#like they could be looking around and one of them notices a picture having to deal with timmy and they’re like ‘what’s that??’

[travelingmaster-inspirations]

I blinked a few times as I felt myself 'wake up' and come back to the present.

The feeling was incredibly familiar and a quick look at my phone confirmed what I already knew. My texting app was opened and the last thing I sent into the conversation was a selfie I didn't remember taking. Considering the fact that I was relaxing on my balcony, I was glad that the compelled selfie I took of myself was so tame because really, it could have been MUCH more embarrassing.

That in itself was a little out of character so I decided to scroll up and smiled when I noticed that there were 3 more pictures I didn't remember sending him. All were from earlier in the day and just like the last one I sent, I had no memory of taking or sending them. I hadn't 'woken up' after I took them so I was completely oblivious to the fact that I had sent him a few nude pictures of myself as I got ready before breakfast.

Looking at my expressionless face, I couldn't help but still be fascinated with my impossible situation. I mean... With the exception of a few very strict rules, I'm mostly free to live my life as if my hypnotic subjugation had never happened. So far, I've kept my job and still see my friends on a regular basis, yet, I'm well aware that I'm only allowed all those things so the people around me don't catch on that, for the last few months, I've been my Master's helpless thrall.

I never even dreamed that something like this was even possible and thinking back on it now, it's probably why I felt no reservations when Master first approached me and asked if it was ok if he tried to hypnotize me. I remember thinking that he wasn't cute enough to warrant my attention, but since the evening hadn't turned out as fun as I had hoped, I decided to humor him thinking that if I played my cards right I would, at the very least, be able to squeeze out a few free drinks out of it.

I was fully committed to 'playing along' and listened intently to his words, however, I wasn't expecting his induction to actually work. The next thing I knew, the party was over and most of my friends were already gone because apparently, I had told them all not to wait for me. The notion that I had somehow lost a part of my evening didn't even register as an overwhelming need to leave the party washed over me. As I disappeared into the cool night air, I figured my evening fun was over so I made my way home. Only, once I was safely inside and I turned to walk into my living room, I found myself utterly confused because I wasn't at all inside my home.

My confusion didn't last for too long once I turned and noticed the man standing next to me. Suddenly, I remembered that I had agreed to go home with him and as I did, a powerful wave of arousal invaded every cell of my body. It didn't matter to me that I hadn't gone to the party to find myself a man to bed, all I cared about was that I wanted HIM with every carnal fiber of my body. After our first fevered kiss, my evening quickly became a blur of pleasure and blackouts. Of course at the time, I believed that my blackouts were a side effect of the intense orgasms he gave me. However, the reality I learned later on was that those pieces of missing time were actually trances.

When I left his place the next morning, all I knew was that I had an incredibly fun night with a quirky guy that fancied himself a hypnotist. I had no clue whatsoever that he had used every spare moment to drop me so he could repeatedly implant a special set of words that would place me right back into a deep obedient trance. But then again, even if I had been aware that he tranced me during our evening together, I would probably not even have been worried about it because I had no clue whatsoever that hypnosis could implant such long-lasting suggestions and triggers. 

Because you see, at the time, I still thought hypnosis was just a clever party trick with willing conspirators. With everything that has happened since then however, I'm well aware that hypnosis, when skillfully applied to a naive suggestible mind like mine, can completely re-write someone's mental landscape.

I'm not sure how many times he called to trance me, but by the time I found myself going back to his place, I was already calling him Master without realizing it. I remember feeling a little disappointed when he proposed to trance me instead of just enjoying ourselves, but since I was already feeling rather compliant, I didn't protest and played along as he 'officially' hypnotized me again.

I was much less disappointed when I woke up from that deep trance with one of the most powerful orgasms I had ever experienced. He didn't let me enjoy it as much as I wished though because he sank me right back into trance before I could fully savor the aftermath of my pleasure. He repeated that process again and again as he pushed my mind back and forth between the heights of pleasure and the depths of trance. Even if it was unbearably confusing, I dove into the experience without realizing that it was actually a hypnosis technique that was meant to bring me deeper than I had gone before.

I was so out of it that it took me a long while to realize that the trance part of our evening was over and that the pleasure I was feeling wasn't due to his hypnotic play, but the powerful thrust of his cock as he fucked me back to reality. I was such an erotic confused mess that I completely submitted to whatever he wanted. He changed our position multiple times and I was just along for the ride. Heck, I didn't even complain when he decided to end our romp by having me suck him off even though I hated doing that with my lovers.

I just felt so utterly compliant and grateful that I wanted to do anything I could to return the favor. I've sucked his cock many times since then, but none of those times quite comes close to the euphoria I felt when he finally came in my mouth. In some strange way, even the pleasure I feel when we fuck isn't as profound as what I felt when I went down on him that first time.

My mind was so out of it that I didn't even consider the fact that I had never experienced such pleasures when I blew my lovers. It just... Didn't occur to me that he could use hypnosis in a way that would make the act of fellating him mildly addictive.

I left his place completely hooked on the pleasure I experienced so I went to him again and again. We continued to play with my mind in ways I couldn't understand, but deeply enjoyed. All the while, I unknowingly dove deeper into my submissiveness towards him as I found myself with a growing need to cater to his every desire.

Even when his increasingly specific desires included collars and slave-like role play, I didn't think anything of it and gave myself to the experience so I could somehow repay him for all the wonders he was showing me.

What finally tipped me off that it wasn't all role play was when I woke up from a particularly deep trance to find myself sitting at my kitchen table. It was disorienting to say the least, but what made it even more confusing was the piece of paper laid out in front of me. Before I could even look around to see where he was, I felt compelled to read its contents aloud. I was still somewhat dazed from the trance, so I didn't really care how or why I was doing it, however, as I finally understood the words I was speaking, I realized with a certain amount of shock that it was a list of rules.

MY rules...

For a confusing moment, I wondered if this wasn't just another part of his elaborate role play, but as I read each rule, I slowly realized that they were anything BUT role play. Some of the rules were clearly meant to be applied when I was with him, but a lot of them had no connection to our playtime at all and were clearly implied that he was claiming me as his true slave.

