#fluff dump

[escapenightmare]

sae itoshi was not a nonchalant boyfriend or a chill guy, despite how much he tried to seem like he was. you don’t ask him for his opinion on your outfit? do you not want him (to compliment you and ask you to do a small twirl so he could see the ensemble properly and then pepper your cute face with kisses)? you don’t want him to share his food with you? okay, so basically you’re saying you want him to go to hell.

you tell him to quit liking flirty comments from random people under your posts? what’s wrong with that, he agrees with them— you’re absolutely stunning. and no, he isn’t doing it just so those randoms get a notification that saeitoshi, with a silly picture of you and him with your cheeks smushed together as his profile picture, has liked their comment so that they now know you aren’t single and looking for some sleazy jackass who thinks they can get your undivided attention just by commenting ‘🔥🔥’. seriously, how dare you accuse him of such pettiness?

but really, none of that is compareable to how he feels right now; damp hair sticking to his forehead, towel over his shoulder, one hand buttoning up his loose shirt while he’s looking at his phone, fresh out of the shower after the usual training. his teammates are yapping about something like they always do but it’s all silent in his head as he takes in what feels like utter blasphemy on the screen.

zero notifications.

well, actually, he had a shit ton of texts messages from his teammates and people he considered somewhat his friends but none of them really matter— only you do.

and you hadn’t texted him since yesterday (almost 24 hours ago!), when he was on his way home and asked you if you wanted him to bring you extra snacks or something.

do you hate him?

he clicked out of the messages app and checked instagram, where you’d usually have flooded his dms with chronically online shit that he had no idea how you found funny. seriously, what the heck is all that about divers going into small spaces and eye of dih? he visibly deflates when he sees you hadn’t sent anything on there either (the last text was from him, when he’d said ‘???’ to your text that read ‘what is a father?’).

Sae [16:43pm]: Do you hate me

nah. scoffing to himself, he deleted the words, exited the app and pocketted his phone. since when was he such an attention deprived, needy little shit? whatever.

by the time he opens the front door to your shared home, there’s still no text, no call, no reel, nothing from you. “angel?” he calls out in his usual, casual tone, nudging the door shut with his boot. “’m home.”

“in here, sae,” you call out from the bedroom and he quickly takes off his shoes, drops his duffel bag onto the couch and trudges into the bedroom, feeling as if if he were a puppy, his tail would be wagging harshly behind him. “i was just about to text you.” you tell him with a small smile from where you’re sitting on the office chair behind the desk, your laptop in front of you and notes strewn all over the desk. you were.. studying.

ah, right. no wonder you hadn’t texted him.

you barely register his silent footsteps and fast pace until he’s right behind you within the time it took for you to blink, one hand on the arm of the chair to turn it around before he’s half hunched over you, his other hand pressing on your back to tug you into a hug. “missed you,” his voice is muffled as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, the soft tufts of his moist hair tickling your chin and neck. “thought you hated me.”

“what?” it was said so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it, but you do and now you’re pulling back a bit to look at him properly. “what gave you that idea?”

“forget about it,” he tries to avoid the question in a painfully untactful manner, attempting to hug you again, but faltering as he sees the look on your face. god, this was so humiliating. “y‘didn't text me today— or call, or send me stupid reels,” he points out with an embarrassed grunt, standing up to his full height and running a hand through his hair. “thought you were pissed at me for beating you in monopoly or something.”

huffing, you grin up at him. “you didn’t have to bring that up, jerk. but no, as you can see,” you gesture to your table and he notices the splotches and lines of dried ink on your fingers from your pen. “i’ve been studying. or trying to, at least.”

“huh.” he lets out, grasping your hand in his and intertwining your fingers before untangling them again so he could toy around with them. his brows furrow and he scoffs when you continue, saying something along the lines of ‘i didn’t think you’d notice.’ “yeah, well, i noticed. i dunno. kinda hard to miss the zero texts from the only person i reply to, yeah?”

your eyes brighten at that, but you tease, “ohh, yeah, right. sorry, i forgot you’re a friendless loser.”

