#dog man movie leaks

[princessrainevillanueva]

The Art of DreamWorks Dog Man - NEW BOOK ANNOUNCEMENT

I saw this one all over my social media feed so here it is - The Art of DreamWorks Dog Man has been revealed!

This book is written by Ramin Zahed (Editor in Chief of Animation Magazine and author of majority of art books based from animated movies like Captain Underpants: The First Epic Movie) and contains concept arts, designs, interviews from the cast, foreward from Author and Illustrator Dav Pilkey, and afterward by Director Peter Hastings and it's a must have for Dog Man fans like myself. It will be released on December 10, 2024 by Abrams Books.

This cover shows the concept art of Dog Man and Li'l Petey based from Dog Man: A Tale of Two Kitties.

Source: https://www.abramsbooks.com/product/art-of-dreamworks-dog-man_9781419776281/

Follow me on Instagram and X for more updates from the Pilkeyverse and the DreamWorks Dog Man movie!

[maruchanart]

Erm new Dog Man movie leak????!!!

[ilikemicrowaves]

Okay. Slay king I guess.

[peteytheparrot]

Very confused at the fact that there are two posters going around rn, with the first one being the newer one with other images with it (wide screen version and one with text) I wonder why that is? We also got a leaked synopsis with voice actors attached

[fettuccin-e]

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t. 

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you. 

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.” 

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die. 

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue. 

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears. 

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy. 

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch. 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show. 

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“ 

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it. 

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke. 

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?” 

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

[marksbear2]

Hii you’re deadpool and wolverine fic are awesome!! I’ve been reading your work for awhile and every time i read your work it’s just WOW but i was wondering if you can write another deadpool and wolverine fic? Just watched the movie and they make me BARK

😓 IM TIRED of everyone watching the movie but me. Don’t get me started on twitter and how everyone’s tweaking over my man hugh 😣.

DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE X MALE READER

⚠️Warnings- fluff, angst, smut— no spoilers included, all three of you are switches, edging, blood, death mentioned at the end and more.⚠️

— Both men laying on beside you on your left and right. Wade will be jerking off your cock whispering dirty jokes into your ear while Logan will be fingering your hole while breathing deep grunts and soft encouraging praises.

— The two would be mid argument, ready to be at each others throats while your literally getting face fucked by Logan and Wade will be behind you fucking you.

— Wade and you roleplaying, you’ll play as him as Deadpool wearing his suit and mask and all while he’s wearing Logan’s suit. He’ll be moaning “Wolverine” and “Logan.” While occasionally the slip of your actual name causing you two to giggle and break character.

— Logan walking in seeing you and Wade trying out new kinks like lingeries or more kinky shit like bdsm.

— If it’s Logan’s turn to bottom Wade will be teasing and cracking jokes the whole time taunting him to get him riled up.

— Logan and Wade sharing your cum in their mouths. After they’re done sharing your cock they’ll start to passionately makeout.

— Wade recording or taking pictures during sex. Even using a Polaroid on special occasions and he has some of his favorite pictures in his wallet.

— Logan will be fucking you relentlessly for hours to blow off his anger and stress.

— While they’ll be sharing your cock, their tongues will sometimes move against one another before sharing a kiss and back to sucking your cock.

— Watching the two have the most bloodiest sex ever watching them hit and hurt each other just for their body to regenerate.

— Wade will be like a dog in heat always humping and grinding his ass into you or Logan’s crotch.

— You going back and forth on their cocks sucking and deepthroating them Logan pulling and tugging on your hair while Wade is praising and making jokes.

— Logan walking in seeing you and Wade wearing dresses while your fucking him. Wade’s legs will be in the air speared apart while he is also wearing heels.

— Wade being very open on wanting to take you and Logan’s cock in the same time. He’s the one who’s trying to convince you two do it to him.

— You and Wade being in love with Wade’s scent.

— You and Logan shotgunning the smoke from the cigar while when Wade wants to try he lowkey starts dying coughing hard and shit.

— Whenever you are fucking either one of them the other one would start kissing or making out with you trying to distract you from the other.

— Logan having cum leak out from his used hole while Wade laid on the side of him getting fucked by you two. You’ll be taking turns using them like your own personal fleshlights.

— You and Wade watching Logan scratch onto things like the bed or sheets.

— Wade and Logan edging you together while they argue. They’ll be jerking off your cock and stuff and you’ll be whimpering and moaning the whole time until you actually cum all over their hands and yourself.

— You being in the middle as they both cuddle and hug you from the side. Occasionally Wade or Logan will take your place from being in the middle.

— Wade will be the one to distract either you or Logan with praises and jokes while the either of you would be cleaning.

— Seeing you fuck Wade so merciless and rough before eventually fucking him next, makes Logan go feral and insane.

(A few bits of angst now.)

— They both will outlive you. Though Logan isn’t immortal his lifespan is still greatly longer than yours.

— Both of them watching you die, and either cannot accept the fact that they can’t help or stop it from happening.

— Logan’s and Wade’s relationship weakens a whole lot after your death. They’ll be arguing even more and blaming one another for your death.

— Logan accidentally not retracting his claws and them stabbing through your stomach slowly, and very painfully killing you.

— Wade trying to use laughter and humor as an way to cope trying to mask that he’s okay but Logan sees right through it.

— Both men blaming themselves for your death.

— When all three of you break up it really damaged all three of you. Logan and Wade will be doing his best to move on.

— Your death really reminds the two of them that nothing last forever.

THE END

[melliemell]

Pairing: Chuuya x f!reader

Contents: NSFW, penetration (reader receiving), Chuuya-levels of cursing, don't say he's cute, he'd get grumpy about it and fuck you stupid to prove a point, incessant flirting, Approx 1.1k words

It really started off as a joke.

An off-hand comment you made. You didn’t intend on paying more attention to it… were it not Chuuya’s reaction; an eyebrow raised as he leaned into his seat, that god-awful grin of his spreading wide as he regarded you.

Your date was going well, all things considered. A nice restaurant, your own secluded corner to settle in at and relax, a gift of overly extravagant flowers–always the charmer that one, Chuuya even pulled the chair for you–it was perfect. A sense of being with the right person doing the right thing.

Finally having the time for each other.

And doing normal, romantic things was part of this evening’s plans.

Except it was Chuuya you were speaking of. Nothing that simple ever happened around him.

“So you think I’m boring?” he asked, playing the amused card to the tenth. There was none of his usual bark, only the teasing tone you had grown accustomed to.

“Misleading–” you began, leaning into his personal space to poke at his chest. “–is what I was referring to. This grand, scary mafioso… that also happens to spend half an hour choosing which shoes go best with which vest. You portray the part of barking dog really well but you’re actually a cutie.” And you winked, just to nail it down.

Chuuya clicked his tongue. He didn’t like it when you babied him, you knew that. But his reactions were too good to miss out on. 

“Hah? That the type of man ya take me for?” he grumbled, not quite masking the slight annoyance this time around. 

You hummed, trailing a finger down his chest. “Devastated, are you?”

Chuuya grabbed your hand, raising it to plant a kiss to your wrist. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he said, “Damn right I am. Calling me ‘cute’ out here like ya don’t know any better.”

You cocked your head, eyebrow raised in feigned confusion. “What? You gonna do something about it?” You knew perfectly well where this was going.

A whispered “fuck” left Chuuya’s lips, audible only for you to hear. And it was then it got settled– you weren’t suited for the romance part. Not the innocent, charming one at least. You needed a bit… more.

It became even clearer when less than an hour later your hands fumbled for your keys, Chuuya glued to your back as he trailed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. 

