#also thirst for old men but y'know

[whirlybirbs]

— NOISE COMPLAINT ; eijiro kirishima ; 切島

summary: red riot feels really bad about absolutely wrecking the shit out of your treasured plants, or eijiro kirishima falls in love at first sight. pairing: f!reader / pro hero!red riot word count: 3.7k tags: mutual pining, fluff/comfort, humor, very gentlemanly make-out, reader is a fan of red riot, mention of ingenium thirst (truth) a/n: kiri might be a twenty-seven year old pro hero in this fic but he is an absolute lovesick virgin who gets all his romantic cues from k-dramas. you cannot force me to think otherwise.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

The television, low and quiet, drones on as a deep-dive video on terrariums plays. Your apartment is clean — dishes done, laundry folded and trash taken out. There's a new candle burning on the coffee table, and a Dynamight-themed, cucumber-melon eye mask plastered to your delightedly thoughtless expression.

It's supposed to be good for dark circles. It kinda burns. You wonder if maybe that's, like, part of the gimmick. Y'know. Burns. Dynamight. 

Whatever.

No thoughts. Only the pleasure of turning everything off — brain included — for a perfect Friday night, complete with a mediocre glass of wine and no pants. 

The oversized Red Riot t-shirt clinging to your frame is your favorite. You've had it since college — it's a simple red tee with REAL MEN RIOT blazoned across the front, complete with your favorite hero popping a cheeky, shark-like grin and a double bicep. It's faded, stretched out, and broken in but it's also clean, and it smells like fabric softener and comfort.

This is the life. 

Even Twitter is decidedly pretty calm tonight. 

You're scrolling through your timeline, snickering at your friends' recent thirst tweets over Ingenium's recent GQ Japan shoot when it starts.

Apparently, your upstairs neighbors are home.

You thought those guys were out of town for the week. 

You've had beautiful, silent bliss for too long. The buck stops tonight, you suppose.

There's a shout overhead, then a scramble. Another voice joins the fray, and you swear you hear someone call someone else an idiot. You frown deeply as your eyes trail upwards. You wait, expecting more noise, but unsettling silence follows.

Your eye twitches.

Annoyance tips into a simmering rage.

The apartment complex is old. It's in decent shape, and the rent isn't half bad, but the walls are thin. Your upstairs neighbors have been like this as long as you can remember: shouting, stomping, fighting... Some nights it's like being subjected to musical chairs, modern contemporary tap dance, and experimental sound drum solos all at once. 

Your first week was the worst. You dragged yourself up the back to knock on their door and politely negotiate some silence — but the man who opened the door was less than pleased to have his little dude-bro circle-jerk interrupted. He told you to fuck off, get bent, and leave him the fuck alone. 

Then, before he slammed the door in your face, he procured the sort of audacity only assholes possessed and laughed at your Red Riot shirt — which is just plain unforgivable, frankly. 

"That guy's a fuckin' pussy." 

Sure, sure, sure, right, right, right.

The interaction told you everything you needed to know about the two (or four?) men who lived upstairs. They were losers. And they were fuckin' annoying. 

And, as it turns out, manufacturing bad batches of Trigger. 

You don't know that yet, but truth be told it isn't exactly shocking.

Maybe it's your fault for picking an apartment complex in this part of Tokyo. This part of Arawaka Ward is rarely found on those top-ten-neighborhoods-for-young-professionals lists, but it's affordable! And for day laborers like you, it worked. And hey, in recent months, the crime rate has gone down at least 5% — which only quelled the anxieties of your mom and dad by about the same percentage. 

The candle on the coffee table flickers, and you're about to turn back to your slow Twitter feed when there's another bang upstairs — this one admittedly loud enough to send a wave through your wine beside you. You slip your eyes slowly to the glass, perched on a coaster, as another bang rattles your apartment. You reach to still the vibrating glass on the side table. 

That's when the shouting really starts.

And it's when you notice the growing brightness of red and blue lights outside the window.

The apartment complex is pretty big. There are about sixty residents and six floors. You lucked out and managed to snagone of the last available Western-facing studios with a balcony — which made for a perfect plant haven. 

It was a recent hobby, but one that quickly became your calm after the chaos of the day-to-day. Working for the city's Heroics Response Department left you picking up the physical pieces (literally) of a lot of lives. Your quirk might be the usual, run-of-the-mill strength-based ability, but it comes in handy in the aftermath of property damage due to — what the Nation's Safety Commission has labeled — "villain-aggressed encounters". 

All in all, it's a good gig. It's physically demanding but rewarding. The pay is good, you've got union benefits, and you even have a per-diem schedule. It keeps you busy, and though it's not your father's construction business, it's a career path your parents are proud of. 

The slice-of-heaven balcony is bustling with plants. Some are happier than others, sure, but it's pretty. You've admittedlyformed an emotional bond with those vines, leaves, and flowers. 

It's perfect.

It's also perfect for snooping whenever things like this go down in your complex, or the sister complex across the parking lot. 

The shouting match upstairs is escalating, and you take the moment to tip-toe towards your balcony door to peek outside. It looks like two or three police cruisers have pulled up outside. Maybe someone called for a noise complaint? Maybe the property manager was tired of dealing with those losers?

Cackling to yourself, and hoping for a vindicating show of revenge (NO ONE CALLS RED RIOT A PUSSY), you yank open your balcony door and slip outside just as the sound of a pot crashing meets your ears.

Then:

"Shit, shit, shit—"

There's someone on the balcony. That someone's boot is currently stuck in an empty terracotta pot you were saving for spring. Your eyes are wide as you watch the shadow leap to his other foot, lose his balance, and unceremoniously knock over your entire, six-foot-tall, and well-treasured plant stand. You slap a hand over your mouth mid-shriek, hands flying to try and save whatever you can. 

You fail.

Eijiro Kirishima freezes.

What the fu—

It takes a second.

Like, a full second. Maybe even two. Your brain can't make sense of the sight before you. Neither can his, really. 

There's a girl on this balcony. A pretty girl. Like, mega pretty. Like soft and warm and cute and you smell kinda like vanilla — and there's... You're wearing his merch. His merch and... nothing else. Nothing else but a Dynamight eye mask and a pair of fluffy socks. 

...Is this what it's like to fall in love at first sight?

Shit.

Red Riot is on your balcony.

The Red Riot.

Red Riot, the hero in question, catches himself staring. His wide eyes openly wander over your figure (woah, okay, hello thighs), and the second he realizes it, he quickly snaps his eyes up to your face with a mortified expression. "Uh... hi!"

"...Hi...?"

Your expression is tied between shame, fear, and sheepishness as you blink once at him, then twice at the mess of your hobby's destruction. There's dirt everywhere, a plant stand blocking the doorway, and carnage. Your precious babies have been murdered. 

By Red Riot.

And... Red Riot is on your balcony. 

You repeat: Red Riot is on your balcony. 

Abort mission, abort mission.

Your lips part, your mouth hangs open, and every single thought in your head seems to stutter. Kirishima winces as you look down dejectedly at your plants (or, what remains) before he speaks.

"I, uh— is it cool if I..." he points upwards, "Use your balcony?" 

You're speechless.

You draw your mouth shut and nod hurriedly.

"Thanks," he grins, giving you a thumbs up — and a smile. A toothy, cute, nervous smile, "Lemme just... I gotta handle something. B-But, I'll be back. I'll help fix this mess — just... five minutes, okay?"

It hits you suddenly that his voice sounds different from all those interviews you've watched. It's a little warmer, a little raspier, a little less heroic. It's cute. 

Your brain is still having a hard time connecting the words coming out of his mouth to the scene before you — like, yes frontal lobe, this is real. This is happening.

Red Riot is real and Red Riot is on your balcony. 

He's shockingly gentle when he finally frees his boot from your terracotta pot, setting it down with purposeful delicacy — he even whispers 'please stay' as he props it upright — and then steps back to eye the balcony above yours like an athlete remembering a gameplan. 

