#backchat

[27dragons]

For FFWF: any deleted scenes from the Sandbridge verse that you can tell us about? ❤️ (for purely selfish remix sequel motivation reasons 😅)

ACTUALLY, yes! Though I don't know how useful it's going to be for your remix sequel (which I am ardently looking forward to!)

In Chapter 4 of My Three Dads, Tony and Bucky are at a gala in New York with Maria, and Tony gets cornered by Ty, who says some very surprising things and suggests that Tony come over the next day to collect some things he'd left behind.

Tisfan and I actually wrote that scene, but when we got to the editing stage, it just... didn't fit quite right. So we threw in a quick reference to it at the beginning of Chapter 5 and cut it.

But I did actually LIKE the scene. And I'd filed it away in my "clips and cuts" folder. So here you go, the Deleted Scene of the last time Tony ever talks to Ty:

[Fair warning, this is 100% unedited.]

.

The neighborhood had gotten nicer; several renovation projects had updated the older shops in the area with brighter, cleaner ones. Tony noticed with amusement that these post-modern stores were catering to an “old fashioned” hipster feel, even though they were much cleaner, with better lighting, than the previous places had been.

The high rise where Tony had once lived was both strange and familiar. He hadn’t thought about this place in years, hadn’t missed it once those first few months of living in Virginia had passed. But everything was so very familiar; he even remembered the dips in the front stairs. The stylised elephant statues had been replaced at some point with elegant stone cranes, but the brass numbers on the front of the building were the same, as was the fading green linoleum tile in the entryway near the rack of mailboxes.

Tony stared around the little entryway like he was seeing ghosts. He was grateful for Bucky’s presence at his back, strong and certain, more grateful than he could ever say. It took an effort of will to walk over to the intercom system and punch in the apartment number. “It’s us,” he said when it crackled to life. “For my stuff.”

“Come on up,” Ty said, cheerfully, buzzing them through the door.

Bucky was looking around with a wary sort of curiosity, and his hand was on the security door when it buzzed. The last few times they’d been in New York City, everyone either had their own home, or rented in a building with a doorman, but he pulled the door open as soon as it clicked and ushered Tony through. “It’s okay, baby,” Bucky said, putting his hand on the small of Tony’s back as they stepped into the building’s aging elevator. “Worst comes to worst, Happy can come back us up.” They’d borrowed Maria’s car while the girls were playing with the oversized dollhouse that Maria kept at her house, just for special granddaughter visits.

(Well, Billie was playing. Olivia was cruising around the table it sat on, and probably occasionally trying to eat the furniture.)

“If he’s even a little bit of an asshole to you,” Tony said, not for the first time, “we’re leaving. I don’t care about any stuff enough to put up with whatever he thinks he can get away with.” He thumbed the floor button on the elevator and leaned into Bucky’s side. “Maybe this was a dumb idea.”

“Could be,” Bucky said, “but we’ve come this far, and I don’t reckon Stone wants t’ be arrested any more than I do. So we’ll try an�� keep the punching to a nice round number, like zero. It’ll be okay. Everyone saw him talkin’ with you last night, big fancy party. People he needs to impress. Your mom’s still got pull with those people -- or has it back, leastways. He’s not gonna waste that on petty revenge.”

“This is Ty we’re talking about,” Tony muttered, but the elevator stuttered to a halt and let out a sad ding as the doors slid open. Tony took a breath. It was going to be okay. They were going to get his stuff, and then leave, and everyone was going to pretend to be polite. For the sake of... something. Right? Right.

Ty had repainted the door to the apartment, added an art-deco style geometric border. Tony knocked, and didn’t let himself fidget.

When the door opened, Tony wasn’t sure what to expect, but Zeke Stane standing there with Tony’s engineering kit in one hand was not it. Not ever, not even a little bit, not even if the moon turned into bleu cheese and crashed into the ocean. “Hey Tony,” he said. “James. Good to see you. We weren’t sure you’d come. Ty… Ty thought if this was too weird for you, you can take your kit and just go, now. Or… you can come inside?”

Ty thought that? Ty had bothered to think about someone else’s comfort? Or maybe that was Zeke projecting, but Zeke had never rated very high on empathy, either.

Why was Zeke Stane in Ty’s apartment, saying we like he and Ty were...

Oh, god.

“You’re together?” he blurted. He pushed past Zeke into the apartment, looking for Ty. “That whole thing last night, that was you trying to stall me so I couldn’t get between Mom and Obie,” he gritted. “Was any of it real?”