I was shocked that he assumed he could exert so much control over my daily life, but even so, with each rule I read, I felt my excitement and arousal grow at the thought of it. In fact, it grew so much that I could barely bring myself to read the last rule out loud without openly moaning. When I finally managed, I couldn't hold back anymore and came hard when I felt compelled to add that I would obey every single one of them.

Coming back down from that impossible release was like waking up from a dream. It was like I could finally truly see him for the first time. I watched him through seemingly new eyes as he confidently wrapped a collar around my neck and declared that I was his. That he owned me...

There was no spike of denial...

No troubled or worried thoughts...

All I felt in that moment of strange clarity was pleasure as I embraced the fact that our kinky role play had evolved into something very real. Every trance and command felt somehow different and more potent after that special evening. It’s like that list of rules had somehow erased the last traces of denial or resistance or whatever made me doubt the control he truly had over me. For example, he had wrapped a collar around my neck before, but when he did so after I came that night, I finally became aware of everything it meant.

I belonged to him… Mind, body and soul…

That’s become the first thought I have when I wake up in the morning and the last one to cradle me to sleep at night. There’s nothing I can do to change that simple fact, but then again, it’s definitely not something I WANT to change either.

I’m completely content to be his property and serve his every desire whenever he visits or compels me to go to him. I mean… It’s not like I have a choice either way, but I’ve found that it excites me to no end to know that with a few simple words or a snap of his fingers, he can send my mind away in it’s own little blissed out world while he implants new compulsions and triggers that I’ll obey as surely as if I was a computer executing a line of program.

Like right now…

I know he’s just tranced me and I can feel that he’s probably left instructions in my subconscious because I can feel this growing sense of unease as I calmly bask in the afternoon sun.

Does it mean he’s about to visit me?

Does it mean I’m about to go blank and walk myself to his apartment?

Or maybe it means that I’m about to do something else his creative kinky mind wants me to do in the confines of my apartment…

I’ll have no way to know exactly what he instructed me to do until I actually do. Well… To be more precise… I won’t know until he lets me remember!

If he ever does…

Regardless of what it might be, whenever he plays with me I get impossibly turned on and I can’t wait to feel all the rewards my enthrallment to him brings me…

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Filled (Dean Winchester x female reader)

Dean and you are out of condoms, but that doesn’t mean you’re not going to give in to temptation.

Read it on AO3

My 2024 Kinktober series

Rated E. 1.3k words. Unprotected sex. Breeding kink. Pies (of the cream variety)

It’s damn stupid and you know you shouldn’t do it, at least that’s what your brain is telling you, but your brain isn’t in the driver’s seat right now. How could it be, after Dean has made you come not once, not twice, but thrice with his fingers and mouth.

You’re about ready to pass on to the great hereafter, but still somehow, inexplicably, you have the overwhelming need to feel Dean inside you. You agreed that you wouldn’t, agreed that you would simply get each other off, but you don’t think you’ll last another five seconds without outright begging him to fuck you.

It’s this damn case, that has you miles and miles away from the next town. You packed everything, food, clothes, goddamn books that Dean hasn’t taken a single peak at, but not condoms, because you thought you’d be too busy to need them. Dean disagreed from the get-go, but you thought the small stash he always carries in his wallet would be enough.

You’re on day five, solved the case on day two and ran out of condoms on day three. It’s another day until you’re set to be picked up by Sam, and you’ve been getting each other off for almost all of that time since, without Dean entering you with anything but his fingers and tongue. But yeah, you’re not sure how much longer you have the self-control for that to be enough.

“You can just pull out,” you mutter against Dean’s cheek, while his hard cock is pressed against the outside of your thigh and you run your hand over him. Dean’s eyes are closed, and he’s frowning a little, looking pretty as a picture.

“Too risky. Can’t believe I paid more attention in sex ed than you did,” he says, voice a little cracked and you grin, snuggle closer to him.

“Please, Dean, I want to feel you,” you say, and he groans.

“Darlin’,” he says, tone a little warning but it’s tough to be authoritative with him leaking against your thigh.

“Come on, a girl can’t live on come alone,” you say, voice slightly petulant, referring to the egregious amount of blowjobs you’ve given him in the last 48 hours. Dean huffs, then opens his eyes, looking into yours only a few inches from him.

“Fuck it,” he says and rolls you over on your back, gets on top of you, making you squeak. He kisses you, hard and needy, and then he’s pushing your legs apart. He presses against you, your thighs tensing from how sensitive you are, and when he notices he goes slower.

That means you get to watch his face, get to see every detail of his expression as he enters you bare for the first time.

“Holy shit,” he says and then looks down at where your bodies are meeting. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You want to say something about how cussing like that will send him to hell, again, but you can’t, because he’s right. It’s different and it’s better and it’s everything you’ve been dreaming of. You raise your head so that your forehead meets his as you whimper, the sheer feeling of his skin directly against your most sensitive parts overwhelming.

You look at Dean’s lips as he slowly continues pushing into you, then pulls out almost all the way again, before pushing back in until you can feel his pelvis pressed against you. You lift one leg up high and Dean hooks it against his side, allowing him to go deeper.

“Oh God, you feel so amazing,” you stutter, and Dean barely manages to nod.

“Don’t know how long I can keep this up,” he says, voice cracking. “You feel too damn good, gonna come in no time.” He picks up his pace a little, and you sling your free leg around him instead of answering, pull him closer.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he says, voice warning, and you know he’s not far off.

“Come inside me, Dean,” you whisper, and his eyes go wide for a second. “Don’t care, I just want to feel you, feel your come inside me.”

“Fuck,” Dean groans, and instead of pulling away, he goes faster, making your head drop back and moan his name.

“Want me to fill you up, is that it?” he asks, and his words send such an intense flash of arousal through you that you clench down on him. Dean groans, but he isn’t done with whatever magical dirty talk he has for you. “You want me to get you nice and knocked up?”

You don’t, not really, but the way he is saying it, the risk and the primality of it make you desperately pull at him.

“Yes,” you huff, moving your hips to meet Dean’s movements, your leg still keeping him close to you. “Yes, oh God, yes, Dean!”

