#fic replies

[just2bubbly]

I love jelly Kai. Just a tiny grammar note, but cariña is often used when referring to a female :) either way it was really good

Jealous Kai is the best Kai, I like angsty Kai better hehe (idk why i read it as jelly, like the sugar candy) Oh, I knew I shouldn't have trusted AI to give me direct translations of words, I'll be more careful next time- thanks for sharing! And thrilled to know you liked to read it!!

psps: new fic dropped with Jelly Kai :)

[thriftedtchotchkes]

these tags made my whole damn day, thank you for this 😮‍💨

give in

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel shows you how to love yourself the way you deserve

warnings: 18+ MDNI, jackson era, soft!joel, age gap, comfort, smut, size kink, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, fingering, exploring sexual trauma, mentions of guilt & shame, intrusive thoughts

word count: 2.8k

“Doin’ real good, baby. That’s it, nice and slow. No need to rush it.”

Joel needs you to believe it. 

He can feel your discomfort and sense the intrusive thoughts threatening to overtake you, but he needs you to know that everything you're doing right now is okay. 

It’s normal and natural, and, under his roof, highly encouraged. All he's ever wanted is for you to feel good. For you to allow yourself the grace and gratification of coming undone at your own, perfect hand.

But you live by an unspoken rule, one that doesn't apply to anyone else but you. There's nothing you love more than watching Joel touch himself, whether it's quick and dirty, or drawn-out and meticulous, his body teetering on the edge of all-consuming release for hours. Yet, when it comes to your personal pleasure, there’s only shame.

He's beginning to realize that your aversion goes beyond a lack of education. You were young when the outbreak hit, and while FEDRA schools aren’t exactly known for their top-tier sex ed classes, that isn't what's holding you back.

There's something else there, too, buried beneath the surface. A lifetime's worth of guilt and doubt that he alone gets the privilege of unraveling. So, whenever you come to him for help, he leads you to his bed and gently coaxes you to self-completion.

He takes it slow and keeps his hands to himself unless you tell him otherwise—and you always tell him otherwise. But those are your boundaries to set. New, spoken rules to replace the old ones. 

Pressed firmly into your side, he whispers soft reassurances in your ear, his lips brushing the wispy baby hairs framing your forehead with every word. He swallows every gasp and moan, and cherishes the sharp sting of your nails biting into his skin as you reach your peak.

And when you come down from the clouds and turn to him with hazy eyes and a blissful smile, he knows it's all worth it. Even if it takes years more, he’ll continue to talk you through it, banishing the cruel thoughts that plague you and replacing them with the promise of relief.

Just like he is right now.

--

"Tell me what you're feelin'. I wanna know what's goin' on in that pretty head of yours."

You shake your head, exhaling a long, frustrated breath. Your body never responds to you the way it does to Joel, and, on the rare occasion it does, it just isn't the same. It takes too long, and there's none of the gradual build-up that allows you to lose yourself in it. Not in the pleasure of it, anyway.

"S'a little...dry," you mumble, slowing to a stop. It'll start to burn if you keep going like this, but you're not sure what else you can do. Joel presses a gentle kiss to the shell of your ear before pulling back.

"Lemme see your hand, sugar," he says, gesturing for yours with his own. Confused, you remove your fingers from between your legs to hold up in front of his face. 

You're waiting for him to inspect them, or come up with a valid reason why they're not working, when he abruptly sucks them into his mouth. His tongue feels hot, searingly so, as he laves over the pads of your middle and ring fingers, then dips between them to caress your knuckles down to where they meet. 

A wave of heat almost identical to the one enveloping your hand begins to pool at the base of your spine, and you feel a sudden, heady whoosh at the apex of your thighs. If he could just keep doing that, exactly that, but further down your body—

But, to your disappointment, he stops as suddenly as he started and slides your fingers from his mouth with a lewd pop before guiding them back to your core.

"How 'bout now?" he asks earnestly, and Christ. He's so good at that. He always knows how to work your body, even by proxy. 

You're wet. You don't even need the added moisture of Joel's saliva, anymore. Just the action itself has you breathing heavier, enticing a craving you never knew you had. Your fingers slip clumsily through the slick leaking out of you, and your eyelids flutter at the fleeting sensation of your fingertips catching your entrance. 

"B-better...feels better," you stumble over your words. Your fingers continue to explore your folds without your permission, stoking the fire in your belly. And also your doubt. "But I'm—J-Joel it's..."

That telltale embarrassment is starting to creep in again, reminding you that you're doing something wrong. It feels too good, and you really don't want to stop, but what does that say about you? Sinner, slut. The intrusive thoughts are louder than Joel's gentle panting in your ear, now.

As if he can hear them, he snakes a hand past your stomach to grip the soft plush of your thigh. He spreads you open for him, exposing your cunt to the open air as he massages soothing shapes into your skin, silencing the ugly words with his kind touch.

"S'alright, sugar, you can keep goin'. You liked that, right? That's good. You're treatin' your body the way she deserves," he says encouragingly. His hand inches closer to where you're dribbling onto the sheets, but stops the moment his thumb reaches your coarse curls. 

You ache to wrap your soaked fingers around his to tug him closer, but you know you can't. And that feels surprisingly okay. For the first time in a long time, you're actually keeping yourself sated enough without his help.

Now that your legs are parted, it all feels...different. Heightened, almost. It's because you're hyperaware of every movement you're making, you realize, and it turns you on way more than it should. Or, no. No. Exactly as much as it should. 

Joel isn't immune to it, either. 

As your bedroom fills with the sounds of crisp, rustling sheets and the slick motions of your fingers roaming your folds, you can feel Joel fighting harder not to rut into your side. His body is tense beside you, and the bicep pillowing your head flexes intermittently every time your hips swivel to meet your hand. His praise is also starting to take on an edge, now tinged with something a little...filthier.

"Y'hear that? You're gettin' so loud, sugar. So wet," he grits out, his expression pained. "Just look at'cha. Needy, perfect girl. Doin' everythin' right."

His eyes dart up to your face, observing the delicate scrunch of your nose and your parted lips. He's watching you a little too intently, likely to avoid the image of your glistening palm and fingertips working to bring yourself closer and closer to the edge. You're making a huge mess.

And it's making Joel hard as a rock. Twitching and leaking, and temptingly bare against the sweet friction of your hip bone. You know he's doing everything he can to focus on you, but he can't even begin to imagine how much his reaction is spurring you on. 

More. You want to give yourself so much more.

"Joel, I don't think I'm doing it right," you twist to whine into his tousled, graying hair. You breathe him in, and the familiar scent of pine and suede makes your head spin and your fingers stutter. "S'not enough. I-I need more, I keep losing it."

He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, wrenching his gaze away from you to glance down the bed. Christ, he can't even hide how badly he wants to touch you. His cock jerks the moment he catches sight of you again, smearing precum across your skin, and you involuntarily mimic him, your hips bucking up into your unpracticed touch.

Blunt nails dig into your thigh before his hand trails back up to your stomach. It trembles as he guides you, languidly and with a hint of desperation. 

"S'okay, just follow me," he instructs you, swirling his middle and ring fingers in a tight circle around your belly button. You shiver at the raspiness of his voice. "Right around your clit. Remember where that is?" 

