#both like to take advantage of the other though. so not gonna play it off like daffy is some poor begotten victim of bugs' wrath

[that-rackin-frackin-varmint]

#41 — 07/31/2022 9:28 AM

And here’s domestic Baffy fuel for y’all

Present day thoughts:

See, I like that they can have these moments where they just banter. It adds some background on what they get up to beyond their competitive rivalry/antagonism in their classic shorts.

Also Bugs can actually be quite open about casual things when conversing with Daffy. "How would you liked to be remembered?" and he gives a genuine response. He's willing to be sincere with Daffy, and this is a consistent aspect to his character whether or not it's Daffy. He's sometimes very blunt and childishly naive, other times he's deceptive and feigning innocence.

Even though in some portrayals he can be deliberately obtuse that it feels like he has some vendetta against Daffy, this other casually open and frank side of him is not gatekept from Daffy. So you can see why Daffy sometimes lets himself be vulnerable around Bugs. Sometimes Bugs can be a simple sweetheart, which makes it all the more devious when he uses that disposition while tricking his adversaries.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Louder Than Fear

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, smut (p in v, oral both receiving), light angst, sex pollen, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: Missions involving Hydra often go very wrong. This is different. This is worse. This is a strange bioweapon, nobody telling you exactly what's wrong, and staring at the ceiling as Bucky roars you name. It's echoing in your brain. And you love him.

So you have to fix this.

Author's Note: Sudden rush of Bucky content is doing nothing but feeding my preexisting addiction. Enjoy the result of that!

Word Count: 8.5k

It’s not technically babysitting duty. On paper it’s called monitoring and mediating. Ensuring agents do not get off track or engage in unprofessional actives.

On paper, you were supposed to be waiting in the car. But then Sam had started whining about being put on surveillance duty like he was a five-year-old, and you’d ended up walking them through the forest so he’d have company. Then Steve had pointed out that you’d be best at actually finding the target, and you’d ended up fifty feet underground in a Hydra bunker. 

And he’d been right, you would be, but that wasn’t supposed to be your job. 

You were supposed to be waiting in the car, monitoring and mediating. 

If they’d just let you wait in the car, everything might have been fine. Bucky wouldn’t be strapped to the jet seat with his eyes squeezed tight, Steve wouldn’t be standing between you for reasons you don’t really understand, and Sam wouldn’t be on strict say one word and get stabbed orders.

You shouldn’t have gone into the bunker. 

You shouldn’t have gotten distracted in the bunker.

“I just don’t see how this is a useful conversation-“

“You don’t need to see how it’s useful, Cap, you just need to accept that when it comes to pop culture, I’m always gonna be right-“

“But you’re starting from an advantage, it’s not a level playing field-“

Sam had laughed in your ear, and the sound was a little scratchy and static. “This isn’t a war, there doesn’t need to be a level playing field-“

“Well, once Bucky and I catch up on 21st century media-“

“Bucky isn’t catching up on shit, isn’t that right buddy-“

Steve had stopped in the middle of the hallway, and you’d almost slammed right into his back, stopped only by an impossibly strong, cool arm had wrapping around your waist and pulling you back right before the collision.

You’d leaned back to see Bucky still scanning around the dark hallway as he supported your body, he’d smelled so good, and it had been an effort to focus on Sam and Steve’s conversation.

“That’s rude, Sam-“

“I’m not insulting him.” You’d been able to picture the shit-eating grin on Sam’s face. “I’m just pointing out that the last time we tried to watch a movie, Bucky got mad at the CGI-“

“It was stupid.” Bucky had muttered, frowning at the air around him “Movies didn’t need to be doing so much.”

You’d mouthed along to his words—you’ve heard them before, and you’ll likely hear them again—and when you’d caught his eye, you’d thrown him a winning smile that just made him roll his eyes.

He’d still been holding onto you, even though you’d long regained your balance.

You were almost certain you’d seen his mouth twitch slightly in the dark. 

“Then we’ll find some other movies, Buck, and-” 

Steve had turned around to raise his brows at Bucky, but ended up doing a slight double take at the sight of you. Pressed tight to Bucky’s chest, his arm around your stomach, your eyes wide on Steve’s, and Bucky continuing to monitor the incredibly empty hall.

“I- uh-“ You’d been pretty sure Steve was blushing, and he’d definitely been stumbling over his words. “I can- I’m just gonna turn around-“

“Why?” Sam’s voice had been a little too loud and eager in your ear. “What’s going on? Are they making-“

“I fell.” You’d mumbled, your voice a little frantic. “And Bucky-“

“What did he do? Did he sweep you off your feet-“

“Shut up, Wilson.” Bucky still hadn’t been paying full attention. He still hadn’t let go. “Focus on the mission-“

You could picture Sam’s shrug. “Mission is boring. How exciting, Hydra’s taking up gardening-“

You’d frowned into the air. “It’s not gardening, Sam-“

“Right, sorry,” Sam had said your name, his voice at least a little apologetic. “Didn’t mean to shit on your thing-“

“Yeah, that’s not what I’m worried about.” You’d sighed, leaning your head a little back. You’d almost been resting it on Bucky’s shoulder.

He hadn’t pushed you away.

“Did you read Stark’s mission briefing-“

“No.” Sam had cut you off, and he’d sounded appalled you’d even suggest that. “It’s mostly just Tony kissing his own ass, and you and Golden Boy down there always go cover to cover, so why should I-”

You sigh. “Because then you’d know why it’s not just gardening, dumbass-“

Sam had gasped, and it had been one of the most dramatic ones you’d even heard. “That’s not very nice-“

“Shut up.” You’d raised your brows at Steve, who had been mostly trying to not look you or Bucky directly in the eyes. “Steve, tell bird-boy why it’s not just gardening.”

He’d nodded, staring very pointedly at a spot on the wall. “It’s, uh, they tried to make a bioweapon. With plants.”

“All I’m hearing is gardening-“

“Sam Wilson.” You’d snapped, and that had shut him up. You’d used what Stark called your Mom voice—where you stopped shouting and made your tone firm—and even Bucky had tensed behind you. “Stop acting like a middle schooler, or I’ll make you write a book report about the next briefing. Got it?”

Sam had sighed in your ear, mumbled an agreement, and Steve had shot you a nervous grin before he started shuffling back down the hall.

You’d had to poke Bucky’s face to get his attention, nodding to his arm around your body to get him to release you.

Once he had, you’d just kept walking, because you never allow yourself to think about those odd but frequent moments. The ones where Bucky touches you a little longer than needed, or did something protective that he’d probably do for anyone on a mission, but still made your head feel fuzzy and your gut a little warm.

The rest of the mission had run smoothly. Sam had shut up, and Steve had gotten distracted from the whole Bucky holding you like a doll thing by a few well-timed questions about how he’s doing on his self-inflicted music catch up mission, and you’d taken every single moment Bucky interacted with you and locked them deep in your chest. 

You’d gotten good at that. You were a dragon hoarding gold, only the dragon was your dumb little heart, and the gold was Bucky’s attention.

He’d opened at door for you. He’d stayed on pace behind you like a very stoic, grumpy guard dog. He’d pulled you back by the collar of your shirt before you could walk right into a trap, and you’d ended up half off the ground, in his arms, and repeating to yourself it means nothing.

This means nothing.

To Bucky, this means nothing.

Then he’d spoken to you, and you’d almost tripped over your own rapid and electrified heartbeat.

“I read it.” He’d muttered in your ear, and you’d blinked up at him with a frown.

“What?”

He’d been looking at you. His eyes are an always little more than on yours, because whenever Bucky looks at you it’s feels like something’s branding on your spine. Sending tiny little sparking shockwaves through your body, making you stand a little taller and blink a little less, because it seems your body simply refuses to miss a single moment him.

“I read the mission report.” He’d grunted. It had sounded incredibly important for you to know. “I always do.”

“Oh. Good.”

And he’d looked really handsome. His mission suit fit him too well. His metal hand kept flexing, and it was making your breathing a little short. He’d been bullied into a haircut a few months ago, but most of it had regrown, and it framed his face so distractingly well.

And that had been the mistake.

You’d gotten really distracted. Even after you’d kept walking, Bucky’s voice just bounced and echoed around in your head, and when you’d found the bioweapon—it was just a big flower, but Sam never needed to know that—you’d been too slow to react.

The spurt of pollen had been aimed at you.

Bucky had jumped in front of you because he was a dumbass.

And now, you were here.

The moment Bucky had been sprayed in the face—you’ve strictly forbidden Sam from called it being hit with plant jizz—his whole body had tensed, his eyes had dilated, and he’d… taken off his arm. Let it clatter to the floor as his breathing became labored, and his eyes locked onto yours.

You and Steve had stared at him, you’d opened your mouth to ask if he was okay, and he’d raised his hand as if he could physically block the sound of your voice.

“Steve.” His words had been pushed through his teeth, so strained and weighted that it had ached a little in your chest. “Get her out.”

Steve had just frowned at him. “Bucky, what’s-“

“Out.” He’d hissed, and Steve—the loyal fuck—had listened. 

You’d been carried back to the jet by Sam, Steve had gone back to get Bucky, and you’d had plenty of time to try and work out what the fuck had just happened.

It was a bioweapon. All of you had known that, but you didn’t know what it did. Bucky could be in pain, he could be suffering, he could be dying. 

He certainly isn’t okay. He’d asked to be restrained, every time you speak he flinches, and he’s refused to put his arm back on. Steve keeps trying to ask him what’s wrong, and he just shakes his head and mutters something you can’t hear. Sam tried to sit down next to you and he fucking growls.

“Jesus, Bucky, did you get turned into a dog by the plant ji-“

You slam your fist into Sam’s gut, he doubles over with a groan, and Bucky won’t stop staring at you. It’s worse than the branding feeling. That’s always just from you, and it’s always unintentional. Bucky doesn’t know that you like his pretty face and his grumpy words, that you have very vulgar and inappropriate fantasies about the metal arm, or that every time you draw a chuckle or small smile out him it makes the whole world light up. 

But this is brighter than the usual attention. This is a little feral, and he doesn’t look comfortable. Usually when he looks at you his body relaxes slightly, and you take that and bury it in your collection. Right now his stare seems to be carving right into your ribs and wrapping around your skin, like he’s trying to pull you apart with just his eyes. His breathing is ragged and loud, his nostrils keep flaring, and he’s leaning forward in his restraints.

And Steve’s a big guy, but not big enough that Bucky can’t lean around him to keep watching you.

Then his eyes start to droop, and you can see sweat stains all over his suit. He’s still looking at you.

He’s flushed and pale all at once, and he lets out a high, almost whining sound of pain-

“Sam.” You whisper, afraid to look away from Bucky for even a second. “Can you please-“

“Yes, ma’am.” Sam presses his hand to Bucky’s brow, his eyes widen slightly, and you feel a little sick. 

“Shit, uh, Steve-“

Steve moves without question, and his reaction is an almost twin look of worry.

“Goddamnit.” He looks back to you, saying your name cautiously. “It’s- he’s burning.”

“FRIDAY,” you mumble, because maybe they’re both wrong. Maybe the jet is warm. “Can you please check Bucky’s temperature?”

“Sargent Barnes has a fever of one-hundred and four point six degrees. Would you like me to alert the Compound to prepare for medical response?”

You swallow, your hand curling into a fist to stop it from reaching out and touching him. He’s got firm lines on his brow and you’d like to trace them. Sooth them out.

“Send his vitals to Bruce and Tony too.”

Steve takes over for you, and you’ll have to thank him later, when your heart isn’t pounding and banging in your ribs, and Bucky doesn’t look like he’s trying to fly out of his skin. 

You don’t know why he jumped in front of you. You would’ve been fine. Whatever’s affecting him wouldn’t affect you. And he should’ve known that.

“Why does Stark call you Mother Earth?” He’d asked you once, suddenly a few feet behind you in the kitchen, and you’d blinked at him. 

He’d only just moved into the compound. His hair was still a little greasy—he hadn’t been introduced to the wonders of coconut oil and conditioner yet—and there was still a weary, haunted expression on his face almost every waking second. He didn’t talk to anyone but Steve because it was Steve, his government mandated therapist because he had to, and Sam and Peter because they didn’t know how to not talk. 

But there he was. 

Talking to you.

“Because I have plant powers.” You’d shrugged, turning back to the stove. “And Tony’s convinced he’s a comedic genius.”

Bucky had moved to lean against the counter, and he’d still been watching you. It was the first time you’d gotten that warm, bright feeling up your spine. “What do plant powers do.”

“The technical term Bruce uses is chlorokinesis.” You’d started to fish through the cabinets for a mug, keeping your voice calm and even. “I can control and manipulate botanical life. But I’m also invulnerable. To physical injury and allergies, because I’m basically half-plant myself, so I can like, regrow or whatever. I mean, plant powers is pretty fucking self-explanatory-“

You’d paused, glancing at Bucky with an apologetic expression.

“Sorry.” You’d mumbled. “That was mean.”

He’d given you an odd look, and for a second you’d thought he would leave. Push off the counter and walk away, never sparing a glance in your direction again.

But he’d just stared at you with that unreadable expression. And when he’d finally spoken, his words weren’t clipped or rough. They’d sounded almost easy. Calm.

“Do you need help?”

You’d swallowed, your hand still reaching half over your head. “What?”

“You look like you’re having trouble.” He’d nodded to your outstretched arm, frozen in the cabinet. “I can help.”

You’d nodded, he’d closed the space in one second, and his body had been warm. Almost radiating heat, setting your skin on fire when just his fingers brushed yours. He’d handed you the mug with an expression on his face that was almost a grin, you’d smiled back, and that had been it.

You’d been gone.

You’d barely even stood a chance.

Your heart had passed itself into Bucky’s hands, and he’d held it so carefully without ever knowing. He stayed near you and fed your hunger for him all the fucking time. He literally fed you, because the thing that seemed to fascinate him the most about modern times was the food—to the point that Tony put a weekly cap on his DoorDash account—and whenever he knew you were at the compound, he’d make you eat with him. 

And Sam had been right. Bucky did have an odd, amusing determination to remain entirely an old man, but it was also adorable and charming in a way Sam simply did not know how to appreciate. You’d learned that—to make Bucky consume any remotely modern media—you just had to let him show you something in trade. You’d listened to a lot of Bing Crosby and Duke Ellington just to make Bucky experience one Beyonce song.