“I really hoped we’d be doing the ‘sweet date and movie night combo’, you know? Have you snuggled up against me and all,” you said, wasting no time as you both stumbled through the entrance, your hands finding their way around Chuuya’s neck. He kicked the door shut before trapping you against the nearby wall, lips seeking yours. 

“I’ll snuggle you up all night long, doll.” You could taste the wine on his tongue, the hurried way he kissed you leaving no space for distraction. Demanding your full attention was a staple mark of Chuuya’s, you couldn’t deny it.

“You seem preoccupied with other things, though,” you said, unbuttoning his vest.

Chuuya’s hands were already on your bra, unclasping the hooks before you felt a hand cup your breast, the barely-there caress of a thumb over your stiffened bud sending tingles of pleasure down your body in seconds. “How about you just ask me nicely, hm?” 

“Ah, you want me to beg now?” you asked, a finger trailing the outline of his lower lip, and you savored the way his breath trembled. Teasing like this would be wise only for now, you doubted he’d let you off the hook as easily soon enough. Not when you could feel his cock through the fabric of his trousers, hard against your thigh and probably leaking. 

Chuuya kissed your finger before biting it lightly, and you chuckled. “Don’t wanna leave me guessing what you want, do you? I might end up biting somewhere ya don’t want me to, sweets.”

You arched your hips forward, drawing a low groan from Chuuya. “We’ll have to wait and see then. I’m very open-minded, you know.”

“And stubborn,” Chuuya grinned, rocking against you. “Fu-uck, this feels good. I forgot what my point was, damnit.”

“Ha, loser.”

“Fuck off, bigger loser.” 

You were about to make fun of him again, seeing as he lost brain cells faster the hornier he got, but… you felt him pinch your nipple this time, rolling your bud between his skilled fingers as he dived for your neck again. The throbbing between your legs distracted you, intensifying even more as Chuuya’s tongue trailed along your pulse, leaving damp skin to prickle against the cold air. 

Rough wall against your back turned into soft sheets in a flurry of fragmented moments. Only Chuuya’s presence remained firm beside you. He settled between your legs, hands hurriedly discarding any remaining garments as fast as you both could, all the while without letting go of each other. Not once.

You barely had your underwear down before Chuuya was rocking forward, cock settling between your pussy lips as he rubbed against you. Your wetness spread over his tip only to draw a low moan from his parted lips. 

“Impatient,” you said, hooking your ankles around his hips. 

“You wanted the real deal tonight,” he grinned at you. “Going around calling me boring and cute all evening. Like hell I’ll leave it at that.”

“You gonna change my mind, fancy hat boy?”

“Ooh, you betcha,” Chuuya said, and slowly sank into the heat of your throbbing cunt.

You knew Chuuya was a talker; never shutting up even when you really would rather just hold him, hand clasped over his mouth as he fucked you in peace.

But not this time. It was quick and rough, him bottoming out in you with every slick thrust. He barely gave you time to take your bearings, his hand finding your clit only to start rubbing mercilessly in sync with his movements. Trying to stifle your moans was proving near impossible. Only Chuuya’s lips served as help, swallowing your every sound as he kissed you stupid. 

“Oh, fuck…” you panted, pulling away. 

“Nuh-huh, where ya going, sweets?” Chuuya ground his hips against yours, drawing another pained moan from your throat. “I’m doing you good, yeah? Come on, keep up with me.”

Your nails dug into his back even as your body trembled all over. “A bit too good there.”

“Yeah?” Chuuya trailed kisses down your jawline, his pace slowed. For now, at least. “Wanna ask me nicely about it?” he whispered.

Fuck. “I’m in for it, aren’t I?” you asked, knowing full well the answer. 

Chuuya only grinned.

Yeah, it was about to be a long night.

[caustinen]

thinking about hollywood! clegan au 🤭

John Egan is a beloved actor who had his big break 5ish years ago and been doing a steady stream of hit movies ever since, 2-3 a year over all genres

Hollywood’s heartthrob but also a versatile actor who’s amazing at talk shows, considered very cool but also your grandma’s favorite celebrity

Has always been very private about his life outside of the films, always manages to make a joke out of everything when he’s (often) asked about his personal life, just wants to talk about his dog and whichever project he’s promoting

He’s been connected to a bunch of singers and actors (he loves a good party and isn’t aftaid of physical contact so he’s shipped with pretty much everyone he meets)

The absolute SHOCK that goes through entertainment world when he shows up to a premiere with a beautiful man on his arm

There are some speculations about this being another goof to get everyone confused but the picture of John looking at the man and rounding his arms around the his waist at any given moment on the red carpet go viral in relationship pages (they’re used in the type of pics “if your man doesn’t look at you like this…”)

Internet detectives quickly discover the man’s Gale Cleven, a publicist at the firm that represents Egan (not his publicist tho they keep work separate from their relationship)

He’s considered one of the best in the industry but hates spotlight and has stayed away from the media completely so far

However… After dating for 5 years John popped the question and Gale said yes, and as a part of their deal with how to deal with all of that Gale allows John’s long-awaited dream of being able to scream his love from the rooftops

He wasn’t kidding either, every single social media post after that is about how much he loves his fiancé, and the wedding plans are pretty much all he wants to talk about in interviews as well (aside from their dog, of course)

The negative side of it is that the internet also starts to thirst after John’s man and it becomes a new widely shared joke, like everytime John goes to talk shows after that the questions are all centered around ‘Hey, is your fiancé single?’

John is a good sport about it but in private he takes any excuse to mark Gale as his, weather it was a seemingly carelessly placed hand on him any chance he gets or a hickey just visible over his collar and esp when they have sex John never shuts up anyway but now he’s particularly keen on reminding Gale he belongs to him

Gale doesn’t care about the public attention one bit but he loves how happy John is about showing him off, and every time he’s nervous when they’re photographed together John makes sure to make him laugh and relax even on red carpets when everyone is trying to get their attention

The one time they give an interview together the internet goes nuts because Gale is so shy but so sweet and John laughs at everything he says and the two of them are just so clearly smitten with each other people can’t help but root for them

It’s also clear form the interview that while Gale hasn’t been at previous premiers or public outings he’s John’s work’s biggest fan/supporter, John’s telling some story about how they managed to keep their relationship secret while also living an active life like ”Oh and while I was doing promo for this project Gale lived in London with me” and Buck’s always very nonchalantly like ”No actually it was for this project dear” because he’s more aware of John’s work than he is and John will always tease him like ”oh you’re right thank you baby you’re so smart” and Gale would fail to hide his smile behind his hand

(additionals: john’s insta — gale’s insta — how they met — media/friends instas — how they first said i love yous — domestic hcs — gale//red carpet look — troubles with media/fans — jealous bucky — pda video leaks — candid pics — discussions about going public+proposal — going viral during award season — buck’s reaction’s to bucky doing sex scenes — stalker attack — reunion — sickfic — stalker attack cont. — photoshoot — divorce rumors — fanfiction — short n sweet)

[princessrainevillanueva]

Regarding to DreamWorks Dog Man Movie Leaks - June 24, 2024

Hello! You might expect that someone from Tumblr/Youtube found a Dog Man Movie Leak which is a concept art from an upcoming art book. I would like to inform everyone that please avoid leaks if you can (also helpful if you mute the word "Dog Man Movie Leaks" on social media.)

All you have to do it to wait patiently for a bit. The first trailer/look from this upcoming DreamWorks Dog Man Movie will show up anytime in a few weeks, so if this happens, we'll talk about that. We are supa wanting to surprise you to get excited.

Any questions or findings? Reach me at Instagram or X!

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size seer!reader

— summary: cursed with the ability to see futuristic visions, you somehow manage to save spencer reid.

— warnings: mentions of dead pets, bloody noses, past seizures, and serial killers.