He's trying to figure out the best way up. 

How he even got up here is news to you. 

(It was Uravity, as it turns out. They've been patrolling together more in this Ward.)

Red Riot is huge. Like, huge. 

Broad shoulders, rippling biceps, and long, fluffy crimson hair. It's daunting to realize how tall he is in person. The guy is a beast — everyone knows it — but his chivalrous nature is that thing that usually draws in his fans. It's no secret that Red Riot is sweet. He openly champions the need to be a good role model for men everywhere. Y'know, you can be strong and nice!

A sharp canine glints in your apartment's light as he pokes his tongue out and thinks for a second. 

Then, he settles on his plan. 

"You might wanna head inside," Red Riot says as he rolls his shoulders and bounces on the balls of his feet; he's readying up for a fight — and you blink as the beautiful realization dawns on you, "This could get kinda loud."

Loud?

Oh my god.

Is he here for your upstairs neighbors?

Oh my god, he is. 

Your jaw falls open as you bark out a laugh — it's an incredulous rasp that sends you into a spiral of joy; you're not a vengeful person by any means but...

"They're gonna shit themselves," you grin, your eyes alight with pure delight and a spark of something that reminds Kirishima a lot little bit of Bakugo, "They called you a pussy—"

Kirishima's brows shoot upwards as he pauses. He was about to jump and dig his hands into the underside of the balcony, but his quirk is stalling at your words. There's a roaring fire blazing in your eyes, one that screams retribution. 

It's... comical.

You cackle again at him with a wide grin, hissing conspiratorily. "They made fun of my shirt!"

You point down at the REAL MEN RIOT tee with both hands, your face set in a look of vindicated glee. Then, the second realization of the night hits — that you've got no pants on, and that stupid, goofy Dynamight eye mask is still on your face. You make a soft sound of embarrassment and tug your shirt down lower, trying to cover up. He cannot see your underwear. No. No way, no fucking way. Without a single word, you reach up, snatch the Dynamight eye mask off your face, and whip it off the balcony without a second thought. 

Slowly, Kirishima's face splits into a pointy grin. 

Holy shit, he's so fucking hot. 

"Oh, man," Red Riot rumbles, his face cracking into a sharp, playful smirk, "That's real rude. I might have t' teach these guys some manners."

Your smile returns, washing away the wobbly look of embarrassment sticking to your cheeks. 

Man, it sure is cute.

You are really cute, Kirishima realizes.

"Right! And who calls Red Riot a pussy?" you counter excitedly, before reigning it in and awkwardly lowering your arms as you try to tug your shirt down to hide the tops of your thighs again. Your glee has stifled a little bit, but it only reaffirms Kirishima's duty to wrap this all up. 

"Yea, that's, like, super misogynistic," he muses as his quirk kicks in and his hands flick into a hardened state. It's insaneto witness the way his large hands transform into weapons with a single breath. You can see the jagged extension of his quirk working up his large arms, too, "Lemme just have a lil' word with these boys, alright? Head on inside, I'll be back in a sec'."

Then, with graceful ease, he hops upwards with a little hup before latching to the base of the upstairs neighbor's balcony. 

It's insane how effortless it is for him to haul himself up the balcony, his hands dug into the cement. His upper body strength is insane. He's scaling the terrace, alternating his grip. He disappears into the dark, swinging his body upwards and reaching his destination.

You tamp down your awe in favor of heeding his directions: head inside.

You're closing the balcony door when you hear Red Riot's voice greet the unexpecting gaggle.

"Hey, fellas! I heard you guys are some super fans. Got anything you want me to sign?"

You snicker to yourself as you hear the beginning of a fight. 

Again, as it turns out, the guys upstairs sucked. Like, mega sucked. They'd been responsible for several recent Trigger overdoses; Uravity and Red Riot were working with law enforcement to track the small-time manufacturers — which explains why they'd been so quiet lately. They suspected someone was on their tail. 

As Red Riot scaled their balcony, law enforcement waited to break down their door. They arrested the four men (Seriously? Four? In that studio?) without much incident — however, you did spy a broken nose on one of them as they were hauled into the back of the awaiting cruisers. 

Sweet, sweet revenge. 

By the time your neighbors are carted off, you've shimmed into some sweats and made a half-assed attempt to look sort ofpresentable, all while firing off a few contextually incomprehensible texts into your group chat.

red riot has seen me in my underwear wtf do i do know kiss him?

You're really weighing your options when there's a knock on your balcony entry. It's gentle and cordial. You turn, head snapping, and spy that trademarked (and a dozen times retweeted) smile through the glass. He waves. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. You try to remember to breathe as you shuffle over and tug the balcony door open. The night air is cool.

Be like the night air.

Stay cool.

Eijiro feels so silly. And guilty. And honestly? Really into you. 

You're still wearing that shirt — the one with his face on it. You have opted to put on pants, but Kirishima still reminds himself to keep his eyes on your face. No ogling. That's not very gentlemanly. 

There's a beat of awkward silence as the two of you wait for the other to speak, and Kirishima is the one to break it with a raspy laugh.

"I wanted to apologize about your plants," a large hand moves to rub the back of his neck, "I cleaned up as best I could. I'm really, really sorry."

You wave him off, leaning into the doorframe. "No, it's okay! It's nothing I can't... fix. I think?"

You look beyond him to the catastrophic mess of plant matter. He must have tried tidying up while you rattled off the rapid-fire texts in the group chat. 

Red Riot's face warbles into something tied between mortification and guilt. "Please forgive me."

"Seriously!" you cry, waving your hands as you try to placate his dejected expression, "Please don't feel bad. It's a fair trade, y'know. Those guys upstairs were, like, the worst."

"I can only imagine," Eijiro concedes, frowning a little, "They didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"

You shake your head and laugh a little, "Aside from insulting my favorite hero to my face? Not really."

Kirishima can feel his face get a little hot. He shifts from boot to boot. His smile is a little woozy. "So... you're a fan?"

You don't need to tell him the underwear you have on matches the shirt — red, with an embroidered RR on the front. You keep that to yourself. You just nod happily.

"Really?" his grin cracks into something so excitable it makes your entire stomach flip, "I don't meet a lotta fans who are..."

His words drift off.

He's staring at your eyes. You're so... soft. Warm. Your eyes are swirling with quiet, astonished adoration and it's making Kirishima feel like he's floating. 

"Who are...?" your brow quirks as you lean deeper into the doorframe, trying to coax out the rest of the sentence.

"Gorgeous," he breathes, his posture relaxing a little as he soaks in your expression.

It's like getting sucker punched to the sternum.

All the wind rushed out of your lungs.

The soft moment only lasts a beat, because suddenly Red Riot's face screws up and he waves his hands hurriedly. "Wait, no. Hold on, I mean — all of my fans are gorgeous, because, uh, they're my fans and I love them, right? It's not like they're not gorgeous, I just — I'm... I... My fans are, like, usually dudes? A-And that's totally cool because dudes can be gorgeous, too, y'know? But—"

You're laughing.

Kirishima is realizing he was not paying enough attention in his agency's PR training last month and you're laughing.

"I get it," you giggle, crossing your arms and grinning up at him, "I mean, I definitely don't think I'm gorgeous but—"

"You are," he assures firmly, his expression serious.

Are you dead?

Are you, like, literally ascending to a higher plane right now?

There's no fucking way this is happening. 

Your lips part in quiet shock as you bite back a smile that threatens to cramp up your cheeks. Kirishima eats it up, his posture perking up at the way you seem to melt at his compliment. His smile is boyish — almost dizzy. 

You duck a bashful look towards the tiled floor of the balcony, not really giving a singular shit that your beloved monstera has been stomped on.

