#is this remotely coherent? maybe not!

[neuxue]

holy shit tell me about your gu yuexi thoughts

damn it I meant to answer this right away And Then I Didn't, but okay, Gu Yuexi my beloved.

(under a cut for vague-but-still-present spoilers through the end of LHJC)

The thing about Gu Yuexi is that she's so astonishingly capable at what she does, and so acutely perceptive in ways that both include and extend beyond her superpower, and so beloved by the weird little family she has found, and so willing to sacrifice herself for those she cares about without even considering it a sacrifice... and also so devastatingly bad at, like, how to be a person—in a way that plays so painfully and perfectly into this story's whole theme of personhood and weaponisation and the space in between, of 鸟尽弓藏 and what happenes when a weapon outlives its usefulness, of being forged to be wielded and then finding something beautiful in your hands and not knowing how to keep it, of existing only because others needed to draw meaning out of darkness and so looked to you for light that was only ever yours to give and never yours to hold...of finding name and self and beauty where there was once only utility.

The thing about Gu Yuexi is that when she first shows up it's as this hypercompetent and aloof-seeming character who speaks bluntly and has no time for bullshit, and you're like ah, yes, I know this archetype (and if you're me that alone might honestly be enough, but that's just the beginning). And it's not that she subverts that, exactly, but as the story peels back the surface of it (in a way that feels almost ironic, exposing her to the reader's vision in an echo of the way her own vision exposes everyone to her but her to none of them) there's this moment of 'oh she is a mess' and then of just 'oh'.

You get to her backstory chapter and think ah yes tragic past okay should be fun and you get through the first few paragraphs and are told that until she was seventeen she had no name and you're like damn we're really going for it and then you finish her backstory chapter and find yourself on the floor staring up at the ceiling with no clear recollection of how you got there, going 'priest, ma'am, what the fuck'.

It's the way she wasn't just variously used and abandoned, but stripped of every facet of humanity and identity and made into a tool or a weapon as thoroughly as a person can possibly be. Stripped of name and self and senses, stripped of the ability to interact with the world unwielded by another, stored in darkness and nightmare until the ability for which she was a mere vessel was needed. The way her gift is sight but she was kept in dark emptiness without even a self or a name or truth to cling to. Her body and mind merely the handle of the knife that was her ability.

Which puts her in good company, in this story.

Echoes of xiao-Ji, trapped in darkness and deprived in any meaningful way of a body, able to see only at the will of another, enduring endless torment in the darkness until it is time to be used. But where xiao-Ji had his Lingyuan-gege, the nameless girl had no one until a stranger brought her a compass (and there is an echo there, too, perhaps, of you once told me I was like the Xuanji star...) and even then she had to find her way.

Echoes of Sheng Lingyuan in how she only ever sees herself as a tool, sees her purpose as helping and protecting others. Puts herself in danger or takes on a task that will at the very least mean pain and doesn't even view it as self-sacrificing because that would require acknowledging a self, and considering its damage a sacrifice. There's no self-pity, no sense of being wronged, just a sense of purpose, the way a lens's purpose is to see or a sword's purpose is to wound.

And of course that conversation with Sheng Lingyuan towards the end of book 4, when she sees the truth of his heart and they discuss emotion and humanity. These two who have never granted themselves the status of human, of person, but who are so acutely aware of what that is and what it means, of its value; aware in the way only an outside observer with a great deal of perception and compassion but no acknowledged personal stake can be. And for Gu Yuexi specifically it's that perception, that ability to see that goes beyond just her Ability... and yet despite that perception and compassion and concern for those around her, the blind spot in her perception is herself, her self.

But unlike those two she is not even awarded the grace given to a protagonist; even in the story, she is in every way a device.

And yet.

And yet the narrative doesn't discard her, nor do the characters around her allow her to be less than human, less than valued, less than beloved. This story in which she is merely a tool and a device does not in the end forget her; it may not be her story but it is the story of all those like her. And the narrative and the characters within it refuse to cast aside the bow once the birds are slain; instead, they build her a home.

All without giving her (demanding of her) a love story, or requiring her to be in any way 'fixed'. She is loved by those around her but she is never told 'you are human because you can love' or 'you are human because you are loved', just 'you are human, and that matters'; she is not required to find another in order to be given a chance to be a self. She isn't even required to truly find or become or change that self in the end; she is as she is, and that is enough, and there is warmth and laughter awaiting her. She is not given the role of a protagonist, or a cleanly finished arc, or a miraculous love. Instead she is handed a compass, and a gentle place to land, and the time to find her way there.

[revenantghost]

So I’ve had a bit of a thought about plants ever since reading Trimax (no spoilers because we get no answers though lol), and I can’t help but wonder if anyone else has reached the same conclusion? Given the twisted, often mutilated but human-adjacent form that plants have in any given version of Trigun, and given that independent plants are nearly built just like humans...

Are plants the product of human experimentation?

In every translation of what little info I’ve seen, it’s stated that plants were created by humans. Not the product of alien life or anything, but of humans themselves. And given how they look, and given Tesla... Well, I just think it makes an awful lot of sense.

It also makes both Knives and Vash’s plight a bit more interesting, if we’re all growing off the same branch.

[valentinesparda]

I want to talk more about self insert and self ship stuff but my god I feel like I need to be sat down and applied torture methods to be able to talk without being like *avoids topic with deflection avoids being nice by being mean avoids saying positive things by deflection etc etc*

[nonbinarybladee]

thoughts feom chapter 1…remember like rifht when u start chapter 2 ralsei is like “gaaah its been so long since ive seen u two!” and susie is like “um..its been a day? lol” So. also .. ralseis like.. kinda aware deltarune is a game. what if its been 3 uears for him and not just a day but its been a day for everyone else

[freethefable]

having a bad time :thumbsup:

[thelostconsultant]

Midnight rain

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

summary: Lando wanted a family, but you weren’t ready. Three months after your breakup, he's still in love with you, and now it's your turn to decide whether or not to give him a second chance.

“You’re exhausting,” you groaned into the phone.

It was well into the morning when Lando’s name flashed on your screen, which wouldn’t have been so surprising if you were in the same time zone. But you were in Singapore, six hours ahead of Belgium, which meant it was around three in the morning over there. When he spoke, his speech was slurred, he was obviously struggling to form coherent sentences, but he sounded hell-bent on talking to you right now.

Since you were almost at the stadium for rehearsal before tonight's concert, you didn't feel like keeping up the conversation, but the way his voice broke made you listen. You knew he hadn't been in the best state of mind since the breakup, but the fact he still felt so miserable made you sad.

“We would have beautiful babies, you and me. Why don't you want to see them? A mini you, or a mini me, maybe a mini mix of us… So cute,” he said, at least that’s what you managed to understand from his mess of a speech.

And he giggled. You could imagine him lying on his back, one hand holding the phone while the other hugged a pillow to his chest. Rolling your eyes, you thought about what to say to this. It was always the same story, he would call you, tell you how much he missed you, how much he loved you, how he wished you would marry him, and how much he wanted to have a child with you.

The same things that made you break up with him in the first place. He told you about his vision; a big wedding somewhere remote, then the two of you would travel together, preferably with you coming to his races as a good luck charm, and soon you would welcome your first child who would be spoiled rotten.

That's not what you wanted. You wanted to focus on your career, you wanted to go on tours, you wanted to make more albums, you wanted to do so much before becoming a wife and a mother. Lando didn't seem to understand this, he kept telling you it would be okay, that there were many singers who could return to where they'd been before, but you didn't buy it.

“Go to sleep, Lando,” you told him calmly, hoping that gentle parenting would work.

“No, I won't sleep until you're back to me. I'll stay awake and–Don’t touch my phone, Osc!” he protested suddenly.

You heard some bickering in the background, which was followed by a long sigh. “Hey, it's Oscar. I'm sorry, we stayed with him and have been trying to keep him from calling you, but he somehow snatched his phone back from Max. You okay?”

At least he was in good hands and under supervision. “Yeah, sure, thanks for staying with him. Good race for you two by the way,” you said with a smile.

“You watched it?”

“Well, I checked the results and saw the highlights.”

There was a short break which made you wonder if he was still there, but then he spoke up again. “Listen, I don’t want to be involved in this, but I’m worried about Lando. You broke up three months ago and he’s still a mess. I get it, you don’t want marriage and kids yet, but maybe he would understand your reasons and agree to wait if you just sat down to discuss it.” You didn’t know what to say to that, but apparently Oscar was also a bit hesitant. “Do you still love him?”

“I don’t know if it’s love, but I care about him. We were together for over three years, it’s not gonna disappear from my life in a blink of an eye,” you explained. “But… I don’t know, I’m just afraid he would be back at it in a matter of weeks, once again trying to convince me to start a family with him.”

“And if we talked to him when he was sober? If we made sure he understands what you’ve been trying to tell him? Would you give him another chance?”

You took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Would you? Would it be worth it? You were on tour right now, but after the next four concerts you would end the Asian leg and have a few weeks for yourself. You would have time to figure things out. “I would talk to him, and maybe I would be willing to try again. Once last time. The moment he’s back on his bullshit, I’m going to leave him for good,” you added.

You could hear the soft laugh from Oscar’s side, and you could see him glancing down at his teammate with a smile. “I’m sure he would like it. I’m not sure how long he’ll be knocked out once we convince him to sleep, but I’ll tell him to call you at a reasonable time when he’s finally sober again, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks for everything.”

He said goodbye and left you with your thoughts, wondering if you made the right call. Maybe there was a part of you that wanted to be with him, because the years you spent together meant a lot to you. He was one of the kindest people you’ve ever met, a ray of sunshine, really, in stark contrast with your sometimes gloomy personality.

But who knew, maybe his friends can talk some sense into him.

Lando knew he only had one chance at this. All his friends were very clear about this, Oscar especially, since he had been the one to talk to you. During that one phone call a week ago, you agreed to come to him in Monaco, visiting his apartment so you wouldn’t have this conversation at a public place. It was something between the two of you, there was no need for strangers hearing even snippets of it.

When you arrived and his eyes fell on you again, every single thought left his brain. He was just standing there in the door, utterly speechless, surprised that he didn’t start drooling at the sight. After all those months spent looking at photos of you at your concerts, seeming like you had the time of your life on the stage, it was so nice to see this you, the one without the sparkling dresses, the down-to-earth girl he loved so much it hurt.

“Can I come in?” you asked him hesitantly.

He blinked a few times before realizing he had been staring for a little too long. “Sure, sure, come in,” he said as he stepped out of the way. “Can I bring you anything?”

Shaking your head, you sat on the couch and patted the empty space next to you. Like a well-trained puppy, Lando sat down and turned to look at you, taking in every little detail as if this was the last time he saw you. Because maybe this was the last time, maybe you would end the conversation with the decision that this relationship couldn’t be revived.

After several painfully silent minutes later, you finally stopped fidgeting with your ring and let out a long sigh. “I don’t want to start a family yet, at least not the way you want it. Marriage is one thing, but… You expected me to spend my time following you around. I have my own career to nurture, Lan, you need to understand that. Sure, one day I’ll be ready for it, but not yet,” you explained kindly, your eyes examining his face for a reaction.

But Lando knew better than to let his disappointment be visible, he fought hard to keep it away from you. So, when he spoke up, his voice was also kept neutral. “But you wouldn’t be against it one day, right? Starting a family with me, I mean,” he said, deep down hoping there would be a dazzling smile on your face as you replied.

You smiled, but it was more of a polite, maybe little uncertain smile. “Yeah, one day, although I can’t tell you when, I can’t give you a deadline. Maybe in our early thirties, maybe sooner. You would have to wait and see. Do you think you can do that?”