His eyes had been so wide the entire time you’d been worried they’d pop out of his head.

You’d caught him listening to it again almost two weeks later, mumbling along to the lyrics in a way that was more sound than word.

And you’d fallen a little further. Over and over in small moments like that one, stronger and stronger as Bucky’s smile turned from a grimacing, almost mechanical movement as he relearned how his face worked, into a broad, almost goofy expression that he seemed to reserve for the people that sat with him in silence when he needed it, and smiled at him without expecting one in return.

The list was short. Limited to you and Steve, as well as Sam under very dire circumstances.

You’d never allowed yourself to read too far into that. 

But it was hard not to now. 

Because Bucky wasn’t looking at anyone but you. Whenever his eyes flutter in his sleep, or he wakes up with a low moan, his gaze locks onto your open expression of worry. He keeps groaning something that sounds like your name in his sleep.

You want to help him.

He curls away from you with almost a snarl every time you try to even get out of your seat. 

And you’re so confused.

Steve mutters your name when the jet lands, and he’s not looking away from Bucky as he speaks. “Don’t get out of your seat until we get Bucky sedated.”

You nod nervously, right up until the word sedated catches up with your brain. 

“Wait, don’t-“

“We have to.” Steve’s voice is firm. Low and unwavering. “I’ll explain later. Stay in your seat.”

He’s not asking. That’s an order.

And it only takes a few moments for you to realize why.

Bucky fights. The medic team wakes him up as they try to move him out of the jet, and he fights like an animal. This isn’t his usual, controlled and calculated movements. This is wild, with roars and noises that are almost primal ripping out of his chest. 

He doesn’t stop looking at you, or saying your name, and the noise is almost pleading. 

You have to cover your ears. If you heard any more you would’ve damned it and helped him, and you have a feeling it would’ve made everything worse. 

It takes Steve, Sam, the whole med team, and a very concerned Natasha to get him down. 

And you’re alone in the jet. Left to wander your way back to your room, your hands shaking slightly and your head spinning.

He would’ve been fine. If you’d just stayed in the car, or you’d been fucking paying attention and had moved faster—dodging the spray yourself or making sure it hit you instead of Bucky—everything would’ve been fine.

Nobody tells you what’s happening. You lay on flat the bed, stare up at the ceiling, and your brain begins to feel a little foggy.

You can still see him staring at you. The sight is almost seared onto your vision, and everything seems to be lined with blue wherever you look. He’d been in pain. This building has the most advanced medical technology in America, and these people have access to all the best doctors in the world, but as far as you know he’s still hurting. Still screaming and thrashing, still burning up and probably all alone, because this is the exact type of thing that can’t happen to him.

Fuck. This can’t happen to Bucky. If it was Steve they’d be worried, but he’d be treated with more care. No brutal slamming of his body against the jet wall, no sedative specifically tailored to make him go down. If it was Sam there wouldn’t need to be as many resources exerted to get him down. Bucky would’ve just punched him in the face with no shortage of glee in his expression, and everyone would be fine.

But Bucky’s going to have to get mental clearance. That wasn’t the Soldier, but they’ll be worried it was. You’d still seen Bucky behind his eyes—simply a panicked and desperate version of him—but no one’s going to see that but you. Even Steve will elect to be safe rather than sorry.

You’d fucked it up for him. He’d been doing so well, and you’d fucked it up with your dumb, distracting infatuation. And you don’t even know if he’s still in pain.

“FRIDAY?” Your voice is soft, barely audible even in the silence, but the AI hears you anyway.

“How can I help you, Mother Earth?”

You’re going to need to stab Tony later. Right now you have bigger worries.

“Is Bucky okay?”

“I’m sorry, agent,” FRIDAY says your last name, and her voice doesn’t sound very sorry. “I have been blocked from sharing any information about Sargent Barnes with you indefinitely.”

You sit up on the bed, glaring around the room. “I’m- what? Why would- what? Who blocked me?”

“The order was issued by Agent Romanov.” 

“Can you please unblock me?”

“Unfortunately not. Your admin privileges have been removed from my system until further notice.”

You gape at the ceiling. “Who did that?”

“Dr. Banner put in the request, and it was approved by Mr. Stark. You are also under strict orders not to leave your quarters. I have an audio recording from Mr. Stark for you that can be played upon request. Would you-“

“Play it.” You snap, then flinch at your own harsh tone. “Sorry. Please play it.”

“Hey, Mom.” Tony’s voice fills the room, the usual light apathy in his voice filled with something heavier. Almost tired. You almost forget to be mad about him calling you mom. “Before you get all pissed and turn my house into the Amazon, we didn’t want to do this. Tall, dark, and murdery keeps saying your name, and until we work out what’s wrong with him I’m not comfortable having you wander around. Sorry.”

The audio clicks off, and Tony’s getting stabbed twice now. 

“FRIDAY,” you chose your words carefully, keeping your tone even and natural. “Can you please tell me who’s near residential room sixty-seven?”

“Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark are standing the hall, Dr. Banner recently entered the room, and Agent Romanov just left the wing.”

“Can you patch me to Natasha, please?”

“I am alerting the agent of your request now.”

It takes a long, painful second, but Natasha picks up. You barely wait for the static hum of the call to fill the room before you’re talking, staring at the corner of your room where you know Tony keeps the camera.

“What’s wrong with him.”

Natasha sighs over the speaker. “I can’t tell you that,” she says your name in a worryingly gentle voice, and your hands curl back into fists. “You know I can’t.”

“I’m not-“ You swallow, holding your gaze on the camera. “Please. Just tell me what’s going on-“

“We’re going to fix it. Tony and Steve are looking at options-“

“Options for what?” Your voice is pleading. You don’t care. “Nat, I’m can’t- I’m really worried-“

“I know you are.” Her voice is still gentle. You can taste bile in your throat. “Which is why we can’t tell you. I’m-“

“Don’t say sorry.” You snap. “Just, just tell me he’s okay. Please.”

There’s a long silence. It’s an answer enough, and it sinks too deep into your skin. 

Natasha’s a good liar. 

Why can’t she just lie.

“He will be okay.” Her tone is cautious, and you can picture her frown. “We’ll make sure he’s okay.”

“Can I help?” You whisper. “With anything? Please?”

She’s silent again. You’re going to throw up.

“Nat-“

“I’ll call you back.” 

The line goes dead, and that time, she’d lied. She doesn’t call you back. Time drags on and comes to odd, stuttering halts as you sit in the silence, and when you finally clear your throat and sit up once more, it’s dark outside.

“FRIDAY, can you please give me the feed of the hallway outside residential room sixty-seven?”

The AI doesn’t bother to answer you, silently patching you through. 

You don’t think she’s really supposed to. But she seems to like that you say please.

Natasha, Steve, and Bruce are huddled outside of Bucky’s room, their voices low, but not enough for FRIDAY not to pick up the audio.

“He’s not getting any better.” Bruce mutters, his head turned down. You can see him fidgeting with his glasses, and you can picture the frown on his face. “And I am beginning to worry. There’s just- there’s nothing else I can do.”

Steve shakes his head, and the panic in his voice sounds a lot like the wired, tense little bubbles rising in your throat. “But- Bruce there’s got to be another option, we work in a miracle factory-“

“And I’m afraid I’m out of them, Cap. I’m sorry, it’s- it’s the only option.” Bruce sighs. “Hydra was very thorough.”

There’s a long moment of silence you can’t understand, the hum of the audio clashing horribly with the ringing in your ears, and then-

“He won’t take anyone else?” Natasha sounds desperate. It’s louder than an alarm echoing through the compound. “What about- Have we tried the pocket pussy?”

“He broke it.” Steve mutters, his face red, and a lot of things click into place at once. 

The heavy breathing, and tension in his body, and animalistic sounds and behaviors. The dilated eyes, and restraints, and intense gaze. 

Lustful gaze.

Oh. 

Fuck.

“And Bucky’s been very clear with us that he refuses to do… that with anyone but her.” Steve’s still talking. The room around you is a little hazy. “Tony even offered to hire someone, and he said he’d rather uh, castrate himself.”

Natasha lets out a slow breath, her words slow and careful. “She’d say yes-“

“I know she would, Nat, that’s not my worry.” Steve shakes his head, frowning at the door. “She’d say yes to help him, and he’d- It would break him. If that was it.”

“And I’m trying to get it into your skull, Rogers, that wouldn’t be it-“

“You don’t know that-“

Natasha lets out a dry laugh. “I’m pretty sure I do. You’d have to be blind not to see it-“

“I’m not blind, I just don’t want Bucky to get hurt-“

“He wouldn’t get hurt, that’s what I’m saying-“

“And when he does? We can’t kick either of them out, and he- You don’t know how serious it is for him, Nat.” Steve sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “He called it a love a first sight thing.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “That probably makes two of them.” 

And Natasha says your name. Everything slows, but not like in a movie. More like being underwater, where it’s just a little harder to see and hear, and you’re pushing against something that all around you, and it’s cool and easy but you’re drowning-

Then you breach the surface. 

And the world becomes too fast around you as Natasha just keeps talking.

“She was begging me to help, Steve. She wouldn’t regret it-“

“And Barnes is running out time.” Bruce jumps in, giving Natasha an apologetic look. “I don’t believe he’ll allow another, no matter what levels or heights his desperation reaches, especially if he’s as… infatuated as you say.”

“He is.” Steve mumbles. “It’s… Geez, Bruce, he’s like a lost puppy.”

“So let’s go get his owner.” Natasha gives Steve a pointed look, and you swallow. “She at least deserves a choice.”

You. 

You deserve the choice. 

The feed drops black, and you’re going to get a choice.

It’s barely a choice. It’s more of an instinct. Steve and Bruce shuffle into your room with nervous smiles, explain the situation—you don’t want to give away that you’d been spying, it would likely just make things more complicated—and the words are Bucky’ll only, well, he’s refusing anyone but you are barely out of Steve’s mouth before you nod. 

You say yes. And Steve stares at you, opening his mouth to say something he seems to think better of, and you hold is gaze. 

You mean it. 

And no amount of shock over the situation, no amount of stunning revelations or Tony’s worrying about you coming out, no pun intended, right side up will make you not mean it.

They give you an escape plan.

You won’t use it.

Bucky’s entirely naked when you walk into his room. Pulling a blanket over his lap before your eyes can wander further down from his darkened, painfully handsome face and broad chest. He’s sitting tall and rigid on the edge of his mattress, almost tracking your every movement as you walk through the door, jaw ticking when it closes behind you.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” He mutters. “I told Steve I’d be alright-“

“Steve told me you’re in love with me,” you blurt, and Bucky stares at you.

You hadn’t meant to just say it. You’d been planning a large build up, where he’d accuse you of pitying him and you’d say I don’t pity you, I love you, and I know you love me too.

But his first few words had been barely a rasp. He was flushed all over his body, his breathing was somehow far too deep and shallow all at once, and you can see the muscles twitching in his body. He seems to be forcing himself to barely even shift on the bed, and the mattress is creaking under the weight of his metal arm.

He put the metal arm back on.

Based on how the sheets are stained and the blanket over his lap has shifted, you have a good idea why.

Your knees are a little weak from just the sight of him. 

And it’s no longer just Bucky who needs the whole we’re both idiots, because I love you conversation out of the way quick.

“Steve fucking told you-“

“He didn’t know he was telling me.” Your voice is quick, your eyes widening slightly as you cut off Bucky’s growl. “I may have been, um, spying.”

Bucky scans you over slowly, and his mouth does the small curve that means he’s dangerously close to a real smile. “Spying doesn’t really sound like you,” he says your name, and where it would normally be a drawl it’s a growl. Your legs are going to give out. “Hydra blast you with something too?”

“I’m branching out.” You mumble, playing with the fabric of your shirt and forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “Are you? In love with me?”

Bucky’s nostrils flare, and he’s watching you like he thinks you’ll disappear. Like he’s certain you’re a trick or lie or something sent to hurt him, but he’d really like you to be real.

You’d like to be real. For Bucky, you’d like to be almost anything.

And he nods, and you’re lucky the adrenaline and fear for Bucky’s health are outweighing how your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

“How-“ You have to clear your throat, your voice weaker than you’d like. “How long?”

He suddenly won’t meet your eyes. “You gave me flowers.”

You blink at him. “Bucky, I don’t-“

“Steve was introducing me to everyone.” He mutters, bowing his head. “I don’t even know where you came from, but we turned a corner and you were just… there. Like you’d formed out of thin air or something. We startled you, and you screamed. Really loud.” You think your skin might be burning up, but Bucky’s voice has a soft sort of fondness to it that keeps you from exploding on the spot. “You were really pissed, yelling at Steve about how he should know better, and your hands were full. You handed me your flowers, and you shoved Steve. He didn’t budge, and that just made you angrier. Another flower grew out of the wall. You gave me that one too.”

“Oh.” You whisper, and Bucky just nods. “And you- when did you-“

“The moment you screamed.” He frowns at himself, shaking his head. “Not because of the scream, it was a- You weren’t afraid. You screamed but you were mostly just angry, and you gave me flowers. Helped that you were beautiful.”

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I-“ You swallow. “I thought you didn’t remember that. You asked me what my powers were-“

Bucky’s flush deepens. “Just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh.” You swallow, titling your head at him. “And- When you jumped in front of me-“

“Instinct.” He’s glaring at the floor like it’s personally responsible for this whole situation. “Didn’t think. Saw you were going to be hit. Jumped.”

His words are starting to become more and more clipped and strained, as if your very presence is bending him to a snapping point.

“That wasn’t very smart, Barnes.”

“I know.” He mumbles, shoulder dropping like he’s trying to cave in on his own body, and you sigh.

“But I get it. And I- I just don’t want- I need you, Bucky. Don’t do that again.“

He nods, you don’t think he actually heard you, and you need him to look at you.

When you take a careful step forward, he glances up, but it’s weary. 

“You grabbed my mug.” You whisper, giving him plenty of time to stop you before you’re standing between his legs. He doesn’t, and you take his face in your hands, your smile widening as he stares at you. “It felt like I- I could’ve died, Bucky. It was… Very big.”

