#if anything he should have been fucking terrified of women

[sentient-stove]

Making Leo super leery and disrespectful of women is such character assassination and not at all how trauma responses work when exposed to abusive female figures in the foster system

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒

Summary: You play Soldier Boy's wife in the new movie. He's a method actor, and so are you. 

Pairing: Soldier Boy / F! Reader

Warnings: +18! (Minors DNI), SMUT, Soldier Boy is cheating CC, rough sex, oral sex (m! receiving), kinda role playing, kinky, unprotected sex, dirty talk, porn without plot lol, set in late 1970's

Word Count: 3283

A/N: English is not my first language.

"Cut!"

Soldier Boy winked at you, pulled his lips back, and loosened his firm arms over your back as the director ordered. His hand continued to touch you daringly during the romantic scenes, so it must have been fun for him to witness your heart race. After licking your lips, you faced the director, who had been discussing the specifics with the rest of his staff.

With an anxious expression on his face, the director wanted to tell Soldier Boy something, but he was too scared to say anything since Soldier Boy wasn't the most sensible person when it came to providing guidance. Whatever was said to him didn't matter. Never.

The director then collected all of his stuff and gestured for you to join him. After taking the iced coffee, Soldier Boy turned to face the anxiously breathing and sweating director in front of him. 

“Now what?” Sitting in the chair, Soldier Boy stretched out his muscles and asked in a harsh voice.

Soldier Boy became irate every time he was given instructions to act with greater enthusiasm and better, suggesting that the director, Mr. Nathan, must be dying of dread and worry. 

“It's a romantic film,” Mr. Nathan remarked, appearing to become agitated as he brought up his hands on his hips. “And the subject at hand is war. It's meant to be intimate and heartfelt.”

“And?”

“You shouldn't behave as though you're going to have sex like you're in an adult film. I hope you don't take offense, sir. You're an excellent actor. However, would you mind being a bit more romantic? It would be quite beneficial.”

Snorting, Soldier Boy said, “Fuck that. A sentimental war film, huh? Jesus... I have no doubt that young soldiers would find greater use for pornographic films if we produced some. Believe me, If I fuck her and then leave her to join war, that would make women and men all cry their eyes out. Are we really making this trash movie for housewives only? Who approved this fucking script anyway?”

“Sure and no, sir—no, definitely not. I'm among those who approved, of course, and I can tell you that the script is excellent. Act a little more genuine. This is a movie that everyone should see. If you'd prefer, we could change the actress. If it would help you to be partners with Crimson Countess, maybe we can arrange that.”

The director looked at you, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Stupid coward. That would be the beginning of your best work, but his terrified ass was prepared to destroy your career before it had ever begun. 

“Oh fuck no!” Soldier Boy gulped down his cold coffee. “Not her dry pussy coming over here. My co-star is talented and fine enough.”

You were going to defend yourself in front of the director, but luckily Soldier Boy was kind enough to stand up for you, which made things much better. You were giving him every indication that, in the end, you would do anything to get this job. You would never have taken part in a greater movie before, and Soldier Boy would be the ideal match for it. That was the top of your career already. He was attractive and interesting, but it was difficult to resist and melt into him at the moments when he was meant to give you a gentle kiss. Clearly, that wasn't his thing—being gentle and loving.

It wasn't your thing either.

Mr. Nathan sighed and answered, “Sure,” becoming tired of Soldier Boy not caring at all about what he was trying to say. “We're all going to have some break, and then we can go on filming, is that alright?”

“All right. Whatever,” Soldier Boy said. His specialty was not romantic war films, obviously. He sounded so corny in situations that you could be positive he detested every single love phrase he ever delivered. But none of you had the guts to tell him that out loud. 

If he wasn't concerned about his acting in the first place, that didn't matter to you. There were times when you found it amusing that he was exaggerating in order to enrage the director. It was difficult for you to not break your character in these situations. The kissing scenes, however, were exceptional. You would have let him fuck you if he had made the move right then. He was only getting you wet with his tongue. 

As soon as Mr. Nathan left, Soldier Boy stood up and stepped toward you, looking intently at you. Your entire body tingled with anticipation. Desire was already causing your legs to tremble. 

With a low tone, he said, “Follow me,” and handed his empty cup to someone. 

With joy, you followed instructions. You had already been thinking filthy stuff since the morning. Your pussy was swollen, and your underwear was already wet since he had been teasing you so much. 

He locked the door when you followed him to his trailer.

He approached your body and looked at your long skirt before saying, “So,” and licked his lips. “What are you thinking about that guy who said that? About acting and anything else?”

As his thumb lingered on your breast, stroking it to make you go wild, you put your hands over his chest, excited about what was about to happen. Your thighs tensed with yearning. 

Whispering, "He might be right," you ran a hand down his chest and felt his hardness through his trousers. 

He smiled a bit at you when he realized you were ready for a quick fuck. You continued to softly touch him there, and his cock hardened. 

With a sigh, “About?” he began to undo your dress so he could see your tits. 

“About your acting,” you muttered as his harsh hand continued to torment you. “You should act more romantically and intimately.” 

“Hmm,” was all he said. 

He palmed both of your tits after he had finished unbuttoning your dress. 

“I consider myself to be a method actor,” he said, grinning arrogantly at you. 

You smirked and said, “What a coincidence; me too,” as you unzipped his pants. You lowered his pants and waited for him to give you guidance. “But what would your girlfriend, Crimson Countess, think about that?”

“I don't see an issue if you seal your pretty mouth. I also don't want to fuck her dry cunt forever. Now, get on your knees,” he said rudely, then, putting his hand behind your head, he pushed you on your knees.

Your pulse was pounding as you followed instructions. It wasn't that you were inexperienced, but it also wasn't that you were doing it for the first time. It had only lasted a minute or two until you had completed it in the past. It hadn't pleased you. You had immediately stopped. 

You were ecstatic to see Soldier Boy's massive, pulsating cock, though. You wrapped your hands around his thick shaft, and you licked your dry lips, sensing its weight in your palm. It was exciting and tantalizing to consider sucking the strongest superhero on the planet. 

You murmured, looking at his face and lightly brushing the tip with your lips, “What do you want me to do?” It was apparent that he was beginning to take pleasure in and enjoy what he was seeing. “Sir.”

He grinned at you and tightened his grasp behind your hair when he heard the final word, letting you know how weak you are in comparison to him. After all, you were both method actors, and the game you were playing was harmless. He was definitely thrilled.

He continued, taking his big cock in his hand and pressing it against your lips. “You're a naughty one, aren't you? About to be railed and excited to suck your co-star's cock. Not because you want to get the job, but simply to be fucked.”

“Maybe,” you said, licking the tip with your tongue. It didn't taste horrible, but it was salty. “Maybe I just want to get fucked by a supe; maybe it's because I want to keep my job.”

He finally lost patience with you and shoved his cock inside your mouth when you continued to tease him. You obeyed and took his cock in your mouth. You could take the head since his shaft was far too big for you, yet it was clear that he wanted more.

“Or perhaps I agree with the director's wish for my co-star to act more intimate in his part.” You teased him and palmed his heavy balls, adding, “Would you act more romantic just like you are expected if I was there, standing while your cum inside me?” You were certain that he would come early enough.

“You shouldn't worry about it. My cum will be flowing between your legs as you wander around,” he groaned. “But you'll suck that cock nice firstly.”

He pushed his cock into your mouth again before you could respond. You started to lick it by slowly getting used to the size of it before figuring out the right rhythm.

“Take it more,” he moaned, pressing your head on his cock. You were too aroused to resist, yet it was difficult to withstand his strength.

You attempted to take more of his throbbing cock by opening your mouth wider and placing your hands on his knees for assistance, but it was too huge.

“Fucking take it,” he snapped, annoyed by your poor attempt. Taking complete control, he then reached behind your hair with his other hand and stilled your head.

He made you choke around him by forcing half of his cock into your mouth with such power that you gagged uncontrollably. But you were determined to push yourself to the very limit. Under the mercy of the most powerful supe made you feel things. You had no idea that you needed such treatment in order to suck a cock properly. You became more and more wet as he applied more pressure, made you choke, and filled your mouth with his cock. 

When you finally had enough of him, he withdrew so he could grab your mouth and start to fuck your face.

"You like that, don't you?" He moved your head to his cock because he enjoyed it. "You like being used like this? You like being controlled, huh? Yes, fuck. Take it!"

His cock, which was covered in your saliva, began to pulse in your mouth as he continued to fuck it. You clenched up, knowing what was about to happen. Your fingers gripped his legs more tightly as you tried to keep up with his power. 

He asked, “You want it in your mouth?” However, it was obvious that it wasn't a question. Both of you and him were lost in pleasure. 

Soldier Boy pulled back his cock and rubbed it on your reddening lips and waited for your response. 

“Yes, please,” you moaned. “I need you finish in my mouth.”

He groaned, “Anything for my co-star,” and pushed his shaft back into your mouth as hard as he could. It was hot inside your throat. 

You shivered in delight and disbelief as he started to flow in your throat, releasing his hot sperm. You moved a bit to relax, but he gave a loud grunt and stilled your head. 

He moaned, “Fucking swallow,” as he continued to thrust his cock farther. You were so out of breath that tears were streaming down your face. He was cursing as he filled your mouth with his thick cum.

When he makes you taste him, you close your eyes and let him release his hot semen into your mouth fully. Though you weren't sure whether you liked the taste at all due to how strong and salty it was, you really enjoyed the whole process. You felt slick there; the way he was controlling your body was beyond perfect. 

He withdrew his cock back once he had finished fucking your mouth. 

Grasping your chin firmly, he said, “Let me see it.” 

Your mouth opened. Excited, you could feel your legs quivering and hoping he wasn't done with you just yet. Even though you weren't sure whether you had enough time to go all the way, you needed to be touched so desperately. 

He said, “Good girl,” seeing that you swallowed all. “Get up now.” 

Without allowing you to react, he made you stand once more. It was absurd how he was still hard destipe spilling inside your mouth seconds ago. You wondered how frequently he would need to come in order to soften. It may have been because he was a supe. The cause didn't matter to you. Thank goodness he had the energy to continue. After all, you had your own needs. 

“I hope we are not finished yet,” you stated, indicating your intentions with another stroke of his now firm cock. 

“You want to be fucked badly, don't you?” Your long skirt was pulled up by the tough hands of Soldier Boy, who gave you a sly smile. “You enjoy getting fucked by engaged men?”

When his erect cock brushed your thighs and you felt out of breath, you taunted him, “Only the supes.”

He chuckled and had a brief look at your underwear. You were relieved he hadn't ripped them off. He removed your tits from your white bra and pushed your unbuttoned shirt down. You arched back properly when he gave your nipples a little play.

“Let's check to see whether you're wet enough to handle it all now. Tell me you're not a virgin.” He gave a warning but added, “I'm going to fuck you raw anyway.”

“I'm not,” you moaned, impatient for him to get inside. This time, you were unable to stop pleading. “Could you please fuck me already?”

The way you begged him made Soldier Boy smirk. “Since you're begging so nicely...”

He grabbed your hair into his palm, then gave his cock five or six firm strokes to make himself completely erect. He then bent your body into the trailer's wall and positioned himself behind your entrance. 

When you actually noticed how much bigger he was than your hole, you gasped. Not that you didn't get fucked, but it had really been a while. 

“Relax a little for fucks sake. Take it properly, or it's going to hurt. I won't give a fuck,” he warned, pressing himself farther inside of you.

You tensed up. He was pulling your hair a little and knowing that if he utilized his strength a little more, he could break your neck. That should have alarmed you, but instead it enhanced your excitement. Being at a supe's mercy as he fucked you was more exciting than any other sex you had ever had because you never knew if he might lose control while trying to get his pleasure. 

He made you scream with pleasure and pain as he pushed his entire cock inside of you, pushing back with one strong motion. You began to moan and tried to fix your balance, but he instantly stilled your body by pulling your hair.

He moaned in rage, “Don't fucking move,” and proceeded to fuck you senselessly. Your eyes watered with every move he made, and your insides ached a bit. Both the pleasure and the pain that you experienced were immense.

“That's how you should get fucked. Like a slut you are. You are a slut, aren't you? You wanted me to fuck you there?” He groaned while continuing to penetrate you from the back. Your hair was tugged again by his hand. He needed a response. 

“Yeah,” you moaned, placing a hand against his severe grip on your hip. “I needed you to fuck me right there.”

He was obviously pleased with your response since you could almost hear him smirking. 

“Oh, yeah. Are you not embarrassed to want to have sex with an engaged man? Allow him to use your body any way he chooses. Show him that you are better than his future wife. You like the idea of a supe cheating on his girlfriend with you?” His filthy words caused your walls to contract as he gave you a strong and quick fuck. You were embarrassingly wet. 

You teased him, “So what?” in between moans. “In the film we're in, we're husband and wife, right? We need to get into the role properly.”

“Do you think you can wear my sperm right there and yet perform your role properly? What would they say if they knew? Will you tell them you wanted me to fuck you so that you could do your role more effectively? Do you want everyone to know your cunt is full of my cum? Is that it?” 

You knew that the game you were playing was making him more thrilled, so when he bent your body harder, you let out an excited gasp. He widened your legs and placed both of his hands on each side of your hips. Without his support, you would have already fallen. 

You screamed out, “Yes, please, please,” as your walls continued to clench around his thick cock. “Husband.” 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned as he got closer. He firmly gripped your bouncing tits and gave them a firm squeeze. “I'm going to fill you so good. Going to satisfy my wife's small greedy cunt nicely. Do you really want that, baby?         Where do you want me to cum?”

Moaning, “Yeah, oh fuck, fuck. Please come inside, husband.” Your orgasm hit so hard you had to scream his name this time. You were sure some of the staff heard your screaming. Your walls clenched badly. You got his dick wet with your slick as your legs were trembling frantically. You felt like you were about to pass out from the intense fucking you were getting from him during your peak.

He moaned, “Whatever my wife wishes,” as he continued to penetrate you despite your oversensitivity. He then began to come inside of you with a loud grunt. Before he came, he held your hips so forcefully that you felt he was going to break your body till he was satisfied. 

