual fuck? You damn cocktease. What’re you doing to him?

He hadn’t even finished speaking before you had him on his back. Shocked him so bloody much he almost dropped his ciggie, and a little prep and some Riley-esque expressions of impatience later, there you were, fucking him like he had all the time in the world.

What the fook?

Even when you first entered him, you took your time and told Simon you wanted him to feel every inch; poor bastard didn’t know what to do with himself, cock twitching with every languid movement, cheeks hot, and dark eyes practically staring daggers at you while you grinned.

But the best was yet to come, yeah?

Wrong. Heh. Fuck him, right?

And so Simon Riley, horny bastard extraordinaire, was being fucked like he had all the time in the world; fuck if he didn’t need it though. You were a fucking tease, moving your hips slowly, pissing him off, making him crazier than ever for you, leaving Simon torn between the two while you angled yourself ever so slightly, and—

“Bloody fuck—“ There we go, Riley.

He takes a puff, can’t help but to because you’re killing him softly, sweetheart, and the contrast of smoking and being fucked does something to him. It turns his cock into a leaky faucet, and Simon swears to whatever higher power out there that he’ll NEVER let you fuck him like this again.

Don’t you fucking believe him, either.

You angle yourself again, sending Simon reeling, and he’s close. He’s so damn close. Your grin gets wider once your soldier settles for his cigarette dangling from his lips because his cock needs so much more attention, and his hand gets to work.

You wonder if he’ll ever realize just how much a sight he truly is, especially when he’s coming.

Like right now.

And it isn’t the earth-shattering orgasm that makes him chuckle and you chuckle at his chuckle. It’s the one that comes in waves of frustration, satisfaction, guttural growls, and cigarette smoke. Just like Ghost.

Just like Simon Riley.

“Attaboy,” you wax lyrical on his post-coital high, and Simon, cigarette still dangling from his mouth, stares daggers at you. Again. Fucking tease. But of course, there you are to remind him that you still have the upper hand. With another pointed thrust. And Simon Riley’s a fucking goner. Again. Christ, you’re killing him, luv.

You will not be fucking him anytime soon after this.

And don’t you fucking believe that either.

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necromancer-at-abattoir · 2 days ago

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I've seen this post before, and I wanted to argue against it.

Now, bear in mind that this is supposed to be a friendly debate and I don't want to offend you.

With that being said, let's look at the bullies that Percy's called out.

The teachers and students who bullied him at his old schools for his learning disabilities, Nancy Bobofit, Gabe, Dionysus, Tantalus, Ares, Hades (yeah he qualifies, he made Percy feel bad and Percy stood up to him. Go Percy, boss moment honestly) Clarisse, Matt Sloan and his gang.

These are people that Percy heavily dislikes (well, Clarisse is an exception, but at the time she bullied Percy, he heavily disliked her.) This makes it easier to call out their bullshit.

Annabeth is someone he likes. It's difficult to call out the bullshit of people that you like-very rarely can people can do this.

And we're forgetting that Percy's fatal flaw is loyalty. He's loyal to the people he loves and blind to their flaws, so he is the exact opposite of a person who'd be fair with both their friends and enemies.

Take Sally Jackson, for example. Sally herself admitted that she was selfish and kept Percy with an abuser so as not to be attacked by monsters instead of dropping him off at Camp where he would have been safer, especially with Poseidon's influence. Logically speaking, Percy should have resented her for this a little bit, right?

Now, for the morons who'll come to this conclusion, I am not saying that Sally Jackson is the devil incarnate. She was a struggling single mother stuck in between a rock and a hard place-there was no completely good option for her to choose here.

But she still chose to marry an abuser to keep Percy and herself safe. She knowingly married him knowing that he'd make Percy's life terrible and that Percy would be affected by this. This was definitely not a good choice on her part and it doesn't make her a good person (though she still is a good person, just not as good as one would make her out to be).

But Percy doesn't even think about this-he just idolises her (understandable, considering the circumstances, but still) and he never thinks about the situation from this point of view.

And Grover in Wrath of the Triple Goddess. Percy calls him out, but Percy later feels guilty for the stupid reason of Grover thinking he's going to be lonely when they (Percy and Annabeth) go to college, which is why Grover almost ruined the quest. Percy literally says that he should have been thinking about what Grover felt (Grover, who is responsible for his own self, Percy is not responsible for Grover) instead of, you know, thinking about himself and his future.

This is complete malarkey. It's a terrible reason for Grover's terrible actions. And what does Percy do?

