#g-d willing it’ll be done this week

[ourbastardofsorrows]

something is happening…

[spices-and-cherries]

SFW alphabet for James Bond

As usual, I hope you guys enjoy this one! I have to say that I was more than a bit nervous about writing for James Bond just because of how hardcore the character is. He’s so different than either Benoit or Joe Bang that it’s a bit intimidating. So thank you to everyone who liked the last little headcanon I did for him!

Warnings: mentions of sexual activities and violence

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A= Affectionate (How affectionate are they?)

Due to his job, he really does try to be as affectionate as possible to make up for the lost time. He always has an arm around you or is following you around like some lost puppy. It’s cute at first, but then he starts getting in your way just to be a pest. 

B= Beginning (How would the relationship start?)

It probably started like any other of James’ flings with the ever iconic ‘Bond Girls’, but there was something about you that clicked differently. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself, or how you handled things or your constant back-and-forth banter. If you ask James when he fell in love, he wouldn’t know - perhaps when he first set eyes on you?

C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He enjoys it from time to time, but he’d rather spend that time doing more rigorous activities if you catch my drift. That being said, he’s more willing to cuddle after an especially harrowing mission.

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He’d like to eventually. He moves from place to place so much that it’s like he can’t afford to slow down. 

While his cleaning is sub-par, his cooking is very good. Luckily, he’s tall enough that he can help you out when it’s time to dust or to grab things off of the upper shelves.

E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

You’d wake up and he’d just be gone. No note, no nothing. You’d probably figure that he was in a rush for a mission, but after a while, it didn’t seem like that anymore. You’ll eventually put two and two together.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’s married to his job, so thoughts of domesticity are more like post-retirement plans than anything else. If he were to propose, it would be absolutely out of the blue and completely unplanned on his part. 

G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Super gentle and understanding. He’s always very careful as so not to hurt you on accident. While you may not see it, others can tell from the look on James’ face when he’s around you that he would do anything just to see your smile. 

He can also be pretty sensitive when it comes to emotions - it comes with his training. He’s figured out the signs and tells and know just what to do to make you feel better. 

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He won’t admit it, but he likes back hugs a lot. Regular hugs are fine, but back hugs? Ethereal. It feels nice to be a receiver, even if it’s as simple as a hug. 

I= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He won’t say it for a long time. He understands the risks his job has, and while at this point he’s too far gone with you, he unconsciously sees the L-word as a promise that he can’t necessarily keep. 

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Maybe not so much jealous as he is possessive. He finds that someone is getting too close for comfort, he’ll butt into the conversation with some witty remark that will likely embarrass them. Then, James will keep you at his side for the rest of the evening, refusing to let you out of his sight. 

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Sometimes they’re slow and sensual and other times, hungry. Either way, things are going to escalate pretty quickly. The first time you gave him a kiss on the cheek he almost took you right then and there. In all honesty, he’s too horny for casual kisses of affection.

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

He doesn’t have much interest in kids and they often find him intimidating. But if one daring one asks for a piggy-back ride the whole lot will be climbing all over him within seconds. He likes to joke that he feels more tired after being around kids than his missions combined. 

M= Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

Cuddles and sex.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Cuddles and sex.

O= Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

On the rare occasions that you have heart-to-heart talks, he’ll be somewhat more open about himself. He has so many walls up that he doesn’t even know that half of them exist. It’ll probably be after his retirement that he reveals everything (and even then, baby steps).

P= Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With you, he has all the patience in the world (unless you’re being a tease, in which case, watch out). 

Q= Quizzes (Who much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

His memory is impeccable in every way. He’ll know things about you that you may not even know of yourself. In your opinion one of the sweetest things he’s ever done was buy a couch that you said you liked months ago and personally carried it to your flat. 

R= Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Every single time he returns to you after a mission and sees the look of relief, love, and happiness on your face. 

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Super protective and would rather be killed than to see you stub your toe twice on the same corner. Literally say goodbye to that coffee table, because it won’t be there the next day. He won’t let anything or anyone hurt you - if he can help it - and he will take every precaution to keep you out of enemy sight. 

T= Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

At first, while they were glamourous, you weren’t getting the feeling that the time you spent together was actually a date. Turns out, when it comes to serious relationships, James has little experience to go off of. It will take him a while to start to understand that going on a date doesn’t always have to be full of diamonds and champagne. 

U= Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

His abysmal communication skills. He’ll just leave and you won’t know if it was to the grocery store or on a mission. You cannot count the amount of times you had leftovers due to him just disappearing. You did bring it up with him at one point, though, and he has tried to be better about it.

V= Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks? Do your looks bother them?)

Because of his years on the job, he’s grown to have a certain amount of appreciation for the finer things in life when he has a choice. Why settle for less when he can easily buy the suits he wants to? That aside, he thinks you’re amazing no matter what you wear. If it’s for a fancy dinner party, James will have some fun picking the perfect ensemble for the evening if you’ll let him.

W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

When he’s on the job, he can’t always afford to think about himself, but when his life is in serious danger, your face always flashes before him. On the rare occasions that he can take a breather, your missing presence becomes much more apparent. 

X= Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

If and when he can, James will bring back little souvenirs from the places he went during his mission. You now have an interesting assortment of little carved figures, shot glasses, and local candies (to name a few). He tries to get something different or unique every time. Once, someone broke the souvenir James had on him during a chase and sincerely regretted it moments after.

Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He wants someone who can hold their own. He enjoys be able to protect you, but he would be more comfortable knowing that you can fight. James isn’t a big fan of blind followers or yes-men. Think for yourself and be yourself (and have an eye for fashion if you can).

Z= Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs? Does it change around a partner?)

He’s a light sleeper - another thing that comes with the job - and that doesn’t change when he’s around you. In fact, it just might be worse because he won’t know what will happen now that he’s with you. Of course, it’s not all that bad because it gives him the opportunity to memorize your features or gather evidence of your snoring. 

I have a couple more things planned for James Bond during the upcoming weekend and some more content for Joe Bang next week! Please feel free to send requests or comment! It’ll make my whole week! :)

- Simpy

[cake-writes]

Risk

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: filthy smut with a smidge of fluff, language kink, breeding kink, subtle D/s undertones, marking, exhibitionism if you squint, 18+

Word Count: 1.7k

Y’ALL, I AM IN A MOOD THIS WEEK, OKAY??? HOPE YOU ENJOY. FUCK.

You love it when Bucky talks dirty. That’s a given.

He does it in English, mostly, but sometimes he likes to play a game with you – likes to break out his repertoire of languages and catch you off guard. It’s always at the most inopportune times, too: on a mission, usually, or in public. Places where he knows you’re stuck with him whispering the dirtiest things imaginable into your ear, things you just can’t understand.  

You love it. He knows.

So he ambushes you – cool metal fingers dig into the flesh of your hip as he murmurs something absolutely terrible into your ear, hot breath fanning against sensitive skin. A shiver wracks through your body at the low timbre of his voice, and although you can’t understand a lick of what he’s said, it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“What does that mean?” you ask breathily, looking up at him through your lashes.  

The two of you are in the communal kitchen prepping your meals for the upcoming week. No one else is around, but that’s not to say it’ll stay that way.

You can see the amusement dancing in his eyes – always such a lovely blue, but dark with the carnal implication in his words, whatever they were. 

Back in English, he teases, “Guess.”

“That I’m cute,” you suggest, playing along even though he’s very clearly turned you on. “That I’m incredible. That you want me to have your chubby little babies.” 

A joke.

Bucky’s eyes widen for a split second, and he stares at you – really stares – and that’s when you realize your joke isn’t too far off the mark. The flush blooming on his cheeks only confirms it, which instantly sets your body aflame.

“Bu—Bucky,” you sputter, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “Don’t—” Distant footsteps sound from the hallway, and you hiss, “Don’t say that.”

A split second of silence offers you a chance to hear the thumping of your heartbeat in your ears. The footsteps slowly disappear down the corridor, not that you particularly care because the edge of the counter is pressing into the small of your back and he’s caged you in. With his arms on either side of your body, flesh and vibranium, you’re trapped.

You love it. He knows.

“Why not?” Bucky whispers, holding your gaze with determination and holy hell, he’s serious.

Licking your lips does nothing to alleviate the sudden dryness in your throat.

“We can’t,” you croak, but it’s a lie.

Oh, yes, you can.

“You’ve thought about it,” Bucky whispers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your jawline. “I know you have, ‘cause I have. Don’t tell me you haven’t.”

He’s not wrong.

The breath hitches in your throat when he adds something else in another language you don’t speak, dulcet tones ghosting against your skin, but this time you don’t need feel the need to ask. Even you can tell what he’s said.

“Yeah,” you say in a delicate rasp. “Yeah, okay.”

Except you’re in just the right part of your cycle where you can’t.

Your consent is all Bucky needs before he lifts you onto the counter and nudges your legs open for him to slot in between. His lips and tongue ravish your neck as his hands grab your ass to pull you forward to the edge of the counter – and then you feel exactly how much he wants this, too. He’s rock hard, aching, confined by coarse black denim that feels entirely too good against the damp fabric of your panties.

Oh, yes, you can.

“It might actually take,” you blurt out, but in the heat of the moment that’s exactly what you want. You want it to take.

Bucky suddenly rips one of his hands away from your ass to palm himself, keep himself from blowing too soon. It’s an unexpected admission from you, one that’s sent him spiralling right along with you.

“Christ,” he swears, low and rough, and the look he gives you makes you clench desperately around nothing. He is serious. “You can’t just—” Cool fingers curl around the crotch of your panties and he yanks them to the side – almost tears them off of you in the process. “Gotta be inside you if you’re gonna say things like that, doll.”

Even you can smell the unmistakable tang of your arousal in the air. He slides two fingers from his free hand through your slick folds, as if testing to see how wet you are, and when you see his brows raise in surprise it makes your face flush even hotter.

Then the surprise gives way to smugness, and that’s when you know he’s found you out.

“Tell me how much you want this,” he says, smugness seeping into his voice, too.

An order.

“I— I want—” you stammer, but it’s all you can get out before his fingertips brush your clit, making you jolt, making you forget what you were about to say.

“You’re this soaked,” he puts emphasis on the word just as his fingertips dip just inside your entrance, “and I’ve barely even touched you. Why’s that, sweetheart?”

Taunts that make you shiver.

“You know why,” you try to sass, but it just comes out weak.

You both know that’s the wrong answer, but Bucky rewards you anyway. He slides those two fingers deep inside you with ease, before he curls them in just the way that has you keening and your eyelids fluttering shut, especially when he leans back in to suck a bruise on your neck.

A mark. A claim.

It’s that thought that makes your back arch instinctively, makes you press your body closer to his.

Then he lets your panties go with a snap against the inner junction of your thigh to embed his free hand in your hair, and he uses his grip to pull your head back. The sharp, pleasurable pain wrenches a strangled cry from your throat.

“I said,” he breathes into your ear, “why’s that, sweetheart?”

Another rough curl of his two fingers inside of you, and you whimper.

In this moment, you want him and every fucking thing he’s willing to provide. Even this. Especially this.

“Fuck me,” you plead.

You both know it’s more than that. 

It’s a bad idea, absolutely, but god is it a good answer and you know it’s the right one because he lets go of your hair to strip the clothing from his lower half. Deft vibranium works to unbutton and unzip his pants in seconds before his boxers hit the floor. His cock springs free, and he’s hard – too hard – positively aching for you, for this, for what you want from him.

But Bucky pauses, then, no matter how desperate the two of you are. He meets your eyes and just stops, and of course you can’t help but be mesmerized by the tenderness and care in those beautiful baby blues. 

A silent question: are you sure?

You’re not, but it’s not like the two of you aren’t prepared. You’ve been together for ages. In this moment, it just makes sense.

“Let’s make a baby,” you say breathlessly.

That’s when he kisses you again, slower this time – soft and sweet and gentle, which quickly morphs back into another passionate frenzy when he finally decides to put you out of your misery. Bucky slides home just as his tongue slides into your mouth, hot and wanting and dominant.

Another claim.

You can’t help but gasp at the pleasurable stretch, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re squeezing me like a vice, doll,” he breathes against your lips, and he stays still. “You want me to fuck a baby into you?”

He’s barely even started and you can already feel your walls constricting around him, trying to milk him for every drop he’s worth.

“God, please—”

Bucky watches your face as he slowly withdraws from your velvet heat – far too slow for your liking, but you know he’s trying to hold himself back from finishing too soon. Then he buries himself to the hilt in a single thrust, punching the breath from your lungs, and you reconsider.

“B-Bucky,” you stammer, arms flying around his neck as he fucks into you, his tight grip on your hips leaving bruises.

You don’t care about that, either.

Your breaths come out short, laboured as he slams over and over into your g-spot – he knows the angle, knows what you like, knows your body even better than you do. One of his hands slides up your abdomen to palm your breast through your shirt, and then higher to the back of your neck – cold metal chill against sweat-slickened skin, baby hairs on the back of your neck catching in between the plates.

You don’t care, because all you can focus on is him.

The way he’s looking at you holds you captive, holds you steady – holds you there until suddenly you’re hovering over the edge, just waiting to fall, but you know he’ll catch you.

“Are you sure?” he vocalizes this time, hoarsely, and you can tell he’s close, too. There’s sweat dotting his brow, and his thrusts are getting more and more frantic.

A warning.

“Fill me up,” you gasp out, legs tightening around his waist to pull him closer. “Give me a baby, Bucky, please.”

And then he’s kissing you again, all teeth and tongues, absolutely pounding you into oblivion until the hot coil in your abdomen finally breaks. You pitch forward and clutch at his shoulders, bury your face in his neck to muffle your cries as your walls clench down around him, desperately trying to milk him dry. That’s what sends him over the edge; the velvety squeeze of your slick heat has him slamming inside of you as far as he can go, once, twice, and then comes a delicious burst of liquid heat that marks your insides like a brand.

Another claim.

“Jesus,” he swears under his breath. 

Dazedly, you crack your eyes open to find out what’s the matter. Lips parted, face flushed, hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, Bucky looks absolutely wrecked. He’s not looking at your face, but down at your abdomen, where he’s just emptied himself inside of you.

Red marks all over your hips. They’ll turn dark later, but you don’t care.

Then he meets your eyes again, absolutely awed by what the two of you have just done.

Another silent question: You really think it’ll take?

You respond with a shy smile and shrug a little, but you’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a yeah. 

A soft, sweet kiss is what finally seals the deal.

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 4 - The Final Chapter

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, and Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

~

Content warning: past noncon, death discussion, off-screen death

~

Zachariah huddled lower and lower in the seat. The car rattled as Gray drove up the bumpy driveway to the house. They put the car in park and glanced at him where he shivered. He clutched his backpack on his lap on the front seat, his knuckles white. They wet their lips and turned off the car.

“It’ll be alright, Zachariah,” they said gently.

Zachariah nodded distractedly, his eyes unfocused. “Mm-hm.”

“Hey,” Gray said softly. Zachariah brought his eyes to theirs. “I’ve already told them you’re coming. No surprises. And they won’t… won’t, ah, hurt you.”

He nodded again. “I kn-know,” he whispered.

Gray pushed out a slow breath as he looked at them. So damned young, no older than Sam. No older than Edrissa.

“What are you worried about, Zachariah?” they murmured, speaking soft and low, just like they did with their family when they all were frightened.

Zachariah gulped and blinked tears away. “I… um… I d-didn’t, um, h-hurt them. But I… I was on the team that did. I… um…” His cheeks flushed and he looked down. “I h-helped… d-drag… Isaac, his name is Isaac… into his cell, once. I’m not the one who, um, who hit him, but… I… j-just, I just… watched. And S-Simmons…” His throat worked as he tried to swallow again. Tears stood in his eyes. “S-Simmons… held a, a gun to… to Sam’s head.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Their name is… is Sam. And I did… nothing.” His hands clenched in fists around the strap of his backpack.

“Hey,” Gray soothed, and gently placed a hand on Zachariah’s shoulder. “You helped them. Right? Isaac told me you helped carry Sam to the car after they—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Zachariah whispered. “They were… they were being tortured for weeks. I wasn’t part of it but I… I knew. And I did nothing.”

Gray fell silent and pressed their lips together. Their hand stayed firm on Zachariah’s shoulder.

“They let me live,” he breathed. “And I don’t know why.”

Gray tipped their head. “My family is largely a good judge of character. I’m sure they knew—”

“They knew I was willing to work for the Stormbecks,” Zachariah whispered. “And I begged them not to kill me. That’s all they knew about me. That’s it.”

Gray chewed their lip. “That’s all true,” they said softly. “But you also told me you didn’t have a choice but to work for them.”

Zachariah looked up at the house. He shivered. “I didn’t think I’d see any of them again,” he rasped.

Gray laughed before they could stop themself. “I don’t think they expected to see you, either, if I’m honest. But I…” Gray paused. “We’ve all done bad things. All of us. But we try again. And by doing what you did in the end, to help them…”

Some of us have done far worse. They bit down on their lip.

Zachariah nodded sullenly. “Okay,” he whispered, and wiped his nose.

“And…” It’s not permanent. When we find you a permanent home…

That probably wouldn’t help anything. Gray closed their mouth and climbed out of the car. Zachariah followed, his head bent, his eyes shining with tears. He trudged behind Gray as they made their way to the front door. Gray opened the door and stepped into the house.

Everyone was in the front room. Finn and Ellis sat on a couch together, bent over the coffee table, the puzzle there momentarily forgotten as their heads snapped up, their eyes fixed on Gray. Tori sat in an armchair. Vera balanced on the arm of it, a bowl of cereal in her hand. Sam and Edrissa sat on another couch, the sides of their legs touching, their fingers laced together. Isaac stood against the doorway to the kitchen. Everyone was there, except—

Gray’s brow furrowed. “Where’s—”

Gavin walked through the doorway from the kitchen and handed Isaac a mug of tea.

Zachariah gasped. His backpack thumped to the floor in front of him. “You… you have… G-Gavin Stormbeck…”

Gray took a step back. “I… I thought you—”

Vera took a bite of her cereal. “We call him Gavin Uriah now,” she said, seemingly unbothered by Zachariah’s reaction as she crunched at the bran flakes.

Zachariah blinked and shot a glance in Vera’s direction, eyes wide, before he stared again at Gavin. “Y-you…”

“Zachariah, I thought you… you knew?” Gray said, their gaze darting between Zachariah and Gavin.

Zachariah slowly shook his head. His eyes went wider as Isaac took a small step in front of Gavin, placing his mug of tea on the kitchen table. He reached back and clasped Gavin’s hand.

“But I… you… h-he hurt you,” Zachariah breathed. “H-he raped… he tortured you.” His chest heaved with gasping breaths. “I don’t… understand…”

“He was lying,” Isaac said, the faintest hint of a growl in his voice. “He was lying so his mother would trust him. He never wanted to. He was ours, the whole time.” Gavin gazed at Isaac with a look that made Gray’s heart ache. There was trust, there. Sorrow. Love.

They blinked and took a step towards Zachariah. “I’m so sorry,” they murmured. “I thought… I would have prepared you. I thought you knew he made it out with them.”

“Everyone thinks Gavin Stormbeck died on May eleventh,” Zachariah whispered. His eyes were still riveted on Gavin. “I… how…?”