Kirishima clears his throat, then — in a move he totally hasn't swooned over in those K-dramas he's secretly obsessed with, that'd be ridiculous — he props his arm up against your door and leans over you. Your faces are close in the warm light of the balcony. 

Your eyes stutter up his abdomen, chest, jaw, lips, and eyes. Kirishima notices. It's really, really cute.

"Are you, uh... Are you seeing anyone?" 

Of course, Red Riot would ask that. Red Riot, the king of chivalry. How is something like that so endearing? For the tenth time tonight, he makes your stomach flip.

You shake your head no, a little too stunned to speak.

"Cool," Eijiro musters over a shake of nerves, "Cool. Okay. Uh, then would it... would it be okay if I bought you some new plants?"

You nod, swallowed entirely by his shadow. He's so fucking huge. 

"And if I took you to dinner?" 

Another nod.

"...And — shit. You're, like, so cute," the smooth persona he's put on melts a little as his eyes roam your face; you feel so... shy, "I was gonna ask you something else but..."

"My number?" you offer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you maintain eye contact. 

Is it hot? You're sweating. Is he sweating? He's hot. 

Eijiro nods, absolutely mesmerized by the way you tug your lip between your teeth. "That. Yea."

He has to fight back the urge to bite his knuckle when you turn away and move towards your kitchen to snag your phone. Kirishima stays put, allowing himself one moment of ogling. When you turn around, he's clearing his throat and crossing a boot over his ankle. 

He's still leaning up against the doorway.

"Here," you slip him the phone.

Eiijiro takes it — then hesitates for a second.

"...You're not gonna leak my number, are you?"

You have to laugh. You rub your cheek and shake your head before crossing your arms and looking up at him. "If you think I'm going to do anything to fumble this, you're wrong." 

Fumble this? Fumble him? He's the one that is at risk of fumbling, are you serious?

Eijiro barks out a surprised laugh as he enters his number, shoots a quick text his way then ignores the buzz in his back pocket. He hands your phone back and tries so fucking hard to ignore the way your fingers brush his. 

He got your number.

Holy shit, he got your number.

"Hey, Red Riot?"

He blinks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

You gesture for him to come closer, and he obeys easily — he bends a bit at the waist, his hair falling along his shoulders as he smiles down at you in the threshold of your apartment.

"Is everything alri—?"

You pop a chaste kiss against his cheek. 

Or, try. 

As you hop up onto your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, Eijiro is turning his head at the sound of Urvaity calling his name simultaneously. Trajectory failed, and now it's lips and lips instead of lips on cheek — and honestly? He owes Ochaco one for this. 

Red Riot melts — actually, truly, genuinely melts. His posture slumps down as you let out a shocked little sound of apology. But, Eijiro doesn't mind, and fuck, neither do you — because one hand braces against the doorframe above your head while his other hand is suddenly on your waist. He steadies himself, and damn. Damn. 

He breaks away when Uravity calls his name again. Kirishima is breathless and blushing, and your knees feel like jello. 

"I... Uh, I gotta go—"

"Yea, totally," you breathe, swallowing down the burn of unfiltered attraction, "Sorry, I was trying to kiss your cheek—"

Another call of his name. Red Riot curses softly before hollering a 'COMING!' over his shoulder, out past the edge of the balcony. 

When he turns back, he's fast to sweep you into another kiss — this one hotter than before. This one draws you into his chest, sending your hands colliding with the hot skin of his chest. There's muscle and scars and heat beneath your fingertips. His hand curls around your lower back, and you nearly moan. 

He peels himself away with an apologetic look as he backs towards the edge of the balcony. "I gotta go — I'll text you once patrol is over. Is that okay? I'm serious about the plants. And dinner." 

All you can do is nod.

Eijiro is kinda proud of himself for stunning you stupid with that kiss.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

[saanphoenix]

We're going to ignore the canonical short stories that involve him and focus on only game content:

In my opinion, Zenos is someone who is very self-serving and perhaps always would have been. This is not necessarily a bad thing, unless, of course, you grow up as the prince to the throne of Garlemald, raised in a society that instilled in all of its military that, y'know, compassion is not a thing and everyone else who is not you or like you are savages that need to be conquered. And worse.

The first scene we see that really capitalizes on an aspect of his character is when he cuts down one of his own men. Because he's tip-toeing this line of being an honorable sort while also being a villain. He hears about a unit that was completely destroyed by an ambush and hears one man survived. And he's like, "Nothing wrong with trying to survive," and elects not to have that man killed. ...Which is what normally happens to deserters or soldiers that flee from a mission like that.

And then he takes that idea of punishing the "cowards" within a military and, to the shock of the other leaders in the room, metes out that punishment to the leading officer. Becaus, instead of being a LEADING officer, the man sent out his men without proper guidance, resulting in them all (but one) being killed, while he hid in his castle.

Zenos appears to be operating on the novel idea that kings are leading the troops. If you are not leading the charge, you are a coward, and your breathing is wasting precious air.

So, if we take this fundamental bit of personality and remove it from the whole of Garlean culture... Zenos would probably fit very easily into a heroic role. A Dark Knight role, honestly. He's got a code of ethics, can sympathize with the underdog, and has no respect for the big dogs that don't act with Ye Olde Honor.

He's got a thirst for power, but not because he is weak. Zenos' desire to become stronger is "honing his craft". It's the same shit the Warrior of Light does. He's a very curious man when it comes to martial arts and any new neat shiny thing he comes across that he thinks might give him a challenge, he is all for.

...Being raised to be an unstoppable force on the battlefield so he could become equally unstoppable on the field of politics unfortunately means that who Zenos has to test his prowess on and try out new abilities is...the people his empire wants him to conquer. And those people are very squishy. Sooo...they die a lot. Which depresses Zenos because he wants a challenge and they can't give him one.

Anyhoo, not a Garlean Prince Zenos would have 100% been an Adventurer. No question. Man would be soloing Palace of the Dead and other deep dungeons and having the time of his fucking life.

Zenos...does actually kind of care how others perceive him? Or when they misjudge him? The first real scene this is made evident is when Krile is brought before him and she's like, "Wow, your eyes ARE that of a bloodthirsty beast," and he just kind of...Pauses. And stares at her for an uncomfortable amount of time. Before he tells them to take the piglet away before bad things happen to her. ...Worse bad things than having her aether siphoned and shit, I mean. Before Endwalker, that was like...THE one moment Zenos PAUSED at something someone said to him about himself that he didn't like.

Unfortunately, the WHY of that reaction IS kind of buried in the short stories and it's that Zenos has never felt connected to anyone, because from a very young age, every social relationship he had was Picked For Him. And he was smart enough to know that. That his playmates were just those he was going to have to get along with for political reasons. And that the staff only catered to him because he was the prince. And that he had no one's loyalty or friendship because they only did shit because his father commanded it.

Put a young Zenos in an environment where his life ISN'T a stage and all the men and women simply players and he MIGHT ACTUALLY CONNECT WITH PEOPLE. And connecting with people, not seeing them as robots dancing to his father's tune, experiencing genuine trust and friendship, would probably make him a little less lethal.

God, I could go on. But what Lyse said about Zenos at the end of Stormblood was accurate. Zenos is what happens when the Warrior of Light has the humanity beaten and trained out of them. The Weapon of Light.

I wonder what Zenos would have been like, had he grown up under different circumstances? Like, is he just evil/endlessly selfish to the core and that's the way he is as a person and everything about him and his actions were just inevitably going to happen no matter what - or, if given a chance, could things have been different?

