#also i needed to highlight how short he is

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"DO YOU WANT ME TO?"

I wrote another smut story with Bucky (I need him so bad is not even funny anymore)

I hope you like it!

Wakanda was unlike any place you had ever been before.

Its landscapes, its people, its culture, and the way they understood life and death was something that captivated you enormously.

King T'Challa had organized a small party to bond with the rest of the team. Steve, Banner, Tony, and even Thor were there, enjoying the food and drink while socializing with the rest of the people in the room.

You, on the other hand, only had eyes for the super-soldier.

The Captain's best friend was leaning on the bar of the place, his gaze lost in the drink that floated at the bottom of his glass.

You allowed yourself to observe him for a few moments, not for too long, since you were afraid that he would catch you looking at him.

He already knew that, anyway.

He hadn't turned his head to look at you either because he was afraid that your shyness would envelop you and you wouldn't look at him again for the rest of the night.

If he could hear your thoughts, he would have known that you couldn’t have done it even if you wanted to.

He was dressed completely in black, his leather pants hugging his strong legs, highlighting the shape of his thighs. On top, a short-sleeved shirt (also black) left his arms bare.

Your gaze fell especially on the metal one.

The new model that T’Challa had given him was really beautiful, with gold details along it, as well as on the fingers, which you tried not to look at too much.

It was then that you felt his gaze on you. His green eyes watched you for a moment, freezing you in place for a couple of minutes.

You knew you had two options: pretend that whatever that was hadn’t happened, OR momentarily overcome your shyness and go over to talk to him.

You gathered your courage and opted for the second option. You walked through the crowd and sat on the stool next to him. He turned his head as soon as he saw you, making your eyes lock again for a few silent moments, before you broke the moment.

-How are you with the new arm? –you asked as a greeting, nodding towards him-

-It's different from when I was the winter soldier –he answered moving his fingers for a moment- there was no feeling, it was more like a sensation, a vague pressure that there was something there –he explained- they wanted me to feel less normal and more like… -A weapon –you murmured softly, he nodded slowly- -Yes –he affirmed- I remember the cold –he added looking at the place where the metal began- always cold

The way he said it made you feel like your heart was breaking into a thousand pieces inside your chest.

The damage that Hydra had done to him was irreparable, but you were glad that little by little with your help every day he managed to find a reason to keep going.

-But now with Wakanda and Princess Shuri I almost feel like it's real somehow- he laughed- if that makes any sense

-It does, Buck- you murmured making him look at you again- you don't know how glad I am that you think that- you said turning your head towards the crowd, avoiding the intense shine of his eyes- I think that… -you swallowed nervously- I think the captain wanted to talk to you… I'll go find him

You stood up, but he held you back by holding your wrist delicately with his metal arm. The coldness of the material against your warm skin sent shivers of pleasure throughout your body.

-Steve left a while ago with one of the girls who was in this room a few minutes ago - he smiled sideways - I have a feeling that two things could be happening right now - he listed - one is what you and I know, and the other is that my friend is explaining to the poor girl the story of when they found him on the ice - he laughed - he loves to tell that story - he murmured, more to himself than to you -

-Yes, he told it to me the day Tony introduced me to the team - you intervened, his green eyes observed you with delicacy and intensity in equal parts - What are you asking me to do, Buck?

-Please stay - he whispered kindly - I enjoy your company - he confessed raising the corner of his lips in a smile - besides, nobody wants to be with the half-man, half-machine guy - he snorted, taking a sip of his drink -

-Well, I'm here - you said, making him almost choke - I'll stay if that's what you really want - you murmured, working up your courage -

-I want it - he affirmed, gesturing you towards the hallway, where there were more glass windows - but maybe we could go somewhere more secluded - he said - so many voices talking at the same time make my head hurt

"Sure, that's probably it" you thought before nodding kindly

-Okay - you agreed - you go first, Barnes

You walked in silence side by side until you were in front of another huge glass window, from where you could see the enormous expanse of savannah in front of you. The way the moonlight silhouetted against the treetops was something unheard of, only visible there, in Wakanda.

You tilted your head to look at him, causing your gazes to clash again, because he was already looking at you when you did.

-May I ask why you brought me here, Sergeant Barnes? –you asked, turning to him-

-I haven't been a sergeant for a long time now, doll –he smiled, watching how the nickname made your cheeks blush- you can call me Bucky

-Okay, Bucky –you corrected- What are we doing here? –you questioned- I don't want T'Challa to think that we have skipped the party that he has so kindly organized for us

-Nobody is going to think that, honey –he whispered with a half-smile on his lips- I have asked Wanda to do one of her little tricks so that nobody notices that we are not there –he confessed- she has made with her magic two identical copies of us, who right now must be at the bar, in the same place where we were a few seconds ago

-Wait, Wanda has done that for you? –you opened your eyes wide, surprised- And she has listened to you?

The soldier shrugged his shoulders

-She owed me a favor –he said making you tilt your head as if it were hopeless- and she hasn't done it for me, doll, but for you –he corrected, making you stare at him-

-What are you talking about? –you asked nervously- look, if this is some kind of joke or something, I'll try to kill Maximoff with my own hands, even if it's the last thing I do

-As much as I like you when you get violent, I have to stop you there –he smiled- this is no joke, and Wanda… -he whispered- she's just helping a good friend, nothing more

You stared at him not knowing what to say

-I don't understand anything that's going on, Bucky –you confessed nervously by his sudden closeness- so please, I'd appreciate it if you explained it to me

-Your friend told me about your little obsession with me –he said making you feel like the ground opened up at your feet, threatening to swallow you whole- so I've taken out my pending favor on her, which has led us to be alone for a while –he explained- Wanda said that she can keep the projections up for quite a while, so there's plenty of time

You felt like you were running out of air. You didn't know whether to go hit your friend, or shout words of thanks at her in her native language. You had never contemplated something like that happening: I mean, you alone with Bucky Barnes? Not even in your wildest dreams had something like that happened, and yet there you were, you dressed in a dark green two-piece suit and he in his damn black t-shirt and pants set.

-Plenty of time for what? - you dared to ask-

He looked both ways down the hall, before gently placing his metal hand on your waist. The fact that you didn't move away made him take it as if you didn't mind his touch, so he left his hand there.

-So you can tell me more about your obsession - he said - When did it start?

His body was so fucking close that it stole your breath, the effort to breathe air into your lungs was increasing.

-I-I d-don't know - you stuttered nervously - God, this is… it's not possible that out of all the girls at the party you want to be here with me

-What do you mean? - he asked, staring at you-

-There are a lot of girls who have been staring at you all night, waiting for you to choose them - you pressed your lips into a thin line - the fact that I'm the one with you and not one of them makes me feel like I'm ruining your night

-Hey, hey, look at me - he whispered, holding your chin between the index and thumb of his flesh hand - you haven't ruined anything for me - he assured, placing his eyes on yours - I'm right where I want to be

-Really? - you asked, trying to reassure yourself-

-Really - he affirmed, as he placed his metal hand on your head. He looked you up and down for a moment - you look gorgeous tonight - he whispered - you always do

He wet his lips for a moment, before resting his gaze on your mouth.

-Bucky?

-Mhmm?

-Are you going to kiss me? –you asked, a smile appeared on his lips-

-Do you want me to, baby? –he murmured, you slowly nodded your head- good, because I want to too –he whispered- I've been wanting to since I saw you walk in with this damn suit –he growled pointing at it- I respect your stylist sweetheart, but I bet you look better without it –he pointed at the suit with his head- if tonight ends like I think it will, it will soon be on the floor of my room

He placed both hands on your hips, holding you between the wall and his body. You felt how the air between you was getting heavier and heavier.

-Bucky… please… -you sighed making him smile-

-My God, you're already so needy and I haven't even touched you yet –he whispered- don't worry sweetheart, I'll give you what you need

Then his lips were on yours. You almost burst into tears of happiness when It happened. He covered your mouth with a kiss that was halfway between needy and delicate.

You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, which made him let out a sigh against your lips. He pulled away from you for a moment.

-Should we… Do you want to…?

-Yes –you said, making him smile-

A few minutes later, just as he had said, your suit ended up on the floor of his room. His metal fingers entering and leaving you, making you scream, while you held onto his strong shoulders while moaning in his ear.

-Bucky… -you gasped- I'm going to cum

-I know, baby, I can feel you tightening around my fingers –he whispered- konchat’ teper’, lyubimyy (Come now, Sweetheart)

You unloaded hard against his fingers, and as you caught your breath he pulled you against his body and kneaded your hair gently with his hand.

Before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.

[ladyofthebookcase]

that fuckign dress slit again

[turtleblogatlast]

“Haven’t You Noticed (I’m a Star)” from Steven Universe works so ridiculously well for Leo

[vampmilf]

how does the new bojan gagging scene make you feel

havent even said a PEEP about the mv yet im glad your first concern watching it was wether this guy on tumblr liked the two seconds of bojan gagging

[ice-eise-babyy]

Highlight | J.B.B

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: A single comment takes a toll at your self-confidence, unintentionally pushing bucky away.

Warnings: really fluffy, slight angst (so slight you won't even feel it), implied smut, Sharon (unintentionally) being a bitch, cursing (real brief)

A/N: loosely inspired by a real life event. I do request so please go slide in my asks. that's it. Happy reading!!

Bucky loved you.

Every atom, essence, and fiber of you, he loved. There was nothing about you that could change his perception of you.

He had learned to memorize every inch of you with his eyes closed; Using only his tongue, fingers, and lips. Making a mental map of each dip and curve, every scar and mole, and all of your smile lines and wrinkles. Not only that but also your whole being. He knew you so well that he could tell what you wanted— what you needed before you could even say it. It was like a telepathic connection...

That's why it didn't take him long to figure out that something was wrong.

It was never your intention to make Bucky worry.

It all started with a small comment...

You had just finished showering in the gym shower after your training. Your body was wrapped in a towel that was way too short for your liking. displaying the stretch marks on your outer thighs, making you chew the insides of your cheeks.

And as if it wasn't enough to make you self-conscious, "Woah... That's some marks you've got there y/n..." It was Sharon as she entered the gym shower. Sounding perplexed and repulsed by the sight.

"Yeah.." you said, masking the rising insecurity with a faux chuckle before getting the hell out of there.

You ignored the twisted feeling in your stomach and the lingering embarrassment her words had caused. Brushing it off and pretending like you weren't affected by it. But soon it was eating you up like mites on wood. Nipping and nibbling at the last bits of self-assurance that you have.

It was affecting you so much that you hadn't even noticed that you were starting to distance yourself from Bucky...

Bucky, knowing you better than he knows himself, immediately noticed this. He didn't miss how you'd flinch at his touch. he caught how you'd recoil and pull away whenever he sought a hug or a kiss. It didn't go over his head when you started wearing more layers than just his shirt.

Of course, he was worried... But he pushed the worries away thinking that maybe you were just tired...

Weeks went by, yet you continued to distance yourself from him. He didn't want to think about it too much or ask you about it, afraid that it would only push you further.

So he convinced himself that you just wanted a bit of space. Especially now that you were getting some actual rest since you were jam-packed with missions and meetings the previous month.

It wasn't until last night...

˚‧⁺  ･ ˖ ·˚ ⋆｡˚ ˚‧⁺

"Sure, thanks Steve..." You bid Steve goodbye as you got off the elevator, just now getting home from your first mission of the month.

You opened the door with ease, not wanting to make any noise as you entered your shared room with Bucky. Tiptoeing as you entered, concerned that you'd wake him up.

"Hey, doll..." Your whole body jolted as you heard him, his voice sounding hoarse with sleep.

You simply looked in his direction and gave him a lopsided smile,

Just a smile?

"Go to sleep..." You told him as you left him to shower...

He in fact did not go to sleep. He waited for you. Wanting to wrap his arms around you and kiss away your exhaustion from the mission.

"I told you to go to sleep, bucky." he looked in your direction, admiring how adorable you looked in his hoodie and some basic sweatpants.

"How can I?" He shrugged as if it was the most obvious question, "you're not here with me.." he added, extending his arms out for a hug.

You gulped, hesitating for a little while longer. Soon giving in as you saw the expecting look on his face. His slate blue eyes glimmered in the darkness as you walked over to him.

