#i wear it when this one needs to be washed

[narxcisse]

★ — I just want to see you shine.

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Warning: smut, idk what else to put. 😞

Minors DNI.

The dim lights of the kitchen cast long shadows, but all Jason saw was you. You were backed against the counter, your breath already coming fast, and he was taking his time, savoring each shiver that ran through you. There was something raw, almost desperate, in the way you gripped the counter, nails dragging across the smooth surface as he moved against you.

Each touch, each thrust, left you breathless, arching into him as if drawn by some magnetic pull. You couldn't hold back the cries that spilled from your lips, each one louder than the last, filling the room as he pushed you to the edge again and again. Jason's low, rough chuckle washed over you, grounding you just enough to let you know he was loving every second of this, the way your body reacted, the way you clung to him.

"Keep screaming for me, baby," he murmured, voice husky and full of something dark and addictive. You knew you shouldn't-knew that the need in your voice betrayed just how far you'd let yourself fall-but the thrill of letting go, of knowing he was the one doing this to you, made the urge to resist crumble away.

His hand slid down to your back, pushing you forward so he could reach deeper, and it felt like your whole body was on fire. You bit down on a scream, but it only came out as a whimper, a sound that Jason seemed to enjoy even more. You felt his grip tighten on you, fingers pressing into your skin, and you knew you'd wear the marks of this night for days.

"I just want to see you shine," he breathed, voice thick, gaze intense as he looked down at you. He was holding back, just barely, waiting for you to break completely for him. And when you finally did-when you reached the peak, back arched, lips parted in a soundless scream-Jason let himself fall with you, both of you lost to the moment, to each other.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

AN: I know it's not really explicit, but it's been in my drafts for 7 MONTHS 😭😭😭 I needed to get rid of it.

Btw, follow mi j.ai @/innerchange_

[itsnotbird]

On the Run

Civil War! Bucky x Fem! Reader

Non-canon imagine

Warnings: Language, acts of violence, mentions of Winter Soldier Bucky.

Summary: Your domestic life was good with Bucky, that’s because the two of you were skilled in knowing when it was time to move on. Now, Steve Rogers is here to ‘save the day’, and it isn’t what you two needed.

You used lay awake for hours on end at night, staring at the ceiling, listening to any faint noises in the distance.

That was different now.

Your body knew rest, it knew a sense of comfort. Though it took you awhile to achieve it, and though it wasn’t perfect, the peace was all you needed.

Well, peace and him by your side.

The mattress wasn’t necessarily something to rave about, it was small and springy, but it was a bed and it was suitable. The sheets weren’t pillow soft, but none of those small things mattered when you’re twisted together with a man who made you feel secure no matter what.

You wake to the sun shining in from the kitchen window and the sound of the street of Bucharest outside. Eyes opening, you’re face to face with the picture in front of you. He’s painted golden by the sunlight, face relaxed. No night terrors came for neither you nor him so rest was the only thing in the air.

Hair falling across his forehead, you reach to push it back, then trace the bridge of his nose with the tip of your finger. You gently smile, your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“James.” You whisper, trying to softly stir him. “Bucky, the sun’s up.”

You’ve learned that there has to be a gentle approach to how you wake him, anything too hasty sends him into a panic. So that’s why you whisper to him before pressing your kiss to his face.

It’s a gentle kind of love, one that both of you have never experienced before. And after everything, all the things the two of you endured, it still makes Bucky wonder how it could be so easy for you to be so soft with him, to him. In his corrupted mind, he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve to be roused by you nuzzling against him. But you reassure him every single time that he will never know violence from your touch if you never have to know cruelty from his. Maybe that’s why the two of you are so content in the way you are. You spent your life under the thumb of abusers, now the slice of freedom you have feels like cool water.

Refreshing.

Bucky stirs awake, letting out a soft groan as you kiss the corner of his lips before pushing the covers off yourself.

Those blue eyes open to watch you stand from the bed and stretch your arms over your head, causing the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, his shirt, to ride up past your thighs and flash your underwear to him.

He smiles to himself.

“I have a job to get to in thirty minutes.” You tell him, wandering off into the bathroom. “Nothing illegal this time…I think.”

Bucky rolls onto his back and chuckles to himself.

“It’s still illegal even if no one gets hurt doing it” He reminds, voice groggy.

You lean against the door frame as you brush your teeth, the toothpaste is foaming in your mouth as you mutter.

“I’m simply an undercover…intel associate who makes her living off of knowing things.” You say before going back to the sink to wash your mouth.

“You’re a spy for hire.” He states as he sits up, rubbing his eyes.

“So are you.” You argue, washing your face. “Don’t be the pot to my kettle, James.”

He rolls his eyes and comes to join you in the small bathroom, pulling sweatpants on as he does so. “To be fair…it’s not like you could go work at the coffee shop.” He says, grabbing your hips as he slides you out of the way so he can grab his own toothbrush.

You hum and pout as you reach for the hairbrush, the one the two of you share because that’s how life is now, sharing things.

“I did apply for the barista position, they rejected me because of my lack of people skills.” You joke.

Bucky looks at you in the mirror, giving you a shrug. “You win some, you lose some.”

You study his expression, then turn to face him with a small, hopeful smile.

“Good day or bad day?” You ask, making him stop and face you.

Bucky nods. “Good day.”

One thing you’ve come to learn is bad days for Bucky are common, more common than bad days for you. Every day, the two of you ask each other the same question just to gauge each other’s mood.

And if Bucky said it’s a good day for him, then it’s a great day for you.

You kiss his cheek, making him give you a sideways grin before you go search for clothes of your own. Buttoning your dark cargo pants, you tie up your boots and go to the dresser drawer that should be housing socks and underwear.

Instead, multiple weapons look back at you as you open it.

You place a pistol in your concealed holster, then pull a jean jacket on.

“It’ll take an hour, two at most.” You say, coming over to Bucky as he watches you.

Reaching for his watch on the counter, you set a timer for how long the job should take and then hand it to him. It’s something the two of you learned to do when separating from each other, something that eases anxiety.

Bucky takes the watch and fastens it to his wrist, then tilts your chin up to meet his eye.

“Don’t get hurt.” He states.

“I promise.” You say, searching his nervous look.

“Don’t…lose control.” He adds.