“When you helped us,” Vera said, resting the bowl on her knee while her other hand squeezed Tori’s shoulder, “Gavin was getting Ellis.” She nodded in Ellis’s direction.

Ellis waggled their fingers at Zachariah. “Nice to meet you,” they said sardonically.

“N-nice to meet you, too,” Zachariah mumbled distractedly. He blinked and looked again at Gavin. “He… h-how long… has he…?”

“Ever since I left. The first time.” Gavin spoke up from behind Isaac. He took a step forward and folded himself under Isaac’s arm.

“You… I’m so confused,” Zachariah confessed. He shivered again, wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

“He’s good, Zachariah,” Sam said softly from the couch. Zachariah whimpered softly as he finally turned his gaze on Sam. “He’s with us. He has been, the whole time. The whole t-time we were… were there.”

“Sam,” Zachariah whispered. “I… I w-wondered if you… I worried…” He wrung his hands in front of him. “How…?”

“Finn fixed me up,” they said, pride warming their voice. Finn flushed where they sat on the couch. “They’re a medic. They—”

“I know,” Zachariah mumbled. “I know they… they helped… fix you. After. I knew about that.”

Gray’s chest ached with the sadness, the guilt lacing Zachariah’s voice. Everyone was silent for a moment.

“Gray,” Isaac said softly from where he stood with Gavin. “What happened with DFS?”

Gray’s lips quirked into a smile that the nickname had caught on. They opened their mouth to speak.

“What’s… ‘DFS’?” Zachariah said, looking around, his eyebrows pulling together.

“Daniel Fucking Schiester,” everyone said at once.

Vera burst out laughing. “Yesss,” she hissed.

Gray smirked. “We aren’t, ah, fond of our fearless leader of the north. So that’s our nickname for him. Well, it was Vera’s nickname, but I see it caught on rather quickly.”

“Oh,” Zachariah said in a small voice.

Gray nodded as their gaze move over the room. “We’ll discuss what I learned today,” they said, pushing down the cold thrill of dread that welled up in them as they said it. “And after that we’ll get you cleaned up, get you some new, warm clothes. We have a spare bedroom where we’ll get you set up.” They resisted the urge to glance at Isaac. They knew he’d be blushing anyway, at the mention of the room he never slept in. It would be cleared now, prepared for Zachariah in the three hours the team had had since Gray called them to tell them they were coming.

Zachariah stood frozen with his backpack at his feet. Gray gestured into the room. “Sit anywhere,” they said gently. “We don’t bite.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ellis said with a grin.

Gray rolled their eyes. “Except for Ellis, apparently.”

“You can sit here,” Sam said from their spot on the couch. They moved over, gently maneuvering with their right arm still slinged. Zachariah stared blankly at them for a moment before he bent and grabbed his backpack. He shuffled forward and sat awkwardly on the couch, as far away from Sam as he could get.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’m kinda gross. Haven’t had a shower in—”

“We used to live on the road, Zach,” Vera said with a smile. “We’re used to it.”

“Um…” He wet his lips nervously. “P-please… I want to be called, um, Zachariah.”

Vera straightened. “Oh. Sorry.” She pressed her lips into an apologetic line.

Sam pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and passed it to Zachariah. He took it gratefully and pulled it around his shoulders, his eyes unfocused.

Everyone’s gazes slowly made their way back to Gray. They cleared their throat. “So, about… about the mayor.”

“Tell us all about Danny boy’s shady shit,” Vera grumbled. She took another bite of cereal.

“Well…” Gray let out a breath. “He’s, ah… he’s killing people.”

The temperature in the room dropped.

“Who?” Isaac said, his voice careful and measured. His arm tightened around Gavin’s shoulders.

“Anyone he wants,” Gray said through their teeth. “Anyone who comes through with any syndicate affiliation. And anyone who comes through with a syndicate tattoo. That’s what the screening questions are for. He’s weeding out… syndicate agents.” The words tasted bitter on Gray’s tongue.

“But…” Sam’s voice shook. “If people lie… Z-Zachariah, did you tell…?”

“It wouldn’t matter,” he whimpered. He pulled up his sleeve. The Stormbeck crest stretched across the top of his arm in black ink.

Edrissa gasped and shrank back from him. She bit her lips and squeezed Sam’s hand tighter.

“We know what it’s like,” Gray said quickly. “We know that sometimes, you only have the choice between working for the syndicates, or starving. We know that you did what you could. And we… we know you didn’t hurt any of us.”

Edrissa blinked and relaxed slightly.

Zachariah folded forward and buried his face in his hands. He shook his head and muffled a sob. “But I didn’t stop it,” he whispered. “And you…” He lifted his head and looked at Isaac. Miserable tears shone in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. “I helped them hurt you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Isaac said, his voice tight. “You helped carry me to my cell once. That’s it.”

“After they almost shot you,” Zachariah whispered. “After they… after they beat you.”

“Zachariah,” Isaac said forcefully. Zachariah flinched and glanced at the floor. “Listen. I’ve been put through enough shit to, to tell you that…” Isaac shook his head. “You didn’t hurt me. So… don’t add that to your conscience. Okay? And you… you left. You helped us.” Isaac drew Gavin even closer to his side, almost like it was an unconscious movement.

“Not soon enough,” Zachariah whispered.

“Yes, soon enough,” Sam murmured. Their hand found Edrissa’s again. Zachariah stared at the floor.

Gray cleared their throat. “As far as I know,” they said as they crossed their arms over their chest, “The people going missing are going missing because Daniel is pulling them off of their caravans.” Their throat burned with the echo of tears.

Isaac’s eyes went wide. “But… l-like Caleb…?”

Gray’s eyes fell closed. “Ah. Yes. Caleb is… is dead.”

“No,” Isaac snarled. Gray opened their eyes. Zachariah and Edrissa both flinched away from his anger. “He… that motherfucker… you’re, you’re sure?” He looked at Gray, his eyes blazing with desperation.

“I’m sure,” Gray murmured. Their voice broke. “When we helped Aryn… he was killed that afternoon.”

“Fuck me,” Vera breathed. Tori reached up and clasped her hand. Tori’s eyes were bright, focused. She looked more present than she had been in several days. And even with the appearance of Zachariah… Warring hope and despair twisted through Gray’s heart.

“We’re… g-going to do something about it, right?” Finn asked, hesitant. They squeezed Ellis’s hand. “We can’t just…”

“No,” Gray said through numb lips. “We can’t.”

“Does he know you know?” Isaac said. Darkness brewed in his eyes, trembled in his limbs. And beside him Gavin looked…

He looked terrified. But below that, there was a hardness. Gavin looked murderous.

Gray briefly wondered what it would be like to go to war against Daniel, if the team had the ingenuity of Gavin Stormbeck at their disposal.

They shook themself slightly. I will never, never ask that of him. I’ll never ask him to use himself for destruction. He’ll never have to do that again.

“Yes,” Gray said softly. “He knows. He told me himself.”

Vera scoffed. “And he thinks we’re okay with that? He thinks we’re just gonna… what… let that go?”

“I don’t think he gives a damn what we think,” Gray said heavily. “He made that perfectly clear.”

“But we’re gonna stop him… right?” Sam said. They sat up straighter. “We can’t let him just… do this.”

“No,” Gray said, clenching and unclenching their fists. “We can’t. Not now that we… know. But… he made… some very explicit threats.”

Vera rolled her eyes. “Forgive me for not considering Daniel Fucking Schiester to be oh-so-scary after we’ve destroyed the Stormbecks,” she said, not batting an eye at Gavin.

“I do,” Gray said, watching Gavin carefully. He stood beside Isaac, strong, the violence in him falling and slipping beneath the surface again. “As far as we’re concerned, he’s the most powerful person in the north. He controls the entire refugee recovery program. He holds the line, and who knows what kind of resources he could muster if he asked for them?” Gray’s gaze moved over their family. “I consider him to be just as much a threat as Joseph Stormbeck. More, maybe. Because up here, he can control our allies.”

No one spoke.

Tori raised her head to look at Vera. Vera gazed back and leaned gently against her shoulder. When Tori met Gray’s eyes, they shivered. Fire burned in her eyes, and fierceness, and everything else that had been so gone from her ever since she appeared on their doorstep weeks before.

“Fuck ‘im,” Tori murmured, and her voice sounded strong. “We can’t let him do this.”

A painful smile pulled at Gray’s mouth as they looked back at her. She held Gray’s gaze. She didn’t look away, didn’t sink back against Vera. They nodded. “No,” they murmured. “We can’t.”

“So what’s the plan?” Isaac said, tense, shaking. “How did you find out about him, anyway?” He jutted his chin at Zachariah.

“One of Daniel’s people,” Gray said, bracing for an outcry. There was none.

“Does this person know Danny is killing them?” Vera said.

“I don’t think he does, no,” Gray said. They shuffled their feet.

“Would he be willing to keep sending us people?” Finn said, sitting forward. “I mean, if we could run the same operation we ran with Tori, just funnel people north and place them with people once we find houses… I mean, DFS doesn’t control every route in, does he? Would people notice if folks started showing up farther north without being sent through DFS?”

“I don’t know,” Gray said with a shrug. “I’d have to do more research. Which means I’d have to continue helping Daniel with the screening process.”

“I don’t think that would hurt,” Isaac said tightly. “Might even catch a few that way.”

“But we’re not going to… to wait until we have that figured out, right?” Sam said, and made a small, strange motion with their right hand where it sat tied against their chest. “I mean… we can start… start saving them now, right? We don’t have to wait?”

“Mathias said he only gets a few a year,” Gray said.

“I doubt that’s all,” Isaac murmured. “I’ll bet that’s just all he finds.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s true.” Vera drew a hand through her hair.

“But we’re doing this, right?” Isaac said, his eyes flashing. “We can’t… Jesus, Gray, we’ve been up here for… for three weeks and he’s been doing this evil shit right under our noses…”

“If we all agree to it,” Gray said. “We take a vote. Because this will affect all of us. This puts all of us in danger.” They leveled their gaze at Gavin. “Especially you.”

“Don’t give a shit,” Gavin said through his teeth. “He can’t… fuck. These people coming through… I understand when it was, was me, but… these people aren’t like me.”

Isaac pulled Gavin close and pressed a kiss into his hair. Zachariah watched with his mouth open.

“I’m for it,” Ellis said softly. “But I… I don’t…” They placed their hand on their belly and held Finn’s hand tightly.

“We can distance you from the operation,” Gray said. Finn leaned forward and opened their mouth to speak. Slowly, they closed their mouth again and looked at Ellis. “Does anyone else have any concerns?”

One by one, Gray looked around the room and met everyone’s eyes. One by one, each member of their family nodded.

“Alright,” they said softly. They reached into their pocket and pulled out their phone. “We’re doing this.”

They went to Mathias’s number, still not saved in the phone. They tapped it and typed out a message:

Send us each one like him that you find. And be careful. Give me a call when you can.

They smiled gently as they slid the phone back into their pocket.

Honor Bound 5 continues here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @whatwhumpcomments, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @justplainwhump, @moose-teeth, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @thatsthewhump, @orchidscript, @insanitywishes, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pretty-face-breaker, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @inaridriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump, @grizzlie70, @oops-its-whump

[lacetulle]

How do you reconcile the fact that some designers are/were terrible people? Like Coco Channel changed the fashion world... but she was also a Nazi. I know separating art from the artist is a thing, but how far does that extend in fashion?

First off, I know you asked this weeks ago. And it’s an important question, so I wanted to make sure I was slightly eloquent in my answer. But when I was ready to submit this, I decided to flip my answer. So be forewarned, this is going to be long  Initially, I thought “yeah, of course there’s separation between the art and the artist.” But now I think that can only be the case if you’re paying attention.

Going from idolizing Coco Chanel to finding out she was a Nazi, was a dramatic shift for me. But I didn’t have any problems looking at her designs and acknowledging how she changed the fashion world. I always enjoy seeing her pieces in museum exhibits…they’re beautiful and it’s always nice to see something in person. Finding out about Chanel’s past was probably my easiest compartmentalization of artists and their work. But the Chanel brand has always swept the bad press under the rug, allowing the average consumer to go along knowing nothing bad about Coco Chanel.

Much like Coco Chanel, I adored John Galliano. But I couldn’t separate his designs from his remarks for a long time. John Galliano’s anti-Semitic rant in 2011 was harder for me to compartmentalize.  By that time, I had been getting into Dior for a year, maybe two if I stretch it. So to find a designer I loved only to be slapped in the face with his “true thoughts” shortly thereafter was tough. And for a long time I refused to really study his collections. I didn’t hold anything against Dior, since they fired him immediately, but I remember feeling bad because for as talented as Raf Simons is, his tenue at Dior didn’t hold my interest the way Galliano’s had. It’s been nine years. He got sober. He’s spoken out about the scandal and expressed his remorse. He’s acknowledged how ignorant he was and that he’s grown to become a better person. Because of all his strides, it was only a couple of years ago when I finally felt comfortable diving back into Galliano’s tenure at Dior. I can now say that his time at Dior is one my absolute favorites and I hope he’s in a good place in his life. He’s not on that pedestal I had him on ten years ago, but there’s no denying he’s insanely talented. The fact that Dior fired him immediately was their way of ensuring no one had to separate the art from the artist. 

Then we can look at Dolce & Gabbana. I’ve always liked seeing their campy Italian shows along with Moschino and other Milan fashion week designers. I know D&G have had some beautiful collections (like their 2019 Alta Moda and Fall 2013 Byzantine shows just to name a couple). I’ve even seen other critics who are don’t like to give them any press, admit when D&G puts out a good collection – which is the prime example of separating art from the artist. It’s what I’ve strived to do with D&G because it’s another brand I grew up knowing at a young age. But Stefano Gabbana is consistently racist and just all-around problematic. And he’s never once apologized for it. At this point, I just assume he thrives on it because it brings the brand into the spotlight for a while. The fact that he continually makes racist/misogynistic/ignorant remarks with no remorse tells me all I need to know about him. He’s a terrible person. D&G is one of the more extremes for me…I tried to really separate the two and just appreciate a collection for what it was. But Gabbana’s reputation has seeped into the brand for me.

I know I’ve semi-recently posted D&G collections, and they’ve been in the queue for months. I received a couple messages asking me to stop posting them. So I went through my queue and pulled all the remaining ones down. I knew the big stories about Gabbana, but it wasn’t until I had the requests to stop D&G posts where I did more research and found a laundry list of receipts that Gabbana is just an ugly person.

There was an article about D&G and how the brand always bounces back and they attributed it to the fact that the average buyer just isn’t paying attention to who’s running the brand. Fashion almost has a safety net for problematic designers because they’re not the face of the brand. The clothes are. So if they stay out of the media, people will be none the wiser.

It’s easy for me to compartmentalize two of the three designers nowadays. What’s done is done at Chanel. I appreciate everything she did for fashion. Time will tell if John Galliano winds up with a nice legacy, but it seems like his life is on the right path now and I hope it continues. I love his work and knowing he has made strides to educate himself on his mistakes has helped me to fully embrace his body of work. But at this point, D&G shouldn’t be compartmentalized. Stefano Gabbana is who he is and will never apologize. So any time someone looks at a D&G collection, they should always remember just who designed it. And don’t give him a cent.

Long story short, I can only speak about my personal ability to separate the art from the artist, so it’s obviously not a one-size-fits-all answer. There are also a lot of people out there who are willing to turn a blind eye to someone simply because they like what they give to the world (a la Michael Jackson or Chris Brown). So I think the extension of separating art from the artist is much like it is in music or movies. It’s probably easy to turn a blind eye to an artist if they had an impact on you. Music and fashion are two ways we express ourselves on a daily basis and it can be really hard to work through the idea that an artist who inspired you can be a horrible person.

Diet Prada on instagram is a great page and they’re basically an industry watchdog. They’ve called out D&G countless times and yet the brand still comes out the other side. So it’s a good indication that even if someone in a position of power calls out Gabbana, the average customer for D&G doesn’t pay attention. Or even worse, they don’t care.

Everyone is going to have a different threshold for when they decide to dump a brand all together because of its designer. If someone is consistently messy, it’s probably a good time to stop caring about their art. Also a big lesson that I’ve had to continue to learn throughout my life…don’t idolize people. We don’t know who anyone truly is, and it’ll save a lot of heartache if something bad comes out.

If you made it to the end and can’t believe I wrote all that with no definitive answer, I think that’s pretty indicative that the lines are murky in fashion. I think it truly depends on the individual looking at a collection and whether they can support/appreciate it while knowing the designer has a dark past.

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Ateez NSFW A-Z

Hongjoong

A = Aftercare

He’s pretty good at aftercare. He does like to take care of you and as a partner he’s pretty protective of you so he puts in some care but he probably won’t go all out unless you’re planning something particularly rough. Most nights he’ll shower with you after, get you some water and maybe a snack, and cuddle with you.

B = Body Part

He loves his hands. He loves how they fit into yours. He loves how they let him feel every inch of your body. And he loves the way you look at them, how two of his fingers can have you falling apart so easily. On you he loves your waist and hips. He loves the shade of your body and grabbing onto your hips when he pulls you in for a kiss. And he loves having a tight grip on them when he’s pounding into you.

C = Cum

He likes to make a bit of a mess with you. He really can’t resist seeing you on your knees for him and the visual alone turns him on so much. So when you do a good job sucking him off he can’t help but cum on your face. He loves the way it looks and when you gaze up with him with your eyes hazy with lust it easily has him already getting hard again.

D = Dirty Secret

As much as he likes being in control, he wants to try giving up control to you. The idea is a little scary to him but also really enticing and hot. He had no clue how to ask for it but he knows that if he chose to do it with anyone it would be you since he trusts you so much to take care of him.

E = Experience

Not as much as one might think. One, maybe two, steady partners. So he’s done enough to know his way around a body and he’s got the basics down but it’ll still be a learning experience when you do start fooling around as he tries to figure out what works for you.

F = Favourite Position

You laying on your back and him standing. He can hold onto you easily. He can see you well, watching the way your breasts move and how your face contorts in pleasure, and he has a lot of easy control over how fast or slow he goes so he can get just the reaction he wants from you.

G = Goofy

This depends a little on his mood. He leans towards passionate or loving at times but if you get him in the right mood and you’re both really giggly then it will get goofy. You’ll both be really lighthearted and the whole atmosphere will be sweet and silly and if neither of you takes it seriously it’ll be a lot of fun.

H = Hair

Barely thinks about it. Once he starts dating he cares a little bit more. He’ll trim up a little bit and keep it clean and low key stress that not what you want but when you don’t say anything about it he assumes it’s fine.

I = Intimacy

He leans towards intimacy. He loves being close to you and a lot of the time it starts out more intimate and then grows more passionate as the night goes on. It’ll also grow more rough over time but when you’re both tired the whole thing will be holding each other close and soft kisses and love.

J = Jack Off

A few times a week to every other day. He won’t tell you that it’s that often but it is and he definitely does it more once you’re together if his schedule doesn’t allow him to see you. The longer he’s away the more needy he gets especially if you send him pictures

K = Kink

***

L = Location

As comfy as the bedroom is he really likes the living room. He loves when you’re both so needy that you don’t make it to the bedroom. When he pushes you up against the wall and kisses you and grabs at your hips and he ends up bending you over the couch and taking you from behind.

