#as if to say i make great life choices on the regular DO NOT be fooled!

[argcicle]

My half-delirious ranking because it’s past midnight and I just realized the album came out:

1. Portrait of a Blank Slate

2. Scum

3. Consequences

4. Call Me What You Like

5. It’s Golden Hour Somewhere

6. Warsaw

[hunkydorkling]

Been thinking some and realized it's already a year and some months since I've exited the world of Social Media Marketing everywhere. While the decline in mental health has been caused by The Arts this time, it's still the best decision I've ever made in this career.

[wannabehockeygf]

greedy - quinn hughes

“He said ‘I’m just curious, is this for real or just an act?’

Can’t tell if you love or hate me,

Never met someone like that.”

summary: when you’re a bartender in a popular local club, the captain of the canucks who’s also one of your regulars takes a liking to you

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 9.3k. i’m so sorry.

warnings: 18+ NSFW! fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, slight degradation.

notes:

- this is soooo different for me! have never written about a hughes brother before even though they’re super popular here.

- missing vancouver hockey. sorry leafs nation.

- also this is probably some of the nastiest smut i’ve ever written!

- not proof read

- the eye colour thing again… sorry if they’re green.

***

Friday nights at The Roxy Cabaret were like trying to squeeze into your favorite pair of jeans after Thanksgiving dinner—uncomfortable, chaotic, and leaving you questioning your life choices. Honestly, it felt like the entire population of Vancouver had made a pact to invade this dingy club all at once. Not that you were complaining, though—well, maybe a little. It wasn’t like you had a choice; the rent wasn’t going to pay itself.

Sure, you worked there, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t hold a deep, burning, soul-crushing hatred for the place, right? Well, okay, maybe "hatred" was a bit strong. You did occasionally wander in on your nights off, blend into the crowd, and pretend you were just another twenty-three-year-old who didn’t have to worry about the bartender recognizing you. Because let’s face it, you needed a break from serving vodka sodas to tipsy twenty-somethings trying to relive their high school glory days.

What really got under your skin, though, was the crowd that showed up when you were on the clock. And by "crowd," you meant the entire Vancouver Canucks roster, who seemed to think The Roxy was their personal post-victory playground. It wasn’t that you disliked hockey—you were indifferent to it, like you were to a distant relative’s Facebook posts. If it was on, fine, you’d watch. But you weren’t exactly lining up to buy season tickets.

Most of the guys were fine—great even. Some of them were downright charming, the kind of guys you wouldn’t mind chatting with when things slowed down. Plus, they tipped like they were trying to make it rain dollar bills in a music video, which you appreciated. But then there was Quinn Hughes.

Oh, Quinn. Captain Smug himself. He had a way of getting under your skin like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

"Another round, please, Princess," Quinn drawls, tapping his fingers on the bar like he owns the place.

You grit your teeth, mentally counting to ten as you shake up a cocktail. "Can you get Brock to order it? He isn’t an egotistical asshole."

Quinn just laughs, that infuriating smirk of his widening even though he looks like he could use a nap. "Aw, come on, Princess, don’t be like that. You know you love me."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. Instead, you stick to your customer service script. "That’s not my name," you say, yanking out shot glasses like they owe you money.

"I know," Quinn says, brushing a strand of hair out of his face like he’s in some cheesy romance movie. "But you act like a princess, so it suits you."

Oh great, now your jaw’s tightening. Fabulous. You grab the tequila bottle with a little more force than necessary. "What do you want from me, Quinn?" you ask, trying not to let your annoyance seep too much into your voice.

He leans in closer, his smirk practically reaching his ears. "How about a smile, Princess? Is that too much to ask?"

You force the kind of smile you reserve for customer service nightmares, tight-lipped and entirely devoid of warmth. "Is that good? Can you go now?"

Quinn chuckles, taking the tray of drinks from you like he’s doing you a favor. "Always so feisty. But I like it. Keeps things interesting."

"Fuck off, Quinn," you mutter, wiping down the counter with the enthusiasm of someone scrubbing a crime scene. "I’m not here to entertain your ego."

He leans in even closer—so close you can practically count the flecks of mischief in his eyes. "But you do entertain me. Every time you brush me off, it just makes me want you more."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "You’ve got a funny way of showing it. Just because you’re some big-shot athlete doesn’t mean you can treat women however you want."

Quinn’s gaze slowly trails up from your lips, where it’s been lingering far too long, to meet your eyes. "Ah, come on, you know I always take good care of you."

And damn it, he’s right. Quinn is probably your biggest tipper out of the entire team. And while you like the money, you hate seeing his stupid messy brown hair and annoyingly pretty blue eyes at your bar every time they win.

"Sure you do," you say, swiping someone else’s card through the machine, mentally willing him to disappear into the sea of other customers.

You watch Quinn walk away, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd like he’s parting the Red Sea. It’s infuriating, really, how someone so damn annoying can also be so… well, hot. There, you admitted it. The guy is hot. Like, "should come with a warning label" hot. But that doesn’t mean you’re about to give him the satisfaction of knowing you think that. No way. Not in this lifetime, or the next, or even if you were reincarnated as a particularly enthusiastic poodle.

Quinn Hughes is the human equivalent of a pop-up ad—persistent, unwanted, and impossible to get rid of without a lot of cursing. Every time you brush him off, he just comes back stronger, like he’s powered by your irritation. And maybe that’s what’s so maddening about him. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, and he enjoys every second of it.

The problem is, you’re starting to wonder if you enjoy it too.

Nope. Not going there. You are not going to be one of those girls who gets all flustered over a guy just because he’s got a good smile and a credit card that could probably buy out half the bar. You’re stronger than that. You’re resilient. You’re… currently mixing a drink with far more focus than necessary because all you can think about is what it would be like to grab him by the collar of that too-tight shirt and kiss that stupid smirk right off his face.

You’re shaking your head at the absurdity of it all as you pour the next round of shots, hands moving on autopilot. It’s bad enough that Quinn Hughes has invaded your workspace like some kind of hockey-playing parasite, but now he’s wormed his way into your thoughts too.

“Get a grip,” you mutter under your breath, lining up the glasses like they’re little soldiers marching to their doom. Because really, that’s what this is—a battle of wills. A tug-of-war where the prize is your sanity, and you’re losing.

A couple of your regulars wave you over, and you force your focus back to them, slapping on that customer service smile that’s become second nature by now. They’re nice guys, the kind who tip decently and don’t try to flirt with you in that obnoxious, entitled way that some customers do. They’re also blissfully ignorant of the 5’10, 180 pound storm cloud currently hovering over your head, which is exactly how you like it.

But just as you’re starting to enjoy a break from the chaos, you catch sight of him again. He’s leaning against the bar a few feet away, talking to Brock, who seems completely unfazed by the fact that Quinn has probably just sent your blood pressure through the roof.

You steal a glance at Quinn, hoping he won’t notice, but of course he does. He always does. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, you forget how to breathe. It’s ridiculous, really. The guy’s just standing there, doing absolutely nothing, and yet he has this stupid effect on you. Like he’s some kind of gravitational force, pulling you in against your will.

You force yourself to look away, focusing on the drink in front of you like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. But it’s too late. The damage is done. Your brain has already gone down that treacherous path, imagining what it would be like if you gave in just once.

But that’s a dangerous game, and you know it. Because if you give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. Hell, he’ll probably take the whole damn kilometer. And then where would you be?

Nope. Not happening. Not tonight, not ever.

You’re not sure when exactly it started—the whole Quinn Hughes thing, that is. Maybe it was the first time he sauntered up to the bar, eyes twinkling like he knew something you didn’t. Or maybe it was the time he tipped you a hundred bucks just for bringing him a water, like he was trying to buy your affection. Which, spoiler alert, didn’t work. Or so you’ve been telling yourself.

But you can’t deny it any longer: Quinn Hughes is a problem. A major, five-alarm, get-the-fire-extinguisher kind of problem. Because somewhere along the line, your irritation with him has twisted into something… different. Something dangerous. Something that makes you wonder what it would be like to grab him by that annoyingly perfect jawline and just—

“Hey, Princess, you gonna make me another drink or just stand there daydreaming?”

And there it is. That voice, like smooth whiskey poured over gravel, cutting through your thoughts like a knife. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s him. Of course it’s him. Because Quinn Hughes has a sixth sense for when you’re starting to get a grip on your sanity, and he’s hell-bent on ruining it.

You set down the bottle of vodka you’ve been holding, turning to face him with what you hope is a look of mild disinterest. “Back so soon? Didn’t think you could tear yourself away from your adoring fans.”

Quinn grins, leaning against the bar like he’s got all the time in the world. And maybe he does. After all, what’s a Friday night without irritating the bartender who’s secretly trying to figure out what color your eyes really are because the lighting in here sucks? Not that you’d ever admit to that. “I just couldn’t stay away from you, Princess. You know how it is.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted at best. “Again, not my name.”

He taps his fingers on the bar, a rhythm that’s almost hypnotic. “I know. But I like it. It suits you.”

“What, because I won’t roll over and worship the ground you walk on?” you shoot back, crossing your arms. You know you’re playing with fire, but there’s something addictive about sparring with him. Like a game of chicken, except you’re both too stubborn to swerve.

Quinn’s grin widens, and you can’t help but notice how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. Damn him. “Exactly. I like a girl with a backbone.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words get stuck somewhere between your brain and your tongue. Because for some reason, all you can think about is the way he’s looking at you right now—like you’re the only person in this crowded, chaotic club that matters.

So that’s why you decide to go for it.

“You ever had hate sex, Hughes?”

You can almost see the gears in Quinn’s head grind to a halt at your question. The usual smug smirk falters for a split second, and it’s the most satisfying thing you’ve seen all night. You’ve finally done it—left Quinn Hughes speechless. But the victory is short-lived because, as always, he recovers faster than you can blink.

“Hate sex?” he echoes, his voice dropping an octave, making you question all of your life choices up to this point. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear, and you suddenly realize you’re standing way too close. “Princess, if that’s your idea of a pick-up line, I’ve got to say, I’m intrigued.”

And there it is, that damn smirk back in full force. He’s trying to throw you off, but you refuse to back down. You’ve already started this ridiculous game, so there’s no turning back now.

“You didn’t answer the question,” you reply, your tone as steady as you can make it. “Ever had hate sex?”

He lets out a low chuckle that sends shivers down your spine—not that you’d ever admit it. “I don’t know. Guess we’d have to define ‘hate sex’ first.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your mind racing with all the ways this could go horribly wrong. But damn it, you’re committed now. “I’m pretty sure it’s when you can’t stand someone, but you still want to rip their clothes off.”

Quinn’s eyes darken just a fraction, and you can feel the tension between you both ratchet up to an unbearable level. It’s like the entire club fades away, leaving just the two of you locked in this absurd, heated standoff.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm. “You want to rip my clothes off, Princess?”

You clench your jaw, determined not to let him see how flustered you are. This is Quinn Hughes, the guy who drives you up the wall every single time he walks into this bar. There’s no way in hell you’re about to let him get the upper hand.

So, you do the only thing that seems appropriate. You lean in, so close that your lips are almost brushing his ear, and whisper, “Maybe I just want to shut you up for five minutes.”

“You think you could handle it?” His voice is a low rumble now, and there’s something about the way he says it that’s got your stomach doing somersaults. “Because if we’re going there, I don’t do anything halfway.”

Oh, for the love of— You’re pretty sure your face is betraying you right now, showing just how much his words have affected you, but you can’t let him know that.

Quinn is still watching you, eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place. There’s a challenge there, a dare hanging in the air between you, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is. Too close. Close enough that you can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead, and those damn blue eyes that seem to see right through your carefully constructed defenses.

For a moment, you consider backing down, playing it off as a joke. But then Quinn would win, and that’s simply not an option. So, you double down, leaning in just a little bit closer, your breath brushing against his skin.

"Handle it? Quinn, I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to." Your voice is steady, but inside, your heart is doing its best impression of a drum solo. This is insane. You’re flirting with Quinn Hughes. Quinn Hughes, the guy who spends his Friday nights at your bar making your life just a little bit more complicated than it needs to be. The guy who seems to take an unholy amount of pleasure in riling you up. The guy who—God help you—makes your pulse race every time he so much as glances in your direction.

Quinn’s lips curve into a slow smile, and you can’t help but notice how annoyingly perfect his teeth are. Of course they are. Everything about him is infuriatingly perfect, from his tousled hair to his broad shoulders that you really shouldn’t be noticing right now. "You’ve got a mouth on you, Princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine that you desperately try to suppress.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure as you stare into Quinn’s infuriatingly perfect face. Seriously, who gave him the right to look this good, especially when he’s being such a smug asshole? You remind yourself that you don’t like him. You don’t. Except maybe you do, a little bit. Okay, a lot. But that’s beside the point.

Quinn’s eyes are locked on yours, and you can practically feel the heat radiating off him. It’s like standing too close to a bonfire—one wrong move, and you’re going to get burned. But damn it, you’re not backing down. Not when he’s looking at you like that, like he’s just waiting for you to slip up so he can swoop in and… do what, exactly? You’re not even sure anymore. And that’s the most dangerous part.

“Someone’s gotta put you in your place, Hughes,” you manage to say, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intended. You’re aiming for sassy, but it’s hard to pull off when your heart is practically doing backflips in your chest.

His smile widens, and you want to slap it right off his face, but also—God help you—maybe kiss it off too. “Is that so?” he asks, voice dripping with amusement. “And you think you’re the one to do it?”

Oh, he’s good. He’s really good. And damn it, you walked right into his trap, didn’t you? Because now you’ve got to follow through, or else he’s going to lord this over you for the rest of eternity.

But before you can figure out a clever retort, Quinn’s gaze flicks past you, scanning the crowded bar. When he looks back at you, there’s something new in his eyes—something that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“You know,” he says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “this place is a little too crowded for what I have in mind.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. He’s not suggesting what you think he’s suggesting, is he? Because if he is, you’re in way over your head. And yet… there’s a tiny, traitorous part of you that’s intrigued. More than intrigued. You want to know what he has in mind, even though every logical part of your brain is screaming at you to abort mission and run for the hills.

You tilt your head, trying to play it cool even as your heart races. “And what exactly do you have in mind, Hughes?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Quinn leans in closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek. “Somewhere private,” he murmurs, “Where we can… talk.”

“Talk,” you repeat, your tone dripping with skepticism. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”

He chuckles softly, and the sound sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

Oh, you do. You’ve got a lot of ideas, most of them involving doing things to Quinn Hughes that would definitely not fall under the category of “talking.” But you can’t just give in, can you? That would be too easy, and Quinn would never let you live it down.

But then again… maybe it’s time to stop overthinking things. Maybe it’s time to let go, just this once, and see where this crazy, ridiculous, probably-terrible idea takes you.

“Fine,” you say, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounds. “Let’s go.”

Quinn’s eyes light up with something that looks a lot like victory, but you’re not about to let him have the upper hand. Not entirely, anyway.

“Lead the way, Princess,” he says, his voice a low purr that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

You roll your eyes—because of course you do—but there’s no denying the excitement buzzing just beneath the surface. You’ve got no idea what you’re getting yourself into, but one thing’s for sure: it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

With one last glance at the bar, you turn on your heel and start making your way through the crowd, Quinn hot on your heels. You can feel the tension between you both, crackling like static electricity, and it’s taking everything in you not to turn around and grab him by that stupidly perfect jawline right then and there.

You slip through a side door that leads to a narrow hallway, the noise from the bar muffled by the heavy walls. The air is cooler here, the dim lighting casting long shadows that dance along the worn carpet. You can feel Quinn’s presence behind you, close enough that you can practically feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Where are we going?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that makes your stomach flip.

“Storage closet,” you say, not even sure where the idea came from, but it’s out now, and there’s no taking it back. You know the staff keeps some of the extra supplies in a small room down the hall, and it’s as good a place as any to… well, whatever this is.

Quinn’s chuckle is dark and throaty, sending another shiver down your spine. “Kinky,” he murmurs, but you can hear the approval in his tone.

You reach the door and push it open, revealing a small, dimly lit room lined with shelves full of bottles and boxes. It’s cramped, barely enough room for the two of you, but that’s probably a good thing. The last thing you need is space to think about what you’re doing, because if you stop to think, you might just lose your nerve.

Quinn steps in behind you, closing the door with a soft click. The sound echoes in the quiet space, amplifying the tension that’s been simmering between you both all night.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You just stand there, staring at each other, the air thick with unspoken challenges and barely restrained desire. And then, like a rubber band snapping, the tension breaks.