He couldn’t hold back a sad laugh, mostly because you didn’t really give him the choice to negotiate. You told him what you had to offer, and it was a take it or leave it situation. And he wanted you back in his life, he wanted to be by your side every step of the way, he wanted to be your biggest fan, and he needed you to support him. “I can. For you,” he added seriously as he reached out to take your hand.

[celestialprincesse]

You've been trawling through the contents of a mole's USB stick for days now. Dropped upon your desk one Tuesday night, passed down from Laswell, Price, and now, to you. Hours have been spent and wasted on trying to unravel ones and zeroes into something even remotely coherent. Not that you've had any great success.

Simon isn't an idiot, either. He's seen the bags beneath your eyes and the empty packet of painkillers on your desk and the way you feebly attempt to rub migraines away through your temples.

"You need to leave it." Simon's gravelly voice is nothing but background noise against the clatter of your keys as you take out your increasing frustration on your keyboard. Noting the way you don't turn at the sound of his voice, he obnoxiously clears his throat, watching the way your spine jolts ramrod straight, wincing at the way you twist to face his sudden presence.

"What?"

"You've been staring at that for days. Nothing's changed, nothing's going to change. Give it a rest."

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation, but his words have you snorting out an amused, somewhat unnervingly animal sound, head falling into your palms as you rub the gunk from your eyes - which you're convinced must be square right about now.

"It's uh - I don't know. I can't help but think that the minute I leave it alone, something will give."

"Mm." He hums with a knowing nod, spinning the seat at the other side of your desk to sit on it backwards, resting his elbows on the worn wood, leaning over to face you. "No use to any of us if you're barely awake enough to sit upright."

You give another noncommittal huff as you begin the process of turning off your laptop, practically a fortress with how many failsafes you've installed.

" -And," he continues when you finally provide him with all the attention you can in your tired state.

"I don't like seeing you like this." Simon admits, a little sheepish, as though confessing some great adoration you'd been entirely unaware of.

"And, on that note, let's get you home, yeah? Can't have my tech wiz burning out on me."

I'm baaaack! kind of! Have this lil bit of vague reader burnout fluff because I've been watching Slow Horses and obsessing over reader being in intelligence 🫠

[bbydoll18xx]

Pet Names and Airplanes (Part 3)

Paige Bueckers x reader

It’s Paige’s turn to call the shots.

Themes: smut!! dom!Paige, friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.5k

Part 1

Part 2

A/N: IT FINALLY LET ME POST HALLELUJAH!! You sweetie pies asked for a part 3 and here it is! And to whoever was the original anon who sent me the idea for Pet Names and Airplanes, i love u

~

Seattle had crushed Indiana, although that was pretty much a given. What you hadn’t expected, though, was Paige’s attitude after the game. The whole time, her hand was placed possessively on your thigh, fingers only leaving the soft flesh to be thrown in the air in a joyous celebration of Seattle scoring. And you certainly delighted in the way Paige kept sneaking peeks at one of the hickeys she had left at the base of your throat, threatening to expose the sheer naughtiness that had gone down yesterday. And this morning. 

The relationship between the two of you had changed dramatically in the last 48 hours, leaving you with an undeniable giddiness that bubbled in your chest. And now here you were, talking to Nika on the sidelines of the basketball court, feeling the blonde’s eyes on you, the heat of them radiating off of you in a way that had you shivering. 

Your arm was wrapped around Nika’s waist in a friendly hold; you had missed the Croatian girl, but Paige’s body language suggested that if you didn’t back away, you’d be in deep shit. Her eyes narrowed as you scooched in closer, meeting her gaze with a smug look that said ‘Whatcha going to do about it?’ 

It was not long before she was pulled away by yet another throng of young, adoring fans. She posed for pictures and signed basketballs and shirts, a fond smile adorning your face as you watched, thinking that if anyone deserved all of this, it was Paige.

You are pulled out of your thoughts by Nika who was elbowing you in the side with a shit-eating grin plastered on her face.

“When are you gonna tell her that you love her?” She questions smugly, and your mouth falls open in shock.

You splutter, not even remotely able to form a coherent sentence for a second. She was able to read you like a damn book, and you felt momentarily embarrassed to think that you were that transparent. You had always worn your heart on your sleeve, but you longed to be one of those girls that were just effortlessly cool and almost mysterious. You hated how people could see what you were feeling just by looking at your face, and while you knew your emotional disposition made you who you were, sometimes it felt like it was your personal downfall.

The blaze of your cheeks add fuel to the fire, and Nika giggles as you hide your face in your hands. You sigh defeatedly. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“It’s Paige,” she soothes. “You guys have always had something more than just a friendship. It’ll work out.” She pulls you into another hug, just as Paige walks back over to the two of you. She clears her throat loudly, and you and Nika separate, meeting her eye with your cheeks still flushed from Nika’s observation. 

“Ready to head back to the hotel, princess?” Paige asks you, her blue eyes staring into yours, and she wraps an arm around your waist possessively, drawing you into her and away from her old teammate. 

You smirk at her blatant jealousy, mentally high-fiving yourself that at least she also lacked subtlety when it came to you.

“I don’t know, P,” you trail. “Maybe we should hang out with Nika some more.” You wet your lips as you look up at the Croatian girl, who is looking between you and Paige with a confused look on her face.

“I want you. All to myself,” she responds bluntly, sending a wave of butterflies soaring through your belly and straight down to your pussy.

Paige sends a glare in Nika’s direction, and a flash of realization dawns on the brunette, her face morphing into a look of pure revulsion.

“Hell no, you two better not be getting me in the middle of whatever this is” Nika scolded, her accent coming out, mixing with the disgust in her voice. She was smart, and she clearly saw your attempts to make Paige jealous.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow. Just go fuck each other like I know you want to,” she says crudely, holding back a laugh. “But thanks for coming. I love you both,” Nika beams, waving and walking towards the Seattle locker rooms. 

“Finally,” Paige mutters, interlocking your fingers with hers and pulling you towards the exit.

The uber back to the hotel was eventful, and if Paige’s possessive grip on your thigh during the game didn’t have you completely dripping, the open-mouth kisses she had been pressing to your neck and jaw certainly did.

It was difficult to hold back your moans in front of the uber driver who was already eying you and Paige suspiciously, and you let out a sigh of relief as he pulled in front of your hotel. Racing through the hall and opening up the door, you rush in, Paige hot on your tail. 

“Finally got you all to myself,” Paige murmured, looking down at you through lustful, hooded eyes. Her voice was deep and husky, dripping with want, and it reignited the swarm of butterflies in your belly. 

“About damn time,” you respond flirtily, before connecting your lips with hers with a moan. Her lips taste like the cherry slushy she had drank at the game, and the smoothness of them has you pressing up into her, desperate for more. 

Paige opens her mouth for you, intertwining her tongue with yours before suddenly pulling away. You chase her lips with a pout on your own, confused as to why she was stopping. You look up at her with fake indignance, and she gazes at you with a sadistic glint in her eyes. 

“Strip and get on the bed.” 

Her tone is firm, and the dominance oozing from her words makes every nerve in your body light up, temporarily putting you in a daze. You bite your bottom lip in a bruising tug, looking up at Paige with wide eyes. 

“Now.” 

The forcefulness of it sends jolts through your most intimate area, and you pull your top over your head, throwing it onto the floor haphazardly, your jeans following shortly after. You are left standing in a black bra and matching panties, and Paige has moved to sit in the chair, legs spread wide. 

“I want you completely naked, baby. Don’t get shy with me. Want to see those pretty little marks on your tits,” she drawls, and her voice alone has you nearly panting with lust. There was something so naughty about her watching you strip, and your body erupts in goosebumps in anticipation. 

Your bra comes off first. The cool air of the hotel room hits your nipples, perking them up in a way that makes Paige run her tongue across her bottom lip, soothing it from the incessant biting. Your panties soon follow, and your body flushes as you notice the stickiness of your inner thighs from your own slick. 

You climb onto the plush bed, ass sticking up in the air, wiggling provocatively in order to get a rise out of the watchful blonde. Settling against the mountain of pillows with your legs slightly spread, you stare back at Paige, trying desperately to avoid covering yourself up. Her gaze is burning into your skin like tiny pinpricks of lustful want, and you squirm at the lack of stimulation. 

You knew you looked needy, but Paige loved it, reveling in the mild humiliation of you being spread out for her viewing pleasure.

Not wanting to back down just quite yet, you hold her eye contact until she stands, sauntering over to the end of the bed. Her gaze lowers slowly, starting at the base of your throat where the myriad of hickies begin, trailing down to your tits and across your stomach, landing on your glistening center. 

A shiver runs down your spine, tightening your nipples even more, and you lick your lips in anticipation of what’s to come. 

“You gonna be a good girl for me, princess?” She asks, arms crossed and biceps bulging. 

A slight whine leaves your throat. “Yes, always good for you,” you promise.

However, Paige looks unconvinced, a wry smile plastered on her gorgeous features. “You weren’t being very good after the game. Hanging all over Nika like a little slut.”

Your heart pounds at her degrading words, and you try to come up with a decent excuse. “I-” 

She cuts you off with a wave of the hand and a scoff. “Save it. You think you’re a good girl? Prove it.”

Before you can even ask how to prove it, Paige is stripping and laying on the bed with spread legs. You crawl over to her, wanting to do everything possible to please her, but she stops you before you can attach your mouth to her sopping center.

“If you want to taste me, you gotta beg,” she claims smugly, and you flush at her words. Just yesterday, you had the upper hand, and now here you were, about to beg to eat her out. 

“P…” you trail off, but she was devilishly unrelenting. A wide smirk adorns her face as she spreads her legs a bit more, beckoning you closer towards her slick warmth. 

Realizing that you were in fact going to have to beg, you decide to give in, losing the battle between your pride and your sanity. 

“Please, Paigey…” you whimper, lips in a prominent pout. “I’ll do anything for you. Just let me have a taste.”

Paige pretends to think about it for a second, mockingly tapping her chin. “I suppose a little taste won’t hurt,” she relents, and before she can go back on her words, you dive in like a woman starved. 

A long moan is pulled from the depths of her throat as you lick a long stripe across her pussy, and you welcome the taste. She was obviously just as turned on as you. The sheer depravity of the situation hits you, and you reach down in between your legs to take care of the burning ache. Two small circles against your clit is all you manage to make before Paige is leaning down to swat your hand away with a dissatisfied tut. 

“Nuh uh. Don’t be touching your pretty, little pussy.” 

Your cheeks burn, but she quickly grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and guides your head back down. And that’s all the encouragement you need. Soon enough she’s a moaning mess under you, coming undone with your name on her lips, and you’re licking your own, as if she was the most delicious meal you’ve ever had.

“Fuck, baby,” she moans. “Such a good girl for me.”

And before you can preen at her praises, she is on top of you. Hot, open mouth kisses are being pressed up and down your neck, alternating between sharp bites and soothing licks, adding to the purple marks. Paige trails her fingers up and down your sides before squeezing at your hips, melding the flesh experimentally. 

“Need more,” you pant out, and she hums against your skin, the vibrations shooting through you add to the overwhelmingness of everything. She is descending down your body now, your belly and hips peppered with kisses, all the way down to your inner thighs. She purposely ignores your aching pussy, and your hips fly up to try and meet the softness of her lips, desperate to feel some stimulation.

“Fuck, P, don’t make me beg again,” you whine, and Paige gives you another wide smirk from between your legs. 