He shoves it down, takes the blame, forces himself to be calm even though he should rage. This is another example of Percy not wanting to call someone's bullshit out because they're a loved one.

And Percy loves Annabeth. She's his friend, she went on his first quest with him, she's saved his life and she has a lion's share in his view of the mythological world since she was pretty much the first demigod that he really knew (discounting Luke who left after the first book).

All of this makes it pretty difficult for him to call out her bullshit-especially when she hates being called out on her bullshit, which she does.

Of course, he called out her bullshit during TLT and SOM regarding himself and Tyson respectively, but this is when they're not really friends. In the later books, where they're better friends and he likes her more, he doesn't do it.

And also, Percy has called Annabeth out on her bullshit, but she doesn't listen to him, so he becomes resigned to it.

Her calling him Seaweed Brain? He says that he's gotten used to it in TTC, meaning that he didn't like it but she didn't stop, so he just became used to it.

He says in TLO that he wanted to argue with Annabeth regarding his cabin inspection marks, but no good would come of it, so he just resigned himself to his marks.

He says that he wouldn't argue with her because she would beat him up.

Annabeth yells at Percy and blames him for leaving even though they both know that he was kidnapped. Does he call her out on this, tell her that she was wrong? No.

Annabeth pushes him off a cliff with no prior warning and he calls her out on it, but she brushes it off and so does he, because he doesn't have a choice at this point, or at least he doesn't think he does.

Annabeth makes Percy feel scared every time she brings up Rachel. This makes Percy feel bad and he does not call her out on it.

All of these are examples of Annabeth not listening to him and bulldozing her way over his protests, so he becomes resigned to it.

That's a common abusive tactic that I've experienced myself-don't listen to the victim and bulldoze your way over them until they become silent and resigned.

Now, I don't want to go so far as to call Annabeth abusive, but she is definitely pretty toxic towards Percy at times. I know that she loves him, I'm not denying that, but you can love someone and be toxic towards them.

Again, I don't want to be disrespectful and I respect your opinions. I'm just providing valid arguments as to why I think your statement was wrong.

when you say that percy is stuck in an abusive relationship with annabeth, you are not only insulting annabeth, you are erasing one of percy's best character strengths: how he is NOT afraid to call out people's nonsense and stand up against bullies no matter how bad or insecure they make him feel

#annabeth chase critical #pjo discourse #pjo meta #percabeth critical #percabeth crit

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cheuby · 21 hours ago

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waking up to simon riley is really sweet.

retired/civilian simon riley in mind, part two to this post. a/n: honestly didn’t expect people to like the first post but here we are, thank you everyone for the pleasant surprise! also, i try to make simon feel more ‘human’, i feel like he doesn’t get humanized enough, does that make sense?

waking up to simon is like being shielded against the world, the contour of his body cradling your softer one as he holds you close in his sleep; maybe there’s an arm thrown haphazardly over your frame, perhaps a leg, or maybe he’s even put a leg between your legs — either way, you’re a mess of limbs and it’s like simon is attempting to fuse with you in his sleep.

simon who sighs deeply before he wakes. when asleep, his chest rises and falls with measured breaths, working in a rhythm; the epitome of peace. but, you move one good inch, try to untuck yourself from underneath his arm, anything — he stirs, filling his lungs with air before huffing it out not even a moment afterward, melting back against you more insistent on putting the weight and heat of his heavy build more onto you.

simon finds himself airing out his apologies as his lips drag across your warm skin in lazy kisses. he almost crushed under his weight in his sleep? he sounds so sorry, voice low and practically murmured whisperers against your skin. his brain is still attempting to catch up with his sleep slurred mumbles, filling in the blanks of his apologies with a kiss or absentminded hum.

simon is just really pretty when he wakes up. if you manage to stop him from nuzzling — or head-butting — into whatever part of you is soft enough for him to bury his face into, he’s all slow blinks and droopy eyes. it also takes a bit for his expression to soften into something a bit sweeter when he first wakes (he has a literal resting bitch face), squinted eyes and his lips pressed into an unamused line. it’s oddly satisfying to see his expression bordering on a pout, rich brown irises looking up at you through pale lashes.

simon has to smooth over the smile that’s fighting to tug at the corner of his lips for a more empathetic one when he’s taking you in for the first time in the morning, your hair a mess. if he didn’t know better, he would’ve asked if you were tossing and turning all night instead of if he did that, his calloused palms petting down your messy hair in short strokes before they settled at framing your face.

saying good morning to simon is a must. if he’s just waking up and he’s gruffing out a good morning, he expects to hear one back. he doesn’t want to hear a groan or some half-assed ‘morning’, it has to be good morning specifically. and oh, you’re asleep? he’s nudging your forearm gently with his knuckle to rouse you a bit, saying another insistent (but sweeter) good morning until you respond.

simon doesn’t always want to be on the go. sometimes being draped in warm covers and a tangle of limbs is where it’s at for simon, wanting to find a little more time in bed with you. so when he’s spooning you and starts crowding impossibly closer, his chin perched right on your shoulder as he uses your extended forearm to prop up his phone like some kickstand to watch some woodcarving asmr video on youtube — you better not move and your eyes better be on that screen, this is his and your enrichment time.

