#i didnt even post this on ao3

[poundstonaira]

Solid Silva ABC NSFW headcannons

A/N - this is from 2021 and I barely published it anywhere lol. I dunno I used to be obsessed with this guy now he's just... meh 🫤 and disclaimer : this is cringe

Word Count: 1000 on the dot

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

Knowing the secret freak Solid probably is, he’d probably keep his junior inside of you while cuddling after y’all have done the deed. He doesn’t care.

If he feels disgusting or uncomfortable, he’ll probably order some maids and servants to prepare a bath for you and him. In the bath, he would hug you and whisper to you some comforting words. 

“You did me so well… you deserve a treat for next time.” 

“Mhm…” 

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

On you: Your hands. The silver-haired could let out a random grunt just thinking about holding your hands while you are screaming his name underneath him, being plunged by his shaft.

On him: His eyes. You can’t help but just stare into his big, baby blue eyes most of the time.  They are just so addicting to look at regardless of what he’s doing. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Solid doesn’t like using condoms. With that being said, he feels more pleasure and enjoyment when he can actually feel your insides when he isn’t being covered by anything.

 So he’ll nut in you, on you, or in your mouth. As long as his cum is near you, he doesn’t care. 

Basically, if you don’t wanna get pregnant please get some birth control. <3

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

He likes to see if he can try and suck himself off. He seems big enough to do it. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s experienced (in his own way). He has been with other women before you. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anywhere he can your face and hold your hands. (Missionary, cowgirl, etc) 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s pretty serious about this. This is probably one of the only times he can express his love for you to you without anyone around. He has you all to himself.

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

Pretty well groomed down there. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It’s an equal balance between lust and love. For Solid, it’s not just about him feeling the absolute ecstasy of feeling you, it’s about him showing his love for you and just breathing you in. 

“Y/N… I love you so much.”

“Ah…  I love you too…” 

“Heh…” 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

5 times a week. He’s one horny bastard. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink, edge play, praise kink, degrading kink. Shall I elaborate more? 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bedroom. Like I said before, he wants the moment to just be you and him and no one else to interrupt.

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

Hmm…

Liking ice cream in a suggestive way could have him bricked up. Praising him if he does something well. Him seeing you eat makes him drool (he’s thinking about you sucking him off).

Solid would lose his mind a bit if you were to let out a small groan while making out with him in his bedroom. From there, he’d carry you and just take you from there. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Though he is a spoiled brat, he wouldn't do anything that you wouldn’t be comfortable with. He wants to be sure that the enjoyment is equal and isn’t one-sided. His needs wouldn’t overtake yours.

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

He’s more on the giving side, he just loves seeing your reactions at every move he does. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on his mood.

If he’s mad: R.I.P that pussy aye. He doesn’t care for your pleasure at that point. 

Sad: He’d go slow and rough, with A LOT of moaning from him. 

Regular: Fast and sensual

Drunk: Bye bye

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t mind that at all. 4 a week. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is a heavy risk taker. 

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

This little horny bastard could go for 4 hours max, and maybe around 4 arounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does use toys on you. Only you though, he just wants to see how you would look being pleasured by them. A satisfying sight to see for him. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Look at how he treated Noelle. He’s not nice. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s loud. He moans so much and its uncontrollable. The amount of moaning and whimpering he does when you’re riding him is crazy. He whimpers like a little bitch. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He wouldn’t say this to you for the sake of his ego but he wants you to peg him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

From his outside appearance, his body lacks muscle and fat. He looks relatively bony and all the meat and muscle has to go somewhere…

I would say 7.8 inches?  

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

High as a kite. I don’t think Solid could spend a whole week without sex. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Men usually fall asleep first because they are letting out more energy after they ejaculate. So Solid would probably fall asleep on your chest as you would just stare at him with dreamy eyes.  You would also run your hand through his hair while he’s asleep.  