It’s not clear if he expected what he’s saying to have that kind of effect on you, but he looks damn happy with the results. His hips move faster, and with one hand he cups your face, steadying you so that you can’t turn away from him.

“You’d look so beautiful with my babies inside you,” he almost groans and you wrap your arm around his neck, pull him close.

“Fuck, Dean, just—don’t… stop!” is all you can say before you are coming, your lower body bucking up, high pitched whines leaving you.

Dean keeps thrusting into you, uncoordinated now and then he stills, pressing his face against yours as he pumps his come into you. You can actually feel the spread of warmth and it’s the goddamn nicest thing in the world.

Dean’s head falls forward, and he rests on your shoulder, grinding into you a few more times to ride out his high, and it makes his spendings seep out of you, and that’s a sensation you’re not likely to forget anytime soon. He gives one more groan, and then both of you are quiet. You absent-mindedly run your fingers through the short hair at the back of his head.

After a few seconds, Dean needs to pull out and roll off you and you gasp as you feel more of what he left you with leaks out of you. It makes Dean look down at you, and he raises his eyebrows.

He pushes himself up a little, towards you again. Then, for the grand finale, he takes his still hard cock in his hand, crowds in close to you and runs its head against your entrance to collect what has run out of you. Then he pushes back into you again. You whimper at the feeling, the sensitivity, but also at the warmth.

“Oh fuck,” you whine.

“That… is very hot,” he says, and looks back up at your face when you chuckle.

“Yeah?” you ask, voice a little broken. “How hot is it going to be when we have to ask Sam to get me the morning-after pill before he comes here tomorrow?” Dean chuckles, drops his head down. He pulls out of you again, the emptiness disappointing, but then he opens his arm for you to move in, lay your head against his chest.

“I’m sure Sammy will love that,” he says, and you grin. Dean’s hand lands on your shoulder, and he caresses it for a while, before turning his head towards you, his mouth close to your ear.

“Or we risk it?” he whispers to you. “Could be fun.”

You grab for a nearby pillow and swing at his face. Dean raises his hand in time but it makes him laugh.

“You are a damn fool, Dean Winchester,” you say and Dean pulls you close, pins your arms and throws a leg over you.

“Just saying,” he says as you snuggle against him. “I meant what I said. You would look hot pregnant.”

[scoupsakakitty]

Hii! I'm a big fan. I don't know if requests are opened or not but can I request for the 14th member of seventeen who is the maknae. Can you make one where seventeen reacts when y/n is uncomfortable as hell by a short dress the stylist gave her at an awards show. Maybe they will give her their blazers or do something? Can you pleaseeee make it

Black Dress | Seventeen x 14thMember | fluff

Y/N adjusted her bracelet, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the dressing room. She hesitated for a second, her hands gripping the hem of the dress that felt far too short for her comfort. The outfit—a tight, black strapless dress that hugged her figure—was undeniably stylish, but it left her feeling exposed. Her collarbones and shoulders were fully visible, and the length barely reached mid-thigh.

As soon as she stepped out, the lively conversation among the members died down. The air shifted, their eyes drawn to her outfit. Mingyu, who had been mid-laugh, stopped abruptly, his eyebrows knitting together. Jeonghan’s usual mischievous smirk was replaced with a skeptical frown. Seungcheol, always protective, folded his arms and took a step forward.

“Y/N…” Joshua was the first to speak, his voice gentle but laced with concern. “Isn’t your dress a bit too short?”

Y/N forced a smile, though her hands continued to fidget with the fabric. “The stylists said I have to wear it.”

A chorus of disapproving noises erupted from the group.

“They said you have to wear it?” Woozi repeated, his eyebrows raising in disbelief.

“That’s ridiculous.” Wonwoo’s voice was calm, but the way he clenched his jaw gave away his displeasure.

Seungkwan, ever expressive, made a face. “Do they not know you hate dresses like this?”

During the awards show, Y/N started to feel increasingly uncomfortable. She noticed lingering stares from the audience, her skin prickling under their gazes. She shifted in her seat, wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to feel less exposed.

The members noticed her discomfort immediately. Seungcheol’s sharp eyes scanned the crowd and caught sight of a male idol staring at Y/N. His expression darkened, and without a second thought, he took off his blazer and draped it over her shoulders.

Y/N looked up at him in surprise, but he only gave her a small reassuring nod. “You looked cold,” he murmured, though they both knew that wasn’t the real reason.

Another member, Wonwoo, noticing what had just happened, started glancing around the venue. His gaze landed on another table where a folded blanket lay unused. Without hesitation, he stood up, made his way over, and returned with the blanket. He gently laid it over Y/N’s legs, shielding her from any further unwelcome attention.

As the night progressed, the members remained vigilant. They exchanged glances, silently communicating their protectiveness over their youngest member. Y/N could feel their presence surrounding her, grounding her amidst the overwhelming atmosphere of the event.

When the awards show finally ended, the group prepared to leave. The moment they stepped outside, the bright flashes of paparazzi cameras greeted them. The members instinctively closed ranks around Y/N, shielding her from prying eyes.

As they reached the van, Hoshi positioned himself right behind Y/N, sensing the risk of an unfortunate wardrobe mishap with all the flashing cameras. Without a second thought, he pulled off his blazer and held it in front of her, acting as a barrier so that no invasive pictures could be taken while she climbed into the vehicle.

Y/N, touched by the gesture, turned to look at him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Hoshi simply gave her a reassuring smile. “Always.”

With her members surrounding her protectively, Y/N finally felt safe, knowing that no matter what, Seventeen would always have her back.

[the-winter-spider]

Yours, Always | Part One

Steve x Reader, Bucky x reader

AU

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Angst, fluff

A/N: I know the major majority voted for This Love to be the next one I post buuuuuuut my gut was telling me to post this one. I will be posting on Ao3 soon to just because a few people messaged me about it!

As always i will still be updating my other stories i just have its easier for me to be creative when i have multiple things going. Next part of Say dont go soon!