#cheuby.canons #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #x reader #female reader #ftm reader #gn reader #male reader #simon ghost riley #cod headcanons #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x male reader #ghost x reader #cod #x female reader #x male reader #x gn reader

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ur-local-wizard · 1 day ago

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Ruin You

Mattheo Riddle, an incubus, is used to getting his way. But when he falls for you --the one girl immune to his charms -- and learns of your innocence, he's overcome with the want to ruin you for anyone else.

MDNI! corruption kink, praise, fingering, unprotected piv, semi-public sex, creampie, loss of virginity, incubus!mattheo x fem!reader, I am not responsible for your media consumption

w/c: 1.6k

in response to this request!

masterlist au list

a/n: first smut ever!! I hope this lives up to all the expectations! <3

Seduction came to Mattheo Riddle as if it was his mother tongue – natural, unhurried. He knew exactly what to say, how to say it, and the way to angle his smirk just right to make people weak in the knees. His smile was devastating, his voice rich and deep, his touch always featherlight yet never failing to leave a scorching heat behind. He thrived off sexual innuendos, his existence woven into every fantasy and every intimate thought that flitted through every mind.

But you seemed to be immune to his charms.

Remaining blissfully ignorant to his attempts, you somehow escaped every interaction with the demon entirely untouched by the sin that dripped from his lips. It was confusing, infuriating, yet somehow intoxicating; only serving to make him thirst for more.

“You know,” he purred, leaning closer to where you sat in the common room. “If you ever need help with anything, I’m here. You only have to ask.”

You blinked up at him, and a wholesome smile spread across your lips. “That’s so sweet of you, Matty. You’re such a good friend.”

He nearly choked on his own spit at your response. Friend? He was a literal demon of temptation and desire, and yet you thought his actions were friendly?

His flirtations only escalated after that. Every smirk, wink, lingering touch, was only met with a beaming smile or polite nod. You were a puzzle, a challenge. He wanted to figure you out – to understand how to get his message across. And yet he found himself drawn to you in other ways; ones that weren’t driven solely by physical need.

Then he heard the rumors.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He was just drinking at a party like usual, when he heard Pansy’s voice. “Y/n’s a virgin? Makes sense I guess. But with a face like that, I expected more,” he heard her say.

He felt the world tilt for a moment, and not from the alcohol he was drinking. Everything in him was screaming, the depraved part of him clawing at the edges of his restraint. A virgin. Pure. Untouched.

His body ached at the thought, and the demonic part of him longed to find you and corrupt you, defile you. But the last thing he wanted was for you to see him as he was – a monster, a predator, a creature of hunger and lust. He wanted you desperately, needed you even, but he would never force anything on you.

For the first time in his life, Mattheo Riddle was at a complete loss for what to do.

Although it was difficult, Mattheo tried to distance himself after that revelation. He told himself that it was for your own good, that you were better off without him, that he would ruin you if he got too close.

But the more he resisted, the more unbearable the distance from you became. He still heard your laugh echoing throughout the corridors, still caught glimpses of you in the Great Hall, still felt the echo of your innocent touches that lingered, their memory like a brand seared into his skin.

However, you noticed the change in his behavior almost instantly, and began to wonder if you’d done something wrong.

“Matty?” You asked one day, your voice soft and uncertain. You’d caught him just after curfew, when everyone was meant to be heading to their dorms. “Are you mad at me? Have I done something?”

Mattheo’s fists clenched at his sides, not able to stand the way your doe eyes were filled with guilt and concern. No fear, no anger, no suspicion, just pure and genuine worry. It broke his heart, and he had to look away. “No angel, you didn’t do anything.”

You tilted your head in confusion, and your brows furrowing. “Then why have you been avoiding me?”

His mouth floundered as he searched for something to say. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t scare you? That wouldn’t hurt you? Yet he couldn’t bring himself to lie either. “You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered, giving a non-answer while shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Then explain it to me,” you said, looking up at him expectantly.