You’re not even sure who moves first—maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you—but suddenly you’re pressed up against the shelves, Quinn’s body crowding into yours, his hands bracing on either side of your head as his lips crash onto yours

It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s every bit as intense and heated as the tension that’s been simmering between you from the moment you met. His lips crash against yours with a force that sends your head spinning, and for a moment, all you can do is cling to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you kiss him back just as fiercely.

This is no sweet, romantic moment. This is raw, unfiltered desire, born from all the frustration and irritation that’s been building between you two for so long. It’s everything you never thought you’d want, and yet here you are, giving in to it completely.

Quinn’s hands are on you now, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. And maybe he can’t. Maybe you can’t either. All you know is that this is happening, and there’s no stopping it.

“Damn it, Hughes,” you murmur against his mouth, trying to inject some venom into your words, but it comes out more like a plea. You can feel his smirk, the arrogant bastard. He knows he’s got you, and it only makes you want to kiss him harder.

Or punch him.

Maybe both.

“Problem?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. His lips are slightly swollen, his hair disheveled from your hands, and he looks annoyingly good like this. All messy and untamed, like you’ve undone him somehow, when you know it’s the other way around.

You want to tell him to shut up, to stop looking at you like that, like you’re some puzzle he’s close to solving. But you’re too breathless, too overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. So instead, you grab the front of his shirt and yank him back down to you, your lips crashing together again in a bruising kiss.

He groans into your mouth, his hands slipping under your shirt, fingers skimming the heated skin of your back. You shiver at the contact, hating how good it feels, hating that he knows it too. You can feel his smugness in every touch, every shift of his body against yours.

And yet, you don’t stop him.

Because you’re just as guilty.

You’ve been wanting this—wanting him—even though you’ve been denying it, pushing it away, convincing yourself that you despise him. But the truth is, that hatred has always been laced with something else. Something darker, more dangerous. Something you’re only now beginning to understand.

It’s infuriating.

It’s intoxicating.

“You’re such an asshole,” you mutter against his lips, your voice tinged with frustration as you nip at his lower lip. You want to hurt him, just a little, to remind yourself that you’re still in control, that this isn’t just him getting what he wants. But when he groans in response, his hands tightening their grip on your hips, you realize that maybe you’re not as in control as you thought.

“You say that like you don’t love it,” he replies, his voice husky as he trails kisses along your jawline, down to your neck. Your breath hitches when he finds that sensitive spot just below your ear, the one that makes your knees go weak. He’s too good at this. Too good at getting under your skin.

You don’t want to enjoy this. You really don’t. But your body isn’t exactly cooperating, and the traitorous warmth pooling in your stomach isn’t something you can ignore. It’s maddening how much you want this, even as every logical part of your brain screams that this is a terrible, horrible, no-good idea.

But logic be damned, because the way Quinn’s lips are moving against your skin is making it very hard to care about consequences.

“You’re such a smug bastard,” you mutter, trying to inject some bite into your words, but they come out breathy, almost like a sigh. Ugh. Could you be any more pathetic?

Quinn chuckles against your neck, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I thought you liked that about me,” he murmurs, his voice thick. His hands slide up under your shirt, fingers skimming over your ribs, making you gasp. “Or at least, you like it enough to let me do this.”

He’s right, and that just pisses you off even more. You do like it—hate it, love it, whatever it is, you’re feeling it with every nerve in your body. You can feel his smirk against your skin, and it only fuels the fire inside you.

You yank at his hair, pulling his head back just enough so you can meet his eyes, which are dark and stormy with desire. “Don’t get cocky, Hughes,” you warn, even though you know it’s a losing battle. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

He raises an eyebrow, that damn smirk still plastered on his stupidly perfect face. “You keep telling yourself that,” he says, his voice low and rough. “But we both know you’re full of shit.”

“Full of shit?” you echo, narrowing your eyes at him, trying to keep your wits about you even as his hands roam over your body. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who’s all talk and no—”

Quinn’s lips are on yours again before you can finish the sentence, cutting off your words with a kiss that’s somehow even more intense than the last one. It’s like he’s determined to prove you wrong, to make you eat your words, and as much as you hate to admit it, he’s succeeding.

But you’re not about to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that. Not yet, anyway.

You push back against him, shoving at his chest just enough to create some distance, even though your body is screaming at you to do the opposite. His eyes flash with surprise, and you smirk up at him, a little breathless but still in the game.

“Easy there, Hughes,” you murmur, your voice laced with false bravado. “I didn’t say you could take control.”

Quinn arches an eyebrow, his lips quirking up into that infuriatingly smug smile that makes you want to both slap him and drag him closer. “Oh? I must have missed the memo where you were the one calling the shots.”

You grit your teeth, not entirely sure whether you want to punch him or kiss him again. Maybe both, but that would just be giving him the upper hand. Instead, you decide to hit him where it hurts—his ego.

“Please,” you scoff, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you speak. “You’ve been in my palm since the moment we met. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He lets out a low, amused chuckle, his breath warm against your neck. “Is that what you tell yourself when you’re fantasizing about me at night?”

Your stomach flips at his words, but you refuse to let him see the effect he’s having on you. Instead, you tilt your head, letting your lips ghost over the shell of his ear as you whisper, “In your dreams, Hughes.”

But as much as you’re trying to play it cool, you can’t deny the electric tension between you both. It’s like the air is crackling with it, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. All you can focus on is Quinn—his hands, his lips, his damn voice that keeps pulling you deeper into this mess.

His hand slides down your side, settling on your hip, and your breath catches when he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together in the cramped space. You can feel every inch of him, the solid warmth of his body, the way he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to let go. And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe you don’t either.

Quinn’s lips are back on yours, but this time, it’s slower, more deliberate. Like he’s savoring the moment, taking his time, driving you absolutely crazy with how good it feels. You’re so wrapped up in it, in him, that you almost don’t notice the way his hands are working on rolling up your shirt until it’s halfway up.

You pull back, just enough to look up at him with narrowed eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He gives you a look that’s all innocence, but there’s nothing innocent about the way his hands keep moving, sliding under your shirt, his fingers grazing your skin. “Just making sure you’re comfortable,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Comfortable?” you repeat, your voice coming out a little higher than you intended as his hands roam over your bare skin. “You think this is making me comfortable?”

Quinn leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “No, but it’s making you hot, isn’t it?”

Your breath hitches, and damn him, he’s right. He’s so infuriatingly right. But you’re not about to admit that. Instead, you try to muster up some semblance of defiance, even though you can feel your resolve crumbling with every touch, every heated look he throws your way.

“You wish,” you manage to say, but the words lack the venom you were aiming for. Instead, they come out breathy, almost like a plea, and you hate how much that turns you on.

Quinn grins, and it’s a wicked, knowing grin that makes your stomach twist in the most deliciously infuriating way. “I don’t have to wish,” he says, his voice a low rumble that makes your knees weak. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Before you can respond—before you can even think of a comeback—he’s kissing you again, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that makes your head spin. You’re drowning in him, in the heat, the intensity of it all, and for a moment, you wonder if you’re going to lose yourself completely.

But then Quinn’s hands are on your hips, lifting you up onto the shelves, and you gasp at the sudden movement. You grab onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes it hard to remember why this is such a bad idea.

“Quinn,” you murmur, trying to sound like you’re in control, like you’re not about to fall apart at the seams. But your voice betrays you, coming out shaky, uncertain, and Quinn hears it. Of course he does.

His hands slide up your thighs, fingers teasing the edge of your shorts, and you can’t help the way your breath hitches, the way your body arches toward him, desperate for more. Damn it, you shouldn’t want this—shouldn’t want him—but there’s no denying it now.

“You can stop this anytime you want,” Quinn whispers against your lips, his breath warm and tantalizing. “Just say the word.”

But you don’t say anything. Because you can’t. You don’t want to stop, not when his hands are on you, not when his lips are trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Not when every nerve in your body is screaming at you to let go, to give in to this insane, reckless desire.

Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him with everything you’ve got, trying to show him that you’re not backing down, that you’re just as in this as he is. Maybe more.

Quinn groans against your lips, and you can feel the way his body tenses, the way his hands tighten their grip on your thighs. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him, the way you can make him unravel with just a kiss, a touch.

But then his hands are slipping under your shorts, and your breath catches in your throat. It’s happening, it’s really happening, and suddenly, you’re not sure if you’re ready for this. If you can handle what comes next.

“Quinn,” you murmur, trying to sound like you’re in control, like you’re not about to lose it completely. But he’s not listening, or maybe he is, and he just doesn’t care, because his hands are still moving, still exploring, and you’re melting under his touch.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, and the look in his eyes is enough to make your stomach flip. It’s dark, intense, full of heat—and, damn it, he’s giving you that smug smile again, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice rough and breathless, a contrast to the arrogant tilt of his lips. “You good?”

Good? Is that a joke? You’re anything but good right now. Your heart is racing, your mind is spinning, and your body—well, your body is betraying you in every way possible, pressing closer to him, silently begging for more.

“I fucking hate you,” you manage to choke out, though the words feel flimsy, a pathetic attempt at maintaining some semblance of control. Quinn’s eyes narrow slightly, and you know he doesn’t believe you for a second. But instead of calling you out on it, he leans in, his lips brushing against your jawline as he murmurs, “Then why are you so fucking wet?” He punctuates the words by brushing his fingers against the damp fabric of your underwear.

Your brain short-circuits at his words. Like, did he really just—? You’re torn between the urge to slap that smug look off his face and the overwhelming desire to pull him closer, consequences be damned. The nerve of this guy, thinking he can just—

But then his fingers move, and every coherent thought you had goes flying out the window. A gasp escapes your lips, and you curse yourself for giving him the satisfaction, but, damn it, how are you supposed to keep your wits about you when his hands are doing that?

Quinn’s watching you, his eyes dark with amusement and something much more primal. “What’s the matter?” he teases, his voice a low rumble.

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to muster up some sort of retort, but all that comes out is a breathy, “Shut up,” which only makes his smirk widen. God, you want to wipe that grin off his face so badly, but every time you think you’re about to regain control, he does something that completely derails you.

Like now, for instance, when his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your underwear, and your hips jerk forward entirely of their own accord. Quinn’s chuckle is low and throaty, and you feel the vibrations of it against your neck as he nips at your skin, leaving a trail of barely-there bites that make your pulse race.

“Shutting up doesn’t seem like your style,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, making you shiver. “But I think I can find a way to keep you quiet.”

You don’t get a chance to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean because his hand finally dips lower, and suddenly, you’re not sure whether you want to moan or curse him out. Your body makes the decision for you, your head falling back against the shelf as a breathless moan escapes your lips, and you feel Quinn’s grin widen against your skin.

“God, you’re so fucking—” Your words get caught in your throat as he moves his fingers just right, and the sound that comes out of you is more of a whimper than anything else. It’s humiliating, really, how easily he’s reducing you to this—a writhing, desperate mess—and the bastard knows it.

“Sensitive, are we?” Quinn’s voice is laced with amusement, but there’s a huskiness to it now, a slight hitch in his breath that tells you he’s just as affected by this as you are, even if he’s better at hiding it. “That’s cute.”

“Cute?” you manage to gasp, trying to muster up some semblance of defiance, even as your body betrays you by arching into his touch. “I’ll show you—” Your words trail off into a moan as he circles his fingers just right, and suddenly, the only thing you want to show him is how quickly you can come undone if he keeps this up.

You're about to fire back with something scathing, something that’ll put Quinn in his place, but all that comes out is a breathy gasp as his fingers work a little faster, a little rougher, hitting that spot that has your entire body going slack against the shelves. God, if anyone walked in right now, they'd have one hell of a show.

"Something you wanted to say?" Quinn’s voice is thick with that damn arrogance, but there's a slight edge to it now, like he's barely holding it together himself. Good, you think. If you’re going down, you’re taking him with you.

"Y-you're…" You try to form a sentence, anything to wipe that smug grin off his face, but the words get tangled in your throat as Quinn’s other hand slides up your thigh, his touch hot and demanding. "You're such a…"

He smirks, his lips hovering just over yours, so close you can feel the heat of his breath. "Go on, sweetheart. I'm dying to know."

"Oh, fuck off," you mutter, but your voice lacks any real bite, especially when his fingers dip lower, making your hips jerk forward involuntarily. "Quinn…"

He pauses, his lips still pressed to your jaw, and for a moment, you think maybe—just maybe—he’s going to stop, give you a chance to catch your breath, to regain some semblance of control. But then he moves again, his fingers slipping past your last shred of dignity, and you let out a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a curse.

"That’s what I thought," Quinn whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I knew you couldn't keep that tough act up forever."

"Screw you," you hiss, but your words are cut off by another sharp gasp as Quinn’s thumb brushes over a particularly sensitive spot. "Oh, God…"

"Already there," he murmurs, his lips finding that spot just below your ear that makes your knees go weak. He presses a kiss there, soft and maddeningly slow, before pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, and you can see the barely-contained hunger in them. It sends a thrill of both fear and excitement racing through you.

"Quinn, I swear, I’m gonna—" you gasp as his fingers continue their relentless assault, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Or maybe I'll just—"

"Just what?" he presses, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to finish the sentence. "Come all over my fingers? Because that’s what you’re about to do, isn’t it?"

There’s a part of you—the sensible, rational part—that’s still trying to cling to some semblance of control, some dignity. But that part is losing, rapidly being overpowered by the heat pooling in your stomach and the way Quinn’s looking at you like you’re the only thing he wants in the entire world.

For a moment, you consider making some sort of last-ditch effort to regain control, to pull away and regain your breath. But then Quinn’s thumb brushes over that spot again, and all thoughts of self-control go out the window. Instead, a moan slips past your lips—loud and unrestrained, filling the tiny storage closet with a sound that’s undeniably needy.

Quinn’s smirk widens, his eyes darkening with satisfaction, and damn it, he’s enjoying this way too much. “That’s right,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “You’re gonna come for me, yeah? Or do you want my cock instead?”

Your brain is short-circuiting, struggling to keep up with the intensity of the moment. The idea of him inside you, combined with the way he’s touching you, is almost too much to bear. You’re on the verge of losing it, and every part of you is screaming for release.

Finally, you manage a breathless, “Fuck it,” and let your hands wander lower, fumbling with his belt, your body arching against his in a desperate plea for more. You don’t care about the consequences, the logical part of your brain completely overridden by the burning need coursing through you.

“I swear, if we ever make it out of this closet,” you gasp, your fingers struggling with the stubborn belt buckle, “I’m going to have a hard time looking you in the eye.”

Quinn chuckles, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But right now, I think your focus should be on something else.”

You manage to loosen his belt, your hands shaking with anticipation. The urgency of the moment makes every touch and every breath more intense. “And what would that be?” you retort, trying to keep some semblance of your usual sarcasm. It’s hard, though, when his fingers are still doing deliciously wicked things to you.

Quinn’s fingers trace teasing circles, making your breath hitch and your body squirm against him. “Oh, I don’t know,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet caress against your ear. “Maybe on getting me out of these pants before I lose my patience.”

“Geez, Hughes, such a gentleman,” you manage, your voice breathless as you finally get his pants undone. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. It’s a heady feeling, and it’s only adding to the feverish heat between you.

You push his pants down just enough, and as you finally free his hard length, you’re met with the unmistakable evidence of his own need. The sight makes you gasp, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

Quinn groans into your mouth when you reach inside his jeans, his hips jerking forward as if seeking more contact, more friction. You’re both teetering on the edge now, the line between control and complete surrender blurred beyond recognition. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, and you’re not sure if you want to keep pushing him or if you just want to let go and fall into the abyss together.

“God, you drive me fucking crazy,” Quinn breathes against your lips, his voice rough with need, and there’s a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—where you think you see something more in his eyes. Something deeper than just desire, something that sends a jolt of fear straight to your heart. But then his hands are on you again, pulling you closer, and whatever that look was, it’s gone, replaced by the raw, primal hunger that’s been simmering between you from the start.

You shudder as he grips your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just enough force to make you gasp. You can feel him, hot and hard against your palm, and it’s taking everything in you not to just give in, to let him take what you both so clearly want. But there’s still that stubborn part of you, the part that refuses to let him have the upper hand, that wants to make him beg, make him come undone for you.

“Say please,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

Quinn freezes, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours, and for a moment, you think you’ve pushed him too far, that he’s going to pull back and leave you hanging on the edge of oblivion. But then a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Please?” he echoes, his tone dripping with arrogance, as if the very idea of him begging is laughable. “Sweetheart, I don’t beg.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you stroke him slowly, deliberately teasing, watching with satisfaction as his breath hitches, his bravado faltering ever so slightly. “No?” you murmur, leaning in to nip at his bottom lip, your voice low and taunting. “You sure about that?”

