#comes from a fic

[nat-space-obsessed]

Day 6: Immortal AU

I guess the Everlasting Trio ain't so everlasting lmao

Danny's hair is a little funky but I tried!!

I had fun drawing bones!

[mapletine]

a piece based off @/briarforger on twt’s fic the end of desire!! the fic was sincerely so beautifully written and thistle’s section made me turn into a small pathetic puddle please please please go and read it, it is truly a stunning work i can’t recommend it enough

all text on the image are direct quotes!! created and posted with permission from the author <3

[improvapocalyps]

You have 90 minutes to complete. (original poem: r.a.)

In participation of the MCYT Recursive Exchange 2024 hosted by @mcytrecursive!

Inspired by know that all my love will be your breath (i will save you when your lights go out)

[text under cut]

1. Have you ever been in love? (Please circle your answer.) a. It's me and him b. Our hearts beat in sync c. Our lives intertwined

2. Do you understand what you’ve done? (Please circle your answer.) a. I couldn't do anything b. I lost my balance c. I doomed us both

3. It's been god knows how long since you felt phantom hands on your neck and there is no one in sight. If you were soul-bound to him and both of you died at the same time then why are you still waiting in the void? Please answer clearly, in full sentences. (Not a correct answer：I just wanted to see him one more time).

4. Define two (2)： Fate | The feeling of his forehead against yours Curse | The moment you realise he isn't linked to you anymore

5. True or False： i. It was your fault. ii. You wish you had met him under different circumstances. iii. You can’t regret a single moment that you had him. iv. You would do it all over again if you could. v. It ended long before either of you said anything.

thumbnails:

sketch cover thing for imgur link:

[starleska]

as a cringe selfshipper who's been in fandom for decades and draws nothing but blushy ship art, i feel so seen and so attacked right now 😂💖💖💖

[liloinkoink]

one thing i think people get wrong about Martyn in the life series is he really isn’t loyal

like yeah, we all know him as the Hand, following the Red King as far as their shared grave, but that is… truly the outlier and not the norm with him

i mean, let’s take a brief look at other seasons. i can’t speak to Secret Life, as it came out when i was incredibly busy and i haven’t yet had time to watch it, but what about the others?

he won Limited Life because he’s a chronic traitor! he betrayed Scott, his ally for the whole season, so that he could win, and said he’d been planning it / wanting to do it the whole session. spent a whole season protecting and helping Scott, and laughed in his face to betray as soon as he saw a shot to do so

Double Life was a whole mess of Martyn and weird loyalties. just one example: he spent all of the first session hanging out with Pearl in favor of even looking for either of their soulmates, with no regard for how he’d been putting his soulmate in danger. when their soulmates dumped them due to being ignored all session and stormed off, he dumped Pearl just because. one session in and he’s betrayed both his soulmate and his day one alliance!

Last Life he teamed with the Southlanders and then made the Shadow Alliance in secret, so he was on two teams and never truly committed to either. he tried to kill Grian basically immediately when he got boogeyman, for example, and in the final fight he tried to lure Ren to himself by offering to team and then tried to blow Ren up

of course, i’m simplifying and ignoring a lot. he doesn’t earn the loyal reputation for nothing. he does a lot of things to help his teammates, like giving a life to Ren in Last Life, trying all season to win Cleo over for all of Double Life, or working to protect Scott for all of Limited Life. it’s not like Martyn doesn’t play the part of a loyal friend well, but, well.

the thing about Martyn is that he’s selfish. he’s basically always going to prioritize his own survival over anything else. he’s never going to roll over and die, especially not for another person. he’s good at looking loyal, because having allies will help you survive, and he knows making outright enemies is a bad idea. he knows he can’t make it obvious he’s a traitor, because then he’ll certainly be killed. but, when it comes down to the wire, he will generally bail at the last minute to save his own skin rather than protecting the people around him. when his loyalty is tested, nine times out of ten, he will not only fail, but do so completely without remorse

it doesnt take a lot to become Martyn’s ally, and once you’ve got a foot in the door, he will take his allegiances seriously (at least, to a point). but it takes effort to really earn Martyn’s trust. and, even when it looks like you have, there’s no guarantee he won’t yank the rug out from under you if he decides having you alive is more detrimental to his survival than seeing you dead

and yes, you can especially see all of this in Third Life. Martyn was absolutely not instantly ride or die for Ren—for a lot of the earlier episodes, he won’t say he’s on Ren’s team or that he lives at Ren’s base, and often tells other players he’s simply Ren’s employee rather than teammate and that he’s wandering or homeless. he trusts Ren so little due to Ren’s inability to keep a secret or stand up for himself that even Ren acknowledges in the third session that Martyn is probably going to leave him and find someone else. Martyn’s loyalty had to be earned, and it very nearly wasn’t. if Ren had taken a session more to grow a spine, Martyn probably would have left

but Ren became an ally that Martyn could rely on, who could stand up for himself and keep secrets. it became more beneficial to Martyn’s survival to have Ren around, so he stayed with Ren for the rest of the season, and committed hard to their kingdom. Ren earns Martyn’s trust by becoming a more dependable ally, and because of that, Ren earns Martyn’s loyalty…. probably

