#he overdid it with the icing too :(

[numberonetribble]

Oh you KNOW that thing is going to taste 100% like food coloring 😭

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Let Me Help You

Pairing: Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Grumpy Sunshine Series

You knew something was off with Bucky the moment he came home. He kept rubbing his left shoulder, a deep grimace on his face.

You asked him what was wrong and he brushed it off saying it was just a tough mission. You didn't want to push him, so you let it go. You curled into his side on the couch, reading a book as he played with your hair.

And then he winced. Once. Twice. You've just about had it when he winces again. For the third time.

You snap your book shut. "Alright, that's it!"

"What?"

"Take off your shirt," you order.

Bucky quirks an eyebrow, a smirk slightly tugging at the corner of his mouth, "Really?"

"What? No!" You playfully swat his chest. "You're obviously in pain!"

“Aw…” Bucky dismissively waves his hand at you. "It's not that bad."

"It's been bugging you since you got back."

"I just overdid it a little. I'm fine." Even as the words leave his mouth, you can tell he's fighting back another wince.

"It's hard to see you like this."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine!" you insist. "I know you don't like other people seeing your arm, and I know you've said no to trying physical therapy, so if you're not going to go ask for help then just let me try to help you. Please?"

He deeply sighs, but considering that even the small rise and fall of his shoulders is sending pain radiating all through his shoulder, he's pretty sure he does need your help. "Fine..."

Your fingers trail over the metal plate holding his arm in place. As you flip the release trigger, he grits his teeth, a huff of relief leaving his lips as the vibranium arm detaches from the joint.

"Baby..." Your voice wavers slightly. It makes you want to cry for him. "It's really swollen. This had to have been bothering you."

"I'm used to it," he grumbles.

Your heart clenches for him. That was the problem. He was used to it. Far too used to pain. Far too used to dealing with it on his own. "I'm gonna go grab you some ice."

You return with an ice pack in hand moments later. He hisses as the coolness presses against his scarred flesh.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Thank you."

"All I did was grab an ice pack."

He grabs your unoccupied hand, kissing your palm, "No, thank you for caring. Sometimes, I forget that I'm not alone anymore."

"You'll never be alone. Not as long as I'm here." You press a gentle, feather light kiss to his shoulder, "From now on, promise you'll tell me when your arm's bothering you?"

He hums as your hand gently kneads his shoulder blade, soothing away the radiating ache and pain, "I promise."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064

[pellucid-constellations]

On the Ice

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Figure Skater! Reader

Summary: Sometimes, training gets intense. That's fine, though—Bucky'll be there to take care of his girl.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Reader is shorter than Bucky (but I'm imagining him like 6'7 in this 😉)

a/n:​​​ Happy one-bucky-fic-a-year to this blog <3 Seriously though this was fun to write!! I missed college athlete Bucky sm 🫶 Thank you for the suggestion @itsswritten :)

Masterlist

~~

Coming to a stop in the middle of the ice, you bent with a heaving chest and placed your hands on your thighs. The cold air of the rink was biting in your lungs but you greedily gulped the air down, anyway, light beaming you in the eye as it reflected off the carved ice beneath your skates. You fought the urge to collapse into the pools of fluorescence. 

Soft, melodic program music faded away until the only sound in the building was your labored breath. You’d been going at it for a few hours and only felt the repercussions now that you were stopped. The burning in your legs was an extra push towards sprawling out on the ice, and you were a moment away from giving in to that urge when the floor disappeared from beneath your blades.

You let out a startled scream, the sound traveling across the ice as your body was whipped around. You spun, making three rotations before the arms around your middle loosened and you felt breath at your ear. 

“Ice time’s over, sweetheart.” 

Bucky placed you back down but his arms never moved from around you. That was a good thing, in all honesty, because you weren’t sure if your shaking legs would hold you up. 

You spun in his arms, gripping his uniform jacket between your fingers as you stared up at him. “Bucky,” you greeted, a breathless smile lighting up your face. 

“Hi,” he grinned back, bringing a hand up to your cheek to steady you as he kissed your forehead. “How’s my girl?” 

“Good! Although, I might’ve overdone it.” 

Bucky shook his head fondly, eyes soft as he held your gaze. “I know you overdid it. You haven’t texted me in two hours. Figured you’d stay up until our practice, but not even a break? You know better than that, baby.”

You scoffed. “I don’t have time for a break. Championships are—”

“Coming up and I have to be at my best, Bucky,” your boyfriend mocked with a playful smile. He lifted you by your waist, your skates barely hovering above the ice, and started making his way to the rink's edge. “I’ve heard it a million times. Doesn’t mean you gotta kill yourself out here.” 

“I’m not going that hard. And I take breaks!” 

“Right, sure. You wanna tell me why your water is completely full then?” 

You stared up at Bucky, your head at his chin as he carried you. “Um, I just refilled it.”

“You suck at lying. You always bite your lip and you can’t even look me in the eye.” 

“Yeah? Well, you’re nosey and a weirdo for checking my water bottle.” 

Bucky only laughed, the material of his jacket rustling against the softness of your workout clothes. He made it to the edge and kept you in his hold, only releasing you once he reached the benches by the lockers. In a series of quick motions, he held your backpack in his hands and was kneeling at your feet. 

“Drink,” he commanded, holding out your water bottle. He patted the side of your calf before drying off your blades and covering them. “You get the axel?” Bucky asked as you obediently followed his command. 

You wiped the water from your lips before groaning. “Almost. I don’t know why I’m blocked right now. I fell on my knee too—that hurt.” 

Bucky tsked and started untying your laces. “The bad one?” 

“Unfortunately. I guess I actually did take a break because I had to lay on the ice for a little while after that one.” 

Bucky tugged your leggings from the confines of your skates and rolled the left leg up to reveal the dark bruise etched on your skin. It seemed to linger there at all times, getting darker or lighter depending on your week. It wasn’t broken, however, and that was considered a win. 

Bucky ran his fingers over the skin gently. It matched the fading bruise on his cheek, in a way, and you considered the ridiculousness of the sports your chose as your boyfriend kissed your knee and pulled your the leg of you pants back down to your ankle. 

“Y/n,” Bucky chastised, slipping the skates from your feet. He set them aside and pressed his side against yours as he sat on the bench. He took your chin between his thumb and finger. “This is why I don’t like you at the rink alone. I don’t want to show up to practice and find you passed out on the ice.”

You knocked your head to the side, a small smile seemingly permanent on your lips. Bucky was so pretty to look at. “That won’t happen, Buck. I’m a professional.”

“Professional pain in my ass,” he grumbled, but the sound was muffled at the end because you had your lips pressed against his. 

He met your touch with mirrored enthusiasm, sliding his hand from your chin to the back of your neck. You broke apart far too soon for Bucky’s liking, an accusatory glare in your eyes letting him know you had only kissed him to distract him while you formulate a response. 

“You’ve got some nerve, Barnes, you know that? What about when I watch you on the ice and you’re provoking people into smashing your face in, huh? Talk about a professional pain in the ass—you’re the poster boy of pain in the ass.” 

Bucky kept your face in his hand, brushing his thumb along your cheek as you went on your tirade. He was only retaining about half of the words that came out of your mouth, but that was your fault; you should know better than to kiss him into shutting up. 

“Last month you had a bloody nose that wouldn’t stop bleeding for an hour! I was next to the penalty box and I couldn’t even do anything. At least when I get hurt it’s possible for you to—are you even listening to me?” 

Bucky's smile lifted at the corner and he shook his head with a lovesick expression. 

You let out an affronted gasp. “You’re the one that started all of this and now you’re not even—” 

Your words were cut off by Bucky pulling your face forward and smashing his lips against yours. A strangled sound left the back of your throat, but you kissed him back just as quickly. A small smile was shared between lips, and you could feel a lingering sense of urgency in the pace he set; clearly, he was expecting the rest of his team to come in at any moment. 

You pulled back but he followed your lips as they attempted retreat. 

“Bucky,” you mumbled against him. “I was talking to you.” 

He hummed. “I know, baby.” He stayed close enough for you to still felt his words as he spoke them. “But you started it. You know I can’t help myself when it comes to kissing you.” 

You held his gaze, your playful glare matching the smile you struggled to hold back. You went to kiss him again, but the sound of the rink’s double doors smacking against the wall echoed in the space and your incoming kiss turned into you pushing away from Bucky and rising from the bench in one too-quick motion. 

Your knees (and the rest of you) weren’t entirely prepared for the movement. Your body shook and parts of you gave out as your feet began to soak up the chill from the concrete beside the rink. Bucky was there though—as he always was. He jolted up and mimicked his hold on the ice, his chest at your back as he wrapped his arms around your middle. 

“Whoa, y/n. Careful, baby. Saw your knee start to give out.” 

“Bucky, you can’t—” 

But it was too late. The sound of whistles and taunting jabs filtered past the locker room door, the rest of Bucky’s team entering with sly smiles and raised brows.

You knew the team and knew that their teasing was harmless, but you weren’t completely used to the way men showed each other affection just yet. Especially not when there was twenty of them all the size of small bears. 

“Hey, Miss Olympics,” Sam winked. “You and Buck look awfully comfortable over there. Don’t steal him for too long—we need him on the ice.”

You laughed but cringed internally, pushing against Bucky’s hold that refused to relent. 

“Shut up, Wilson,” Bucky called over your head. “I’ll get on the ice when I want.” 

A few other players greeted you with teasing smiles and you felt your face burn brighter with each passing moment that Bucky didn’t let up. You glanced over your shoulder, expecting him to look similarly mortified, but Bucky only looked back with a wide grin and pressed a loud kiss to the side of your temple. 

“What, you embarrassed of me, baby?” 

“What—no! But aren’t you sort of, I don’t know—aren’t you embarrassed? To be like this in front of the rest of the team? Other guys I’ve dated—” 

“I don’t know what other guys you’ve been with, sweetheart, but they’re a bunch of idiots. I’ll show you off whenever I get the chance.” He pressed you back down on the bench with a smile and brushed away the flyaways around your face. “And I talk about you enough to where it doesn’t really matter if they see us. They expect it.” 

“Barnes, get the hell on the ice!” came a call from the rink. 

Bucky hooked his chin over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah! Got it!” He turned back to you and crouched before your seated position, gathering your face in his hands to plant a loud, dizzying kiss to lips. “You’ll get back to the dorms okay?” 

“Um, yeah,” you replied, disoriented by the onslaught of affection. 

“Perfect. See you later then.” 

“Barnes!” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and gave your face a soft pat before sliding onto the ice. “I was clearly busy.” 

[thehighladywrites]

ACOTAR MEN X READER, BEING THEIR SNEAKY LINK

☀︎ — summary: sneaking around with the acotar men👀 How long does this go on?

☀︎ — warnings: 18+, nsfw themes, tw beron🤢 mentioned

☀︎ — amara’s note: had this idea for a while, let’s bring this to life😈oh to be sneaking around with them🙏🏽💔

Rhysand

With him, no one finds out until you tell everyone

He is able to keep the links sneaky for sure, also he masks your scents so that no one can tell

No one really suspects that ur sleeping together because he isn’t paying any suspicios amount of attention to you.

He makes it up later though👀

At first, it was just a way for him to recover from Under the Mountain, so he sought you out for help in order to gain back some controll.

And he got better and began to carefully heal, yet here you both were, still sneaking around years later.

Yeah, years bc that is how good he’s able to keep secrets.

Oh, he gets jealous too and masks it as being a good friend and high lord when asked about it by the rest of the inner circle.

His favorite trick is telling the ic he’s sending you on a mission so they think ur gone, then he suggests them eating out while you’re gone then tells them he can’t make it so he stays at home and then you guys can stay at the house unbothered and alone

Since he gets jealous, he gives you hickies or make your legs so sore you can’t walk

Rhys looooves the attention you get during morning training for the others

“Are you okay, did you trip or something?”

“No, no Az,I’m fine. I was just doing some stretches and I think I overdid it.”

Rhysand just stands there happier than ever as you glare at him

Azriel

Guys, let’s be so real. Azriel ain’t getting caught, ever💀

He teaches you tricks on how to hide better when you’re coming over to his room

And it’s usually his room you hook up in bc he has trained himself to notice anything being off. Like if a book has been moved like a millimeter, he knows so it’s the safest and least risky place for you to be.

Because he is so attentive and sneaky, he is incredibly risky

He loves risky sex. Bro will fuck your brains out knowing people are close bc he knows he’s able to cover it up

Azriel also uses his shadows on you in broad daylight.