Masterpost

---

The smell of tomato sauce fills the kitchen as you stir the pot, trying to focus on the task at hand. The garlic bread is almost ready, the pasta is done, and Steve will be home any minute. It’s a typical night, like any other night, but there’s something tugging at the edges of your thoughts, something that’s been there for days, weeks even. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it’s theres like this persistent knot in your chest that refuses to unravel. It's heavier than the typical weight you’re used to.

Lily’s laughter echoes from the living room, her voice a sweet hum in the background as you stir the sauce one last time. She’s watching some cartoon, probably the one with talking animals who save the world that you’ve memorized every word to by now. You glance at the clock. Steve should be pulling into the driveway soon. Everything is falling into place, just like it always does. Just like it should, just like you hoped for, just like you wanted.

It’s the kind of life you imagined for yourself, stable, predictable, good. And yet, lately, you feel like something’s missing. You don’t feel whole, but yet you haven't felt whole in years.

Your phone buzzes on the counter, and you wipe your hands on a dish towel before picking it up. It’s a text from your mom. You smile, unlocking the screen to see what she’s sent.

Mom: Look what I found! :)

There’s an attachment, an old photo, grainy and slightly faded. You tap it, and the image fills the screen.

Your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a picture of you and Bucky.

You were maybe eight years old, standing on the playground, grinning like it was the happiest day of your life. Your arm is slung around Bucky’s shoulders, and his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. His smile is lopsided, the same one you always knew, that mischievous gleam in his bright blue eyes. You had forgotten how blue they were. His hair’s a mess, sticking up in different directions, but it suits him. It always did.

The sight of it hits you like a wave, washing over you in a rush of memories you didn’t realize you’d been holding back. The sounds of the kitchen fade, the smell of the sauce disappears, and you’re not standing there anymore. You’re back there,, back in a time before everything got complicated.

You’re back in third grade, on that day when it all began.

It’s fall, and you’re seven years old, almost eight. Standing on the cracked blacktop of the elementary school playground. The air has that crispness that makes your skin tingle, and the sun is warm on your face, but you don’t notice. You’re too busy staring at the ground, clutching your lunchbox in both hands, wishing you could disappear.

They’ve been circling you for a while now, the group of kids from the fifth grade, the ones who always find something to pick on. Today, it’s you. Today, you're sure it’s your clothes, you were wearing one of your Dads old shirts it was huge and it had holes but it still smelled like him. Or maybe it’s your shoes, the ones that squeak when you walk, or the way your hair frizzes up when the wind blows just right.

You don’t know why they’ve picked you today. You never know. You just know that your throat is tight, and your hands are shaking, and you’re trying not to cry.

“Hey, Y/N,” one of the boys sneers, his voice sharp and cruel. “What’s wrong? Gonna cry again? You gonna run home to Mommy? Since you don't have a Daddy!”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the tears back. You’ve cried in front of them before, and it only made things worse. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry today, you were going to be strong, because you were strong, your Mom said so. But the lump in your throat is growing, and no matter how hard you try to swallow it down, it won’t go away, it never does.

They laugh, jostling each other, getting closer, their voices growing louder. You want to run, but your legs won’t move. Your feet feel like they’re glued to the ground.

“Leave her alone.”

The voice cuts through the taunting like a knife, sharp and clear. You blink, looking up, startled. The group of boys falls silent, and you see a boy standing just a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his face set in a determined frown.

It’s Bucky, he just moved here. You don’t know him at all.

He steps forward, planting himself between you and the group of kids, his chin held high, his blue eyes blazing with a kind of courage you’ve never seen before. He’s smaller than most of the boys, but he doesn’t seem to care. He stands there like a wall, like he’s daring them to do something.

“What do you want, Bucky?” one of the boys mutters, but there’s a shift in the air now. They’re not laughing anymore. They’re not pushing you around.

Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. “I said, leave her alone.”

For a moment, the boys hesitate, glancing at each other. You can see the uncertainty flickering in their eyes, the way they’re sizing him up, trying to decide if he’s worth the trouble. And then, one by one, they start to back off, muttering under their breaths as they turn and walk away.

You stand there, frozen, your heart still pounding in your chest, staring at the boy who just saved you from what felt like the worst moment of your life.

Bucky turns to you, his expression softening as the danger fades away. “You okay?” he asks, his voice gentler now, like he’s talking to an old friend.

You nod, still too stunned to speak. You don’t know what to say. You’ve never had anyone stand up for you like that. You’ve seen him around school before, but you’ve never really talked to him. And now, here he is, looking at you like he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

“I’m Bucky, I’m new” he says, sticking his hand out like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You blink, glancing at his outstretched hand, and then back at his face. He’s smiling now, that crooked grin that makes you feel like everything’s going to be okay. You reach out and shake his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.

“Y/N,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“I know,” he says with a wink. “Wanna be friends?”

You stare at him for a moment, not sure if he’s serious. No one’s ever asked you to be their friend like that, so straightforward, so sure. But then you smile, and you realize that you want nothing more than to say yes.

“Okay,” you say, your voice a little stronger this time. “Yeah. Let’s be friends.”

And just like that, everything changes.

You’re still standing there, staring at your phone, caught in a moment that isn’t here anymore.

You can still hear the laugh that must have come right before the picture was taken. You can still remember the way the sun hit his brown hair just right, making it look lighter than it was. You can still feel the warmth of his arm around you, the way he always pulled you just a little closer, like you were his to protect.

Your fingers hover over the screen, tracing the shape of his smile. You were both so little.

You don’t even hear Steve come in.

The front door opens, closing softly behind him. A rustling of keys, a quiet greeting as he passes the living room. “Hey, kiddo.” You vaguely register Lily’s excited response “Daddy!” then something about cartoons and garlic bread, but you don’t move.

You don’t even notice when his footsteps come closer, steady and familiar, until suddenly, there’s a warm kiss pressed against your cheek, and his voice is right there so soft, loving. “Babe.”

You jolt slightly, blinking, the world around you snapping back into focus. “Huh?”

Steve smiles gently as he pulls back, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in his blue eyes. You follow his gaze as he glances down at your phone, which you’re still gripping too tightly in your hands.