Finally, his eyes meet yours. You stood firm, gaze unwavering, arms crossed over your chest. The sight of you, so determined, so concerned, made him snap.

“You drive me mad, you know that? Every time you smile at me, every goddamn touch, makes me go absolutely insane. I want you so bad… I wanna ruin you for anyone else.

“So? Who said I didn’t feel the same way, Matty?”

He stared at you in utter disbelief. “But all the hints I threw-”

“Yeah, I get those now,” you grumble. “After I realize you share the same feelings. I just… didn’t want to assume.”

He scoffs and takes a step closer. “So you want this too?”

As soon as you nod, he’s on you. His lips crashed against yours, desperate and hungry, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging lightly, as he backed you against the wall. One hand slid to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him, and you could feel his desire pressing against you. The kiss was fervent, full of pent-up desire, yet beneath the urgency there was tenderness.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered between kisses, his breath hot on your skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long. You’re so fucking perfect.”

His hands were warm as they slid under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head. Your bra was next, falling away to meet your shirt, and you should have been mortified of being so exposed in the common room. But you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Not when his touch ignited something within you that you never knew was there, not when his lips brushed against your ear, whispering sweet praises that made your stomach tighten with need.

His own shirt was next, falling into the growing pile of clothes forgotten on the floor. Hands finding your hips, he spun you around, and you immediately braced yourself against the wall. The stone was hard and cold against your hands, and the cold air of the common room caused your nipples to pebble. His touch drifted down your back, before slipping under your skirt to rub against your core. Letting out a gasp of surprise, your hips jolted towards his touch, earning a soothing hum from the man behind you.

��I’ll be gentle, okay? So fucking gentle,” he murmured as he moved your panties to the side. Two fingers slipped inside your cunt with ease, earning a whine from you.

“Fuck. You're so tight. So wet,” he groaned as he curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot that made you see stars. “I really am the only one to touch you like this? Gonna be the first and last, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you moaned, head falling forward as a knot started to form in your belly.

His fingers picked up their pace, pumping and curling just right, just enough to drive you dangerously close to the edge. “I want you to promise, angel. Promise me I’ll be the only one to ever see this beautiful pussy of yours.”

You nodded enthusiastically, but that didn't satisfy him. Right as you were about to finish, he tore his hand away from you, leaving you teetering on the brink. The loss and emptiness made you whimper, but when you heard him unbuckling his belt, anticipation replaced the frustration. The suspense made you tense, your thighs pressing together in search of relief.

The head of his cock brushed against your entrance, teasing, but he didn't move. “I want to hear you say it. Promise me, angel.”

“I promise,” you whined, growing impatient from the loss of sensation. You wanted him desperately.

That was all he needed to hear, his hips surging forward, thrusting into you with one swift motion. A choked gasp escaped your lips, the stretch making you wince. He stilled, letting you adjust, though his grip on your hips tightened like he was barely holding himself back.

“So fucking perfect,” he groaned, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. Your fingers curled against the wall, and when you started to squirm, he took that as a hint to move. His first thrust was slow, gentle. It was your first time after all. But eventually his restraint snapped. His rhythm was deep and deliberate, fucking into you as if this was the last thing he'd ever do.

One hand snaked around your body to rub tight circles on your clit that made your knees buckle. He caught you, keeping you upright as his pace never faltered.

“Feel so good. Like you were made for me,” he moans, his voice raw.

His continued ministrations made pressure build once again, white-hot pleasure beginning to curl insistently in your stomach. You could feel it, the inevitable, and his increasingly erratic movements were a tell-tale sign that he was close too.

“Come for me,” he whispered, coaxing you. “Prove to me how perfectly you were made for me.”

Pleasure crashed over you, blinding and all-consuming. You tightened and fluttered around him, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within his throat. He followed soon after, burying himself deep with a groan.

For a moment, neither of you moved, lost in the shock of what had just happened. Then he pulled out and turned you around, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“You did perfect, just like I knew you would.”

tag list: @mattyriddlesbitch @sturniolover13 @thereeallink @voidangxls @riddleswhcre @riddleshire

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superbat-lmao · 1 day ago

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A mage who doesn’t like child soldiers targets Batman in Gotham. They know that several vigilantes connected to him are children or were children when they started.

Their vendetta against him basically boils down to, “What the hell were you thinking?” and they cast a spell against him accordingly.

Every day, a new family member will be able to read Bruce’s mind for 24 hours. It’s entirely random and the definition of “family member” is incredibly loose, but everyone knows the Robins are his children because of how berserk he went when Robin II died.