[reveluving]

yes, dilf!bucky is god tier but what about...

dilf!bucky and neighbour!milf!reader...?

bucky's heard about the new neighbour and her adopted kids moving in but never had the time to meet them. but, he's heard good things from his kids, becca and grant (courtesy to @becca-e-barnes ♡)

he may or may not also have heard how thirsty the fathers and even horny teenage boys are for you. except grant cause he's best and respectful boi.

like, bucky picks becca up from school and she's like "daddy! can morgan come over tomorrow?" and he's like "morgan?". becca pouts and reminds him, "y'know! my new classmate! she's the one living next to us! her mom's really nice!"

then some time later, grant comes home with two new faces, though one of them seems familiar, "dad, this is ned, and this is peter, he lives next door with morgan and ms. (l/n),"

and at this point, Bucky thinks this is probably a sign to officially meet the gorgeous lady of the (l/n) household

and boy he was not expecting you to look so... good??? like, he genuinely thought those thirsty gossip over you was a result of sex-starved men but God were they right. judging by peter's age, he didn't expect you to look younger than he imagined. your caring nature too??

well, slap my ass and call me sally. he's whipped.

he thinks he's old-fashioned but the longer he knows you, the more he hopes to be with you ✋🏼😭 he also just loves to see how excited becca gets when she sees morgan, even if they see each other everyday. same goes to grant and peter!

most importantly; he cherishes each and every moment you'd spend with his children, almost as if they were your own.

and that's only scratching the surface.

but if we talking about nsfw... lmao read below cause listen;

as soon as he comes home from meeting you, bucky, without a doubt, jerks off in the bathroom. is it possible that the debauched image of you in his head was already enthralling? since that discovery, he yearns to know what it's like to be in bed with you.

and I don't only mean it in a cute, cuddling way. though, he is not opposed to that. anything to have you in his arms.

i imagine the reader as someone who focuses more on her children, so she either hasn't had sex in a while or has a couple of times but safe to say they were a good 2.5/10. so, when y'all are getting down and dirty, he gets off by the fact that you've never been properly fucked or guided.

idk if there's a kink for that but let's make it a thing.

just imagine him teaching you how to ride him bro, sHIT-

"that's it, pretty girl," he purrs, one arm around your waist while the metallic one on your ass, guiding you on his cock and well, if you think you can move off of him, you have another thing coming, "you feel so, so good," he growls when you subconsciously grind into him.

you're literally drunk in the sensation, the moans you'd let out whenever he bucks into you filling the room, "you like that?" the cheeky smirk on his face when you can't respond cause it takes you all the energy you have left to just nod.

he slaps your ass and whispers in your ear, "say it," and you answer meekly, cause despite not a stranger to sex, never in your life were you told to talk dirty, "y-yes! yes, bucky, p-please don't stop,"

his feral side jumps out at the idea of being the only one to see you this submissive, despite many other men thirsting for you. they'd do anything to be in his place so, imagine his possessiveness when y'all actually get married?? breeding kink too??

biiiitch;; that's another story for another time ;)

but FUCK, i can't stop reading all this dilf!bucky or dilf-anything. i've never even written smut before so I blame y'all damn 🤨

but this won't be my last lmao bet

(imma leave these names here cause they're the superior dilf!bucky writers: @becca-e-barnes @bucksfucks @suitk0via @agentofbarnes @bvcksbunny @coffeecatsandcandles)

[bottombaron]

spoilers for what if...?

some quick thoughts on the first Marvel What If...? episode that are almost all Bucky related big surprise:

i froth at the mouth at any small moment of pre-ws!Bucky like a stranded survivor of a shipwreck. yes pls all of it, i need more. my desire to know who traumatized characters were pre-trauma is like an un-quenchable thirst.

that being said, i'm loving the idea the Bucky was just...a big fucking himbo. a nerdy silly himbo. there's nothing more satisfying than a super pretty competent person wowing you with some big time dork energy.

his lines were so groan worthy which is why i loved them. looking back it's a pretty obvious choice to make Bucky Barnes pre-Winter Soldier just Bucky Barnes from the comic books. he tells bad jokes, he's a damsel in distress, he's there for a reaction shot or two, and best of all he's got the worst one-liners.

my kingdom for Bucky of today going back to his bad one liners, honestly i would pay marvel to have Bucky throw a knife in someone's face, blood is everywhere, and he just goes, "knife to meet you." (Sam is floored. he goes through the 5 stages of grief in ten seconds and ends up laughing so hard his lungs hurt. redwing has it recorded and sam revisits it when he needs to)

the part where Steve gets back into the Hydra Smasher and falls on his face is peak stevebucky tho. Bucky is unconcerned, makes light of it, and there's even some light teasing. i have to highlight this for the purpose of Bucky's characterization in fanfic in terms of how he treats Steve, especially pre-serum Steve: he doesn't baby him. he doesn't mother-hen or overprotect Steve. he knows Steve is tough, he's spent years picking him up off of alleyway pavements, he's not going to act like a helicopter mom.

which i really appreciate because i'm tired of the treatment of Bucky as not also being a reckless kid in this war. Steve and Bucky don't have the dynamic of the Reasonable Adult and their Troublesome Kid i've seen sometimes in fic. they're both hooligans. Bucky comes off as the more cautious one sure, but it's just slightly. and that very slight difference gets overblown sometimes which feels disingenuous to a character that's in his 20s (like do you know bros in their 20s,,,do you?? they're still trying to run up walls and do backflips. they still think they're invincible. 20 year old men are the stupidest people on the planet. and i can say that as a man almost 30) and, by all accounts, ran mayhem in Brooklyn right next to his best friend.

just. don't forget Bucky Barnes is a young stupid pretty himbo okay?

speaking of disingenuous characterizations: what was that hetero bullshit with Peggy being more distraught over Steve's 'death' than Bucky????

are.you.kidding.me.

i feel this righteous anger burning over this, which i'm sure will come to a bigger rant at some point but really? fucking really?

this is it. this is what straight people do. this is the straight agenda.

this isn't even just about Steve and Bucky they do this kind of bullshit all the time in media: character 1 has a long-lasting deep friendship with character 2. character 1 has a romantic subplot with character 3. character 1 and 3 barely know each other. character 1 dies and character 3 is somehow more distraught about this than character 2.

i fully expected Bucky to start trying to climb down the mountain to find Steve but nope!

he's just 'oh nooo~ he ded. whelp lets go hoes'

while the woman who knew Steve for maybe a few months is doing the Darth Vader 'noooo' moment

this does not make any character, story, or emotional logical sense. there's no fucking reason for this bullshit than blatant homophobia.

like fucking fine, lets not see Steve and Bucky interact in any way because I WONDER WHY

but even better

lets have Bucky not really emote over Steve's death, because a. that's gay, we don't want people to think we write gay characters (don't worry marvel we don't) so two men can't care or mourn for each other onscreen. and b. we've got our hetero romance to sell

Peggy Carter is a professional military woman. with experience.

Bucky Barnes is some kid from Brooklyn whose been fighting in a war he's been drafted in for maybe some handful of months.

but sure. yeah. his childhood best friend dying. he's the one whose going to have the professional cool head in this moment.

and it's the PROFESSIONAL MILITARY WOMAN whose going to forget her job and training and need to be pulled from grieving BY THE MAN WHO'S BEST FRIEND JUST 'DIED'

SURE JAN SURE

it's the homophobia that betrays the logic of the characters that really fucks me up y'know?

if you're betraying the honest emotional reactions of story and character because you're afraid of those things being perceived as gay: you're homophobic.

it's really that simple.

'i'm in. for Steve' lol. like god. i'm as tired as seb sounds i swear

and i know Sebastian '~the truth of the character~' Stan probably felt like his teeth were being pulled out with hot pliers reading these. how many times did the voice director have to say, 'ok. can we try it like you're not slowly decaying from the inside, hunny?'

barely any howling commandos and none of them had any lines other than Dum Dum. ok. yeah. ok.

so some high notes:

return of my favorite Stark: 1940's Howard!

i would die twenty times just to be able to see more of Dominic Cooper's Howard Stark. he's just the fucking best. earnest and cute and a bit of a mad scientist and i fucking adore him

i need the Howard Stark + Bucky Barnes sitcom now. pls and thank you.

i'll even take 5 minute vinaigrettes of the antics they'd be up to. two playboy nerds together is just a magical event, don't waste it! i can't believe i've been sleeping on this dynamic it's too good.