She blows cool air across the heat of your dripping pussy, and mutters, “But it’s so sexy when you beg for me, baby.” 

“Paige, please,” you whimper, drawing out the syllables of her name, and finally she acquiesces. A long string of expletives leave your parted lips as she plunges two fingers into you and swirls her tongue around your swollen clit. Paige’s fingers were magic, pumping unabatedly into you and curling expertly against the ridges of your g-spot. 

You bring a hand up to pull roughly at your nipple, causing Paige to let out a low groan at the sight of you playing with your tits, and the vibration shoots straight through your core. If you hadn’t been so comfortable around Paige, you would almost feel embarrassed about how fast you were coming undone. 

This was some teenage boy shit. 

Your moans grow louder and louder as she adds a third finger, the stretch feeling like nothing from the amount of juices slicking the entrance of your pussy and sliding down your inner thighs. She continues to curve her fingers up to that sweet spot, causing you to see stars, and eats you out with unwavering persistence.

“G-gonna cum,” you moan, and before Paige can respond, you are gushing around her fingers with a high-pitched whine and her name on your lips. She slows down her movements, allowing you to ride out your high, before removing her fingers from you and licking them seductively. 

Fuck she was so hot. 

Paige watches your chest rise and fall while you try to catch your breath, strung out from how good she just fucked you. She thinks that you had never looked so beautiful, skin glowing from the lamp of the hotel and the sheen of your sweat adding to the radiance. You’re looking back at her in sheer adoration, wondering how you got so lucky to be in this predicament. 

“God, that just keeps getting better every time,” you giggle once you catch your breath, and Paige chuckles, nodding in agreement. She heads to the bathroom for a washcloth to clean you up, and once she does, she pulls you under the covers, and you think that life could not possibly get better. 

The two of you bask in the glow of orgasms and an overall fondness for one another, both silently musing over how much your relationship had changed in the last few days. As if Paige was reading your thoughts, you hear her whisper, “I don’t think I can go back to just being friends with you.” 

Your heart skips a beat. “I was thinkin’ the same thing,” you mumble, grateful that you could forego the awkward ‘what are we’ conversation. “I don’t think we were ever really just friends,” you add, you cheeks pink as you recall all the flirty moments that had occurred between you and the blonde.

“True,” Paige says, nuzzling her face into your neck. “Well, glad we figured that out.” She pulls you in for another kiss, this time sweet and innocent, without the fire that sex tends to follow. It was all you really needed. Paige was all you really needed. 

And when you sit down in your seat on the airplane the following day, you smile as the memories replay in your mind. Love was forged from nothing but a friendship reformed due to a silly little plane ride and a silly little pet name. 

~

woohoo! let me know what you think!! xoxo

[melodic-haze]

remote vibrator in public w sub robin?? 👀

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Robin x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Exhibitionism, mentions of corruption, semi-public sex mentions at the end

☆ — NOTES: Wait I didn't even realise I had essentially already done this oh my god 😭😭😭😭😭😭 anyway is a cheeky Robin ooc I wonder if it is..........my bad gang I actually haven't finished Penacony yet 😭 ik like spoilers

Such a move spells TROUBLE for a universal celebrity like her.............good thing she likes the trouble you put her through ☺️

You've seen how she dedicates herself to her multimedia craft, putting her all into performing arts for the sake of inspiring people and making everyone happy. Now, you want to see how she does with.......performing for a different reason :3

"Such a risk would be much more trouble than it's worth, you know."

"If it's 'so much trouble', then why are you smiling like that?"

"Maybe I just find your request amusing. You know that the press are determined to spot anything that may give them a good scoop."

It's not as if Robin was wrong—a cosmically-famous figure like her would be risking the possibility of complete and utter ruination with such deviancy, along with.. well, having to face her brother. And The Family too, but mostly her brother. She had the right to be worried.

..But, well, she doesn't really seem to be worried right now, despite her words. If anything, the expression on her face as she leaned on the wall and the slight fluttering of her wings showed a different feeling.

As if she were the cat that got the cream.

"Uh huh," you leaned back on the chaise with a knowing look, eyes narrowed and arms crossed, "what I know is you're not saying no..."

She lets out a false sigh as she pushed herself off the wall to head to you, "Aw, I thought I led you off my trail."

"Like you do with the press? Oh, please." You rolled your eyes, "I know you much better than that."

"You seem so sure."

"Am I wrong?"

"Mm.. no, I guess you're not."

Then she sits down on your lap and wraps her arms around your neck, the wings on her hips wrapping themselves around the both of you like a barrier that separates you from the rest of the world, "And neither are you wrong about my lack of your refusal."

Your hands snake themselves over to your lover's waist.. before moving down further and lightly squeezing her ass, "So that's a yes?"

"Mhm," she hummed, her voice reduced to a raspy whisper, "I could never resist you, sweetheart."

"What a coincidence—I could never resist you either. Must be a Halovian thing, with that halo of yours."

"Haha, who knows."

And that leads on to your present situation: Robin, as an important member of The Family and a famous singer, was invited to a gala as a special guest. Naturally, she attended and was thankful that they allowed her to invite a plus-one. Considering that Sunday had his own invitation, you were practically the most obvious pick out of everyone she could've chosen, both because you were her most important person.......and because this was a perfect opportunity for the both of you

So here she was, clinging to your arm as you talked to some.. some random who was (unsurprisingly) one of Robin's fans, one that's REALLY obsessed with her too, apparently. And really, she wasn't sure whether to thank you for giving her a different thing to focus on or silently plead to you somehow to cut it out, but she essentially clamped her mouth shut for most of the time you were there, not actually trusting herself to let out a coherent sentence

Not just with that one guy too, you do this through the night—your hand mostly in your pocket as you manipulated the controls of the vibrator within her, usually during inconvenient moments to mess with her a bit

During times you're left alone with her as everyone else goes to do other things and talk to other people, you taunt her of how if she doesn't hide it good enough then people miiiight start suspecting something's wrong ☺️☺️ and she wouldn't wanna ruin her career like this, would she ☺️☺️☺️☺️ oh that'd be such a huge shame ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

At first she does actually taunt you back, lightly boasting to you that it takes a lot more to faze her and that it's sweet of you to try...........but as the night progresses you find that she fires back at you less and less, your favourite songbird getting increasingly more quiet, just like how her panties are getting increasingly wetter. But she bares with it with a smile anyway, disregarding the rosy tint in her cheeks as simply applying too much blush HAHAHAHA

It's not just when you two are together either!!! You've both made sure that the toy has a big enough range that you can walk around without the connection being severed from the distance, so it was rather easy for you to manipulate it even while you were away from her. Oh, and how FUN it is, esp when you see her try to look around for you as her wings flutter restlessly

It's actually rather impressive to watch though—even when the night toiled away and it got increasingly harder for her to stop herself from cumming herself silly from sheer frustration, she keeps herself in check. It's almost as if she were completely unbothered, acting the perfect part as a beautiful socialite at a grand event as she sang with (very false) confidence. You would've been fooled......if it weren't for the fact that she had telepathised her need for you to just bend her over somewhere and fuck her dumb instead of letting her continue with this toy inside of her. You almost feel bad

Keyword: almost, especially when you decide to get braver and mess with her a liiiiittle bit more. And she would've been fine with it!!! At least, if it weren't for the fact that this was with HER FUCKING BROTHER LOL

Halovians, the musical and emotional creatures that they are, can probably communicate via special frequencies right?? At least, that's my personal hc, like you can't actually use a radio to intercept it and listen in bc it's like a Halovian-specific kinda thing that can only be read through their halos. Idk how they work lol don't sic me

Anyway through that logic, I feel like Sunday picked up signals of distress from his little sister. He's probably more sensitive to her frequencies too, with how yk. They're related. Like sharing genetic code except it's like if you look at a sound visualiser and see multiple lines at once and the Oak siblings have that one similar line or smth. So he can tell that SOMETHING is wrong with her, just not what specifically (esp when Robin's probably trying her best to block out signals of her lust from ever notifying her brother that smth more is happening)

"Are you certain you're feeling alright, Robin?" Sunday's voice held a sense of urgency and protectiveness, as expected of the one that had been there for her as the one constant before she had left Penacony, "I can tell that something is off.. and your feathers are a bit ruffled."

The worried emotions he had sent to Robin, along with a request to pry into her psychical wellbeing, didn't help the singer at all in terms of calming down—the possibility of her beloved brother becoming unwillingly privy to the fact that her inner workings are so utterly perverse and corrupted scares her. The fact that you had slowly switched the vibe's speed between an agonisingly slow pace and an upward climb as the exchange went on added to the torture.

Though compared to the rest of the night, this time actually felt like you were taking mercy on her, with the way you hadn't decided to suddenly ramp the intensity up out of nowhere.

(And there was that twisted feeling inside her that actually liked the thought of being an R-rated spectacle in front of all these people around them still threatening to take her focus away.)

To keep up the charade as she continued to block Sunday's attempts in peering into her enotions, she could only do what she did best; perform. So she nods her head with a smile, though the latter action didn't really need that much acting, "Yes, I'm feeling alright. I appreciate the concern, brother, but nothing's wrong. Perhaps it's just exhaustion—I don't know how you.. mm.. how you deal with it all the time."

"I could say the same to you," he reciprocates her smile, if a tad bit crooked from his worry, "I think it takes a lot of inner strength, to take on the attention of a universal crowd. Luckily, I know you can more than handle it."

The blue-haired sibling hummed, her smile widening from her brother's confidence, "It's because I know I have you to fall back-- on..!"

The grey-haired sibling furrowed her eyebrows in turn at the sudden yelp, "Are you quite sure you're okay..? You're worrying me, dear sister."

...

Yeah, no, she couldn't carry on such a conversation like this.

Another nod as she digs her nails into her palms in an effort to redirect her thoughts from the overflow of slick in the apex of her thighs, "Y-Yes, I'm fine... I think I just need to take a walk around to.. calm myself. I feel rather warm."

He doesn't reply immediately, leaving Robin in suspense. Could he have figured it out?

..Turns out no, as he lets out a small sigh, "Alright, just remember to tell me if something's wrong, yes? I don't want your comeback here to be an unpleasant one."

"I will, thank you."

She turns around in a hurry—though not that much of a hurry, lest he either gets more suspicious or she somehow makes the toy's effect worse—and leaves, making a beeline for you before grabbing onto your wrist and dragging you off before you could say a word (though the small smirk on your face said all you needed to say).

And Sunday clocks the two of you leaving the main hall together with a raised brow. His initial instinct is to go investigate himself—he knew better than to believe his sister's act, of course... But he thought better of it.

He had an inkling that perhaps this wasn't something he should involve himself in.

And his gut feeling was right, esp when Robin dragged you out and into the first private, empty room she found, pushed you down and started grinding onto your lap like a bitch in heat 🥰🥰🥰🥰

People are going to talk for a WHILE about your sudden disappearance, the both of you KNOW this very well, but right now? Robin doesn't gaf, not when her mind's been reduced to a horny mess as she begs you to finally get her off yourself. Whether you do or you DON'T??? Up to you LMAO

Either way, it's DEFINITELY something unforgettable........and dare I say, tellingly exposing of what your songbird likes 🫶

"Why do I deal with such risks again?"

"Because you love me?"

"..Mm. Yes, that's true."

"Wait, really? That's giving me too much power, birdie."

"And that's perfectly fine," her lips curl into a light grin, "There's nobody else I'd rather obey."