But before you can shake your head, his arm slides out from under you and he shifts further down your body to lean over you, propping himself on his elbow. His fingers continue their ministrations on your stomach while he moves lower to gently tug up the hood of your clit, revealing your swollen nub. 

"Fuckin' hell," he swears quietly under his breath, his stomach visibly tensing. He's careful to steer clear of everything else, giving you enough space to heed his lesson. 

"Alright, c'mere, sugar. There ya go. See? You remember," he releases you, shifting a hand to your thigh and wrapping the other tightly around the base of his cock. He keens, his back nearly bowing with the pent-up tension in his body. "That's it. Nice, tight circles. Just like when I make you cum with my mouth."

You choke on your next moan, squeezing your eyes shut as you're suddenly inundated with memories of Joel between your legs, fucking you with his tongue until you gush into his mouth. You press down harder, swirl faster. No guilt, no disgust. It all still feels so good. 

He notices the change in your breathing immediately and begins to stroke himself in time with the rapid rise and fall of your breasts. The hazel of his eyes sharpens to pitch black. A warning, preparing you for the ecstasy to come.

"Oh, you like that, huh? S'good, you're doin' so good. Can ya give yourself two fingers? Wanna show ya all the ways I make you squeeze mine," he croons, teasing just below the ridge of his head with his thumb while he waits for your response. 

"I...yeah, y-yes," you whimper, your brows furrowing as you slip your fingers lower to circle your entrance. But as you start to press into yourself, you hesitate. "W-wait, it feels like too much. I don't want it to hurt."

At that, he all but winces like he's in physical pain, and his hand shoots to the base of his cock again, squeezing hard. 

"Christ," he grits through his teeth, but it sounds more akin to a growl. It wasn't your intention to make him fight his own body like this, but you won't lie and say you're not devouring every second of it. He exhales sharply through his nose to ground himself. "Does it feel good when ya take my cock?"

Those dark eyes are on yours, now, but somehow they're still so gentle. He's not saying any of this for himself. You can tell, it's all for you. Reminders that you can do this if you want it, and that he'd never ask you to do anything that could harm you.

You nod quickly because it does feel good. You need him to know that having his cock inside you feels so, so good. 

"Look at those pretty, little fingers of yours. They bigger than I am?"

Your eyes drop to where his hand is still wrapped tightly around himself. He's leaking all over his fingers, thick and tinged an angry shade of red.

"No, Joel. You're bigger," you whisper, your pleasure intensifying the longer you watch him. His lips quirk into the beginnings of a smirk.

"Now, ya don't have to. You can get yourself there just like that. S'just as good," his drawl commands your attention. "But I think you'd like knowin' how it feels like to cum around 'em—"

The tips of your fingers begin to sink into your heat before he finishes his sentence. The sensation is...everything. Too much to keep your eyes from rolling back or your jaw from dropping. It's so different. As you bottom out, you wonder how this is even possible for Joel. How he ever manages to fit.

"S'hard to move," you pump your fingers in and out experimentally, moaning quietly at the addictive way they drag against your sensitive walls.

You're not too naive to realize your body stretches to accommodate him, but you're too caught up in the sight of his hand resuming its previous pace to recall that knowledge. He looks a little desperate now and sounds even more so.

"Fuck me. S'it tight? Tell me, sugar. Tell me how tight ya are," he pants heavily, unable to stop himself from fucking into his fist. You unknowingly match his pace, clenching around yourself every time your palm slaps into your clit.

"M'so tight, Joel. And wet and warm," your eyes flutter closed as you lose yourself in the beauty of your own body. 

Letting the slick sound of his hand slamming into his pelvic bone be your guide, you bring yourself closer and closer to your own, distinctive state of nirvana. The same explosive release Joel gives you all the time that you're finally allowing your body to experience with itself.

"Joel, I'm...I...," you sob around your words, barely able to force them out as your entire being quakes with your impending orgasm. "...I can't—m'gonna cum, Joel, I can't."

Without warning, he throws a leg over your body to straddle your hips and crashes his lips into yours. He continues to work himself as he coaxes your mouth open, his tongue brushing yours fleetingly before he pulls back. 

"Ya can. Let go, sugar. Give in to it, s'okay. I got ya, I'm right here," he breathes against your lips, and you tilt your head to meet his again. When your head drops back onto the bed, your eyes are pleading. You need his help. 

And he understands. That's what he's here for.

"Cum with me," he murmurs, dropping his forehead to yours. "C'mon, perfect girl, you deserve it."

You believe him. The shame and never-ending guilt that twists and snags like barbed wire in your chest is nowhere to be found right now. There's only silence, save for you and Joel teetering on the cusp, and his tender reassurances in your ear. He's right. You can have this. 

"Ngh—Joel, it's...cumming. Fuck, fuck, m'cumming."

It creeps up on you, a gentle crescendo that abruptly peaks, then slams into you like a freight train. His name leaves your lips in a sharp exhale of sheer relief, repeated like a prayer while you ride it out. 

You're vaguely aware of a ragged, drawn-out groan above you as you soak the sheets beneath you, your cunt squeezing your fingers hard with every spasm, just like he said it would. You feel it all. 

Then, you feel him, splattering across your stomach and breasts in thick, white streaks, his release as messy and prolonged as yours. Gasping, you continue through your aftershocks together until sensitivity sets in.

Joel collapses on the bed next to you and immediately pulls you into his arms, uncaring of the sticky, drying residue smearing between you. He cups your cheek and kisses you, firmly but chastely, before reluctantly pulling away.

His eyes search yours carefully like he's looking for something. Peace, maybe? A sense of calm, an absence of the cloudiness he so often sees there and fights to keep at bay. Whatever it is, he must've found it because, then, his lips are on yours again, a longer, deeper kiss that you melt into with loose limbs and a light heart.

"How we doin', sugar?" he asks tentatively as he parts from you. 

You take a moment to respond, appraising your body and everything it can sense right now. The wetness between your legs and on your chest, your aching wrist and thighs, and that sweet, pleasant buzz settling at the top of your spine. 

"Good," you tell him honestly. You gaze up at him with a blissful smile, preening at the affectionate one he gives you in return, before burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

"Thanks...for this," you continue, mumbling carefully into the warmth of his skin. "And for putting up with me. I know all of this is shitty and weird, and not fun. Just...thank you—for never giving up on me."

He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer and enveloping you in his strong, soothing embrace. It feels safe here. In Joel's bed, surrounded by his scent and heat, and unwavering patience, you start to feel hopeful. He lifts your hand to his lips and softly kisses the pads of each finger, then the center of your palm.

"Ya don't have to thank me for any of that. We'll keep doin' this, s'long as it takes," he murmurs, urging you out of your hiding spot to meet his eyes. "Not a damn thing wrong with ya. Ya hear me? You're perfect."

Maybe one day, you'll be able to believe him outside of this bedroom. But, for right now, you just feel lucky to be loved by a man like Joel. One who accepts your trauma and your past, and will always be there to save you, even from yourself.

thanks for reading!

[zaruba-needslove]

I think that Gregory killed Kaye because of the child Suel wanted to bury at the end of that flashback/nightmare...