(half related, bc i want it in the post and i don’t know where to put it: after the execution, two sessions after Ren officially earns Martyn’s loyalty, Ren admits to being genuinely convinced Martyn was going to take him out of the series as soon as Ren gave him the chance!)

because yes, even here, even after Ren earns his trust and Ren trusts Martyn to execute him and they become King and Hand, Martyn was okay with killing Ren to save himself. Martyn has said he was going to betray Ren in the final session of Third Life. his entire plan was that when he and Ren hit the final 5, he was going to kill Ren. end Red Winter, usher in Red Spring. even the most loyal version of Martyn was a traitor!

now, you can decide for yourself if you believe he could have actually gone through with this—he and Ren were 6th and 7th out of the game, after all. maybe he wouldn’t have been able to steel himself. maybe his loyalty would have, for once, been too strong to kill Ren.

but it’s very possible that even the most loyal version of Martyn—the version of Martyn who has created this “loyal” image of Martyn in fanon—was only loyal because he died too soon to show his true colors

[keferon]

…..SO. AHAHAHAHAH. I finished reading Mistakes on mistakes until (technically I finished chapter 68 which is the last one currently~)

What a ride OH MY fuckINg god

[dcxdpdabbles]

Jason, holding a plate of cookies: Hey, I'm from room 209. Sorry about the noise last night. Things got a little out of hand.

Danny dark circles under his eyes: I couldn't sleep.

Jason: Yeah, again, I'm so sorry. I made you some cookies-

Danny: Tell your boyfriend to keep it down when he's cleaning out his wounds, dude. I get Red Hood has to dig bullets out of his wounds but-

Jason: What!? That's not what happened-

Danny,holding up a hand and grabbing the plate with the other: I don't want to know anything if it wasn't bullet wounds. Apology accepted. Good day.

Jason stared at close door in horror: That's not what happened.

Tim, covered in bandages, leaning on second floor railing: Ha! Your crush thinks you're a weirdo.

Jason: I healed you, and I can unheal you, boy.

[nightthinker-08]

I couldn't sleep so I drew some Pomnies shes surprisingly fun to draw lol Oh and some doomed yuri too I guess xD buttonblossom is cute n all but calling them doomed yuri or digital yuri is a lot funnier to me

[coloursflyaway]

As much as I love (and understand) everyone being wild about Edwin in Port Townsend, you can't tell me that clients don't fall in love with Charles left and right, too.

Have you seen the boy?

The softest, warmest brown eyes you could imagine, surrounded by the longest lashes. A nose so regal it would make Greek sculptors cry with joy. Cheekbones so sharp you could cut a diamond on them. Curls you want to card your fingers through and never stop again. A smile so brillant it could replace the sun.

I'm sure there's an army of people just swooning over Charles back in England.

And Edwin? Edwin would have hated that ever since it happened the first time, but now he knows why it hurts that much when someone calls Charles babe or luv or darling and I am pretty sure that that would make it so much worse.

[seancefemme]

would you tell me if you want me, cause I can’t move until you show me

[voiider]

I need codependent Danny/Jason as a little treat (for me) and I love the idea of them having some sort of instant connection the moment they meet (bc ghost stuff idk)

Danny who's been dropped in Gotham with no way home (alt universe??) and he's been here for 36 hours and having a Very bad time senses a liminal being and immediately latches onto them heedless of the fact that his new best friend is shooting at some seedy guys in an alley and goes off about how stressed he is and how he can't make it back to the ghost zone and what a bad day he's been having (and it's important to note Danny is a littol ghost boy literally hanging off of Jason's neck as he floats aimlessly) and Jason is like "who are you??" And Danny is like "oh sorry I'm Danny lol" and then just continues lamenting his woes

And honestly ? This might as well happen. Nothing about this Danny guy(is he human?) gives Jason a bad vibe and tbh he's never felt more calm and level headed before so he just keeps up his usual Red Hood patrol and doesn't even think about it when he heads back to a safehouse and feeds Danny dinner (breakfast) before crashing for half the day

The only thing I actually need is Jason meeting up with the bats for some sort of Intel meeting and they're like "uhhh who's that" and Jason is like "that's Danny." And does not elaborate (very ".... What do you have there?" "A smoothie" vibes)

And it takes them a while to realize that these two have known each other for less than 12 hours and are literally attached at the hip

[cadavercowboy]

Just Friends

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A night of drinking makes Bucky bold and a harmless text makes him bolder.