M = Motivation

Skill. He loves seeing you showing off your skills. Be it you creating something or talking about something you’re knowledgeable about or practicing a skill it gets him going. He’ll shower you with compliments and the more they bolster your confidence the better. He loves seeing you confident and bettering yourself.

N = NO

While he doesn’t mind some brattiness he doesn’t want you to be hot and cold. He’s willing to talk things out with you but if you won’t tell him what’s wrong and give him the cold shoulder until he gets mad and then throw yourself at him he’s not going to be impressed. It’s a turn off when you act really immature.

O = Oral

L O V E S oral. Like he loves to receive but he’s very v e r y good at it. It makes him so so smug to see how fast you become a mess for him when he’s between your legs. The more you moan his name and pull his hair the more rough and passionate he’ll usually get. Although when he’s really focused nothing will distract him and he’ll make you cum over and over again on his tongue until you’re a dripping, shaking mess.

P = Pace

More often than not it’s fast but it does depend on the mood. He can be slow and with deep, sensual trusts but when both of you get worked up the pace is fast and rough and often you egg him on to get him to be even rougher.

Q = Quickie

He can be down for a quickie from time to time. Usually happens in the dorms and maybe once or twice backstage. He usually likes to have some time with you but when you’re really worked up he can’t resist the thrill of hiding away with you and trying to finish before anyone realizes you’re missing.

R = Risk

Life is only fun with a healthy amount of risk. He definitely won’t do anything where fans would find you but he’s very down to have sex of fool around where staff, his members, or other idols might walk in on you. The adrenaline rush is a little too much to resist.

S = Stamina

His stamina is pretty good. He can go one longer round or two shorter rounds before he needs to stop or wants to just sleep. 

T = Toy

He doesn’t mind using toys on you but most of the time it’s only to show you how good you’ll feel from his hands, mouth, or cock. He’ll only ever really use them to tease you a bit and maybe make you cum once before proving that he’s far better than any toy.

U = Unfair

Oh he would definitely rather tease you. He could tease you little by little all day long and he loves to do it when you let it happen. It’s amusing to him to get you so desperate. But when you turn it around on him he loses his patience really quick. It is a really fast way to get him to be rough with you though sooooo

V = Volume

He’s a little loud. His moans tend to be more so in the middle of his voice and only on the off chance that you get him to sub do you really get a chance to hear his whiny, high pitched moans and gasps.

W = Wild Card

He likes it when you put in a lot of effort. He won’t ask you to dress in lingerie all the time or have the room all set up to be romantic but any time you too it gets him right in the heart because he can really see how much you care.

X = Xtra

He puts in effort, but he doesn’t usually go crazy. His extraness is more so in his passion for you and how worked up he gets with you, how much he likes to get to a point where neither of you can hold back and you’re both desperate for each other.

Y = Yearning

In his ideal worked you’d have sex a few times a week and if you ever go on vacation together that’s something he’ll be looking forward to but mostly when you’re busier than that it’s once a week maybe more if you can see each other more often.

Z = ZZZ

He doesn’t fall asleep right away. In fact the only thing that will really allow him to be tired is when you’ve nearly fallen asleep. He always falls asleep after you do, he’ll always be closest to the door and he gets upset when you wake up and slip out of bed in the morning without waking him so he can see you off.

[celestiababie]

Yeosang NSFW Alphabet A-Z

(finally ffs) 

A= Aftercare (What they do/act like after sex)

 He’s a god at aftercare. He’s incredibly caring and would want to take care of you as much as he could, even if sex with him wasn’t intense. He’d always offer to give you a shower, glass of water, and sing you to sleep. If you ask, he’ll deliver happily.

B= Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

 On himself, he loves his hands the most, he adores how he can run his hands over your body, and you’d have an instant reaction to his touch. The feeling of your skin against his fingers would be something he’d never get over. On your body, he’d actually love your hands, he loves touching you, and he loves being touched by you. Whenever you trailed your hands down his body, he’d get tingles and shudder at the feeling. This would also mean that he’s quite the fan of handjobs, sksksksk.

C= Cum (Anything to do with cum… I’m a disgusting person)

 This one is hard for me to decide on...I feel like he’d be too respectful to cum on your chest or face without asking, and he’d also find it to be too messy. He’d most likely prefer to either cum inside of you or cum on your heat. The sight of his climax glistening on your hole would be mesmerizing to him.

D= Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

 As much as Yeosang is amazing at taking care of you and puts others first, he’s fantasized about you taking more control/babying him inside of the bedroom. He thinks it would be a nice change of things, but he’s too shy to address this fantasy of his. Yeosang shy boi 2k19.

E= Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

 Yeosang is one of the members who I believe has the least amount of experience, but this doesn’t mean he can’t learn. He’s very observant and after a few tries, he’d memorize the things that made you have a better reaction and focus on those things. Give him a bit of time and sex with him will be guaranteed pleasure.

F= Favorite position (This goes without saying)

 Missionary, it’s a bit basic, but it allows him to keep eye contact with you, and it allows him to touch you as much as he wants. He prefers this position for the intimacy of it and loves the fact that you can touch him. He especially loves when you grasp his shoulders and pull his body closer to yours.

G= Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Or are they more humorous?)

 He’s not goofy, but there is a lightheartedness to the intimate moments you share together. Sometimes he’d giggle at what he thought was a cute facial expression from you or playfully nibble on your ear. He’d still be intimate but in a loving yet playful way.

H= Hair (How well-groomed are they?)

 Yeosang is...somewhat groomed. He’s not the cleanest, but he doesn’t have a forest down there either. He trims so it’s manageable, but it’s not something he’s too worried about. 

I= Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

 He’s very very VERY intimate. He’ll constantly say how amazing you are, how much he loves you and how good you feel around him. He is the definition of a soft boy and no one can convince me otherwise. Yeosang would definitely be the type to try and make sex even more romantic by lighting a few candles for “mood lighting”. 

J= Jack off (Masturbation)

 Not that often even before you two got together. If he felt horny, sure, he’d pleasure himself, but his first thought would always be you. Sometimes even if he’s needy and you’re not around, he’d just ignore the feeling and let himself cool down. He prefers your hand over his.

K= Kinks (One or more of their kinks)

 He’s more on the vanilla side, but he has a thing for praise, both giving and receiving. He likes to shower you in compliments throughout sex even though he’s usually not very talkative and hearing praise from you would make his heart swell. He also has a thing for you jerking him off, he loves the feeling of your hand wrapped his cock. He’d let out the cutest moans and place his hand over yours to guide the pace. Yeosang would find it sexy if you licked his cum that spilled onto your fingers. I’m disgusting oof. 

L= Location (Favorite places to do the do)

 Prefers the bedroom, he thinks it’s the most comfortable, and there’s less risk of getting caught while you two have sex. Yeosang would be pretty embarrassed if anyone walked in on him rolling his hips inside of you. 

M= Motivation (What turns them on?)

 He’s not one to get easily turned on, but he is easily flustered, so you making sexual comments or jokes would make him imagine certain things and then get him needy for you. He’d also get a bit aroused if you rubbed his thigh since you were touching him close to his crotch. 

N= NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

 ANYTHING TO DO WITH PAIN, HURTING YOU, BLOOD AND ANYTHING REMOTELY SIMILAR IS A BIG NO FOR HIM. He’s a soft boy who doesn’t want to hurt you at all, the mere thought of it would make this poor baby feel bad. If you really wanted him to, he could try, but he wouldn’t enjoy it at all.

O= Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

 He’d prefer your hand over your mouth, but he wouldn’t pass it up by any means. He’s pretty good at giving you head, he’s amazing with his tongue, the combination of that and the fact that he’s very caring leads to him wanting to make you cum as much as he possibly can. He’s great at studying your responses when he flicks his tongue a certain way or kisses your heat. Overall, he’s amazing at giving head, but we all could have guessed that.

P= Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

 He’s on the slower side and he loves rolling his hips inside of you rather than full-on thrusting. He keeps a steady pace and rarely uses hard thrusts/roughness on you...well maybe if he's jealous.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex and how often?)

Not a fan of them, it doesn't allow him to take his time and he prefers going slow rather than rushing. He'd rather wait for a time that you both can have sex properly.

 R= Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

He'd only experiment if you brought it up. He'd be a little hesitant to try new things, but if he could sense that you really wanted to try something, he'd be willing to do it for you. He's found out he likes a few things that he never thought he'd be into.

 S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

He doesn't waste a whole lot of energy during sex since he doesn't go fast or hard. He can probably last for hours if he really wanted to and he can go for multiple rounds. Even if sex with Yeosang doesn't take too much on your body in one round, you'll be tired by the end of the night from how many times he wants you to cum.

 T= Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them?)

Yeosang would be confused if he ever found a toy of yours, he'd be hesitant to ask you about it since he was embarrassed that he was somewhat confused. After researching it a bit on his own, he'd be intrigued since toys could heighten your pleasure, but he still wouldn't talk about it.

 U= Unfair  (How much do they like to tease?)

He can get unfair sometimes and one of his favorite things to do is tease you for getting aroused from the slightest of touches. He doesn't mind you teasing him back and he has enough patience to deal with it.

 V= Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

Yeosang isn't very loud even if your heat gives him the most pleasure he's ever felt. He'll let out soft moans and pant in your ear. If he felt that he was getting louder than what he was comfortable with, he'd hide his face in the crook of your neck and kiss your skin.

 W= Wild Card (Random headcanon)

"Baby, are you sure you want to do this?" You stroked Yeosang's hair as he stared at the blindfold that was laid on the bed.

You had suggested a while back as a joke that you wanted to blindfold Yeosang and ride him... Clearly, he hadn't understood that you were "joking" and he went out of his way to get a blindfold. When he showed you what he had bought you were surprised, Yeosang was your innocent and soft boyfriend and yet here he was with a blindfold.

"Y-yeah...I'm sure." Yeosang looked over at you before looking back at the blindfold. He picked it up and handed it to you.

"You should put it on me."

Your brows raised at him surprised that he was actually going through with this. "Fine, but if you feel uncomfortable or you need me to stop, tell me, okay?"

You gently placed the blindfold over his eyes and Yeosang's breath immediately hitched at the lack of sight. You started to kiss his ear softly before whispering softly, "How do you feel, Yeosang?"

He shivered at your breath against his ear and he could feel his body heating up. He's never gotten this aroused this fast before. His cheeks were tinted red as he shifts slightly. Looking down, you noticed the tent in his pants forming. You smirked at your boyfriend and slithered your hand down his chest, moving down to his stomach before grasping his length through the material of his pants. You began to rub him softly and a low whimper escaped his lips.

"Hard for me already?"

 X= X-Ray (Lt’s see what’s going on in those pants)

He's on the average size of the spectrum and a bit slender which isn't a bad thing at all. He's an expert at rolling his hips into you at this point, so regardless of his size, he'll know how to hit all the right spots.

Y= Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Yeosang doesn't have a high sex drive, it's not something he craves 24/7 like others, cough cough Wooyoung cough cough. He'd be fine with 1-2 times a week, but if you had a high sex drive he'd try to keep up with you.

Z= ZZZ (How fast do they fall asleep afterward?)

It varies, sometimes it'll take a while, sometimes he'll fall asleep as soon as he's done taking care of you, BUT! HE CAN NOT SLEEP IF HE HASN'T GIVEN YOU AFTERCARE. Point, blank, period.

[stovetuna]

I really want to ask for stevetony + Exes AU? I'm so weak for the pining and angst of the getting back together trope

same??? I know I shouldn’t but I am nothing if not weak. I hope you like it! I want to say this is 616, because Tony’s self-loathing here feels like peak 616!Tony to me, but not set at any specific point in time. 

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For six months, nobody knew that Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were dating.

Which means no one knows they broke up six weeks ago.

Looking back on it now, those six months were just stolen time, a pocket-life Tony knew he’d never get to live out to its fullest, but he likes to think he took advantage of every second of it.

That’s a lie. He wasted it. He knows that now, better than he’s known anything in his entire life, and that includes JARVIS’s coding and what it felt like when Obie forcibly removed the arc reactor from his chest. He spent six incredible, heartwarming, spine-melting, almost-picture-perfect months in a relationship with Steve Rogers, a man he’d been in love with for years before that, and no one knew about it. 

Because as it turns out, Tony Stark is a coward.

Tony puts down the razor and stares at himself in the mirror. A mask of dread with a freshly sculpted goatee stares back. It’s too early for that much feeling, but this is the position he’s put himself in.

It’s also his first day back in the city after spending the past six weeks in Malibu, “to make sure SI feels equally loved,” as he told the team at their last group dinner (while pointedly ignoring Steve sitting across from him at the table and the fact that even then he couldn’t not see the way the man’s face fell at the news). 

Obviously that’s only half of the story, but no one needs to know about how Tony spent most of those six weeks moping around in that big empty house wearing grubby shirts and eating pints of half-melted Half Baked ice cream out of the container (and then exercising himself sick to make up for it).

Now, he’s got a fresh full-body tan from time spent in the sun, a slew of new tech ideas for the team (including an infinitely better low-profile tracking device for Natasha, because who says he doesn’t do nice things for people), a mostly-rested brain, and a packed schedule that will allow for very little—if any—interaction with Steve. 

It’ll be fine, he tells himself, watching condensation streak through the remnants of steam on the mirror. This is just like any other breakup, only slightly complicated by the fact that he leads a team of superheroes with his ex, and was best friends with his ex for years before they got together, and still thinks the world of his ex, and still wants his ex, and is still madly in love with his ex. 

Just like he did in California, Tony doesn’t think about the bottomless pit of empty taking up valuable real estate in his stomach as he wanders from the bathroom and starts arranging himself into a vaguely Tony Stark-shaped person. 

Autopilot is as useful a function in the Iron Man suit as it is in the rest of his life, especially these past six weeks—buttoning his shirt, Tony notices but doesn’t worry about how he can’t feel the fabric under his fingers, or the pinch of his dress shoes as he pulls those on; the world has been slightly out of focus ever since he and Steve broke up, and the feeling of walking through life with only half the lights on upstairs and a black hole where his viscera used to be is all too familiar. 

It’s how he felt years ago, dying slowly, then quickly—not quickly enough—of palladium poisoning. 

The device that is keeping you alive is also killing you.

He chooses a pair of gunmetal grey sunglasses with fluorescent red lenses to go with the Tom Ford suit he somehow managed to put on right. Before walking out the penthouse door, Tony checks himself in the massive, frameless mirror: everything is in its right place. He looks like had a nice vacation and came home without a care in the world. He doesn’t look like a man who broke his own heart out of cowardice and is now walking through life with self-inflicted blood poisoning. 

If he tries hard enough, harder than he did back then, no one will notice anything is wrong. 

It’s just Tony’s luck that the first person he runs into is Steve, glowing from a workout (it’s Thursday, Tony remembers, which mea ns cardio and time on the heavy bag) and just as beautiful as the last time Tony saw him. 

“I’ll give you space, as much as you need, I promise. Trust me, this is for the best.” 

Steve’s not crying, but it sounds like a near thing. His face is drawn, flush with emotions Tony doesn’t want to read into, but even distraught Steve is still the most gorgeous thing Tony’s ever seen. Then Steve is reaching out with both hands and he has to back away. “Tony, just, wait—”

He looks almost small, vulnerable in a way Tony isn’t used to, and the only thing he really wants to do in that moment, standing in Steve’s bedroom surrounded by moving boxes (an hour ago they were getting ready to move in together—funny, how quickly things change), is take Steve into his arms and keep him there where it’s safe. But that vaguely possessive urge living constantly under his skin is what led to this, this crossroads which finds Tony doing the one thing he never wanted to do: “I can’t, Steve, I’m…I asked you for all the wrong things and now you’re miserable, and you—God, you of all people deserve happiness. The least I can do now is let you go so you can find it.”

Tony manages to say it without dying, which might be a miracle. He’ll call the pope later and ask. When he leaves Steve’s room, it’s to the miserable sound of Steve’s voice breaking in the middle of Tony’s name. By the time he shuts the door behind him, it’s too late to wonder if this is all a huge mistake, but Tony still feels part of his heart splinter off to stay behind with Steve, where it belongs.

Funny how after six weeks away with no contact of any kind, all that R&R and R&D and B&Js and G&Ts, one look at Steve is enough to put Tony right back where he started, heartsore and winded like the hurt is forcing the air from his lungs. 

Steve looks—he looks good, of course he does, but Tony was always especially weak for slightly disheveled and endearingly domestic Steve Rogers wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants. It doesn’t help that Steve looks happy, like the past six weeks have done exactly what Tony dreaded and hoped they’d do when he broke up with him, like Steve’s had time to finally breathe freely, spread his wings a bit, experience the world in ways he never got to with Tony when they were together.

He looks lighter. Younger. Fuller. More. It’s enough to crush something in Tony that feels remarkably like one last ember of hope, the bitterly selfish hope that Steve was as wrecked by the breakup as Tony.

“Welcome back!” Steve says with a bright smile, wiping sweat from his brow with an end of the towel hanging around his neck. “How was California?” 

Tony is distantly aware of his mouth hanging open, but he’s too caught up in how awful he feels seeing that smile on Steve’s face to respond. He shouldn’t be surprised, after all, that Steve is happier not dating Tony—it’s why Tony broke up with him in the first place. Steve was miserable, and now he’s not. Mission accomplished. 

“Hey,” he finally manages to respond, even as he ducks out of Steve’s path toward the kitchen to make coffee (he’s already had a cup, but he needs to busy his hands and have something to look at that’s not Steve’s perfect fucking face). “California’s the same as it ever was. Rhodey says hi.” 

Behind him, Steve hums thoughtfully. “Hi, Rhodey,” he says, knowing Tony will pass it on, because of course Steve would, and of course Tony will. Tony scoops ground coffee from a bag, not caring which one he’s dipping into, and fills the bottom of the French press as the electric kettle comes to a hissing boil. 

“Anything happen while I was gone?”

When Steve speaks again, he’s much, much closer, and Tony wishes like hell that that didn’t make every single hair on his arms stand on end, that the low baritone of Steve’s voice didn’t make Tony shudder and want to bend himself over the counter. That part of their relationship is over. He has to move on.

“Not much,” Steve replies, easygoing, like having this conversation isn’t the last thing he wants to be doing this morning. Tony knows deep down that this is just Steve playing nice, doing his best to mend fences for the sake of the team. If possible, the knowledge just makes Tony feel worse, which he didn’t think was possible. “I’ve been working on putting together intel on possible new recruits, like we discussed. Want to take a look?” 

Like we discussed, he says, Tony thinks to himself as the kettle clicks off, ready to pour. Steve’s sense of diplomacy is truly on another level, considering how this exact topic of conversation came up in the first place. 

“I’m not saying we’re not enough, Steve,” he says, willing his hands to stay at his sides, “I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt to have more bodies on the team so that the next time we get hit with a Galactus or something like it, we’re not scrambling for reinforcements at the last minute.”

Steve, still sitting at the now-empty conference table, pinches the bridge of his nose and frowns. 

“What we need is for the team—our team—to work together better. We need to cultivate what we have, not pad the ranks and hope for the best.” 