You’re out for dinner w the inner circle and his shadows teases and rub your clit under the table. You use your magic to suppress your arousal but it’s kind of hard to not squirm and all that

Az just sits there cocky as fuck knowing that he makes you react like that without even touching you

So so so soooo much jealousy on your side bc Azriel gets hit on all the time, males, females, youngsters, oldies, bro everyone wants him

People don’t hit on you tho because Azriel is always standing behind you, exuding that scary aura and energy that has people running the other way

Even after you two become official, you keep it under wraps. You don’t want anyone or anything ruining it for you so it’s all very hush hush

Only years after, when your friends ask why none of you date people, do you spill. You tell them you and Azriel are together already but it’s a private relationship

They were a little pissed but they let it go when they saw how happy you were and how good your dynamic is

Eris

He is sneaking around with you because of both your parents

You’re the daughter of one of B*ron’s🤢 close advisors so you and Eris spend a lot of time together

Eventually it develops into a secret relationship with a lot of sex

You both know your parents would hung you both if you ever got exposed but you still do it.

You both act like you’re somewhat of enemies or don’t like each other in public so that no one can even rise suspicions againt you.

Behind closes doors he sluts you out like crazyyyyy, i’m talking any type of sex, rough, soft, different positions, different places, new things added, toys, rope, cuffs this man is kinky I KNOW ITTT

like he has no controll over his life bc of b*ron 🤢 so he likes taking controll in the bedroom and dominate, yum👀

It all becomes more interesting and exciting when your parents decide it’s high time to get engaged and married.

Your suitors always wonder why you’re late and messy, what they don’t know is that you were busy getting bent over by eris

anyways when b*ron 🤢 dies and eris takes over, the sneaky link ain’t sneaky anymore. The man fully claims you, even making you his high lady.

Ugh i love him💔💔💔💔

Lucien

You’re Cassian’s sister and you’re hooking up with him on the down low

Lucien caught your eye when he and Feyre came back from Spring.

He seemed uncomfortable around everyone and kept to himself, until you started spending more time with him

Time turned your companionship to a secret relationship

Please, we all know how charming Lucien is, I mean, shit I’d fall for him too🫨🫨

Sorry @thelov3lybookworm but your man is so fuckable💗

Anyways, he is super charming and silver tounged and that makes you jump his bone immediately

This guy is amazing with his tounge, head game goes CRAZYYYYY

At first it’s just sex, but then instead of fucking then leaving, you begin to stay during the nights and talk for hours.

Eventually you realize the depth of your bond and how much you love one another.

You were quite nervous when telling Cassian bc Illyrian’s are super protective and possessive over their family but he is fine with it bc he knows that there aren’t better males than Lucien

Anyways, you keep sneaking around bc you don’t want to outright make out infront of the inner circle so you sneak away at parties, meetings and dinners.

This man is a risktaker just like Azriel. I know he sneaks up from behind, saying crazy and stomach flipping things, waiting for your reaction then fucks you in whatever place you are

Cassian

You’re Lord Devlon’s daughter and you sneak around with him.

No one knows about your magic from your mother’s side that you use to remove any trace of cassian

At first you hated him bc of your father and bc he manipulated you into thinking cassian and his friends were dangerous

There is banter and mean words exchanged between you that only makes the sexual tension between you even stronger

One night you both snap and have hate sex and that one night becomes the start of years of secret meetings and rendezvous.

Whenever he's in Windhaven, you two have a blast. To dodge curious eyes, you've got this genius plan: throw a party whenever Cassian conveniently has a meeting or mission there. With everyone a bit tipsy, it's the perfect cover for linking up

After a while you’re caught by Devlon himself and all hell breaks loose. Rhysand has to come down and solve everything before blood spills

Devlon disowns you and would have killed you had it not been for Cassian protecting you from your father

So he takes you to Velaris where you live with him and eventually become an advisor for Rhysand since he hasn’t lived there for years and would benefit from someone who was so close to Devlon

You have so much fun and yeah, that’s how you went from hate sex, fuck buddies, in love and eventually mates

[notjustjavierpena]

Sucía: Part II - Hungover

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Finally, a follow-up to Birthday Girl. So sorry about the wait. ALSO BE NICE TO ME SINCE I HAVEN’T WRITTEN ASSPLAY BEFORE! Can be read alone

Summary: You meet Javier again but this time, you are  hungover in a corner store and with sunglasses on inside.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, mention of f masturbation, javi is a flirt, reader is hungover and later tipsy, use of papi/daddy, alcohol consumption, classic booty call, flirty banter, dirty talk, kissing, dom/sub dynamics, blowjob, verbal humiliation, face-fucking, deepthroating, clit stim, doggy style but add a police grip, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, spanking, assplay, anal fingering, creampie, overstim, pussy eating, come eating, bit of subdrop, aftercare cuddles

Word count: 4.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48859147/chapters/123256180

Hungover

The hangover is worse than you thought it would be. It makes noises seem overwhelming to your ears, which had been fine listening to booming club music the night before, and fluorescent lights prickle at your eyes, so much so that you decide to wear sunglasses as you walk down to the corner store near your apartment building. You have the shakes, the fatigue, the savory cravings. 

But you also have the dull ache of getting harshly fucked between your legs. The memory is hardly foggy because you can’t stop thinking about it, the underlying roughness beneath Javier’s surface, and how you have spent the day in bed with your hand in your panties to try to reach even a shred of the same excitement you felt when he had you.

You reach the cooler with Arizona iced teas and rest the bottle that you pick out against your forehead. It soothes slightly. With your other hand, you find a bag of chips that you normally find disgusting. 

As you contemplate making a dip, you suddenly get the feeling of someone watching you. At first, you try to shake it but when it gets more intense, you whirl around and nearly bump into���

“Javier?” With the chips bag between your fingers, you use your index finger and thumb to peel your sunglasses off. 

“Oh, so it is you,” he gives you a once over with his eyes, raising a brow at, but not commenting on, your appearance; messy bun and gray sweatpants with an unflattering word in rhinestones across your ass. Instead, he smirks, “Bad hangover?”

“You could say that,” you say, a little embarrassed. After all, who you are in the nightlife is hardly who you are in real life, “I think I overdid it a little last night.”

“But you remember?” Javier takes a step towards you, seems unaware of doing it, and your pulse immediately spikes. 

“How could I forget?” You are not in the right attire for flirting but Javier looks pleased and relieved, even slightly amused, eyes traveling down your body as if he is trying to imagine what the baggy pants are hiding. 

“I wouldn’t want you to,” he states and suddenly starts walking towards the counter. You find yourself following him without any question. 

You swallow, trying to change the subject in case it gets too heated for public ears to hear, “What are you getting?” 

“I was just getting some cigarettes but now I’m getting a number too, aren’t I?” He gestures to the countertop and you place your chips and iced tea on it. 

“Perhaps.”

“And a pack of cigarettes,” Javier says to the cashier, a young teenager with curious eyes as he observes your interaction. Javier points to the brand that he likes and it’s added to the mix. 

“I—“ you protest. 

Javier holds up a hand and pays without a word. He rests a hand on the counter as he speaks to the teenager who is in awe by now, “You have a pen, kid?”

The cashier quickly retrieves one from underneath the counter. He hands it to Javier who turns to you, reaches out for your wrist, which burns with excitement as he touches it, and scribbles his number on your arm, “There.”

“How do you know I’ll call you?” You challenge as you pick up your things. 

“I’m pretty confident,” he shrugs, “I make an impression, I’ve been told.”

His smugness is hot and nauseating at the same time. You hit him with a line that you know only he knows the true meaning of, shoving the pack of cigarettes into your pockets too without giving him time to protest.

“Thanks, Papi,” you start heading for the door. 

Javier chuckles in disbelief. 

“Wow,” the cashier says as you leave, and despite having your back turned, you can picture him gaping at Javier who is watching you leave, “Dude, teach me your ways.”

—

You call Javier a week later. It’s in the middle of the night, you’ve been out once again, Hannah’s orders, and you don’t want to go home to your empty apartment. You aren’t drunk except for that your voice is a little louder than usual as you speak into the pay phone outside the club. 

“Are you home?” You ask.

“Are you drunk?” He interrogates.

“Just tipsy,” you reassure, confident, “Give me your address. I’ll come by… unless you’re busy.”

“I’m not.”

“Then give me your address,” you push. If you don’t get him out of your system soon, you think you might lose your mind, and what better way than to fuck it out? You sigh animatedly, try to make it sound so he can practically hear the way you are batting your lashes, “Please, Daddy.” 

“Jesus, you’re filthy,” he breathes on the other end of the line, and then gives in, “Fine, I’ll tell you my address.”

You tell it to a cab driver a moment later and soon, you are knocking on Javier’s door at three in the morning for a so-called booty call. 

He opens the door in nothing but his jeans. 

“Still dressed?” You question, “Thought I had woken you up.”

“Working,” he explains, throwing his head in the direction of his dining table. It is filled with paperwork, case files, and other documents.

“Ah,” you step through to the living room, having left your heels by the door that Javier closes behind you. 

“Whiskey?” He asks when he joins you, grabbing your elbow to get your attention and causing electricity to course through your body. You smile at him and nod, engaging in unnecessary formalities; you know that he knows you’re just here to fuck.

“If you don’t have anything else,” you tease.

When Javier serves you a glass a minute later, you knock the shot back a little too expertly but still grimace at the burn from the liquor. Javier snorts at the sight, shaking the bottle gently, “More?”

You shake your head, “You actually like that stuff?” 

“Smart mouth,” he sighs.

“Last time, you had music to drown me out,” you smirk, leaning back into your seat and feeling the warmth of the whiskey starting to spread through your body. You run a hand through your hair, “Look, you wanna fuck or drink your whiskey?”

It is nowhere near normal for you to be this bold but the warm buzz of the whiskey has made you brave like you were on the dance floor. You blink prettily at him, and he responds by placing the bottle on the glass table without making too much noise. 

“Oh, you’re a dirty one, aren’t you?” Javier’s voice has dropped to a lower pitch, and your whole core is aching for him to touch you like you know he can, “Thought you were just putting on a show for me at the club but you’re really dirty.”

“I can show you if you let me,” you say confidently but still try to compose yourself as he inches closer to you. You can see that he wants to kiss you like he did a week before, and you decide to be the one who initiates it. 

It feels different this time because his body is more exposed, showing the faint hairs scattered across his chest and the shape of his shoulders that had only been left to imagination last time and thus become a fantasy as you lay in your bed at home with two fingers inside of yourself. You grab onto them, digging your fingers into the golden skin, and moan into the kiss. His mouth is open against yours, broad hands on your waist and lower back, and he moves you a step backward every other second. 

Soon, your lips are swollen from kisses but they are not being kissed anymore. Instead, Javier has moved down to your jaw and throat, both parts stinging slightly from his mustache having scratched you. However, he soothes you with the warmth of his tongue and all is forgiven because you are so wet that you cannot think straight.  It has been a while since you have met a man who has kept you quite on your toes like he does. 

You eventually reach the bedroom, dimly lit like he knows how to make it inviting for sex. The nightstand sports several stacks of books but as curious as you are about your suitor, you focus on the bed instead. It looks like the sheets will envelop you in his scent. It is too much of an opportunity to pass up and makes you break free from his arms. The alcohol in your blood persuades you to crawl into his bed without hesitation, feeling the cotton bedding underneath your skin. 

You were right. The bed smells like him; like a mix between sleep and cologne, and it is so masculine that you turn onto your back to stare up at him with the best impression of a siren’s hazy gaze. You slide the straps of your dress off your shoulders, revealing no bra underneath it when your tits spill out as soon as you pull the front of the dress down. Javier stares without any hesitation or shame. 

“C’mere, crawl to me,” he stands by the foot of the bed, making no indication that he is going to join you. You follow his command, getting up on all fours and making your way towards the edge. The dress sits around your waist. He grins down at you, “Oh, you’re a special girl, aren’t you? Look at you doing what you’re told.”

You blink up at him, eyelashes fluttering as you reach out for his belt. He hardens underneath the denim whilst you work the buckle, and the clink of the metal causes a rush of arousal to your lower body. 

When you undo his zipper, his stomach jumps underneath no touch. He breathes deeply in through his nose, “Can’t control myself. I haven’t stopped thinking about your mouth taking my dick last weekend.” 

You tug his jeans down, realizing that he has gone commando underneath. It doesn’t surprise you though, just makes you stare up at him completely wide-eyed but mostly for show. He chuckles when you gape down at his cock which has now sprung free. He seems to notice it is an act and decides to play along, “Took it so well too. Think you can repeat the success, bebita (baby)?”