He cautiously removed his cock after giving you a bit more pleasure and making sure he had emptied his balls within your pussy. He gave you a hard spank on the ass and complimented you on your well-done move, seeing how his sperm was flowing between your legs. 

You grinned to yourself and pulled up your underwear when you knew you were fucked well for real. You could let him fuck you again since his hot sperm in you felt so nice. 

As he was complimenting you, you could hear him stuffing his dick back into his pants. “Now that was a good fuck.”

You looked at him and fixed your shirt, skirt, and hair. “I'm glad you enjoyed,” you said, biting your lips. You could still taste him.

“I'm sure I'm not the only one who enjoyed it,” he said, immediately lighting a cigarette and giving you a sly smirk. 

You were told to expect on the set in five minutes when someone knocked on the door right then. You smiled to yourself, undisturbed by the stares from the staff, and spent the remainder of the day with Soldier Boy. You both believed that the method of acting had had the intended impact on you and him. The director was pleased with the two of you. After the break, Soldier Boy was acting better, at least. If only they knew the reason.

It's true that method acting helped you get into your roles better. Particularly behind the scenes.

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆───⛥───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───⛥───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. Let me know what you think please. For more, here's my MASTERLIST. ♥︎

[malum-forev]

First Trimester

(This is a short drabble I couldn’t get out of my head, idk what this is lol)

Bucky kept his head in his hands, eyes closed tightly. His breath ragged.

He could hear Steve’s loud footsteps pacing the room while Sam stood rooted in place. He could hear his friends’ heartbeats thumping rapidly.

“And you two-“ Steve couldn’t get the words out.

“That’s usually how that happens.” Sam retorted sarcastically.

Steve’s hands shot up. “I’m just trying to understand how this happened!”

“Looks like I should have had the birds and the bees conversation with both of you.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“What am I going to do?” Bucky croaked, his throat dry and scratchy. The question was mostly for himself, wondering just how he would manage everything happening in his life.

“You aren’t going to do anything.” Sam ran his hand over his face. “Before you go into crisis mode like a chicken running with its head chopped off, you need to make sure it’s yours.”

Bucky’s eyes snapped open.

“Sam-“ Steve’s cautious tone only made the Falcon more angry.

“Here’s what we know,” Sam’s voice was firm. “You two have got super soldier serum running through your veins, it changed your bodies drastically. Which obviously means your swimmers were altered, doctors told you the probabilities of you two getting someone knocked up are zero.”

“Close to zero.” Steve corrected.

“Whatever,” Sam rolled his eyes again. “Now- this one goes around the tri state are area banging anything with legs.”

Buckys cheeks burned red.

“Two months later, someone comes around saying they’ve got a super soldier baby brewing- does that not sound shady to anyone else?”

Steve rubbed his hand against his chin. “When did Dr. Cho say she could get a paternity test?”

“Two weeks.” Bucky whispered.

“Then these are going to be the most stressful two weeks of your life, kid.” Steve slumped his shoulders.

She hadn’t let the crippling nervousness seep into her body, work, friends and exhaustion had been great distractors. But now, as the steel gates of the Avengers compound opened she felt it.

She was the one who had encouraged a paternity test when she knocked on Bucky’s door weeks ago.

She hadn’t thought twice about missing her period the first month. Long hours at the art gallery we’re to blame, right? But as the days turned into weeks and the strange knot in her throat tightened, she decided to take a test.

Not thinking anything would pop up except the not pregnant label on the plastic test, she left it on the counter and forgot about it. That is, until a three minute timer rang and the scariest word ever written was staring at her. Pregnant.

(Y/n) waited a full week before visiting a gynecologist. Some gel, and ultrasound and some probing later, she was pregnant and that was that. She didn’t even register the bean sized blob on the screen. A muffled sound replaced the cheery doctor’s voice.

“Is Dad excited?” The young doctor smiled. Dad, fuck there’s a dad that needs to be notified.

(Y/n felt as if she’d stuffed a handful of gravel down her throat. She nodded weakly and lied. “He’s ecstatic.”

What she should have said is: he’s terrified.

When Bucky saw (Y/n)’s text on his phone, he’s ego shot up. He whistled as he prepared some eggs that morning, thinking highly of himself.

I don’t usually go back for seconds but I guess I can make an exception. Bucky thought as he shaved his face that morning. He wore a pair of grey sweatpants and a tight shirt, a combination he’d read online was the bee’s knees for getting women riled up these days.

But there might as well have been nothing underneath those boxers he was wearing because the shocking news killed any kind of vibe he had been feeling.

(Y/n) rocked backwards and forwards nervously as she stood in his living room. She didn’t even want to come in but he’d insisted. Now, Bucky was slumped back on his couch with his eyes set on the floor.

“I know this sounds strange-“ she swallowed. “But I don’t usually do what we did, I don’t do one night stands. I love relationships which is why my friends convinced me to sleep with you- not that I needed convincing you’re like so hot but you know what I mean. Well, I guess you don’t know what I mean because you barely know me, barely know I exist.”

“You love relationships?” Bucky’s eyes widened.

“I-well- shit- I shouldn’t have said that. It sounds-“ You sighed deeply, trying to collect her thoughts. “What I’m trying to say is that, you’re the only person I’ve had sex with in- a long time. And I want you to know that I’m not telling you this to make you feel like you have to be involved- that is if we decide to keep it. I just thought you should know that I’m pregnant.”

She tried to make her voice sound firm and confident but her whole body rejected the idea. There was nothing she was more afraid of than this. This life altering decision.

“And you’re thinking of keeping it.” He whispered, blue eyes staring back at her.

(Y/n) nodded slowly then shook her head. “I don’t know. Yes, maybe. I have a stable job, pretty decent insurance and a nice apartment downtown so, I’ve got the basics covered. I’ve always wanted children, not now but- I don’t know.”

“I’m also aware this is insane news so, I understand if you need time to process or decide if you want to- be involved, I guess.”

Bucky slowly nodded. She wrapped her cardigan closer to her body and his whole body jerked up, standing from the couch.

“Ar-are you, showing?” Bucky’s curious tone made her lips tweak upwards.

“It‘s been like two months and it’s the size of a bean so, no.” She tried to lighten the mood.

“You’ve been to the doctor?”

She nodded. “She told me I could have a paternity test done in a couple of weeks, if that’s something you’re interested in.”

Paternity test- paternity. Those words didn’t even seem real to Bucky. It had been such a distant thing that the thought hadn’t registered in his mind yet.

“I’ve got a couple of doctors that would probably know how to handle that-“ he said pointing to her stomach. “With the whole, serum and everything. Would you mind if I talked to them?”

“I don’t mind, whatever’s better for bean, right?”

Bucky’s body was enveloped in a foreign feeling. So different than anything he’d felt before, an unsettling feeling in his stomach that brought goosebumps to his skin.

“The bean?” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows.

“Not the bean. Just, bean.” Her cheeks burned and a smile developed on her lips. “The doctor said it’s going to be a while until I can find out the sex so, I’ve been calling it that. Bean.”

“Bean.” Bucky repeated quietly, fighting from letting out a smile. He couldn’t let himself get involved, not before a decision was made. Did he want to be in bean- the baby’s life? Was he even the father?

(Y/n) and Bucky walked through the white corridors at the Avengers med bay in silence.

Both of them stopped at an opened door.

“You sure you don’t want to come in and check I don’t switch up the viles, rig the paternity results?” She regretted the joke as soon as the words flew out of her mouth. Bucky’s blue eyes widened. She had tried to lighten the mood but the only thing she succeeded was to make Bucky uncomfortable-

“Good thinking,” Bucky’s lips twitched upwards. “I’m sure having my old ass sperm in there was your plan all along.”

She couldn’t help a giggle escape her mouth. Bucky placed his hand on her lower back and lead her into the room.

He held her hand through the procedure and followed her back to her car after everything was done.

“I guess I’ll call you once the results are in.” Bucky bit his bottom lip as she nodded, the tired look on (Y/n) worried him. “I just wanted to say, again, how grateful I am you’re being so cooperative.”

(Y/n) saluted him. “Anything for our troops.”

Bucky tipped his head back with laughter. “Please let me know when you get home safe.”

—

Her feet ached, scratch that, her whole body hurt. (Y/n) usually worked a double shift on Sunday’s to get double pay since that was the day rich people usually liked to shop at the gallery. Even though this was routine for her, she felt extremely tired this time. Pregnancy was starting to take a toll on her body.

(Y/n) heard the rain patter intensify as someone opened the glass doors.

“H-hi.” Was all she heard.

“We’re closed.” She called out but no one answered.

A sopping wet Bucky stood at the front of the gallery.

“Looks like you need to buy an umbrella.” She smiled.

“I’m going to be a dad.” The words came out stuttered, like he was trying to stop them.

Bucky stopped talking the second he received the email. DNA test result came back positive. He was the father. A father. That word echoed through his mind all day but he didn’t tell anyone a single thing, not until he could figure out how to manage the information. Steve would try to find solutions, Sam would freak out, Nat would laugh and Tony would probably ignore him. Each and every one of his friends’ reactions would stress him out more than he already was. He had no one, no one to talk to about this. Except her.

(Y/n) sighed deeply, taking her heels off and walking towards him. Without saying anything, she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought Bucky close to her. The tension he felt between his shoulder blades disappeared the second he was in her arms.

She softly held his face in her hands. “I haven’t decided anything and we still have time to figure out wether or not we want to keep bean-“

“Bean, oh God bean.” Becky’s eyes met hers. I can’t let bean down. He thought.

“I understand if you don’t want to go through with this.”

“Look at me.” Bucky’s voice was hoarse. “I need you to know that I want this- I want bean so much you have no idea. The thought of me having a kid was so lost but you’ve- I- I am forever grateful and indebted with you, you have no idea.”

(Y/n) smiled. “So we’re doing this? We’re having a baby?”

“Let’s have a baby.” He said.

Part 2: Second Trimester

[gor3-hound]

resident evil works (dark content)

☆ can't fight this feeling ▪︎ part one ▪︎ part two

ft. incel stepbrother!leon x reader

tw: stepcest, non-con/dub-con, somno

He'd been rejected more times than he could count, leaving him a little bitter. He's in his twenties, and he hadn't even had his first kiss. It was fine… totally fine. He wasn't mad about it at all. Women just didn't understand how nice he was. He'd treat his girlfriend so good if a girl would just give him a chance! He's started to give up on his exploits, coming to terms with the fact he'd probably just die a virgin. That is, until he's blessed with a miracle. Must be divine intervention, he can't believe he got this lucky. His dad ends up telling him he's getting married to the woman he's been seeing for a while, and drops the fact that she has a daughter that's just a few years younger.

☆ are you lonely?

ft. real dad!leon x reader

tw: incest

His gaze finds you again before long. His eyes flick over your form, hovering on your curves for a moment before he frowns. Jesus. Since when did he look at his daughter like that? Since when did his daughter look like that? Must of been a while, but he's only really noticing it now He's only been gone for a week, but it feels like a lifetime. You're always so happy to see him, always acting so domestic. You cook for him, clean for him and cuddle up to him after he's had a particularly tough day. You'd make a good wife for someone one day.

☆ sweet creature

ft. wolf!leon x bunny!reader

tw: slight dub-con, predator/prey dynamics

“If you listen to me, I'll be gentle.” He coos, licking a stripe up your cheek, groaning at the salty taste of your tears. “If you don't… well, I'll sink my teeth into the back of that pretty neck of yours and take what I want.” He growls, the expression on his face darkening. “We don't want that, do we?”

☆ meant to be yours

ft. rookie!leon x obsessive!reader

tw: self-mutilation, cannibalism

“Did you need anything else today? Or is that all?” You ask politely, your hands idly brushing the edge of the counter - desperate for something, anything to ground you as you wait for his response. The anticipation was enough to drive you mad with desire, but you had to stay composed. If only Leon could understand how much you truly wanted him. How much you needed him to see you, to really see you, not just look at you. What you'd do for him to touch you. Consume you. Become one with you.

☆ i apologise if you feel something

ft. leon kennedy x reader

tw: non-con, domestic abuse

“Cute. Real fucking cute.” He hisses, grabbing your jaw roughly so you're facing him. He seems to get even angrier when he sees how terrified you look. “Aww… baby. You're scared?” He coos, a mocking pout making its way to his lips. “You should be grateful. I'm keeping you safe. You have no right to be scared. If you knew what I've seen, what I've been through-”

☆ don't hold your breath (nobody's home)

ft. uncle!leon x niece!reader

tw: incest, non-con

You really need to stop with those tits. He's gonna lose it if they brush his arm one more time. He's not sure what it is about you, particularly, that has him acting like a teenage virgin again, but his self-control is wavering by the second. He hasn't paid a single second of attention to the movie he was meant to be watching to keep his mind off of you. Fuck this. He takes a swig of whiskey that drains half the liquid in his cup in one gulp. Liquid courage and all that. Maybe he'd drunk a little too much while he was here, ‘cause his brain clearly isn't working right. Not when he's pinning you to the couch, kissing your neck despite your protests.

☆ teacher's pet

ft. professor!leon x student!reader

tw: power imbalance, dub-con

He's sick of it. He's sick of you. He retired and took on teaching college kids in the hopes he'd finally have some time to relax, but you seemed to enjoy making his life a living hell. He'd had enough of it. As you're packing up once he dismisses the class, he makes his way to your desk, his footsteps echoing across the lecture hall. “Not you, miss. I need to have a word with you. Please come to my desk once you're packed up.” He tells you, tapping two fingers against your desk as he leans in to speak before he's returning to sit at the desk at the front of the hall.

☆ over again

ft. kidnapper!leon x reader

tw: forced ddlg, heavy dub-con

You go limp when he touches you. Docile. You let him do what he wants to you, just like a good girl should. Back-talking daddy is a big no-no. He wrote that in big writing on the rule list that's pinned to the fridge. Escape didn't use to seem impossible, yet now the thought never even crossed your mind. You'd tried, but he kept a tight lock on you. You wouldn't be surprised to find out one of the many injections he gave you when you were unruly had a tracker in. He always seemed to know exactly where you were.