Omg.... no.... why.... 😃😃😃😃

Well to be fair, I did intend to kill Kaye in the back story for reasons (like that's still the part of twins au lore about Keiwa that remain unchanged, him dying young or at least way earlier before Ace)... but not as far as having the 'father' being the murderer.. like it defeats the purpose considering how Mitsume prayed for six days and night for a child - so how could he murder one of their child lol.

Anyway, doesn't it seem odd that as much as Suel/the DGP should know that Mitsume wished for a child and gotten that wish fulfilled alongside a new power, they never actually LOOK for Mitsume's son? Assuming of course that Mitsume abandoned Ace when he's very young and Ace should be attempting to find her when he's old enough? Like seriously, 2000 years... and Suel never considered it? Never looked for the child who could threaten his whole business?

I'm disappointed in Suel as a villain 😃

But hey, it COULD make sense if Suel believed that the 'threat' has already been neutralized early on. Also what are the odds for Kaye's remains being buried where the Jyamato creatures were cultivated?

That aside, I still had other plans for Gregory so there's no way I'm making him a child killer.

[museaway]

I hope the fic you are working on right now finds a reader who will think about it constantly for years

[angel-of-the-moons]

Yeah you know what fuck it.

From now on asks will be answered in separate fics to ensure I can edit properly later.

So from now on I'll publish it and reply to your asks with the link to the requested fic

As to the Pavitr asks I have in my drafts, I'm sorry guys but you'll have to keep an eye out for them for when I post them, since I won't be able to edit the fucking replies anymore. I can't even finish the drafts so I have to use my writing program to do it now (just because I don't trust Tumblr's goddamn system not to wipe my drafts again--)

Man at this point I may as well go back to uploading this shit on DeviantArt, @staff

[batsycline69]

LMAO no i love it 💛 if the soundtrack works, it works

Take Care

Summary: Jason doesn't like when you worry about him

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 1,074

Warnings: brief description of injury, blood mention

There’s a thin line of light slipping through the crack beneath your closed bedroom door when you wake up. As you link the sleep out of your eyes, you notice the space beside you is still empty. In the darkness, you reach blindly to find your phone. The time flashes back at you, nearly blinding you. Jason must be home from patrol.

You rise out of bed, feet cold against the old wooden floor of your apartment and quietly tiptoe towards your bedroom door.

Sitting shirtless on the edge of your bathtub is Jason. He’s already watching the doorframe for you before you poke your head around the corner. Between his teeth is a length of gauze he’s measuring for his arm. Once your eyes adjust to the harsh light of the bathroom, you wince at the angry red gash running the width of Jason’s left arm.

A shiver runs up the length of your spine, your concern threatening to spill out of you. He’s watching you, waiting for your reaction. You tear your eyes away from the wound and look back up at him, swallowing the fear caught in your throat.

He frees the gauze from his teeth, and it flutters down into his lap. “You should go back to bed,” he says softly. The tone of voice is so gentle. If he speaks any louder, he could run the risk of waking you up too much.

This is new for the two of you. Jason hadn’t even really meant for you to find out he was Red Hood. And when you did, well, you kind of found out about everything. It’d been a whole thing that boiled down to you needing a little time to stomach it all. But you and Jason had been good the past few weeks. Things felt a little more like normal.

Jason has his guard up, but you can tell he’s trying to assess how bad the damage is. Not to him, not the physical wound, but to the relationship. To you.

Wordlessly, you cross into the bathroom and pick up the scissors sitting on top of the toilet seat. His eyes never leave you.

It’s odd how you feel like pray when loving Jason is like caring for a wounded animal. You want to ask what happened. You want to ask if he’s okay. But if you talk about it, if you acknowledge it too much, he’ll push you away. And you want to prove to him that you can handle this side of his life.

As you step towards him, Jason holds up the gauze again. You cut. The gauze falls down and hangs from Jason’s hand. Before he can start, you take gently take it away from him and kneel in front of him at the bathtub.

The wound is already clean. Jason’s already done all the hard work. Took care of himself while you slept silently in bed because he didn’t want to worry you. The thought drops into your stomach like a peach pit.

You wind the gauze around his arm until Jason makes a disgruntled noise. Your eyes shoot up, worried to have hurt him.

His face softens when your eyes meet. “Needs to be tighter,” he says, nudging his chin towards his arm.

You redo the wrapping, your eyes flickering back up towards Jason. He gives a small nod of approval. You wrap until the length is used and tape it off, pressing your lips gently above the wound before straightening up.

Jason smooths a hand over your jaw. Thank you.

“Go back to bed,” he says again.

“Only if you’re coming with,” you reply. Your hand runs down his uninjured arm and takes hold of his large hand.

Your millions of questions continue floating through your thoughts, but instead, you rise to your feet, pulling Jason up with you. He wraps an arm around your waist as soon as he’s standing beside you. “Give me a few minutes, then I’ll be there. Promise.”

Both your arms wind around his waist. You rest your head against him, fingertips gliding up and down the skin of his spine. “What do you need to do?” you ask.

“Gotta clean up,” Jason says. “I made a mess all over your sink.”

You glance behind you. Diluted blood is smeared across your sink, a few bloody towels sitting near the drain. “I’ll tae care of it,” you say.

Jason shakes his head. “Baby, no, go back to bed. I mean it. I’ll take care of it.”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. I said I’ll take care of it. Go get in bed,” you shoot back playfully.

“It’ll take five minutes,” Jason replies.

You free your arms from around him and give him a little shove towards the bathroom door. He steps forward but doesn’t leave. He just keeps his eyes fixed on you, so decided against leaving you here. “Yes, exactly. And you’ve been out all night, so I can take care of it.”

“It’s not your mess,” he grumbles, and you know he’s not just talking about the blood.

“So? It doesn’t have to be for me to want to help you.”

Jason still lingers in the door. His gaze doesn’t stray from yours. It was one thing to wordlessly let you bandage him, but for some reason, he wants to draw the line at cleaning up his blood. Like the dirty work isn’t something you can handle. But that’s the point, what all of this is about; you can be there for him. You can help him. Wrapping up his wounds and cleaning up the blood is dipping your toes in the water.

Even if he doesn’t leave, you set to work cleaning out the sink and wringing out bloodied washcloths. You don’t push.

When the work is done, you flip off the light switch in the bathroom, taking Jason’s hand again and guiding him into the bedroom.

With the bathroom light off, your apartment is plunged back into darkness, but you both fall into the bed effortlessly. Your limbs wrap around each other as you huddle for warmth and comfort. Your fingertips till drag across his skin. His hand rests on the back of your head, his lips pressed against your forehead.

“Are you okay?” you finally ask. Your voice breaks the emptiness of the silence.

Jason tightens his grip on you a little more. “Yeah, I’m good.”

You kiss his shoulder. “Good.”

[zaruba-needslove]

please.. "Gregory" better not have done to Kaye... what I think he did to Kaye... please...

😂😂😂😂

What did you really think happened? 😂😂

lol for a sec I almost panicked. Did I typoed...did I typed too fast that my silly phone made me mistype and i didn't notice it?