“And we will! But we can also think ahead and save ourselves a lot of stress and pain and suffering down the line.” Tony knows his frustration has reached its boiling point the moment he snaps: “I mean for fuck’s sake, Steve, I thought you were good at multitasking.”

The look Steve gives him is dark, but not exactly angry. It’s the kind of look he gets whenever he wants to make Tony listen to something Tony thinks he doesn’t want to hear. Usually it involves compliments or Steve verbally placing value on Tony’s life. It also usually involves—

Tony isn’t surprised when he blinks and finds himself pinned to the wall, Steve fitting himself in the space between his thighs like he belongs there (which he does. He absolutely does). One month in and the experience of Steve manhandling him like a pro still hasn’t lost its electric thrill; if anything, it’s only gotten headier, more dizzying, the best high Tony’s ever experienced, and it’s heightened by the fact that he’s the only one who gets to have it. 

He opens up for Steve’s bruising kiss like he’ll die without it. Groaning, Tony falls deep into the pleasure of it, of Steve’s tongue fucking into his mouth like he owns the place, hot, wet suction unraveling any lingering arguments Tony might have. He throws his arms around Steve’s neck and a leg around his waist, a question in the gesture that gets answered immediately when Steve picks Tony up by his thighs and wraps both legs around his hips.

Everything is heat and the raw, jagged edge of their mutual frustration, Steve scrambling at the zips on Tony’s undersuit with fumbling fingers even as his clever tongue continues its single-minded precision assault on Tony’s. Tony whines when he feels the skin of his ass and thighs meet the open air of the conference room. They’re thousands of feet above ground aboard the helicarrier, about to fuck in a public space, and even as Tony moans lewdly at the thought of being discovered in flagrante delicto with Steve Rogers, a small and insidious part of him reels at it, desperate to keep this whole thing under wraps and to themselves. 

Steve is the best thing—person—Tony’s ever had. He’s been half in love with him for years and now, having him like this, Tony can’t believe how much time he wasted. Sometimes he catches himself thinking about how it’ll be when they’re old and grey and married, the soft domesticity of their well-deserved retirement, Tony working on vintage cars in the garage while Steve fills the top floor of a house with paintings, and it doesn’t scare him as much as it probably should. 

But he hasn’t told Steve how much the thought of going public scares him. How terrified he is of losing Steve to the rest of the world, which will tear them limb from limb the moment it learns of their relationship. The Stark PR machine will kick into overdrive to smooth things over, and on the surface everything will appear fine, but it won’t change the fact that they will never know privacy again; every photo taken of them in battle, out in the world, together or separate, will be subject to a level of scrutiny Tony knows only too well, but which Steve has never experienced. It’s horrible. Infuriating. Invasive, demoralizing, and not a little bit traumatizing. When Tony told Steve about Princess Diana’s death, long before any of this—them—started, he couldn’t wipe the memory of Steve’s devastated and furious expression from his mind for weeks.

They’ll talk, eventually. For now, Steve takes Tony apart with his fingers, slick with lube he keeps in his belt, his other hand curled over Tony’s mouth so he can press up hard against him and whisper things in his ear, dirty promises that make Tony’s toes curl: “Always like riling me up, don’t you, Stark,” he grunts, fucking his fingers up into Tony like it’s his job, slicking him inside and out and grinding the heel of his palm against the sensitive spot behind his balls on every third thrust until the only coherent thought running through Tony’s mind is Steve’s name. 

Silenced by the hand over his mouth, Tony expresses his feelings by pushing back against Steve’s hand in perfect synchrony as he squeezes his bared thighs against Steve’s waist, which, fuck, he’s still wearing the suit, they need to have post-mission arguments more often. “Yeah, that’s it,” Steve rumbles against his cheek, burying a third finger, thick and dripping into Tony’s ass as he does, “you just want me to fuck you like this all the time, don’t you? Keep you pinned and open so I can slide in any time I want.” Tony keens against Steve’s palm, nodding so hard he dizzies himself; Steve groans and moves his hand to open Tony’s mouth with his thumb. “Say it, Tony,” he orders, and that’s definitely his Captain America voice, fuck—

“Want you to keep me open,” he gasps, helpless to stop from drooling all over Steve’s thumb still perched on his bottom lip as his other hand drives Tony into a frenzy, hard and insistent but not hitting him where he needs it, it’s not enough, “never want you to stop fucking me, want you to fill me up until I leak, plug me u-up—ungh, fuck, Steve…”

“I would,” Steve says before kissing Tony again, slow and sensual the way his fingers aren’t, fanning out and plunging in again and again and again until Tony can feel how exposed he is, gaping and trembling and so, so wet. Steve’s still kissing him when he pulls his hand out and, after a moment’s fumbling, drops his belt and opens the front of his uniform pants. 

Tony moans into the scorching kiss when Steve drags the head of his massive cock through the lube dripping out of him, fisting the rest of his length with what’s left on his hand from fingering Tony open. “Can’t imagine a world where I wouldn’t want to,” he whispers, covering Tony’s mouth with his hand again as he guides his dick into that too-empty place inside Tony. He slides in, watching Tony’s face with a possessive gleam in his eye, cheeks and ears red with arousal and exertion. That hot, slick slide makes his head spin every time, the stretch an incontrovertible reminder that this is Steve, Steve who slots so perfectly into place like he belongs there, who fills Tony to absolute capacity and then fucks him so good it’s any wonder Tony can keep quiet. He holds Steve’s hand over his mouth and presses down to smother the noises leaking out him, high-pitched whines and gasps as Steve drives in deep and pulls out to the tip, looking down to admire the view with a dangerous smile before plunging back in hard and fast, pinging Tony’s prostate spot-on every time like it was a fucking doorbell. He does it once, twice, slow and steady as he considers the angle and the pace, watching his dick glisten before disappearing back into Tony’s all-too-willing-body, and then he gives Tony a look, and Tony knows he’s doomed. 

It’s quick and dirty and wet and Steve has to bite Tony’s neck to keep himself quiet; Tony hangs on for dear life as Steve bounces him ruthlessly on his cock, holding him up against the wall by the strength of his chest against Tony’s and his broad, heavy hand over Tony’s mouth and the constant, driving force of his hips as he fucks him. The belly of Steve’s uniform brushing up against the head of Tony’s otherwise untouched dick every time Steve plunges into him is the most erotic kiss, a damp buss of sweat and pre-come against kevlar and leather that sets every one of Tony’s nerve endings on edge.

“So good, Tony, oh, fuck—” Steve groans under his breath, palming Tony’s thigh before pulling the leg out wide to better accommodate his bulk. Tony can’t think; he can only barely remember to breathe. He might be making a noise, but if he is only dogs and supersoldiers can hear it, probably. What were they fighting about again? What’s his last name? The only word in his head is Steve, SteveSteveSteveSteveohfuckSteve…

“Take it so good, Tony, yes, baby, yes, yes…” Steve holds Tony close in his powerful grip as he comes, shaking and gasping, inside Tony’s ass. Tony can feel the throb of it against his rim, the heat and heft of Steve’s dick inescapably everywhere inside him, and then he keeps going, fucking Tony with his big, beautiful cock in a rapid battery of thrusts, loud and sloppy with his come, never letting up on Tony’s prostate even as he trembles and gasps against Tony’s shoulder like he’s just run a marathon. Tony’s eyes roll up inside his head. Everything is buzzing, his blood pure fire with the need to come; he hasn’t shot off untouched in years, but trust Steve Rogers to surprise Tony every which way from Sunday. Steve is whispering in his ear again, praising him as the fingers of his free hand drift down to feel where they’re connected, the froth of Steve’s come easing the roughness of that touch. Tony chokes on a cry. The knot of orgasm is right there in his pelvis—all Steve has to do is fuck him, there, right, there, yes, oh, fuck…

“So beautiful, Tony. Love watching you come for me.” 

Steve pulls his hand away as Tony comes and kisses him, swallows the desperate sounds of his orgasm like he’s starved for them. He keeps Tony pinned safely to the wall as Tony’s legs give out and shoots ropes of come all over his own chest. He’s shaking like a leaf from head to toe and can’t even muster enough bandwidth to feel shame—Steve loves it, after all, and says so, kissing the words one by one into his mouth like tiny prayers. Loves the way Tony lets go, loves how he trusts Steve like this, how he looks when all he can feel is the pleasure Steve gives him. 

“Could hold you like this forever,” he says, once Tony can open his eyes. Tony smiles, his bruised and tender lips straining: there’s a drop of come on the underside of Steve’s jaw. He brushes it off with a sigh and sucks it off his thumb. The glimmer of interest in Steve’s eye is echoed by the twitch of his cock, still buried hilt-deep in Tony’s ass. 

“Deal,” Tony hums, leaning forward to kiss Steve long and heartily, one last time before they have to go back out into the world and pretend this—their relationship—isn’t a thing that exists. 

They’ll talk, eventually.

Tony pours the hot water into the press and watches the grounds float up and swirl around in the dark. 

“Sure,” he says, not turning around to look at Steve, as much as he wants to. It’s for the best, he reminds himself for the thousandth time that day. The less he looks at Steve, the easier this will be for him. For both of them. “Send ’em through the server so JARVIS can throw them up for me when I get back to the lab tonight.” 

There’s a moment of silence so immense it’s any wonder Tony can’t hear his own heartbeat. Then:

“Tony.” Oh, no. He knows that ‘Tony,’ and it’s everything he can do to not shut his eyes as he braces himself for what comes next: “Could you—turn around?”

Steve doesn’t even have to use his Captain America voice to get Tony to do as he asks. By the end, it was like that all the time: Steve would ask, and Tony would oblige, and the ease with which they learned to communicate as a couple was unlike anything Tony could have hoped for, except for the part where Tony didn’t want to go public with their relationship and could never get Steve to understand why. 

Looking at Steve now, Tony withers, wishing the kitchen floor would open up and swallow him whole. Steve still looks a million times better than Tony feels, but there’s a pinching around his eyes that Tony recognizes as concern, and it shouldn’t make his heart sing to know Steve can still feel that about him, but it does. Backlit by the morning sun coming in unobscured through the mansion’s massive windows, Steve looks like an angel come to earth, bright and warm and golden. Tony feels small and twisted and hollow in comparison. Weak. A coward, who let this man slip through his fingers for fear of losing him later on down the line.

“Are you doing okay? I know we—things kind of…ended, abruptly.” Steve says the word ‘ended’ like it tastes bad. His face screws up like he’s sucked a rancid lemon. It’d be endearing if it wasn’t directed at Tony for Tony’s sake. “I’ve been worried about you.” 

Tony waves a hand at him, smiling beatifically like the words don’t make him want to drop to his knees and beg Steve’s forgiveness. 

“I’m fine, Cap,” he replies, not Steve, and even Tony can tell Steve is pained by the change of address by the way his fingers clench around the towel in his hands. “You?”

Steve visibly swallows. “I’m fine,” he says, and he sounds like it. He certainly looks like it, smiling like the free man he is. Fine might actually be the truth, in Steve’s case, even if it isn’t in Tony’s.

“Glad to hear it!” Tony almost shouts as he pivots back to his coffee, pressing down on the plunger too soon, but he’s so harried by being there in the kitchen with Steve on his first day back to worry about a weak brew. 

“Sir, I’m being told to remind you that your ten o’ clock is waiting for you at your office.” 

Tony winces. “What time is it, J?” 

“The time is currently ten twenty-nine.” 

“I’ll let you go, then,” Steve says, already leaving the kitchen before Tony can respond with anything. He manages to catch Steve’s eye as he waves back at Tony on his way out. He looks happy, Tony reminds himself. You let him go so he could be happy. You have to let him be happy.

The coffee scalds when he drinks it, but the burn is good. It reorients the pain currently trying to wring the blood out of Tony’s heart, gives him something to focus on that isn’t this unbearable, overwhelming sense of regret. Heat to burn away the creeping chill that breaking up with Steve was the biggest mistake Tony’s ever made in his life. 

After four months of pushing the conversation off for another day, four months of dating in secret—sneaking touches when the others have their backs turned, never spending the night in each other’s beds even after bouts of sex so intense they can’t remember how their legs work, pretending not to care more than is reasonable when one of them goes down in a fight—Steve finally sits Tony down and asks him why. 

Or, more accurately, he makes love to Tony slowly and sweetly for what feels like hours, until Tony is literally crying from pleasure and the overwhelming need to come, and then when Tony finally, finally breaks and whispers that magic word, “Please,” Steve bends him almost in half with a groan that shakes the bed and then plows home until Tony is sobbing and tearing the sheets as he comes. 

Then, when they’re both sated and clean and curled up on the dry side of Tony’s California King, Steve places a hand on Tony’s stomach. Tony can feel it shaking, and he knows what Steve’s about to say. 

“I want to tell the team.” 

Tony closes his eyes and groans. “Steve…” 

“Please, Tony. We need to have this conversation. We should have had it ages ago.” 

So much for enjoying the afterglow. Tony sits upright in bed, warmed by Steve’s hand coming to rest on his thigh. The other man stays laid out next to him, looking up at Tony like he’s his guiding light when all Tony’s done is drive him to this point: Steve, nervous, looking guilty for asking for something of Tony he doesn’t have the courage to give. 

“I just…you remember, when I told you about Princess Diana?” 

Steve looks confused for a moment. When understanding sets in, smoothing his features out to an expression of wary comprehension, Tony feels a rush of love so intense he has to lie back down just to keep the blood from rushing to his head. Steve Rogers is so much smarter than anyone gives him credit for. It’s Tony’s second favorite thing about him. 

“You’re worried I’m going to get killed being chased by paparazzi?” He says, moving in close and reaching out for Tony’s hand. Tony takes it, weaves their fingers together in a perfect fit. He stares at Steve’s fingers instead of looking him in the eye. Steve’s fingers are his fifth favorite thing about his boyfriend. 

“In a sense,” Tony replies. “I’m worried about what happens to us when ‘us’ no longer involves you and me, but everyone—the team, Pepper, the board, the government, our enemies…I’m worried that once the press gets a hit of us, they’re going to drain us dry, and all of it—the gossip, the speculation, the invasiveness…it’s going to drive us apart.” 

“Tony,” Steve sighs, leaning forward to kiss Tony’s forehead. Tony can’t help but press into the gesture. He can feel Steve’s lips curve up in a smile when he does. “You’ve been holding on to this all this time?” 

“It’s a valid concern, Steve.” 

“Maybe,” he replies. “And maybe it’s something you could have discussed with me before unilaterally deciding to keep our relationship a secret.”

There’s a deep undercurrent of hurt in Steve’s voice, and Tony would beat himself with the Hulk’s fist if Steve would let him for putting it there. Tony wills himself to meet Steve’s gaze then—even in the semi-darkness of his bedroom, light seems to spill out of Steve. His eyes are bright and focused, tracking Tony’s face like he’s reading a tactical map. Naked, post-coital glow is a good look on Steve, as is pretty much anything, if Tony’s being honest. 

“Can you blame me?” 

“Tony,” Steve sighs again, like it pains him, and Tony winces at that tone coming out of Steve’s mouth. “I wish you loved yourself half as much as you love me.” 

Wow. “Wow,” Tony says, jerking backward like Steve just gut-punched him. Already Steve is scrambling, tangling his legs up in Tony’s expensive sheets as he sits upright. 

“That’s not—hell, Tony, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“And how did you mean it, Steve?” 

“I just…you think this hasn’t crossed my mind before? Going public and losing our privacy in the process? You’re talking like you’ve already decided that the end of our relationship is inevitable because the world is going to drive us apart, and I know the reality is something else, something you feel like would be your fault, and I don’t like you thinking so little of yourself that I would let that happen.” 

Tony gapes up at Steve, floundering like a fish for words that won’t come. Steve bends over him, brushing their lips together in the gentlest caress of a kiss in order to kickstart Tony’s brain. 

“Just talk to me, Tony.” 

Tony places a hand over Steve’s heart to feel it beating. It’s comforting in a way nothing else is. His heart’s far and away Tony’s favorite thing about Steve Rogers. 

“It’s—this is my whole life, Steve,” he says. At Steve’s confused expression, he goes on: “The press. The world, thinking its owed every piece of your life story, including and especially the things you’re still trying to work through.” He thinks back to when he read an article about Sunset Bain shortly after her betrayal, an “investigative exposé” on their relationship and her seemingly-overnight rise to success. It was tabloid pablum, at best, but it still scraped at something raw and vulnerable in Tony. Or, even worse, the explosion of press following his parents’ death, the countless headlines, the day-in, day-out of it all, phone calls and bell ringers and paparazzi camped outside the tower. The cumulative effect put a stop to a healing process that had barely begun, and Tony was still dealing with the fallout of that. 

“I’m also terrified you’ll wake up one day, look out the window and see a throng of paparazzi outside waiting to grill you about the latest cheating scandal or accuse you of abusing me because someone saw bruises on me after I fought a Skrull wearing your face, and you’ll decide you don’t want to put up with any of it anymore.” Tony takes a deep breath. “But all of that? That comes with me, Steve. I wish it didn’t. You can’t know how much I wish it didn’t. But that’s the reality we live in, and I wanted—I just wanted to keep you to myself for as long as possible, before they got their hooks in you and you decided I wasn’t worth it.”

Steve looks at him for a long time and doesn’t touch. He stays in place, leaning over Tony, one hand next to Tony’s head, the other trapped underneath it, and just reads Tony like the open book he’s revealed himself to be, cowardice and all. When the silence reaches the point of suffocation, Tony lets his hand fall from Steve’s chest. 

That’s that, then. 

“I’ll let you get some sleep,” he says, moving to work his way out from under Steve when the other man stops him with a hand on his hip. Tony pauses and looks up, sees Steve staring down at him with all the love and consternation Tony’s used to seeing there in his smiling blue eyes. 

“Stay,” Steve whispers before leaning down for a kiss. Tony gives it to him. He’d give him everything if he could. He’s helpless to do anything else, not when he loves Steve Rogers this much. 

Tony finishes his meeting with the clean energy consultant—an engaging, exciting discussion about bringing arc reactor tech and associated jobs to underserved communities in the mid-west and Appalachia, for starters—just in time for a text from Rhodey: Don’t turn on the news. 

He’d just managed to scrounge up a good mood during that meeting. It would be a shame to ruin it so soon. Naturally, he does exactly what Rhodey told him not to do and turns on the TV in his office. He does it expecting reports of a stock drop, or Stark weapons being sold on the black market. He doesn’t expect to come face to face with footage of Steve laughing freely with his arm around Sam Wilson’s shoulders, Sam’s hand wrapped snug around Steve’s bony hip, the two of them walking together down 5th Avenue in the sunshine.  

The entertainment “news” “reporter” says this footage was taken minutes ago on a bystander’s cellphone. Tony sinks into a chair in front of the widescreen TV, helpless to stare as he watches the 15 second clip repeat itself over and over as the airbrushed talking heads gush and gossip about Sam and Steve, two all-American good guys making up the hottest couple since sliced bread. 

Of course Steve would end up with Sam, Tony thinks. Sam is the kind of good Tony could never hope to be—no blood on his hands, at least not like Tony has and can never wash off, no matter how many lives he saves. He’s Steve’s age, and smart, and stable, and trustworthy down to his core. He’s also hot as hell, Tony can easily admit, even if Steve burns hotter than anyone who enters his orbit. Tony once joked with Steve that Tony was the ugly one in their relationship, but Steve’s sour expression had stopped Tony from expanding on that particular line of self-deprecating humor.