“Of course we were trying to stall you,” Ty said. He had a mug of coffee in one hand and was waiting for the machine to pour a second cup. “I can’t… politically it would be a very bad move to end up on my soon-to-be father-in-law’s bad side right now. Your mom handled it. I admit, I was impressed.”

“You’re not a bad sort,” Zeke added, “but I don’t want you as a step-brother, Tony. We had a back-up plan, if we needed one. But Dad has to think I’m doing what he wants. You know how that is, right?”

There were the rest of Tony’s things, in boxes, neatly labeled. “I know, it looks bad,” Ty said. “And this… if things had gone south, we… well, we thought it would be best if you and I could come to some sort of peace. If we were going to end up being family.”

That thought made Tony’s brain stutter to a halt. He turned to look at Bucky. “Yyyeah,” he managed after a moment. “Probably for the best that’s not happening.” Resolutely, he turned to the stack of boxes. “I... appreciate this,” he said, grudgingly.

Bucky was looking back and forth between Zeke and Ty like he was getting whiplash. “How… how did you two even meet? I thought Ty didn’t run with th’ big players, up this way.”

“Rude,” Ty muttered.

“It’s cliche,” Zeke admitted. “We met at Howard’s funeral, few years back. Look, James, gimme a hand with these, yeah? I’ll help you take them down to your car. Bear’s got a few things he wants to say. And then it’ll be done, okay?” He glanced at Tony. “Yeah?”

Childishly, Tony didn’t want to hear anything from Ty. Not a single fucking word. Not even if he was going to actually apologize for once. But they’d come up with the intention of pretending to be polite and nice, and anyway, Ty couldn’t do anything to hurt him, not anymore. He took a breath, blew it out hard. “Yeah,” he said, looking to Bucky for confirmation. “It’ll be okay.” He hoped that came out as a statement and not a question.

There was a threat and a promise on Bucky’s face as he glanced between Ty and then Zeke. It might as well have been written on Bucky’s forehead -- you touch him, and don’t forget who’s with me. Tony had never been on the wrong side of that look. Nonetheless, it was chilling, and a reminder that Bucky could be violent, if the situation called for it. The situation wasn’t going to call for it. Tony had to believe that, or he wasn’t going to get through this.

“I’ll be right back,” Bucky said.

“Stick to the plan, Bear,” Zeke told Ty, seriously. “You can get through this.”

And the two of them grabbed the remainder of Tony’s stuff, aside from the tool kit that was still in Tony’s stunned hands, and headed down the elevator.

Tony tightened his grip on the tool kit. It was real and solid. Something he could hold onto. He lifted his chin and met Ty’s pale gaze. “Go on.”

“You were right to go,” Ty said. He kept his gaze on Tony’s face, even though he looked like he’d really rather be doing anything else. “I’m not… I’m not going to apologize. You wouldn’t believe me and I don’t think it would help either of us. What I did… that goes beyond the ability for an apology to fix. I was wrong. I hurt you. Intentionally, maliciously, and for my own ends. I can’t make up for that.”

Tony nodded, and hoped he didn’t look as poleaxed as he felt. “Yeah, you did. You took away everything that made me who I was. It’s. It’s good to hear you acknowledge it.”

“He was right,” Ty said, jerking his chin in the direction that Bucky had vanished. “I kept telling myself I didn’t mean it, that I’d make it up to you. But it wasn’t an accident. I was careless with your affection and I abused your trust. I used you to quiet my own inadequacy.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That’s… uh, that’s what I needed to say. I’ll. Let you get on with your life now, and I wish you the best.”

The sun might have turned to blue, outside the wide picture window, and Tony wouldn’t have noticed. The whole world had turned upside down: Ty had apologized, and it even seemed sincere. Tony scrambled after thought, and words. “I... hope you mean that,” he said. “I hope you’re getting better. If you mean it, then I hope you have a good life, and that you’re able to make him happy. Really happy, not...” He was going to start babbling. He clenched his jaw. “Yeah. You know. I’m... I’m just going to go, before I say something stupid.”

He hesitated, though, trying to read Ty’s expression, trying to see the truth of things in those clear blue eyes. He’d never been able to read Ty before, though, and he couldn’t trust the apparent sincerity there now. Tony swallowed. He couldn’t quite forgive Ty, but for whatever it was worth... “Apology accepted.” He walked out the door and waited for it to close behind him before he stopped and leaned against the wall, shaking.

The elevator dinged and two sets of footsteps came out, a rapid patter, and then Bucky was there, one hand on Tony’s arm. “Baby, you--” He broke off and snapped, “no, just you keep right on walkin’. You both done just about enough for one day.”