He sighed, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Burying his face in your clothed stomach as you stood there.

"I missed you," he nuzzled into you more, "so damn much." He said as he finally pulled away, looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes.

He wanted to stay like this with you. He needed to stay like this with you...

The pad of his fingers dug into your hips as his grip tightened, pulling you to his lap.

"I missed you too..." You said, your fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head...

It was like all your worries were thrown out the window as he held you by the neck and captured your lips with his. Kissing you with such need and longing. It was as if a huge wave of relief washed over you... Until his hands started exploring under your hoodie.

All your insecurities resurfaced as you recalled the marks that you were hiding under these layers of clothing. Sharon's words replaying in your head like a broken record.

No...

It was like your body was moving on its own accord. Your breathing lodged in your windpipe as you realized that you had unintentionally pushed him away... Your hands trembling as they hovered mid-air, a short distance away from his chest which you had just shoved away...

"I..." You started but it was like the words were caught in the back of your throat...

You felt guilt settling in the pit of your stomach as you saw the pain flickered amongst the flecks of navy in his eyes that Momentarily looked down before looking back at you, helping you off his lap.

One...

Breathe...

Two...

She's just tired...

Three...

Be understanding...

"It's... It's fine..." The reassurance tasted bittersweet on his lips, a tight-lipped smile decorating his features...

You felt like the knot of guilt in your stomach was about to snap as you didn't fail to notice how his smile didn't reach his eyes... Or how the inflection of his voice came across as insincere, strained, hurt...

He's hurt... Because of me...

He wasn't hurt, no.

Hurt was something a 3-year-old would say if he scraped his knee. Hurt was something a teenager felt when he got his heart broken from puppy love. Hurt is something minor. Something that can be easily cured with words...

This? This was neglect.

He felt neglected... He felt like you were drifting a bit too far...

Too far from him...

˚‧⁺  ･ ˖ ·˚ ⋆｡˚ ˚‧⁺

He has never been the type to openly talk about what he felt... But this— this thing you were doing? It was just unbearable... In ways that no simple words formed by letters could describe. And what's worst about this was it was you.

So, he ultimately decided that he had enough of it...

You were comfortably reading a book on the couch. The cap of your purple highlighter in between your lips as you highlight lines from your book with it. The bright color perfectly emphasizing your favorite parts.

A few other teammates were also in the living room. Respectfully busying themselves with whatever task they had at hand when suddenly, a very upset-looking bucky came storming into the living room with a scowl on his face.

"Let's talk. Now. In private." He snatched the book from your hand and tossed it on the coffee table automatically catching your attention

Confusion etched your face as you looked up at him, your knuckles turning white as your grip tightened around the highlighter.

"What are you—!" Your question abruptly interrupted, the world turning upside down as he threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

The rest of the team looked at one another with puzzled looks, watching you writhe as he walked away with you on his shoulder like a bag of rice.

"Bucky!" You squealed, thrashing against the super soldier while you repeatedly told him to put you down. The purple ink from the highlighter in your hand staining his white tank top.

"Talk." Was all you heard as you landed on the bed with a guttural 'oof'

"Rude!" He gave you an unamused look, crossing his arms as his gaze followed you as you propped yourself. Sighing as he saw that familiar pout on your lips.

"I'm worried about you..." You felt a shiver run down your spine as he walked towards you.

"What do you mean...?" You facepalmed mentally as your words came out trembling.

You were sweating, not wanting to talk about any of this any further. You already knew where this was going...

And you didn't like it...

"You're just..." He paused, looking for the right words, "You're not being you... And you—" he cut himself off, noticing how you moved away when he sat beside you. "You keep doing that"

"That? What's 'that'?"

"You keep distancing yourself from me..." You felt the guilt claw up your neck as you heard the way his voice sounded so defeated.

You never intended to worry him, and you never would want to. But looking at the situation at hand made you realize how much you got drowned by your self-doubt that you had been depriving him of the truth...

You felt torn as you sat there staring into the hazy silver hue in his blue eyes, the distress and yearning flickering in them.

You wanted to tell him about everything. You wanted to tell him how Sharon's words made your confidence falter. You wanted to show him why...

But it scared you...

The mere thought of his repulsed expression made your heart sink to your toes.

"I don't know if I've done something wrong. If I've said something you didn't like. If I had been too much. If you need space—"

"No! It's not like that..." Your eyes widened as his rambling slowly sunk into your skull,

He's blaming himself...?

"I just... It's..." He held your hand, soothing you through your anxious state...

He hated seeing you like this, he hated how much you were holding back, he hated how you were hesitating... But he was patient with you like he always is. Because he knew firsthand how hard it is to open up.

"Please... Please tell me.." you let out a shaky breath. Your fingers fiddled with the highlighter as you closed your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.

The moment you opened your eyes and witnessed the unshed tears gloss over his pretty eyes was the exact moment you figured that you had lost at whatever this was...

Your hands fidgeted with the highlighter as you told him everything he needed to know— from the stretch marks that had you questioning your self-worth to Sharon’s comment that rang in your ears like a constant reminder. You just laid it all out there, hoping he’d understand how much it had gotten to you. Even though you knew it still wasn't enough of an excuse for how you've treated him...

The tears prickled your eyes as they pooled; you felt so small. So vulnerable around him... Just how you liked it.

"I'm so proud of you for telling me doll..." The pad of his thumb swiping away the single tear that rolled down your face...

"Can I see...?" You looked at him with wide eyes, why would he want to see such a sight?

"James..." His name slipped from your lips as a hesitant whisper, but your thoughts became a jumbled mess when he suddenly got off the bed and kneeled in front of you, looking up at you with those big blue eyes...

"Please...?" He pleaded, removing the highlighter before holding your hands in his.

Your man was literally on his knees for you, his eyes wide with hope and vulnerability, like he was silently begging for an answer. His voice was so full of genuine longing and yearning. How could you say no to that? At that moment, with your heart swelling, saying anything but yes felt impossible.

You meekly nodded and he looked like a kid on Christmas morning, beaming with a grin.

Goosebumps formed on your skin as you felt his hands twisting with the waistband of your pajama shorts. He looked up at you as though to ask for permission so you granted it with another nod. You lifted your hips for him to fully remove them.

Suddenly,you felt the insecurity clawing at your neck; feeling exposed and just... Bare as you sat there in just your tank top and underwear. Displaying parts of your body that only he had the privilege of seeing.

You pressed your knees together, knowing that the marks only get worse around the insides of your thighs...

Bucky didn't like this... But he had more than one way to keep those legs spread for him...

"So pretty..." he murmured, his voice soft and full of admiration as his hand gently held your calf as if you would wither under his touch if he wasn't careful enough. His other hand was doing the total opposite by holding your other leg in place and slightly spreading it. He leaned in, pressing a series of slow, lingering kisses from your knee, his lips feather-light as they brushed against your skin. He moved up to the side of your thigh, each kiss seemed to carry a silent promise, a vow of how much he adored every inch of you. The warmth of his breath and the tenderness in his eyes made your heart stutter, filling you with a sense of love and security that felt overwhelming.

You let out a whine, desperate and needy when you felt him detach his lips from your skin. Already yearning for the sensation of his lips on you. "What are you doing?" Gazing at him curiously as he took the highlighter in his hand

He didn't answer.

He held your knee in one hand to avoid them from blocking his line of sight. His mind was in a whirlwind as he saw the marks.

They're beautiful

How dare you deprive him of this.

You gasped as you felt the cold ink of the highlighter on your skin. Bucky moved his hand gracefully as he left traces of bright purple along your stretch marks, tucking his lower lip between his teeth as he concentrated.

"What are you doing, James?" Another attempt for an answer as you watch his hand in between your legs only to be met with silence once again.

He pulled away once he finished, a satisfied look on his face. Looking at his work with such pride in himself. It was beautiful. You were beautiful. Nothing could ever compare to this, to you. No art made by Monet, Renoir, or even Van Gogh could ever come close to how ethereal you looked...

"This," he started, his fingers gently tracing the trails of purple ink on your skin, "This is to remind you that I will always love all of you"

You bit back a smile as you looked down at him; the lovesick look in his eyes told you that his words exude nothing but honesty. And it was as if everything was just now sinking into your mind. Crimson tinted your cheeks, heating up as you realized that you were half naked with a super soldier in between your thighs. Kneeling for you.

You let out a strangled moan as he pressed his lips on your skin once more. Trailing wet kisses to your inner thigh, inhaling as his nose poked your clothed core. You smelled so sweet...

"You think you're getting off the hook that easy?" You gulped so hard that he probably heard it, you couldn't help yourself. How could you when Bucky was looking up at you like someone who hasn't been fed for the past few months? The warmth of his blue eyes dissipated as it was replaced by something familiar but different... Something feral.

"Spread those pretty legs for me, doll. I'm going to fuck you until you're finally convinced that every part of you is perfect"

[bunny-jpeg]

kink-o-ween - day sixteen

max verstappen - dom/sub dynamics

cw: smut/pwp, dom/sub dynamics, dom!max, sub!reader, possessive behavior, soft dom!max, pet names (kitty, schat), oral sex (max receives), fingering

max liked when you wore reminders of him when you were together. a verstappen branded shirt, or the earrings he got you. little pieces of him that you carried with you, even when he was away from home. there were a few items like that. but his personal favourite was a small choker that highlighted your neck perfectly. and the little pendent on it was a 'm' and a 'v', with that no one would question who your boyfriend was.

he also loved it when you wore it during sex.

it started as part of 'play time' or rather the time you spend with max in a sexual capacity. it was a brief break in your busy schedules to finally be together. and that usually started with your head in max's lap with his large hand in your hair. the dynamic you shared wasn't always whips and chains, sometimes it was you being loved and max giving his submissive the love she deserved.

"how are you feeling, schat? you know i love you, right? you are so good for me. always listening and behaving for me." his tone was tinged with affection and it made you squirm a little. he could see the necklace you always wore. the one that reminded you of him.

you moved a little against him, but he kept you still for a moment and you looked up at him with a look that screamed innocent.

"kitty, i don't want to have to train you again." he said, his tone still soft but his words had a bit of bite to them. max trained you into his perfect submissive. and while you listened to his words, you still shied away from his loving comments.

you nodded, still once more, "yes, sir."

max patted your cheek and smiled, "and what do we say when someone gives you a compliment?"

you swallowed, continued to be in max's lap, "thank you, sir." then leaned toward your lover's hand and gave it a kiss which was met with a pat on your cheek. you were painfully cute, it blew max's mind.

max smile, you'd learn with time. he slowly put his thumb in your mouth, the paid of it ran across your teeth, "such a pretty." his thumb hit against your molars, "such a little bite. you need your big strong man to take care of you. to protect you." there was a fire in his chest at the sight of you.

so small, so soft. even with his t-shirt you wore that was pulled up a little, it exposed your soft stomach. it made max's mouth water. he took his thumb out of your mouth and wiped the spit against your cheek.

"is someone a needy kitty?" he asked, "does someone want more?" he asked as he pressed his hardened cock up against you. while he loved the non-sexual play, thoughts of you pleasuring him did cross his mind often when you were apart. he couldn't help himself. you were too beautiful, beyond measure or words.

your cheek was soon up against the bulge in his sweatpants and you looked up at him. you smiled at him before you kissed it. you then put your mouth fully against it, you got the front of the garment wet with your spit while you tried to pleasure his cock through it. you whined a little as max reached over and got his hand down the front of your shorts.

you pleasured him, he pleasured you.

"don't tease, schat. take it out and put it in your mouth properly. i want to feel you." max said, "a good girl." he sank his fingers into you, "i like how you look like this, you look like you're all mine.

"i am yours, sir." you said as you took his cock out of his sweatpants.

"always?"

you nodded before you got his cock in your mouth, you said with his cock in you mouth, "of course, sir. i wouldn't want anyone else... i couldn't be with anyone else."

max worked his fingers inside of your cunt. they were thick and filled you beautifully. you remember when he first fingered you and it left you speechless. it took some time to get used to them. it made your mouth water at the thought as you orally pleasured him. even now he managed to play with your clit in such a way that it took a lot to keep all of your focus on sucking his cock.

you whined with his cock in your mouth. you felt the pleasure creep up into your blood as you moved against him. he filled your mouth beautifully. the size of him just hit your throat in the best way and left you excited. and in return it made max feel pleasure in his body too, it pumped through his body via his blood.