Well let's wait for the next and maybe we'll get to see the pov of the scene from Kaye's side 😃

Gregory trying to make people believe Mitsume only had a miracle child insteaf of twins and Kaye being pursued by the guards/hunters are completely separate incidents. How could Gregory kill his own son? I'm not gonna give questionable plot twist in this fic... okay maybe Gregri shouldn't have left Kaye alone to fend for themselves 👀

[technically-human]

This happened, it just wasn't relevant to the plot

[the-fandom-phantom]

me: focus on finishing writing your totbilb au so you can post it

also me: SPIDER-KIETH x JOURNALIST LANCE

[sweetdreamsbuck]

i'm so giddy you felt the want to reread this🥺🥺 I love this little slice of their love. and the marshmallow bit was probably one of my favorite little details I ever thought to include in something. thank you 🥺

take my hand

beefy lumberjack!bucky x f!reader (lumby and bunny au)

wc: 2.2k

prompt: can't skate, gonna need someone to hold my hand

warnings: too much fluff. bucky is sickeningly in love

for col's Winter Wonderland writing challenge and sleepover! this is the first writing challenge I've ever done– seems fitting it's for you! thank you for inspiring me, always. <3 @foreverindreamlandd

a/n: this is a difficult time of year. sending all my love and super self-indulgent thoughts hehe.

happy holidays, my loves❄️🧸☃️🤎

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤.

“Y’almost got the hang of it!” You most certainly do not.

Bucky tries to tug you along the ice, his hand secure in your double-gloved one– per his insistence on keeping you extra warm– but it’s no use. The ground stutters laughably beneath each attempt of sliding your feet.

Bucky’s never seen anything so adorable before; you’re awful.

Of course, to make matters worse, they’re all gifted on ice– Maria drifts by with a graceful spin, a howling Scott and Natasha racing just behind.

“C’mon Bunny, just slide your feet in time with mine. Small strides, like this,” he demonstrates the movement away from you in hopes your body will be able to mimic the action.

It won’t. You can’t.

“Can’t you just carry me? This holding my hand thing isn’t working,” you whine. Bucky laughs ignoring your groans, grabbing your face and kissing the corner of your mouth until you smile.

“Nope! I need to see you twirlin’ around first and then,” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip longingly, “we’ll talk. But I gotta go get the living room ready, stay out here with Maria, yeah?” He smiles at you– like he’s never witnessed something more worthy of his worship– with the radiance of every last ray of sun, warm and at rest in his stare.

And after the incredible day you’ve all had, this was the last thing on his list before the sun disappeared for the evening. This morning, he’d bundled you in too many cable-knit layers (and then an additional one just to be safe), an oversized coat, and thick garments for your neck, hands, and feet. But watching you bounce on the ice again and again… he wishes he added a few more.

Bucky had everything planned down to the very second; from the beginning dimmings of the sky’s glow so the fairy lights hanging from the cabin into the trees would shine just right, to the dough being rolled out, cut into intricate shapes to be placed in the oven with ample amount of cooling time– can’t have the icing melt off the tops, Bunny. Needs to be perfect for you.

Steve and Natasha had spent over an hour untwining the offending garland and string lights that Sam had managed to knot together, while you and Torres got a head start at throwing plastic balls and pine cones up the side of the smallest of the giant pines encompassing the cabin.

The last tray of cookies had been placed in the oven while the canola oil was set out for the potato mixture, waiting to be fried in Bucky’s special pan– his ma’s old one she only used this time of year.

The success of today was important to him for more reasons than one. He finally has something strong, something certain, worth making memories with– ones that will last him a lifetime and replace all the pain that's led him to now. Bucky only wants to share everything he is with you.

Including the small frozen pond; which Scott, Steve, and Sam tested their weight on, year after year, hopeful they’d bring a little cheer back into Bucky’s life.

Upon his request, of course, you’ll stay out here. Bucky wasn’t asking– he had everything meticulously pinned like points on a map. You know better than to derail any of his plans. So your brilliant grin and sweet hum against the warmth of his cheek is enough to guarantee he’ll be okay leaving you with his friends for a bit.

With a feigned mutter of disapproval, a 'you carry me everywhere, but now it’s an issue?' and an accompanying pucker of your lips, Bucky reluctantly watches as Maria hauls you away, taking over as skating instructor. He shimmies his skates off before shoving his boots back on, joining Steve to get his cabin all set for watching your favorite holiday movie.

****

Bucky can’t help himself, the window is right near the couch he’s meant to be fixing the blankets on. He spent weeks planning this. Hours getting all the lights outlining his cabin just right, dangling them from branches and trunks alike. He needed this to be pristine, for you. Pausing to look out was too tempting, a perfect distraction directly in his line of sight at the mess of people dancing around the ice. Specifically, on you. His Bunny, right at home with his family.

And oh– how you shine. You're impossible to miss, the center of it all, always. To Bucky, anyway.

Bucky blinks with a particular tunnel vision these days, a fixation on the most beautiful thing that’s ever stumbled into his life. The window’s fogged and he’s thankful, for once, that he forgot to clean it better; a frost-tinted circle illuminating your ambrosial luster.

And while quickly moving to place an additional few logs on the fire, he can't fight the urge to get back outside to you. You love curling up against his chest right in front of the flames, warm cream colored blankets and sweet kisses shared until Bucky's reeling, flushed scarlet and suffocating for more.

“What’s on your mind, Buck?” Steve wonders.

They wordlessly walk out of the cabin and down the porch steps, transfixed with the painting of Joaquin and Sam twisting you unwillingly around the ice.

Steve clears his throat.

But Bucky’s somewhere else entirely, your squeals of frightened joy are running circles between his ears, rendering him breathless in a moment he never wants to leave. From the moment just a half hour ago you spoke so softly, "Need you to hold my hand Lumby, what if I suck? Never done this before", to now– he watches on with an ardent tenderness bleeding from his eyes in the shape of you. Sam pushes at your hips from behind, directing your laughing frame wobbling straight into a panicked Torres.

Bucky’s so tragically in love with you.

“Her.”

Your skate catches the bottom of Sam’s too-long jeans, sending you both toppling to the ground in a heap of broad shoulders and heavy limbs– courtesy of a painfully groaning Joaquin and cackling Sam. Steve smiles, observing Bucky take in the picture before him, a low chuckle rumbling within his knowing chest: there’s nothing like watching your best pal falling more and more, so deeply in love, Steve thinks. He nods.

“Mine too.”

“And what’s my girl doin’ in your thoughts?” Bucky smirks, eyes grudgingly leaving your triumphant pose on top of your conquered pile of a bickering Sam and Joaquin. When he meets Steve’s eyes, he finds a noble grin.

“I’m thankin’ her. Never seen you like this, so…” Steve gestures to him, a grand wave of his arms Bucky feels deep in his chest, “So happy. Bucky, she’s–”

“Bucky! Bucky, help me!” They both whip their heads at the excited sound, the two men once face-first on the ice and under your victorious smirk now standing tall on their blades with you lifted high above their heads. Maria and Natasha jump up from their bench to rush to your rescue, hurling insults in between fits of laughter at the two idiots passing you round and round in swooping circles.

Steve looks to his friend, and in Bucky's contentment he sees it– adoration and fondness and relief vibrating warmly.

