#and also trying not to exhaust the list so that other mutuals can still tag people :P

[incomingalbatross]

WIP Game

rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it

Tagged by @readalong, thank you!

I... am just gonna list whatever docs I've worked on in the last three-ish months. Ask about any of these if you wanna!

Dipper & Creativity

Slaybel and Slipper

Assorted Stan and Ford Feels

Portal Soos

"Love You Too" Amphibia fic

The Motherhood of Sarah Jane (technically complete but unpublished; could use an epilogue, though)

Amphibia: mind-controlled Sasha fun

DW/SH: Closed Books and Open Ones (mostly this is published, I've just been trying to edit + add a scene)

Amphibia Soulmate AU

(Gravity Falls) Fighting the Future: Apocalypse Not Included

OTGW/GF/Labyrinth/Amphibia timeline thoughts

notebook archive + card game nonsense

Yozakura

Tagging... @why-bless-your-heart, @long-live-the-gobop, @scarvenartist, @lurking-latinist, and @animate-mush (only if you all feel like playing, of course). And if anyone else wants to jump in, please consider yourselves tagged!

[gayboymolloy]

IWTV Fic Recs: Part I

You all pinky promised to listen and not judge 🫶🏻

Please mind tags for all of these. This list is certainly not exhaustive, just the ten I could find. As I’ve said before, I’m really bad at keeping track of my favorite fics.

Loustat

Headlock by caxemira - Rated E. 16k words. Human Office Romance AU. Louis works through his internalized homophobia as he develops feelings for what was supposed to be his one time hookup. A little angst, miscommunication. Happy ending.

for years or for hours by dulacourt - Rated E. 29k words. Lestat and Louis work on Louis’ sexual stamina. There’s so much kissing and coming in pants in this one. Like, so much kissing. It’s genuinely very sweet and soft. Lestat and Louis’ religious conflicts are very present.

body of water by peacefrog - Rated E. 19k words. Post-reunion. Getting back together is not as simple as it seems, especially when you’ve been through everything Loustat has. Grief is the backdrop until it’s the foreground. Technically this is a sequel to a reunion fic, you are the moon that breaks the night for which i have to howl, which you should also read, but body of water is my favorite.

Nickistat

only us, in this room by accideadly - Rated E. 3k words. Still human, first time, mutual masturbation, sickeningly in love. I’m a little obsessed with Lestat talking Nicki through it here. So sweet, I love Nickistat, have I mentioned that on this blog before?

Loumand

just the pure virgin light by exsanguinate (transjon) - Rated E. 5k words. Armand experienced genital mutilation as a mortal in the brothel; Louis is determined to find a way to make him feel good regardless. Sounding, prostate orgasm. Emotional + we love to see Loumand actually loving on each other.

Lesmand

two-headed mother by tisiphones - Rated E. 8.6k words. mommy kink mommy kink mommy kink. I cannot stress how much you should not read this fic if you don’t want to experience insane psychosexual pseudoincestual bullshit between Armand and Lestat. If you do, however… this might be the most sad and pathetic I’ve ever seen these two.

Danstat

break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored by SheOfBadIdeas - Rated E. 3k words. Armand is neglecting Daniel. Lestat and Daniel fuck about it. I like this one because Lestat and Daniel aren’t in-love but they do like each other and Lestat is genuinely trying to make him feel better 🥺 Plus, it ends in Armandaniel smut. Which leads us to:

Devil’s Minion

may through december by savorvrymoment - Rated E. 15k words. Ongoing. Human AU, briefly professor/student. Armand and Daniel spend a lot of time being very domestic and even more time not talking about it like they should. I have no words for how good this is. Armand is autistic and traumatized. Daniel is old and navigating his own feelings. Nobody is saying what they really mean. I love how much they love each other. *chef’s kiss 👩🏻‍🍳💋*

Camboy Molloy by GrayGiantess - Rated E. 39k words. Ongoing. Human AU. Old Daniel is a camboy who, in a probably ill-advised move, agrees to an in-person session with his favorite viewer. And as you can guess, they keep meeting. Sweet moments, sad moments, classic Daniel asshole moments. This was recommended to me recently and I’m obsessed!

Morning by CloeLockless - Rated M. 2.5k words. Classic Devil’s Minion era. To Daniel’s surprise, for the first time, Armand stays the night. Unfortunately, the spontaneity of it all means they don’t properly account for the sun… (no major character death… well outside of vampires being dead sort of inherently.) When Daniel cried, I cried, and not for the reason you’d think based on my blurb. Angsty, sweet.

[cjoat-boost]

Mutual Aid List Post

With everything that’s going on with me, I have noticed folks I care about our interact(ed) with are in dire need of assistance or shares of the like. It’d ease my mind if even posting or sharing their posts would bring the eyes and assistance they each need. The list is numbered but the numbers have no standing on importance, it’s just a list. Please view under the cut.

Moosblossom (Fae/Moo/It/He/She) is once more opening up faer coms!! Moosblossom needs to save up to fix faer car, if you’re interested in helping ; https://moosbloomcoms.carrd.co/#ii

Hey guys, the Co-founder of BarPOC (18+ Community for Black, Indigenous, and other Furries of Color) server, Kandy, REALLY needs help right now, whatever you can donate please hand it over to them, they'll need it to overcome this. Thank you guys 🧡 https://bsky.app/profile/kandyelmo.com/post/3kd6gr4l43d2z

@annie-manga’s friend, @theawesomeadventurer (unsure why I’m unable to tag them but—Annie if you see this I hope sharing their posts will help them) is in financial need! https://www.tumblr.com/theawesomeadventurer/730798307796025344/i-am-still-in-need-of-financial-assistance-btw

Juutanart is an exhausted artist and wonderful mom; any help is appreciated.

This post is not made lightly, and Synne [Pronounced Sin] wanted to make sure that it is known that she wouldn't be sharing this if Synne didn't need the help. Synne’s never been wealthy, but having lost out on two paychecks due to their carpal tunnel putting her out of a job, they’ve been severely behind. Synne and their partner just spent the last of their money on groceries, and now only have two dollars between them to last until Friday. If anyone is able to help Synne and their partner at all, it will be greatly appreciated. We are also willing to do a little art in exchange, although we don't have the capability to do digital art at the moment. Synne’s Paypal: https://paypal.me/JessBiondo?country.x=US&locale.x=en_US | Synne’s partner's Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/puppyresidue

There’s my parental figures, as well; and trigger warnings are provided in the post. https://www.tumblr.com/cjoat-boost/731258299453997056/liv-webb-need-our-help

Finally me, as it’s November, (I’ll be homeless by the 12th…If allowed a week longer, the 19th; and I’m making it known that I’m trying to raise at minimum 500K to attempt to buy my first home before the end of November. My links and context provided are here: https://www.tumblr.com/cjoatprehn/731033172982300672/i-am-going-to-be-homeless-in-30-37-days

I can always add more folks in need, but my mana slots are running low, so i need to break for a moment. But it would mean so much if you were able to share this post.

[thelastofharrington]

43, 47, or 85 for joel? ❤️❤️❤️❤️

anything for you! how about something slow and sweet??

if you want to send me some smutty dialogue prompts, im going off of this list hehe

43: “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

warnings/tags: smut!! minors dni!!!, oral (m receiving), f!reader, unprotected sex, intimate, slow sex, joel is the perfect lay, mutual pining

Joel had been gone for several days. Off doing some trading and negotiating, and then working some shifts at the QZ that required him to be gone on the opposite schedule of you. You hadn't seen him in what felt like forever. But tonight, tonight that was going to change.

You and Joel weren't dating per se. No, dating in an apocalypse was fruitless and juvenile. But you were living together, not seeing other people, and consistently falling into bed together. You liked that he kept you safe and he liked that you kept him young. You also both got a lot out of the "falling into bed together " part. The part you have been missing for the last several days.

It was hedonistic and heady, the way you craved him. There were just about a million other things to worry about and prioritize, but today you made an effort to get as clean as possible, wear your least tattered clothes, and make the bed in preparation for Joel to come home from the night shift.

You were so hopped up on energy and lust that it didn't even feel like the five hours after your shift that you had to wait for his to be over, and then at 10:30 sharp, you heard the key in the door. Then you heard a thump of a bag hitting the floor, the shuffling of shoes coming off, and the dragging of tired feet against the concrete floors. Then finally, you saw the figure of the man you're almost sure you love standing in the doorway.

"Hi Joel," you drawl from your spot on the bed in your sweetest voice, making sure to bat your eyelashes.

He stops in the doorway to drink you in, looking you up and down, almost convincingly not exhausted. "Hi baby girl." It's almost a sigh of relief as it leaves his lips

Your heart breaks in your chest as you realize just how exhausted he is. You rethink your whole plan, thinking you can put your foolish cravings to the side for now. A warm body in your bed is just as nice as one between your legs. "Why don't you come to bed?"

He stalks his way over to you and stands at the edge before you, "Are you trying to seduce me?"

Maybe your cravings weren't so foolish after all, maybe he wants this as bad as you do. "Depends, is it working."

He pulls you by the under side of your knees to the edge of the bed so he's slotted between your thighs. "Something's working all right."

He leans down to kiss you and you let him. You let him because you need him to, and you think he might need it too. You let him because you missed him and you've grown accustomed to the way his five o'clock shadow scratches you ever so slightly. You let him because you love him, even if you're too afraid to admit it out loud.

The one kiss slowly turns into lots of little ones as he guides you onto your back, and then lots of big, long ones as you pulls your leg up over his hip. It's getting hot and heavy quickly but still not nearly at the speed you would like. You reach down between the two of you to palm at the front of his jeans, feeling delighted by the hardened length that you find.

He groans at the contact and moves to leave some kisses on the underside of your ear, "Eager tonight, are we?"

You meet his lips again as your fingers fumble with his button and zipper, "Just missed you is all."

"Fuck- I missed you too, baby," He says as you dip your hand beneath his waist band. "Let me flip over."

Now you're the one slotted between his thighs as you continue to work his cock. He shimmies out of his jeans and boxers while never taking his eyes off of you.

He's nice and hard for you as you lean down, mouth open, tongue out. You take him in your mouth all the way in one fell swoop, eliciting some crude remarks from your roommate/lover.

"Fuck that mouth is so wet baby."

"You take it so good."

"Treat me so nice, baby."

You're encouraged by his obscenities so you pick up the pace, your mouth bobbing faster and faster as you attempt to take all of him as much as possible. He holds you hair back for you, so you expect him to guide you at an even more intense pace like he normally does, but instead, he lifts you off of him completely.

"Woah, slow down darlin'. I’m not going anywhere."

You open your mouth to apologize before he continues, "If you want me to fuck you, we gotta slow down a notch. And I know you want me to fuck you."

You swallow your gasp and nod before going back to his cock, licking up his precum slowly while making deep eye contact with him.

He throws his head back, "Fuck baby, going slow is gonna kill me too." He looks down again at you worshipping his cock slowly, just like he told you to. "You're such a good girl for me baby, taking me nice and slow just like I tell you to. You'd do anything I told you to, wouldn't you?"

You try to reply but your mouth his full of him, so it just comes out as a gargle that reverberates off his cock so deliciously he groans again, tightening the grip he has in your hair. "Gimme that pussy baby I'm not gonna last long with you on your knees like that."

You immediately get up, take off your clothes, and assume your normal position, doggy style. He normally likes to be able to slap your ass, pull your hair, and drill into you from behind with all the power he can conjure up.

"Not tonight, hon. Tonight I want to look in those pretty eyes while I make you cum on my cock."

Your center tightens around nothing at his words. Obediently, you turn over to lay on your back, taking a pillow and putting it under your hips to prepare for the best angle possible.

He lines his cock up with your cunt, "Good girl, all ready for me. You look so pretty like this, darlin'. I'm one lucky son of a bitch"

You blush and cover your face, suddenly embarrassed by his nice words.

He moves your hands away from your face gently before rubbing a thumb over your cheek, "None of that tonight. Tonight I want to see all of you."

You nod and wait for him to slide in. You know you're already so wet for him, but you're excited for him to find out for himself. He groans as soon as the tip of his cock touches your folds, signaling to you that he feels your slickness as much as you do.

"So wet for me already and I haven't even touched you. How'd I get so lucky?" He says before he slides all the way in.

"Been thinking about this all day," You admit.

Inch by inch he slowly enters you, "Oh yeah?" He asks, trying to keep his composure, "Thinking about this big cock in that pussy?"

Finally, he bottoms out inside of you and you mewl loudly at the sensation of being so full of him. "Yes Joel, please fuck me baby," You barely sputter out.

He needs no further instructions before he lazily and lovingly starts pulling in and out. He's usually rough with you, hitting your cervix over and over until you can barely walk the next day. But tonight, tonight he's pulling all the way out before pistoning back in just so. It's the exact intensity you need, but you also know it's what he needs too. He's meeting you in the middle to give you exactly what you want but still savoring every last second with you.

You're both moaning and heaving as he continues to fuck you. Eventually he moves one of your ankles over his shoulder, stretching you out and deepening the angle even more.

You lose track of where your head's at and just start thanking him between each thrust. "Thank you for fucking me Joel," You cry out, "I needed that big cock baby, I needed it so bad."

"Anything for my girl baby, anything at all," His thrusts start to grow sloppy as he reaches his climax, "What do you need from me to make you cum?"

"My clit, please," You sob out as he propels himself into you particularly deep.

"Yes baby, keep tensing like that and I'm gonna cum," He grunts out as he plays with your cunt. He knows you're close because he can feel your walls fluttering around him, all wet and hot. It's enough to make him bust, if he wasn't so preoccupied on making sure you got there first.

Between his fingers on your clit and his cock in your pussy, you're two seconds away from one of the biggest orgasms of your life. You can feel it. His words get you there within minutes of him praising you:

"You look so pretty with my cock inside you baby."

"You are so beautiful like this, all spread out for me baby."

"Please cum for me, I want to feel you cum on my cock."

And with that, you're a goner. He was right, you would do anything he asked.

He finishes on your stomach not too long after, but you're too much in a haze of your on pleasure to notice until he comes back with a towel to clean you up.

"Thanks," You say shyly as he wipes you down.

He looks back up with you with a soft smile on his face, "Thank you. I needed that," He pauses, "I really missed you, darlin'."

You sit up on your elbows and smile back at him, "I missed you too."

The rest of the night is spent in his arms as he recounts his latest adventures, and you fall asleep soundly to the steady rhythm of his breaths. The last thing you remember thinking before you fall asleep is, "I could see myself loving him forever."

[riderofblackdragons]

Promises (Still Mean Something To Me)

Day 29: Fatigue | labyrinth | burnout | "who said you could rest?"

Alright, so I have decided that since I'm still pretty far behind, I'm just going to post these when I write them, lol. I mean, not day 31 yet, because it's not the 31st, but every other day I haven't gotten to yet? Fair game imo!

This is star wars, it's also an alternate universe where the Jedi won, but uhhhh... I did not go much further into that. Just know that that's why they're partying lol. It was originally going to be a Crosshair fic but Fox calls to my inner insecurities and angst so much more!

My mutual made a post that mentioned how second POV is the most initmate, and it inspired me to write one. Hence, we get this! I love writing second POV, I should do it move often tbh.

I did reach pretty far into my own insecurities and shit for this, so it's never getting reread by me ever again bc holy hells i feel exhausted after writing it.

Still, hope you enjoy!

You don't know why you're here. All these loud noises, echoing around the room - you can't remember how you got here, either. You're not bothered, and it feels wrong, but you don't know why. Something bright enters your vision and you flinch back - oh. It wasn't even that close.

There are others here, all sharing the same face. Your face. You don't know if you can claim it anymore, not with everything that's happened to it. You barely recognise yourself, these days. You think they called to you, to join them, but you can't hear anything through the faint ringing in your ears. There is noise, but it won't register, and all you want to do now is run.

But you promised you'd stay. At least for an hour. Who did you promise it to? Thoughts of white and red and gold enter your mind, but they won't focus enough to tell you. Your mind won't complete a thought, but you don't worry about it.

Someone pushes past you from behind. You stagger forward, just a little, barely noticing the momentum. They move further through the crowd, but you stay where you are, pinning your gaze onto their back. You watch the crowd swallow them up, but don't bother to try too hard to follow them.

Your prescence wouldn't be welcome anyways, you know. You've known this for so long. No one really wants to be around you, not anymore. Maybe it was different, once, but it had been so long since then. The memories had faded, and been replaced in your mind by the grimaces and scowls and yells and insults that are all you know now.