It’s a strange thing to say, but there’s no other way to describe the true mass and power of how fast your love for Bucky had hit you, how quick it had sunken into your bones and mixed with your blood, and how fast your entire body had been rewritten with that knowledge as code. You love Bucky. 

It’s just as natural as you need to breathe air.

He seems to understand, because he nods slowly, but it quickly turns into shakes of his head, limited between your hands.

“You don’t have to do this-“

“I don’t.” You shrug, holding his gaze. “But I’m going to. Because I love you.”

He grunts, his body almost vibrating under your touch, a visible spasm wracking his body at the words. “I- Not like this.” His words are barely audible, pushed through his teeth. “It shouldn’t be like this.”

“Bucky-“

“No. I’m not- I could hurt you. I’m not going to fucking hurt you.” 

You sigh. “You can’t hurt me-“ 

He lets out a dry laugh. “As romantic as that is, doll, I very much can hurt you-“ 

“No. You literally cannot hurt me.” You raise your brows at him, your voice flat. “I’m invulnerable.”

He blinks at you, and somehow goes redder. “Oh. Right. That- I forgot.” 

You giggle, running your fingers through his hair and he scowls.

“There are million assholes with a million powers, how the hell am I supposed to keep track-“

“I’m not laughing at you, Buck. You’re cute.” You smile at him, and all the tight annoyance vanishes from him expression in a single second. He’s staring at you again.

And no one’s ever looked at you like that. Like you’re maybe brighter and more critical than the sun, and you’re pulling them in stronger than the moon and the tides.

But he’s still shaking under your touch. And fuck, up close you feel even weaker. You can see every flex of his muscles, every bit of desire in his blown-out eyes and expression, the way he’s poking through the sheets over his lap and how there’s already a dark spot of pre-cum forming a stain-

You cough, your head already going a little hazy. “I want to help, Bucky. I really do, and you won’t hurt me, but if you really don’t want it, I’ll go-“

You’re falling forwards before you know what’s happening. And any yelps or squeaks of surprise are swallowed as Bucky slams his mouth into yours, and everything else in the world fades to humming color. 

Everything becomes second to this.

To Bucky.

He mostly tastes like salt from the sweat dripping down his body, but under that is a heavy, strong thing that might just be him. His tongue shoved down your throat and his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline, every low and feral grunt that rumbles through his chest making you moan down into his mouth.

Nothing about this is controlled or careful. It’s teeth and spit and brutal want, bubbling up and bursting over as he nips at your lower lip and you start to grind down against him, his touch starting to wander and squeeze at the skin of your back and ass and thighs, the touch of his metal hand soothing as you scratch at his shoulder, the heat of your bodies feeling strong enough to start a small fire. Bucky’s whole arm wraps around your waist, pinning you to his chest, and when your hands fist in his hair his hips jerk up, the bump of his cock against your core making you almost melt into his body. 

He’s throbbing. With the barrier of the sheets gone you can feel every inch of him wedged between your legs, and God, he’s so hard you’d think he was just a stick if you couldn’t feel every jump and twitch of his cock against your clothed thighs.

“Bucky-“ You force yourself to pull back, keep your brow pressed to his as your hips continue to roll against him. “We- Fuck, I-“

Words are a little too far away, and it doesn’t help that he won’t stop kissing you. He’s in pain and you need to fix it, but he also keeps sucking and licking over your jaw and cheeks, he’s dropping down to just bury his face in your throat, and this isn’t about you but fuck, that feels good-

You give up on words. You’ve spoken enough for now, and right now you just need to-

Bucky grunts your name as you push him off of your neck, squirming back until you’re falling to your knees before him.

“What’re you-“

You trace one hand up his thigh, trying not to spend too much time marveling at his dick. You’ve dreamed of this moment, devoted whole long and boring meetings and sleep cycles to it, and it’s still better than you’d imagined. 

He’s perfect. Not big enough that you’re worried for your health, but enough that you might need to be carried around tomorrow. And he’s thick, and firm in your hand, and when you swipe your thumb over the weeping head of him, Bucky makes a sound that settles right between your legs-

“You don’t-“ He groans as you pump him once, twice, squeezing at the base of his cock and rubbing his thigh with your free hand. “Jesus, this- you’re not playing fair, doll-“

You smile up at him, and you’ve really never seen anything better than Bucky’s wrecked and desperate expression, his hair sticking to his brow and his jaw clenched so tight you’re shocked he’s able to speak. 

“I think you’ll live,” you whisper, letting your hand drift down to cup his balls. “And I want to.” 

Something like wonder glows behind Bucky’s eyes as he hisses your name, and the sound quickly turns to the loudest, most primal sound you’ve ever heard as you take him in your mouth in one movement. 

You set a quick and even pace, bobbing up and down his cock until he’s bumping the back of your throat before pulling almost all the way off and licking a long stripe along the underside. It only takes a moment for Bucky’s hand to shoot in your hair, not guiding your movements but almost trying to keep you steady around him, his grip tightening every time you squeeze and play with his balls, his movements still painfully controlled against you. 

He needs not to hold back. You don’t want him to hold back. 

You reach back to hold his hand on your head—it’s the right one, and you make a comfortable bet that it’s on purpose—tangling your own fingers in his, and you start to move. Properly fucking your own face against him, squeezing his hand in silent encouragement whenever you almost choke on him, grinding your hips near his calf in silent encouragement.

Bucky moans you name when you swallow against the tip of his cock, and it’s a final warning.

You moan around him, and that’s it.

He starts to slam up into you, and you have to grab his knee to keep balance, tracing small circles with your thumb to let him know you’re okay.

You’re more than okay. Every sound Bucky makes is slurred and unintelligible, but you can get the idea. It’s odd combination of your name and praise, all sparking further heat in your gut as Bucky grows sloppy, his cock jumping and twitching in your throat. 

He roars your name as he cums down your throat, and you need to hear that sound again. It spurs on your desperate grinding—half against the air, your clit bumping against Bucky’s leg if you get the right movement—and you barely manage to swallow all of his release before he’s pulling you off his cock and hauling you back up like you weigh nothing.

The kiss he moves you into—your body curled back on his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist—is a little softer than before, and you think you managed to take just a slightly edge off his problem. It’s still devouring and deep and filled with so much passion you might cum just from the feeling of Bucky’s tongue tracing over your lips and teeth and throat, but it’s slower. 

“So fucking good, doll.“ His voice is a growl down your throat, and you wiggle in his hold, every bit of your own need suddenly slams into your body. “God- Don’t know how I got you, but I’m never- Wanna keep you-“

You nod, not really registering anything but Bucky saying your name and a warm feeling of good. Bucky and good, that’s burning and rolling around in your chest and stomach.

“You like that?” Bucky squeezes at your ass, and you whimper. “I’m gonna take care of you, sweet girl, make you feel just as good as I felt, seeing those gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock-“

You’re not sure how he’s capable of speech right now, but he’s talking and it’s ignite every fiber of your body, and you can only barely shake your head, pulling at his hair as you try to drag yourself together, because this isn’t about you-

The sound that leaves you when Bucky flips you over—pinning you between his body and the mattress—isn’t dignified or coherent, but you don’t really care. Not as his knee moves between your legs and your clothing gets ripped off of your skin in effective and feral movements, leaving you a puddle of need and loud moans beneath Bucky’s touch.

He’s hard again. You can feel him poking against your lower stomach as he kisses you into a dazed and high mess, and it must be painful but you still can’t really figure out how words work. How to say anything that isn’t a loud moan of Bucky. 

You try to squirm, to off him at least a little friction because this is supposed to be about him, but his metal hand traps your hips, halting your every movement as he hauls himself up.

He’s just staring at you. You’re drooling a little, your chest heaving as you try to get in a breath, and your hands are still tangled in his hair for balance.

You’re lying down, but you need balance.

Because Bucky rolls his knee against your bare pussy, and your back arches off the bed with a gasp that makes his eyes flash, his dick pulsing right on your skin-

“Please-“ The word is barely audible, but it’s all you can manage. “Bucky, I- You need to-“

He nods, diving down to a long, heavy kiss and groaning as you try to grind up into him, but then he’s gone.

Not gone.

Moving down to settle between your legs, his breath hot over your cunt and his eyes wholly black as he takes in the mess between your legs.

“Wait, Buc-“ You whine as he pulls your legs further apart, the metal hand dragging two fingers between the soaked folds of your pussy. “Shit- You don’t- This is supposed to be about you-“

“This is about me.” He grunts, his right hand trailing slowly up your inner thigh, and when you crane your neck to look at him there’s almost a fascination on his face. “Said you’d feel good.”

“I do- I am good-“ Your hips fly off the mattress as he kisses right over your clit, and the metal arm moves to pin you back against the mattress. “You don’t need-“

He latches his lips over your clit, sucking and licking as his free thumb presses right over your entrance, and you choke on the air. 

“Bucky- fuck-“

“Want to,” he growls, the sound humming and deep and right over your pussy, and you can’t gasp his name enough. “Hold on.”

Your hands blindly follow his order, one fisting in his hair as the other grips his metal arm, and you’re not sure how you don’t black out.

There’s something a little clumsy to his movements–decades without practice will do that—but that only seems to make it better. He’s not calculated and deliberate. You’re not a mission or a means to an end.

Bucky eats your pussy like he wants to. Like he’s been starved for it, and there’s nothing more he needs in the world. It’s not gentle but it’s attentive, he’s keeping you right on the edge—pulling his hand away and replacing it with his tongue, letting his nose bump you clit until he moves back to pumping his fingers in and out of your fluttering cunt—and you can hear the bed start to squeak as his own hips rut against the mattress.

You try to moan his name, but you can’t think, so all that comes out is a high, needy whine. 

He understands. His metal hand moves to tangle with yours, grounding you slightly as you hang right over the edge of release, and when his finger crook on that one, sensitive spot deep inside of you, fireworks burst in over your body as you cum with a strangled scream. 

Bucky makes a deep sound against your pussy as you start to roll in his hold, and you don’t get a chance to catch your breath before he’s crashing back up to your mouth.

He moans your name against your lips, his cock pressed right against your still fluttering cunt, and you nod. 

“Now,” you manage to whisper, spreading your legs widen in a silent invitation. “Bucky, need more-“

Whatever amount of control he’d had only a few minutes ago is almost completely. Bucky flips you onto your stomach without effort, hauling your ass into the air with firm but gentle hands, and slams himself into you with one movement. You gasp as he bottoms out, and he doesn’t move.

Somehow Bucky manages to still have enough of a hold over himself to give you time to adjust, even if it’s not without effort. You can hear the low grunts leaving him as he half folds himself over your body, kissing slowly up your spine and resting his brow on your shoulder, his breathing ragged and sharp as you clench around his cock.

“Fuck-“ Bucky hisses your name, shaking his head. “Can’t do that, I’m not-“ You do it again, and he moans. A real, loud moan. “You’re- fuck-“

“Please,” you wiggle your ass against him, and his hands tense on your body. “I- I’m good-“

“Yeah, you are.” His mutter is filled with low wonder, and it just makes you squeak. “You want it, babydoll?”

You moan, nodding stupidly. “Yes-“

The word is barely out of your mouth before Bucky starts to move, and you’ve never been higher. He’s in so deep, and you’re fuller than you’ve been in your life, and drunk on how big he is, how he hits every right spot and how he keeps grunting low praise and moaning your name against your skin-

You bury your face in the sheets to try and muffle your whines of desperation and Bucky’s hand catches your jaw, turning your head to capture your lips in a long, searing kiss as he hammers into you. 

“Bucky-“

“Feel so good,” he mutters again your lips, thrusting with a brutal movement and groaning when you squeeze around his cock. “Jesus, you’re so good, doing so well, pretty girl, so fuckin’ close-“

The Brooklyn accent is coming out, and his words are starting to slur, and you only manage to moan down his throat in a silent plea of more. 

Bucky’s pace picks up into uncontrolled and frantic movements, his skin slapping against yours as his metal arm snaked around your stomach and his fingers start to rub furious, impossibly fast circles around your clit-

Your second orgasm slams into you like a tidal wave, and the only thing in the world is the dizzying and perfect pleasure washing over your body as Bucky roars your name, something warm filling you up and dripping down your thighs with your own release.

Bucky tries to move away—pulling out and pushing off of where he’s wrapped himself around your body—but you grab his arm, keeping him splayed over you.

“Need to clean you up-“

“I’ll be okay,” you mumble, a dazed smile covering your lips as you reach back, trailing your finger through his hair. “Stay.”

He pauses, but only for a second. Then his weight is settles back over your body, and everything is alright. 

Bucky’s alright. His cock in still twitching and jumping near your ass, and you think it’ll take a while to fully fuck the bioweapon out of his system, but you’re more than up to the task. For now you can just drown in his warmth, half petting his hair and humming as his lips trail over your shoulder in featherlight kisses.

“Did you mean it?” 

You twist your head, a small frown on your face. “Mean-“

“The-“ He sighs, staring at you like he’s trying to pry something inside of you out. “The thing.”

“That I love you?”

Bucky’s throat bobs, and he nods. 

“Of course I did.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth that takes only second to turn into Bucky rolling your onto your back, his tongue pressing on your lower lip in a silent request-

You push on his chest slightly, holding his gaze as he pulls back with a frown.

“Did you mean it?”

He looks almost offended. “Yeah, I meant it. I’ve never meant anything more-“

You tug him back down, and that can be the end of it for now. It could be the end of it forever, and you’d be happy.

You don’t need a long explanation about it. You don’t need justifications for why neither of you ever said anything, or to repeat it until you both believe it.

You already believe it. And telling Bucky won’t do anything, so you’ll just have to spend a long, long time showing him.

And as long as you have that time, with Bucky, you’ll be happy.