Bucky melts– his bunny and his best friends. And they adore his girl almost as much as he does. He couldn’t feel more alive.

“Torres! Wilson! Put my girl down, I swear if I find even a scratch on her–”

“You have her in like nine layers. Think she’ll be fine, if she doesn’t pass out from heat exhaustion first…” Sam mumbles securing his arms tightly around your middle, dodging the raucous taunts of the two women before placing you on shaky legs.

You stay standing for a solid three seconds, the air returning to your overexerted lungs. One slide of your foot, then the other. Just like Bucky showed you, left, right, le– your body meets ice.

Shrill mirth fills the woods at, yet again, another fumble of your own two legs. With an enamored chuckle, Bucky moves swiftly, hoping to get to you before another fall occurs. He’s never seen a person fall so much in his damn life.

“So. I’m terrible at this,” the dejected huff swirls past you both in a frozen gust of air. Your body shivers in a tired sulk, working hard to remember what it feels like to be standing. Bucky bends down and aids you out of your skates, shouting for Scott to toss him your boots. Right foot then left, and he secures the thick socks he made you wear over the tops of the laces.

Bucky looks up at you, a satisfied sound whispered into the frigid evening. There’s a playful pity swimming within his features. But his eyes always betray him, completely overflowing with his adoration for you. It nearly knocks you off of your feet, dizzy and back spinning ‘round icy ground. The entrance to the fence that encases the pond snags on your puffy parka and Bucky grabs at your wrists, sliding his thumbs gently down to the thick fabric concealing those precious lifelines of yours. He brings the tops of them to his mouth with a gentle hum.

Nothing feels more secure than falling into the safety Bucky’s presence brings. He stands, plump lips never leaving your knuckles for a second.

As if the evening was expecting you both, frost-bitten air and the last swirls of daylight envelop you in a greeting of serenity. The lights still glimmer and your friends still laugh and yell, but the evening permits you to forget all of that for a moment.

Looking into Bucky’s eyes feels a lot like home.

And the stunning blues have no intention of leaving your sweet face, sulking up at him with the echoes of crystalized wonder and the twinkling from up above dusting along your features– how could he even feel an ounce of sympathy toward you? Not when your pout entices him like nothing else on this goddamned green earth ever could. Nothing could hold a candle to it.

“Wouldn’t say that Bun,” he decides with a solemn shake of his head, squeezing your fingers within his hold, “You’re not terrible. Just not ready… for public viewing, is all.” A short nod and a hopeful smile search to brighten the affected expression on your face. But it isn’t until he leans down with his nose nudging yours, a teasing pout of his lips on your cold skin, an arm sliding behind your hip urging you closer with a sigh against your cheek that you feel it.

He’d do anything to keep you happy.

It’s evident in the glistening snow nestled within the thick sea of evergreen, its sparkling hue all around you– in the sloppily decorated tree just a few feet shy of the pond– in the group of friends he gathered together just to remind you how loved you are, even during the most difficult season of the year. Bucky’d spend hours milling through his ma’s old recipes to find the perfect cookies and those latkes he remembers enjoying years ago. He’d even go as far as tell a little lie no one could possibly ever believe, that you weren’t in fact hazardous on skates, even if it is just the two of you that hear it. He’d bear long hours in the harsh winds of winter for something other than labor, for a gathering of family his girl knows love him to no end, just to see her showered with the same sentiment– to see that smile.

Nothing about loving you is akin to labor.

But then your lips curl, a small giggle bubbling past your once frustrated pout until the sweet sound blooms, swells, stealing the rhythm straight from his chest. And Bucky’s heart soars, from the very depths of his rib cage to the confines of your wool-clad hands, all from just the blinding smile you have only for him.

Candle: lit.

Your hands reach for his cheeks just as they flush crimson, a startling contrast to the scenery surrounding you. Bucky nearly evaporates, right there.

His pulse is thunderous, urging him to delight in nothing but your joy enduringly. Bucky can’t control it, it croons I love you, I love you, I love you.

You’re breathtaking.

He’d never tell his friends he planned today just for you, of how he stocked his kitchen with baking supplies and festive decor just to watch the happiness sparkling, so alive in your eyes.

Bucky’s anything but subtle. His heart beats only with the air of your affections– his friends know.

“C’mon sweet girl,” Bucky’s nose smushes against your hairline, his kiss warming your chilled forehead. “We’ve got cookies to decorate. Can’t let Sam find ‘em or they’ll be gone before we know it.”

At the sight of Bucky’s reverent lips descending the span of your face, Steve turns to head back to the cabin. With a heavy smack of his arm around Sam’s shoulders and a smile spread proudly across both of their faces, they let their friend take all the time he needs. Natasha’s grin twitches softly, watching Bucky sing of his love for you with every glide of his lips against your skin, with every breath that fills his lungs.

Bucky continues on, reaching and pulling for every little laugh you’ll give him, sparing no expense for the feelings of his friends: "Maria’s terrible on ice, did’ya even see her out there? Nearly knocked poor Torres on his ass.” No, that was you, actually. And you did. “Scott took all the marshmallows, can’t let him find out about our secret stash, kay?” He keeps them in an old tea container, they taste of bergamot. “Stevie thinks he’ll make a better gingerbread house than us, you believe that punk?” He only said that to get Bucky riled up.

Sam hears it– they all do. You hardly attempt to quiet your delight whenever Bucky gets you snuggled close, wrapped entirely bare in his need to be your everything.

A hurried kiss teases his stubble, then graces his lips, and your arm entangles itself around his own until the tips of fingers interlock in a charm of whispered giggles. And while walking the length of the winter wonderland he’s created for you, hyper and giddy and so full of emotion, your heart thanks him.

They all hear Bucky prod, the cheap digs and the silly goading; not a single one of them has the means to chide– they know. Their friend has finally found peace, tightly woven within the grasp of a warm woolen hand.

[unintentionalseductress]

I saw this tiktok video a looong time ago with these two women firefighters who have toned bodies and it got me thinking of a scenario with the l&ds boys.

Imagine MC/Reader fighting some wanderes or working out at the Hunters training center and Tara or some civilian noticed just how well tone she is and decide to make a post or video about her. Now MC/Reader is know as the "Hot Hunter"

I would love to see the boys reaction to MC/Reader new found attention and all the horny comments she is getting.

Hot Hunter

Warnings: mild boner descriptions, some grinding and twerking, suggestive dialogue, mostly harmless A/n: Thank you so much for sending this in @deputy-videogamer! It was fun imagining the men's reactions to this scenario. Hope you enjoy this! Just an FYI this was combined with another similar request for Zayne getting hard at the gym for MC. Not really proofread.

You carefully set up your camera and peeked at the screen one last time before picking up a pair of weights off the rack. Although working out was mostly necessary because of your job, it was more bearable now that you had a buddy.

You glance over at Zayne, who's flexing his shoulders, having finished a set on the chin-up bar. He catches your eye, his lips forming a subtle smile before he grabs the bar and lifts himself up again. You allow yourself a brief moment of indulgence, admiring how the fabric scrunches over his broad shoulders before returning to your own workout.