And, god, when did Steve ever laugh like that with Tony? Sometimes he got close, coming up with little bon mots that made Steve throw his head back and guffaw, but that beaming smile and the way his laugh booms and echoes across bustling 5th Avenue is unlike anything Tony ever saw when he and Steve were together. 

He looks relaxed and happy in all the ways he never was with Tony. Because you never let the world see you together, a little voice reminds him. It sounds remarkably like JARVIS. Steve deserves happiness. It’s why Tony let him go. After their heavy-duty pillow talk (and another memorable round of lovemaking, with Tony taking the reins and fucking Steve on his stomach through the mattress until he was crying and begging for release), he’d asked for a little more time to work through his issues. Steve, ever the patient boyfriend, had granted it to him. Tony had offered up moving in together as a compromise, which had thrilled Steve endlessly. But when two weeks became a month, and a month became two, and Steve’s mood only soured further and further until every conversation became an argument and every argument ended in slammed doors and heavy silence, it became clear to Tony that this wasn’t an issue he was going to be able to work through in time to keep Steve, keep him happy, keep him his. 

So he let him go. And now Steve’s with Sam, who’s seized the opportunity to show Steve off to the world, and who can blame him? If Tony had been stronger, more self-assured, more defiant of the assumptions placed on him by the world around him—if he’d loved himself even half as much as he loved Steve Rogers—that would be him taking Steve shopping, making him laugh and smile as he tucked his hand around that lovely hip and held him close while the world watched on in envy. 

But he was a coward, and now he’s watching footage of Sam on a date with Steve play on a loop while vapid, boneheaded commentators speculate about their relationship. 

Tony’s phone buzzes again with another text from Rhodey. I told you not to watch. 

He tosses the phone away and buries his face in his hands with the beginnings of a sob, a sound he chokes down like the booze he kind of wishes he still drank. He’s not proud of the thought, but the misery of truly losing Steve—and any hope of fixing what he broke between them—has opened a window to everything he’d ignored while in Malibu, sunning himself and pretending he hadn’t wounded himself beyond repair. 

Tony leaves the TV on, hunches over on himself, and just as he’s about to let the tears fall, an obnoxious beeping rouses him. 

“Wha—?”

“Sir, there are reports of an attack on 5th Avenue,” JARVIS announces. Dread drops a block of ice down Tony’s throat, so cold and horrible it almost freezes him in place. What if Steve…

Tony is up and calling the suit before the thought can finish itself. It’s waiting for him in the lobby by the time he steps off the elevator, rushing to fill the vacancy as panic claws at his throat. “J, cross-streets.” 

“The Wrecking Crew are currently being engaged at the intersection of 5th and 26th.” 

Engaged is a nice euphemism for attacking, and Tony knows without having to ask JARVIS that the focus of the attack was on Steve and Sam, whose location was just broadcast to the entire world. 

He flies faster than he’s technically allowed within city limits, but the law can wait. Steve’s life can’t. Unlike the armor, Steve can’t call his uniform to himself, nor can Sam sprout wings and fly them out of there at the drop of a hat; they’re two against four heavy hitters, and as much faith as Tony has in Steve and Sam’s abilities, those are odds he’s not willing to gamble on. 

“For the last time, Tony, I’m alright.” 

“Oh yeah, Cap? Tell that to the eighteen inches of rebar SHIELD medical just had to surgically remove from your thigh.” 

Steve is struggling to sit upright in his hospital bed, one leg fixed firmly in place by a mummy’s worth of bandages. Tony keeps himself to the far wall so he can look at Steve—alive, thank Odin and Thor and any other Asgardians whose names Tony can’t remember—and not be tempted to touch him, hold him, kiss him like he wants to, has wanted to for years and has never admitted to. It’s hard to keep himself away when Steve almost just died, but he manages. He always does.

“Did everyone make it out okay?” Steve grunts. Tony knocks his head back against the wall hard enough to hurt.

“You got everyone out before you let the building fall on you, remember? Oh, of course you don’t, because a whole building fucking fell on you while you were still in it!” 

“Tony…” Steve is squinting and holds a hand up to his head. Tony didn’t even consider Steve’s concussion when he started shouting, fuck. 

“I’m sorry, Cap—fuck.” He wipes a hand down his face. “That rebar missed your femoral artery by a quarter of an inch. You’ve got a concussion and broken ribs and the only reason you’re still alive is because of the serum. Watching—ugh, I need to sit down for this.” 

Tony takes the shitty plastic chair next to Steve’s bed and sits down hard enough he wonders if it will break. He’s close enough now to see the mottled bruising that’s made an Impressionist painting out of Steve’s handsome, perfect face, but somehow the discoloration doesn’t detract from the beauty of this man. It just makes him seem more human—precious, even. Tony folds his hands in his lap and does not look at Steve’s hand hanging over the side of the bed in front of him.

He draws a deep breath and lets it out with a rush of words: “Watching you almost bleed out on the street was the most awful thing I’ve ever seen, Steve. The thought of losing you was even worse. So don’t tell me you’re alright when you’re not, because I’m definitely not alright, and I wasn’t just shish kabab’ed by a rusty piece of metal through the thigh.” 

Steve hums thoughtfully, like he always does when he’s thinking something new and meaningful for the first time. Tony looks up and catches his eye, or rather Steve catches his—like a fish on a hook. When his lips turn up in a knowing smile, Tony knows something is up.

“You called me Steve.” 

“Uh,” Tony frowns, “Yeah, ‘cause it’s your name.” 

“You must have been really scared if you’re upset enough to use my name.” 

“Don’t tease me, Cap. I don’t respond well to teasing.” 

Steve’s eyes light up with something Tony might hazard to call joy. 

“And what do you respond well to?” 

Tony looks at Steve, then at Steve’s hand, which has turned upside down, fingers hooked ever so slightly inward—an invitation if Tony’s ever seen one, and he’s seen more than his fair share. He stands up from his crap chair and steps in close enough to breathe Steve’s air and feel the warmth—the life—radiating off of him like rays off the sun. Steve looks like hell, beaten and bruised and only a couple hours removed from standing at Death’s door, and Tony has never seen anything more beautiful. Steve’s resilience is a wonder to behold, let alone draw from. It’s his…fourth favorite thing about him. 

But can it really be this easy? 

Tony opens his mouth and says it. “Positive reinforcement?” 

Steve’s answering smile cracks his lips again from where they split during the battle, but Tony is too caught up in kissing them—kissing Steve—to care. And then Steve takes his hand and holds it, and Tony vows then and there to never, ever let go. 

The HUD is a brightly colored mess of information: live police reports from the ground, vital signs of wounded civilians, schematics of every building between 28th and the Flatiron, but all Tony needs to know is where Steve is, and if he’s okay. 

Please, please be okay. 

He dials into the Avengers main comm line as he scans each building for heat signatures. “Cap, pick up.” 

“Tony!” Steve’s voice comes through loud and clear and audibly relieved, which melts some of that frozen terror still lodged in Tony’s chest. “124 5th Avenue—we managed to lure the Crew down to the basement, but—” Steve’s report cuts off with a startled, agonized cry. Tony curses and heads for the address, flying right through the front entrance (which isn’t really an entrance anymore so much as a giant hole in the wall) and dropping down through the gaping hole in the center of top floor all the way to the basement. The Wrecking Crew did some heavy damage in a short amount of time, as is their way, but Tony isn’t worried about the bill right now.

“Cap!” 

A sound like a hammer on an anvil echoes through the basement, followed shortly by another cry. Angry, this time, not at all like Steve’s. Tony floods the place with light from the armor, both arms up and ready for action, drawing the attention of the four behemoths fighting blind all the way in the back. 

“Candygram for Mongo,” Tony chirps as Thunderball takes a running start at him. He brings him down with a power-dampening electric net, which drops him like a sealed sausage onto the cold basement floor. Bulldozer is next, rushing Tony on his left flank while his hand is down. Classic mistake, thinking that just because Iron Man’s gauntlet is down he’s defenseless: Bulldozer takes a swing and clips Tony’s shoulder, which only unbalances Tony for a moment before he recovers and fires a volley of flares right into Bulldozer’s masked face. 

Bulldozer roars and backs away, tears streaming as he tries to see his way past the fiery sparks. 

“Cap, report!” 

“Over here, To—agh!” 

Fuck, no. Tony shackles Bulldozer with twin sets of reinforced power-dampening manacle and leaves him writhing on the floor in pain next to Thunderball before going off into the dark expanse of the old basement in search of Steve. Sam he finds on the way, locked in hand-to-hand combat with Wrecker—Tony pauses on his way to Steve to knock Sam’s opponent out with an iron hand to the back of the skull. 

“I had him!” Sam shouts, even as relief washes over his strained features. Iron Man shrugs, hovering a few inches above concrete. 

“You can take all the credit,” Tony says. He tells himself it doesn’t come out as bitter and envious as he feels, knowing that Sam has what Tony was fool enough to let go of, but now’s not the time for any of that. He jets off to look for Steve, Sam in hot pursuit; the basement is a labyrinth the further in they go. Old brownstones and their ridiculous planning are the bane of Tony’s existence, both as a landlord and as a superhero currently trying to find his ex-boyfriend in the maze of bricks. 

He banks hard around a corner when he hears Steve curse, gauntlets up so he can see: Piledriver at Steve’s back with an arm around his neck, and even against Steve’s considerable size the guy looms large, threatening the choke the life out of Steve with a smile on his face.

“Ah, there’s your knight in shining armor!” Piledriver cackles, squeezing his arm harder around Steve’s neck. Steve is turning purple, scratching and kicking at the body behind him to no avail. It’s hard to get a good shot in a dark, contained space like this—a bullet might ricochet and hit Steve, or Sam, and absolutely no way in hell is he firing off a bomb down here. Tony doesn’t linger on the knight in shining armor comment. He lowers his hands, repulsors whining as they power down. 

“What do you want, Piledriver?” God, seriously, the names these schmucks come up with…

“Just waiting for the cavalry to arrive!” With a bloody grin, Piledriver reveals his other hand: in it, an old Stark bomb that went off the market years ago. 

That cold block in Tony’s chest spreads to his extremities. Oh no. 

“Alright, Piledriver. You let Captain America and Falcon go, you can have me. Deal?” 

Steve struggles harder, gritting his teeth against the pressure cutting off his air supply. Piledriver holds the bomb out to his side, cackling again—that manic laugh always unsettles something in Tony. All he has to do is drop the bomb on its tail to hit the pressurized switch and in seconds, they’re all goners. The only good news is that the blast radius itself isn’t significant: if he can get Steve and Sam far enough out of the way, that should be enough to save them. 

“JARVIS,” he says, switching over to private comms, “single shot to the head should do it.”

“Sir—”

“Now, J.”

The concealed gun in Iron Man’s shoulder appears with a hiss of metal—the bullet is out in less than a second, hitting Piledriver square in the center of the head. It’s not enough to kill him, but it dazes him long enough for Steve to escape his grasp and knock him back with an elbow to the sternum. Tony rockets forward and grabs Steve, one eye still on Piledriver behind him. 

“Tony!” Steve rasps, holding onto the suit like a lifeline. 

“Falcon!” Tony shouts. Sam appears from behind the corner. “Go long, and take care of him.” 

Even in the HUD display, Steve is the most beautiful thing Tony’s ever seen.

“Tony, what—”

Without another word and with all the grace of a major league pitcher, Tony pivots and launches Steve bodily at Sam, who catches him in his arms in a full bear hug before hauling him around the corner behind the brick wall. By the time Tony turns around, Piledriver’s hand has gone slack. 

The bomb drops. In the spare second he has to react, Tony grabs Piledriver and hurls him across the room, mostly out of harm’s way, then launches himself on the bomb just as it hits the floor. 

Even as the world whites out in a deafening blast of fire and stone, Tony thinks he hears Steve screaming his name. 

I really do love him, Tony realizes, watching from his spot at the breakfast bar as Steve busies himself removing an entire cookie sheet’s worth of bacon from the oven. The oven mitts are the same shade of blue as Steve’s uniform and dotted with little shields, a novelty gift he bought Steve years ago that apparently has yet to yield the desired levels of embarrassment Tony had originally hoped for. He’s also wearing nothing but boxers and a white cotton tank, showing off the mountain range that is Steve’s shoulders to their fullest effect. 

“How many pieces do you want?” 

“How many you got?” 

Steve laughs. “Enough for you, anyways.” He’s still glowing with happiness, hair mussed, pillow lines still etched into his cheek. They took a risk last night—slept together in Tony’s big bed and woke up to the sun shining through the bedroom window and an empty mansion. Steve was so excited, he could hardly wait for Tony to get his bearings before he was slipping underneath the covers and taking Tony into his mouth. 

For once, Tony didn’t worry about how much noise he made in bed. 

Now, he gets to reap the benefits of one of his favorite aspects of Steve Rogers: his enviable cooking skills. There’s bacon and eggs and waffles and whipped cream and homemade blackberry jam and lemon butter and toast. It’s enough to feed the Avengers twice over, which means it’s just enough for Steve, and more than enough for Tony. 

They eat together side by side, playing footsie under the counter even though there’s no one here to see them, giggling like naughty schoolboys as they lick cream and jam off each other’s lips and fingers between bites of actual food. Steve still has a lot of eating to do even as Tony’s finishes, but that doesn’t mean Tony has to leave his mouth unoccupied in the meantime. 

He says as much, and Steve’s eyes darken to that perfect shade of dark blue. He spins his seat around just enough for Tony to fit between his legs and still be able to eat off his plate. Before Tony starts to kneel, Steve drags him in for a buttery lemon kiss that almost makes Tony think twice about going anywhere that isn’t Steve’s lips. He steadies himself with both hands on Steve’s massive thighs, being careful of Steve’s freshly-healed puncture wound, before using one hand to take Steve’s cock out. Steve’s had two orgasms this morning already, but he’s hard and hot and leaking like they never stopped. 

“God, I love you,” Tony gasps before licking into Steve’s mouth. He fits in Tony’s hand like he belongs there, big and hard, hot and wet. Tony works him slowly, firmly, the way he’s learned Steve likes: thumbing the frenulum in little circles until Steve is shuddering and making soft little ‘uhn-uhn-uhn’ sounds in the back of his throat, then slicking the shaft with pre-come with long passes of his palm and then taking him fully in hand to fuck him hard and fast within the tight circle of his fingers. Tony’s calluses bump over the gorgeous, pronounced vein in Steve’s dick, and Steve whimpers like he’s being driven out of his mind with pleasure every time they do, right into Tony’s waiting mouth. 

Finally, Tony starts to pull away from Steve so he can kneel and put his lips to better use, but Steve groans and wraps a hand around Tony’s wrist as he jacks him, stopping his descent by pressing a desperate kiss against Tony’s lips with a whine and gasping: “Please—stay up here. Stay with me.” 

Steve is so sweet like this, rumpled and needy and moving his hips into Tony’s touch with little hitching breaths, faster and faster as Tony speeds up his strokes. Tony says it, says I love you Steve, always loved you, always will, love you, love you, his hand a noisy blur over Steve’s big, slick cock, his own head cradled delicately in Steve’s big, soft hands as Steve kisses him and kisses him and kisses him like this is everything he’s ever wanted, ever needed, ever will. 

His thigh is shaking violently under Tony’s hand. Steve’s cock swells and he moans into Tony’s mouth, pulling his face even closer to him by the scalp. “Love—oh god, Tony, I love—I love you,” he says, voice watery, breaking as he tips over the brink headfirst into orgasm, “Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, I love you, love you, love you—” 

One day, Tony will let Steve shout it from the rooftops—when he does, he’ll be right there next to him. 

If there’s beeping, Tony thinks, he must be in Hell. That’s the only possible explanation for it. It doesn’t cross his mind that he’s in a hospital until he hears a sound like a relieved gasp somewhere out there where the world isn’t pain and nausea and everything spinning in the wrong direction. 

“Augh, fuck.” 

“Try—oh thank God, try not to move, Tony, hold on.” There’s a hand cradling the back of his head, all of a sudden, and a cold plastic cup is being pressed to his lips. Ice chips, he realizes. He remembers cold, a freezing sensation, terror, Sam, Steve—

“Steve…” 

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.” Steve urges him to eat some of the ice chips with gentle nudges of the cup against his mouth. Tony obliges him, because of course he does. The water soothes his sore throat and clears the fog from his brain a little, enough to get a better sense of his surroundings. 

He’s in a SHIELD recovery room. Nothing is immobilized, which means nothing’s broken, which is a relief. He can hear and see, but his head hurts like a building fell on it. 

���That’s because it did,” Steve tells him. 

Oh. “Was I talking out loud again?” 

God, he missed Steve’s laugh, especially his Yes, I’m laughing AT you, Tony chuckle. He also missed that gentle brush of fingers against his forehead, right under his hairline, the way Steve knew exactly how to gentle Tony with his touch and voice and presence. 

“I missed you too,” Steve says. Tony blinks but still can’t really see straight. Those bricks really packed a wallop. “Rest, Tony. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

True to his word, when Tony wakes again, Steve is there, sitting in the same crappy plastic chair Tony sat in last time and holding Tony’s hand, watching him come to like Tony is something magical to behold. 

“Hey, mister,” Steve smiles. His eyes are red but otherwise clear. “How’s your head?” 

Tony winces. “Harder than it looks.” Steve laughs, so, mission accomplished there, but he won’t let go of Tony’s hand. If anything, Steve just draws closer, brushing his thumb against the back of Tony’s hand like a metronome. 

“Doctor says you can come home in the morning,” he says in a low voice. The lights are dim, Tony notices, and the blinds are shut. There are more ice chips on the table next to the bed, which Steve hands to him without prompting.

Swallowing around the nameless knot in his throat, Tony blinks up at Steve and asks, “How’s Sam?” 

Steve smiles. “Sam’s fine. A little pissed off at you for not giving him enough of a heads up before you threw me at him like a glorified football, but he’ll live.” 

Tony’s relieved, of course he is, but the knot in his throat starts to taste sour the longer he thinks about Sam waiting up at home for Steve while Steve fusses over Tony, who only has a concussion and a broken heart to show for having a building dropped on his head. 

This time, he manages to keep all that to himself. Instead, Tony cracks a little smile and says, “Good. That’s…that’s good.” 

Steve, however, looks puzzled. “You told him to take care of me.” 

“I did? When?” Tony wheezes. He occupies himself and his mouth with ice chips and doesn’t look Steve in the eye when he answers: 

“Right before you launched me at him.” 

“Like a glorified football?” 

Funny, the room has stopped spinning, but Tony still feels off-kilter, like everything is a little unbalanced. Or maybe that’s just Steve, and the way he’s looking at Tony, hard and scrutinizing but relieved. Tony’s felt the same relief before, with Steve—the knowledge that despite a dangerously close call, the man he loves most in the world is still alive, and is here with him, despite everything. 

“Tony,” Steve says, leaning closer, squeezing Tony’s hand, “I’m not with Sam.” 

Oh. “Oh. No?”