You miss the happier times, but you do not remember them. The others around you tell stories, and you listen, but you do not remember them in the way they do. It is only through their stories that you know of them at all, and you feature so infrequently in the stories that it is possible they never happened for you.

There are so few people that will talk to you, now.

On your wrist, you have a chrono. You check the time, and see that barely a quarter hour has passed. If not for your word, the only scraps of honour you have left, and the promise you made (to who did you make it to?), you would have left already.

(Does a promise truly bind, if you cannot remember to whom you gave it? You cannot recall when you made it, perhaps the other is dead now. Will it still count then? Does your word still bind you, if you are the only one left?

There is no red here, other than on you. Are you the only one left, of you and yours?)

You have never really liked parties. You stay anyways.

Tag List: @captain-effy @what-the-fuckis-happening @robininthelabyrinth

[skuntank]

mobile link for my art clicky click : )

link for headcanons tag

hi i am billy i like to draw. i am 30+ and i dont care to update that number every year so thats as good as youre gonna get. i am a nonbinary transmasc dyke and accept any pronouns (with a preference for they and he)

Official legally authorized super duper non negotiable for realsies #1 biggest fan ever of Cheryl Pokemon, Gardenia Pokemon, and Diantha Pokemon ✨

WHAT THIS BLOG IS:

a sideblog (I follow from @hotshotshitshow !) for me to indulge in fandom-based hyperfixations, post my art, and ramble on about headcanons! especially that last point!

a place that focuses on and celebrates primarily female (and nonbinary) characters! i make a point of not giving much time or energy to male characters or m/m ships. i may discuss a few here and there in passing, but they are not and never will be the focus of this blog.

trans safe and terf exclusive! i will always have more love in my heart for and more in common with trans women than i ever will with a terf. terfs are welcome to block me.

a space for me to be as openly creative as i please! i delight in ripping apart side characters that dont have much canon development and frankensteining them back together. if you are of the belief that "at that point you may as well just make an oc," then you are welcome to block me.

very happy to swap and discuss headcanons! jamming with others about headcanons often is the highlight of my day. pokemon is the fandom i am the most comfortable doing this with by far and i am likely to not have much to say about other fandoms, unfortunately.

very happy to accept unsolicited drawing prompts ONLY for my favorite characters and ships! and if you asked something directly to one of said favorite characters, I may even draw the response in character! : )

mature in nature of the content that i post! i am a fully grown adult and expect you to be one as well if you follow me. i block minors with no exception. i do post somewhat regularly about sexual topics, which i tag with "the nasties" if that is something you need to blacklist.

SLOW to respond!!! I love getting messages and I try to answer everything I get but I am easily distracted, forgetful, have low social energy at any given time, and generally like to take a while to think about things (on top of working full time.) Please be patient with me!!

WHAT THIS BLOG IS NOT:

a pokemon news blog! im just some schmuck that loves climbing aboard the pokemon hype train as much as anyone else. if you found me from my gamefreak teraleak posts, you are still welcome to follow, but do not come here with the expectation that i consistently post about pokemon news.

Interested in getting involved in proship/anti discourse! People on both sides need to go outside. Don't drag me into anything and we can mutually move on with our lives if we come across something we don't like.

I would appreciate you liking this post of you have read all of it!

fandom preference stuff under the cut:

pokemon is and always has been the absolute love of my life and my faves from it are:

+ gardenia, cheryl, diantha, cynthia, rika, geeta, hunter j, cyllene, cogita

+ gaiashipping (gardenia/cheryl), phaesporiashipping (cynthia/diantha), geeta/rika, gothicrockshipping (roxie/marley)

other things of great importance:

+ karlach, karlach/shadowheart, any of the other bg3 ladies

+ sadie adler, sadie/molly, just about anything red dead related

+ noi, noikaido (dorohedoro)

+ midna/zelda (legend of zelda)

this of course is not an exhaustive list, but rather a list of what you are the most likely to see here.

I also enjoy monster collection games in general, such as neopets and palworld

You will undoubtedly see me bitching from time to time about popular male characters and m/m ships as well as misogyny in fandom. This is not the blog for you if you are a big fan of the more popular male characters and ships in most fandoms I have stated above, or if you're one of those bozos who gets upset when a lesbian vocally doesn't like men.

[day-rp]

Rules

No god modding or power playing. — These are very obvious. Please don’t control my muses actions and keep your muses balanced, and I will do the same on my end.

I am almost always open to roleplaying! — So if I follow you on my main blog (daybreak-mun), please don’t hesitate to send me starters or even ask to plot an RP. A good chunk of the time, I’ll be up for it.

Please don’t pester me about replies. — Please understand that I can occasionally feel drained and exhausted from things. Of course other things can be at play if I don’t reply, such as me just not feeling up to the thread and me not wanting to give a forced reply.

No killing my muses without my approval. — Like the above mentioned rules, it also kills my desire to want to roleplay with you. Injuries are fine, but anything fatal has to be approved with me in messages. I didn’t come here to be a dungeon master without the NPCs!

Send me messages or asks if you need. — I’m always up to listening to my friends if they need to let something out, and I’ll keep my IM open in case you need to talk to me about something. Just keep in mind that I’m a friend, not a therapist.

Please try to have your response legible. — If English isn’t your first language, then I’ll be more understanding, as I spent two years trying to learn Spanish, and I still barely got a grasp on it. I just ask that I have something to work with in order to make a proper reply.

Let the ships sail! — Besides, of course, the obvious. My RP blogs are multiship, and as long as there’s consent and the ship doesn’t tick any of the red flags (especially the ones listed above), it’s good in my book. Of course, I’d much prefer there be chemistry, but crackships are pretty fun to mess around with too.

Smut will be on a separate side blog. — But the muns and characters of those involved must be 18+, or else it’s a no-go and a one way ticket on the block train. And if I find out you’re lying about your age, that’s an immediate no-warning block. No exceptions.

I will mainly be following reblog RP. — But I will allow ask by ask and IM. If you want to RP using one of these, just tell me and I’ll keep that in mind.

Please don’t just reblog memes from me. — So if you see an ask meme, please make an effort to send me one before reblogging it from me. My blogs are not meme archives. If you don’t want to send anything in, please reblog it from the source.

My blogs are semi-selective by default, — meaning that I may be a bit selective in who I roleplay with. If I follow you and you follow me, we’re good as long as I have the energy. Of course, this can be on a by-blog basis. Some of them are fully selective, meaning I may not be up for RP, even if we’re mutuals.

Tell me if I need to tag something! — If something I’m writing in my rps is making you uncomfortable, just let me know, alright?

Please tell me if I screw up. — I’m only human and don’t have the ability to avoid making the occasional mistake; nobody does. If I accidentally break your rules, just come and talk to me OOC about it, and I’ll do my best to remedy it asap.

You don’t need to send any particular passwords. Letting me know you’ve read these is appreciated, but not required.

[matan4il]

Fandom and disabilities

For a while now, I’ve been thinking I might talk about how socially isolating it has at times felt for me, being disabled on Tumblr.

So let me start by saying I have both physical issues, as well as anxiety and depression. And one of the nastiest things about them is how they interact. One physical issue can lead to another (a recent example, living with constant dizziness can cause one to fall and hit their face against the edge of the bathtub, which leads to even more problems), and then the mental health issues can drain a person from having the energy to do some of the things that might help a bit with the physical issues, while the physical problems in turn make things like the depression worse, in part because it IS depressing when your body is causing you so much suffering, and in part because one’s social world gets narrowed down when meeting with friends becomes so taxing. And when these problems are chronic, this is a cycle that there’s no breaking out of, just trying to live with it as best as possible.

You’d think fandom would be sort of a solution to this, right? ‘Coz fandom is like pocket friends that you don’t need to physically move around to meet. But I find that I’m constantly reminded of how limiting having disabilities is online, too. Yes, I don’t have to physically go anywhere to meet with online friends, but I still have to deal with stuff like constant dizziness and pains and fatigue in order to simply sit up by a computer and talk to people here. It still takes so much out of me, and yet because interacting online is generally seen as effortless, it feels like I’m still failing my friends, maybe to an even greater degree...

To give one example of something that seems simple, but isn’t to me: I see ask games and I wanna be a part of them, but I also know that in the past, when I did participate, it exhausted me. Those games DID make me happy! To send out asks with loving messages for my friends, to see my lovelies react with joy? It was amazing, I loved it so much! But it was also draining. At the same time, to not get those asks because I can’t send them back, to not be tagged in Tumblr games, it is disheartening and makes me feel like I’m on the outside looking in, knowing that even if people understand why I can’t play along, there’s no getting around it: when you interact with people more, you get closer to them. If you don’t, then...

Or how about content creation? It takes so much out of me (especially as I try to keep my medical appointments, which takes a lot out of me, as well as work, not to mention the occasional unavoidable adulting), but I’m still happy to do it! That’s kinda how I met most of my fandom friends, through content that somehow got us talking. But then, I know most creators on Tumblr have usertags to help them get their creations out there. That it’s also a part of how mutuals keep in touch and show each other support. But me, usertags give me anxiety. IDEK why, but they do. And I thought of maybe starting a tag list, but I know that I don’t always get notified when I’m tagged in a post. I was recently reminded of that because of an amazing person, who created this gorgeous fanart based on one of my fics. I was tagged in the post, but I didn’t get a notification about it. A mutual reblogged the post, and I happened to be around when the (queued) reblog got posted, so it was by chance that I saw it. Which means I’m not that sure a tag list is the solution either.

But then, let’s talk about reblogging other people’s creations! I used to reblog as well as tag other people’s creations, because I felt like this would be a nice way to show others support. And then mid 2021, stuff got so much worse for me. But I didn’t feel like I could just stop adding nice tags, what if people saw that those were gone, when just a few days before, when I was reblogging someone else, I was being complimentary? I hated the thought people might be offended. So at first I tried to go on putting time and effort into adding tags anyway. Then I saw I couldn’t, so I tried to at least leave one nice tag on each post. But as things kept getting worse, I finally came to the conclusion, I had to stop. At that point, simply making sure my queue would be full and I could step away from Tumblr for a long period of time without feeling like I completely stopped supporting other creators, that would have to do. I returned to Tumblr several months later, but I was still not doing that great. So I never got back to leaving complimentary tags on people’s posts, which I’m sad about. I really want to, not to mention, at the end of the day, the tags are one of the ways fandom communicates on Tumblr, not just with the creators, but I also remember some comments I left in the tags would open up interesting and fun dialogues...

Then there’s how little time I can spend online talking to fandom friends compared to what seems to be the average, seeing what’s new in the fandom, seeing other people’s posts and creations, as well as being caught up in whatever the recent big news is in fandom. Not having as much of all of these things can leave me with a sense of being left out.

Then there’s just this general fear of disappointing people and losing friendships without even knowing the exact reason why. Are people speaking to me less ‘coz I’m not able to reply as much and as often? Is it because they’re disappointed in me ‘coz they don’t feel I give back as much as I’m given? Is it ‘coz when I’m not around, they naturally talk to others way more, so their other connections become much stronger? Do they not understand some of my disabilities, how they limit me, and think I could be doing more and are upset with me over it, so they just pull away? Or is it maybe something else entirely, but it gets lost in the sea of possible reasons that are prominent in my mind? IDK. I can just say that it’s always disheartening, to feel like you’ve lost someone who, if you were just healthier, you believe you could have continued a beautiful friendship with.

So why am I writing this? I’m not even sure. I can’t say, “I wanted people to be aware of what it’s like for people with disabilities in fandom,” because that refers to a huge group of people, with a huge and diverse range of experiences regarding what they’re dealing with and how it shapes their online experiences, what’s difficult for them, what might help them... I guess I just wanted to speak about my sense of how my disabilities affect my online social experiences in fandom because I’ve never seen any other post addressing this specific aspect of being disabled in online fandoms. So maybe this would resonate with some people. Or maybe, for my friends, this would just... be something to know. Know that I love you and support you and would talk to you so much more often if I could. Know that it means the world to me when you reblog something and add nice stuff in the tags, ‘coz even if I can’t reply, it feels like a line of communication that remains open against all odds and through which you make me so happy whenever you generously allow me to feel like I have something to offer and contribute despite my many challenges, know that when you tag me in a Tumblr game, or send me an ask game, it means a lot even during those times when I want but can’t respond. If I am somehow failing you, please believe that it’s in spite of my best efforts, not because I don’t care. And maybe talk to me about how you’re feeling? Maybe we can figure out something so you don’t feel that way. Maybe we won’t be able to, but at least we’d both know we care and that matters, too. Yeah, maybe that’s the most important part, just know I love you, I treasure you, and I’m doing my best. xoxox

[artobotsrollout]

Transformers: Harbingers

The Pirate Scream AU

Before I talk about it you guys are the best thank you for indulging me and my AU from this post xjdjd. ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@badlydrawntransformers @cosmic0de @warrioroffandoms @measlyfurball13 And a bonus thank you to those encouraging me in the tags as well ❤️

I plan to do art for it as well as accompanying written bits and maybe even an animatic but till then have some general info under the cut.

Also there is transformers: Prime spoilers below so open at your own risk.

TRANSFORMERS: HARBINGERS

So this AU comes from the same place many AUs heavily involving TfP Starscream come from: the unfulfilled potential in our boy Scream. Now deeper discussion of that is not gonna be in this post. It'd be a whole essay.

It also comes from just how salty I was that the Team's kindness never really benefitted them much and they kept getting slapped for it. And OP really wanted to win over a con and Starscream kept wanting a partner. ALSO ALSO Optimus was portrayed as keeping his emotions in check and then never really gets a message that it's okay to be emotional so... I'm doing that here.

And the Starscream Pirate AU was born...

Aka Transformers: Harbingers (maybe idk if it's catchy enough djjsw)

Why Harbingers? ''It's just a SHIP Starscream chills in for awhile in the show' ' I hear you say. WELL HANG ON!! I got two very good reasons!! .

First off: Starscream, with the help of some Cybertronians who he wins over one way or another (Ill get to that), help him essentially use the remains of the Harbinger to put together their own functional ship. It's smaller than the Nemesis and will take some pirate ship inspiration. While it is a hardy beast it's a bit jury rigged.

Second of all:

Imagine being a fictional character living in a ship with a name that basically means 'Foreshadowed bringer of change' and then going back to Megatron and his bullshit. I'm gonna grab this and run all the way with it. Highway to Hell just came on my Spotify so... That may be an omen.

---------

NOW LISTEN

I feel like Starscream and Optimus could really have had such an interesting dynamic but we never really got to see that in TfP and I feel cheated. Also both could have mutually benefitted a great deal.

So what do I do? I shove them together to be sorta begrudging Co-Captains. As a result there's a lot of shenanigans to be had!

How this happens OP has some run ins with cons and, through a way I'm still deciding, has the opportunity to extend a hand to Starscream. Starscream, being kindness starved, doesn't entirely know what to do about Optimus being nice to him one whole time with no sarcasm or ulterior motive and sorta starts trying to get his attention.

Starscream and his crew are a bit of their own team at this point. MEANING sort of new LOGOS!

I'm yoinking the crossed out Decepticon logo from the Dark Energon Starscream and Dark Energon Knockout toys cause I mean... It's right there and also kinda like a skull and crossbones. It fits too well guys.

Starscream essentially manages to win over the autobots enough so they can sorta make a mutually beneficial, if strained, alliance to aid their aligned goal: killing Megatron and revitalizing cyberton. This is aided by some slight changes to the plot of course. It's also a benefit, much to Ratchet's delight, since they finally get some cybertronian tech to work with.

And so they gotta work together to take Megatron out and there's much bonding moments esp later when the autobot base is destroyed. Starscream extends his hand to them and offers them a more permanent position onboard. (rubbing in how unfortunate their situation is and how this is such a big favour but he's paying Optimus back.)

And insert team dynamic stuff!! Like cons teaming up with Bots, Starscream and Optimus trying to stick with it leading their own teams but keep accidently backseat-leadering one another. I will write some other ex-con and bot dynamics cause there's a lot of chaos to be had.

Optimus doesn't open up to his crew for morale sake and masks his emotions well, and Starscream is... well Starscream is Starscream so he masks what he truly feels a lot and doesn't share a lot of personal stuff besides complaints with his team either. So there's a lot of tension.... That is until Starscream has had it at just how good a poker face Prime has.