[fireheartpages]

other plans | b.d.

bodhi durran x reader chapter one. series masterlist summary: everyone has their demons, you just chose to run from yours. straight to basgiath war college. and definitely not towards the grinning tall, dark, and handsome marked rider that seemed too kind to be in a hardened place like the rider's quadrant. word count: 2.1k ish notes: second person pov but i give the reader a nickname (that i stole from dirty dancing) and a last name bc i'm not using y/n and i want this to be readable. she/her pronouns used for reader. this has been stuck in my head and i thought i was gonna combust if i didn't get it on page. and it's all together hovering somewhere around 7k words so im gonna split it up and post it all within the next few days and then have the whole thing available on ao3! i haven't written fanfiction in at least a good six months, and i've never written for fourth wing, so bare with me a little--i tried my best. i have a chronic attachment to side characters with little to no page time. half of this was written while wine tipsy and all of it was proofread while wine drunk, so we die like men

Bodhi has never seen someone walk across the parapet so easily.

He's never seen someone make a dance out of it. As if it were a show, a production. Your feet are so confident, so sure with every step, every placement that you would make it to the next. It's pouring rain and windy as all hell, and yet you make the parapet look like a children's balance beam.

You land right in front of him, and by the time your eyes meet his, he's already decided that he needs to know everything he possibly can about you. The instant your focus lands on him, he's obsessed.

Garrick has other plans.

"Name?"

"Baby," you say, and Bodhi blinks. "Marho."

Garrick is downright gawking at you. "Baby?"

Something that sounds much more like a name and not what an infant is called slips out on a laugh, and Bodhi can't help but trace the lean lines of your neck. Holy shit. If he thought you were pretty before, it was dwarfed to the sound of your laugh. The sun had to fight for space when you smiled.

"Sorry. Childhood nickname, I forget I have another one sometimes."

"Did your parents nickname you after a hooker?" Garrick asks, jotting your name--the true one--on the roll.

"Did yours raise you to be a dick?" you ask, not missing a beat, and the boy's gaze snaps up to you. If Bodhi had been looking anywhere else, his would have too, but he hadn't taken his eyes off of you since the moment you stepped foot onto the parapet. He felt his brow shoot up, lips parting on a huff.

He bursts out laughing.

You don't move. Don't take your eyes from Garrick, from staring him down, until he tips his head in inclination and gives something that sounds like an apology. It's Bodhi's turn to be the subject of your scrutiny now, and as your eyes trace his shape, shifting with the weight of your gaze and his laugh, he senses more than sees the moment you note his rebellion relic. Your face doesn't shift, but it's as if a proverbial file is created and tucked away into the archive of your mind.

You didn't say anything else as you walk away from the two boys, but Bodhi tracks you as you go. Tracks your movements, as you weave through the crowd with a practiced grace, how your hair moves as you take the stairs down and out of his sight.

He's almost sorry to see you go. But he's determined to see you again.

Bodhi snatches the roll sheet from Garrick as parapet comes to an end, scanning to make sure he has the name correct. He marches up to Xaden, and only pausing for a moment to consider how stupid this is--he literally doesn't know a single thing about you--before throwing your name into the space between them.

"I want her in my section."

"Don't you have better things to do than flirt with children?" Xaden asks impassively.

"She's not a literal baby."

"I'm aware of that," he responds, sounding exasperated. "You're an Executive Officer, Bodhi. Do what you want."

Except Dain Aetos has other plans.

You made friends. You stand with the Sorrengail girl and another he didn't recognize, tucking loose strands of hair back into her coronet braid. What type of person fixed the hair of someone they'd just met? You, apparently.

You're in Second Wing. With Aetos and Sorrengial and the other girl. This is fine. Something about you didn't scream "secret rebel" the way wanted it too.

And then Xaden transfers your squad to Fourth Wing. He had sent Bodhi a glance as he put the squad in Flame section--not Tail--and Bodhi could see there was some sort of ulterior motive behind the decision. It did also mean you weren't under his direct chain of command. He couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing

Fraternization is frowned upon, not forbidden, after all.