You nod and then lower your head whilst still looking up at him through your lashes. He waits politely above you, arms along his sides, but shows his impatience with the way his hand twitches slightly when you breathe onto his length. 

You waste no time teasing him, wanting to show him that your talent for sucking cock is not just a skill he had imagined last time, not just a result of having been drunk on being edged by fucking your pussy open. 

You wrap your lips around the girthy head and suck as you pull off until you earn a guttural growl from him. His mouth goes slack when you engulf him in your warmth again, bobbing your head and pulling your soft lips along the shaft over and over again. A hand rests on your head.

“That’s it,” he praises and tries to keep his hips still, his hand tensing up on top of your head in a way that tells you that he is holding back from pushing forward just yet, “Recuerdo que eres sucía (I remember that you’re filthy). Suck that cock, Princesa (princess), like a whore.”

You let saliva gather in your mouth until it sounds obscene when you take more of his cock into your mouth, fitting your hand around what you cannot fit past your kiss-swollen lips. The head bumps against the back of your mouth and causes a wet gag. Javier lets out a sharp sigh of pleasure. You repeat the move until your throat squeezes around him and his fingers tangle into your hair. 

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he murmurs above you. Your eyes travel up his body to stare at his face, just to get a glimpse before another choke on his dick will blur your vision with tears. His eyes are closed, a crease between his brows telling you that he is concentrating on the pleasure you are giving him. 

You hum as you suck him harder, cheeks hollowed and lips stretched. There’s a determination to hear him growl like he did before since it made your pussy clench around nothing. He’ll find out the state of your panties soon enough, and you hope he’ll know that it’s the result of greedily sucking him off. 

Javier’s eyes open carefully and his fingers tighten their grip hard enough to hurt your sensitive follicles when you make eye contact. He pulses in your mouth when you smirk around him, spit dribbling down your chin from how much effort you are putting into drooling on his dick.

Whenever his breathing pattern changes, you squeeze around the base of his cock to calm his excitement down again. He gets impatient and thrusts his hips forward, the tip of his dick sliding into the tightest space of your throat. It makes you bury your nose in the hair at the base of his cock, your hand falling down into your lap when it has no more to hold. 

Tears spring from your eyes but you don’t falter. Instead, you moan pornographically to tell him it is okay, and Javier takes the opportunity to fuck your mouth until his cock is wet from both your spit and your tears. 

To steady yourself, you reach up and place a hand on his lower belly. You scratch with your nails, meeting the snaps of his lower body with a tell of experience. 

“You’re a little slut,” he groans, “I can tell you suck dick on the regular. How many have had you like this? Because I know I’m not the first.” 

You gag on him instead of giving any indication of an answer. He chuckles breathlessly and stills his hips to guide you with the hand in your hair instead, creating a makeshift ponytail to force you onto his dick. You take whatever he wants to give you, pussy so touch-starved that it makes your head spin. 

“S-stop,” he eventually moans and loosens his grip but still cannot make himself pull out of your tight wet throat, “Pull off, I— shit, baby, you almost made me come.”

You do as you are told. An obscene string of saliva connects between your mouth and the tip of his dick, and he uses a thumb to sever it by trailing the digit across your swollen bottom lip. He smiles affectionately when you suck the finger into your mouth, “Want this messy thumb on your clit, huh?” 

You nod with his finger still in your mouth. Slick arousal has started to spill through your underwear, smearing your inner thighs with how much giving him a blowjob has made you gush. You pull away, his thumb slipping from your mouth making a popping sound. 

“Legs up, come on now,” he guides after you have completely rid yourself of your dress. You lay back and scoot to the very edge of the bed. Then you try to hook your legs over his hips, but he grabs your ankles one by one to rest your feet against his front, stretching your limbs high into the air.

He makes a self-satisfied face when he guides his wet thumb underneath the fabric of your underwear to find that he had never even needed your spit; you are drenched and waiting. He scoops some of your wetness onto his thumb and then presses down on your clit, seeming to remember just where it is from last time. He swirls the digit on the swollen nub, “Right there?”

You whimper and nod. Your toes curl, “Sí (yes), Papí. Don’t stop.”

“You can still talk after getting throat-fucked like that?” He taunts but doesn’t make any indication that he’ll tease or edge you. No, he seems determined to have you remember how good he is in bed and he reminds you of it by giving your clit the attention it needs. He swirls his thumb, goes from side to side, and up and down until your voice starts growing in pitch. 

He listens, really listens, and observes your reactions to what he does and with each beat of your heart, you gush a little more slick onto the sheets. Only a minute later, you have an earth-shattering clit-orgasm that has your brows furrowed and your eyes screwed shut. 

“Fuck me,” you beg during your high but he shakes his head, and you nearly decide to lose it. Though the eyes he gives you make you unable to protest. That gaze makes it seem like you’ll take anything he says as gospel, even when your walls are spasming around nothing. He knows better, there’s no doubt about it. You await his next move, head falling back on the mattress and with big eyes fixated on the way he towers over your smaller frame. 

“Turn around,” he eventually decides, “Crawl back on the bed.”

You follow orders in your post-orgasmic state, blood rushing in your ears so you cannot be sure if you actually hear him chuckle at your shaking legs when you try crawling to the middle of the bed. You pose on your hands and knees in the sexiest manner you can manage, awaiting his cock with an obedient and desperate cunt in the air. 

Whatever your brain cannot process in your pleasurable haze, you must feel instead, and behind you, Javier’s weight makes the mattress dip beneath the both of you. He has knelt behind you and you whimper as his strong, broad palms settle on your hips to pull them into the height that he needs them to be.

“Gimme your hands,” he commands but you cannot register it fast enough when you feel so empty and weak from not being fucked, so he yanks your arms behind your back one at a time without warning. You plant your face right into the sheets with a whine that’s muffled by the fabric until you think to turn your head to the side. This time, you are sure about the fact that he is laughing darkly at you. 

You realize he has you in a police grip, able to do whatever he wants and you realize that he wants to fuck you raw, no piece of rubber between you. This doesn’t bother you one bit tonight.

He only lets go of your wrists to guide his cock inside of your quivering body with one hand, then holds onto your arms again with both when your warm and soft heat engulfs him. 

“Listen, bebita (baby). It’s like three in the morning and the neighbors are asleep,” he tells you and you don’t think you could ever stay quiet when he is so big inside of you. You are just about to say something but then he surprises you by finishing his sentence, “Do you understand? I’m gonna need you to scream for me.”

Oh. 

“Sí (yes), Papi,” you groan as you still try to adjust to his girth, not quite remembering that his dick had felt this huge inside of you the last time you were together. He settles deep inside of you, fills you out until you cannot take any more of him, and then pounds you.  

“Bet they’re all over you when you’re out playing a little tease in the club. I was,” he muses as he fucks you hard enough to make the bed rattle underneath you, fingers denting the delicate skin of your wrists. The headboard has already started to repeatedly bang against the wall and the sudden halts to each movement of the furniture make his thrusts painful, “Bet they wanna touch and fuck you like I get to. You know how much you make men think about sex, don’t you?”

“Javi,” you pant as he continues, not able to do much more than take it and feel the heat pool between your thighs. You are soaking wet around him, lewd noises of your stretched-out cunt sucking him in filling the room each time he goes deep enough to have you see God. 

“Can’t say anything else, can you? Fucked stupid, is that it?” He moans when you shake and nod your head, mind too foggy to figure out which move is the right one when you have gotten two questions in a row. You can only think of his huge cock driving brutally into you, “You weren’t like this last time but we weren’t— ah, fuck. We weren’t in private last time, were we?”

This time you know to shake your head. You want to come, God, you are going to soon. 

“But now I have you all to myself and I get to show this gorgeous pussy who’s boss, fuck the brat out of her,” he lets go with one hand to smack your ass harshly and groans when you squeeze around his length in surprise, a yelp tearing itself from your throat, “You like that? Make it hurt, wasn’t that what you said?”

“Yes, please,” you finally manage a coherent word that isn’t his name. The knot in your belly is starting to tighten and his rapid movements are starting to make your body respond by building up a high, “Yes, I do, don’t stop! You— you’re gonna make me come, Papi.”

He growls and seeks his own satisfaction and pleasure, knowing that he won’t need to do anything else to make you come again other than fucking against your g-spot whilst his heavy balls slap against your clit. In response, all you can do is drool and lie in it, his harsh rhythm forcing the air out of your lungs in high cries with every crash of his hips into you. 

“What more do you like?” He smacks your ass again, faltering for less than a second as he gets an idea, “Eres una chica sucía, ¿te gusta un dedo en el culo (You’re a dirty girl, you like a finger in your ass)?”

You rub your forehead against the sheets when you nod frantically. Behind you, Javier stops talking but only to obscenely spit down the cleft of your ass and use his thumb to smear it over the ring of muscle there. 

You gasp and whimper, pushing back into the touch. 

“Whore,” he pants and adds pressure to your hole. 

“Want it, Daddy,” you beg softly. 

He eases the digit inside of you and your eyes roll back into your skull when he adds a whole new sensation to getting fucked by him. He can’t contain himself at the sight of his finger disappearing into your ass over and over, “I know you do. So fucking take it.”

The pressure inside of you from two places becomes too much. You get one more breath in before pleasure erupts from your sensitive pussy and you come hard with a cry loud enough to make your voice crack. Javier swears loudly behind you when your walls choke his cock and your untouched clit pulses in interest too at feeling something so powerful. 

“Come in me, Javi,” you cry as he fucks you through your overstimulation. Your skin is slick with sweat, glistening as it beads along your spine and settles into the dip in your arched back. 

“Say please, Princesa (princess),” he breathes rapidly, trying to hold back until you have done what he says. 

“Please,” you sob, “Pleasepleaseplease.”

“Good girl,” he praises and gives you only a few thrusts more. He comes inside of you with a grunt, stilling his hips whilst his cock twitches as it shoots and pulses inside of you. It is enough to make it drip out of you already, creating a ring around his dick that lazily starts sliding in and out of your abused hole to milk the very last drops from the tip. 

You fall flat on your front the second he pulls out. Nothing else exists except your fucked-out body, nerves tingling with electricity at how hard you have felt ecstatic pleasure tonight. You want to giggle or sob or giggle and sob but your eyelids feel so heavy. 

“You okay?” Javier asks from behind you. He has crawled forward to hover over you, placing a kiss on your shoulder, “Pussy took a pounding.”

“‘M fine,” you mutter with a little sigh as Javier’s lips leave kisses in their wake as he moves down your used, trembling body. He rubs your aching thighs.

“Should apologize to her,” he mumbles and places a kiss on the small of your back. You whimper in reply, pulling your arms forward to bury your spinning head in them and relish in the softness that he gives you. 

However, that softness has ulterior motives because soon, he is tilting your hips a little. He is still trailing his tongue over your lower back, through the sweat that has pooled there and then further down over your puckered hole. He ends with his mouth between your folds, hands that had been soothing your legs now curling around your thighs to pull them slightly apart so he can eat the dribble of come right from your freshly-fucked pussy. 

“I can’t,” you groan even if it’s soothing to feel his soft tongue inside of you. 

“Yes,” he slurps loudly and scoops more out of you, going down to lap on your clit. Between tortuous sucks that are strong enough to hollow his cheeks, he talks softly, “Just take it, bebita (baby). Let me make you feel better. You took it so well.”

A third high burns deep below your belly button but he builds it slower than when he had had his thumb on your clit by switching between eating from your seam and teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. 

“Javi,” you feel stupid for having said his name so many times tonight without following it up with anything else but he seems to understand what each enunciation of his name means. 

“I know,” he coos and bobs his head a little, “I’m almost done, just a little more.”

When you are clean of any remnants of his spill, he works towards your orgasm whilst you cry feebly. He sucks at your clit with gentle enthusiasm, coaxing your exhausted body to reach its climax once again not long after. Tears spring from your eyes as pleasure is forced to flow through your cunt again, rapid clenching around nothing making your hips stutter as you think you might gush enough to ruin the mattress. 

Javier pulls away as soon as you come down, moving to lie down beside you and give you the space that you need. You cry in your overwhelmed state but it’s only silent tears that slide down over your nose and cheek. 

He tuts and coos, “Nena (Babygirl).”

That nickname makes you cry louder. 

“Do you need help getting onto your back?” He asks carefully. You nod and without hesitation, he helps you move your body around until you are on your back, staring up at the ceiling. 