☆ cry for absolution

ft. priest!leon x reader

tw: non-con

”Please,” he whispers, voice cracking as he gazes at you fully, your face slowly coming into focus. What did he do to deserve this? He was a good man, wasn’t he? He’d tried his best to help the less fortunate, to be kind to everyone he spoke with. Had he committed some sin without realising it? Some blight against God that meant he deserved this? "Please, I don’t want this. You’re misguided, that's all. I can help you. You don’t have to do this.”

As always, his protests fall on deaf ears. He feels the steady stream of tears running down his face, brows pinching together as you back him up into the confessional. His chest continues to grow tighter and tighter until his lungs constrict painfully with each breath. The air gets caught in his throat and makes him choke, his brain shutting down as he just lets you free him from his vestments and tug down his trousers. He's glad to be rid of the collar, at the very least. It feels less like God was bearing down on his throat to drag him to Hell for letting this happen.

[fastbrother]

Desperate (M, 1.3k words)

For forty-one-year-old Draco Malfoy starting his twenty-fourth year of unemployment, the only interesting question is who is he going to sleep with next.

Tags: From Sex to Love, Grumpy Harry, Reclusive Harry, Slutty Draco (non-derogatory), unhealthy coping mechanisms, middle-aged Drarry

Author's note: Wrote this for @kamaela's birthday. Thank you for always being so kind and encouraging! 💕

* * *

For eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy starting Hogwarts, the only interesting question about school was who was going to come in second in his year. Imagine his surprise.

For forty-one-year-old Draco Malfoy starting his twenty-fourth year of unemployment, the only interesting question is who is he going to sleep with next.

Some days, it feels like he’s slept with everybody worth sleeping with. Other days—well.

* * *

When he was young, Draco Malfoy thought he liked women. He slept with a handful of girls, all very proper and sweet.

Then the war came, and he was in it, and he was tortured by the Dark Lord himself, which rewired his brain somehow, because after the war Draco Malfoy did not like women anymore. Nor anything proper. Or sweet.

Draco Malfoy liked to be fucked like he’d be murdered next.

* * *

Harry Potter is a big old grump. He lives in what should have been Draco’s house by birthright, nurses a terrifying beard currently in the process of turning grey, and only ever goes out in Muggle London, like the uncivilised brute Draco knows he really is. Draco dreams of being fucked by Harry Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world, the slayer of Dark Lords. And whatever rude people say, Draco’s a man who works for his dreams.

* * *

“Harry Potter. Out and about. What a surprise.”

Potter barely spares a glance for poor Draco. His eyes are glued to the Muggle TV above the bar, in the process of broadcasting some beastly excuse for movement that the Muggles call sports. There are five empty glasses in front of him, and a cigarette dangling out of his mouth.

“Fuck right off, Malfoy.”

“Ah, I’m afraid not,” Draco says, and sits on the barstool next to Harry. “You go, if my presence bothers you so.”

“I don’t give a shit about your presence.”

“Beautiful. Have you taken to writing poetry, by any chance?”

“Tell me, Malfoy,” Potter says, slowly turning those grotesquely green eyes towards him. “You look like someone who makes enemies in every room he walks into. How come you’re still alive?”

“I have my ways.”

“Aha,” Potter says, emptying his sixth glass of whiskey, eyes back on the TV. “I’ve heard about your ways.”

“Would you like some first-hand experience with them?”

Potter lets out a chuckle, a loud and brutish sound.

“Have you been following me?”

“Hardly. I’ve been coming here every night for six months. Ask Robert.”

“Who’s Robert?”

“I’m Robert,” the barman says, pouring Potter’s seventh drink.

“Ah. Nice to meet you, Robert,” Potter says, and raises his drink. “So. Has he?”

“Yes.”

Potter turns to Draco. Offers a vicious smile that makes Draco’s body tingle in all the right places.

“I used to come here all the time. Before the Prophet published a photo of me. Six months ago.”

Draco shrugs. “Can’t a boy try his luck?”

Potter leans forward and pulls Draco’s stool closer to him.

“You’re no boy. You’re a slut.”

“Oh, yes,” Draco moans, biting his lip. “I am. I’m a bad, bad slut.”

* * *

Harry Potter fucks like he goes to war. There’s no fear there, no second guessing. Draco could die now, bent over a dirty sink in a dingy Muggle bar, and he’d be happy. He should die, actually, because what else is there to experience? He has peaked, and life can only be a disappointment from this point on.

“Please,” he begs when all is done. “Again.”

“You make a compelling argument,” Potter says, pulling up his pants. “But there are people queuing outside.”

“I’ll get rid of them. I’ll kill them. Nobody will miss them too much, I’m sure.”

“How about this,” Potter says, fixing his hair back in a ponytail. “You keep coming here every night for another six months, and maybe I’ll drop by again.”

“Don’t play with me, Potter. You know I will.”

“Oh, I know.”

* * *

Draco expects Potter to torture him for at least a couple of weeks, but he strolls into that cursed Muggle pub the next day. He’s wearing jeans and a ripped t-shirt. Truly living up to his reputation of decorated ex-Auror and beloved hero, this one.

“My, my,” he says, sitting next to Draco and gesturing to Robert for a drink. “What a good pet.”

“Aha,” Draco says, draping himself all over Potter’s offensively attractive attire.

“Let me get a drink in me first,” Potter says, struggling to keep Draco at arm’s length.

“If you wanted a drink, you could have gone to another pub.”

* * *

Robert bans them eventually. Draco’s about to Obliviate him but Potter solves the issue by inviting him to his house.

“You mean, my house,” Draco corrects him.

Potter doesn’t seem impressed. “How about we call it a night, then.”

“Fine. I relinquish all rights to that home. You can have it forever. You can have the Manor, too, if you want.”

Potter laughs, and grabs Draco’s arm. “I love how desperate you are.”

“Oh, I’m desperate, alright.”

Five minutes later, Draco’s thirst is finally quenched when Potter bends him over a Black encrusted dining room table. Draco discovers he has quite the taste for family intrusions.

“In front of my great-grandmother’s portrait next, please,” he begs. Potter, the charitable soul he is, complies. Predictably, his great-grandmother calls Potter Muggle-loving filth.

“He is, granny,” Draco moans, face squished against some dusty yet tasteful wallpaper. “He’s the filthiest person that’s ever lived.”

* * *

“Are you some form of house pest? A Black family curse? Why can’t I get rid of you?” Potter says when Draco shows up on his doorstep, carrying a bottle of wine and appetisers as any man of the world would.

“Get rid of me, then,” Draco says, and walks in.

* * *

Potter is on an agenda to steal Draco’s elves and have them clean his shithole of a house. It’s the only reasonable explanation for why he’s taken to drinking with them.

“Stop entertaining the staff. You should be entertaining the Master. And there’s no smoking in the sunroom.”

“There is, now,” Potter says, lighting up a second cigarette with his wand. “There’s a new Master around here.”

“Master Potter,” the elves say in unison, drunk on the Butterbeer Draco keeps for his nephew.

* * *

It’s all fun and games until Draco catches feelings.

“I’m sick,” he tells anybody who cares to listen, and also those who don’t. “Je suis gravement malade.”

“Pull down the shades,” he tells the house elves from under the heavy duvet. “Owl the Healer.”

“Maybe Master Malfoy should tell Master Potter how he feels.”

“Clothes! Somebody bring clothes!”

* * *

“I heard through the grapevine that you’ve fallen ill.”

Draco peeks at Potter from under his duvet.

“It’s true. I’m dying.”

The bed jounces when Potter sits down next to him. He puts a hand on Draco’s un-feverish forehead.

“It sure looks like it.”

“I just want you to know, I lied about the Manor. I’m leaving everything to my elves.”

Potter’s hand moves down Draco’s face.

“Where have you been? I’ve missed you.”

“You have?” Draco says, his illness intensifying.

“Yes.”

“I thought I was a curse you couldn’t get rid of.”

“You are. You’ve been slacking on the job lately.

Something sharp rattles in Draco’s chest. He moves away from Potter’s touch, and hides under the duvet.

“Hey,” Potter says, leaning until his hand finds Draco’s waist through the thick material. “What happened?”

Silence.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Slowly, Draco shakes his head under the duvet.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Draco nods.

Draco hears ruffling and squeaking, and then Potter gets under the duvet. He’s hot, like a cat.

“Where did all your eloquence go?” Potter says, gathering him in his arms. “What happened to all your fancy words?”

Draco buries his head in Potter’s chest. Takes a deep breath.

“I turn stupid when I’m in love. It’s a debilitating illness.”

“You’re a debilitating illness,” Potter says, and kisses his forehead. “And I’m chronically ill.”

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: In the aftermath of his drunken kiss, Bradley doubles down on his efforts to find someone else. You're confused and hurt, but you don't want to risk losing Noah, so you don't say anything, even if it's crushing you inside.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (eventually 18+)

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley woke up with sunlight on his face, warming his skin. He must have forgotten to close his bedroom curtains. He started to sit up and noticed that he was for some reason wearing his jeans. And his mouth was so dry.

He groaned, realizing he was on his couch as he finally got upright. And then his head started pounding. "Oh, shit." He must have really overdone it at the Hard Deck. Served him right for letting Nat take him out all night. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was still early, and his phone battery was almost dead. 

When he tried to stand up to check on Noah, he spotted a glass of water, a bottle of Advil, and a note on the side table. 

Hope you have fond memories of last night. Enjoy your hangover. And let me know when you need me to watch Noah again. 

Bradley started to remember more of his night at the bar. Jake and Nat and playing pool and lots of beer. But then he pictured with crystal clarity your perfect face just seconds before he kissed you. He closed his eyes and sank back against the couch cushions, remembering the feel of your perfect skin beneath his fingertips and the way you were immediately kissing him back. 

His cock pulsed when he thought about your fingers tugging his hair. He could practically still feel the sensation along his scalp. 

But then you stopped him. Because he was drunk.

Oh fuck. Bradley had kissed you, pushed you back against the furniture, and told you how fucking pretty you were. When he was drunk.

"Oh my god." He'd be lucky to ever see you again. Noah would be devastated. 

He grabbed your note and carried it to his bedroom with him, passing Noah still asleep in his bed on the way. He set the note on his dresser and read it again and again. Did he have fond memories of the evening? Hell yes, he did. His hands on your waist. Your lips on his. That wildflower scent as his nose rubbed your cheek. He wanted all of it again.

He was also terrified. He needed to get back on track with the dating app and hope you would still be willing to babysit Noah. Because there was no way in hell you would want to date him. He was so much older than you. And you were still a pediatric nursing student. Right about to start your career. And he was looking for something permanent with a woman.

"You're an idiot," he mumbled, stripping off his shirt and changing into a clean one. He plugged his phone into the charger next to his bed. He would need a full battery so he could go through all of his matches and messages and line up some more women to meet.

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

You were waiting around on Sunday, hoping you'd get a text from Bradley. You weren't sure if you should text him or not. The only thing you seemed to be able to do was replay those kisses over and over again in your mind. It had been perfect. His lips were addicting. And odds were he didn't remember any of it. 

Finally by late afternoon, you caved and texted him first, careful not to mention any of the kissing. 

You feeling okay? How's Noah?

Hours went by. You finished your school assignments for the entire upcoming week, you cleaned your house, you went for a walk on the beach. No response. You were feeling lonely and kind of miserable, because Bradley didn't remember kissing you. Or worse, he did remember, but he was trying to forget. 

You had your thumb ready to call Greyson, because you didn't want to be alone any longer today. As you were about to see if he was home, Bradley finally wrote back.

Bradley Bradshaw: I'm fine. Noah is too. Hey, I'm lining up a bunch of dates on the app. Can you send me your availability for the next week or so? And, I'm really sorry about last night. It won't happen again.

You sank down to sit on your steps. It wouldn't be happening again, even though you wanted it to. So he did remember....he was just trying to forget. 

You sucked in a deep breath before you started to cry. Now Bradley had even managed to ruin going to see Greyson for you. But you texted him back anyway, because at least you'd get to spend some time with Noah even if Bradley didn't want you to stick around after he got home anymore. 

So you told him the days you were free, and by Monday morning, he let you know he had a date planned with a woman named Amanda on Thursday night.

Cool. But you didn't want the details anymore. You didn't even want to know that her name was Amanda. You'd get there on time and leave as soon as Bradley got home from here on out. 

Of course the week flew by in a blur since you were kind of dreading Thursday evening. When you were heading to Bradley's house directly from class, you thought about stopping at that coffee shop he seemed to favor, but it was closer to North Island. So you just continued on your way. 

The front door was unlocked. "Hi?" you called out, and Noah was running for you immediately. "Hey, Noah!" You knelt down on the living room floor and scooped him up into your arms and let him hug you. 

"Missed you," he said, releasing you and leading you toward the kitchen. Even though you braced yourself, as soon as you saw Bradley, you remembered what it felt like to be in his arms. 

"Hi," he said with a forced smile. Even the first time he met you, he didn't seem to have to force friendliness. You really hated this.

"Hey," you managed, and then you saw the coffee cup on the counter when he reached for it. He handed it to you, and you couldn't help but smile a little more. "Thanks."

So he was giving you a peace offering. He didn't want you to be upset over the fact that you would never get to feel his lips on you again. 

"You're welcome." You could almost feel that there should have been a Princess at the end of that sentence. Its absence had you gulping down some of the French vanilla coffee before you could start pouting. 

"What do you want to do today, Noah? Crafts, coloring, blocks, a hike?" you asked, pointedly ignoring Bradley as he hesitated before walking out of the room. 

"Blocks, probably," Noah said. "And I'm hungry."

You rummaged through the refrigerator, noting that there was very little food left already. You sighed. "Mac and cheese?" It was really the only option. 

You started to get everything ready when Bradley strolled back into the kitchen looking gorgeous for his date. "Not sure what time I'll be back."

"No rush," you said without really looking at him. "But if you have two credit cards, can you leave me one? I'm going to order you some groceries online."