Because he's absolutely paranoid got a harmless curiosity about Optimus's ulterior motives and wants potential dirty secrets he can use as blackmail to have power over the Prime, he essentially puts cybertronian booze (but kid friendly version of course fbejek) in Optimus's energon heavily expecting him to spill the beans when heavily drunk. What he doesn't expect is that Optimus is just... LIKE THAT to his core. He's smart but very sad and guilty. And maybe a bit weepy and exhausted cause this man has not shown an emotion for eons now. /s. Starscream doesn't know wtf to do but swayed by how earnest Optimus is he sorta softens up and does open up. Might have helped that he took a swig of the tainted energon to get on his level though. But it also helps that neither is the others subordinate so they don't need to maintain their image as badly with the Co-captain as they do their team.

The ex cons sorta accidently absorb some of the autobot's morals over time. The cons help the autobots have some fun. There's a lot of stuff learned both ways. Also the cons realize how cool humans can be and after a lot of argument and forced time spent with the kids, they want to protect earth too.

Starscream, helps Optimus open up a bit more and allow himself to be emotional. He also shows him how to be a little selfish. Optimus in turn helps him with self confidence and making friends. Both help each other with the shit Megatron put em both through and overall boost one another up. (This also does change the start of the war a bit but I'll get to that in another post.)

Miko tries to fight all of the cons at first but quickly changes her tune cause "BOOYAH PIRATE CONS!!"

Other bits about this AU:

Starscream will eventually get a slight design change. It'll be less scrappy and look more confident and put together. It'll be minor

Because they are on a flying ship but have less energon than the Nemesis, everyone gets equipped with mods for flight. There is a jetpack upgrade one can get or Knockout can straight up help change their alt mode surgically.

I'm working up a list of who gets what flight mod but... Ya'll should know that Wheeljack dares Knockout to make him into a flying car. Largely cause I just got the image of Wheeljack flying above vehicons and just turning into a car and dropping on them. That and driving up the side of the Nemesis and confusing the fuck out of Megatron. Out of all the characters you know that would be a Wheeljack thing.

Arcee and Knockout grieve together.

Knockout loves bugging the hell out of Ratchet. It's extra fun for him cause Ratchet often can't do shit about it since they both need the room and tools.

Knockout and Wheeljack become an insufferable duo with the nicknames they have for everyone.

Wheeljack won't leave Starscream alone and keeps coming up with worse and worse nicknames like he did with Ratchet.

Starscream and Ratchet become complaining buddies.

STARSCREAM'S SEEKER SQUAD REJOINS. Well some of them. Skywarp, Thundercracker and maybe other peeps.

Miko manages to befriend Skywarp and Bulkhead now has to watch both Miko AND Skywarp. Wheeljack refuses to help Bulkhead round them up.

Raf hits it off with Thundercracker.

Knockout: "FINALLY a team with fragging MANNERS!"

Instead of Beeftimus Prime from the forge, Optimus actually gets access to a third alt mode and.. Idk something else primely. So he actually gets wings.

Starscream and the other fliers are greatly amused because Optimus, as great as he is at his poker face most of the time, hasn't yet figured out how to not emote with the pair of wings he gets from the forge. Thundercracker is the one who eventually informs him while the rest of the crew are booing loudly in the background.

I actually do have designs of TFP Skywarp, Thundercracker, and Ironhide in the works.

Fowler and Starscream have insult battles. Oddly both grow a weird almost fondness for these verbal sparring sessions

They frequently raid the Nemesis

Miko keeps talking in a pirate voice. Smokescreen has joined her.

AND A LOT OF OTHER STUFF I'LL GET INTO WITH MORE DETAIL AND ART. I'll also talk more in depth about some of these things that isn't a ramble like this post is. xnwjskw.

Feel free to ask about anything you're curious about.

[spcllbounded]

// Phew! It’s been a long time since I wrote an actual post outside of my silly teasing! Let’s stop beating around the bush.

 Hey all! It’s ya Joy! I think I owe yall an explanation on what I’m planning and doing and what yall can expect hopefully in the near future! (I can’t make any promises due to a couple of reasons, but I’ll get to that!) So! This is gonna be long. Where do I start?

- First off, I wanna apologize for making empty promises on coming back and not. Actually coming back. If I had a nickel for every time I did that, I think I could pay off my last semester at college. There’s a lot of small reasons why coming back to rping has been tricky for me. 

1. Health problems (especially some nasty, chronic ones and mental ones) are rearing their ugly heads, making me feel nasty in times I don’t expect it. 

2. Making icons, promos and overall updating this here blog stresses me out. I’m in that awkward spot of REALLY wanting to update this outdated blog, but also being incredibly intimidated by all the things I need to make and update. 

3. Being gone for some time makes me feel stupidly guilty for. Being gone. I hate coming back after vanishing off the face of the Earth for a hot second. Curse you anxiety.

4. College is a bitch, especially the senior year. Not just assignments, but adjusting to a new life and new people. It takes so much out of me.

There’s so much I wish I could say and explain, but at the same time, I don’t wanna make up excuses. All in all, things haven’t been the easiest. but I DO really wanna come back and rp with yall. I miss you guys so so much!! I can’t make any promises, but I can sure make attempts to come back!

- Muse page has changed quite a bit since the last time I shared it. Unfortunately, a lot have been yeeted off the list at least for the time being. It’s mostly for the sake of trying to ease my stress and getting around to working on muses I feel pretty solid about writing. I do have the missing muses’ bios and such saved in documents though, so they’re not gone for good! If I feel good about the progress I can make on this blog, then I’ll slowly add more!

- Speaking of muses, one of these misses muses is my round bandana boy. But he’s not in the muse void! He’s back on his home blog. For the time being, I’m reviving @dreamybandee! In the end, I thought it would be easier to leave the dee with what he has instead of trying to start over. Plus, only being one muse I hold so dearly, he’s really easy to go back to if I’m stressed! If things do get too hard to manage on multiple blogs, I’ll go back to plan B and add him on multi. But for the time being, he’s sticking around on his own!

- I hate doing this, but icons are going to be a little inconsistent. I simply don’t have the time to go back and remake them all to make them consistent. So in the meantime, I gotta stick with a mess of different icons. I hope you understand!

- Promos, tag reworks, and other graphics are still being worked on! I’ve got a pretty solid start in adding a new theme and plan to keep going from there! I’m gonna slowly chip away at things here and when I eventually get around to slapping a promo or some related post on here, that’s essentially gonna be me saying “Hey! I’m ready! Throw your muses at me!” so stay tuned!

- Wow Joy. Owning two blogs and that many muses? You must be exhausted. Well rest assured. I’m definitely NOT gonna make another blog with other muses.

Is what I would be saying if I was a good liar. Which I’m not.

All you mutuals that dabble in the Sonic community, keep a sharp eye out for another blog drop. These three got a hold of me and there’s no going back. :’)

Anyways! That’s the gist of what I wanted to get off my chest! I’m so sorry I made a great wall of text here! There was no easy way to say all of this and this has been long overdue I feel. Sorry I couldn’t say or do anything sooner!

I love yall and I hope to see you soon! Have a good one!

[byunbaekby]

title — bloom again (teaser #1) pairing — racer!jaemin x female reader genres — angst, fluff, racer au, slight college au, strangers to lovers, mutual pining, love triangle, hurt and comfort overall warnings  (to be updated) — language, cheating, mentions of abuse, depictions of a toxic/abusive relationship (not between jaemin and the reader), optional smut, illegal street racing, mentions of drugs teaser warnings — none teaser word count — 1.7k words summary — the world has never been kind to na jaemin. left alone with a deadbeat mother, he's learned how to survive on his own. now twenty and a college student whose life and vitality (not to mention his rent) relies solely on his success in his career as an illegal street racer, he runs alone. everything he has, he’s fought for with his own hands and grit. he’s never asked for anything, which is what makes the world so cruel: when he finally meets someone who he desires for more than a night, you already belong to someone else. additional — for the racer collab, created by the wonderful @ickjun and managed by the one and only @lucas-wongs​ !!

projected release — may/june 2021 projected word count — 20k

send an ask to be added to the tag list!

-

CASIA APARTMENTS [8:12AM] 

It’s an early Saturday morning. It’s laundry day, and due to Jaemin’s affinity for avoiding unnecessary social interaction as much as possible, he wanted to be first in the laundry room. 

As he pushes open the door to the laundry room, basket of clothes in hand, Jaemin catches sight of a lone figure, wrapped within the confines of a fluffy white blanket. His first thought is that this person, whoever they are, resembles a marshmallow. Choosing not to comment, he walks over to an available washer and begins piling his clothes inside. 

“Oh?” He hears, uttered in a muffled yelp. “Blue.”

Though he initially places his focus on his clothes, his attention is piqued by the sudden calling of a nickname. He finds himself face to face with you once again, your visage hidden between two fluffy white sheets. Your lips are lifted into an inevitable smile, stripping yourself of the blanket to stuff it in a washer. 

“I might have to think you’re following me around now,” you joke.

Seeing who you are now behind the blanket, a comfortable smile makes its way across his lips, smooth as butter as his gaze falls upon your familiar face. “It might seem that way.” It seems his usual antisocial disposition has faded away in the presence of this marshmallow-like girl. “I actually have reason to think it’s you following me.” 

“Is that it? Well, enlighten me, Blue, because I can assure you it’s the other way around,” you say dramatically, reverting back to your goofy demeanor. The two of you press the buttons upon the machines, beginning your washers at a similar start before you make your way to a vacant bench on the sidelines. 

“Hm.” A playful look of deliberation makes home across the male’s visage, and he tilts his head slightly for good measure, as though he were in thought. “Well for one, I didn’t trip on anything last time, but you happened to be there when I did. Maybe…” He trails. “You tripped me just so you could hang out with me.”

You gasp, shaking your head profusely before placing an entirely harmless smack on his shoulder. “I believe you’re framing me. For you tripping, I think you’re underestimating just how clumsy you are.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, marshmallow.” 

“Marshmallow? Is that your nickname for me now?”

It wasn’t that he had been trying to find a fitting nickname for you recently, but it had crossed his mind. “Yeah, you’re a marshmallow. It just came to me. Now we both have nicknames for each other.”

“That’s cute, I like it.” You nod. You could get used to him calling you that, much like he could with your choice of nickname. “Marshmallow and Blue, us against the world. Laundry buddies.”

“We sound like a lame superhero team,” he comments.

Your hands raise out of defense, teeth now sinking in the plushness of your lower lip in a feeble attempt to hide your ever-growing grin. “No one was supposed to see me in my marshmallow form. Superheroes gotta hide their identity, y’know? I’d like to say you aren’t very slick with yours,” you say, gesturing up to his full head of blue tresses. Your palms slightly rub at your face, and as a yawn slips through your tiers, you fail to confine it. 

“Tired?” asks Jaemin.

“Mm, a bit,” you tell him. “I was up late last night studying.” Suddenly he stands, and your gaze follows him. He makes his way over to his basket, and with curiosity brewing you ask, “Any plans for tonight?” 

“No, not beside studying and maybe Netflix,” he responds as he pulls out a blanket from the bottom of his basket (which he had planned to wash in a second load). He pulls to him one of the laundry carts and meticulously lays his blanket over it, creating a cushioned nest. 

You didn’t need to know that he had a race sometime tonight, and would likely nap in a couple hours after completing his laundry to prepare for the long night he had ahead of him. His typical Friday night race had been cancelled due to tip-offs from the police, but he had caught word of an unfamiliar race a little bit out of town. Instead, he gestures to the makeshift bed he’s made, a playful smile tugging at his lips. It’s an attempt to help the fatigue that drapes over your eyes.

“Get in.” 

First confusion adorns your features before realization sinks in, and you stand with an enthused smile. Climbing in with a laugh, you ease in, frame fitting inside. 

“Here, push me. Like a speed racer!” One step further, you place your hands onto each side of the laundry cart, exuding sheer eagerness and no longer that exhaustion that had shown moments before. 

“I thought you were tired and wanted to sleep,” he comments at your willingness to be pushed around, as though he were some kind of amusement park ride.

“I thought I was too, but this is better.”

“I’ll tire you out so you can sleep well later,” he says, preparing to push you around in circles through the laundry room. Nonetheless, he starts to move you, pushing you alone. First, he starts out slow, trying his best to maneuver your large conjoined figure about the small room.

Deliberate chuckles leave your lips, subconsciously leaning against his chest without meaning to. As he relishes in the sweet euphoria of your giggles, all he wants to do is keep hearing this sound.

So to pleasure his own desires, he runs a bit faster, picking up the speed whilst also trying to avoid crashing into the large machines. He was a racer, after all. Though this was surely a much smaller scale race than he was accustomed to. Smoothly, he drifts into a circle, spinning the two of you whilst an unfamiliar laugh pours from his lips. This earns him a mellifluous guffaw from you. It’s unlike him; you bring out a new side of him.  

You attempt to muffle your chortles into his chest. The blue-haired boy is caught off guard by the sudden action; this shock, instigated by the pressing of your flesh against his, causes him to nearly pummel into the machine before you. 

Luckily, Jaemin’s fast instincts from collective years of high speed racing causes him to turn before the collision, narrowly avoiding a disaster. He comes to a slow stop, breath accelerated.

“Sorry,” you laugh, pulling your face out to laugh once more. “I’m giving you a workout.” 

Your face is contorted into a bright expression, sparkles lighting up your eyes as you gaze up at him mid-laugh. Jaemin gulps.

Even if he’s never been subject to a committed relationship, Jaemin is no fool to attraction. And that is where he feels wrong: there is someone else in your life, someone who deserves you much more than he. 

This is wrong. Not because it feels wrong, but because Jaemin knows it is.

There’s a moment, a prolonged period where the two of you stare at each other. Having been caught in a joyous laugh, your eyes still sparkle as you gaze at him from where you sit in the laundry cart. You’re looking at him so fondly, and without thinking, Jaemin’s hand reaches up to guide a few stray strands of your hair behind the shell of your ear.

You’re blinking, seemingly dumbfounded at his gesture. Your head angles slightly, barely leaning into his touch.

For a moment, likely the shortest sliver of time to ever exist in the universe, time is stilled. All that lives in the moment is the two of you, alone in this laundry room. Fingers lingering so softly against the gentle fabric of your skin, Jaemin can do little but stare. It’s comfortable, fleeting. 

Until the two of you realize just what you’re doing. It hits the both of you at a hundred miles per hour. 

Red flag. 

You straighten suddenly, and Jaemin immediately retracts his hand. As if on cue, the noises from your washing machines come to a stop. For a moment, you don’t speak. “Come on, let’s… put our stuff in the dryer.”

A cough sounds from Jaemin’s throat. “Yeah… let’s.”

Without his help, you prop yourself out of the cushioned cart and flutter over to your machine, unloading your clothes with your back to him. It’s clear what is going on in both your minds: Replaying the scene. Reminiscing the other’s laughter.

No, this is wrong—on a multitude, absolutely endless stream of levels. You have a boyfriend, someone for you back home.

The best thing you both can do is… ignore it. Yeah, that’s the better option. 

Jaemin finishes stuffing his load into the dryer first, and because he cannot look at you, he turns away to place his focus upon the laundry cart which was once your object of amusement. Now, he grabs the blanket he had placed inside and folds it meticulously. He cannot suppress these feelings. 

But he has to, and the only way he knows how to is to eject himself.

“I’ve actually uh… got a lot of assignments to do.” Looking around the virtually empty laundry room, he looks to you, offering an apologetic smile. “I’ll probably leave this here and come back when the hour is done.” 

You don’t respond for a moment.

“Oh,” you say after a prolonged pause, and even Jaemin can hear just how evident the disappointment is in your tone. “Alright. Well… Have a good rest of your day, Blue. Thanks for spending some time with me.”

He resents that. That you’re still so kind to him, despite him running away. But he knows himself, and the only way to ignore whatever these… feelings are, he needs to avoid them. The feeling of guilt that rushes over him upon seeing the deflated change in your demeanor, like a bucket of ice cold water poured upon him, is almost enough to make him stay.

Almost. 