"BARNES STOLE A CAR"

i will be replaying this single moment for years. the serotonin it gives me.

stark is just. the most excited man ever to have seen someone hotwire a car??? how did this scene go i need to knoooooowwww

all frustrations aside, it was really cool to see Peggy Carter as Captain Britain. she's a great character and i love her so much. every moment she was legit thrashing n*zis with her big butch arms was thrilling and satisfying.

that truck shield flip is still doing things to me...

honestly upset that the sword Peggy was wielding wasn't a Zemo easter egg like i was hoping it was 😩

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 13

first time readers click here 💖

TWs/Summary: In this house, we ship Reader/Tony's Rolls-Royce. Reader and Tony being dorks on a date. That's it that's the chapter. Lots of sass and Tony being Tony.

A question for my readers: Are you still invested? How's the slow burn? Is everything realistic? 👉🏻👈🏻🥺

As usual, my beta is @miscmarvelwritings . I love her.

"Nice digs, Cupcake."

"Nice ride, Tin Man."

The sass fell from my lips, warm and familiar, paving the way for our upcoming debut like the old, soft living room rug. Any awkwardness I had expected there to be left the moment I saw Tony pull up to my front gate in his Royce: the man was just that extra. The size of my estate, the five-figure outfit of mine - it paled in comparison to his own clout. 

In a world where my choices were usually distributed between stuck-up rich boys or insecure middle-class men, Tony was a fresh drink of water with his absolute indifference towards my and his own net worth.

I wasn't afraid to admire said ride, either. Being a huge petrolhead was what got me interested in engineering, physics and computer sciences in the first place. The desire for speed grew into thirst for knowledge: how to get more horsepower, how to tune, how to mod. No mechanic took an eighteen year old rich-girl seriously even when I had all the lingo right, I had to be a step ahead, at all times, if I wanted my ride to be the best. And I never settled for less than that.

"No driver?" I inquired for the reason behind the unusual behaviour. After all, a Rolls' wasn't the kind of car you drive personally. All the amenities it had, it had in the back.

"Gave Happy a day off," Tony remarked absently. I noticed the small quirk of his eyebrow, however. He was intrigued.

I decided to give it a shot. "So what, this thing packs, what, about five-fifty horses?" I mused, watching Tony nearly swerve into the opposite lane. "At two and a half tons, it's still gotta be pretty quick with that V12-turbo. How fast it go?" The satisfaction was immeasurable, as pleasant to my soul as sitting in a heated leather chair with the smell of a new car, engine quietly rumbling in front of me. And by quietly I mean, it was focus-or-you'll-miss-it kind of quiet.

"Well aren't you full of surprises, baby girl," Tony grinned; a happy, excited grin even. It made his face lose ten years of age just like that. "Zero to sixty in five and a half seconds," He said after a moment. 

"Not bad," I said, sounding impressed. I already knew that but I wasn't planning on robbing Tony out of well deserved praise for his choice in vehicles. 

"Got a ride of your own?" He asked with a smile, like he didn't know it already. No background check would have skipped my three speeding tickets, but I concur. This game was fun.

"I do, actually. It's a 2008 Range Rover. Supercharged," I added in the end, just to emphasise.

"A big car for such a little girl," Tony whistled playfully.

"I'm compensating," I deadpanned. "I'm a little slow on the uptake, y'know, so my Rangie with five hundred horses makes up for it. Gotta keep it balanced."

Tony chewed on his lip. "Five hundred? Haven't heard about that, it comes with three-ninety-five in stock," His eyebrow wiggled. "Tuned it?" He cast me a contemplative glance.

"Yup," I exclaimed happily. As far as the date, I would have been utterly ecstatic to talk about cars all evening. Screw the boring "where do you see yourself in five years" questions, talk to me about your favourite engine swaps. Concept cars, give me those. Monster trucks? Yes, please. Vintage low-riders? Couldn't wait to get my grubby little hands on one. Gimmee!

Tony kept his silence and kept his press smile starting the moment we set foot on getting out of the car. The place he'd taken me to was ridiculously upscale and fancy; the valet hesitated only for a second before catching the keys Tony so carelessly tossed in his direction. There was almost no fear in his body language when the boy approached the massive, expensive vehicle.

The hostess smiled big at Tony and gave me the world's biggest stink-eye when he looked the other way but what else is new? As soon as she left us in the privacy of our booth, I didn't hesitate to stick my tongue at her retreating back. A brief lapse in maturity, if you will.

Tony cackled, growing suddenly serious. "Did she bother you? I can get her fired. I should get her fired."

"Nah," I shrugged. "Don't really care, just wanted to showcase my amazing sense of humour." Snorting, I gave Tony a wink and a secretive grin.

"You really don't give a fuck, do you," His eyebrows twitched again, a sign of mild interest that I noted during our routine sciencing time together. Tony was incredibly expressive if one took the time to observe.

"I could suck your dick under the table right now," I answered honestly. "It's just that when God gave out things like dignity and shame, I wasn't home. Too many fun things to do, y'know," I spoke as casually as I could even though I was dying of laughter inside.

Eyes bulging, jaw hanging mid-way to the floor. Tony was serving Looks™ and I didn't mean just the white tee and purple blazer combo. "Princess, you're going to be the fucking death of me!" He took a sip from his water glass, smirking.

Finally releasing my mirth, I gathered my hands in a lock in front of me. His own, warm and calloused, reached over - I allowed the brief intimacy, clasping them, fiddling with the leather band of his watch. For a moment, it was just us, sitting in the dim light, discovering each other anew to Robert Johnson singing the blues and NYC bustling with life just behind the wall. 

The waiter took our orders - and if I totally butchered the Italian, Tony was gentleman enough not to make any remarks. 

"Somehow, every time I am with you, you both manage to meet my expectations to a T and surprise me at the same time," I wasn't able to completely ignore my nerves. My hand was still loosely in his and he didn't mind at all, me messing with his watch.

"How so?"

"I'm going to loosely quote someone, bear with me." Mr Davies's words popped into my mind just as I was wondering how to best articulate my feelings. "You're eccentric and interesting because it's, well, it's you, because it would be much weirder if we'd be sitting here and making boring small-talk and asking each other the genetic get-to-know-you questions," I briefly paused to sip my Dom Peringon and stare at our hands. Gathering my wits. "That would be why I don't do dates. It sounds so tedious on paper, just sorting through people until a person that's not absolutely mind-numbing comes around."

Tony was silent for a moment, the sheen of his eyes, the faraway look; he was lost in memories. Probably remembering all the girls he had charmed before. I didn't doubt it was easy for him: his smile was distracting and people usually were attracted to shiny things. He shone plenty. Also, most people were stupid, they never cared to look past the golden wrapper. I was convinced there was a diamond under it. But then again, I was biased.

"I've never thought about it that way, but I guess you're right," He finally said, serious. "With Pepper, at least, it was. Come to think of it, we never had that much in common, besides Stark Industries and her willingness to put up with my shit." It was painful for him to talk about her, that much was obvious. His laugh was forced and sardonic.

I, on the other hand, never understood why they got together in the first place. Or maybe I did - but the cold, composed Pepper and the chaotic, energetic Tony reminded me too much of my own parents. All four people in this fucked up equation could have been much happier if they choose... What? Being alone? That was terrifying, too.

I kept quiet, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.

"You know, this is so bizarre. Even an eighteen year old kid has got it figured out," He suddenly said, his tone bitter like the coffee that he loved.

"Woah, slow down," I put up a hand. "I never said I know what to do. I just said I know what NOT to do." The 'kid' remark would have made me eye-roll so hard my skull would crack any day. In this context, however, it was pretty spot on.