[plantsjustwannahavefun]

I used to think that the reason I wasn't satisfied with Izzy's death was because I was too attached to his perspective as a character and couldn't focus on the big picture of the season and the main Gentlebeard relationship enough. I mean, I was still convinced that his death and the way it was carried out was a shit writing decision, but everyone else outside the Izzy Canyon circles seemed fine with it, so I was starting to think that maybe they were right.

So I looked back on the rest of the season and rewatched the finale... And realised something that I'd been trying to ignore because it was too painful to admit. A huge part of why Izzy's death hit so hard (in a bad way, not that delicious masochistic pain of having a beloved character die a good, narratively satisfying death) was because throughout this season he was the only character who actually had a satisfying arc and development. Practically no one else did. I didn't actually care for Gentlebeard this season, not the way I cared in S1. From episode 1 to 8 and a half, Izzy's arc was crafted with more care, kindness, subtlety and narrative weight than the main Gentlebeard arc which, in comparison, felt like a string of choppy beads badly tied together in an approximate shape of an arc, but collapsed as soon as you looked at it too closely.

Yes, we all know this season suffered for being 2 episodes too short, but I don't think that's all there is to it. This is starting to feel like GoT season 8 all over again. Would it have been better if it wasn't so rushed? Maybe. Or maybe it would have been even worse because this season just didn't seem to know what to do with itself or the characters. The themes and symbolism are all over the place and completely inconsistent. Ed and Stede's characters are practically back at the same place they left in S1. All they did was bounce off the walls back and forth with no real growth. As soon as they took a step towards fixing their relationship or growing as people, they either tool three steps back or it just got dropped. Stede letting fame get to his head? Interesting and realistic development. And how was it resolved? It wasn't. Stede and Ed being whim prone? I'm glad they brought it up. And then they just fell for another whim and it was presented as a satisfying ending.

Ed went from the Kraken, to taking the first steps towards being Ed, then suddenly all the way to being Ed by way of a Night of Magical Healing Sex that he he didn't actually want to happen because he wasn't ready. And then all of a sudden he pivoted to abandoning Stede and piracy and becoming a fisherman... for 5 min. And then back to Blackbeard again because two fishermen were mean to him for 5 minutes. And then abandoning it again to open an inn. How was any of this even remotely coherent or satisfying? They didn't even have a single conversation about any of it. Ed had more proper closure and communication with Izzy during his dying scene than with Stede and the rest of the crew put together. Izzy's arc got sacrificed to do the heavy lifting for Ed's arc and became nothing more than a shortcut to speed run his character growth. Except it didn't even lead anywhere. "Ed, they're your family, they love you" no they don't, he didn't even have a single positive conversation with any of them except Fang. Of course this could have been the point, and Ed could have seen Izzy's death, his own discovery of found family and his dying words as a pretext to repair his relationship with the crew. But he just left them and stayed with Stede instead.

Sure, you could say this was only the second act of the story, and S3 will resolve everything. But the second act is still meant to move the story and the characters forward in some way. Yes, of course if we get S3, I imagine Stede and Ed's life as innkeepers won't exactly be idyllic. But the problem is that the conflicts they'd have will only be a rehash and repeat of the same conflicts they've already have, or were supposed to have, this season. Multiple times, even. We already know that Ed is simply unable to live with himself no matter what life he chooses. The title of S1 was literally "wherever you go, there you are". We already know Stede's love isn't enough to fix him. We already know their goals in life are completely opposite. Maybe they could have shown Stede realising, after his humiliating in S7, that piracy wasn't all it was cracked up to be or he isn't suited for it, and that's why he chose to leave it behind and open an inn, but that's not the explanation we were given. It was just another whim. They literally didn't learn anything this season. They had two baby conversations in E4 and E5 and didn't take anything from it, just kept doing the complete opposite of anything. "We're both prone to whims, let's take things slow" became "let's take things extremely fast by moving in together permanently and becoming entrepreneurs". They never talked about the actual, deepseated, longstanding trauma issues they needed to resolve before they could even begin to have a proper relationship. They literally got a heavy-handed glimpse in what their life would become if they just stuck together without addressing their own personal issues, and chose to do that very thing. It that's what S3 is going to address, then why were Anne and Mary part of this season instead of the next one?

I remember everyone saying they wanted Ed and Stede to reunite as quickly as possible in S2, and I get why. They have great chemistry together. The season is about them. But for it to work, spending more time apart is exactly what they needed. They needed to learn how to live with themselves and others, first. Romantic love alone can't fix you as a person. You have to fix yourself first. Community can help (as with Izzy's case), but you still have to put in the work. In retrospect, I'm glad that Izzy didn't get a love interest this season - because he wasn't ready yet, and had to learn how to have normal relationships and friendships with other people before attempting an intimate romantic relationship, lest he ended up falling head first unit another toxic mutually dependent relationship. That's what Stede and Ed should have tried too. Instead the show just ended up using Izzy's death as a quick surgical fix, robbing Ed of his agency and having to do the hard work repairing himself and his relationships with other people. There's a sad irony in getting exactly one character's arc just this, and then using it as a sacrificial lamb to patch over the main character's arc.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒?

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Charlie Dalton x Reader

You were used to it by now—Charlie Dalton’s constant flirting, his smooth lines, the way his hazel eyes gleamed when he was about to say something utterly ridiculous. And you? Well, you never let him get away with it, always armed with some witty comeback that made the boys around you laugh.

"Hey, beautiful, ever wonder what it’s like to kiss a poet?" Charlie smirked, his voice dripping with that usual arrogance.

You raised an eyebrow, rolling your eyes. "Not quite. Maybe I should kiss Todd and find out?"

The boys howled in laughter, Todd burying his face in his hands as Neil playfully nudged Charlie’s shoulder. But, as usual, Charlie wasn’t fazed. He only leaned closer, mischief dancing in his eyes.

"You know," he said, voice lower, "one day you’re gonna run out of sass and finally admit you’re in love with me."

You opened your mouth, prepared to give the perfect retort, when something strange happened. Your cheeks grew warm. No, scratch that—they were on fire. You blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of how close Charlie was standing, how his teasing smile wasn’t just playful anymore, how his eyes were fixed on you, waiting.

What the hell? Why were you blushing?

You quickly muttered something half-baked, barely coherent, and walked away before Charlie could notice the redness that had surely taken over your face. You didn’t understand. You had always been able to brush him off, but now, for some reason, your heart was racing like it was trying to beat out of your chest.

This was new. And horrible.

What was worse? Charlie had noticed. His teasing eyes followed you all day, smirking like he knew something you didn’t. It was unbearable.

You needed help. Desperately.

So, naturally, you sought out the only person who could possibly understand your predicament—Todd Anderson.

It wasn’t hard to find him. Todd was sitting on the lawn by the lake, writing something in his notebook while Neil was off trying to convince Knox to join his latest idea. You marched over, sitting down in front of him without ceremony.

“Todd,” you said, a bit more forcefully than intended.

He looked up, startled. "Yeah?"

"I need your help. It’s about Charlie."

Todd’s eyes widened. "Charlie?" His voice squeaked a little, and his hand twitched, as if just mentioning Charlie’s name brought anxiety. You could relate.

You groaned. “I think I’m broken or something because today, he said something to me, and I—I blushed, Todd. I blushed. Do you have any idea how horrifying that is?”

Todd’s face softened, but he looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Uh, maybe it’s not so bad?” he offered, weakly.

You groaned, collapsing backward on the grass. "It is bad. It’s very bad. You know what it’s like. You blush when Neil says… anything remotely nice to you. What does it mean? Am I… Am I in love with Charlie Dalton?"

Todd hesitated, his face growing red at the mention of Neil. "I don’t know," he mumbled. "Maybe. Or maybe he just got to you. He flirts with everyone… right?"

That hit you like a punch to the gut. You threw your head back, laughing, but there was no real humor in it. “Yeah,” you muttered, a bitter taste creeping into your mouth. “Yeah, exactly.”

He flirts with everyone. Why was this any different?

Why did it suddenly matter?

"But it never bothered me before. Why now?"

Todd looked down at his notebook, fiddling with the pages. "Sometimes," he said quietly, "it hits you when you least expect it."

His words stuck with you, echoing in your mind all day, all night. Hits you when you least expect it. Could that really be true? Could you—no, you weren’t about to fall for Charlie Dalton, of all people.

The next day, Mr. Keating announced a new assignment: "Each of you will present an original poem tomorrow. A poem that reveals a part of yourself you keep hidden."

Great. Exactly what you needed.

The whole evening, you tried to write something, but every word felt forced, every line too… wrong. How were you supposed to write about a feeling you didn’t even understand? You stared at the page, and the only thing that came to mind was Charlie. His grin. His stupid, smug face. The way your stomach twisted every time he called you "beautiful" now.

So, you did the only thing you could think of. You wrote.

The next morning, you walked into Keating’s class with your heart in your throat, clutching the folded piece of paper as if it would burn you.

“Ah, (Y/N),” Mr. Keating greeted warmly. “Ready to share with us?”

“Not really,” you muttered, but stepped forward anyway. The boys were watching, but most of all—Charlie was watching, leaning back in his chair with that lazy grin you hated. No. You didn’t hate it anymore. That was the problem.

You unfolded the paper and took a deep breath.

“A boy with words like arrows, Sharp and playful, but always shallow. Until one day, his arrows land, Not in jest, but in my hand.

How do you laugh when you’re struck? How do you breathe with no air? What do you do when the jokes stop feeling like jokes, And start feeling like… something else?”

Your voice faltered, but you kept going, feeling all the confusion and frustration pour out.

“The world tips sideways, Colors all wrong. Why does he make me stutter? Why do I feel like I’m walking on a tightrope, One wrong word from falling into his arms?”

The room was quiet now. You could feel every pair of eyes on you, but none more than Charlie’s. You didn’t dare look up.

“Maybe this is what love feels like: Messy, sharp, unexpected, Like an arrow in the dark.”

Your eyes met Charlie’s, and for the first time in a while, there was no teasing in his gaze. He looked... serious.

Todd gave you a small, supportive smile as the silence hung in the air. And then, without saying anything, you took your seat.

But the confusion? It remained. Maybe you’d never understand it. Maybe it didn’t even matter if Charlie flirted with everyone.

What mattered now was how you felt.

[highonmarvel]

Hiii cutie-spud!! I have a request...vampire!bucky? I saw you liked vampires, and this potato likes vampires, so maybe we need a good dick down of vampire!bucky, making sure we can never leave him. After all, he found us, loves us like no other can, shouldn't we give our all to him?

🥔 ❤️ u

Warm

hi! oh my goodness! i’ve been a fan of your work for a few months, i’m so excited you know me! i feel like a bit of a celebrity, i can’t lie. thank you so much! i love you! and i’m sorry this took forever—i’m the world’s slowest writer. i really hope you like this, omg—this is my first time doing a request. okay, here we go.

Vampire!Bucky saves you from a car wreck. 18+

Dub/Non Con Warning!

more content warnings here!

You slowly peel your eyes open, and almost immediately regret doing so—even though it’s dark out, the little light there is adds to your headache, worsening the ringing sound in your ears, and a soft, rhythmic thump. You consider closing your eyes again, slumping forward and drifting back off to the sleep, but that beating becomes louder, and more coherent.

“Hey… Hey… Hey…” is all you can make out, a gentle coo lulling you back to sleep, until an arm shoots through glass and a hand grips on the door handle from the inside. You scream and sit up, noting a sharp but dull pain in your neck as you do so.

“I’m sorry,” a voice calls, still sounding far away and obstructed by the ringing in your ears, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You gasp as the door flies open and a man holds out his arms and coaxes you into them.