Quinn’s eyes darken, and for a split second, you think you’ve got him—that you’ve managed to gain the upper hand. But then he’s moving, faster than you can react, pinning your wrists behind your back with one hand while the other yanks your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in a way that sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

“You want to play games?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. “Fine. But I don’t play fair.”

Before you can respond, before you can even think to respond, he’s pressing into you, his body solid and unyielding, and all coherent thought flies out of your head as he finally, finally gives you what you’ve both been craving.

The world tilts on its axis as he thrusts into you, hard and deep, and you’re not sure if the sound that escapes your lips is a moan or a sob or something in between. All you know is that you’re completely, utterly lost in him—in the way he’s filling you, stretching you, driving you to the brink of madness with every rough, relentless movement.

Quinn’s breath is ragged against your ear, and you can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment. You’re so close, so fucking close, and it’s taking everything in you not to just let go, to give in to the blinding pleasure that’s consuming you from the inside out.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Quinn groans, his voice strained, and there’s something raw, almost vulnerable in the way he says it, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest. “I’ve been imagining this from the first moment I walked in here.”

Your hands are still pinned behind your back, your body arched against the shelves, completely at Quinn’s mercy. And damn it, he knows it. He knows exactly how to push you to the brink, how to make you lose every ounce of control you thought you had. His movements are powerful, purposeful, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, until you’re teetering on the brink of oblivion.

“Quinn—” You gasp out his name, your voice shaking with the intensity of it all, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through you like a living thing. His grip on your wrists tightens, the roughness of his touch sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight through you.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your ear, his breath hot and ragged, and there’s something possessive, almost desperate, in his voice that makes your heart race even faster. “You’re fucking mine.”

And you’re so damn close, so close to falling apart entirely. But there’s still that stubborn part of you, the part that refuses to give in, to let him have all the control. So, you tighten around him, just enough to pull a sharp, choked-off groan from his throat, and you feel a surge of satisfaction as his rhythm falters, just for a moment.

“Fuck, you’re—” Quinn’s voice is hoarse, strained, as if he’s holding onto the last shreds of his control by a thread, and it sends a thrill through you to know that you’re the one doing this to him. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Yeah?” you manage to breathe out, trying to sound cocky despite the tremble in your voice. “Maybe you should—”

But you don’t get to finish the thought, because Quinn shifts his angle just slightly, and suddenly, he’s hitting a spot that has you seeing stars, that has your back arching off the shelves and a cry escaping your lips before you can stop it.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice, the triumph. He’s found your weakness, and he’s going to exploit it for all it’s worth. “Right there, yeah?”

All you can do is nod, biting down on your lip to keep from crying out again as he starts to focus all his attention on that one spot, his movements growing more precise, more deliberate. He’s relentless, driving you closer and closer to the brink, and you can feel yourself starting to unravel, to lose the tenuous grip you have on your composure.

“Quinn, I—” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, don’t even know if you can say anything at all with the way your breath is coming in short, desperate gasps.

Quinn’s chuckle against your ear is low and dark, the sound a tantalizing contrast to the rough, punishing way he’s moving inside you. “What was that? Didn’t quite catch it over the sound of you moaning my name.”

The arrogance in his voice is infuriating, but it’s also the last thing on your mind right now. Every thrust he gives you is like a jolt to your system, making it harder to stay focused, harder to cling to whatever shreds of control you have left. Your head is spinning, and you’re almost grateful for the way his body is pressed against yours, anchoring you in a whirlwind of pleasure.

You let out a breathless laugh, even as your body betrays you by arching into him. “You’re insufferable,” you manage to gasp out, trying to hold onto some semblance of your usual bravado. “And you’re really bad at this whole ‘being a gentleman’ thing.”

“Is that so?” Quinn’s voice is a low purr, his breath hot against your ear. “Keep telling me how much you hate me. It makes this so much better.”

You roll your eyes, even as a moan escapes your lips, the sound muffled by the way you bite down on your bottom lip. “You’re such a jerk,” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky and breathless, betraying just how much he’s affecting you.

“Yeah?” Quinn’s breath is hot against your neck, and you feel the brush of his lips against your skin, sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. “That’s not what your body’s telling me, sweetheart.”

You grit your teeth, determined not to let him have the satisfaction of knowing just how much he’s getting to you. But it’s a losing battle, and you both know it. Especially when he starts moving faster, his pace relentless as he drives into you with a force that has your entire body trembling.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your fingers digging into the shelves as you struggle to stay upright. “You’re—” Your words are cut off by a sharp cry as he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot inside you again that has your vision going white around the edges.

You don’t have time to think, don’t have time to process the fact that you’re completely, utterly exposed in a storage closet with a man who has made a sport out of driving you insane. All you can do is feel—every touch, every thrust, every ragged breath against your ear is pushing you closer to the edge, closer to losing the last of your control.

“God, you’re so… fucking… cocky,” you manage to choke out between gasps, your voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and desire. “It’s disgusting.”

“Mm-mhm,” Quinn’s voice is a low growl, his words vibrating against your neck as his teeth graze the sensitive skin there. “And you’re just an annoying brat who brushes me off every time I say something nice. But I figured it out, you just wanted me to rail all that attitude out of you.”

You try to respond, to counter his taunts with some biting retort, but all that comes out is a breathless moan as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more urgent. “Fuck, Quinn,” you gasp, trying to hold onto the last remnants of your control. “You’re—”

He interrupts you with a sharp, possessive growl. “I’m what? Don’t hold back now. Tell me how good it feels.”

Your head is spinning, your thoughts a jumbled mess of desire and frustration. “You’re a complete—” Another moan escapes you as Quinn hits that spot inside you again, making it impossible to form coherent thoughts. “A complete… asshole,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling.

“And you love it,” Quinn’s voice is a triumphant whisper against your ear. “You love every second of this. Don’t you?”

You can’t even respond, the pleasure overwhelming you to the point where you’re just barely able to hold onto the edge of sanity. All you can do is nod, your body arching into him, your hands still pinned behind your back, completely at his mercy.

“You’re so close,” Quinn murmurs, his voice low and rough. “So fucking close. I can feel it. And I’m going to make sure you get there. I promise.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you feel yourself starting to unravel, your body trembling with the intensity of it all. Quinn’s movements are relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the brink, until you’re on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall into oblivion.

“Quinn, I—” You try to speak, but the words are lost in a cry as he thrusts into you with a force that has your vision going white around the edges.

Quinn’s grip on your hips tightens, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “Come for me,” he growls, his breath hot and urgent. “Let go. Give it to me.”

And with those words, you shatter, your body convulsing with a pleasure so intense that it’s almost painful. You cry out his name, your voice echoing through the storage closet as you come apart, your entire world dissolving into a blur of sensation and release.

Quinn follows close behind, his movements growing erratic as he drives into you with one final, powerful thrust. You can feel his release inside you, hot and thick, and it sends a shiver through your entire body. He groans against your ear, his breath ragged and heavy, and you can feel the tension in his body as he finally, finally finds his own release.

The two of you are left panting in the aftermath, your bodies pressed together in the confined space of the storage closet. Quinn’s breath is hot against your ear, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your back.

“God,” he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. “That was… intense.”

You manage a shaky laugh, trying to catch your breath. “Yeah,” you agree, your voice still trembling. “That’s one way to put it. Now, get off of me. I have to get back to work.”

[ofstarsandvibranium]

A Day in the Life...

Fandom: Marvel (Actor AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Summary: You're hired to be famous actor, Bucky Barnes' social media manager. This is probably the best and worst job you've ever gotten because Bucky gives you free reign of his social media but also...you may or may not be crushing on Bucky aka your boss. Based off my imagine here.

A/N: this is 3,180 words because i refused to break it up into parts. anyway, ENJOY!

You press record and begin to narrate, "A Day in the Life of a Social Media Manager for a Super Big and Popular Actor *Working Title*"

You face the camera to you and continue to speak, "Bucky had some morning meetings but I wasn't allowed to film. So now here he is doing his daily workout."

You pan the camera to him and he says, "Hi," with a shy smile.

You snort, stopping the recording, "What?"

"This is..." he gestures to you and your work phone, "awkward."

"Then don't make it awkward! And hey, you said I had free reign! I asked your followers what they'd like to see and they say they want a glimpse of your daily life."

His brows furrow, "Didn't you just say this is a day in the life of a social media manager?"

You shrug, "The poll was tied to seeing your daily life and my daily life working for you. So I just decided to put the two together. Anyway, the title is a work in progress. We'll see how this does and go from there. Anyway, just ignore me. I'm not even here."

Bucky gets back to his work out. He has an outdoor and indoor set up. Because the weather was nice, he decided to do his workout outside...shirtless.

He goes to the lifting station, picking up some weights. You begin to narrate again, but this time in a Steve Irwin impression, "Right. Now watch as the esteemed actor gets ready to work out his arms in preparation for an awesome movie that I'm not allowed to mention."

Bucky lets out a chuckle, dropping the weights and looking back at you, "You filming a nature documentary now?" he rests his hands on his hips and smirks at you in a way that makes you want to melt.

You give a playful yet dramatic sigh, dropping your filming arm down, "Are you this difficult with your directors, Barnes?"

He shakes his head, "Nah. None of my directors have been as dorky as you."

You stick your tongue out at him, "Fine. I'll leave you to your workout."

"No, hey, I was joking! Don't leave me!"

You shake your head, "It's fine, Bucky. I'll leave you to it. I'll chalk up some other videos we could do. Also, the getty images from last night's premiere are up. Did you want to look through them before I post?"

He shakes his head, "I trust your judgement." he turns around, his bare back facing you. You stay and watch as he do a few arm curls and immediately rush back into his home.

"Get it together, Y/N," you mumble to yourself, leaving your boss to his workout.

________________________

During Bucky's fitting for New York's Fashion Week, you were allowed to take some behind the scenes pictures. You have a few candid ones of Bucky standing in front of a mirror, his stylist fixing his collar, and him looking at the different shoe options.

Then you included some goofy ones where he copies a pose of a mannequin, a selfie of you two showing of your shoe choices (his being very fancy and yours being your regular sneakers), and then a selfie of him wearing a pair of sunglasses without a lens.

You posted all of them after fashion week was over and his Instagram followers were LOVING it.

bbarnesfan: STAHP. he's so adorable.

xbucky-muncher: he went from serious to dork. get you a man who can do both.

notyouraveragebuckyfan: ok but him and his social media manager are so cute together???

bbarnesfan replies: they're literally bucky's employee. don't be weird.

notyouraveragebuckyfan replies: i'm just saying! they seem like they have great chemistry! have you seen the tiktoks and reels of them together?

"How come you put the candids and the selfies all in one post?" Bucky asks as he looks through the latest post you made.

You're scrolling through the analytics of the last tiktok you two made, one where he guesses if one of his characters said a specific line or it's made up.

You take note of the demographics, the comments, etc. to be mindful of for the next posts you make.

Without looking up from your laptop, you answer, "It shows people the different sides of you. How you take things seriously but you can also have fun with it."

He hums, "Lots of people think we look cute together." He says this in hopes of getting some sort of reaction from you.

You continue to work, not looking back at them, "Don't pay attention to those comments. The internet will make up all kinds of stuff."

Bucky's shoulders sag a bit as he replies, "Yeah. You're right."

You'd been working for him for almost a year now. He doesn't see you every day like he did when you first were hired on. Now you only come over twice a week to go over analytics with his team and to shoot some content. Most of the time, you work from your place and Bucky's been feeling more lonely ever since.

Your presence brightened his day and you provided a breath of fresh air on his busier days. He genuinely enjoyed your company and liked making content with you. He liked learning more about you, having meals together, and just being with you. He thought that maybe there was something there between you, but then he'd be reminded that you're his employee and he's your boss. It can't work out.

But there were some glimpsed of hope. You'd look at Bucky a certain way or make a comment that seemed a little more flirty. It had to mean something, right? But whenever Bucky tried to push a little more, you'd pull away and he hated it. It was so complicated.

He wanted you as more than an employee but his team clocked him on his feelings and told him not to fuck it up because you've helped Bucky's image immensely.

He can't fuck this up, not matter how much his heart yearns for more.

___________________________

"Hello, hello!" you greet Bucky, handing him his coffee as he lets you into his home. You've been working for him for over a year. It's one out of the two days you come over to do work with him.

His stylist, Michael, was nice enough to bring some clothes over for a TikTok video that you had which was "My Social Media Manager Picks Out My Next Event Outfit".

The next event that Bucky needs to make an appearance in is his friend, Nat's, movie premiere. The dress code is very formal so it's no surprise to see various kinds of formal wear.

What does surprise you is that you see a rack of clothes that you know wouldn't be for Bucky.

"Um...what's this?"

He grins widely at you, "Clothes for you to choose from."

Your brows shoot up in surprise, "Excuse me?"

"You said you've always wanted to go to one right? You're coming with me."

"As your social media manager?"

"You're not working the event. You're going as my plus one."

"Uuuuhhh..."

"You don't have to, but I was hoping to bring you as, ya know, a thank you for all the amazing work you've done for me this past year."

You can't help but snort, "Bucky, c'mon, did all of your usuals reject you or something?"

"You're the only person I've asked right now. Come on, Y/N, please?"

You want to. You really, really want to. But these past few months, you and Bucky have been toeing the line between a work relationship and something more. You're not sure if going as his plus one to the premiere is a good idea, especially since even more people have been commenting on your chemistry.

But Bucky's looking at you with those gorgeous blue eyes and he's pouting and he looks so cute, so how could you say no?

"I'll think about it," you reply and it seems to appease Bucky because he smiles again and says, "Okay. But I really do hope you'll go. It'll be fun, plus you've met Nat. She thinks you're cool."

You scoff, "There's no way Natasha Romanoff, the hottest and most popular actress right now, thinks I'm cool."

He shrugs, "Everyone thinks you're cool. It's hard to not like you, Y/N, trust me," he gives you a wink and it makes your cheeks warm up, "Anyway, so let's see what we got."

You wordlessly nod, going over to set up your work phone to begin filming.

________________________

You think you did really well with picking out Bucky's outfit. It was a royal blue velvet jacket with a black bow tie, and black slacks. Even Michael was impressed with your choice.

Even though you weren't working tonight, you still took some pictures and clips just in case. You took a video of the reveal of your look tonight and can't help but feel bubbly inside when Bucky wouldn't stop looking at you.

To distract yourself, you decided to take candids of Bucky getting his hair done after you were finished getting ready. He kept making funny faces at you, making you laugh.

After you both were ready, you took some mirror selfies, obviously, and sent them to Bucky afterwards.

You're in the car on the way to the premiere when you get a bunch of texts and notifications from people:

Wanda: I KNOW YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO THE PREMIERE BUT YOU DIDN'T SAY AS BUCKY'S DATE!

Pietro: good luck tonight! use protection! ;D

Carol: since when are you dating bucky barnes???

You unlock your phone but see a notification that Bucky tagged you in a post you didn't know he was going to make.

It was the mirror selfies you two took, with the caption: got the most gorgeous date on my arm tonight.

You immediately turn to Bucky, eyes narrowing, "James Buchanan Barnes."

"...I don't like how you just used my government name like that."

"Why would you post those selfies of us?!"

He shrugs, "Because we look great."

"And the caption?"

"It's true. You're gorgeous."

You groan and pinch the bridge of your nose, "Your publicist and manager are gonna kill me."

"No, they won't."

"They hired me to make sure your online presence is good and won't jeopardize your career."

"Nothing's gonna happen, Y/N."

"People already assume we're together because of how well we work together. It was fine to let them speculate because but that post will make things even worse."

"How?"

"People will think I'm a gold digger? That I got this job because we're sleeping together? I don't know! The internet makes up all kinds of fucked up reasons and I won't be able to get work ever again!"

"But is it so bad that people think we're together?"

"For you, it won't be bad. For me, it could be. So, please, Bucky, delete those photos before even more people see it."

Bucky's jaw clenches and mumbles out, "Fine. I'm sorry," he takes out his phone and you watch as he deletes the photos off his instagram. Tonight was supposed to be fun, but you're sure you just ruined it.

____________________

The entire night was awkward. Bucky did his best to still include you in conversations he had with friends and colleagues, but you felt the tension between you two. You did your best to enjoy it as much as you can. You saw Nat for a brief moment where you hugged her and congratulate her. She said she wanted to chat later but you didn't really expect much. This is her premiere and she has other priorities.

She proved you wrong, however, during the after party where she pulled you to an area for more privacy.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Um, good. A little overwhelmed, but, uh, tonight's been...fun."

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes at you, just like her character did in the movie, and you can't help but let the truth spill, "I freaked out on Bucky on the way here. He posted pictures of us that insinuate we're together and I don't want it to result in me getting fired and potentially never getting a job like this ever again."