“look who’s talking,” he shoots back, and you’d almost be offended if it wasn’t for the playful look in his eyes. he sighs and dips his head to press a kiss to your temple before walking over to the closet.

“were you really sad that i didn’t send you stupid reels?” you ask him with a curious look while watching him pick out a random t-shirt and sweats, not making fun of him like you’d usually do, just genuine curiousity in your tone.

he hums in response, undoing a few buttons of his shirt before tugging it off his head and glancing at you, with his teal eyes narrowed in contemplation, shirt still hanging around his elbows. “guess so. ’s stupid, huh?”

“nah,” is your immediate reply, followed by a small shrug. “i think it’s sweet, actually. in a pathetic sort of way. you’re kinda sweet.”

during his 10-minute break from training the next day, he finds himself on the bench of the locker room, resting his aching legs with his half empty water bottle next to him as he’s scrolling through your dms with a soft smile. a shit ton of reels and one ‘good luck at practice!!’ message stares back at him.

yeah. he thinks you’re (kinda) sweet too.

[thisnoah]

I love it when men

[http-shield]

I am definitely not thinking about Bucky's first time in around 100 years like he is so sensitive to every touch already, the serum coursing through his veins heightening each brush of your skin, each hitch of your breath as he licks up the column of your neck, the quickening of your heart as his fingers trail over the ribbon on your panties, don't even get me started on how overstimulated he would get as you trail your fingers down his torso, over the waistband of his pants, sliding down the zipper, his cock hot and aching against the seam of his trousers, and when you finally make contact when your fingertips graze the outline of him through his boxers, he quite literally almost busts right there and then, but I am 10000% not thinking about how he would lose his composure the second he slides into you.

Bucky has barely sunk his aching cock in you before he pulls out with a wince, his mouth pulled in a pained frown.

"Buck, what's wrong?" panic floods your body as you begin to sit, pushing yourself up on your elbows. "What's happening?" The heat that had once filled your body as you worked each other up is replaced with ice, and the terror at crossing his boundaries fills your muscles.

Bucky shakes his head, muscles in his jaw tensing as he hisses through his teeth. Every indicator points towards pain. The furrowed brow, closed eyes, tensed jaw, heavy breathing—these are all bad signs, terrible signs, so you begin to move, to slowly pull back from him, afraid to cause any more damage, but his hand on your bare leg stops you. Vibranium fingers dig into the plush flesh, gripping the fat of your thigh as he releases a shaky breath.

"I'm not- I'm fine," Bucky assures, grip on you loosening.

"Are you sure? We don't have to do this. I don't want to pressure you into anything that you-"

"You aren't pressurin' me into anything, sweetheart." His voice is a defeated sigh. "It's just—" he shakes his head. "Really sensitive."

You blink at him for a moment, brain slow to connect the pieces of the puzzle laid before you. Seconds tick by as you finally start to work it out. Your eyes shift between his embarrassed smile, the hand on your thigh, your bare legs and his, frankly intimidatingly, hard cock, pre cum oozing like pearls over perfect pink skin.

Oohhh.

Oh.

"Buck-" you start, a teasing smile creeping across your face.

"Angel, don't." Bucky fixes you with a rather intimidating look, but you press on, no longer daunted by him.

"Bucky..." you press. "Were you gonna com-" You can't say another word as he interrupts, cheeks flushing bright red.

"It's been a long time, okay?" he explains, blush spreading to his ears.

"How long?"

"Longer than you've been alive."

“That long?” You balk. “Even after you coming back and - not even then?”

“When would I have had the time? Between tryna figure out who I am plus meeting and dealing with you, I didn’t really have all that free time to get it on” Bucky explains, fingers creeping up your thigh to squeeze the fat at your hip.

"you did not just say get it on."

“what was i meant to say?”

"i don’t know, anything but that!"