You're live now and already have viewers coming in. Tara insisted that posting hunter workouts was a great way to get audience engagement since many people are focusing on their health nowadays. You demonstrated some basic exercises and how to position the weights, correcting your form as you did so.

Sweat forms on your forehead as you go through the motions, your toned muscles tightening under the skin as you curl and relax. After a few sets, you decide squats are in order. You replace the dumbells and instead, pick up a heavier kettlebell. Turning so that your audience could clearly see your form and how you were adjusting your feet, you bend, feeling your thigh muscles stretch, and your ass tensing as you went down before slowly coming back up. Suddenly there’s a surge in the audience, the numbers rising up and the phone starts to ping continuously as comments flood the live stream. 

Wondering what could have happened, you’re about to get up but are spared as out of nowhere, Zayne suddenly snatches up your phone. His sharp eyes scan the screen, and there’s tension in the set of his mouth as he reads the comments.

“Zayne?” You ask from the floor, still squatting. He makes his way over to you. 

“Is there a reason you’re recording your workout?” Zayne asks, his eyes still moving over the screen. 

“Oh Tara suggested it. We get a lot of questions about our work out routine since we’re hunters. Why?”

“Well…it appears you may have gotten some…raunchy comments.” 

“What? No way!” Your eyes widen. “What are they saying?”

Zayne’s eyes flick uncertainly to your face before he clears his throat. “Well. Most of them seem to have a fruit.”

“A fruit?”

“A peach, to be precise.” A snort of laughter forces its way from your body. 

“Are you serious? There’s no way!” Zayne resignedly shows you the comments and indeed, every other one seemed to be the peach emoji.

“That hunter ass.” You’re amused as you read another one. “Hunter got the buns and the bakery. Look at that cake. Hunter workouts: the key to having a juicy peach.” The comments keep pouring in, and Zayne’s eyes darken as they get progressively thirstier. One in particular, coming from an anonymous commenter, said, “you can squat on my face miss hunter.” With a huff, Zayne ends the livestream. 

“Hey!” You protest as he pockets the device. “It was starting to get good.”

“I see. So lewd compliments about your rear are ‘good’.” Zayne’s eyes have a glint in them, and sulking, you stand, all motivation for your workout disappearing like rain. 

“I don’t see why those comments had to be so inappropriate.” Zayne bites out as he crosses his arms disprovingly. 

“It’s the internet.” You grumble as you start to put the weights back on the rack. “Who’s polite on the internet?” You back up and bump into a sturdy wall of muscle. Before you can register what’s happening, Zayne’s deep voice growls in your ear. 

“Have I not complimented you enough? Why are you looking for validation from strangers?” Caged between the rack and his body, you squirm, your ass inadvertently brushing against the junction of his thighs. Instantly, you feel him hardening, the warm, firmness of his cock pushing up invitingly against your bottom. 

“Well Dr. Zayne, it looks like you were saving your best compliment for last,” you tease and innocently reach down to pick up a lighter weight, your bottom rubbing provocatively against his erection as you bend over and straighten. You stifle a giggle as Zayne spins you around, biting your lip and looking at him with mischievous eyes. Zayne's hands tighten on your hips.

“This ‘cake’ belongs exclusively to me. We’ve worked out enough. I need to raise my sugar levels."

Rafayel didn’t like working out. He made this very obvious as he grumbled during your daily jog. It’s been 10 minutes and his cheeks are red, locks of his hair out of place, and plastered to his forehead with sweat. His breath comes in pants as he tries to keep up with you. 

“For being my bodyguard, you seem to always find new ways to kill me!” You look back over your shoulder and see him starting to slow down. Taking pity on him, you run in place and allow him to catch up. When he does, Rafayel moans and leans against a tree. “Are we done yet? This is torture!” 

You check your phone and try not to laugh at his state. “This is hardly anything Raf. We still have 2 miles to go.”

“2 miles?!” Rafayel crosses his arms and shakes his head no. “I refuse to believe it. You’re just saying that to trick me into running more than what was promised!”

Rolling your eyes but still amused, you playfully poke his ribs. “I’m really not. C’mon it’s a beautiful day out! We’re getting all this fresh air and enjoying all the greenery-”

“Fresh and green is for bunnies! I’m exhausted. Just let me rest ok?” He drinks from his water bottle and you wait patiently for him, stretching as he does so. Two men who had been sprinting briskly around the path when you had started now slow down as they near. They glance appreciatively at you, grinning at Rafayel. 

“You can run this round with us if you want. Let your friend rest.” One of them says sportingly, glancing at Rafayel’s disheveled state. Rafayel bristles at the implication. 

“Hey! I was just catching my breath!”

“Of course you were!” The other man interjects quickly, trying to quell Rafayel’s ire. “You just looked like you could use the break. She looks like she has a lot of energy! Could run this whole trail before either of us make it to the halfway mark.”

Noticing the ominous shadow starting to grow on his face, you laugh, trying to dispel the tension. “Thanks. But I’m taking a break too. This was probably going to be my last mile.”

“Really?” The first man looks surprised. “With the way you were going, I thought you were going for at least 2 more. Are you a marathoner?”

You shake your head politely. “Hunter.”

“Oh! No wonder!” Both men smile dazzlingly. “Obviously hunters have to stay in good shape!”

“We do,” you say lightly, pretending to ignore Rafayel glowering behind you. “It’s a very physically demanding job.”

“Yeah,” Rafayel pipes up suddenly. “And she has very little time to herself. So we have to get going if it’s not too much trouble.”

Understanding the hint, the men nod at Rafayel. “Well enjoy your weekend then! Feel free to join us if you change your mind.” They run off and Rafayel glares at them. 

“Feel free to join us,” he says in a mocking tone as he watches them sprint away. “We’re never coming back to this park again.”

“Oh Rafayel, they were just being friendly.” You start to power walk and Rafayel follows suit. 

“No they weren’t! Didn’t you hear them? Let your friend rest. You look like you have a lot of energy! They were totally hitting on you!” You snort at his tone because he sounded so adorable right now.

“There’s nothing funny about strange men trying to hit on my girl. You’re already thinking of leaving me aren’t you?” Rafayel pouts, and you stop in your tracks before you fall over laughing. Cupping his sulky face between your hands, you quickly peck him on the lips, catching him off guard, because he’s blushing when you move away.

“I’d never leave you Raf. My breathless little fishball.”

“You can’t just insult me to my face and think it’s all ok!”

“Oh, so many people stitched my workout videos!” You’re lazing on Sylus’s lap as he works out the knots in your shoulders from your most recent sparring session. You wince as he squeezes a tender spot. 

“Ouch.”

“Ouch? What happened to no pain no gain?” Sylus teases you. 

“It doesn’t always have to hurt.” You absently open a random stitch notification and watch as a burly, muscled, man talks into the camera while holding a plank. 

“Ok Miss Hunter! You said you can plank for 10 minutes no sweat! I’m gonna beat that record!” The man on the screen balances himself and the timer on the video starts. The sound of his heavy breathing fills the room and Sylus raises an eyebrow. 

“Sweetie, you know you can tell me if you’re watching adult videos right?” You pinch his thigh, satisfied when he twitches.