Before you can react, he reaches around you, his fingers brushing against yours as he zooms in on the photo. His voice is light, teasing. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen many childhood photos of you?” He tilts his head, grinning. “You’re adorable.”

A small laugh escapes you, though it feels fragile. He never saw any past your eighth birthday because they were all filled with him. You try to relax, try to be present, but the weight in your chest won’t let you.

Then Steve’s expression shifts slightly, the amusement fading just a little as his gaze moves to the boy beside you in the photo. “Who’s that with you?”

Your fingers tighten around the phone before you can stop yourself, your voice small. “Bucky.” The name lingers in the air, heavier than it should be.

And just like that, Steve stills.

He’s heard the name before. Of course he has. He knows the trauma you carry, the grief that shaped you in ways you never talk about. He knows about the years of silence, about the loss that still lingers in the spaces you refuse to acknowledge. Mostly from your Mom filling him in. He knows loss, that's why the two of you work so well, you both lose people around the same time but Steve’s worked through is, you though, you’ve just bottled it up.

But he’s never actually seen him.

Never seen the boy who once held your whole world in his hands.

Steve doesn’t say anything right away. His hand rests lightly on the counter beside you, his other arm brushing against yours as he continues to look at the photo. His silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy, thoughtful.

“He looks…” He exhales softly, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I guess I just… I’ve never put a face to the name before.”

You swallow, your throat suddenly tight. “Yeah.”

Steve shifts, turning slightly so he can see your face. His voice is quieter now, careful. “You never really talk about him.”

You don’t look at him. You can’t. Instead, you keep staring at the photo, at the two kids who had no idea what was coming. “I know.”

Steve watches you for a moment, his fingers brushing against yours again. He doesn’t push, doesn’t ask for more than you’re ready to give. Instead, he does what he always does, he gives you space to breathe. “You okay?”

The kindness in his voice nearly undoes you.

You force yourself to nod, to look away from the past and into the present, the man in front of you, the life you built, the warmth that should be enough. “Yeah,” you murmur. “I’m fine.”

Steve doesn’t look convinced. But he doesn’t call you on it, he never does.

Instead, he leans in again, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your head, his lips soft against your temple. “Okay,” he whispers. “If you ever want to talk about him… I’m here.”

You close your eyes for a second, inhaling deeply. You don’t deserve him. But right now, you just nod. “I know.”

And just like that, Steve lets it go.

He squeezes your hand before stepping back, moving to take off his jacket. He calls out to Lily, something about setting the table, and just like that the moment passes.

But your phone is still in your hand. And Bucky’s face is still staring back at you.

The sound of the oven timer snaps you back to the present, jerking you out of the memory like a splash of cold water. You blink, shaking your head as the kitchen comes back into focus. The sauce is bubbling, the bread is ready, and Lily is calling your name from the other room.

But your mind is still stuck in that moment, stuck on Bucky’s face, on the way he looked at you, on the way everything felt so simple back then. You glance down at your phone again, the old photo still displayed on the screen, and something inside you twists.

You haven’t thought about Bucky like this in a long time. You haven’t let yourself. There’s too much there, too much to unpack, and you’ve built your life carefully around avoiding those memories. But now, here he is, staring back at you from the past, and you can’t help but wonder how things got so complicated.

“Mommy!” Lily calls from the dining room, her voice full of impatience. “Is dinner ready yet?”

You force a smile, tucking the phone back into your pocket. “Almost, sweetie! Did you set the table?”

She runs off, and you turn back to the stove, stirring the sauce one last time. The garlic bread smells perfect, the pasta is ready, and everything is exactly as it should be.

The three of you gather at the table, the kind of scene you’ve played out a thousand times before. Lily’s already in her seat, bouncing in excitement, her eyes bright green shining as you bring the food to the table.

“Daddy! We’re having pasta!” she exclaims, as if Steve hadn’t already figured that out.

“Looks like it, kiddo,” Steve says, smiling at her. “How was school today?”

Lily launches into a detailed explanation of her day, who she sat with at lunch, what book her teacher read to the class, how she got to be line leader, and what game she played at recess. Steve listens with that attentive smile, nodding and asking just the right questions. He’s good at this, being present, being the father Lily adores.

You’re sitting there, your fork twirling spaghetti absently, but you’re not really listening. You’re watching them, but your mind is miles away. You can still feel the weight of your phone in your pocket, the picture of Bucky tucked away, waiting for you. His grin, his bright blue eyes… It’s all coming back, flooding your thoughts with memories you’d locked away for years.

You don’t realize how quiet you’ve gone until Steve’s voice cuts through the fog. “Y/N?”

You blink, snapping out of your daze, meeting his concerned gaze from across the table. “Hmm?”

He smiles gently, but there’s a crease of worry in his brow. “You okay? You’ve been kind of quiet.”

You nod quickly, forcing a smile that you hope is convincing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… tired, I guess.”

But Steve doesn’t look convinced. He knows you well enough to see through the surface. He watches you for a moment longer, his eyes searching your face, but then Lily tugs at his arm, pulling his attention back to her.

Dinner wraps up soon after, and you help Lily brush her teeth and get into her pajamas, tucking her in with her favorite stuffed animal. Steve reads her a bedtime story, his voice soothing and steady, and you sit beside him, offering a few smiles as Lily drifts off to sleep.

Everything should feel perfect. This is your life, your family, the life you’ve built with Steve. But as you head down the hall toward your bedroom, that picture of Bucky lingers in the back of your mind, pulling at you in ways you can’t shake.

In the bedroom, Steve pulls off his work shirt, changing into an old t-shirt as you start pulling back the covers. The familiar routine plays out just like every other night. But tonight feels different. There’s a distance you can’t seem to bridge.

Steve climbs into bed, settling against the pillows. He looks over at you, still watching, still noticing.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, softer this time.

You pause for a moment, trying to find the words. You don’t want to lie, but you also don’t want to open up a conversation that you’re not ready for. “I’m fine,” you say, hesitating only slightly. “It’s just… That picture threw me off.”

“C’mere” He says softly, pulling you against his chest. Steve doesn’t say anything for a while.