Unsure of what’s happening, you fall out of your seat, but he catches you with his strong arms and gentle chants, “It’s okay, I’ve got you, it’s okay…”

You look up at where you had stumbled out from: a car—your car—the front of it squashed against a tree and smoking from the hood.

“My- My car,” you manage to croak as you hold your arms out toward it.

“You had an accident, it’s okay, I’ll call someone, let me just take you back to my place, is that okay?”

You hesitate but even through your hazy mind you manage to remember your phone had died somewhere on the drive down from the mountains—you had been camping with your friends! in a remote area—before the accident. You left before them, and you were all taking the same route back to the city… how could they not have seen you? The ringing in your ears is dying down slightly and your surroundings are eerily quiet—just distant rustling and chirping. It’s dark, and it’s cold, so you must be outside, but you can’t see the moon—you can barely see anything. You look up and can make out just a few stars, the rest of them being covered by long, thin tendrils breaking into the night sky.

Branches. Trees! You’re in the woods.

“Is that okay?” he repeats.

You groggily look up at him and wince as you nod your head. He stands and effortlessly pulls you up with him; you squeal as he wraps a cold arm around your waist and raises you as he stands. Your feet are dangling off the ground for a moment until he gently sets you down, but keeps his hold on your waist. He brings his left arm over to your right and gently raises it to lay across his shoulders.

“There we go, good job,” he praises quietly as he takes a step forward, before asking if you’re able to walk. You take a step with him and sway slightly, head still spinning, but he catches you before you fall away from him and holds you slightly tighter against him.

“I can carry you,” he offers. You decline.

“You don’t seem like you have any major injuries—thank God—but you’re…” he slows down and drops the hand you have draped over his shoulders. He brings his fingers up to lightly touch your temple, to which you wince, “Sorry,” he mumbles, bringing his hand to his eyes, pale finger tips now stained with crimson, “You’re bleeding.”

You can barely make him out in the blackness of the forest and through your slightly blurred vision, but you swear his eyes flash with something… something you can’t name. But you can barely think about it; he swiftly picks your hand up again and starts walking.

It’s not possible to tell how long you were walking, but you can’t say it feels excruciating, your legs aren’t tired from the walk either; and you can’t tell the distance you’ve travelled, as you had just kind of zoned out, letting him do most of the work as you mindlessly pulled along.

But by the time you had reached a cabin, you were starting to regain a better form of comprehension, though your head was still aching.

You were grateful for the warmth of the cozy lodge, by size it was clear he lived alone.

“Thank you…” you say as he sets you down on a brown leather couch and hands you a blanket. You throw the warm cover over your shoulders and hold the corners together in the front as you settle a little more comfortably.

“Bucky,” he finishes for you with a smile.

“Bucky,” you complete your thanks, and give him your name in return.

“Does anything hurt?” he asks, calling over his shoulder as he ducks into a cupboard and begins rummaging around.

“My head’s killing me—apart from that, no,” you respond as he comes up, holding a small first aid kit in hand.

“Guess a concussion,” he says as he sits in a leather seat across from you, setting the bag down on the table next to it, “But here,” he lightly touches your left temple and you jerk away slightly. He pulls back to stare down at his fingers, “You’re bleeding… a lot. I think you need stitches.”

As he spoke he stared at his blood-painted fingers, for some reason making you uneasy. You shift uncomfortably and pull the blanket tighter around you. You lightly clear your throat and say, “I don’t need an ambulance or anything, but we should probably call someone to get my car, and, uhm, they can take me home.”

“I see a lot of you,” he says as he stands. Under the soft, yellow light of the cabin, you’re able to get a better look at him: he’s fair-skinned, tall, and strong with slightly wild hair, and even wilder eyes, fixated on you with a… hunger, like you’ve never seen; not just predatory, nearly inhuman altogether, “A lot of people come up and stay for no more than three days, and their biggest concern? Bears.”

He locks the door.

“When there’s much worse to fear out here.”

You’re unable to speak as he stalks towards you.

“And I’ve watched you, and I like you,” you shift up the couch, trying to put distance between you and him… or, you and… it.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, you didn’t seem to be having too good a time,” he sits in the spot you just were and watches you squirm slightly, before he simply places his hand on your ankle and you still, paralysed, “Looked like you wanted to enjoy the scenery, and I kept thinking, ‘She should have come alone.’”

You had wanted to come alone; though you loved Natasha and Yelena, they weren’t much into exploring, preferring to stay at camp around the fire and stick to the set hiking trails, which, absolutely, you enjoyed, but they didn’t want to stray too far from the set paths—though the location was remote, it was by no means unpopular, and everyone pretty much knew the safe places to stay. One night you had taken a stroll, and could have sworn you felt eyes on you.

“Your friends… they seem nice, sweet, even. And they were.”

The way he annunciates sweet. And… they were sweet? You don’t get a chance at exactly comprehending him until he interrupts your thoughts in less than a moment,

“But I know you taste better.”

You gasp and push away further as cold fingers wrap around your ankle, but he’s pulled you down and is on you in a second, hovering above you with a smile; teeth impossibly white with… fangs.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your bleeding temple, pulling back to look at you with red lips. He flicks his tongue out and nearly moans at the taste, still grinning down at you.

Adrenaline coming from you don’t know where, you pull your knee in and punch up hard against his groin. He nearly falls on top to you with a grunt as he clutches his crotch, but you roll aside and tumble to the floor, hastily standing up as you dart for the door, manoeuvring around the coffee table and knocking stuff off the mantle of the fireplace in your rush to get to the exit. Of course he’s faster, blocking the exit and pushing you down.

You shriek as you fall backwards, actually nearly falling into the fireplace, and he lands over you, skilfully sticking out his arms on either side so he doesn’t crash into you. With really nowhere to go but into the fire, you try to shift down underneath him, but he painfully grips your neck and tugs you back up, holding your head just above the fire. You grasp at his grip on your throat with one hand and hold yourself from dropping into the flames with the other, your elbow dangerously close and heating up, and strands of hair coming loose—you wonder how your hair hasn’t caught fire.

“How many men have said they’ll love you forever… and how many really can?” he questions, to which you can barely even hear through your circulation cutting off and the imminent danger of being burnt alive, “You know what I am,” he continues, lowly, dropping his lips to your ear, “You know what I can do.”

When he pulls away, you notice the steel blue eyes you had not known well have turned to a red, and that you feel like you know all too well; eyes that have been watching you.

He swings you down underneath him and you fly through his legs, gasping for air. Your head hits the wooden floor hard and starts up that ringing again.

He lifts you up easily and holds you to his chest. You struggle in his hood as he tries to calm you; “I saved you, remember? I’m not gonna hurt you; I could have left you to die, but I didn’t, see? Because you’re special, so special…”

You’re not sure where he’s walking to until he tosses you onto a bed. You can’t even bounce against the mattress before he’s got a knee between your thighs and has gathered your wrists into one of his hands, holding them above your head. You struggle underneath him, but he still he continues in a gentle voice, “I saved you, you owe me—in fact, this benefits you; I can make you feel good, you need it, angel.”

“Bucky, no,” you say, firmly, but he might as well not have heard it.

He brings his other hand down to rub circles on your thigh.

“You’re warm,” he notes, though you assume just about anything is warmer than him—he’s so cold it burns, like dry ice.

You (nearly) regret wearing shorts when he runs his cold hands up your thighs; you shiver, and not because of the cold.

There’s something so… otherworldly about his touch; it’s foreign, yet so familiar it scares you. He shifts down and lightly grazes his teeth over your thigh. You whimper in anticipation, and he smiles against your skin.

“And you’re soft…”

He does it; his fangs pierce your thigh, and you wince at the sharp sting, but you just can not bring yourself to push him away, or even kick anymore, there’s some primal need to have him, that disgusts you, your body completely betraying you to give up to a man from fiction, old wives tales—that’s all vampires were supposed to be.

But you’ve got one between your legs.

He sucks, yet more gentle than you thought, and not for long, drawing blood from you in short intakes. After just a few seconds he pulls away and looks up at you with red eyes and a grin, exposed sharp teeth stained in a deep crimson.

This is quite literally the most danger you’ve ever been in; there’s no way in fucking hell you could escape a demon from there, from hell.

You press a hand to the thigh he bit, and bring your index and middle fingers up to stare at the two spots, watching as the red dots seep down to your palm with your mouth slightly open. You can not believe what’s happening, panic now really setting in.

It’s so odd, the juxtaposition between his soothing touches and dangerous nature. You’re near hyperventilating when he leans down to your neck. He pushes your hair away and brushes his lips against you, breathing steady, while you stare up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling so fast you’re afraid it may burst. You bring your left hand up to smack him away, but he catches your wrist and softly sets your palm against his cheek.

“Did I scare you?” he whispers, and you can feel him suppress a smile, “I do like my damsels in distress…” he drawls, bringing his lips up to your ear, “But you’ll be okay; I saved you. Remember, honey?”

You press your palm down harder, trying to hurt him, but that just pushes him to kiss your neck. You jerk away and turn over on the bed, but he’s there in a flash, elbow propped up on the pillow, holding his cheek in his propped up hand.

“How many men have told you they’d love you for eternity, and how many really can?”

He raises himself up over you, and now he’s looking ravenous; you’re afraid he will literally devour you. Never breaking eye contact, he rips your shorts straight off, and tosses the torn fabric. He brings a hand between your thighs and lightly drags a cold finger over your slit, wet, to your embarrassment.

You expect him to mock you as he raises an eyebrow, but he quickly drops it and brings his hand up to run down the side of your face.

“It’s okay,” he coos, “You know you need this.”

He’s naked before you realise it, fair skin complementing his six pack and strong arms—you don’t stand a chance. He rips your shirt off, and you gasp at the fabric sliding against your skin, leaving you exposed to the relatively warm air of the cozy cabin, but your nipples still perk.

You manage to look at him: he’s fucking huge.

As if reading your mind, “You can take it,” he assures as he slips your underwear off before lining up with you.

Slowly, he enters you with a low groan, and you gasp, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist and grasping at his back, trying to gain some bearings at the intrusion, whimpering. He starts to move at a slow pace, almost like he’s trying to restrain himself, panting as you squeeze around him.

He drops his head to your shoulder, his breathing heavy on your neck as he praises you, “Fuck, you’re so warm… feel so good, you’re doing great for me, angel… doing great.”

He can barely speak through his groans, but either way you can barely hear him, his voice drowned out by your moans as he thrusts into you at a steady enough pace, but still you can hardly take it; this is a different kind of pleasure—as he hits you in just the right spot again, and again, and again—but you can’t figure out why, and you don’t even care, breathing hard as you dig your nails into his back.

He presses his lips back to your neck, and your nerves scale up for a second when he starts harshly sucking, but only to leave a hickey, for sure.

“Bucky,” it’s such a broken plea you wonder if you even got his name out coherently.

“Can you come for me? Can you do that?”

He brings a hand down to circle your clit as his breathing becomes ragged and thrusts harder.

“I- Fuck!” you cry as you convulse, back arching up as you clench down on him. Seconds later he reaches his high, cursing as he comes inside of you, trying to catch his breath with a smile on his face, admiring your wrecked state.

“Good girl,” he breathes, “You did so well, angel.”

You try to turn over, but he grips your hip and pushes it back down, forcing your body to face back up at him.

“I can last forever.”

✪

[frogletscribe]

Im back with more biodiversity rambling!!!

Went for a simpler style to doodle these guys out a little faster bc i have MANY thoughts always (warning this may or may not be coherent, i apologize in advance)

IMPOARTANT NOTE: the only thing even remotely canon here is the Forest and Reef Na'vi (debatable bc they are still my own interpretations), everything else is just my own musings and personal need for more variation among Na'vi.