“I’m sorry,” you feel embarrassed but unable to control your emotions.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. You nod again. 

He reaches to turn your head towards himself, cupping your cheek carefully and using his thumb to brush a tear away. You hold onto his wrist as he kisses you. 

“No more tears,” he tells you with a soft smile and strokes your cheek in such a gentle manner that you cannot help but give him a little smile of your own in return, “You were so good.” 

“Thank you,” you say with a fluttering heart, mascara burning underneath your eyes. 

“Let me get you a glass of water,” he pecks your lips a few times more but when he tries to pull away, you whine like a child not getting their way. He says your time but then lets you crawl to him. He hugs you close, draping your leg over his hip, and coos soft praises until you fall asleep. 

“I have work in the morning,” he mumbles into your hair, but then why does he still let you sleep in his arms all through the night? 

You wake up to aspirin and water. You take it and gulp down the whole glass, only briefly waking up again when he crawls into bed with you late in the evening to hold you close once more.

“I’ll order some food,” he tells you while repeatedly kissing your still bare body.

“Okay,” you say and fall asleep again. 

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[tobythewise]

It's time for another DAtober fill! This time it's Fire and Ice featuring fenders!

Fire races through his veins and Fenris grits his teeth against the pain. A constant reminder of what was done to him in order to make him into the weapon he is today. The lyrium under his skin has its uses, but the cost is great. 

Fenris flexes his fingers, hissing through clenched teeth. All day he was on the coast, chasing a group of slavers to their cave before taking care of them all. He overdid it, but despite the pain, he can’t find it in himself to regret it. 

Each and every one of the slavers died at his hands. 

He tries to adjust himself in his bed but just the sheets brushing against his skin is too much. His nerves are completely shot, frayed and burned until Fenris can do nothing but close his eyes and exist, hoping the pain will pass. 

This is the first time this has happened. He’ll spend the entire night miserable in bed, unable to move without feeling pain and in the morning, he’ll get himself out of bed and into a cool path to soak in until he’s feeling good enough to walk again. 

It’s going to be a long, tortuous night. 

Fenris closes his eyes, breathing through his nose, trying to keep as still as possible. It still hurts despite his best efforts. 

“Fenris?”

A groan leaves his throat as his body tenses in surprise. It hurts. It hurts so much. 

“Fenris? Where are you? I know you used your markings a lot today and I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay.”

Fenris closes his eyes, tracking Anders�� progress by the sound of his footsteps. After a moment, Anders steps into his room. He turns his head, glaring at the mage but that’s as much of a fight as he has. 

“Fenris?” Anders steps inside, his brows furrowed. He hurries over to him, staring down at him. His hands hover over Fenris’ body but he doesn’t touch. “I can see you’re not okay. Can I help? Please?”

Fenris thinks about trying to speak but he’s out of energy, too drained from the pain. He manages a nod that turns into a pained whimper. 

Anders’ hands light up with blue magic. There’s a moment of panic when past instinct takes over, but the feel of Anders’ magic sinking into his skin quickly chases the panic away. 

If Fenris’ veins are fire, then Anders’ magic is ice. Everything rapidly cools. Anders starts at his center and slowly moves his magic out to his extremities. His muscles all unclench and the pain slowly fades. 

The relief is so sweet that tears gather behind his lids. He was expecting to be in pain for so long and with a gentle thought, Anders has soothed the pain away. 

“Thank you,” he gasps out, grabbing Anders’ wrist in his hand. Their eyes lock and something precarious passes between them. Fenris feels the walls around his heart crumbling along with the pain. “Amatus.”

[mamawasatesttube]

How about 35: "It's just a headache, I'm fine."

With Tim taking care of Kon after he overused his TTK?

A sliver of light falls across the floor from the hallway as the door starts to open. With the haze of pain fogging up his entire brain, it's barely enough warning for Kon to remember to croak out, "Don't."

Tim stops, hand falling away from the light switch. "Kon?"

Even the idea of lifting his head from the balled-up hoodie he's using as a pillow is agonizing, so Kon opts for the world's most pathetic peace sign. "Sup."

"What are you doing?" Tim slowly closes the door again, at least; the darkness is blessed relief from the stabbing pain behind Kon's eyes at even the faintest light. "Why are you on the floor?"

Kon squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the way Tim is definitely scrutinizng him in the dimness. His brain is probably doing that BBC Sherlock thing, tagging and analyzing his pained body language, the way he keeps pushing his thumbs into the pressure points just below his eyebrows, the tension in his shoulders. Tim would hate it if he described it as a BBC Sherlock thing, of course; that's why Kon keeps doing it.

"It's just a headache." His voice is a little too breathy from pain to be dismissive, but he tries. "I'm fine."

"You could've gotten in the bed, at least." Tim sinks down next to him on the rug. "What caused it? Are you hurt?"

"Fuck, Rob, not so loud," Kon groans, rubbing his temples. "Ugh. S'nothing. Overdid the TTK holding all those skyscrapers up for so long this afternoon, that's all. And bed sounded too hot."

Tim is quiet for a moment. "You never told us that gives you migraines."

"Never seemed to matter." Another wave of agony throbs behind his eyes, lancing straight through the deepest parts of his skull, and Kon swallows down a whimper. "It, ugh, it happened way more when I was freshly hatched. Now s'not all that... frequent."

"You being in pain always matters to me," Tim says softly. He lets out a breath, quiet even in the silence of the room, and shifts his weight slightly; Kon can hear the rustle of his clothes. "...Can I get you something? Is there anything—you came to my room for a reason, right? What do you need me to do?"

There's an undercurrent of desperation in his voice, barely there, but readily apparent to anyone who knows him even half as well as Kon does. He hates being helpless, hates seeing anyone he loves in pain, hates not being able to fix it. Kon smiles wanly, opening his eyes to look up at him; it doesn't hurt, not too bad, since the room is so dark.

"I'm in your room 'cuz you have the best blackout curtains in the whole Tower," he says honestly; even in this state, he doesn't miss the way Tim's shoulders droop slightly. "But... if you could get me an ice pack—no, two—that would... that'd be pretty rad."

Tim's on his feet before Kon even finishes his request. "Yeah, of course, I have plenty—" and then he's off like a shot to the mini-fridge in the corner, pawing through the freezer in the dark like a raccoon. Kon hides a wince; his ears are too sensitive for even the slight crinkling and cracking of the ice, and nausea churns in his gut.

But then Tim's back, and in his hands are two blessedly cold packs, wrapped in cloth to make them easier to use.

"God, Rob, I could kiss you," Kon tells him, pressing one to the back of his neck. It's instant, if not total, relief, and he lets out a low moan as the agony spearing through his temples starts to ebb out into the chill. After a second, he presses the second one over his eyes. Fuck, that's so much better...

"Do you need anything else?" Tim asks, hesitating. "I can get you some tea, or a blanket—no, you said it's too hot, um—do you want a sleep mask? Or I can—"

Kon reaches up, grabs one of his hands, and hauls him back down to sit on the rug. It takes a mildly herculean amount of effort, but he lifts his head next, scoots over, and places it on Tim's thigh, so that he can tuck his face (and ice pack) into his stomach. "Shut up," he mumbles, "and just... stay."

If it's too cold, or uncomfortable, Tim makes no indication. He just lets out a soft, "Oh," and then, to Kon's delight, threads his fingers tenderly into his hair. "...Is this okay?"

If his touch was a little more direct, if his gentle caresses were any faster, it'd be too much. But as it is, it's helping, and if he stops anytime soon, Kon might cry.

"Better'n okay," he answers, and despite his migraine, he smiles slightly against Tim's shirt.

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Tumblr has removed the edit option for asks, so... we're doing it this way until they fix their shit:

The emotional eater Bucky thing got me thinking…would you ever consider writing a gif where Stucky has been together for a while and Steve is called away on a mission for an undetermined length of time. Poor Bucky is worried sick and just keeps stuffing himself at every chance he gets and piles on the weight. When Steve gets home, Bucky’s embarrassed and instead of Steve getting upset, confesses he’s into it and they live happily ever after. With the occasional light teasing thrown in. Bonus points for burpy and hiccuppy Bucky. 🥺

emotional eater Bucky, original ask

Ooooh, this gives room for lots of different scenarios in my mind, so, sure! I can do some writing where we explore a few:

Unbeta'd stucky belly kink, warnings for stuffing, weight gain, insecurity, hurt/comfort, kink discovery, etc.

Bucky gets on the phone with Steve whenever possible. He’s on an undercover mission, so it really isn’t that often, he has to be somewhere completely secure where no one can see the mask of the character he’s playing slip off. It’s not often and it’s not for long but, still, Bucky will take what he can get. Even if what he gets is listening to the way Steve tries to talk to him normally, but… he can’t hide from Bucky. He hears the undertone of stress and exhaustion in his voice, and without realizing it, Bucky transitions from mindlessly pacing their apartment to mindlessly eating.

He stops in front of their fridge/freezer and listens as Steve rambles to him, pretending he’s fine, cracking open a new gallon of ice cream. When Steve yawns - speaking to the dark circles that must be shadowing his eyes, running himself ragged without anyone to look after him - Bucky shoves a heaving spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

Without realizing it, Bucky eats faster and faster, making quick work of the whole gallon as Steve tells him everything he can. Some mission details, but mostly how much he misses being home, how much he misses him, and how much he misses everything else.

Listen. Swallow. Listen. Swallow. Listen. Swallow. It’s the only two things Bucky is doing. So, by the time his spoon hits the bottom of the gallon, Bucky isn’t trying to repress his stress or his worry for Steve anymore. No, he’s trying to repress the hiccups and burps that want to come up. His lips are cold, and so is his packed stomach. He shivers and barely doesn’t groan out loud, using the hand not cradling his phone to massage his stretched abs apologetically. Every hiccup shakes his tight belly (which is getting less and less solid the longer the once-frozen cream sits in his body, he’s beginning to slosh noisily. He just hopes Steve’s super hearing can’t pick it up over the phone). Every burp is gas that doesn’t get released, staying trapped in him instead, and he’s starting to bloat up like a balloon. His abs feel hot with how stretched they’re getting. It feels kind of nice - warm and tight - sort of like cuddling. It’s distracting.

He’s lured back into the conversation, though, when Steve catches onto his heavier breathing and asks what’s wrong.

Bucky fumbles to tell him that he’s pacing too much, ignoring the fact that he’s a damn super soldier, he wouldn’t start panting the way he is right now if he went for a jog and talked to Steve the whole time.

Steve doesn’t think that hard about it. Instead, he apologizes for oversharing.

No. No, Bucky shakes his head. He’s fine. He tells Steve that. And, privately, he thinks he overdid it. Oversharing but… actually under-sharing because no human should eat so much fucking ice cream in under 30 minutes. He’s had way, way too much ice cream. It’s all sloshing and churning in his guts.

Then, the phone call ends with soft goodbyes.

Alone again, Bucky decides that he feels like a swollen tick, engorged with so much blood that he’s expanded. Doubled or tripled in size. How can his stomach get so big? Is this normal? Being able to swell so much? Is this a super soldier ability?

No longer smothering his sounds out of embarrassment and wanting to not worry his partner, Bucky slowly, gingerly bends over to grab a can of soda out of the bottom shelf of the fridge door - hoping to clear out some burps - and groans loudly, grabbing his heavy belly with both hands. He hiccups. He nearly falls back onto his ass, bending over and jolting like that. But he doesn’t. Barely.

He decides to ride out his mistake on the couch, leaning back, sipping his soda, and burping loudly, unashamedly. After a while, he feels his stomach deflate a little. It’s not as hard, at least. He still sounds like a washing machine, sloshing and gurgling, hiccupping and burping, groaning and moaning. But, one good thing can be said about the entire experience, he’s not thinking, for a second, about anything. No anxiety. No stress. No worry. Abstractly, he wishes Steve was here to nag him and rub his belly, but his mind is as clear as it’s been since Steve left.

❤️

Not too long later, after that first nearly instinctual belly-filling distraction/coping mechanism, Bucky wakes up in the middle of the night sweating. He’s so, so worried about Steve that it’s appearing in his dreams. It’s not even a normal dream with images and some semblance of real life, walking around, and seeing and experiencing. It’s just the feeling of being worried. Stress. Anxiety. Teeth-chattering.

Bucky has to get up. He thinks about showering off the sweat, but instead, he tugs off his shirt and sleep shorts, wandering only in his underwear to wherever his feet want to take him.