— wc: 1290

⋆ a/n: hello! okay so i understand that this is completely random and honestly it was a completed wip that was sitting in my drafts so i figured 'why not?' i'm not really pleased with the ending so if anyone would be interested in a part two or continuation, i wouldn't be against it!

masterlist | AO3

The first time you had a vision you were six playing in your mother’s garden, blissfully running through the overgrowths of plants and vegetation before you dropped to the ground like a bag of rocks.

You don’t remember much aside from the scene that played behind your eyes, like a burnt movie;  dark clouds, blurred yelling, and a puff of fur running out into the street. When you had come-to with a gasp, you were in the hospital.

Apparently when you had fainted you started seizing, body shaking fiercely as blood pooled from your nose. The MRI scans showed that your brain was so healthy it was like the seizure hadn't happened at all.

Sometimes your visions took a while to come to fruition, but when it did, they were never wrong. 

Your childhood dog had managed to weasel its way out from your backyard on that fateful cloudy day. You remember the way the warm wind whipped at your skin, that soon to be familiar feeling in your gut that told you that signaled the inevitable.

It was too late by the time the pet had taken off for the road, where it ended up fatally crushed beneath a moving truck.

You learned not to doubt your ability quickly.

They were triggered by small things, details of everyday life that weren't deeply thought about; like the color of someone's clothes or a certain smell or sound. You knew it was a vision when your nose began to leak blood – which was very inconvenient seeing as though a majority of the time when you’d see things in public.

You'd come to learn that your eyes blur like fog for just a moment until you reconnect with your body. It was a freakish feeling and just downright annoying.

You didn't want to see these things, you didn't want to feel responsible for saving people. It was a hassle, and it was a struggle that all but stole a piece of your soul when it happened. You were isolated and alone, and if that meant keeping others and your mental health safe, then you would just have to grin and bear it.

You just hadn't expected him.

The crosswalks were always somehow crowded in the mornings, a sigh wrenching its way through your lips as you brushed against people.

You were so disoriented when it happened, a single brush to the hand shut your brain down, that sickening feeling of guilt twisting through your nerves.

It was a peculiar scene, one that was dark and eerie, a lingering feeling of danger caught in between the notion that you were not supposed to be there. The house was abandoned and dark, their arms poised outwards like they were holding something. It was as if you were sharing the person's point of view when you were shoved, landing on the ground with a gun pointed at your head.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what happened when your vision went dark. 

You were pulled back into reality with a gasp, a warmth trickling over your lip that was undoubtedly blood. Usually, you wouldn't chase after who the vision pertained to, long sacrificing responsibility, but there was something about it that was just… wrong. Like even your subconscious knowing that, that wasn’t how it was supposed to end for them.

Experiencing your visions took less and less time to register, barely a second had passed before your hand shot out to catch the wrist of the person.

It was connected to a man, a very beautiful man, a man that was now staring at you like you were fucking crazy.

“Ye– oh! Are you alright?!” The man asked in concern, the confusion in his brows dissipating into concern. “Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… there’ll be a door.”

“A door?” “Yes, a door - fuck - just… just don’t go wherever you are going by yourself. There’s gonna be someone that’s gonna kill you, you need backup. A friend, partner, family, I don’t know just - just don’t go into scary creepy houses by yourself alright? You’re gonna get yourself hurt.”

The man’s mind looked like it was traveling a mile a minute, but you didn’t wait. Releasing your grip on him, you all but shoved past him, digging into your messenger bag for your handy tissues, you found that the crimson liquid had begun to dribble down your chin.

So much for trying to be early.

Spencer’s whole week was thrown off by the random warning that he had received. Now, he’s spoken to many mentally disturbed individuals during his time with the BAU, but nothing has quite stuck with him the way your words did.

Maybe it was because you had looked so frantic when you had approached him, or maybe the fact that there was more blood on your face than what could be considered healthy. It was strange that he had found himself wanting to believe you, because in his line of work, going into scary creepy houses – as you put it – by himself was an incredibly bad idea. 

Spencer has never been the superstitious type; why would he be with the number of scientific discoveries and facts that completely debunked superstitious myths?

But there was something with the way that this scene was playing out in front of him that had struck him as odd.

Flown away to a city state, he and his team were called out to deal with an Unsub that had deluded himself into believing that he was the boogeyman. He killed in the night and lay dormant during the day, but he was accelerating enough that many victims hadn’t made it through the afternoon.

They cracked down on a house where he was determined to be, a decrepit thing that used to be the killer’s childhood home. His team were speaking about how to split up to investigate, and there was basically a boulder in his stomach that told him that that was an extremely bad idea.

“Guys, I don’t think splitting up is a smart idea.” Spencer had found himself interrupting despite the lump in his throat. “I think we should go in pairs; the house has no electricity, which means no light. It would be easy to be blindsided.”

Though Hotch had given him a contemplative look, he had agreed, pairing off the others, Spencer and Derek serving as a duo themselves.

He knew the situation was bad when Derek didn’t talk, creeping through the damp, mold ridden home on high alert. They split off for a moment before joining back together, stopping in front of what was a closed door.

“There’ll be a door… You need backup… Someone that’s gonna kill you…”

Your voice rings through his head like a hit gong.

“Morgan.” He murmured quietly as he approached. When he twisted the knob with the intent to throw it open, someone lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. He doesn’t writhe for long before the unsub is shot, Morgan apprehending the man.

Spencer usually isn’t this dazed after an experience like that, but there was something about this instance that told him that maybe - just maybe - this one had been too close of a call.

And the only thing he could find himself thinking about was how the fuck did you know about all of this? 

A part of him is unsure, cautious of the information that he had just used to basically save his life. You could have manipulated this, sure, but there were so many constantly changing and unexpected variables to this case that it would’ve made it damn near impossible to manipulate everything in your favor.

Which begs the question of who are you? (And how does he thank you?)

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[paymechildsupport]

I should have really been in bed five hours ago, but these leaks make me wanna commit heinous acts and I just gotta do something about this Sukuna pic cuz erm… just :3

He’s just so….. <3

EHEHEHHEHEHEHEH I don’t know what it is but the idea of having such a powerful, destructive man just down at my feet is so intoxicating jsjshdbdbdb

Just imagine his humongous form in your sheets in the latest hours of midnight— just an amalgamation of limbs on your bedspread

Drowsy and drunk off sleepiness, fighting off exhaustion in that soft cushiony state between consciousness with his big arms swallowing your much tinier body up, head on your chest

You’d absentmindedly run your fingers through his wolf hair, nails scraping his scalp in such a way to elicit tiny sounds of contentment

He in no way would be silent: bro will be sighing and huffing and even just purring occasionally,- exactly like an old cat or dog. You’d feel every noise vibrate, bouncing around in his large chest, pressed against your torso

The second you fall asleep and cease to shower him in affection he’d immediately get incredibly offended

He’d take it personally, and man’s can hold a NASTY GRUDGE (look what he’s doing to poor Yuji 😭)

He’d let out a rather audible, “hmph”, and make a show of pulling himself off of you, making sure he woke you up

“How dare you, pathetic mortal”

HE’D SULK

He’d be both very bluntly aggressive but also passive aggressive in every. Single. Thing.

He is entitled to your time, your attention, your affection, your every waking thought should be dedicated to him and him alone. He should be first priority over everything

JAJSJDBBDBS Y’know how in like superhero movies the villain sometimes has this really adorable cliché where they are this absolutely brutal, horrible monster whose committed numerous misdeeds but have a wife / spouse they treasure above all else? Like, they’ll be in the middle of explaining their plans of world domination when their wife all of a sudden calls out that dinner’s ready, — and then all of a sudden the villain is this esteemed gentleman who’s just really really excited to have some lasagna his darling wife made for dinner?? They really just wanna keep their spouse outta all the crime and such cuz they know they hate it and always get scolded for it.

yeah, that’s the only way I’ve been coping for these past leaks 🥶

Sukuna would be in the middle of nuking the map when all of a sudden you pull up

He’d be talking all high and mighty, saying how he’d obliterate and kill all of Yuji’s loved ones when suddenly he hears his name get called out and he’d just FREEZE.