"you're such a good girl. i can put you as i want and you let me take you apart. i remember when i first fucked you and you almost cried with how good it felt." he groaned.

you nodded your head a little, unable to fully speak. then you closed your eyes when he patted your head with his free hand. you went ack to fully focusing on sucking his cock. and you felt like you were in his heaven from the pleasure of his fingers in you.

"my perfect, sub, my treasure. i knew you'd be perfect for me the moment i met you." he praised you. he thought you looked perfect and he knew you were perfect from the moment he met you. as a result he held a sense of possessiveness for you.

he didn't like the idea of you with anyone else. not when he was the best partner for you. you were his pretty kitty, his beautiful treasure. and he'd make sure that no one else would ever touch you the way he touched you. his fingers grazed across your clit as he pumped his fingers into you.

"pretty kitty." he praised as he moved his digits faster. which made you move your lips on him faster. you both met each other's pace and it made you run hot. his cock nudged against your throat a little more which made you feel the rush of hot in your body. you were soaked between the legs and the feeling of everything raced up your spine. you were lucky to have max and he was lucky to have you.

he loved you so deeply, he curled his fingers inside of you and you whined. your hips bucked at the sensation and he said to you in a low, domineering tone, "you're perfect. my precious sub." his voice tinged with affection that made you stomach twist.

this was your little dynamic. max loved being your dom, he loved when you put all of your trust into him. when you became so soft against him, even when he was knuckle deep inside of you.

you squirmed a little, but kept your mouth on his cock. the spit covered your chin and all the down the base of his cock. you were drooling on his length like a good girl. he really did train you well.

"a perfect girl." he said, "you know exactly how to take me, and i want no one else to have you. you are mine and mine only." his words made you moan.

you gave him one last brief look before you closed your eyes once more and sucked him off while he fingered you. your cunt clenched around his digits until you felt the pleasure working through your body. your heartbeat was racing.

"fuck, schat." he said with tightness in his voice as he brought you to climax, "my kitty." he made you finish so nicely on his fingers.

you tensed up, but kept the pace of your mouth on him. and the rush in your blood kept you going with your movements. and quickly you made him finish as well.

"fuck," he groaned, he continued to finger you lightly as he finished down your throat. he felt the blood rush to his head. when he finished, he pulled his fingers out of you and out of your shorts.

you leaned up and swallowed his cum before you pressed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. but he soon pulled you into a proper kiss. even though the taste of his cock was on your mouth. he didn't care. he wanted the kisses.

when he pulled away he admired the necklace around your throat and smiled at you with colour in his cheeks. he said softly, "mine." and there was no way to debate that. you were truly, in every way, max's <3

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 2

content warning: mentions of food because big boys gotta eat, there’s a ref photo for an outfit in here that is unfortunately NOT a plus-size girl 😞 (I couldn’t find a big girl wearing an outfit like that for the life of me, but let’s use our imagination), 18+ towards the end so MDNI!

word count: 1.7k (not very drabble-like, ik) kinda proofread

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up when his 6 am alarm rings, eyes tired and bleary. His roommate is sound asleep, thank god, and Miguel is just staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes before he decides to move. He has an 8 am and he needs some type of breakfast before he heads to class.

GymRat!Miguel who uses the college cafeteria to his full advantage. He made sure that his dad’s money went to the highest meal plan. One free meal plan a day and a loaded campus card for everything else. He stacks his plate high with everything the cafeteria is offering today. Sausages, eggs, 2 bananas, a blueberry muffin, and a protein shake he brought from his room.

GymRat!Miguel who made friends with one of the cafeteria ladies, Ms. Beatrice, by the third week of school. She noticed how much he visited the cafeteria and always snuck him an extra treat from the kitchen when she saw him.

“I missed you last Tuesday!” she says, squeezing his shoulder when she walks up to his table. She slides a wrapped egg sandwich across the table. “I was saving some extra cookies for you, but you were nowhere to be found.”

Miguel thanks her, happy to have something light for later, “Ah, I was stuck in the library doing a group project. Sorry about that, Ms. Beatrice.”

“As long as you’re getting your education, I don’t mind,” she says, hands on her hips. “Don’t go out there skipping class now, ok?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Miguel says, waving her goodbye. His mom would kill him if that ever happened. Not that he would tell her, she just had a sixth sense for his “fuck-ups.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes it to his class fifteen minutes early to arrange his part of his desk to his liking. Sometimes he feels so embarrassed when he needs to grab something in the middle of class, his ears hyperfocusing on every little noise he makes in quiet, crowded areas. He always makes sure to get out his laptop, a pen, a pencil, a highlighter, a notebook, some white-out, and a water jug. He prefers to be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who’s feeling anxious when the sorority girls pass by his table, giggling and twirling their hair. They attempt to make conversation with him, speaking ill of the professor. He just nods along for the sake of being a gentleman. He thought the professor’s Millennial attempts at Gen Z jokes were kind of funny, albeit very 2010. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he actually enjoyed the lectures.

GymRat!Miguel who’s never been more excited for a lecture to start in his life. He didn’t know many more “wow”’s snd “that’s crazy”’s he had left in him. The noise of the ice hitting their plastic coffee cups as they struggled to get every drop out was starting to grate against his ears. He missed you and your sticker-covered water bottle. He looked over at his jug and smiled when he saw the ‘Game Over’ sticker you gifted him before the last lab. You noticed his joystick keychain and felt that his water bottle was empty.

GymRat!Miguel who declines the girls’ offer to join them on a morning jog after. He liked to work out in solitude and morning jogs with them would mean conversation. He would also have to be extra conscious about what he wore. No older lady walking her dog needed to spot him jogging with shorts that were too short for his own good and a tank top cut so deep that it was like string on his chest.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to head to the library in between class to kill time. He figured he can see if there are any science fiction he can check out to read in his free time. As he walks there, he opens Instagram to scroll. No, he has not been checking the app since this morning to see if you let him in, he’s not a freak. He stops walking when he checks his notifs to see that you accepted his follow request. He wastes no time to click your page again and is bombarded with tons of photos.

GymRat!Miguel who has to close the app immediately when he sees your first photo. It's a picture of you outside of a restaurant in a knitted two-piece. The top is open just a bit to see your chest and the long skirt is low enough to see a part of your stomach peeking through. Your smile is radiant and the caption is something about congratulating someone. You look delectable and Miguel can’t afford to run back to his dorm to let his mind wander over it right now.

GymRat!Miguel who gets another notification as he steps into his dorm room after his last class of the day and sees that you’ve liked and commented on his most recent post. It’s a mirror picture of him flexing his arm after his last work out. His shorts are riding high on his thighs and the curve of his ass is very noticeable. Gabriel had blew up his phone with voice memos of him cackling after he posted it.

“Looking good!! 🫣 Get those gains Miguel! 💪🏾”

Miguel runs a victory lap in his dorm room, thankful that his roommate wouldn’t be back until that night. He’s jumping and punching the air excitedly as if he were a boxer. If he wasn’t fearful of busting his ass, he’d do a backflip. Take that, Gabri.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to go back to your account, running on the hype of that one compliment from you. He stares at that first photo again, still mesmerized as if he didn’t see it earlier. He gives a like and starts typing.

“Wow…”

No, that’s corny.

“Loving the blue…”

Is he a frat guy?

“You look stunning”

Was that too much? He decides to add on a heart eyes emoji, afraid he might be coming on too strong.

GymRat!Miguel who goes a little further down your page. There’s a photo of you in a crochet cover up, your swimsuit peaking through the material. He groans as he slides to the next picture and the top of your cover up is off and it’s just a view of your back with your bikini string wrapped around it. Your lower half is in the water and if he can imagine it just enough, he can feel himself right behind you, taking in the view of your ass against him.

He’s hard. Again.

He decides to just let everything hang while he has the dorm to himself. His boxers are to his ankles as he sits on the bed, back against the wall. He keeps staring at your swimsuit pictures. Your breasts pushed together while you lean over the boat. Your hips swaying in a clip of you dancing with your friends. Your stomach on display as you lay in the sand, ready for him to squeeze.

He grit his teeth as he played the clips over and over again, his hand moving fast to bring him his relief. He closed his eyes and imagined he was there, watching you swaying before him. He would join you, grab your hips and let you guide him in the dance. He felt faint as he let go, voice shouting and white splattered across his shirt and fist.

He breathes fast, trying to calm down. He decides to like the photo dump and comment some aimless beach emojis under the post. It was the least he could do after using it to get off. How embarrassing.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps when his phone dings again. He was prepping to go to the gym when your response comes flying to his phone. His heart picks up when he sees you replied to his comment.

“That is so sweet of you to say! 🥺 Thank you 🥰”

He doesn’t know if you took it as a friendly gesture or a sign that he wanted you. Either way, he’s over the moon. There’s a pep in his step as he blasts Super Shy in his ears on the way to the gym. He had a new motivation to push harder in his sets.

GymRat!Miguel who tacks on 10 extra pounds during his arm workout. The guys in the gym are eyeing him in wonder and horror as he uses the 70lb weights for tricep extensions. He thinks of seeing you in lab later that week and decides to do some hip thrusts.

He can never be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to take a picture at the end of his work out to post on his story. He’s sweating, hair dripping towards the ends, his chest glistening. The angle is awkward as he moves the camera below him and flexes an arm for the picture. The story was meant for one girl and one girl only, so he didn’t really care how silly it looked to others.

GymRat!Miguel who almost fist pumps on the walk home when you like his story and leave a reply. He checks the private messages, grin on his face before he even reads what you have to say.

“Looks like you had a nice workout. I might have to join you next time and get some tips 🤔”

Miguel swiped the app up and texted Gabriel:

“Don’t ever question my game again”

"? Wtf are you talking about"

Miguel opened up his messages with you again and replied to text him whenever and he’d be happy to help.

GymRat!Miguel who winds down for the night, scrolling on his phone before he closes his eyes. Of course you posted a story and of course he pressed it within record speed.

It was a photo of you laying down all bundled up with a cute ‘good night’ gif moving across the bottom. You had on a spaghetti strap tank top and if your blanket wasn’t in the way, he’s sure he would see more than that.

You looked soft, adorable, kissable.

He liked the story and responded back a “good night” and closed his phone. He wanted you to visit him in his dreams once more.

dividers by: @gigittamic 🩵

a/n: tumblr mobile kept deleting full paragraphs of my draft. not happy about that because I kept losing my flow. 😒 it happened like THREE TIMES 😭

Thanks for reading! Like, comment, reblog, and tell me how you feel! 🩵

Wanna be added to the taglist for GymRat!Miguel? Comment and let me know. 🤗 (PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. This series has been and will get even more NSFW!)

taglist: @ghost-lantern 🫶🏾🥺

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Simon's body matures into its prime. There's only one mate he wants. #GhostPriceWeek.

Day One: Confession/Kneel.

cw: omegaverse, penetrative sex, dubcon by nature of Price's sex negative attitude, gentle sex, bonding. ( @gomzdrawfr )

Simon wasn't sure what had changed or why, but he knew he was looking at Price differently these days and he couldn't ignore it for much fuckin’ longer. It was driving him even more insane than he already was.

Price had been helping him–them, all of ‘em–through ruts for the last few years. When it had just been the two of them, Simon would spend the few days leave in Price's Hereford flat exhausting himself between Price's legs and then they would return to normal once the cycle had passed. It had been hard at first, trusting someone, but like in everything, Price had his back. He had only ever treated Simon with dignity and respect.

When the other two joined, Simon didn't bat an eyelid. It made sense. Price was logical like that; easier for them to fuck him and get it over with in a few days, than long it out over a week and risk them snooping around the local villages, potentially ending up with a pup brewing and an angry farmer at the barrack gates with a shotgun. Johnny had priors with it too. Simon had seen the indiscretions on his record, and Gaz was so painfully good-looking that Simon wouldn't be surprised if there were already a few Garrick pups knocking about North London. 