You swallow the scared feeling.

“Never again.”

With that, he kisses you meaningfully.

Intimacy was something the two of you took a painfully long time to get used to. The idea of letting someone that close was a nightmare, and it took weeks and months after the two of you got away for you to determine what feelings were what. So nothing was ever casual, not when the only relationship you have was each other. In Bucky’s mind, once he figured out how to function it, you were the only thing in life that mattered. He can’t express fear or worry or love in words properly, but he knows if he locks his fingers with yours or kisses you a certain way, you’ll understand.

You always understand.

It makes things easy, you do the talking when he can’t and he expresses feelings in ways you aren’t too sure how to sometimes.

“Be smart.” He says when you finally pull away.

At that, you scoff. “I’m always smart.”

- - - -

He’s found that people watching is calming, like it helps reconnect wires in his brain by learning strangers habits.

Walking through street vendors, he enjoys the fact that his mind has taken the day off on torturing him.

As he goes through the produce section, he stops at a kind man’s booth and looks at fruit in front of him.

Plums.

Your favorite.

He remembers all the stories you used to tell him to get him to fall asleep, how you grew up on an orchard, how you spent days wandering through the plum trees, picking the fruit and laying in the sun while sucking the juice.

He has a brief conversation with the kind man and purchases four plums, just because he knows you’ll look at him in adoration when he presents them to you.

Today was a good day, he slept dreamlessly, he woke up to you, he’s out in public and doesn’t feel on edge-

There.

Just there.

Across the street at the news stand.

Bucky sees the man running the stand look at him a certain way, a way he shouldn’t be looked at. Crossing the street, Bucky approaches the news stand in confusion, and just as he makes a few moves forward, the man flees.

The headline on the papers instantly ruins the previous good mood.

The Winter Soldier, accused of a major bombing.

As he rereads the paper over and over in disbelief, the watch on his wrist beeps.

You should be arriving home.

He heads for that direction.

- - - -

You shut the door behind you and toss the keys onto the counter, walking into the bathroom with the intention of taking a hot shower to wash away the stressful job you just completed.

It all went okay in the end, and a wad of cash is in your pocket, making you feel successful, but it was a harder job than anticipated.

You pull the shower curtain back and just as you reach to turn the water on, the energy around you shifts.

Immediately, you pause, holding your breath and trying to listen carefully.

There’s the sound of boots in the kitchen, and you would claim them to belong to Bucky but you know the sound of his footstep, you know the way his energy feels, you know the feeling you’d have if he were on the other side of the door, and it’s a feeling you do not have.

Steve Rogers looks around the small space.

It’s minimal, a hideout he’s imagined in his head with newspaper on the windows and a serious lack of personal touch. He looks at the made bed, then reaches to pick up something that confuses him a little.

Once he realizes it’s a woman’s bra, he instantly drops it in shock.

He moves into the kitchen, and picks up a notebook laying on a shelf next to vanilla wafers you eat when you’re overcome with nauseating headaches and can’t seem to eat anything else.

Just another lasting side effect from HYDRA.

He opens the notebook and immediately notices Bucky’s handwriting. Flipping through pages, he finds a photo taped to a page free of journal entries.

It’s of a woman.

You.

It’s from when the two of you first found the apartment, you’re taping news papers to the glass, looking rather unamused as your picture is taken when you’re just in a pair of boxer shorts and a band t shirt that falls off your shoulder.

You’re effortlessly gorgeous.

Your name is inked under the photo with the date, almost like he put it there to ensure he doesn’t forget you.

A common fear of Bucky’s.

Steve shuts the book with the intention of taking it back to Sam so they can look into who you are and why you’re in the journal. Sam warns him through the earpiece that german special forces were soon approaching, and he responds, saying that he understood.

You pull the gun from your belt and take a deep breath, slowly twisting the door knob to peer out of the bathroom.

Steve hears a sort of rustle, though it doesn’t come from the bathroom, it comes from behind him wear Bucky has joined the scene.

Standing silently, he looks at Steve with an unsure eye, then looks to the keys on the counter and knows that you are hiding out somewhere.

Steve turns to face his once best friend and lets out a shaky breath.

“Do you know me?” He asks him.

Bucky’s heart pounds in his ears as he pushes through brain fog and tries to run through plans in his head. If Steve Rogers was standing in his kitchen, and the headlines say The Winter Soldier bombed the UN, that means he had to flee fast.

“You’re Steve.” Bucky says. “I read about you in the museum.”

You listen closely to the conversation, trying to run through your own plan.

“I know you’re nervous. You have every reason to be…but you’re lying.” Steve says, still grasping the journal in his hand.

That’s making Bucky twitch.

“I wasn’t in Vienna, I don’t do that anymore.” He says, and out of his peripheral vision, he sees you open the bathroom door just a crack more.

“Well the people who think you did are coming here, and they aren’t going to take you alive.” Steve says in a serious tone, taking a step closer.

“That’s smart, a good strategy.” Bucky agrees, making Steve roll his eyes.

“Where’s the girl?” He asks.

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “What girl?”

Steve shakes his head at the lie, then rips open the journal and points to your picture. “This girl, Buck. Be smart about this, I can help you.”

Breathe.

He has to remind himself.

“It would be helpful if you left right now before it’s too late.” He says, setting his things down and taking off his gloves, flexing his metal hand.

Above you, you can hear heavy boots and your heart stops. You push the door open wider, sneaking your way behind the soldier that’s telling Bucky it doesn’t have to end in a fight, that he could leave with him right now and everything would be fine.

That’s when Steve hears the defining click of a gun being loaded.

“Did someone fail to tell you that this isn’t a task for Captain fucking America?” You say lowly, aiming the gun right at the man. Your heart pounds in your ears, adrenaline and anxiety make you feel sick.

Steve gives Bucky a look, then sighs.

“You had to pick a crazy one?”

Bucky shrugs.

You circle Steve, coming to his front to let him see the angry look in your eye. “You want to see crazy?”

Bucky hooks a finger around your back belt loop and pulls you to him, muttering something in Russian that Steve doesn’t understand. Whatever is asked of you, you look up at him with a slightly scared look. Bucky just stares back at you, giving you a slight head nod, encouraging you silently. That’s the only reason you turn your back on Steve and rush to the closet, grabbing your back pack.