“You too, Marshmallow,” he responds before exiting the room with his folded blanket, leaving you with the sickening feeling that he no longer wanted to be in your presence.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Healer!Draco

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 The Four Doors by fluxweed Rated:  Explicit Words:  48845 Tags: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Memory Loss, Memory Magic, Sexual Fantasy, Masturbation, Power Imbalance, Auror Harry Potter, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Dubious Consent Due To Patient/Healer Dynamic, Mind Fucking (Literally), Not Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary:  It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Where The Falcons Fly by MyNameIsThunder Rated:  Mature Words:  283177 Tags: Healer Draco Malfoy, Seeker Harry Potter, Quidditch, accidental magic, Blood and Injury, Not Epilogue Compliant, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Post-Hogwarts, Scars, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Whump, POV Third Person Limited, Mutual Pining, Power Couple, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Eventual Fluff Summary:  Where the Falcons fly, there’s blood. Where Draco goes, there usually is too. That’s his job, after all – heal morons and the people who get in their way. He could deal with that, he thinks, if only there wasn’t Harry fucking Potter, Seeker, who gets injured a lot even by the Falcons’ standards and seems to have made a habit of inserting himself in Draco’s private life. Draco just wants to heal people – normal people, that is – and do his research in peace. Well, when does he ever get what he wants? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Better Kind of Love by MalenkayaCherepakha Rated:  Explicit Words:  25768 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, St Mungo's Hospital, Hospitals, discussion of injuries, Broken Bones, Injury Recovery, Skele-Gro, Physical Therapy, Nightmares, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Quidditch, Masturbation, Rimming, Shower Sex, Locker Room Sex, Semi-Public Sex, H/D Erised 2020 Summary:  Harry, along with the rest of the Puddlemere United team, is determined that this year will be the year they finally win the Quidditch League Cup. But when a Bludger-induced fall leads to a missed Snitch, broken bones, and an extended stay in St Mungo's, that conviction is put to the test. If Harry wants to have any chance of returning to the pitch this season he has to put all of his faith in his assigned Healer. Which is no easy task when that Healer is Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Meet Cute by rewmariewrites Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4203 Tags: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, St Mungo's Hospital, Hospitals, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry is a Little Shit, Banter Summary:  It may be important to note that Draco Malfoy meets the love of his life when he is twenty-five years old. Well. In the spirit of fairness, that statement is both technically inaccurate and incredibly vague. Draco isn’t just twenty-five years old, when he meets the love of his life, he’s also in his fourth year of the Healing Programme at St. Mungo’s, and this isn't actually the first time they've ever met. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Don't Waste Your Eyes on Jealous Guys by EvAEleanor Rated:  Mature Words:  9667 Tags: MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Roadtrips, Music, Implied Sexual Content, on the bonnet of a car, Pining, jealous boyfriend, mentions of Abusive Relationship (emotionally and verbally), First Kiss, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hopeful Ending, Choose Your Own Ending, Touch, hearing, TasteofSmut 2020, First Time, Bittersweet Ending Summary:  For two years now, Harry’s life has been different. Not only does he work in New York City as the Auror liaison to MACUSA on an international murder case, but he’s seen more of Draco Malfoy than he’d ever thought possible. Working with him, and spending time with him after work. During all of this time, Harry has watched Draco going back to his shitty boyfriend over and over again. The worst thing about all of this, he’d fallen in love with him. Maybe there’s hope for Harry though. Maybe for just one night... ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 All is NOT well... by iStiz Rated:  Mature Words:  65500 Tags: HP: EWE, Not Epilogue Compliant, Slow Build, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Healer Draco Malfoy, Quidditch, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Physical Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Depression, Substance Abuse, Rehabilitation, Cuddling & Snuggling, Mild Sexual Content, vague sexual content, Happy Ending Summary:  The war may be over but all is NOT well. Harry feels lost, the Ministry is still trying to control him, his friendships with Ron is rocky at best, he doesn't sleep enough, and then there's Draco Malfoy. Things haven't turned out quite the way Harry expected them to, but at least he still has Hermione to help him (and maybe some new friends if he can trust letting them into his life). ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Harry Potter and the elusive day off by pleasebekidding Rated:  Explicit Words:  71753 Tags: Sleep disorders, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in all honesty this has a bunch of pain, problematic therapist/patient stuff, mind healer!draco, auror!Harry, no seriously the therapist/patient stuff is super problematic but welcome to fanfic, Child Abuse Summary:  Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with. Guaritore Christopher Black is an exceptional psychiatrist with a specialisation in sleep disorders. He is also Draco Malfoy in a Glamour. Minister Hermione Granger knows the dangers and the complications, but she needs her best friend back. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 oxygen by MaesterChill Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4065 Tags: Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Post-Hogwarts, Smoking, Cigarettes, Talking, Breathing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Minor Character Death, A Kiss, Fanart, POV Second Person Summary:  Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Indebtedness by RecIt_Ralph Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  50685 Tags: HP: EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Slow Build, Fluff and Angst, forgiving Harry, Chaptered, My First Fanfic, Swearing, Snark, Eventual Happy Ending, Second Chances, Getting to Know Each Other Summary:  Of all the Healers in all of St Mungo's - why does Harry always end up with Malfoy? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Best Laid Plans by CreateImagineWrite Rated:  Explicit Words:  10105 Tags: Marriage Proposal, Lust Potion/Spell, Secret Relationship, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Barebacking Summary:  He hadn’t intended to be fully clothed with Harry naked at this point, or to have just made him take an antidote to a poison or have had to Incarcerus him to the bed. But they’ve never had a very normal relationship anyways. And damn him if he’s going to let Ginevra Weasley get in the way of him marrying this man. Fourshot. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Iustitia & Prudentia by skeptique Rated:  Explicit Words:  36302 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Mental Health Issues, Everyone is going to Therapy, Taking their Meds, Calling Their Person, Slow Burn, Procedural That's Fairly Light on the Procedural Part, Canon Content Warnings Apply, brief discussion of infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Discussion of Ongoing Food Related Issues, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Canon Typical Violence, Kidnapping, Confinement, Pansexual Theo Nott, Case Fic, Mystery, Draco Malfoy in Glasses, Minor Character Death Summary:  Draco Malfoy’s entire life fell apart after the War. He’s putting it back together as best he can with what is available to him. But Harry keeps interfering and won’t leave him alone. When he agrees to be an Auror consultant to help Harry, is it more than he bargained for? The world shifted under Harry Potter’s feet and he found himself lost and purposeless. He anchors himself in uncovering the truth about a dangerous pureblood terrorist group. Is Draco the key to solving these crimes, or is he a distraction? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 To Do No Harm by Lokifan Rated:  Explciit Words:  58114 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, HP: EWE, Quidditch, Getting Together, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Recovering From The War And Becoming Better People, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Community: hd_erised, Break Up Summary:  Draco hadn’t planned to end up as team Healer for the Chudley Cannons, but it’s a Healer job, so he’ll take it - and then Potter shows up, the glorious centre-of-attention Seeker, as ever. And someone with a grudge is sabotaging Quidditch teams, and it’s only a matter of time before the Aurors’ eyes turn to Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 To Prove We're Not in a Rut by gracerene Rated:  Explicit Words:  2140 Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Hogwarts, Healer Draco, POV Harry Potter, Bottom Harry, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Wall Sex, well it's actually against a door, Top Draco, Bottom Harry Potter, Top Draco Malfoy Summary:  Draco and Harry are not in a rut. Draco sets out to prove it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Tell Me the End at the Beginning by harryromper Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  36591 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, St Mungo's Hospital, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Hermione Granger, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Christmas Presents, Christmas Decorations, 25 Days of Harry and Draco, Food Hall Turkeys, Advent Calendar, Healer Luna Lovegood, Kreacher, Minor Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley, Yule Logs, Misheard Christmas carols Summary:  St Mungo’s is the last place anyone wants to spend the festive season. Harry finds himself there anyway. Or: Harry's an Auror suspended from duty, Malfoy's wearing the hell out of three-piece suits, Hermione is entirely over everything, and Kreacher just wants to be left alone to decorate for Christmas. ❤️ Read on AO3

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

red, white, blues in the skies, summer's in the air and baby, heaven's in your eyes

summary: Can you write a daddy kink and spanking fic with Steve? Hes all about it at first but then all hell breaks lose🥵🥵 You know you said somewhere that Steve's so respectful when fucking you and so THOROUGH. Thank you😘😘 --requested by @donutloverxo

i just want to take a moment to thank you so much for messaging me a while back when my friend moved to california. it was a sad night for me but your messages honestly made me feel better. even the ransom one, which i still need more details on. is he okay? i feel like he would cry. anyway, hope you like this!

warnings: everything. anal. choking. spanking. biting, mentions of blood maybe. don’t judge me. hair pulling. breath play. major daddy shit, you know, the usual.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

a/n: so sorry for any typos! i am about to be late for a tattoo appointment! and for that reason, I know i missed some of the people who asked me to tag them in my chris evans fics so i apoloize! so if i did pls message me and i promise i will add you to my tag list in my phone asap!

The question of how you got here—bent over Steve’s thighs, your ass propped up, stripped naked—could have been given many, varying answers, depended on who you asked. Steve would claim it was attitude, sheer disrespect. You would credit it to him not paying enough attention to you. Why you got here, that only had one answer. Because you wanted to be here.

It started last night. You were out with Steve, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, and Okoye. Okoye and Bucky were, when drunk, very simply, philosophical hippies. They wanted to talk about the universe and how we were all destroying the planet and each other. Sam just got plain annoying and needed to annoy Wanda. It was the weirdest thing, he just needed to get on her nerves. He would get competitive about who was drinking more, he would challenge her to anything. Darts, once, a race back to the compound another. That ended terribly, but neither seemed capable of recalling that past a certain level of alcohol intake.

That left Steve, this authoritative presence—always able to get you wet, but when you were drinking, your friends were surrounding you, acting like children, and he was just there, you were hopeless. He was strong and always so sure of himself, that was what you loved most about him.

Everyone was scattered around the bar. You had disappeared for the restroom and once you got out, Wanda and Sam wrangled you into a conversation about who was a better lead on missions.

Steve was at the table, his phone in sight because he was Captain fucking America. He was the most important man in existence and he always needed to be available for his country, or the world, more accurately. That used to be an issue, before Thanos, before they fixed everything. That used to strain your relationship, never knowing when he was going to be called away. It was rare now, so rare, but his habits were tough to break. He had a beer bottle in his hands, sipping here and there, but mostly, he was watching you. Only you. He came out to be a babysitter, but it was barely a job he took seriously.

He just wanted to be with you.

You made your way to him after it seemed Wanda and Sam had forgotten you were there at all. He set his beer down on the table and took your hips. It was a move of pure control, you couldn’t get away from him, but you also couldn’t get closer to him. “What do you say? Should we call it a night?”

“It’s been an hour,” he pointed out.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “That’s why you haven’t been drinking much.”

“I missed you, daddy.” Daddy? It was a key to the lock that sometimes was Steve Rogers. Was there anything you couldn’t get him to do while you were calling him daddy?

“How much?”

You scoffed. “What?”

“How much did you miss me?”

“What kind of question is that? I miss you a lot when you’re gone. I ache until you’re back home, falling asleep with me, waking up with me. I understand that you’re a Cancer but you’re being so extra right now.”

“No, I’m just being curious.”

“Do you need me to show you how much I missed you?”

“What if I do?”

“Then I will do anything you ask,” you guaranteed, “I would get on my knees right now, daddy. I would let everyone watch me choke on your cock, let them all watch you fuck my face.”

He nodded once. “I don’t think such a grand display is necessary. Especially given that I could just watch you fucking a toy last night, despite my clear instructions that you were not allowed to.”

Your face flushed. “You…were watching me?”

So, it had been a mutual decision to set up a camera in the bedroom. When he was gone and he could call, it just made phone sex easier. When he came home, that sex was always something else. You liked watching it from time to time. However, he was not supposed to be using it to make sure you weren’t breaking rules! That wasn’t fair, that was a major invasion of privacy.

“Yes, I was watching. I missed my baby girl, wanted to see her beautiful face, her stunning fucking body.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Were you going to lie to me?” he questioned. “If I came home and asked you if you had listened to me, what would you have said?”

You glared. “I guess we’ll never know.” You turned on your heels to return to Sam and Wanda, but he grabbed your arm and yanked you back to him.

“Daddy didn’t tell you that you could walk away.”

“Steve,” you warned.

He scoffed. “So, you messed up and now you’re going to be a brat with me?”

“We’re not doing this here.”

“No?” he feigned confusion, reaching for his phone. He tapped the screen a mere three times before turning it to you.

Right—you had stupidly let him talk you into shoving a vibrator in your pussy before you headed out. You’d thought that just meant he missed you incredibly. Clearly not. “Don’t,” you said.

He scoffed. “Baby, I know you didn’t just tell me what to do.”

You glanced back to make sure your friends were preoccupied. “I don’t want to do this tonight, okay? I’m tired and I missed you, you were gone for a long time and I just wanted you to come home so we could spend the night together and have fun. I didn’t think you were going to invade my privacy—”

“Invade your privacy?” he interjected. “You have no privacy, doll, because you’re mine. Normally, you’re fine with that. But you were misbehaving and you need to be punished, so now you suddenly want to pretend it’s a problem? Your dramatics won’t save you tonight.”

He knew you well. And you knew him, he wasn’t going to drop this game. If you said no for an entire year—which, just to be clear, you did not have the ability to do—he would just punish you that very second you finally said yes because he could hold a grudge like it was nothing. Better to get on with it, before he decided to just stop all sexual activity. “Fine. What first?”

“Would you have lied to me?”

“Technically, no.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Can’t wait to hear this one.”

“Well, you always know when I’m lying, so is it lying?”

“Yes, it is. Don’t say something to me if it’s not true.”

You finally moved closer, taking one of his hands in both of yours. He watched you carefully, ready to stop you if you made a single move he didn’t like. You turned his hand and kissed his palm several times. “I love you.”

He scoffed. “And I love you. That doesn’t mean I’m not spanking you until your ass is several different shades of red.”

You huffed. “Well, can we get it over with?”

“No,” he scoffed. “Definitely not.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you knew that would only provoke more of this nonsense.

He turned to the phone again.

“Steve, not in front of everyone—” your words cut off with a yelp before you pressed your hand flat over your lips, desperately trying to silence the sounds you were making. The toy lying against your skin, set just right thanks to the very tiny, tight panties he placed you in, abruptly began to vibrate at a speed you were not prepared for.

Steve caught your arm and kept you steady. “Don’t call me Steve again,” he directed. “Not tonight, doll.”

You only let your hand slip when you couldn’t handle it anymore and needed to speak, not when you had the confidence you wouldn’t humiliate yourself. “Daddy, please—”

“Already begging to come?” He turned it up and one of your legs buckled, he kept a hold on you, mistrusting your ability to stand on your own.

“No, no,” you blurted out. “Stop, please—”

“Apologize.”

You snorted, eyes widening when you realized what you had just done. “I’m—”

And once more, the speed picked up. You grabbed the edge of the table for balance even though you knew he wouldn’t let you fall. You shot him a desperate look and he finally took pity on you, turning off the vibrator all together.

“You’re in for a rough night,” he informed you.

You pretended that was the last thing you wanted to hear, you pretended that you were upset, annoyed, exhausted. That was so far from reality. It had been a while since he went all out to punish you, you almost forgot how much you liked it. But standing there, hoping no one knew what was going on, you were quickly reminded.

Only, when you got home, you didn’t get your rough night. Well, not the one you wanted but his satisfied smirk told you this was what he had always meant. He watched you undress and remove your makeup, then he spent a cruel amount of time just kissing you everywhere, except the one place you needed him the most.

He tied your wrists and ankles to the bedpost. You were sure he was going to fuck you, make you so stupid and obedient that a sincere apology would just fall from your lips. You were wrong.

Instead, Steve elected to get himself off several times and cover you with his cum. You weren’t complaining about that, you loved feeling it on your skin. Your issue was when he untied you and told you to get in the shower before you both turned in for the night. He didn’t even get in with you.

While you were in the bathroom, he took the liberty of picking out what you were going to wear. You couldn’t be much of a tease in a simple oversized t-shirt—which wasn’t his—and leggings. You kept your back to him the entire night, but he circled his arm around you and held you like he was scared he was going to lose you, regardless of your clear anger.

It didn’t end there. When you woke up, he kissed you. It was the kind of kiss that always prefaced something, it was the kind of kiss he always gave you when he came home from a mission—a message of ‘I missed you’.

But as you were pushing on his stomach to get him on his back, he pulled away. He explained to you that he was still upset that you disobeyed him. He gave you the option, he could spank you now and fuck you later, or he would wait until you apologized and meant it.

It was an awful way to wake up, added to the frustration of the night before, your response was rude and vulgar. He merely smirked, kissed your forehead, and slipped out of bed.

Training shirtless in December. Getting way too close whenever he needed to walk by you or around you. Constantly touching you or doing things with his hands when he knew you were watching because he knew you were addicted to his fucking hands. He was shameless. And mean. And you were limited on options because you needed to have sex with this man! But you also wanted to keep your pride intact.

It was like this for several days and just one night less. He would torture you in front of everyone because he knew you weren’t going to act out. Then, the nights were strict. He made you shower alone, made you dress yourself in bland, old clothing, and then it was nothing but actual sleep.