On the one hand, it’s a horrific violation of everyone’s privacy.

On the other, Bruce finally figures out what his kids think of him and don’t say. And his kids are finally able to realize that yes, he cares about them exactly as much as they want him to. He’s literally the absolute worst at showing it or communicating that, but he cares.

Dick gets confirmation that Bruce knows how good he is, how capable he is to lead a team. That Bruce doesn’t secretly think that when he screws up it’s because he isn’t cut out to be a vigilante. When he screws up, Bruce gets scared and lashes out in the only way an emotionally repressed father can, by making it worse. That Bruce doesn’t think Dick is incapable of looking after himself or making the right call. All of Bruce’s attempts to control Dick or his life were because he was scared. Because he wanted Dick to be better than him, and he is, just not in the ways Bruce was first able to see. Having more friends and being connected to people is infinitely more important than college, though it took time for Bruce to see that. Dick is Bruce’s first son and he couldn’t be more proud.

Jason realizes that Bruce loves him. That he tears himself apart over their relationship. That he feels there’s a clear line between Bruce’s opinion of Jason and of Jason’s actions. Because murder is wrong and Bruce’s philosophy is grounded in second chances. Because he just wants Jason to come home and his son’s actions scare him because he’s more isolated from backup than his brothers. Jason can literally feel how Bruce thinks, how he sees murder and how he thinks about himself. Bruce doesn’t think it’s a line he would be able to walk away from, and Jason feels more precarious seeing the world as his father thinks about it than in his own head. There is far less judgement in Bruce’s thoughts. Just pure concern. And self doubt over what to say. Bruce never sought to replace him, would have joined him, and has missed him. Those were always Jason’s major concerns.

Tim sees that Bruce views him as his son. That he wasn’t a substitute for Jason and he doesn’t secretly think Tim shouldn’t have been Robin. Bruce thinks that Tim reminds him a lot of himself and based on all the things people say about him, that makes Bruce nervous. Because he wants Tim to have fun and be a kid, not feel chained to work the way Bruce is. He knows they both have workaholic tendencies and wants better for Tim, wants him to have friends and a life outside of work. But Tim also knew Bruce at his lowest and so he will always feel guilty that it was Tim who pulled him out of his grief spiral, because Bruce wasn’t strong enough to do it himself.

Damian learns that Bruce was so excited for him to be born and devastated when he thought Talia had lost the pregnancy. That he was furious his son had been hidden from him. That he loves Damian and loved Talia and wasn’t sure how to separate out those feelings. That he would have wanted Damian no matter his level of training, if he gave up this lifestyle or anything. That there is nothing Damian, or any of his family could do to make Bruce stop loving them. Damian is wanted. He can also see that Bruce struggles with knowing how to handle him being a kid that acts like an adult. How he knows how capable Damian is, but that no children should go through that. Bruce didn’t have that sort of childhood. And while his own wasn’t exactly happy, he still got to be a kid. And innocence and youth aren’t things to be looked down on, just experienced. And Bruce doesn’t want Damian to not have those experiences, even if he doesn’t value them as others do. He learns that Bruce trusts him and that his father feels emotions acutely and strongly, such that he becomes reactive in a way that feels accusatory or disappointed but is just afraid.

They all realize that Bruce needs them and hates himself for needing them. That they are his children and he loves them and wants them safe. But that those feelings constantly war with how capable they are, how good his children are at what they do. How much they care about the helping and protecting others. That every time he says something they beat themselves up over, it’s because he’s scared they’ll get hurt or make a mistake that they can’t undo and will have to live with. He never wanted them to join him and it’s not because he thought they couldn’t do it, but precisely because he knows they can. And that sometimes, that isn’t enough. Even metas can get hurt and even Superman could die. By comparison his children are so vulnerable and there’s only so much he can do to keep them safe.

Does he verbalize this?

Bruce thinks so.

But all his kids hear is:

You were too reckless.

You disobeyed orders.

You’re off patrol.

And oddly? This solves like half of the current problems his kids have with him. Because they never really believed him before and always felt the conversations were one-sided.

It does create several new problems thought because Bruce just had like a significant invasion of privacy as the most paranoid person on the planet, so it takes a while for him to calm down and actually work things out with his kids in a way that lasts and isn’t just a bandaid over a bullet hole.