Tony snorted. "And how did you come by that information, pray tell, Baby?"

I huffed. "Have you met my parents?" We simultaneously cringed and I hurried to erase that mental image. "I make fun of myself for being into old dudes all the time," I made air quotes around the phrase that made Tony scoff, "But, honestly speaking, I've never even been on a date. Like a real one. Usually it's twenty minutes and I'm falling asleep mid-conversation. People can't seem to keep up with me or something," I felt genuinely dejected. "So many meaningless questions, so many downright idiotic comments. From men," I pointed out the obvious. "My mother used to tell me she thought I was gay because I didn't act like a girl... Whatever that means."

"That sounds pretty shitty," Tony was studying me like one would have been looking at an exotic animal in a zoo. "That said, I agree."

"That I don't act like a girl?" I teased him, the left corner of my mouth tilting upward. "Fuck that noise. I want to drive fast cars, drink straight liquor and have orgasms. If that makes me a dude... I look pretty good for a dude in a dress."

We laughed in unison, tension evaporating under the shared, mutual understanding. With Tony, it was easy. The waiter brought our selected dishes. Blink-and-he's-gone. Top notch service.

"A dude in a dress, can't say I'm surprised 'bout your lack of dates," He remarked conversationally, happily digging into his food. The noises he made were intriguing, to say the least, and I followed suit on my own food, finding it absolutely delicious. A delicious meal with a delicious man at my side. I refused to feel guilty about my thoughts.

"I guess I have exactly one (1) date on my ledger now," I raised my argument.

The fork clattered as Tony once again, came to a sudden realization. "Holy shit, you weren't kidding."

"No shit," I gave into the urge to roll my eyes. "But on the upside, my first date was with the most gorgeous, intelligent and witty bachelor of the city. I'd say I don't have it all that bad," I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Aw, you're making me blush," Tony recovered quickly, grinning. "And don't be shy. The most desired bachelor of the country, if not the world."

I shook my head. "No, the world's most delectable bachelor is one of the Saudi princes. What's-his-name, the one who posts goat and horse pics on Insta," I snapped my fingers a couple of times, trying to remember the name as Tony looked at me all offended. "Anyways, you get my point. I could have a go at him, don't you think?" Cocking my shoulder, coyly twirling the strap of my dress, I gave Tony my best come-hither look and was rewarded with an appreciative once-over. His eyes were growing hungry again. 

"You're a million dollar baby," He finally said, voice low. "And the extent of people I would be willing to share you with is very small."

That got me interested, sudden heat prickling underneath my skin. The conversation took a turn I didn't expect it to; and there lied the delight of being around Tony. He was always ready to surprise, in the best way. "Tell me," I requested politely.

"That's a conversation for another time," He was enjoying the chit-chat, desire beginning to creep into his features.

"Mmm, you think?" I allowed the strap of my dress to slip down my shoulder, exposing a collarbone, showing him just how far I was willing to go to satisfy my curiosity.

He swallowed audibly. "I think... You're smart enough to figure it out," He finally gritted his teeth, finishing off his dinner and immediately calling for the check. 

I wasn't done yet, however. The possibility of riling him up, taunting him into a lustful frenzy - I was in heaven. Karma had favoured me that evening, it had given me a chance to get Tony back for all the times he unknowingly made my mouth water and my brain go blip. "Must be Steve then," I bit my lip in thought. 

Honestly? I was as clueless as the couple next table over. Steve it wasn't, that much I knew for sure, he and Tony had their little love/hate dramatic connection that always ended in a massive ego standoff. Tony would be on the frontline fighting against Steve if the blonde dared to show anything even remotely resembling romantic interest towards someone Tony himself had his eyes on.

"Princess," Tony growled, sarcastically raising an eyebrow.

"Not Steve," I replied, cracking a smile. Success! "You know, I'm really bad at guessing who's into me. Unless someone is balls deep in me," My face was mere inches away as we quickly shrugged on our coats. "And even then, I can't be sure."

My giggling was accompanied by Tony shaking his head in exasperated fashion; he took my hand nonetheless and I happily swayed it between us, poster child for "not a care in the world". He allowed it, maintaining the same exasperated air about him, and I let him. Fondness and happiness seeped through that anyways.

"Brat," His voice was kind. And his kiss tingled where he left it on the corner of my mouth, sweet and short. "Here, have a go," Before I could react, the keys to his Rolls Royce were placed in my palm and he was making his way around the car to the passenger's side.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway (it finally let me tag you)! @softie-socks @schemefrenzy

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

oh my... seems you've opened a whole can of worms today, how did that even happen? 😆

Anyways, my views on it all are basically:

Yeah, the sexualisation of old men in the classic rock fandoms is... not my thing, I personally don't see it, and I think often it is quite ooc, especially the things I've seen having to do with Brian. That being said, I don't really have a problem with people fantasizing/writing fic etc., to each their own. There's a lot of debate when it comes to RPF but I think people are free to be as weird or kinky as they want as long as they keep it in their own spaces.

That's the thing though! For some reason, when it comes to Brian's *ehm* more enthusiastic fans, they don't seem to realise that they are not the norm.

There's nothing wrong with not being "the norm" in a fandom space, but especially when it's with nsfw subject matter, in order for it to work for everyone, it has to be acknowledged by those people that "hey, not everyone feels this way, and not everyone wants to see these comments on their posts" etc.

I just think they could do with a little more self-awareness and insulation. Clearly there's enough of them that they can all go wild together while keeping it within their own circle. Especially here on tumblr where that is so easy to do. The fact that I myself run across it, while having nothing to do with that part of the fandom, on fucking tumblr, is a sign that hey, y'all need to have more awareness and respect that a lot of people are squicked out by this

That's not an unreasonable request, it's a common courtesy to keep everyone happy. Just, y'know. Tag shit. Don't cross-tag shit. Don't add things to people's posts if you don't already have confirmation that they won't mind that sort of thing. For the love of fuck behave yourselves on Instagram. Keep a line between fantasy and reality. Remember not everyone has the same fantasies. Live and let live and leave the rest of us out of it, please.

Lol I'm always opening cans of worms with my opinions, it's okay.

Yeah, I think that's the issue. People don't always keep it to their own spaces. At worst it's people commenting "not the free feet pics!!" directly onto Brian's insta (yes, that was a real comment) but even when it's on tumblr, yeah, maybe elder thirst shouldn't be cross-tagged lol because most people aren't into that and it really makes a lot of people uncomfortable. Personally, I kind of laugh off the old man thirsting so I'm not bothered by it, but I can see how someone would be, and that maybe you shouldn't put in the tags of stranger's post how you wanna sit on a 70 year-old's face. Idk. I guess it comes down to etiquette? I also haven't gone looking for this stuff lmao but I've seen enough old man thirst for a lifetime.

I also think people need to learn that this^ isn't ageism; I've seen people accuse this mindset of that and this is where the lack of self-awareness shines bright, because no, it's not ageist for someone fresh out of college to not be sexually attracted to a grandpa lol. That's actually the norm. If you're gonna thirst, whatever, I can't stop you, but don't act like young people who don't wanna fuck grandpa are being discriminatory.

[rawiswhore]

Val Venis x Fem Reader- “Thirst Trap Queen”

It seems like every WWF era seems to have a male sex symbol who plays a cocky ladies man and seems to have a fanbase that consists mostly of women.

In the 80's and early 90's Golden Era, it was the Ravishing Rick Rude, in the New Generation era, it was Shawn Michaels, and in the Attitude era, it was Val Venis.

On a "Monday Night Raw" episode near the end of the 90's, when he was at the height of his wrestling popularity, hadn't cut his hair and joined that Right to Censor episode, Val Venis had left the shower, the camera filming him from above the genitals.

Val really previously did take a shower, his hair was damp, he turned the faucet off and water was dripping down his body.

