#all my free time is just me sitting around listening to it

[navybrat817]

Behind Closed Doors

Pairing: Local Figure!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky didn't have a great day, so you help him unwind.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Established relationship, implied sex, light fluff, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by an ask from @yenzys-lucky-charm, so I'm also submitting this for her Cranky, Grumpy, Stabby! Oh, My! Challenge (🗡️ A: Smoothing out the crease in Cranky’s frown while straddling their lap B: Cranky character melts, pulling them in for a kiss). ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky tossed his jacket away and loosened his tie the moment the front door shut. In public, he had to maintain an image of confidence and controlled passion, carefully toeing the line between showing too much or too little emotion on the issues at hand. When things didn’t go his way, he couldn’t lash out or show defeat. Behind closed doors, he could allow himself to be a bit cranky. He didn’t have to put on a show.

With you, he didn’t have to put on a show either.

“Go sit, and I’ll make you a drink.” It wasn’t a suggestion. He didn’t drink often, but it was a rough day and you sensed that he needed one. If the drink wasn’t enough to help him unwind, you were sure you could think of something else.

Bucky kicked his shoes off before he took a seat and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Town Hall meeting should've gone off without a hitch, but Nick just had to show up and run his mouth.” His hands curled into fists when he grumbled, “Fucker.”

Bucky was never a fan of Nick Fowler. The man had a way with words and had experience, he’d give him that, but the guy wasn’t trustworthy. Too many secrets, too many people in his pocket. Some would say Bucky wasn’t trustworthy either since he was also a local figure, but he cared about his town and only wanted the best for everyone who lived there. He couldn’t say the same for Nick since he was only out for power and would step on anyone to gain it.

“It was rocky at times,” you said carefully, pouring him a glass of whiskey. Being overly optimistic would’ve been an insult, and he valued honesty since it was sometimes difficult to know who was telling the truth in his line of work. “But it ended on a high note.”

“He still proposed to cut funding for the library, and people agreed with him. It’s struggling as it is, and it needs the money,” he muttered, his steel eyes softening when you brought his drink over. “I swear he only proposed to cut funding to piss me off.”

Education was important to Bucky. The library, in particular, held a special place in his heart. It strived to create a welcoming and inclusive environment for the community, offering free resources to all. More than that, it was a space where history was preserved, and where people could feel valued and respected. It brought people together.

“And it’s working,” you pointed out, running your fingers through his soft caramel hair once you sat down and earning a sigh in response. “I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to let him get under your skin.”

Nick getting under Bucky’s skin meant he was losing, and Bucky wasn’t a man who lost.

“I’m trying,” he promised, taking another large sip and drawing your attention when he licked a drop from his lips.

You had to blink so you wouldn’t let his sexiness distract you from making him feel better. “Don’t forget, you have a fundraiser right around the corner,” you reminded him. There were people who would love to make a contribution to one of his passion projects, including the library.

His shoulders relaxed the more you played with his hair. “That’s true.”

“And listen, if I could get away with it, I’d wear my ‘I READ BANNED BOOKS’ shirt when I attend just to make you happy,” you teased.

That got a chuckle out of him. “That shirt got my attention.”

Going to that Town Hall meeting was one of the best decisions you ever made. “If you think that got your attention, wait until you see the dress I’m wearing.”

Closing his eyes with a groan, you had no doubt he was imagining it. He had an amazing suit picked out and you got something to not only match but something to drive him wild. “As long as John doesn’t show up and hit on you,” he tried to joke, but there was an edge to his voice.

As if the meeting wasn’t enough to put your man in a bad mood, bumping into John Walker after was the icing on the cake. If there was someone Bucky couldn’t stand more than Nick, it was John. The arrogant public worker rubbed him the wrong way, demanding respect and trust when he hadn’t earned it.

“We both know he wouldn’t stand a chance,” you said. Gorgeous looks aside, Bucky had you hooked from the beginning because of who he was. No one else could compare.

“If he tries anything…” Bucky could cut men down with a mere look, but people like Nick and John liked to push.

Taking the glass from his hand and setting it aside, you slowly straddled him. “You’re still cranky.”

“I’m not trying to be,” he whispered, resting his hands on your hips. Of course, he wasn’t. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked to dwell in any unpleasant headspace or emotions.

“I know. You had a rough day, and you have every right to be cranky. But I also know that the smile I love is in there somewhere,” you smiled. Bringing your hands to his face, you smoothed out the creases in his frown. His body went lax beneath yours when you did it again. “I just need to find it… Ah! There it is.”

Something you loved about Bucky was that he smiled in different ways before his mouth moved. He did it with his eyes, something so warm and loving that only you could see. Some days you heard it in his voice, in the tone he used and the words he chose. Even the way his body relaxed with you was a smile, happiness blooming from his core.

And Bucky was smiling when he pulled you in for a kiss.

Your heart tried to beat right out of your chest when he hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. Tasting the whiskey when his tongue slipped past your lips, you moaned. The kiss was full of hunger, eager to take what you were willing to give. There was a hint of desperation, like he was trying to use your mouth to chase his bad mood away. Above all, it was vulnerable, a side of himself he trusted you enough to show.

“You’re too good to me, sweetheart,” he whispered, rolling his hips up and making you moan again. “But I’m still a little cranky.”

“Is that right?” you smiled, rocking your hips teasingly just because you could. Making the powerful man hard made you feel powerful. “Are you proposing that I do something about that?”

The fingers on your waist flexed. “I’ll make it worth your while if you do.”

“Promises, promises,” you teased.

“I keep my promises,” he pointed out. In a world of liars and cheats, Bucky was a man of his word.

“That’s true.” You pretended to think about it when he thrust his hips up with a small growl, heating up your core more. “Okay, fine. Rest back so I can make the crankiness go away.”

And knowing Bucky, he’d make sure you felt nothing but bliss, too, before the night was over.

I know, lovlies, I don't need more AUs, but I would give him everything and more. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[arcadia-smith]

Smoke of the future

Moodboard/masterlist

Pairing: King Simon Riley x Mage!Reader

Summary: You are King Simon’s most trusted ally, gifted with the ability to glimpse the future. With your guidance, he has risen to become one of the greatest rulers the kingdom has ever known. But when forgotten memories begin resurfacing, unraveling secrets buried in time, everything changes. What will he do when forced to choose between you and his people? And when love and duty stand at odds, which path will you take?

Word count: 2.2k

Chapter 1

You’ve spent enough time in this court to grow accustomed to the whispers and wary glances the nobles cast your way. Yet, they never dare to speak their disdain aloud or meet your gaze for too long, as if fearing you might curse their blood.

You’ve always felt more at home among commoners than the noblewomen, whose greatest worries revolve around whether they’ve underdressed for an event. So, whenever an opportunity arises to slip beyond the castle walls, you take it—venturing into the village to offer herbal remedies and practice magic-infused medicine for those who plead for your aid time and time again.

It’s not as if King Simon has ever forced you to stay by his side. More than once, he’s told you that you’re free to leave whenever you wish. But every time you so much as mentioned retiring to a quiet little cabin by the borders, he's given you that look—the one that says, You can’t really leave me. I need you.

"You're terribly quiet," Simon's voice pulled at your thoughts as he leaned closer.

You shot him a look before turning your attention back to the old nobleman droning on across the table. For what felt like the fifth time this week—though the week had only just begun—he was rambling about the situation down by the coast.

"He should worry about his wife sleeping with their servant, not about something you've already gotten under control, my king."

Simon let out a quiet laugh. He’d always loved how there was no filter between your thoughts and your tongue—whatever crossed your mind inevitably spilled out.

"You've seen the future of his marriage?"

You shook your head slightly, gaze shifting to the side. Staring was impolite, you reminded yourself.

"Saw his wife sneaking away with the servant boy at the last gathering."

Simon huffed out another quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. "You do have a habit of noticing things you shouldn't."

You merely hummed in response, fingers idly tracing the rim of your goblet as the nobleman droned on, still oblivious to the fact that neither of you were truly listening.

"Should I tell him?" Simon kept his voice low "Or let him waste his breath on a matter that’s already resolved?"

"Depends. Do you want to be entertained, or do you want to be merciful?"

Simon glanced at the old man, who was still gesturing wildly, lost in his own speech. "Mercy isn't my strongest trait," he admitted.

"Neither is patience," you murmured.

His gaze flicked to you "And yet, I’ve had plenty when it comes to you."

The nobleman's voice droned on, and you felt Simon watching you. It was moments like these—where duty and formality blurred at the edges—that reminded you why you'd stayed by his side for so long. He didn’t treat you like the others did, with fear and suspicion. He listened, laughed, and—despite never saying it outright—he relied on you.

"You're patient with me, because I am quite useful." You shrugged, eyes darting to Simon "And we're friends."

Simon scoffed quietly, shaking his head "Drink your wine, little witch. We've got a long night ahead of us."

You tilted your head back against the chair’s backrest, letting your eyes slip shut. This was the part you hated most—sitting through these mind-numbing meetings. Even without your visions, they all blurred together, the same discussions looping over and over.

Simon knew how much you despised them. Hell, he hated them just as much. But he refused to suffer through them alone, so he made sure to drag you down with him every single time.

The noble's voice, along with the occasional uninterested hums from Simon, faded into the background as your mind drifted elsewhere.

The thing about your visions was that you had no control over them. You couldn’t summon them at will, and you couldn’t make them leave you alone. Some came like fleeting whispers, indistinct and blurry. Others were sharp—too vivid, too real. But one thing was certain. They were never wrong.

This time, it came quickly. Whispers swirled around you, a flickering image of a new threat looming over Simon’s life. The voices were frantic, the words blurred together—only the sharp sting of panic cutting through. Someone was screaming, but you couldn’t tell who.

A cold ache spread through your chest, a familiar weight pressing down, and then there were warm palms on your waist, grounding you.

A figure moved in the shadows, their silhouette ominous, shifting like a predator. You couldn’t see their face, but you could feel them, the weight of their presence, the sense that something was coming.

The scream—the one that had echoed so faintly—became clearer. It wasn’t just anyone. It was the King. Simon’s voice, raw and filled with pain, was unmistakable.

Your hands were hot. And wet. Blood. The blood was on your hands.

You snapped back into the room, gasping for breath, heart pounding. Your hands shot out, instinctively reaching for Simon, your fingers brushing against his sleeve.

“Did you…?” Simon straightened up, his full attention now on you.

You couldn’t find the words, so you just shook your head. Without a second thought, you pushed yourself out of your seat. Your hands curled into the fabric of your skirt, fingers gripping it tightly as you moved quickly toward the door, the sound of your hurried steps echoing in the room.

The hallway was quieter, and it gave you a moment to breathe, but the unease churned in your gut. Your palms were still warm from the vision. You rubbed them against your skirt, as if trying to erase the lingering sensation, but it didn’t help.

The sound of your own footsteps grew louder, mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. You barely registered the soft hum of the lights overhead or the distant conversations behind you. All you could think of was that scream—the rawness of it, and how much it had felt like it came from Simon.

Your hand pressed against the wall as you slowed, trying to collect yourself, trying to make sense of what had just happened. But there was no clarity, just confusion.

"Hey," Simon’s voice broke through the fog of your thoughts. You didn’t turn around.