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Alcohol consumption. Thigh fucking. Orgasm denial. Cum play (microscopically). Oral sex (implied).

The tip of one finger prods gently at your lower lip, eyebrows scrunching with a wince when a burst of pain emanates from the slightly swollen flesh. A narrow, reddened cut dissects the once smooth surface and you lean closer to your streaked mirror to get a better look. Carefully, you press your lips together as if you’d just applied a layer of lipstick and the sting worsens.

You swear you can feel your pulse throbbing beneath the superficial wound and you sigh. It has ached all day, even more so when you split the small wound open while eating dinner earlier. Yanking open a drawer, you dig around in search of your scarcely-used tub of Vaseline, hoping the sticky goop will prevent your scabbed lip from cracking open again. With a soft touch, you apply a thin layer to your tender lip as well as its uninjured mate, having to stop yourself from habitually rubbing them together. 

This is all Bucky’s fault.

Last night had been a normal outing, no different from any other you’ve shared among your small group of friends. Music pumped from speakers, alcohol flowed from an array of bottles and cocktails, fun and laughter filled the evening. Normal, that is, until Bucky backed you into a dark corner of the bar and kissed you harder and more fiercely than any man or woman ever has.

It wasn’t the kiss that surprised you so much as the kisser. Admittedly, Bucky is a good-looking guy and sure you’ve had less-than-appropriate thoughts about him a time or two, but it’s not as if you’ve ever had a truly serious interest in him beyond what some might consider a crush. Not that it matters much. Although you consider him a friend, Bucky is rather reserved and — prior to last night — you’d have bet any amount of money that he’s certainly never had a second thought about you. 

And yet, the ghost of his warm lips devouring yours still haunts your mouth. The way he’d cradled your head and caressed your tongue with his own has you feeling light-headed even after all these hours. Bucky licked and sucked hungrily at you, at one point seeming to grow so overwhelmed with an untamed need that he’d nipped rather harshly at your mouth and left you with a memento of your shared moment of passion.

You shake your head and flip off the bathroom lights before heading back to your bedroom. Stripping down, you throw on a comfortable outfit to sleep in and climb under the covers. With your head burrowed comfortably deep in your pillows, you shut your eyes and beg your brain to stop replaying the memory of last night on a loop. You have to stop thinking about Bucky. And about Bucky’s lips. And about kissing Bucky. 

But you can’t.

Your eyes flick open, hardly able to see anything in the darkness of your room and you sigh. You huff and flop onto your side, hoping the change of position will usher you off to sleep faster. The niggling thoughts pervade. You still can’t believe he kissed you like that. Ignoring the pinch of pain you feel, your tongue sweeps repeatedly over your bruised lip and you swear you can still taste Bucky there. 

In all honesty, you want to simply blame it on the alcohol or the heated tension you’d created on the dancefloor together just so you won’t have to admit that your broody, handsome friend might actually be attracted to you. Hell, you’d blame it on something as trivial as the full moon if it means you can avoid having to think about what last night’s kiss might mean for your meager friendship. Is it too much to hope that Bucky had been overly inebriated and forgotten about it altogether? 

As if able to hear you thinking about him, the once silent phone sitting on your dresser lights up and vibrates. Propped up on one elbow, you can just barely make out Bucky’s name popping up with a succinct ping. You stare at the screen for a long moment, hoping that if you don’t look at his text, it will somehow go away. It doesn’t. In fact, an accompanying message joins the first and your curiosity finally forces you to reach for the device. 

Bucky: Tried to order a shot at the bar and they’re all out of tequila. I think we did serious damage last night

You smirk and release a quick snort of laughter at Bucky’s text, all the while wondering how in the world he’s managing to go out drinking after last night. It’s been an entire day and you’re still feeling the effects of your overindulgence, your head evidently doing its best impression of a balloon full of concrete. Before you can respond, the screen indicates that Bucky is typing something else. 

Bucky: Sorry about kissing you by the way. We have to be as awkward as possible around each other now FYI

So much for forgetting. Sensing Bucky’s attempt to make light of the strange situation while also trying to suss out how you’re feeling about it, you decide to take it easy on him. You have no hard feelings about the kiss and you’d hate for him to feel badly over something so trivial. 

Sitting all the way up, you switch on the bedside lamp and open the camera app while you bring your phone close to your face. You open your mouth slightly so the aftermath of Bucky’s kiss is more visible, take a photo, then send it his way with a sarcastic text about how he should be sorry for how he’s maimed and massacred you. 