Not that you would be fraternizing. After all.

But, challenging you would be a terrible idea. Terribly adverse, fatally cataclysmic, and ill-fated.

And all of those words mean the same thing.

He would stay clear, watch you from afar, and maybe, maybe work up the courage to talk to you outside of parapet. Possibly.

His confidence needed some serious shaping. Since when was he afraid to talk to someone? A pretty someone, to say the least. He was a gods damned dragon rider. He wasn't afraid to talk to you. He was just... hesitant.

Yeah. That. And he did not need a challenge to break the ice.

Emetterio has other ideas.

He calls your name, then Bodhi's, and Bodhi is pretty sure his heart stops in his chest.

You don't look frazzled or scared, just curious as you study him from head to toe. He guards himself as if you were an intruder in his mind, an Inntinnsic slipping in to spill all his secrets. Except you're an unbounded first year that hasn't even developed a signet, and instead that's just you. He's building up walls just to look at you. You and those bright, keen eyes.

Emetterio calls it, and you're off. Except neither of you move. You pace around, and it's a stand off. You cock your head, and Bodhi tries every trick in the book: the fakes out, glances quickly off to the side, purposefully stumbles--and you're unfazed. Completely and utterly unfazed.

He can't make the first move. He can't hit you--

Suddenly, his feet are out from under him, and he's staring at the ceiling, and you lunge, reaching to pin him to the floor. He reaches out and catches the elbow you throw, but before he can even make contact, you twist, sliding underneath him, and suddenly you're behind him.

You're fast. Really fucking fast. And suddenly, Bodhi has his work cut out for him.

You kick out again, going to the back of his knees, and he recognizes the move, thrusting his body forward to keep control and twisting before he lands, kipping up so you're eye-level again.

Your first catches his nose, and blood goes flying. He makes the mistake of bringing his hands up to cup his nose and it leaves his core exposed. You take the opportunity to land a knee in his gut, probably bruising a few ribs in there, and he doubles over, the wind having been knocked from him. Holy shit, he needs to get at least one hit in. This was getting embarrassing.

He swings blindly, and you dodge--but you don't grab his fist. And you had the perfect opportunity to. You were fast, and your reflexes were quick, but you didn't know how to end this. The realization crashes into him as you swing again. A lot of force, but no follow-though, giving him the perfect opportunity to deflect, pushing your fist and forcing the follow-through until you were swinging behind him with his hand around your wrist and then he was bringing you to him, one of his arms gripping one of yours across your neck, and the other twisting your other behind your back. Like this, your body was flush against his.

You struggle, kicking out, but it was all too easy for him to get your feet out from under you. You weren't small by any means, but Bodhi was bigger, and had a year of training over you. Your feet kicked out, and all he had to do was lean back to incapacitate you. You gave a frustrated grunt that so heavily affected him that he almost dropped you to make sure you were okay before he realized where he was and what he was doing.

"Finish her without making a fool of yourself, please," Cuir chimes in, probably sensing his hesitation and near-miss, and Bodhi sends an eye roll he hopes he can feel, since he doesn't have the brain space to say anything back, with your body pressed against his and the current task at hand.

He twists and take you both to the ground, pinning both your hands above your head, and taking a leg beneath his foot, balancing on a knee. You let out a sharp huff, and he's mesmerized by the way your nose scrunches up in determination. Your free leg goes to knee him, and he takes the hit, leaning into it before transferring your hands so they're both pinned between one of his, sliding one hand down your hip and to your thigh, holding it to the gourd before you can knee him again. He has a free knee to hold him up, but not without giving leverage to one of your legs. So he's pressed against you, hip to hip, face to face.

"Yield," he says, begs, because he can't hold this for long, and because if you figure out just how much you affect him, you'd win this thing in a matter of heartbeats.