He was silent for a moment. "You can do that? Online?"

You turned to look at him. "Do you live under a rock?"

He laughed, seemingly in spite of himself, and you did too. "I told you I was old, Princess. Too old for you."

You watched him swallow hard as your tummy swooped at the pet name. When he handed you his Visa card, his warm fingers brushed yours, and you had to turn away as he said goodbye to Noah.

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

Bradley was too old for you, but Amanda was just two years younger than him. And things were starting off pretty well as Bradley watched her order dinner. She was even prettier than her profile photos had led him to believe; he noticed that was something that never seemed to happen. And she was a kindergarten teacher who loved kids. 

But, she looked a bit like an older version of you. Which was confusing to Bradley, because that was simultaneously making him very sexually attracted to her as well as making him uncomfortable. 

"So, Amanda, what's it like teaching kindergarten?"

She smiled at him over her wine glass. "Here's the answer I should give: it's so much fun, and I just love the kids. Here's the real answer: the kids are exhausting, but somehow they are also sweet, so I go back each day like a sucker."

Bradley chuckled as she sipped her wine. She ordered the same kind of wine he had shared with you. He needed to focus on Amanda. She was funny and pretty and liked kids.

"I have a son. He's three," Bradley told her, wanting to just get that out of the way immediately. 

"What's his name?" she asked with an unwavering smile. 

"Noah." Then she started asking all the right questions, and making all the right jokes. She even laughed when he made fun of himself with a shrug. And when her high heel grazed his calf under the table, he didn't even mind it. 

He hadn't thought about you too much, so of course that was when you texted him. 

Babysitter: Noah and I had an unfortunate runin with the sink while we were doing dishes. Can I borrow a shirt?

"Sorry," he mumbled to Amanda as he typed out a response to you. "It's my babysitter."

"No problem."

But it was a fucking problem for Bradley. Because as soon as he told you where you could find a clean shirt in his dresser drawers, he was imagining you getting changed in his bedroom. He was imagining you wearing a wet shirt. He was imagining you looking at him while removing your wet shirt in his bedroom.

He gritted his teeth and tucked his phone away as his cock twitched. 

Amanda. He was ready to focus on her and the way she kept intentionally bumping his leg. 

"I'm having fun with you, Bradley," she said with a grin.

He nodded and agreed, because compared to anything else he had going for him, she was actually a pretty great option. 

"You free on Saturday?" she asked. "There's a film festival in Balboa Park we could hit up."

And just like that, he had a second date.

And then twenty minutes later, Amanda was kissing him next to her burgundy car. Bradley felt her fingernails scraping at the back of his neck, and it felt good. He let his hand rest at her waist, and that felt good, too. Just as Amanda's lips parted so he could taste her, Bradley pulled back a little bit. 

"I'll meet you there on Saturday," he rasped, and his eyes drifted closed as she kissed his mustache. 

"Night, Bradley," she said, slipping into her car and pulling away.

He was in no rush to get home now. He didn't even want to look at you all curled up on his couch with your Skittles and your textbooks. But he needed to get back so you could leave for the night. You had class in the morning. 

When he parked the Bronco in the driveway, he sat there for a few minutes. He couldn't date you. There was no way. Noah was already way to attached for him to even consider intentionally fucking things up with the babysitter. And you were too young. He'd just head inside and send you on your way until Saturday night. 

But when he unlocked the front door and found you asleep on the couch wearing his well worn UVA sweatshirt, his heart started pounding, and he could barely remember the woman he just had dinner with. You looked impossibly young and too fucking sweet. The fabric was pushed up enough that he could see a few inches of skin and your belly button. He could see a bit of lace peeking out above your leggings, and he was aching to kiss you there.

He turned and went directly to the kitchen to catch his breath. But you had cleaned the entire room so it was spotless. The refrigerator was covered in Noah's artwork, and when he opened it up, it was filled with the groceries you had ordered for him.

Bradley closed the door and let his head tip back. He selfishly didn't want to wake you up. He wanted you to sleep at his house tonight. He wanted to see what you looked like first thing in the morning. So he went to check on Noah and change into his pajama pants before returning to see you were still exactly where he had left you. 

Your steady breathing and softly parted lips were mesmerizing, and Bradley had to turn away a few times; the sight of you in his shirt was too much. Finally he knelt down next to you. 

"Princess?" he asked softly, but you didn't stir. "Princess, wake up." Still nothing. It was almost midnight now. Bradley gently slipped his hands and forearms between your body and the cushions, and he slowly scooped you up into his arms. 

"Mmmm," you moaned, and your lips made contact with his bare shoulder in a brief kiss before you stilled again. He held you close to his body and you curled up against him, never waking as he walked to his bedroom and gently set you on his bed. 

Bradley tucked you in, pulling the bedding up to your shoulders and letting his fingers brush your neck. Then without hesitation, he bent and placed a kiss to your forehead before shutting off the lamp and leaving the room. 

He went to brush his teeth, hoping he would be able to relax enough to fall asleep on the couch, alone. But you'd spent time in here too, because the room was clean now. New towels were hanging up, and everything was lined up on the vanity with perfect precision. Bradley started to violently brush his teeth, and that's when he saw your tee shirt hanging up near the shower curtain. Along with a sheer black lace bra. 

He reached out to run his fingers along the straps before taking the lace between two fingers. He groaned, his toothbrush hanging precariously out of his mouth as he pulled his hand away and spit his toothpaste into the sink. 

Without a backwards glance, he made his way to the living room couch and tried like hell to fall asleep on the cushions that smelled like your wildflower scent. 

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

You woke up with the softest fabric brushing your cheek, and you felt snuggly and warm. You wondered what time it was, and as soon as you moved, you realized you weren't in your own bed.

You sat up quickly, eyes wide, breaths coming out ragged. But this room smelled familiar, and it felt safe. It smelled like Bradley. You were in his bed. But you were alone.

Then you caught sight of your purple crown hanging from one of the bedposts, and your tummy swooped. You crawled across the bedding to run your fingers along the crown before climbing out of Bradley's bed. 

Hadn't you fallen asleep on the couch in the living room? You remembered getting tired and dozing off, no matter how hard you had been trying to stay awake. 

You buried your nose in the scent of Bradley's sweatshirt as you walked quietly down the hallway and peeked into Noah's room. He was still sound asleep, looking as angelic as always. Then you walked into the living room where the couch was empty with a blanket tossed halfway on the floor. 

You knew Bradley was in the kitchen before you heard him messing with the coffee maker, and when you peeked in, you almost moaned out loud. He was turned away from you, hair a wavy mess, and all of the toned muscles of his back and shoulders were on display.

"Morning," you said softly, and he spun to face you. There was nothing you could do except stare. Everything you saw above his low slung lounge pants had you almost giddily laughing. Toned abs, sparse chest hair, collar bones that you wanted to lick, and a scarred neck. 

"Morning, Princess." Oh shit! His voice was so rough. It sounded like sex, and you clenched around nothing as you bit hard on your lip. "I'm trying to make you a latte, but only Nat knows the secret inner workings of this machine."

You made your way a little closer and said, "Regular coffee is okay." But your voice was shaky, and Bradley was examining your face now. 

"Alright, get out the creamer, Princess."

You did as you were told, your thoughts stumbling over having a normal, domestic morning with Bradley and Noah in this house. Your breath caught as you turned to look at him again, and it felt like the awkward, drunken kisses were a thing of the past as Bradley measured out the coffee. 

"You moved me to your bed," you whispered, and he nodded at you. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Bradley was blushing and looking down at his hands. "You looked too comfortable. It felt like a crime to wake you up."

You grinned. "Can't have you committing any crimes. But you could have left me on the couch."

You wanted to add that he could have joined you in his bed, but you weren't feeling that bold. You didn't even know how his date had gone, but you knew he had slept here alone, on the couch.

He shook his head, the pink color starting to fade from his cheeks. "That would have been unfit for a Princess."

Bradley poured two mugs of coffee, and you added French vanilla creamer to each of them. Then he handed you the mug that said Kiss me, I'm an aviator and you blew on the steam. You forced the words out as he looked down at you. "How was your date?"

You watched as Bradley's brow creased, as if he had somehow forgotten he was even on a date. You were hoping to hear him say it went poorly, and that she didn't eat salad dressing, but instead his words made your heart stop. 

"I'm going on a second date with her on Saturday."

"Oh." Your lungs deflated, and your shoulders slumped. "I'm so happy for you."

"Yeah...." he grunted, but he didn't look too happy. 

And then Noah came into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and looking between the two of you like he wasn't sure who to hug first. Bradley scooped him up in a hug, but soon he was reaching for you, too. 

"Will you make me scrambled eggs?" he asked as you hugged him. You really needed to leave for class, and you really wanted to get away from Bradley, but of course you agreed to whatever Noah wanted. 

So you made eggs and sausage for the boys while you finished your coffee, Bradley's eyes on you the whole time. 

Then you excused yourself to freshen up in the bathroom, hastily dressing in your bra and shirt from yesterday, before folding up Bradley's soft sweatshirt and leaving it on his bed. You thought about ripping the crown down and throwing it away, but instead you carefully placed it on top of his sweatshirt before turning on your heel. 

You contemplated leaving without saying goodbye, but then you'd be thinking about Noah's little face all day. You simply couldn't let yourself be that bitchy. So you gave him a little hug as he finished his eggs. 

And when you turned toward Bradley, he asked, "So you can come on Saturday evening? Sit with Noah while I'm out with Amanda again?"

You wanted to laugh in his face and tell him no, but instead you nodded before you grabbed your things and ran out the door. 

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

He needed a little help remembering, but I don't think he could fully regret kissing her.... but poor Princess! The next part will be 18+!!!!! You have been warned! Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 7

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[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 1 - Side B

firestar art by @kudos-si-do

Propaganda below ⬇️

Kirei

He fucked up so many people's lives so badly in just one decade (not on purpose) that the universe put him in the summoning pool of all world influencing souls. He doesnt really have any special powers but he does serve as a vessel for rasputin at one point. He's the guy who says "people die when they are killed"

please please please there's literally a type moon character in the gif on the top of this form so it's typemoonphobic if none of them get in but it shouldn't be her it should be kirei bc he's 50x funnier & more iconic than jeanne. funny lil murder priest who's fucking THE gilgamesh (from the epic of) in the church basement and dies in a knife fight w a 17 year old whose dad he wanted to fuck back in '94 before realizing that he was actually kinda lame and he's been bitter abt it ever since. he has an orphan torture factory in his basement but he's also canonically good at being a priest. he's so funny you should def try his mapo tofu i swear it's totally safe for human consumption and not made with any california reapers. did i mention he's a deadbeat dad.

Priest claims to be Pro Life to make Sakura Matou the most miserable girl on the planet, but he dies anyway.

bro became a catholic because he loves suffering

He’s a priest. Kind of. Not a very good priest obviously. There is something seriously wrong and fucked up with that man. It’s so entertaining.

he's gotta be one of the most insane catholic men ever with a very in-depth and interesting relationship with his religion and his relationship with god also he's the sexiest man ever to be conceptualized in the known universe and all of time

Will never forget the 40+ minute monologue in heavens feel being a thinly veiled metaphor for abortion

he wants to torment churchgoers and make them face their failures and suffering but all he ends up doing is motivate them to improve themselves. cringefail moment for him

he's absolutely insane. the coldhearted mercenary that barely reacts to anything is terrified of kirei. he's super fucked up. his ult in stay night is literally him channeling divine power into something called kyrie eleison. he's the vessel of rasputin (on account of being a priest with a huge....no i shant say) the biblical beast in grand order among other things. he gets drunk with and tops gilgamesh from the epic of gilgamesh in the church basement after gilgamesh from the epic of gilgamesh bats his eyes a little too hard at kirei in some of the horniest shot scenes ive ever seen. he also used to be a heretical "fixer" for the church, cleaning up scenes that would expose shit to the public. uhh what else. he holds cool swords between his fingers like a kid pretending to be wolverine but in my favorite route he just squares the hell up with the protagonist and they fight to the death outside planned parenthood

Firestar

Kitty jesus, he believes in starclan which is the kitty version of heaven/god and yea. All the warrior cats characters except those outside the clans or those that are atheist believe in the kitty heaven and would irl be bri-ish and christian as hell so. The authors are all older british christian women and so the way starclan is written is like undoubtedly that.

The main religion in the series is extremely catholic coded. Most clan cats believe in Starclan and the Dark Forest(or heaven and hell). There is a set of rule they must uphold and follow, where following them leads to heaven and breaking them leads to hell. Their religious leaders are sworn to celibacy, and the punishments that "code breakers"(or cats who break the rules) face are extremely similar to situations people with religious trauma have gone through.

OP notes: apparently converted to avoid getting his balls cut?? Idk. The discord yet wild for firestar so I had to include him because it's hilarious hehehe

[reorientation]

It's only been two days but I figured I'd come share one of my favorite fantasies here.

I want a cruel girlfriend who's a staunch lesbian, doesn't care for Men at all or want them touching her. But the moment she meets me, she instantly can tell how much my pussy drips at the thought of a Man using me as He pleases, despite my proudly worn label as a lesbian.

It doesn't happen quickly, for a while she treats me normally. Only involving fantasies about other women, only using her fingers and her mouth to make me cum, never doing anything out of the ordinary for a "lesbian" couple. Until she slowly starts incorporating more Male centric ideas into my head, she asks innocently if I'd mind trying to take a dildo during sex. I agree because it's not like it's actually a Man right?

Then she asks my opinion on her wearing a strap on, by this point she's almost entirely stopped going down on me. Our sex almost entirely comprises of fingering and her dildos that are steadily growing in size. I say yes to her using a strap on, because I love her and want to make her happy. She makes comments about how we're probably the straightest lesbian couple out there.

Before I've realized it, she's now only using a squirting strap on when we have sex. I don't top her at all anymore, I'm a complete pillow princess now. She doesn't finger me or rub my clit anymore, our foreplay entirely exists of her pushing me to my knees to suck her strap. She tells me how I'm suck a natural at having a cock in my mouth.