“Tony,” Zeke said, and Bucky was right there, in Zeke Stane’s face. 

“Go. Inside. You don’t get t’ touch him, or apologize or excuse your boyfriend or whatever. You done enough.”

Zeke shrugged and went into the apartment.

“Baby?”

“I’m okay,” Tony said. He reached out and pulled Bucky to him, tucking his face into the curve of Bucky’s neck. “I’m okay,” he repeated, and if it wasn’t quite the truth, it would be, soon. “It’s all done.”

“Bastards,” Bucky spat, glaring at the door. “Come on, come on, honey, let’s get the fuck out of here. God damnit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’ta…” Bucky had his arm around Tony’s shoulders, reaching across himself to take Tony’s hand. Once Bucky had Tony in the elevator, private. “Do I even want to know what he said, or should I just go back and kick his ass for you?”

Tony laced his fingers through Bucky’s, keeping him close. “He apologized, actually. No ass-kicking needed. I’m just kind of... stunned.”

Tugging Tony closer, Bucky kissed his hair and forehead several times, as if reassuring himself that Tony was okay. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, finally. “Doesn’t change anything. He’s a bastard, an’ I’m going to make sure you never, ever have to see him again.” He heaved out a great breath. “Zeke spent th’ whole time we were loadin’ the car tellin’ me how Ty needed to do this. For them. For their relationship. God, what a selfish bastard.”

“They’re well matched, then,” Tony said. “And I have no intention of ever seeing them ever again, not if I don’t have to.” He wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist as the elevator slowed to a stop. “C’mon, let’s go home. I feel like taking the girls out for ice cream. Wanna see how much of a mess Livvy can make if we let her have her own?”

“Oh, my god, your mother will have a coronary,” Bucky said. “We should definitely do that. Absolutely.”

.

Fanfic Writer Friday!

[purple-link]

I think the reason the Lawless trailer has been doing so well so far is that we've been dunking on Fortnite for dropping really basic and toothless Epic Games-created rap songs for a little while now, especially for FNCS, and we weren't expecting a rap-based pickle to hit differently, only for him to whip out the Beastie Boys at the last minute.

[wurds-fur-nurds]

Whimflibberdash (noun) /ˈhwɪm-flɪb-ər-dæʃ/

The captivating allure of something fleetingly desirable, often accompanied by a sense of nostalgia for what was once prized.

A lively and irreverent exchange of witty or cheeky remarks, marked by a playful yet poignant undercurrent of longing.

"Her voice, a cascade of whimflibberdash, wove together charm, mischief, and the wistful remnants of bygone days."

[remembering-the-future]

Your Future Desires Just Became Obsolete.

Forget everything you thought you wanted—desirableness has evolved. With NeuroEcho™, the world’s first AI-integrated emotional interpreter, your ambitions, crushes, and cravings are now curated in real time. This isn’t some quaint algorithm spitting out suggestions based on yesterday’s scrolls; this is pure synaptic alignment. Using erstwhile traces of your neural pathways, NeuroEcho™ resurrects your deepest, forgotten desires, blending them with cutting-edge predictive technology to craft an experience that feels both profoundly nostalgic and tantalizingly futuristic. Desire isn’t just a feeling anymore—it’s a feature.

But let’s talk about backchat. You know, the delightful, rebellious quips that once only happened in witty conversations or late-night texts? With our patented AI BanterPulse™, your devices now talk back—sharper, funnier, and more attuned to your personality than your best friend ever was. No longer limited to mere commands, technology engages you in a dialogue that’s equal parts charming and challenging, ensuring every interaction is an event. Call it snark with a purpose; BanterPulse™ doesn’t just enhance communication—it makes it unforgettable.

This is the tech renaissance, where desirableness meets the delight of discourse, and erstwhile becomes tomorrow. Whether you're craving a perfect partner, a perfectly argued debate, or the perfect pair of shoes, your tech anticipates, converses, and delivers. The future doesn’t just know you—it’s you, amplified. Don’t just live—banter, desire, and thrive in the new age of digital companionship. Welcome to NeuroEcho™. Welcome to the end of ordinary.

[rainesol]

Nobody plays into the fact that Trey is a sassy little bitch sometimes and it makes me sad

[27dragons]

I mean, tbh, same? I don't know if the Sandbridge series is my very favorite thing that tisfan and I ever wrote, because what I like at any given moment shifts a lot. But it's definitely got a solid place in my Top 5.