It doesn’t even occur to you how the thoughtlessly snapped picture might be misinterpreted. There had been no purposeful intention in the sensual way your lips were parted, nor had you meant to capture your cleavage in the image. You’d simply sent the picture as a joke and locked your phone, but seconds later — even before you’ve managed to set the device back down — Bucky’s number and the goofy group picture you have saved as his contact photo are lighting up your screen. The phone vibrates steadily in your hand as you stare in surprise. 

If you’d been sitting in the downtown bar with him, you would have watched as the content smile that accompanied the sight of your incoming message had been promptly swept away as Bucky’s eyes scanned what you’d actually sent. You would have seen the way he snatched his jacket off the barstool and how his hand nearly shattered the glass of his phone’s screen when he jabbed your contact with unnecessary force. You would have witnessed him lifting the phone to his ear, grinding his teeth as the dial tone droned while he strode through the thinning crowd and out the bar’s exit to the crowded street.

“Hello?” you drawl hesitantly upon answering the call.

You receive no greeting in return, only a terse demand.

“Send me your address.”

“What? Why?” you wonder, sitting up straighter in your bed at the serious sound of Bucky’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is you sending me that picture,” he retorts as if it is obvious.

“Bucky, what are you talking about?” you laugh nervously. “It was just a joke.”

“I’m not joking,” Bucky assures you seriously. “Send me the damn address.”

You repeat his name again with another uneasy scoff as you try to process his unexpected adamance. Heat blooms all across your body and you begin to chew nervously on your fingernail as you struggle to come up with a reason for him not to come over. There’s no way this man is going to show up on your doorstep.

“Listen, I’m…I’m already in bed in my pajamas,” you offer lamely. “I’m not exactly in any state to receive company and…and…I haven’t cleaned in days! I was just kidding, Buck…you don’t need to—.”

“Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t you dare.”

The argument sounds rather lacking even to your own ears. In actuality, you don’t care how you look or how your place looks if Bucky does come over. What you care about is what will happen if he does; specifically, what’s going to happen to you. But there’s no way this man is going to show up on your doorstep.

“I’m going to hang up the phone and get a cab,” Bucky informs you impatiently. “By the time I do, I better have your address.”

Before you even have a chance to plead your case, the line goes dead. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you stare indecisively at the chat which remains open on the screen. The easiest solution would be to put the damn thing down, roll over, and go to sleep. But the cursor that flashes in the textbox taunts you, calling to you like a beacon. You’re suddenly feeling uncharacteristically weak. 

Your fingers move of their own volition, punching in the appropriate information before you toss your phone to the end of the bed and flop backwards with a closed-mouth scream. This man is going to show up on your doorstep. 

There’s something paradoxical to the notion that you aren’t close enough friends for Bucky to know where you live, yet he’s about to show up here to…well, you aren’t quite sure what he’s showing up for. His demand to know your address was alarming — if not somewhat enticing — and you allow your imagination to take over for a moment.

With damp palms dragging down your suddenly overheated face, your mind races and you begin to question your sanity. It would have been so easy to ignore Bucky’s demand and just go to sleep. You’d probably be saving yourself a lot of trouble. But deep down, you have to admit that this is something you’ve been secretly wanting since the very first day you met Bucky. However, that particular thought exists miles down a road you’re not quite ready to travel along.

By the time the resounding knock comes, you’ve paced about a mile and a half back and forth through your bedroom. Your heart is pounding and you’re practically shaking right out of the clothes you wear. A thick hoodie and a pair of loose cotton shorts hang off your vibrating frame, only because you decided wearing your sexy pajama set would seem a bit too presumptuous…perhaps even desperate. And it had definitely felt that way when you put them on earlier. 

Maybe you should change back. Maybe you shouldn’t care so much. The echoing knock is firmer this time and doesn’t give you time to think about it any longer. Because this man actually showed up on your doorstep.

You’ve hardly cracked the door open an inch and Bucky is already inside and shedding his leather jacket from his broad shoulders. He closes in on you until you’re forced to take several unsteady steps backwards into the dark, narrow hall. His hungry eyes look you up and down, sizing you up like a lion would its kill.

“What exactly are you doing here?”

Although you try to infuse some sort of playful, casual laughter into the question, the uncertain quiver of your voice gives you away. As does the way your eyes dart around, refusing to meet Bucky’s. He notes the anxious rubbing of your palms against your thighs and takes a slow step closer to you. 

Standing frozen before him, you gasp when he takes hold of your elbow and promptly marches you towards your bedroom. By the time you’ve turned around to face him, Bucky has already pulled his shirt up and over his head, the defined muscles of his torso rippling and on full display as he does so. Your mouth is dry and your brain is fuzzy.