It isn't until a few weeks later that she truly starts breaking my brain. "This is what you've always wanted, isn't it? To be fucked on all fours by a thick cock about to turn you into a mommy. Maybe we should have a guy fuck you instead since it's what you crave." It's impossible for me to hold back my orgasm when she says that.

One day she blindfolds me and tells me it's just trying something new, I feel her filling my cunt in a way she never has before, almost like she's throbbing. I can't stop whimpering and letting out high pitched moans, it feels like she's gotten so much stronger since the last time we slept together.

I lose count of how much I cum, and she asks my barely there brain if I'd like to see a surprise. When she takes the blindfold off all I can see is not one, but three Men on our bed while she sits next to me, the one in front clearly the person who's been fucking me the whole time.

I'm terrified, I don't understand what's happening but she tells me it's okay, that she understands. I've been calling myself a lesbian this whole time when in reality my sexuality is whatever she wants it to be, and right now she wants me to be a hole for Men. I so obviously loved having a real cock filling me, and I shouldn't deny myself.

By the time the first Man cums inside of me I'm gone, I'm completely lost to cock, there's nothing I want more in life than to be filled and used by Men.

My girlfriend and I have stopped having sex now, anytime she's horny she goes out to find a real lesbian to fuck her, or she texts at least three Men telling them her dyke is begging for His cock again so she can watch me be broken over and over again.

She fills my head with ideas that all Men are better than me, they're entitled to my body because I'm so stupid. Because I shouldn't have been showing off my huge tits in such a tight shirt. Because I denied them access to my holes for so many years when I hadn't rubbed my cunt to girls since before I had met her. And I believe her.

Her favorite days are when I come home a complete mess, having obviously been raped by one of her friends on my way back. She even makes me call them when I touch myself, thanking them and begging for them to be more cruel next time.

I still love her and she still loves me, she just loves ruining me more. She still calls me her lesbian girlfriend, but we both know it's only because it makes Men extra aggressive when breaking me.

I've never been happier than being my girlfriend's ruined dyke.

- 🩵

I don't even think I need to add anything - except to say that this little broken dyke is a very good girl.

[eyesxxyou]

❝ sunshine pt.2 ❞ (hobie brown x male!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. hobie x male!reader. reader pretends to hate dislike hobie. gay longing. denial of feelings. a little internalized homophobia. leg humping. handjob thru underwear. lots of kissing. hobie being a lil shut. weeks of avoiding hobie become moot when you and him find yourselves alone in a bathroom together.

wc: 3.6k

You wish you hated Hobie Brown.

It would be so easy, wouldn't it? He kissed you, did unspeakable things to you in that closet. And you let him. You enjoyed even, you relished in the way his mouth felt, his lithe fingers sinking into your flesh. the way he cooed in your ear. It would be easy to write him off completely, hate him for the rest of your life, his smug face, his hooded eyes that gaze into yours and hold secrets only known between you, him, and God.

But you don't hate him. You can't. You hate yourself more than anything. You should have never indulged him, never let him put a single finger on you. Because now, when you lie in bed at night and close your eyes, all you can see is him on his knees, feel your cock sliding down the pocket of his throat while he looks up at you through his lashes with those dark eyes of his. You can't get it up any other way. Women don't do it for you anymore.

The moment the two of you left the closet you told everyone to leave. You picked up Hobie’s clothes and shoved them into his arms before sending him out the door with the rest of them. You never once looked him in the eye.

Your friends asked Hobie what had happened inside the hour you spent together and Hobie, being quite the convincing liar, simply shrugged as if he had no idea what had set you off. “Nothin’. Think ‘e migh’ be claustrophobic.” But he knew. You both would always know, no matter how hard you attempted to scrub it from your mind. He’d keep it a secret if you did. He might start shit from time to time but he wasn’t into outing people. He’d keep the secret for you if you didn't want it.

You know better. You know yourself. If you were alone with him, something like that would happen again and you wouldn't know what to do with yourself.

So you avoided Hobie like the plague after that night. Every invitation to hang out was promptly turned down with an excuse that was only a thinly veiled lie, obvious to no one except for Hobie who knew better than to accept that you were sick 3 weeks in a row.

It was understandable. He had made you question everything you had known about yourself all within a matter of an hour. Why would you want to be around him? You feared him and everything he symbolized to you.

“It’s Hobie, isn't it?” Your friend, Riri, sighed. She had come in person to get you out of the house. There was no pretending to be sick, no feigning exhaustion. She came and she called you out so accurately you feared that Hobie might have told her what had happened in the closet. Your chest squeezed and you lost your breath, terrified that she may know.

You scoffed, anxiety swelling within your chest as you pretend to roll the question off your shoulders. “Hobie? Why would I care about Hobie?”

“Everyone knows you can't stand him. And you haven't been the same since we stuck y’all in the closet. Did he say somethin’ to you?” You looked into her eyes for any semblance of your secret and found nothing. You wished you could tell her, your shame, your pleasure, the absolute heaven you felt being in that closet with Hobie. You’d just embarrass yourself.

“No, that's ridiculous. I find him just as endlessly irritating as I always have.” You reach up, tug at your hair softly, and shift your gaze. You were telling on yourself. Fuck, if you didn't agree now, she’d definitely know that there was something up with you and Hobie. “I’ll go, it’s whatever. Just let me get ready.” Your voice was quick, snappy, you were definitely acting suspicious. But you hoped you conceding to going would distract her enough to forget.

It did. Your friends weren't the most aware bunch.

That's how you ended up here, standing in the midst of a true punk party. There was a mosh pit in the front, people inches away from getting punched in the face, starting an all-out brawl. Most were drunk or high off shitty beer and even shittier drugs.

Hobie was on stage performing. You heard his voice before you saw him, the way it echoed in your ears and left you delirious. Riri dragged you into the crowd, just far away from the mosh pit to not get trampled over, and you saw him. His dark skin glistening in a thin layer of sweat, fingers meticulously strumming at his guitar, lips pressed against the mesh of the microphone as if he were attempting to kiss it like he kissed you.

He wore a plaid skirt, his muscle shirt was just cropped enough to reveal the scant of his abdomen and the hair on his slender naval. You saw him and all you could think about was how you wanted to touch him. You wanted his black-painted lips on your neck, wanted to bury your fingers in the new growth of his hair, wanted your cock in his mouth once again and maybe to put his in yours. 

The thoughts terrified you but what frightened you even more was that when you came to, Hobie was looking at you. Smug, careless, beautiful, like he knew just what you were thinking about and he was thinking the very same thing.

Face hot and embarrassed over being caught, you averted your gaze. You turned on your heels and swiftly left Riri to make your way to the bar. You needed a drink, or five, so that maybe your nausea could be attributed to something worthwhile. But no matter how far from the stage you found yourself, Hobie’s voice was still in your ear, teasing your senses, tempting your body. You felt hot and parched. 

“Give me the strongest you have.” You asked the bartender and pressed your face into your hands.

Hobie played three of his songs before his time was over, the entire time you watched from the corner of your eye. Watched the way he swayed, jumped, wrecked the stage, a force to be reckoned with. You watched him and his bandmates, your friends, walk backstage and felt relief. You wouldn’t have to hear his voice everywhere you went. You hadn’t considered that meant that they would all gravitate over to you to have a chat over where you’ve been for nearly a month now.

They came over with Riri, the unknowing traitor, Hobie standing taller than everyone else in the back. They hugged you one by one, slapped your back, kissed your cheeks, told you they were happy you finally agreed to hang. You would have loved to see them if Hobie hadn’t tossed his arm over your shoulder and pulled you into him. 

He smelled like musk and faint, fragrant cologne, your nose pressed to the side of his chest. You look up from where you sat on your barstool only to find him already smiling broadly down at you. “Well, well, look who decided to grace us with they presence. Miss me, sunshine?” He was so smug, so proud. If only you could kiss that look from his stupid face and leave him breathless for once instead of the other way around.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him, shrugging his arm from your shoulders. “Don’t get so full of yourself.” You downed the rest of your drink and requested another one. Hobie came, sat on the stool beside you, and told the barkeep to add all your drinks to his tab.

“Ya been avoidin’ me, sunshine?” Hobie only really seemed interested in talking to you. The others chatted aimlessly amongst themselves. They didn’t seem to notice the way Hobie’s eyes glazed over you, the way his smile seemed a little different when it was directed at you. They also didn’t notice the way he placed his hand on your thigh, rubbing soft circles into your flesh, the way his digits fingered the rips at your jeans.

“Whyever would I be avoiding you, Hobie?” You grabbed his hand to stop his gentle assault on your thigh and he took the opportunity to lace his fingers in with yours.

“I don’ know. Why are you avoidin’ me?” His hand was hot and rough with callouses. If only he’d touch you a little more. Slide his hand up your arm, brush over your neck. You could feel your body growing warmer by the moment. You couldn’t be trusted with him, couldn’t trust yourself for that matter.

You tore your hand from his. “You know exactly why. I hate it when people play dumb.”

“Jus’ add i’ to the long list of all the reasons ya hate me.”

Oh, if only it were so easy to hate. You’d hate him till the day he died. You’d hate him beyond the grave. You’d hate him until the world combusted into flames and everyone burned with it. But it wasn’t so easy. It was actually quite hard to hate someone you longed so carnally for. If you could rid yourself of him for good, you would in a heartbeat.

Hobie ordered himself a nice large glass of beer and leaned in. “Was i’ so bad, what we did? Ya seemed to enjoy i’ in the moment.”

Your eyes grew wide, glancing about to ensure your friends hadn’t heard him.

Hobie scoffed. “Please, too loud in here. They all wrapped up in ‘emselves to pay attention t’us. Look here, sunshine.” He reached out and gently grasped your chin to make you look at him. His touch was like fire all throughout your body. Looking him in the eyes lit something in the pit of your stomach. "Ya look good t'nigh'."

His drink came and he took a sip of the froth at the top while looking at you, his gaze all affectionate and tender. The way one lover would look at another. He didn’t even have to touch you to get you riled up because you both knew him looking at you through his lashes like that was just the way he looked at you when he kissed the tip of your cock.

You needed air. It was suddenly so stuffy where you were, you felt like you were suffocating. The ache of your cock made your jeans tighten. You felt nauseous.

You must have looked crazy standing so abruptly. Your friends attempted to call your name as you pushed your way through them and searched wildly for the nearest exit. The best you could find was a bathroom sign. That would have to work.

The bathroom was grimy and covered in graffiti. Your boots suck to the floor when you walked and you’re sure you could see a leftover powdery substance on the side of the sink. You turned on the water and cupped your hands beneath it to gather some and splash it on your face. 

Nothing between you and Hobie had to change. If he would simply stop provoking you, you could ignore everything else. The way your eyes lingered on his exposed body, the way his lingered on yours, the memory of your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking till he came on your tummy, the way you came in his mouth and he drank it all up.

You pressed your hand against the bulge in your jeans and moaned softly at the pressure. Then there was a knock at the door, startling you out of your momentary pleasure and reminding you that you were indeed in a public restroom.

“Oi, sunshine! Ya alrigh”?” Hobie. He just simply couldn’t let you have a moment of reprieve. Readjusting yourself in your pants so it's not so noticeable, you opened the door only to be met with Hobie leaning against the frame. He looked at you, questioning, before inviting himself right in. “Le’s talk.”

“Talk? You wanna talk?” You slammed the door shut and locked the door behind the two of you out of instinct. “We have nothing to talk about, Hobie. Absolutely nothing.” Your demeanor was cold, your lip curled. It all belied how much you needed him to stop looking at you that way. With heavy eyes and a touch of a smirk on his lips.

Hobie quirked a pierced brow at you. “Who’s playin’ dumb now? Ya tink I ‘aven’t noticed how you’ve been actin’? Yer meaner than usual.” He approached you. Slowly. He looked at you, watched to stand your ground. “God, yer down bad, aren’cha?”

Your face was hot, cock hard in your pants. You said not a word. Let him get close, really close, leaning into you while staring into your eyes.

“It's okay, though. I like ya mean.”

You grabbed him by the shirt, hands tight in the fabric as you turned him around and pushed him against the wall. “You think this is fucking funny, huh?” You shook him a little, pressed his thin body to the door, your eyes aflame with passion and anger. Hobie just looked at you, smiling, with his hands up as if to surrender to you, his eyes heavy with seduction.

You hated that look, so cocky and proud, fucking gorgeous. 

You were rough when you kissed him. You knew you couldn't be trusted with yourself or with him. You knew it would all lead to this. And God if it didn't feel good. His lips were so soft, sweet, a little salty from his sweat. You held his shirt a little tighter, pulled him a little closer and his hands settled on your hips.

You let him slide his tongue into your mouth, let him slide his hands up and down the length of your body, slide beneath your shirt. His thumbs looked into your pants and tucked his knee between your legs to press against the growing bulge in your pants.

Just like that, he took control of you. You melted into him, licked into his mouth as you moaned, rutting yourself against his knee. You were desperate, panting, needy. You showed all your cards just as they were dealt and now you had nothing but an empty hand and a hard cock.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout'cha.” Hobie panted into your mouth, hands pawing at you. Your kiss was sloppy, filled with swapped saliva and sticky tongue. “Missed ya. Looks like ya missed me too.” He chuckled softly as you licked his bottom lip, sighing with pleasure when he pressed his knee harder into you.

You should stop this. You should be stopping yourself. But you simply couldn't control yourself and you didn't know if that said more about you or about him. You were insatiable. You were angry. You were horny out of your mind. 

Hobie let you suck on his lip and tongue, chuckling the whole time. It made you stop, your hands tightening up in his shirt. “Is something funny?” You pushed him against the wall harder, your body pressed against his, your aching cock against his knee. You tried to play tough, your face firming up, but Hobie already witnessed how desperately you've been wanting him this entire time.

Hobie sighed softly, looking at you, smiling broadly. “Nah, nah, ‘m laughin’ ‘cause ya definitely like me, sunshine. Just as much as I like you.” He leaned in, pressed his lips to yours, and kissed you softly. Lips latching, tongue licking, teeth nipping, you didn't resist him as much as you thought you would. You hadn't imagined for it to feel so good the second time around.