[http-tokki]

when Satoru tells you to turn around mid-make-out session, he does not expect to find you crawling onto the bed on your hands and knees, hand slipped beneath the hem of your panties in an attempt to push them aside.

"What are you doing, angel?" genuine curiosity and concern fill his tone, brow raised at your immediate position switch. "I don't- why?"

You look over your shoulder, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open as if you had just been caught sneaking cookies in the middle of the night and not as if you had just automatically assumed he was going to fuck you like that.

Had he given you that impression?

Satoru was so careful to avoid giving you that idea with gentle touches and slow, loving kisses against your skin, requests whispered against your collarbone and sealed with a soft peck. He wasn't expecting you to assume the position.

"Do you not want-?" your voice is small, dejection evident.

Gojo tilts his head before realising. "Baby, no!"

Your face falls and Satoru scrambles to clarify his intention for the position change.

" I don't want to fuck you like that, well I do but not right now. Actually yes now but not in this second," He scrambles and trips over the words, desperate to assure you it was not whatever you were beginning to think about. "I want to fuck you. Always. In any position but that's not why I asked you to turn around."

You're nodding at his explanation, sinking to your knees and removing the hand from your panties but the confusion still creased your forehead. Gojo feels silly explaining his reason like he’s sixteen again but he needed you to know that’s not what he was expecting.

"I just wanted to take your bra off.”

[dearru]

do u guys know that one song by doja cat that goes “like fortnite ima need ur skin.” that’s what inspired this. hope u enjoy. | mlist

imagine you, an aspiring singer, starting to date the wildly influential streamer, kodzuken. you two are the definition of a picture perfect couple, and you start to make lots of content together. as a result, your career begins to take off, and kenma’s content grows in popularity,

everything’s great— until it isn’t. the relationship ends up crashing and burning in an embarrassingly public breakup.

people are devastated. video essays are made. diehard fans even claim the split is the equivalent of “parents divorcing.”

it’s a whole ordeal.

but as time passes, the wounds heal. and in true internet fashion, it becomes old news. some people still whisper about how they believe you two are soulmates, but for the most part, kenma’s chat and your comment section don’t get flooded with invasive questions about whether you two will get back together anymore.

fast forward to two years or so after the breakup, you and kenma end up growing in your respective careers. his several business ventures have grown exponentially, and you’re now selling out stadiums.

kenma doesn’t stream as much as he used to when you two were together, but he chalks it up to having to juggle so many different commitments now. fans speculate as to whether or not that’s the true reason, but as a collective, they agree that they’ll take whatever content they can get from the elusive creator.

despite not streaming as frequently, kenma still likes to indulge his audience every once in a while by hopping online. normally, he likes to decide what to play, but every once in a while, he’ll let chat decide.

tonight is one of those nights.

on a whim, he gives in to requests for him to boot up fortnite— an old favorite of his— for the first time in months.

big mistake.

the second he opens the once beloved game, he gets jumpscared by something that even his worst nightmares couldn’t have fathomed.

you.

everywhere.

to his horror, and the chat’s delight, he finds that you’ve become the poster child for fortnite’s newest campaign. your face is on the menu screen, banners of you flash in bright colors, and you’re plastered everywhere in the item shop.

they say men are constantly haunted by the ghost of their first love, and in a cruel twist of fate, it’s a saying that has become ironically true for kenma as he realizes that epic games has made you into a fucking skin.

he debates the consequences of throwing his pc into a wall, but his screen flashes with an overly excitable chat faster than he can make a decision. old fans are freaking out, new gen fans are wondering what all the fuss is about, and someone donates just to type “YOU’RE FUCKED.”

kenma has half the mind to laugh as the notification illuminates his face because he knows the donor is right.

he’s not an idiot. he knows that you’re popular now, but to be so famous that you have your own skin? he’s in absolute disbelief. there’s no way the universe hates him this much. it’s bad enough that you’re on every headline and radio station. now you’re in his favorite video game?!?!

he is so unbelievably, irrevocably fucked.

—a/n: i think that kenma’s viewers are evil and they all band together and emote on kenma with ur skin whenever they see him online.