“No, Tony. And to spare you the suspense, I think the cat’s out of the bag in terms of you and me.” 

“Uh. What?” 

That cold feeling floods him again, freezing his heart in place as Steve reaches for the TV remote. The screen flickers on, vibrant colors taking shape as a reporter recounts the events of that afternoon’s attack by the Wrecking Crew and how Iron Man saved the day. The footage captures the moment the bomb exploded, windows blowing out onto the street and the structure collapsing into a heap of rubble and brick dust; it had been fully evacuated by the time Tony showed up on the scene, apparently, and thank goodness. 

But what steals the show isn’t the bad guys being paraded out into the waiting SHIELD trucks, still immobilized by Tony’s tech—it’s Steve, carrying Iron Man out onto the street in a bridal carry while Sam waves bystanders back. Both of them are covered in dust, but Steve catches the camera’s particular attention: it zooms in on his dusty face, which is streaked with crisp lines of tears as Steve lowers Iron Man onto the pavement and rips off his faceplate. The camera is too far away and there’s too much ambient noise to hear it, but Tony can see Steve’s mouth shaping itself around Tony’s name, can see him gritting his teeth as he begs Tony to wake up and cries all the while like his world is ending. 

Paramedics rush in even as Steve bows his head to Tony’s chest, palm covering the arc reactor in a vice as they try to pull Tony away from him. They’re trying to move him away gently, but Steve is inconsolable, throwing hands and spitting mad, all but launching himself at anyone who dares put a hand on Tony. 

Unwittingly, Tony squeezes Steve’s hand, just to know he’s okay. They’re okay. 

The reporter is breathless as she gives the play-by-play of everything that happens next on screen: Tony’s helmet coming off in Steve’s hands, Steve sobbing openly over his unresponsive body, Steve leaning down and kissing him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, right before Sam and Thor come up behind him and pull him away so the paramedics can get to work. 

Steve turns off the TV with a sigh. “It’s been playing nonstop for almost twenty-four hours,” he says. He won’t look Tony in the eye. “I’m sorry.” 

“What—” Tony’s brain is still rebooting, recovering from the concussion and now trying to parse what he thinks his eyes just saw. “Why are you sorry?” 

Steve looks at their hands where they’re joined next to Tony’s thigh on the hospital bed. Tony can’t help but think how much better it would be if they were at home, in bed, together. 

“We broke up because you didn’t want the world to know about us,” Steve grumbles. “Now everyone definitely knows, and it took you almost dying for them to find out.” 

He sounds—god, he sounds miserable, is what he sounds like. Tony can sympathize, since he feels just as awful, and that was before he jumped on a bomb to save Steve’s life. 

The good news is, he and Sam aren’t dating. So. 

“I’m sorry, Steve.” 

“Don’t be, it’s my fault for losing my head. Heat of the moment, you know how it goes.” 

“Yeah, I do.” Tony squeezes his hand again, hard so Steve will look at him. He loves it when Steve looks at him—no one’s ever looked at Tony the way Steve does. He can’t even quantify it with words. There’s just Steve, and the way Steve looks at him, and Tony knows he’d do anything to keep Steve looking at him like that. Like Tony is everything, the way Steve is to Tony. “But I’m sorry, because I should have told the world about us ages ago.” 

Steve blinks. Even struck speechless and dumbfounded, Steve is the most gorgeous thing Tony’s ever seen. 

“What about your issues?” 

Tony husks a laugh. When the coughing subsides and the ice chips ease a path down his throat, he says, “I’ll probably always have them. The press is awful and it’ll only get worse. Just means I’ll need you to reassure me more often.”

Steve leans forward. “Reassure you of what, Tony?” he asks, like it’s important that Tony says the words outright. 

Tony lifts Steve’s hand and kisses his knuckles. He has so much making up to do, but now’s as good a time to start as any. 

“That you love me,” he says, “as much as I love you.” 

He can’t even finish grinning before Steve is on top of him, kissing every last trace of cold right out of Tony’s heart.

- - -

read it on AO3!  

[bnhabadass]

NSFW A to Z challenge for Sero pretty pretty please!

I’m officially done with finals!!!!! Took long enough, but I’m finally back and writing more. I have a few requests lined up and holiday specials I’ve had in mind for a while. But enough with my excuses! Enjoy this under the cut NSFW alphabet!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He keeps to himself in an almost uncharacteristic matter. I headcanon him as being kind of awkward afterwards, almost wanting to be alone for a few minutes to recompose himself before coming back to you. But once that awkwardness is over with he’s back to joking around with you.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his tape dispensers. I imagine that he was made fun of in grade school for having such weird elbows. But once he realized what he could do with them he started liking them more and more. He definitely uses his tape on you while you’re being intimate.

He likes your chest. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t initially attracted to you because of your chest, although as the two of you grew closer he realized all of the other wonderful characteristics you possess.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He likes it when you swallow after sucking him off, but he wouldn’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sero is a risk taker, and he’d definitely be down for public sex. Anywhere from a public restroom to a car in the middle of a crowded parking lot.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He, along with the majority of class a, has very little experience. Other than a few make out sessions and the one relationship he had in middle school, he had very little clue as to what he was doing.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He likes it when you’re under him. He especially loves it when your hands are bound to the headboard with his tape.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Let’s be honest. Since this boy is already high all the time he’s never not goofy. He’ll make really bad sex puns during sex. I’ll let you decide if that’s a good or a bad thing.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s trimmed and the color is the same black as his head hair.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

I can only imagine Sero trying and failing to be super romantic. It’s almost as if the universe hates him. He’ll try to say something like, “do you like it when I touch you there, princess?” but his voice will crack or he’ll be kissing you and he’ll need to sneeze. But hey, he’s trying his best.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

At least once a week regardless of whether or not you’re in town or on a break. He’ll jack off right before meeting you for a lunch date. He’ll do it anywhere if he needs a release and you’re not there.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

This boy loves using his tape on you. He likes using it to bind your hands and legs together or to bind you to the headboard. He’s also a little into pain play and will stick it to you only to rip it off and hear you yell out.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Okay so Sero’s dorm room is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s probably really proud of the way it turned out and fucking you in there would be the best feeling to him.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Watching you smoke a joint. Now Sero is a stoner. We all know this. And seeing your lips around the end of a joint, suck in, then blow out the smoke only to open your eyes and have them be slightly pink is the sexiest thing to him.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’d never force you to do anything you don’t want to do or aren’t in the mood for. If he wants to do something and you say maybe later, he’ll stop asking and wait. He’s very patient.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He’s a big fan of the blowjob. He loves it when you suck him off but he still likes going down on you. Especially when you squeeze his head between your thighs.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes going slow with you and taking everything in. He likes seeing all of your expressions and how riled up and flustered you can get in the moment. For him, sex is an experience and he wants to savor every moment.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t like them. He thinks they ruin the experience.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can go for one or two rounds. He probably needs a little time to recharge in between sessions.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Does his tape count as a toy? Like, it isn’t a toy but he enjoys tying you up with it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s a pretty big tease. He’ll ghost his lips over your body as you’re tied up on the bed and can’t move. He almost enjoys the foreplay more than the actual sex

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s not the loudest. If anything he’ll be very quiet because he’s scared he’ll say something wrong and mess everything up, that is when he is sober and not making terrible puns. If the two of you try doing something a bit more rough than usual, there will be a few sharp intakes and gasps here and there.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon or scenario for the character of your choice)

He’s thought about asking another member of Bakusquad to join in. It’s another dirty secret of his that he’d never tell you, but every time someone makes a joke about everyone in Bakusquad having an orgy, he blushes just a little bit.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Sero is a long and skinny boy, and his penis definitely reflects that. About seven and a half inches long, not that girthy.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He wants it all the time, don’t get me wrong, but he’s willing to adapt to your needs and your environment. That being said, you guys will find time to fuck at least once a week.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s like a giddy little kid every time he has sex. It’ll take him a few minutes to calm down afterwards, and then it’s cuddling for another hour or two until he falls asleep. You might already be asleep in his arms by then, but he’s wide awake and smiling like an idiot.

[beyondflashpoint]

Prologue 3: World’s Finest:

It was a quiet night, for Gotham. Quiet for Gotham still meant a surplus of muggers, purse snatchers, and various other petty criminals, who more often than not fled at the sight of any one of the city’s resident costumed vigilantes. That was fine by Damian. In the four years since he had assumed the mantle of Robin, donning the colorful tights to aid in his father’s nightly crusade, he’d experienced a fair number of not so quiet nights in Gotham.

In the early days he’d longed for the next complex caper, the next shadowy plot, the next Arkham breakout. But as time wore on he came more and more to appreciate the quiet nights. The mission wore on endlessly, and for Damian, and all those who fought by he and his father’s side, the quiet nights were the closest thing to rest.

Father was on one of his interstellar escapades with the Justice League. Damian had seen their work, and thought it mostly ineffectual grandstanding, so he understood the necessity of Batman’s presence among them. They needed someone who could get the job done. What he couldn’t understand was the necessity for him to have a chaperone.

Grayson had accompanied him on patrols every night since father’s departure, as if without constant supervision Damian might decide to go on a killing spree, or blow up a bank. Not that he minded Grayson’s company. He was an effective combatant, and contrary to Damian’s first impression he was actually competent with strategy and detective work. Unfortunately he also talked. A lot. Beyond the pithy one liners and snarky banter he fired off in combat, which could have been excused as psychological warfare, Grayson wanted to talk about everything. Was he reading anything good lately, had he made any new friends, what music was he listening to, did he have a life outside of the mission, when was the last time he’d washed the uniform? It was incessant. Countless tedious questions fired off in rapid succession, as if Grayson had a pathological fear of silence.

At least he’d finally stopped trying to set Damian up on play dates with the other teenaged vigilantes. That had been beyond frustrating. For a time Grayson had pitched a different cooperative mission, which he’d pestilently referred to as “team-ups”, every week. The last and least unbearable had been with the Kent boy, though he had ended up roped into irregular interactions with the child, outside of uniform, and preforming menial tasks unrelated to the crusade.

Blessedly, Jonathan was currently grounded, due to poor performance in mathematics. Perhaps he should have mercy and tutor the boy. He would consider broaching the offer after he slept.

“Mushroom swiss, extra onions, and large mocha, triple espresso. You know you really should cut back of the caffeine, Lil’ D. It’ll stunt your growth.”

Damian snatched the bag and beverage. “And you should cut back on the pizza. It’s starting to look like Pennyworth needs to let out your uniform again.”

“Very funny, brat.” Grayson ruffled his hair, before plopping down on the ledge beside him and settling into what looked like an overstuffed breakfast burrito, though he did pull at the fabric clinging to his abs when he thought Damian wasn’t looking.

“Anything happen while I was gone?” Grayson asked as he chased an exceptionally large bite with his own coffee.

“B-and-E on 18th, but GCPD was close enough to respond, so I let them handle it.”

“Why Damian, I didn’t know you were capable of sharing. How generous of you.” Grayson punctuated his feigned surprise with a dainty hand against his face. Damian narrowed his eyes, and returned his attention to his own meal.

“Tt”

“Jason and his ‘Outlaws’ got back to Blüdhaven this morning. I think they were doing something about the Lexcorp drilling operation in Smallville. The facilities definitely exploded, and explosions usually involve Jason. Surprisingly there were no casualties.”

“Jason has never broken father’s code, despite every opportunity to do so. His methods might be a bit extreme, but they are effective, and non-lethal.”

Grayson paused. “But I’m still your favorite brother, right?”

Damian smirked. “I’m no longer wishing you dead.”

Grayson laughed, then the two ate in silence. While Damian was washing down the last vestiges of his meal, Grayson stood and stretched. “So, I’m thinking we move towards the bay area. Seems like theirs always something to do there.”

“If you’re eager to stay busy, we could consult Oracle.”

Grayson shuffled awkwardly, then cleared his throat. “That won’t be necessary. Between the police scanner and Al manning the bat-computer, we’ll know where we’re needed, when we’re needed.”

Damian got to his feet and stretched himself. It seemed there was some awkwardness between Grayson and the Gordon girl, probably stemming from a failed romance. Grayson didn’t talk about it, and neither did Oracle. He could probably ask Jason, but he didn’t care that much. So long as it didn’t effect the mission.

It was a short trip by rooftop to the bay area docks, and the two were in no real rush. This was a simple patrol, mostly for the sake of reminding Gotham that it’s guardians were constantly vigilant. Across the bay, the shining beacon of metropolis lit the sky as if to starkly contrast the shadowy gloom of Gotham. Damian had often wondered if property was cheaper on the Gotham-facing side of Metropolis. He knew from father that the reverse was true of Metropolis facing property in Gotham. On the other side of the Bay Bridge, the Hights loomed like towering castles, housing those of Gotham’s elite who preferred high rises to mansions. One of those buildings held a penthouse suite belonging to Father and housing a substitute Batcave far better outfitted than the many bunkers father had across the city. Damian had toured each of these facilities in his first week as Robin, and given them each a monthly inspection since. In recent months he’d taken to sleeping in the penthouse when he and father had one of their frequent disagreements. Before that he’d mostly gone to Jason’s Blüdhaven bunker, but a particularly awkward incident had put a stop to that.

Grayson was right about the frequency of criminal activity in the area, and the two had barely began their loop around the docks when they came upon a group of thugs brazenly unloading pallets of cocaine. The two separated wordlessly, each seeking a vantage point from which to survey the scene before acting.

Grayson went high, perching on top of a crane, Damian went low silently positioning himself on a shipping container right above the scum.

“I count six men, two in the truck, two in the container, and two patrolling. The guards have automatic weapons, but I’d be willing to bet all six are packing. How do you want to proceed?” Grayson spoke in a determined whisper, and Damian replied in the same hushed tones.

“I see five. One of the guards is heading your way. Advise pattern Gamma-12. Move at your command.” Damian never enjoyed handing over control, but Grayson had the best view of the battlefield, and would make the right call.

“Acknowledged. Guard two is on your 8:15. You may proceed with pattern G-12.”

Damian dropped onto the unsuspecting guard, who was exactly where Grayson had said he’d be. Before the man could make a sound, Damian clapped a hand over his mouth and struck key pressure points in rapid succession, rendering the man unconscious. With silent precision he moved towards the container and his next targets.

The truck was shaking as he stepped from the corridor into the loading area, and he knew Grayson was doing his part. When his targets moved into the container to start on another pallet he stepped in behind them and slowly shut the door. The thump of metal and frightened, agonized screams were the only indication of what was happening inside, and they faded into silence quickly enough.

When Damian emerged, Grayson was standing with his hands on his hips, no doubt preparing some quip or other. Before he could say anything though, a brilliant radiance lit the sky like daybreak come several hours to soon. And with a deafening crash, the meteor smashed into the bay, sending a wave far enough inland that puddles formed around their feet. The two locked eyes, wordlessly agreeing that it was within their responsibilities to respond, and made their way toward the crash site.

The scene was tranquil, if one could ignore the floating debris and wreckage of personal water craft that had congregated to the bay’s center, ringing the impact zone like the epicenter of a child’s temper tantrum. Damian and Grayson stood in silent awe, until Damian pulled the Geiger-counter out of his belt and set the device ticking.

“Al, how fast could you get us a boat to Gotham Bay, pier 19?”

“I’m picking up radiation, if minor. Our space rock is so lukewarm it’s practically cold.” Damian returned the device to his belt.

“I’ve dispatched the bat-boat you your location, Nightwing. Happy sailing sir.”

The two glanced at each other as the din of distant sirens and alarms died down. The cities on both sides of the bay were wide awake now, and they wouldn’t have long to investigate before the authorities moved in. The boat took just long enough for Grayson to become antsy, tapping his foot and drumming his fingers over his crossed arms. When the visor slid back to open the vessels empty cockpit, Grayson boarded without a moment’s hesitation.

Damian moved to join him.

“Hope Al packed some trunks. We might be getting wet Lil’D.” Grayson opined as Damian fastened himself in.

In leu of a response, Damian rolled his eyes, and the duo started across the bay to the epicenter of the crash. They had just reached their goal when the boat heaved and rolled over, flipped like a child’s plaything. Moments later a heavy thump resounded from the skyward facing underside of the vessel. Damian and Grayson situated their respirators, exchanging an understanding glance and Grayson opened the visor and the boat’s interior flooded with the oily bay water. At the last minute, Damian released the clasp on his cape, cutting the resistance he’d face cutting through the water.

The duo surfaced to a strange sight. Standing on wobbly legs on the slowly submerging underside of the bat-boat, was a young woman, soaked from head to toe, and wearing what looked like a silver and white wet-suit. Grayson, who had surfaced and disengaged his respirator first, cautiously joined her on the slowly sinking makeshift island.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” She jerked her head towards him, panicked, fearful. Damian was all to familiar with such mannerisms. He propped his arms on the boat.In response, the young woman muttered something Damian couldn’t quite make out.

“Miss, it’s okay. We’re here to help.” Grayson took a cautious step towards the young woman, who responded with a frightened shout and a shove at Grayson, who hadn’t even finished shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Soaked to the bone, and standing on precarious, slippery footing, a slip or stumble would have been expected, even from one with the lithe grace of Grayson. Instead, he jettisoned a pained grunt and flew from the vessel, skipping twice across the water’s surface like a stone. Damian watched in shocked awe, and turning his eyes on the aggressor, saw the same look in her own eyes. They were blue. She met his gaze and shouted something else in that gibberish that was starting to sound vaguely familiar to Damian. Then she jumped as if to dive into the Gotham facing side of the bay. But instead launched at least fifty feet into the air, sailing in a clear arch to the docks he and Grayson had left moments ago.

“Grayson-“

“Still breathing Lil’D. Get after her. I’ll catch up.” Grayson sounded winded, and was barely suppressing what Damian was guessing to be intense pain, but he kicked off the boat and swam towards the docks nonetheless. Even at the brisk pace he set, it still took way too long to reach the shore. Luckily the young woman left a trail. Wet footprints and cracked pavement made the pursuit easy as following a hare though fresh snow. She was moving eastward, and inland.

Damian’s pursuit showed all the telltale signs of a frightened, if powerful, meta-human, just coming into her abilities. She needed to be stopped before she hurt anyone, before she hurt herself. Anyone else, Damian mentally corrected. He’d passed a few would be thugs or helping hands with significant (though fortunately non-lethal) injuries in an alley a few blocks back. Beams of crimson light shot skyward from the next street over. Damian hip-fired his line launcher and took the rooftop in time to catch a glimpse of the chaos on the street below, and the young woman illuminated by police flashlights as she floated gracelessly skyward. With very little time for mental calculations, Damian took a running start and dove across the gap between buildings.

He collided with the girl in mid air, directly above the middle of the crowded street, with thirty stories of open air between him and unforgiving concrete. His gamble paid off. Whatever method granted the girl flight had slowed their decent, and coupled with Damian’s momentum they came down in a slow arch, landing on the rooftop on the other side of the street. For his part Damian had to roll to disperse the excess momentum. The girl immediately rose from her knees to her feet with stony determination. She shouted at him in what he realized was an alien language.