“Lemme help ya out, sunshine.” Hobie pressed his knee harder into your crotch and you crumbled, panting into his mouth with your eyes squeezed shut. One of your hands unballed itself from his shirt and found itself settled against the apple of his throat, pressing and squeezing while you humped his leg into oblivion.

The friction was delicious. The pressing and grinding with his tongue down your throat left you a little delirious. You were lightheaded and feared you might faint if he kept holding your waist like he was, moving your hips for you, pressing you harder.

“Keep goin’, pretty boy. Ya got i'.” Hobie crooned into your mouth as your lips fiended for another kiss, a lick, something, anything to satiate the burning in your chest, the fire all over. His fingers sunk into the meat of your thighs with his soft grip that meant to gently coax you towards your climax.

How embarrassing. To cum in your jeans just from humping a leg. But God, if this didn't feel good, if Hobie wasn't doing you so right. You pushed him harder against the wall, squeezed his throat a little tighter as you ground yourself into him.

Your free hand slid down his front and beneath his skirt to feel the bulge of his erection through his underwear. You weighed him in the palm of your hand, clumsy massaging and fondling. You didn't know how to handle him. Attempting to conjure up the way you touched him the last time you two felt each other, you rubbed him, felt the wet patch where precum leaked and soaked into the fabric of his underwear and stroked his tip.

Hobie shuddered, one that rattled through his entire body. He gripped you harder, bruising your hips and thighs and he drove you further into his knee and left you shivering. You squeezed him in your palm and he moaned.

It was pathetic how easy it was to forget how much you wanted to hate him. Your brain was foggy with pleasure and need. Your hands groped at each other with a fiendish desire. Hobie nipped at your bottom lip. “Fuck, jus’ like tha’.”

You were so close. Your lips broke apart from his with a string of saliva connecting the two of you. Your head felt back, exposing the supple flesh of your throat which Hobie greedily attacked with lips and teeth and tongue. “Gonna cum f’me? Hmm, sunshine? Go ‘head ‘n make a mess f’me.”

You whined, your body rocking back and forth with the waves of your orgasm. You hadn't cum in your pants since you were a teen and never before because of another man. You felt as though you should be humiliated but you were so wrapped up in Hobie's sweet scent and the way he moaned into your neck as you pressed your hand into him and felt his cock twitch in your hold.

You rubbed him harder, faster, determined to get him to come undone the way he had your world falling apart. Hobie chuckled against your throat. “Tryna get me t’cum, pretty boy?” His lips peppered kisses to your lovely throat. You nodded, your hand stroking his throat with your thumb. “Give it to me, please.” Oh how the mighty fall.

Hobie faltered a bit when you squeezed his balls in your hand, whining into you like a puppy. “Beg.” He sighed softly against your neck. “Beg fo i'.”

"Please, please. Shit, Hobie, give it to me " Overstimulated, his knee still pressed into the wet spot in your sticky jeans, your hips still rutting into the mess you’ve made of yourself, you jerked him off through his underwear, stroking it rapid, blundering twists of your wrist. Hobie liked how inexperienced you seemed, he found it amusing how hard you tried to please him.

You knew he was just on the edge of an orgasm by the way his moan lowered an octave. He sang for you like he sang on stage, your own private show. His hands gripped you with an impossible strength, tongue lavishing over your throat. He nosed at the curve of your jaw and moaned into your ear as he came in your hand, leaking out into the cotton of his underwear.

You were left panting, stroking at each other in tender touches. You were uncharacteristically affectionate, desperate for it. You needed his hands, his lips, his soft chuckles, his pretty smile. God, you were losing it.

“Fuck-” You pulled away from Hobie, your entire body coiling away from him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” It all came back to you like a tsunami. How did you let this happen? Again no less. What in the world were you thinking? What the hell has he done to you?

“Sunshine, calm down. It's okay.” Hobie reached out for you but you almost fell over trying to get away from him. Your hands gripped the sink for stability and in hopes to ground yourself in reality. “No, no, it’s not okay, Hobie! We need to stop this.”

“Whatever we have goin’ on between us-”

“There's nothing going on between us,” you insisted. “There should be nothing going on between us.” Hobie scoffed at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Would’ja get ova y’self? We didn' make each other cum by accident. This keeps happenin’ fo’ a reason. We like each other.” He motioned between the two of you, his eyes softening.

“I can't do this, Hobie. I can't give you what you want.” You rushed past him and escaped out of the bathroom door before Hobie had a chance to catch you. It was a mistake to come out. You should have left the moment Hobie touched you. 

It was just your luck to run into Riri on the way out the door. You bumped into her just as you neared the exit. She had whipped around, ready to let you have it until she saw that it was you and worse, when she saw the tears streaming down your face. As if this night couldn't get even more embarrassing.

You said nothing to her. You simply pushed past her and left the bar with her calling after you. Hobie approached behind her, watching you leave with sulken shoulders and smudged makeup.

“Shit.”

[questionableratatouille00]

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 (𝘐 𝘏𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘛𝘰 𝘈𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘖𝘧 𝘐𝘵)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’d never expect a mission going sideways would result in a bonding moment between you and your boyfriend. Or: Bucky’s back is hurting and you offer a massage.

Warnings: rape/non-con, sexual abuse, (all past events), massages, ptsd, Hydra Themes, implied Hydra Trash Party.

Note: Thank you to @buckys-metal-arm for the idea!!! Your support means a lot to me!!

[Series Masterlist]

“Okay. So you did the shower and you’ve had the conversations. That’s good, James. If you keep working at it, I’m sure you’ll be fine having that kind of relationship soon.” Dr. Raynor said, scribbling down a note in her notebook.

For some reason, that made Bucky..uneasy. This is what he wanted, right? The thing he was working so damn hard towards? And it’s what you wanted. He knew that. What kind of waste would he be if he couldn’t give you that?

He knew how people who didn’t have sex were treated. And even if he wasn’t aware of how it was in the 21st century—he knew what it was like in the 30s. Married women who wouldn’t have sex? Prudes, old maids. Married men who weren’t sleeping with their wives—or women at all? Homosexuals, f—

He did not have time to get into those feelings right now. The point was, if he couldn’t give you that, he would be defective.

Was he defective? Damaged goods?

He blinked away the water in his eyes before Raynor looked up.

“Now, tell me, how has your week been? What did you do this week so far?” She asked.

You scrolled through your phone as you laid on the bed, your back propped against the pillows. Just then, Bucky stepped out from the en-suite bathroom, a towel around his waist. You knew he was comfortable with this, as you were directly across the room and as long as you didn’t make any sudden movements.

His back faced the wall to your left as he attempted to bend down to reach the handle of the middle drawer on his side, where he kept his underwear.

“Fuck,” he grunted under his breath as he straightened back out. You knew his back was bothering him. It had been hurting all of yesterday too. You knew it was from an injury he’d gotten the day before yesterday, from a mission that had gone awry.

“Buck, you really should see a doc—“ You began.

“No. I’m fine.” He replied, turning his head to look at you as he held his back like a little old lady.

Yeah, okay, the doctor idea was dumb. He was terrified of hated doctors. And it wasn’t like he could just take some pain pills, due to the Serum.

“I could give you a massage?” You offered after a moment. He stared at you, finally turning his body to face you. His head was tilted down slightly, his eyes darting down and to the side. It was his typical ‘confused, unsure, kicked puppy’ expression. It made you want to grab the sides of his head and pepper his face with kisses.

“Okay,” he nodded slowly, after a moment. And then, without putting any other clothes on besides the towel, he walked towards the other side of the bed and laid down on his chest. It was an insane amount of trust.

You grinned. He’d turned his head to face you and he gave a weak smile back as you crawled across the bed to be next to him. He turned his head the other way, still looking at you through the corner of his eye. You knew it was more physically comfortable for him to lay that way, and you were proud of him. Finally, comfort had won over caution. It was a big step for him.

“I’m gonna touch you know, ‘kay?” You warned.

“Okay.” He hummed his approval as you slowly extended your arms. You graced your fingertips against his back, gentle before you rested your entire hands against him. Baby steps.

Of course you noticed the way his thighs pressed together tightly, but you didn’t say anything. The trust was still there.

You began to gently knead into the muscles. “S’helping?” You asked.

“Mm. Feels good.” He hummed. You chuckled at his response.

As you began to move lower down his back, you finally noticed how fuckin’ tightly he was clenching his asscheeks. It wasn’t a huge deal to you, but he was so tense you could see it in his thighs. You had noticed him bringing his hand up to gently hold the bedsheets beside his head, and yeah, his lazy grin had gone away, but you’d assumed he was calm.

“Need me to stop?” You said after a moment.

“No,” he said after a moment of consideration. “S’okay. I trust you.”

He clenched a little less tightly.

He cleared his throat as he walked into the kitchen the next day.

You were at the counter, making some sandwiches for lunch. The clock on the microwave read 11:00 AM.

“Hey,” you said, as usual.

“Hey. Uhm..thanks. For last night.” He said, fiddling with his hands.

“You already thanked me, Bubba. S’not a problem.” You grinned as you took the two paper plates to the counter. He quietly thanked you as he accepted his plate before setting it down.

“No, I mean—thank you. You had a helluva opportunity to—“ he took his outstretched hand and quietly jerked it an inch forward. You were really impressed that your mind hadn’t exploded like the emoji at the gesture.

“—but you didn’t.” He continued. “So..thank you.”

You shook your head once. “Uhm—no, you really don’t need to thank me for not—for that. Like, you actually don’t.” You stumbled the words out awkwardly.

“I..made this really weird, didn’t I?” He said after a minute.

“A little,” you smiled lovingly. “But it’s okay. Cause I love you. And you really don’t need to thank me for not being a..I don’t even have the words to describe it.” You chuckle a little.

He smiled warmly. “I love you too.”

A/n: remember the first part!!! I’m going somewhere with that I promiseee

graphics by @saradika-graphics

[oh-stars]

Say It

Love is terrifying.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 1547 words | CW: N/A | Rating: T

--

Eddie will be home soon. Steve’s stuck on the couch, elbows on knees and chin in his hand, as he watches the door. He’ll be home soon and Steve can’t run away from this conversation anymore. 

It’s been years since the world tried to end, since they fled Hawkins even. A lot has changed for all of them. Nearly all the kids have graduated high school and Dustin’s already out of undergrad. Erica has early acceptance at Harvard, Lucas and Max are at Duke, Mike is at Emerson, Will is at Berkley, and Eleven is working hard to get accepted at Emory for their nursing program. Robin’s working at the Met, Nancy’s at the Times, and Eddie’s been recognized in a tattoo magazine for his work. 

They’re all getting older, growing into their own people and finding their way in life. 

And then there’s Steve. 

He works at a gym as a personal trainer and he’s working with Robin’s partner, Janine, to open up their own gym so that they can make a safe place for everyone, but especially women and other gay people. He has so many ideas, but he knows they aren’t as cool or esteemed as his friends’ career choices. 

No matter how many digs he gets about his choices and being a dumb jock, Steve likes the flexibility and power his career gives him. He feels good about it. 

It helps that it gives him a purpose and reason to keep his body in fighting shape. Just in case. 

Steve looks down at his watch. Ten till. Eddie will be home soon. 

Why is he doing this? He could be doing literally anything else with his night, but now he’s subjecting himself to a potentially miserable and devastating conversation that could end the world as he knows it. 

Jesus, he’s been spending too much time with Robin lately. Catastrophizing every interaction he has, like a single conversation could hold that much weight. 

Except… This one does. If it goes wrong, if Steve missteps and assumes something he shouldn’t, then he risks the entire friend group collapsing in on itself like a dying star. And now he sounds like Dustin, maybe he just needs new, less dramatic friends all together. 

Oh, who is he kidding? He loves these weirdos with everything in him, they make him full, filling all the nooks and crannies of scars and gashes his past has left him with. It’s like they super glued him back together, a porcelain doll made stronger by the care of his friends. 

Steve runs a hand over his hair, scrubbing at his face. Fuck, maybe he’s spent too much time talking with Mike, with all his prose and fancy speak. He’s absorbing way more of his friends than he realizes. 

He glances back down at the watch. Only a minute has passed. 

This feels cruel. 

It’s not even a special occasion. There’s no insistent need as to why he has to talk to Eddie tonight. He just can’t take it anymore. 

Actually, Steve wonders if this is the right move at all. Should he wait until Eddie’s settled in? Ambushing him when he comes home is kind of a dick move. Oh god, he’s gone about this all wrong. He’s for sure going to blow it now. 

He looks down at the folder sitting on the cushion beside him. It’s bold, it’s presumptuous. It’s putting everything he has into one suspicion. 

No, he has to do this. 

They’re at a turning point, at the end of this chapter, and it’s now or never. Steve can either be brave or take the cowardly route and live in this limbo for the rest of his life, potentially ruining the best thing he’s ever had. 

Five more minutes. Eddie will be home in five more minutes. 

Steve’s knee bounces as he takes in a deep, shaky breath. He can do this. He’s got this. It’s just Eddie and the biggest conversation they’ve ever had. 

Or rather… the only conversation they’ve ever had. 

Okay, obviously they’ve talked but it’s rarely anything serious and usually the only serious things they do talk about are Upside Down related. Steve has accepted this, it works for them, but at the same time… If they don’t have this conversation, he may implode from the inside out. 

He just wants to know what they are. 

They’ve lived together for nearly five years, their routines and lives revolve around one another. Everyone they know, treats them like they’re a package deal because they are one. You don’t invite Steve to watch the big game without Eddie tagging along for the snacks or Eddie going to a concert without Steve and his trusty headphones. They’re typically completely in sync. 

But even more than that, Steve’s pretty sure they’ve been dating for six years without saying a goddamn word. 

Steve can’t remember the last time they slept in separate beds – including when Robin sleeps over, all three of them squished into one of the beds. And while they have separate rooms still, Steve can barely distinguish between the two. They go on dates, they cuddle on the couch, they’re always touching one another. 