The arrangement bloody worked. Everyone seemed satisfied. So why had Simon started… yearning?

The word had appeared when he'd googled his symptoms one day in a coffee shop. He'd headed off base to do it because all the search histories passed over Price's desk at some point, with questionable or worrying shit highlighted by the IT team for review, and he really didn't need that conversation. “Why are your guts aching, Simon? Do you need medical?” Price would ask, that stern line between his brows, lips pressed down in a deep frown. 

No, sir, my intestines seem to twist themselves in knots every time I see you shirtless at the moment and I can't stop thinkin' about how much I want to shove my tongue down yer throat, now about that requisition form… 

But it wouldn't be like that. Simon would stand there in dumb silence trying to find the words to explain that being around Price at the moment made him ache in ways he had never experienced before. That when he was alone in his own flat a short bus ride away from base, he thought of their time together with a hand around his knot and his knuckles between his teeth. He thought about how good the indomitable John Price would look in the throes of heat, completely vulnerable.

He must have been acting differently, because Price had become more distant. Detached, almost. He was shorter, sharper, than Simon had ever known him to be, even when his temper occasionally flared in the face of red tape and stupidity. Simon needed to get this, whatever this was, under control.

Sitting in that café with his black coffee and Bakewell tart, Simon had learned that an alpha of his age was reaching full maturity and his body was ready to find a permanent mate. By mid-thirties, an alpha’s strength and esteem within a pack was fully established, or it would be if the world still worked like it did a few thousand years ago. If they were still in loincloths, Simon would have battered his fair share of pack alphas and worked his way to the top by now. An omega would select him as worthy and choose him to father their pups. His body was just doing what it had done throughout millennia. Preparing.

In all honesty, his sex ed’ had been woefully lacking. Partly because the mixed comprehensive he had attended had been in special measures and the PSHE lessons had been all out brawls at some points, but also because his attendance had dropped below fifty percent fairly regularly throughout his compulsory education. ‘Very intelligent and capable, but limited by his frequent absences,’ had been his school report a few months before he had scraped just enough GCSEs to fall into a trade apprenticeship, and then September eleventh had happened and his whole world outlook had changed.

The guidance on the website also told him that his scent would change. That he might experience more attention from fertile omegas, and notice their scents more, their bodies. There was a paragraph about consent that followed and Simon had winced at the implications of needing it. He had met enough knotheads in his time even outside his own deranged father, fuckin’ Roba, to know why it was there. While most omegas were dominant and fierce by nature, the modern world had flipped things. Sometimes it just wasn't that straight forward.

The notes said it would pass. By late forties, his hormones would ebb away to normal levels again and by then he'd either be mated or, in his case, probably dead. The odds weren’t exactly in his bloody favour with his current choice of career. They also said his attention would probably flit between options, from omega to omega, as his body sought to spread its genetics as far as possible.

Except it fucking didn't, did it?

There were other omegas on base. A gorgeous blonde in logistics with tits and arse for days, a strapping redheaded mechanic with strong thighs and a pretty smile, then there was the brunette in medical. But those are cursory observations. Simon saw them as attractive in the detached manner you looked at someone who was attractive in the traditional sense. Yeah, he could see it, but he didn't want it.

He wanted Price. His fockin’ captain.

Tart and coffee finished, Simon had headed back to base. He tried to exhaust himself in the gym, finished some paperwork, and eventually wandered to the mess hall for some dinner. It was just as he was tucking into a pile of mashed potatoes and gravy that his phone pinged. 

CJP: My office.

Simon chucked his tray onto the trolley and headed out. By the time he was knocking on Price's door, his heart was beating hard in anticipation. Of fuckin’ what, he had no idea. Clearly needed to watch less porn because the image his mind provided of Price spread out on his desk, presenting, was bloody unhelpful.

“Simon.” Price acknowledged him with a glance as he shut the door behind him. The room was warm, the old radiator beneath the window chucking out more heat than was strictly necessary this early in October. The lights were dim too, the brightness on Price's monitor turned down lower, and there was a subtle, sweet scent beneath the must of paper, furniture polish and old wallpaper that usually hung in the air. 

The primal part of Simon recognised it for what it was, and the rest of him caught up as he got a good look at Price; his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes bright. Pre-heat. Price was getting more sensitive to everything; light, the cold. The smell in here had to be bloody awful to his sensitive nose. Simon blinked slowly, taking a deep breath through the fabric of the mask just to taste more of that glorious promise. If he could lick it out of the air, he would.

“We've got a problem,” Price murmured, slumping back in his chair, his fingers wounded together over his belly.

Simon didn't need to ask. He knew. “S’not a problem, sir. I can keep it under control.”

Price looked down, his face twisting in a brief grimace as he considered the edge of his desk. “S’not just you, Simon. It's me as well.”

Simon blinked, shifting his weight. “Wot?”

“Yer think I can't smell ya? When ya left the gym few hours ago I was meetin’ with Saunders about some performance data. Could smell ya from the otherside of the corridor.”

“Weren’t that fockin’ bad…”

“T’ normal man, no.”

There was an edge in Price's voice. Simon knew his secondary sex was a sore spot. If Price could have chosen, he would have been born an alpha. He despised everything about what he viewed as his ‘condition’. No one else knew, of course. The captain played his personal life close to his chest. Most of the time people assumed he was an alpha and didn’t look any closer. He was six foot two, built like a soldier should be; there was no reason to assume otherwise.

Perfect in every way, Simon's mind offered unhelpfully. Followed by an intrusive thought about how strong and intelligent their pups would be. Fuckin’ ‘ell.

“Was’the plan?”

Because there was always a plan and Simon would follow Price into hellfire if he asked. 

“Thought about sending you away, reassigning you,” Price said, his gaze flicking up to level Simon with a pensive look. “Bu’ I couldn't. Need ya. 141 needs ya.” 

Simon realised he could breathe again. The mere idea that Price would send him away - to fuckin’ where? No reasonable officer would take him on - left him frozen, every muscle seizing like he'd been turned to stone. Need ya.

Not just the 141. But Price. Price needed him.

“Then wot? Wot we doin’ ‘ere?” Simon’s voice crackled, the words cloying in his throat.

That grimace was back. A pinched look of regret pulled Price’s lips back, his eyes squinting. He scrubbed a hand over his beard and breathed in a deep breath through his nose. “Gonna ask ya sommin’. Ya can say no. S’your right t’ say no. Ya’understand?”

Simon’s fingers clenched into his palms, and he dipped his chin in a barely perceptible nod. 

“This… whatever it is. Could put ‘em danger, Johnny, Gaz, any soldier we have with us. It's foggin’ our minds, distractin’ us. I can't afford that in the field,” Price spoke slowly, like he was trying to reason with himself as well as Simon. “Way I see it is we need t’ nip it in the bud. Best way to do that is give it what it needs. A bond.”

An errant gust of wind could have knocked Simon to the floor at that moment. Like a giant rotten oak tree barely clinging on in the soil. His mouth went dry, huffing in another deep lungful of Price's scent as his heart accelerated in his chest. 

“I know ‘m askin’ a lot of ya. More an’ I ever have. But what we do, the greater good we fight for, s’too important t’--”

“Yeah.”

“Wot?”

“Yeah, I'll do it. I wan’ it. Wan’ you.” The confession tripped out of Simon's mouth before he could stop it. He stepped up to the desk, his hands planting on the surface, which, in hindsight, had probably been a poor choice. He watched Price tense in his chair briefly, before he slowly rose to his feet, weathered palms planting opposite Simon's to level him with a stern look.

“That's the hormones talkin’. Ya need t’ think it through.”

“Naw, I don’t,” Simon said, studying the freckles on Price's face, the sun damage on his forehead, the wrinkles around bright blue eyes, strong jaw framed by his uneven beard. A face he linked with safety and certainty and leadership. “S'you, s’always been you.”

Price dropped his eyes away, his head hanging for a moment, the sigh that followed sounded dog tired. When he looked up, those blue eyes had hardened, the light dulled.. “Simon, ya committin’ to a bond. S’for life. And ya not gettin’ a sweet thing that’ll fawn over ya. I'm not gonna give ya a pup, no family of yer own, ‘m not gonna kneel for ya, not gonna walk barefoot round yer kitchen, do ya laundry. ‘m not some pretty arm piece, Simon. Few years of lookin’, ya might find yerself a proper mate.”

“Don't care ‘bout any of that. Never have.” 

“Because ya never gave yerself a chance,” Price growled, rubbing at his face again. “Take a day. Think about it. Fer…” he swallowed, “...fer me, if not for yerself.”

Simon could smell something new. It was bitter on the back of his tongue. Distress. He lifted one of his hands without thinking, reaching for Price's face, but the captain flinched back. It was an involuntary response and Simon hated himself for causing it. “Sorry,” he grunted, fingers curling into his palm. 

“S’fine, jus’...” Price stood up straight, adjusting his t-shirt, thumbs hooking in his belt. Recovering himself, “...go, fink it over, don't give me an answer ‘til tomorrow after work.” 

“Right.” Simon stepped back from the desk even though every instinct was screaming at him to protect Price from whatever was causing that smell. There was no immediate threat so he couldn't even fight something; his entire skill set rendered useless in the face of whatever battle was going on inside Price's head. “See you for mornin’ briefing, sir.”

Price nodded. Simon left.

He didn't sleep that night. He stared up into the gloomy grey above his bed, wholly fixated on the parting image of Price, his face pinched, his scent riddled with distress and misery. He didn't want this, did he? Didn't want Simon like Simon wanted him. But what was new? Simon was perpetually unwanted. It was the story of his life. 

This was the right thing though. For the 141 and, Simon knew, for him. A mate like Price was more than he could have ever aspired to in normal circumstances. He had resigned himself to dying unbonded, to never experiencing what it felt like to be one with another person, to hear their voice and feel peace, to smell their scent and feel joy, to taste their skin, hold them, and feel whole. 

He had given himself to Price in all but bond anyway. This was a natural next step, even if Price himself seemed conflicted. It was an imperfect solution, riddled with grey, the cracks in the facade papered over, but that was them through and through.

The following day went by slower than a slug crawling across a salt flat. Price was nowhere to be found, sequestered away in his office while he tried to tidy up urgent matters before his three days of booked leave. Simon ran courses with the new batch of rookies up for selection and sparred with Johnny in the gym. The opportunity to exercise his physicality was welcome. His body was strong, capable, the best part of him. The part of him that would serve Price loyally. 

After dinner, Simon headed back to Price's office and tapped the door. The voice from the other side sounded even more exhausted than it had the night before. “Simon,” Price said, not looking up from the form in front of him. “Got yer answer then?”

“Yeah,” Simon said, “it's a yes. I accept. I… wan’ to bond with ya.”

Price placed his pen down slowly and leaned back in his chair. There was sweat on his temples and Simon could smell him even stronger than the day before. Fuckin’ delicious. “Right,” Price said. “Simon, you, uh… you need to know my heat, it's uhm… I find it difficult. Never shared it with anyone before.”

Simon could see Price's discomfort. How much he hated exposing this vulnerability. He sniffed, scratched his chin, and finally looked up at Simon's masked face. Simon blinked slowly. “S’ok. We’ll take it at your pace. You headin’ off tonight?”

Price glanced at the duffel bag on the chair by the window and nodded. “Yeah. You, uh… we can wait ‘til next time if you were savin’ yer leave for somethin’ special.”

“Naw, I'm good. You alright to put it through so I can go shove some pants in a bag?”

Price huffed. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, not only approvin’ your leave requests but now I'm fillin’ ‘em in for you lazy bastards.” He tapped at his keyboard and jutted his chin at the door. “G'won. Leavin’ base at nine. Don't be late.”

Simon left Price to do his paperwork and headed back to his quarters. He grabbed some underwear, some clean t-shirts and a pair of flannel shorts, his headphones and the Asimov paperwork he was chewing through at the average pace of a single page every three days. Omegas needed to sleep at some point, right? 

The final hour for departure sped by and soon Simon was heading out into the base car park to find Price's old Land Rover chugging away on the tarmac. Price sat in the driver's seat, wrapped in his coat and scarf, beanie pulled low over his ears, breathing into his hands.

“All good?” Price asked as Simon climbed into the passenger seat.