“Quick, act like I didn’t just murder your closest kin like three minutes ago.”

”what? Why??”

“Because my spouse is here and they’ll actually skin me alive if they see me like this 😡—- hey honey ☺️ how’s it going..?”

Like tensing up, eyes bulging, lip quivering, sweating BULLETS, the most scared anyone’s ever seen him. Immediately dropping everything, disregarding the accumulating mass of cursed energy he’d been saving up for the past twenty minutes, to turn around and give you his best, most charming smile

You’d just walk up to him and like, grab him by the ear, yanking him down to your level to curse the ever living daylights outta him

“Stop going out and bullying teenagers 🤬 you miserable old man I swear—“

And he’d just stand there and TAKE IT. You’d scold him exactly like a disappointed mother, personally escorting him off the battlefield and profusely apologizing to Yuji for your husband’s actions

He’d just be all sad, walking away and dragging his feet, moping, back hunched, hand holding yours 😭🤏 and leaving an incredibly confused Yuji

And then you adopt Yuji and Sukuna stops being a grumpy old man and my boy gets his happily ever after and we all hug it out :3

[tojiphile]

summary. suguru geto wants you, desperately. so much so that he's conjuring up reminders that he's still on your mind. | one-sided suguru geto x reader

cw/ tw. fem!reader, roommates, light gojo x reader, panties sniffing, nudes received by an unintended person, for 18+ readers

suguru geto hates to admit it, but he's a fucking pervert. to the world, suguru geto is impressive—one of the best jujutsu sorcerers of the modern era. to you, his roommate, he’s all that, and also a funny, smart and kind guy, who’s best friend you happened to take an interest in.

suguru can’t act like he doesn’t know how you change when satoru is around. when satoru comes over, you change into tighter, skimpier dresses, leaning over just enough to give satoru a glimpse of your cleavage (he’d lower his sunglasses to get a better view). satoru isn’t oblivious, and during movie nights found excuses to slip an arm around your waist or place a lingering hand on your bare thigh.

suguru hates it. you, his kind, beautiful and wonderful roommate, falling for his best friend’s charms. of all people, why did you have to go after satoru? of all people, why couldn’t you have gone after suguru instead? he doesn’t understand.

suguru does everything for you. he cooks, he cleans, he even does your goddamn laundry. so when an instax photo of you happens to fall out of your pocket, suguru doesn’t bat an eye before deciding to keep it. it’s a photo of you, in flimsy lingerie that didn’t cover any part of your breasts, exposing your perky nipples. you wore a bunny ear headband, using one hand to toy with it. leaning forward and spreading your thighs slightly, you were acting so coy. “to S. G.” it read. suguru knew it was most probably your latest attempt at seducing satoru, but he wanted more to believe that you meant for him to find it.

yes, you felt bad that you were paying satoru so much more attention that you wanted to give suguru a little something. if not, why would you leave it in your pocket? you knew suguru did your laundry. yes, you wanted him to find it. you wanted him. suguru. suguru only.

suguru has his own head spinning, but his blood is unmistakably rushing downwards. he tugs on the waistband of his sweats and lets his thick cock spring free, already rock hard, leaking at the tip. he grips it loosely, tending to it with languid strokes as he admires your instax photo. you look so, so gorgeous. almost bare, you look like a bunny, ready to be devoured.

he takes a breather, stopping himself before he came on the spot and notices, in your laundry basket, a pair of your cute pastel pink panties. he grabs it roughly, bringing it close to his face and taking a whiff of your scent. your raw, unfiltered self, straight from your core. immediately, he’s obsessed. he brings your panties to his cock and starts rubbing them, trying to mingle your scents together.

suguru groans out loud as he takes another glance at the instax photo, pumping himself faster as he imagines what he’d do if you’d just let him. his eyes squeeze shut, thinking of fantasy scenarios all involving you. he knows that you’ve not only let satoru fuck you, you’ve invited an endless list of men in too. suguru knows, he’s only one room over. each time as he cracks your door open just to watch, he thinks, when is it my turn?

if you’d let him, suguru would be on his knees, hands spreading your thighs apart and lapping at your sopping cunt like a starving man. when the pleasure is too much for you, he’d hold you steady if you tried to squirm out. “let me take care of you,” he’d whisper, looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes, pleading for you to let him keep going. when you nod, he’s back, slipping his tongue into you, using a thumb to rub little circles around your clit.

or, if you’d let him, suguru would press you up against the window, bare breasts making your nipples harden against the cool glass. he would fuck you from the back, gripping you by the waist to pull him out before slamming himself balls deep back in. he wants the whole world to see that it’s him fucking you. not a stranger, not gojo, him. “tell me who you fucking belong to,” suguru would growl as you mewled, brain struggling to work. you didn’t respond and suguru retorted with a heavy handed spank, causing red to bloom where he’d hit you. “answer me, whore.”

god, he wants you so bad. he strokes himself faster, panties in hand, bringing himself to the edge of ecstasy. his mind is filled with nothing but images of you, you, you, you, you, you-

“suguru? what are you doing?”

suguru’s eyes snap open. standing by the door, oh god, you.

[spoiled-slutt]

Made my account like 3 seconds ago, and I'm already Finnair rant. MY YANDRE SIMULATOR PHASE HAS BEEN COMING BACK

(I checked Google. Me no pedo. They're all 18!! Even if not, they're aged up to 18+! Don't cancel me please </3)

Sub! Budo/Taro/Yan-kun/Info-kun x Dom! AFAB!Reader

Cw: blood, knife play, smut/lime(?), sub & dom

OKOK SO LET ME SAY I LOVE BUDO SO FUCKUNG MUCH. HE IS SO 😍😍

The men I love so much are like. Taro, Budo, Yan-kun, Info-kun. LIKKEE 😍😍

I can imagine every single one of them on their knees while you hold their chin.

Taro

Taro has ples and begs coming from his mouth immediately. He pawing at your lap as he tried to kiss your lips again after you pulled away from his swollen lips. But he is always such a good boy for you. He is rock-hard in his pants. He's leaking precum by you, just pettung hid hair. you give him a reward. He loves it so much. And when he's a brat, he loves to tease you so you can punish him. Cause you bite at his neck, slap at his thigh, and pull on his hair. It just makes his dick so happy. He cries, but you and him both know he loves it. And when you start to actually show attention to his dick his eyes are rolling to the back of his head. Seeing stars. While you only just touched the tip slightly. But let's be real. He loves to please you. So doing what you want to makes him so fucking happy. He loves to eat you out. The first time he ate you out. He knew nothing. He was clueless. But when you showed him with you liked. He went full in eating you out like a starved man

Budo

Budo is such a brat. You have to have him crying for him to actually start begging for you. He has a big ego, so you have to try hard to get his bratty behavior down. You smile each time he yelps when you slap at his thigh. He has came multiple times by you just slapping his thigh. Or pull his hair because the next morning, he acts like he never did such things. (He secretly loves it when you have him on his knees. He just loved the ruff treatment and showing off his marks) but when he's surprisingly a good boy, he loves it when he can actually touch you when you're riding him. When he can actually explore your body when you're riding him <3