"Yeah, I saw that before he deleted it. You guys looked cute. Also, are you two not dating?"

"What? No! He's literally my boss!"

She shrugs, "Could've fooled me. Anyway, there's something clearly going on between you two, right?"

"I, uh, I don't know what to say. Do I have feelings for him? Yes. But will I act on them? No. Again, he's my boss, I'm his employee. I really like this job too, so I can't risk anything."

"I feel like there's a 'but' coming."

"...but he's so amazingly funny, smart, hot, understanding, compassionate, and I just love spending time with him. It's so fucked, Nat.

She nods in understanding, "I know, hon. I'm gonna say the most cliche thing ever, but listen to your heart. I'm sure you'll find another job just as fun as this one, but to be with someone you click so well with? That doesn't come often."

"Hey, you okay?" Bucky comes up from behind, placing a hand on your hip and looking at you with concern.

Nat flashes him a smile, "Just wanted to catch up with them, but I've hogged up your date long enough, Barnes." she turns back to you, "Think about what I said, okay? Enjoy the rest of your night and thanks for coming," she hugs you and heads back out to the party.

Bucky nods to her and stands in front of you, "Did you want to stay longer or are you ready to go?"

"I think I'm ready to go for the night."

"Alright." you follow him out to the front where you wait for the driver to pick you guys up. He stands beside you with his hands in his pockets, wearing that gorgeous outfit you chose.

"I'm sorry again about the pictures."

"Thank you, I'm sorry I attacked you like that."

He shakes his head, "Don't be. I get why you did. But, um, we're good?"

You nod, "Yeah, Bucky, we're good."

"Good," he gives you a shy smile and then points at the upcoming car, "Our ride's here." As soon as the SUV pulls up, he opens the door for you and lets you go in first. He follows and the drive home is in silence.

_________________________

You're working in your little alcove at Bucky's when he approaches you, "Hey, I need to talk to you about something."

You turn in your chair and look up at him, "This doesn't sound good."

"It's good and bad."

"Um, okay?" you clasp your hands together in your lap in anxiousness.

"So...I'm hiring a different social media manager."

Your heart drops, "Wh-What? But-But I thought I was doing well. Your team said I was doing a good job. What happened?"

"You are, but lemme also add that there's another job already waiting for you."

"Bucky, I'm so confused right now. Are you firing me? Or contracting me to someone else?"

"I'm firing you because I can't date an employee."

You straighten up at his statement, "Excuse me?"

Bucky steps closer to you, reaching out and grabbing your hand, "It's just...shit, Y/N, you gotta know how I feel about you right?"

You bite your lip in nervousness, "Maybe."

He lets out a long sigh and run a hand through his cropped hair, "Listen, I like you. A lot. That's the real reason I wanted you to come with me to the premiere. I love spending time with you and I've been so much happier since you've started working for me. To be honest, I didn't know how much longer I could keep myself from wanting to be with you. So to still make sure your professionalism was in tact, I reached out to Nat to see if she was in need of an amazing social media manager and, luckily, she was."

"I'm gonna work for Nat? Nat wants me to work for her?"

Bucky nods, "She does. So you'll be working for her which means I'm not longer your boss. Which means...will you go on a date with me?"

Fuck it. Fuck it all. You held in your feelings for Bucky for so long and now you've been given a loophole to be with him.

"I like you too, Bucky. So much, I didn't say anything, obviously, because I wanted to remain professional, but fuck did you make it hard to not fall for you."

Bucky snickers with a smirk, "I can say the same thing about you." His thumb caresses the back of your hand and it feels so right.

"Have you actually hired someone to take over for me?"

"Not officially, but I have some applicants already. Why? Do you know someone?"

You nod, "I do. She just graduated college with a degree in communications with a concentration in social media. I can have her send in an application, but I one hundred percent vouch for her. She's done great work."

"Alright. I trust you, but I don't think I can find anyone who works as well as you do."

"I fucking hope not. Or else you might leave me for them!"

"Never," Bucky replies confidently with a softness in his voice and adoration in his eyes.

"So...about that date..."

_______________________

"Come with me to work for a popular actor!" Kamala narrates her latest TikTok.

"So Bucky is working on a new movie with Natasha Romanoff so for promo we're filming a bunch of different content!" Nat and Bucky wave at the camera.

"After filming all of that, they're off to a photoshoot. Here are some of the potential outfits they can wear." the camera pans to several racks of clothing.

"There's a lunch break and here's my lunch versus Bucky's lunch," Kamala's plate is pasta while Bucky's roast chicken, "The boss needs to bulk up for another role so he needs a lot of protein."

"And that's all that I can show you for today. Until next time, bye!"

You scroll to the comments and they're immediately flooded with"

you're not y/n???

wait, did y/n quit?! did bucky fire them?! no!

what happened to y/n?!

and so on.

You snort and show Bucky, who was cuddling you from behind, "I told you people would notice."

He peers over your shoulder to look at your phone, "Kamala actually had an idea for that."

_________________

"A Day in the Life of an Actor's Social Media Manager. Part...whatever. So we're doing more promo stuff for Bucky and Nat's new movie. But this time I'm also working with Nat's social media manager, Y/N! We're doing a What's in the Box Challenge and here's a clip of Bucky freaking out."

"IT'S MOVING! WHY IS IT MOVING?!"

"Also look at Bucky and Y/N. They're so cute together. And yes, guys, they're totally dating now which is why Y/N no longer works for Bucky. ANYWAY..."

[writingduhh]

listen im lowkey obsessed w the idea of schlatt x reader who doesnt stream or anything but is a guest on chuckle sandwich

Ok I LOVE THIS! My mind immediately went to when Charlie was still on the pod so hope that’s ok! (You can just pretend it’s tucker for all the tucker lovers)

Also, this is Fem reader!

Jschlatt || Podcast Cameo

You’ve always been a little outside the world of streaming and content creation. While your boyfriend, Schlatt, was making waves online, you preferred to stay in the background, supporting him quietly. You loved the privacy, the comfort of your normal life, and the knowledge that while he entertained millions, he came home to you.

But one day, that quiet routine was interrupted when Schlatt casually mentioned, “Hey, how would you feel about being on Chuckle Sandwich?”

You looked up from your book, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Me? On the podcast? Schlatt, I don’t even use social media. No one knows me. What would I even talk about?”

He grinned, leaning against the doorframe with that mischievous look you knew all too well. “That’s the point. You’re not like anyone else we’ve had on, and I think it’d be fun. Plus, it’s a chance for the world to see why I’m so obsessed with you.”

You rolled your eyes, your heart fluttering despite yourself. “Obsessed, huh? You’re laying it on thick today.”

“Can’t help it,” he shrugged, walking over to sit you, pulling you into his arms. “I just think you’d be great. Besides, you already know and like the guys. They’ll make it easy on you.”

You hesitated for a moment, then sighed, resting your head on his chest. “I don’t know, Schlatt. I’m not used to being in the spotlight like you are.”

He tilted your chin up, his gaze softening as he looked into your eyes. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right there with you the whole time. And if you don’t like it, we never have to do it again. But I really think you’ll surprise yourself.”

With his arms around you and that earnest look in his eyes, it was hard to say no. “Alright, fine. I’ll do it. But only because you asked.”

“Good choice,” he murmured, leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to show you off.”

The day of the recording arrived faster than you expected. You felt a mix of nerves and excitement as you walked into the recording studio with Schlatt by your side. Charlie and Ted greeted you warmly, as they always did, immediately making you feel at ease. They were as goofy and charming in person as they were on camera, and it wasn’t long before you were laughing along with them.

“So, what made you decide to put up with Schlatt here?” Charlie teased, leaning back in his chair as the recording began.

You shot Schlatt a playful glance, “Honestly? I think it’s his weird mix of sarcasm and sweetness. It keeps me on my toes.”

Schlatt grinned, resting his hand on your thigh under the table.

Ted jumped in, his voice full of curiosity. “So, how do you handle the whole ‘dating a youtuber’ thing? It’s gotta be pretty different from a regular relationship.”

You thought about it for a moment, feeling Schlatt’s thumb gently stroking your leg. “It is different, but it’s also kind of nice. I love that he has something he’s passionate about, and it makes the time we spend together even more special. Plus, I get to see a side of him that the audience doesn’t. A side that’s softer, sweeter… maybe even a little bit shy.”

Schlatt laughed, his hand giving your leg a light squeeze. “ Me!? Come on, you’re making me sound soft.”

You turned to him, your eyes sparkling with affection. “You are soft, sometimes. Especially when we’re alone.”

The guys erupted in playful jeers and teasing comments, but Schlatt just leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Keep talking like that, and I might just have to show you how rough I can be.”

Your breath hitched slightly, your cheeks flushing at his words. You shot him a look that was both amused and flustered, and he chuckled lowly, clearly enjoying your reaction.

The conversation continued, flowing effortlessly from topic to topic, with Charlie and Ted keeping the mood light and fun. They asked you questions about how you and Schlatt met, your life as someone without social media, and what it was like dating someone with such a large online presence. You answered honestly, with Schlatt chiming in every so often with a sarcastic quip or a teasing remark that had you all laughing.

At one point, the conversation turned to pet peeves, and you couldn’t resist poking fun at Schlatt. “He leaves his clothes everywhere. I swear, it’s like a trail of evidence from the front door to wherever he is.”

Schlatt groaned, but there was a playful look in his eyes. “And you’re perfect, huh?”

You shrugged, giving him an innocent smile. “Pretty much.”

The banter flowed naturally, and before you knew it, the recording was wrapping up. Ted turned to you with a grin. “You did great. You’re super entertaining. Ever thought about starting your own channel?”

You shook your head, laughing. “Oh, no. I think I’ll leave that to you guys. I’m happy just being the supportive girlfriend.”

Schlatt wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “And I’m more than happy to keep you all to myself.”

As the recording ended and the mics were turned off, you felt a wave of relief mixed with a sense of accomplishment. You’d done it. You’d stepped out of your comfort zone and had actually enjoyed yourself.

Charlie and Ted both gave you hugs, thanking you for being a guest. “You’ve got to come back sometime,” Charlie said with a wink. “We’ll make a regular out of you.”

“We’ll see,” you replied, smiling. “Maybe I’ll make a cameo every now and then.”

As you and Schlatt left the studio, he slipped his hand into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “See? Told you you’d be great.”

You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “You were right. I actually had fun.”

“I’m glad,” he murmured, his voice softer now that you were alone. “And just so you know, I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to show you off. I love that you’re mine, and I wanted everyone to see how amazing you are.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you stopped walking, turning to face him. “You know, for someone who tries to act tough all the time, you can be really sweet.”

Schlatt grinned, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer. “Only for you. Don’t go spreading that around.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he leaned in, his lips touching yours. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

[something-ricked-this-way-comesx]

Dick Prime

Warnings: (18+ only minors DNI), NSFW, 5k word count, fem reader, self- insert OC character, daddy kink, p in v, rick prime with feelings, big dick Rick, degradation a bit, rough sex, praise kink, marking kink, choking, orgasms, cream-pie, fingering, nipple play, manhandling, calling him God, age gap I guess

Hi guys, this is an excerpt chapter from a Rick Sanchez fan fic I have been working on - thought I'd share a little taste on here and see if I could get any feedback. This chapter in particular follows my self-insert, Aurora as she is kidnapped by Rick Prime - enjoy :) If y'all would like me to post and share my other chapters pls reblog or comment 💜

----------------

 I woke up in a unfamiliar place٫ my head pounding viscously as my eyes struggled to adjust to the room around me. This place kind of looked like some sort of space motel room٫ but I couldn't remember a thing from the last 12 drunken hours of my life - I clearly needed to dial back my drinking or just not let Rick bet he can out drink me. I’ve never won that challenge. He really does have the hardest working liver in the universe, that's for damn sure. I wondered if he was feeling the same٫ but I doubted he was even remotely feeling hungover since he was used to getting black-out drunk on the regular. 

I flicked my wrist out٫ wanting to portal into Rick’s shoddy bedroom where I could crawl into his sad excuse of a bed (which was really just a small sized cot) with him so that he could hold me tightly while we slept. That plan was quickly cut as I noticed my portal bracelet was no longer on my wrist and it was no where to be found anywhere near me - what the fuck was going on?

Then I realized where I was - the realization smacking me hard in the face like a fucking freight train. The elaborate sci-fi technical patterns covering every square inch of this room should have been a dead give away from the second I laid eyes on it٫ but I was obviously still too inebriated to use my cognitive functions correctly. I was in what I was 95% sure was Rick Prime’s lair - that fucking cocksucker. How had he managed to find me? Much less find a way to lure me back to where he's been hiding this whole time.

As I was taking in every inch of the room in search of any kind of weapon, maybe even some sort of weird sci-fi button on a wall that I could press and magically find a way out of here under Prime’s nose, I suddenly heard a voice behind me٫ the sound striking me so hard I jumped.

“Great you’re awake٫ care to join me for breakfast?” Prime’s voice asked as he nonchalantly yet menacingly stood in the doorway of the room٫ his shoulder leaning up against the doorframe.

“Oh fuck you!” I spit٫ words coming out of my mouth coated in venom like I was a snake ready to strike.

“Like you have a choice. It’s funny that you thought you did. Let's get something straight٫ you’re mine now٫ so it's best you learn early that you WILL do as I say or there will be consequences.”

“What do you even want from me? Wasn’t killing Diane enough for you?”

“Of course it wasn't٫ but you're not here so I can kill you unfortunately. You’re here because do you know how rare you are?” He paused٫ walking forward into the room causing me to back up back onto the bed like a frightened little mouse. Damn, his presence was so intense. He started pacing a bit٫ back and forth٫ arms crossed across his chest as he did so. He turned to me and looked me directly into my eyes before he started speaking again.

“Every conceivable Rick in the universe would happily serve their own balls on a platter for a little taste of what you have to offer - this makes you especially interesting to me. Not only are you one sexy piece of ass٫ you are a Rick’s gateway to so much unlocked potential.”

“Excuse me?” 

“If ‘wife guy’ was smart he would have stolen your research from you a long time ago. Do you know how long it took for me to find you? It makes me horny just thinking about all that untapped knowledge you have floating around in that brain of yours.”

 “Anything my Rick wanted from me he got because he asked for it. Sorry٫ but I don’t barter for things I created especially not to a sci-fi douchebag like you.”

“No one said anything about bartering. I’m simply going to take what I need via brain scan and then you’re going to put out like a good little girl because when in Rome.”

“My Rick is going to kill you ya know? You’ve taken enough from him and he isn’t going to let you take me too.”

“I’ve avoided him this long and clearly he hasn't learned his lesson yet. I’ve recreated the omega device and this time it can fire more than once٫ I’ll wipe out his entire family line he comes anywhere close to me. I’d kill you too if you weren't so valuable - you should be lucky that a guy like me finds any interest in anyone but himself.”

“You might think that you have me right where you want me٫ but I’m gonna enjoy watching my Rick kill you when he finds you and if you’re lucky maybe we’ll have sex next to your corpse.” I said٫ my words carrying through the air like poison coursing through my vascular system.

It probably wasn’t in my best interest to be taunting Prime the way I was٫ but I refused to let this son of a bitch have it easy especially when it was his dumb ass decision to kidnap me. He knew my Rick was looking for him and he knew he was getting close hence why he even bothered making such an elaborate take on his own already ‘overkill’ device. All that brain and this motherfucker couldn’t grasp the fact that killing peoples’ loved ones doesn’t really warrant being left alone. 

“You think I couldn’t just take you right here if I wanted to? I’d bend you over that table and destroy that tight little pussy of yours and I just might considering you have no idea when to shut that bitch mouth of yours.” He grabbed me by the throat as he said that٫ squeezing the sides of my neck hard as he pulled me up and close to him. If I didn’t hate this Rick - I would have thought this interaction was so hot٫ too bad it was Prime.

“I’d like to see you try.” I said before spitting in his face٫ which in hindsight might have been a mistake٫ but it was too late to take it back.

Prime still had me by the neck٫ but he sighed heavily before shoving me onto the floor - catching myself on my hands before I hit the ground. 

“Don’t even bother trying to use any of your cybernetics - I put a lock on all of your tech and good luck putting up much of a fight without it.” 

---------- 2 weeks later —--------

   Over the few weeks that I had been here٫ regardless of how much of an asshole Prime was٫ no matter what it was that I needed or asked (within reason) for he was quick to give it to me. He didn’t appreciate any of my back talk and if I overstepped too far he did with hold things from me as a punishment٫ but for the most part it seemed like his intentions with me weren’t entirely evil - something I not only found puzzling٫ but very difficult to believe was actually genuine.