“Buck, I came here to help.” Steve reasons once he’s recovered his shock.

“Leading special forces here doesn’t seem like helping.” Bucky states.

“It wasn’t me who did that.” Steve reasons.

That’s when agents invade the apartment.

It’s a fight, rough and seemingly never ending, and the entire time that you’re trying to escape, Steve is there, trying to reason with Bucky.

“James.” You shout as you’re struggling to hold your own against the three officers you keep dodging.

Immediately, he finds you, ripping the men away from you. Once free, you’re trying to make it down the stairs of the apartment building, but there’s no escape from the troops that are after you.

Barely processing what’s happening as Bucky breaks the glass of the stairwell window, he’s gripping your hand tightly and coaxing you to jump, falling a very far distance to a rooftop. It probably would hurt a whole lot more if Bucky didn’t break your fall.

Eyes squeezed shut as you roll off of him, you pant with gritted teeth. “This is going to bruise.”

“Walk it off.” He says, helping you up.

As the two of you start running, Bucky suddenly falls behind. You look over at him, only to see him battling a…

Cat?

Panicking, you shoot just above the figure, startling it enough to refrain from clawing Bucky’s throat out.

Jaguar hero? Panther man?

“Here kitty kitty.” You call, gaining the enemy’s attention, drawing it to you instead.

“Jesus, who is this chick?” Sam asks Steve as they start to join the scene.

Steve jumps from the window you did moments before. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out!”

Adrenaline is pumping through you, blocking out the crippling fear that this could end badly. There’s a sliver of hope that this would be like the times before on the run, where you find some place new to be from. You and Bucky dodge all the threats, having a shared mindset on just keeping the other alive.

You’ve been in bad situations, but as the two of you end up surrounded by agents and police on the freeway, you think this is far by the worst ending to come of things.

So much for a good day.

And now everyone is being handcuffed, including Steve and the man-bird he has as a sidekick.

Why are all the jungle animals after you today?

Your knees are kicked out from behind you, a man grips your hair and shoves you to the ground, causing you to yell out.

“Let her go!” Bucky shouts from beside you as he himself gets detained. “She had nothing to do with this.” He argues, desperately trying to get them away from you.

“James, what did you do?” You grunt, cheek pressed to the ground, looking at him in the same position.

“Nothing!” He argues. “Just do what they say, it’ll be okay, baby.”

“He bombed the UN.” An officer says, tone angry.

“He can’t even make toast without burning it- ow! I’m really not into hair pulling.” You seethe.

The adrenaline that was once keeping you going has worn down and you’re shaking on the inside as you’re shoved into the back of a military truck.

Your leg bounces up and down, and if his hands were free, he’d stop the motion.

It’s silent, the two officers sitting in front of the two of you stare.

“You still having a good day?” You ask Bucky.

He looks over at you with an irritated look, not irritated with you of course, just in general. “No. This is a very bad day.”

“Don’t speak to the prisoner, ma’am. He’s a threat.” The younger officer says to you.

“This guy’s a threat? He puts spiders outside instead of killing them.” You say with a tone of disbelief.

Bucky says your name as if to tell you to not waste your breath.

You don’t listen of course.

“Hey, why am I not a threat?” You ask.

“You didn’t bomb the UN.” The man reasons.

They’re still stuck on that.

“Maybe I did. You’re not an expert, you weren’t there. Now, I’m not gonna admit it because I know how you narcs work, but I’m going to make you wonder.”

Bucky starts to laugh before the second officer orders the both of you to be quiet.

- - - -

Of course they separate you.

Of course they lock Bucky in some kind of inhuman looking box to make sure he can’t escape and of course they throw you into a room with nothing but a table, two chairs and a surveillance camera.

You try to get out of a good twenty minutes, then scream at the camera for answers, shouting questions.

Steve stands in the office and watches the monitor, eyes flickering back between your live meltdown to Bucky who sits still in his confinement and doesn’t do anything.

“Who’s she?” Stark asks, curious at the scene.

“That would be the side kick.” Sam answers, chuckling as you lunge one of the chairs at the camera.

Natasha joins the men with a file in her hand.

“This is all I could find on her.” She says, handing the folder to Steve.

He reads the information, then gets some sort of clarity.

“I want to talk to her.” He says.

“Absolutely not.” Shannon immediately says.

“She’s how we get through to him.” He argues.

There’s a moment of uncertainty, because the last thing they need is to get into more trouble.

But they do it anyway.

You’re sat in the corner, head in your hands, trying to keep your thoughts straight.

You weren’t a huge fan of being locked in small rooms, probably because a life of confinement is pretty much all you knew.

There’s a sound of the doors electronic lock being opened, and in comes the man you’d rather not see.

Immediately, you stand with your guard up.

“You going to try and shoot me?” Steve asks.

“You took my guns.” You simply say.

Shanon stands guard as Steve comes closer.

“I know we got off on the wrong foot, but believe me when I say I just want to help.”

You laugh, looking at the floor as he continues to talk.

“Is there anything you can tell us that will help his case? Where was he today? Yesterday?” Steve asks, and you glare.

“You want the play by play? Seriously?” You scoff. “Fine. I woke up at eight o’clock, I went to work and left him in the apartment that your guys ruined-”

“They aren’t my guys.” He clarifies.

“-and my guess is he went into the city. I came home and found you rudely invaded my home.” You say sharply, taking a step away when he comes another foot forward.

“I came to warn you that they were after him. To be fair, I didn’t know you existed.” Steve tries to reason, but you just laugh.

“He must’ve forgot to include it in his letters to you, sorry, he’s been a little busy trying to piece his mind back together.” You spit. “The entire point of laying low, is to not let people know you exist, and we were doing a pretty good job at it.” Your anger rises, and your eyes keep flickering back to the woman at the door and wondering if it’s locked.

You could take her, she’d be easy.

Steve grunts in frustration. “Clearly not well enough that special forces found you.”

You lash out. “Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been found, but we could’ve had a plan if you didn’t butt in. We could’ve already been on a train in the time it took you to try and reason with him.”

Steve huffs and rubs his temples. “If you would’ve come with me, you wouldn’t have had to run. I could’ve helped you.”