He was right behind you, his steps purposeful, but not chasing. He was giving you space, letting you come to him on your own terms, but you knew he wouldn’t let you run for long.

“Talk to me,” he said.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before you turned to face him. "Just one of those... vivid visions."

Simon gave a slow nod "Do you need to lie down?"

Your hand tightened it's grip on your skirt "Yeah... I'll find you once I've collected myself. You go back to your duties, my King."

His gaze roamed over you, a moment of hesitation on his part, before he returned to the meeting.

His touch was warm, almost burning. You could feel your breath catching, bodies moving in sync.

"God, you're so beautiful." He whispered into your ear, arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer, his breath hot against your parted lips. "I love you, my lady."

Fingertips traced the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You shivered, tilting your chin up, inviting him closer, needing more. His nose brushed against yours, foreheads resting together.

"Say it again," you breathed, hands threading into his hair, anchoring yourself to him.

Simon's lips found yours in response, slow and lingering, a promise sealed between shared breaths. "I love you," he vowed, voice breaking ever so slightly, as if the words had been carved from his very soul. "I always will."

You jolted awake, a sharp breath tearing from your lips as you pushed tangled strands of hair from your face. The remnants of his touch still lingered—phantom kisses against your skin, the steady echo of his heartbeat against your own. But it wasn’t a vision. It couldn’t be. You’d seen the same thing night after night, the scenes playing on an endless loop, like a cruel trick of the mind. And now, with the whispers growing louder in the castle halls, you wondered if the nobles were right. Perhaps you were losing your mind.

Without bothering to dress properly, you slipped out of your chambers and made your way beyond the castle walls. The cool night air wrapped around you as you hurried toward the lake house just outside the village, where the only person who could understand you awaited.

You didn’t have to knock. The elderly woman sat on the porch, hands clasped in her lap, her sharp gaze already fixed on you as if she had known you were coming.

“I made tea,” Kate said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It will ease your mind, my dear.”

You stopped a few feet away, your arms wrapping around yourself as you struggled to steady your breath. “I think I’m losing my mind.” Your voice wavered.

Kate had been your advisor for as long as you could remember. She had practically raised you, guiding you through the burdens of your gift—the same gift she possessed yet never used to rise in rank or secure a more comfortable life.

“The visions I’ve been seeing…” You swallowed, forcing the words out in a single breath. “They feel more like—”

“Memories,” Kate finished for you.

You nodded, dread settling deep in your chest. “But that’s not possible. They can’t be my memories. How could I forget something like—” You cut yourself off, rubbing your hands over your face as panic threatened to overtake you.

Kate lifted her tea, blowing gently over the steaming surface before taking a slow sip. Then, she met your eyes with a knowing look.

“Sit down, Y/N,” she said softly. “I saw this day coming. And I have been waiting for it.”

"You had a vision?" You were rooted in the spot, not moving an inch.

"Didn't need a vision to know that memories will come back. I warned you about that, but you didn't listen. Same as I've said time and time again, you cannot change the future, the visions are as they come and they're bound to happen, even if you try to delay them, sweet girl."

Your eyebrows furrowed but before you could get a word in Kate continued.

"If you're remembering, the King will soon too." She hummed, fingers curling around her tea mug. A knowing look flickered in her aged eyes. "Do you remember how you became King Simon's advisor?"

You exhaled, trying to steady yourself. "Yes.. you guided me to him when I had the vision about commotion at the border just after he took the throne."

"But that wasn't the first time you've met him, Y/N. You had known him for years before that."

Your stomach twisted, confusion settling deep in your bones. That couldn’t be true. Kate must’ve been mistaken, her age catching up to her. You would remember something like that, wouldn’t you?

"And the King, before he was who he is now, spent many quiet summer nights here."

Your frown deepened. The lake house had always been your safe haven, untouched by the weight of courtly life. If Simon had ever been here, you would remember. You should remember.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Blank.

Your mind was blank.

No visions. No flickers of familiarity. Just empty space where a lifetime of memories should have been.

"It's gonna come back," Kate hummed and you could feel her gaze on you as you tried to make sense of her words.

You shook your head "How... how is it possible?"

Kate sighed, taking a slow sip of her tea before setting the mug down with careful precision. "I remember that night like it was yesterday. You came to me crying, begging me to tell you how to change the future. You were desperate." Her eyes darkened, her voice softening with something like regret. "But when I told you, again and again, that the future cannot be changed, you left. And when you returned, it was as if a part of your life had been erased.”

Her gaze pinned you in place. “The part that was Simon.”

You took a step closer. "Tell me everything."

Kate exhaled, the weight of years pressing into her shoulders as she gestured to the chair across from her. "Sit down, Y/N."

You hesitated, every instinct screaming at you to run—to demand answers from someone else, anyone else. But you knew Kate wouldn’t lie to you. She never had. So, with a deep breath, you lowered yourself onto the wooden chair, hands gripping the edge of your cloak.

"Before he ever sat on that throne, before the crown ever weighed on his head, before the war—he was yours. And you were his."

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Kate sighed, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. "You saw something in a vision—something terrible. And when you realized you couldn’t stop it, you did the only thing you could."

She looked at you again, her eyes filled with something that looked an awful lot like pity.

"You erased him from your heart."

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 dream ossuary rookanis enjoy 🪶

Lucanis wakes with a start, with the unpleasant lightning strike through the body after dreaming of falling.

Only he doesn't find himself back on the raised courtyard between the big statue and the Lighthouse.

Instead, he finds himself back in the frozen, cone-shaped cell, so deep underwater that even the suspiciously clean air feels suffocating. He's so cold even the skin between his asscheeks stands up in goosehives.

Probably because he's naked, save for the shredded fabric that he snatched from the hips of the poor soul in the cell next to his, only moments after she (Nastia, he reminds himself) had succumbed to her starvation and her hunger demon had burst out of her like filling from an overcooked pie.

Not his finest moment, there.

Lucanis rubs his forehead with a sigh.

Of course he's still here. This entire business with blighted gods and archdemons and remote brain-parasites did always seem a tad too absurd to be real.

NO! Spite shrieks. He's circling him like a vulture waiting for its food to die. Gods were real! We killed them. We tore into Ghilan'nain with our teeth! We chased Elgar'nan into Minrathous! Stuck Solas to the Veil for snatching our Rook! OUR ROOK IS REAL. SHE'S SLEEPING, RESTING. IN OUR ARMS. WHERE SHE BELONGS. OUTSIDE YOUR STUPID STUBBORN SPONGEHEAD.

As if she'd walked out of the latest romance serial, took one look at his miserable self and thought I have to have him.

NO REASONING WITH YOU HERE. RESOLVE TO BE MISERABLE. WHEN WE COULD BE FREE. FREE AND - You're surprised? There's a reason you were once Determination, before we joined.

Spite rams his elbow into the back of Lucanis' head, then dissolves into thin air.

Lucanis huffs warm air into his palms, rubs them together for friction and then wraps his hands around his toes.

There's a commotion, somewhere between the space behind his eyes and the back of his head, and he feels as though he's prodded at in another plane of existence.

SEE? Spite pushes at somebody until they kneel down in front of him. ROOK IS REAL. If she were real, she wouldn't be in here with us. She'd be far above the surface, as she should. I WOKE HER. I BROUGHT HER.

Lucanis dreads what his demon might have told her to pull her from her precious rest and into his mind. Again. Judging their trajectory lately, it likely wasn't Help us, he listens to you this time.

"Hi." There's hands on his cheeks now, and whoever it is that Spite conjured up does look exactly like the woman from his escapist dreams. Her eyes are puffy, rimmed in red - has she cried?

"What's wrong?"

Oh, so. Only real if for you to fix? That's what's happening? Shut it. MAKE IT MAKE SENSE. THEN I SHUT IT.

"Spite brought me. He thinks you went back."

Lucanis can't bite back his dry chuckle. When he pointedly looks around, her hands slip from his cheeks, cradling his jaw now.

"Evidently, I did do exactly that."

"Has.. Did something happen today, before we went to sleep, that brought you here?"

"You don't need to do this. I don't need my own subconscious trying to fix me."

Fingers twirl the ends of his hair.

"I've been here before, remember? Spite brought me then, too. He - we - don't want you to feel as though you're stuck in here by yourself."

He doesn't need to tell her he did not willingly walk in here, that sometimes he still just finds himself back in his cell. She knows. She knows intimately, by virtue of caring to know him.

"I shouldn't keep returning here," he manages, eventually. "You broke me out. I'm done with this place. There's nothing left for me, here. Not even death."

When Rook stopped being a figment of his imagination, or when she'd shifted to rock the both of them left to right to left with her cheek by his hairline, he doesn't know.

"Maybe this place isn't done with you."

Letting this, however accurate and plain to see, suggestion sit with him makes him nauseous, like trying to eat after having been hungry all day.

"How do I stop coming back here, Rook?"

Her silence and her hands in his hair, strangely grounding him into the reality of this Fade-dream with the nails on his scalp, are answer enough.

Eventually, she sits back down, cross-legged, takes his hands.

He knows what that means; I have an idea.

Do it! Spite leans over her shoulder, pushing her deeper into her hunched posture with both hands on her back like he was trying to mount a horse from its backside. Rook has good ideas! Rook is smart! She will fix us. Splitting us is not in her repertoire. Breaking us out of here is!

"Well, for this specific instance, there's multiple options of what we can do," she starts. She's barefoot, too, the tops of her feet pushing into his soles. "If you'd rather be alone, I can leave - Spite won't like that, and neither do I, frankly. I don't want to leave you alone here."

She must be real, Lucanis thinks after all. How else would he know the way the space between her brows creases means But your feelings in this matter more than mine?

"But if that's what you need, you shall have it. We could leave this place together, too. Or, we could stay here together. Whichever you want. Whatever you need. If it's for me to give to you, you will have it. I promise."

He looks up from their feet, when her hand settles soft and warm and startingly familiar on his jaw, her thumb through his beard.

"I.. I can't get up."

Rook nods.

"Would you like me to stay?"

"I... If you'd rather leave-"

"I know. That's not what I asked."

Her eyes are wide and soft and endlessly loving.

"Stay. Please. Just a little longer."

"Of course."

It should be intimidating, the way she rises to stand before him, fingers working the cord that holds her dressing gown closed.

Were it anyone other than Rook, he would be, deep down. He'd never display it, of course, but he'd still feel it.

With her, though, he can freely display his - concern. Why is she undressing? In the prison of his brain?

"Rook, no. You're barefoot. We're encased in a cone of ice. You'll be so cold. Don't take off your dressing gown."

But he doesn't fight her, and the soft yellow silk-lined robe drapes warm and comforting over his shoulders.

"I am wearing more than a loincloth. I'll be all right."

Even here, somehow, in this nightmare prison that his mind keeps returning to, it's baffingly easy and natural to settle against her. She willingly offers her warmth to him, shifts with him like that's all she's made to do.

Eventually, he's curled up on his side, covered up to his eyes by the gown, her right hand rubbing his arm through the fabric and the other petting his hair.

As he closes his eyes, there's the start of a giggle in Rook's throat, hastily bitten back and covered with a breath.

"What?"

"Your ears are so small. And round. Small and round and cute."

"Is that.. good?"

"I think so. I tried to picture you with ears like mine and - no. Your ears are perfect like this."

"Thank you?"