They want to go to the kitchen. His mismatched hands are on board as well, immediately finding the fridge and opening it, going straight for the pan of left-over lasagna that he had for dinner. It’s an entire family-sized dish. He stopped himself at 3 servings during the evening, but now, shaken awake and needing some kind - any kind of comfort, he can’t quit. It should be gross, he’s eating it cold and only using a fork to carve large chunks of cheese and meat and noodles and sauce out that smear the corners of his mouth, but it isn’t. He’s not thinking. He’s eating. He can’t think when he’s shoving food into his mouth. He can’t think when his stomach is struggling to stretch bigger and bigger. He can’t think when his belly aches with fullness. All that occupies his mind is the slow, intense fullness that grows and grows inside him. He likes the way it feels - being full.

Bucky doesn’t know when he woke up, he didn’t look at their alarm clock in their room, nor did he bother to open his phone, so he has no idea how long he spends ravenously shoving food into his mouth. But he’s there for long enough that he finishes the rest of the dish. The entire family-sized lasagna. Thick, greasy, and rich, sitting in his gut like a brick. A couple of bricks, actually.

“Oh, God,” he moans to himself when his fork hits the empty container with a clang.

His poor belly!

Oh, it’s so heavy. And round.

Jesus.

He’s never seen himself like this! Not even after he scarfed down a whole gallon of ice cream and bloated up like a balloon from the excessive dairy, sugar, and fat. He’s even more round and tight. His body sounds like a drum when he taps his hand against his belly, whining.

So, it’s all Bucky can do to shut the fridge and flop back down onto the tile floor, his belly sticking up like a mountain from the rest of his body. Pale and exposed. When he stuffed himself with ice cream, he was wearing a shirt - clothes - this time he isn’t. He’s basically naked. If he bothered to lift his head, he can almost see the way his belly shivers and ripples, his stomach and intestines struggling to contain, let alone digest all of that food. It’s so much more intense, seeing all this weight attached to him, under his skin. He’s all belly!

Bucky burps so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbors woke up and heard the commotion. Maybe worst of all, though, he can’t stop puffing, “oh, oh… oh,” the sounds are all breathy and soft. He’s overwhelmed with the weight of himself. His belly. It’s so tight. Hot, too. Bucky feels like a bug pinned to a board under a heat lamp, ready for examination. God, he can’t even roll around and get onto his hands and knees. He’s stuck. He’s, actually, Jesus, he’s wiped out, yawning after hissing out another burp... tired because it’s the middle of the night and tired because he’s so ready to collapse into a food coma.

He might as well sleep right here, right? Catch some shut-eye while he can with his head quiet, and his body is weighed down?

❤️

In the same week as the lasagna night (which wasn’t a dream, by the way. Bucky really woke up on the floor, and despite still being full in the morning, he made the poor decision to have breakfast. He should’ve regretted it with how his gut throbbed after devouring two whole boxes of cereal, one brand-new gallon of whole milk, and two cream cheese-slathered bagels, but… he didn’t. It made him feel better to keep up the overwhelming tight, heavy, hot fullness, barely able to drag himself to the couch to sleep it all off) Bucky watches Clint and Natasha come home from a two-week mission. They’re both scraped up and bruised, eyes dull from their exhaustion. Neither of them has any serious, terrible injuries but…

Bucky can’t help but think about Steve. Steve can heal minor injuries (and more than minor injuries) easily, but he’s taken advantage of because of that ability. Often. Bucky has seen it, again and again, Steve will go on new missions while still healing injuries from the last mission. Bruises fading. Broken bones still mending. Cuts hardly scarring over before disappearing entirely. Dislocated joints still tender.

He’s thinking about Steve.

Only Steve.

And, suddenly, his body on autopilot, Bucky is outside the Tower, away from his teammates and other reminders of Steve. Before he catches up, his fingers call an Uber using his phone. Then, his mouth has the driver take him to one of his favorite spots, a rundown, old-school diner that serves classic Americana food. The actual classic shit that Bucky remembers eating.

By the time he arrives, all of Bucky is on board with this plan. Except for his stomach. He tries to promise it that he won’t go overboard but…

He’s so hungry.

Easily, Bucky pops his most charming smile, showing off his dimples, and asks the waitress seating him for the booth in the very back corner where he won’t be easily seen. She lets him have it even though he’s alone, and normally corner booths are reserved for bigger groups. Good.

Then, as soon as he’s handed his menu, he goes down the thing, ordering what feels like the entire fucking menu. Not to mention how he double orders some of what he’s had before and knows is good. Still, the waitress dutifully writes down the entire order and brings it to him in manageable waves. If we were thinking properly, he would swear that she does it on purpose, eyeing him with… maybe disbelief? Maybe challenge? Maybe even interest? Either way, she keeps him pliant with lots of refills of creamy, sugared coffee and bubbly, non-diet soda. Then, without even being asked, she brings him a flight of all the different shakes they make.

Bucky is deep in his waking food coma by that point and he’s pretty sure, at first, that he’s hearing things when she claims that they’re the house.

Oh, God.

He has to have even the shakes then, doesn’t he? He can’t refuse free food. Even if he’s about to pop!

The shakes give him a much NOT needed second wind and he vacuums it all up, scarcely remembering that he’s in public and can’t freely belch and moan and hiccup and generally make a scene of how he’s swelling with food. Still, he’s unthinking. Just eating. Stuffing. Growing. Expanding like he doesn’t give a single fuck about the damage actively being done to his waistline.

Bucky eats until he feels so heavy that he could be entirely made of metal, not just his heavy arm. He eats so much that he tiptoes the line of feeling sick. Overstuffed. Weighed down by good full-fat, sugar-sugar (no sweetener for him, thank you very much) food that tastes like home…

“O-oof,” Bucky puffs to himself, shocked by how much harder it is than he remembers to scoot and lift his ass out of the diner booth. Heavy. He doesn’t really fit in the booth anyhow, with his belly pressing painfully against the edge of the table and flowing onto the table itself. He’s so swollen. He needs to get home. He wants to crash and sleep off all these calories. He can’t function he’s so full (but… isn’t that the point?).

❤️

Soon, Bucky has a jittery day, all day, for a few days and he ends up solving the issue by marathon stuffing himself. He JUST went grocery shopping but, there’s nothing that can stop him from cleaning out the entire apartment - the cabinets, pantry, countertops, top of the fridge, fridge itself, and freezer - before giving in and ordering piles of take-out for every meal. Keeping any of his worries for Steve at bay by shoving food into his mouth that only shoves his stomach out fuller and fuller, rounder and rounder, heavier and heavier. It gets to the point that there is no fucking food and he’s sick of take-out despite its convenience.

So, with his belly bursting from his clothes like a dame who’s expecting but didn’t budget for maternity clothes, so she’s making do with what she’s got, he pulls himself out of the apartment on unsteady feet to go grocery shopping. The weight of his belly keeps pulling him forward, making his back arch and hurt. And… Bucky wonders, his cheeks hot, if any of the people around him think he’s round in the family way, not the greedy, stuffing himself beyond sound reason or logic way. He’s seen men be pregnant in the future. Palming his gut in front of the produce, rubbing it, Bucky looks down - he could see it. He could really see it. He looks pretty pregnant. Like. About to pop pregnant. Maybe even overdue. If it were Steve’s baby, though, maybe not. Steve’s baby would be pretty fucking huge and strong and -

Oh, God.

Bucky feels the way the food inside him shifts and churns and his temperature seems to rise at least ten degrees. He needs to stop before his prick gets any ideas and he’s indecent for public with how he’s fantasizing about being stuffed full of Steve like that.

Fuck.

Bucky shivers and hides it by biting into one of the apples he picked out. He needs to keep shopping. Quickly. He needs to get home. (If he’s honest with himself, the thing that he’s looking forward to doing once he gets home is slowly but surely packing every bit of this food into his huge, beach ball belly. How big could he possibly make himself? How badly can he stuff himself full? Hnng.)

His trip takes a turn for the worse then, his tummy is unbearably tight and solid and it keeps hitting the handle of the cart as he waddles behind it, pushing it. Also, with every turn down a new aisle, he keeps seeing Captain America themed cereals and snacks and drinks, and… he misses his guy so badly. So, he snatches it all up. Still! His monstrous gut growls.

Hungry, always so fucking hungry.

How can he still be craving more? It doesn’t make sense! He doesn’t have room for more. But, he supposes he would rather be dealing with an unending appetite than unending, heart-breaking loneliness and stress and anxiety. So… whatever. Bucky eats another apple out of his cart, burping as softly as he can around the juicy flesh of the fruit.

By the time Bucky gets to check out, he has a good amount of empty wrappers to pay for, things that he’s snagged off the shelf because they looked good and he needed to sate his worries, so, he kept stuffing himself.

Eating everything.

Bad, bad idea to go shopping when he’s hungry (even if it seems like he’s always hungry now).

The clerk checking him out doesn’t look pleased with him. But, also seems to have some restraint, appearing to take pity on him (or be making fun of him), murmuring, “bad pregnancy cravings, huh?”

Bucky’s brain short-circuits. He fucking hopes she can’t read his mind. It’s all gluttonous filth now. He does look fucking pregnant. Obviously so. Round and tight. A big fucking globe pulling his back into an arch and making his walk into a waddle, ankles and feet swelling, he’s so goddamn heavy.

“Uh, yeah. Yup,” he grits out awkwardly. He’s very glad the checkout stand comes up to his waist.

It’s too much. Everything. Too much.

Once Bucky’s back at their apartment, he has to have security bring the bags up because he can hardly haul himself out of the car, wedged in behind the steering wheel, let alone the mass amount of food he bought to feed two super soldiers. But! Not even two… just him. Just one.

Just him…

Bucky eats more then. Because Steve enters his mind again.

He eats rapidly as if he’s a half-starved stray dog finding last night's leftovers in the garbage outside, he sweats like a pig while he does it, he pants and huffs and can’t catch his breath with his stomach encroaching on his lungs, pressing out and in, too, he bursts another pair of jeans the button flinging across the room and hitting the wall with how much weight was behind it, and he pops the seams on the side of his shirt with how far his belly expands out after literal days of nonstop eating. He can’t help it. He can’t do anything. He can’t breathe with so much food inside him. He can’t stop panting and moaning, his head spinning. He can’t move yet again. He can’t think about worrying.

❤️

In the morning, Bucky groans like he’s dying, lifting himself out of the dent he’s made in the couch, and heads to the shower to wash off the sweat and crumbs he managed to miss and not suck up like a damn vacuum.

He showers, steps out, and as the steam disappears from the mirror, he’s confronted by the fact that…

He’s chubby.

Like, really chubby.

It looks like he’s swallowed a beach ball or a pillow. His gut is big. There’s some soft fat overlaying his sudden belly (and his thicker thighs and arms as well as bubbling his butt out into a fatter shelf), but really, it’s solid. Solid. Densely packed with so, so much food inside him. God. How did he ever get all of that down his throat? He’s bloated, too. That isn’t helping at all. It’s making it so much worse. After his stuffing spree last night (and the past couple of days), he’s so bloated and tight, and pressing on his belly just makes him ache, it doesn’t get any burps or belches out.

He ends up with the fucking hiccups. Oh. Jesus. He whines to himself between the jolting hiccups. He’s aching with the pressure. The weight. The fullness. His gut and… and underneath his gut, too. He’s so full and swollen, he can’t help it. It’s such an intense feeling and Steve hasn’t been here to, to touch him or do anything, and -

Steeeve.

Bucky tries to stop himself, now worried about Steve being away and Steve when he comes home to find him like… like this.

Blown up like a balloon.

His abs don’t just look stretched, they’re gone! Beyond repair! He had abs the last time Steve saw him, now he’s… round. Big. Heavy - heavier.

But Bucky can’t stop himself. Because he’s an emotional eater. And he’s more worried now than ever. What is happening to Steve on his mission? Is he okay? It’s been a long time since they’ve gotten to call or text, so he has no idea what might be happening… if anything? When is he going to come home? When Steve comes home, how will he react to Bucky being fat? What will he say? Will Bucky be able to lose it if he’s less worried about Steve and he can see Steve and touch him and hold him? Will Bucky blow right back up into the stuffed turkey he is the next time Steve goes on an undercover mission where they can’t keep in touch? It’s all he can think about.

So, he uncontrollably stuffs and packs and shoves food into himself until he’s sprawled out on his back on the cold kitchen floor, groaning and rubbing desperate circles on his complaining belly at all hours of the day. Morning. Evening. Night. It doesn’t matter. He just can’t stop cramming food into himself. And he keeps getting bigger and bigger. Actively growing until -

Steve gives him word that he’s coming home.