#batman #jason todd #bruce wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #redhood #damian wayne #nightwing #batfam #would i love to add steph cass duke and babs? yes absolutely but do i know enough about them to do them justice? not yet #i will probably do a pt2 for the extended bats but i had dental stuff today and wanted to post before i forgot #that being said #bruce does the whole brick wall routine a lot and is emotionally honest with his kids in moments of anger and fear #which does NOT lead to healthy relationships. so his kids think he doesn’t trust them or care about them to different extents #because his actions always support the idea that he doesn’t trust them even if on rare occasions he voices conflicting thoughts #the man will ask about a case before he asks about your personal life because he knows how to talk about exactly one of those things #which means he knows how to give a lecture but not convince his kids that he trusts them when his actions say he distrusts everyone #because he does distrust everyone. which his kids know. so like i really think we’re past talking and need straight brain to brain #your honor it’s worse than miscommunication i need the courts permission for a telepathic link. yes i have probable cause.

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deathsmallcaps · 1 day ago

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I’m autistic and despite growing up with a Black Stepdad and Black friends, and thinking the Civil Rights movement and the Civil War were cool, and even going to schools with pretty inclusive curriculums, I sometimes repeated mean things I heard (often from my Dad) or did not give thought to how certain lines of questioning/conversation may feel different towards different people. I was, and still occasionally am, racist. Among other things.

(I initially grew up in an almost exclusively Black and white town that was roughly half & half, and later moved to an area that was more half & half Indian and white. I have only ever lived in the east half of the USA)

Sure I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Sure I did believe that everyone should be treated well. Sure I loved the Black people around me. I’ve never said the n-word - I didn’t even know it existed until I read Roots by Alex Haley. But I didn’t consider nuance, I didn’t consider feelings in my thirst for knowledge, and frankly, I have a tendency to be obnoxious. ALL normal things for an autistic person. But ALL things that are quite hurtful. After all, don’t we get hurt when someone stereotypes us?

Looking back, I feel like my Stepdad should have been more active in my social education. He wouldn’t have been educating some random white person who walked up and hurt him, he’d have been teaching his daughter (he’s always treated me how his family treats daughters, for better and for worse).

But my mom, the white woman, stepped up as a good ally. SHE gave me Roots. SHE talked me through dealing with ‘white guilt’ and how that’s nobody’s problem but mine. SHE encouraged me to educate myself, and to consider what I say before I say it. SHE helped me realize my privilege. With help from a psychologist, we both learned how to handle my social issues. And now I’d say I’m a more conscious person. It doesn’t hurt that one of my English classes focused on the Harlem Renaissance and another taught Othello and Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison. Since then, I’ve sought out media and information by and about creators of Color and my relationship with my Black family members and friends has definitely improved.

I’m lucky guy. My autism is not the most debilitating in the world, and I do think it gives me valuable insight into said world. Acknowledging it helped me gain insight into how I work.

But I’m still an upper-middle class Anglo-American culturally-Christian white adult whose worst personal interaction with the cops is getting a speeding ticket. The only things I could possibly be oppressed about here is my sex/gender and if someone clocks my neurodivergencies. Maybe my allyship if its a REALLY crazy situation. It’s my responsibility to be aware of my privilege, love my fellow humans, and educate myself on how to respect others. Loving does NOT equal respecting. They’re different things. Just like how your family may genuinely love you but do not respect or understand you.

All those things on the news, about children getting shot because they’re wearing their hoodies up, or having a panic attack, or whatever bullshit excuse a white person with a gun can dream up. Those are extreme and something to be worried about. That kind of behavior should be condemned. But that doesn’t cover every single angle of oppression. And oppression isn’t just perpetuated by the nebulous concept of The System! It’s also perpetuated by Our Common Man. AKA, you and me sometimes.

Sometimes, you’re going to reach out in ways that have worked before and it’s not going to be appropriate. That hurts! But if you do your best to incorporate that info into what you’ve learned, then that’s awesome! I’m proud of you! You’re going to have to keep doing it though!!! And that’s okay!!! That just means you’re getting to live life!!!

Apologize and/or change the subject and educate yourself soon after. Those are some of the best skills you can have. You can’t go back, you can only improve the future.

Another really good bunch is being honest and introspecting on why certain things make you uncomfortable. Once you know, own it and desensitize! Be a good friend!

This is getting very long. If you want some concrete examples,

Some of these things happened because I am autistic. Some may have happened because I was a white kid. But for whatever reason it occurred, as an autistic older teen and now adult, I needed to learn from these experiences so I can help make the future better :). You are capable of learning these things too.

Problem: I once asked a Black friend how it was to be Black. I was trying to educate myself! It wasn’t appropriate though. I kept asking repeatedly, and we were like 13. She was a child and shouldn’t have to have the answer.