“Yeah. You… uh, you ok to drive?”

Price’s jaw twitched and Simon regretted opening his stupid fucking mouth. “Yeah. Fine. Stupor will set in later. Once I'm…” his voice dropped, “nesting.” He said it like it was an embarrassing admission, not a natural part of his instincts and cycle. Simon didn't probe any further and sat in silence as Price pushed the Landie into first and pulled away. The drive into town was quiet. Price turned on the radio once they'd pulled off base and they listened to the latest chart on BBC Hereford & Worcester. 

Price had a little one bedroom flat in Leominster that he commuted from most days. Sometimes he kipped over in the barracks after a long shift and it wasn't unusual to find him asleep in the rec room if a briefing had over run and he was too tired to drive back. The 141 knew it well as they had spent their ruts there since they'd joined the task force. It was cozy, clean, with traces of their captain as a man rather than a legend. 

When Simon stepped through the front door, the Land Rover tucked up for the night in the carport, he drew in a deep breath and felt his eyes flutter. He shed his coat and kicked his boots off and watched with no small amount of affection as Price grabbed them immediately to stack next to his, before slipping into a pair of well trodden slippers. “Brew?” Price asked as they headed into the open plan living room.

“Yeah, gaspin’,” Simon said, placing his duffel down by the arm of the couch before slumping into the middle of it. The material was a well worn brushed cotton, with two tartan fleece blankets thrown over the back. Simon pulled his mask over his head and ruffled a hand through his flattened hair, before burying his newly naked face into the scent of Price soaked into the soft material. He could picture him here in the evenings, wrapped up and snoozing, probably snoring his bloody head off like he did on op. But relaxed, at home, nested.

“Yer like a fuckin’ bloodhound,” Price grumbled as he walked over, a steaming mug of tea clutched in each hand. 

“I ain't drinkin’ outta that Liverpool mug.”

“Ahh, wind yer neck in, it's mine.” Price dumped the other mug on the coffee table in front of Simon, and then fell into the armchair. Still keeping a slight distance. This was different from when they met to weather Simon's rut. Simon was the vulnerable one in that and he trusted Price implicitly, but now their roles were reversed, and Price wasn’t used to not holding the leash. 

Simon slurped a mouthful of tea - perfect brew, strong, two sugars - and glanced at the telly when Price switched it on. The ten o’clock news, a slew of reports about how the world was going to shit and the rich were benefiting from it. Simon was only half paying attention, maybe not even half, because from the corner of his eye he was observing Price. 

He was slumped low in the chair, his lips parted, his eyes misty. The scent rolling off of him was saccharin, deeply appealing, and Simon's fingers twitched against the warm ceramic of his mug. Price managed to finish his before his eyes slid closed, his breathing growing a little ragged as his fingers kneaded at the arms of his chair. “Captain?” Simon prompted, his mug landing softly on a coaster. 

“Yeah, I'm good…”

“D’ya need anythin’?”

Price swallowed, observing Simon from beneath low lashes. A grimace passed over his face, his thighs pushing together. “Gonna shower… there's scran in the fridge, help yasel’.” His accent thickened briefly as his mind struggled to find purchase, and Simon watched him head into the bedroom with a faint smile. He listened to Price move around his bedroom through the wall, and then the rush of water as he turned the shower on. 

How long did he wait? Did he coax? It was usually easier than this. Price led the way, tugging Simon's clothes off, praising him in that rough, no-nonsense way he had; stable, certain. This Price was different. He was distant, anxious, even. Simon waited until the stream of water was disrupted, sloshing against the glass and tiles, before he rolled to his feet.

Maybe it was a shitty thing to do, but he knew he needed to do something. Price was clearly struggling. Limping through the last few hours before his heat settled in and dreading every moment of it. Simon pulled his clothes off, folding them over the laundry basket near the bedroom door, before he walked into the bathroom. He found Price panting in the steam, his hands against the wall as the water streamed down his freckled back, head bowed low between his shoulders.

He wasn't quiet as he slid the glass shower door to the side and slipped into the cubicle, his palm sliding over Price's ribs to glide up his chest. Price startled with a snarl, twisting around to latch a hand around Simon's throat as the other snatched his wrist. “Easy,” Simon whispered, airways restricted as Price squeezed. “Lemme help. Not gonna hurt ya, John.”

Price's shoulders heaved, blue eyes bright and feverish. Simon leaned into the palm at his throat and realised Price’s arm gave. He was shaking. Simon slid a palm up the tiles and eased Price back against his forearm as he pushed further, closer, until his lips slotted to Price’s and his tongue swept into his mouth. Simon used his greater height and bulk to his advantage, enveloping Price in his arms and drawing him into the warmth of his body, hand sliding down his back to his arse to bring their hips together.

Price was skittish, he wanted the kiss but kept drawing back before licking forward again, like he was clinging onto the cliff edge by his fingernails. His hands scrambled over Simon's chest, pushing him, gripping him, uncertain how to respond to the alpha swamping him. Price wasn't small, not by any standard, but Simon had a little extra, enough to cradle him, make him feel safe. Where Price was athletic and lean in his height and strength, Simon was bulky. Lots for a hungry omega to sink his teeth into.

“Simon…” Price grunted, tensing up as Simon's mouth kissed down his throat to the slope of his neck where his gland sat beneath his skin. His nails bit into Simon's shoulders, lips peeling back in a low growl. “Don't… not… not ready, can't…”

“S’ok, I know,” Simon murmured. “Relax. Need ya t’ trust me. Not gonna hurt ya.”

“‘m… don't judge me, for…”

“Not gonna. None o’ this will make me think anythin’ less of you, sir. S’a gift.”

Price flinched. “S’a curse. I… I fuckin’ hate it.”

“I know,” Simon murmured, opening his mouth to suckle on Price’s neck as he caressed up and down his body. Every pass of his palms over flushed skin seemed to be easing the tension, gentling him into his heat. His touch only paused to grab the soap and shampoo, washing Price tenderly, encouraged by the way he arched and writhed beneath the smooth glide of skin on skin. Simon worshipped every scar, every mole, every dip and curve of muscle. Those ragged pants broke around soft whimpers and soon the steam was saturated with the scent of an aroused omega’s heat. 

When his fingers slipped over the full curve of Price’s arse to the crease of his thigh, Price’s foot shifted out, inviting Simon's caress between his legs. Simon gladly provided, fingertips stroking gently over slick folds, pressing a little firmer with each pass until he was teasing Price's hole, tight muscles fluttering at Simon's finger in eager anticipation. “Fuck… you're wet…”

“‘m.. in the shower..” Price rasped, sounding dazed, and Simon smiled against his neck. Tentative hands began to explore Simon’s body, following familiar paths around his full tits and down his stomach to the thick, hot length of his erection pressing into Price’s hips. Simon shifted his own until his shaft could slide between Price's thighs. Spread as they were, it was just a tease, the ridge of his crown drawing back and forth over Price's slit, glans catching across the swell of his own small cock and making him stutter. 

Simon moaned into Price’s neck, the scent, the heat, the feeling of Price's strong body yielding to him inch by inch, it was a heady mix that was teasing him higher into feverish excitement. But he couldn't knot Price here. The first one took a while to go down and he didn't fancy keeping six foot plus of omega pinned to cold tiles while they waited for the tie to end. 

Simon drew Price out of the water and wrapped him in the warm towel from the radiator. The bedroom was warm, the bed even warmer as Simon lowered Price into it, tugging the towel into the floor, and nudging his thighs apart as he leaned down for a kiss. Simon ground his cock through Price's folds, smearing slick and precum over flushed hot skin. Price arched, opening his hips and hitching his legs high up Simon's sides. 

Simon gathered one of Price’s hands and wound their fingers together, pressing them into the mattress above Price's head as he reached down to guide his cock. He held it steady as he thrust his tip into the tight clutch of Price's body, teasing back and forth. It was sweet, sweet torture.

“Simon, hnn, ahh… please…”

“Tell me ya wan’ this.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck… ahh, please…”

“Yer fuckin’ gorgeous, sir. Look at you.”

Simon kissed him, sucking his lips, his tongue, but drew back when he began to thrust in deeper. He wanted to watch Price’s face as he was taken for the first time. The way it relaxed in bewildered pleasure, blue eyes rolling; glistening, kiss-swollen lips parting as a low moan trembled from his chest. Simon bottomed out, his balls pressed to the underside of Price's arse, full and heavy in the heat. 

He had never wanted to knot and breed so much in his life. Not even in the chokehold of rut did the urge feel this strong. The scent of heat soaked his tongue, cloyed in his throat, and as Simon began to thrust deep into Price's body, the snug, warm grip of it sucking so eagerly on the thick girth of his prick, Price finally relaxed, his head tilting back as he panted and moaned. 

The sheets dampened beneath his arched back, Simon's hand slipping beneath him, encouraging the curve of his spine as Simon sat up on his knees, drawing Price up onto his lap to bounce him down onto his cock with his furred chest pressed up and open, letting Simon suck and kiss his full tits, his dusky nipples pebbled hard in arousal as tongue and teeth swept over them.

Price clenched a hand in Simon’s hair, the other dropping behind him to support his weight against the mattress so he had agency in the roll of his hips, meeting each of Simon’s thrusts over his sweet spot. Now that he didn't need both hands to support Price’s body, Simon snuck one between them, thumb rubbing the swell of Price’s leaking cock.  Price got loud, more than the stifled pants of their usual trysts. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck–”

Price's thighs pushed wide as his orgasm curled through him, sinking down until every inch of Simon’s thick cock was inside him. Simon ground in, growling low in his chest as he felt Price pulse and throb around his cock, slick dripping down his balls and thighs. Price was completely lost in pleasure, fockin’ beautiful, flushed and euphoric. He didn't fight when Simon shifted him onto his front and raised his hips, mounting him while on his feet, two big hands pressing down on his waist. Price dropped his chest to the bed and spread his knees wide, cocking his hips so that Simon could thrust deep. It was a natural breeding position and Simon's arousal intensified, cock rock hard as his omega presented. 

Watching Price's back muscles flex, his arse cheeks ripple under the force of Simon's thrusts, hearing his blissed out noises as they were punched from his chest, soon teased Simon's knot out of him. It swelled just as Price's second orgasm tightened his hole, and Simon ground forward, circling his hips until it popped inside clenching muscle. 

Price cried out, his orgasm intensifying as his body pulsed, instinctually milking Simon for every drop as he came. It was intense; mind-fuckingly good. Simon scrunched his eyes closed and saw lights behind his lids, and he listened as Price’s gravelly voice broke and whimpered through the swells of pleasure rolling through him.

When the aftershocks calmed, Simon eased them onto their sides, wrapping Price in his arms as his knot stayed snug inside his body. He pressed kisses into his damp hair, teased sensitive skin, and whispered praise. They dozed like that, surfacing to exchange lazy kisses before drifting off again. When Simon's knot went down, he drew out gently, only to replace his cock with his fingers. Price's hole was sloppy, loose and relaxed, and Simon groaned low in his throat. “Gonna breed you, love. Gonna make you mine.”

Price chuffed softly in response, thighs flopping open so that Simon could caress him properly, pushing his leaking seed back inside. Simon didn't need asking twice.

They mated throughout the night into the early morning. Simon left the bed long enough to get some food and water, and helped Price with both as the haze of heat made his movements sluggish. After a few hours of sleep, Simon woke him with another knot, holding him back to chest as he slid into him from behind. Each knot was a thorough breeding, their hormones, their scents, their bodies mixing until Price was ready to be bonded. 

Simon was hilt deep when he finally sank his teeth into Price's gland. His omega draped over him, back to chest, strong body arched in submission. Simon cupped beneath a thigh, thrusting into him with a semi-inflated knot that was making his eyes roll in overwhelming bliss. He tilted his head away under the guidance of Simon's hand at his chin, and Simon finally claimed the object of his desire, knot swelling inside him and triggering an intense wave of pleasure that made Price's body seize up.

The wound stopped bleeding as Simon licked it. He remembered vaguely reading something about alpha's having a clotting agent in their saliva sparked by the process of mating. Price’s pained huffs faded into softer sighs, and Simon held him as his body adjusted to the sudden surge of hormones in his bloodstream. Simon slid his palm over Price’s belly and cupped beneath its slight swell. 