“That’s what you don’t get!” You shout. “We have been fine for two years, we had a life, we had a plan for every situation and we didn’t need you. Now look what you’ve done! He’s getting psychologically evaluated, when everyone knows he’s not going to pass whatever test they have for him.”

Your chest heaves as you try to not let your voice crack.

You’re deathly afraid. All the images of lazy mornings and creative dinners flash before you and there’s that overwhelming thought that you’ll never know that peace again.

“I know you’re scared.” Steve says a little softer now. “But if you cooperate-"

The power goes out.

Just like that.

Emergency lighting flickers on lowly, and there’s a moment of silence before the walkie Shanon wears goes off.

“Everybody, get eyes on Barnes, now!”

Wordlessly, Shanon turns out of the room, causing Steve to follow. Though they shut the door behind them, they fail to realize the lock mechanism isn’t going to work now that everything’s fried.

“Idiots.” You huff, flinging the door open.

You run down the halls until you come across the office where they took any belongings you and Bucky had.

You were going to find him and the two of you were going to find a way to get out of this hell. Grabbing both back packs, you try to go towards the direction everyone is fleeing from, knowing that’s where he’ll be.

Maybe that’s the same agenda Bucky has, or more like the agenda the winter soldier has as he’s triggered to take over. He should have known better, that man claiming to be good knew all the right words to get his brain to switch over into some kind of kill mode. He fights his way past everyone who tries to stop him, overwhelmed by a feeling of loss, like he’s supposed to be searching and finding someone. You. That’s it, that’s what he needs to do next.

He stops anyone who comes after him, on a mission to retrieve you.

You burst out of a door, looking around for any signs of him.

There’s many bruised people on the ground, trying to get up and recover.

He had to be close.

Your heart beats loudly in your ears, backing up, you go to turn and run, but his large figure stops you.

“Bucky.” You gasp in relief, immediately handing him his pack. “We have to go, I think we can-”

He grips your wrist, not tight enough to harm, but tighter than he would ever grab you.

You meet his dark eyes and your face pales.

No.

This can’t be happening.

“James.” You speak, though he doesn’t answer, just stares right back at you.

The word is hot on your tongue and it tastes like anguish as you say it. “солдат?”

Soldat.

That, he answers to. With a tug of your arm, he tells you to follow, giving you no time to process anything. Though Bucky has told you many times that he isn’t to be trusted like this, you can’t help but feel like he isn’t going to harm you, not when he’s shoving anyone out of the way and guides you to the roof top helicopter pad.

He sits you in the passenger seat of the air craft.

“пребывание.” He orders, then goes to the other side and somehow manages to get the helicopter roaring up.

You watch Steve rush onto the pad just as the two of you pull away, he runs after you, trying and failing to stop you.

You look down as you get higher and higher, and no time is wasted, you’re being flown far far away.

He doesn’t utter one word, and you aren’t sure if you should either. Trusting him is all you can do.

About an hour later, when you’re far enough away from city limits, the helicopter is being landed in a clearing.

Even as you’re being pulled out of your seat and he grabs his backpack, he doesn’t talk. Walking fast to keep up with him, you follow him for a mile until you stumble upon a bus stop.

He sits you down, then tells you to stay.

He stands and sweeps over the surroundings.

“Soldat.” You say, clenching your hands at the odd place you are put in.

You didn’t think you’d have to experience this version of Bucky again.

Now you have to figure out how to make it go away.

He turns to look at you, blankly.

With a calming breath, you command him to sit. When he does, you try to ignore the ill feeling it gives you, a cruel remembrance of how perfectly trained they had him.

“You have to go away.” You say and it confuses him.

“I will stay with you.” He says.

“You don’t need to.” You reassure.

His brows furrow. “You are my mission.”

“Your mission is complete, well done.” You encourage, grabbing his hand in yours.

He looks at the contact like it’s so foreign, and your heart aches.

“Do you understand? Your mission is complete, your service is no longer needed.” You say, searching his eyes for the light that slowly returns as this soldier sinks back into hiding.

He takes a large breath and shudders.

Then his eyes are frantic and a little confused.

“James.” You speak, reaching to hold his face in your palms. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“What- what happened? Did I- what?” He frantically says, trying to process everything.

“You didn’t do anything extreme.”

He tries to manage his breathing, then examines you fully, making sure there are no cuts or bruises on your skin.

“Hey.” You coo softly, hand on his cheek. “I’m alright, you didn’t hurt me.”

There’s a sense of relief in his eyes, that’s when he pushes his forehead to yours in a painfully human embrace. You push his hair behind his ears, breathing in when he breathes out.

“I’m sorry.” You say, meaning it. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

He tucks his hand under your hair, bracing on the base of your skull.

“This isn’t on you…we just have really bad luck.”

You laugh, nuzzling your nose against his. “I guess we really aren’t done with being on the run.”

The two of you sit just like this until the bus pulls up beside you. Then you find a seat in the back and lean against the window while Bucky leans against you and keeps a watchful eye of the bus.

“What about the Netherlands?” You offer into the silence, twisting your fingers into his.

“You’re wanted all over the country.” He reminds.

Sometimes the world just wasn’t big enough when your face is on ‘be on the lookout’ posters.

“Norway?” He suggests.

“You really want to go back there?” You raise a brow at him.

“…Scotland?”

You think for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, Scotland will do.”

[aakeysmash]

college!sukuna needs the house and you want a smoothie

college!sukuna masterlist

"yo, i need the house on saturday," grunts sukuna, freshly woken up, coming inside the kitchen. his hair is all ruffled, just like his sweatpants and his black t-shirt.

"what for?" you hum, seated at the kitchen table, drumming your pencil on the smooth surface. you were just starting to do your homework, but you could use a break.

"blind boy and girl boy wanna have a friends gathering, or whatever the fuck they called it," he croaks out, opening the fridge and taking big gulps of the cold water bottle inside of it.

"who?" you ask, confused, turning off your headphones. he rolls his eyes.

"satoru and suguru," he responds, deadpan, opening a bunch of cabinets and throwing fruits in the blender.

"i have someone over on saturday, but you can have the living room." there's a pregnant pause in the room. nobody moves for 3 long seconds. "hey, can i have some of that smoothie?" you ask him, breaking the icy atmosphere, pointing at the light green mixture he has in front of him.

he raises one eyebrow, rubbing his eye with his fist. like a big, massive toddler.