Bucky is unspeakably relieved. But, oh, God, what is he gonna do about his weight?

The night before Steve is scheduled to come home, flying back, Bucky eats what feels like, at least, fifteen pounds of Italian takeaway. Everything is carb-heavy, oily, and rich. The only reason Bucky can get to sleep is because of the white noise of his tummy gurgling away, making him forget his worries. Any foolish plan he had to let his bloat go down all tomorrow, not eating until Steve got home, is ruined by the fact that Steve comes home at fucking 5:00 AM.

He crashes into bed with Bucky, and Bucky is so relieved to have him here (and so weighed down by enough pasta to give him a food baby… if babies were fifteen fucking pounds) that he just passes back out after being jostled awake. It’s not until he wakes up much later in the morning - almost noon - being spooned behind by Steve that he freaks out a little. Just a little. He’s remarkably cool, considering that Steve’s big, warm hand is resting perfectly on the fat crest of his gut. He’s pressed against his back where his gain might not be as obvious but… there’s no way he can hide it. When Steve wakes up and processes what he feels, what is he going to say?!

Bucky is jolted so strongly by his emotions that, in trained response, his stomach growls. He’s still stuffed. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t hungry. He’s hungry for relief from his worry and stress and -

Steve shifts, he stretches, he yawns.

He’s! Awake!

Bucky freezes.

His gut gurgles, loudly, trying to get Bucky to feed it.

“Hm, Buck?” Steve sleepily asks while nuzzling into his hair, assuming he spoke and it wasn’t just his overinflated stomach.

Tears prickle Bucky’s eyes, and he suddenly has the fucking hiccups.

Hic. Hic. Hic.

Terrifyingly, Bucky looks down through his watery vision to see his monstrously round tummy jolt and jiggle with each involuntary hiccup. He’s so fat. What is Steve going to say? What is Steve going to do?

“Aw, baby,” Steve’s sleepy voice is so warm on his skin, “got the hiccups?” He squeezes him, strong arms around his wide, soft middle, “you poor thing.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, he shakes his head tightly. No. Go back to sleep, Bucky wills him, testing any possible telepathic link they might have after their ridiculously long lives.

“Shh,” Steve tells him, patting (patting!) the fatty, soft side of his gut where it’s spread out huge and monopolizing so much of the bed, “it’s okay.”

“It’s - hic - it’s not okay,” Bucky whines.

“It’s okay,” Steve touches him so gently, rubbing his jumping, jolting belly, then - Jesus Christ - pulling up his tight sleep shirt to get better access.

Bucky is waiting for the other shoe to drop but it doesn’t. Hic.

“You feel good.” Bucky tries to suck in, but it doesn’t do anything, his abs are too fucking stretched - overtaxed by the sheer volume of food he’s put inside himself, gone forever after funneling so much fat and sugar behind them. “You feel like home,” Steve murmurs into his ear, kissing the back of his neck, “all soft and warm…”

“Oh.” Bucky says involuntarily.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckles, “you have no idea how happy I was to come home and feel you-”

“Feel?”

“Yeah, honey, it was dark. I didn’t want to turn the lights on and wake you up. So, imagine my surprise to feel you like this,” Steve drags his wide palm from the top of his tummy aaaall the way down, “you feel really good.” He squeezes him again. Bucky feels himself squish. Fat. Tubby. Excessive. “You’re all domestic now,” he noses his earlobe sweetly, the hint of an endeared, appreciative laugh in his voice, “soft and warm. Slow and big.”

Bucky swallows, he’s… he’s feeling warmer hearing Steve talk about him - about his body. He’s always liked it when Steve compliments and praises him. Touches him.

“You’re so cuddly. Gonna make it hard for me to let you go.”

“Don’t,” Bucky pleads, turning his head to look at him.

“I won’t,” Steve seals the promise with a kiss, “buuuut, if we wanna keep you like this, then we’re gonna have to get up and get your breakfast, aren’t we?”

Bucky’s gut gurgles loudly as if screaming its agreement.

Steve just smirks, his mouth uncharacteristically sharp for how early it is.

With anticipation, Bucky licks his lips. Should he tell him he’s still tender and stuffed? He doesn’t know how much more he could possibly fit into his stomach but… Bucky doesn’t think he wants Steve to go easy on him.

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

For the kiss asks:

GerryMichael (or DoorKeay) for either

Throat, inner thighs, or palm

Pretty please with a cherry on top? I'm making you an icecream cup

Hell yeah ice cream!

This prompt was also suggested by @starrypawz ...glad the samebrain is still going strong in this corner of the fandom

~*~

Michael had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that sometimes he overdid things.

Once he had reached the point of accepting that he couldn't be fired from the Institute, and Gertrude simply didn't care, and Gerry outright encouraged him, his personal style shifted drastically. He still loved a good sweater vest, cherished every jumper he made with his own hands, but letting loose with his fashion was freeing in ways he couldn't even say. Bright button downs, patterned cardigans, unique charity shop finds that he'd hoarded for years, never working up the nerve to wear them. But now he had no reason to hold back.

Unfortunately sometimes his common sense was held back as well.

"I hate this dress!" he announced as he burst through the door of their flat. Gerry looked up placidly from his vegetable chopping, raising an eyebrow at his outburst.

"First of all, that's my dress-"

"Pfft," Michael blew a raspberry at him as he struggled to kick off his knee-high boots.

"Second of all, while it does make your legs look fantastic, that's not what I personally would have picked for you." Gerry turned away to wash his hands as Michael collapsed forlornly on the couch cushions, legs hooked over the armrest. The tight fabric immediatly rode up his thighs, as it had been doing all day. The whole ensemble had been a struggle to keep together, mildly uncomfortable, and he'd barely had anyone to show it off to. It was all such a waste. "I think a longer skirt would have been the better choice, love."

"I wanted to look like you," Michael admitted sadly, swinging his legs idly. Gerry hummed and made his way over to him with his hands on his hips, examining him from a higher vantage for once. "You always look so cool and confident in this. I thought I would too."

Gerry's hands landed on his knees, pushing them apart as he leaned in over him. Michael's breath caught in his chest as he blushed, staring up at him with wide eyes and a suddenly pounding heart.

"It takes a surprising amount of skill to wear short skirts," Gerry said, his tone conversational and casual as if his hands weren't brazenly sliding down his thighs. "I'm sure you figured that out today, didn't you?" Michael nodded breathlessly, desperately hoping his hands would keep going. "Did you do the deodorant trick?"

"What's the deodorant trick?" Michael asked weakly. Gerry's smile turned wicked as his hands shifted, sliding along the inside of his thighs.

"Putting it on your inner thighs helps reduce chafing. Although-" he raised one of Michael's legs up, sliding it over his shoulder, eyes warm with intention- "that does make this better."

Michael didn't have to ask what would be better, because it was so obvious as Gerry lowered his head and began kissing the inside of his thigh. He gasped in delight, arching back against the cushions. The skin there had felt hot and irritated all day, and Gerry's lips were soothing and cool, the piercing through his lip a hard contrast that made Michael moan. Gerry echoed it back to him, his kisses light and fast as he moved up and down the length of his thigh.

"Wasn't kidding about your fantastic legs," he murmured, rubbing his cheek against his skin. "Fucking legs for days. Miles long. Wrap me up in them and I'll be a happy man."

"Stay there and you'll make me a happy man, too," Michael sighed, cinching his leg tighter as Gerry turned his attention to his other thigh.

"One of us has to make dinner," Gerry reminded him with a sigh, reluctantly extracting himself with one last kiss. "Why don't you get changed into something more comfortable?"

"Why don't I just lay here with my legs spread and you forget about dinner?" Michael shot back, not moving an inch as Gerry tried to move away. "What if I make you forget about dinner?" That certainly seemed like a possibility, due to the absolutely longing look Gerry was giving him, mixed with fond exasperation. Michael shifted his hips enticingly, and Gerry groaned.

"Bit of a bastard, aren't you?"

"You could have a bit of bastard, if you like," Michael offered teasingly and spread his legs wider. Gerry looked deeply tempted, and Michael encouraged him further by fumbling for the side zip and pulling it down, revealing the lacy pants hiding beneath the skirt. "Come on..."

Gerry groaned in defeat, resting his head against his knee and smiling down at him. "You're not allowed to complain when dinner is late, then."

"Imagine how much I would have complained if you left me here like this," Michael pointed out with a laugh. Gerry laughed with him, and climbed up onto the armrest, obviously intent on crawling up to kiss him properly. Michael welcomed him happily, and was even more happy when the skirt finally came off.

[otakween]

Digimon Frontier - Episode 3

For this episode I decided to check out the English dub for Frontier. I really enjoyed it! My problem is that the Digimon dubs are more fun and nostalgic to watch, but I'm always really conscious of missing out on lore and emotional beats. Maybe I'll finish the sub and then watch the dub someday when I wanna revisit this.

Notes:

The American OP is hype as heck! I like the tribal vibe with the drums. I think I like the Japanese digivolution music a little better though.

I liked most of the English VAs but Takuya sounds like a 30 year old lol. For some reason, Izumi's Italian outbursts were a lot funnier in English, "Mamma mia!"

I coulda sworn Takuya said he was in the 4th grade in the last episode but now he's in the 5th? In the dub he's in the 6th, so let's just say he's somewhere in the upper elementary range.

I really loved Tomoki's digivolution sequence. I like how his hand movements are a little more childish/cheerful than Takuya or Koji's Also, in the dub I love how he said "EXECUTE" lol. I know they meant like "executing a program" but I was just thinking of the murder version of "execute" hehe.

So I guess Bokomon and Neemon have a boke/tsukkomi dynamic going on. I think they overdid Bokomon's bullying a bit tho

Lol @ the DigiCode fixing one (1) single bridge in this episode whereas in the first episode they fixed like an entire village. I guess some digimon get you better results than others? (Also they said that the bridge "protected them from bad digimon," how does that work?)

So they've established a bunch of times now that there are supposed to be 10 warriors. Betting the cast will expand with some minor characters later.

I just noticed this, but Takuya has a little symbol on his shirt and hat but I'm not sure if it's supposed to be a reference to something or it's just a cool graphic.

Speaking of graphics, I finally noticed that the symbols for the spirits are literally just kanji. Like Agnimon's is the kanji for fire, Wolfmon is light, Chackmon is ice...

Uhhh...why is the dub name for Chackmon (Kumamon) way more Japanese sounding? I guess they couldn't have used Kumamon in the sub cuz...

Chackmon is a weird name and even after reading the etymology on the wiki I don't really get it.

These kids are kinda savage. First Bokomon is pleading with them to save his world and they just look annoyed and then when Agnimon is battling all the Candlemon they're just like "wow, he's really trying to fight a fire type? What a dumbass" (paraphrasing) and they walk off (to be fair, Takuya told them to hide, but still!) It was really funny when Bokomon was telling the Candlemon that the kids were there to save the Digital World and Takuya was like "not really" lol.

I'm glad that they were at least given the chance to go home because otherwise it feels a little bit like they're being blackmailed into being heroes (save our world or you'll never see your home again)

I'm sure someone has meme'd on Agnimon being covered in white drippy wax before...I'll refrain.

I feel like we already have too much lore here. First it was Cherubimon was messing up the world and now it's actually Lucemon that was the OG world messer-upper? Now I dunno who the big bad is!

If there are 10 warriors...I wonder what the elements are gonna be. Well I guess Pokemon has managed to come up with a zillion "elements." Is someone gonna end up with "heart?" hahaha

Didn't expect Wizardmon to show up as a baddie-of-the-week. Feels weird.

I kinda like that Koji is taking his sweet time to join the party. We don't need his drama in the friend group.

[bellysoupset]

For the mini-fic, could I ask for tight loud belly gurgles with sick Jon and Leo? (If Luke and Bell were there too would be super fun, but whatever works for the scenario, I love me some sick Jon).✨️💙 @writing-whump

Making the most out of my little weekend at the cabin scenery!

---------------------

"C'mere," Leo chuckled, grabbing the back of Jonah's sweater and tugging on it with all his force, causing the other man to let out an strangled, offended noise as he fell down on the big cushion Leo was sitting on as well.

They were all outside the cabin, sitting around the fire pit. It was a chilly night, after a full Saturday of activities and Leo was more than a little tipsy, happily pressing his lips to Jon's cheek when the other man let out a scoff and grumbled about him stretching his sweater.