“Tired of running, I take it. Come then.” Damian pulled the sword from his belt. It was blunted, had been for almost three years now, a concession made to ease father’s mind. But even without an edge it could break bones, bruise bodies, and dissuade antagonists. Before he had taken a ready stance, the girl launched forward at speeds that would even give Allen pause. The blade bounced and rattled on the rooftop, useless. Clearing thirty feet in less than a second, the girl had pinned Damian to the wall by his wrists. The impact had knocked the breath from him, and might have broken both of his wrists, had they not been cushioned by the meta’s fingers. As it was, her vice like grip was already bruising bone deep. A horrific crimson light radiated menacingly from her previously arctic blue eyes. Damian narrowed his own eyes, scowling. Mentally he was running through every possible counter, every potential method of escape. Then, she spoke again, and the nagging familiarity clicked.

“Where the hell am I? What the hell is going on?”

Damian mentally thanked Jon for the Kryptonian lessons, and formulated his plan. It would have to be fast.

“Welcome to earth.” He spat, smirking. The glow faded from her eyes, replaced by shock. Her grip on his wrists loosened, and Damian moved to the second step of his plan. He pushed forward as hard and fast as he could, planting his lips on hers. The Selina Kyle method. As expected, confusion, shock, and perhaps a touch of embarrassment caused the Kryptonian to fully release her grip and stagger backwards, giving Damian enough time to pull the aerosolized kryptonite/ knockout gas concoction from the led-lined pouch on his belt and spritz the girl with a healthy dose.

Once she had collapsed into a heap and Damian was sure that she was fully unconscious, he called Grayson.

It was just before sunrise when father returned, and on Damian’s insistence, brought the elder Kryptonian with him. Unlikely as it was, Kara Zor-El was his cousin, sent to earth from Kandor, the capital city of Krypton moments before the planet’s destruction. She was uncertain what had set her off course by nearly four decades, but she had finally arrived.

Within six months, she was fluent in English. In ten she was versed enough in her powers to earn Superman’s approval to shadow him in metropolis. After some convincing Bruce set her up in an unused apartment he kept in National City with an established civilian identity and all the paperwork that required. Before the end of her first year, Kara had blended almost seamlessly into earthling society, though under constant supervision from the Justice League. By that time even Batman’s considerable scrutiny waned. But Damian remained cautious.

Eventually, Supergirl’s fame and reverence grew to match that of her well established cousin, and the world mostly came to accept the new heroically inclined visitor from a strange world.

But the clock was ticking, and had been long before the alien child set foot of the strange new world. Events were already in motion that would call to question the meaning of the word hero, and the line that separates good and evil.

Tick

Tock

Tick

[the-creativist]

California BBS Requirements Towards Obtaining a Professional Clinical Counseling License

In this post I’m going to talk about everything I had to fulfill to get my Associate Professional Clinical Counselor (APCC) registration number and what requirements I have left to move onto the next step, Licensed Professional Clinical Counselor (LPCC). This will include all paperwork, fees, additional courses, etc. At the end of the post, I will include the approximate total of how much everything has/will cost me.

 ✔ = What I’ve completed so far

My comments are in bold.

Information about the California Board of Behavioral Sciences’ (CA BBS) requirements per https://bbs.ca.gov/pdf/forms/lpc/lpc_app_oos_01012016.pdf

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Application Fee for Associate Professional Clinical Counselor Registration was $100

Fee for LiveScan Fingerprinting $32. I think I paid $150 for something fingerprint related?! It’s been a year and I can’ even remember...I’ll find out eventually.

How much it cost me to get fingerprints done at my local county jail-  $20

Physical transcripts mailed to the CA BBS 3x (I had to send it multiple times because the CA BBS told me they did not receive it) $36

EDUCATIONAL REQUIREMENTS

✔ Master’s degree or higher that is counseling or psychotherapy- I earned my degree outside of CA, so my university’s Program Chair and I had to submit a Out-of-State Degree Program Certification form (in addition to some course syllabi).

For me, the cost of my degree was about $21,000 in student loans with ~5-6% interest per loan. The $21,000 was for graduate in-state tuition alone and this total was after factoring in approximately $10,000-worth in scholarships/stipends. I’m not calculating rent and living costs. Although, it was fairly cheap since I lived in Emporia, Kansas- a town with a whole lotta nothing (except for some kind, helpful mentors and peers).

✔ Courses to take in addition to having a Master’s:

Initially, I thought I would have to spend hundreds of dollars on courses offered at accredited colleges or universities. However, I found a cheap, online continuing education website called AspiraCE through the California Association for Licensed Professional Clinical Counselors (CALPCC) website. I bought a one-year subscription for $129.99. So over the course of a couple months I would plough through these additional courses during my work breaks and weekends. I haven’t found a cheaper option for these courses yet, but if I do I’ll post it in this blog. 

✔ a) Suicide Risk Assessment and Intervention 6 hours of coursework or applied experience All applicants submitting an application on or after January 1, 2021 (otherwise will be required upon license renewal). See BPC section 4999.66 

✔ b) Human Sexuality 10 hours Instruction must include the study of the physiological, psychological, and social cultural variables associated with sexual behavior, gender identity, and the assessment and treatment of psychosexual dysfunction. See BPC sections 25 and 4999.62 and Title 16, California Code of Regulations section 1807 

✔ c) Spousal/Partner Abuse Assessment, Detection and Intervention 15 hours Instruction must cover spousal and partner abuse assessment, detection, intervention strategies, and same-gender abuse dynamics. See BPC section 4999.62 37A-642A (New 01/2020) 4 5. ADDITIONAL COURSEWORK LPCC OUT-OF-STATE APPLICANTS (continued) Course Length Content Required 

✔ d) Child Abuse Assessment and 7 hours Instruction must include detailed knowledge of the Reporting in California California Child Abuse Neglect and Reporting Act (CANRA). It must also include assessment and methods of reporting of sexual assault, neglect, severe neglect, general neglect, willful cruelty or unjustifiable punishment, corporal punishment or injury, and abuse in out-of-home care. The training shall also include physical and behavioral indicators of abuse, crisis counseling techniques, community resources, rights and responsibilities of reporting, consequences of failure to report, caring for a child’s needs after a report is made, sensitivity to previously abused children and adults, and implications and methods of treatment for children and adults. See BPC sections 28 and 4999.62 and Title 16, California Code of Regulations section 1807.2 

✔ e) Aging, Long Term Care and 10 hours Instruction must cover aging and long-term care, Elder/Dependent Adult Abuse including biological, social, cognitive and psychological aspects of aging, and instruction on the assessment and reporting of, as well as treatment related to, elder and dependent adult abuse and neglect. See BPC section 4999.62 

✔ f) Mental Health Recovery Oriented Care and Methods of Service Delivery 45 hours or 3 semester units Instruction must cover principles of mental health recovery-oriented care and methods of service delivery in recovery-oriented practice environments, including structured meetings with various consumers and family members of consumers of mental health services to enhance understanding of their experience of mental illness, treatment and recovery. See BPC section 4999.62 

✔ g) California Cultures and the Social 15 hours or Instruction must include an understanding of various and Psychological Implications of 1 semester California cultures and the social and psychological Socioeconomic Position unit implications of socioeconomic position. See BPC section 4999.62

✔ California Law and Ethics course (included in AspiraCE) - Counselors from other states must take the 18-hour course in California 

APCC REGISTRATION ANNUAL RENEWAL COST- $100

EXPERIENTIAL REQUIREMENTS

3,000 hours of post-master’s supervised counseling experience. 1,750 have to be Direct Client Contact hours. I’ve completed 6% of my post-master’s hours as of last week. I would have been much further in my experiential hours, but it took almost a year to receive my APCC registration number. After going back and forth with the CA BBS, my hours officially began on March 9, 2020. I was working with patients at least 6 months prior to that, but unfortunately, I had to discount those hours.

I found a supervisor that would see me for $50 and another that would see me for free. While I was looking for a supervisor, I talked to people who were going to charge me $150 per hour of supervision. In my opinion, that is outrageous. I understand that as a qualified, accomplished supervisor, you’d want to charge for the quality of supervision. HOWEVER, if I was a supervisor, I’d do it as cheap as possible. Getting a license is super expensive and it’s rare to meet a trainee who doesn’t have student loans. Anyway, I’ve probably spent about $2,000 this past year on supervision. I know that seems like a bummer since much of it couldn’t count towards my clinical counseling hours, but my supervisor is also an art therapist so I just counted everything towards my art therapy certification. And YES! Hours can simultaneously count towards clinical counseling and art therapy (this is for another blog post).

EXAM REQUIRED NCMHCE – taken after experiential requirements have been fulfilled. It costs $275 to register for the NCMHCE.

AND

California Law and Ethics/Jurisprudence Examination– taken while acquiring supervision. I am trying to register for this, but #COVID. Also, the initial exam fee cost $100. It must me taken every year for APCC registration renewal and I believe it costs $100 to re-take it.

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So, let’s talk about my overall cost. In-state tuition was approximately $31,000 (my total cost in student loans and scholarships/stipends). It cost me $467.99 to register as an APCC with the CA BBS. My first year of supervision costs $2,000. From graduate school to obtaining an LPCC, it would cost me about $39,042.99. For people who just want to know how much it may cost me to get licensed post-graduate school, it’ll be about $8,042.99. That’s on the cheaper end too because I’m pretty frugal.

After listing the requirements and costs, I’m thinking, is it all worth it? For me, I’ll say, “Sometimes no, but overall, yes!” I will answer my own question in the next blog post. Frankly, I’m exhausted from running these numbers.

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

Health update! I realized I bitched a lot but didn’t provide much follow-up and frankly I always feel a little less alone when I see folks talking about their health shit, and I have absolutely no issue talking about this all, so here we go! I’m on mobile so can’t put it under a cut, sorry.

Psoriasis: so assuming I don’t have tuberculosis (lol) i am going to be getting a prescription for skyrizi on friday! After which I’ll have to apply to the AbbVie patient assistance program to see if they’ll approve me for free meds because I’m low-income and have no insurance. I should be fine, I’ve qualified for their program twice before when I had MORE income (for Humira) but it’s not a super quick process.

If I’m lucky I will finally have meds sometime in december, and then it’ll be 1-4 months for any significant improvement which doesn’t help my itchiness and flaking and shit NOW, but is at least a light at the end of the tunnel.

On the bright side, compared to Humira, Skyrizi is much more targeted, has higher rates of clearance of skin plaque and relieving of psoriatic arthritis symptoms, and I only have to have an injection once every TWELVE WEEKS instead of every other week.

This will be, provided I can GET it, a huge improvement and will significantly increase my quality of life.

PCOS: i keep forgetting to take both doses of my metformin (i’m on it twice a day) but as it’s mostly a precaution rather than treating actual diabetes or pre-diabetes, I’m not too worried about still working on regularity.

I wasn’t able to stay on the taytulla bc the county health program wouldn’t cover it and without insurance AND with goodrx it was still like $200. I’m now on something I’ll probably still switch off of bc it was $50 but I couldn’t really take longer getting on BC if I want to not gush, so it’ll do for now. It’s CHEWABLE? tastes like spearmint. Very odd.

Anemia: I’m feeling a lot better, though I still get tired easily. My levels were up almost in normal levels last time I went to the clinic so hopefully my november tests will show me up in the green across the board, even if only just. I’ll probably still end up getting an infusion so they can have me better than “on the cusp of normal” but I think I’m doing well on this front and look forward to when I can go every THREE months instead.

ADHD: FINALLY SOMEONE WHO CAN DO THE SCREENING WITHOUT THE CHILDHOOD SECTION. Most ADHD screening done by psychologists and the like will have YOU fill out some stuff, then wants something from someone who knows you well NOW and someone who knew you well when you were a kid. As my mom is p much the only person I could ask for the latter and AHAHAHAH NO, I have been trying to find someone who can do it without that section, seeing as how I’m in my mid 30s and have been dealing with this my entire adult life ON TOP of my childhood diagnosis.

I don’t have a follow-up until november tho, but after that (thankfully) provided the lady agrees it’s ADHD (i’m p sure she’s already like “seems likely especially given childhood diagnosis, but I’m a grad student and I have to do this right”) I will be able to take that diagnosis to the student clinic and get meds!

Sadly I will still not have much money to pay for them so time will tell if I’ll be able to actually GET said meds, but it’s a start, right?

Anyway this was mostly to avoid spamming my D&D group’s server with all this since I’m the DM and server moderator and they can’t stop me, so... hopefully by spring i’ll be getting medicated for fuckin. All the things I need to be medicated for, G-d willing.

[kh-imaginings]

sorry, if it's not to late can the marriage ask for xigbar be with luxu!xigbar in mind, unless you don't think it'd change anything? thanks!

I’mma be real with you chief I don’t think it’ll make much difference (I don’t know much about KHUX, and we’ve only briefly seen Xiggy responding and admitting outright to being Luxu, so we’re just going to go with what we’ve got.)Anyway!

A-About, what about you made them want to marry you?

You can handle yourself against anyone, including his sense of humor. he respects that about you. He’s a very sarcastic dude, he’s not a very respectful person (we’re all pretty much on the same level in his eyes), so to have met this person that he would submit to/stand down for in ways is a big deal to him. He wants to keep you around.

B-Baby, would they want kids with you as soon as possible?

Not really, sorry hun! Maybe at one time he did, but not so much as he’s gotten older. Should a pregnancy come up and you want to raise a baby, then he will be totally supportive. You need him there at the doctor’s visits? Alright, but he’s bringing a book or something. You wanna go shopping? Sure. He’s just not tripping over himself to plan it out. He just goes with the flow.

C-Celebration, how would they celebrate your anniversaries?

Whatever you want to do, he’ll make it happen. Otherwise he’ll get you a flower or 12 and it’s takeout and makeout! ;)

D-Divorce, how would they handle if you wanted a divorce? What caused it?

Yeah well, he ain’t happy. He’s almost not surprised given who and how he is. He wouldn’t admit to be heartbroken, and you’ll never see him cry (I can’t even confirm or deny if he cries at all during this time), but you’ll see him mad. He resents this, but he won’t stop you. You stop communicating for a while after it’s finalized and everything has been separated. Maybe you’ll see each other in public somewhere a few of years down the line, and it’s like you’ve become a stranger to him. Just another face in the crowd, something to playfully tease, but no longer close. You just wanted different things, maybe you wanted a family, settle down and have that dream of settling down come true, but that’s not his style. Maybe he was being a jerk for a little too long, and his good traits aren’t enough to make up for his bad ones anymore. Either way you can’t take being around him any longer.

E-Earnest, are they serious about your marriage? Or can they be a little immature about it?

He’s immature, for sure! He’s serious a couple of times a year (usually birthdays and anniversaries and small get-togethers with friends). He’s a jokey guy, making light of situations is how he responds to the world. He wants you to enjoy his humor as well.

F- Favorite, what was your favorite things before and after you got married to each other?

Before: Either listening to you talk about something you’re passionate about, seeing how your eyes light up when he suggests going back to his place and spending time together. It reminds him that you really enjoy his company and don’t think he’s annoying or obnoxious.

After: When you fall asleep on his shoulder watching tv or in bed when he’s reading. It happens almost every night, and he really cherishes these moments. He’s not making a joke, and you can’t see him making googoo eyes at him. He thinks you’re amazing.

G-Giving, do they spoil you?

Every now and again, maybe once a month, Xigbar will go all out for you. Take you shopping, then out to eat, maybe dancing, a walk in the moonlight? He likes it when you’re happy, and the face you make when you’re surprised and feel special, especially when it’s because of him? It’s his favorite thing in the world. 

H-Honeymoon, what did you two do for your honeymoon?

Something kind of adventurous, maybe bungie jumping or zip-lining? Something that would thrill you, he likes the faces you make. Some sight-seeing, people watching (that for him, he likes to eavesdrop and silently judge others). And whatever you wanted to do too! 

I-Invest, how much do they contribute to your marriage?

Xigbar is surprisingly ((to me, I don’t know about you guys, maybe you knew all along)) domestic. Like cooking and cleaning, is easy for him to fulfill. If it’ll make you feel at ease and less stressed he’ll pull his own weight around the house. 50/50 (and a little more if it’s your birthday or anniversary).

J-Jealous, do they still get jealous even though you’re completely theirs?

Nah, sorry Xig’s not the jealous type. If you say you love him, then you love him. Once you got his trust, you don’t have to worry (unless you have actually done something to break his trust).

K-Kiss, how often would you two kiss? Do you still have that spark?

As often as you want, and the once before leaving the house in the morning, and once before going to sleep at night. 

L-Live, where would you two settle down at?

Xigs would like to live somewhere near a city, the hustle and bustle is a nice place to visit. He’d be fine if he were just outside a city, where you can get some peace and quiet, but you’re never too far from the action and drama that a city can bring. Would prefer to stay away from anywhere with a Homeowners Association (like a suburb with people named Barb or Karen). Also far away from a school! Little kids mean trouble, and trouble that Xig didn’t start? is a no=no.

M-Make, do they still make your heart flutter after years of marriage?

If you’re asking if looking at you makes Xigbar’s (nonexistent?) heart feel warm and comfy? Heck yeah, it does. You’re home for him, a constant, a comfort. He cherishes the fact that you’re still together after all these years, that you bother putting up with him after all this time. He may be a jokester, and he may not say it out loud enough, but he really does feel lucky that you’re here.

N-Never, what is something they would never do?

He’d never be violent towards you or around you. I know this seems like bottom of the ladder, super basic. But when he pledges his heart to you, he means to protect you. That includes from any anger he may feel in a moment regardless of who is the cause. He doesn’t want to scare you (not unless it’s a harmless prank or halloween) and he never wants you to feel unsafe around him. So punching walls or anything? That’s something you’ll never be around to see, if and when it happens.

O-Opportunity, do you two still get the opportunity to be intimate with one another?

Heck yes! It’s an important part of your relationship. Even if it’s not the *bow chicka bow wow* level of intimacy, being physical with hugs and being able to be vulnerable with one another is important. 

He doesn’t seem like the type to be vulnerable with others, does he? But it’s only because he’s not quick to trust others or show his true emotions. With you, he’s willing if you are. At least once a week y’all will be together and talk and vent or anything that you need to do. 

P-Pet names, what pet names do you two give each other?

He calls you sun/starshine, sweetpea, sweetheart, baby, babycakes, darlin’. Sometimes just to tease and sometimes because he just thinks it’s cute.

You are free to call him whatever you want, he’ll answer to them all. Not a ounce of embarrassment from him, wears these names like a badge of honor ;)

Q-Quiet, do you two keep quiet about your marriage? Or do you always brag about one another?

Xiggy’s actually pretty quiet. He’s not over the top about being married to total strangers. But to friends and you especially, he’ll let y’all know that you’re his better half. He counts himself lucky to have married you, and he’ll rub it in that he was the one that you chose to spend your life with. 

He’ll usually ask his friends if they’re jealous that you two are so happy.

R-Romance, how do you two keep your romance alive?

Date night is a regular occurrence (it’s a good way to keep romance alive! did you know that dating (this goes along with communication!) is a great way to have a successful relationship? Because y’all continually get to know each other it keeps things fresh, the same way dating new people does)

S-Selfie, would they take multiple pictures of you? Would they save them on their phone?

Only if you’re snoring or doing something embarrassing. It’s your job to take the nice selfies and send it to him. His favorites are still the silly pictures you find embarrassing. He thinks they’re endearing.