End Note: Love making Steve talk about pocket pussies. That's an America I want to be a part of <3

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[r1elle]

for my peace of mind i want to live in the belief that miya atsumu has AT LEASTTTT got to be a candidate in the “pretending to be nonchalant but horrendously failing at it” trope.

like can you just imagine ..

a just freshly out of the change room miya atsumu, —who, by the way, has his brothers clothes on. (he wants to make a cool impression, and unfortunately, it’s his brother who always has the better outfit choices between the both of them. though he’d rather die than admit it.) anywho, he’s outside of the gym on standby to see if you had already walked past the building at your usual time. (he knows because he’s timed it.)

and when he realizes you already did, and that he had missed to take advantage of that one time slot in your routine, he’s BUMMED. he’s bummed out like a bum in bum central. but it happens as much as it doesn’t, so he still can’t figure out why he’s so dejected whenever the outcome turns out to be the former. (maybe cause he’s just so in love with you like that ?? duh)

but anyway, cmon now. you really didn’t even stop by to see if you could catch a glimpse of him setting ?? serving ?? heck, even spiking ?!?! because he couldn’t care less whether or not you knew which position he played, or what move he often did on court—…okay, well, maybe he cared just a bit. but screw all that. he can just tell you all about it when he’s finally able to call you his ! because what’s most important right now, is you seeing him during the times when he looks his “absolute coolest”.

but goodness gracious you should see the complete 360 his expression does when he sees you laughing along with your friends near the vending machine, indicating you hadn’t fully left just yet. he’s basically grown dog ears, and they’re raised HIGHH. osamu just wants to throw up, especially even more so as he sees heart eyes practically being etched onto his twin brothers dna, and he could only hope it wouldn’t apply to him as well.

with this profound opportunity, atsumu suggests that maybe they should buy something from the vending machine using their remaining coins. (“their” as in osamu’s. atsumu has .99 to spare, but he thinks he’ll save it for another day. perhaps to buy you those 50 cent candies at the nearby 7/11?).

“i’m thirsty. are ya not? c’mon. let’s use ‘em remainin’ cents.” though, anyone can see that it wasn’t a suggestion. it was a demand. (atsumu has never loved the “i was born 5 minutes before you.” card so hard in his entire life.)

osamu can’t help but feel the obvious desperation radiating off of his brothers anticipating expression, so he feels bad and says yes. atsumu internally thanks his brother, thinking that maybe telling him that ‘he should’ve ate him in the womb’ a couple of days ago was a bit mean.

but now that he’s infront of you, what should he do? the boy can physically feel his critical thinking skills melting away.

and so, with little time to actually prepare, he settles on nodding his head towards yours as a greeting (? if it can even be called a greeting), avoiding eye contact as he poorly executes his cowardly advances. he internally wallows in doing so, because that was NOT what he wanted to do. gosh….why couldn’t he be as smooth as he was on court ?!?! what he wanted to do was,—

“hey,” [add in a lazy but still oozing with confidence expression. whatever looks nonchalant and cool!] “want this? i was gonna buy one for myself,” [handing off his coins with one hand while his other one goes off to casually brush his blond hair to the side,] “but eh. dun’ really want it. take it, if ya’ want.” [finishing off with a low-key but proud sniff as he shoves his hands onto his pockets.]

but no. that was not what had happened. at all.

instead, he’s now completely focused over to the vending machine, his eyes directly staring onto the drink he had caught glimpse of you already drinking. (how could he not? it was the whole reason his plan backfired.)

well. at least he was able to give out a (puny) nod at you.

before he could even do anything else to salvage this already weak pursuit of his, atsumu hears you and your friends’ conversation exit out of his earshot. assuming that you were now further away from him, his knees seem to find themselves giving in.

one may think it was due to the exercises coach had given for todays practice.

but miya atsumu is a star volleyball player who yields the magic of ‘athleticism’. so surely, the runs up the mountain during todays agenda should hardly be the reason of any damage caused on the blonds already well maintained physique.

and surely,

heated cheeks, rapid beating of the heart, growing sense of frustration, and a yearning for some sort of impactful interaction with you..

wouldn’t qualify as side effects of hard practice, right?

“stop leanin’ on the vending machine like that, ya’ idiot.” osamu snidely comments, and his ‘face-mushed-to-the-vending-machine’ twin brother can only groan in response.

——

the walk back home is surprisingly quiet, until a low grumble decides to finally greet the silence.

“i was supposed to talk to her.”

“maybe that lame nod told her all that ya’ needed to say.”

“it ain’t my fault she already had a drink in her hand!”

“yeah, yeah. sure. ya’ still looked lame, though. i almost felt bad.”

“shut up! ya’ don’t know what it’s like to be a man in love!”

“…..….”

a silence.

a silence from atsumu who’s now just truly realized how doomed he was.

a silence from osamu who wonders if the person behind them had heard atsumu’s rather flamboyant confession.

“love, huh? didn’t know you were that deep into her.”

“ARRRRRRVHHHHGGGGGGGGGH! SHUT YER’ TRAP, SAMU’!! I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHIN’ !!!”

and of course,

a silence from you, who couldn’t help but just take the longer way back home, all because it meant getting to walk a few steps behind him. (even if he had always failed to notice you doing so, every. single. time.)

i was thinking of ryu sunjae from lovely runner while making this … i hope most ppl will see the vision 💔💔 I JUST LOVE LOSER MEN WHO JUST LOVE THEIR PARTNERS SO VERY MUCH !!!!

[worldlxvlys]

ice

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: smuttt, ice play, tittie fixationnn, cursing

a/n: hope you likeee

based off of these snaps

i watched as matt picked up a piece of ice from his cup, popping it in his mouth like a piece of candy.

“you’re fucking insane for that” i said, looking at him as though he was crazy.

he rolled his eyes playfully. “yeah, yeah. you think i’m weird for eating ice, i’m aware”

“you’re right, i do”

“well you’re entitled to your wrong opinion”

“i’m never wrong” i narrowed my eyes at him.

“well, you are now” he said as he got up from my couch, walking towards my kitchen.

i quickly followed him, refusing to back down so easily.

“no, i’m not. you’re trying to tell me it’s normal to be obsessed with frozen water?”

he held his cup up to the fridge, filling it up with more ice from the dispenser.

“there are plenty of people who enjoy eating ice. maybe you’re the weird one”

“no i’m not. i just don’t like ice”

he tilted his head at me, squinting his eyes at me.

“you sure about that, princess?” the look in his eyes made my heart race.

he moved closer to me, making me slowly back up. my back was met with the hard marble of my kitchen island.

“yes” i said in a small voice.

“that wasn’t very convincing” he said, condescendingly.

my eyes shifted down to his hand, watching him pick up a piece of ice.

because i had no plans of actually going anywhere today, i opted out of putting a bra on under my tank top this morning.

matt took full advantage of this decision.

he placed the small cube against my clothed nipple, making me jump.

“shit! matt, that’s cold” i gasped out.

“that’s the point baby” he smirked at me.

he rolled the ice cube around my nipple, making my head fall back.

he gently pushed me back onto a barstool.

“those beautiful thighs are gonna be giving out soon baby. can’t have you falling” he said as he pulled the straps to my top down my shoulders.

he pulled the top down just enough to free one of my tits. he put the ice cube to it, while massaging the other through my top.

i bit my lip, trying desperately to suppress my moans.

“still don’t like ice?” he asked, watching as i tried to keep a straight face.

“no.”

he pulled my top over my head, exposing my boobs.

“let’s fix that” he said, taking what was left of the half-melted ice cube into his mouth and bringing his lips to my boob.

“o-oh fuck!” i yelled, as he moved the ice cube around.

my nipples were so hardened they almost hurt.

“god, matt” i sighed out.

he continued to swirl the cube, letting it melt on my skin. he continued to lick and lap at my nipple, even once the cube was gone.

he started to suck, leaving dark marks all over my chest.

“god, i love your tits” he whispered into my chest, looking up at me. the sight alone made my panties even wetter.

“so fucking perfect” he said, placing a kiss on both of them.

“take these off for me, baby” he said, tugging at the waistband of my pants.

“no.”

“excuse me ?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.

“you heard me. take it off yourself”

“no.”

we both glared at each other, waiting for the other to break.

we played this game often, both being too stubborn to break.

i’m not giving in.

“beg for it” he said.

“no”

he took a piece of ice and slid it around my stomach.

my breathing picked up, trying to fight the way my body reacted to the the cold.

he slowly moved the ice under my waistband, making my hips jolt.

“shit!”

he placed the ice against my pussy, making me clench around nothing.

he licked a stripe up my neck, stopping just below my ear.

“tell me you like the ice” he whispered in my ear, his voice raspy.

“no”

he moved the direction of his hand sharply, pressing the ice against my clit.

“tell me you like it” he started to rub circles on my clit with the ice.

“mmmmm” i whined.

the ice was now almost fully melted, and the stinging sensation paired with the sensitivity of my clit made my stomach tighten .

“say it” he pushed the little bit of ice left inside of me, making me shudder.

“no” i said in a broken moan. he removed his hand.

“fine” he said as he backed up.

“what? what do you mean fine?” i asked.

he licked the fingers that he just had in my pants.

“i’ll stop. i mean, you don’t like ice, right?”

“wait, matt-“

“no, it’s fine. i’ll just enjoy the rest of my ice by myself” he shrugged.

he can’t be serious.

he took a piece of ice from his cup, making an obnoxious slurping sound and moaning.

“god, i love ice” he said in an exasperated tone, almost mockingly.

i just stared at him in disbelief.

“well, i’m going back to the couch” he said. “and if you even think about touching yourself, i swear to god, i’ll edge you for hours”

if he thought that would stop me, he was wrong.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

part 2 ??

updateee: pt 2 is here, go readdd :)

masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sturnspepsi @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @soursturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chris @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling

[f4ggydog]

Shauna and lottie taking advantage of reader 🤭

LOTTIESHAUNA X READER NONCON:

you’re hesitant, secured with makeshift rope by your arms. your lip won’t stop quivering and you’re trembling more than a leaf in the wind.

“s-shauna,” you whimper, but she trails a finger up and down your spine.

“shhhh.”

shauna’s unwrapping you, like a present ready to be delivered. your revealing top slips off first, two holes roughly carved out on the areas where your nipples would be seen.

your pants rolls down your legs next. with your hands restrained and your body weak, you feel unable to fight back against shauna’s undressing. you’re not sure what she wants. you’re not sure if she wants to sacrifice you to the wilderness as some sort of food for the wilderness. the team’s got their meat supply. what could she possibly want?

either way, you assume the worst as you’re lead to the main area of the cabin. lottie has escorted everyone else outside, making sure that nobody is here to witness what you’re about to face. the first thought that comes to your mind is death. you’re dead. you’re done for. you should give a last kiss goodbye before you perish.

but shauna doesn’t have brutality when she pushes you to meet lottie. instead, she just tightly holds your back and whispers for you to calm down. shauna is hasty though, like she’ll get a beating if she doesn���t escort you to lottie at the speed of light.

shauna stops when her eyes meet lottie’s. her hand is gripping your hip and her other is cupping her chin, cooing at your little sniffles and tears of fear.

“bring them to me,” lottie orders softly. “you didn’t undress them fully.”

“i’m sorry my queen.” shauna lowers her head. “I forgot about their underwear. i promise it was an accident.”

“i’m not reprimanding you my little butcher.” lottie smirks. “i wouldn’t mind finishing the undressing myself.”

“what is happening?” you mumble under your breath, wishing you could decipher either of their intentions.

“don’t worry about it,” shauna reassures. “just go along with it. don’t be afraid.”

“g-go along with what?”

“shhh, don’t ask too much. don’t think about it too hard. just…do what lottie says. she’s gonna take care of you.”

lottie finishes the job, your underwear falling down as she removes it with ease. the fabric falls to your feet, your pussy exposed to the chilly air and lottie’s perverted gaze. you shiver, quickly scanning the room for a way out. but neither girl seems intent on giving you an escape relatively soon, not until you served your purpose at least.

“please…whatever I’ve done, im sorry.” you hope your apologies will bring back your autonomy and free will. right now, it feels clear that you’ve been deprived of both.

“this is a gift,” lottie murmurs, kissing down your unsteady legs. “god, so gorgeous. I’m glad you chose them, shauna.”

“only the best for you, my queen.” shauna bows and her hand roughly squeezes your ass cheek. “should they face the floor yet?”

“give me a moment to get a look at them,” lottie coos. “it’s not often that I’m greeted with such a ravishing little thing.”

thing? were you just an object to be played with? was your humanity now gone too? this was a sick joke, some sort of disgusting prank surely.

“they’ll be perfect for my cock.” lottie lines up kisses across your thigh.

“you’re not worried about them being too tight?” shauna smirks.

“I’m gonna make it fit,” lottie asserts. “i always do.”

shauna forces you to the ground on your back by lottie’s commands. she eyes your bare body hungrily, genuinely wanting a piece of the action. but she’s loyal to lottie and she wont start ravaging unless she’s given permission to. instead, she leers at you, eyes fixated on your sensitive nipples.

lottie drops to her knees, fishing her heavy cock out of her pants and slapping the head against your cunt. you’re on the verge of tears. but when you speak up, your voice is already cracked, like you’ve already been broken long before lottie had the chance to.

“need you so bad,” lottie mumbles. “fuck, you’re gonna feel perfect. i just know it. you were practically designed for me.”

“they sure were,” shauna agrees, sitting in anticipation as lottie’s tip teases your entrance.

“i want you to watch as i do this,” lottie says to her subordinate, shauna. “i want you to learn about taking what belongs to you. i want you to learn what it means to do something for the greater good of your peers. some things may be questionable at first glance, but sometimes we have to questionable things to save others.”

“i understand my queen,” shauna replies, eyes locked on your form. “I totally get it.”

“good.” lottie slams into you and you nearly lose your breath.

the thickness of lottie’s cock doesn’t help the sensation whatsoever. your belly feels like it’s burning and your pussy tightens whenever one of lottie’s cock veins rubs against your walls. your toes curl in agony, your hands struggling against the ropes securing them.

“shhh, such a good puppy,” lottie coos as her hips move. “taking me so good. am I too big for you, baby?”

“i think so,” shauna chuckles. “it’s cute to watch them struggle, though. nothing more appealing than being forced into submission.”

“it’s so silly too,” lottie says, shaking her head. “I’m giving them exactly what they need and they’re rejecting it only because it sounds scary at first. it’s a little sad, but nothing some training can’t fix.”

”n-no more,” you beg defeatedly. “n-no more, please. i can’t stand it.”