"no. make your own one," he yawns, plopping down in front of you. you frown. asshole.

"but i'm lazy. what if i die from hunger?" you whine.

"can't help you with that," he shrugs, taking a sip of his drink.

"please?" you try, doing your best puppy eyes.

"i said no, woman," he sighs, putting one of his hands under his chin, looking over at your discarded sheets of paper all over the table before slowly raising his gaze to your eyes. "who's the fuck buddy, by the way?" he says roughly, trying not to make his eyelid tic. Another man inside his walls. Inside your walls, too. Fantastic.

"none of your business. i don't talk with bitches who don't share their food," you grumble, jutting your bottom lip out, wearing your headphones again. he flips you off.

"tell me who is it," he tries to pry. you ignore him, whistling the song you're currently listening to. he growls your name, trying to get your attention, but he doesn't get any reactions out of you.

"hellooo," comes yuuji's voice from the door. you raise your head, bypassing the currently scowling bulging creature in front of you, and smile softly at the kid, waving your hand. his little feet do a light pit pat on the ground when he walks.

"hey, 'kuna, can i have some of your smoothie?" asks excitedly the child, coming near you two.

sukuna huffs. "no. learn how to fend for yourself. there are brats your age who have children of their own," he grits out, glaring at him, then turning his mean gaze toward you. yuuji cries out your name, trying to get you on his side.

"yuu, your brother is mean. let's go live somewhere else, just me and you," you coo to your youngest roommate, receiving a decisive nod, opening your arms to let him hug you. his brother scoffs.

"can we visit him sometimes, though?" timidly says the kid from beneath your head, wrapping his short arms around your middle.

"nah. go on, you two can finally get the fuck out of my way. i'm never opening the door for you again," smirks sukuna, getting up to wash his glass, now empty.

"mean!" you both scream in unison, turning around to see that he has his back turned toward you.

he just chuckles, grabbing more fruit to put in the blender. he has two mouths to feed, apparently.

[keeira2]

OFF LIMITS (PART2)

part 1 >> part 2

s2rafe cameron x barryslittlesister!reader

summary: rafe and y/n meet again, but when barry has to leave them alone together, they just can’t control themselves..

warnings: drugs mentioned, drug use, snorting, smoking, kissing?, smut, more smut, uhh smut, degrading, sort of manipulation if u squint, swearing, dark!rafe and soft!rafe in the same fic!! :O MDNI 18+ ONLY, if i miss any pls lmk!!

a/n: i js realised i messed up the first part smh so ima fix that now but i’m actually rlly enjoying writing this, mayb i’m ass nd nobody’s saying anything but if anyone likes it ily, this ones def smutty so pls viewer discretion!! also if ppl want more parts lmk cs i’m happy to write more :33

weeks went by without even thinking of ur encounter with the not so charming kook..

another boring day at home by yourself once again, so ur snorting lines on ur vanity after dolling urself up with ur perfectly trashy makeup nd freshly washed hair.

ur wearing a thrifted tshirt which ended right at ur belly button, ur fav denim shorts which left nothing to the imagination and ur stripy thigh high socks.

a loud slam of the door and bickering voices interrupt ur lovely high followed by barrys speaker blasting some nasty music “barry!!” you yell out in frustration, he turned it up louder. finally you had enough, storming out to the living room, slamming ur door shut and prepared to go off until your stopped by the sight of barry smoking a j with none other than the kook.

fuck he looked so good with his hair all messy, his eyes glossy nd exhaling the smoke. but he couldn’t know that, you can almost smell is ego, u can’t let yourself feed into it. so you ignore his smirk as he watches you, arms crossed standing there with ur brows furrowed.

“barry! shut that shit off it’s too loud!” barry just looks at you with half shut eyes and laughs faintly before inhaling again. jesus do i have to do everything myself??

you stomp over to where the speaker is sitting and unplug it, causing very stoned barry to turn around in frustration “HEY! what’d you do that for? we’re js chillin’” hes slurring over his words, yk damn well he’s not gonna listen to you.

you plug the speaker back in, earning cheers from barry and the kook, “yeh yeh whatever barry. js give me some” your tone riddled in sarcasm you drop down on the couch between them, snatching the blunt out of barrys hand, taking a longgg, NEEDED inhale before blowing it out. you lean back into the plushy couch, savouring the feeling.

you can feel the kooks burning gaze as he eyes you up and down, his tongue grazing his lower lip before looking back up again. ‘if i’m gonna sit through this i may as well be fucked up’ you stand up quickly and rush to your room , his eyes following you, you grab ur pink glittery bong from ur vanity which is covered in the cuntiest charms.

you skip back to the living room to see barry heading towards the front door, “where’re u going?” you ask confused.

“gotta go handle some things i’ll be back by tonight. don’t let rafe bother you too much, alright?” he doesn’t even give you a chance to respond before tucking his gun into his shorts and slamming the door behind him.

rafe, huh? cute.. for a kook. you plop down right next to him, bong in hand. while ur packing you hear a groan from behind you. turning around rafe has his head back against the couch, peaking to where your ass meets the pillowy cushions. “eyes are up here rafe” you scoff before the cone piece is full. snatching the lighter out of rafes hand nd ripping the massive cone until your mouth is completly dry nd ur throat starts to burn.

“mmhm, love it when you say my name,” he whispers behind you ,”your rlly pretty, yk that?”your thighs impulsively clench together when he eyes you down once again. the weed is officially taking affect, you rest ur head back into the couch and rafe slips his arm around ur shoulder, scooching closer to you. ‘woww so smooth’ u think to yourself, rolling your eyes.

don’t get me wrong hes got a massive ego, he’s arrogant and he’s cocky. BUT he’s so insanely hot nd u rllyy wanna fuck him. with barry gone you have the perfect opportunity, nd u know he wants it too.

you move ur head to the side to look at him, his lustful eyes already piercing through yours, your thighs noticeably squirming together, you need him so bad.

he leans in until your lips meet his. starting off soft nd slow, quickly turns into tongue and teeth, he’s desperate for you nd u can feel his massive bulge when he takes ur hand to cover it.

“feel how hard you make me, hm?” he groans.

his hands holding ur waist greedily, as if he’s afraid you’ll run away.