You’re still resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. His fingers trace lazy patterns against your back, a comforting rhythm that should soothe you.

But you can’t stop thinking about the picture.

The one still glowing from your phone screen on the bedside table.

The one Steve had looked at for longer than he probably realized.

The one where you and Bucky were standing under the summer sun, arms slung around each other, grinning like the world belonged to you.

But something about the moment lingers.

Maybe it’s because you know that Steve, for all his kindness, for all his patience, has never actually seen Bucky before.

He’s only ever known of him, the shadow of him, the weight of your grief, the way you never talk about him. And now, for the first time, he had a face to go with the name. It was his adolescent face and you thought what would he think if he saw his face the way you tried to forget. With his little stubble, that dimple on his chin, his ocean eyes, his smile, his everything. You could almost see it so clearly in your head but at the same time you couldn't. You didn't even remember what he sounded like.

You wonder what he thought when he saw it.

You wonder if he were to see other photos of you and him. The ones where the way Bucky would hold you, like it was the most natural thing in the world. If he would notice the way you were looking at each other, no just like best friends, but like something more.

Something that never had the chance to exist.

Steve shifts slightly, exhaling a quiet breath. Then, softly, he asks, “Do you want to tell me about that day?”

Your stomach clenches.

Not because you don’t want to.

But because you do.

You swallow, fingers curling into his shirt. “You really want to know?”

“I’d like to,” Steve says simply. “He was important to you. Is important to you. And I’d like to know more about him from you.”

It’s such a Steve thing to say. So genuine. So unthreatened.

And yet, past tense.

Was.

Steve didn’t mean anything by it. You know that. But the past doesn’t feel like the past. Not when it’s still sitting in the center of your chest, not when it’s still carved into the parts of you that never healed right.

But it’s not Steve’s fault. You know that. There wasn’t a malicious fibre in his body.

So you push the thought down. You swallow hard, ignore the lump in your throat, and nod.

Steve presses a kiss to the top of your head, then leans back against the pillows, waiting. Letting you take your time.

You close your eyes.

And you let yourself go back.

“Come on, come on, you have to!”

Bucky’s voice was breathless with excitement, his hands gripping yours as he dragged you through the crowd. The fairgrounds were packed, kids running with half-melted popsicles, parents struggling to keep up, the sound of laughter mixing with the distant hum of carnival games and the occasional crackling announcement over the loudspeakers.

“Bucky, slow down!” you had whined, nearly tripping over your own feet.

“No way, you’re gonna love this!”

You had barely caught your breath before Bucky stopped in front of the biggest bounce house you’d ever seen.

“Look at it,” Bucky breathed, his eyes wide with awe, like he was staring at something magical. “It’s huge.”

You had crossed your arms. “I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on.” Bucky turned to you, grinning that grin, the one he always used when he wanted to get away with something. “What’s the Fourth of July without a little fun?”

Before you could protest because you both knew you were about to, he was already kicking off his shoes, already climbing inside, and the next thing you knew, he was bouncing, laughing, calling your name, looking so happy it was impossible to say no.

So you kicked off your shoes, too. And the next ten minutes were pure chaos.

You had both gone flying across the inflatable floor, bouncing so high you nearly crashed into each other half a dozen times. Bucky had grabbed your hands at one point, spinning you in a circle, laughing as you shrieked, as if he could make time stop just by holding onto you..

You had been trying to get back to your feet, still giggling, when Bucky tripped, taking you down with him.

You landed in a tangled heap of limbs, and when you tried to get up, your face was way too close to his, your noses almost touching.

For the first time all afternoon, Bucky had stopped laughing.

For a second, you just… looked at each other.

“Bucky! Y/N! Time for pictures!”

Your mom’s voice snapped the moment in half, and you scrambled away from him, your face warm as you followed her voice. You were thankful for the bounce house because you were blushing like crazy you had almost had your first kiss with Bucky. All the girls in your class had already had their first kiss. But it felt too soon you were only eight so you were grateful for your Mom.

Bucky was still grinning like a fool when he caught up with you, his arm slinging around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Smile!” your mom had called.

And you had. You always smiled when Bucky was near.

Both of you, smiling, glowing, bright with childhood joy, frozen in a moment you’d never get back.

When you open your eyes, the room is quiet.

Steve hasn’t said anything, hasn’t moved. His fingers trace slow, absentminded shapes against your back, like he’s trying to hold you here, in this moment, in this life you built with him.

But your mind is still somewhere else.

Still in that bounce house, in the warmth of a Fourth of July that feels like another lifetime.

“My mom took that picture right after we got out,” you whisper. “We were covered in dirt, sweating, our hair was a mess. But we were happy.”

Steve exhales softly. “He sounds like he made you really happy.”

Your throat tightens. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. “He did. He was my best friend.”

The words barely make it out.

Steve doesn’t say anything else. He just holds you, letting the silence stretch, letting you breathe.

But even in the quiet, Bucky’s laughter still echoes in your ears.

He leans over and kisses your forehead softly, his hand brushing against your arm. “I love you, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, feeling the warmth of his touch. “I love you, too,” you say, and you mean it. Of course you love Steve but you also can’t help but mourn the love that never was, the one you lost.

Steve is asleep within minutes, his breathing slow and steady, but you lie there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. The room is dark, the only sound is the faint hum of the heater kicking on in the hallway.

Your hand drifts to the nightstand, and before you can stop yourself, you reach for your phone. The screen lights up in the darkness, casting a soft glow on your face. You scroll back to the picture your mom sent, opening it again, staring at the image of you and Bucky.

You trace the outline of his face with your thumb, the memories of that day flooding back, the way he smiled at you like he’d always be there.

You never thought much about what life would look like without Bucky in it. But then, life happened. Choices were made. Time passed.

And now, here you are, lying in bed with your husband asleep beside you, staring at a picture of a boy you once knew, wondering how everything got so complicated.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the memories swirl around you, but when you open them again, you’re still here. In this life. In this bed. With Steve.

You turn off the phone and place it back on the nightstand, the glow fading as the room is plunged back into darkness. But even as you close your eyes and try to fall asleep, that picture of Bucky lingers, imprinted on the inside of your mind, refusing to let go.