(I can tell you it was high on tisfan's list, too, though her absolute favorite thing we wrote together was Bucky Barnes Got Married.) 😁

@27dragons: mentions nights in sandbridge exactly one (1) time

me: ah yes, time to go spend the next few days rereading the entire series and doing nothing else

[rachiller]

Also my manager went THROUGH me for a shortcut because I asked him an innocent clarification question when he asked me to do something, like to the point C (who loves him) is now mad at him for how unreasonable and insane it was (she was in the room like 🫢 as it happened). Later in the evening I did approach him like “listen about when you tore me a new one earlier? I was asking a genuine question. Like, I was not privy to the information you were privy to so I needed more information to follow through” anyway he looked a bit ashamed and kicked puppy about it all and I did tell him that I do understand he’s stressed but that it was unnecessary

[27dragons]

Hiii I‘ve been loving seeing you more on my dash lately, been following you and reading your fics for like six years now and truly no one else’s works have filled my bookmarks as much as yours (and Tisfans of course).

One of yours was the very first winteriron fic I ever read and it had me fall in love instantly, haven’t found anything else like them since. I love that you found your writing muse again, and I know it’s been a long time and a lot of the fandom has fizzled out. But I just wanted to pop in an ask if maybe one day you could see yourself writing MCU again?

In any case, it’s been a lot of lovely years with your writing and you’ll make (and are making) a lot of other new people incredibly happy with your amazing skill and talent for words, worldbuilding and characterisation <3

Hey there! I'm so delighted that you've enjoyed my fics so much!!! It really means a lot to me.

The tldr is that yes, there's at least a slim chance that I might write winteriron/MCU again one day. There is a whole stack of partially-written WIPs still in my writing folder that I can't bring myself to archive and retire.

I'll admit that my enthusiasm for MCU faded a lot when they killed Tony off. And then a massive surge in my depression (thanks in part to COVID and then tisfan's death and then my mom's) all but extinguished my ability to write. I had a creative burst for about 3 months in 2023 with Sandman and the Dreamling ship that resulted in about a dozen fics, but the one fic that I managed to write in 2024 (which was winteriron!) felt like pulling teeth to finish.

But I'm still reading some winteriron fics (and the occasional stony), so it's not entirely dead to me. (For that matter, I did quite a few winteriron/MCU ficlets with my Countdowns here on tumblr in both '23 and '24 - check my "countdown to 2024" and "countdown to 2025" tags if you missed those.)

It's just that winteriron is closely tied to tisfan for me (even before we were writing together, she was always my beta reader), and it's hard to think about it without her. (Also, I've written SO MUCH winteriron, it's hard to come up with any scenarios that I haven't already done, lol)

The Arcane/Jayvik bug has bitten hard, and it's such a relief to know that I can still write, but I'm still waiting to see if this will fizzle out again after a few months like the Dreamling stuff did.

If I do keep writing, there's a pretty decent chance that I will eventually come back to winteriron, at least occasionally. If nothing else, I'd love to one day finish the fic that tisfan and I were working on when she had her stroke.

But I expect it will take a while. If you asked because you're considering unfollowing/unsubscribing so your inbox and dash aren't cluttered with notifications for a fandom you have no interest in, then I promise I won't be offended if you want to do that and just set yourself a reminder to check back in a year to see what happened. I've made that decision myself a few times, and I know it comes with a sliver of heartbreak and guilt. But I understand that not everyone will want to follow me everywhere that I go, and that in no way diminishes my appreciation for the love you've given my fics in the past, whether you just clicked kudos or left a comment on every chapter.

Thank you again for this very kind note. I'm so happy to have given you something you've enjoyed so much.

❤️💛

[mariswxt]

———————————————————FRAT.ᐟDICK THOUGHTS ᝰ.ᐣ

PROCEED WITH CAUTION, LADY KILLER AHEAD.ᐟ

You're fixated on Dick's oral fixation. You'd known him since you were kids, he'd always be running his mouth with backchat to authority figures who weren't Alfred, or humming in awkward silence, or making those beatboxing noises. You name it, he did it.

It extended to his frat boy days, and oh, was that the #1 lady killer at Gotham U. Letterman jacket that matched his hair, not to mention the cherry flavoured lollipop he had permanently jammed in his mouth, rolled over his tongue, between his lips, like a toothpick on steroids but it tasted like cherries— see what he did there? With the cherry thing? No?

Wow, tough crowd.

You couldn’t even concentrate on your work, probably because Dick was sitting across from you — your best friend since childhood — with that damn lollipop, looking pointedly at your neckline as if you were some sort of snack, but that wasn’t new. Everyone was a snack to Dick, and vice versa, because you’d sometimes be dragged to a frat party by him and his mouth’d be interrupted by some random girl for five minutes to suck face.