I pushed the limits of what he would allow a little bit further everyday٫ hoping to gain his trust so that I would be able to either escape or find someway to get a message to my Rick. I still wasn't exactly sure where we even were in relation to the universe - the curve - or maybe we were outside it? It was hard to know with the very little freedom within this elaborate sci-fi base that I was allowed. The most I could do while here was think - run through multiple plans and assess the probability of success rate to each plan I thought of. Most٫ if not every٫ plan I had managed to conjure up was far from impervious to any snags or complete failure given then sheer innate ability of Rick Prime to always somehow be 10 steps ahead. 

Today felt different though٫ I couldn't explain it٫ but as I sat across from him eating the breakfast that he had prepared for me - I could feel a different kind of tension in the air.

“Do you want to know why exactly you’re so special٫ Aurora?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me even if I say no, so why the hell not?”

I was pushing around my eggs with my fork now٫ waiting patiently for his response. He kept telling me how ‘rare’ and ‘special’ I was to his grand design٫ but no matter how often he brought this up (which felt like constantly)٫ he refused to tell me how and why. Until now that is٫ which also struck me as weird.

“In order for you to even exist at all٫ Diane had to die you know? You’re familiar with the big bang I assume?”

“Nah٫ I just have a PhD in Quantum Physics for absolutely no reason at all - in fact٫ I just printed it off the internet completely fabricated credentials.” I said٫ the sarcasm clear in my tone as I spoke - I ran the risk of him punishing me for doing so٫ but he was usually lenient with my sarcasm since it matched his overt cynicism. It was my sharp tongue for disrespect and foul insults that really got under his skin.

“Well when I created the omega device to wipe out Diane٫ I didn't think to solve for any kinds of ripple effect that it might cause.”

“Meaning what exactly?”

“Well not completely unlike the big bang - the destruction of Diane’s life across infinity somehow resulted in the cataclysm that created X-258.”

“You’re saying you're responsible for me even existing? How is that even possible? Rapid succession in an inflationary epoch?”

“Precisely - well said. This means that without my omega device٫ you wouldn’t exist. How do you think ‘'wife guy” is going to react when he finds out that I literally made his new slam piece?”

“If you’re even telling the truth٫ which I suppose it is possible therefore also equally not possible by association. I guess given the rightly distribution of a negligible density gradient in order to deter the collapse into just a black hole and taking into consideration cosmic acceleration - I can’t disprove your theory٫ but that doesn’t mean you aren’t just bullshitting me right now.”

“As much as I love bullshitting and torturing other Rick’s for my own amusement٫ this is as real as real gets Aurora. You are only here because Diane had to die. You’re welcome and I’ll be accepting all forms of payment as a thank you٫ especially sexual favors.” 

“Wow٫ so my whole life is a lie - imagine that.” 

“You don’t seem too deeply affected by this revelation?”

“Did you expect me to lose my mind over a random occurring cosmological event? There was no way you knew your elimination of Diane would result in the formation of a universe that randomly produced me - so you did something by accident which is literally how 80% of all scientific findings usually occur. You aren’t special or interesting just because you managed to create a random event in spacetime - I do appreciate your massive need to milk your ego about it though.” 

“Spoken like a true Rick - which you are as far as I’m concerned. The most intriguing out of any possible iteration.”

“So what exactly about that makes me so valuable to you?”

“Other than the fact that ‘'wife guy” loves you٫ according to my advanced research using your brain scans and blood and tissue samples٫ I should be able use both to develop the infinite Rick serum which would make me immortal. I’m not referencing no low grade cybernetic٫ tech bullshit either. I’m talking real٫ invincible immortality. An actual God with the power to create and destroy whatever and whoever I want - 100% unstoppable.”

“Wow٫ who could have possibly guessed that the power hungry evil٫ emo٫ sci-fi Rick with a nondescript haircut would want something so nuanced and lame? If you’re immortal that kind of takes away from the pay off does it not? Not that doing anything honorably is a concern of yours of course.”

“So what do you think about giving your input on something for me?”

“Once again - why bother even asking if you’re just going to make me do it anyways?”

“I guess to give you the illusion of free will or just maybe I kind of like you - don’t get a big head about it though I would still kill you without a second thought if I ever needed to.” 

“Okay what exactly am I giving my input on?”

“I feel it may be best to just show you - meet me in the lab after you’ve finished your breakfast. Don’t keep me waiting long, it won’t end well for you.”

I rolled my eyes at his threatening tone as he got up from the table and left the room, I don’t know why I was so attracted to Prime the way I was - especially after what he did to my Rick, but I came to the ultimate conclusion that it was because him and my Rick were indeed so similar. The two Rickest Ricks in all of the infinite number of Rick’s that existed - the only two Rick’s to actually invent portal travel. In a way, my Rick only existed the way he did because of Prime’s destruction of his simple, domestic life. Prime was literally just my Rick without any sense of moral obligation and no matter how much I tried to convince myself that this fucker was bad and that I needed to distance myself - I simply couldn’t. I felt like my dna was so entangled up in having love for Rick that despite Prime’s obvious evil, I still loved him for simply just being a version of Rick. How fucked was that? Jesus fucking Christ - I needed out of here and soon before I really fucked up.

I finished my breakfast and headed out of the kitchen and into Prime’s elaborate sci-fi laboratory - this guy never did anything subtle that was for fucking sure and his attention to detail was absolutely infallible. He had something pulled up on the screen above where he was sitting and the closer I got, the more my eyes focused on the image. It was an image of me with a younger Rick, my Rick and Birdperson when we were together as freedom fighters on Glap-Flaps Third Moon. The Battle of Blood Ridge - this image was obviously a snapshot taken from my mind when Prime brain scanned me, but I didn’t really understand its significance to him. But, I’m sure he was going to tell me even if I didn’t exactly care to know.

“Blood Ridge?” I questioned, my arms crossed across my chest as I approached his sitting form and stood beside him to wait for his response.

“Seems like Nietzsche wasn’t totally blowing smoke out of his ass when he said that whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster -”

“And if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back at you. What does Nietzsche have to do with Blood Ridge?” I cut him off by finishing the Friedrich Nietzsche quote he was referring to.

“Well I’m so glad you asked Aurora…” He started as he pulled up a replay of Rick and I’s interaction with Birdperson after the Battle had been won. I watched the playback intently, hoping to see something within my own memory that maybe I hadn’t noticed before in order to try to put together a theory of where exactly Prime was going with this. 

-Playback from ‘Aurora’s Memory’ initiated-

Memory Rick: “Damn that shit was cash.”

Bird Person: “It was extremely bad ass. The Battle of Blood Ridge is over. The Federation lost. I am in your debt.”

Memory Rick: “Come with us.”

Bird Person: “To somewhere…nearby?”

Memory Rick: “Anywhere. E-Everywhere.”

Bird Person: “Rick, Aurora, I don't expect you guys to keep fighting, but this war is…”

Aurora: “Far from over…we know.”

Memory Rick: “Dude, we share this with almost nobody, but we could take you right now to this same battlefield, in a universe where we lost, or another where we won, or another where the war never even happened. All equally real, all equally unreal. None of it matters.”

Bird Person: “Then why did you help?”

Memory Rick: “Because I respect you. And I wanted you to know you could respect me.”

Bird Person: “Even though nothing matters?”

Memory Rick: “Okay. You matter... to me.”

Bird Person: “Uh, the relationship that we have…”

Memory Rick: “I NEVER used that word!”

Bird Person: “... is not worth my integrity…”

Memory Rick: “Oh, my God. It's not a complicated transaction, my man. "Would you like to join me doing awesome shit that matters?" "No, I would not. I would rather be a judgmental dork." Case closed. Really no need to drag it out.”

Bird Person: “If you need me, use the beacon.”

Memory Rick: “Yeah, I'm gonna use that beacon a lot. I hope... hope I don't wear it out. Come on Aurora, lets get the fuck out of here.”

—- Playback Finalized —--

“Okay, so what exactly does my memory of Bird Person rejecting my Rick have anything to do with you?”

“Seems allegorical in relation to how Diane died don’t you think? His rejection of me, Bird Person’s rejection of him, you either die a hero or see yourself live long enough to become the villain.” 

“Are you trying to suggest to me that my Rick has essentially turned into you? I hope you’re not because that would be absolutely nonsensical.”

“You see Aurora, your Rick isn’t all he’s cracked up to be either. He’s murdered hundreds if not thousands of innocent Ricks, he’s manipulated a version of our adult daughter to get a divorce, he sells weapons to hit men and other criminals, he Cronenberged my original dimension and left my daughter, my granddaughter and my Jerry behind to rot in a world that he ruined, he exploited and threatened to destroy a microverse that he created to control his fucking car, and the worst possible one he trapped all the people in his original reality into an endless mental time loop while their bodies still grew old. Your Rick isn’t and never was the saint you believe him to be - so why hate me for something so small in the grand scheme of things?”

“You’re literally the reason why he did most of that. I don’t think my Rick is a saint, I think he’s a sad, broken man who is trying his best to continue on in his life after losing the very thing he used to live for. What makes my Rick so different from you is his capability to feel and connect to human emotion - his wild callousness is just a front so he doesn’t have to feel the pain his life radiates. He has surpassed you in so many ways, but he will NEVER be the monster you are because he is capable of changing. You know nothing about him and even sitting here under the guise that you do is ridiculous. You will never be him and he will NEVER be you.”

“You’d defend him even if he was the one who killed your husband wouldn’t you?”

“My husband died because you killed Diane - because you accidentally created X-258 where my husband was killed in a freak fucking accident. To even insinuate such an asinine thought is in bad taste even for you. If anything, you’d be indirectly responsible for the death of my husband, big fucking shocker there.” 

“How would your husband feel if he knew you gave up on him to be with Rick?”

“My husband has been gone for 25 years, Prime and I loved him dearly when he was alive, but Rick, my Rick, is the love of my life. I don’t have to explain ‘love’ to you especially because you are literally incapable of ever fucking getting it. Killing your wife across infinity because some alternate versions of yourself pissed you off? The mother of your daughter - you have some fucking nerve.”

I was angry now, my words slicing into Prime’s direction like a knife and he was clearly getting upset with my tone towards him. I don’t know exactly what his end goal with me was - he had my blood and tissue samples, he had my brain scans. Why not just let me go or kill me if he got what he had said he wanted? Then it hit me. Prime was in love with me. A man that I had labeled as so incapable of feeling had some sort of feelings for me - what a fucking mind fuck that was to take in. I had made myself speechless as I waited patiently for him to say something to either confirm or deny my theory, but he said nothing so I spoke once more.

“You love me, don’t you? You have feelings for me.”

His silence after I said that was deafening and he quickly stood up from his place in his chair to grab my face in his hands roughly and smash his lips to mine. I knew it. He kissed me so roughly that I barely even had time to react, but once I was finally able to comprehend what was happening, I deepened the kiss. I was actually enjoying this despite how fucking wrong my moral compass knew that it was. He pulled away from me gently, his blue eyes looking me dead in mine before he said in a very demanding, yet hot, tone;

“Strip for me.”

And I did exactly as I was told.

—----------

 His hand bent around the curvature of my neck brushing it softly as he continued to walk around me٫ his other hand finding my breasts and taking a nipple into his free hand subtly. He rubbed the nub between his thumb and forefinger as he continued to eye me up and down with an obvious hunger in his eyes٫ his other hand snaking down my body slowly till it found rest on my hip gently pulling me to him as he did so. 

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered٫ his eyes glued to my chest as he spoke eloquently.

He was still fully clothed٫ but I was determined to change that - I reached forward and begun unzipping his jacket٫ him allowing it to fall to the floor as I pushed it off his shoulders. I found the hem of his long sleeve next٫ my hands creeping slowly underneath to touch his warm skin and my god his skin felt like I was touching pure electricity the more my fingers danced over his adorable blue happy trail to find a home on his belt buckle. I began undoing it roughly٫ pulling his belt through the loops in his jeans and throwing it elsewhere. I unbuttoned his jeans with my hands٫ quickly slipping my fingers under the waistband of his boxers where I longed to have his dick pressed up against any part of me.

I smirked up at him as I pulled him even closer to my naked body٫ his hands wrapping around me in all the right ways as I felt his extremely hard member pressing into one my thighs now. The length and the girth simply drove me insane as I continued to work diligently to undress him. He suddenly grabbed the back of my head with enough force to crash my lips to his٫ our lips melding together perfectly and I couldn’t help٫ but let out a small moan in favor of his wicked foreplay. The more he touched and teased me٫ the more I desperately wanted to beg him to just destroy me right there. I was so fucked. Fucking Prime. What was I doing? At this point I was too far gone to care - I wanted him and I wanted him BAD.

  I pushed his black jeans down past his jutted hip-bones٫ them falling down his tall stature to pool at his feet before he stepped out of them and led me back up against the wall. His fingers left my breasts٫ trailing down until they reached the very top of my mound - him allowing a single digit to pass between my folds to feel the abundance of wetness that I had increasing with each moment between my legs. 

“So wet for me already٫ such a horny girl for any Rick aren’t you?” He licked his lips as he pulled away from mine to speak٫ him looking me dead in the eyes as he said that - the lust obvious in his gorgeous icy blue eyes. 

“You have no idea how much I long for you to absolutely destroy me.” I whispered back٫ my fingers grappling the side of his boxers before pushing them off of him in one swift motion that now left him vulnerable and naked in front of me like I had been this entire time and ugh was it so worth the wait. 

Prime had so many scars littering his whole body٫ adding a sense of mystery and a hot toughness to his already sexy body. I felt guilty that I was about to do this٫ but he was still a Rick whether he was evil or not and holy fuck did his extreme callousness and his “I don’t give a single fuck” attitude turn me on even more. I was like putty in Prime’s hands right now and he was loving it. 

“I think I have a pretty good concept٫ but you have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are. If I could٫ I would put you on display so that everyone could see me destroy a perfect little pussy like yours. Holy fuck.” 

“You want to fuck me in front of spectators?”

“I want them to revel in jealousy over how I get to be buried in a perfect little thing like you.”

“They should be jealous of me too٫ getting to be a good little cock sleeve for your perfect and massive cock. I love the way you feel pressed against my thigh right now٫ I almost can’t fucking take it.” I whispered in his ear٫ rolling my hips so that I brushed myself up against his rock hard penis - it almost jumping after me over the sudden sensation. 

“Mmm what a good girl٫ stroking daddy Prime’s ego. I think it's high time I reward you for such good and filthy behavior.” 

He grabbed me harshly by the hips and lifted me till I was straddling his waist with my back up against the wall as he placed himself at my entrance. He parted me gently with the head of his dick before slamming into me so aggressively that I cried out as I felt him ram into my cervix hard as he stroked my g-spot on the way there.

“Oh my god.” I panted٫ holding on to him with a death grip around his neck and my fingers tangling in his powder blue hair as he continued to thrust up into me skillfully. 

“That’s right darling٫ I am your god.” He said٫ his lips attacking my neck and jawline with an abundance of sloppy kisses - him using his teeth to mark me however he wanted. The sweet feeling of the slight pain driving me crazy as I held onto him tighter - slowly rocking my hips in tandem with his getting a small moan from him in return as I bounced on his cock dexterously.

“It’s like universe literally created you just for me٫ the way your pussy just grips the absolute fuck out of my dick. Fuuck Aurora٫ no fucking wonder why “wife guy” is so obsessed with you٫ you take dick like a fucking champ.” 

“It's not hard when Rick’s have such dynamite dick game - I’ve never ever been disappointed by a Rick sexually.” I purred٫ gripping tufts of his hair and pulling hard enough to hear him moan against my skin. 

“Is that so, mmm you were so worth the wait.”

“I want you to come in me so hard that you see fucking stars, baby.” I growled in his ear as he continued to fuck me hard up against the wall, one of arms on the side of me bracing himself and his other hand was wrapped around my neck holding me to the wall tightly. I hadn’t noticed before now, but his ‘6,5” frame had me up in the air so high, holy shit - I felt like I was practically floating off of the ground at this moment. Damn the sex was good. 

He soon moved his arm against the wall in order to place his long, lanky fingers on my clit, abusing the nub gently as he continued to go in and out of me. He was watching his dick as he pumped his hips, a smirk plastered on his handsome face as he was enjoying watching his dick disappear inside of me with each thrust. I was moaning loudly now, thankful that we were basically in the middle of nowhere in space because I could have probably awoken a whole cemetery.

“That’s it baby, come for me.”

I could feel that he was close and my eyesight was starting to get blurry the faster his fingers worked to bring me closer to my own climax. 