Yan-Kun

Yan-kun is already on his knees as soon as you say you want to have control. He doesn't hesitate for a second. Hearing you dom him makes his legs buck and hid legs go extremely weak. He hard as fuck in his pants already. And all you did was pat his head. He has puppy dog eyes. He likes it when you Dom and put him in his place. Just makes him feel so good. BUT LIKE TARO HE LOVES TO EAT YOU OUT. His face drenched in your juices while you grip his head to control him how to do it. He loves that you're shoeing him. He eats you as if he hasnt been fed since the dsy he was fucking born. He loves when you grip his head and stop him just when youre about to cum caude you want to cum in his cock as a reward. But when he's a brat, you go to the extreme. You have him tide down and use his own knife to cut his skin, making him bleed. Hid eyes roll to the back of his head each time as his jaw unhinged . And God, when he's a good boy, he loves it when you give him a reward. He doesn't even know when the reward is going to happen. Once, while at his house watching a movie. You gave him a passionate kiss, and you place your knee between his legs. And you give him a nice and slow blowjob while looking at him. He absolutely loves it. New photos added to his shrine <3

Info-Kun

I just know you have to break Info-kun to get him on his knees. You have to down talk him so much. By the time you actually start to touch him, he's rock hard and panting. He is such a brat that you have to constantly spanking him. But he loves it so much cause he loves the prints. And when you give him hickeys he squirms a lot. But God, he loves it. It's just that he can't help it. But he loves them cause he can only see them. He and only him. But when he's a good boy, he gets to choose what happens, and he almost always gets you to give him a hand job. He loves your warm hands around him. And he always chooses to put it on your face while you stick your tongue so he can take a photo. He has a whole file just about nasty pictures of you <3

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

the bafta livestream out of context: top 60 cursed quotes.

There is nothing more cursed than the livestream I just witnessed, and I made a summary post but now I'm just going to put in quotes by the worthy maggots in the stream with no context, because BELIEVE ME THE CONTEXT DIDN'T MAKE ANYTHING BETTER. The livestream chat was NOT A PLACE OF THE LORD.

I'm going to make the quotes that were by me a different colour. Please know that I am NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR A SINGLE QUOTE OTHER THAN THOSE. SO HERE'S THE TOP 60 IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:

Barbenhimer awakened things in me ok

aroace people the most disturbingly sexual talkers on the planet fight me on this

WHO JUST GASPED

MICHAEL SHEENS BABY TALKING BARK BADK IM A DOG BARK WOOF

I feel so sorry for this woman. She's being so heartfelt and we're here thristing over a slinky that possessed a man

IRELAAAND PLEASE ADOPT ME AS YOUR OWN PLEASE TAKE ME TO THE LAND OF UNPRONOUNCABLE WORDS, GREEN FEILD, CATHOLISISM AND HOZIER PLEASE

the urge to go to france and misgender a croissant is real

Devastated the slutty knees have gone away

So many men nowadays are so submissive and breedable like thank you lord for these men thank you

witches and murder slime tutorial

speaking of royals did the bloke who ISN'T lizzy's husband but her son apparently die yet

Turtleneck Crowley is my gender.

WE COULD HAVE LEFT IT AS NOT SAFE FOR WORK WHY THE DRTAOLS ASMI

SAY AN BFUIL CEAD AGAM DUL GO DTÍ AN LEITHREAS AN WE'LL LET YOU THROUGJ

"Oompa loompa doopety dee, I really hated being in this movie" -Hugh grant probably

IF YOU'RE A CHILD AVERT YOUR EYES FROM THAT MESSAGE IM SORRY

i want the kilt back this a betrayal

if someone put me in a room with kilt!david tennant one of us is walking out of that room pregnant and its not gonna be me

a lot of these words are in the bible and none of them should be in that order you need jesus

Can we vote to make david wear that kilt back? Maybe make him do a twirl this time

You mean Bildaddy? 😏

Honey what make you think a dude who roamed around with prostitutes and got himself more holes for mankind won't be calling bildad bildaddy? [this was about jesus btw.]

FREE THE KNEE

Show us the knees!

AND YOU'RE COMING AFTER ME FOR MY BLOWJOB BANANA

He looks like those fancy chocolates. Imma take a bite outta him. Think you'll leak molten goo like them?

My brain isn't working, I read "bratty couch jr"

i'm sorry the what holes

FIND ME ON GOAD AND I WILL MAKE YOU PAY APPROPRIATELY

I genuinely thought it was a road typo and I thought you were threatening asmi with physical violence on the road

OHH FLOWER OF SCOTLAAAAAAND

Combine that with the unfortunate oranges and see what happens.

DEVASTATING NEWS I ATE UP ALL OF THEM SO I'VE BROUGHT A BLOWJOB BANANA INSTEAD

That reminded me of the army video where the guy was deepthroating a 7 inch banana without a hitch.

OMG THEY JUST FLASHED BACK & I GOT A GLIMPSE OF THAT KILT 🥵🥵🥵

thats why apollo had to deliver you at an illegal sushi restaurant

How long do you think it would take to get david naked from his chocolate man suit? Can we set a new speedrun category?

SUPERBOWL FOR TENNANTISTS

Big feelings about pants straps in the chat tonight

Last time i check yoire supposed to thank the lord gor his gifts

HEY GUYS ASMI'S FROM A PARALLEL UNIVERSE CONFIRMED

I just have a deep appreciation for ireland

Can you use suspenders as bondage gear? I mean it looks like it would be fine? I mean if you make the length a bit more they might be more comfortable than ropes. Just sayin

All i can think when i see him in the costume is the one specific ken and oppenhimer slash fic. Lord help me i can't be saved

GIVE MY LOVE TO THE LEPRECHAAAAAAAAAAAUNSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Like a giant orange slice on her one arm.

Stop hitting the lectern geez / what if its into that?

Men who wear suspenders are such losers like why do you need so much cloth to keep your pants up. Why dont you just wear a belt. Where do you live. What is your timezone. What are you office hours

what is this suspender shaming ari chappal for you

Aziraphales office hours are: fuck off

Put me ina room with a suspender wearing man and he shall have the same fate as kilttennant

MARIYADAM E ILLAI

It was titled "snake in my b***" It meant butt lmfao

CROWLEY AND LOKI MY GENDERFLUID ICONS

THE KNEES ARE BACK

THEKNEES GOD SAVE ME FROM THESE SINFUL THOUGHTS

What if slutshaming is my kink?

NOT THE BLOWJOB FACE NO

AT THIS POINT IF NEIL HASN'T UNFOLLOWED ME YET HE'S ASKING TO BE MENTALLY SCARRED IM SORRY

I am failing

Tagging the main culprits whose tumblr handles I know:

@thearoacemess @vitrilol @queermarzipan @good-usernames-were-taken

Cheers, maggots.

[magneto-was-fucking-right]

The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 6

Prompt: After suffering an almost lethal injury in combat, Simon "Ghost" Riley expected a dull, and uneventful leave back at his shitty apartment. His new next-door neighbor ruins his plans. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (named Riley Thomas for plot purposes)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7

Disclaimer: slow burn; neighbor!Simon; semi-sexual content

Chapter Summary: In which Simon's neighbor gets drunk with his best friend and ends up, once again, on his couch.

Word Count: 3.1K

On a cold, rainy Friday night, Riley Thomas knocked on her neighbor’s door in sweatpants and a hoodie, a large pizza box from the restaurant down the street in hand. When Simon finally reached the door, the young woman slid inside quickly, sighing in relief at the comforting heat of his apartment.

“Why’d you take so long? The hallway is freezing!” She complained as a way of greeting, setting down the carton box on his table before rubbing her hands together.

“I took two minutes, you big baby.”

She rolled her eyes playfully.

“What’d you pick for tonight?” Riley asked curiously, peeking at his TV as she settled on the couch and quickly covered herself with their designated movie blanket.