Though you weren’t surprised, it was feeding his fixation.

Even though you were clearly the studyhead to his frat king, it didn’t stop him from sliding up the bed next to you, taking a peek over your shoulder at your work, a small grin on his face, clearly trying to distract you. “C’mon, sweetheart, m’bored.” He drawled, looking up at the time— what was it?

5:47 in the evening. This’d take ten minutes.

Your stern look did absolutely nothing to get the cheeky look out of his eyes, the cherry lollipop being pulled out of his mouth with a slick pop and he chucked it behind him, landing it in the bin easily. “Just go to a frat party, Dick.” You sighed— as much as you were his best friend, you wanted to actually pass your major, thank you.

“There’re none on.” He smirked, his hand running through his already messy hair before it closed your book and pushed it aside, and then he dropped the question. “Make out with me.”

Holy shit, what?

Next thing you knew, his hand was on your cheek and he was kissing you, pressing himself up against you, yanking off his jacket and throwing it aside— why were you undoing your shirt? He wasn’t even helping you, it was just how his soft lips pressed against yours eagerly and turned you into a slut for him in half a second, which he endorsed by kissing the valley of your tits.

One second, two, three and his lips were on your inner thighs, your head thrown back the moment his tongue licked a straight stripe up your pussy and your hand buried itself in his hair.

He was sucking your clit by 5:57.

“Fuck, Dickie—” Fuck him and his oral fixation.

@aliyahwritings @svnriseblvdd @faiszt here’s brainfood

[lyssa010387]

I'm suddenly looking forward to my daughters telling me I'm "cringe".

Oh, you want Cringe, little lady? I'll give you fkin Cringe. Fun fact. When you were born, you came out of my girly bits. Yes. You did.

[mrghostrat]

i bring you my one offering for every fandom: Twitch Streamer AU!

edit: there is now a fic :)

i see your "two teachers at the same school who none of their students realise are married" and raise you "two polar opposite streamers who none of their viewers realise are dating/living together" 😩🙏

i also accidentally drew these at 4k so enjoy these high res wallpapers i guess!! (1 + 2)

i have headcanons:

aziraphale is a variety IRL streamer: cooking, baking, crafts, chatting etc. he's on a bob-ross level of respect and admiration for how sweet and pleasant he is to everyone

crowley streams whatever can be a conduit for mischief: from toxic PVP gameplay, to IRL chatting streams out in public places. he's primarily a gamer, but people watch him for his horrendous personality.

they rarely hang out in each other's chats, but that's just happenstance. one is usually sleeping when the other is live, otherwise they'll have their screens open and lurk

crowley never bans trolls; they’re half his content. he enjoys backchatting and riling them up. his streams are notoriously chaotic because of little moderation and his rapidly shifting attention span

aziraphale’s mods ban trolls very efficiently, but he wouldn’t see their messages anyway, because chat always moves too fast for him. that’s not to say that he’s got a hyperactive chat; even slow mode would be too fast for him. he only ever catches every 5th message.

aziraphale is SO bad at reading chat, it's become a meme within his community that if he reads out/replies to you, you have been Chosen and need to go buy a lottery ticket asap

anathema mods for crowley, which mostly means just hanging out and insulting him when he dies in-game

newt is aziraphale's most revered mod, because whenever he tries to simply purge a mean message, he somehow accidentally IP bans the account. he's invaluable for managing troll attacks

their mods know they're together, but silently watch everyone lose their minds over the steadily growing conspiracy for their own personal entertainment

[hotchtits]

i know people think hotch wouldn’t have deleted evidence for spencer like emily did but i think we forget how often hotch literally just does whatever the hell he wants…

- doesn’t report spencer ‘s serious addiction problem

- gives spencer a gun despite him not passing his certification training

- openly backchats his Section Chief

- calls up the italian government to rescind a priest’s diplomatic immunity

- fakes emily’s death

- lets morgan escape from the interrogation room in 2x11

- has connections that go all the way up to the attorney general and frequently uses those connections

…and everyone else just kinda deals with it?

idk maybe he wouldn’t have deleted evidence but, and especially after elle, hotch has a track record for bending the rules when it comes to his team

[angelxcz]

Brat tamer! Toji who has you shoved into the mattress, foot sitting on the back of your neck as he grinned. “Come on. Where’s that backchat now hmm?” He teased gruffly, amusement heavy on his tongue as he pressed harder into you. “Thought you wanted to be a fucking brat. Look where that got you.”