“Oh my god - Prime - I’m - ahhhhhh Rick.” I moaned out as he pushed me over the edge, my pussy pulsating around his dick as he also released into me, burying his face into my shoulder as we rode out the highs of our climaxes together. Both of us sweaty messes as we tried diligently to try and catch our breaths from that  absolutely intense workout we had just finished.

Fuck. I seriously just fucked Rick Prime. Fuck. 

What had I done?

If you enjoyed this please give the full fan fiction a read - UPDATES EVERY WEEK - 💚

[broooooo]

Dronehood

____________________

In today's world , the world has been slowly taken over by drones, whether it was by force, choice or persuasion, men are being converted, covered in a shiny black latex, a second skin, a well built muscled body, constantly aroused and hard. The mind does seem to remain keeping the hosts personality, but there's a big focus of obeying the master and the pleasure of dronehood

At first the world was scared, but as the drone army expanded, it slowly became normal, as if it's a rite of passage for teenage, adult men. It's even become a kind of entertainment to watch a conversion happen, could inspire others , or worn them.

Then there's me

I am Aaron, 21, regular build, living in an apartment, IV never been opposed to the drone movement. It's interesting to watch.

Deep down I wouldn't mind becoming a drone myself, it genuinely sounds fun.

Iv watched my childhood friend, Jason, become one before my eyes, he had wanted it for a while, and decided to get a slow conversion, he wanted to experience all the feelings grow and build.

The conversion itself is simple, intercourse with a drone, you may or may not include leather articles of clothing such as gloves or boots for extra pleasure. When it's done, the new drone is given a serial number name, but can keep their human name for interactions with others, plus they can take off their head mask for easy identification.

I myself don't leave my room a lot, i just watch from my TV or the window, hearing it through my walls too at times. Jason's my roommate, but he's never home, he's busy converting others or just hanging out with other drones.

Somewhat makes me jealous, before his conversion , we were the same, locked in your rooms not doing much, it honestly is a better life for him, and I'm happy,

It's possible to request a drone conversion, many have done it, Idk why I haven't done it yet, I guess I want to keep my peace for a little while, but ik at some point it will get too much to bear and then I will know I'm ready.

_________________

It was a normal day for me, watching my conversions , and contemplating life. When suddenly I hear the front door open, I rush out to see him, Jason standing in the door way, his heavy leather boots stomping on the floor as he closes the door. He looks at me, I haven't seen his have a week's.

JASON!?* ITS been so long, how.. have you been?*

He smiles and embraces me in a hug

*Iv been well, I missed you*

My face goes flush red, as I hug him back.

His latex skin is soft and shiny , the feel of hard muscles, it makes my heart race.

We pull away and I ask*

What are you doing here Jason?* Don't you have missions ?*

Jason laughs and says * well I do live here, plus even drones need rest.*

I answer back"

Well that makes sense , yeah*

Jason goes sit on the couch to watch TV.

*mind getting me a sparkling lemon water Aaron?.

Oh? Ok sure , I'll make us both one *

I go the kitchen, fill two cups with soda and prepare to cut lemons, during all this my mind races with thoughts, the sudden appearance of Jason and the feeling of his skin, it felt great. I feel hot, almost dreaming of it

As I'm cutting lemons the knife slips and cuts my hand, breaking me out of my dream like state

GAH*

Jason turns and runs up to me concerned

Are you ok?*

I'm fine just cut my self.

I go to clean up the blood and find a bandage, but problem, we where out of bandages

*darn we're out of bandaids.

Well I have a suggestion*

I turn around to see Jason's bear hand outstretched holding a latex glove.

You took it off? Isn't that yours?

Don't worry, I get a new one, my body can create it naturally.

I look at the glove as I hold it, it's soft,

The glove has a healing effect to it, it protects us drones from major injuries.

Huh, convenient , as I smile* thanks

I put the glove over my disinfected hand, I move my fingers about feeling it, it was soft, silky and comfortable.

So this is how it feels?* I say

Yeah, it's quite the sensation isn't it?,

Very much so, no wonder many ppl become drones.

Jason helps me finish the drinks and we go sit on the couch together.

Have you thought about dronehood much Aaron?

I turn to him and choke a little ,

Have I thought about it? It's ALL I can think about xd* I say with laughter, I observe it happen from my room, since your never hear.

And before you ask, no, I don't think I'm ready yet.

Jason looks into this drink and back up to me, he leans a hand over to touch my shoulder,

He smiles and says, * when you're ready then, no force, I want you to enjoy it as much as possible.

I peek up, *I KNEW IT, you planned this, laughing.

You were always a trickster you, we both laugh

Well Aaron , I. Do hope you enjoy that glove, it will help you decide, I'm sure of it.

I turn to look out the window and smiles

*thanks, i-, will definitely have an answer soon I'm sure.

___________

Afterwards we hang out the rest of day, it was a fun reunion, full of talk and catching up untill sun down

We both go to bed , crashing instantly as I'd been so tired after today.

The next day Jason and I bid farewell as he leaves for a mission.

I'm left alone and go to my room , sitting on my bedroom couch

_____

Hm, planed or not, I'm happy I have this glove. I turn on the TV to watch some more conversions

I feel hot and steamy imagining it, before I know it I'm rubbing my bulge with the gloved hand , my dick getting erect from what pleasure I can muster,

And idea popped into my head, I head over to Jason's room, and my mind was validated when I saw them, an extra pair of leather boots,

*planned this too Jason? Well idc, thanks*

We happen to be the same size, even so is force my feet into them, the boots go up to my kne, tall and shiny, sliding my feet in, my heart and mind are racing , my dick is rock hard , the sensations are over powering, I lace them up tight, whist I remove my clothing.

I stand up to look to the mirror, naked with only a latex glove and leather boots on, the weight of the boots and the tightness, protecting me, I go to my bed,I start to edge off slowly, aroused to high heavens and enjoying it all. Whilst the sounds of conversions from the TV hum in the background.

I never realized it but the dream like state I was in of edging and leaking lasted 3 days, I was covered in pre, drooling and gooing out, the latex glove and boots has started to spread up my legs and arm, then came Jason, he stood in my bedroom doorway, smiling, he comes over and jumps on top of me, squeezing my nipples hard

I moan hard and leak over me

*ready Aaron?*

Laughing through the intense pleasure ,

*hehe yeah. Convert me friend* I'm ready*

Jason's glowing purple eyes look into mine,

___________

Jason's hard latex dick at the ready, and with a passionate kiss it commences, what felt like a. Eternity, lasted a week of slow intense sex and conversion. As I expected it all

By the end of it, we and the bed were wet in pre, drool and juices, through the days, the latex nanites from Jason's dick slowly transformed my body, spreading the latex all over whist giving my muscle to fit, the climax of the conversion was then.

Jason fucking my tight ass, we both prepared for it , cum

It was a screech of intense pleasure, black nantite filled cum sprayed in ropes out our dicks, lasting 69 minutes of constant cumming, fucking and kissing, and the cum pool around us and soak back up into our bodies, , strengthening the conversion.

When it was all over , we lay there together tired and in love

My eyes start to glow to an intense blue. My mind was reshaped and ready,

Looking to Jason's eyes I say.

* I am ready to obey , ready to spread , ready to cum alongside you *

Jason smiles and kisses me, *ik.. drone 6923..*

My eyes flash, * yes... My new name.. thank you..

Drone 8696..*

___________

In the end we two drones, continued to make out intensely, passionately, never running out of cum

Untill the next mission is handed to us, and. I join Jason on my first crusade, We will enjoy each other forever.

______

: D

I enjoyed this one , genuinely think it's one of my best works yet

Hope you enjoy it, fellow drones

[reindeerswillsavethisworld]

I think Danny Phantom fandom is absolutely sleeping on the sheer dumb bulshittery Danny, Sam and Tucker generate on the regular and it’s a fucking shame. Like, the three of them have exactly one (1) single braincell between them, and the only one to use it at least semi-regularly is Jazz. You literally can’t leave them for five minutes without them stumbling into some new bullshit every single time. Granted, a lot of times bullshit finds them first instead of the other way around, but by god will they make the situation worse. They run into the situations with the same reckless abandon the cockchafers fly into any solid obstacle in their way, and you’d think that at least one of them will be the voice of reason, and you’d be dead wrong.

Danny? He thought pranking a murder happy millionaire with a vindictive streak the size of Grand Canyon was a great idea. And then, like a moron, he decided to use equally murder happy government agency with a huge prejudice against ghosts and a vendetta against him, personally. Absolutely nothing that could go wrong with that, obviously!

(spoiler alert, things did go very wrong very fast)

Tucker? A valid choice at the first glance, except he is always down to commit crimes for either his friends or just for funsies. Remember that time he ran an obviously illegal babysitting scam business? Or that time when he brainwashed and then dimensionally displaced the whole school into Ancient Egypt setting? Another notable instances of Tucker being a menace, in no particular order: organised o pro-meat protest in a few hours, tried to shoot a ghost with his phone as a projectile (and succeeded), sold Sam out to a ghost out of sheer pettiness, gave Skulker an alarm-induced ptsd, almost killed Danny that one time (don’t worry, Danny was fine) and in general committed to being bullshit-enabling gremlin.

Now Sam would seem the most grounded and reasonable out of three of them, but it is what SHE wants you to believe. She is just as, if not more, unhinged as the boys, she just hides it better. Remember that time she trashed the castle and antagonised a few dozen of armed guards, while having no back up, no weapons, no allies and while being in some shithole in the Ghost Zone? And then basically told a tyrannical asshole with op dragon powers “fuck you and your entire kingdom” in the face? And then rode another dragon who put said asshole through a wall? Good times.

They all seem like perfectly reasonable people at the first glance, and then Tucker and Danny would dare each other to lick that weird glowing green rock, and Sam would roll her eyes and groan about how stupid boys are, and then Tucker would dare her to lick that glowing rock too, and Danny will say, “Come on, Tuck, it’s okay if she’s too afraid to do it-”, and yes, Sam and her mother have many disagreements on a lot of things, but both her mother AND Granny did not raise a fucking bitch, move over, Tucker, or so help her the spirit of Pandora-

They all end up absolutely miserable in ecto-containment units sick as hell with ecto-flu and on all questions answer that no, they don’t know how this happened, maybe it was ghost attack last week, they did get blasted by that green goo, after all, but really, they have absolutely no idea, honest. Jazz suspects something, but she also has no proof and therefore can’t prove anything. In the end, it was one of the worst weeks in their life and they all ended up swearing to not do it ever again.

(they do end up doing it again two months later)

[violet-fluff]

Levi x Pregnant! Reader AU

An Unexpected Gift (pt.2)

Part one

Masterlist

“Soooo…what made you want to come in on another day off? Saving up for a vay-cay?” Hanji knudges your arm as you fold some clothes.

Your childhood friend, Hanji, owns the local thrift store in town, Hand-Me-Down Hanji’s.

Only taking in the best furniture and the most trendy clothes, Hanji’s small business continues to boom. Almost rivaling the regular retail stores.

“I’ve just had a burst of energy lately. Might as well put it to use.” You tell her, trying not to instinctively poke your stomach where your little burst of energy resides.

Hanji raises a brow. “You’re not doing drugs are you?” She throws her hands up when you side eye her. “I’m kidding! So testy lately!”

Hanji takes a granola bar out from under the desk, unwrapping it and practically eating the bar whole. “I hope people start leaving for lunch soon. I’m starving.”

Your vision tunnels in on Hanji eating. The graininess and bleak color of the granola bar makes your stomach turn. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Hanji watches as you try not to make an obvious run for the toilet, her brows furrowing in suspicion.

Once you lock the bathroom door behind you, you kneel forward and release heavy vomit into the bowl. You heave and gag as it seems your stomach did not want to stop twisting and turning, even when there was nothing left in it.

“Please stop.” You whisper as you rub your stomach, trying to communicate your plea to your baby who has a weird distaste for granola apparently.

After a few more minutes of dry heaving, you stumble to your feet and look in the mirror to clean up.

Pale skin, watery eyes and a runny nose stare back at you. With a sigh, you flip on the faucet to rinse off your face, a small smile forming as the water cooled you down.

Happy with how you cleaned yourself up, you jump in surprise when Hanji is leaning against the wall as soon as you open the door.

“Jeeze, you could have knocked if you needed to pee.”

Hanji adjusts her glasses. “Now from my observations…I think you may be pregnant?”

Your eyes widen and you nod your head back in shock. “Pregnant? What are you talking about?”

Hanji follows you back out to the store. “Well, you don’t exactly vomit like a cute anime girl. I heard you hacking and heaving in there. Along with your sudden burst of energy, moodiness and strange food choices…I think you may have forgotten I was studying to be a doctor before I chose the simple life.”

You rub your head with irritation. “Ok, Hanji, you’re right. I’m pregnant. Congrats to me.”

“Now is this unhappiness due to you being annoyed with me, or not being happy with the pregnancy?”

Tears well up in your eyes and a frog catches your throat. “What do you think?”

Hanji’s face drops in sympathy. “How about I close up shop and we can talk?”

After giving the last customer an “I’m sorry” coupon, Hanji flips the sign to “closed” for the day.

She plops herself on the fitting room couch next to you. “Alright. So…pregnant?”

You twiddle your fingers as you look down. “Yes. About four months now.”

“Four?!” Hanji asks in shock. “I guess you have been wearing looser clothing. Well, how do you feel about this?”

You look up at her with a small smile. “Happy for the most part. I mean, I know we didn’t agree on having kids, but I want my baby.”

Hanjis face lightens up. “Ok, ok! That’s great! I’m glad you’re happy regardless of the circumstances. I bet Levi is excited as well.”

“Well,” Tears start flowing as the water works gear up, “He left.”

Hanji’s mouth flew open in disbelief, her voice stuttering as she didn’t know what to say. “Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry. How long ago did he leave?”

“When I found out. So a month ago.”

“A month?! You’ve been alone for a month?!” Hanji repeats in anger. “Some husband he is for leaving his pregnant wife.”

You shrug your shoulders. “I mean, he didn’t ask for this. He got a vasectomy so he wouldn’t have kids, so I get why he’s upset that it failed. I haven’t talked to him, but the landlord said he’s still paying the rent so he cares somewhat.”

“Do you know where he is?”

You shake your head. “No. He took some of his stuff when I was here at work, and he still hasn’t answered my calls or texts.”

Hanji sighs. “Did you want me to stay with you?”

“No, it’s ok. I’ll be fine. If I need anything you can just come over.”

After your talk with Hanji, you felt a lot better knowing someone close to you was happy about your pregnancy at least.

You take in the nice breeze as you walk home, wishing Levi were by your side so you can hold his hand and watch the sun go down.

Pregnancy causes you to lose your breath faster now, so finally making it to the door of your apartment had you ready to kick off your shoes and lay in bed.

Except when you unlock your door, you feel a hand go over your mouth.

“Walk inside. Hurry up.” The guy holding your mouth closed orders.

You quickly shuffle inside and you get thrown onto the couch.

“Stay there. Don’t make any noise.”

You cry as the masked man waves a gun at you. His partner hurrying around the apartment, grabbing anything valuable.

“Man, hurry up!” He grumbles to his partner as he watches you cry in the corner of the couch.

These burglars are quick and quiet as they rummage through your place. The one rummaging around fills his bag with who knows what of your belongings and gives the guy holding you at gun point a nod.

“What should we do with her now?”

You wave your hands as you start to sob. “Please! Please I promise I won’t say anything! I just found out I’m pregnant!”

“Man, let’s just leave her alone.”

The guy with the gun grabs your hair as you yelp in pain. “She’s going to say something!”

The other guy waves him to the door. “Dude stop. Just…knock her out or some shit.”

Your eyes widen when you see the butt of the gun fly towards your face.

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Apparently, all it takes for a doomed man to feel hope again is bad flirting and corny jokes. Or maybe it's about the comforting presence of someone he loves?]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Whether Gale wants it or not, he's a quite predictable person. His reliability seems to extend far enough for you to always be able to correctly guess where he might be when the wizard is not near his tent. Although his tendency for routines might be mistaken for something dull, you've always thought of it as somewhat comforting - that among all the chaos that your life has become, there's a sense of regularity; the comfort of knowing how to navigate certain situations.

Just as you knew he would, Gale is sitting by the riverside. His back is slouched as he mindlessly reaches to grab a blade of grass, tear it off, and let his fingers play with it. Brown eyes would be intently staring at the flowing stream if their owner wasn't so lost in thought.

He hears you coming, dry leaves crumble under your feet but he makes no effort to look over his shoulder. Maybe you're actually a wild raccoon that will finally put him out of his misery... On second thought, that is a rather pathetic end for a wizard as great as him. To die by a raccoon. Ha!