—a/n #2: has anyone written abt this concept before. pls lmk. i would love to read it bc i giggled so hard when the thought popped in my head HAHAHA.

—a/n #3: guys i don’t play fortnite, watch streamers, or write for kenma at all so pls don’t hate on me ok thx love u

[carpetbug]

that moment when you adopt a fuck ton of tiny gods at fourteen and get doomed by the narrative

[puddingforg]

what is hunter got sick? like the flu or cold? would that make it hard to control his size shifting ability? and how would Owen help? i mean one sneeze when hunter is giant and he flys away probably…

Well Hunter’s size-shifting abilities are mostly emotion driven so there’s not much to worry, tho stuff like this ⬇️ still happens

I don’t think a sneeze or cough can cause enough discomfort to make him go full giant, a fever may be more complicated, but as long as Hunter stays chill nothing should happen, HOWEVER ☝️ If for whatever other reason he were to go full giant while sick, he would try to stay as far away from everybody as possible, which would be essentially impossible with Owen around who would be ofc trying to help and some sort of “Tom and Jerry” dynamic would develop where Hunter would be trying to escape Owen as much as possible as to not put him in any possible dangerous situation and Owen would not give a f*ck

[inumkii]

coworker!touya who works with you at a shitty coffee shop that gets no traction whatsoever, its amazing how you still have a job. he suspects it must be some sort of money laundering front, but he’s never really cared enough to look into it.

with around less than ten employees total, the slow business allowed you to really get to know who you were working with. especially when shifts only consist of him and one other person.

coworker!touya who makes sure that one other person on the closing shifts with him is you. its not that hard; all he had to do was bother manager!shigaraki about it because he doesn't give a shit about this place either. he's pretty sure he's just working there because he's the son of the owner or something.

coworker!touya who finds one of only perks of working this part-time job (aside from seeing you) was the complete control over the music playing his entire shift. since the cafe is so dead most of the time, even more so working closing shifts, you find yourself talking to him a lot to fill up dead time. you both gossip about coworker drama, he tells you about the album currently playing on the speakers, you remedy him with little stories from your personal life. its comfortable.

coworker!touya who almost walks in the shop to start his shift one day, but stops himself when he looks through the glass window to find you behind the counter dancing with toga to a song you both have the lyrics memorized. he ruins the moment once he steps in and the bell above him dings, leaving you and toga snapped back into customer service mode (until you both realize it's just him). he bites back a smile thinking about how cute you looked jumping around behind the counter.

coworker!touya who doesn’t take the aux that day, letting you have control of the music (very generous of him. he knows). he pays extra attention to your constant humming and the way you let yourself dance to yourself when you think he’s not looking. he sneaks glances at certain songs you seem to like the most and add them to his work playlist as well. he likes seeing the extra buzz it gives you brighten up the already dull shop.

coworker!touya who decides the real perk of working this shitty cafe job was the fact that you have complete control of the music playing his entire shift.

[ruporas]

happiness today and tomorrow (ID in alt)

[lilactwilights]

can’t stop thinking about frat gojo finally catching feelings…

it seems the world turns upside down when infamous frat bro, rich heir and resident fuckboy satoru gojo ends up settling down. 

there’s collective bewilderment that eventually lands into a generalized sense of skepticism because there’s no way him, of all damn people, chooses to waltz around campus with an all caps BOYFRIEND label slapped into his forehead, and so proudly at that.

it seems to come out of nowhere, too.

well, almost.

(you were discreet, just not enough)

you are no strangers. you have some friends in common and turns out people have seen you around him before, orbiting around each other at parties or academic endeavors at uni. you have been caught getting handsy in some dark corner of a party at least a handful of times or shamelessly exchanging spit in the least crowded places on campus in broad daylight.

a little more than a few people have seen you leave with him to god knows where, gingerly climbing up into his car as the party rages on or after you clock off at your part-time job on campus. they have caught you skipping up the stairs of whatever place together or inconspicuously walk towards the least visible bookshelves at an almost empty library, hand in hand.

more than one have noticed you disappear for a while, together, his arm snaked around your waist like it belongs in there and have witnessed you come back with a slight yet telling stagger in your step and gojo’s lazy yet smug million-dollar smile clueing anyone with two brain-cells on what your impromptu absence entailed.