“I know ‘m not your first choice,” Simon whispered in the quiet, his throat hoarse. “But…”

“Simon,” Price murmured, soft, wistful. “You're it. Jus’... always thought ya deserved better ‘an me.”

Simon's heart clenched in his chest, his nose burying in Price's hair. “Ain't nothin’ better ‘an you.”

“Got… bad taste in clothing and men, that bloody bally…”

“Olrigh’ boonie hat,” Simon chuckled, rocking his hips up a little in revenge. Price groaned, his body bearing down around Simon’s knot in a sudden throb of pleasure. “Heard bonded mating is a whole new level, but this… fuck, the noises you make.”

Price huffed softly. “Gettin’ a big head, Riley…”

“Naw, reckon I'm on the money, maybe I need t’ remind you again.” Simon slid a hand down Price's body to stroke his cock, rolling his hips slowly to grind his knot over Price's sweet spot, the stretch just the right side of too much. Price gasped, his back arching, and Simon clamped an arm around his chest to keep him still, giving him no choice but to endure the heated pleasure curling through his hips.

They had another day and a half to secure their bond before they had to return to work, and in that time, Simon would make sure Price never had a reason to dread his heat again. 

[stopaskingme]

The curious case of Adeyemi's (missing) watch in Conclave (2024)

the longer watch friend and I think on it, the more it blows our minds how intentional the costumers were wrt to the friggin watches in this movie. If you're interested in watch meta for Lawrence, Benitez, Bellini, Tremblay and Tedesco, I have linked the previous posts :D

This post is about Adeyemi's watch and what it means.

To do that, we've to highlight the different shorthands the watches have throughout the movie because despite like 100 close-ups of hands in Conclave, only six characters are depicted with watches.

Only the serious contenders for the papacy.

Before the conclave starts, watches are windows to a Character

they are quick snapshots of who a character is, or their current state of mind.

Tremblay and Tedesco: Watches with black dials, signalling their roles as antagonists;

Bellini and Lawrence: White dials. more on Bellini later.

Benitez: Digital watch face, neutral unknown

Two characters stand out because of how plainly the camera shows us their watches:

Benitez's Casio in his first full-profile shot, and

Lawrence's Orient in the emotionally vulnerable bathroom scene

– and then how completely those watches disappear once the conclave begins, which leads into the second role the watches play once the conclave begins.

x

Watches as Signals of Ambition

Because Benitez and Lawrence lack any desire to be pope, the watches are gone. Even in settings which you'd expect to see them, like the bedroom.

What's the point?

Well, Adeyemi's Watch.

We see glimpses of it when he was still in the running for the papacy.

But that's all we get. Glimpses. His watch cannot be identified.

It can't be an accident, since the movie has been so deliberate about who wears the watches.

Rather, the camera refuses more details on Adeyemi's watch because there's nothing more about him we needed to know.

He didn't need to prove himself. He was the 'natural' successor. He led the votes in the first three ballots. He's the closest thing to a shoo-in candidate.

When Lawrence comes to confront him, he is still wearing his watch. After Adeyemi realises he's lost his chance however, he's stripped of his watch by the next vote.

To hammer the point home, the camera shows us the individual candidates following the results of the next ballot.

Adeyemi sits with his hands tucked under the table.

Tremblay (as the new frontrunner) has a watch, but we don't get to see it fully

Bellini and Tedesco's watches are full-faced, out in the open. They are still actively chasing the papacy

Lawrence, on the other hand, genuinely doesn't want it, so his hands are firmly under the table.

Bellini

The same happens with Tremblay's watch when he's outed for simony. More interesting to note is the one time Bellini loses his watch; when Lawrence shares the report with him.

True, he was in his nightgown. It doesn't make sense for him to be wearing a watch. But he'd also given up on his own candidacy because he'd bought into the idea of a Tremblay papacy.

After Tremblay is out of the running, look who's wearing a watch again!

Lawrence

Most telling of all is Lawrence's watch. The only time it appears after the conclave begins is – you guessed it – WHEN HE VOTES FOR HIMSELF.

And Benitez?

Even during his game-changing monologue, his watch was hidden. We only see it after that in the final voting scene.

Benitez might not have wanted the papacy but he'd grasped the situation. He knew what direction he'd steer the Mother Church if he were elected. His watch is symbolic proof of his conviction and visual proof of his character.

In short, the watches show up when the candidates need to prove themselves worthy of being the next pope.

And they lose their watches when they are no longer eligible.

Going back to Adeyemi, when he realises he's lost his chance, Lawrence places his hand over Adeyemi's wrist when praying for him, covering where his watch would be.

Adeyemi's watch makes its last appearance when Tremblay is outed; his hope rearing its head. But he also realises he doesn't stand a viable chance.

When Benitez is elected, Adeyemi claps in resignation without a watch.

Tremblay's hands are beneath the table. The camera lingers only on the crack in his glasses.

Bellini's Seiko Dolce is there in its full tank face glory. He was never 'disqualified' from the race. Should there be another conclave in his lifetime, he might run again.

Tedesco's Oris out and in even fuller, naked display. He hadn't been 'disqualified' either. He could and would run if he's alive for the next conclave.

x

After the conclave

In the Room of Tears, Benitez holds Lawrence's hands. Benitez wears no watch. There's nothing more we need to know.

We already understand who he is and why he deserves to be Pope.

🐢 Conclave watches part 1 / part 2 / part 3

[eudaimaniacs]

lunch with a side of a babydoll dress (hugh jackman x female reader)

word count: 700 words

warning/s: smut with one mention of feet

notes: i included a word count after four posts (well, it happens). also there's one request on my inbox and i'll try answering that asap. i'm not good at fulfilling these requests (i have one dead and deactivated tumble blog to prove it). enough yapping, enjoy reader!

It was a long day of shooting Hugh's new movie from 5:30 A.M. to 10:30 P.M. of shooting in multiple costumes. He was stressed, to say the least. He didn't have time to rest, rewind, or even fuck his wife.

You hang around on set to provide support for Hugh. You know how stressful filming gets, especially with the time allotted for makeup, costuming, and shooting. You mostly prepare his meals since he prefers your cooking to ordering take-out when he's tired from filming.

One day couldn't get any worse. It was a hot day, meaning Hugh would be tired from the filming and the heat. He wanted to lie down in bed and sleep away his stress. Hugh kept his composure and still treated the staff and cast nicely.

It was lunchtime, and Hugh couldn't wait to eat what you made for him. He went to his trailer and saw your heavenly figure preparing his meal. You were wearing a flowy, white baby doll dress. The sun shone through the ethereal fabric, dancing when you slightly moved. Hugh could trace your curves in the sheer fabric. The softness of your breasts, the soft bend of your waist, and your ass barely peeking out of the short dress.

"Oh, there you are, Hugh! Let's eat right now." You beamed and gave him a peck. He stared for a few seconds before exploring your body with his hands. Hugh felt heaven when he touched every part. He made sure to not miss a spot and treated your body like a goddess.

Hugh growled and remarked, "The lunch can wait, sweetheart. You look so fucking good in that dress." Before you can reply, he caught you by surprise by passionately kissing you.

You hummed and returned the same desperation to Hugh. You tugged his hair as the two of you continued to kiss deeper. Hugh lifted your dress and caressed your breasts. He massaged your nipples, turning them rock solid. Hugh's hands turned their attention to your ass, squeezing and lightly slapping it.

You giggle and break the kiss. "Glad you liked the dress, Hugh. I picked the perfect day to wear it."

Hugh dipped and then kissed your neck. "Have been too stressed today and the days before, honey. I need to relieve myself."

You raised your eyebrows at his suggestion. You were feeling the mood, but someone could walk inside the trailer to tell Hugh to return to set.

"Are you crazy, Hugh? One of your co-stars or makeup artist could come knocking, and they would hear us fucking," you whisper-screamed to Hugh, who was already touching your pussy. You moaned at the sensation of his rough hands rubbing your clit. You tried to protest, but Hugh's actions suppressed it.

"I don't care about them hearing, [Y/N]. I want them to know how good my wife fucking feels."

Hugh raised your dress and took out his cock from the restraint of his tight pants. He pumped it for a few times and then rubbed it at the lips of your pussy. You moaned and rubbed your breasts to further pleasure yourself. Hugh slowly entered, and you let out a loud, shaky whine.

He gradually fastened his pace, knowing he had little time to eat lunch and returning on set. Hugh growled and grabbed your waist as he reached his high. You felt the imprint of his dick on your stomach and hoped that he could see it through your dress.

You moaned and called out his name as you climaxed. You tried grabbing onto something as the sensation of Hugh's stress fucking you left you shaking.

"That was good, baby girl. Come on, let me help you get up," Hugh whispered, grabbing your waist to help you sit down. Your hair was a mess, as was your face. However, your white babydoll dress remained beautiful, sculpting your perfect body and highlighting your best features.

Hugh sat opposite and began eating the lunch you prepared earlier.

"Thank you for the two meals, [Y/N]. I can't wait for dinner tonight."

You winked and rubbed his crotch with your feet. Happily thinking what meal you'll prepare and dress he'll fuck you in with.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[psicheanima]

Gregor Linguistic Analysis

Hello. I just finished Canto 1, so as I said, here are some things I found fun about the way Gregor speaks. I’ll do Rodya after Canto 2, and so on and so forth.

Do not mention any events after Canto 1 in the notes or tags of this post, thank you.

Gregor’s sentences are short to mid length, maintaining a natural, almost casual rhythm. His syntax is straightforward, avoiding complex subordinate clauses or elaborate phrasing. This reflects his laid-back and nonchalant attitude— his speech is efficient, unpretentious, and devoid of pretense. His words flow with a conversational ease, almost never rushed or clipped (despite his habit to drop subjects, compare him to someone like Ishmael, for example— he’s more warm), reinforcing his uncomplicated nature, which is something he really wants others to see— he wants to be a simple, regular man. He does not want to be seen as someone important.

He uses shortened constructions—such as omitting subject or auxiliary verbs—which gives his speech a relaxed, even offhand feel. In particular, when he talks about his past, he almost never talks proactively.

Fitting his casual speech and “action-oriented” past, Gregor also uses phrasal verbs in a casual context quite a bit. This also ties in with his tendency to downplay his personal struggles by speaking as if they were just ordinary events. When he does this, he also tends to pass the responsibility to his superiors, placing himself in the position of “but I’m just a guy, it’s (external thing).”. (His landlord, his manager).

Gregor is, however, quite the normal guy when it comes to how he speaks, so though there’s no much to say about his word choice outside of some strangely old-timey whimsical words every now and then (absolutely used to make him seem more warm, affable, and distinctively NOT like a strict military guy.) But there is quite a bit to say about what he “chooses” to say.

When talking about serious or painful things, he keeps it brief but adds this elliptical phrasing that lets the weight of his words sink in without outright stating it. He never spells out his emotions—his restraint makes the pain obvious without needing to say it. It’s less about what he says and more about what he holds back.

However, the most standout thing about the way Gregor speaks is the way he always subjugates himself whenever joking. Gregor himself says he does this.

However, his jokes about his arm will always hold more passive aggression and underlying hurt than his more elaborate, whimsical jokes about his previous military position— the topics that make him most upset.

He eases not only outright— but any potential hostility with humor. Consider the way he uses a mild, almost playful, word like “pest” to describe his condition—it reflects the level of detachment he’s employing in his suffering, a detachment that very much is the only thing helping him manage that suffering. He can’t open about how much discomfort it causes him, so fashions it as a palatable thing others can laugh at WITH him, instead of AGAINST him.

He believes people will always mock him, and even more importantly thinks there is something worth mocking about him, so this humor is always light hearted and easy to ignore. He does not challenge others cruelty towards him.

It’s not so big of a deal that people see him as something other if he’s not dangerous. He’s a monster, but just a small one. A pest. Insignificant.

In this same way he often uses rhetorical questions and double negatives to get his point across on this topic. For example, when he says the above, he’s highlighting the unpleasantness of his arm without directly addressing the actual discomfort it causes others. It’s his way of communicating subtly— avoiding bitterness or confrontation, trying to force himself into the “joke” of how revolting he is. Another way he does this is by referring to the other soldiers as “things”. Othering himself.