"Hey handsome, come here often?" you ask as you sit down next to him.

Gale's robes once smelled of musty books and seawater but during your travels, they have lost their original fragrance in favour of a fresh aroma of pine needles, campfire smoke and herbal medicine. It gave him an "edge", if such a word could coexist with the wizard's homebody way of life.

"Only when I wish to wallow in pity," he answers. Although it's fleeting, almost secretive, you do notice the glance he gives you.

You raise an eyebrow at his response. "And that's often?"

A sad chuckle rumbles in his chest. Gale looks down at his fingers, for the very first time studying what his hands do with the long blades of grass. "A lot more than I'd like to admit." He actually bothers to make himself sound light-hearted but the dread eating him up has already soaked into his words.

You put your elbow on your knee and rest your chin on top of your hand. The new angle allows you to see more of his face, not that it changes your impression. Something's eating him up. "Is this what pretty wizards frequently engage in? I think I ought to update my schedule."

He looks almost like a painting, you think. The one a cleric would put up at the temple, a depiction of martyrhood in the name of something greater. Normally, you'd shrug at the thought of some poor sod thinking that making themself suffer will somehow please their god. It sounds like a questionable freedom of choice at best. But in Gale's case, you can't just shrug. Not anymore. Not since the two of you made it very obvious there's nothing platonic going on.

"I think you'll find that a moping wizard is hardly treasured company."

"Then maybe I should help him stop moping." Playfully, you bump your shoulder into his.

A sad smile graces his face. His brown eyes give you a quick glance again. Gale just can't help his longing. "As much as I appreciate the thought and the effort," he tries to sound unbothered, "my troubles already take up enough of your time. The others might want to have a word with you too."

Not a thing about Gale's statement surprises you. He's always wearing a facade of "Don't worry about little old me" but having gotten closer to the man, you know he's far from that - he wants someone to worry, only doesn't have the pride to ask for that. Part of him probably thinks he ought to earn the right to take up the space in someone's mind. How silly.

Gale's eyes return to you when he sees your fingers sneaking between his hands and a blade of grass he was playing with. No matter what he might say and how laid back he attempts to appear, all of his half-hearted bluffs dissipate when he forms a tight grip around your fingers.

"And I want to have a few words with you," you tell him in round terms. "Well, I want to have many things with you but I guess I can settle for a good old-fashioned conversation."

"I, erm..." he hangs his voice at your allusion. The blush on his cheeks is barely visible in the darkness of the night but you can tell it's there - his whole body is suddenly on fire. Gale clears his throat. "Enlighten me, then! What sort of lexicon do you wish to bestow upon me?"

You can't help the whole-hearted chuckle that leaves your lips. "You're really adorable when you talk all sophisticated." Gale laughs nervously at the compliment and he's just about to say something back but before he gets the chance, you reveal the truth about your arrival. "On a more serious note, I didn't have any endgame plan. I just thought that I'm going to ask you what's on your mind and no matter what you answer, I'm going to bless you with my presence until one of us falls asleep."

For the first time this evening, Gale's eyes linger on you for a long while. Although his initial embarrassment at your boldness is now gone, a sense of nervousness lingers. But do not misunderstand - it's a welcome kind of tension; the anxiety of holding something dear and fearing breaking it. "I'd very much like that," he answers. A small smile of genuine happiness curves his lips.

Gale momentarily tenses up when you lay your head on his shoulder. Then, as though paradoxically a weight has been lifted from his back, he finds himself sighing.

Strangely enough, he feels... calm. Too caught up in his thoughts of impending doom and past failures, Gale has been oblivious to the good things in his life. Especially in the present. He tries to grasp at the fleeting thoughts he had been pitifully entertaining for the past hour or so but they escape his focus. Now that each of his breathes is filled with the smell of campfire smoke and fragrant oils that stuck to your skin, the doom that had been haunting him before dissipates like storm clouds blown away by the wind. Part of him wants to laugh - the morbid scenarios that once rendered him sleepless seem so trivial now. Gale was dealt a bloody difficult hand, yes, but that doesn't mean it's impossible to play it, does it?

He's known hope for a long time but only now does he see her. And what a wonder it is that she's wearing your face.

[anon-sect]

I love that ur posting so much! Could you turn me into a jockstrap too

Picture Source: @hotmen-addiction

Jacob loved going to the gym on a regular basis, but he had one issue. There was one guy who kept looking his way every time he was there. Yet, the guy never approached him. He didn't know if the guy was too shy or scared to come up to him. He decided to take the initiative.

"What's up? My name is Jacob. What's yours?" He asked him to end the awkward staring at him. He reached his hand out for a hand shake.

Leon was surprised his gym crush came over to him. He shook his hand. "I am Leon."

Jacob wanted to take charge of the situation. "Now that the greetings are out of the way. I want to know why you keep looking at me." He was up front in bringing up the main reason for him coming over.

Leon saw how up front he was. He decided to do the same. "I think you are hot, honestly." He told him.

Jacob figured may as well have a little fun with the situation. "I appreciate that, but you could have easily approached me. I don't bite." He paused. "Anyway, come back with me to my place. And I can show you some real fun. What do you say?" He offered. He saw Leon nod. "Follow me then."

Leon followed Jacob to his car. Once the car was unlocked, he got in the passenger seat. He rode with him to his home. Jacob had promised to bring him back to get his car sometime afterwards.

Once at Jacob's place, Leon followed him to his bedroom. "Maybe I should take a quick shower." Jacob suggested, but Leon didn't want that. "No need. I don't mind a little sweat." He remarked. Jacob removed his shirt. Leon thought his tattoos were great. He began to rub his shoulders and bite gently on his nipples. He could tell by the moaning that Jacob loved it. As he switched from nipple to nipple, he felt Jacob's cock get hard. "Go down and suck it, now." He heard Jacob tell him.

Leon went low and pulled down his shorts and began to suck his cock. The more he went in and out, the harder it got. After a while, Jacob brought Leon up to him and kissed him. "Now it's my turn." Jacob told him.

Jacob turned Leon around. He grabbed some lube and dab some into Leon's ass. "You ready for this cock, boy?" He asked. "Yes, daddy." Leon replied. Jacob went in gently at first, in and out. He loved the way his ass felt. As the hole opened up more he began to get a little rough. He could tell Leon could take it. Leon moaned with excitement as Jacob was tearing his ass up with his cock. He finally cummed in his ass. It felt so good. "I think I will keep you, boy. You was really good." Jacob spoke.

Leon didn't know what he meant till he noticed he was shrinking, very rapidly. His body began to change form and rap around Jacob's waist. Within moments, his human form was gone. His face was filled with Jacob's crotch. "Damn boy, you make an even better jockstrap. I am definitely keeping you. I hope you don't mind. Even though you really don't have a choice." Jacob laughed as he admired his new jockstrap. He leaned up against the wall loving his new article of clothing.

Leon had a crush on the guy. It was an honor to serve as his jockstrap. There was no greater pleasure than this for him. He honestly hoped he would keep him forever, especially after the good sex he just had with him. Now, he gets to see his crotch in his face for the rest of his life.

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Professor Tom Riddle x male reader where Tom becomes some sort of a parental figure to reader? Pretty please with a cherry on top? 😔🤞

Injured - Prof. T. R. x platonic male!Reader

A/N: I hope this is along the lines of what you were thinking of. I had a really hard time coming up with some Prof. Riddle fluff for some reason. It’s unedited, with no use of Y/N

CW: mentions of injury, boasting, platonic banter, fluff

503 words

“Professor!” You immediately brighten as Professor Riddle makes his way through the labyrinth of hospital beds. “I almost thought you wouldn’t show up!”

You’re Tom’s favorite student; an overachieving boy with a bit of a prideful personality, just like him. It makes you shine in the classroom, but pale in other areas.

Such as your quidditch skills.

You’re in the Hospital Wing for an injury to the ribs after a particularly grueling quidditch game. You’ve been in for a few days, and Tom has shown up at least once each day.

It’s becoming a bit of a regular thing, him coming to visit you. You’re sure you’ll miss it when you’re healed.

“How are you feeling today?” he greets you, moving to sit in the chair next to your bed. “You look much better since yesterday.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug dismissively, then wince at the pain in your ribs. “What can I say? I’m a fast healer.”

Tom’s mouth twitches in amusement. “Quite on the contrary, you heal slower than the rest of your team.”

“Well, I’m the one who took a bludger straight to the ribs.” You cross your arms defensively, careful not to disturb the bandages around your chest. “Maybe it’s a wound that needs more time to heal.”

“Maybe…” He arches an eyebrow, a sure sign he’s about to tease you. “Or maybe you’re not the best at everything.”

You gasp, then cough a little as the sharp inhale sends starbursts of pain through your ribs. “Don’t you dare! I am the best at everything I do! I am the ultimate champion at life!”

Tom coughs into his fist, clearly trying to hide a laugh. “Oh, are you?”

“Don’t deny me my title! I will defend it with my life! It is mine by divine right!”

You’re fully prepared to go off on a rant about just how awesome you are, when a look from Madame Pomfrey shuts you up.

“But,” you mutter hastily, “I’ll do that some other time.”

Tom chuckles, and rests a hand on your shoulder. “A wise choice. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

You grin. “Thanks, Prof. You always do know how to cheer me up.”

He gives you an amused smile and settles back into his chair. “I brought the next book in the series you’re reading, if you care for me to read it.”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, yeah! That would be great!”

You lie back in your bed, getting as comfortable as you can as he pulls out the book. As he begins to read, you close your eyes, letting his smooth, engaging voice wash over you.

Before you realize it, you’ve fallen asleep, dreaming of a quidditch game where you win the House cup and achieve victory for your team.

Tom watches you sleep for a moment before getting up. He leaves the book by your bed, turning to leave.

With a nod to Madame Pomfrey and one last watchful look over you, Professor Riddle leaves the Hospital Wing, secure in his knowledge that you are healing just fine.

[starrysharks]

alright, here it is: ZENO'S COLOR GUIDE 3.0 !

here, i'll have three "chapters" regarding color:

CH1: how i color in illustrations

CH2: color and character design (in zeno's case)

CH3: how zeno makes his colors cooler

CH1: HOW I COLOR IN ILLUSTRATIONS

it must be noted that, as of lately, i heavily use halftones in my art and the way i use them for gradients effects my color choices. of course you don't need to use halftones if you don't want to, as it's just my personal choice, but anything regarding halftones here could (probably) also apply to regular gradients!

when choosing colors in an illustration, i usually have three things in mind: mood, character, and contrast. we'll be using "gloomy bunny naptime" as an example here.

MOOD: what's the vibe of the piece? for example, here in "gloomy bunny naptime", wanted a mellow, sleepy vibe, so purples and pinks seemed like the best choice. these colors also have a dreamy effect due to being common in real-life early mornings/summer nights - basically, i tend to use associative colors in illustrations.

i usually only use a pallete of 3-7 colors, though of course more characters calls for more colors. for multi-character pieces, i would actually make a "rainbow" of colors based on the mood of the piece - essentially, a bank of colors to use for your colorful casts based on the actual rainbow. you can alter this based on the saturation levels you want! hope that makes sense. i'm not the best at this though, so i would heavily recommend looking for guides from artists who are more skilled in that department.

CHARACTER: velvet is the focus of the piece, and as a character her palette is made up of many purples and pinks. of course, it's easier because she and ribbon both have similar designs, but i would still recommend using colors based on/complementary to the focus character's pallete, though this is a rule that can and should be broken if needed. gradients can be used to provide a smooth transition from color-to-color and add depth to the piece, as well as showcase velvet's pallete. when making any gradient, you probably want to have a vibrant middle color. this is difficult to achieve in most art programs, so i'd do it like this:

you can use gradients in lots of cool ways to make stuff pop! (i think this collage shows i use too much purple and pink though.)

CONTRAST: the context of the piece also aids the color through contrast. (that's a lot of Cs!)- we see that velvet is just waking up, and the light from her switch is glowing brightly. i wanted to convey something like her switch suddenly turning on in the middle of the night, waking her up - so the console emits "light" in the form of illuminating the contrasting color of pink against the purples. it might seem specific to this piece, but what i'm trying to say is that contrasting colors can lead the eye to the focal point of the piece, that being velvet herself. because a great deal of the rest of the piece is dark, we look at the contrasting switch screen - the brightest thing in frame - and our eyes move around and up to take in the focal point character. at least that's how i wanted it to be ;w; i guess you could convey it as something like this?

CH2: COLOR AND CHARACTER DESIGN (IN ZENO'S CASE)

this is where i start to get annoying, so stand back! when deciding on colors for a cast of characters, there are many factors: time period, variety, personality, and more that i can't think of.

TIME PERIOD: this one is simple. for example, a futuristic time period (such as that in x-calibur) calls for colder colors, such as greens and blues. for characters involved in futuristic professions such as space exploration, this works incredibly well. for modern time periods, less focus can be on colors and more on the shapes of the clothes, but this is not a shapes tutorial! i don't have any ancient times oc stories, but i'd probably use earthy and warm tones.

VARIETY: this is also rather simple. i try to be aware of the palletes that i used, and the similarities they might have with other characters. i try to use similar colors for characters who belong to certain organisations or have a uniform, but of course, it's not like catholic school students adhere their entire look to their uniform, so this is a rule that can be broken yet again. art is all about learning things and breaking them, remember that!!!

color can also be used for symbolism. my absolute fav example for this is vivica and octavia - the amount of red in their designs is supposed to represent the amount of freedom/passion/anger/confidence they have or are allowed to express under their different circumstances. as vivica belongs to a strict organisation, she has far less red in her design, showing her emotions are stifled - meanwhile octavia has it as her main complementary color because of her freedom to express her emotions, though those emotions may be destructive because of her circumstances.

PERSONALITY: what colors are associated with your character's personality? i actually usually refer to magical girl groups to see what's commonly associated with different colors. here's the main trend:

red: hot-headed, passionate, firey

orange/yellow: bright, happy-go-lucky, sunshine personality

green: wise, mellow, kind

blue: serene, graceful, elegant

purple: magical, regal, fancy

pink: usually the main character (though this because magical girl anime tends to be marketed towards young girls), sweet, relatable, determined

of course these are only stereotypes from one genre of anime, and different colors have tons of different meanings. color theory is the best way to learn this! these colors can also express different moods, which ties into ch1. i myself constantly ignore these rules - v-con, a bombastic hyper DJ, is purple (though he does have yellow accents) for example. basically, i just take them as a general rule and try to have them in mind while drawing.

CH3: HOW ZENO MAKES HIS COLORS COOLER

this might be the most important part of this guide. once again, there are a few things to consider here: filters, hue, overlays, and more!

FILTERS: for ibispaint, you can use an adjustment layer on your whole piece to use a filter. i usually only use brightness/contrast here - upping the brightness (or darkening it based on the mood of the piece) and upping the contrast. this helps to better express values and intensify the colors if that's what you want. i often use it in all my pieces to some extent.

hue/saturation/lightness is also helpful in moderation. you can alter the hue - though it usually only helps if you bring it back or forward by just a few points, or the entire pallete will change. saturation is what it sounds like, and slightly over/desaturating the piece can help with atmosphere. lightness is what it sounds like - lightens the colors in the piece. i don't use it at all.

posterize and sharpen mask are some that i've used recently. posterize can add some crazy effects to your art, but i'd probably need to edit it slightly after using it because it can mess with certain colors.

HUE: it's a layer type that can change the overall hue of the piece. i usually use it at a low percentage for atmosphere. kind of like a gradient map but nothing like it? idk

and OVERLAYS: i just use a very saturated blue/purple color over the entire piece at a very low percentage, around 5-10%. it can wash out the piece at too high a percentage.

and that's basically it! sorry it kind of derailed at the end i spent like 2 hours on this and got super tired. goodnight i'm going to sleep please also look at other artists etc etc. bye.

[thevirtualvalentine]

TAPE FIVE : PEEPING TOM !

Starring… YAMATO 📸

SET SCRIPT :

“Helloooooooooooooo! So im thinking voyeur yamato corrupting an afab reader would go really hard.”

MATURE WARNING(S) : fingering, roommates to more, afab!reader, modern au, corruption kink, dom!yama, cunnilings (he eats you clean 🐱), voyeurism, underwear stealing, slight size kink, praise (he’s obsessed w you), overly wordy author.

DIRECTORS CUT : for my favorite writing cohort @gingersp1ce547 <3 I hope it was worth the wait.

Trying to find a place to live these past few weeks was stressing you out to no end. Every place you visited had some sort of mold infestation or made you pay insane utility fees that you know you couldn’t keep up with. That is, unless you wanted three jobs. That’s when you met him, Yamato. Supposedly he’s some rich nepo baby who split the rent at a price with you that was perfect.