You wake up feeling… off. Not exactly sad. Not exactly anxious. Just off.

His face still lingers in the back of your mind, hovering like something unfinished, like a conversation you walked away from too soon. You try to shake it, try to focus on the morning routine, getting Lily ready for school, making breakfast while Steve drinks his coffee and reads the news on his phone. You go through the motions, plastering on a smile when necessary, laughing at Lily’s excitement over something one of her classmates said yesterday.

It’s normal. Everything is normal.

So why does it feel like everything inside you is unraveling?

“Beautiful?” Steve’s voice breaks through your thoughts. He’s watching you over the rim of his coffee mug, brow furrowed slightly. “You doing okay?”

You force a small smile, reaching for your own mug. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“About?”

You hesitate, then glance at Lily, who’s humming to herself as she doodles on a napkin. “I was thinking about heading down to visit my mom this weekend,” you say casually, stirring your coffee though you’ve already added enough sugar. “It’s been a while.”

Steve smiles, setting his cup down and reaching for your hand across the counter. His touch is warm, grounding. Safe. “That sounds nice,” he says, rubbing small circles over your knuckles with his thumb. “I know she’d love that. Do you want me and Lily to come with you?”

Guilt presses against your ribs. He’s always like this, so sweet, so thoughtful. You don’t deserve it. Not when you’re sitting here, pretending this trip is just about visiting your mom when, in reality, it’s something else entirely.

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “It’s okay. I think I just need a little time.”

Steve studies you for a moment, searching your face like he’s trying to read between the lines. Then he nods, squeezing your hand before letting go. “Okay,” he says easily. “But promise me you’ll drive safe?”

You smile, relieved he’s not pressing because he knows why. “Always.”

He leans over, kissing your forehead softly. “Good.” Then he pulls back, grinning. “You know I’ll just be calling to check on you every few hours anyway.”

“Wouldn't have it any other way.” You laugh, but it feels hollow. You know you love Steve but why does it feel like a stranger’s hands are gripping your shoulders, turning you around, pulling you backward into something you swore you left behind?

The drive to your mom’s house is long. Almost three hours, but it feels even longer with your thoughts weaving in and out of the past. You keep the radio on, some soft indie playlist filling the silence, but nothing can drown out the memories creeping in. Especially when your mind starts to think of all the new songs you’ve added to this playlist, the ones he never got to hear, the ones you know he’d love but you’ll never get to find out.

It’s late afternoon by the time you pull into your childhood home. The house looks smaller somehow, though nothing has changed. The same mailbox, the same front porch with the wind chime that always scared you when you were little remind you too much of the horror movie sounds Bucky would terrorize you with.

You step inside, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender and old books. Your mom greets you with a tight hug, fussing over you before leading you to the kitchen, but there’s an unspoken understanding between you. She knows why you’re here, even if you haven’t said it out loud. She knew the moment she sent the picture.

“So,” she says, setting down a cup of tea in front of you. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

You wrap your hands around the mug, staring down at the steam curling into the air. “I just… I was thinking about some old things.” You hesitate, then force the words out. “About Bucky.”

Your mom nods, her expression unreadable. “His letters are still upstairs. I never touched them. Everything is exactly where you left it”

A lump forms in your throat. “Thanks, Mom.”

She reaches out, squeezing your hand “Well I oughta run to the store to get some stuff for dinner!” She smiled before placing a kiss on your cheek and letting you go.

You barely register walking up the stairs to your room but here you are and the box is exactly where you left it.

It’s tucked away in the corner of your bedroom closet, buried beneath stacks of forgotten sweaters and high school yearbooks. Your hands tremble as you pull it out, settling onto the floor. Dust clings to the lid, and for a long moment, you just stare at it.

You shouldn’t open it.

You shouldn’t because the can of worms you'd open with it..

But your fingers are already moving, lifting the lid, revealing a neat stack of envelopes inside. Some are crinkled at the edges, others yellowing with age. Your name is written on every single one, in his handwriting.

You pick one up at random, your breath catching as you recognize the date, seven years ago.

Slowly, carefully, you unfold the letter.

Y/N,

I don’t know why I keep writing these. You never answer. I don’t even know if you’re reading them. But I guess it doesn’t matter. I still need to say these things, even if they never reach you.

It’s late here. The kind of late where everything feels too big, and I can’t sleep, I never can anymore anyway. The only thing keeping me sane is remembering home and thinking about you.

Remember that summer when we were sixteen? The one where we spent half of July sneaking into the lake after dark? You always said the water looked like liquid silver under the moonlight. I don’t think I ever told you this, but I remember the way you looked then. I mean, really looked. The way your eyes caught the light, the way your laugh echoed across the water. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a sound as good as that laugh. I remember feeling so overwhelmed in that moment, so scared of the things I was feeling that I decided to pretend something grabbed my foot.

I also remember the way you shivered when the wind picked up, but you wouldn’t admit you were cold. You were stubborn like that. Still are, probably. I wrapped my jacket around your shoulders, and you gave me that look, you know the one. The one where you’re about to say something sarcastic but then change your mind.

I wanted to kiss you that night. Did you know that?

Of course you didn’t. I never told you. I was always too scared to ruin what we had. But I think about that night a lot. About if things would have changed if I had just kissed you.

It’s been so long since I’ve heard your laugh. I don’t even know if I remember the sound anymore. I do remember it was my favourite sound in the world.

Yours, Always

Bucky

[cloevers]

jamaal

"jamaal" is the arabic word for beauty.

gn! reader, alhaitham x reader

a/n : i yearn for him deeply

Alhaitham was beautiful. That was one of the few thoughts you consider closest to absolute truth.

You’re both reading at the house of Daena, a lovely silence engulfing the air. He flips through the pages and you can’t help but notice how gently he does so. He does it quickly, but his fingers have a softness to them. They’re slightly calloused from countless hours of writing, but it’s obvious he puts care into minimizing the roughness to the best of his abilities. He’d mentioned before that he doesn’t like overly rough hands on himself.