T-Teenagers, do you still act like teens when you’re older?

Xig? Yes, Absolutely. His sassy attitude doesn’t fade with time. And one of his favorite things is to tease every now and again, a little pinch on the bum, or a joke about the neighbors will always be a regular occurrence. 

U-Unrelenting, what hasn’t stopped since you two got married?

Playful teasing of course! He’s kind of a jokey guy, that’ll never go away. It’s part of what made you fall for him (or so he says) and it’s here to stay. 

Also casual dates every now and again. He probably won’t bring you flowers that he didn’t pick out of the neighbor’s yard or a park but he will take you out on the town, maybe have an ice cream or get a snack. 

V-Valentine’s Day, what plans do you two make?

A mess! Chocolate fondue seems like a good idea, until you realize you didn’t follow the recipe right, or burnt the chocolate. Shoulda just got the fondue pot, sheesh! but it was fun nonetheless! He got some chocolate on his nose (you probably put it there on purpose) and kissed it off, he smeared some chocolate on your face (DEFINITELY on purpose) and licked it off. And then that led into [redacted because this isn’t THAT kind of blog]

W-Wedding, what was your wedding like?

This is up to you! All he asks is that he’s allowed some alcohol. You want a small affair? Maybe just going to sign the marriage certificate in town hall, he’s down. He’d like to go to a bar after and celebrate and drink for a bit with his “spouse”.

Or if you want a big fancy wedding, that’s fine too. If that’s the case, he’d still like some booze available (open bar maybe?) for him to get buzzed on. Not totally drunk, no no no, never! Don’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends and family (Xig? Embarrassing? NEVER! ;) But it’s a joyful occasion he’d like something to toast with. Maybe invite Xehanort, at least to show off a bit. He can play into his schemes while ALSO enjoying being alive.

X-X-Ray, can you two see through each other? Can you see when you’re lying or not?

You know this really depends on the person. If you’re good at reading people, you might be able to piece together what’s going on in his mind, otherwise he’s as much a mystery to you as he is to anyone else. The only difference is if you ask him, he’ll tell you what he’s thinking or let you know it’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. 

He likes to think he can read you, but once again, if you’re someone who’s very secretive maybe he can’t fully tell. But he won’t rub it in your face, either. He might say that it seems there’s something bothering you, or something you’re hiding from him, but he won’t force it out of you. He wants you to feel comfortable to come to him when you need/want it. 

Trust is an important aspect in your relationship and he’ll trust you to come to him when you need it, just like how he’ll trust you to leave him be until he’s ready to share too.

Y-Yearly Tradition, what do you two do every year for your wedding anniversary?

You wanna go out? He’ll take you out. But for him he just wants to spend some time being physically intimate ;) It’s up to you what you wanna do, he’ll give in to your requests, but he’s a simple man. He loves you and he wants to spend that time with you.

Z-Zesty, Give me your own zesty letters!

Enjoys spicy food!

[kirin-jindosh]

The NSFW alphabet for Jindosh

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

If he doesn’t get up and go back to work, he’ll open up a book and read in bed next to you. Is not one for cuddling, but a head resting against his chest is acceptable.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His own favorite body part is his hands/wrists. Whether you hold his hand during or pin his wrists above his head he’s like 👌 his fave body part on his someone is thighs, I’d think. He likes the way they move when his s/o walks and he also likes the feeling of them wrapped around his waist

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He’s fairly clean as an individual. Wouldn’t want cum on himself or the bed. He can’t deny there’s something incredibly arrousing about cumming on his s/o’s face though

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs

He likes to be slapped around a bit and talked down to. That’s like foreplay for him. But he also secretly likes to be held tenderly and for his s/o to whisper sweet nothings into his ear as they fuck

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Psshhhh not at all, really. Most of his sexual encounters up to this point have been drunken flings made accidentally. He’s very rusty and will need a lot of support and guidance

F = Favourite Position

He really likes to have his S/O on top regardless of gender. If they’re a man, he likes to lie on his stomach with his face in the pillow. If they’re a woman, he likes to lie on his back and watch them move

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Serious but will make a few snide comments to try and get a rise out of you. Frustration typically leads to tougher sex and he knows that

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

The man has the best kept mustache in all the isles so naturally he pays attention down there as well. Not as often as he should, though, because he’s busy and it’s not like he’s getting laid every night anyway. But yes, typically, very well groomed

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

If he’s been with a particular person for a long time and they’ve done this often, he can let his guard down during and become very intimate and even, dare I say it, romantic. But if it’s a new relationship, he distances himself and tries to make it purely carnal to avoid heartbreak.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He does this more frequently than he would like. If he has a someone, it’s not really an issue. He can go months without anything, then one week, it hits him hard and he’s a mess until the desire passes over.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Likes to have his hair pulled and likes to pull hair. Would be into toys if that were a thing in his world. Would probably craft one for his s/o, have them slip it in as they go out to a party or something similar, then turn it on and off sporadically throughout the night to torment them.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His office is where he works so hardly ever in there. He likes to do it out on the balcony sometimes because no one can see yet it feels so voyeuristic.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Being outsmarted certainly catches his attention. He likes someone who can counter him and keep up with him, the rush of it all often fuels his sex drive. But he also really likes to play with someone innocent and naive, maybe a bit foolish.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Orgies, probably. A 3-way is literally the most he’ll do. Even then, he’s mostly irritated and jealous the whole time.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Preference-he likes to receive, but is willing to give. He’s mostly self conscious because he’s a bit bad at it. But he really enjoys seeing his s/o on their knees in front of him. It’s an ego booster, especially if they were ever rivals.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Surprisingly, he’s fast and rough most of the time. He’s almost always desperate for a climax and he’ll go to any means to get it.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He prefers them, actually. If you gave him the choice between one longish session and five quickies throughout the day, he’d choose the later. He’d think of them as breaks between his work and would call you to his office for one every few hours or so.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

His curiously will, inevitably, be the death of him. He will allow the occasional experimentation as long as it’s well thought out and planned. Don’t spring anything on him or it’ll just piss him off and turn him off.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He sits in a chair all day, what do you think? He lasts maybe five to six minutes and on good days, can go for eight. But that’s why he likes the quickies! There are multiple little sessions so he can make it up to you!

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Like I said, he definitely makes his own. Doesn’t use them on himself. He likely has a separate folder full of concept sketches that he shows his someone nonchalantly before he begins crafting.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Soooooooo much. But he can’t handle being teased back, it ruffles his feathers and makes him blush. But Kirin will always be Kirin, so be prepared for a lot of teasing and taunting to try and get you flustered.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

A medium volume. He’s a very self-aware man and he wouldn’t want to draw all the attention in the room to himself —not during sex, at least. Expect the occasional groan or muffled hiss of pleasure.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Bisexual!! As!!! FUCK!!!!!

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

*cough* Kirin is tall. He definitely doesn’t have girth and he might not have, like, an 8in dick. But like. The man is content.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Low most of the time. Again, he has that occasional week where his stress builds up and he can’t control himself. But for the most part, he has to be prompted into sex.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Haha depends. When was the last time he slept? If you fuck him after a three day tinkering binge, he’s asleep before he even pulls out. If not, he might stay awake with you for a bit and chat before drifting off to sleep or getting up and heading back to his lab.

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Ateez NSFW A-Z

Yeosang

A = Aftercare

You usually take care of each other. By the end of a long night you’re both shaking and tired and cuddly so you clean each other up and get some water and make sure the other gets ready for bed before you fall asleep.

B = Body Part

He likes his hair. He loves laying his head in your lap when he’s sleepy and having you run your fingers through his hair, he finds it so relaxing. He also loves when you tug on his hair while he eats you out and he wants you to pull his hair more often. He really likes your hands. He likes when their in his hair or in his hands and he’ll sometimes give you kisses on the back of the hand when he’s being romantic. He also loves how easily you can bring him to his release with your touch and the way you tease and over stimulate him.

C = Cum

In line with body part, he loves to cum on your hand. When you let him lean back against you, pumping him quickly and whispering dirty things in his ear it never fails to make him cum and he loves looking down and seeing your hand dripping with his cum as you hold him in your grasp and push him even further.

D = Dirty Secret

He didn’t expect it, but the first time you both got wrapped up in the mood and you were rougher with him he really loved it. When he’s in charge he’s all over the place but when he’s subbing he’s more consistent, he likes when you degrade him and treat him rough and he just wants to fall apart for you.

E = Experience

Very little, one relationship that became too difficult to keep going when life got really busy. So he’s done a few things but between the fact that it takes him a little while to get comfortable and the relationship didn’t last very long he still has quite a bit that he’s never done.

F = Favourite Position

Sweet boy likes his missionary style. It lets him be close to you and when he wants to be in control it lets him control the pace easily. He can kiss you and look at you but also hide his face in your neck when he gets flustered and he l o v e s when he hits just the right spot and you start scratching down his back and arching off the bed.

G = Goofy

He’s really not very goofy. He can get a little more lighthearted as time goes on but when you first start seeing each other if you laugh a lot in the bedroom it’ll make him nervous and worried that he’s doing something wrong or embarrassing himself.

H = Hair

He frets about it as soon as you start dating because he’s not sure what you’ll like but he doesn’t want to ask. He’ll probably keep it trimmed short and clean and hope that you’re alright with that and be relieved when you don’t say anything that it works for you.

I = Intimacy

He tends to be intimate and romantic a lot of the time. He has such a soft spot for you and loves you so much that he’s easily very sweet and caring with you. At times he does want to tease you and when he’s feeling dominant he’ll get more cocky and cheeky but otherwise he’s a whole sweetheart in the bedroom.

J = Jack Off

Two or three times a week. His sex drive isn’t crazy high and he can go a while without release and be totally fine with it, especially when life is busy and he has a lot of other things to focus on. He also gets a little nervous he’s gonna get caught every single time.

K = Kink

***

L = Location

The bedroom. He really doesn’t like the thought of anyone walking in on the two of you. And the bedroom is really comfy and safe and warm so that’s usually where the two of you end up. He might be willing to try other spaces at your place if no one else will be walking in on you.

M = Motivation

Your confidence. He’ll often be quiet with you, especially when in more public places and he admires any moments when you’re outgoing and confident in yourself. He won’t be able to take his eyes off you all day and he’ll be all over you by the time you get home.

N = NO

Not being straightforward with him. He doesn’t like it when you mess around with him or try to play games with him when he just wants a proper answer. He’ll also have a hard time if you deflect a lot of his compliments. He doesn’t expect you to be confident all the time but if you can’t take a compliment it’ll kill his mood.

O = Oral

He likes oral, though either way it isn’t his favourite thing. Don’t get me wrong, he does love when you’re sucking him off, but it’s not the main event for him and he’ll always want to move on to something else after a while. And he will eat you out for a while too for sure, but again the whole time he can’t stop thinking about how badly he wants to fuck you properly.

P = Pace

Extremely varied. He’s a switch and his moods are so different when he’s subbing and domming so it really depends. When he’s feeling more loving and often subbing he’ll go really slow but he still loves when you’re rough with him. When he’s more dominate he tends to be quicker and more rough, but sometimes takes it slow just to tease.

Q = Quickie

He doesn’t like quickies. He gets worried that people will find you or that you’ll run out of time, he just far prefers to have his time with you or for you to have your time with him. He’ll tell you just to wait and then he’ll set aside an evening for the two of you as soon as he can.

R = Risk

In the bedroom he loves to try new things. He’s really adventurous with you and pretty much any idea you come up with will pique his interest and get him thinking. However, he doesn’t like the idea of public sex or semi-public sex. He doesn’t want people walking in on the two of you.

S = Stamina

He doesn’t last any longer than the average guy but he can cum multiple times which you both have a lot of fun with.

T = Toy

He’s not jumping at the chance to use toys but he’s open to them. When you do play around with them he’ll find his favourites and from then on out he’ll usually want to stick with those though if you bring home anything new and intriguing he will want to try it out.

U = Unfair

He loves teasing and he loves when it goes both ways. When you’re in charge he wants you to tease him, degrade him, and generally turn him into a mess, he wants to just completely release when he’s with you. When he’s in charge there’s no shortage of teasing and pushing your buttons and using everything he can to get to you.

V = Volume

On the quieter side. Both his lower groans and moans and his higher pitched whines and whimpers are pretty quiet but loud enough for you to hear and know that you’re making him feel good.

W = Wild Card

He really likes when you leave marks where they would almost be seen. A little higher on his chest or near to his neck. You know you’ll get in trouble if they're fully visible but he likes the thrill of them being right near his hemline, close to being revealed but not quite.

X = Xtra

He won’t go all out at first but if he finds out that you like that sort of thing he will put in a lot of effort to make the evening nice. He’ll have nice wine for the two of you before hand and stuff to take a nice relaxing bath afterwards and he’ll get a little blushy when you compliment all the effort he went too.

Y = Yearning

Not wildly high. He’d like to have sex with you two or three times a week. Every day or even every other day would probably be a lot for him and he can handle once a week or less if that’s what happens with his schedule. 

Z = ZZZ

Not too sleepy after the first orgasm but if you push him to his limit that night then he’s pretty much out like a light as soon as it’s over and you’ll have to wake him to get him all cleaned up and make sure he doesn’t fall asleep in the bath.

[starryseo]

superhero!johnny

background: in this alternate universe, the members of nct will have various superpowers and abilities. this bulleted series will describe them in school situations - a school of superheroes/ villains - and also outside of school, in non-magical settings, for instance, describing a non-magical job they may have. it’s kind of like harry potter in the sense that only people with powers can access this magical world (where the school is) but magic users can easily travel in between both worlds. enjoy!

shapeshifting;

johnny would be a shapeshifter & im willing to fight anyone against this

he probably wouldn’t use this much in something serious unless he really needed to

always uses it when he gets the perfect opportunity to prank someone

ten always gets t r i g g e r e d when he thinks back to his first meeting with johnny in school

they had a lot of classes together so they saw each other every day

and johnny being the ass he is

shapeshifted into an ever so slightly taller version of himself every day

and the change was so gradual that ten didn't notice

until he was going through his gallery and he sees pictures of the two of them together

the first picture, ten was taller than johnny’s shoulder

and in the next johnny’s shoulder was miiiiiles above ten’s head

and he was just like what tf dude

how could you play me like that <\3

has also probably made ten cry by shapeshifting into a taller version of him (ten) and then mocking him

but it’s all in good nature & ten always gets his revenge (will be explained in ten’s one ;))

johnny also loves playing the “Which one is Hyuck?”  game [brownie points to whoever gets this reference ;^)]

so he shapeshifts into donghyuck, and he and hyuck wear the same clothes & caps and the rest of the gang have to guess who is who

the only person to have ever guessed it correctly was mark

he was like “that one’s obviously hyuck bc look at that smirk. damn, that has scarred me so many times i can just tell that that’s hyuck”

no one understands wtf he's talking abt bc they look exactly the same

but mark’s never wrong 

so he’s now been banned from playing

he probably does still play though bc it’ll be 30 mins into the game and everyone’s still just like “uhhhhh,, idk that one could be johnny?? damn this game” and mark is straight up like “hoW CAN YOU NOT TELL THIS ONE IS HYUCK??!?!?!?! CAN’T YOU TELL HE’S INSULTING YOU ALL IN HIS MIND”

anyways,,,,,

johnny is a h u g e drama fan

is always starring in the school plays because he loves transforming into famous actors/ actresses and acting like them for small, crappy school plays

people used to think the school actually hired a famous actor

but nah

it was just johnny

loves doing this to the youngers though

will ask a kid who their favourite actor is and then next week he comes to rehearsals as that actor

does it to have a good time and to make the kid happier, not to trick them though

probably has a youtube account of clips where he’s transformed into famous actors and does really bad renditions of their most famous films

like he did a parody of Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back, shapeshifted into a crappy darth vader with a black curtain for a cape and was like

“Luke, I’m yo’ daddyyyyy” [even tho the actual script is “no”, not “luke” shh]

he’s done so many and like the real celebs have seen it and are like? ??? i don't remember doing this wtf???

makes him laugh so much when they go into interviews and one of his videos come up and they’re so confused like ?? that’s not even my youtube account and i've never done that?? that’s a really good look-alike damn

the magic council h a t e  h i m bc johnny wtf?? you could expose magic like that?? but no one’s actually thought he was a shapeshifter, just that he was really good at make-up and he’s hired multiple people for his vids (lmao little do they know it’s all one man)

OK SO

you actually know him from school

he’s in your chemistry class and he’s got like a month-long detention for impersonating the professor when she went outta the classroom really quickly

yeah she has a long vendetta against him ever since he transformed into the principal and was telling her to make her lessons more interesting, include more experiments and banned her from giving detentions

it was going so well until the actual principal announced that a fire drill was happening later on in the day

had to happen at that exact moment in time gosh the coincidence

and johnny was just there like “ah... that was... pre-recorded??”

she literally looks for any excuse to ruin his life and vice versa

anyways, the lesson had started

and unfortunately, you were running a bit late so you came to class like 5 mins into the lesson and got a detention after school

you went to the detention knowing she’d make the 30 mins detention 3 hours long if you didn’t come

so yeah, it’s after school and you and johnny are the only ones there and she’s getting you guys to clean her mess of a classroom

she laughed whilst telling you she had the youngest year in the school doing a messy experiment last period

“i want this place absolutely spotless, i should be able to see my reflection in the beakers. i’ll be back in 30 minutes and you both better still be here.” and then she went off to the staffroom

you guys just had really generic conversations until like 5 mins in when you both gave up on cleaning the tables

he called sicheng and asked him to really quickly buy the two of you food and sicheng the lil cutie ran over as fast as he could with pizza <3

so you both just talked about your mutual dislike for the teacher whilst eating and then johnny decided that now was the perfect opportunity to prank her

johnny: “she wanted to see her reflection in the beakers riiiight :^)”

he locked the room’s door in case she came back earlier

and then transformed into her

you took a picture of him and then logged on to the computer in the room whilst he took out all the beakers and flasks he could find

you printed off like 100+ copies of her face and spent the next 10 minutes putting the papers with her face on them into the beakers

you threw away the scrap paper just as johnny unlocked the door and the teacher came back

at first she was like “trying to leave the classroom johnny?”

“no ms of course not”

you were trying not to laugh out loud at how he was trying to be good so she would let you both out quickly before noticing what you both had done

she gave you a quick talk on not being late before letting you both go

y’all ran outta that class so fast you’d give sicheng a run for his money

and then news spread around school of that teacher screaming because someone had stuck her face in the beakers etc but you and johnny had both kept it a secret and the whole school were kinda laughing at her bc apparently her scream could be heard on the top floor even tho she’s on the bottom floor lmao

no one knows who actually did it and she has no proof it was you guys so the school can’t really do much and no actual harm was done so??

but johnny came up to you that day and was like “wow, did you hear? the chem teach had the fright of her life today”

“yeah i heard, i wanna know who the masterminds behind that prank are”

“masterminds? i’m pretty sure it was just one person. you don’t need 2 people to take a pic and print it off”

“i will expose you johnny seo”

“gosh at least take me on a date first”

and you did lmao

y’all are the pranking power couple i swear donghyuck is jealous

-

sorry this is so late & hasn't been proofread properly rip. what member should i post next???