Her body curves above him, and her lips press against his forehead. It must be a strain in her neck, how she's curling to meet him with his head in her lap.

But when he attempts to rise, to meet her halfways her hand slips from his arm to his chest and pushes him back down.

So he shifts until all his weight isn't squarely on the joint of his shoulder. Closing his eyes again under her gentle touch and soothing warmth is an easy thing. Even here.

Were he not so confused and tired and therefore sopping up her soul as though the Ossuary turned him into a wet biscuit, he might be a little scared of all that.

"How do you like your eggs?"

"I'm sorry?" He almost can't hear it, his left ear cushioned by her thigh on all sides, Spite trilling happily at her scratching over his scalp in the other.

"When we wake up, I'll make you breakfast, for a change. Something nice and simple."

"You don't have to. I know you don't enjoy cooking."

"I want to, Lucanis. Let me do something for you, just this once." He knows she'll say the exact same thing she resolves to cook for him the next time. And the time after that. And probably for the rest of all time, if she'll have him. "So: how do you like your eggs?"

"Sunny on bread."

Her thigh shifts under him, and her lips press against his right ear.

"Sunny on bread you shall have."

Instead of leaving, however, she settles down beside him, her thigh still cushioning his head, the crown of hers barely in his lap.

"After you wake up. After you have a long, long, well-deserved rest, and wake up in my arms at the Lighthouse. At home."

She says more, but he soon falls away into sleep, when she drapes her dressing gown over him like a blanket once more and reaches for his hand under the fabric.

-

He wakes again, before her, this time, though his face no longer lies squared in her lap.

There's no blanket covering him - it must be somewhere near the end of the bed - but Rook's body against his back is enough to to warm him through an entire Age of winter.

Her fingers are hooked into the seam of his pants, her breath warm on the back of his neck.

Sunlight filters through the massive fishtank, into the hidden corner where their bed sits.

A marvel, that. Their bed. For her and him.

See? Real. All of it. You're right. And thank the Maker for that.

A bare legs hooks over his hip.

Lucanis closes his eyes again.

🪶

directly influenced by this post by @lunammoon <3

@lanafofana this may be of interest to you

@manhattenstops p e r c e i v e

[~rina]

[imhappierthanever]

Billie comes to visit you at work & she’s hungry for a little lunch:

Another boring morning. A Monday at that. You struggled getting out of bed before making your way to your office. Late as always since you and your girlfriend decided you would live together.

Every time you made any progress, she would send you back about two steps. Undressing you, pealing off your most intimate items, wrapping her arms around you, kissing you hard enough to make you get caught up in the moment. Just what she wanted.

When your makeup was just right, she would capture your lips with her own, leaving you to have to touch it up yet again.

When you made breakfast for you both, she ended up sitting you on the counter, standing between your legs as her hands caressed your body gently. She was never hungry for the food. Literally just you.

“Billie- I h..I have to get to work. I’m sorry my love…” you let your hands travel all over her body as hers explored some of her favourite parts of you.

“You can be a little late.Can’t you? Stay here and show me that you’re my good girl.” She said biting your neck gently. She was absolutely NOT making this easy for you.

Finally the sound of the kettle sounded, and you kissed her cheek before hoping down and fixing your outfit back. You made a cup of tea for Billie and yourself. A little peace offering before you knew you had to hurry out the door. You handed it to her, gently stroking her cheek. “I’ll be home from work before you know it. Then I’m all yours. You can have me however you want me, baby. Okay?” At this she softened, pecking your lips as a thank you for her tea. She used her free arm to wrap around your body, trapping you against her body as she tried to get her full of you before you rushed out the door.

“Promise?” She said hopeful. Her big blue eyes lighting up. You laughed before promising once more, kissing her lips softly before you both separated.

You reached for your suit jacket placing it on before smoothing your hands over your hair, making sure every strand was still in place. Once you were somewhat satisfied, you blew your girlfriend a kiss, grabbed your bag and lunch and made your way to work.

About twenty minutes later you were sat at your desk. Wondering why you rushed to a place you despised so much when all you wanted was to be back home with her.

You sighed as you looked at a picture of you both, running your fingers over the heart shaped frame before letting yourself work on something other than thoughts of Billie. You suffered through meeting after boring meeting and all before lunch. Once 1:00 hit you made your way back to your office, happy to have a break away from it all. You grabbed your lunch box that Billie always packed for you the night before and got ready to settle in, ready for one of her cute notes.

No wonder why it felt so empty you thought to yourself, folding the note quickly and slipping it into your pocket so no one else would see. Before you could even gather your thoughts, you heard a knock on your window. Not your door, but your window. You knew it had to be her.

You turned your head to see your girlfriend standing there with a half bitten lip and actual lunch. For you. The look in her eyes told you that you would be the only thing she was having this afternoon.

You smiled rolling your eyes before rushing over, letting her in. “You know, there’s this great thing called a door babe. You should try it sometime.” You giggled before wrapping your arms around her, welcoming her into your space in more ways than one.

“This is more fun.” She said crashing her lips onto yours before setting your lunch aside.

“I’m fucking starving.” She said biting your lip, pulling it into her mouth before letting her hands caress you, peeling off your jacket, unbuttoning your blouse and hiking up your skirt to reveal your barely there underwear. “I’ve wanted you all morning. And you made me wait. Such a bad girl. Not listening.” She said as she tore your underwear away from your core, sliding them down your legs before putting them in her pocket.

“Billie I-“ “you can’t what baby?” Billie said before taking a seat in your chair, pulling you down on top of her. “The blinds. Everyone will see.” You whispered, already overwhelmed with everything she was doing to you.

“Let them see.” She said freeing you from your bra, still not completely undressing you. Just needing to get you opened to her as much as she could.

You whimpered as her tongue circled your nipple, biting down making you moan loudly. Forgetting where you were. Forgetting that your boss share a wall with you and could probably hear exactly what you two were up to.

Billie thrived on that sort of thing. She loved living on the edge and feeling like at any given moment you could be caught. It enhanced her experience.

You held onto Billie as you grinded against her, the friction of her jeans adding to the moment. Your wetness adding to her jeans. She didn’t mind.

“That’s right baby. Make a mess on me.” She whispered in your ear sending shivers down your spine. “I love it when you’re this wet for me. Can’t wait to taste it.” She said letting her fingers slide down to your core, spreading your wetness, loving that you were already a throbbing, shaking mess just from her touch.

Once she decided you were wet enough, she used one arm to hold on to you, and the other to swipe everything off of your desk. You silently thanked yourself for putting the picture of you both inside your drawer.

She laid your body down on top of your desk. Your body was aching, back arching, waiting for her to take what was hers. And when she finally did you found your fingers woven in her dark brown wavy hair, moans bouncing off the wall as she consumed you. She ate you like a starved woman, pulling you closer to her mouth, her tongue lapping at your pussy, diving into your waters. Neither of you could get enough.

Gone were the thoughts of what you coworkers would say if they had been listening through the wall. Gone were the thoughts of people seeing you, or the work you had to actually do. All you could focus on as Billie.

Her eyes never leaving yours, her fingers digging into your thighs as you gave her everything you had to offer. Feeding her. Giving her exactly what she wanted. You had always been her favourite for lunch.

[jordiemeow]

riff speaking to shark girl on the phone bc they'd both get their asses beat if anyone else knew about it... hngh

waittt this is so cute i see the vision

Thinking your relationship (loose term—are you official? who knows, certainly not either of you) is secretive for the most part. Anita would kill you (no sister of hers is getting down and dirty with a Jet) before Bernardo had the chance to get his hands on Riff if either of them knew about it. So you resort to talking over the phone when things get hectic, holed up in your shared bedroom with Maria (the only one you trust enough with your secret.)

Hushed giggles into the phone, twirling the phone cord around your finger, sitting on the floor with your back against your bedframe. Always keeping an eye on the door just in case your sister bursts in or Bernardo gets home early from work. There's something just so thrilling about it all being a secret, even if you wished you could just see him more in person. Teaching him salsa and taking him to all the local bodegas to introduce him to Puerto Rican cuisine. You aren't sure how he gets by on hot dogs and... whatever the hell white people eat. It all looks like flavourless slop to you.

"Heya, girly," comes that familiar drawl when you hold the receiver to your ear. You can hear the distant blare of traffic through the phone, a soft frown settling on your features.

"You're not using a landline?"

"Nah, I'm payin' by the minute. The boys are layin' low 'round my place. Run in with Schrank. Couldn't risk usin' the one there without being overheard," he replies. "Why? That a problem?"

“… No,” you reply after a moment. He’s paying by the minute to talk to you. You aren't sure whether you should yell at him or smile. “You shouldn’t waste your money on that, though.”

Riff scoffs in reply. “Nah. It’s worth it,” he replies, his voice quiet. He’s very keenly aware of the way the seconds are counting up on the payphone meter, and the fact his pockets are almost empty. “Worth it to hear your voice." Shit, he said that a little too sincerely.

He swallows, leaning one hand against the wall of the booth, cheeks flushing. He's always make a fucking fool of himself when he talks to you—time to pretend he can’t practically feel your little smile from the other side of town. “And I needed to know you weren’t gonna get on my case for callin’, y’know. Cause… I figured you might still be mad at me. After all that stuff that happened with ya brother-in-law 'n' the mural the otha day."

You don't even bother correcting him anymore about Bernardo not being married to Anita. A part of you is convinced he just doesn't like to say his name—it's sacrilegious to you both, a reminder that none of this should be happening. Which is why you move on from that topic fairly quickly. For someone with such a big mouth, he's always a little quieter when you're on the phone.

He sighs softly, leaning a little more against the phone booth. He’s got to admit, it’s nice just to hear your voice, even though you're not saying anything particularly groundbreaking. Telling him what you had for lunch and that your sister is working on a new dress for you. Something about that boy—Bernardo's 'good amigo,' apparently—Chino staring at Maria with hearts in his eyes on your walk together. Your voice makes him feel all tingly, for whatever reason. He'd listen to you read the damn dictionary and enjoy every word of it.

“Jesus,” he mutters, rubbing his free hand against the back of his neck. “You talk an awful lot, girly. Anybody ever tell ya that?”

“Lo siento, I just—“ A few beats of silence, before you turn the conversation around on him. “How are you? Didn’t get up to any trouble today?"

He snorts at the way you parrot his early question back at him. “Me? Trouble? Me? Nah,” he responds, his tone just shy of mocking, “Would never.”

"Right," you hum noncommittally. Bullshit, but you don’t say that. You both know it already.

“Jus’ been… chillin’ all day. Been thinkin’,” he says, histone shifting into something a tad softer. He really has been thinking; thinking of you all day like a total lovestruck dumbass, and not a gang leader. He’s still not sure how any of this even happened. He’s never felt this way about any girl before, not even Graziella, or the other girls he sleeps with. And yet here he is using up all his damn coins to talk to you like this because his boys are hanging around his place.

“Thinking? That’s surprising. You don’t do much of that, gringo,” you tease.

Riff scoffs and his face warms slightly at your teasing tone. He's glad he's in this damn booth and out of sight. He’s never been able to deal well with people making fun of him—too quick to throw a punch in return, or a jab that's far meaner. But coming from you? It’s different. You're not just 'people.'