"No," you grind out, thrashing. He's spread thin: his wingspan practically encompassing your body, giving you leverage to wear against him. He worries for a moment, a flash of the bruise he could leave on your thigh going through his mind, and two thoughts overtake him at once.

One, that he doesn't want to hurt you. And that while it may be inevitable with where you two stood, he wanted to try and eliminate the possibility as best he could.

Two, that he would leave bruises all up and down your thighs if he ever got the chance to get between them.

And the combination of the two of those thoughts loosened his grip on you, giving you the opportunity to roll away.

"I did not choose someone this negligent," Cuir snaps, and Bodhi panicks, and now you're pinned underneath him again, his front pressed to your backside, and it's a true plea when he breathes, "Yield."

"No!" You squirm, and fuck stop doing that--

"Get yourself together!" Cuir snaps, and Bodhi sucks in a sharp breath.

"That's enough," Emetterio says, pinning you with a look Bodhi would pick dragon fire over. "Know when to quit, Cadet Marho."

"No!" you yelp. "If this were a real fight, no one is calling the shots--"

"If this was a real fight, you'd be dead. I called it. Get off the mat," Emetterio snaps, and Bodhi scrambles off of you.

He offered you a hand that you send a pointed look at, and he can tell you're considering telling him where to shove it, but you take it anyway, and he walks you off the mat with a hand on your shoulder.

"Good match," Bodhi says, genuinely trying.

You open your mouth to respond, looking like you yourself could spit fire for a second, and Bodhi pities the dragon you end up bonded to for a moment.

"You're fast," he continues, before you can. "Quick reflexes, and you're strong."

"I had you," you throw at him, fiery and determined, and your gaze slips to his rebellion relic.

Oh. So, that's what this is about.

Bodhi shakes his head, and the grin that had been blooming falters. "I can help," he says. "If you're struggling with sparring, I can help."

You suck in a breath.

"Or Imogen. Or Xaden. Or--" he stops, because, fuck, obviously you don't want to be near Marked ones--

"Thank you," you say, and the ghost of the smile he saw after the parapet makes a reappearance. "Thank you."

And with that, you turn and leave, heading back to your squad. Rhiannon is shaking her head at you, and Violet mumbles something that makes you laugh. Bodhi would bottle that sound if he could. What the hell was a countering signet for? His signet should be used for bottling the sound of your laugh--

"Do not finish that thought," Cuir chides. "Get a grip."

Bodhi grins, his hair falling over his temple as Garrick comes up and slaps him on the back, congratulations on a challenge well fought. He watches you take a swig from the water canteen, traces the lines of your jaw down to your shoulder until you hand it back, then traces the length of your wrist as you hand it--

"Pathetic." Cuir. "You haven't spoken."

"We kind of did," Bodhi says mentally. "I offered. I... tried."

"If you like her, try harder," he chides, and Bodhi sighs.

He doesn't like you, he barely knows you.

"Sure."

[uhohmichio]

[quadrantadvisor]

So I went to the Danmy Phantom tag on ao3, sorted it to only show fics from 2023 and 2024, and checked to see who the most tagged characters were

Batman is currently a more popular parental figure for Danny than either of his actual parents lol

[oh-no-its-bird]

holy shit, posting things on ffn is actually terrible, this is awful. Why is it set up like this??? Am I just spoiled from ao3?? This is ridiculous, why are there so many steps to this, why does it take 30 minutes for a chapter update to load in, why are all of my links breaking, I actually hate this

[agentlove]

Then finally, after what seemed like forever, a stupid, arrogant, little man cut the webs and set the monster free.

[encoreverie]

dissection of the heart

it's kinda sketchy and not extremely detailed, more abstract and messy to be honest and im kinda lost how to format and post this kind of art here?? i really need to get more info on it tbh

(full ↓↓↓)

[durgewyll]

in zugzwang

Wyll surrenders to the urge.