“do u wanna fuck me?” you pull back staring at him with doe eyes, ur hands to his chest. impressed with your boldness he eagerly nods before leaning into another hungry kiss, but you pull away.

you snatch his hand and lead him into your room, immediately pushing him onto the bed. you have full control, it’s not usually your preference but it works. ripping off your shirt and shorts, leaving you in ur bra, panties, nd ur thigh highs, coming up to straddle his lap. you hold his jaw in ur hand and kiss him ravenously. u eventually tug at his shirt in attempt to pull it off, finally breaking the kiss he rips it off and pulls u in again.

“ur so fucking hot y/n,” he moans into the kiss, “gonna have you begging for me, princess.”

you feel him suddenly crawl out from under you and throw you into the bed, you can’t help but let out a squeal when he pulls u by your hips and starts ripping ur panties down. “ur a fucking slut, only just learnt my name nd ur already squirming under me, basically begging me to fuck you.” he lands a hard smack to your ass before tugging at his belt, letting his jeans fall, nd pushing his boxers down just enough for his huge veiny cock to sit up hitting his stomach.

ur head turned nd u whimper at the sight of it, u already know he’s gonna stretch you out. he loves the look of fear in ur eyes as u take him in but harshly puts his hand on the back of ur head pushing ur face into the pillows. without any warning at all, he starts ploughing his massive cock into ur soaked tight cunt. you scream at the impact, tears welling in your eyes as he fucks you with no remorse.

“r-rafe, ah fuck PLEASE,” you plead, “s-slower!!” the sound of you making him plough even deeper and harsher into ur desperate cunt.

“ur gonna fucking take it like the filthy whore you are,” he groans, making you instantly wetter, the pleasure and pain making you so so close.

your full on sobbing now, but you fucking love it. another harsh smack to ur ass, “quit fucking crying unless you want me to really hurt you” his degrading words make you squeeze around his cock, ur hands gripping ur sheets as you scream out, “fuckkkkk rafe” your body shaking when ur met with the most mind blowing orgasm of ur life, ur literally seeing stars.

“ah fuck” u hear from rafe, feeling his thrusts get sloppier and his warm come filling ur swollen pussy. the overstimulation making your legs shake uncontrollably.

finally his thrusts stop and he releases his tight grip from ur head, collapsing next to you.

ur sobs are now quiet whimpers, his cum dripping down ur thighs. he turns his body to face yours, his hand cupping your cheek.

“shh, don’t cry beautiful, u took it so fucking well” he comforts you, which surprisingly made you feel so much better. he pulls you onto his bare chest, his hand now playing with your hair.

the warm feeling of ur body sprawled across his makes his heart swell. u are perfect, and he’s gonna fucking ruin you.

[luvvyouforever]

okay i love x-men 97 so much, so glad someone writes for that. Can I request scott summers x reader nsfw headcanons and how he wold be with his partner 18+ wise

you absolutely can <3

nsfw headcanons : scott summers (cyclops) x reader

content: nsfw content mdni 18+, mentions of dominance, lingerie, shower sex, domestic life, oral, etc

^^ he was so crazy in this gif. no, but have you met my wife? #needthat

𝜗𝜚 scott is such a passionate lover. he likes devoting all of his time and energy to you. when you're with the team in a fight, his focus has to be on everyone, but the minute you're alone with him in the bedroom, it might as well just be the two of you alone in the whole wide universe.

𝜗𝜚 i think he naturally takes control in the bedroom, but isn't a dom in the traditional sense. it's more about him guiding the night along and making decisions about what to do next. he'll gently manhandle you into new positions and flip you around depending on what he wants to do next. is always open to input from you, however. if you're begging to be ate out, who is he to deny you?

𝜗𝜚 he's also intuitive, seemingly knowing what you're asking of him before you can even put it into words. he can gauge how you're feeling that day and will, in seconds, prepare to cater the rest of the day to your needs. bad day? he knows that he needs to let you be a pillow princess. angry and frustrated? he lets you guide him where you want him and feeds into your urgent energy.

𝜗𝜚 sometimes, everybody is frustrating him and nobody is listening cough cough logan and he needs to be more dominant. in these moods, he's firm with you and likes making you slowly fall apart through the night. he loves getting you to the point where you're so sweet and compliant.

𝜗𝜚 the best way to make scott melt in these situations? look up at him with needy eyes, bite your lip, then breath out a soft "yes, sir." sometimes he just really needs it.

𝜗𝜚 sometimes, though, he's had that kind of tiring day and this is when there's little to dynamic between the two of you. it's soft, loving missionary or he's leaned against the comfortable bed with you riding him.

𝜗𝜚 since he can't fully see what you look like without the bright red visor on, he likes when things you're wearing have some kind of soft texture to them which applies to lingerie. wear something soft and silky which he can run his hands on and he'll fold.

𝜗𝜚 loooooves shower sex. you'll coax him into the steamy enclosed space and brush your body against him and suddenly your back is pushed against the wall, the warm water is enveloping the two of you, and he's pounding into you, strong arms supporting your weight.

𝜗𝜚 one of his biggest turn-ons is seeing you all domestically. he's already needy waking up to you in your shared bed, and then you cook breakfast together and you have this cute apron wrapped around you, and then you're smiling at him while you wash the dishes while he dries them, and then you're being dragged back to the bedroom giggly. god forbid you get pregnant.

𝜗𝜚 praise kink! please tell him that he's doing a great job. he doesn't receive nearly enough recognition for what he does for the x-men and he'll blush when you praise him for normal things throughout the day. whisper just how good he's making you feel as he fucks you and his thrusts will get erratic or rushed.

some more random, short headcanons:

𝜗𝜚 boob man. wear a low cut dress when he takes you on a date.

𝜗𝜚 loves feeling your hands run along his abs. especially if you have long nails.

𝜗𝜚 also loves feeling your hands tangle themselves into his hair.

𝜗𝜚 is sooo romantic w it. will absolutely put rose petals on the bed when it's your anniversary.

𝜗𝜚 loves oral, giving it but especially receiving it. he's such a sucker for feeling your lips wrapped around him.

𝜗𝜚 probably sometimes too scared to make your sex a little more kinky. will run it by you a hundred times before trying something.

𝜗𝜚 when he's indulged in a little alcohol, his inhibitions are gone. very very very rare moments but very very very fun.