“does it hurt, baby?” lottie coos, her fingers now massaging your clit to alleviate some of the pain. “shh, you’re so tight around me. it’s so hard not to cum in you right away.”

anything but that. literally anything but that. you squirm like a worm in the dirt against your restraints, but your struggles are fruitless. you belong to shauna and lottie now. you’re just a present after all, a new pet for them to experiment on. they’d take care of you though. you just didn’t realize it yet.

“they feel so good,” lottie groans, eyes screwing shut and nails digging into your inner thighs. “fucking hell. I’m twitching.”

“you’re taking that big cock so good,” shauna praises. “look at how your pussy swallows it. you like the way it stretches your hole out?”

“oh it stretches all right,” lottie grunts. “fuck, you’re gonna make a perfect pet for me, baby. gonna be mine to use whenever i want? whenever i need some stress relief or entertainment?”

you don’t respond. you only sob quietly, accepting your future.

(sorry this one took so long i admit it was a work in progress for a bit!)

[keithsfangs]

☆☆ nsfw headcanons

☆ keith's dick is lengthed slightly above-average, with an average sized girth. he doesn't bother with shaving too much, simply because he doesn't see much of a point in it— the hair is just going to grow back, anyway, and he's at least trimmed, so that's good enough for him.

☆ he doesn't mind topping or bottoming, unless he's in a particular mood for one or the other. both ways feel good to him, and as long as they feel good to you, too, he's more than happy to indulge in either.

☆ he isn't the submissive type. he prefers to stay dominant, in control, and fuck, if he isn't stubborn about it. you want him to submit to you? you have to earn it, and he sure as hell isn't gonna make it easy for you. he's bratty, pushing all your buttons until you're riled up just the way he likes.

☆ ("why don't you go ahead and make me, huh?" is one of his favorite things to say to you 😉)

☆ he can go pretty much any way you want. you want it hard and fast? he'll have you begging him to stop and for more at the same time. soft and slow? he'll be as gentle as possible, taking the time to please you, thoroughly admiring you all the while.

☆ he loves marking you up, it almost gets him off as much as the sex itself. scratching you, biting you, whatever— as long as there's clear evidence that you're his (galra are known to be territorial, after all), he's satisfied.

☆ he loves you marking him up, too. the mixed feeling of pain and pleasure as your nails dig or your teeth sink into him... he can never get enough of it, and knowing that they'll leave very visible marks on his pale skin is an added bonus.

☆ it takes him a bit to get used to calling you anything other than "babe"/"baby", and to dirty talk. admittedly, it's an awkward process for the both of you, full of trial and error— though eventually, after he learns what you like and don't like and stops getting in his own head about it, it comes more naturally to him.

☆ you can both agree that the awkward phase was worth it. because, once he's more confident, he's filthy. he gets real close to your ear and calls you any name you want to hear, whispers all the things he wants to do to you/wants you to do to him. he makes sure to throw in whimpers and moans, too, all soft and breathy, knowing exactly how it'll make you feel... basically, once he's vocal, he's vocal.

☆ (he makes the hottest noises ever, by the way. whether he's moaning, groaning, whimpering, whining— he sounds fucking good, and he knows he does, if your reactions are anything to go by... which they are. he definitely uses that knowledge to his advantage 💜)

☆ when it comes to praising or degrading you, he prefers to praise. it's hard for him to speak badly about you whenever you're so perfect in his eyes, and while he knows that the words are just for play, he can't bring himself to say anything too harsh even if you encourage him to. he'd much rather tell you how good you are, how amazing you look, how much he loves you...

☆ ... as for him, well, he's fine with either. as far as he's convinced, you can say almost anything to him and it'll get him going, just because it's you saying it.

☆ when he cums, he cums a lot. it's almost as intimidating as it is hot, and he just loves to make a mess of you with it, whether that's cumming on you or in you.

☆ of course, no matter how intense the two of you go at it, keith always makes sure to give you a gentle kiss when you're both finished. when you're looking at him like that, he just can't help it ♡

maybe i'll add more to this sometime, who knows 🤭

[1800titz]

Another pornstar!Harry TEASER

“Just—“ Y/N manages between searing kisses as his fingers work the seams of her shirt apart through button-work, “—-jumping right into it, huh?” It’s probably not the sexiest thing to say from the get go of the camera rolling, but she’s honestly still got bits of nerves coiling up in her. This is RideTheTiger. This is happening. She’s going to fuck RideTheTiger. 

Another short kiss, this one she can feel the cushiony pink of his mouth curving up into. 

“Sorry,” Harry amends against her mouth, lips ghosting wetly against her cupid's bow, and the word sounds sort of amused.

And then he’s manually spinning her and marching her over to the dresser, where the camera is set up, her stumbling, rushed gait steadied by the firm press of his thighs from behind as he walks her, colossal hands cupped over her arms. 

“This—” he starts, an introduction blatantly made for the lens, and her pulse stutters when his palm slides up and across and cups over her throat warmly — not quite squeezing, but just there. His other hand explores the expanse of her silhouette from the waist down, pads of his fingers roaming over her tummy, “—is the infamously naughty Birdie.” 

Her veins thrum with something, something hot when the ringed digits traipse to the button of her jeans, just looming over. 

“Can I take these off?” Harry murmurs against the shell of her ear. The tips of his curls tickle at her temple, and she knows he asks it low enough that it’s meant for her. She knows the camera will pick up on it anyways, too. 

“Yeah,” the agreement falls out meshed with an exhale, and her head tips back against his shoulder as his fingers do deft, impressively one-handed work at quick discarding. 

The other hand fondles at one of her tits, only covered with fabric for so long before he takes advantage of the opening he’d made along the line of buttons, pulling at one side for the pink polka-dotted cup of her bra to come out on display. This is all very pro-level disrobing. Y/N decides that when Harry multi-tasks, popping the button of her denim through, pinching at the zipper and tugging down, all still with his other hand caressing over padded flesh at her chest. Ultimately, though, both hands make their way to her hips, and his digits wriggle under either side of her waist band to strip her jeans off, until they rest at about an immobilizing mid-thigh, with an unceremonious yank. 

“I’m Tiger,” Harry talks again, finally, after what’d been a silent moment of apparent concentration, his chin ducked into the nook where her shoulder and her neck meet. 

The man’s fingers toy up under the hem of Y/N’s shirt, wandering over a bare sliver of skin between the top and the line of her panties before they climb the buttoned suture and make work there. 

A chill rolls down her spinal cord, stemming all the way from the nape of her neck, the back and underside of her skull, when Harry declares, almost like she’s not even there, his voice a low and heady baritone, “But, she’s going to call me Sir, and we’re gonna play a little rough with her today, because that’s what she asked for.” 

[tokoyamisstuff]

lmaoo tasteful was the last thing I would've ever imagined to hear about my work. This humble writer is absolutely flattered by your words, thank you! 🫶

gn! Reader I general NSFW warning

Considering the literal centuries of experience this guy has ahead of you, this sure is gonna be an otherworldly experience...in more than one way.

Don't be nervous, though. He's a patient lover and eager to teach you new things. Will start slow and vanilla, taking all the time to look what works out for both of you.

In general the nights you spend with him are very carefree, filled with laughter and pleasant conversation in between or even during the act(s).

This man plays your body like an instrument. His heightened senses make it an easy task to observe every little reaction your body presents him, especially if he's able to give you an immediate gratification through it. Probably knows you better than you do (at least in that sense). Think you can only come once? Think again.

Definetly hypersexual. He'll use literally any opportunity to get it on with you: Sparring, arguments, even during missions he'll find an opportunity for his favourite pastime. Never leaves you unsatisfied, no matter the circumstance or how little time you have.

Prefers long and intimate rendezvous over quickies however, since he takes great pride in indulging you. He's quite the romantic, enjoys preparing the whole package: An amazing date, the perfect atmosphere, and of course a cozy bedroom. Nothing's too much effort if it comes to see your eyes light with wonder...and lust, later on.

Loves variety. I think there's nothing too freaky you could ask of him, he'd at least be willing to try it out. There's nothing really off table, but also nothing he absolutely wants you to do. You'll find a lot of common ground.

I mean did you see his tongue?? His oral game is gonna be insane.

He's not really fond of toys. Being rather possessive in general, he wants to be the direct cause for your pleasure. The only exception are remote controlled ones. It's so fun being able to tease you like that, observing how you try to keep it together during a meeting of the roundtable or similar.

The vampire is obsessed with imperfections. Scars, beauty marks, even extending to dacryphilia. Anything that makes you human is just so fascinating and desireable to him.

He's a biter wow what a surprise. The taste of your blood gives him an intense feeling of ecstasy, but he'd never go overboard with his cravings. In return I figure his abilities have a hypnotizing reaction on your body as well, giving you an overwhelming sensitivity in return.

Sometimes he's unable to keep his form, especially when deep in pleasure. Suddenly you're enveloped by black mist or stared at by a little too many eyes. At first he was very concerned to disgust or scare you away, but once he sees you react with a surprising acceptance - or even affection - he's over the moon.

Those shapeshifting skills could be used to your advantage in more than one way. He can easily adjust his size according to your wish or even fuck you from several directions at once. Really, there's no limits to your fantasies, let them run wild.

To be honest I think he's got a praise kink and is a sub at least in a certain way. Maybe because in every other aspect of his existence he's the peak of evolution, an almost omnipotent eldritch horror, always dominating. So being able to let himself fall like this, showing himself bare and vulnerable and giving himself to you body and soul, is just the greatest thrill he's ever felt.

Alucard's whole motivation is to serve his lover over anything, devoting himself to your worship.

[nickmarini]

Hi there!

First of all, I just wanted to say thanks for being an amazing D&D players and a very kind and open person t the many fans like myself who saw you for the first time in Downfall and were amazed. I wish I got to play with people like you when I play and DM.

I was wondering about something. Ayden is a multi classing masterpiece and I wanted to know if you have any tricks for building a solid multi class that is both interesting and has a fair amount of powerful abilities. Every time I have tried my characters end up not good at anything or really good at a single thing thats not relevant.

Okay! That’s all! Thanks for being really cool and I hope you have a great day!

Well firstly thank you. I’m def gonna deep dive Ayden, but for multi-classing in general I will sort of talk my philosophy. When multi classing it is important to start with what you are hoping to achieve. I personally like multiclasses because I think it tells the story of a character. Mechanically though there’s a few things to think about. Is the character strictly martial a mix or a primary spell caster? If you’re a primary spell caster then if you’re heavily multiclassing you are likely trading away access to 9th level spells at minimum or simply grabbing something like spell points or a warlock pact. With Ayden being alongside the Archheart and Matron I felt like we had pretty decent 9th level spell access so I wasn’t too worried on that front and instead could focus on being as good of a support character as I could manage. A full caster multiclass will still get 9th level spells slots so your spells that scale based on level are still going to be powerful.

Martial or mixed spell casters multiclass builds are not as limited by the spell access issues full casters encounter but do encounter the same feat/ability score issues.

In terms of overall philosophy, first level dips can give a character an unusual saving throw proficiency or skills that might compliment a build. I look for abilities that compliment each other so for Ayden having guiding bolt (proficiency times a day from druid) and commanding rally (proficiency times a day from knight of the crows feat) let him shoot a bolt and then have someone follow up with a free attack with advantage 6 times a day. Look for combos that might take 2 separate 1 class builds working together to achieve, that you might be able to do pull off as a single character. Also coming from 3.5 I am a firm believer in feats. Feats allow you to customize your character in unique ways that can really shine when multiclassing.

And finally have fun! I am a huge nerd and enjoy pouring over books trying to find interesting combos or figure out how to make an idea I have work better, but to be honest few campaigns go from 1-20 so if you wanna play around with multi classes just do it!

[girlgenius1111]

talk more

alexia is stressed upon return to the international stage after her knee issues. she has the most aggressive game of her life against you, and you end up injured. you're both not telling each other how much you're really struggling.

this contains a completely made up and illogical game, don't come at me

cw: contains descriptions of a panic attack

-----

Alexia was on edge, even more so than she had been when you'd left your shared apartment a week ago for England camp. She'd gone to Spain's camp, both of you preparing with your respective teams for the upcoming nations league matches.

Alexia was back from her persistent knee issues, with something to prove. You knew how your girlfriend's mind worked, and you knew she was putting a lot of emphasis on this game. It was why she'd been distant the past week, why she was avoiding eye contact with you as you both stood in the tunnel, preparing to go out onto the pitch.

You hadn't mentioned your own problems when you'd spoken briefly to her over the phone. They seemed inconsequential compared to hers. You were exhausted, incredibly stressed, and you felt like responsibility for the whole team rested on your shoulders, what with Millie and Leah both out. You and Mary had stepped up, and the weight of trying to live up to your captains' was crushing. Alexia did this all the time, though, you reminded yourself. There was nothing to complain about. Once this game was over, she would relax, and so would you.

As you walked out onto the pitch, you ignored the pang of hurt when Alexia didn't even glance her way. It was time to play, time to win, not time to worry about your girlfriend ignoring you. Soon, though, you were worried not just for her, but for everyone else on the pitch. Alexia was playing aggressively, and for the most part it was paying off for her. The ref was being incredibly inconsistent with calling fouls and giving cards, something Alexia was taking advantage of. After she practically shoved Tooney to the ground on a corner, you spoke up, annoyed with how reckless she was acting.

"Cool it, Alexia. You're gonna hurt someone." You said quietly, as you briefly jogged past her. She just looked at you, mouth still pressed into a hard line, barely acknowledging that you'd spoken. You sighed, knowing it was just a matter of time before she was the reason someone had to go off.

You didn't expect it to be you. In Alexia's defense, it was a mostly clean tackle. She caught your ankle, yes, but she had touched the ball first, making it clean. Your ankle crumpled under you, though, and you collapsed to the pitch in crumpled heap with a cry of pain. Alexia stood, looking down at you, horrified, as if only now just realizing the consequences of your actions.

She was shoved out of the way by your teammates, who quickly made their way to your side. She didn't go far, though, looking on, distraught, as your teammates called out for the physios, and you writhed on the ground in agony.

They appeared, asking you questions, and Alexia thought she was going to throw up when they called for a stretcher. How had she done that to you? What was wrong with her?