The Dark Urge/Wyll, M/M

447 words

Set in Act 2

A crosspost of this kiss prompt from last year :)

[Read on AO3] [Read on my website]

[andr33yy]

Hear ye! Hear ye!

It's been only few days since I posted my last fic, but I'm already 65% done with my new cherik body worship fic.

Feeling like Hamilton fr.

"How do you write like ur runnin out of time" type shi

[arsenicflame]

eep! posted my first fic!! I wasn't expecting this idea to catch me so thoroughly, but it really wouldn't let me go until I did something with it!

Thank you to @izzyandcrew for organising the event that finally got me writing (and for all your work over the past months for this fandom in general!!)

I hope you'll enjoy :)

[tsuki-tsuki-koi-koi]

Heat Stroke (Hijikata/Ogata)

post chapter 223

AO3 LINK

The cicadas were so loud today.

Or, maybe, it was just that no one had the energy to move or speak enough to drown out the persistent bugs.

Sprawled along the floor, Ogata couldn’t even be bothered to take off any layers. Choosing instead to play dead at Hijikata’s feet, sweating in his uniform and cloak.

His breathing was slow, unnaturally so, as if his lungs were just as lazy as the rest of him. After listening to the turn of the newspaper page a few times, Ogata felt ready to take a nap until someone bothered him enough to make him move.

“You are wrinkling your uniform.”

“My uniform is in a trash heap by the Russian border.” Ogata replied with a scoff as he rolled onto his other side.

“Hm. Is that so.” Hijikata adjusted his grip on his newspaper after looking away from the soldier at his feet. There was a slight grin on his face as he went back to reading. “I couldn’t tell the difference.”

Ogata stayed still for a while longer, but his eye was open now, staring blankly at the bands on his sleeves. It got to him eventually and he sluggishly pushed himself up to sitting, directing that blank stare at Hijikata. Even if his face was currently behind the newspaper.

When the newspaper was lowered slightly to turn the page, Hijikata caught a glimpse of Ogata staring at him. He looked back at him with a rather amused expression before folding the paper and placing it back on his small table. Hijikata beckoned Ogata closer with a small hand wave.

Ignoring it at first, Ogata turned his head away. However, when he didn’t hear Hijikata pick the newspaper up again, he glanced back. The old man had that gentle, stoic expression he always did when the house was quiet. It was distinct from the determined and steadfast expression he had before a fight, this one missing that heat and quiet ferocity. This relaxed look was inviting enough that Ogata walked over on his knees and sat back on his heels once he was beside Hijikata’s lounge chair.

With a quiet chuckle, Hijikata reached out to the side towards Ogata, the back of his fingers touching the other man's sweaty forehead. Surprisingly, the soldier didn’t pull away or make a fuss and from his perspective, Ogata looked ready to collapse into a puddle from the heat. Seeing how placid Ogata was being for him, Hijikata kept his hand on him.

Well manicured nails scratched through Ogata's beard in a playful gesture, before the weathered palm smoothed over Ogata’s jaw down towards the collar of his shirt.

“You still remember how to fold your uniform, yes?” He didn’t need to elaborate, Hijikata could see in the way Ogata flinched slightly that the younger man already understood what he was asking for.

After taking a long second to consider what was being requested of him, Ogata removed his cloak, letting it pool on the floor before collecting it and rolling it up neatly. He looked back towards Hijikata, finding an expectant look on the man's face. Ogata waited for a response, but didn’t get anything.

The hand against his neck was so cool compared to his flushed skin and it made goosebumps shoot down his back when it shifted slightly. Ogata hadn’t realized just how much he’d been cooking in his uniform until now.

Now being aware of the heat under his skin, Ogata took off his belt then began unbuttoning his uniform jacket and shrugged it off. He folded it as he had been trained to and set it aside on the floor next to his other things. Without realizing it, Ogata was now resting his hands on his thighs, even if his posture was lazy and slouched.