The night it all changed was another night out, only it was a Stark party and that meant the whole gang was going. He couldn’t tell you what to wear if you avoided him all day, so you did. You spent all your time with Wanda and Nat. It was an obscenely early breakfast, then shopping, then brunch because alcohol was needed, and more shopping, up until the team was getting ready for another—undoubtedly—eventful outing.

In your skin-tight, tiny pink dress, Steve was slipping. You could see it in the way he looked at you, in the way his hands were fisted at his sides, his set jaw, and his squared shoulders. Control was fleeting and you were nothing short of smug, which only made him more determined to fight back.

He drove you to Tony’s because you both were trying to appear normal to everyone else. They always made their jokes about the games you two played, so discretion was a must. The aspect of getting caught and not just blatantly being shameless also played a role behind your secrecy.

He inquired about your day because he wanted you to admit what you did. Instead, you were almost wholly honest, you told him that you wanted to spend time with the girls. He didn’t buy it, but he wasn’t going to call you out, not while you were alone. You took advantage of his silence and divulged secrets told to you that you probably shouldn’t have—but this was Steve, he would never tell a soul.

“Wanda says Vision is terrible at going down on her.”

He shot you a look. “Can you not tell me these things about my teammates?”

“Will you help him, baby?”

His eyes went comically wide. “What?”

“You’re just so good at it.”

“You’re insane.”

You sighed. “Fine, just let Wanda suffer.

“I will.”

He was clearly uncomfortable, and you were enjoying it immensely. “Nat says Bucky is really, really good.”

He sighed. “I didn’t want to know that.”

“But I’m sure no one is better than you…remember the last time you ate me out?”

He scoffed. “Pretty sure we were going to a Stark party…it’s been too long.”

“I don’t mind,” you claimed. “I’m always the one that is too impatient to let you, anyway.”

“I always have to tie you up,” he muttered almost more to himself. “But if you were trying to get on my good side…”

“What?”

He jerked the steering wheel right and sped into a parking lot.

“Steve, what are you doing?”

He turned off the car and looked at you. “If you behave now, you might get a reward tonight.”

“Steve, we’re going to be late. The team gets mad when we’re late.”

He didn’t look worried at all. He began angling your body toward him, hands sliding down your sides until he reached your hips. He pulled you closer to the edge of the seat and you took the cue to lean against the door. “Open your legs for me.”

You curled on leg around the side of the seat and pressed the opposite out as far as you could. This was not a good idea, but when were you ever going to say no to him telling you to open your legs? Most days, they just fell open for him.

He ran his hands back up your thighs to move the dress out of his way, smirking as you shivered.

You didn’t care anymore, about anything. You couldn’t stop staring at his lips, completely willing to forget all the shit he had put you through the past few days. His mouth could make you do anything, all he ever had to do was ask.

He started by kissing your thighs because he wanted you to snap at him, to tell him to hurry up. You wouldn’t—screw the team. You would just have to bring up all the times they were late.

His eyes flit up to you several times make sure he had you absolutely wrecked with all his teasing. Your thighs were shaking, tired from how you were using them, but you always knew that he made it worthwhile.

When he finally pressed just the gentlest kiss to your pussy, you shuddered. “Daddy,” you whined. “Please eat my pussy.”

He hummed as if he was contemplating.

“Please, daddy,” you whined. “Please, it’s been so long. I miss it.”

“You don’t prefer the beard?” he challenged knowingly. The beard didn’t always make sense for his cover, sometimes he had to get rid of it. You never let him do so without fucking you just one last time—rough, fast, dirty.

“No,” you denied. “I do not prefer it.”

He arched an eyebrow, ending all those small kisses he was scattering along your skin. “Really?”

“I prefer you, Steve Rogers. Beard, no beard. Long hair, short hair. I don’t care what you look like. I just know, every second of every day, I want you to be fucking me.”

He hummed, tried to pretend it didn’t matter. But it did, because Steve needed a partner that needed him. Not in that gross, misogynistic way most men were guilty of. He needed a partner that sometimes couldn’t think straight, that sometimes couldn’t complete the simple task of living until he was inside them. “Good answer.”

You smiled. “I’m aware.” You fit those requirements well. Yes, you were good and wanted to please him. However, you were also greedy and demanding and sometimes, you threw fits and tantrums, sometimes, you refused to do what you needed to do until he made you come. You felt zero shame about wanting and needing him and you knew the simple fact of desiring him specifically always got him off.

“You really are my good girl,” he feigned realization, as if you hadn’t made it abundantly clear a million times over.

“Yes, I am.”

“And my good girl wants her pussy eaten?”

“Yes, I do.”

He kissed his way up your thigh again and finally, turned to your cunt. He kissed you several more times as you squirmed, then licked up slowly as his eyes were locked on yours.

You shuddered. “Daddy, that feels so good.”

“If you weren’t being such a good girl, I would spank you for not wearing underwear.”

You smiled.

He repeated that same touch several times, looking more and more pleased every sound you made, every jerk of your hips. It was all slow, all calculated movement designed to pleasure you just enough, but not enough. He just wanted to taste you and tease you, and you didn’t mind any of it. This is the most time Steve has spent on you in a while, you were just enjoying his attention.

You were 40 minutes late, messed up hair, flushed cheeks, shaky legs because he didn’t let you come—and everyone knew exactly what it was that had made you late, exactly what you had prioritized over them.

You were insane. You had been driven to that point by Steve Rogers, Captain America—he was a cruel man not that selfless hero everyone got to see. He’d taken you so close to that edge so many times, promised if you were patient that he would make it all up to you.

When he finally lifted your hips and buried his face between your thighs, you were sure your finish was coming. He sucked on your clit mercilessly, tongue swiping out a few times to gather the arousal leaking down your pussy. When you let him know you were close, he set you down on the seat again and told you to put your seatbelt back on.

He had done this before but maybe it was all that time that he had been gone. Maybe it was that his face was wet, his lips redder and fuller than usual, and that he simply smirked and wiped the back of his hand over his skin. It was just different. He was not going to get away with it.

You didn’t say a word for the rest of the drive. Even though he was cooing at you the entire time about how you were his doll and you were beautiful, and he claimed to love you so much. He kept touching your hair and your arm, but you wouldn’t budge.

When Bucky threw you a pitiful look, the whole plan just sort of fell into place. You couldn’t really be blamed, right? He couldn’t consider it your fault—no, at this point, he had to know that anything you did in response to his disproportionate punishment was all on him. He left you alone, didn’t fuck you, didn’t let you come—flirting with Bucky was well within your rights.

It started simple. Bucky was trying to warm up to his metal arm more—the next step in his therapy—and you liked helping. This wasn’t that, necessarily, but you could say you were killing two birds with one stone. You simply walked right up to him and draped his arm around your shoulders. You knew your boyfriend wouldn’t like it because that was what you did to him, it was one of the many ways you liked asking him for attention without using words.

Steve eyed you for nothing more than a second, and neither of you acknowledged it any further, but you knew it bothered him. You’d been given quite a powerful gift one night when Steve had you pressed to the wall, chest to your back, hand to your throat as he fucked you from behind. He had admitted that he was being so complicated—that was a week of hell, one you always shuddered thinking about because you couldn’t walk straight a few days after—because he didn’t like how he felt whenever you would just disappear with Bucky. He promised he wasn’t accusing either of you of anything, it just reminded him of how things used to be with his best friend. You didn’t like flirting with Bucky, but after what Steve had done, it was deserved.

Apparently, he wasn’t too angry since he was on you as soon as you and Bucky separated. He held you as close as possible until he talked you into going outside. Stark parties were always crowded and loud and it wasn’t rare that people would be nearly glued to the side of the building and one another, practically having sex with their clothes on. But it was rare that you and Steve were some of those people.

Yet, he was not hesitant. He led you outside, his fingers linked between yours. As soon as he could, he turned back to you and caged you against the building with his forearms on either side of your head.

He made no further moves, he just watched you. Your skin was itching with desire, but you wouldn’t let him know that. “Did you want something, daddy?”

He smirked a little, shaking his head. “Not much. I just wanted you to know that I’m aware you’ve been good.”

You smiled unintentionally, but it felt nice that he knew you were being good, knew that you wanted something very specific. Him, completely to yourself, just one night. You deserved it.

He leaned down and you tilted your head back to meet his kiss. “Well,” his lips brushed over yours, “that was until you decided to be a brat with Bucky.”

You pulled back, pouting at him.

He arched an eyebrow, challenging you to protest.

“Well, if you’re not going to touch me—”

“I was going to reward you for your patience. Good thing I decided to wait.”

“Are you kidding? I waited for you to come back and then your stupid mission got extended by three days—three, so I broke on the last night. Big deal. Then you get here and you don’t fuck me, and don’t even get me started on the shit you just pulled. I wanted attention and affection and Bucky seemed willing to provide.”

One of his hands wrapped around your throat, his thumb massaging over your pulse point. “So, your grand solution, if I’m not giving you what you want, is to run to Bucky?”

“What if I say yes?”

He glanced around before tightening his hand and looking down at you. “If you say yes, then I’m going to punish you. I’m going to take you to the side of this building, in the alley, get you on your knees, and make you remind me how much you love me. So, baby doll, what’s your answer?”

It was as if he thought you wouldn’t enjoy every second of that. “My answer is yes,” you claimed. “If you’re not giving me attention, I’ll get it from Bucky.”

He took another quick look around before dragging you into the alley just like he said he was going to. Before you could say a word, he was tearing off his jacket to toss onto the floor. He pressed you down onto it by your shoulders, hands then flying to his pants.

By the time you were comfortably settled, hands safely on his thighs, Steve had his cock out for you. Eyes on his, you opened your mouth and swallowed as much of him as you could, slowly because you needed some type of upper hand.

He didn’t let you keep it for long, however. His hand settled at the back of your head and he began fucking your throat like someone who wasn’t just pretending to be angry. Like someone who wasn’t just being the most extra fucking person because he had wanted this the very second that he’d returned home.

You knew better, you always did. He wasn’t mad, you weren’t sincerely flirting with Bucky, you wouldn’t do it again, but he wouldn’t mind if you did—given that you didn’t cross any lines. It was a fun game, but it was time to end this. All this fighting over him watching you, the power struggle, it was done. You just wanted this man to fuck you. You would surrender and you wouldn’t mind it one bit when he had you in bed later that night.

It had to be fast, he couldn’t let you tease. There were people around, people who would undoubtedly gravitate toward the alley. It was pure luck that it was empty at all, but he wasn’t going to waste time being grateful. He was rough sliding in and out of your throat, these quiet grunts just barely audible through all your gagging and the noise of the outside, the people, the cars.

By the time he finished, your throat was sore, tears began running down your cheeks all the way to your neck, drool was starting to slip from your lips. You were a mess, on your knees in an alley, all for Captain fucking America. You never dreamed of being this cool when you were younger, but sometimes things just worked out.

He had leaned onto the brick wall behind you with his forearm, eyes slammed shut, mouth hanging open as he caught his breath.

You waited patiently, despite your declining oxygen and your growing desperation for it. You swallowed when you could, tried breathing through your nose calmly, you didn’t want to have to tell him to pull out. You wanted to keep him for as long as he wanted you to, you wanted him to tell you that you were good with those heart eyes that he always got when you sucked his cock.

He began running his fingers down your hair. “Clean me up, baby.”

You did so as well as you could, but he barely gave you sufficient time before he was pulling you onto your feet.

He leaned in almost immediately to reach down, under your skirt to slide your panties down your legs. You lifted your feet when he needed you to, but mostly, just stupidly stood there. He wasn’t going to fuck you out here, was he? He was a risk-taker, you’d give him that, but an actual gambler? Not quite on that level yet.

He stood, pressing the lace to your chin to dry your face of spit and tears. He was so soft about it, so different than how he had been just moments ago. You watched his face the entire time, blushing terribly at how intently he was staring at you.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart.”

You did so, fully expecting him to kiss you. Instead, he shoved your panties between your lips and was turning away before you could blink. He tucked himself back into his pants with such ease, ease that only came from having super-hearing and knowing for sure that he wasn’t going to be caught.

So, yeah. Long story short, you pushed Steve too far and now he was mad. More than the average amount. Honestly, did he expect you not to retaliate? After he left you alone in the alley without calling you his good girl? If he didn’t see it coming, then he didn’t know you as well as you thought he did.

But he did know you enough. His rough hands had been moving over your ass for the better part of an hour. He’d positioned you in the bedroom so you could see the clock, he wanted you to see that he intended to take him time. He hadn’t spanked you yet and you were just about shaking in anticipation, you knew he had to feel how wet you were.

Yet, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t let you either, any attempt was cut off by some disapproving noise and you were too scared to push him more. Not after what you did…

But you were also impatient. You weren’t trying to be disobedient or argumentative, but you had to communicate with him. He was driving you insane, you weren’t sure you could do this much longer. You cleared your throat a bit. “Daddy—”

“Baby girl, one more time and daddy will have to gag you.”

You immediately shut up. You didn’t want to be gagged. You noticed that when you were less vocal, he was less vocal, and at the end of it all, what was the point of all the theatrics if he wasn’t going to praise you?

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

You just wanted to hear it. That you were good, that he was proud of you. Instead, without warning, his hand struck one side of your ass and you were so surprised that you yelped.

Your hands rushed to your mouth as you turned back over your shoulder slightly to eye him. You saw him smirk, this was obviously what he wanted, but then he tsked at you. “I’m sorry, daddy, I was just surprised. I’ll be quiet, I swear.”

He let his palm rub over the red mark across your skin. He hummed, feigning thought. “I don’t know, doll.” His opposite hand came up to grab your jaw, turning your attention forward again.

You were opposed to the gag, but if he wanted to choke you… You brought both your hands up to his forearm and pressed against it until his hand slid down a bit, settling confidently to your throat.

He scoffed. “Want me to choke you?”

You nodded.

“You can speak.”

“Please, daddy,” you begged.

“After all the misbehaving? Do you honestly think you deserve it?”

“Yes.”

He snorted. “Okay.” His hand wrapped around your neck, so suddenly that the surprised noise you made got caught in your throat. The next time he smacked you, your moan was choked, barely audible.

You were immediately relieved. You weren’t going to have to try to be quiet. He always treated that part like a game, if he told you to be quiet, he would then do whatever he could to make you get loud.

He was hitting harder than usual, hard enough that the only thing keeping you draped over his lap was his hand in front of you that was wound around you. You didn’t mind at all, you always wanted him to let go a little. But of course, he was Steve, and he couldn’t stop being overprotective if his life depended on it.

That he wasn’t more concerned with checking in on you was testament to how angry you’d made him. The thing with Bucky was clearly a game, Steve knew you were just making some cheap shots to get his attention. Taking you outside and getting you to suck him off was just him indulging you.

This was not that. You were being punished and his greatest source of irritation seemed to be that you were completely unapologetic. Also, there was the pride aspect, that you had done this in front of the team. If he couldn’t keep you in check, what kind of a leader was he?

But he most certainly couldn’t control you, not unless you wanted to let him. Mostly, he seemed to like that, seemed to like the challenge, the power struggles, the attitude. However, tonight, when you were dancing with Wanda, he seemed a bit…opposed. Wanda herself had been mad at Steve because of a little disagreement they had during their last mission. She was playing to win and if your sore aching ass was any indication, she had.

You always danced with Wanda, you danced with all your friends. But see, Wanda could read minds and that didn’t always produce the best scenarios. She knew you were desperate for an upper hand and she was just crazy enough to help you get it. It started fun like it always did when the girls were free of the boys, but then her hands were on your hips. Yet, you were fine, you knew Steve wouldn’t like it, but oh well.

Then, she spun you around, your back to her chest, and you were facing Steve. And well, she let her hands wander. You had been drinking a little, it was thrilling watching Steve watch you, knowing that he was going to make tonight hell for you.

He was beautiful, sat there, contemplating, strategizing, waiting with the restraint of a god. This was one of those moments when he just couldn’t turn off Captain America, when one was blending into the other. You never minded that. You loved Steve first, of course, but Captain America was just right after that.

You were excited when he calmly got onto the floor almost an hour later and told you it was time to go. You had to bite your tongue to stop the giggles and the words you desperately wanted to say as he took your hand and led you outside. Your body was humming with energy as he drove you back to the compound, hand firmly on your thigh.

He told you he could smell you, your pussy, how terribly you wanted him. He carried you to his room, knowing that your legs were weak and that if given the option, you’d beg him to fuck you in the hall. It was the start of your submission, you both loved it when he handled you like it was nothing.

By the time he yanked your panties down, you were already crying and shaking, your entire body throbbing for a release. Some of your tears had rolled down your cheeks and onto his thigh, and he could feel your knees buckling despite you trying to stand for him. He always ordered you to stay on your feet no matter how useless it was, no matter that even in heels, draped over his huge body, your feet barely touched the ground.