So despite his ease with small talk (being the first to introduce himself to us), his deeper emotions often surface in the spaces between words. He lets the quiet do the heavy lifting, as he is unwilling to say things plainly.

His distaste for status is reflected most simply in how he speaks to Dante.

“Manager Bud” → “Bud” softens authority. It reflects his preference for informal, cordial relationships rather than professional ones. The very concept of a work life similar to the military structure he knows is something he is absolutely terrified of. He does not like putting people higher or lower than him.

Gregor’s speech register is informal, with a blend of

- Working class pragmatism

- Older, slightly rustic quirks (usually one off words like “bugger”)

- Military lingo (in particular, he mentions “getting medals” a lot where others would say “rewarded”.)

In conclusion: He is someone who has been through a range of social settings but refuses to perform “proper” speech anymore in any effort to seem like a regular citizen, something he feels deeply he is not, and so he uses humor to feel as if he is “in” on the joke of how revolting he is.

[iwantdrpepper222]

rhapsodic

nam-gyu x reader

summary: bad first experience doing drugs and nam-gyu has to help you through it

req: no one, i literally just started this account aha lol

note - firstly, i am so sorry if this fic seems to be long, i usually get carried away when i write and forget not everyone wants to read an 100k letter novel. second, this is a personal AU of mine where nam-gyu and reader are dating but they are not in the games.. i might write a different fic where they are in the games or something :p also.. guys.. ik i said this would be out on friday but things happen, i got all caught up in stuff,yknow... my apologies.

also this just a tad bit cringe. excuse me, i haven't wrote in some time.

tags: mention of drugs, alcohol, throwing up because of substance use, dead dove-ish??? a bit angst-sty but also fluff, im not sure how to do tags uhhhh

also, i did happen to be listening to cigarettes after sex while writing this so this is just a tad inspired by their song "cry". (also somewhat inspired by A$AP rocky?idk) enjoy!!

you had never supported your boyfriends decision to do drugs. in fact, you constantly tried to discourage him from it and convince him to get sober. he would always respond with,

"okay, i'll try."

but you knew it was a lie. he wasn't trying for shit. it made you begin to speculate that nam-gyu had cared more for a high than his relationship with you.

you had never liked nam-gyu's job either. you thought that it made him indulge further into his harmful addictions and habits. of course, that came with being a club promoter, but there were other jobs out there that could get him just as much money as he made now.

everytime you commented on this he simply just snickered and said you "were in his business too often." "what a caring and loving boyfriend you are." you would reply, and it would always end in a harsh argument.

you were tired of the treatment you got from him.

one night, nam-gyu had invited you to come to the club he worked at with him. he egged you on by saying things like,

"oh it'll be fun though" and also remarks stating "you wouldn't want to embarrass your boy, showing up with no girl you know."

you couldn't help but fall victim to his guilt tripping and agree. at least it gave you an excuse to doll up and wear a dress for once, right? you never got the chances to do those things like a normal girl your age would. (20-25) you were always working attempting to provide for not only yourself and also your boyfriend. it didn't make it any easier that you were in a TON of debt.

whatever, this night could give you a chance to debrief and thats all that matters. as long as one of nam-gyu's annoying, bastard friends don't come up and bother you, you should be fine. (hehe foreshadowing)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

it took you a few hours to get ready that night which very obviously stressed out nam-gyu. he has a thing for worrying he wouldn't get to places on time. the wait was worth it though when he had saw the beautiful black dress you decided you would wear. it highlighted the curves of your body perfectly. the dress was about mid-length and came strapless at the top. inevitably, you felt a bit insecure. you were so used to wearing hoodies, sweatpants, baggy t-shirts and the occasional shorts that it felt almost wrong to be wearing something as pretty as this.

"what? is something wrong?" you spoke up as you noticed nam-gyu staring at you. it made your heart flutter with the way his eyes softened up and the tinge of blush that you could now see on his cheeks. he looked how he looked on the day he first asked you out.

"no.. nothings wrong. you just look.. you look really good babe."

you blushed intensely at his comment. it made you glad that he actually liked what you wore. i mean, it wasn't like you needed his validation but it sure as hell felt great when you were able to get it.

you two then began to walk out of the door and on your way after exchanging compliments and giving each other a kiss on the cheek.

well, the drive to the club was... just a little bit awkward.. in your opinion at least. you kept noticing the desirable gazes nam-gyu gave you and how he slid his hand up and down your thigh. you being in the passenger seat was his favorite thing. this was because he had easy access to touch you.

this wasn't surprising at all. you knew very well that nam-gyu's love language was physical touch and you actually sort of loved that about him. the way he was so clingy and touchy made you feel special. before you met him you were depraved of that.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

entering the club made you nervous as all hell. you never liked being around large crowds of people and nam-gyu knew that.

he smiled as he hugged your waist behind you, like he was trying to let everyone at the club know, "hey this is my girlfriend!!"

this quickly changed though when he saw his friend thanos. thanos stuck out from most of the crowd with his purple hair and multi colored nails. he was an upcoming rapper and was getting fairly popular.

"whatts up my boy nam-su!!" he greeted. 'nam-su? thats not his name. you questioned in your head trying not to pay much attention.

"is this your girlfriend you brought with you?" thanos asked. nam-gyu nodded, putting his hand on your shoulder.

"yep, her name is Y/N."

"hello Y/N, you look very good tonight." thanks spoke approaching you. you only backed up closer to nam-gyu, which made him chuckle.

"well.. if you guys don't mind, come to the room i have set up for us. its a bit private, yknow?"

"alright. cmon Y/N." nam-gyu gestured, pulling on your hand as thanos led them to a room a bit closed off from the rest of the club. when you entered you saw two girls and a random boy. you knew none of these people which filled your body with anxiety.

"sit down guys," thanos said as he sat down on a chair next to the two ladies.

you and nam-gyu ended up on a couch together.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

time skip and it has now been a hour or so since you two arrived at the club. seeing all these new people around you made you nervous. the only support you had in this moment was nam-gyu and it didn't seem like he was paying much attention to you anyways. he just lousily hung his arm around your shoulder. another bead of sweat rolled down your face as you looked at the bag of pills that laid on the glass table in front of you. 'it's not for me.. you repeated in your head. something in your gut told you should leave before something you regret happens. you watched as nam-gyu continuously sipped on his glass of alcohol and slipped various pills in his mouth. you hated everything about this. suddenly, you then hear a low but smooth voice speak. it was that purple haired guy again.

"so Y/N, what do you prefer? ecstasy or snow?" this startled you. was he asking what drug you preferred? ...none?!

you looked up to nam-gyu for an answer or at least a little bit of guidance but instead of helping you he just grinned. his eyes had a bit of red on the whites and you watched as he slipped another blue tablet in his mouth and this is how you knew he was out of it.

"none." you mumbled, refusing to look him in the eye.

"nam-gyu, is this true? your girl doesn't do anything?" girl? really?

"cmon thanos.. she does.. she just doesn't wanna admit it alright?" your boyfriends speech slurred. it was the mix of the alcohol and random drug he took earlier really kicking in. you mean, he always rode out his highs nicely, he never acted too stupid, but you guessed he took one too many this night.

"so she wouldn't mind taking a few lines or so?" 'thanos' questioned, tilting his head.

you started to loose your mind. why was nam-gyu straight up lying about you? you had never done a drug in your life.

"no.. no she wouldn't," he began. "cmon baby, the lines right there." nam-gyu said pointing at the table. in front of you there were 3 messy white lines of what you could only assume was cocaine. you stared at him helplessly, almost like you were screaming at him to leave this place.

"what are you waiting for Y/N? we didn't do anything to it." thanos added, breaking the silence between you and nam-gyu. you began to think about what he said earlier at the house, how he didn't want to embarrass himself with (or even without you. if you didn't snort up these lines, you would be proving to his friend that nam-gyu lied. would you really sacrifice your dignity for nam-gyu though?

he gave you that lovely dovey sweet look he had on his face when he was high and that immediately made you break eye-contact with him. it swooned you a bit too much.

you finally decided to reply to thanos, and also make your decision on what you were about to do. "i.. i know you didn't."

you then began to slowly get off the couch and from nam-gyu's grasp, sitting down on the floor with the lines in front of you. you had no idea how you could do this. you only ever watched nam-gyu do it, and it always made you so mad. so mad you couldn't even focus on the motions nam-gyu made when he snorted that stuff up.

taking one last deep breath you lowered your nose down to the table and tried all your best to snort it up. it stung and left you sneezing and coughing when you were done. when you looked over to ur side to see nam-gyu's face and reaction to what you had just done he was just smirking cynically. thanos and the two other girls sitting next to him on other hand were just laughing and giggling, this made you feel tiny. you had always hated it when people were laughing in your face.

you couldn't do anything about it so you just rolled your eyes.

"go on, do one more." the purple haired freak spoke up. you just looked down. you weren't sure if you were able to do another one or not.

'don't embarrass nam-gyu..' you repeated in your head. this was the only reason you were betraying yourself, because you didn't want nam-gyu to look like a fool in front of his "friends." so, you took another line.

when you finished you were ashamed of yourself. you couldn't believe you had just done a hard drug just for the sake of a boy.

"do you need a drink to wash that down?" nam-gyu finally spoke. happy to hear his voice you quickly agreed and got up to sit on the couch near him again. when he asked you if you wanted a drink you didn't know it would be alcohol though. this worried you. you didn't think you could stomach both alcohol and drugs... and you were right.

nam-gyu had handed you his half empty cup of svedka vodka waiting for you to take it from his hands. you shook, cursing yourself mentally.

you quickly gulped most of the vodka down, it felt hot down your throat and tasted like hand sanitizer. you weren't a big fan of this stuff.

when you finished drinking you found nam-gyu rubbing your back comfortingly. no matter how mad you were at him you always melted at his touch.

the rest of the night was a blur. the mix of the vodka and also the drugs did not sit well with you. you sort of just watched as the girls, thanos, nam-gyu, and some other random guy conversed, trying to swallow the fact that you felt like you were about to blackout. you hadn't even realized that its been about 5 hours since you first got to the club.

you laid in nam-gyus arms watching as the world around you warped and twisted and felt all the sudden very hyper.

"f..fuck." you whimpered, quickly getting up and covering your mouth. "i need to .. go to the bathroom." you mumbled again, hearing someone snicker behind you as you began to speed walk over to the bathrooms. getting there was a bit of a struggle as you had to navigate through sweating dancing bodies and loud music which only made your ache worse.

when you made it to the stalls you quickly crouched down the nearest toilet and began to throw up your own guts.

you hadn't known that when you left the room that nam-gyu had quickly followed behind you.

when you heard him entering the woman's bathroom you thought it was a stranger so you instantly tried to shut yourself up. you were so out of it you forgot to even shut the stall door behind you. sweat poured down your forehead as you heard footsteps behind you, looking over only to see nam-gyu's sweet face.

"it's okay.." he nodded, grabbing your hair and holding it back for you. you took this as an initiative to get the rest of the stuff you had in your system out.

by the time you were done you were crying and sniffing regretting everything you had done that night. you quickly flushed everything you just threw up down and fell into nam-gyu's arms. you didn't have anything to really say to him so you just cried, your tears landing on his black shirt.

he didn't say anything either. he just stroked your hair like you were some kind of pet.

"i wanna go home." you muttered to him--your tone was serious.

"yeah, i think its time we go." he agreed as he helped you up, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

on your way out of the club he simply just gave thanos the 'yknow' look and he nodded in response.

the drive home was strange. you could feel yourself actively falling in and out of sleep and for once you were in the backseat instead of the front-seat.

when you made it to you and nam-gyu's apartment he grabbed you and took you inside the building bridal style. this sent butterflies through your drunken body because even out of your mind you still knew this wasn't how he usually treated you. you clung onto him anyways.

inside, he set you down on your guys bed. he laid down next to you turning himself over so he could see your face. he brushed some of your hair out of your face and stared at you with desire in his eyes.

ironically, there happened to be some water on the nightstand. he grabbed it and slowly brung it to your lips, helping you get some water intake.

you felt a little better knowing you now had a little bit of water in your system.

suddenly, he grabbed your body, pulling you into a sweethearts cradle and hugging you tightly. his body was warm like a heater. it felt great compared to the cold night outside.

you buried your head in his chest feeling his heartbeat against your cheek.

you never wanted to let go of this moment.

to the soft vibrational hums you then fell asleep being cradled in nam-gyus arms.

why couldn't every night be like this?