She stepped closer, hesitantly, trying to get your attention, whether to apologize or beg for forgiveness, she wasn't sure.

"Amor," she asked quietly. Your eyes flew to her above you, and your gaze hardened.

"No, Alexia. Go away." You said through gritted teeth.

"Okay. Lo siento, amor. Lo lamento." she said, backing up and chewing insistently on the side of her cheek. The stretcher arrived, and they got you on it. Every sound you made, every groan of pain, felt like Alexia's heart was being ripped out of her chest. She felt an arm on her shoulder, and turned to find Irene standing behind her.

"Go off, Ale, go with her. We're up anyway." It was true, Spain was winning, and there wasn't much time left. Her departure from the game likely wouldn't cause the team any issues. Still, she shook her head. You were being lifted up, carried off the field now. Alexia wanted to rush forward, wipe the tears off your face, kiss the grimace off your lips.

"No, she doesn't want me right now. I fucked up." Alexia choked out. Irene sighed, not really blaming you. Alexia had been playing like a crazy person today, like she had something to prove.

"Go anyway. You get her to forgive you by proving that you're sorry. So go." Irene insisted, and Alexia paused, before nodding and heading to the sidelines. She was subbed off, and she headed into the tunnel after you. She turned towards England's side, not quite sure how to find you. Luckily, Leah was standing in the hall, talking to a member of the staff. Alexia cleared her throat, and Leah turned towards her, clearly trying to keep her expression neutral.

"Where is she?" Alexia rasped.

"Hospital." Leah responded, voice hard.

Alexia sighed, a few tears escaping against her will. She normally would never, not ever, let an opponent see her cry. When it came to you, though, it was like she had no control over herself. Leah softened slightly at the sight.

"Come on, I'll drive you." The match was in London, and Alexia was glad she didn't have to wait an unknown amount of time to get to you.

"I do not think she wants to see me." Alexia admitted, despite following Leah towards the exit of the building.

Leah rolled her eyes. "All she's wanted for the past week is you, Putellas. And instead of giving her that, you break her ankle."

"What do you mean? She wanted me?" Alexia questioned, confused. You'd seemed okay with the distance she'd imposed on you, telling her you understood that she needed to focus.

They arrived at Leah's car, climbing in, and Leah began driving before she responded.

"She's having a hard time. She has this stupid idea that she needs to be just like Millie, or me, instead of being herself, which is why she was chosen to lead. She's stressed and exhausted, not to mention worried about you and your return. She needed her girlfriend, Putellas. More than anything."

The midfielder felt the last of her strength crumble, and she spent the rest of the car ride silently wiping away the tears that ran down her face. She would fix it, she promised herself. She'd do anything to fix it.

-----

Alexia wasn't at the hospital long. You'd asked Leah not to bring her to your room, and send her back to your apartment with your key instead. Your ankle was broken, it turned out. You were in a boot, on crutches, and miserable, that much Alexia knew. If you were furious with her, or just marginally angry, she didn't know.

She showered quickly, throwing on some of your clothes as she left her bag at the hotel the team was staying at, before settling on the couch, knee bouncing nervously. She wished the apartment was a mess or something, so she could clean it, but it was spotless. She'd already ordered dinner from your favorite restaurant, so she didn't need to cook. Leah texted her when they were downstairs, and she tried to swallow her anxiety as she heard the door open.

You hobbled in, Leah following with your bag. Alexia stood, taking a hesitant step towards you. You didn't even really look at her, crutching by her to sit on the couch. You threw your crutches to the ground, and put your head in your hands, the emotions of the day finally catching up to you. Leah placed your bag down carefully, shooting Alexia a glare, before she kissed the top of your head.

"Call if you need me, okay?"

"Okay," came your response, muffled by your hands.

Alexia moved your crutches to sit against the couch, before taking a seat on the coffee table in front of you.

"Amor, I am so so sorry."

"It was a clean tackle Alexia, don't apologize." You reply, voice emotionless. Your girlfriend shifted uncomfortably.

"I am still sorry. And I am sorry I was not available this week. I should have talked to you more."

"It's fine."

"You are not mad at me?" Alexia wondered. At this, you finally lifted your head out of your hands, looking at your girlfriend with bloodshot eyes, and a flushed face.

"I am mad. I just don't have the energy to be angry with you right now. I'm too exhausted, my ankle fucking kills, and I've missed you too much. It's pathetic." You cry, reaching a hand out towards the blonde. She doesn't waste a second, taking your hand in hers and pressing a few kisses into the back of it.

"It is not pathetic, amor. You need me, that is okay. You can yell tomorrow."

"I needed you all week," you say quietly, and her grip on your hand tightens.

"I know, amor, and I should have known that, and been there for you. I am here now, though, and I am not going anywhere. Not until you are better."

You looked at her through long, wet, lashes. "Promise?" you asked, voice cracking on the word.

"I promise, mi amor, I promise." Alexia assured you. You pulled on her hand, and she shifted onto the couch, bringing you into her lap, minding your ankle. You collapsed into her, face finding it's favorite spot nestled against her neck. You were getting her skin wet with tears, but she didn't seem to care. In fact, she seemed content to sit there with you until you felt better, no matter how long that took. You pulled away before you really felt much better, though.

"Where are you going?" Alexia asked with a slight pout.

"My ankle hurts," You admit, watching as her expression falls into one of immense guilt. She eases you off of her, back onto the couch, instructing you to stretch your legs out.

"Can I?" She asks quietly, hands hovering over the straps on the boot. It was a test, you knew, to see how angry with her you were, deep down. If you trusted her to take care of your injury or not.

"Be gentle." You ask quietly, and she sighs in relief, nodding. Alexia begins to unstrap the boot, lifting the front piece off before sliding it down and off your foot. You winced, the slight movement sending waves of pain up your leg that made you feel sick. Alexia dropped the boot onto the ground, watching carefully as you shut your eyes, willing the pain away. When you opened them, you noticed that Alexia was trying to discreetly wipe a tear away.

"Hey, what is it?" You ask, concerned, grabbing her hand before she could leave the room.

Alexia scoffs, but sits back down. "I broke your ankle. You are in pain because of me."

"Alexia, it was a clean tackle. I'm not mad that about it. It could have been anyone. I'm mad that you were playing like you wanted to get a red card, putting yourself and my teammates in danger." You explain.

"You are not mad about the tackle?" She asked incredulously.

"No, that would be stupid, that was practically your one clean tackle of the game. I'd like to talk about why you were playing like that, though." Alexia wasn't one to play super rough, and you knew that it was likely a result of some issue she was having. It was hard for you to get her to tell you what was going on in her head.

Alexia is quiet for a minute, working out her rather complex feelings of guilt at the moment. If you weren't angry about that, should she feel so furious with herself? The way she'd played was a whole other issue.

"Can we talk about it tomorrow? I want... I want to just be with you tonight. Take care of my girl." Alexia asked. You softened at her request, opening your arms, and gesturing for her to move closer. She leaned forward holding tight to you, inhaling your comforting scent. You were with her, and you were okay. That was all that mattered to her.

"Of course, baby." You murmured, kissing her temple lightly.

And take care of you, she did. She brought you dinner once it was delivered, and carried you into the shower, holding you up the entire time whilst you bathed and washed your hair, even though she'd already showered. She helped you into your pajamas, before getting your ankle propped up on a pillow, wrapped in an ice pack while you reclined on the bed. She stood anxiously next to your side of the bed, looking around as if searching for something else to do.

"Love, come get in bed." You told her, and Alexia focused on you.

"You do not need anything else?" She checked.

"Just you, pretty girl." You said sweetly. Alexia felt her cheeks heat up at that, and moved around to the other side to the bed. Before really getting to know Alexia, you would not have thought her to be a shy person. She was, though, shying away from any attention you tried to give her at first. Eventually, she got used to it, but she still felt her face flush with pleasure when you called her things like that.

Alexia climbed into bed, curling up into your side easily. She looked tired up close, almost as tired as you felt, and you leaned down, pressing your lips to hers. She sighed into the kiss, finally relaxing. When you pulled away, you couldn't help but notice the way her lips tugged down slightly, as if she was fighting a sad frown.

"What is it Ale?" You asked, running your thumb across her cheek.

"I am just tired. And sorry for hurting you, and ignoring you all week. And stressed about my return and my performance. My brain will not turn off. I am so tired, amor." Alexia said, eyes fluttering closed when your hand cupped her cheek.

"That is a lot of things to be worried about, Ale. I've forgiven you. I'm pretty sure I won't even yell at you tomorrow," Alexia smiles slightly at this. "Push all that out of your head. You're here with me, and everything is going to feel better in the morning. Sleep now, my love."

"Thank you. Te amo." She whispers in response, snuggling in closer to your side.

"I love you." You tell her, letting the feeling of her chest rising and falling against you lull you to sleep.

-----

You're rather unfortunately awoken a few hours later by a gasp, and Alexia stumbling out of bed and into the bathroom. You sit bolt upright, confused, watching from the bed as she grips the counter in her hands, breath ragged.

"Alexia?" you call out. You'd get up, but your ankle protests when you try to shift it off the pillow, so you stop moving, waiting for her to answer you. She doesn't acknowledge that you've spoken. She's speaking quietly to herself, eyes squeezed shut, and you strain your ears to hear her.

"Estás bien, estás bien," she repeats, white knuckled grip on the counter looking painful.

"Alexia," you say again, louder this time.

"Okay, amor, I... I am okay," she gasps out. She's having a panic attack, you realize. In all your time with her, you'd never known her to experience this before, and this realization is enough for you to grit your teeth, and try to get to her. You've swung your leg off the bed, biting your lip to keep from crying out, and grabbed for your crutches when she speaks again.

"St-stay there. No te levantes" Alexia says, switching rapidly between english and spanish.

"Come here then, please baby. Before I drag my ankle over there." You plead.

"No puedo," she whimpers, hand coming up to tug at the neck of her shirt, as if it's restricting her breathing. She's not moving anytime soon, and she looks like she's about to pass out if she doesn't get her breathing under control soon.

You curse under your breath, standing up and wobbly moving towards the bathroom. You make it to her, the blood rushing into your ankle once you stand, but you don't really feel it. The adrenaline has taken over, and your only though is helping your girlfriend.

"No-no puedo respirar," she gasps, eyes opening to find you in front of her. "No se que pasa, ayúdame," she pleads, gripping your shirt in her hand.

"Oh, baby," you coo, taking her hand in yours, and pressing it to your chest. "With me, love, you're okay."

She shakes her head frantically, gasping for air at this point.

"No puedo," she says again, before she pulls her hand away from yours, and begins tugging at her shirt again. "Lo necesito apagado, por favor," she cries.

Frustrated with your lack of mobility, and your shaky balance, you discard your crutches, and pull yourself up to sit on the counter. It's not much more comfortable, but you don't have to balance on one foot, and you can't help Alexia with your hands preoccupied with holding your crutches.

You help her pull her shirt over her head, leaving her in just a sports bra. She seems even more frustrated when that doesn't seem to help, and the tears are falling down her face fast, as her mouth flops open and closed as she tries to breath.

"Alexia," you say sternly, grabbing her face in between your hands. Her wild eyes meet yours, and you guide her closer, until she is standing in between your legs. "You're having a panic attack. You need to let yourself breath. Do it with me, okay?" Alexia's eyes are wide and glistening as she allows you to take her hand again, and press it back over your heart. Her breaths are choppy as she tries to match them with yours.

"There you go, Ale, you're doing good," you encourage, as her inhales begin to match yours more. You keep a tight hold on her hand until her breathing is almost normal. But as her hyperventilating ends, more tears replace it. "Alexia," you sigh, pulling her in. You hate seeing her so upset. You'd do anything to take it away, even if just for a minute. Her chin rests on your shoulder as she sniffles occasionally. You rub her back softly, giving her the time she needs to calm down. She jumps back suddenly, though, looking panicked again.

"Your ankle," she says, looking frantically between the swollen limb and your eyes.

"Shh, I'm okay, come back," you tell her, and she moves back into your arms, despite her protests.

"But amor, this is not-" Alexia's voice is weak and choked.

"Don't worry about it Alexia, seriously." You kiss her forehead, then her temple, before guiding her head back onto your shoulder. She relents, body falling almost limp against you. You're both quiet, the only sounds audible being both of your breathing. You bring a hand up to the nape of Alexia's neck, threading your hand through the hair there, and and holding her tightly against you.

You don't know how long the two of you sit there. Long enough for you to feel the pain in your ankle again, dangling off the counter. It was throbbing, hot and painful, under you. You don't want to let Alexia go before she's ready, so you try to bring you leg up, and rest in on the counter. At your movement, though, Alexia pulls away, pursing her lips as she looks at your ankle.

"Ale, it's fine," you try, but she ignores you. She's still unsteady, hands shaking as she grabs your crutches off the ground where she'd dropped them, and handing them to you.

"Bed?" she asks quietly, and you nod. She follows you back to the bed, a slow process, waiting until your sitting down before leaving the room without another word. You call after her, but she doesn't respond. You're just about to get up, and go after her, again, when she returns, ice pack in her still shaking hand. Regardless, she wraps it around your ankle, before climbing back into bed next to you. Her head finds it's place against your chest.

"What happened, love?" you ask. You feel Alexia's shoulder shrug. "No, come on. Talk to me, please."

"I was anxious when I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I could not breath. I think I had a dream, I did my other knee, and they told me I would not play again." The blonde's voice shakes as she speaks.

"That's awful, love." You murmur into her hair.

"I am sorry I woke you, and that you had to help me," she says weakly.

"Don't be. I'm glad I could help," you promise. "Have you ever had a panic attack before?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"No."

"Alexia, I think you should talk to someone." You suggest, also pretty sure you know what her response will be.

"Maybe," she says noncommittally.

You sigh. "You at least need to talk to me more, Alexia. You can't just shut down when you're having a hard time, you need to let me help."

"I need to talk to you more?" she asks, turning her head to look up at you, voice a little stronger now. "You need to talk to me too then. You were upset all week and I did not know about it." She says it like she's got you. You surprise her, then, when you nod.

"You're right. We both need to talk to each other more. I know it's not easy, but I'm here, whatever you need, whenever you need me. Okay?"