(allegedly, there have been some sightings of both of you in casual strolls at the park, having dinner at a 24/7 place and sharing ice-cream down the riverside, but there’s no enough proof of all that, so to speak)

it doesn’t mean anything. 

because this is nothing more than routine for him, a fleeting adventure for the casual partner in turn and rich entertainment for the eager public consuming tabloids or spreading school gossip. 

you aren’t supposed to stay. you aren’t supposed to last more than a few weeks. if they do get a bit flexible and accept the possibility of whatever you share lasting months –as long as it is on and off, because there’s a past record of that— and even if there are considerably less reports of you two sneaking or hiding around dark in favor of casual sightings in less obscure places, you only become a full-fledged anomaly the moment talks about him referring to you as “his girl” to his team, his fellow frat bros —or whoever, really— start spreading about.

It seems the balance of the universe is a bit off when people notice his following list has decreased considerably and click on it only to find an inconceivable absence of all the usernames linked to whoever he had fucked previously. worse, he creates a whole ass story highlight with your initials and a damn stupid heart and daily spams his stories with every picture of you he seems to have on his gallery, which turn out to be many, for some reason.

or when, during a game, he happens to blow a kiss towards the section you are casually sitting at and seems to look for something after the winning score and practically disregards the trophy and the hands reaching for him in favor of holding you and spin you around, still sweaty and flushed and laughing in a picture-perfect shot that does make it to the school papers and the official university sports account.  

you quickly become the talk of campus. there’s a sentiment that seems to permeate every conversation beyond the usual mix of doubt, jealousy or surprise when you pass by with your hands entwined.

you are surprised when you finally understand it’s pity. 

because the truth is no one believes in satoru. no one believes ‘whatever you have’ will ever work out. why would he willingly tie himself down with anyone that’s not a supermodel or super-rich and throw away all the potential wildness associated with senior year is beyond everyone around you. 

he is not boyfriend material. his track record doesn’t help his case and men like him can never successfully commit at such a young age, less with someone that seems to be so different from him and move around circles he has never stepped foot into. 

within a few days, most people have decided this is an experimenting phase or a half-assed effort to appease the family that’s rumored to be on his ass for all his unsavory rendezvous. the public consensus seems to be that he will get bored and break up with you soon enough after whatever feeling or result he is after is finally on his grasp again. most are already feeling sorry for you, mocking your naivety or criticizing his heartless proceedings. sometimes all three at the same time.

it seems to affect you, somehow. you hate it, but there are days when all of it makes doubt rear its ugly head and the bitter taste of self-consciousness settles in your tongue. no matter how hard you try, you end up closing in yourself, avoiding the avid eyes eating you both up whenever you go out. 

but it’s hard to dwell on all of it when you see who the most fervent believer of your relationship is.

satoru doesn’t seem to be affected by anything. he doesn’t seem to listen to nasty words or ill-intentioned comments, only ever addressing them or shutting them down with a cold fury that only stems from whatever discomfort this provokes on you.

he has always been confident and self-assured and it’s so used to accomplish every single thing his mind has set into. success is on his nature. beyond the privileges and advantages life has gifted him with, satoru is a stubborn, passionate man. his pride is a driving force most of the time and he’ll be damned if the thing he is most proud about doesn’t work out.

because people out there aren’t privy to the late night conversations, the shared jokes and the cosmic compatibility the university blessed you both with. your paths were made to intertwine, he is sure of that. even if all of it started with a stolen kiss and sex that was supposed to be as casual and inconsequential as he was used to, there was no stopping the unexpected evolution of your shared time together. he can list all the things he liked and then loved about you and recount and pinpoint every single moment that lead him to realize that, as cheesy and mortifying as it sounds —or it sounded back then, for him—, you are meant to be.