[chesterfieldblossom]

"AMERICAN WEDDING"

Arthur Morgan x Reader (1k words) "Well you can have my mustang / That's all I've got in my name"

SUMMARY | Arthur and you had been in a discreet relationship, but everyone on the camp knew your commitment. But of course, he wanted to make a bit more official. NOTES | It's really short, like just and idea I had on my notes when I was listening American Wedding by Frank Ocean. But I hope y'all enjoy. Also, dividers by @cafekitsune WARNINGS/TAGS | Oneshot, fluff, wedding proposal, f!reader RATING | Teen

"Well, you can have my Mustang." He drawled, voice low and quiet, as though he didn’t want to disturb the night. "That's all I got in my name."

You glanced up at him, the moonlight casting faint shadows across his face, highlighting the lines of weariness that came with the life he led. His eyes, usually hard and distant, were softer now, vulnerable even. Arthur Morgan was not a man who gave easily, and yet, here he was, offering you what little he had—his horse, his loyalty, his heart.

You had thought about marriage before—when you were younger, when life seemed simpler and oblivious. But the image had always been different: a small church, family gathered, maybe even a white dress. Not this—lying on a dusty cot, surrounded by the wilderness, with Arthur Morgan of all people. But that was the thing about life, wasn’t it? It never turned out quite like you imagined.

"Arthur..." You whispered, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t just talking about his Mustang. This was Arthur’s way of saying everything—his past, his future, his soul. You could feel his uncertainty, the tension in the way his fingers hovered slightly above you bare arm, as if he was waiting for you to make a move, to push him away, to tell him no.

But you didn’t want to. God, you would be out of your damn mind if you say no.

You reached up, placing your hand on his, stilling his gentle caress. His hand was large, warm, and rough from years of hard work. It grounded you, made you feel safe in this world of chaos. "I don’t need a Mustang, Arthur." You murmured, thumb tracing circles on the back of his hand. "I need you."

His breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and for a moment, no one spoke. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, a reminder of the man beneath the outlaw. You could see the boy in he for the first time, a glimpse of your children. You wondered if he ever imagined this for himself, or if he thought he was too far gone for something like love, like commitment.

"I ain’t got much to offer." he finally said, voice hushed, like he was scared the words might break something between you. "Ain’t never been good at... well, any of this. You know that."

You smiled softly, shifting closer to him. "You’re enough, Arthur. Just you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

He didn’t speak for a while, just stared at you, as if he were trying to make sense of how someone could want him—just him. The world had not been kind to Arthur Morgan, and in many ways, it had hardened him. But beneath the roughness, the gruff words and guarded glances, there was a man who felt deeply, who cared more than he let on.

As if making a decision, Arthur suddenly shifted beside you, reaching into the pocket of his worn coat. You watched, curious, as he fumbled for a moment before pulling something out—a small, delicate ring. The band was thin, silver, and simple, with no extravagant jewels, but to you, it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

He held it out to you, almost sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Picked it up in town a while back." he admitted, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Didn’t know if you’d... well, if you’d want it. Ain’t much, but it’s real silver."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart swelling in your chest. The fact that Arthur had gone out of his way to find a ring, something so traditional, so symbolic, meant more than words could express. You could see the way he was looking at you, searching for some kind of approval, some sign that this was right.

"Arthur..." You whispered, the voice breaking slightly. "It’s beautiful."

Without another word, he took your left hand in his, his touch gentle but sure. Slowly, almost reverently, he slid the ring onto your finger. It fit snugly, as though it had been made for you, and the cool metal sent a shiver through your skin. The moment felt timeless, as if you were the only two people in the world, surrounded by the quiet wilderness and the faint glow of the stars.

"There." he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Now it’s official, I guess."

You couldn’t help but smile, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. This was not the wedding you had once imagined, but in every way that mattered, it was better. Arthur Morgan was yours, and you was his, bound not by law or tradition, but by something deeper—something unbreakable.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, the noses brushing, breaths mingling in the cool night air. "I love you, Arthur Morgan." You whispered, the voice thick with emotion. "More than anything."

He closed his eyes, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close, his lips pressing softly to your temple. "I love you too." he murmured, the words coming out rough, like they were foreign to him. But they were real, and that’s all that mattered.

As you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, you looked down at the ring now glinting on your finger. It was simple, yes, but it was yours. Arthur leaned forward, lifting your chin to gave you a kiss. You happily returned, your bodies shifting closer as he embrace you and the lips moved together.

"But Jesus Christ don't break my heart." He whispered. The warm breath brushed on your lips, making you want to kiss him again.

"This wedding ring won't ever wipe off." You promised to him, whispering back.

[bokettochild]

Linked Universe Enterence p.3

Okay! So I have thoughts!!!!

First off, does anyone remember when JoJo shared those first snippets? How there was a fun little detail that suddenly disappeared when the comic actually became more than doodles?

Yeah, I'm talking about this guy

(Not the grouchy old man being offended, the owl LOL)

I know there's a chance I'm wrong, a big one at that, but I think it would be really cool if, if only for a short while, JoJo brought him back, even if it's just for this era of Hyrule. Let Time have his owl buddy!

Anyways, to the actual comic!

I noticed that the boys are all still together, so I'm guessing they're waiting until they come to a cross-roads to actually split up like Four advised last time. So we have that to look forwards to in the coming updates!

I love that she's really highlighting the similarities and differences in this arc, showing us who knows what and what they've done, but also the little things; both with owls and the antifairy!

I adore the Owlan reference/appearance!

And Time immediately agreeing about the "long, drawn out lectures part" made me laugh. (His expression, my Hylia!!!)

That is the face of a man who kept accidentally asking to "hear it again" and regrets it with every bone of his being LOL

It's good to see more call backs to the last comics too! Having Hyrule be wary of the statue because he remembers seeing it before, and Warriors agreeing, but also reminding that it didn't cause harm. The fact that Hyrule keeps his sword pointed at it though, wary, does say a lot about how cautious he's being all the same (Wild ought to take notes)

And of course this whole panel

Twilight's awkwardly trying to assure the rest without spilling the secret, Sky laughing and turning to look at Legend, and the fact that the vet is just so entirely done with even just the thought of being a rabbit. (I love his face, omgosh).

Te way I screamed "anti-fairy!" when I saw this, and then was so, so delighted that Legend and I had the same thought (I am unwell about this man).

I'm equally unwell about the fact that Legend just has to say "ouch" (which you only say at inconveniences and not real, actual hurts) and immediately everyone's turning, weapons out and ready to help him face...whatever. Like, he's fine, guys, but it's sweet you care (now Legend, please take note and realize you belong, you idiot)

Love that Time hears "fairy" and immediately is all ears. All the more so at the "anti" part. Man was raised by fairies and he absolutely doesn't like the idea of something that would hurt them.

Meanwhile Legend is just being freaking Haku (Spirited Away) over here!

Tell me you don't see it!!!!!!

Also, his casual use of magic to purify something, to just make it no longer a threat, rather than hurting it. That need to save EVERYONE is really showing through here, huh?

And immediately, everyone is shocked that he did that, but also what it means about fairies. About dark magic. But Time and Wars especially!

Gosh, just Legend's little worried face and Time's offense at the idea of fairies being corrupted and harmed. Shows a bit about them here too I think. Time is maybe slightly obsessed with fairies (reasonably so) and hates them being harmed, but he shows his worry on the matter in anger. legend, meanwhile, becomes more sombre, quieter: it bothers him too (maybe reminds him of a certain predecessor?)

Get this man a tiara, he's a freaking Disney Princess over here, good grief!!!! He's carrying fairy food on what? The slim chance he has time to stop and feed them? Honestly, i know he's probably as attached to fairies as Time (although with a healthier relationship with them), but this is just too cute. this man is going to be the death of me!!!

Anyways, here's the bonuses!!!!

SUN APPEARANCE!!!!!!!! We have a canon Sun appearance!!!!! Like, sure, sleepy student Sky, but it's SUN!!!!

This smile. Oh my gosh I adore him. He's just so glad he got to help the corrupted little one become normal again.

JoJo was having fun with Four I see LOL

Man really said "hang on, let me check my purse, I think I have snacks in here"

Freaking Mom Coded

[juliaspizzeria]

── ᵎᵎ ✦ YUUJI BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS

SUMMARY ! ; yuuji itadori as your bf ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

JULIA SPEAKS ! ; yuuji is such a sweetie pie

WARNINGS ! ; none i dont think EXCEPT some of these are soo basiiiccc omfg sorry ˙◠˙

── bf! yuuji itadori who sleep-talks. two in the morning. your boyfriend is sleeping heavily, even snoring lightly- something you’d grown accustomed to in the time you’ve known him. you had also gotten used to his sleep-talking. all through the night, soft little hums and nonsense sentences left his lips as he cuddled further into you.

── bf! yuuji itadori who is so obsessed with you. always bragging about you to his friends, always bringing you up every chance he gets. he is so smitten by you and needs you and everyone else to know how lucky he is.

── bf! yuuji itadori who loves doing skincare with you. it's the highlight of his day, really. of course, he loves how rewarding it feels, but its you that makes him want to do it so much. your hands applying the moisturizer to his face, the way you look while wearing a little skincare headband, he loves all of it. he loves you.

── bf! yuuji itadori who always wants to facetime while you guys are apart. he's out on a mission? he's on the phone with you the whole way there and back. he's at the store? he's calling you, showing you all the chip options to see which ones you want. he already knows what you want, he just wants to hear your voice.

── bf! yuuji itadori who loves physical touch. he's always sitting right next to you, close enough that you're both shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. always holding your hand, always peppering your face with little kisses.

── bf! yuuji itadori who loves any kind of kiss, but is obsessed with temple kisses. he'll sling his arm over your shoulders, pulling you in and giving a soft little peck to your temple. and if you do it to him? god, he might as well get on one knee right then and there.

── bf! yuuji itadori who remembers every. single. anniversary. first kiss? first date? first anything, he's got it memorized and will go all out for it.

── bf! yuuji itadori who is not at all afraid to tell you how much he loves you- he does it constantly. it's true, after all.

a/n. UGHHH YUUJIIII MY BABYYYYYY sorry this is so short !!

divider creds ⟶ @/cafekitsune

[patchodraws]

my hot take for today, rwby gets better when you realise that blake definitely did have a crush on sun in the early days but didn’t follow up on it because she realised post-fall that her feelings were stronger for yang and that sun just wasn’t the one.

1) it makes all the eclipse moments in early volumes not feel like they’re shitting on bumbleby (the eventual canon couple)

2) it highlights that yes, blake is indeed bi

3) it tells a very realistic story of how some crushes just aren’t meant to be

do i still think blake had a bit of a crush on yang at beacon? absolutely. do i still think yang fell first and was so head over heels for blake at beacon? absolutely! blake seriously has a type, and sun and yang are both that type.

the difference comes in how they treat her. sun may be fun and flirty, but he’s also senseless and pushes blake out of her comfort zones far too often without realizing why she doesn’t appreciate it. yang on the other hand is patient with her, invites her into her life to have fun without pushing her way in and trampling all over her boundaries.

and that’s what’s fun about sun and yang being so similar !! like, not only does blake have a type, but it shows the variance in that type and what she needs in a relationship. it’s a great narrative !!

and it works extra well when you consider that sun doesn’t get jealous and actively encourages blake to go on her own way (subtext: to get her girl), because then it makes him somewhat of a narrative foil to ilia, who was jealous of adam and let that jealousy fester, as opposed to sun, who let go of those conflicting feelings to let blake — who he undoubtedly loves — be herself and do what she wants. (it’s also why i really love the dynamic of sun and ilia, himbo and lesbian duo getting over the girl they loved)

long story short, eclipse isn’t bad but it also wasn’t meant to be and that’s okay. better, even, for the story they wanted to tell for blake.