“Mamma Mia.” 

“Fuck off.” She stared at him in disbelief, a mocking grin slowly creeping about her cheeks.  “Guilty pleasure?”

“One of many.”

She shook her head in amusement “You’re a man full of surprises, Simon.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” He chuckled.

A slow, tentative friendship had begun blooming between them over the weeks, as Riley found herself in her broody neighbor's company more often than not. Simon’s icy walls had started to crumble increasingly easier at the young woman’s terrible jokes, finding comfort in her amiable invitations for a movie night, a dog walk, or something as simple as a quiet talk while each of them did their laundry in the building’s basement.

Tonight was different for Riley, as it had been Simon’s idea for them to share the evening together, excitement bubbling in her stomach at their new found companionship. She spent her work days longing for their moments together, when she would come home to find he had prepared dinner and “accidentally” made enough to share, dropping by as soon as he heard her turn the key on her door. She noticed the recurrent acts of service with a soft, yearning heart when he took out his trash and offered to take hers as well, maintaining a neutral expression and shrugging awkwardly when she beamed at him and thanked him endlessly. 

A few days before, when she had invited him over for a hot cup of tea and cake, Simon had ended up washing the dishes, despite her constant protests, appearing nonchalant as he claimed he was just checking for leaks in the fickle plumbing.

Despite growing closer, the pair still maintained a set of respectful boundaries that assured their mutual trust: as Simon filled each of them a glass of wine, placing them on the coffee table along with the pizza, Riley knew she shouldn’t look as he removed his usual black facemask to eat, keeping her eyes on the screen as she made occasional remarks about the movie.

“I can’t believe you like this.” She laughed as the dramatic musical unfolded, cheesy and cheerful songs filling the dimly lit flat. “Big old broody man enjoying Abba songs in a rom com.” 

“It’s entertainin’.” He grunted as he grabbed another slice of pizza, trying to ignore how close they sat to each other under the blanket, her feet up and near his muscled thigh. Simon’s phone buzzed and he quickly grabbed it with his clean hand, reading the notification and stifling an affectionate smile.

He could almost feel how hard she tried not to stare, as well as ask about it, as she took another long sip of wine.

“Still interested in findin’ the pup an owner?” His deep voice made her snap her head at him on instinct, quickly looking away as she realized his face was still bare.

“Sorry.” She felt her cheeks heat, but Simon merely shrugged, eyes glinting as he put the mask back on. “Yes, I really can’t keep him trapped in such a small flat, let alone keep listening to Mrs. Parsons complain about the noise.”

“The old hag still botherin’ ya?”

“Every single day.” Riley sighed in defeat, running a nervous hand over her messy braid.

“My friend’s coming back from deployment in a few days. Might come visit and stay over to meet the dog, see how they get along.”

Riley felt her insides boil with something hot she tried hard to conceal. It wasn’t pleasant, and she felt ridiculous as she asked:

“Do you think she’ll be interested?” Her tone was almost casual enough that Simon didn’t pick up on her small trap. Almost. 

“I think he is very interested.” He made sure to drag out the pronoun and noticed her flustered expression, even as she kept her eyes on the screen. “He’s always wanted one.”

The young woman nodded silently and hummed to the music as she took another bite of her slice.

“Why’d you take on rescues anyway?” He asked, killing the awkward silence between them.

“They were gonna be put down! I couldn’t just let them die! Can you imagine being sentenced to death just because of undesirable traits or features?”

“I can. It was called the Holocaust, love.”

“Simon!” She scoffed, smacking him on the arm. 

He pretended it hurt, and she pretended he wasn’t funny.

***

Johnny MacTavish was a burly, five foot ten, crackling ball of energy that put any other force of nature to shame. With bright blue eyes, a questionable hairstyle and a barely understandable accent, the Scot appeared unaware of the existence of the very concept of shyness or social anxiety.

When Riley Thomas had opened her door on the next lazy Friday evening, in nothing but leggings and an oversized sweater, she found herself in the man’s bone crushing hug before she could even utter a simple “hello”.

“Christ…” She gasped, unable to process why, exactly, the stranger was so excited to see her, until she peeked over his shoulder and saw Simon leaning against the hallway, arms crossed as he rolled his eyes at the scene.

"There ya are lass" he cheerily put her down, and the young woman discreetly gasped for breath, laughing nervously at the unexpected display of affection. "I'm Johnny. I heard so much about ya."

"Did you?" She scowled at Simon "Unfortunately I can't say the same."

Simon's facemask covered his smirk.

"Aye, do not worry lass, I know Ghost can be an old grump"

Simon grunted in response and Riley quirked an eyebrow.

"Ghost?" She turned to Simon inquisitively, but he gave no signs of willingness to indulge her curiosity.

"Aye, it's his call sign becau-"

"Johnny" Simon warned firmly, and the Scot toned down a notch, nodding.

"Right...anyway lass, I thought we ought to invite ya to the pub with us tonight." His smile was so endearing she couldn't possibly refuse, despite looking down at her own clothes with a frown.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea you were coming today." She shrugged anxiously "I'd have to go get ready an-"

"That's alright! Wouldn’t want to steal yer night with him. We'll wait, won't we Simon?" He nudged the man with an elbow, his frame so much larger than Johnny's that it was almost comical.

Simon was silent for a moment, seemingly weighing the outcomes of what he was getting himself into, before looking her in the eyes and nodding once in approval.

“We wait.”

And that was how two hours later, the trio had ended up bumping shoulders at a packed bar in downtown Manchester, the two men always by her side. Riley glanced over her shoulder, amused by the view: it was like walking with a very intimidating Dobermann, alongside an overly excited and friendly golden retriever. Opposites in every possible way.

 Simon wore his casual black face mask and hoodie, along with denim jeans, his blonde locks handsomely swept back, the only indication he had made an effort to look better than usual, other than the smell of his expensive cologne that Riley kept discreetly trying to get whiffs of. The young woman had opted for a pair of her best jeans, the ones that didn’t yet look too washed up and hugged her curves just right, along with a warm, modest top that didn’t reveal too much cleavage, covered by a faux leather jacket.

Simon quirked an eyebrow at her gaze, silently challenging her to say something, to which she giggled, flushing slightly as his hand lightly nudged her lower back to steer her into the right direction. The three of them ended up sitting on a corner booth, after venturing to the counter to fetch their drinks: for Simon, a bourbon, for Riley, a gin, and for Johnny, a massive pint of beer that would make him carry his weight in piss in half an hour.

“I gotta say, you’re a bonnie lass.” Johnny was slurring out by the time the fifth pint was half way gone. By then, Riley was feeling tipsy from her own alcohol, her cheeks flushed as she giggled at Johnny’s predicament.

“I’m gonna pretend I understood what you just said.” She lazily twirled the straw on her third drink, playing with the ice at the bottom of the glass.

Simon rolled his eyes, the bourbon barely warming up his blood,  but there was a glint of affection in his eyes as he countered “Easy, McTavish.”

“Don’t lose yer wits, Simon, just trynna’ help you remember how to treat a lass.” He leaned forward, confiding in Riley “Did ya know he hasn’t gotten laid in-”

“Sergeant.” A low growl in warning as Riley pressed him on, curiously.

“Go on! Now I wanna know!”

“No ya don’t.” She could almost swear she saw him blush under that mask.

“I can’t count the months on me fingers, I’ll tell you that.” Johnny lifted his hands playfully, and Simon glared at him, a silent threat ever present as his dark eyes squinted at him.

Riley roared with laughter, her dimples more noticeable than ever.

“Months? Those are rookie numbers. I haven’t gotten laid in four years.” She drunkenly blurted out, and Simon stiffened by her side, as Johnny choked on his drink. 