“No, I think,” he retorts in faux indignation, a huff of amusement escaping him. God, you could say anything and he'd be laughing down the phone. “You just make me go dumb, girly. Can’t seem to think 'bout anythin’ but you.” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop it, and his flush deepens. His inner monologue is quick to jump on the sincerity of his voice: Jesus, Riff - why the hell’d you go and say that, huh? What are you, a fuckin' pussy?

A soft little smile graces your face at that. "Yeah? You're not going soft on a 'damn PR', are you, Riff?"

His teeth grit at the thought of appearing all mushy. He'd never hear the end of it from the Jets if he was ever caught seeming soft over a Puerto Rican girl, let alone one that shares blood with Bernardo's girlfriend. "Nah, hell no," he responds, with a tsk of disapproval. When did his palms get so sweaty? "I'm as tough as they come, girly. Tough as freakin' nails."

There’s a pause, and you can practically hear the way his jaw is gritted. You're almost worried you've said the wrong thing—you know how sensitive he is about his tough lil’ gangster image, or whatever. But when he speaks again, his voice loses some of the defensive bite it had just been inflected with. “But… maybe there’s another part of me… maybe… maybe you just make me real goddamn stupid, that’s all.”

There’s a soft breath of laughter from you, but it’s not mocking. No, quite the opposite. Your heart swells with fondness for this stupid boy. “… Lindo,” you say, mostly to yourself. You have no doubt he won't understand that, which is probably a good thing. He'd throw a hissy fit if he was ever associated with the adjective cute. You're sure that tantrum would be adorable, too. “How many minutes do you have left?”

He frowns a little at the Spanish term—he never knows what the hell you're talking about—but he lets it slide. Riff glances up at the clock, kissing his teeth and making a mental note to scrounge together more coins next time. He's not sure how, but he'll make it work. He's not above going back to his pick-pocket days if he really has to.

“Not a lot,” he responds regretfully. “This damn thing’s gonna run out any minute now. Wish I could talk for longer. Damn payphone."

“Mmm. That’s a shame,” you say, sounding just as reluctant. A silence follows your words and it's clear neither of you want to be the first to initiate a goodbye. “... But you’ll call tomorrow night, sí?”

That makes his breath hitch, the irritation at the stupid phone evaporating as a little warm bolt of excitement shoots up his spine. He'll never get tired of hearing that you actually look forward to these calls with him.

“Yeah, 'course I will. Nine o’ clock again?”

"Nine o'clock," you hum in confirmation.

He nods rapidly, even though you can't see him, lips twitching upwards into a crooked smile. “Nine o’clock,” he affirms again, and he sounds far too eager for a phone call with a girl than a tough ol' guy like him should. “I should probably go now, before I get charged for another minute. Or before this stupid fuckin' thing kicks me off the call."

You laugh at his frustration towards the inanimate object, but it fades into something a little more rueful. “Sí, sí. Save your coins for tomorrow.”

He lets out a short, soft huff of a laugh when he hears your own. Then he's rubbing the back of his neck as if he’s suddenly feeling a little shy, even though no one else can hear him. No one but you, just how he likes it. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll talk to ya tomorrow, then.”

“Buenas noches, Riff,” you reply softly.

It's embarrassing the way his heart flutters every time you wish him a goodnight in your language.

“‘Night, girly,” he mumbles, a little awkwardly, like he isn't sure what to say now. You'd think he'd be used to ending these calls, but he always feels like a young teenager talking to a pretty girl for the first time.

He lingers for a second longer, until finally he places the receiver back on the holder (just before the minutes expire), and walks out of the booth, feeling simultaneously a whole hell of a lot better after talking to you, but missing your voice already. He lets out another soft huff, more of a laugh, really, and starts the walk back home, feeling like an idiot. He's so fucking screwed.

He’s still thinking about how much of a softie he just sounded like—“I’m dumb, you just make me dumb”?!—when he finally gets back to his apartment. Still hears your voice in his head, the sound of you saying buenas noches, and lindo (whatever the hell that means), and calling him a gringo like it’s a term of endearment. Still thinking about the way he'd actually blushed while Tony slaps his shoulder and welcomes him back.

Yeah. He's definitely bringing more coins tomorrow night.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Blow My Whistle, Baby

(Kink heacanon)

Quinn Hughes: Quinn groaned low in his throat, hips instinctively bucking into your hand as you worked his cock with skilled precision. His head fell back against the wall in the locker room, exposing the column of his neck. "Fuck.. Always know just how to get me going," he managed to gasp out between ragged breaths. He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding you closer to his straining erection. The promise of your lips and tongue on his sensitive flesh had him quivering with anticipation. "Been thinking about this nonstop, baby," he confessed huskily. "Dreamed about waking up with you on top of me, riding me till we both came undone." Arber's grip on your hair tightened as he pulled you onto his lap, aligning your mouth with his throbbing cock. "Now stop teasing and put that pretty mouth to work."

Jack Hughes: Jack and you were having a relaxed evening at home when you decided to turn up the heat. Sitting on the bed, beginning to kiss each other slowly and passionately, as your hands explored each other's bodies. Starting to undress each other slowly, taking in every moment of the experience. You then knelt down in front of him, looking up with a lustful expression as you began to tease him with your tongue. The pleasure you were giving him was immense, and he knew he was in for a treat. He groaned deeply as your talented tongue works its magic, his cock throbbing with need "Oh fuck… you're driving me wild already. I can't wait to taste more of you."

Luke Hughes: Catching him busy on his phone in bed was easy enough as you tugged his boxers down, freeing his semi-hard cock. You wrapped your hand around it, giving it a few slow strokes as you looked up at him through your lashes. "Mmm, looks like someone's eager for some attention," you spoke softly, leaning in to lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft. Your tongue swirled around the head, savoring the salty tang of his pre-cum before taking him into your mouth. You bobbed your head, sucking gently as you worked him deeper, your free hand massaging his balls. "You taste so good, Lukey," you moaned around his length, relishing the way he twitched and throbbed against your tongue. "Can't wait to feel you come undone."

Nico Hischier: With a sly grin, you hooked your fingers into Nico's hockey pants and tugged them down, exposing his hardening cock. You wrapped your hand around it, stroking him slowly from base to tip, savoring the heat and firmness. "Mmm, looks like someone's eager for some relief," you purred, leaning in to lap at the sensitive head with your tongue. Your eyes met his, dark with desire, as you took him deeper into your mouth, relishing the salty taste of his pre-cum. You bobbed your head, taking him further each time, until you had him all the way in, your nose pressed against his pubic bone. The vibrations of your moan sent ripples through him as you began to suck, your hand working in tandem to pleasure him while listening to him mumble out. "That's it, baby,"

Timo Meier: Timo was lying on the bed, his heart racing with excitement and anticipation. You with a mischievous glint in your eye, straddled him, your hands roaming over his chest as you leaned down to kiss him on the neck, having been teased and tormented by you ever since he left the arena with another loss under his belt. You smirked against Timo's skin, your fingers tracing patterns over his chest as you peppered kisses along his jawline. "Ah, still feeling that disappointment, sweetheart? Losing stinks, but it's nothing compared to what we can do to take the edge off." Your hand slipped lower, cupping his growing arousal through his pants. "I've got just the remedy for your post-game blues," you whispered huskily before claiming his lips in a deep, possessive kiss, your tongue delving into his mouth to taste him fully. "Let me show you how to forget about those losses…and focus on something much more pleasurable instead." You slowly moved down his body and in between his strong thighs.

Dawson Mercer: Dawson's breathing quickened as your skilled hands worked their magic on his throbbing erection. His hips instinctively bucked forward, seeking more of that delicious friction. "Fuck… y-yes, I've been wanting this all damn day," he admitted, his voice husky with desire. The sensation of those talented fingers encircling his shaft made his head spin. "I've been picturing you on your knees for me, worshipping my cock like only you can." Arber's hands found their way to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he gently guided you closer to his lap. The heat of your mouth was just inches away now, and anticipation coiled tight in Dawson's belly. "Please, baby… suck me," he urged, his voice laced with need. A sultry smile played on your lips as you listened to Dawson's desperate pleas, the sound of his needy voice sending shivers down your spine. You looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, your gaze burning with lust as you slowly licked your lips in invitation.

John Marino: John's breath caught in his throat as your soft hands worked their magic on his straining erection. A shiver ran down his spine at the sight of you on your knees, sending a jolt of desire straight to his core. "Fuck, babe..you know just how to get under my skin," he groaned, his hips involuntarily bucking into your grasp. The sensation of your hot breath on his thighs only heightened his arousal, making him ache for more of your attention. John's fingers tangled in your hair, gently tugging you closer as to give you better access. "I've thought about nothing else all damn day," he admitted huskily, his voice rough with need. "The way you suck me off is like a drug – once I get a taste, I'm hooked."

Kirby Dach: Kirby's breath caught in his throat as your skilled fingers worked their magic, coaxing his erection to full mast. The sensation of those warm hands wrapping around him was pure bliss, and he couldn't help but thrust slightly into the grip, seeking more friction. "Fuck, sweetheart…" he groaned, his voice low and husky with desire. "Always know just how to get me going, don't you?" Kirby's hips rolled lazily, giving himself over to the pleasure as you began to stroke him in earnest. Each glide of your hand sent sparks of heat shooting through his veins, making his head spin. "You have no idea how many times I thought about bending you over the kitchen counter today," Kirby admitted, his words punctuated by ragged pants as your touch pushed him closer to the edge. "Or fucking you against the wall during practice."

Juraj Slafkovsky: With a sultry smile playing on your lips, you released Juraj's straining cock and stood up, meeting his hungry gaze. "Patience, love," you purred, trailing a finger down his chest before pulling his hoodie up just enough, revealing the chiseled expanse of his torso. "I want to savor every inch of you first." Once Juraj's hoodie was off, you dipped your head to lavish attention on his nipples, swirling your tongue around the pebbled buds and nibbling gently. He let out a low moan, arching into your touch as you worked your way down his abdomen, pausing to kiss and nip at the sensitive skin. Finally, you reached the waistband of his sweatpants once more, pulling them down along with his boxers in one swift motion. Juraj's back arched sharply as your lips closed around his nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his aching cock. He threaded his fingers through your hair, holding you close as you teased and tormented his sensitive flesh. By the time you descend lower, his pants pooled at his ankles, leaving him bare and vulnerable before you. "Goddamn…" he gasped, his head falling back as you kissed a trail down his stomach. The anticipation was killing him, every nerve ending alight with need.

Arber Xhekaj: Arber Xhekaj was sitting on the couch watching TV when you walked into the room. He could tell from the look on your face that you were up to something. Without a word, you knelt down in front of him and started to tug his sweatpants down. He could feel his heart racing as you untied the drawstrings and reached inside. Your touch was gentle but firm, and he let out a soft moan as you started to stroke him. Knowing exactly how to touch him as he grew hard. "Mmm, I can see it in your eyes, Arb," you murmured, gazing up at him through thick lashes as you continued to fondle the growing bulge in your boyfriend's pants. "You're always so responsive to my touch. It's like your body knows exactly what it wants." Your fingers danced along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, teasing and stroking until they finally wrapped around the stiffening length of cock. You gave it a slow, deliberate squeeze, feeling it twitch against your palm. "Tell me, have you been thinking about this all day? About how good I'd make you feel if I got on my knees for you?" You leaned in closer, your warm breath tickling Arber's ear as he whispered, "Because I've been craving a taste of you since morning."