He stopped spanking you only to grab one of your hands from his forearm, dragging it down. “Touch your clit.”

It was nothing short of awkward positioning. You had to reach under his thigh and back up to where your cunt was. You had to angle your ass up just a little to have access, and he took that to mean that you wanted him to smack you harder.

He leaned down, kissing your head. “You’re okay?” He let your neck go just a little, a sign he wanted you to use words.

You nodded, clearing your throat. “Yes, daddy.”

“Don’t stop touching your clit until I tell you. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“And you better not come.”

“Okay.”

“If you do either of these things, I will tie you up and spank you for the rest of the night. I won’t fuck you, I won’t make you come.”

You nodded again. “Okay.”

You were slow about it, worried that you might work yourself up too quickly. He only just started with this, he wasn’t going to let it go for at least 30 minutes. He smacked you the entire time. It was heavy and noisy, and never failed to make your hips jolt so much that your clit was constantly moving out of reach before you panicked and set yourself back in the correct place.

“Rub your clit faster, doll.”

“Daddy—”

He reached down to take your hand, pressed firmly on your clit, and spoke over the moan that fell from your open mouth. “Do it like that, don’t make me tell you again.”

Even when he moved his hand, you continued. Your moans were strangled but loud enough for him. “Daddy, I’ll come like this.”

“Don’t,” was all he said and followed with another strike across your ass.

“Daddy, please, I’m going to come.” Your thighs were already shaking, that pressure in your lower body was building, threatening to bloom into a numbing orgasm. “Daddy, I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.” Another smack. “Aren’t you my good girl?” And another. “Don’t you wanna make daddy proud?” Another.

“Yes, daddy, but it feels too good,” you blurted out.

“My decision has been made.” He hit you twice more before you started to panic.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whined. “I’m really sorry, please let me stop!”

He settled one hand over your ass cheek and removed his hand from your neck to take your hand away from your pussy. “Baby, make it a good apology or we will start all over.”

You pulled your joined hands up and started kissing his knuckles. “I’m sorry, daddy, I promise I am.”

“For what?” he asked slowly. “Say all of it.”

“For flirting with Bucky.”

He smacked you again and you hissed. “How did you flirt with Bucky?”

“I let him touch me.”

Once more. “And why is that wrong?”

You waited until your skin stopped stinging before you spoke. “Because only you should be touching me.”

He hummed and his hand came down again. “Go on.”

“And for dancing with Wanda.”

“You wanted to make daddy mad, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Because you wanted to be spanked,” he accused.

You nodded. “Yes.”

“How’s that working out for you, doll?”

“It was fun for a while,” you admitted.

He snorted. “You’re a god damn brat.”

You kissed his hand again. “Your brat?”

He rolled his eyes, but you could see he was trying to fight a smile. “Yeah, mine. No one else should touch you, no one else should be dancing with you.” He finally pulled you up, quickly setting you so that you straddled him. He touched your face with both hands, looking over you carefully.

Your hands went to his pants and you began moving them out of the way.

He lifted an eyebrow at you. “I know you’re not doing that without permission.”

Biting your lip, you shrugged and pressed your palm against his cock through the pants.

He spanked you again and you crashed into him. Your knees slipped from the mattress and you frantically caught onto his shoulders. He gave you no time to recover, instead, rolled over so you were under him. “You know what I want to hear, doll.”

You did know. As much as you wanted him to praise you, he wanted you to tell him you loved him. But, again, you truly were a brat and sometimes decided to withhold such an admission. “I love you, daddy.”

“I love you, too.”

You brought a hand up to his face. “Are you gonna fuck me, daddy?”

“I’m gonna ruin you, baby doll,” he corrected. “First, I’m gonna eat your pussy and let you come. Then, I’m gonna fuck your pussy until I’m not hard anymore. Then I’m gonna fuck your mouth until I’m ready to fuck your ass.”

You would place money on the absurd idea that he’d somehow gotten a degree in teasing. Pathetically, you clutched at his shirt. “Please?”

He smirked. “Anything you want, baby girl.”

You yanked the hem up his back and he assisted you in taking it off. You kissed him hungrily, open-mouthed, moaning, yanking on his lip with both of yours.

He wasted no time, spared no warning, offered no preparation time. Abruptly, two of his thick fingers were inside your pussy and you were crying out, throwing your head back, body arching up closer to his. He started kissing your face, down the faint tear tracks that resulted from the prior spanking.

Again, he ordered against your skin, “say it again.”

“I love you,” you blurted out, hips rolling up to get him in further. “Daddy, I love you so fucking much.”

As his fingers curled, he kissed down your face, your neck, all the way down to one of your breasts. “Touch the other,” he directed, and didn’t close his mouth around your nipple until your hand had cupped your neglected breast.

He sucked hard, pressed his fingers hard, held you down with his hips hard. Everything about him was hard and rough and determined. He took you there fast, to that place where your body was shaking, these whiny, small noises couldn’t stop pouring out of you if your life depended on it, your hips jerking, your pussy clenching, stars behind your god damn eyes.

“I’m close, daddy. Can I come?”

He bit into your skin instead of answering, perfect teeth surrounding your nipple, a fucking threat. Did he actually think you didn’t want him to dig his teeth into you?

Your second hand came up to the back of his head where you fisted his hair and pressed him down more. “Harder, daddy, harder.”

He let his teeth pinch you just a tad more, concern clear in his actions.

“Harder,” you repeated.

Again, he gave you what you asked for, and pressed a third finger inside you. It was a delicious, disorienting, blissful stretch that you had to spread your legs to try to take.

“Harder,” you ordered, tone sharp, maybe a little condescending.

His fingers began pounding into you, wet noises echoing from your pussy. Finally, you were sure his teeth had pierced your skin.

You screamed so loud you were sure the entire floor heard you—distantly, you spared thought to who was going to give you a rough time at breakfast. Your orgasm followed almost instantly, and Steve fucked his fingers into you until you were mewling and brushing your fingers through his hair. You couldn’t say much at the moment but that little gesture never failed to stroke that unspoken part of Steve—which you had always known about—that also liked praise.

He turned up to you and you saw him lick his lips, maybe you’d seen a flash of red, maybe you’d just imagined it. Your breast stung, you thought you might have felt something drip down your skin… He pulled you up with him, hand on your arm, his other hand touching your lips, giving you a little taste of what your pussy had left behind on his fingers.

Before you could say a word, Steve was getting you on your knees and pushing you toward the headboard. You were confused by it but since you were still reeling from your last orgasm, you decided to trust him. He kept you facing away from him and you didn’t understand why until your wrists were being tied to the headboard. He took your hips and yanked you back and it was then you thought maybe you knew what he was doing. Your ankles were next, which was a long process given that you were so far away from the next spot on the bed that could hold a rope.

You were uncomfortably angled, body pulled tight. It was his favorite way to eat you out, you were completely exposed to him, unable to pull yourself away if he was overstimulating you. How he got back under you is another part of this that you were unclear on, anticipation now clouding your ability to logical thoughts.

His hands slid up your thighs, over your ass, clasped around your waist and then he pulled you down almost violently, clearly unconcerned about the way that pulled at both your arms and legs. You didn’t mind much either.

Once more, he didn’t bother with any of that elaborate shit. You weren’t built up, you weren’t led to an orgasm. He ate your pussy like it was the only thing he knew how to do. He alternated between running his tongue through you—prodding your entrance just slightly, then over your clit, back down and the same, over and over—to sucking your clit between his lips, moaning, sighing, making all of these appreciative noises that only added to all the sensations.

His fingers dug into your skin, your ribs painfully, your limbs were aching, but you knew it didn’t matter. Even if you told him all of this, even if you could make yourself care—as if you could focus on anything but his mouth—he wasn’t going to stop until he was satisfied.

Your first finish was slow, a somewhat drawn-out process that he worked to keep you on the edge of for just a few moments. He wasn’t teasing, necessarily, but he needed to remind you, in this state of hazy pleasure, that your body was wholly his. You squeezed your eyes shut, yanked on the ropes because that was the only thing you could do, and once again, reminded him that you loved him.

The second orgasm felt nearly immediately after—though, time distantly existed to someone as satisfied as you. You were trying to relax, worried you would spend yourself before you got fucked. He didn’t stop, he didn’t slow, if anything, he was faster, more skilled. He sucked at your skin roughly, a demand because he was getting impatient.

You were a whimpering, crying mess, begging him in half sentences because you were unable to articulate fully what you wanted. Your pussy spasmed, clenching in desperate need to be filled as he focused solely on your clit. You screamed things that you knew he would be smug about for days to come, how good you felt, how badly you needed only him, how much you wanted to be on his cock because he had the best cock in the world.

Prior to you, Steve thought he didn’t need to hear such biased things from a lover. But since he couldn’t get drunk, this was basically the only drug he could indulge in and get something out of.

This was around the time you started to worry, because again, you were offered no recovery time. He flicked his tongue over your clit regardless of your pleas for a break, regardless of how desperately you pulled on the ropes, regardless of the tears rolling down your cheeks. It was too much, you couldn’t come again.

He brought his hand up and spread your cunt, tongue continuing back and forth over that sensitive spot. You sobbed, utterly broken, overwhelmed, consumed, and insisted that you couldn’t give him another one. He stopped licking you only to say, “you can, and you will,” before diving right back in.

He must have known that this was it, this was when you needed your reprieve. You finished and he made sure not a drop of you went to waste, but then he was kissing around your thighs, you could feel that his cheeks and jaw were wet and there was something deep inside you that loved that his face was covered in you—maybe you could go a couple more rounds.

He tore the ropes off, uncaring of what happened to the bed or anything else—though, the way the post creaked made you worry. He just wanted to get you loose quickly and as soon as you were free, he was laying you down and kissing you wherever he could reach, mainly your chest and one of your arms.

When his lips were on yours, you remembered how badly you had wanted him inside you. It didn’t matter that you could barely move, you insisted on pushing his jeans down. “Daddy, please?”

He helped you because he doubted your ability to do so on your own, but he made the mental note to let you undress him before he ate you out next time. He loved when you undressed him, how your fingers would glide down his skin so softly, like he was something delicate or breakable. Sometimes, it made him forget who and what he was.

Though you were soaking wet, somewhat numb from all that overstimulation, he was hard enough that it hurt. His cock pressed into you carefully, inch by inch, his eyes on your face the whole time. He loved the flush on your cheeks, that hazy gleam in your eye, your swollen, parted lips—you looked so wrecked.

You weakly hooked a leg around his ass, hands following to grasp at his shoulders. “Daddy, I feel like I’ve needed you inside me for a fucking year.” And now he was there, and it made no sense how complete you felt, how sated, how at-home.

He kissed your lips first, a clear apology, then he kissed all around your face until you couldn’t stop smiling. “I’ll make it up to you,” he assured. “I’m gonna pound your beautiful little pussy until I know you can’t take it anymore.”

Sometimes, fucking so wildly and creatively was at the cost of simple intimacy. As he picked up this steady pace, this nice roll of his hips that was deep enough to make you cry out and forceful enough that his skin slapped noisily against yours, your eyes sought his out. He set his hand to your cheek, a nonverbal order to keep looking at him. His eyes always seemed like an ocean to you, so great, so dangerous, so mysterious. You realized he hadn’t spoken about his last mission, you were beginning to wonder if there was a bigger reason for all these games. Maybe this was his way of sneakily getting you here without having to talk about it—he never liked you to worry.

You finished and it felt like he was finally home, despite him having been there for several days. You shuddering beneath him, tightening around him to the point of being painful just grounded him like nothing else could, reminded him that he was human.

His hips stilled immediately and before you could say a word, his lips were on yours. He was smart, anyone who ever claimed Steve wasn’t alarmingly intelligent was dead wrong. He was a strategist above all else, that also applied in bed. He wanted you to come down fast before he started up again, he wanted you loose and weak because you were less likely to make him come that way. And he had such grand plans for the rest of the night, it was written all over his face, meaning he was edging himself.

There were few things better than when Steve did this. He always knew how to start slow for himself, not gentle, not boring, just simply not enough. With time, he fucked you harder, he grabbed you like you were little more than a toy given to him simply for his pleasure, the noises he made were animalistic, the things he would say… You just had to last that long, and it was always a mystery if you would, if he would take it easy on you or not.

Usually, he didn’t care to be so considerate.

He settled his weight on one of his forearms as he pulled away from the kiss. His opposite hand slid down your body and to your sensitive cunt.

“Daddy,” you whimpered. Nope, he most certainly was not going easy on you tonight.

He didn’t start fucking you again. Instead, he rubbed firm, quick circles over your clit until you were shaking and screaming and crying and squeezing his shoulders in your hands.

While you were coming, he brought his hand over your mouth and nose. You did your best to look up at him, but he kept his fingers on your clit and you could barely think straight, let alone see straight.

“Hear that?” That was when he started thrusting. “Hear how wet your pussy is? It’s been that wet all night, you’ve been so desperate for my cock all night. When you were flirting with Bucky, when you were dancing with Wanda. And they both knew it. Bucky can smell you, too, and I’m sure Wanda was reading your thoughts.”

Both of those suggestions were mortifying. It wasn’t normal how weak and pathetic you got over Steve’s cock. Thinking that the team knew that, that Wanda was listening to some of your thoughts, you wouldn’t be able to look them in the eye for at least the next week.

He kept his hand over you, preventing you from breathing because he knew it would make your next orgasm better. He felt a sinful amount of pride when your eyes began crossing, when your hips started to jerk, when you started digging your nails into his skin. You were so fucked out you didn’t care what you looked like or sounded like, and that was what turned him on like nothing else after long nights like these.

You started shoving his arm as you were coming down, realizing once more the importance of oxygen. He waited, kept his hold over you, eyes locked on yours, until your eyes filled with more tears and your skin turned just a little red. When he let you go, your chest heaved as you greedily took in air. And he never once stopped driving his cock in and out of you, reveling in the sounds.

“Daddy—”

He scoffed, rolling over effortlessly so you were on top. “Come on, sweetheart, I know you’re not trying to tap out right now.” His hand spread over your back, holding you down flat. His voice was surprisingly steady considering his erratic thrusts. “Not only would I not let you, but you know you’re tougher than that.”

Your cheek was pressed to his chest, the loudest sound you could hear was his pounding heart. You had your hands somewhere on his body, all you could feel was skin and muscle and heat. His hands slid down to your ass where he held you in place and fucked you harder than he usually liked to. Screams tore from your throat along with these small mewls when you were almost choking on air because you could barely remember how to breathe.

“You love me, baby doll?”

“Yes,” you rasped. “Yes, daddy, I love you.”

“You gonna be a good girl and let daddy use you all night?”

“Yes.” That was a big promise you weren’t sure you were going to be able to keep but your desire to make him proud sometimes beat out logic.

“Sit up,” he directed but moved you himself. He placed your hands on his chest but kept a good hold of your shoulders. “You know what I want.”

And for some reason, your hips, despite all the screaming your muscles were doing, started to roll.

He let out a pleased sigh, eyes roaming over your body. His hands weren’t tight, they were just there if he needed to catch you, but this was all you. This was his baby, riding his cock because you were such a good girl.

This had to be adrenaline, there was no other explanation for why you were able to move on your own. From this position, you could feel how wet and sticky you’d gotten his thighs—how many times had he made you come? You weren’t sure anymore.

As you drew yourself closer to an orgasm, now wildly bouncing on his cock, screaming, gasping, sobbing, you pressed your nails down into his pecs as sharply as you could.

He watched your breasts move with you, smugly admiring the bruised and broken skin around your nipple. His heart swelled when he felt you trying to mark him up, too. You made him wish that he didn’t heal so fast sometimes, if only so he could be covered in you as much as you were covered in him.

He caught your hip in one hand when you were getting him too close. He dragged you down until you were flat on his lap, struggling to sit on the entire length of his cock. His other hand went to your clit again and you threw your head back and moaned shamelessly. He flicked his thumb over you until you were shaking, your knees digging into his sides, your chest heaving, your arms buckling.

He let you come down this time but not because he was feeling nice. He’d been so lost in you that he had let himself get just a little too far. But that didn’t stop you from being a fucking tease, he suspected nothing in this world could. You were sitting there, pussy occasionally clenching around his cock, your hands kneading your breasts and pinching your nipples.

His hand tightened on you when your shaky fingers touched the bite he’d left behind. You hissed a little, glancing down to assess the damage. He was sick for biting you like that, but you were sick for looking so god damn happy about it.