“You changed,” he notes nonchalantly before gesturing at your outfit. “You’re gonna wanna take that off.”

Bucky utters the order so confidently and with no preamble that it nearly knocks you off balance. You know what’s happening, your brain just doesn’t seem to believe it. And so you stand stock-still, incapable of much more than staring. It isn’t until Bucky growls in frustration — clearly believing that you’re being coy or perhaps just stubborn — that you find your voice.

“You still haven’t said why you’re here.”

“Because…” he begins impatiently as he toes off his boots and kicks them aside. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night. And now…seeing how good I look on you is driving me crazy and making me wanna mark you all over.”

The admission is jarring. Almost as much as the cracking sound that shatters the silence in the room when Bucky unbuckles his belt and whips it free of his pants with one smooth movement. You choose to ignore his unashamed desire and opt to address the less detrimental part of his confession.

“Buck, c’mon,” you choke, somehow feeling even warmer. “It was just a kiss.”

“So?”

Your eyes meet his then, not sure how to respond to his unexpected challenge. The heat you find there nearly scorches you. You’re suddenly at a loss for an excuse that seems adequate enough to turn down the prowling man. Especially when you know you want this as much as he does, if not more. Still, you try.

“We were drunk,” you offer weakly.

It sounds like a question even to you and when Bucky quirks a dark brow, you know your reason has fallen flat. He regards you for a long moment, unbuttoning his jeans and revealing a trail of hair which dips below the illegibly branded waistband of his underwear.

“I wasn’t that drunk,” he assures, hair mussed and nostrils flaring. “Now, like I said…take that off.”

“Take…what off?” you mumble distantly.

You’re too distracted by the plethora of smooth, tanned skin to pay attention; too beguiled by the sight of his half-naked body and all that it promises to continue thinking. Bucky points a long finger in your direction, swirling it mid-air to specify that he’s referring to your baggy hoodie and rumpled shorts.

“All of it,” he barks. “Off.”

Ultimately, you obey Bucky’s request and though your limbs move as if filled with sand, they manage to shed your hoodie and shorts just the same. You’re left standing bare-chested in nothing but a pair of underwear that do very little to shield you from the lascivious perusal of Bucky’s hungry eyes. He mirrors your state, now standing before you statuesque and gorgeous in nothing but a pair of tight-fitting boxer briefs when he finally answers your earlier question. 

“I’m here to finish what I started.”

He breathes the words, his lips so close to your own that you can almost taste him. With barely an inch between you, Bucky’s eyes flicks to yours, silently asking permission. He shows no intention of closing the space between you, instead waiting for you to make that decision. You do so without hesitation and crash your lips into his with a sigh of relief at the familiar feeling of his mouth on yours.

In a flash, Bucky tears away and has you hauled into his arms to toss you easily into the middle of your soft mattress. You’ve barely stopped bouncing when Bucky’s strong body is braced above you. His hips settle perfectly in the space between your thighs; you can feel the heat of him there and the sensation is dizzying. Holding his weight on one hand, Bucky slips the other in the miniscule space between your torsos and hooks a finger along the elastic band of your panties. He tugs playfully at the material before letting it snap sharply against your hip.

“I did say all of it, didn’t I?” he taunts with a wry smirk.

“I didn’t have time,” you argue with a giggle that stops short when he allows his hips to drop so that you feel his hardness directly against your center. “I’m sorry.”

He hums against your skin as his lips trail from your jaw to your ear where he licks the sensitive lobe and nips gently at your skin.

“Shh…don’t worry,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. We can leave them on because if you take ‘em off right now, I am going to fuck the shit out of you.”

You’re uncertain whether the words are a promise or a threat, even more unsure which you’d prefer. With a pathetic whimper that curls warmly into Bucky’s ear, you feel his heavy cock twitch against your crotch. His lips latch hastily to the side of your neck and he suckles.

“Please, Bucky,” you mewl, wanting him to deliver on his threat. 

Threat…promise…you don’t care what it was, just so long as he follows through. To your dismay, Bucky puts a swift end to your hopefulness.

“No no no, baby…don’t beg,” Bucky coos almost cruelly. “You’re not getting fucked tonight.”

He punctuates the lowly-spoken words with a pointed thrust of his hips, grinding firmly against your core and beginning to feel the dampness of your sodden panties through his own underwear. You gasp then, sharp and sudden — the sound only partially prompted by the pleasurable sensation he imparts upon you. It is the widening of your eyes that belies the other cause for the breathy noise: Bucky’s unexpected denial. The complete turnaround has you reeling. If he notices your disapproving reaction, he gives no indication and instead continues his inauspicious words.