When Val stepped out of the shower, steam was leaving the shower with him, clouding and fogging up the room.

However, he wasn't having sex with anyone in the shower, surprisingly.

Off camera, women and men were getting out of their seats and cheering when they saw Val walk out of the shower.

It's about to get even steamier a few minutes after this.

Goddamn it, you really hope the fog coming out of the shower doesn't blur the camera's lens.

Suddenly, you walked up to Val, which got even louder cheers than him when you were shown on camera.

The character you play in the WWF is a seductive, oversexed, nymphomaniac slut who basically is like the female Val Venis, or vice versa.

Some people would rather ship you with Val rather than with Triple H or Shawn Michaels.

Val's eyes noticed you when you strolled up to him, you stopped walking once you were standing right next to him.

He grinned when he looked at you.

"Hello" he welcomed, grinning and peering at you.

"Val" you said, smiling back at him and putting one of your hands on his chest "I always see you looking like you just hopped out of the shower when you enter the arena"

He nodded his head.

"And?" he asked.

"Well, before you have a match" you said "Maybe I could help dry you off"

The men in the audience cheered loudly when they heard that.

Even Val grinned hearing you say that, but he's pretending to be unbeknownst to what will happen later.

"But I'm not gonna dry you off with a towel" you admitted, naughtily grinning at him.

The men in the audience were a little shocked.

"What's she gonna dry him off with?" Jerry asked off screen, his voice shrill and high.

You then sunk yourself down below where the camera was filming Val, he was looking down at you sink down.

This was implying you were gonna give Val a blowjob, which made both genders in the audience cheer and shout their heads off, shouting "yyyyyyyeaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!"

Val was grinning at you looking like you were about to give him oral sex.

Even though the camera wasn't filming it yet, Val leaned his head back, closed his eyes and groaned, sounding and looking like he does in his titantron when he was sitting in a car getting oral sex from some chicks.

"Oh my!" Jerry Lawler shrieked "Is she doing what I think she's doing?!"

The audience watching this thought you were giving him a blowjob, but no, you weren't.

You leaned your face below his abdomen and placed the tip of your tongue on the skin a few inches above his genitals, only for you to lick all the way up the middle of his torso.

The tip of your tongue became the majority of your tongue as you licked the water up his skin.

Your body was raising up when you licked up his body, the camera filming you.

This took the audience even more by shock, which made both genders cheer for you, some men even letting out some of those silly wolf whistles at you.

"I wasn't expecting her to do that!" Jerry lied.

Though, what else are you gonna dry him off with?

"Val" you said to him once your head was close to his chest. "I was feeling a little thirsty tonight, and you can quench my thirst"

The women in the audience cheered hearing you say that, though they also wanna ring your neck for stealing their man.

They wanna ring your neck in general, you got to have Shawn Michaels, Triple H, Christian, Test, and eventually Jeff Hardy and they know it courtesy of "Monday Night Raw".

Lucky bitch.

He grinned hearing you confess that.

"Well, y'know what they say about the Big Valbowski" he stated, grinning and smiling while he said this "I can make your mouth wet and moist, amongst other body parts"

Classic Val Venis sexual innuendo.

The women in the audience agreed with that, shrieking their lungs out off camera, whereas the men in the audience off camera cheered and roared with applause.

You blushed and smiled from ear to ear hearing that innuendo, trying to contain yourself, only for you to sink back down to his stomach, slightly crouching yourself on the ground.

When you were crouching in front of Val's genitals, your body was trying to conceal his nudity from the camera, much to the dismay of his female fanbase.

The audience, however, did get to see a view of his leg, and he really was naked in this moment.

Your tongue pressed on the left side of his abdomen, licking up the water all the way up to his chest.

Your tongue was tickling his skin, making his nipples as well as a little something below his navel tingle.

He, meanwhile, looked down at you licking up his body, having his shit eating grin plastered on his face while you licked him.

When your head was close enough to his chest, one of your hands moved up to the end of his hair strand, where you pulled the end of his hair to your mouth.

"Oh no" Jim Ross exclaimed off camera when you pulled the end of Val's hair to your mouth "She's not gonna!"

But before he could finish that sentence, the ends of Val's hair was in between your lips, where you gently sucked the water off of the ends of his hair.

This was the epitome of a confused boner.

The people in the audience had mixed reactions.

Some were cheering this on, roaring "yyyyyyyyyyyyyeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!", others were grossed out, shouting "ewwwwwwwwwwww!!!" and "aaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwww!!", but they weren't saying "aaaaaaaaaaw" as if something's adorable.

You had a naughty little smirk on your face when you sucked the end of his hair.

Val was smiling at you sucking his hair, though he's also a little bit grossed out.

He wasn't expecting you to do this.

"Val" you said, your fingers pulling the ends of his hair out of your mouth, "Do you have a match to do right now?"

You suddenly didn't sound so sexy or seductive anymore.

"Yes I do!" he confessed.

"So I should stop licking you?" you asked, pouting.

"I'm afraid so" he admitted, frowning. "Though, after this match, the two of us can cuddle up in the shower again, how about that?"

He grinned from ear to ear saying that, putting his hands on your hips and swaying his hips from side to side.

The audience cheered off screen again hearing that.

His grin was spreading to you, which made you sheepishly smile as well.

"That's what I was thinking" you admitted. "Could clean the sweat off of you"

He patted your shoulder, smiling at you.

He then walked away, grabbing a towel when he walked off camera.

There's still plenty of water you haven't licked off of him.

_______________________________________________________________

There's a British Youtuber named Paul Joseph Watson, maybe you've heard of him?

He believes depression isn't a real mental illness, but love is a mental illness, and Islam is not a religion of peace.

One of Paul's most notorious rants is a rant about pop culture and why is it so vulgar, and that it's more vulgar than ever before (he posted this in 2017).

I wonder how he felt about the WWF's Attitude era of the late 90's and early 2000's: arguably the most violent, oversexualized, trashy, and downright shocking era the WWF/E has ever had (the reason I put "arguably" is because there was the WWE's Ruthless Aggression era, which was the Attitude era 2.0).

The WWF during the Attitude era was the most popular show on television in the late 90's, and this era was notorious for being "crash TV".

The WWF in the Attitude era had even higher ratings than it did in the 80's, and the Attitude era was popular enough to cross over into pop culture: be parodied in Mad and Cracked magazine, be on the covers of TV-Guide magazine, and people wearing Austin 3:16 shirts and doing D Generation X's "suck it" catchphrase and gesture.

Yet, it was a very shocking and dare I even say it, trashy era, an era where wrestlers played pimps, porn stars, sex addicts, horny old ladies, incestuous and even pedophilic "Leave it to Beaver" parodies and fratboys who wore blackface, sprayed racist cartoons and messages on black people's locker rooms, women ripped the clothes off of each other until they were down to bras and thongs, did bikini contests dressed in thong bikinis and wrestled in kiddie pools filled with pudding while dressed in thong bikinis, one woman from this era was even forced to strip and bark like a dog.

Hell, the Attitude era was popular around the same time trashy shock value pop culture was equally popular, like "The Jerry Springer Show" (which influenced the Attitude era), Ricki Lake and Jenny Jones were popular talk shows, Howard Stern, Tom Green, "Jackass", Marilyn Manson, "South Park" was the most popular adult cartoon on television, and Eminem was at the height of his popularity with his shock value lyrics (including rapping about explaining to his prepubescent daughter how he's gonna murder his wife and dump the body).

And...considering he's British...at the WWF's Capital Carnage in 1998, which was a PPV in his native England, Sable notoriously yanked Jacqueline's shirt off and exposed her breasts to the audience.

If my pro wrestling valet original character did exist in the Attitude era, she'd be a prime example of pop culture being vulgar during the late 90's.

[captain-apostrophe]

someone will remember us (23)

For @mdzswomen​‘s MDZS Women Appreciation Weeks event. Read here or on ao3.