Cole Caufield: Cole groaned low in his throat as your fingers wrapped around his throbbing cock. The heat of your palm seeped into his flesh, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core. His hips jerked reflexively, seeking more of that delicious friction. "Fuck, … y-yes, I've been thinking about it nonstop," he admitted, his voice strained with need. "About you on your knees, worshipping my cock… God, it drives me wild just imagining it." Cole tangled his hands in your hair, guiding your head closer to his straining erection. "Please… I need you to touch me, taste me," he pleaded, his breathing ragged. "Make me come undone, baby. I'm all yours."

Trevor Zegras: Going out with Trevor for drinks sounded like a good time, until you both had one too many and snuck off to the bar's bathroom. With deliberate slowness, your unzipped Trevor's pants, your eyes locked onto his as you revealed his hardening cock. A low hum of approval rumbled in your throat at the sight. You wrapped a hand around his thick shaft, giving it a firm stroke from base to tip. "Mmm, looks like someone's ready for action," you spoke in a teasing tone, leaning in to run your tongue along the sensitive underside. You took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth as you began to suck him with enthusiastic fervor. Your free hand massaged his balls while you worked him over, eager to bring him to the brink and beyond. You looked up at Trevor, your gazes meeting in a heated stare, conveying without words the depth of your desire for him.

Jamie Drysdale: Jamie's breath caught in his throat as your skilled hands worked their magic on his aching erection. His hips instinctively bucked forward, seeking more of that delicious friction in the privacy of a restaurant bathroom. The husky timbre of your voice sent shivers down his spine, and he felt himself grow even harder in response to the provocative words. "I…fuck," he managed to gasp out, his grip tightening into fists against the stall. "Always, every damn time. You know just how to drive me wild." Jamie's head fell back with a groan, exposing the vulnerable column of his neck. He arched into your touch, silently begging for more. When your hot breath caressed his ear, he couldn't help but moan softly, his resolve crumbling under the onslaught of desire. "Please," he whimpered, his voice raw with need. "Oh, I'm going to please you so thoroughly, baby," you purred, nipping gently at the tender flesh of Jamie's neck before soothing it with your tongue. Your hand moved faster now, pumping his straining cock in a rhythm designed to push him over the edge. "I want to hear you come undone for me, Jamie. Want to taste that sweet release on my lips." With your free hand, you reached up to cup Jamie's chin, tilting his face toward yours. Your mouths met in a searing kiss, tongues tangling as you devoured each other's moans and whimpers. Breaking away for a moment, you gazed deep into those pleading blue eyes and whispered as you knelt down, "Give it to me, sweetheart. Let go and fill my mouth with everything you've been holding back."

Matt Rempe: Matt groaned softly, his hips involuntarily bucking into your hand as pleasure shot through him. "Fuck, baby…you know just how to get me going," he panted, tangling his fingers in your hair as he pulled you in for a deep, hungry kiss. When you broke apart, Matt's eyes were dark with lust, pupils blown wide. "I've thought about nothing else all day. Imagined waking up with you between my legs, sucking me off 'til I couldn't take it anymore." He reached down to help you pull his boxers the rest of the way off, then spread his thighs invitingly. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get that pretty mouth on my dick before I lose my mind." Matt's voice was low and rough with need, his cock standing at attention, flushed and leaking pre-cum.

[exploring-the-cosmos]

Okay so I'll just say it because I've been thinking it for a while, but the weird dislike or sometimes even hatred for Eddie Diaz (and Ryan Guzman) that is present in this fandom feels (at times) incredibly forced at best and downright racist at worst. And he's already a pretty white-washed character as it is. This is not in any way meant as a call-out to any one person in particular, and certainly not me saying he's a perfect character above critique, but my god, I need people to inject a little bit of nuance into their views of these characters. I love Buck as much as the next 9-1-1 fan, but he is not this perfect angel who can do no wrong like some people act like he is. Likewise, Eddie has made a lot of mistakes and done a lot of shitty things (some of which Buck himself has done, too). But at the end of the day, I think he is a very complex character who is doing the best he can with what he has and means well. I don't know why some of you are in this fandom if you dislike these characters as much as it appears you do.

And the SHIPPING WARS MY GOD STOP IT. I usually stay out of shipping discourse because I think it's ridiculous and unnecessary most of the time. Ship and let ship is always an option, and I think most people would benefit from choosing it. And listen, I will admit my bias and say I am primarily a Buddie shipper. But I have no issue with Bucktommy shippers as a whole nor the ship itself being popular. Do I ship it? No. I don't even particularly like Tommy as a character, but I don't care if other people like him and the ship. What I do have an issue with, however, is the way some of y'all act with such vitriol towards Buddie shippers, Buddie as a ship, and, specifically, Eddie Diaz as a potential love interest for Buck. This is where I think some people's underlying racial bias really becomes apparent, and no, I'm not talking about all BuckTommy shippers, only those that are explicitly anti-Buddie because they don't like Eddie. Because why, WHY are you so insistent on seeing these two white men together, who have had so little time together on screen and, in my opinion, have been shown to have very little in common with each other other than the fact that they care about and are interested in each other romantically, but so against Buck potentially being in a relationship with a different man who he has been best friends with for the better part of a decade, who wrote him into his will, cares deeply about him and who he cares about just as much, spends a lot of his free time with, and who also happens to not be white? Look, I'm not gonna sit here and say every single one of you is a raging racist or anything. I don't know you. But I think a lot of y'all would benefit from a little bit of introspection as to why you feel the way that you do about some of these characters and ships. Also, yes, Buddie shippers can be toxic and racist, too. I am not saying Buddie shippers are above those behaviors as well, only making an observation specific to some people's anti-Buddie and anti-Eddie sentiment.

Also, this is an aside, but the way fandom and shipping culture in general has gravitated towards strict adherence to canon content is.... weird. Like, why are some of y'all so allergic to engaging with or creating content outside of the confines of what the canon material has offered you? Have fun, be creative, go wild, and also be respectful to the folks around you who see things differently. We all share this space, and we should all care about making it as positive and welcoming of an experience as possible.

[d0llainee]

Summary: You go out with Logan to the snow, but you don’t dress for it accordingly

Warnings: none 💌

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.

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“you never listen to me,” Logan’s voice rings out in your ears. God, he was stating the obvious.

“I told you to wear good clothes or not go in at all,” he continues, and it brings a frown to your face.

“This is good clothes,” You utter back, though your voice is ultimately defeated as you shiver from the cold.

“You call a skirt good enough to go into snow?” He turns his head to look at you from where he was grabbing a towel. He’d sat you down on the bed, took off your tights and boots before he had gone into the bathroom for one.

“It felt warm before!”

“Do I gotta do all the thinking here, sweets? Do I?” There is no real harm in his tone, but it does make you feel smaller and smaller, your face warm with embarrassment. At least it was one way you were warming up. “Next time I tell you something, you listen to it.” He finishes, wrapping the towel around your shoulders. And all you can really do is nod. It’s visible to him you had registered choosing to be cute over being warm was a regret. And he gives out a sigh.

“It’s fine. Just cmere, can’t stay in the same clothes,” He gestures a hand, pulling you closer. He slides the towel down just a bit, his hand slipping down to the waistband of your skirt and pulling it down. The towel was still big enough to cover your lower half. He tells you to lift your arms up, and you do. He removes your sweater, throwing it into the pile of your other soft colored clothes. You do feel a tad warmer now, but still your hair is wet and your skin is quite reddened.

He gets up to grab a pair of sweats and socks from the drawer in front of your shared bed, their plain but you couldn’t care less right now.

He sits back down, his buffed arm coming up to grab both of your legs and sit them on his upper knee. He slowly fits the leg holes up and slides the sweats up before grabbing the pair of warm socks and gently slides them on your feet. God, you felt so much better.

“Feel better?” He asks. And you nod almost immediately. “Good.”

“This your lesson to listen to me about better clothes next time?” You sigh at his words.

“Yeah, m’ sorry.” You mumbled. And he doesn’t respond quite yet, sitting back on the bed on the headboard before gently pulling you closer to where your legs were on his lap again.

“Don’t be sorry.” He leans forward, a sneering kiss pressed to your red, shaky lips. Once he pulls away, you take the opportunity to wrap both your arms around his left, snuggling closer to him.

“I love you, Lo” you murmur against his burgundy sleeve.

“Love you too, Baby.” he responds airily, his free hand coming down to wrap around your lower thigh, his thumb caressing your tingled skin back and forth.

sorry that this was so short! was just a small idea that came to my head 💌xo

[rubyloops]

IM SO DISTRAUGHT THEY KILLED CLIVE

[what-even-is-thiss]

The reason people don’t want to work is that it’s just normal for them to be in bad work environments.

My issue with working at Walmart wasn’t the work itself I was doing. It was the circumstances around it. The concrete floor, lack of places to sit, having to put up with asshole customers, not getting time off for injuries, and bad pay.

If I had been given shock pads to stand on or a few chairs to rest on sometimes, if they paid me a livable amount of money and I was allowed to yell back at asshole customers, if they had given me any amount of training, I would happily work part time folding clothes all day and telling people where the swimsuit section is.

I’m a creative type. I’m a writer. I’m pretty smart, even. But if I could make a living folding shirts and listening to podcasts in one ear and helping people find the scented candles for 30 hours a week? I would. Leaves some mental space free for me to brainstorm. Lets me catch up on my reading with audiobooks.

But instead I was treated so badly by upper management and customers that I’m like legitimately a little frightened whenever I step into a Walmart now. And I only worked there for three months a few years ago.

I’m a good lower level worker. When I’m treated well. I like finishing tasks. I like being helpful. I like having some time to talk to coworkers and some time alone with my thoughts. I’m a frickin team player. And that’s how I was at my first job. I was treated well by my supervisor. I was trained. They were patient with me. I was so good at being low on the totem pole at that job because I was valued and felt like I was being listened to. I was able to sit still when there was nothing left to do which made it feel less bad when we were on a time crunch. I didn’t mind working hard at that job because it was fun even though I was doing all the low level stuff that the supervisors didn’t want do.

But at Walmart I was like that for all of two days. Then I figured out that nobody appreciated my work and if I worked in my normal people pleasing manner I’d kill myself because their standards were high and the rewards for meeting them were low.

So I slowed down. I started avoiding customers. I started taking a lot longer to get to my breaks and to come back from them. I became worse at my job because no matter how good I was at it there would be no reward, no appreciation, and I’d just be pushed further beyond my limits.

My only level of happiness from that job came from the people who were working with me. The old ladies and my department manager who made sure I wasn’t overextending myself. The one other young man working in the clothing department who always got sent with me to unload the heavy stuff and commiserated with me about the shoulder injuries, the hurting feet we were too young to have.

But none of that was enough to make me stay. We were constantly understaffed. I was constantly abused by customers and not able to do a thing about it. I was not paid much at all. So as soon as I had enough saved up for what I was trying to do and my last semester of college was about to start I handed in my two weeks.

I would have found a way to stay if I liked that job. If I liked that job I would’ve pushed myself to my mental limits to finish college and keep that job at the same time. Heck that job could’ve been a rest from college. A place to get away from it. But I hate that job so I got out as soon as I could.