"Te prometo que." Alexia says after a minute, gazing up at you. You can tell she means it. "You promise too?"

"I promise, Alexia."

Neither of you are perfect, or would ever claim to be. You are, however, perfect for each other. Exactly what the other needs. You know you'll get through anything with Ale with you, at your side.

-----

i love angst. that is all. goodnight.

[jonquilyst]

Day 5 - Socialization Day

One challenge down, many more to go! it's time for another socialization day with our now-17 pack. Hopefully you're all having a better day than Lucian (IN) here, who forgot to shower last night.

This morning, Carson (SU) and Marilyn (SU), our beret club, had a lovely chat. These two are shaping up to becoming good friends! Meanwhile, Espresso (SU) woke up on the completely wrong side of the bed. Not only was she filthy, she was also going through a mood swing... Ah, teenagerhood...

Later, Elio (IN) found themselves joined to Matteo's (IN) hip. These two are also becoming quite close! Both already know each other's traits, have amazing compatibility, and... judging from Matteo's sweet smile, it seems like he enjoys Elio's company too! I think they're gonna have each other's backs in the long run 😌

Team Odyssey is having success within their team too! Ziggy (OD) and Raylan (OD) spent their morning getting to know each other. They aren't exactly friends yet, but they seem to have a lot in common!

Then after Raylan left to hang out in first class, Ziggy decided to play in the trash for some reason... 🤷‍♀️

Unfortunately, Matteo is still feeling sore and tired from yesterday's skiing challenge. So, he snuck away to the elimination room to rest... until his teammates Alanna (IN) and Estrello (IN) eventually found him and decided to nap along with him 😜

While their teammates rested, Elio took their time bonding with Lucian (who they haven't really interacted with yet) as well as Odyssey-ers Nite and Touma!

Nite later joined a more team-centric discussion with Ziggy and Minato (OD), but Josue (SU) was also part of the conversation 😜 My guess is that they were talking about the outdoors and Josue got interested

Team Odyssey is loving that they have first class all to themselves! They took advantage of it today by having a fun dance party as well as taking the time to bond among each other! This team is quickly becoming a tight bunch; everyone on this team conversed with at least one of their teammates today 💖

But while the winners enjoy all the entertainment they could possibly want, there's no fun for losers. Everyone on the losing teams had varying degrees of success when it came to entertaining themselves. Marilyn (SU) was totally bored out of her mind today and couldn't find any source of fun, but Matteo was able to entertain himself by practicing his singing in front of the trash can!

At dinnertime, Carson was finally able to eat something (though not with ease), while Touma and Minato had some fun buddy time in first class before they went to sleep.

Another challenge, another elimination tomorrow. Will Team Odyssey start a winning streak? Or will another team rise from the ashes and claim first class instead? Who will be the second contestant voted off the plane? We will be finding all that out tomorrow when we land at our 3rd destination... 🤭

Today's Confessional: Lucian Bright

"What's up, everyone? I just wanna do a confessional to update my best subs out there who are following along to my journey on Total Drama Sims."

"So far, everything is going... okay. Not bad, but not great either. Everyone on my team seems alright. Avery's pretty athletic and was one of the few to not fall during the skiing challenge. I think she's an asset to the team, so I definitely want to keep her around."

"However, I'm a little worried about Elio and Estrello. They're both pretty goody-goody and I feel like they don't like me that much... Estrello especially gets on my nerve. It feels like he's only here to make friends and not to actually try to win. Elio... I'm not sure; they talked to me earlier today, but I just don't know what their motives are, y'know? They're pretty popular among everybody here..."

"Regardless of what those two think of me, I'm still determined to win. I just need to make sure my team doesn't lose and to stay on Elio and Estrello's good sides. That I think is doable. Anyway, that's all for now. Shining_Bright, out."

@kissalopa @lyratea @simstagramsomeone @kari-sims @changingplumbob

@aliengirl @riverofjazzsims @matchalovertrait @paracosmic-sims @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants

@bloomingkyras @invisiblequeen @nakasumi-sims @ravingsockmonkey @simsinfinitylt

@hellogreta

[colourstreakgryffin]

I have a little suggestion 😔 Buuuttttt If you could…. could you write for human Ryuk for death note? You gotta hear me out though

You know what… I’m fine with this. I’ve always had Ryuk as one of my fav Death Note characters so why not? For real, for real… he’s so hot in this form! He went from badass and scary to precious hottie

Ryuk- Master of Trickery

Instead of Light, you’re his human and his notebook holder. Ryuk can’t deny that you’re interesting and he is gonna enjoy following you around through your time using his Death Note. In his Shinigami form, he doesn’t really notice how he looks and just excuses it. Suspecting you’ll be fine with him

But you’re curious what Ryuk really can do so when you two are finally alone in your bedroom. You ask Ryuk openly what powers he has, how Shinigami work and whilst Ryuk isn’t that enthusiastic since he considers it boring, he obliges

When he mentions he can transform into a human disguise, that lets him be visible to humans, besides you, as well. You immediately play with the fire that is Ryuk and ask him if he can demonstrate this shapeshifitng ability of his for you

Ryuk wasn’t planning on this when he dropped his notebook onto Earth… he’s been asked by his new human to transform for them? Well. He does it anyway since he suspects it may be fun to troll people with it so he puts his big clawed hand over your eyes

And in a flash. This monstrous yet unique shinigami is now an attractive tall man with pretty black lips and a style that matched the infamous detective, L. Your eyes sparkle with shock at your Shinigami’s transformation as Ryuk lets out a comment that he hasn’t redone this in such a long time

Ryuk noticed the way you gaze at him with surprise and awe, commenting snarky about it but mainly feeling his bare chested self, his baggy slightly undone trousers hugging his humanoid hips as both of you are impressed by the almost Frankenstein stitched patchy skin pieces on his body. He looks like a human but still… a Shinigami

Ryuk does decide to perform this feat again. Pranking you with it, he’ll transform into his human form then putting on a bunch of makeup, stealing the Death Note and pretend he isn’t Ryuk when you ask him. It’s hard to tell since he put a lot of heart into these types of pranks on you

Ryuk needs his apples, even in his human form, so people around him, who can now see him, find him odd for how much he is downing just normal red apples eagerly whilst you and him are at the grocery store

Ryuk cringes badly whenever anybody makes a mention that you and him must be a couple. He isn’t interested in any humans but damn god, he does enjoy the way you seem attracted to his human form. It’s a nice ego boost

Ryuk mainly transforms into his human form and heads out in public with you during your vile little plans to kill your targets as to stay on the back and do as you ask by not showing off his shinigami side, should you let your victims touch the notebook, but it’s not like he minds. He feels handsome like this

Ryuk also takes full advantage of all the girls who admire him in his human form, liking to annoy you by flirting and playing with humans that are drooling all over him. It’s nice, so entertaining and he won’t let you pull him away from it

Ryuk doesn’t use his human form transformation as much as one would suspect, from a guy like him. Mainly because he is too accustom to his Shinigami self that being human feels odd but it doesn’t mean he won’t do it to make you and other girls flaunter over him, for the fun of it

Ryuk does tease you a lot for finding his human form attractive… like, a lot, he doesn’t ever shut up about it. He’ll make you regret ever asking him to demonstrate his abilities… since well, that’s Ryuk

“Eh? What’s with that look… oh. You like the goods; my skin, my eyes, my hair, ‘mm? You’re just as nasty as those other humans. I enjoy it, keep looking”

[chuellas]

Next | N is for Nipple Play

⤷ Ft. Nikolai Gogol

V. A. L. E. N. T. I. N. E.

Warnings | Fem!Reader, N.SFW, 18+ only, nipple play (Reader receiving), dry humping, slight somno, cumming untouched, cumming in pants, WC: 1.3k

A/N | I feel like the further this goes the more debauched this special gets LMAO I PROMISE NOT ALL OF THESE ARE JUST FILTH INTIMACY IS GONNA BE SO SOFT

It all started off so innocently. Laying in bed together after a long day of fulfilling the tasks Fyodor had given the both of you. It was just simple cuddling as you fell asleep together, right? Not right. So incredibly wrong, actually. 

You have no idea what set Nikolai off this time. Although you should know better than to try to figure out his reasoning for anything. You should definitely know better, but in your defense you were tired and the only thing that captured your attention was the pillow your head is currently laying on.

Nikolai’s head started on your stomach, nuzzling himself into you, making stupid little quips that you couldn’t help but to laugh sleepily at. You think he’d caught on to just how exhausted you were and he took advantage of that. The jester snuck his way up your abdomen, leaving sweet little kisses so you wouldn’t get suspicious. 

You should have been suspicious, instead his actions were lulling you to sleep. 

Of course your rest is interrupted by the sensation of something wet being dragged across your now exposed breasts. Your chest flutters as you let out a stuttered breath, the unexpected tickle of his tongue sending a shock of tingles throughout your entire body. You pry your tired eyes open to find his bicolored ones already sneaking a peek at you.

When your eyes lock, a grin curls his lips upwards as he laps at your pebbled nipple. “No need to wake up, Little Dove. Couldn’t resist myself.”

You let out a groggy mewl and your body reacts instinctively as it arches slight into his touch. You can feel the way Nikolai’s lips are pulled into a seemingly permanent grin, pleased with the way you’re reacting. Nikolai takes your body’s reaction as a green light and rolls the tip of his tongue around the perimeter of your nipple and reaches up to cup your other breast. The man is surprisingly precise with his ministrations and your eyes open a sliver to find him completely enamored by your breasts.

A slight graze of his teeth against your bud is enough to have you letting out another mewl and a stuttered breath as your eyes slide shut once more. Your fingers search for his hair and you let out a hum of appreciation when you find his silky tresses unbraided. You sift through his hair, scratching and massaging at his scalp with each pass, spurring him on.

These are dangerous waters you’re treading. Nikolai can feel himself getting worked up, his cock stirring to life in his pajama pants. The thin layer of fabric rubbing against his cock just enough to give him the slight relief he needs. His hips start to stutter as he encloses his lips around your nipple and sucks on it loudly. You let out a gasp at the new sensation and tug at his hair with more force than you meant to — Nikolai loves it, if the moan he lets out has anything to say for it. 

You can feel the mattress moving, bouncing you around along with your tits and another groan falls from Nikolais lips as he clearly relishes in the extra stimulation. “Kolya- What…?”

You open your eyes once again to find the jester wildly rutting his hips into the mattress. He’s clearly the culprit for the jostling mattress. His eyes have completely glazed over — making it clear to you that the only thought running through his head right was the feeling of your tit in his mouth and the delicious friction he’s making between his leaking cock and the mattress. Your head drops back to your pillow and you let out an incredulous puff of air because even though just a few minutes ago you were falling asleep, you’re now wide awake. 

“Sh-shit…” This time you let a soft moan slip past your lips.

Nikolai sucks almost painfully on your nipple lifting his head and finally releasing the mound with a lewd ‘pop’ that seems to reverberate around the bedroom. “My sweet angel, you’re so gorgeous, every part of you, but I could suck on your tits forever if you let me- fuck-”

Nikolai lets his head fall between your breasts. his hands now doing all of the work, twisting and pulling at your nipples. With each pinch of the sensitive buds, a shockwave of exhilaration passes through every single one of your senses. The stimulation isn’t enough on its own to get you to the point that Nikolai is, but it’s enough to keep you under that certain fog of bliss that keeps you from thinking clearly.

You still have enough sense to watch the way the jester’s hips stutter against the mattress, desperately trying to find that sweet release he must have been waiting all day for. It’s sort of sweet, he knew you were tired so instead of asking you for a quick fuck he was willing to wait until you fell asleep to get himself off with a little help from your sleeping form. You’ve had the discussion before, he had the go ahead to do anything but even then he wasn’t willing to disturb your sleep. The thought fills your chest with warmth.

You find yourself picking Nikolai’s head up by tugging his head up by tugging harshly on his snowy mane. His eyes are nearly rolled to the back of his head as he ruts particularly hard into the mattress, grinding his hips this time. You note the reaction he has to you tugging at his hair and save it for a later time. 

“Kolya, use your mouth. I know it’ll make you feel good too.” Your words are dripping with sweetness, like warm caramel running down a freshly dipped apple. 

Despite the saccharine tone, you’re not lying. You’ve noticed that Nikolai tends to get just a little more sensitive when he has something to occupy his mouth. A sort of fixation you’ve caught on to and definitely used to your advantage. 

You’re not even sure the jester heard you, but the moment you open your mouth to repeat yourself his pupils come back into view and he lets out a loud moan as he dips down to take the opposite nipple in between his teeth and rolls it between them. A soft sigh spills from your lips and you watch Nikolai’s hips again and you can tell by the way they’re jerking when he grinds down that he’s getting close to cumming. You spur him on by arching yourself into his mouth and he gratefully fills his mouth with as much of the plush skin as he can. Moans are being ripped from his throat and even though the noises are muffled against your skin, they’re still loud. 

Your eyelids flutter at the sight before you, Nikolai’s eyes roll fully to the back of his head and after two distinct thrusts his hips are stilling completely as he spills into his pants. His teeth scrape against your tit and he finally bites down as he moans and takes heavy breaths from his nose.

You stroke his hair soothingly through the whole thing and once he comes down you let him detach from your breast and finally peacefully rest his head on your chest. 

A silent moment passes and then he’s filling it by speaking. “What’s a guy gotta do to have you let me do that every night?”

Another silent moment passes before he decides to look up at you expectantly only to find you fast asleep.

[wandanatrules]

Locker Room

Pairing: shy nerdy g!p wanda maximoff x popular cheerleader reader

This is the fic for the request I got literally so long ago I’ll put the request as the summary, I just started winter break so i’m gonna try to write sorry I haven’t posted in forever school has been on my ass

summary: Hiiii, I saw that you were taking requests and I just had to ask, could you do awkward emo!wanda and cheerleader!r where they’re both in high school or college and wanda likes r nd gets all shy and embarrassed around her, so r takes advantage of this and tries to make her as flustered as she can..and wanda

can’t take the teasing one day so she builds up the confidence to ask her out which eventually leads to them having sex in the girls locker room 🤭

warnings: wanda has a penis, oral (w receiving), heavy make out, smut, foul language, there isn’t really that much smut sorry

Even in her sophomore year of college Wanda was still nervous to talk to girls. She wasn’t the most social person, which played a part in it. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive enough to get girls, believe me she was.