he wrestled with that notion for months, agonized over the incipient feelings he was not familiar with and avoided even thinking about the implications of a reality he wanted so so hard to run from. but he has never been a coward. he was so close to give up something he hadn’t even tried to reach so he ultimately took a leap of faith. 

he jumped right into an abyss he had never been to but he decided you are worth the fall and whatever landing he is met with.

he knows damn well it was hard for you to trust his spiel and his promises about feelings and about trying and he swore himself that if there ever was the tiniest possibility of this ending in heartbreak it wouldn’t be because of him. 

so he learns and tries and fails sometimes and it’s so damn frustrating for him because he is not used to make mistakes but he has never been in a real relationship before so everything is new to him and so he is forced to take baby steps when all he wants to do is sprint.

he has stars in his eyes when he talks about all the plans he has for you both. he kisses you with hunger and reverence and whispers in your ear all the reassurances you never told him you needed to hear.  he gets overwhelmed when you fuck because, until the sweet heat and warmth of your body, he never knew how it was to mix the fire of primal lust and desperate hunger with the fuel of emotions and vulnerability of so many shared feelings. and god, it’s scary. but he has never felt more satisfied and happy in his life than when you are wrapped in each other during the afterglow. 

he gets a taste of insecurity and experiences scorching jealousy for the first time, because he never had the fear of losing anything or anyone at the hands of someone more understanding or compatible or soft or experienced with feelings than him. until you.

he soon finds out that you can push his buttons and pull at his most sensitive strings like no one has ever done. you hold a power over him and that is as infuriating and terrifying as it is exhilarating. he is forced to walk down a line with careful and measured steps, down a path that is as unknown as it is gratifying. he doesn’t know where it will lead or when it will end –if it even does– or if it will become steep or sinuous or keep being as calm as walk in the park you usually stroll at. 

people tell him he is not mature enough and that this is not meant to last or even be.

but satoru gojo, the infamous frat boy, rich heir and former fuckboy couldn’t give less of a fuck.

everything feels right when he is with you so he will cling to you as long as you will have him, which is hopefully forever.

(actually, he thinks he might be in love with you. but that’s a whole other thing. it might be too soon to address that one.) 

a/n: i LOVE frat gojo. i love when he is a manwhore but i also love to think of him after getting rehabilitated. he would be so WHIPPED because it’s the first time he experiences real feelings. he would be obsessed with his partner, actually. might kinda border on pathological for some and he might scare a few people with how intense he is but, hey, as long as they are both happy. we need more men devastatingly and pathetically whipped.

[tangledinink]

i need to know how donnie fared being pregant...pregante even. i promise this is not a weird thing or intended to be ijust like babies.

there were definitely ups and downs and all that. donnie's main coping mechanism throughout pretty much the entire experience was just treating it a little like a science experiment-- he records every symptom, every milestone, every discovery, etc. keeps him from thinking too hard and then getting stuck in his head.

he also nests pretty hard, as pictured above, and goes through an absolutely horrendous morning sickness period for the first two and a half months or so. rough time for vomitello.

overall, i think he copes pretty well? has a really robust support system behind him throughout the whole thing and felt good about the decision he and his partner made, even if the whole thing was a... surprise, but i think he finds it a lot easier to kind of distance himself from the entire experience and frame it somewhat clinically? it just feels like a lot otherwise.

donnie ends up really enjoying being a parent and absolutely adores his daughters once they arrive, but just overall did not particularly enjoy the experience of having eggs. grumpy boy the whole way through.

(^ their outward appearance doesn't change very noticeably during pregnancy, due to the nature of their turtle anatomy, but their center of gravity shifts pretty dramatically and they lose their balance/fall down/trip, like... a LOT. even grumpier boy.)

... he also finds coping with hormones and the influx of emotions that come with them to be... difficult.