"So you're going to specialize in entertainment?" Luke asked, eyebrows raised and Leo was reminded he was actually holding a conversation to begin with.

"Not entertainment," Leo yawned, downing the rest of the wine in his mug — yes, mug, much to Jonah's horror —, "intellectual property law. Everything surrounding things people have created and must be protected-"

"That's really cool," Vince praised, looking genuinely impressed, "so authors and stuff?"

"As well as brands, artists..." Leo shrugged, then let out a surprised chuckle when he felt Jonah all but collapse against his side, completely giving up on the conversation.

He looked away from their friends — Bella was sprawled on the grass, only her head resting on Luke's lap. Leo was pretty sure Wendy had fallen asleep against Vince's bicep, the poor girl was worn after having just recovered from strep and driving 4 hours on top of a hospital shift — to Jon.

Jonah looked almost as tired as Wendy, but unlike her slack, peaceful face, Jon had pained lines around his mouth.

"You alright?" Leo whispered, trailing a hand up his boyfriend's back and frowning, tuning out the others.

Jonah started to nod, but then he shook his head, sitting up straight, "I'm going to bed," he announced.

"Already?" Bella pouted, wide awake, "it's only 9, old man."

"I overdid on the wine, I'm sleepy," Jonah cleared up, then waved Leo off when he went to stand up as well, "no, stay, I'm just gonna sleep it off-" he yawned again and then walked back inside.

Leo sighed, not happy to be dismissed, but also not wanting to go in just yet either. It was a really nice night, just chilly enough for the bonfire and so there were no mosquitos, with the stars dotting the sky.

They talked for another hour or so, Leo sliding down the daybed cushion until he was practically fully lying down, talking about work — Luke was particularly interested —, about Bella's new RPG campaign-

"I really cannot wrap my head around you playing table top RPG. Like those kids from Stranger Things?" Leo frowned.

"I'm not a loser boy and it's not the 80s, so no," Bella scoffed, "I'll have you know I'm a super hot barbarian."

"Of course you are," Vince teased her lightly, "I need you to help me run a campaign with my thirteen year olds."

"Are you on some contest for coolest teacher?" Bella poked fun at him, "damn, buy the kids ice cream while you're at that-"

Leo laughed at them, turning his head towards the large cabin up the hill and frowning as he realized the room he guessed was his and Jon's still had the lights on.

"Y'all, I think I'm going inside," Leo decided and heard a chorus of Goodnight Leo as he walked away.

True to what he expected, Jonah was still awake. The lights were on and he was lying on top of the blankets, in his pajamas, an arm thrown over his face in order to block the light out.

"Sleepy, uh?" Leo asked, stumbling inside and grabbing on the doorway to steady himself. He hadn't felt just how sloshed he was while sitting down, but standing it was painfully obvious.

"I am sleepy," Jonah groaned, "but my stomach won't let me sleep."

"Aww angel, what's wrong with your tummy?" Leo cooed, closing the door and crawling on the bed, immediately grabbing the silk shirt of Jon's pjs and pushing it up to his chin.

Drunk, he didn't bother biting down a dreamy sigh at Jon's exposed midriff. Despite Leo's teasing about him abandoning gym, that wasn't exactly true. He no longer exercised every day like Leo still did and he no longer weight lifted, but he did still go in once a week, for the aerobics. On top of that, Jon had joined Bell's boxing class.

His stomach, that once had a hard six pack that was akin to Leo's, now was soft, a little squishy, and tonight it was bloated and round.

"What are yoOU DOING?!" Jonah squealed, as Leo didn't think twice before leaning in as if to kiss his belly, but instead opted for biting it, "Leo!"

"Your tummy is cute," he smiled, pressing a kiss to where he had just bit and slumping across the bed, half his body resting on Jonah's thighs and trapping him in place, "you're cute."

"You're drunk," Jonah groaned, blowing out a little queasy burp, "and it's not cute, I feel really gross."

Leo trailed his fingers up the middle of his boyfriend's belly, as if they were walking. Even bloated by the wine and soft by the lack of exercise, there was still a concave line there, marking the quadrants of his abs.

Once he almost reached Jonah's chest, Leo opened his hand flat against the other man's skin, rubbing a soft circle there, "help- Oh ow," the blonde raised his eyebrows when his touch caused a gurgle to ripple through Jon's tummy, emitting a whine.

Jon brought a fist to his mouth and burped into it, making a face at the taste, "ew."

"Let me know if I'm making it worse," Leo mumbled, looking away from his face and focusing his whole attention on his boyfriend's belly. He continued the gentle, strong circular rubs on his upper stomach, until the gurgles died down and then moved his hands down, searching for another tight spot. As soon as he touched Jon's belly button, the other man darted a hand up and cupped his mouth, letting out a wet, sickly belch.

His tummy gurgled and whined, vibrating under Leo's touch, "sounds so upset..." Leo whispered, mesmerized, then digging his thumb on Jon's side and rubbing little circles from the side towards the navel.

"Gentle, you're gonna make me puke," Jon groaned, as his belly whined again, "Leo..."

"Sorry, sorry," Leo eased up the pressure, before slightly lowered on the bed and planting an elbow on the mattress, supporting his head with his free hand. He leaned in and kissed Jon's softer under tummy, right where his pajama' pants met it. This close he could feel and hear the constant gurgling and whining coming from the sickly organ, "you poor thing-"

"Yeah, you sound very sorry about it," Jonah scoffed, but didn't push him back, "you don't think it's disgusting?"

"Your tummy?" Leo blinked owlishly at him, bewildered, "no?!"

"But it's making all sorts of gross noises..." Jonah's cheeks turned dark with a blush and Leo let out a scoff, moving again and then resting his cheek against the other man's belly, now hearing very clearly every upset gurgle.

"I think it's super cute," he clarified, "hell, I never think any part of you is gross, Jon."

"Aren't you a romantic," Jonah scoffed, but even without looking up Leo could hear the relief in his voice. He reached in without thinking, starting to pet Leo's hair, not telling him to move, "the pressure is helping, don't move."

"Okay," Leo whispered, closing his eyes and allowing the little symphony of gurgles to lull him to sleep.

[matenrou-fan]

Hello can you write about ichiro hitoya and samatoki hitting their s/o by accident

Ichiro, Hitoya and Samatoki hitting their GN!s/o by accident

Such a strange request yet here!! Hope you will enjoy it!

GNreader, comfort, just wholesome stuff;;

-Honestly the one way when he can raise his hand it's during some childish game, when you two just fool around and try to catch each other.

-Especially if it's tickle fighting, when your boyfriend is just too carried away in his wish to win and finally pins you to the bed with hands around your waist.

-So when you would try to resist, pushing him off and tickling his sides at the same time, Ichiro just wanted to respond with a grasp on your arm, but overdid it.

-"Here, finally catch you..!" - this sudden hit on your shoulder makes you gasp in confusion, and his smile fades away as fast as your own. - "A- S/o, a-are you okay?"

-Even if you sound so loud due to the unexpectedness of this action, not from pain, Ichiro would anyway feel so guilty as if he did it on purpose.

-So all games will immediately stop as he leans closer to check out the hitted place while repeating apologies, mixed with a bunch of questions about how you feel. If it's actually that bad he would bring some ice, absolutely ashamed of his behavior.

-"I'm so sorry, s/o.. How can I call myself a proper mature man if I can hurt my most precious person so easily..?" - Ichiro looks almost like an abandoned puppy in the rain. No, he's not trying to make you forgive him through such puppy eyes, it's just really the way your boyfriend shows his guilt towards you.

-Only after a few times as you said it's alright, he would feel more easily. Yet still, Ichiro would be really careful for a month or two, being pretty slow and gentle during another tickling game or some playful fight.

-Despite his pretty harsh behavior, there's no way he would exchange something more than a few angry words with you.

-And this old man doesn't really like all these bratty games, he has enough of such energy thanks to Kuko's attitude. So with him, it's actually just an accident, as sometimes in the morning he's still so sleepy..

-Went to bed late, woke up early.. There's no way he would understand more than half of your words before drinking at least one cup of coffee with his favorite snack - cigarettes.

-"Honey, can you check the newspaper-" - light pain that erupts in his left elbow and your sudden gasp makes Hitoya wake up better than any coffee that he was trying to make. - "Ah- Shit, s/o, are you alright?"

-If it was someone else, he would probably just scoff, scolding them for getting too close to him from behind. Yet with you he would be much softer, even when his head still hurts from lack of sleep and he can't think straight.

-Well, of course he would check if you were alright, worrying a little about just how bad he hit your spine with probably all his strength. But Hitoya didn't feel that much guilt. He didn't see it coming!

-So all apologize that you would have some sloppy kiss on your forehead and a few headpats as Hitoya mumbled about being more careful and everything.

-"Mm? What's with this gaze?" - he put away a newspaper and chuckled, noticing your feigned frown. - "Oh, I didn't apologize properly? Huh, maybe I should then kiss your poor hurted back? Get closer, dear.."

-Well, but despite such teasing, your lover would leave a mental note about watching his back before turning around. And probably give himself more sleep and rest, so he wouldn't be that sluggish.

-Ok but. No matter what you would do or say, there's no way he would show this aggressive side of himself to you, you're his dear lover, after all. If you ever get that deep inside his heart, then he immediately would place you in the most sensitive part of it.

-And Samatoki is really overprotective, so there's not that many accidents when you bump into each other or hit without purpose.

-But it doesn't matter that even your attentive boyfriend couldn't inadvertently do something. Especially after a long hard day.. He just came home and sat on the couch, and your arms around his shoulders as you stand behind him the only thing that can help him feel better.

-"Ah.. Babe, I missed you so much today.." - A long tired sigh escaped his lips as he tossed his head back to look up at you but instead hit your nose, not knowing that at the same time you leaned closer to kiss the back of his head.

-For a moment you both pulled back, groaning in pain, but of course Samatoki would turn to you first, feeling absolutely guilty. His own pain doesn't matter that much as yours, especially due to the fact he's the one who's done it.

-Doesn't matter if this hit was really strong or not, Samatoki would bring everything - ice, handkerchief, aid kit, even some cold water if you start crying. In one second he turned from just a boyfriend to an overprotective over worried mom, that's how it feels.

-"I'm so sorry, my dear.. Here, look at me.." - his hand slowly caresses your back as he softly smiles at you. - "Ah, don't worry. Your nose is as pretty as before, so don't cry, okay?"

-But despite such playful talk, he actually would apologize a few times this evening, being even more clingy and cuddly than usual. Your boyfriend just doesn't want you to think about that too much, kissing your poor face gently while promising to be more careful next time.

[mikurulucky]

More Tochiro headcanons because I just thought of these today, and they're mostly about his adhd and coffee, since he's sometimes seen drinking coffee in Endless Orbit SSX.

So, this is the 30th century, some progress has been made in regards to how neurodivergency and mental illness is viewed and treated in many places, especially in Japan prior to earth's invasion. It's not QUITE as taboo anymore, but there was still some work to be done, especially amongst the older generations on Earth. There were some steps forward and some steps backward, after many MANY generations and political movements on Earth. With that context in mind, I can move on to the actual headcanons about Tochiro specifically.

Tochiro was diagnosed with ADHD-PI when he was young, and one of his teachers was the first to notice his fidgeting and attention issues. His mom was the one who got him tested and his dad was a bit apprehensive at first, still holding onto some dated views on mental health.

Tochiro used to be on welbutrin for his symptoms, which only helped a bit with motivation issues. After the Illumidas invaded earth, he lost access to medication as an adult, especially after joining the army as an engineer. He was already a semi-regular coffee drinker, so he ended up drinking it more regularly to compensate to somewhat mixed results.

With THAT in mind, coffee only rarely wakes him up. He mostly drinks it to relax his mind. It's why he regularly drinks it on the Arcadia. (his mind rarely shuts up, and the coffee calms the mental noise and even makes his focus easier when doing important tasks on the ship..... sometimes it helps his focus a little TOO well, though he's prone to hyperfixating on tasks anyhow, the coffee just sometimes enhances that hyperfocus for him)

If he feels like he NEEDS the caffeine, he won't be too picky with the coffee. He'd wait for it to cool enough that he can quickly chug the coffee and get it over with.