“What? How’s that possible?” The Scot coughed as the young woman shrugged, amused by his reaction.

“I don’t go out much.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like people much.” She avoided his gaze shyly, downing the rest of her gin “Plus, I work a lot.”

“Ya’ two are a match made in heaven.” He pointed out, ignoring Simon’s scowl and her playful eye roll.

“Cheer up Simon Riley, yer best friend is back and ya have a lovely lady by your side.” The Scot taunted before downing the rest of his pint.

Riley Thomas halted, looking up at the broody man sitting by her side, eyes glassy and sleepy as her drunken mind tried to comprehend what she had just heard.

“Wait…Simon Riley? Your last name is Riley?” Simon sighed deeply before looking her over, grunting in agreement.

The young woman chuckled to herself, leaning her head playfully against his muscled arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me? That’s hilarious!” Simon stifled an amused smile as he pretended to dodge from her touch. “Do you realize…” She poked his chest with her pointer finger “Do you realize that if we ever got married I’d be called Riley Riley?”

“That’s exactly why.” Simon retorted, rolling his eyes for the millionth time since the beginning of the day, but he felt himself buzzing at her words, at the fact she had considered, even if just for a moment, even if just playfully…

 For a moment, he found himself lost in her inebriated gaze. The droopy eyelids, the soft smile dotted by those damn dimples. The chipped tooth that always caught his attention, and the way she was leaning against his arm made something warm bubble in his stomach. She looked up at him so innocently, so curiously, that for a split second he almost forgot his best friend was right across the table.

“Get a room!” He taunted, almost breaking Simon’s usual stoic expression. “Save tha’ for later. Now we need shots!” 

“You’re a sip away from death, mate. I’d call it a night.” 

“But I haven’ even told her the Al Mazrah story!”

“And it’ll stay that way if ya want to live.” Simon threatened, and Riley perked up once again, eyes glimmering with humor.

“Tell me right now!”

“Imagine this, lass: scorching heat of the Middle East…”

“Soap.”

 “A food poisoned Simon on a sniper recon mission, no toilets in sight-”

“I’ll smack ya so hard I’ll turn that mohawk into a fade.” 

The young woman had tears rolling down her cheeks as she roared with laughter, picturing the situation so clearly she was out of breath.

“Away n’bile yer heid!” Johnny retorted at Simon’s threat.

“English, Mctavish.”

“Sorry L.T. Let me translate… “Go fuck yourself.”

“Much better.”

***

It must have been four in the morning when Riley Thomas felt herself being carefully placed on a familiar couch, strong arms under her back and legs. She felt so dizzy she knew it would be over if she so much as lifted her head, opting to remain still as Simon’s comforting scent temporarily disappeared. She could hear him guide a stumbling, barely conscious Johnny into his bed, not trusting the intoxicated man to sleep properly on his couch. 

When he finally returned, seemingly the only semi-sober one of the bunch, he once again reached down to carry her to her own flat in his arms, halting once he saw her open her sleepy eyes. Simon felt himself stiffen as she wrapped her arms around his neck clumsily, inhaling his neck deeply.

“You smell so good, Simon.” She slurred out, tone soft in his quiet, barely lit living room. He couldn’t move, unsure of how to react to the sudden affectionate touch, hands holding his weight on the couch.

“You need to sleep, love.” He muttered gently through his face mask, giving her shoulder blades a quick rub through her jacket and hoping she would free him from the awkward position.

“I’m fine.” She nuzzled further into the curve of his neck and he shivered, feeling the smell of her own perfume, mixed with alcohol and sweat.

“Riley…”

“Simon.” She let go of his neck, but forced him to sit down next to her, barely making out his face through the dim lighting and her blurred vision. “I…”

“Shhh. You’re sloshed.”

“I know, but I’m okay, I promise.”

“Let me get ya to your bed, yeah? Where are your keys?”

She had never heard him speak so softly, in such a caring, gentle way. Her heart was beating furiously, as deep, joyful warmth spread through her stomach when she looked at him. At his half covered face, dark eyes framed by blonde lashes that she found so endearing.

She silently moved closer, reaching over his lap and turning off the only source of light from a small table lamp. She heard him release a shuddering breath, his large hands gripping the couch for dear life. Riley placed a cautious hand on his shoulder in the dark, to guide herself into slowly straddling his muscled thighs, careful enough to sit closer to his knees, instead of his groin.

Simon Riley’s heart thudded so hard against his chest he was surprised she couldn’t hear it, his body frozen into place, nervously awaiting her next move.

Riley’s trembling hands reached up ever so slowly, fingertips trailing a curious path over his soft blonde locks, down to the crease on his forehead, the perfect arch of his eyebrows, all the way to his strong nose, where her finger locked in the black mask. Unmoving and barely visible, she was unsure of his reaction, as she slowly began pulling it down.

“Do you mind?” She whispered, so close their breaths mingled. 

“Hm.” Was all he could mutter, but one of his hands gently gripped her hip, steadying her in his lap. His thumb circled the small patch of exposed skin on her waist, where the top almost met the jeans.

She continued her ministrations leisurely, giving him enough time to stop her if he wished. But he didn’t, and her finger pulled his mask all the way down to under his chin, where she felt the stubble. Riley could barely breathe, doing her best to contain her excitement as her cold fingers trailed his face in the dark.

She felt the contour of his lips, slightly chapped as her thumb parted them tentatively. The raise of a scar, that seemed to have been carved all the way to the jaw, where she rubbed slow, careful circles lovingly. She felt his trembling breath on her flushed skin, the sounds of her faux leather jacket as she moved about, the only noise in the room. 

Riley placed a tender kiss on his cheek, feeling embarrassed as she felt the warmth that immediately soaked her underwear once her skin came in contact with his. The mixture of alcohol and desire in her blood seemed to burn, making her ache with longing as she kissed his nose, his forehead, and then his other cheek, until she was trailing his strong jaw, the stubble tickling her lips.

“Riley…” He muttered, their mouths so close she could almost drink in his words.

“Please.” She begged in a silent whisper, joining her forehead to his, hands cupping his face tenderly. 

His other hand held an iron grip on the couch, not letting up.

“You’re drunk.” He whispered back, teetering on the edge of self-control.

“I need you.” She replied, her lips ghosting his in the dark, skin almost grazing. She began moving her hips lower towards his groin, but although Simon had held his breath at the confession, his heart hammering in his chest, he finally gripped both of her hips firmly, keeping her away from the raging boner she would have found.

“I can’t, love.” He murmured softly, hoping she would understand.

“Please Simon.” She clumsily tried to fight off his grip, eager to press her aching body to his. “I need you so bad.”

Simon bit his lip so hard he was surprised he wasn’t bleeding as he did his best to keep his fraying sanity through her tender pleas.

He knew he was done for if he felt the softness of her lips, her wet tongue and the grind of her hips against his rock-hard shaft.

“Don’t do this to me, love.”

“I’m so wet.” She admitted, and he felt the crease of her frustrated frown against his own, words coated with need and shame. He sighed deeply, his bruising grip on her hips tempting him to just pull her into him. He could feel himself pulse in his briefs, so painfully hard.

“Four years is a long time.” He grunted softly.

“I know.” She practically whimpered.

“You’re very drunk, love. You can barely stand upright.”

“But-”

“Riley.” She stilled at his commanding tone. “I’m taking you to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow once you’ve rested up, yeah?”

Her shoulders slouched in defeat, the rejection still stinging as she placed another kiss to his cheek before muttering:

“Okay.” 

A/N: I'm back! And I managed to bring my work laptop home, which (hopefully) means quicker updates! :) Once again thank you to everyone reading and keep that feedback coming - seriously, it keeps me going. The slow burn is finally burning and the next chapters are gonna be spicy.