“I’m gonna make you ache the way I’ve ached for you. Gonna make you go crazy wanting me,” he breathes, interspersing thrusts every so often between the syllables. “Make you so desperate that you’ll do anything just for a little taste.”

Bucky hisses the last word and you flinch just as the rigid head of his length brushes your swollen clit through the thin layers of material separating you. Even without touching you beyond this, he has you near tears and yearning. He watches the pathetic tilt of your hips and the pitiful way your face crumbles, in awe over the way your muscles quiver and your body moves restlessly beneath him. You haven’t even seen a fraction of what he has planned for you and already you’re falling apart; the very notion has him clenching his jaw as his cock hardens painfully.

“Buck. Please.”

You whine — breathless and high — though Bucky continues as if you haven’t said a word.

“I’m gonna take you right to the edge,” he cups your ass, lifting and grinding your hips into his with a dramatic pause, “and then…stop.”

Before you have a chance to lament Bucky’s refusal to give you what he’s made you want, his strong hands grip your bent knees to gather your legs and arrange them over one shoulder so that the backs of your thighs settle along the hard ridges of his abdomen. With your legs pressed firmly together, Bucky reaches down to take himself in hand. He inhales through his teeth, allowing a few indulgent strokes of his throbbing cock before he aligns the glistening tip between the soft flesh of your thighs.

A groan forms deep in his belly, bubbling up until it fights its way out when his lips part instinctively. You watch, trancelike, as Bucky glides his dick rhythmically between your legs. In and out, over and over. Sweat gathers where your skin meets and Bucky’s grip on you tightens as fucks your thighs, taking a smug sort of pleasure in his endeavor to continue denying you.

As his thrusts increase in speed and the veins in his thick neck begin to protrude, you hope Bucky is suitably distracted and dare to lift your hips in search of some much needed friction. Bucky’s reaction is swift, immediate, and infuriating. He presses his weight forward, shoving you back into the mattress and effectively pinning you in place just as a strangled sound pours from him. 

Without warning, his hips jolt forward and his body tenses before becoming still. A wet warmth splashes against your belly and Bucky lets out a rush of breath while his body convulses and another rope of cum rains down on you. 

Bucky finally allows your legs to fall to the side, each one bracketing his corded legs where he still kneels above you as he allows his orgasm to wash over him. The fog lifts for you before it does for him and with the dawning realization, your desperation ratchets up a notch. Feral for some sort of release, you thrash with need and whimper with embarrassing anguish. Your body vibrates with the tension that blazes through your veins and you reach for Bucky, fingernails grabbing and clawing at his hairy thighs while you beg and plead for him to take you, touch you, anything.

Bucky had come here tonight with every intention of teasing and torturing you — a sort of retaliation for the yearning he’s felt for you — but seeing you like this is pushing him dangerously close to giving in. To fucking you the way you both want him to. However, he vowed not to fuck you tonight and he’s a man of his word. Still, he’s willing to show a little mercy. 

With a huff and a quick sweep of his hand through his hair, Bucky is shushing you. He shifts his weight and slides down until his striking face hovers just above your pelvis. From here, he can smell you and the faint aroma has his mouth watering in a way he thinks he ought to be ashamed of. He drags his fingers through the pearlescent splatters that dot your stomach while his other hand eases your panties to the side before he brings the slickened digits to your folds. Warm breath puffs against you when he whispers.

“I said I wouldn’t fuck you, I never said I wouldn’t make you cum,” he concedes with a dastardly grin.

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

[a-most-beloved-fool]

fic in which Spock is unconscious or in a healing trance, and Kirk has to carry him somewhere, and any time Kirk is touching him, Spock is purring. Kirk stops to set Spock down and the purring stops. He picks him up again? Instant purring.

Kirk didn't know Vulcans purred, and is. utterly smitten by this. Biggest heart eyes you can imagine. Keeps looking over at Spock with the World's Sappiest Smile.

[stilessflannel]

"stiles," you purr, sighing with lust as your boyfriend's hands pull your hips harder towards his own, arching your back as his hand rises to gently push you down against the mattress. he hums, leaning down to kiss your lips hard, thrusting into you as your back rubs the sheets under you.

stiles leans back and his mouth opens to murmur something to you, but a ringing noise makes you jolt. both of you turn to look at your phone, which has lit up with the call from someone. stiles sighs and you groan, arm reaching out to grope around for the phone as your other hand threads into stiles' hair, tugging him as he slowly eases on his thrusts.