You mewled, tears staining the sheets as you were fucked into oblivion. Your cheek smushed against the soft fabric as his cock pierced your gummy walls deep. Hammering roughly into your g spot until your cries turned into sobs.

“You can take it. Bratty little girls like you just need a little roughening up don’t ya?”

You whined out a cry, body shaking as he gripped your wrists behind your back. Forcing your back to arch as you nodded, “mhm— ngh- just how i.. how i— oh f-fuck..”

“Come on slut, spit it out.” he growled, his thrusts getting hard and fast as he bullied your cunt. Your moans gaining volume as his thrusts become even hardee

“Nghh— just h-how i like it.. ahh.” Glassy eyes rolling back as your toes curled, your boyfriend’s hips still slamming into your tender flesh relentlessly.

“That’s my fucking girl.” He groaned. “One step closer to me letting you cum.”

[dollerinna]

SHUT UP AND LOOK PRETTY :: B. BUTCHER

─ 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑑 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝚑𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝚑𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑜𝑏 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝚑𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛’ 𝑐𝚑𝑒𝑒𝑘𝑦

𝓑illy butcher ੭୧ fem! brat reader ┇ oral m! receiving

BILLY BUTCHER was a bastard, and he wore it like a badge of honor. But you? You didn't cower under that withering glare. If anything, you met it head-on—sharp-tongued and reckless enough to dance on the edge of his patience until he snapped you back into place.

"Mm... I swear, assholes like you always have the biggest di-" The words slurred off your lips between each languid stroke, slow as honey sliding off a spoon, spiked with just enough venom to make them sting ever so sweetly.

Before the last syllable could fully form, Butcher's hand twisted into your hair with ruthless precision, the sharp tug startling a gasp as your head was wrenched backward.

"Oi- shut it," He barked, voice fraying at the edges with that gravel-pitched snarl that somehow managed to make everything sound filthier. His grip stayed merciless, anchoring you in place. "Ain't payin' you for yer backchat, love."

The faintest curve pulling at the corners of your mouth only spurred him on, his fist cinching down with a bruising authority as he dragged you closer. The swollen, darkened tip of his cock grazed against the contour of your bottom lip—hot, heavy, and unapologetically solid.

"Think you can sass me with a mouth full of cock, eh?" Butcher's eyes darkened, a harsher, more bestial gleam flickered to life within his stare, eclipsing that familiar glint. "Proper bird knows how to use her mouth without gettin' cheeky, so get back to it."

You didn't hesitate. The weight of him, already swelling between your teeth, carried a palpable heat that bled from his skin akin to smoldering coals, thickening the air to the point of where it felt ready to suffocate. As you took him in deeper, your lips stretched around the rigid girth, inch by delicious inch, until your throat tightened with the strain.

The raw, uneven rhythm of his exhale shattered the silence, strong digits threading deeper into your scalp. "Fuckin' hell...” Butcher's groan teetered on a gritted growl, his free hand bracing against the nearby wall. "That's it. Take it all, yeah?"

The hum vibrating within your vocal cords earned another guttural sound from him, the tip of your tongue tracing the buzz of a prominent vein along his shaft. His hips jerked forward in shallow thrusts, pressing further down until the head of his dick nudged the very back of your soft palate, stretching you to the brink.

He wasn't gentle. But then, you hadn't expected him to be.

"Big cock's a bloody curse," he muttered, each word fracturing under the weight of his breathing as you swallowed around him, the spasmodic clench of your muscles forcing a tremor through his stance. "But it don't mean I’m gonna start slowin’ down like some limp-dicked twat, whisperin’ sweet fuck-all in yer ear.”

His pace quickened, each thrust driving deeper as precum spread over your tongue like a rising tide of molten wax that refused to ebb—fiery and stifling, branding you from the inside out with every throb that followed. Even then, his fingers in your hair remained taut, locking you in place as if afraid to lose the burn.

"Least you've got some talent," a grunt rumbled from the well in his chest, thumb tracing a mocking semblance of tenderness along the delicate skin of your temple. "Might keep you around if you behave."

Butcher wasn't bluffing—he would keep you around. But only if you learned fast not to bite the hand that fed you. Or in this case, the cock that kept you on your knees.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Here’s one I don’t see enough of is Carmy using toys on his partner 🥵👀 like imagine him using a clit toy whilst fucking

ohhhhhh yeah.

smut warning!!

“Stop fuckin’ squirmin’.”

You look up at Carmy, his usually bright blue eyes turned all dark and stormy.