𝜗𝜚 he gets sooo flustered when you send him pictures while he's gone, and he'll never ask for them, but you can tell when he gets home just how much he loved getting them.

𝜗𝜚 is so incredibly sweet during aftercare. will dote on you and ask if everything felt good and offer you water and run you a bath, anything you want.

𝜗𝜚 doesn't know how hot he is when he's leading the x-men. like imagine the scene in the first ep of x-men 97 when he lands on the ground with his power and says "to me, my x-men," and you are all over him when you get home but he doesn't get why. he's just doing what he should as a leader.

shoo, i need a scott summers.

[youling-the-ghost]

mornings with him – a ditch ficlet

Derek found comfort in his strange yet endearing morning routine. word count: 800

A ray of sunlight peeped through the curtains and cascaded itself onto Derek's bed, jolting him awake. The clock on the wall indicated that it was 6 AM. Derek groaned and dragged a hand down his face, cringing at the stubble that covered his chin—he felt like a teenager, all gangly limbs and awkward changes to his body that he hadn't quite grown accustomed to yet. It was comforting, in a way.

Derek sat up—or at least, tried to sit up. He almost succeeded before a pair of arms dragged him back into the bed, snuggling him into the pile of blankets and pillows. Derek let out a muffled cry of protest, but the arms didn't relent.

"Love," Derek said, the words buried in an airy laugh. "I need to make breakfast."

Titch groaned and leaned his body onto Derek's so that there was basically no space between their bodies, nestling his face into Derek's neck.

"Breakfast can wait..." he murmured. "I'm cold."

"It's August," Derek deadpanned. To be honest, he was overheating in Titch's arms and the blankets.

When Titch showed no signs of letting go, Derek sighed and resorted to his contingency plan; he grabbed the arms that held him hostage and pried them open, which proved to be quite a difficult task—despite what his stature might suggest, Titch was incredibly strong.

In the sliver of time that he bought himself, Derek lunged forward and dove out of the bed, landing on the wooden floor with a soft thud.

Titch mumbled some nonsense, incoherent and jumbled by a half-conscious brain, in protest. Derek planted an apologetic kiss on Titch's cheek and ruffled his blonde hair, which had a golden sheen from the sunlight that peeked through the curtains.

Derek snuck one last glance at his lover, whose face smoothed into a tranquil expression as he presumably returned to dreamland, and found himself smiling. He had come a long way, both of them had. It felt like just yesterday when Titch was lighting candle after candle, refusing to sleep until the first crack of dawn peeked through the night.

Derek grimaced at his reflection; his hair was sticking up in every direction, and he was in desperate need of a shave. He patted his hair in a vain attempt to school it, but the pile of curls immediately stuck back out again. Derek sighed in defeat and decided that he'd bother with his rebellious hair some other time, instead shifting his attention to everything else that needed fixing.

Shaving was something that caused Derek intense annoyance and euphoria in the strangest of oxymorons. The act itself was tedious, and if he had the option to, Derek would absolutely choose to never have to pick up a razor again.

But in a way, the razor in his hand and the shaving cream on his face represented progress that he never thought would be possible. It was a symbol of his growth, his comfort in his own body, which was beautiful despite all the tediousness.

Derek flinched as an improperly-angled movement caused a shallow gash across his cheek. He could do without all the blood that he had drawn in the process of learning this strange aspect of manhood, though.

The shaving cream washed off his face with a splash of water and Derek dragged a hand across his now-smooth skin. It felt like velvet between his fingers. Derek smiled. He was proud of himself.

The pink apron was an essential part of the cooking process, and this was only partially a joke.

Strangely enough, all of Derek's best and fluffiest flapjacks were made while he donned the frilly baby pink apron that James got Titch as a joke for Christmas one year. It was a strange phenomenon that was difficult to explain every time someone asked why he was working in the fields while wearing something that looked like it belonged to a Barbie playset.

Lost in thought about aprons, Derek barely noticed the arms that snaked around his waist.

Derek chuckled. "Good morning, love," he said without turning around. "So you finally woke up, huh?"

"Mornin'," Titch mumbled into Derek's shirt.

Sometimes it was hard to believe that the Titch currently clinging onto him like a koala on a eucalyptus tree was the same standoffish, emotionally closed-off Titch that he was first introduced to years ago.

Derek didn't bother shrugging Titch off. He didn't mind the physical contact; he quite enjoyed it, actually. The two stayed like that in silence, with the only noise in the room being the ambient sizzling of the pan and whirring of the range hood.

"I love you," Derek said as he placed a finished flapjack onto a plate.

"Yeah."

Derek knew that it was Titch's way of saying, "I love you too."

[captain-hawks]

ykw i typed it out but i cant immortalise myself in those tame tags twice.. your askbox however, is a different story since i do think i need to share my thoughts so 🙏🏼

# (the next time he wears them he gets off on knowing your pussy was snug against the same fabric) # (when /you/ wore them you tried to ignore how the pouch was a little stretched out and the.. reason why)

i blame your 🫵🏼 roommate! kuroo for being a perv with a big dick. not me.

— @wtfcuk835

scar....this is.......so hot.........i'm going to go and take a bite out of a giant piece of concrete rn. thank you for letting these thoughts see the light of day, i was about to beg for them when i saw your original tags HAHA.

okay okay he's such a perv i had to add to it. (context)

18+

kuroo doesn't even wash the boxer briefs before doing it. you're out with your friends one night, and he's lying on the couch drinking a beer, a little buzzed and absolutely fucking haunted by the knowledge that his boxers that you wore are now probably just sitting in your laundry basket.

he tips the bottle to his lips, downing the last few drops before hastily wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. stumbling a little, he makes his way through the dark apartment toward your bedroom, reasons that it's less weird because you left the door ajar. he finds himself sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at the navy blue material now clutched in his hand.

shaking himself out of his stupor, he stuffs the dirty boxers in his pocket and goes back to watching tv. it's only later—after you've come home, after he's been forced to endure an hour of you tiredly curled up on the couch beside him in a little sundress that's another problem in and of itself—that he remembers what he did as the boxers fall to the ground as he's tugging off his sweatpants before climbing into bed.

and then before he can stop himself, he's lying on his back atop his sheets in those fucking boxers, the heel of his palm pressed against his growing erection. he knows it's fucked up. he thinks about how you wore these, imagines the fabric warm and damp against your pussy. thinks about how the material would taste like you if he put his mouth to it—wonders if it would taste the same if he buried his tongue in your cunt. kuroo's losing his fucking mind, lips parted in a silent moan that sears its way up his ribcage, drool pooling on his tongue as he roughly palms his cock through the boxers.

he imagines that you touched yourself in them, pussy lips sliding against the cotton, the material soaked through with your arousal as you grinded your hips down into a pillow. until it wasn't enough, and then you used your fingers to press at your aching hole, to tightly push your way inside through the material thinking of kuroo's cock.

desperately stroking his clothed cock with his hips jerking up off of the mattress in frantic, uncoordinated motions, kuroo comes hard with a groan, hot, thick ropes of cum flooding the already-soiled boxers.