In previous posts i think i mentioned the insane venn diagram that lives in my head of forever overlapping and endless combos of Na'vi yadayadayada, this is (LOOSLY) that.

SO, if you have seen my initial post (here) some of these guys might be familiar, but since then, i added Wetlands, Highlands, Glacier and Ash? people! And I have Thoughts ™️

Now I'm gonna hold off on Ash? people for the most part here, mostly because i am a creature that likes at least some level of "Canon Compliance" and we really won't know anything about them until the next film, so i have yet to form any solid headcanons. That being said, I do have a couple quick things:

The name 'Ash People' leads me to think that their generally building lives/evolving around volcanic areas, grey/darker skin tones from evolving around ash?

Thicker/rough skin (volcanic rocks are sharp!) and less fur/fluff on their tails.

Wetlands I imagine as clans that have evolved as a combo or River and Reef, but also Plains, as wetlands (at least as I understand them, i know that there's more to them than this but I am simplifying here) are effectively big wet fields.

I liked the idea of how if River Na'vi developed 'armor' due to swimming in constantly moving water with lots of rocks/fish/debree/etc, that Wetlands might be similar, but not quite on the same level.

Comparatively, Wetlands have no claws, and a thinner more paddle-like tail, more similar to Reef Na'vi.

Highlands I see as Plains Na'vi that evolved for colder biomes, so they keep the builds, maybe in general larger on average, closer coloring to Plains Na'vi and the longer tails, fur and claws of Mountain Na'vi.

Lastly Glacier Na'vi is the Mountain + Reef combo to create the giant spotted seal people of my dreams. I did not show it well here, but I think both Mountain and Glacier hold more fat in their bodies than other Na'vi, as well as Reef Na'vi being physically larger as well. That combo probably makes Glacier Na'vi massive (like 12-14 ft tall). Living in significantly colder climates, they need to be able to hold more heat in their bodies too, so they are physically much larger all around.

All of these are still just loose and I continue to be vague about a lot of it bc biodiversity and cultures that evolved around a given biome are two separate things to me. I like that these can be used as like umbrellas that the actual clan cultures can be born under, but not 'rules' or anything.

(I do have at least 1 (possibly 2) fan clan situations cooking in my noggin that i am slowly working on, but that's also something i want to be very conscientious about as I build it out.)

Anyways! Thanks for reading if you made it this far! Let me know your thoughts, I love talking about this sort of thing, hearing people's feedback and building off of it!!

[bicheetopuff]

Grill I have a sudden thought. Epiphany if you will.. Call it curiosity even!

Kirishima is kind of a parallel torwards Izuku in some way when being friends with Kats (just more, confident and less bullying and Kiri being a rock)

But what about Iida?

like, For some reason- Iida does seen Izuku as a rival and kind of want to prove himself that he can be more with or without izu-

I am- I'm not sure how to word this. I am not good with words, but I think what I want to say that Izu and Kats kind of have a type when befriending others

Iida & Katsuki (Similarity)

Loud

Studios

Prideful

Not chill

Goal minded (I'm stupid maybe)

Rule binding (Kats is just very chaotic in responding to rules)

Both probably sleeps at 8 PM

I'm not sure anymore I think you can list it better than I do-

Help this is not even remotely a coherent thought, so please just ignore it if it doesn't make sense

Have Izu for your troubles!💞

bkdk is the only ship I ship, just- thoughts

Don’t worry, bkdk is constantly on my mind too, I get it.

I actually really love the way Izuku and Iida’s relationship parallels Katsuki and Kirishima’s and it makes me kinda sad that people stopped talking about them.

I wouldn’t say that they parallel in dynamic very much, but they parallel in a sense that Katsuki and Izuku are so obviously jealous of each others friends. Well… not jealous, but there’s definitely a feeling of, “I’m glad he found a friend who treats him the way he deserves to be treated, because I am in no place to be the one to give him that no matter how much I want to,” kind of mutual insecurity. And it’s made so blatantly obvious (even being confirmed in an interview) that I genuinely wonder what Horikoshi was thinking when he decided to do it. Like, what were his intentions with that? Outside of obvious yearning?

Like, I feel like Iida and Kirishima is who bkdk wishes the other could see them as. Kirishima has that same overly positive spirit and self sacrificial heroic attitude that Izuku has that Katsuki hates so much. The difference is, Izuku’s self sacrificial attitude isn’t healthy while Kirishima’s is, because Kirishima’s quirk is literally a shield which makes it nearly impossible for him to inflict injuries onto himself deliberately like Izuku does. Kirishima is Izuku without the fatal flaws that worries Katsuki so much. Now with Iida, he’s an organized goody two shoes with a tendency to let his emotions spill over in a scary/somewhat violent way, just like Katsuki. However, Iida is also missing Katsuki’s fatal flaws. Iida is stubborn but he’s able to let people into his life and he doesn’t have an explosive temper, nor does he have an extremely inflated ego. He has a similar social pressure that Katsuki had growing up with his family and other adults in his life pre-projecting him to be a great hero and having him set a standard for himself that he isn’t able to reach until realizes his weaknesses, which he’s able to do a lot faster than Katsuki was able to.

They don’t just parallel in their relationships, but they parallel narratively too fairly often. I touched on it a bit in this post [x], but I’ll explain it a little more since I find it fascinating.

Since Izuku views Kirishima as Katsuki’s ideal friend, and Katsuki views Iida as Deku’s ideal friend, they kind of act on it in a way that ended up setting up the whole narrative about hand holding in the story.

With this,

Being a clear call back to this:

(I also wanna point out that the memory of Ochako saying that “he’ll think it’s disgraceful to get rescued” being recalled in both of those chapters)

I feel like both “You’ve always managed to outpace me!!” and “I probably shouldn’t be the one…” are proof of that insecurity I mentioned earlier. They truly don’t believe that they’re the most important people to each other, and their mutual belief in that just kind of proves them wrong ironically. These two scenes is them indirectly extending their hand through someone else, because they think that someone else would do it better.

There’s way too much emphasis on them being scared to hold hands for it to be considered platonic, IM SORRY BUT IM NOT BUYING IT

I’m sorry if this wasn’t coherent, it’s literally 2am where I am…

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Please be naked - Matty Healy

A/N: remember when i said i was done? false. @awellposhmagazine you sweetheart ilysm and i hope u dont die. @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff thank u for your slave labour in finding the lyric for this fic xx

wc: 4.5k

content warnings: smut, fluff, use of sex toys (butt plug, strap), pegging, edging, exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, degradation but in a sweet way, praise, face-sitting, restraint (she holds him down), teasing, lots and lots of condescension, begging, the return of the little red kia, it gets weirdly poetic towards the end, two kinky knobheads in love

Matty was bold, always has been. Personal boundaries? Shame? Embarrassment? All foreign concepts to him. Evident in the way he spoke before he thought, blurting out strings of words that didn't even make sense most of the time. His behavior was no different, always going for the shock factor whenever interacting with you. 

Which is why you were now standing in the middle of your shared bedroom, eyes flicking between him and the small, plastic device in your hand. He had strolled into the room awfully giddy, topless and grinning at you wildly, holding something in the palm of his hand, stopping right in front of you. You raised your eyebrows as he pressed the remote against your chest, it taking you a while to recognise it. 

Eyes widening and staring at the object, you looked back at matty who had this mischievous glint in his eye, obviously plotting something. Your words caught in your throat when you tried to speak, struggling to form coherent sentences. 

“Is this-?” you try to confirm that he was, in fact, standing in front of you with a buttplug in his arse. Matty wasn't shy, nodding his head slowly as it clicks in your head. It wasn't an impulse purchase, per se, just a surprising one. Matty had gone back to that same sex shop multiple times, even making friends with the owner (because of course he would), purchasing a multitude of odd toys to ‘gift’ to you. But only one of them genuinely took you by surprise: a black buttplug, holographic shimmers decorating the base.   

“Yeah.” he breathes, squirming around on his spot, running his fingers through his freshly washed hair. You choose your next words carefully. 

“And you-” Maybe he was taking the piss? A cruel joke, but you wouldn't put it past him.

“I’m wearing it.”

“But- we’re about to go-”

You cut yourself off, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. The two of you had made plans with your mates, agreeing to meet up at a sort of bar-restaurant thing that had recently opened a few blocks down from your house. Was this really the best time to pull a stunt like this?

“I know. I want you to do it while we’re out.” he takes a step closer, brushing his fingers against your waist, refusing to touch you properly. Your heart beats erratically in your chest, and you try to breath steadily, composing yourself

“I want you to make me moan in your ear while our friends watch.” 

You had always had this sneaking, sneaking suspicion about your boyfriend and his penchant for attention. His loud and pretentious manner drew people in, watching him with a certain look in their eye that he absolutely relished in.

You're snapped back to the present moment as he turns on the heel of his foot, walking towards the door and away from you. He’d closed it on his way in out of pure habit, not realizing the precarious position he had put himself in. 

Your body moved a bit quicker than your mind, hand making contact with his lower back as you forced him forward against the closed door. He yelps as his cheek smushes against the cool wood, muffling his gasps as you feel him up from behind.

Your hands run up his bare chest, catching his pierced nipple between two of your fingers, tweaking it harshly.

His breathing speeds up as you grind against his arse, pressing your body flush against him and in turn, pressing him up against the door even harder. His skin is smooth under your touch, goosebumps breaking out wherever your fingertips danced, a small sigh of satisfaction leaving your lips. 

“Think you can just order me around? Have me do whatever you want?” your voice is low in his ear, your free hand running over the controls of the remote you were holding. This sudden change of pace makes Matty’s head spin, disorienting him right when he thought he had bested you, leaving you speechless. You tap the device against his hip, feeling him twitch slightly at the sudden pressure.

“I’m going to make you regret it. Wish you never gave this pretty little thing to me.” you coo into his ear, condescension coating your words. 

The click is soft, but his reaction is anything but. Matty, always so sure of himself, had bought one specifically designed to directly stimulate the prostate when inserted, the vibrations only amplifying the sensation. His knees weakened under him, the only thing holding his body up being the weight of yours pressing him up against the door.

Turning the toy off, you sigh and let him go, making him fall to the floor at the sudden loss of support. He yelps as his knees hit the hard floorboards, eyes darting up to meet yours while he tries to steady his breathing, willing himself to not get hard.

“I’ll be downstairs.” you say, and he can only nod in response, scrambling to get up and finish getting dressed, the plug shifting inside him with every move he makes, small groans spilling from his parted lips. 

It takes longer than usual for Matty to finish up, meeting you at the front door dressed in the same jeans you had left him in, paired with a yellow t-shirt, slightly too small for him. You chuckle at the sight, a small sliver of skin being revealed by the too-short fabric. 

The place was a short walk away, maybe ten minutes if you walked fast. It saved Hann the pain of having to drive and pick you up, whining about the cost of gas and how his car wouldn't be able to take much more if he was constantly chauffeuring the two of you around (you find he was overreacting a bit, but it is his car).

The process of putting on your respective shoes is done in silence, the tension thick in the air as you take your keys off the hook, stuffing them into your pocket. Matty was right behind you, fastenting the straps of his boots, the clanging metal impossibly loud in the echo of the foyer.

Sun hits your face the moment you step outside, welcoming the comfortable warmth it brought with it, a soft breeze blowing through your hair. The click of your shoes against the pavement was even, the road fairly empty as you walked, hand in hand, Matty’s fingers tightly clasping yours. 