I want to work. I want enough money to live sort of comfortably. I want to have some tasks to do to give my creativity a rest. I want to be a part of something. But the way that modern corporate run work environments are set up does not give me any of the things I actually want out of a job. And I think that’s the same for millions of people right now. A lot of people would happily spend their lives as a waitress or an Uber driver or a warehouse worker or a farmhand or any other “low skill” job you can possibly think of. But with the way the world works right now those jobs are absolutely miserable. It doesn’t have to be that way. I know because I’ve had a fulfilling part time minimum wage job that I looked forward to going to every week. A job where I was listened to and allowed to sit when I needed to. I miss that job. Especially now since I’ve realized that’s not the standard. It should be. People should look forward to going to work or at the very least not get mild ptsd whenever they set foot into a Walmart.

[lesbian-not-american27]

Ok but you have to include the full clip though

The guys name is Paul Parker and he’s literally my hero

The clip is funny ofc, he literally tells sco mo to square up, but it’s also heartbreaking to see how run down and exhausted he is- how all our volunteers were- during black summer. My parents are both full time rfs members and I’m nearly of age to become an offical member myself, and I can’t begin to describe how run ragged they are every bush fire season, let alone 2019-20. My dad’s birthday was just a few days ago and while we were sitting in our living room cutting the pavlova he was still on call with the radios by his side. Our emergency service workers- the rfs, the ses, paramedics and support services and so many more- are overworked and underpaid and constantly let down by our government, and good old Scotty from marketing is a prime fucking example.

Fuck Scott Morrison, support your local brigades.

I just spent some time scrolling through this blog and am suffering from sever laughter. Thanks so much for collating the countries craziest moments. One of my favourites is when Scott Morrison was in Hawaii while the bushfires where burning.

December 2019: As Australia's east coast is engulfed in the worst bushfires in living memory, rumours begin to circulate that Australia's Prime Minister Scott Morrison may have secretly fucked off for a holiday in Hawaii.

Keep in mind, this is what is going down in Australia at the time:

The Hawaii rumour is initially written off as a fringe conspiracy, because surely nobody could be that fuckin tonedeaf, and it was quickly forgotten about... until an Australian man visiting Hawaii UPLOADED A SELFIE ON THE BEACH WITH THE PM THROWING A SHAKA.

At which point all hell broke loose.

Overnight the formerly popular "Scomo" became the most despised man in all of Australia. Think "firefighters shouting out of their windows to news cameras" level of despised.

After about two days of radio silence and pretending like he was still at home running the country, the Prime Minister's handlers finally dragged him onto call with an Australian radio station, where he pinky promised to return to Australia as fast as he could in an attempt to calm things down.

Unfortunately Scott's empathy consultant (a real job) then had to watch Scott pour more gasoline on the dumpster fire by uttering the now famous phrase "Look I don't hold a hose mate" when asked by the radio interviewer why the fucking fuck the fuckhead wasn't fucking in Australia doing his fucking job during a massive fucking crisis.

Testing just how much worse things could get, Scomo then proceeded to NOT rush back to Australia as promised, instead attempting to complete the rest of his holiday, a fact that was exposed when a passerby snapped a picture of him still lounging on the beach two days later.

Eventually, holiday complete, Morrison did reluctantly slink back to Australia, and in an attempt to calm things down, he decided to pay a visit to a small town that had been destroyed by the fires.

Which was a big mistake.

Scomo still had not registered how absolutely and totally he had screwed the poodle with his Hawaiian beach vacation, and he walks into what is now taught in PR classes as one of the greatest examples of "what not do do in a crisis" in all of history.

Scotty from Marketing, as he is now dubbed by the nation, spends a painfully cringe-inducing hour wandering around a burned down town with TV news cameras in tow, having to FORCE PEOPLE TO SHAKE HIS HAND in what is some of the most awkward footage you will ever see.

At this point it's probably also worth mentioning that, before becoming Prime Minister, Scott Morrison's biggest claim to fame in politics was being the guy that was so far up the coal lobby's arse that he literally brought coal into parliament and waved it around, claiming it doesn't hurt people.

So when a protest was organised it turned out to be one big national fuck you to the Prime Minister, the likes of which the world has never seen before or since.

Needless to say, at this point Scomo's career was dead in the water, but thanks to the rules brought in to stop Australian political parties from knifing their leader every two weeks (a popular Aussie passtime) Morrison basically couldn't get fired until after the next election.

And so, when the election rolled around in 2022, we decided that was an opportune time to travel over to Hawaii to erect this bad boy tribute to the Prime Minister, on the very beach where Scomo had sat and drank margaritas that one fateful week in December as Australia burned (thanks to @chaser for funding the ticket)

[hurtspideyparker]

If Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lived together Part 2

Read Part 1 and Part 3

Tony: Why is Underoos mopping the ceiling?

Sam: Told him since he's sticky that's his chore

Bucky: It's only fair he helps out around the house

Tony: Hm. Makes sense

-

Vision cooked dinner:

Peter: *pushing around food to make it look eaten*

Natasha: *surreptitiously spitting into napkin*

Steve: *taking small bites with tons of water*

Bucky: *just stares at full plate*

Tony: Well this is disgusting, I'm ordering pizza

-

Sam: C'mon man stop moping around, you gotta get yourself a girl

Bucky: Ok.

Sam: Ok? Okayyyyy! I know-

Bucky: Give me your phone

Sam: Oh you got a number in mind already hotshot? *hands phone over*

Bucky: *ring* Hi Sarah ;)

Sam: BOY-

-

Peter: Ned thought you would seperate your colours from your lights but he also thought you'd be homophobic so I don't pay him much mind cuz clearly I'm more of a superhero expert than him but he does have a 2% better average than me in history so like maybe you do hand wash your clothes and that's why I asked what underwear you wear because-

Steve: *listening intently with apprehension and alarm*

Natasha: I can't believe you found the one person on Earth who talks more nonsense than you

Tony: I know right, it's incredibly unnerving. I'm planning on adopting him

-

Peter: Mr. Stark I have to tell you something. I think Vision is a... *whispers* pervert

Tony: Um, why?

Peter: He keeps floating through my room without knocking! He saw me changing, he saw my nipples !

Tony: Well if anyone's a predator here it would be you. I mean showing your nipples to a 2 year old? Deplorable.

Peter:

Peter: Oh god, I'm the pervert...

-

Bucky: Y'know animosity isn't good between teammates. I think we should spend more time together

Sam: Am I being punked right now? Where's the camera

Bucky: I'm serious. I think it would be healthy for us to bond

Sam: Okay fine I'll bite... what did you have in mind

Bucky: Wanna go for a run?

Sam: *slams door in Bucky's face*

-

*staring at Bucky's sparkly clean metal arm*

Bucky: Dishwasher?

Peter: Dishwasher :)

(later that day)

Bucky: I've decided to let the child live

Peter: YoU wHaT?!

-

Thwip

Tony: Who took my coffee cup, It was right here

Thwip

Bruce: Um, has someone seen my book? I just had it

Thwip

Steve: I could've sworn I was holding a pen a moment ago

*giggling from the ceiling*

Tony: Young man I will take those webshooters away if you use them for shenanigans and rascality

Peter, muffled: Mr. Hawkeye told me to!

Clint: Oh so you're just gonna rat me out like that?

Peter: Sor- OOF

*falls out of ceiling vent*

-

Sam: You're in my spot

Bucky: There are no spots, it's a common area

Sam: Well that's my spot

Bucky: Did you buy the chair??

Sam: No, but everyone knows that's where I sit. Right Steve?

Steve: Oops I forgot something in my car, be right back *leaves*

Sam: Still my spot

Bucky: Still not

Sam: *sits on him*

Bucky: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL THE COUCHES ARE FREE-

Sam: IT'S MY SPOT YOU CAN'T TAKE A MAN'S FAVOURITE CHAIR-

BUCKY: YOU HAVE ISSUES GET OFF ME-

(one hour later)

Steve: Hey so turns out I don't have a car! Isn't that funn...

Sam & Bucky: *Squeezed awkwardly on the chair together*

Steve: I think I left something in my car

-

Steve: Leave the bedroom door open when you have Vision in there

Wanda: UGH you're so protective

Tony: Teenagers, am I right? Caught Pete reassembling my particle accelerator at midnight because he needed to neutralize a miniature nuclear bomb he nabbed off some guy he neglected to tell me was trying to kill him

Steve:

Steve: Wanda y'know what do whatever you want

Wanda: Really?

Steve: Yes just keep being normal. At least I can read about our issues in a parenting book

-

Thor: Ah, new warriors I see! Good to make all your acquaintance. But why are you so grumpy my friend?

Bucky: *glaring*

Peter: He's always like that. It's um, P- P- PMS? Wait -

Natasha: Yes it's PMS

Wanda: He's got it bad

Steve: *genuinely concerned* Bucky you didn't tell me something was wrong. What can I do to help?

Bucky:

Bucky: I like chocolate

-

Wanda: Welcome to the first annual girls night! This place reeks of men, so I thought we needed some women time

Pepper: Why is Vision here?

Wanda: I get sad when he's gone

Natasha: Why is Pietro here?

Pietro: Slay queens

Wanda: Moral support I think

Maria: Why is Peter here?

Wanda: He looked really upset when I said he wasn't included and I felt bad

Wanda: Anyways... yay girls! Who wants me to paint their nails?

Peter: ME ME ME

-

Steve: Pancakes or waffles?

Natasha: Pancakes

Steve: Good because I don't have a waffle maker

Natasha: Then why would you ask-

Steve: It's important for your voice to be heard, as team leader I value your opinion

*2 minutes later*

Steve: Good morning Clint, pancakes or waffles?

Clint: Waffles

Steve: Oh no.

-

Some of these were based on requests (ex. more Sam & Bucky, dad Steve w/ Wanda) so if you have certain dynamics you enjoy let me know !

[sleepy-little-stars]

andy speaks: a very self-indulgent fic 😞 as a humanities girlie, I just rlly want my silly nerdy stem bf ☹️ hot nerdy stem bf pls pls pls come my way 🙏 zayne will have his version of this too!! bcuz muehehe why have one stem bf when u can have two. TWO?! 😻 n poseidon raf is in the drafts 🙂‍↕️

stem bf!caleb who’s such a nerd trapped in a hot guy’s body, it drives you insane. he could be standing in front of you looking all hot with that pilot uniform of his but the moment he opens his mouth? you just wanna jump him there and then. 

“how much do you love me?” caleb hums in response to your question. he has his arms around you, swaying the both of you ever so slightly from side to side. 

“honestly? like about 9.8 meters per second squared. in other words, gravity is pulling me towards you.” he grins before leaning in to kiss your cheek. 

“could’ve just said you love me to the moon and back.”

“flowery words are your thing, sweets. not mine.”

stem!bf caleb who invites you for a date night at his dorm.

you show up with snacks and a list of movies you want to watch with him, such as barbie because you are going to sit him down and explain how barbie is one of the best movies of the century and the message it conveys to women and little girls around the world— wait.. why is he surrounded with legos?

“what’s with the legos?” 

“it’s not just legos, pip. it’s the 7,500 pieces millenium falcon. come on, help me with it.” he pulled you down beside him on the carpet, your legs deposited on top of his lap and an arm enclosing you to his chest.