Solution: My mom redirected me to Black literature so I could learn from adults willing to talk about it. She didn’t owe me information, nobody does, but especially not kids.

Problem: I was 16 (in 2017). I was talking to a Filipino American* girl who was just coming out of homeschool. I wanted to be nice and relate to her, and I loved Disney. Turns out so did she! I asked if Mulan was her favorite Disney Princess. My thinking was ‘I like Tiana best but I really liked seeing Anna because we have the same hair color -> I know representation is important because (at the very least) it’s nice to see people who look like you being heroes -> Mulan is cool and the Asian princess ™. I was trying to relate and be kind. But that wasn’t appropriate. I made a general assumption, and made her uncomfortable. Mulan was a favorite of hers, it turned out, but that does NOT matter. A person’s relationships with their demographic’s stereotypes are extremely private unless shared. And it’s THEIR right to close it up again.

*despite Filipino and Filipina being gendered, when saying demographic information, such as ‘Filipino American’ about a woman, the trend is towards -o. I couldn’t find a direct answer, but multiple sources said Filipino-American about ladies.

Solution: Remember everyone is an individual and may not want to talk about all aspects of their life. Let them offer information about aspects that you aren’t knowledgeable about, like being of Filipino descent, or being homeschooled, or how it is being a Disney fan of Color. If they bring it up, offer responses like ‘I didn’t know that. Cool!’ Or make encouraging noises like ‘huh!’ Or ‘neat!’ So they know it’s safe to keep talking to you about a subject that is important but sensitive to them. And they might not ever bring these things up! And that’s okay. It’s their business. Retrain your nosiness elsewhere, it’s hard but possible :)

I must reiterate: A person’s relationships with their demographic’s stereotypes are extremely private unless shared - and it’s THEIR right to close the subject. And for the record, just because there is a Southeast Asian Disney Princess now (Raya), it would NOT have been appropriate to ask if her favorite was Raya. That’s still stereotyping, it’s just updated for the 2020s.

Problem: I love name meanings. I couldn’t find my one Indian-American classmate’s name meaning online, so I went up to him and after starting a pointed conversation, I told him my name’s meaning in the hope he’d tell me his. He did, but he was uncomfortable. Because I didn’t really talk to that guy before, and in a roundabout way socially coerced him into giving up information to a relative stranger. Information he probably didn’t care that much about, but it was obvious I only wanted one thing from him. It was rude and showed that I hadn’t really cared about him before I wanted something from him. And people generally don’t like being treated like living wikipedias of their cultures!

Solution: sometimes you’re going to have to accept you aren’t owed information. This also applies to my first example. If you can’t find information online, even if you find the perfect subreddit that welcomes questions like these*, they might not give you an answer. And that’s okay. It might drive you a little mad about missing that bit of information, but it will not end your world. Trust me. I’m putting a lot of personal mess-ups on here, I’m not going to start lying to you now.

*people don’t like being treated like walking Wikipedias for their cultures in general, but sometimes the armor of online anonymity makes people more comfortable sharing. Not always though. Maybe check other questions from other people in that subreddit or tumblr or whatever to find an appropriate format, or get a general sense of what kind of questions are answered happily. You may just have to let it go.

Problem: when I was 17 my mom introduced me to two women, a Black woman and a white woman. She told me offhandedly that one played in an American football adult league for fun. Being a feminist, I was really excited by that, because American football is a very male sport. I didn’t end up talking to either of them about it, but I sure thought a lot about that during that encounter. Afterwards, I said something to my mom that made it clear I thought the Black woman was the football player. She corrected me and said “You thought it was [her] because she’s Black,”. She was correct, I felt terrible for stereoptyping, and I cried (I cry easily). I wanted to go apologize or something. My mom pointed out that the apology would be for me, not for her. Which is an issue (I still struggle with this in many different contexts)

Solution: if you want to apologize, ask yourself ‘Am I doing this because I want the person I hurt to know how apologetic I am? Am I doing this because I want to hear ‘it’s okay’?’. If either of those has a yes as the answer, then reconsider making the apology. If the person really does appreciate apologies, then offer one. But keep it simple. Don’t mention your feelings or why you messed up. That doesn’t matter, and can make them feel guilty for their own valid feelings. And regardless, focus more on not repeating the behavior. That’s the best apology, even if you never see the person you hurt again. You hurt someone, so *I must stress this* it is NOT about you.