"oh, god," you say, half moaning as stiles' strokes slow, changing angles as he looks down at you with mischievous eyes. "it's scott." you add, tossing your phone to the edge of the bed.

stiles hums, pulling out of you and grabbing the phone. you whine, looking at him, "no, please keep going, i can call him back later." you beg, desperate to feel him again. stiles raises his brows, "you know he'll just keep calling."

you lean back, sighing because you know stiles is right. "fuck you stilinski. fine." and then you snatch the phone, pressing the answer button. "hey, wh-what's up?" you ask, breathing slightly heavily.

"hey, i was wondering what your plans are later. we need to get some supplies for that party lydia’s having." scott says with a hint of boredom, and you swallow. god, couldn't he have called any other time? at least this will be quick.

you jolt but keep quiet as you feel stiles' fingers gently run through your slick folds, thumb teasing your clit. you let out a short whine and gulp, "oh, uh, yeah i can-can hang out later, just not now-" you swallow. your face feels on fire, excited by the idea of possibly being caught.

"you okay, y/n?" scott asks genuinely, concern lacing his voice. you bite your lip so hard you think it may draw blood as you gasp, "yeah, just...not feeling good." you say, sharply inhaling as stiles quietly chuckles. you send him a glare.

"stiles and i are c-cleaning his room and there's... it's hard work." you mutter breathlessly as you go up on one elbow, eyeing stiles as he smirks, his hand trailing down to stroke his cock. you barely resist a moan as you watch him, biting your lip as you wish you could have him in your mouth.

"okay..." scott says absently, immediately dismissing your excuse as he launches into a conversation with you asking about what you're bringing to lydia's party. you're biting your lip as you fall back onto the mattress, heart racing as you think back to twenty seconds ago when stiles' cock was inside you. "-and, you know, i think stiles' bringing snacks and some games, but maybe if you still have your key you could sneak into the store and get us some-"

you accidentally cut off scott with a gasp followed by a moan as stiles suddenly pushes into you.

your eyes are wide as you stare at stiles, watching as he winks at you, finger going to his lips in a shush motion. you hate how immediate your shivers of lust flow through you, as stiles starts to slowly thrust into you again. you roll your eyes but your face heats up as scott's voice breaks the silence over the phone, "y/n, wh... -are you sure you're alright?"

you pull your hand off your mouth, "yes! yes, i just-" you cough to cover up a moan as stiles starts to thrust harder, "i stubbed my fucking toe." you mutter quietly, glaring up at stiles. he smirks darkly at your words, looking down at you as his large hand creeps up your body, splaying across your breasts and then to your neck, ghosting a squeeze before slipping a finger into your open, panting mouth.

his other hand finds purchase on the skin of your thighs and he winks at you, moving his hips and hitting the perfect spot inside you. the pleasure you feel has your eyes falling back, toes curling.

"oh. well make sure if it's bad that you ice it, don't want you missing any sport...," and then scott launches into a quick story and you hum along to make it seem like you're listening even though all you can think about is stiles and how his hand is tweaking your nipples, splaying across your sternum, as you suck on his fingers.

then he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and presses them to your clit, rubbing in a pattern that has you seeing stars.

"-wait, you said you're with stiles?" scott asks and you cough, throat rough after having stiles' hand on it, "yes, he's- he’s right here." you say breathlessly.

"can you let me ask him something?"

your eyes widen and you gasp a bit, making eye contact with stiles. "s-sure, here he is."

stiles' smirks as he grabs the phone from you, making you nervous, but you bite your lip as he mutters, "hey, scott."

it's quiet for a bit as scott's voice drawls along on the other line and suddenly stiles is pushing your legs up towards your shoulders and speeding up his thrusts, the deep angle almost making you scream in pleasure. his hand falls over your mouth, keeping you quiet as he leans over you, pumping into you and making tears of pleasure form in the corner of your eyes.

stiles mutters, “mhm? yeah, yeah.” to scott, but the sultry way he’s staring at you and the way your nails are raking down his back make you wonder if the words are also for you.

"yeah, she's helping me out, she's always so good like that." stiles says, voice shockingly even for the way that he's fucking you into your mattress. and yeah, that definitely is for you.

the desperation and pleasure creep up on you alarmingly quick and you can't help the whimpers that quietly escape you - you thank god for the loud fan in your room to cover your noises.

stiles hums to scott a few more times, then he slaps your thigh gently as you try to close your legs from the pleasure, knowing when you cum you won't be able to keep quiet. it makes you feel even closer, though. "yeah, scott, i can do that. now listen, i got something important to finish off here so i'm going to give you back to my girl."

you bite your lip, feeling warm as you squirm under his touch, hands shakily taking the phone back from him, then stiles is kneeling above you, fucking you down into the mattress and filling you up fully. "scott," you gasp, "i also have to go, i'll - i'll call you later?" you say, trying your hardest to hold off your orgasm as stiles leans down to kiss along your chest, leaving a purple mark to bloom in the same spot as he thrusts hard into you.