The restaurant/pub was more Ross’ aesthetic, the earthy, wooden exterior not really what you were used to. You could feel Matty speed up as you neared the entrance, excited to finally see his mates again, have a drink and talk shit. Your hand moves away from his, gently settling on his lower back, stopping him in his tracks as he grasps the door handle, about to pull it open. 

You bring your lips to his ear, his hair slightly in the way, curls brushing against your face lightly.

“You going to behave?” you whisper, warning him. His smirk tells you all you need to know before he even opens his mouth to speak.

“In your wildest dreams.” he blows you a cheeky kiss and flings the door wide open, cutting off your retort.

Ross and Hann greet him first, lifting their pints in his direction. His laugh as he sees them is infectious, making you crack a fond smile as they all hug, Matty sliding into the booth next to Ross. George gets up from his chair, pulling you in for a tight hug and saying how nice it was to see you and Matty, pushing a french martini in your direction.

“I could kiss you.” you say, bringing the glass up to your lips, taking a grateful sip. George chuckles, his deep voice oddly comforting.

“No need, pretty sure Matty would stab my eyes out.”

“What would I do!?” Matty yells at him, only catching a small part of his sentence, too engrossed in his storytelling to listen to his answer. You wave your hand in dismissal, turning your attention to Matty’s story, a detailed recount of his first kiss. 

How he got to that topic within ten minutes of entering the joint was beyond you, but you listened, laughing at the gross descriptions of the girls lips, using way too many adjectives Ross didn't even know existed. 

The remote is heavy in your pocket, burning a hole into your skin as an idea pops into your head.

He chats animatedly, his voice loud and booming, so unmistakably him. 

“Genuinely tasted like sand, nearly impossible to get any real acti-” you cut him off by clicking the toy on, his eyes immediately widening at the sensation. He chokes a bit, his words coming out weird and in bits before he decides to try and cover it up with a cough. The guys give him a weird look and you play along, raising your eyebrows at him. 

“Alright, Matty?” Ross asks, taking a sip of his pint at the sudden, awkward silence. You grin at him, turning the vibrations down a bit so he could speak.

“Everythings good, just got a fucked throat.” he smooth talks his way out of it, glaring at you from across the table as the conversation shifts.

You continue toying with him, playing with the remote mindlessly as the minute tick by, another round of drinks being bought by Hann. Whenever he goes to speak, you make a point to turn the vibrations up, even if only a little bit, just to watch him squirm in his seat, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Mate, you look wrecked. Sure you're okay?” Hann presses a paternal hand to his head, checking his temperature. Matty was flushed a bright shade of pink, a look of pleasure on his face only you could truly recognise, having seen him in this exact position a thousand times. Yearning, begging, willing to do anything just to finally have some relief.

“Y-yeah sorry, I must've caught something.” he forces out, a slight edge to his voice as you eye him, catching a suspicious glance from George next to you.

“Go home then, I'll even drive you back.” he offers, earning a groan from the other two men. Apologizing, you offer to buy everyone a round on you as a peace offering for leaving early. Hann promises to come back after, not letting Matty’s little bout of illness ruin a perfectly good outing. If only they knew.

He’s a bit sick I reckon, nothing a good rest cant fix.” you move to get up, brushing off your jeans as you shuffle out of the booth, watching Matty closely.

“Dickhead.” he mutters as he passes by, being led to the car by Adam. You grin from ear to ear, taking your revenge.

“Watch it, sweetheart.” you click the vibrator on higher, making his knees buckle and he falls into your arms, a look of betrayal, mixed with undeniable pleasure, evident on his face.

“Jesus, Matty, let's get you home.” you mutter, your voice one of faux-concern as you stroke his hair, half carrying him to the car.

The car ride is oddly quiet, Hann making casual conversation as Matty curls up in the backseat, knees to his chest, feigning illness. The radio plays softly in the background, some country stuff that was popular.

“No music commentary today? Pretty sure this is Taylor Swift.” you chuckle at your mates words, watching Matty’s reaction in the rearview mirror. 

“She’s fit.” His voice is slightly raspy, teasing as he makes eye contact through the reflection, almost as if challenging you. You roll your eyes, a prick of jealousy bubbling up inside of you.

“Not as fit as my girl though.” he adds, making Hann groan in disgust.

“I don't need to bear witness to your weird flirting. It's bad enough having to watch you drunk snog every week.” 

Even though you tried to keep your affection to a minimum around the guys, with alcohol being thrown into the mix it was impossible to keep your hand off each other. The brick wall of the alleyway behind the bar had seen a lot of makeout sessions, and more often than not, Hann or George would walk out for a smoke right when Matty was shoving his tongue down your throat.

“Why do you watch us? Might be a sign, mate.” Matty mumbles, kicking the back of the driver's seat aggressively, making it shake.

“I hope you choke.”

“So does she.” he sniggers, wiggling his eyebrows at an exhausted Adam, at his limit with Matty’s bullshit for the day.

“Ugh, please stop.” 

You wave goodbye to him and walk up to the front door, unlocking it swiftly as Matty trails behind you, legs weak and barely holding himself upright as the toy buzzed inside of him. He lets out a string of gasps as you turn it up, clicking a total of two times with an intention to overwhelm him. 

“What's wrong, love? Too much?” you ask, cupping his face with your left hand. His eyes are glazed over, tears threatening to spill as pleasure radiates through his entire body.

“F-fuck me, jesus thats high.” he pants, chest heaving as you grin, satisfied.

“You picked it out.”

“Not to be used against me.” he shoots back, slowly getting used to the sensation, his mind clearing enough to speak properly.

“And whose fault is that?” you press your lips to his in a chaste kiss, the weight of you against him driving him insane, getting lost in your touch. Pulling away suddenly, you put a bit of distance between the two of you.

“Fuck you-” he cuts himself off with a choked moan, his hand twitching as he attempted to stand up straight.

“Go upstairs and wait nice and pretty for me, yeah? I'll be right there.”

He moves faster than you expect, stumbling up the stairs in the direction of your shared bedroom, his footsteps heavy.

You know exactly what you want to do, the whole day building up to this exact moment. Gathering a few items from a certain box that lived on the shelf in your living room, simple and unassuming, you follow his path, peeling off your shirt as you walk, discarding it somewhere in the hallway.

Matty is naked on the bed when you enter the room, back slightly arched as the plug pressed up against his prostate, his cock hard and aching, leaking all over the sheets. Your heart skips a beat when he smirks at you, his hair thrown carelessly over his face curls obscuring a small part of it.

“No strip-tease today?” he shakes his head, smug expression wiped from his face as his eyes fall on your chest, clad in only a simple, black bra.

“Can’t fucking- please darling, please I need you so bad.” he whimpers, hips bucking upwards as you dangle the remote in front of him, kneeling onto the bed between his legs.

You look up at him with an innocent expression, eyes wide as you watch him squirm, so desperate for your touch it made him dizzy.

“What do you want from me?” you whisper, the edge to your voice making Matty still. Obviously, he was expecting more of a fight, more begging, more effort. You were in a different sort of mood today, much to his delight. 

“Sit on my face, make me earn it, please. Wanna taste you on my tongue, make you feel so good.” he moans, the toy making him see stars behind his eyes. Matty’s in a daze that only happens every so often, his cocky and arrogant demeanor nowhere to be seen. Instead, it's replaced by a look of utter devotion, willingness to give up every fiber of himself to you, hand over his mind, body, and soul, placing it carefully in your hands.

“So eager.”

“Only for you.”

His cock twitches against his stomach as you peel off your jeans, your panties quick to follow suit, gone in a pile on the floor. Eyes trained on you, he watches how you shuffle upwards, glistening cunt hovering over his mouth in anticipation. His hands come up to grip your thighs, attempting to pull you down onto him, your resistance making him frown.

“I don’t want to crush you.” you murmur, a small moment of weakness in a situation where you held all the power. He looks at you confused before reassuringly shaking his head, running his fingers over your cunt, making you gasp in pleasure.

“Please.” his voice cracks, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine at the simple word.

Lowering yourself onto him, he tugs you completely onto his mouth, not letting you hover. The room instantly fills with your moans, the sounds bouncing off the walls and going straight to his cock, beads of precum spilling from his tip.

The toy buzzes against his prostate, making him whimper against your cunt as you play with the settings, never letting him get used to it before switching it up. His tongue laps at your clit, sucking it between his lips, creating a delicious suction he knew made your mind go blank. You grab onto the metal bed frame for stability, back arching as the pleasure between your legs took over your entire body.

You hear him whine beneath you, the pressure of the plug getting to be too much, his hips bucking wildly for any sort of friction, being met with only air. The obscenity of his actions only spurs you on, filthy words falling from your lips as your orgasm rapidly approaches.

“So good for me, eating me all messy. Like it when I tell you how good you're being for me?” you breath, words broken up by gasps of pleasure as he draws figure eights on your clit with his tongue. His curls stick to his forehead, the room stinking of sex and his fucking perfume, clinging to his skin like some kind of sex pollen.

“Fuck, i’m so close, please make me cum.” you breathe, looking down to rake your eyes over his face, being met with a blissed out expression as he shoves his way inside of you, tongue stroking your velvety walls.

“Oh fuck, fuck, right there just keep doing that.” he lets you grind against his face, licking a thick stripe over your folds, making you shudder as your climax hits you like a freight train, pleasure crashing over you in mind numbing waves, your legs clamping around his head.

It takes you longer than normal to catch your breath, your skin sticky with sweat as you pant, shuffling down his body to settle on his hips, his cock grinding against your arse from behind.

“So good, love the way you clench around my tongue.” you cringe, screwing your eyes shut at his choice of words. You flush a deep shade of red when he winks at you, licking his lips provocatively, refusing to break eye contact.

“You're so filthy, can you at least try to use metaphors? Christ.”

“Nah, much better seeing you blush for me.” an exasperated sigh leaves your lips, looking unimpressed by his attempt at a flirt. You’d believe he was only joking, purely messing around if it wasn't for the way his cock leaked onto the sheets, twitching at every vibration of the toy inside of him.

“God, your ego is huge.”

“Not the only thing that's huge.” jesus.

“Oh, fuck off, honestly.”

“Only if you promise to fuck me first.” his tone changes, and you know he’s deadly serious.

His eyes flicker over to the strap laying innocently on the bed, silently begging you to have some sort of mercy.

“Did it feel good, almost having the guys catch you?” you ask, lowering your voice as you reach for the toy, your movements excruciatingly slow. He shuffles under you, one of his arms lazily resting behind his head, trying to appear lax.

“Felt even better seeing you watch me, trying to get me to react.” you giggle, his words ringing painfully true.

The whole point of playing with the controls was to see exactly what made him squirm, moan against his glass and attempt to cover the whole thing up with a cough, eyes desperate to find yours as you chatted to George, pretending to be blissfully unaware of his little predicament.

“You did, didnt you?” of course he did, how could he not?

“You try having a massive plug pressed up against your prostate for an hour.”

“Youre so vulgar, fuck's sake.” you groan, pressing a hand to your forehead in disappointment. You loved him, but Matty’s choice of words was incredibly unsexy at times, ruining the mood.

“Just-” he starts, cut off by his own gasp, the toy shifting inside him slightly, hitting his G-spot with jarring accuracy.

“What?” you tease, narrowing your eyes at him as he flushes a deep crimson, the blush spreading from his face down to his chest, making your heart skip a beat.

“Just- fuck me, i’ve been ready for you since-” he yelps when your hands find his waist, maneuvering him onto his stomach, quite aggressively at that. His face is pushed into a decorative pillow, muffling his sounds of protests, much to your delight.