[oglegost]

oh boy! spirit week at school! today is dress as a video game character! i proceed to wear the exact same outfit i've been wearing for actual week.

but it works because its simon henrikssons exact outfit

[good-beanswrites]

One more scene from Fuuta-Es convos with @waivyjellyfish for now :3 I liked exploring Es' post-canon mindset as an ex-murder investigator... Like my other drabble, I don't have the details worked out but Milgram is over and they're living at the Kajiyamas' now.

What Fuuta didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

It’s what Es told themself as they slipped into his clothes. They’d spotted the outfit at the bottom of Fuuta’s closet a few days ago, then decided to bide their time. With Fuuta and his sister downstairs having breakfast, there was a small window of opportunity now.  

Es stuck their arm through the red-striped sleeve. They still didn’t know what possessed them to put it on. 

Was it the appeal of something familiar? In a world devoid of all memories, they enjoyed the idea of putting on at least one outfit that they’d seen hundreds of times on their little music video screen. Is it possible to be comforted by someone else’s memories?

Was it old habits? They’d spent each trial doing anything and everything to feel closer to the prisoners. To take a peek into their minds. To step into their shoes. This was taking it a bit literally, they knew. Although everything was over and they had no reason to connect so deeply to any of the prisoners, Es couldn’t get away from the duty they’d obsessed over for so long.

Maybe it was just their troublesome curiosity, always driving them forward. There was a small part of them that hungered for more information, no matter the reason. They were perfectly aware that putting on Fuuta’s red and blue tracksuit would probably offer them absolutely nothing new, but they had to try. Something might be revealed to them, and they needed to know. 

Es stood in front of the full length mirror. They turned one way. They turned the other way. They shifted their arms. They cocked their head.

Sure enough, nothing. 

They took note of the little details. It was a little big on them, (though  it wouldn’t take them long to catch up to Fuuta’s size). It was neither fashionable nor tacky. The material wasn’t exactly comfortable, but at least it felt warm.

But, did it make them feel any closer to Fuuta?

They contemplated a moment, thinking of all that he may have done in the outfit. There were so many classes these pants had walked to, so many arcade coins that these pockets had held. Es wondered if his friends ever nudged the shoulders of the jacket playfully. Maybe they weren’t the type. It had probably seen it’s share of all nighters. And also lazy days spent in bed, or sick days laid up on the couch.

They puffed their chest out, thinking of the confidence Fuuta may have had wearing this. They pulled the hood over their hair. It had likely seen just as much as his hesitance. How many times had he sunk into the thick material for an escape? Or was there an opposite effect – did he feel so comfortable in this that he could commit murder?

Es stared at themself.

There came some shuffling out in the hall. Before Es could move, Fuuta was shouting to his sister and bursting into the room.

“Will you get out of my fucking hair if I bring it to you right –” he froze. “Now...”

Es, too, was frozen in place, their eyes wide. 

“I-I’m sorry.” They started unzipping the jacket. “I saw it and… I didn’t mean to –”

“ – It’s fine,” Fuuta muttered. He waved his hand dismissively. He started shuffling things around in his desk drawer, angling his head down, out of sight. His voice was strained, though it wasn’t as angry as Es had been expecting. “It’s not like I’m ever gonna wear it again.”

Es carefully folded the jacket over their arm. “I wasn’t trying to bring up the past. I was just…” What had they been doing? 

“I said it’s fine.” 

“I know it’s not.”

“You don’t know anything. Wear it every day for all I care. I was just gonna toss it.”

“You still can. Or, I can.”

“Nah.” Fuuta retrieved what he was looking for. He paused in the doorway, taking one last look over his shoulder. “Looks better on you, anyway.”

Es straightened in surprise as he left. They took another look in the mirror. They allowed themself a small smile. They might have undersold how comfortable it was.

Now that they were thinking of it, they did look pretty cool… Maybe that was all there was to it.

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

i hate doing laundry ough it's The Worst

[munch-mumbles]

google where can i find decent quality baseball caps in fun colors near me. google. google i really want a pink hat

[cadrenebula]

First of all, Happy New Year. Second typing is a little rough on the hands right now. (Dry skin from too much washing and sanitizer.)

Hoping to get a chance to be a bit more creative this year. Or I'm at least try to be. Since April and Sept were like my peaks. (Vierapril and FFxivWrite) That's assuming life doesn't throw me anymore curve balls like last year.

The last couple weeks have been me doing events last minute since the holiday crazy was over. XD (I never want to see another Fall Guys run in XIV ever again.) Still playing some Disney Dreamlight Valley when I am too tired to think. So I had the Winter Star Path to do on there too besides XIV events.

I'll be done with the Heavensturn in the next day or two. \o/

[mekanikaltrifle]

world's shittiest doodle but. I was inspired

Felicitas at home, after a day's work superheroing, come back to his family (seven cats)

[tinylilvalery]

Can ya'll please let women be dirty, or unkempt, or fuckn idk, not overly sexualised and feminised? Can ya'll let women have their natural bodies without objectifying them? I'm fucking begging you to stop sanitising the appearance of your female characters.

[divorcetual]

Hope I didn't put too low of times for the options lol? My clothes usually smell after wearing them more than 3 or 4 times so im not sure how long other ppl wear them for.

[derpinette]

morally i am against bras but i cannot commit because the moment i feel any type of movement against my nips i feel like lopping my entire breast off Skoptsy style