“so, you invited me here to make me do labor.” you grumbled seemingly annoyed yet the hand reaching out for the building manual says otherwise. caleb merely chuckles at your faux demise, pecking your temple. “don’t worry. we can watch barbie as we build. and.. we’ll do a powerpoint night tomorrow. deal?”

“deal.” and so you spent the entire night wrestling with tiny building blocks to help complete his beloved spaceship. 

stem bf!caleb who keeps every paper plane you give him. when unfolded, the paper is filled with your words of love dedicated to him. 

stem!bf caleb who is your very own human calculator. you always bring him with you during grocery runs so you can easily keep track of the total as you shop. 

“caleb, add this.”

“bread is $2.49.. your current total is now $11.27.”

“thanks, babe. now, let’s go get chips.”

stem!bf caleb who watches all your favorite films or shows in his free times. he remembers all the times you mentioned them in passing. 

“since when did you watch girl, interrupted?” 

“last night. you were talking about it the other day and i didn’t really know how to respond so i watched it. now, tell me all about lisa again. her character was really something— ah!” he got cut off by you throwing your arms around him and peppering his face with kisses.

stem bf! caleb who yaps about science theories during cuddle time. your head is on his chest, his arms tight around you.

“time slows down when the gravity increases. that’s what you call gravitational time dilation. like, imagine you’re on top of a very high mountain. time would pass faster for you than for someone at sea level because the gravity is weaker the farther you are from the center— babe?” caleb looks down, lips quirked upon seeing you dozed off. he pinches your nose, earning a sleepy whine from you. “stop.” 

“you promised to listen to me talk. are you breaking promises now, pip?” caleb leans closer to bite at your cheek, grinning widely when you push his face away. “i’ll let you yap later. nap comes first.”

“is that a promise?” 

“yes.”

“okay. i love you.”

“.. love you too.” 

“good night.”

“hm.”

“you know, einstein’s theory of relativity—” 

“sleep, caleb.” 

[screampied]

Begging screaming crying scratching at the walls of my enclosure like a rabid beast for more pussy slapping

❛ GIMME GIMME MORE! ❜

ꕥ : ft. gojo, toji, geto, nanami.

synopsis. asking the jujutsu kaisen men to slap it.

tags. fem! reader, pussy-slapping, impact play, degradation, squirt mentions, praise, unprotected sex, overstim, spit. wc. 2.1k

☆ FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“oh, want me to do what…?” he’d grouse, you’re leaned up against his back—your legs pried apart, and the scenery was candidly messy. it was almost silly the way your eyes were stupidly rolling back, you’re entirely dumb as you tried to ask him a simple honest question. “remember what i told ya about mumblin', pretty girl.”

your legs writhe a bit from the stimulation, the way he was manoeuvring his thick fingers against your pussy, so pitifully wet…

you heard how drenched and soaked you were before you whined, “s-smack it toji, please.”

“smack what?” he utters, a free hand gripping underneath your thigh. you moaned once you felt him run his middle finger down the inner part of your clit. “want me to smack your pussy?” you’d nod against his chest desperately as a response and he chuckles. “yeah yeah. bet you do,” and his voice dropped an octave throughout each sexy. it had no reason being that attractive—you kept feeling yourself pulse from him circling digits around your cunt before grinning. “okay, if that’s what ya want. now open these legs, ‘n hold still.”

gradually, you open your legs for toji just a bit more whilst your nails make it’s job to dig into the skin of his thigh. “perfect,” he husks, and your head just rubs against his bare chest. “guessin' ya want me to hit it little sof—”

“jus’ f-fuckin' do it, toji.” you’d whimper out of frustration—your voice comes out a tad more whiney then you intended and he just snickers.

“don’t rush me to spank y’er sloppy pussy, whore. i’ll take my damn time, ‘n you’ll sit patient until i’m ready,” and you’re briefly stunned for a moment once he brings a rough smack towards your clit. “listen to how soaked this shit is. shame.”

“to—”

“ah ah, no talkin’, let her speak,” toji murmurs in a rough voice, gravelly and deeply rich with baritone. the way he addressed your pussy as her. you lean into his touch once he brings a hand over your mouth, and the very palm of his hand gets met with your slick saliva. “ooooh. look at how much wetter y’er pussy gets each time i—spank,” and each hit your cunt twitches. “yeah, ‘s it. take it so well, look at that.”

you gnaw into your cheek, lashes fluttering beneath you until you feel toji’s fingers slither its way into your mouth. “…yeah,” he mumbles, and your pussy’s met with more and spanks, the sting made your ears ring and spiral. “aw, ya gonna cum from this aren’tcha, girl? this all it takes?”

it felt so good, the way your mouth grew dry, his dirty talk right up against your ear. the bass in his voice—toji’s smooth with his words, suave even.

suave but nasty.

“fuckin' give it to me to then,” he grunts, and you gasp, feeling him use his entire wrist, the way he moves his fingers against your pussy. your head’s just idly tapping and tapping against his chest as he’s now got two fingers shoved inside. smack after smack, you never wanted it to end. “lemme see how messy you can get just from a few pussy slaps, doll.”

☆ GOJO SATORU.

“not this again,” gojo playfully sulks, he’d just got done from rearranging your insides—you’re all dumbly wide eyed, mouth still open, panting. he just got down stuffing you full of his broad, thick set inches. such a mess, his own cum was just languidly oozing out of your cunt. “spank here? baby, you say this everyti-”

“please….satoru,” you’d pout, and even that gesture doesn’t do anything. he just smiles, swiping a tongue against his lips before moving his eyes down towards your pulsating clit. “just a few times. feels good when you do it.”

jocularly, he raises a thin brow.

“…yeah?” and he purposely leans up close, you shudder from the moment you feel him smack the fat tip of his dick between your folds—you only pouted more, because you wanted his hands, not that. “well, if it feels so good, why can’t ya do it yourself? you’re a big girl. you know good ‘n well how to please yourself, no?”

“s-satoruuu.” you entreated, feeling the steaming heat pool up between your legs.

“oh okay, fineeee,” he mocks your exact tone, and your lip quivers as you brace yourself—you part your legs open just a bit, and he smiles knowing he doesn’t have to do that. you let off a soft mewl once without warning he brings a hard smack against your soaked pussy, then another, then another. “aw, look at the way your cute tits bounce each time i smack it.”

and he was right, each hit he gave against your clit, you’d cutely jerk against the bed, making your entire body move, including your breasts.

“wow, maybe i should spank ya here more often,” he murmurs in a sly, low voice. the way he’d pitch his tone just to talk dirty to you made you ten times wetter. your nerves, you felt them throb inside you as you laid back against the silk sheets. “the noises you make too, ‘s kinky,” he giggles, taking a second to caress your pussy before smacking it again. “mhm, that spot, yeah? so damp for me. nasty ‘n wet, allll for the honored one.”

“f-fuck.” you’d drag out, panting heavily. gojo’s eyes remain on you the entire time—you’re having a staring contest with the wall, dry wall to be specific. hit after hit after hit, you tried counting the spanks but…oh, it was pointless. “i think ‘m gonna cum a-again.”

he studies your clit, smearing your own glistening slick against your folds before softly blowing against it to watch you move and squirm even more.

“god, you’re such a fuckin’ soaker, aren’t ya?” and he smacks it again, a good reasonable pace. your head goes back against the plump pillow and that’s when your back started to arch. “tell me how wet you are.”

“i-i’m wet, jus’ for you, ‘toru.” you whimpered, moans after moans just effortlessly coaxing out of you—as if it was nothing.

“yeah you fuckin’ are. now let’s test out that cute little squirt velocity while i’m at it, hm?”

☆ NANAMI KENTO.

“yes, my love,” he’d utter in a soft hushed tone, you had just got done riding him—overly sensitive still, he’s buried all inside you with your arms being thrown around his shoulders. “what do you want? i can tell when you want something.”

“i—” you started, suddenly growing too embarrassed to ask. would he do it? nanami was so sweet during sex, you were the upmost sure. you’d always fantasize about him spanking your pussy. the thought of him giving you a weird look or him finding it the slightest bit of strange.

his fingers gently trail against your waist, and he gives you a warm smile.

“um,” you started, wriggling your hips just against him before he softly pressed his thumbs on both sides of your hips. “it’s…promise you won’t find it weird?”

he chuckles, “i promise, hon. now tell me what is it that you want from me.”

you huff out a sigh, before getting off of him, taking a few seconds to speak before you grab his hand. your fingers brushed against the cold band of his inordinately pricey watch. “i want…” you trailed, and he watched as you drag his hand further down until its right between your legs. “i want you to slap h-here.”

“…oh,” nanami says with a coy smile. “this is what has you all shy? darling….sweetheart,” he coos, his voice gets seductively low and you felt yourself throb before he lies you down on your back. “but, why of course, anything to please the pretty girl, i suppose.”

nanami’s so gentle and tender with his touch, he makes sure to caress your pussy with his palm before even thinking about spanking it—you grab onto his free unoccupied wrist once the first slap against your cunt approaches you.

almost forthwith, you moan from the feeling of immense pleasure, he views the way your body reacts. the way your hips easily thrusts forward, and you’re soaking.

“was that too hard, sweetheart?” he whispers, making sure to caress and gently pat your folds soothingly. “i know you’re enjoyin' this but as your husband, i just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

“i’m fine, h-harder, kento.” you panted, sliding a tongue against your lips in utter desperation. it felt so good, especially whenever he softly maneuvered sweet circles against your pussy as an attempt to gentle caress the after sting.

he smiles with a firm shake of his head. “my oh my, never knew you were this kinky, my love,” and he happily complies. each spank has you going feral, your legs could barely hold themselves open but like the gentleman nanami was — he held them open for you.

“nice ‘n wet for me, good girl. just relax and let me give your precious spot the attention you want,” he’d mumble in a soft, gruff tone. the noises were so lewd and messy, the sounds of your own pussy squelching continuously, just filthy. after a while, nanami starts to slow down a bit once he knows you’re approaching your peak. “aw, that look you’re giving me,” he says, gently rubbing his palm against your slick before giving it a final spank. “it’s okay, i know. i know. you’re gonna make a mess on my hand?”

you nod and he hums. “yeah? good, now just relax, ‘n give it to your husband,” he whispers, leaning in to give your pussy a soft kiss. “let go just for me and only me, good girl.”

☆ SUGURU GETŌ.

he’d be in the middle of eating you out when you ask him—you’d simply give his hair a light tug, and his darkened pupils give you an almost intimidating glare.

“suguru...” you’d mumble, and he was so messy, your sweet slick running all the way down his chin, he takes a second to lick the sweetness from his lips before rubbing them together.

“yes, baby. i was in the middle of eating until you interrupted me.” he mutters, sassy attitude in his tone, he looked so pretty between your legs.

you swallowed, getting a bit comfortable in your position, releasing your fingers from his hair before mumbling. “um, i wanted you to do that thing you did last time.”

“girl you’re gonna have to be specific,” he grumbles, a bit irked that you pulled him off, whenever geto ate you out he didn’t like to be cut off so abruptly. “do what thing?”

“spank my um...pussy.” you drag out.

geto lowly chuckles, soft dimples pressing against the corners of his lips. “that?” you felt yourself heat up before he leans up close between your legs.

“fine fine, sure thing baby. anything you want.” and you stare down at him, he was lazy enough to keep your panties on, just sleazily shoving the middle string aside.