You couldn’t understand why people wouldn’t wanna take the deal until he explained not everyone’s comfortable living with a man or understanding his gender identity. Fine, so be it, you both would make great roommates. That’s what you told yourself.

The two bedroom modest apartment stationed your rooms right next to each other with a living room and kitchen down the hall. Regular apartment things like a leaky tub, paper thin walls, and a light that never seems to stop flickering in and out were staples of your new cozy home.

Then there was him, a giant and boisterous guy who filled your dingy shared space with laughter and high energy. It was common to find him dancing around or working out if he wasn’t busy. You couldn’t deny there was a level of boyish charm to him that you found endearing. He made you feel safe, something about his larger than life presence caused you to feel at home with him. Almost needed. A mutual bond and understanding between you both as time went on.

You could trust him, Yamato always asked before entering your space or borrowing your belongings. He liked that you relinquished so much of yourself to him. His adorable little roommate that struts around the apartment always in a hurry to do something.

You were too tense, at least that’s what he thinks. He’s always wanted to find some way to relax you, pulling you into his hold while you both practice yoga in the living room. “You’re pretty good at this y/n, ya sure you haven’t done this before?”

He gets up to help ease your hamstring, he’s so much bigger than you are. Not that you’re paying attention though, lost in the bliss of easing that aching pain you’ve had all week.

Yamatos mind can’t stop wandering to indecent places when he sees that his entire hand almost covers the length of your torso. The contortions of your face as your muscles begin to relax. Fuck, he wants to feel you throb and whine like that on his thick fing—

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Just as quickly as his eyes glazed over, his impure desires were back to normal; big cheesy grin outstretched on his sweet face.

“Nothin! Just tryna stretch you out.” Your body involuntary twitches at his choice of words, pushing yourself away from his hold to have some space to breathe. Of course he didn’t miss that. “Aw, did I embarrass you? Your face is heating up.”

You throw a punch at him before he catches it in his large hand, pinning it down next to your face with light force. Yamato leans down into the crook of your neck, “careful, you could hurt someone with one of those,” he patronizingly says following the long line of spit he left up the column of your neck. You shiver and god does it make him want to take you, but he won’t, and just like that he’s off of you. Toweling himself off like nothing had happened between you both.

You’re left a hot, sweaty, sticky, and absurdly horny mess. Stomping through the hallway with more than displeased footsteps, making your way to the shower to cool off.

He’s not much better himself though, pouting as the fat of your ass jiggles when you walk away. Yamato never expected to get this attached to you. The guy can’t even go a day without rummaging through your clothes to get a good whiff of you when you’re out on business. He feels himself clenching his thighs together, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth thinking of the time(s) he stole your underwear and gorged himself on the scent of you. Fingers playing with the entrance of his cunt thinking of how you’d scold him for being a pervert. It gets him so hot.

On his way to come apologize to you that night with promises of your favorite snacks with a corny movie to follow, he stops dead in his tracks hearing the whine creep from under your door. The sound of squelching hung in the air as you whimpered. Were you touching yourself?

Yamato shook his head of long white hair side to side in disbelief, collecting himself as he took a few steps back from the doorway. As good and pure his intentions with you were; there’s always that grotesque feeling within him, the one that wants to listen to you moan and writhe as you pleasure yourself so close to him. He presses his ear against the door as you heave out cry after cry for more.

He felt his own slick collecting in his briefs as his breath hitched during a particularly pathetic plea of yours, heart rate skyrocketing with each passing moment. He felt his morality crumble altogether when you let out a meek, “Ya—Yama please.”

So this is what you think about when you’re alone? Yamatos mind was racing, he couldn’t stop his hands from finding the doorknob, nor stop his feet from walking through the door that separated him from you.

Your back is arched, legs spread as your fingers deliriously curl within your warm walls. The sight forever imprinted in his mind, you’re perfect. The same urge from earlier compels his hands to find his nipples as he watches you, each roll sending electricity shooting through him. He sees your eyes crinkle in frustration while trying to get yourself off. “Ha- Yama I need more,” you say as your thighs clench around your wrist.

But he continues only to watch, wanting to savor every little plea that spills past your lips. How long will it be till you notice him? Beg him to help get you off? He can hear the blood rushing in his ears, rubbing his clit in tune with the fluidity of your wrist. Yamato never anticipated just how hot it was to watch someone like this, so vulnerable as the endorphins consume you; so much so that it blinds you of his presence in the room with you.

Your eyes flick open when you feel movement around the room, and there he is basked in the halo of your ambient lighting. More of an incubus than anything else, his eyes burn with desire as you cower under your sheets. “Wha- why are you watching me?” Although it was a question, it comes out rather declarative.

First he has to stop himself from drooling, your nipples still hard as they poke out from your thin white sheets. Of course the first thing he says is optimistic and arrogant. “Don’t beg for my help then,” he says while making the bed dip with his added weight.

“I did not beg—” he still looms closer, “what are you doing?” You pull the sheets taught as he ghosts his hands over the plush of your thighs.

“What does it look like? I’m helping you out since you asked for me.” It’s in the way the way he says it, self assured that he’s all you’ll need. Ultimately, your body can’t deny what it wants. Your arousal pooling between your legs in self defeat and embarrassment.

Yamato allows his palm to sit snug against the sheet that separates him from your warmth, digging the flat of his hand against your clit. “I can feel how wet you are through the sheet, you needed me this bad?” Your words die in your throat as you look at him dumbfounded, taking advantage of your disoriented state he strips the sheet off your body.

Your mouth is left gaping, he wastes no time taking as he wants. Licking and nipping the skin of your neck with sharp canines. The pad of his finger teases your entrance before it eases in with the help of your arousal. He smothers you in his lust, stroking that spot within you that always seemed out of reach.

It’s not soon that you’re mewling for another of his lithe digits to be knuckle deep inside you. “Patience sweetness, it’s my job to take care of you.” He’s so reassuring, sending a surge of warmth throughout your body that makes you melt like putty in his pretty hands. Sliding his ring finger inside next to his middle, he scissors you wide open.

“So wet from thinking about me, you hear that baby?” Listening to his voice centers you, drawing heed to the squelching noise of your throbbing cunt. Your legs lay flat apart as he pounds your pussy, bruising the entrance with speed alone.

You’re so close he can feel it, your inside pulsing and gripping his fingers like you don’t want them out of you. That’s when he rips them out, leaving you clenching on nothing. “Do you want to feel really good?” He asks while licking his fingers like a mutt in heat, enamored by the taste and scent of you.

He’s stripped you to the point you’d do anything for him. So, obediently you nod and mumble out a yes. “When you feel good, don’t hold back on me.” Yamato drags his thumb down your folds till he finds your clit, lightly circling the pad of his finger on top of it. He leaves feather like kisses on the insides of your thighs, sucking the skin as he gets closer to your heat.

His own cunt throbs hearing your airy sighs and breathy moans, licking your entrance to collect his due. “You taste even better than you smell,” he says against your lower lips, sliding his long tongue past the tight ring of muscle.

It feels like fucking heaven, his thumb rhythmically rolling your bud as his tongue devours your insides. All you can do is allow your pleasure to wreak havoc against your vocal cords as you lose yourself to his touch. “Bet you could never make yourself feel this good, huh?” It’s condescending but it’s pussy clenching, and you best be sure he felt it against his wet tongue.

“Only you Yama, please don’t stop,” you’d do anything to forever feel like this. So small within his warm hands that bring you a burning feeling in your lower gut. He tongues your clit, applying heavy pressure while opting to curl two fingers against your g-spot. You can see the sheen of spit and slick against his face while he makes out with your pussy. It’s downright depraved how he consumes you with his hands and mouth alone.

He finally gets what he wants, watching you clench and throb around his fingers in a hot sweat while your orgasm licks at you. Yamato thrums the pads against your insides flicking his tongue against your swollen bud. “Give it to me baby, let me know how good you feel,” and that’s all it took. His soothing voice coaxing you to your climax. It hit you like a bag of bricks, making you twitch against him as you ride it out.

A string of curses leave you as the pressure in your cunt dissipates. You cling onto his wrist to stop the overstimulation consuming you, but he can still feel the way your walls hammer against him. “So pretty when you cum.” It’s small but it’s enough to bring you back, reaching out for him to take care of you like he always does. This time with the added intimacy.

“You should let me watch you more often,” he says softly while holding you against his chest. The fact you allowed him to see you like this was astounding, therefore he would hold you for as long as you needed. Aftercare was no problem to him.

“You are such a damn vouyer,” you joke as you snuggle deeper into his chest. Yamato laughs a little at the joke, but he couldn’t help feeling it may just have been true.

Enjoy? Reblog & click here 2 see more!

[blissfullyecho]

more harsh truths about life that will prob hurt your feelings and get me cancelled lol

1. scripting, visualizing, using crystals, affirming, etc. all don’t work in the real world. do the work. we’re not anime characters or superheroes— using your “brain powers” while you sit there doing nothing to get what you want is a delusion. script, visualize, do whatever you wanna do but thinking that’s the secret sauce to what is gonna solve all your problems is insanity

2. no one is responsible for your triggers. getting mad at someone because they forgot to put “tw” in the title next to the LITERAL EXACT TOPIC that they’re going to discuss is your own fault that you read it. you knew what it was gonna be about. if you know you’ll be triggered, move on. getting mad at people for talking about things that they had no idea you’re having a hard time with is no one’s fault either. you’re never captive to stay somewhere. if it’s triggering, you make the decision and the choice to move on and get away.

3. attractive people have the advantage of making anything look cool. for example (and no offense because my brother loves this stuff) but if you like anime, a lot of people think it’s weird. but if you’re an attractive person that likes anime, then it becomes cool because an attractive person likes it. looks = status and anyone with status could make anything look cool and be a trend.

4. girls, it’s better not having hairy legs and armpits. sorry but someone had to say it and i’ll be that person. you’re not creating a movement, you’re not proving anything to anyone. everyone grows hair, we get it. but if your body hair makes a statement and expresses yourself, then maybe you need to develop a personality.

5. speaking of personality; some of you are too nice. the nice guy finishes last. always. they seek validation, temporary satisfaction, and it reeks desperation. being too nice makes you look weak and a target to manipulation and weirdness.

6. models, actors/actresses, singers, anyone in the public eye are MEANT to look good and MEANT to look like a fantasy/dream. these people are not meant to be role models and they didn’t sign up to be role models. they were good at their craft and all of you as regular everyday people forced them to be role models because they had a public image. these people are contracted to always look good, set trends, and stay relevant in the media. then you guys started pressing for “inclusivity” and ruined brands like victoria’s secret, hollister, abercrombie, etc. because it got your feelings hurt. those brands sell stories and fantasies. those models sold those brands. STOP TRYING TO MAKE HIGH STATUS PEOPLE INTO EVERYDAY PEOPLE. work on yourself if it bothers you. it’s show biz, baby.

7. if you want anything in life fast, then you either have to have money, good looks, or great manipulation/bribery/communication/people skills. being skilled is a good thing, but don’t expect results overnight like you would if you had money, looks, or people skills. again, this is if you want something FAST.

8. listening to subliminals is a waste of time. wanna change your subconscious mind? get your mind used to living and acting the way you wanna be. do that for 3-6 months and boom, you’re a new person. *high five*

9. it’s cool to gatekeep. why are we telling everyone our beauty secrets and where we bought our clothes? i’m not trying to have anyoneeeeee have anything i have because when people catch on to something, it becomes a trend, then it becomes basic. so no, i’m not telling you what perfume i’m wearing. “i forgot” or “it was a gift”. let me be me.

10. ladies, men want to do things for you. no, that doesn’t mean you don’t have the capability to do it yourself. stop with the equality mess because a man wanted to hold the door open for you. JUST BECAUSE A MAN OFFERS TO DO SOMETHING FOR YOU, DOES NOT MEAN YOU LACK THE MENTAL OR PHYSICAL CAPABILITY TO DO SO.

[furryllamas]

Can’t Help Falling in Love | A. Walter

+ Alex Walter x OC

+ Summary: Life has been difficult for sisters Jackie and Eden Howard. Obviously regular teenage girl problems, such as boys, school, and friends. Except tragedy that ensues, the death of their parents and older sister. They'll have to navigate a life without their family, just throw in love, the countryside, and a whole lot of boys in one roof.

+ Authors Note: Hey guys I really hope you enjoy this first chapter, I was really inspired after seeing Ashby play Alex and absolutely fell in love 🤍

 Chapter 0.0 | Two Time Zones Apart

The sound of LA traffic was not great, but it was definitely quieter than the sound of the streets of New York. It's only been 6 Months since I moved to LA semi-permanently. I still got homesick often but there was no place like California. Ever since the transition from being a model to a singer it was a choice I had to make, with mom and dads approval of course, even if it meant seeing Lucy and Jackie less.

"Oh Gosh. What time is it?" I grumbled as I rubbed my eyes. I looked towards my bedside table and picked up my phone. "10:30 AM" I removed the bed covers and stretched my arms over my head. The smell of my room always gave me some comfort in the mornings. I headed to the restroom and pulled my hair into a bun and turned the faucet on. I started washing my teeth when I heard my phone ringing. I ran back to my room to pick up my phone that was lying on the bed. A video call from Jackie. I quickly pick up the phone as I walk back to the bathroom.

"Juswt whun sewkand-" I attempted to say with the tooth brush still in my mouth. Jackie let out a quick laugh, "take your time Eid." I put my finger up, just one moment, and place the phone in front of the faucet handles, holding it up. I quickly rinse out the toothpaste and splashed my face with water to ensure I would fully wake myself up.

"Hi Jacks! How's it going?" I waved and picked up my phone.

"EDEN! It's going so well! I can't wait for you and Lucy to come home today! I missed you guys so much." Jackie smiled softly.

"Oh my, we haven't been away from you that longgggg" I teased as i sat down on my Vanity. I panned my phone to the stack of luggage by my window.

"Okay I know, BUT, I just missed you guys so much." She sighed. "It's been a month since I've seen you and Lucy. I'm just so excited for you to see my excellent work tonight."

"I know Jacks, My flight is at 2 so I'll probably be there by 7-ish." I start applying my makeup and look away from my phone. " and plus Lucy will be there sooner than me, so you'll get her while you wait for meeee."

She laughs, "Right, what would I do without your wisdom." She stays quiet for a couple of seconds, "How's your new song going?"

I wince, "It's going..." She looks at me confused. "I've just been lacking in inspiration lately. I'm hoping going home will help with that."

"I'm sure you'll get a spark of inspiration once you spend some good old fashioned time at the ballet with me."

"Thanks Jackie, I've missed you guys so much. I can't wait to get there tonight."

I stop to think. "Dinner at The Penrose?"

I look at her smile, "of course Eden! That's our spot."

"All right deal" I look at the time, 11:30AM, "All right sis, I have to head to the airport, see you soon!" I reach over to hang up, "wait! Remember mom and dad will pick you up later tonight so we can all go to dinner together."

"Okay, perfect! Bye Jacks, love you!"

"Bye Eids!" I hung up.

I start getting up and shutting the curtains. It might be a while until I'm back but I'd rather keep my room clean.

Ding Dong.

I head over to the front door that smells strongly of oak. Walking past the pictures I have hanging of Mom, Dad, Lucy, Jackie and I. I open the door and smile as I see the face of my amazing Manager, Lizzie. "Liz! Come to say goodbye to your favorite client." I giggled as she stepped in. "Excuse me! Not just my client, more like my favorite friend!" I hug her and drag her to my room.

"Oh gosh, look at all this baggage..." she exclaims standing in front of my suitcases. She reaches over and picks one up. "Alright Eden! Let's get moving and load these into the car, your driver is waiting."

I look over to her and smile, "You got it boss!" I salute. It was an easy load up and we wasted no time getting in the car. "Are you excited to see your family again?" Lizzie asked. "Yeah I'm a bit nervous though. I haven't seen them in a couple of months, I feel like I've missed out on a lot." It was hard being apart from them and not being able to see them as often as I used to.

Lizzie looks at me and smiles softly, her polished nails and her soft hands reach over to mine. She grabs them and turns to me. "E, you need this. You've been homesick for a while and I think this trip will help you with the new song." I lean my head back against the headrest and turn my face to look out of the window. "I know Liz." I turn back towards her. "Thank you for helping me today. It means a lot. I'll miss you lots."

She just smiles at me and I start feeling tired, car rides always seem to wear me out. I take one last look at the highway we're on and slowly close my eyes. I let sleep take over me and an oddly weird feeling at the pit of my stomach. I hear Liz whisper, "I'll wake you when we get there."