And the sex! 

God, the sex is so good. Steve’s never had this amazing of a connection with anyone. Eddie treats him with the perfect balance of care, even when they try riskier things there’s always an undercurrent of care and… 

Love. 

Which is why he’s almost certain that this conversation, this first big one, should go well. 

So why is his stomach threatening to revolt against him? 

The door knob turns with three minutes to spare. He kind of wants to scream, to beg for more time, while simultaneously ready to cry with relief. 

Eddie opens the door, drops his bag at his feet and pauses when he sees Steve waiting. “Everything okay?” he asks as he slowly puts his coat up. 

He’s fought monsters. He stood up to his parents. He can do this. 

Steve stands up and wipes his hands on his jeans. “I have something to ask you.” 

Eddie slowly raises one eyebrow, but nods cautiously as he closes the door. “You’re scaring me.”

“I think it's a good thing,” Steve says, motioning to the couch, “but, uh, you have to decide that.” 

“I do?” 

Steve sits back down as Eddie sits at the other end, the folder between them. “Our lease is coming up,” Steve starts, “and George called the other day to see if we wanted to renew.”

“Well duh, why wouldn’t we renew? We’ve got a good set up,” Eddie says, leaning back against the arm of the couch. He crosses an ankle over his knee, fully relaxing now. “So we just need to sign something, right?” 

“What if…” Steve squeezes the back of his neck. “What if we didn’t renew?”

Eddie sits up. “Do you not want to live with me?” 

“I don’t want to live here,” Steve clarifies. He hands over the folder. “I’ve been looking at houses–”

“Houses?” Eddie asks softly. 

Steve winces. “Okay, a house. I’m kind of already in love and I can understand if this isn’t where you saw yourself. But I–” He groans and puts his head in his hands. “I’m butchering this.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

He had a whole speech planned!! Now he’s fumbling over himself and–

Steve jumps up and turns to Eddie. “I can’t keep living like this,” he starts, “where we just keep going without actually saying anything.” He wipes his mouth with one hand as he steadies himself, his other hand on his hip. When he looks back at Eddie, it all clicks back into place. “I love you, Eddie. I don’t care if that ruins everything and you want to move out. I can’t change how I feel and goddammit, Eddie, I love you.” 

Eddie’s mouth falls open as he leans forward. “You love me?” 

“Yes,” Steve says, biting at the inside of his cheek. “So you can see why I can’t keep doing what we’re doing, not without you knowing. We don’t have to consider the houses, I’m okay with renewing,” he says, “but I can’t…” 

“I hear you,” Eddie says carefully, “I do.” 

Steve nods. “Okay.” 

Eddie reaches out and tugs Steve in close, pulling him onto his lap. His hands slide up Steve’s body to cup his face in his hands. “I love you.” 

“You’re not just saying that, right?” 

He shakes his head, pulling Steve in closer. “I’ve loved you for so long, Steve Harrington. I just didn’t want to…”

“Ruin it?” Steve says with a smirk. 

Eddie nods. “I don’t want to lose you,” he adds. 

“You would never have lost me,” Steve whispers. “I can’t live without you.” 

The kiss they share is sweeter than any Steve’s had in his life. It’s simple and chaste, but god does it have Steve soaring. When he pulls away, his hand on Eddie’s face in a mirror of his own, Steve knows why he was so scared to mess up something wonderful, something beautiful by adding extra pressure. He knows it with the same ferocity that he knows Eddie’s feeling the same thing, the way he always did. 

All he had to do was say it.

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind!

Ao3 Link

[melovelydove]

Stuck in the Middle

Taiju Shiba x Reader x South Terano

A/N: I love both of these men, even tho I know I'm not to, but what can I say, I love me some big strong men (and big strong women but that is beside the pont)

Purple=Both

South=Green

Taiju=Blue

Pink=You

Warning: Smut, Threesome, Fluff, Arguing/Fighting(the guys do), Blood, Cuddles, Daddy kink, Pet names(princess, kitten, etc.), and Cursing

Living with 2 men who were really tall and strong was a bit difficult. South being 7 ft and Tajiu being 6,5 was kinda difficult and them being in different gangs made it a bit more of a problem because it was hard for them to get along half of the time.

You had meant South on the day you were doing a bit of grocery shopping with your mom and spotted him staring at a shelf of (Your favorite snack) and you were to scared to ask him to move because of his terrifying hight so you waited. When South finally moved out the way you smiled and immediately went to the shelf and tried to reach for them but unfortunately they were on the top shelf so you tried to stand on the bottom shelf to grab them and as you grabbed them, you slipped and was falling. You closed your eyes waiting for the impact of the ground only to feel a par of arms under you. You opened your eyes and see South staring down at you. You had immediately got up from him and bowed. "T-thank you!" , He continued to stare at you before smiling a bit, "no problem, I'm South or Minami Terano..", you were shocked a bit before blushing from the way he stood over you. You smiled back, "(Y-Y/N) (L/N)".

Now when you met Taiju it wasn't at all this peaceful. You were literally just minding your business and you turn the corner to see a group of guys on the ground and one getting the SHIT beat out of him by Taiju. You had froze up at the scene in front of you. "U-um...". He looks over and drops the guy he was holding. "Shit...Tch.". You look up at the man and he began to walk towards you and once he was near you, he stood over you. "What.", "N-nothing..", He continued to stare down at you before grabbing out his phone and handing it to you. "Huh?!", "Your number, give it to me", before typing your number into his phone, "I'm Taiju. You?", You bite your lip a bit not knowing if you should give him your name, "I'm (Y/n).."

Ever since those days they have just been following you around like 2 huge angry looking dogs protecting their toy, although half of the time they dont get along.

Today was odd, you woke up as usual to do your daily routine:

Get up

Shower and brush you teeth

Get dessed

Eat breakfast

Watch tv

Then wait a while till you had to go to work

But to was different, it was... Quite?

By now your show would have interrupted by the sound of 2 loud voices and banging on the door at the same time every day but it's wasn't. Which you were grateful for till seconds later, there it was, the sounds of yelling from 2 of the tallest men you ever met. As you got up and opened the door you were greeted by Taiju pushing South and South pulling Taiju's hair. "Oh my god! Can the 2 of you please try and get along!", You go inside leaving the door open. "Oh princess I'm sorry, this BASTURD just won't fuck off". "YOU PIECE OF SH-", "AHHHHH Shut up!! Is there any way you can actually get along?", they look at each other, "Tch." They look away from each other. "Hell no." South walks to the couch and sits down, legs open wide, man strading with his arms swing behind the sofa, as Taiju leans on the wall.

"Is there anything you both like that you can use to help you get along?"

That was the line that got you into this mess.

Sandwich between the 2 men on the couch with only your underwear on and them in only their boxers.

Taiju under you, laying on his back with you and South between his legs and his mouth pressed up against your breast with your nipple being played with by his tongue.

South right behide you grinding his dick against your ass with his hands on your hips.

"A-Ahh South! Taiju! H-hold on wait a min- Ahh! Stop i-it!~" You moaned out as Taiju grinded his fingers against your clothed clit with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Just relax" Taiju spoke before placing a large hand again your breast, "I can promise you it's gonna feel nice and good, we will try our best not to hurt you" He chuckles before kissing you and South begins kissing your shoulder.

"We're gonna take good care of you" South spoke up.

[auspicioustidings]

Price finding an unaccounted for hostage while clearing a terrorist base

(I feel like I’ve read this from you before but with Ghost??? I really hope that was you bc if not that’s slightly embarrassing that I can’t remember 😵‍💫)

Fear not it was indeed me! Now in that universe Price did have a story as to how he got himself a wife so let's say this is a different universe entirely! And oh go on sure I'll make Price less of a kidnapper and more of a handsome hero figure <3

Very Bad, No Good Day

Words: 700ish

Captain John Price would not have hesitated to shoot you. You were in a terrorist hideout, there was no mention of any other civilians and honestly? You were a little too soft and doe-eyed to seem like anything but a trap. He swept the room before even considering going near you, in risk assessment mode. Nobody else here, hastily cleared out safe and then you handcuffed to the radiator with a rag tied around your mouth.

On the balance of probability it was likely you were not a terrorist once he had taken it all in. Wouldn’t make sense to leave you behind, too much of a wild gambit to try and honey trap one of his. Price had met honeytraps before, they did not tend to be thick women in their 30s and as he got closer he could very much see how soft and terrified you were. Poor thing. 

Still, he could not rule out a trap entirely so he called it in and then searched you with firm hands and a gentle explanation. 

“Need to confirm you’ve not got any weapons then we can get you somewhere safe.”

Fuck you were quite the dream woman weren’t you? He kept it tactical even as he felt around and found you very much had hips that begged his fingers to sink into them. Where the hell had this useless lot of criminals found a thing like you? He probably should have been more thorough before he took the rag from your mouth but he was busy trying to scold himself into not getting too handsy.

“Give me the quick version. Who are you, why are you here?”

You blurted out everything in a rapid fire babbling. Your name, your very bad no good day as the unluckiest postie in the entire world who had just been trying to do her job and deliver a package. You probably cried at him too much about it, maybe went too into detail about how mean your boss was and all the names he kept calling you and how he always gave you ridiculously hard routes rather than giving you a standard one like everyone else. 

“Slow down luv, you’re fine. Deep breath.”

You tried, hard not to when this man was the one asking. He was like something out of a trashy romance novel, all gruff and handsome and commanding. For his part Price was doing a stellar job of not letting his face give away the massive ‘oops’ he had made. You were here because they had planned it that way. They had sent a package that was supposed to raise alarm bells, get everyone agitated and sloppy. He had not considered the idiots would think to blame the fucking postie for it. 

It was outrageous how he took a little sharp pin from one of his pockets and picked the lock on your handcuffs. Should that have been as attractive as it was? You were absolutely sure you fell entirely in love with the man when he pulled you to your feet, showing off how strong he was (tactical on his part, contrary to what his team may believe John Price was not bad at flirting, he was merely subtle). Should he save it for when you were not being rescued from an active terrorist base? Maybe. But even if his team may be muppets they were muppets he trusted to have done their jobs when they gave him the all clear, letting him relax just a little. 

He had fully intended on asking you out only you beat him to it, seeing if he might like to get a coffee as you were wrapped in a blanket with a medic checking over you. 

A week later you had coffee. A fortnight and you got your back absolutely blown out over his office desk. It took 6 months for you to move in together (he had asked after 1, you had at least tried to take things slow). A year to the day you met he got down on one knee and you crashed into him with delight with a yes spilling from your lips. 

Many years and several very fat and happy babies later you thought back on it and decided maybe it had not been a very bad, no good day after.

[silviakundera]

Now that the final SoKP episodes have passed thru my eyes... Things I miss from the novel:

* Sorry but Jiang Xuening should have killed You Fangyin's murderer with her own hands.

* Jiang Xuening becoming obsessed with Xie Wei's cooking, such that she loves to quietly hang out in the kitchen with him whenever there's a break in the scheming. It's their safe space.

* Jiang Xuening going from being in the palace and part of the target/victims of the rebellion in Life 1 to being one of the financial backers of it in Life 2 and accompanying their fighting forces as they move up through the country as Xie Wei outsmarts the emperor & Xue family & Lord Pingnan's forces at the same time. Spending her 2 years away building the capital needed to help spearhead the rescue of the princess and then go to fuck up the emperor who sent his sister a letter to end her life for the benefit of the country.... (chef's kiss)

* The glorious revolution and making the royal family kill each other to save themselves in order to demonstrate the type of people they are

* Jiang Xuening moving into Kunning Palace at the end, as basically the unofficial minister of finance. She ended up in the same place at the end, but hearts & minds are changed and so the result is different

* Jiang Xuening putting the pieces together that the princess died in the 1st life due to her pregnancy & the emperor cutting ties (intrigue!) Team Fuck The System helping her safely give birth to her son, who she loves despite his origin. Our fav lesbian never has to get married to another dude and can just chill with her son, the cabinet of ministers, and her Ning Ning (with psycho husband in tow, but hey nobody's perfect 😂). Using her power to spread schools for women's literacy with Xie Wei terrifying the detractors into submission.

* When they try to use the Jiang family in the capital to threaten XW and he's like, so what? I was gonna pay back those bastards next for Ning'er so you're saving me time lmaaaaaaoooo

* Speaking of which tbh I prefer the lack of a last ditch bandaid on the Jiang family relationship. She's let all of the pain of the past go and isn't personally seeking to take anything away from them in this life... but she is just done with it. Dad is nicer but he's let his wife behave like this and has been mostly hands off. Feels sorta like Story of Minglan to me - letting the favoritism & emotional abuse happen while playing nice guy. In both novel & drama, he spends years not protesting how Jiang Xuening is cast as the troublesome, uncouth, inferior model. But then the drama decides to rehabilitate them. (Though to be fair, even the drama was half-hearted on this 'wash', cause at the end she's mentioning they're not close and in the last scenes the parents are with the sister and Ning'er is with her found family.)

Improvements in the drama:

* I liked that we got to see Jiang Xuening tell multiple people that she loves XW before she gives him her answer. The angst of it being uncertain what conversations she's having with the princess & ZZ, the risk that she's going to abandon XW for being a hot mess... it made for good dramatic tension in the novel. But for the ROMANCE and creating a sense that the feelings he has are truly returned... It makes the ship better.

* The relationship that FL and ML had with the fake Xue Dingfei was richer. He was a standout for me.

* Yan Lin had a happier ending. He really stole my heart in this 2nd life and like Jiang Xuening I felt no need to see him haunted by his vile actions in another universe. It was emotionally satisfying in the drama to see him at peace. You got us all rooting for him.

* Consolidated the Lord Pingnan plot! We really didn't need to get into their factions and introduce more antagonists.

* Consolidated the You Fangyin romantic interests - no need for a marriage of convenience with 1 dude and then Xie Wei's buddy also carrying a torch.

* I felt like the drama gave Zhang Zhe more personality and I did find it delightful when he was "fighting" side by side with Xie Wei.

* Xue Shu (the Xue daughter) felt like a more developed, fully realized antagonist.