Hijikata had kept his fingers down the back of Ogata’s shirt collar, thumb resting against the side of his neck. What a nice little display. Hijikata watched Ogata’s eye unfocus bit by bit the longer the older man kept his hand where it was.

“You’re overheating.” Hijikata spoke again after a moment, moving one finger away from Ogata’s neck under the collar of Ogata’s shirt so the fabric was pulled tight at the front.

“Mn.” Ogata’s eye closed for a moment, before sluggishly blinking back open. “ ‘s fine.”

Hijikata shook his head, sweat gathering between his palm and Ogata’s pulse point. “Wasn’t a question.”

Ogata looked up at him and then started to unbutton his dress shirt down to the end of the half-placket. Then Ogata methodically rolled up his sleeves, finally exposing his fevered skin to the cool breeze keeping everyone else cool. So far after each step, he had turned to Hijikata to see if it had been enough, but now Ogata felt a little too dizzy so he was simply gazing blankly ahead.

Seemingly content with what Ogata had done, Hijikata moved his hand back to the front of Ogata’s neck. His thumb gently tracing the man’s adam's apple before grabbing Ogata’s chin and coaxing him to sit up straight. Hijikata was in no rush, he knew even without a word, the other would understand him eventually. Muscle memory was a hell of a thing.

Without having to think about it, Ogata sat up, shoulders squaring as he subtly adjusted how his feet were so he was obediently sitting at attention. His back was as straight as a board, hands resting flat on his thighs.

Hijikata nodded, his hand finally leaving Ogata’s hot, fevered skin and wiped his sweaty palm off on his pant leg. “There you go.”

Sitting at attention like this, mind already foggy from the heat, Ogata’s eye glazed over and became even more distant. Wherever he was mentally, it was far far away from this room. Muscle memory was the only thing keeping him upright, his jaw clenched a little too tight to be comfortable.

“Even well trained dogs can forget their manners after being far away from home.” Hijikata left Ogata next to him like that, returning to his paper. “Good to see yours have been baked in, right down to the bone.”

It certainly wasn’t praise he was being given, but it didn’t matter since Ogata had stopped listening to the words and could only focus on the tone. “…mn.” Ogata replied, the sound of the cicadas ringing in his empty head.

Ogata sat like that for who knows how long. His thoughts eventually returned to him in a cooler, darker room with a half empty glass of water in his hands. He didn’t remember when he had been dismissed or who had moved him to sit in here. When he tried to get up, his legs were like jello and Ogata spilled the rest of the water all over himself. Luckily no one was around to see him, so Ogata just huffed and ran a hand over his hair.

“Bastard…”

[catboythanatos]

happy valentines day ♡ i am finally ready to unveil my stobotnik playlist 🪨🥚✨️💫❤️‍🔥

i did this the old fashioned way and kept it concise and have curated a listening order for it to be played in, but ur welcome to shuffle it. just be warned that the last few songs are supposed to be the sad ones so theyre gonna sneak up on u if u do that

some of my thoughts on the song choices under the cut⬇️⬇️

idk why i wanted to type this in instagram story editor but i did so hopefully its legible.

also - link to the "that one edit" in question

anyway enjoy :D

[vivitalks]

He woke up in this bed. Or did he? It’s fuzzy now. He was somewhere before he was here. In an empty void. Dark. Infinite. Gorgug died. He knows he died.

He can’t be sure…

He can’t be sure he came back.

a sort of coda to sophomore year, gorgug-death-trauma style

[waitineedaname]

I finally realized you can see how many people are subscribed to your ao3 account. WHAT DO YOU MEAN 150????

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

re: the last post i reblogged bc i am realizing just how much i yapped in the tags and i do not wish to subject the wider tumblr public to that rant LMAO

[radioregine]

screaming bc i JUST had to report something for this kind of violation last night. the violations are prob ramping up a lot lately for them to actually do this lol