Day 23: Modern AU

Warning: this contains frank (if mild) discussion of sex stuff, and liberal use of the f-word. Reader discretion is advised!

-

"Alright," Yanli said, setting her phone down to take another generous mouthful of wine. "Who wants to play a-Sang's game?" Mianmian did a lap of the table, topping up everybody's glasses and then, with a shrug, drank the last sip straight from the bottle. "Hell yeah," she said. "Your brother is gonna be so mad." Yanli rolled her eyes. "Does he think I'm some pure virgin who can't even bear to think about sex? I know that's all - y'know, complicated, for him, but Zixuan and I actually tried the old-fashioned way before we recruited all those doctors to help us have our babies." Wen Qing laughed, and shook her head. "Why do men always want to believe we hate sex and see it as a chore?" "To be fair," Qin Su said, "if the title of the vee enn is anything to go by, this is - a little more than just 'sex'." "How bad could it be?" Qin Su raised an eyebrow. "A-Su," Yanli said, suspiciously. "Why do you sound like you know something I don't?" "Well - I mean - it's just -" she stammered, now blushing. "The title, a-Li! What do you think 'monsterfucking' means?" There was a pause, and then all of them began to laugh. Wen Qing emptied her glass in a single swallow, and muttered 'oh god' under her breath. Mianmian laughed so hard she had to sit down. "Well I don't know," Yanli said, around her giggles. "But it sounds fun, doesn't it?" They laughed harder. "The game, I mean! Not - not monsterfucking itself, I don't think!" "Probably depends on the monster," Mianmian said. It took them some time to compose themselves, and some time after that for Qin Su to try and patiently explain how they could run the game and have it display on the television instead of them needing to crowd around a small screen together (in the end she just did it, and skipped the explanation), but finally the game was up.

SO YOU WANT TO BE A MONSTERFUCKER, the title screen declared.

"... is there more wine?" Yanli asked, suddenly bashful now that the moment had come. "You better believe it," Mianmian said. They waited until everybody had been topped up and was feeling brave again, and then they clicked on the exuberantly-labeled 'hell yeah' start button. The opening scenes were tame by anybody's standards, and after a little prompting Yanli agreed that - since this was, after all, her idea - she would read the narration aloud. It went well, initially. The game described the journey of a horny young person who, well, had a thirst for a very specific sort of partner. It got increasingly silly as the protagonist was made to choose how they would seek out said partner.

"the voice calls out to you from the darkness," Yanli read. "and you hear it not with your ears but with your mind. 'Come with me,' it says, in a tone like a wet caress, 'if you want to let someone else take control for a little while'." "A wet caress," Wen Qing repeated, making a disgusted expression. "What the fuck." "Why would it be wet?" Mianmian asked. "I... think that might be a tentacle-based route," Qin Su said. "... tentacle-based," Yanli said faintly. "Oh." Qin Su stifled a laugh. "Let's skip the tentacles," Wen Qing said. She looked faintly ill at the thought. "It said there are four options, didn't it? That means we have three more." They skipped the tentacles.

"The figure oozes up to you - literally oozes, not walking so much as shifting its shape from someone standing there to someone standing here. They lean nonchalantly against the bar, dripping slightly." "This one's wet too!" Mianmian complained. "Why are all of these monsters wet?" "Shapeshifting," Qin Su said. "I think that's the point of this one. Also, uh, slime." "No slime!" Wen Qing said. "Next!"

"Okay, okay," Yanli said, barely slurring her words at all. "We found option three, listen: the guy's hairier than anybody else in the room, hairy enough that it goes beyond 'rugged' and into 'furry' territory. He grins wolfishly at you from across the room, and raises an inviting eyebrow, and twirls the collar that's dangling from one finger." "Is that - a werewolf?" "How furry is furry?" "It doesn't say!" "Do we want to be someone's Master?" Qin Su asked. "Or maybe their pet, I don't know who that collar's for..." Wen Qing groaned and covered her eyes. "I'm allergic to dogs," she declared. "No werewolves. We'll take option four!"

"Oh. Well, we're at option four." They all leaned closer, squinting at the description. "Read it again," Mianmian said. "That resolution's too tiny for me." "More like you're too... wine...y for that resolution," Wen Qing joked. Mianmian rated the joke two thumbs down. "Behind the door," Yanli read, again, "is what looks an awful lot like a cave. A huge, hulking figure lurks just beyond the light, but as you stand on the threshold they shift and - a large, scaley, purple tail curls around the backs of your knees. Its touch is like a static shock." "We can't say no," Qin Su said. "We've come this far and rejected all the other ones, so..." "We could say no," Wen Qing argued. "Remember, that text at the start of the game said you can always opt out of a scene. Huaisang made his slime-and-tentacle porn game really explicit about consent." "He's such a nice boy," Yanli said, fondly. "That's so nice. Don't you think it's nice? Knowing he's all - consent-gain-y?" "I don't know if I should be relieved for Jiang Cheng's sake," Mianmian said, "or grossed out because now we're thinking way too much about their relationship dynamic." "Guys, we're going into the room with the - whatever that tail belongs to, okay?" Yanli said, deciding that moving the game along was better than continuing Mianmian's trail of thought. "You don't resist, as the tail draws you further into the room. Goosebumps break out all along your arms as you realise the sheer size of the room's inhabitant. You've never felt so small. So vulnerable." "It's a dragon, isn't it?" Qin Su said. "An - electric one? Do you think that part was just a metaphor?" That part did not, in fact, turn out to be just a metaphor. The group's reactions ranged from scandalised giggles to despairing cries as Yanli very bravely continued to read the narration aloud. When they successfully dialogue-treed themselves into the tryst with the dragon, the screen changed to something that stopped all of their giggling in its tracks. This was not just text on a page. This was... art? Art. "Is that - is that how dragons -" Mianmian trailed off before she could finish her thought. "Huh," Wen Qing said. Her tone was almost clinical. "Two penises." "The linework is quite nice," Qin Su offered. "Though I'm not convinced by the lighting and shadows." "Oh," was all Yanli could muster. "Does that mean we... win?" At that the giggling came back, and once their shock was over they all found that it was incredibly amusing to share their critiques on the very polished and serious game they'd just played.

[smolsleepyfox]

9 for Milo, 20 for you

9. Are there cultural or lore specific aspects to their identity? If applicable, does their species affect it?

Oh absolutely! Being born and raised in the Middle Ages, the guys grew up with a very specific type of identity, primarily centered on class rather than gender. After being turned, the Army used a specific rhetoric to keep the wolves in line, specifically that they're cursed and need to atone for the sin of .. existing? There was also a fairly strict adherence to not allowing women around unless it was for strategic political marriages, mostly because [gestures at the concept of pregnancy]. While werewolves in general are more resistant to disease, Milo was always lucky and came out "the pretty one", which he banked on in many situations. It unfortunately also made people jealous and he became a scapegoat on many occasions. Overall, there was a fairly strict adherence to the structure of the army, including gender/sexuality norms, not because it was universally regarded as bad, but because the superiors wanted control over their supernatural weapons.

Milo is still somewhat part of that system mentally. He's generally someone who is best off with some oversight - it's less stressful to have someone to defer to. Aside from that he puts a lot of effort into his presentation because being the pretty one helps him feel on top of things. In modern terms, he'd probably be pansexual and agender, because he's generally fairly "meh" about whatever doesn't interest him, but he considers himself a man because he's not really gotten the idea there's any other option. He also doesn't really see his presentation as fem, although from a modern perspective it is. He's just really big, so people usually don't start shit.

20. Did your OCs help you with your own identity?

Oh absolutely. I can't really think of a specific example rn but OCs are THE place to bounce ideas off of. I mean there was a reason I had only male characters and OCs I liked until I felt obliged to identify as female for a bit. And look how that turned out.