* As much as it "sings" in the narrative to have her end up in Kunning Palace with power in the government at the end of the novel (that was brilliant)... maybe emotionally it spoke to me more to see her initial wish from the start of her rebirth fulfilled. Her original reborn goal was to avoid reentering the palace & exit-out of everything to have a quiet life of peace. None of that power ever made her happy.

* Marriage scenes of the otp thank uuuuuuuuu

* No and actually.. After her royal marriage in the 1st life she definitely doesn't need another big celebration. And with her messed up family relationships and his dead parents... Them doing the marriage ceremony all on their own, cause it's another pact between them, makes a lot of sense and I dig it.

* The reverse callback of whispering while she's waiting for a kiss to say "I'm yours" instead of "get out" 👌👌👌

[velvetvexations]

Even putting aside what a ridiculous comparison that is, I need it understood that the primary way transradfems engage with "material reality" is through movies from the previous century.

It's hypervisibility vs. invisibility. Trans women were openly mocked and trans men were ignored or just subsumed into a range of experiences for cis women. That's changing now that trans men are getting more spotlight than they had before, although it's still tilted in those directions.

But there was genuinely nothing transphobic about Chihiro's story and to say there was you have to prove his model was trans women and transitioning children when there is an extremely well-established category of AMAB people who present as girls in Japanese culture that is infinitely more talked about in pop culture over there. You have to insist upon the fact that he was ever connected to people who sincerely identify as girls in the first place. If this was America, it'd make more sense, but it is actually just genuinely racist to be told all that and still be like "well, but it makes me think of trans women."

This is why transradfems hate me, too. A trans woman disagreeing with them breaks their rules.

Especially the person who cannot stop fucking bypassing my block to screenshot my blog and then justifying it by claiming I do it, even though I fucking deleted those posts after she complained and have not mentioned her a single time since unless she did first.

Here's the thing: I DON'T THINK NOT WANTING TO ASSOCIATE WITH AGAB LANGUAGE IS UNREASONABLE AT ALL! But it's fucking projecting as fuck to say that people who don't like TMA/TME language must simply want to cling to AGAB. I mean, holy fuck, right? That's not what's being argued dumbass - but she can't think of any other way to divide trans people based on AGAB without referencing it in some way, so her ideal replacement is TMA/TME, that's the two kinds of trans people that exist, you're not AMAB or AFAB you're TMA or TME, this is so fucking masks off it's wild that other transradfems aren't mortified by her saying the quiet part out loud. This should just completely obliterate every trace of protest when someone points out TME is in practice exclusively used to refer to AFAB trans people and no one else ever, unless what she's actually saying is that AFAB trans people are so close to cis women that they might as well just by default be called the same thing and have no other way of identifying themselves when you talk about categories of trans people and their experiences.

But it's so intensely psychologically revealing. I don't think she's ever been misgendered a single time in her life. I don't think she's ever had even the slightest actual barrier to hop in her quest to live as a woman, because this oversensitivity where someone acknowledging transphobes see us as our assigned sex counts as them misgendering you? That's just not the behavior of someone who actually deals with these things in the real world. Or even online. Again, I get pedojacketed and threatened with actual cancelation from my actual career because I engage with actual TERFs. These people never do anything but moan about tee-em-ees misgendering them by discussing how the enemy perceives us. And she in particular is the most desperate to shut that out, because that is the only reminder there could ever possibly be a hypothetical obstacle to her claiming her girl card. I have zero doubt she lives in the queerest city on the planet and if she didn't have internet she would literally be unable to even conceive of transphobia as a concept. And she fucking hates me for not just being a trans woman who agrees with the transandrobros, but also personally identifies with my AGAB. The implication that it's possible for a trans woman to be okay with the term "male" shatters her self-esteem. That is the extent of "misgendering" she has ever faced and ever will face. Me identifying the way I do terrifies her, I have to be objectively wrong about claiming identification with my AGAB because she copes with insecurity by imagining a world where TERFs are right but instead of biology everyone's soul is either Male and Female and you can only be one or the other. Gender can't just be people figuring out who they are and the ways they want to express themselves and live their lives, that's not real enough for her, she has to be Trve Fymyle the way TERFs go on about, except instead of centering around wombs it's this weird vaguely spiritual concept that she forces everyone else to fit into because if they don't it implies her framework isn't the tangible reality she so desperately needs to feel valid.

And that's why she "needs" TMA/TME, because she reasonably wants to talk about the experiences of people who share her category but doesn't want to identify as anything that references what those experiences fucking are (e.g. having been assigned male at birth). And again, that's FINE. I GET THAT. THAT'S UNDERSTANDABLE. I CAN SEE HOW THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. But that doesn't mean TMA/TME doesn't also have issues and I'm sorry if she's having a hard time coming up with something else because it's difficult to navigate the inherent paradox of wanting to associate with something that unfortunately makes her feel bad to associate with it, but she needs to pick something else, and not say "weh the TMEs are making us change our language" as though (a) transradfems aren't telling trans men what language they can use for themselves and (b) it's impossible to come up with terms that don't explicitly make claims about the experiences of others and 100% defines them by suffering less.

And isn't it strange how other transradfems are insisting they have to call themselves CAMAB and CAFAB, but THEY aren't clinging to AGAB language? Weird, right? I mean there is a group of people insistently arguing that it is simply paramount that we use AGAB language, but they're perisex trans women stealing it from intersex people so I guess it's fine?

But I don't CARE. I don't like her and I don't want to look at her stupid blog and I sure as fuck don't want to report on it. I just wish she'd stop talking about me. I literally just want her to stop block evading me and telling people my identity revolves around wanting to suck up to TERFs*. I do not talk about her except when she talks about me. AND I'M STILL NOT EVEN NAMING HER.

When she complained about me screenshotting her posts, I deleted them. They got zero notes. Her screenshots of me have hundreds and she keeps taking them because she's fucking obsessed because she can't feel like a girl if someone else identifies a little differently than she does. I don't even screenshot other people if they have me blocked but I see other people debating their takes, I make a post that references no one with unspecified prompting. And I've never done even done that with her, not only because she keeps baselessly accusing me of harassment, but because she infuriates me on a level where I just sincerely do not like seeing her fucking content in any way for any reason.

God I fucking hate radfems.

*which she happily admits to knowing is a lie but is like "yeah well I say she's mean so I'm going to keep deliberately fabricating falsehoods about her"

Thank you. <3

I have enlightened another soul!

If you asked these people, ten times out of ten they would say detransition and rape are the worst things that can possibly happen to someone and murder is no comparison, but they'll see trans men talking about their sexual abuse to be like "wow so lucky you guys just have to LARP The Handmaid's Tale, but we get KILLED."

And it's like. Okay. But fuck off, though? It's fine to personally see murder as worse and to grieve more over that, ig, it's like, whatever, but to openly state that it's a PRIVILEGE to be raped and detransitioned makes my brain melt. It's like they are physically incapable of not putting down other trans people. It is the one single area of activism they engage in. That is the war they are waging. They don't give a fuck about trans rights because they live in privileged areas with supportive families. Their battle is with the TME trans people on social media.

lolllll

"I hate how misogynistic Velvet is, she's everyone's cumrag"

^actual thing actually said and believed by the TMA/TME tankies

Before anyone accuses this anon of saying transradfems are engaging in male behavior or whatever, I'll note as I always have that they're just as sexually predatory and entitled to the bodies of others as TERFs are. That is the actual comparison being made. The worst trans women are identical to the worst cis women. Diversity win.

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Kinktober 2024

Day 21: Knife Play

Lee Minho x Reader Word Count: 1,466 THIS FIC IS NSFW, MINORS DNI!!! Warnings: A knife is used but there is NO blood, a little bit of a corruption kink, unprotected sex, creampie. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know! A/N: If you would like to be added to my Kinktober taglist, you can send an ask, send a dm, or comment on any of my Kinktober-related posts with the username that you'd like tagged. Happy reading!

Taglist: @unlikelysublimekryptonite

Fic is under the cut.

When you told Minho that you went shopping for new toys to try out in bed, he had no idea that you meant a knife. You were full of surprises, however, so he probably should have expected something out of the ordinary. The one thing that didn’t surprise him was that the knife was absolutely gorgeous. It was small, with an intricately carved handle and a blade so shiny you could have used it as a mirror. As he observed the way it danced in your hand, he had to admit that he was curious about your new toy.

As curious as he was, however, your boyfriend was also apprehensive about incorporating a knife into your bedroom activities. Actually, “apprehensive” didn’t even begin to describe how he felt. With his interest in cooking, he knew just how easy it was to slip with a knife and seriously hurt someone, and he was terrified of hurting you. If you were being honest with yourself, however, the idea that it might hurt just added to your excitement about trying it.

Minho had a strong feeling that he wouldn’t enjoy it, but there were very few things he wasn’t at least willing to try in the bedroom. So, the two of you set up a day and time that you could try it out. Once that was settled, the two of you had an in-depth discussion about how it would look and what was completely off limits.

The day that the two of you agreed on to try out your new toy came, and you could hardly contain your excitement. You had agreed to try it on a day that Minho was off, so you had ample time to experiment and recover. He still had to go out to drop something off to Chan, though. While you waited for him to come home, you decided to surprise him. You waited in your room, wearing nothing but Minho’s favorite lingerie. It was a baby blue set with white lace, and he loved it because of how sweet and innocent it made you look right before he ruined you.

When Minho came home, he grabbed the knife and went to your room. When he walked in, pretty knife in hand, he was surprised to see you already waiting for him. Before he did anything else, he stopped and stared at you. He couldn’t help himself, really. You were one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen, and he had no shame when it came to showing you how beautiful he thought you were. He didn’t even realize he’d been staring as long as he had until he heard you say, “Are you just gonna stare, or are you gonna fuck me?”

“Before anything happens, are you absolutely sure?”

“I’m sure, sir. I want you.”

That was all Minho needed to hear to slowly make his way to your bed. He started small, holding the knife against your arm. He was incredibly careful with the amount of pressure he put on the knife. It was enough that you felt something touching you, but never enough to actually cut. You trusted him enough to know that he would never actually cut you.

A shiver went down your spine as he placed it in a different spot, this time over your stomach. He pushed ever so slightly harder, and you tensed in anticipation. A small part of you wanted Minho to cut you, but you also knew that was a bad idea. So, you focused on enjoying how the knife felt against your skin.

Minho was shocked by how turned on he got just from watching your responses to how he held the knife to your skin. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, desperate for him to do whatever he wanted with you. It made him a bit emotional, if he was being honest, to see how much you loved and trusted him. For a brief moment, he considered pushing just a little bit harder, but he decided against it. That would need a much more in-depth conversation.

For now, Minho chose to use the knife to cut your bra off of you. He hated to damage his favorite set of lingerie, but the unintentional moan that left your mouth at the action made the whole thing worth it. He could always buy you another set, anyway.

The moment that he ripped what was left of your bra off of you, the knife was discarded and Minho was on top of you. He kissed and bit every inch of your chest, not caring about the marks he left. You moaned at the sensation and started begging Minho to just fuck you already. He laughed at your pleas, however, and continued to tease you.

When Minho was satisfied with the patchwork of hickeys on your chest, he slowly started kissing his way down to where you wanted him most. Once he was comfortably settled between your legs, he ripped your panties off and pressed a series of gentle kisses to your thighs before kissing his way back up to your mouth. As he kissed you, your desperation only grew. When he pulled away, you said, “Please fuck me, sir.”

Minho stood up just long enough to remove his clothes before he was back on top of you, lining his tip up with your entrance. Before he did anything else, though, he made eye contact with you and said “Say that again sweetheart. You’re so cute when you beg.”

“Please fuck me, sir. Want you inside me.”

That was all Minho needed to hear to slowly push his cock into you. You whined as you felt the delicious stretch for the first time in far too long, and a groan left his mouth as he felt you around him. It was funny, really, every time he had sex with you he felt just like he did the first time. He was just as nervous now as he was then, and he was just as excited to watch you fall apart now as he was then.

When you gave Minho the ok, he started thrusting in and out. He intended to start slowly; he really did. However, when he felt you around him and heard the way you were begging him to fuck you harder, any self-control he had went out the window. All he wanted was to keep pulling those sweet moans and whimpers from your mouth as he pounded into you.

You had to admit that you were surprised when Minho agreed to try incorporating a knife into your foreplay. It had gone better than you expected, though. He seemed to genuinely enjoy how you responded to the knife being held against you, and you were more turned on than you’d ever been when he cut your bra off of you. Now that he was actually inside of you, you found yourself quickly getting lost in the pleasure you were feeling.

It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for Minho to feel his orgasm start to approach. When he felt it, he tried to warn you that he was close. Instead of words leaving his mouth, however, a loud groan fell from his lips as he filled you with cum. As he fucked you through the aftershocks of his release, you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. All it took was Minho telling you to, and you came around his cock with a moan of his name and a string of expletives falling from your lips.

Once the two of you came down from your highs, Minho walked you to your bathroom and helped you clean yourself up. When that was done, he carefully led you back to bed and held you. While you caught your breath, the two of you discussed what you did and didn’t like about how incorporating something new went. As you talked, Minho realized how much he had actually liked the experience. Sure, he’d been surprised when you brought home a knife, but he had to admit that he had enjoyed himself a lot. You found that you liked it even more than you thought you would, which was a big surprise. Especially when you considered how excited you’d been to try the knife in the first place.

As the two of you talked, you found it increasingly difficult to stay awake. Minho noticed how tired you were and gently encouraged you to try to sleep. You wanted to protest, but the tone in his voice told you that doing so would be futile. So, you snuggled closer to Minho and found yourself relaxing enough to go to sleep almost immediately. Once he was certain you were sleeping, he allowed himself to drift off too.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to see what else I've written so far and the rest of what's planned, you can find my Kinktober masterlist here. If you'd like to read one of my non-Kinktober works, you can find my general masterlist here. If you'd like to see what I'm going to be working on once Kinktober is over, you can find my upcoming works here. If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you'd like to see, send a request via asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading, happy spooky season!