What he CAN'T stand, however, is coffee grounds in his coffee, they're a sensory nightmare for him, especially compared to Harlock and Tadashi's reactions to feeling coffee grounds floating in coffee. They're mildly annoyed by the grounds, but Tochiro is outright grossed the fuck OUT by floating coffee grounds and that can lead sensory overload if he's already on the edge of an overload from other unpleasant stimuli like bright cool lights, as one example, (the Arcadia's lights are mostly warmer lights to accommodate this sensitivity and Harlock does prefer warm lights as well, so they both win)

He prefers hot coffee over ice coffee. But again, he won't be picky if he absolutely needs it and iced is the only kind he can get for whatever reason. Easy to chug down in a pinch, but the downside is the temperature can feel uncomfortable in his mouth and especially on his teeth

Tadashi makes sure Tochiro doesn't overdo it on the coffee as does Harlock and occasionally La Miime. Tochiro overdid it on the coffee once and needed medical attention because of it, and he STILL felt sleepy during and afterwards.

He typically doesn't drink coffee and alcohol at the same time, but he did try irish creme in coffee once prior to the invasion in his early 20s.

Oh, and he likes his coffee black most of the time. He knows good coffee when he tastes it (and Tadashi knows how to make some good coffee even with the cheapest grounds the crew manage to get)

[invisible-key]

Sick in Public - part 1 (original version)

I rewrote this story into first person POV for the sake of consistency, but I'm leaving the original version here in case someone preffered it!

New version can be found here!

Kinks: emetophilia, (a little bit of stuffing?) 

OCs: Bernie 

Summary: Emetophiliac Bernie purposefully vomits in public. 

(Warning: Bernie is a fucking degenerate. And so am I. xD Contains detailed description of nausea and vomit as always.) 

================================

Bernie had been feeling unwell since morning. So, naturally, he decided to go shopping.

It had been two years and three months since Bernie was last naturally sick so he was very happy. He couldn't wait to experience throwing up without having to stick fingers down his throat. He thought it would be very different and exciting.

It was also the perfect opportunity for one thing: public vomiting. He loved to make a mess in public and watch the worried and disgusted stares of other people. The thought of humiliating himself so profoundly sent tingles down his spine.

He cooked himself spaghetti with minced meat and vegetables. He liked cooking but he especially liked eating. But today he didn't have appetite due to the weird uncertain feeling in his stomach. However, he wanted to be sick so he served himself a larger portion than usual and made himself eat it. He was quite full after that meal, feeling a bit of pressure in his stomach, yet he went to lie on the couch and opened a box of cookies, snacking on them until he completely emptied it.

His stomach was becoming unhappy about being forced to contain so much food. The uncertain feeling has bloomed into a full blown queasiness. Yet he wasn't close to throwing up, which left him disappointed. He wondered if getting down a bowl of ice cream would irritate his stomach more. He went back to the kitchen and took out an open box of strawberry ice cream from the freezer. It was a one litre box but there were only two thirds left as he had eaten the other third yesterday. He got down the rest, the frozen treat definitely not doing any good to his body. He softly trembled with cold and his stomach complained by gurgling. 

He could tell he overdid it. This amount of food would have normally been fine for him, at most making him a bit nauseous from overeating, but he must have actually been ill because he already felt increased salivation typical for incoming sickness. 

That meant he was ready to go out. 

He thought about calling his boyfriend so that he could enjoy this too, but Lionel didn't approve of him purposefully making a mess in public, surely he would try to talk him out of it.

He put on his less favorite jeans - in case he ends up dirtying them - and a brown shirt, picked up his backpack and left for the bus stop. The outside heat exacerbated his nausea. As he stood at the bus stop, he took in deep breaths to try to stop himself from throwing up too soon.

The bus came and he took a seat close to the middle door, facing a large open space meant for strollers. The heat inside the bus was even worse, and he felt like he was choking on the heavy air. As the bus started moving, his nausea rapidly increased. Three stops in, and he wasn't sure he was going to make it to the shopping center. He was salivating again and felt tightness in his throat.

When the door opened at the fourth stop, he wondered if he should run out to be sick on the sidewalk instead of the bus. The amount of saliva in his mouth increased and he started to get up from his seat - 

The door closed. 

Bernie collapsed back in his seat. He desperately clenched his teeth to try to keep his food down for a little longer. ‘Maybe I'll be able to make it to the shopping center,’ he thought. ‘Only two more stops…’ Yet he couldn't help constantly eyeing the door. 

Fifth stop, door opened. ‘It's fine, I can keep it down… ’ he thought as he stared at the open door, ‘only one more stop…’

As soon as the door closed he knew he had made a mistake. He was going to vomit. Now. There was no stopping it, as he took a deep breath and his stomach contracted forcefully, sending a large wave of chunky vomit on the floor in front of him, staining his jeans and shoes. A few people turned to him in shock and hurried to get away from him. There was no time to pay them any mind as his stomach was already preparing to hurl again. He doubled over as more food made its way up his esophagus and through his mouth. A waterfall of liquid mixed with undigested pieces of spaghetti splashed on the floor and his shoes. He only had time to take in a short breath before his stomach spasmed for the third time, letting out a smaller amount of watery puke, which dribbled onto the existing puddle.

He breathed in and coughed. His throat burned and he felt the acidic taste of vomit on his tongue. He sighed and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. He enjoyed the blissful after-vomit relief. ‘That felt so good!’ he thought. ‘Getting rid of the food that was making me sick feels so nice…’

He opened his eyes to look down at what he has produced. He was surprised to find that some spaghetti pieces were a few centimeters long. He thought he had chewed more. When the bus took a turn, the pool of sick started flowing in one direction, people dodging out of its way. He looked up at the people. Half of them were staring at him, the other half pretending not to see him, but everyone had a disgusted look on their face. ‘They all think I'm a gross pig,’ Bernie thought and tried not to smile, despite enjoying himself very much. ‘They see an ugly guy who doesn't even puke into a bag and just pukes on the floor and all over himself. They think I'm so disgusting! The most disgusting person they've ever met! Or are they thinking that I'm super ill? Are they worried about me?’

When the bus stopped, Bernie picked up his bag and trotted outside, leaving a mess on the bus behind him. His clothes were dirty with barf and the people at the bus stop stared at him too. He couldn't help smiling.

He stood in front of the shopping center but he didn't feel like shopping anymore. Instead he crossed the street to wait for a bus in the opposite direction, and went back home, satisfied. 

[tadpolesonalgae]

Hello just got the courage to read cbmthy chapter 17 and resprectfully wtf. How can a person have the incredible ability to write such gut wreching angst, I wil never know how you do it. What can I say beside the obvious, you are a great writer and please dont stop writting, the way you create such captivating character and write SJM characters so realistic and three dimensional is incredible. And you overdid yourself on the angst on this chapter. Mor's "maybe you arent made for first choice" is the most visceral reaction causing line from this ff so far for me and I though Azriels burden one was rough oh boy. Speaking of our shadow man, what if he was awake the whole time and Mor didnt want reader to talk to him in that moment and he heared everything dum dum dummm...Maybe after our girlie moves into Bas's place and returnes what stuff Mor bought her that day in Velaris 'as a birthday gift' that day at her room s doorstep, and gets some time to find herself, maybe Azriel can actually allow the reader to reveal who she is as a person and maybe stand against Mor if she continues her mean girl behaviour against reader, cause girlie she didnt go to Autumn to hurt/ create a plan with Eris to hurt you. She went there because lack of connections and the weight of the feeling she isnt enough to allow herself to share her "burdens " with her sisters and the IC was crushing the girl. I reeallly hope Azriel clarifies the situation the whole prophecy and reader train of though because we know the IC wont listen to it fully otherwise. But afterall you know Azriel well and I trust to give us the most fluffy scenes between them when the time is right, cause our girls self esteem was low but now with the way her hands look and how she feels about them is down bad, Azriel can surely relate and offer this girl for once some reassurance.I hope you can give us a cameo of Eris and reader once in a while , their ring exchange screams 'summer camp friendship bracelet exchange'and I found it so damn adorable. I hope you keep updating this series and take care of ur well being and keep being awesome.

‘How can a person have the incredible ability to write such gut wreching angst, I wil never know how you do it.’

I— thank you so much 😭 I honestly believe it’s just because people have chosen to engage with the fic and the reader and because of that choice are more immersed so certain parts hit harder? I’m sure if you weren’t interested in reader, the story wouldn’t have such an effect on you—it’s thanks to your interactions and willingness to believe in reader as a person instead of a character 🧡💛

I also kind of enjoy people found ch. 16 to be angsty too despite 15 being the one I was genuinely trying to make sad 😭 ch. 16 was supposed to be the happy one 😭🤦 maybe all cbmthy chapters are just doomed to have a tiny bit of angst in them

‘And you overdid yourself on the angst on this chapter. Mor's "maybe you arent made for first choice" is the most visceral reaction causing line from this ff so far for me and I though Azriels burden one was rough oh boy.’

I’m not going to lie, I wrote that and spent a couple of hours wondering if that was too much for Mor to say? I do really like Mor in the books, so I don’t want to make her ‘bad’ in the story, so hopefully it wasn’t so far that people won’t be able to understand her side after a bit…? 🫣👀🧡💛😭

‘Speaking of our shadow man, what if he was awake the whole time and Mor didnt want reader to talk to him in that moment and he heared everything dum dum dummm...’

🫢👀👀👀👀

‘But afterall you know Azriel well and I trust to give us the most fluffy scenes between them when the time is right’

I’m very happy you enjoy my interpretation of Azriel 🧡💛

And yes!!!! I can’t tell you any of them but I have so many ideas for future cbmthy moments between Az and reader!!! Some of them I’m not sure I’ll actually be able to write since they’re a bit too unrealistic, but I’m looking forward to telling the rest of their story and hearing what you think about reader’s decisions (and everyone else’s of course!!)

Ugh, I just want to get into The Happy Years! Reader deserves to live A Little Life!!! I’m still figuring out the fine details of the ending (it’s not exactly near, but I do have to keep it in mind, perhaps more now that we’re past the turning point in reader’s story?) but I really, genuinely hope people will enjoy this second half of cbmthy 😭

‘I hope you can give us a cameo of Eris and reader once in a while’

There’s for certain one scene that I’ll be writing (that will likely be near the end) with reader and Eris that I’m absolutely dying to write! Not just because it’s reader and Eris but also the context and the details and I’m so excited!!! It’s ages away though 😫

‘their ring exchange screams 'summer camp friendship bracelet exchange'and I found it so damn adorable.’

Oh my gosh I hadn’t thought of it that way, that’s so sweet and endearing 😭 especially since Eris is sometimes a little mean to her but overall I think they have fun together (well, Eris definitely wouldn’t describe it as fun 🤦)

I think reader does need to get him back though, in some way 🤔

‘I hope you keep updating this series and take care of ur well being and keep being awesome.’

I hope so too! And thank you so much for kindly writing in to share your thoughts and just generally speak about cbmthy—it’s so heartwarming getting to read through 🫂🧡💛

(And take care of yourself, too, please 🫂)

[medicus-felini]

          【 𝗩𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗲'𝘀 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗔𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 】

Name: Bubblegum. Bg. Bubbs. Gums. Bubby. Whatever she wants. Age: 24 Do you like to cuddle?: Yeah, but nobody wants to do it with him. The cuddling, he means. But also nobody wants to do it with him. Can we make-out?: Yeah, he will endure her sandpaper tongue, it's okay. A night in or dinner out?: He kind of just follows other people around, both are fine. Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?: He'll destroy a banana split. What makes you a good Valentine?: He's got that sticky boy rizz. Would you cook for me?: ...What, like, meth? Would you let me cook for you?: feed him, mommy, he's hungry.

`♡´ 𝕍𝔸𝕃𝔼ℕ𝕋𝕀ℕ𝔼'𝕊 𝔻𝔸𝕐 𝔸ℙℙ𝕃𝕀ℂ𝔸𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ𝕊 `♡´

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    𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝘄𝐚𝘀 𝐚𝐥𝘄𝐚𝘆𝘀 𝘀𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝗿𝘀𝐡 𝘁𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦.     All the guy wanted was some closure. Maybe he overdid it sometimes, too confident in his own abilities of persuasion. The form is filled out honestly. Nothing to try to really impress the doctor. She can definitely see herself giving Bubblegum points for that.

There was a hesitation. Maybe the cabin boy deserves a chance. Just for this Valentine's Day. How bad could it be   ?   

   Mommy.

      M O M M Y   ?

Oh, no no no. No. Only one person on this ship is allowed to call Linn that, and Bubblegum does not look like he is sporting lipstick and high heels.

     ❝ Sorry Bubblegum. I suppose I don't exactly enjoy banana splits. ❞