She had an athletic build and long flowy hair. She ran track in high school and ever since then maintained the abs and the muscles she acquired from that, by joining the soccer team in college. Wanda was the MVP player, which gave her a lot of female admirers. Many of the females at her games, especially the cheerleaders, would make passes at her but she was too oblivious and shy to notice.

Ever since freshman year the only person that Wanda had her eyes on was you. You were on the cheerleading squad, and well known for your looks and popularity. You also liked Wanda, but for some reason she always rejected your advances.

Tonight was the celebration party for the girls soccer team after winning the tournament. The whole team and all the cheerleaders would be there.

Wanda was nervous to go knowing that parties weren’t usually her scene. Even though she was expected to go since she scored the winning goal and led her team to victory.

You and the other cheerleaders were in the locker room getting ready, before you left for the stadium to join the party.

“I’m gonna try to get with Maximoff tonight” you said to your friends while finishing up your makeup.

“Oh, really?” your friend Maria asked, “She’s so nerdy and shy and awkward all the time.”

You smiled and thought back to a couple of days ago when you tried to flirt with her.

Wanda was standing outside of the soccer locker room, right after practice. She was wearing a muscle tee showing off her toned arms and covered in sweat.

“Hey Wans.” You said to her after sauntering over to her, while putting your hand on her arm. “You looked real good during your practice.”

Wanda’s face turned red and she felt herself getting nervous again. “Oh thanks y/n.” she said while nervously playing in her hair, “I was working on my form for the tournament.”

“Yeah, I bet you're gonna win it for us Wanda, and when you do i’ll give you something to celebrate.” You said in her ear with a seductive voice, before walking away with a sway to your hips.

Wanda let out a deep breath after you walked away, cursing herself after feeling her erection hardening.

As you reminisced in the memory of how cute Wanda looked all flustered you couldn’t help but wait for you to get to the party and see her. You just knew that tonight would be the night you would get your hands on her.

It was later that night and Wanda was talking to her friends from the soccer team, while nursing a drink at the party.

“I’m telling you Wanda, she wants you.” Natasha said, trying to convince her to go over and talk to you.

“No I don’t think so, she’s just friendly.” Wanda insisted while looking over at you.

You were at the other side of the party making eye contact with her, while seductively sucking your straw between your teeth. You lifted your hand and waved her over.

Wanda tensed and looked behind her, not believing you were beckoning her.

“She wants you, you idiot.”, Natasha laughed, as she shoved her over to you. “Good luck.” , she called out behind her

Wanda nervously walked over to you, wiping the sweat off of her palms on to her pants.

“Hi Wanda.” You husked looking up at her with your best doe eyes. “Let’s dance.”, you said, putting your drink down and leading her to the dance floor by the hand.

The song had just happened to change from some loud rap music to a slow and sexy RnB song. You used this to your advantage as you wrapped her arms around your waist and began to sway.

Wanda, tensed not knowing where to put her hands, trying to be respectful of her touches. You sensed this nervousness and placed her hands on your butt.

“You know Wanda, literally everyone has hit on me and asked me out except you. I’ve never had to make the first move like this. Do you not think I'm pretty, Wanda?” You said with that sickly sweet voice that drove Wanda crazy and iginitied a stir in her pants.

“Oh, no y/n definitely, i think you're absolutely gorgeous.” Wanda said nervously, careful to not hurt your feelings.

You turned around to face her with a smile, “That’s exactly what I was hoping you would say. You better come with me so I can give you your surprise for winning us the game.

You took her hand and led her through the crowd out of the party, into the locker room. You pushed her against the wall and kissed her roughly, grabbing handfuls of her arm muscles and abs.

“You know Wanda, I love when I talk to you after soccer practice. When you’re all sweaty and your muscles are all pumped. I use that time to tease you and get you all worked up, and secretly watch you sneak back into the locker room to take care of your little problem.”

Wanda’s lips parted when she felt your hand grip her length and slowly rub up and down.

“Damn Wanda you’re so hard.” You whispered in her ear. “You gonna fuck me?”

Wanda stammered too nervous to respond, lost in the pleasure of you rubbing her length.

“Or did you want me to fuck you?” You said with a smirk as you pushed her down onto the bench with a hand on her chest.

“Yes ma’am you can do whatever you want.” Wanda said repeatedly nodding

You slowly pulled down your panties from under your dress and threw them at her before loosening the straps on your shoulders and pulling the dress down.

Wanda put the panties in her pocket before you pulled her belt off and ripped her pants and boxers down.

You gripped her length, roughly stroking it up and down. Loving the way her face contorted in pleasure and over stimulation. You looked up at her with those big round eyes as you slowly sucked the tip between your lips, before going deeper and deeper.

“FUCK y/n” Wanda groaned thrusting her hips up into your mouth as she holds down your head. The muscles in her arms straining she roughly fucks your mouth. You hold onto her chest to brace yourself as you move your mouth faster.

“Damnit fuck that was so good y/n thank you” Wanda said flustered trying to catch her breath

“That’s so cute Wans, you don’t have to thank me.” You said looking up at her with a smile while licking your lips. “But I do know how you can repay me”…

[xx-j4nu5-c4t5-xx]

"An ideal Sims game would have Sims 2's gameplay mechanics, Sims 3's open world, and Sims 4's graphics!"

I absolutely despise this take, and I want to explain why. This is a very long rant and it is full of piss and vinegar directed at everything in the Sims 4. I'm gonna try to keep everything kinda professional as much as I can but I can't guarantee an unbiased opinion.

If you'll let me talk your ears off for a moment, I'd like to explain, from my own experience as an artist and a casual player, my issues with the art style and direction of The Sims 4 compared to The Sims 2. (I'm not really going to comment on 3 because I've never played it.)

I want to start off by explaining the difference between better graphics and higher resolution. The Sims 4 absolutely blows Sims 2 out of the water when it comes to textures and polygon counts on sims, no contest. But I'd argue that the graphics themselves... aren't better. They're worse, even, so much fucking worse. The biggest problems come from the stylization and the animations, in my opinion, so I'll explain what I mean.

Have you ever felt like the Sims in 4 just look... weird? Not quirky, not kinda strange, but off. Distressing. Uncanny. Whatever the fuck the kids call it nowadays. When you strip away the packs and the CC and the shaders, the sims in the base game look bad. They're very close to being human; they walk like us, talk like us, have families like us, but they don't look like us, not exactly. There's always something off about them, no matter how close you try to get. Proportions will be a bit off, or your eyelashes will be like three polygons for some fucking reason, and the jig is up. The illusion is gone.

This is one of the instances where a higher resolution and more detailed models and meshes work against you. You aren't making believe. You are beyond the point of pretending that the pixelated shapes are real clothes and bodies and faces, because at this point, they're close enough that you don't need to. There's no gap to bridge. But that doesn't necessarily mean that they're lifelike, at least, not enough to be completely human. In some ways, they're still tethered to being cartoony and plasticky and fake. Just enough to frighten you. Enough to put you off. They're not using it to their advantage anymore, and instead, it's holding them back.

When the Sims 2 came out in 2004, the developers knew that they weren't going to make a perfectly accurate life simulator. They physically couldn't render every wrinkle in the face or fold in the clothing. In some animations, things clip strangely or the facial expressions are sort of janky or there's just some form of roughness around the edges. But that's okay; your brain doesn't need a perfectly accurate representation this time. That's not what you're here for, anyway.

The Sims 4 is basically Icarus-ing itself into disaster. The entire game sacrifices style for complete realism, a goal that was unachievable ten years ago, and is unachievable now.

The Sims 2 never thought of itself as a completely realistic life sim, though. It has cartoony, low poly meshes and exaggerated proportions and wild, raunchy storylines that would never occur in real life. BECAUSE IT ISN'T REAL LIFE. And it isn't like real life, not because it's failing to be, but because it doesn't want to be!

The Sims 4 is not ever going to completely replicate human looks or interactions or dynamics. And if it's trying to, it's doing a shit job of it. That shouldn't be the goal in the first place. If I wanted to watch a lonely college student talk to himself in the mirror to try and get better at interacting with people, I'd close the computer and go look at myself. It somehow highlights the most mundane parts of life without any of the whimsy and goofiness that the earlier installments had. It takes itself too fucking seriously for its own good, and it's killing both the gameplay and the art style.

The other point I'd like to bring up is the animation. The Sims 4 allows for much more customization of both sim and environments, but at the cost of dynamic animations. How many times is that grab animation reused? How many times is the same set of animations used for sims with wildly different personalities? Your sims barely feel alive with how little they express themselves.

Now, look, I'm a digital artist. I've dabbled in animation, but only briefly, and only in 2D. I've got no clue how 3D animation works, much less how it worked 20 years ago, but I can see the passion in every single animation in the Sims 2. The more niche interactions allowed for more expressive animations than in 4. They could afford to have a distinct animation for mean sims throwing the football extra hard to be assholes, rather than every sim using the same generic football-throwing animation to save time and money. I get where they're coming from. I get the idea. But in one move, you've both made the art style stiffer and less expressive, and you've made the personalities of the sims seem meaningless. Everyone acts the same, regardless of what their moodlets or their traits say. It's hollow. It's stifled. It's a waste of potential.

But for what Sims 2 lacks in polygons, it makes up for in smaller animated details. Quality over quantity. The sims have hair physics, they open the door before they get in the car, they take utensils out of the counters when they cook, they jump on the couch and the cushions smush under their weight. When they dance, the weight is realistic, and when they smile, it tugs at every one of the few dozen shapes that make up their faces. The sims are lively. They dance and sing and love and hate just like humans, and rather than being some strange attempt at mimicry, it's almost a tribute. They were made with love. You can tell that they were drawn up and rigged and animated by a bunch of people working together, studying each other and making faces in the mirror for reference and watching their kids and neighbors and dogs and hands for reference. The sims are not human, and not trying to be, but they're taking the most human parts of us and making them their own.

You could never have a game with the Sims 4's graphics and the Sims 2's gameplay. The gameplay and graphics are inexorably connected, and the Sims 2 just has so much glorious detail baked into it, that you could never really make it work underneath the limitations of the later games. The developers of 2 knew what their limits were, and they worked tirelessly to make the game as full and complex as they could within those limits. The developers for the Sims 4 just did not have those guidelines, and thus, the drive to bend the rules was no longer there. They didn't go wild in rebellion because they were never told they couldn't in the first place. They spent the entire time chasing a goal they couldn't meet, and lost sight of what made the series fun to begin with.

It wasn't the realism you came for; you had realism already surrounding you. It was the caricature of it that made it interesting.

[avocado-writing]

Ok this request might be a bit specific but can you write headcanons for halsin,astarion ,dammon karlach and lae'zel (feel free to add any other character if you want) when their petite partner comes back from fighting the god of death and suddenly they're towering over them? (It's temporary but they'll take advantage of the fact that they can carry halsin)

This happened to me in my play through, I kept trying to remove items from my inventory because I was slower and it wasn't until I came across halsin in the camp that I was like " hold on... Halsin why are you so tiny???" Then realised

LMAO i have never had this!!! do you change size during the myrkul battle? that's SO funny if so. gonna change the prompt to be a bit less specific, but will still include a size change! under a cut bc nsfw, minors dni

Astarion

your shadow falls over him. he looks up. and up, and up. "oh... darling. you've... grown."

you apologise and tell him that this is only temporary, but he really doesn't seem to mind it all that much.

sits in your lap and likes to feel very small, curling up like a cat. you can practically hear him purr.

when you go to bed that night, if you're intimate, he'll enjoy straddling you and feeling how wide his legs have to splay around your wide hips.

he falls asleep on top of you, like you're his giant pillow. it makes him feel safe and protected.

he's woken up when you're back to your usual size, slapping at him to move off you - he's crushing you!

Halsin

he feels relieved not to be the tall one for once. it's nice for him to look up at you!

"my, when you're this size, i can appreciate all of you so much more... see magnified what nature has blessed you with..."

if you're comfortable with your size he wildshapes into something small so that he can really enjoy how big you are. little cat halsin nestled in your huge shirt <3

pick him up and carry him to bed. he's thrilled.

when you lay together that night he labours over every lovely inch of you, musing in great detail about how wonderful you are, how he enjoys you feeling so large compared to him...

but the next day he is just as happy to have you back to your normal body. no matter how you look, you are perfect.

Karlach

like Halsin, she is so pleased to be the small one for a while.

keeps wanting to compare the size of her hand to yours. they're so big now! amazing!

can't stop giggling when you reach down to kiss her. likes it when you cup her face.

when you have sex, she's thrilled by how small she feels, how you can take control of her a bit physically.

afterwards she just lays there going. "wow. wow. WOW."

lets you know that she wouldn't mind a repeat performance...

Lae'zel

is confused, but you can see her try and hide a smile.

"an interesting development. is this permanent?" "it shouldn't be." "hmm. then we shall explore what it means later."

before you go to bed, she's pleased to have you slightly stronger in order to help her around the camp. you can hold her weapons and stuff for her while she sharpens them lmao

at night you can tell she's thrilled when she dominates you and you're this size. you're both even more exhausted than usual the next day, and she's just smug.

Dammon

you walk into his forge and start knocking stuff over accidentally

probably bang your head too...

he's so surprised and helps you get your bearings, asking what's happened.

you explain you took this elixir and in order to help him more in the forge... but now you're just causing a ruckus.

he smiles sweetly and brings you down for a kiss, reassuring you there's no problem and it was a sweet idea.

probably gets you to sit to the side and keep him company while he works though, he doesn't want you hurting yourself!

and bonus:

Gale

my man loves to be thrown around a bit. prove me wrong.

eyes light up when you walk in.

does a lot of experiments to test your altered strength. you suggest maybe you'd prefer to explore hypotheticals in the bedroom...

you pick him up and carry him, bridal-style, to the bedroom.

pin him against the wall and suck his cock until he's a whimpering mess...

you need a lot of aftercare for him because he becomes easily overstimulated but keeps asking for more. wears his massive love bites with pride the next day <3