"sure, see you later" scott says as he hangs up.

and then the second your finger presses the off button you're a begging mess, eyes screwing shut as you reach up to grip stiles' neck. his hands push your knees up towards your head, hitting a spot that has you clenching around him, legs shaking as your chest stutters.

"stilinski, god, i'm going to kill you for that." you hiss, causing him to grin, "i fucking hate you, i hate you." you mutter, smacking his cheek lightly. the grin after you leave the smack makes you even closer to the edge, and his hands grip your tits as he leans towards your ear.

his strokes are hitting you deep and hotly as he chuckles, "you liked it. i saw it in your face. pathetic desperation. i can feel it." he whispers against your clammy skin, his fingers brushing against your slick heat as he mutters. your cheeks are hot in embarrassment, and you whimper in need.

you bite your lip hard, resisting a moan as a sharp cry falls from your lips, shaking as you beg, "stiles, just - please, let me cum. please."

"you're so pretty when you beg, look at you. talkin' on the phone to my best friend while i fuck you." he mutters, hand caressing your burning cheek as you whimper. "all mine, so eager and willing to do whatever i want."

you nod, "yes, i'm yours, just - please, please." you whimper. "please say i can cum."

he smiles as he kisses your nose, "would you do whatever i want?”

you stutter an exhale, “yes! fuck, stiles, yes, yes i would. i’m yours.”

he smiles, “cum, then." you do after the next three thrusts, shaking and gasping and calling stiles' name. the euphoria rushes through your body and makes your eyes roll back, chest rising and falling as stiles rides you through your high.

only a minute later, stiles pulls out of you, hand moving to pump himself. "my perfect girl." he mutters as you sit up slightly on shaky elbows, tongue out and mouth open as you pant, stiles' hand moving in quick movements as he chases his own high. then he's grabbing your neck and pulling you toward him, moans leaving his lips as he cums in spurts onto your open tongue and down your chin, a bit dripping onto your chest. his thumb caresses you, opening your mouth wider and smearing his cum on your lips, wiping it from your tits and slapping them lightly, pinching your nipples and making you grin up at him.

and his chest is heaving as he smiles down at you, shaking his head as you swallow his cum, "christ, you're perfect." you tug his arms so that he falls down onto you and you're both chuckling as you become a tangled mess of limbs and beating hearts and blushy cheeks, sticky bodies cuddling close.

"he's going to find out." you say after a few seconds. stiles hums, "what makes you say that, baby? it's not like you were all 'stiles, fuck me harder, please, yes!' while you were on the phone. that was only after." he teases, and you smack his chest lightly, "shut the fuck up, stiles. i hate you." you say through a laugh. he's laughing too as he pulls you even closer, kissing your hairline, "i love you so much, y/n." he says, smiling giddily.

you pull his chin to you, kissing him sweetly. "i love you too, stilinski. but scott's coming over later, he's going to see that we didn't clean the room."

stiles laughs, shrugging as he runs a hand through his ruffled hair, "let him guess. it's funnier that way." and then he's kissing you, rolling on top of you and tickling your sides as you scream and squeal.

repost off my old a03 account

[ghostbsuter]

Danny had been around Gotham for a while.

The crime was never ending, but since Batman's arrival, it had gotten better.

The unmistakably CLANK! From around the corner had him jump, wary now. The man walks around the wall, eyes on the black car with— with Batman's symbol at the front.

A child sitting on the ground with a car tire next to him, the Bat Symbol a stark contrast to the shadows.

"Shit, kid. You're bold to rob Batman." Danny didn't really realise he was speaking until the kid looks up, spooked.

"What the fuck?" The kid was clearly of Gotham breed, yelps with a glare.

"I'm impressed," Danny doesn't give the kid the chance to talk, not with the way the tiny terror seems to be glaring and holding his wrench.

"You're quick, got eyes for details and know how to work around cars."

The suspicion in the kids eyes didn't lessen, having gotten up to press himself against the wall, eyes never leaving Danny.

"Here," Our local spook threw a card on the hood of the car. It was his business card.

"If you need income with far fewer risks than stealing from Batman, call me."

He didn't really wait to see the kids reaction, just leaving, bot before shooting a look into the sky the kid clearly caught.

As danny left, the kid looked at the entrance of the alleyway, back to the car, and then to the card.

They had talked for too long. Jason had to leave now, lest Batman actually caught him.

With one last look to the tires and the car, he leaves eith a scowl.

Just barely missing the man with the cape.

[quailsprout]

prime and protector fanart for @astolat's story, fool's hope on ao3