“I can’t-”

“Yes you can, honey. Yes you can.”

His hips glide back into yours so the two of you are pressed together fully. He reaches over to the nightstand, picking up your toy and pressing it to your clit. He doesn’t turn it on, just lets it sit there as he thrusts out and back in again.

“You want me to turn it on? Hmm?”

You shake your head, then nod, then shake your head again.

“Use your words, babe.”

“Yeah, Carmy - please.”

He chuckles, pressing the button to kick the toy to life. You try and wriggle away but he anchors your hips to the mattress with a heavy hand, pressing down firmly.

“You wanted this, honey. You’ll take it like I know you can.”

You’re overwhelmed in the best way. There’s so many sensations happening, your mind in overdrive as the room spins. You take a deep breath, focusing on the feeling of your boyfriend’s warm body against yours.

After you’ve adjusted, Carmen starts moving his hips again, laughing when you whine.

“Come on, bratty girl. You’ve been running your mouth all day, haven’t you? Where are all those fighting words now, hmm?”

You so desperately want to backchat him, to put him back in his place. But you can’t.

Not when he’s hinging his hips into yours, pressing the button on the toy to increase its vibrations. The pressure and the angle is all so perfect, he’s got you on the edge already.

“You close, baby? Yeah, atta girl.”

The praise throws you over the edge, back arching as you tighten around him.

“Count it, honey,” he murmurs against your lips.

You blink up at him, trying to process what he said.

“Count it.”

“One,” you whimper.

“Good girl. One down. Four to go.”

[cyberrose2001]

If I'm not too late, can I get some TFP Wheeljack x AFAB!Reader where Wheeljack is a brat that gets off on his little human bossing him around and making him beg.

I wanna see this man whimper.

TFP Wheeljack x Human Reader

eyyyyy thank you for requesting, Tag. I apologise for the long wait, but I hope you like it!!

Warnings: AFAB, GN Reader, Cybertronian/Human, Brat Taming, Dom/Sub Elements, Collaring

Word Count: 1,450

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

"You gonna behave yourself, or do I have to tie you up again?"

"Can't promise I won't."

Wheeljack, the self-proclaimed free-thinker, prides himself on being an asshole whenever he can. You don't tolerate assholes very well, and you make that very clear to everyone. Some call it being bossy. You call it discipline. But the mech on his knees in front of you always seems to get on your nerves more than anyone else, determined to push your buttons and poke at your patience.

But in light of it all, it makes for a very good excuse to poke at his own buttons.

In the privacy of Wheeljacks' quarters, with a bare foot pressed against his modesty plates, you grasp Wheeljacks' chin and tilt his helm to look at you. The stern look in your eyes sends a shiver down his spinal strut, a fair warning that you're not in the mood for his teasing tonight.

"I beg your pardon?" You press your foot a little harder, causing a hiss from his intake.

"Ah- I promise!" Wheeljack grits his dentae, and you feel a smile creep onto your face, "I promise I will."

"Good," You grasp onto the lead of his collar and tug his helm back before thumbing at his scarred bottom derma and slipping it past, "You know I don't like it when you backchat me."

Wheeljacks' vents hitch as you slide your thumb against his glossa, groaning at the taste of your skin. Salty yet sweet, it matches your personality. He envelops around it and sucks softly, his optics flicking up to your look of approval.

"There you go," You say sweetly, pressing your thumb further against his glossa. You feel his oral lubricants start to pool in his cheeks, along with the buzz of another groan, "Isn't it so much easier to behave with something stuffed in your mouth?"

The mech closes his optics in gentle surrender, softly whining when you start to rub your foot along the seams of his bulging panels. As much as Wheeljack wanted to bite back at you with something clever and bratty, his need for you bites at him harder. He's started to slowly rut into the sole of your foot, desperate for your attention to his aching spike.

"I didn't say you could do that, now could I?" You re-tract your foot from his groin, watching his thighs tremble with a wicked satisfaction. He furrows his brows when he's only left to grind at the air, the smallest of whimpers passing through his dermas.

"Can I pressurise my spike? Please?" Wheeljack leans forward to press his face into the fat of your thigh, nuzzling and pressing languished kisses in bribery. It's an adorable sight, but you're not convinced yet.

"Where did all that cheekiness go? I touch you once, and you're already begging for it." You bite back a soft moan in an attempt to uphold your dominance when he sucks at your inner thigh. You stop yourself in your tracks and grasp the kibble of his helm, ripping him away from your skin, "Get on your back."