“you better watch me do it since you interrupted me,” he utters in a low voice, and you throb at how close he is, warm breath just softly brushing against your pussy. “tie my hair up for me again while you’re at it, girl,” he whispers. you do, grabbing a good amount of his hair, tying it up for him. “thank you baby.”

you shriek out a moan once he gives you the first smack against your cunt, then slides his tongue against your inner folds—giving it a big suck before he delivers the next smack.

“f-fuck, s-spit on it too, please..”

“you’re bossy today, huh,” he utters in a deep voice, the soft padded tip of his nose prods against your nub before he gathers a wad before geto spats right on your pussy only to lap it right up with his tongue. “eyes on me, say it.”

“e-eyes on you, sugu…”

you moaned, feeling yourself twitch from the stimulation. you watch as he slowly licks your pussy, getting a good enough taste, savoring it before smacking it again. geto rubbed it for a brief seconds before doing it again and again, a constant loop.

he smiles, nose deep practically—your legs were just about to give out before you end up squirting. geto chuckles, clicking his tongue in amusement before leaning up, a hand still between your legs.

you whine once he gives your pussy a playful squeeze, he was always so good with his hands.

“you messy girl,” he slyly says before grabbing your chin softly, staring right into your eyes. he squeezes your lips together before sneaking a kiss—only to pull away with a striking gaze. “now stick out your tongue. i want you to taste your mess.”

[thesuperiorrobin]

Safe space~

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Fem!Crush!Reader

Warnings: none

Damian needed to get out of the house.

Immediately.

Somehow, everybody seemed to be pushing his buttons just right, from the way Jason would just come in unannounced and eat the food while chewing loudly, Dick trying to invade his personal space while completely yelling in his ear, and when Tim would enter a room he was in he would get this annoyed and ticked off feeling that just had him puffing and glaring at the tired man. He needed to leave the manor or else the entire building would be ashes on the ground in the next ten minutes. Bruce was nowhere to be seen and Alfred was doing his own little thing in the kitchen, probably feeding a very hungry Jason.

Damian hides himself in a black car that belonged to his father, a nice old Aston Martin DBS and as he sits in the driver's seat with his phone in his hands he can only stare at the screen, thumbs typing away.

Damian: are you awake?

His eyes glance up at the time on his phone, reading 10:37 pm. He hopes you’re awake, considering it’s a school night after all. He waits for a response, three minutes go by and his phone vibrates in his hands.

You: yeah was literally about to go to bed and rote until 3 am.

You: why? Wanna play Roblox?

You: see I told you it wasn’t so bad. Now I got you addicted 🙄🤚

Damian rolls his eyes at his screencast shaking his head as he starts to type. On your side of the screen, you can see the bubble disappear and appear, for a solid minute before he finally sends the message.

Damian: if you are not busy, I would like for you to accompany me.

You: YAY ROADTRIP😩

You: where we going?

You: also I’m like broke .38 cents isn’t really going get me anything.

Damian: Anywhere. I just need to get out of the house to take a breather and don’t worry about it, whatever you need I’ll get it for you.

You: you okay? Did something happen?

Damian: No. Just be ready when I get there.

You: okay😑

He really hates that stupid emoji.

You’re running out the door when you get the ‘I’m here’ message from him and Damian watches as you almost miss a step and trip over your own feet. You make it into his car in one piece and buckle yourself in.

Damian can see that you were getting ready to lay in bed, entering his car with your hair out of your face, all cozied up with warm black pants that had kuromis imprinted all over, and a black zip-up sweater that’s keeping you warm.

“Helloooo~” you breathe out, placing your tote bag on your lap as you glance at Damian “So where we going?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah….but I wanna skip the meal and go straight for the dessert!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah” you shrug “we got free will, why not use it”

This is where you were now, in the car as your choice of music plays softly, after Damian so kindly gave you the Aux after complaining about his music taste for a solid minute. Your seat is, moved back giving you room to get comfortable as you face Damian with your leg bent over the other.

You seem to be yapping away with the milkshake in hand as you wave it around slightly and he listens, eating away at his ice cream cone as he watches your every move.

Damian feels at ease, relaxing up against his seat as he glances at you—eyeing every feature on your face. From every eyelash to every acne scar to every birthmark to the smile lines that grace your face. He’s memorized them by now. You feel his eyes on you, and as you glance up to stare up at him he looks away shyly.

Clearly out of character for him.

“Is there something on my face?” you question as your arms reach out to pull down the car's visor, seeing as it had a little mirror to look at with little lights to see in the dark “Do I have whipped cream on me?”

“No… just thinking” he breathes out, eyes fixed out ahead of him.

You hum, eyes never leaving the visor as you answer back “Does that have anything to do with why you wanted to get out of the house tonight?”

He doesn’t answer instead, he takes a glance back at you. You’re staring back at him with a questionable look, visor now put back up. He takes a look at your hand, fingernails shining in the moonlight.

“Did you get your nails done?” He’s quick with the topic change, seeing as you glance down to show him but you retreat your hand back with a glare.

“Don’t change the subject!”

It takes hums a moment to answer before sighing “It was nothing serious….every little thing my brothers did irritate me”

“Ah…sibling irritation” you let out a breathy laugh “I get it, your brothers can be a handful sometimes”

At least you get him, others really wouldn’t, and his father sometimes doesn’t. It’s not like he had any siblings growing up anyway. Sometimes people would disagree with him, but you seem to agree with everything he says even if he’s wrong, which is rare, but you still do anyway.

Sooner or later the conversation seems to shift from a different topic to another different topic—and it seems like the cycle continues for hours.

He likes this.

You aren’t loud, you aren’t slurping away at your drink and your presence doesn’t seem to annoy him at all.

Yeah, he enjoys your presence more than anyone he knows.

and as he finishes the last of his ice cream he clutches his head, groaning as he hears you laugh.

“Brain freeze dumbass”

He starts to laugh too, and now the car is filled with your giggles and his breathy laughs.

Yeah…. You’re his little safe space and he’ll do anything to protect it.

Was literally supposed to post something for Valentine’s Day but I ended up getting the flu plus strep throat and an ear infection all at once so I couldn’t write it 😕.

[flwrstqr]

【 備考 】 STUCK WITH U ⟡ GIRLFRIEND PRIVILEGES ───𝖣𝒾𝖠𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖲 ㅤ. . 𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎

SCR𝓲PT : enhypen and their girlfriend privileges 1OOOwc. ˊᯅˋ fluff head canon ❜ fem!centered && skinship, petnames . . ARCHiVE&CLICK

다니 : i love stuck with u.. it's been my top listened song for the past month. i think i'm addicted to ariana grande TT listening to ari's music & writing = my life

LEE HEESEUNG

"no." heeseung deadpans, effortlessly shutting down jake’s request to borrow one of his hoodies. sunghoon tries next, but heeseung doesn’t even let him finish his sentence before shaking his head. “absolutely not.” the boys groan, grumbling about how selfish he is, but then you come along, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes, and suddenly, he’s a goner. “baby,” he hums, already tugging off the hoodie he’s wearing, “you cold?” he drapes it over your shoulders before you can answer, hands lingering on your waist as he leans in, voice dropping. “looks better on you anyway.” “if you want more, just say the word, love. i’ll empty my whole closet for you.” heeseung smiles. then he smirks, tilting your chin up. “told you,” he muses, thumb brushing your bottom lip, “only my pretty girl gets this privilege.”

PARK JAY

jay doesn’t think twice about it—his card is already out before you can even reach for your wallet. “babe, i got it,” he says, tone final, as he taps to pay for your meal like it’s second nature. he barely ever does this for his members, maybe on their birthdays if they beg, but for you? every time. whether it’s coffee, late-night takeout, or a whole shopping spree, jay never lets you spend a single cent when he’s around. “but jay—” you start to protest, only for him to shoot you a look before casually slipping his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. “don’t ‘but jay’ me,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “just let me take care of you, okay?” and how could you say no when he’s looking at you like that—like spoiling you is the easiest, most natural thing in the world?

SIM JAKE

jake's phone is always on do-not-disturb or muting conversations—except for you. no matter where he is, what he's doing, or who he's with, the moment your name flashes on his screen, he’s answering. even if it’s three in the morning, voice thick with sleep. “baby?” he murmurs, and you hear the rustling of sheets as he sits up, already alert. “what’s wrong? you okay?” his voice is laced with concern, but there’s something else—something soft, like he’d wait all night just to hear you breathe. you don’t even have to say much; the second you sigh, he’s whispering, “i got you, sweetheart. just talk to me.” his hand instinctively reaches for where you’d usually be beside him, but when he finds nothing, he groans, already pulling on a hoodie. “stay there. i’m coming.” because when it comes to you, nothing—not time, not sleep,—gets in the way.

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon never lets anyone touch his closet—not even his members. but you? you get free pass, standing in front of his neatly arranged wardrobe as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with that soft, amused smile. “baby, not the leather pants,” he groans, watching as you hold them up with a mischievous grin. “they look so good on you, though,” you tease, stepping closer, smoothing your hands over his shoulders, adjusting the collar of his shirt. he exhales, defeated, letting you fix his hair next, his sharp eyes softening under your touch. “you really like dressing me up, huh?” he mutters, but he’s already slipping into the fit you picked. when he turns to the mirror, he huffs a small laugh. “okay, fine. you have good taste.” then, quieter, as he tugs you against him, pressing a kiss to your forehead—“but only you get to do this, got it?”

KIM SUNOO

you’re the only one who gets to take sunoo's phone without asking, stretching out on his bed while you tap away at some game or fill his gallery with blurry selfies. “baby, at least make them cute if you’re stealing my storage,” he whines, but there’s no real complaint in his voice, just fond exasperation. when you glance at him, pouting, he sighs and moves closer, gently pulling you into his arms. “here, let me help,” he murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm as he watches you play. and even though he’d usually never let anyone touch his screen, he doesn’t even blink when you scroll through his messages like it’s yours. because, well—so is he.

YANG JUNGWON

jungwon sits at his desk, brows furrowed, fingers flying over his keyboard, deep in concentration. anyone else would know better than to interrupt him, butyou have privileges. without hesitation, you step behind him, draping your arms over his shoulders before pressing a soft kiss to his temple. he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even pause, just hums in acknowledgment as you pepper kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the slope of his nose. “missed me today, didn't you?” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement, but he tilts his head ever so slightly, giving you more access. you giggle, cupping his face and pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. “hmm maybe,” you tease, and he finally turns his head, letting his lips brush against your cheek. “only because your my pretty princess,” he says.

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki never lets anyone touch his hair—never. he dodges, swats hands away, glares if someone even tries. but right now, he’s sitting on the floor in front of you, his head resting against your knees as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his soft strands, twisting and braiding as a tv show plays in the background. he doesn’t say a word, just hums lightly, his body relaxed like he was made to be here, like your hands in his hair are the most natural thing in the world. when he turns his head, his lips brush against your fingers in a lazy attempt at a kiss, and you gasp. “ack—stop moving, riki! i was trying to braid your hair!” you huff, tugging a little. he only grins, eyes half-lidded as he tilts his head back into your hands. “then don’t stop,” he murmurs, voice teasing. and god, he’s so down bad, because if it’s you, he’d let you do this forever.