“No need to get defensive.” His hands wander to your lower back and he continues to massage you. You watch the video intently. The man who had stitched your video was already starting to lose balance; his forearms were quivering from the effort. The timer continues counting, but right at the eight-minute mark the man groans and breaks position. He laughs and winks at the camera. 

“Maybe you should give me a private lesson Miss Hunter!” he says jokingly before the video ends. The comments section is filled with comedic jabs at the man, saying he better last longer than that in other aspects.

“Pathetic,” Sylus murmurs and you startle, unaware that he had been looking at your phone. 

“It’s hard to plank Sylus.” You say discipliningly. “It took me 6 whole months before I could hold for 10 minutes.” 

Sylus doesn’t reply but his hands still as you open another stitch. A man giving off jock vibes fills the screen. “Ok! Miss Hunter said she could complete this whole circuit in 12 minutes! I’ve set up my workspace exactly the same way. If I beat her time, then I’ll ask her out to dinner! Wish me luck guys!” You watch in amusement as the guy starts his workout, puffing and grunting as he does so. 

He was behind 2 phases when the timer rang and he stopped, flopping to the floor. “Whoo! This kicked my ass! Looks like I didn’t beat her time. But hey, maybe Miss Hunter will take pity on me and ask me out herself?”

Your notifications ping suddenly and you check them, surprised to see Sylus’s name popping up several times. “What are you doing?” You open one of your workout videos, then stifle a laugh as you see the replies Sylus has been giving to the commenters.

“You’re too fine to be working out alone.” Sylus: “Oh, don’t worry. She’s got me right there to spot her.”

“Are you a fitness trainer? Because you’ve got me wanting to follow your every move.”Sylus: “She’s not taking clients, but I’m sure a good mirror could help you with that ‘following her every move’ thing.”

“You’re perfect. The body, the confidence, the vibes—everything!”Sylus: “As her boyfriend, I agree!” 

You’re way too beautiful to be single.”Sylus: “Good observation. She’s not.”

Exasperated but also entertained, you straddle Sylus’s lap, nuzzling into him like a cat. “Is the big, bad leader of Onychinus jealous of some strangers on the internet?”

“Not at all kitten. But I think it’s fair to warn them that my gains aren’t always necessarily in the gym.”

Tara holds her phone up as she captures you demonstrating how to effectively use a punching. You perform some basic karate moves, the slaps of your hands and feet kicking the bag filling the gym at the Hunter’s Association. 

“Wow! These comments are so nice!” Tara encourages you as you wipe sweat from your brow. 

“Are they?”

“Yeah! This one lady is saying you’re inspiring her to workout again! Another one says your arms look so sleek and toned! AND!” Tara practically squeals with delight. “This one guy is asking if you do personal training sessions!”

Tara giggles and winks at you. “Maybe you should quit your job and become a fitness instructor instead!” As she continues to film you, more comments flood the inbox, some questions, others compliments. 

“This is the hot hunter I was telling you about! And he’s tagging his friend!” Tara can barely control her enthusiasm. You’re trending everywhere are #hothunter!”

“Who’s calling her a hot hunter?” Out of nowhere, Xavier steps in leaning over Tara’s shoulder to watch the screen. His eyes darken at the comments.

“Xavier!” Tara quickly puts the phone away, looking shocked. “I wasn’t expecting you to turn up.”

“Who’s calling her a hot hunter?” Xavier repeats. His tone is light but you can see the beginnings of a threatening spirit starting to take hold of him. 

“No one! Just…some random person on the internet, it’s nothing serious! I mean, as her boyfriend, you have nothing to worry about!” Tara rambles, clearly sensing the ominous cloud hanging over Xavier’s head. Xavier reaches out to angle the phone and reads the influx of new comments. Tara glances over at you awkwardly, unable to break free from Xavier’s grip. 

After a long moment, Xavier releases the phone and then walks over to the punching bag you’d been demonstrating on. More pings resonate from the phone as more comments come on the screen. “Don’t stop now,” Xavier prompts Tara who looks apprehensive. “Please. Tell me what they’re saying.”

You look at Xavier tentatively and reach out to hold his hand. “Xavier. It’s just people on the internet posting comments. Everyone hopes for engagement nowadays right?”

Xavier doesn’t reply and continues to fix Tara with a stern look. Swallowing, she reads a few comments. “Who’s the guy that just walked in? He’s hot.” She glances nervously at Xavier. 

“Continue.”

“Is the new guy a hunter? Is he the hot hunter’s boyfriend? Is Mr. Hunter going to show us some workout moves too?”

“Hmm.” Xavier considers, then looks directly into the camera. “Greetings everyone. To answer your questions, yes, I’m a hunter too. I’m the hot hunter’s mission partner and boyfriend.” Your cheeks heat up and you push Xavier, trying to get him to cool off.

“I do have a move I’d like to show everyone watching.” Xavier continues to speak, unfazed by your subtle gestures for him to stop. He catches your hand and gently leads you away from the punching bag. He withdraws his hunter’s sword from its sheath, and it gleams under the lights as he does so. 

“Hunters are trained to disarm threats as quickly as possible. Advanced weapons like my sword here are very effective.” Swiftly, Xavier raises his arm, and in one neat swipe, cleaves the punching bag into 2. Stuffing falls like cottony blood from the tear. Xavier brandishes his sword at the phone.

“That’s what happens when I try to protect my girlfriend. Pretty cool huh?” There’s a smile on Xavier’s face that’s charming, yet somehow menacing at the same time. For a brief second, the comments section goes silent. Then it starts bursting with fresh words.

“I want him as a boyfriend! So possessive I love it! Can Mr. Hunter possibly make more videos with the hot hunter?” You read them in your head and sigh.

“Well Xavier, you’ll probably be trending this week as #mrhunter.” You let out a startled gasp as Xavier firmly grips your upper arm and leads you away from the gym. 

“Good. The fewer eyes on you the better.”

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @erebus-et-eigengrau @who-mentioned-rhys-larsen

[tthoroughfare]

trying to make your ex jealous by using ellie as a prop in your ig story hahahaha

she's been in front of your mirror for, like, ten minutes as you direct her on how to stand, how to put her arms around you. you laugh as you cycle through the pictures you'd gotten, ellie looking over your shoulder.

"ellie, these suck. you look so fucking awkward." none of them actually look like you're with a romantic prospect; it's painfully obvious it's set up, ellie craning her neck to hide her face and looking like she's petrified to touch you. you swipe onto a particular picture, zooming in on her hand. "also, in that one you can literally see your tattoo, you gotta pull your sleeve down more."

she automatically tugs at the sleeve of her hoodie, covering the ink swirling down from her wrist. "damn... yes ma'am. didn't realize it was that serious."

"well, otherwise she's gonna know it's you. and that'd be so fucking embarrassing."

she scoffs lightly. "kind of embarrassing faking photos to try and make someone jealous, anyway."

"oh, please. shut up," you retort, rolling your eyes. she'd seemed to be a little grumpy about the whole thing as soon as you asked her to do it:

"this is stupid."

"why does it have to be me? get dina to do it, she'd love this shit."

"you're so cringe."

you get back into position, gesturing at ellie. "m'kay, come back."

she shuffles closer again, hesitantly going to place her hands on your waist.