Your eyes flit up to him, catching him looking just a little weak. His mouth snapped shut when he realized you were watching him. “Wanna give me another one, daddy?”

Scoffing, he sat up, situating himself onto his legs so you could sit on his thighs. His arms slid around your back and he pulled you up until you were a head or so taller than him. With your eyes locked, he sucked your nipple between his lips.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whispered.

He hummed lightly, teeth just barely pressing down.

“Shit,” you muttered, almost more to yourself. You always liked feeling it, but he’d never taken the time to let you watch him do it.

He started sucking, taking more of your breast in his mouth until he’d decided where he wanted to let his teeth cut into your skin. He did it slow, sinking them in carefully and keeping his gaze on you the whole time. You were shaking again and he could feel your cunt leaking onto his lap. He wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten you this wet before.

Your eyes filled with new tears when he finally broke your skin. You bit your lip to keep from making a noise too big, but it was an agonized cry that made him pause for just a moment. But then you squeezed your pussy around him and his hand came down on your ass loudly, you weren’t sure what scared you more the sudden sound or the force behind it.

He pulled his mouth off and admired his work for a second before turning up to you. “You want to be a fucking brat after I’m making you act like this?”

You scoffed shakily. “And how are you making me act, daddy?”

Instead of answering that, he asserted, “I’ve never seen someone so desperate to have every hole fucked this hard. I’m sure most people haven’t.”

You arched an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe I should fuck you in front of the team, hmm?”

That idea probably didn’t put you off as much as he thought it would. Although, calling him daddy, begging for his cock and his cum, crying because he won’t let you finish—thinking of other people watching you submit like that was a little embarrassing.

“How about just Wanda and Vision?” you suggested.

He snorted. “Really?”

“He can watch you eat my pussy, you can show him how to do it.”

He hummed, pretending that he didn’t care.

But he should have stopped you because you were about to cross the line with him. After all, it was one of your favorite hobbies. “But before we get Wanda’s hopes up, maybe he could practice on me a few times.”

And when he gripped your hip tighter, you knew you’d hit the bullseye. He took his opposite hand and grabbed your jaw. “I’m only going to say this once, doll.”

You hummed, trying to hide how pleased with yourself you were.

“If you ever joke about someone else eating your pussy, I’ll fucking spank you until I see some blood.”

Though it was more than likely an empty threat—Steve didn’t have it in him to do that to you, even when you promised you would tell him if it was too much—his deep voice, his unrelenting grip on your jaw, his dark eyes all made you wetter.

“Understood?”

You tried not to smile but you failed, and continued to fail as you tried to hide it by nodding.

He scoffed sharply. “You’re so fucking spoiled.”

He grabbed a handful of hair at the back of your head, smirking when you startled. Before you could say a word, he was yanking you down until his cock had slipped out and you rolled off his lap. He didn’t much care where you landed, he just shoved your face into the bed.

Then he was on top of you, settling his body over yours but being careful not to set any weight on you. He was not gentle at all when he entered you again because this was the kind of fucking that wouldn’t stop until you were sweating, dripping with cum, crying, and blurting out nonsense that always seemed to placate him.

He kept your face pressed into the mattress as he railed into you. You screamed loudly because you could, because he wasn’t letting you do anything else, because it was the only way you could express to him how badly you wanted to finish, how badly you wanted him to finish. As you were coming, you only got louder, your throat was starting to ache, your heart was pounding, your head spinning—you couldn’t fucking breathe, not that you minded, and you were wasting the little oxygen you did have to let this man know he was fucking you just right.

He waited until your body was thrashing with aftershocks, until your voice had died down somewhat, and then lifted your head. Instead of letting you catch your breath, he leaned over and kissed you. It was a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss with a lot of tongue, both of you moaning as his hips continued to move.

“Daddy, are you gonna come?”

“You want me to?”

You nodded as well as you could with his hold on your hair. “Please, daddy.”

He hummed before shoving your face back down. He sat back then, free hand coming to the small of your back to keep you right there. With this new position, he had a lot more leverage and he took full advantage of that. You didn’t scream this time, you couldn’t. A sound had caught in your throat the second he slammed back into you harder than you could ever remember him doing so. It fucking hurt and you were aching, but you loved that harsh sting you felt in your pussy. You loved that he was the one who did it to you.

He collapsed back over you as he finished. His mouth took your shoulder, biting down to muffle the groans pouring from him as his body moved at a steady pace. You could feel his cum filling you, soon it would be dripping out, soon he would be moving again until he’d just about fucked it all out of you, and he’d want to do it again and again, until he wasn’t hard anymore.

Currently though, he was. He was buried deep inside you and it hurt to have him there while you were still tight from your last finish and the impending next one. It was a feeling you’d gotten used to, a feeling you’d grown to crave sometimes. That pain that was so uniquely Steve Rogers because no one else had that stamina or strength.

He sat up again, releasing his hold on your head so you could finally breathe. He let you collect yourself as he began positioning you over him. He spread your legs as wide as they could go, draping your thighs over his.

Was he ever going to give you a break?

His hands both curled around your waist, fingers pressing firmly down on that skin. He dragged you down further onto his cock and you threw your head back. He kept fucking you like this, just pushing and pulling your body and holding you so tight. He was merciless, forcing you to take as much of his cock as you could before you screamed. He loved hearing you scream. It fueled him on, so it was no surprise when he pinned you down to the mattress, hands painfully grasping at your skin, and began fucking you so roughly that the bed was rattling. You were shrieking and crying and pleading, and your hips were angling up so you could take him in deeper. All you wanted was your next orgasm.

When you got it, you felt much like a shattered vase. You could do nothing but lay there in pieces, panting, disoriented, struggling to keep a grip on reality. Through it all, he pounding into you, roughly handling your body to best get himself off.

You knew he was coming when he brought his forearms down on either side of you. It was a few more harsh snaps of his hips and then he was unmoving, and you were full of him. He wasn’t completely rested on you, but it was the only thing in that moment that could ground you.

You blindly, mindlessly reached for him. You curled your arm back, grabbing his hair to pull him closer. You didn’t want to kiss him, you just wanted him as close as he could possibly get. Regardless, he did kiss you until he felt like you had come down enough for him.

He slipped his cock out and you felt his cum following, dripping from your pussy. He climbed off the bed, standing at the very edge where he gestured you over. “Come here, baby doll.”

You weren’t sure how you made yourself crawl over to him. It was purely a miracle that your muscles worked. You were on your hands and knees when you took him into your mouth. His hand settled in your hair and he let his head fall back.

He wasn’t totally soft, but as soft as he was going to get while his thoughts about all the ways he wanted to fuck you persisted. He grabbed your hair and pulled you off, smiling a little when he saw you pouting. There were few things he liked seeing more than when you would get bratty just to suck him off. “Lay down on your back.”

You quickly obliged. He had never placed you in this position before and you loved when Steve took control of positions—it was never disappointing. He took your waist and pulled you to the edge of the bed until your head was dangling over. Immediately, you opened your mouth for him and he thrust back in.

You gagged noisily, your throat moving around him as you struggled to take him. He let you adjust on your own while his hands wandered your body. First, he grabbed your breasts, pinched your nipples until your back was arching and you were whimpering for more. He let them slide down until he could grab your thighs. He spread your legs as wide as they could go and watched your cunt pulsing and clenching, messy, sticky. And dipping with his cum.

“Keep your legs open for me,” was all he said before he leaned over and his tongue was sliding through your folds. You whined, muffled by his cock, utterly frustrated by how badly you wanted him to suck your clit. He pressed his hands down flat on your thighs to keep you pinned right where he wanted and began fucking your mouth.

The room was filled with sounds of you choking and moaning and him eating your soaking pussy and those breaths that you drew from him when you swallowed him just right. During your finish, he stopped his hips, denying himself the same relief. This happened several times and you wouldn’t have minded if he did it for the rest of the night. You didn’t understand how you could want more after all he had given you, but you did. More of his mouth, his hands, his cock.

When he pulled himself from your mouth, he was hard again. You didn’t let him tell you what to do next. You just reached for him, one hand wrapping around his cock and the other massaging his sac. You didn’t stop even though he was fucking you with his fingers, cruel and punishing, until he was spilling out on your skin.

He watched as you let your hands spread his cum all over your breasts and down your body to your pussy where more of him remained. You covered as much of yourself as you could in it and all he could think was that he wanted to do the same to the rest of your body, particularly your ass.

You knew immediately what was coming next. You got up, haphazardly crawled around the mattress until you could lie down and pressed your ass against him eagerly. He got his cock wet with your dripping center, just lightly dipping in and chuckling at the weak sounds you made, and then slowly, he pressed into your asshole.

You gripped at the sheets as he fed you more and more of his cock. Once more, when his hips were flush against you, he became insatiable. He used you to get every last ounce of frustration out and you felt powerful and wanted. He was rough and relentless, he didn’t care how many times you orgasmed, he didn’t care that you were overstimulated and overwhelmed.

You were sweating and shaking, impossibly wet, but he kept going because your hips were driving back to meet his thrusts. You could whine and beg as much as you wanted but Steve knew your body and he was the one that decided when you had had enough. You grabbed at his arms where he had them placed over your head on the mattress for balance, desperate to touch him, to bring him closer to you.

He never stopped fucking you while he situated himself on his side and pulled you along with him. He held you against his chest, arms wound tightly around you as his fingers either pinched your nipples, wrapped around your throat, or rubbed your clit. You were drowning in dozens of sensations that you couldn’t distinguish if your life depended on it.

When Steve finished again, he held onto you almost desperately. He whispered in your ear, the sweetest things, a major contrast compared to the entire night. “Thank you, baby doll, I’ve needed that since I got home.” He took your jaw in his hand and turned you to face him. “Do you love daddy?”

You nodded and made this pathetic noise because you stupidly thought you were capable of forming words. He smiled a little and suddenly, you were just lost in him. His eyes. His lips. His entire fucking unfairly beautiful face.

“Did daddy make you feel good tonight?”

You nodded again. You didn’t know much but you did know that you were high off these things that Steve did to you.

He gave you a single, chaste kiss. “You deserved it, baby girl.”

You began turning your body toward him and he took the hint. He pulled out, grabbing the blankets that were strewn all around the bed. You curled up against him, so tiny and so weak, and he was brimming with pride because he did that to you and you let him and you, this amazing fucking person, loved him. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve it, but he didn’t ponder too long as he wrapped you up in the blankets and cradled you against him.

tags:

@donutloverxo @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @onetwo3000

[szecretary]

info about my blog under the cut, if you’re the kind of person that needs to know. have a nice day 💜

non-exhaustive list of obsessions: avatar the last airbender, legend of korra, the kyoshi novels, voltron: legendary defender, the camp half-blood chronicles, the all for the game series (and anything that is to my fancy at any moment.)

about me and my blog. 

you can call me kay ✨

i am on ao3 as kuarahy. i've only written for two fandoms so far.

english and spanish, mostly english unless necessary.

i spend a lot of time analyzing canonical aspects of the shows i watch, trying to figure out why they resonate with me. i also like exploring fan-generated ideas that could fit in there and make sense in context.

i studied literature for a bit and never got over it, you can expect a lot of overly enthusiastic rambling from me because of this. i have a passion for storytelling and literary theory, but i am not an expert on anything i talk about.

i’m here to talk about things that make me happy, and i value respectful discussions about the less-than-perfect aspects of the content i consume, so if you’re of the Everything Wrong With school of media criticism, then this is not the place for you. 

fandom stuff.

i love ATLA and TLOK equally.

i’ve read a fair share atla/tlok comics and consider them all canon, if you like to pretend they don’t exist, this isn’t the blog of you, friend!

i REALLY like the kyoshi novels. i’d give f.c yee a hug if i could.

i unironically like all 8 seasons of VLD and i still find many positive aspects even with the mess they made. yes i will still praise these positive aspects. no i don’t care about the ship wars. 

ocassional marvel/percy jackson/hadestown posting.

i have most harry potter/marauders and related content tags blocked. i am slowly going back to this childhood interest but i don't wanna be overly exposed to it just yet. i am curating my own experience, but this doesn't mean i'll be upset if people i follow don't tag things properly. this applies to every piece of media i consume.

a very recent obsession of mine is the all for the game series, i try to be good at tagging but i'm not always successful, and this series has a lot of triggering content embedded into it. please be careful when navigating my ramblings about it.

on shipping.

you will notice that i post about various ships in my blog. this might seem strange if you’re used to people only blogging about their otp to the point of making their “rival ship/notp” a dni criteria. this does not happen here. i don’t mind shipping, i think it's fun, and i will even reblog shippy fanart, mostly because i’m a sucker for romance and pretty art. that is the extent of my enjoyment of most ships, both canon and noncanon. i like romance, and it’s fun to read and write idiots falling in love in different ways and worlds, but it's never too serious for me.

my love: [ insert phrase ] tags are for all kinds of relationships, not just romantic ones.

i don’t take shipping seriously enough to entertain discourse about it. these characters are paper dolls to me. idk how else to make this more clear, do not come here to argue about ships or how or why some might be the worst thing to exist on this planet since global warming. i am a grown adult who knows how to discern reality from fiction. i've got a job and other stuff to worry about, DO NOT even try.

anti behavior of any kind is a bad investment of your time, pal. 

my url is a play on szeto and secretary, because i’m a tired college student and he’s the closest thing to that, as the only nerd avatar we know of. 

that’s all~ if you want to be mutuals and even friends, my inbox is always there. 

[ivyglow]

Thinking ‘bout you | Mat Barzal NYI

A/n: Hey, guys! This request was from the song prompt list that @with-the-words-all-wrong​ tagged me, you can check it on her profile <3. I’m sorry I took too long, but I decided to write a whole ass piece and here it is (and guess what? I hated it lmao). 

- Btw if someone wants to proof read my pieces it would be great, just dm me if you’re interested! 

Word count: 3.3k 

Requested prompt:  10 “Can I see you again and not feel bad about it” & 13 “I liked when you cared about me too”

Summary: Y/n and Mat met through mutual friends and it’s not long before they start hooking up. She’s has a wild spirit, he’s looking for someone to settle down. Is it possible to meet the right person at the wrong time?

Flashbacks in Italic! 

Things started slowly but surely people knew it was coming. Since the first time y/n was introduced to Mat’s circle of friends, everyone noticed the way his eyes sparkled with interest and the way she seemed to reciprocate it. They were both young, reckless and any slight chance of love or affection sounded good to Barzal at that time. He was living on his own, and sure most of his time was at practice or out with his friends, but the home-alone time made him think about some things such as settling or at least going for something more serious than the eventual hookups that he would have. 

Y/n was funny and beautiful. God, was she beautiful.

The first thing he noticed about her was the eyes. On that low lighted bar, her eyes were glowing green in contrast with her skin. She was wearing jeans and sneakers, outstanding everyone. She was so simple, and maybe that was the thing that drew him towards her. The feeling of not caring about what people would think, not being open to doing everything as expected but doing it as you wanted to. 

And maybe, just maybe, it was this exact feeling that made y/n choose Mathew. 

Everyone in her family was expecting her to get into a serious relationship as soon as she landed in New York, but as her friend, Kayla would say “New York it’s not the place to find a lover”, and she was well aware of being on the age of glory. Her early twenties and the freedom of living on her own, paying her own bills something she dreamed of since she turned fourteen. 

She wanted to have fun and Mathew Barzal was definitely a funny guy.

They went to many friends’ meetings before finally taking a step on the obvious sexual tension. That did not mean it was time enough to become best friends, it was time enough to become mutuals. He knew some things about her and she knew some about him. He knew, for example, that she hated when people tried to make decisions for her, she liked independence in every way and damn was y/n mad when their friends tried to pair her with Mat before she could make her mind about it. 

The thing she knew about him was that he liked her and she knew it because he was an obvious guy or at least he was obvious when it came to her. Not in the sweet romantic way, but in a cute and affectionate way. 

Or at least that’s what she tried to remember while things started to escalate quickly with movie nights and nights in, or morning sex. They were getting attached, but it wasn’t what y/n planned at all and she knew she had a short amount of time before she would get attached herself. 

It was a Friday night, she had an average day at work and the guys were celebrating friendship, just the possibility of having their small and closed group whenever they needed. These kinds of celebrations started with Kayla, she was the one always wondering and getting the best of life, pulling her focus towards the small details of life that usually made it better. Her biggest fear was to die without enjoying life, y/n was always down for her ideas and shared a fear that looked a lot like Kayla’s.