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[fandomfluffandfuck]

Things that drive Bucky insane,

Steve's itty bitty waist, his plump lips that buck wants to bite like a strawberry, Steve's inability to shut up while watching TV

Oh, ho, ho, do not tempt Bucky to list the things about Steve that drive him insane sexually and generally because Steve's a little shit because you will be there for literal days if not years.

This is a nonehaustive list that you have begun, and we can add so many things:

Steve's itty bitty, teeny tiny waist that his fingers can't help but dig into while they're fucking doggy style, Bucky pulling Steve back onto his cock at the same time that he shoves as deep into him as possible. He wants Steve to wear a bruised-in corset of his handprints across his waist at all times, healing factor of the serum be damned.

Steve's plump lips that he wants to bite until they're puffy, hot, and glistening wet from the abuse.

Steve's inability to shut the fuck up during TV episodes and movies meaning that Bucky has to have subtitles on so he doesn't miss critical plot points. The only thing already supersized about Steve before the serum was his mouth--the fuckin' loudest mouth in Brooklyn. Bucky hates to love that mouth so much.

Steve's blush. Enough said.

Actually, no, not enough said about Steve's blush. There can never be enough said about that pretty, baby pink to dark, deep red color. Bucky gets unspeakably hot seeing the flushed, burning red shells of his ears when he's fucking Steve from behind. Bucky could watch the way his blush spreads in slow motion for hours, days, weeks--he could watch it on loop if Steve would let him video it. It starts high on his cheeks as blotches of color, spreads over the crooked bridge of his nose, floods his entire face from his hairline down to his cut jaw, leaks down his throat, finds its way to his chest, crests the hills of his tits, surrounding his perky, pink nipples, and fades down to the lower part of his flat, smooth stomach. If Bucky's lucky, he can get Steve to blush so hard, so feverishly hot with embarrassment, that the small of his back gets colored, too.

Steve's whole hobby of running off into alleys to get into fights. No longer getting into it with men three times his size, mostly because that's physically very hard to do these days, yet all the same in principle and ego.

Steve's golden hair fresh from a lay--sticking up in tufts from having Bucky pull at it, hands in his hair, directing Steve's empty-headed, glazed-over stare wherever he wants it or pulling his whole head onto his dick, fucking his fucked-out face. That look makes Bucky feral. The dumb look in his eyes and the dumber look of his gaped-open lips, all his muscles gone slack in his face save for the carved-in depression between his drawn-together eyebrows. Sprawling pleasure.

Not just after they fuck, though, Steve's golden hair when he wakes up in the morning. Ruffled like a baby chick. That look never fails to make Bucky crush him into a full-body hug, cuddle session because he's out of his mind with affection. There's something about all those achingly familiar cowlicks.

Steve's golden hair darkened after a shower, seeping rivers of water that eagerly streak down his squeaky-clean, hot-water-red skin, conforming to every curve and dip of his body. Bucky will never stop wanting to lick every drop of water off of him when he's fresh out of the shower or bath or pool or--you get it.

Steve's body.

Steve's tits. Bucky is a caveman, thinking about Steve's tits. They're ripe and so fucking grabbable, leaving Bucky with no words, just a low, hungry growl in the back of his throat, and if he keeps going on about them, if he keeps thinking about them, he's going to seek out his man like a predator stalking prey. Then, Steve won't be able to peel his teeth off of him for hours, being gnawed at like a bone to a wild dog.

Steve's whole goody-two-shoes, golden-boy act around people who don't know him but know Captain America. It always gets under his skin, frustrating him, making him huffy and wanting to start cracking jokes that would make army boys from back in the day do a dull spit take with how disgustingly dirty they are.

Steve's waist deserves a second mention.

And if his waist gets two mentions, then maybe his ass needs three. He looks ripe there, too, a work of art designed to leave everyone who admires it drooling, full of primal hunger. He's sculpted like a Roman statue. A young God.

Steve's stubbornness, a fucking donkey, an ass, gets a hundred mentions if his waist gets two and his ass has three. Bucky can't believe he volunteers to run after him on the regular.

Jesus wept, Steve's stomach. Bucky wants to kiss his stomach and feel the way it clenches and contracts under his mouth. Reacting so beautifully to the force of overwhelming pleasure, squirming until he's shaking, spasming on Bucky's cock shoved deep inside him.

Those miiiiiiiile long legs. Strong and smooth and carrying him with determination that's dragged them both outta hell.

Those legs drive Bucky insane for another reason, too, not just how shapely they are--that determination. If Steve would learn to walk away from a single fucking fight, Bucky would be saved another lifetimes worth of years in stress alone. Steve's legs always seem to propel him toward danger. Steve's legs, tender and vulnerable, with Steve's penchant for only using his shield to protect his upper half.

Steve's ability to, without fail, misplace his phone and then make them late out the door when they need to leave because he can't find it. He always has to resort to pouting until Bucky calls it, unveiling the fact that it's right where Bucky told him to look but he didn't. Obstinate fuck.

The fat, soft little pillow of his perineum, obscenely cute and pink and oh-so sensitive, between his legs, tucked behind his balls but before his hole. Hidden from prying eyes other than Bucky's. And pry Bucky does--

Steve's cheeks. Bucky has to pull his cheeks apart, spreading him until he squeaks with embarrassment, his cute, tight little hole clenching, winking at Bucky like a hidden treasure between his fat asscheeks. Bucky wants nothing more than to pry that sweet hole open. He wants to lick it, to finger it, to fuck it. He knows he owns it, and that drives him insane. He wants to own it again and again and again. He wants to overpower the serum that knits Steve back up tight after ever fuck and leave him ruined and gaping.

Steve's dick always gets him to that feral intensity, whether Bucky's just looking at it in all its objective beauty--its girthy thickness, its length with that slight curve, its dusky-pink color, its eagerness, twitching, leaking, swelling, its veins, its fat head, all of it--or whether Bucky is feeling it, tasting it, using it, whatever. Anything. Everything. Everything about that dick is insane. Bucky's insane for it.

Steve's balls. Bucky slurps at them and teases Steve when he goes without an orgasm for a day, two, three, or maybe even a whole week when the missions get nasty, for how swollen and full they must feel. He's a fucking spiller. He overflows with cum when he orgasms. It's the hottest shit.

Steve's feet, even. The handsome, high arches of his feet, the skin surprisingly soft like a baby's. Sweet and vulnerable. Bucky can't help but want to dig his thumb into the soles of his feet to make Steve moan with relaxation, reflexively kicking his leg out like he has since he was a kid. Foot rubs that turn into tickle fights are totally worth the accidental kicks to his chin that Bucky suffers.

Steve's never present survival instincts. Bucky will always be a little angry after he pulls a stunt where his self-sacrificial bullshit is on display. It doesn't matter if it's a grenade, a lacking parachute, or whatever else, it always drives Bucky up the fucking wall. Goddamnit, Rogers.

Steve's seeming need to crawl out of his own skin with an orgasm--arching his back, shaking from head to toe, screaming through his teeth or gasping in a silent, open-mouthed scream, clawing at Bucky or at anything within his reach, acting like it's bigger than him. Bigger and enough to give Bucky an ego, fueling his fire, making him want to do it again and again and again until there is no way Steve can keep going, so he collapses. Crumbled. Overwhelmed.

To cut this short, shorter than the hours, days, weeks, months, years long list Bucky has for each bit of Steve that makes him turn into a mad man: everything. It's everything about Steve. The man's too much.

I blacked out and wrote this. I was just moving some asks around, saving them as drafts, and, uh, got carried away, I guess, lol. I hope you enjoyed 😘