( ^ crying 'cause he lost a mobile puzzle game)

[thisnoah]

I am here to spread propaganda :)

[http-shield]

dilf?- bucky barnes

"Hey, sweetheart." Bucky croons at you as a muscular arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into the side of his body. A light kiss is pressed to your cheek in greeting as you snuggle into the side of the super soldier.

You turn to face him, eyes bright and beaming as you look up at your mission partner. It has been six long months of no Bucky and god, did you miss him. Something is different, you squint your eyes as you try to pin point the difference. Eyes the same, arm the same, muscular build that has your cheeks blushing, the same, hair slightly longer than before and not as brown. Grey. There are strands of grey within his hair, albeit no more than a few but they are there.

You blink up at him, starring at the discoloured strands before refocusing on his face. Not a single line marked his skin, not by his eyes or forehead, nothing to indicate he is ageing other than those silver streaks.

"What?" he asks, smirking.

You reach a hand up, fingers combing through tousled tresses.

"You're getting old." You don't mean for it to come out like that like it is a bad thing; in fact, it is far from. Growing old is a luxury that not many people have, not something Bucky has gotten to have, so knowing that he is ageing means he is living, enjoying life, and enjoying that process that everyone is desperate to stop or reverse.

"That's the first thing you say to me?" he chuckles, digging his fingers into your side. "Where are the manners of the kids these days?"

You squirm against his grip, trying to escape his assault on your waist, but you're firmly locked against him.

"That isn't a bad," you try to explain through giggles. “You're turning into a DILF; that's a good thing!"

Bucky stops and looks at you, utterly confused at the foreign word. "DILF?"

"Daddy I'd like to fuck."

"Please don't call me that." He sighs, finally releasing you from his embrace, his cheeks blazing red.

"Why not? It suits the new you."

"Because I'm not a dad. Why would you call me a dilf? If anything, I'd be a ....." he trails off as he struggles to find the right word.

"I can make you one if you want." you smirk at him, waggling your eyebrows.

"Make me a what? A new kind of name?"

"No, Buck. I can make you a father."

"How.."

You sigh, watching as the joke flies right over his head only to come back and smack him in the face two seconds later. These six months apart have really done numbers on him.

"Ohh," Bucky smirks at your unchanged humour. "You're getting too slick, kid." He wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you back against him.

"You can make me even slicker if you want"

"Jesus Christ, are you ever not on!"

[http-tokki]

Levi comes up beside you, hand sliding over your waist to rest on your hip and hold you close.

"I don't know how to approach this so I'm going to break it down." there’s a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"Uhh, okay?" you're confused and look up at him to give him a look.

"You know I respect you right? and that I know you're not an object?" he waits for your answer.

A huffed laugh leaves you, "Yes? why, where are you going with this?'

"So thats been established. I don't see you as an object to possess or own?” another pause for your acknowledgment. " I just want to make that clear because I don't want to say anything that's gonna make you think that I own you or-

"Levi, what are you talking about?'

"There's a guy over there," he nods his chin in the direction of said man. "Who has been staring at you all night and I really don't like it and I wanted to talk to you about it but I didn't want you thinking I was being possessive. I just don't like the way he is looking at you, like he wants to own you or something but you belong to - wait never-mind, I just don't like it."

"Levi?"

"Yes, love?"

"Do you belong to me?"

He pauses for a moment to really think about how to answer you. "Yes, I think I belong to you."

"And do you think I belong to you?'

"Well, I like to, I hope you do."

"Then I do."

"But you know its not in a toxic way, I'm not being controlling.”

"Yes, baby I know, but for all intents and purposes, you belong to me and I belong to you.”

[salmon-vive]

If he’s cat coded, does that mean Will purrs?

did u know will purrs just to pretend hes cute

[puddingforg]

Found myself craving some Hunter and Owen art. Could you hook me up, pretty please? They are just too cute.

Oh but of course! Here behold !

(For context Owen insisted to be lifted up even tho Hunter refused to do so multiple times)

And to complete here is some shitpost art w/ the og designs