“Since?”

“Since you pressed me up against that door.” he mumbles, rutting against the mattress, an attempt at some kind of relief, having spent the better part of two hours right on that edge, nothing substantial to push him off it.

“Really? Must’ve been pretty painful, walking around hard where our mates could see you.” You think back to Ross’ weird look. Matty had already let slip that he told him more than was necessary, the thought making you shudder. Imagine if he knew the actual reason you had left in such a hurry, desperate to get home to ‘nurse Matty back to health’.

“Please, darling, I'm so ready for it, just let go. Fuck me so dumb I cant think. I deserve it.” he moans, pressing his hips towards you, arching his back. You catch a glimpse of the plug, the sight making your heart speed up, thrumming against your ribcage as you fumble with the strap, using his little ramble to slip it over your hips, tightening the clasps.

“You deserve it, do you?” your mouth is right against his ear as you lean over him, pressing the tip of the flush against his arse. The remote is abandoned on the other side of the bed, too out of reach for you to turn down the toy, leaving Matty helpless and twitching, the pleasure being just too little to make him cum. He lets out an infuriated groan when you chuckle, the bed creaking as you get comfortable on your knees.

“What you deserve.” you whisper into his ear, hearing his breath hitch at the proximity. “Is to be fucking destroyed.” he gasps, feeling your fingertips ghost over the base of the plug before slowly slipping it out of him, leaving him empty and wanting.

“Please.” The word is small, miniscule as he trembles under your touch, his body limp against the mattress. 

You take your time, pressing the tip of the strap against his entrance, teasing him until he jerks under you, his voice high pitched and exhausted, yearning for any kind of relief. Brushing his hair out of his face, you grab his jaw, making his neck crane to look at you. His eyes are wide, an insatiable hunger evident in them.

Sultry moans spill from his lips as you press inside of him, barely giving him a moment to breathe before thrusting out, setting a fast-paced rhythm as he writhed against you, grinding back onto the strap like his life depended on it.

“Fuck, thats so good, oh my- yesyesyes.” he whines, hands moving down to grip his cock. You catch him before he does, pinning his wrists above his head as you relentlessly drill into him, drinking every noise he makes.

“So deep, shit. Fuck me, god- harder.” your stomach flips, the sound of him begging you to take him even harder making you feel dizzy with power. He groans against the pillow when you speed up, one of your hands gripping his waist for leverage, hitting his prostate with scary accuracy.

“Harder, yeah? I’m going to take you apart bit by bit, love, make you scream my name until your throat is actually sore.”

“Feel how good I fuck you? Reduce you to little pieces at my feet where you belong.” you're drunk with power, Matty’s twitching and desperate frame beneath you sending you to another plane of existence, making you believe that if there truly was a heaven, this would be it.

“I’m yours, fuck- all yours- Please, don’t stop.” his eyes water at the force of your thrusts, and you feel him shake at the strength of his impending orgasm. You reach down his mouth at his neck, biting down hard, littering his neck with deep, aggressive bruises that you knew would last for days to come, if not weeks.

"You make me feel so good." he mutters, and you feel a sense of pride swell up inside of you. 

“Cum for me, love, please, I wanna see how good I make you feel.” his muscles tense under your grasp, arms flexing under the skin of his tattoos. 

“I’m so close, please don't stop, fuck, I love you so much.”

You love him too. It's all you could do, show him how much you loved him, how much he occupied your every thought and action. Everything depended on him, nothing existing without the knowledge that he was by your side, giving your life true, veritable meaning.

“So good for me, Matthew. Let go, feel it, let it consume you.” he frantically grinds against the mattress, chasing his high as you whisper dirty words into his ear, encouraging him.

“Oh god- just- fuckkk.” he finally cums with a cry of your name, hips bucking up against your strap as he heaves, sputtering and moaning uncontrollably

“So pretty when you cum, fuck, love it when you scream my name, love.” he goes limp as spurts of cum spill onto the sheets, his thighs tensing at the sheer intensity of his orgasm, eyes screwed shut with bliss.

Your hand releases his wrists, soothing raking your nails over his back, bringing him down slowly, not wanting to overwhelm him.

“You’re perfect, my gorgeous boy.” you coo, peppering kisses down his bare skin, licking at the harsh bite marks from earlier, blooming on his neck.

“Yeah, m’yours darling, all yours.” he mumbles, hazy from his climax, mind still foggy from the pure pleasure he had experienced. You slip out of him, watching how he clenched around the toy, as if trying to keep you inside of him.

“I love you.” you whisper, hugging him tightly from behind.

“I love you too, now get down here.” he violently tugs you down next to him, cupping your face in both hands, still trembling slightly. A genuine smile spreads onto his face as he kisses you gently, enjoying this tender moment of vulnerability between the two of you, wanting it to last forever. The two of you giggle into each other's mouths, giddy and relaxed, at peace.

“I love you.” he rolls his eyes playfully, grinning against your lips.

“You already said that.”

“I know.”

[insomniumstella]

drunken nights

bucky x reader

summary: this story genuinely does not have anything that could remotely resemble a plot.

warnings: smut, 18&up only

word count: 1,369

author’s note: foreplay? never heard of it. i should stop writing when i’m drunk because this is the filthiest of filth i have ever written, but also it could somehow be filthier? idk atp, so i might write a more in-depth follow up once i’m sober. anyways, obsessed by zandros & limi would be the perfect song if you like reading with music in the background!

“You’re such a pretty girl,” he hissed, the sound low and almost delicate, “my girl.” The statement stood true, she thought — she was Bucky’s as much as he was hers, and y/n couldn’t imagine being someone else’s. Not after the events they’ve been through. She had been the woman who stood by his side for years, even when the whole world tried convincing the man he couldn’t ever live as anyone, but the Winter Soldier.

“Thank you.” She felt her cheeks heat up, her words coming out mumbled as she wrapped her lips around his cock once more.

James Buchanan Barnes was as perfect as boyfriends could get, and after the painstakingly hard mission he had just gotten home from, y/n believed he deserved to come undone, whether it was by her mouth or her entire body. James was the kind of man she was willing to provide special treatment for, always; the first and the only for he had ruined her. No one fucked better than James Barnes.

She licked his red tip, tasting the salty pre-cum with delight. Bucky’s abs clenched, involuntary, letting the woman know he was close, and y/n licked a prominent vein on the base of his shaft before continuing her assault on his impressive length when he allowed a strained whimper to pass through his lips.

“Don’t you dare stop, doll.” He clenched the sheets with his flesh hand, the metal appendage coming to grip the base of her neck, guiding his cock deeper down her throat, so deep, she choked, with spit running down both the skin of James’s upper thighs and her chin.

This must be what heaven feels like, he wondered as she took him to the top, forcing his body to crash in the sweetest of waves, his orgasm overtaking the entirety of his body, stretching from Bucky’s tiptoes to his head, short moans falling out of his mouth like a prayer. Her mouth was perfect, she was perfect, and as she licked his slit clean of the salty substance, James decided, that, yes, y/n must be a part of heaven, for I couldn’t imagine such a place without her. 

He allowed himself a moment of uninterrupted peace, the aftershock of his orgasm still settling in his bones. It was only when he opened his eyes did he notice y/n, eyes wide and curious, staring at him. Though she was just on top of him, taking control, she had gone back to seeming utterly submissive, the expression on her face permitting James the knowledge that he had already known for years — she wanted to, and she would, do anything and everything he’d ask of her. She’d let him mold her like clay in any shape or form he craved for the night. And, no, James would never take advantage of the woman, but, yes, he would grant her the most satisfying of pleasure, and, maybe, only if she agreed, which she always did anyways, he’d ruin her further, driving his cock into her pussy from the most outrageous of positions he could think of until the only coherent word she could muster was a weak sound of his name. 

“Princess,” he purred, “would you please get down on all fours for me?” He smiled innocently, and y/n could not disobey the charming expression. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

James came to kneel behind her, his dick hard once again, almost throbbing for friction, and when the back of her thighs touched his own, he swore he could probably come again just from the sight of y/n on her knees and forearms, back arched at a perfect angle. 

He palmed himself a few times before teasing her entrance. She was dripping from anticipation and the previous orgasm James ripped from her. It was so fresh in her mind it didn’t register as a memory — his lips sucking her clit, his long fingers diving between her aching walls. He had pinned her thighs to their shared bed, forcing the woman to keep them open no matter how much she wanted to close her legs from the intensity of it all. He had been simultaneously soft and rough, edging her until all she could do was beg, broken please falling from her mouth, accompanied by let me come, sir. 

“You’re taking my cock so well, doll.” James praised his girlfriend once he finally bottomed out, heavy balls slapping against the skin of her inner thighs, and she let out a high-pitched moan. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath after a couple of strokes, each more desperate than the last, “have you always been this tight?”

She didn’t answer, too lost in the pleasure of James thrusting in and out, each stroke hitting the most sensitive spot inside her. 

“I asked you a question,” the man swiftly removed himself from y/n’s heat, gripping the base of his dick to drag it along her slit. She whined from the gruesome sensation of clenching around emptiness and having the one thing she craved above all be so close yet so far.

James chuckled, grabbing her waist, and sneaked his other hand to rub y/n’s clit in achingly slow and too soft of circles.

“Mmmh.” She hummed, too lost in the regained pleasure, and though it wasn’t nearly enough, it was something to please her needy body. It was as the physical vessel y/n called her body needed James to survive, for she’d be dead without his touch, a shell of a person if James Barnes didn’t wreck her insides there and then.

His hand left her waist as he thrust into y/n, coming to rest on her stomach. James massaged the area, loving the way he could feel the bulge of his cock. “Feel this?” James asked, and she nodded without missing a beat. He chuckled, clasping her neck with his metal hand and pulling the woman up so her back would rest against his muscular chest. “I'm the only man who has ever made you feel this good," he thrusted up, fingers digging into her skin, "aren't I?"

"Yes, daddy," she moaned without thinking, her own hands searching to grab anything she could reach, whether it was the sheets or Bucky's forearm from when his right arm circled her waist.

He paused all movement for a second, too turned on by a single word than he cared to admit before speeding up, each stroke becoming speedier, rougher. James needed y/n to orgasm as much as he needed to breathe, his own release chasing after him. "That's right," he trailed sloppy kisses from the base of y/n's neck to her jawline, "daddy will take care of you, doll," he placed one final kiss and shoved her body into the bed again, hands caressing her lower back before he pushed it down for a deeper arch, "real good care."

She could only mumble and whine with her face stuffed into the pillow and ass arched high up in the air, Bucky's calloused hand landing deliciously painful smacks on her tender skin. One, she moaned from the contact, silently counting in her head, two, three. The woman was expecting a fourth smack to land on the skin of her butt, perhaps the side of her thighs, as she could feel James throbbing inside her and knew his concentration was somewhere between lost and forgotten, but it never came. Instead, his fingers, both flesh, and metal dug into her hips as he covered her walls with thick, hot ropes of cum, and she clenched around him, finding herself coming for the second time that night. 

She moaned, loud and unapologetic, allowing the orgasm to seep into her bones until it was nothing but a whisper of the pleasure Bucky had given her. His movements had stilled, but James didn't care to pull out, letting his cock soften inside her.

He smiled, even though she couldn't see it, and leaned down to place comfortingly soft kisses on y/n's shoulders. "I love you." He whispered into her skin. "My good girl," James pulled out, watching the mesmerizing sight of his cum leaking out of his girl before he pushed it back inside her with two of his fingers, "mine only."