They were chilling in Tito’s balcony, drinks in hand, enjoying the feeling of the cold New York air hitting their faces and the noises of the city that never sleeps being drowned by the many floors below. Kayla was telling one of her stories while Mat, Joe, Katy, and Isabela listened carefully. Tito was sitting by them but seemed lost on his own little world, the reason why y/n would sometimes call him ‘dreamy boy’. A random song was playing low on the speakers, but everyone heard when y/n finally arrived.

“Why you always late?” Joe asked before swinging the rest of his beer in a long sip. 

“I’m never late…” she faked confusion before going for the wine bottle. “You guys just always early.” 

Mat chuckled and Kayla rolled her eyes slightly, he liked her so much he even found her shitty jokes funny. Or maybe it was just Mathew, he usually was the first one to laugh, anything was fun to him, almost like he didn’t curse or lost his mind every 5 minutes on the ice.

“That one is old, y/n” Tito finally left his dreamy thoughts and provoked his friend. He loved to joke around with y/n, it was like she had an answer for everything and she also happened to be a great listener whenever he needed a sincere opinion that wasn’t from Barzal. 

“You’re getting old too and I’m not saying that in your face...and Mathew laughed, I would say my jokes are aging well” y/n walked over greeting everyone properly. Barzal was the last one and kiss she left too close to his mouth wasn’t unnoticed by  Anthony. 

“Wanna sit with me?” He asked still holding her by the hand. All the available surfaces to sit already occupied. 

“You mean to say ‘sit on you’?!” 

Isabela that was sitting closer to Mat laughed out loud, “You guys are so obvious…” 

“Are you drunk?” y/n replied back trying to sound nonchalant and sitting on Mat’s tights. 

His hands found its way on her waist and she was a bit impressed at how comfortable it felt to be that close. He was wearing his cargo pants and a grey sweatshirt, hair an aesthetic mess at the top of his head and lips glowing from his beer. 

It was short before Kayla went back to her story and y/n start sipping her wine. 

Mat’s hand would travel up and down her waistline under the soft blouse she was wearing and eventually her left hand found his neck hair. It seemed natural, almost as if the exchange of physical affection were something they did every day, and considering their friends were not chirping or making a huge deal out of the situation it seemed even more common. 

“Are you driving home?” y/n asked when Mat finished his second beer bottle and she was still on her first wine glass. 

He turned to look at her, a slightly confused and curious frown on his face. 

“You’re drinking...I know you handle your alcohol just fine, but drink and drive it’s no good” she explains being more detailed than usual. 

Barzal chuckles before pressing a kiss in her cheekbone, “You look cute when you’re worried.”

“It’s not-” she starts but the look on his face says it all, he already knew. He had her figured out so easily sometimes it was scary. “I just wanna sleep in peace knowing all my friends are fine… I care about you.”

“You wouldn’t have this problem if you sleep with me tonight.” 

And indeed, that was the first night they spent together and it was far to be the last. 

Usually, she would be gonna by the sunrise, but this time y/n was exhausted with work and school and having to deal with her family constantly asking about plans they had for her, besides the physical weariness of a whole sex night with Mat. That morning she woke up not to a silent house, but to a shirtless Mat cooking breakfast while blasting her playlist of favorite songs. 

“Normally I woke up without feeling like it, but Frank Ocean is playing and you’re doing pancakes...although I’m not really sure about how the food is going to turn out” y/n walked in the kitchen catching Mathew’s attention. 

“Good morning to you too” he mocked her, glancing at his oversized shirt that hung her body in a baggy way but still so beautiful. 

“You need help there?” she asked going to the water bottle sitting on the counter.

“This is the last pancake, everything’s ready” he walked away from the stove just to wrap one arm around y/n’s middle. 

She thought to herself that Mat was the whole package, he knew her so well, he even put effort into cooking in the mornings they spent together -which were few, but still- and he was a great listener, although he liked to talk just as much. He was funny and hot, and he could do both so easily it was painful sometimes. But instead of voicing her thoughts, she kept to herself and left their silence to hug their bodies together. His face resting on the crook of her neck and her hands brushing his long locks. 

As soon as the song switched to Lost, y/n’s lips left a loud gasp. Mat would be surprised or confused, but it wasn’t his first time seeing her enjoy her favorites Frank Ocean songs, some he knew the entire lyrics. It was funny to see her wildly dancing and singing as if the world would end anytime soon. And it was those same eyes that made him leave breakfast for good and join her private show. They spent almost thirty minutes stuck on the dance-sing-perform-y/n’s-favorites.

These were the moments where they would be more friends than ever. Sharing the intimacy of the voice of each other and the awkward dance moves, getting to know the songs’ preference, and almost getting a noisy complaint by the neighbors.

And so when Mat started to miss her in the mornings and wish her by his side at night he realized that the intimacy of the moments they spent together could fit as a relationship intimacy as well. Y/n was so easy to be around and she would always have her own way of seeing random everyday things. She liked to go straight to the point too, she hated to lie and hated to left people read one thing when she was trying to say another. That’s why when they started to hookup she told Mathew she wasn’t looking for a lover, she liked him for sure, but being in the years of glory and living in New York wasn’t something she wanted to leave for a relationship. 

After almost four months going on like they used to, Mat thought maybe y/n changed her mind. Maybe she liked him as much as he liked her. 

And she was point-blank when Barzal brought the subject, “I like you a lot, but I love my freedom.” She didn’t try to put much into it, telling him about her problems would only make him built hope, and she knew that maybe by the time she was fine with the idea of a serious relationship she could be in love with someone else or even he could be. Y/n liked Mathew indeed and that’s why she left him. 

Keep it up would only hurt him. 

And so they said their goodbyes without a huge fight, but the silence still hurt just as much.

Mat shifted his focus to the season that was about to start, the travel around and games non-stop would take his mind away from how complicated feelings could be sometimes. Y/n, on the other hand, dived into work and school, however, still gets herself wondering about Barzal and how things would turn out if she said yes to his proposition. She missed him in the simple tasks of the day and had to constantly remind that they were not texting each other anymore and no, he definitely did not want to know about the funny dog that ran to her at the park. 

Nevertheless, they had the same group of friends and when the season ended and so did midterms, it was crystal clear that they would need to face each other again. 

It was a Friday night, just like the first time they spent the night together, and she had an awful day at work, still, Kayle was able to drag her to Tito’s apartment where the small group where reunited. This time it was not one of her best friend random celebrations, it was actually because they spent too long without meeting. 

When they finally reached Anthony’s floor y/n still had no idea how she would talk with Mat. She was nervous. They went from 2 a.m calls to zero communication and the lack of it was the reason why she had no idea how he was feeling, if he was doing fine, if he hated her, if he was ok with keeping the friendship etc. 

Everyone was in the living room surrounded by bottles and snacks while a random pop song was playing on the tv. He was the first face she searched for but was nowhere to be found, and so y/n settled for greeting each of her friends with a warm and tight hug. 

Except for Tito, he was the last one on the sofa line, “where’s my wine, Beau?” 

“Kitchen counter” he rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Alright, now I can give you a hug” y/n joked before lowering herself and draping her arms around Anthony’s shoulders.

“Bring me another water bottle too, please” Joe requested when she was making her way towards the other room.

The hardwood floor felt cold against her feet and she enjoyed the feeling, trying to switch her thoughts to something other than why Mathew wasn’t there. But before she was able to, she reached the kitchen and there he was sitting on the stool while working in one of his drinks.

It was like the cold from her feet reached her whole body suddenly and she was nervous again.

Mathew made y/n nervous.

It was new to her and she was torn between trying to figure out more about the unknown feeling or ignoring it by shoving it down her pocket. 

“Hey!” she tried to sound cheerful, but only got a nod as the response.

Y/n couldn’t read him with his eyes away from her, but he seemed a little out of tune. His hair the usual aesthetic mess at the top of his head and his so friendly white sweatshirt. 

She walked over to the freezer reaching the water bottle Joe asked for and then going for the glasses and pouring her so loved wine. 

“For a moment when I walked in and didn’t saw my wine at the coffee table, I thought Tito had forgotten about me” her remark did not bother Mathew that kept working with the lemon and vodka in front of him. The pang on her heart now so much vivid. Maybe he hated her indeed, maybe he was heartbroken after everything they went through. And she couldn’t help but finally let some kind of guilty sink at the top of her stomach. “Can I see you again and not feel bad about it?” 

The thirty seconds of silence were filled with Mat’s breath since y/n was holding hers. 

“What do you mean?” Mat sounded genuinely confused. 

“I mean you ignoring me...I never intended to hurt you, you know?” 

“I’m sorry. I’m not ignoring you, I’m just out of the area today, my sleep schedule is all fucked up and I’ve been a little grumpy lately, there’s nothing to do with you.” 

She wanted to ask how he was doing, if he were hurt when things didn’t go as planned, she even wished to ask about hockey so he would smile bright and big and keep talking for the next two hours. But instead, she took the wine glass and water bottle, making her away to the living room while holding her heart in her hands too. 

Joe started a conversation about vacation and so it was the main topic for two hours straight, and even though Mat knew a lot about the subject he kept his mouth shut, mainly just listening to everyone while sipping his drink. It was unusual considering Barzal was usually the one who couldn’t shut up, you would always hear him on the friends’ get-together either his loud voice or his laugh. 

Y/n found herself looking at Mat right across her, but she was still able to miss him, cause it didn’t felt like he was there. He was far away in all meanings. 

“There’s something I can do to help?” y/n asked while walking to sit beside Mat in the bed they were, certainly, going to share that night, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to make you feel better, I guess you know by now that it wasn’t your fault.”

Mat was moping since he got home, the islanders had lost and the cherry to the cake was the fact that they lost a home game, and y/n was by his side time enough to know that he absolutely hated to lose this way, but she wasn’t time enough to know how she was supposed to deal with it. She wasn’t in the mood for sex and he sure wasn’t too, however she couldn’t stand the pouty lips and the moody Mat, it gave her heart a little pain.

“You don’t need to say anything” he mumbled underneath the covers. 

“But I want to. I care about you, Mathew.” she insisted. “What can I do?”

Mat had this soft smile in the corner of his lips watching y/n sitting by his side and looking at him as if he was the most important thing to her at that moment. ‘I care about you’ wasn’t an ‘I love you’, but it meant something deep and they both knew it. 

“You can just lay with me.” He gave up scooting to the side and opening his arms for her to lay on top of him. “And stay the night.” 

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” y/n’s lips found Mat’s in a slow and sweet kiss that last only some seconds before her face was on the crook of his neck. 

Everyone was too caught up on the conversation to notice y/n walk to the balcony and sit in one of the big cold chairs, everyone except Mat and it didn’t take long for him to grab a blanket and follow. He knew she was barefoot and she usually was cold at night. Mat knew a lot of things he never thought he would when they first started going out. Yes, he was looking for a lover, and yes he wished with all his willpower to be y/n, but she left him dazed, living each day by its time - as it’s supposed to be -. Maybe that was the reason why in the middle of it all he didn’t stop too much to think about how things were turning in an unknown road...and when he did, it took them to the mess they were living. 

Barzal said nothing as he dropped the blanket around y/n’s body and lowered himself to sit by her side. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled a bit dizzy. 

“No need to thank me, I just still care about you, that’s all.” His voice was low but firm. He didn’t sound spiteful, it was as if he was letting himself to be soft after every solid thing that hit both of them. 

And y/n took the time to process that information. 

Mat still care!!!, her insides screaming in pure joy and confusion, and she felt as unsteady as ever. All the ‘what if’s’ making room inside her thoughts. But ‘What if he still cares, but don’t want anything?' ‘What if things don’t work out?’

“I liked when you cared about me too…” Mat voiced taking y/n’s silence as an answer itself. . 

“Mat, I’m just…” she thought for some seconds more, her head still bubbling with doubts. “I still care about you.”

His head was still low, fingers playing with a random bracelet, he was deep in his thoughts just as y/n. 

“I wasn’t ready to commit, I have so much shit going on and it’s a whole package. A relationship is different from how we were working before. It demands a lot more…I also needed these months to think again and again about it.” She ranted while staring at the building in front of them. “But I still do. I still care about you.”

“I wanna give it a try, the whole package, and everything. I like you, y/n.” He whispered, his voice drowned by the noise of the city, but she was still able to hear him, the soft tone, the truth underneath each word. “Just text me and let me know when you’re ready.” 

She nodded while they exchanged a meaningful look. Truth dripping from each other’s eyes along with affection and a new kind of feeling.

They sat there in silence for some minutes, just listening to the city’s noise and feeling the cold air hit their faces before y/n took her phone typing a simple message and sending it to Mat. He looked at her, a hint of amusement and happiness, and she shook her head yes.

[mongooseblues]

Tag Game

@sniction-fiction Thanks for tagging me this was super fun and I got very long winded :D

The game is such:

List your top three whump tropes and tag people.

Whoever gets tagged gets to say how they feel about your top three tropes.

After finishing that, they then list their top three tropes, and the tagging cycle goes on!

Your tropes:

1. Inclement Weather: When I’m reading, as long as the character is sick they could have obtained illness via straight up magic as far as I’m concerned. Deus ex machina that rhinovirus. Do whatever you gotta do to get em there. When it comes to my own writing I’m very strict with myself about “cold science.” I won’t pinpoint inclement weather as being the cause of a cold. However! Using weather to add to the pre-existing misery of illness—needing to walk in the rain, be out in the cold, etc—is wonderful.

2. It Gets Worse: YES. In longer stuff especially I love to see the whole arc. And I go pretty hard: I like severity — the worse the better, and the heightening is a joy to behold. If you write this in tandem with a character arc as the character is dealing with it, then you have my whole entire heart.

3. Exhaustion: Absolutely adore it. Emotional, mental, physical, metaphysical — whatever modality it takes. Honestly just watching someone fall asleep is adorable. Drooping eyelids and belated, slurred responses and slumping posture is a very cute look. And the act of surrendering to it — finally giving up control, or having it sort of stolen from them and falling asleep without meaning to. Either way it happens it’s very good. I like a character who is practical about their need for bed rest equally as much as I like a character who is loathe to relinquish their continued consciousness — The former is very cute to me because I love when someone is capable of taking care of themself, the latter I can relate to (the feeling of waging a vain war against exhaustion) personally as I have an irrational dislike for sleep.

My tropes:

1. Forehead feel: I honestly don’t even know why I’m calling it a trope when this is a necessity as far as I’m concerned. I love the function it serves in determining some kind of objective measurement of exactly how sick someone is, but I love the form it takes even more. It is the world’s most intimate gesture, fullstop. I particularly enjoy it in platonic relationships wherein this kind of physical touch is an anomaly or, better yet, in an unrequited love or mutually flirtatious relationship where it’s an exciting step in physical closeness, a milestone even. Or better still, something that was perhaps a little too intimate, and oh oops maybe it shouldn’t have happened at all...

2. High stakes illness: aka setting a story during the worst possible time or situation for the character to fall ill, especially if that situation is that someone has a very heavy weight of responsibility and/or needs—absolutely, unavoidably needs—to give some sort of especially important presentation or to otherwise somehow be in front of an audience or a crowd. I do enjoy a casual slice-of-life cold, but high stakes illness just lends itself incredibly well to many other things that I love; mainly the attitude the characters take toward adversity. It requires self-awareness from the sick character and often help from other characters. Multiple people rallying around somebody, varying degrees of caretaking from many sources, needing to be honest about symptoms, to sometimes even discuss them at length so as to prepare for their possible repercussions. Cooperation, makeshift creative solutions. It is essentially the working-through-a-cold trope on steroids, in a way that lends itself better to disclosure than denial, and honesty and self-awareness are impossibly sexy to me.

3. Emotional crumpling: An expression of emotional vulnerability when someone’s wall is down. A confession because why not when they’re already so physically vulnerable, a fight caused by someone not fully being in their right mind, someone with a heightened temperature getting a little too effusive and maybe saying a little too much. It’s great when it leads to some kind of resolution in a relationship, and it’s also great when it complicates things. Emotional hurt/comfort is almost as meaningful to me as physical hurt/comfort, and in my opinion they’re meant to tie to each other. It’s intimacy doubled and it’s frankly fantastic and it’s why some vanillas are into sickfics and it’s such a naturally occurring duality that this community at large has very little trouble constantly generating new fics and so often involving a general emotional arc in those pieces of writing, because it’s… not obvious, but maybe… intuitive? The natural arc of a sickfic lends itself to something about emotional storytelling that everyone learns from consuming the stories around us all our lives, or maybe on some level just kinda knows, whether or not they’re actively trying to employ it.

If yall are around and feel like it I’m tagging @gay-for-the-snz, @thedevillionaire, @evilfloralfoolery, and @bless-you-babe (also anyone who happens to see this and wants to)