"this is why they look stupid, your hand placement's wrong." you gently grasp at her wrist, manually moving her right hand upwards and to the side, wrapping her arm further around you and allowing her fingers to rest just below your left breast. "like, you don't look like you wanna fuck me, you're just... standing there like you're at gunpoint."

"yeah, i am," she murmurs, looking down and gingerly pressing herself flush against your back. you ignore the comment, taking the back of her head and pulling it so that her chin's resting on your shoulder.

"don't worry if your face is in it, i'm probably just gonna crop it anyway," you comment as you snap another few photos, placing your hand over hers. she tries not to pay any mind to the way you subconsciously swipe your thumb across the back of her hand, the way it makes her stomach flutter.

you pivot your phone so she can see it whilst you flip through the new photos you'd taken. you're still running your fingertips over her hand, and she doesn't think you even realize you're doing it. "see, these ones are way better. they look way more realistic."

you go to take some more, and ellie hesitantly leans further in, nuzzling at your neck.

"wait, that's good," you begin. "pull your hood up, so i don't have to crop it."

blowing air out of her nose, she does as you say before returning her hand to its original position. she feels a little emboldened, borderline forgetting the whole thing is pretend as she presses a couple of tiny kisses to your neck; stopping when she feels you tense.

you pause before laughing shakily, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "method acting. nice."

ellie awkwardly laughs along, kicking herself mentally. she doesn't even know why she did it, where she mustered the balls. it was automatic.

you take a final couple, then pull away and sit cross-legged on your bed. she tugs her hood down, running a hand through her hair as she sits next to you, peering down at your phone while you flick through all of the photos.

"i think that one," you say when you stop on a particular image, pressing your thumb to the screen in emphasis. "it's hot, and you can't really tell it's you."

ellie pulls a face as she nods. "go for it."

your brow furrows as you notice her expression. "... what's with you?"

she shrugs, mouth downturning. "i don't know, i just think it's kinda stupid. why do you even want her back? she was, like... a dick to you."

"i don't want her back," you reply. "i just want her to see it and be like... 'oh, shit'."

"but, like, still... why are you even thinking about her?"

you sigh lightly, looking down at your phone. "i don't know... she fucked me over a lot, and now she's trying to act like she's doing all great and everything. just wanna give her something to feel... y'know, a little shitty over."

"fair enough," she replies half-heartedly. "i just don't even think you should care. you can do better."

you scoff. "well, it's not exactly happening for me."

she doesn't say anything back, just looks at you and shrugs, toying with her sleeve. there's a slightly uncomfortable feeling in the room as you meet her gaze, one you don't understand.

"so can i post it, or no?"

ellie's hands turn upwards in gesture. "sure."

"right," you respond, opening instagram and getting the picture up to put on your story, flicking through songs and deciding which one to add to it. she moves closer, watching as you do so.

"gotta be clairo," she remarks, to which you chuckle.

you post the photo, and resist the urge to check if your ex has viewed it every five minutes. ellie puts a silly movie on, and you actually manage to forget about it as you make commentary between yourselves, laughing along.

until your phone buzzes; dina's reacted '😂' to your story, and sent you a reply:

"that's ellie 😭😭😭😭😭 you fucking idiot"

you sit up as you open the messages, covering your mouth and scoffing. turning your phone so that ellie can see, you watch her eyes glimmer in amusement as she lets out a laugh.

"i'm taking it down," you say firmly, between giggles.

ellie raises her eyebrows, training her eyes back on the TV. "told you."

[zaruba-needslove]

ACE!!! WHY ARE YOU STEALING MEMORABILLIA OF YOURSELF?!!!!

Tsumuri and Ziin must've been so surprised lol!!!!

😂😂😂😂

Meanwhile, that explained the 'mysterious' box inside the main shrine 😃

Ace really wanted to erase even the memories of people who had been avid fans of the Star of the Stars of the Stars. But not like Keiwa won't have a say on this. 😃

[pxgeturner]

noooo why are u sad…..

sevika who never lets you pay for dinner. sevika who constantly buys you flowers. sevika who boasts around her office when you make her lunch. sevika who buys you a gift any time you have a bad day. sevika who totes you around office parties. sevika who lets you treat her to a spa night where you paint her nails and give her a facemask along with seven billion other little aspects to help her relax. sevika who can't go more than a week without seeing you. sevika who pays for your tuition because she doesn’t want you unnecessarily stressed. sevika who has you study at her place during finals so she can make sure you're taking adequate breaks and also help you edit your essays. sevika who is your sugar daddy but also so much more than that.

—drabbles with giselle ! 💭

m.list. nav. byf. taglist. join the discord!

[ash-and-starlight]

The world needs more Yue and Zuko friendship, I squeal just thinking abt the parallels. They deserve a life changing field trip together and if u have abt ideas I’m all ears 👀

Hiii anon this ask fermented in my inbox and in my brain for so long,, so take this??? Post canon yue lives/no war au arts?? Anyway aside from the Parallels and their political position & their duty before hoes grindset I think they could learn a lot from each other. With zuko learning the gift of patience & diplomacy from yue & Yue learning that allowing yourself to feel anger and speaking up can actually be Good.

anyway hypothetical life changing trip outcome: zuko takes an intro gender studies class and yue says fuck

(oh and also must not forget the crush on sokka)

[imyourbratzdoll]

Breeding Kink Steve/Bucky eventho you already have a couple of kids 🫣

hi baby! I'm so sorry for taking so long, I hope you like what I wrote.

summary - breeding kink gone wild, your husbands take it to the next level by forever wanting you to carry their child.

warning - smut, breeding kink, sorta dubcon but not really, mentions of pregnancy, creampie, threesome.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

“C’mon, Doll. Let us pump you full, want you to have our babies.” Bucky groans in your ear, pressed against your back where you can feel his bulge. You whine, letting out a breathy whimper as Steve grips your hips, pressing soft kisses to your neck, occasionally marking it as well.

“What do you say, Sweetheart? Wanna be full of our cum?”

You squirm, vision becoming hazy as lust clouds your mind. “B–but, we already have two…” Your head falls back, moaning loudly as their cocks slide inside of you without much warning. You didn’t even see them take their cocks out. Your cunt clenches around them, arousal dripping down their thick members, making it easier for them to thrust into you.

“Doesn’t matter, Doll. We wanna breed you forever and watch you grow with our child.” Bucky thrusts in and out, hands sliding up your body until they grasp your breasts. His moans so close to your ear that it causes tingles to spread throughout your body, your cunt clenching around your men. 

Steve groans, biting down on his bottom lip hard as he looks down at you with dark eyes. Your own cloudy ones connect with his, lips parting as you feel them pulse inside of you, gripping them tightly when they hit your sweet spot. Steve’s eyes roll to the back of his head and groans slip past his lips as he pounds into you hard and fast, feeling your little cunt clench around him from his brutal thrusts. 

They continue to have their way with you, fucking you so hard that you see stars. Your juices squirt out of you, causing their cocks to twitch and pump you full of their cum once again. Filling you with large amounts that will likely be the cause of your next pregnancy. Steve and Bucky take turns kissing your lips before cleaning you up. They lay you down on your large bed and grin as they caress your stomach, waiting for the moment you pop this one out for them to start all over again. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.