Wheeljack whines before complying, flopping back against the floor. He bites his derma as he feels his spike throbbing against his panels, aching to be released and graced by your unforgiving flesh.

"Do you know how much you annoy the living fuck out of me?" You crawl against him to straddle his lap, one of your hands dipping below to paw at his panels, "Because I don't think I've made myself clear enough."

Before Wheeljack can beg again, your fingers open his panels. His spike instantly springs up with a sigh of relief, rock hard and standing at attention. With a smug grin, you press your thin-clothed underwear against it, grinding your hips at an achingly slow pace.

"I think I- hah- get the idea. Can't blame me for messin' around with you." Wheeljacks' servos twitch against the floor in anticipation. The feeling of your heat and arousal only makes him more desperate to plunge himself into you.

"You do things to me, Wheeljack. You drive me crazy..."

"Yeah? T-Tell me more, sweetspark."

"I fucking love it."

You pull your underwear to the side, not even bothering to take them off. Positioning yourself on top of his spike, you push the tip past your folds. You bore holes into Wheeljacks' optics as you do, watching his face twist and dentae grit when you pause in your tracks.

"Frag- why'd ya stop?" The wrecker hisses, arching his back helplessly. You reach forward and grip the lead of his collar, securing it around your knuckles.

"Tell me how much you love it when I have my way with you, how much you purposely try my patience just to get me to snap and fuck the living shit out of you." You tug on the lead tighter, "How much you fucking love to beg for it."

Wheeljacks' face flushes a bright blue as the rest of his bravado flushes down the drain. This is what he was waiting for. The fiery and wicked charm you possess deep inside that makes his knees weak, only reserved for him. He bites his bottom dentae, a small whimpery sob slipping past.

"I fraggin' live for it." His voice strained, "I fraggin' love it when I get you to snap. Frag- sweetspark just please ride me-"

His sentence is cut short, his breath taken away as you sink down on his thickness, finally plunging into your unforgiving heat. You shiver as you're split open, clenching down on his harder-than-rock spike. Readjusting your grip on his lead, you look him dead in the optic and start to bounce your ass on him.

"Ohhhh, fragfragfrag- yes-" Wheeljack slumps his helm back as best as he could with the collar, a whiney moan escaping him as your silky walls massage him just right. He fights the urge to bounce up into you, riveted by how you take complete control of him.

"F-Fuck Wheeljack- nghh-" You bounce along his spike faster, moaning with him as he stretches you beyond capacity. The hand that isn't gripping the leash grabs onto one of Wheeljacks' servos that isn't making claw marks in the concrete and moves it to a bobbing tit, a small reward for his good behaviour.

"F-Feels' so good.... frag, I love how squishy ya are." Wheeljack gives your breast a good squeeze, optics bouncing back and forth between your chest and your pussy ravaging his spike.

A familiar pressure starts to build in the depths of your stomach, and it urges you to fuck him with more haste, "Nhh- I'm close..." Another tug of his lead sends his spike throbbing, "You've been so nice, Jackie. I'll let you cum; you wanna- you wanna cum inside? Yeah?"

The Wrecker languidly nods, another whimpery moan leaving him. With all this dirty talk, just for him, he's finding it harder and harder to resist an overload, "Y-Yeah, please, I've been good, s-so good..."

You loudly moan as your body shudders. Your thighs give up and hinder your bounces, resorting to wild rolls of your hips. You clamp down and come to an orgasm while you cry out the mech's name, strangling his throbbing spike. Wheeljack, too, wantonly cries out for you as he arches his back struts and overloads with such force that you nearly double over. But he secures his servos to your thighs and grips on, allowing himself to rut into you until his tanks are dry.

You collapse forward and pant heavily against his chassis, coming down from the high. You softly groan, feeling Wheeljacks' sticky transfluids pool beneath you. A soft chuckle vibrates you, and you feel the shaky metallic servo of Wheeljack rest against your bare back.

"Thanks, kid." He heaves, letting his sore helm rest against the floor, "Not to quote anyone verbatim, but... I really needed that."

Despite coming off as an absolute jackass with a side serving of brattiness, there is a soft, tender side to the Wrecker rarely seen by anyone else but you. It's a stark contrast to moments ago, but you take pride in knowing that the rowdy mech can be wrangled.

You've just gotta dom the fuck out of him.

You lift your head just enough to observe the playful gleam in his optics. Leaning forward, you kiss his scarred derma tenderly, "Same time next week?"

"You know it, sweetspark. I'll be sure to pull a prank or two on ya before then, just to get ya really worked up over me."

You'll be sure to get the ropes ready next time.