Problem: I’m going to college in a very white town (it fits my budget). My first week there, a white friend E was talking about her friend P, who I was to meet later that day. She mentioned they are a minority (E is from that white college town and is still learning too. She’s improved quite a bit. She doesn’t lead with that kind of information anymore) who was also from the area. I was confused. I had pretty much only seen white or white-passing people the last few days. I asked, and she told me they were Indian* and from a local people (among others. Like many Indigenous people, P isn’t from just one Indigenous or only-Indigenous culture). I was shocked. I was under the impression that all the Indigenous people from [college] area were killed or forcibly removed or assimilated.

*P prefers the term Indian when talking about themself or their family, due to their multiculturalism and preference to older terms, but the most polite thing is to refer to an Indigenous person by their People. So if you’re talking about M, your Salish friend, and for some reason his ethnicity comes up, call him Salish - not Indian, not Native American, not Indigenous. Unless he prefers those terms. Though individuals generally prefer the more culture-specific name. If you’re talking about a group of different people or peoples who are original inhabitants of the Americas or Australia or the Pacific Islands (and sometimes Africa), then use Indigenous. That being said, always defer to personal preference.

Solution: I let P bring up info about their peoples when they wanted. I looked up some things later. I also did some research and found that the Indigenous people of my [home] area weren’t all gone either. I had been taught in my state history class who they were exactly, and then they were never never brought up again. Then I learned about things like the Trail of Tears and residential schools, and assumed their culture was effectively dead. I was wrong, thankfully!

Problem: This is not exactly racist but I feel that it’s relevant. I’m talking to this guy right now. A couple weeks ago, we went out and I brought up a question that I thought was pretty normal for dates/conversations where you get to know one another. “What do your parents do?” After all, parents’ occupations affect you! He told me that his mom is working as a fruit seller after being laid off and his dad was laid off (his parents are divorced like mine) and is currently unemployed. FAUX PAS! Yikes. Both of my dads have histories of unemployment (my Dad likes to quit, my Stepdad has gotten laid off multiple times*) but all are employed right now. And I know how awkward (at the very least!) it is to be in that situation, especially money-wise.

Solution: I looked up bad questions to ask on dates later and yup! That was on there. Don’t talk money until you you’re serious. Apparently doing it so early on is a very white/privileged thing. One website I read even said that explicitly.

*Once you get laid off once, you’re often a new hire at a company. And being a new hire, you’re more likely to be laid off, because companies value seniority. Thus, a self-perpetuating situation unfortunately. I wouldn’t be surprised if other factors came into play - reminder: my stepdad is Black, and employers may use that information when choosing which new hire to let go. But we know for sure that seniority is definitely part of the issue.

General Reminder 1: Don’t ask to touch or talk about Black people’s hair. No comments about getting it wet, how it’s different from yours, how working with it must be different, interesting little factoids you may have learned about their hair, weaves, wigs, and so on. If you genuinely have curly hair at 2c-ish or higher (see picture), then it’s a different story. You may have something in common that’s fun to talk about! Comments on how nice it looks are sometimes okay, but consider: are you only saying these complements when it’s straightened or braided? Or only when it’s natural? If you really are only complementing them when it’s on one side of the spectrum, then that’s an issue. Respect Black hair as an art form or even just a part of existence, in its entirety.

Also don’t say it’s kinky or wild hair. Black people can sometimes use those terms for themselves but it isn’t for us. There’s literally a ton of historical laws and economies that have oppressed Black people’s hair and those are some of the things that we should just listen to them about.

This can applied to other cultures’/races’ clearly visible differences from your own features, too.

General reminder 2: look at the kind of things you like to watch, or read, or even react with, like memes. Are they making fun of the minority people in those books? Would that meme be as funny to you if the person in the picture had facial features more like yours? Are the people who look like the person in that meme using that meme? Are People of Color getting to talk and have non-stereotypical storylines in your TV show? Are they even there?

Lastly: You’ve read all this advice from a white person. Go seek out advice, stories and more from other sources!!! It might hurt in the moment but that’s just called growing pains. You will still make mistakes but you have to look to the future! Learning from the sources themselves will be a lot more useful towards creating a pattern of information and behavior your autistic brains can utilize :). Let’s all go be better allies!

The books and authors I mentioned are great places to start and another really good one that I cannot recommend enough is the Levar Burton Reads podcast. But don’t just read fiction. Crack open some history books or podcasts or tv shows. Give yourself some context. Personally I adore Wikipedia when I want to find out more but I don’t have a book. Okay I’ll stop.

idgaf how autistic you are stop being racist😭😭

#personal testimony here #under the cut I spell out some examples #edit: I wrote this ages ago and wanted to clear my drafts a bit #just updated some details where I caught them and I’m posting now #idk if this would be helpful but I hope so!

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