Each finger could have a sonnet written about it. His pinky finger and the little mole on it, his thumb with the ring that adorns it, and his ring finger with that writer’s bump–

You’re getting distracted. You can only see his fingers on the book from your peripheral vision, but they’ve consumed your mind. How lovely must it be to have those digits interlaced with yours, loosely yet firmly enough to remind one of the presence of the other. As you flip the pages of your own book, you picture the skin of Alhaitham’s palm in place of the smooth paper sheet, and at that thought, you find yourself handling the pages more carefully.

Time passes as it always does, and he gets up to place the book back in its place. You can’t help but steal a glance, and the way the fabric of his coat flows so elegantly with every step he takes makes you want to ask the archons for forgiveness for ever thinking that coat was unappealing. It slips a little and you can see parts of alhaitham’s back, covered in the black shirt he usually wears. At the thought of wrapping your arms around him and feeling your hand rest against the muscles of his trapezius, you lose yourself. In the realm of fantasy, you find yourself wandering between countless scenarios involving touch, all of them tender. Your fingers hovering above the small of his back, gently guiding him to a place to sit. Or your head against his shoulder blade as you embrace him from behind on a rainy morning as he makes his coffee.

He turns to place the book on the shelf, and from this angle you can see his side profile. Hooked nose and plump lips, his ashen curls falling so perfectly against his forehead. He has a mole under his right eye. You can’t see it from this distance, but you’ve grown to memorize every single place he has a mole you could see, all thanks to the countless discreet stares you’ve given him when he was at a proximity appropriate enough for you to even notice them.

You were almost upset you weren’t able to see the left side of his face at that short moment, since he had a few acne scars on his left cheek, and a little mole under his lower lip that was just so lovely to look at. But you didn’t let that small disappointment linger, for at least you were able to admire the equally gorgeous right side of his face. Oh, how you wanted to kiss the tip of his nose, then place another kiss under his eye and then another on his temple. You wanted to kiss him all over.

You’re delighted to see the muscles of his arm ripple slightly as he places the book onto the shelf. At the sight, your lips twitch into a tiny, almost incomprehensible smile. He obviously works out, but it was also clear he wouldn’t say no to food being offered to him. You remember the times you’d feel comfortable enough with sharing some of your desserts with him. He seems to particularly enjoy baklavas and rose custard. You look away from his direction momentarily, closing your eyes to imagine the feel of his lips on yours, the slight taste of sugary syrup remaining on his velvety mounds after you’d fed him a piece of candied ajilenakh nut. As he finally places the book back on its designated shelf, he begins to make his way back to your shared desk. You'd managed to avert your attention back to your book to resume reading, or at least attempt to resume reading, before he’d managed to notice your peeking. You don’t need to look at him walking to his seat in languid, relaxed steps, to remember how the lovely gem on his chest just catches the eye, or how his hips sway ever so slightly, or how his thighs would brush against each other with each stride. It was all absolutely normal human behavior, but when it’s him displaying such behaviors they become so incredibly observable.

As he sits back down, he brushes a strand of hair away from his face. His hair looked so soft, you want to stroke it until he sleeps. You want to gently play with it, section it and part it into pretty styles for when he agrees to let you mess with it. You want to place little clips on it, and you want to bury your nose into it, to smell the soft shampoo he uses and to feel yourself melt from how intimate all of it is.

You’ve got three more chapters to go, and then you’re finished. He’s done with his own readings, but judging by the way he’s sitting beside you quietly, he’s going to wait so that the both of you get to leave the library together. His music player was on, distracting him with some soothing tunes as you take your time trying to read. He so obviously cares, but in his own special way. That alone makes you want to love him all the more delicately.

[treasureyourfire]

~ Get a little rest ~

Dear Souls! A little later compared to my plans, but I brought you my New Year's Pick a Pile readings. The readings are timeless, find the post in the beginning months of any year (*or even in any month of a year), believe that you need it right then, of course only if it resonates with you. (*If you read it in June, for example, look at the past year going back to June of the previous year. ^^) I've noticed that the piles carry similar messages from certain areas of life, so you may be drawn to more than one image, and that's perfectly fine. Read them all, so if there is a message for you in more than one reading. Wish you the best, and take care! ^^ Arisa

Reminder:

* These are not gender-specific readings, they are about energies. * These are collective, timeless readings for entertaintment. * I am not a professional reader and readings that I do are a part of my learning process. * The tarot can provide guidance, but you manage your own life according to your free will. Feel free to keep what resonates, and let go of what doesn’t.~ * (English is not my mother language, sorry for the mistakes.)

Illustrations belongs to Kristin Askland

~ 1 ~

You can take a breath: What burden have you left behind in the past year: Five of Swords, Reversed Death, Reversed Ten of Wands, Temperance, Six of Wands, Magician, Page of Cups

Just thinking about the image I felt an unusual, intense resistance. At first I didn't know if the feeling was my own - because I was in a bad mood - or not, but then, when I started the reading, I understood that I felt your energy, dear Soul. You suffered such a loss, defeat or betrayal that you hid from the world with deep wounds. Maybe even from yourself. You wrapped yourself up like the kitty in your chosen picture. You were afraid to let change into your life, you closed yourself off, whether it was a change in external circumstances or your own internal transformation and development. Whether you wanted to survive or forget, I feel that you tried to remedy it by taking on more and more burdens the weight of which brought you to the brink of burnout, or maybe this collapse actually occurred. Maybe you buried yourself in work or a personal project, but it could also be that you didn't take on such a many burden of your own free will, but that your circumstances turned out that way. You couldn't grow under those so many burdens. Maybe you have been subconsciously or even intentionally hindering and sabotaging your own growth. A deep, personal transformation awaited you, which of course is often difficult, uncomfortable, and can be very much outside of our comfort zone, when we have to reshape our belief systems, our way of seeing things, and our attitude towards our situation and ourselves. Maybe this was meant to happen for you to some extent, a victory over the ego/subconscious. After many tense internal struggles, the time of ascension has finally arrived, the time to create a healthy balance in your life again. You've got room to develop again, and you've stepped onto the path that you can use to create harmony and peace. It's like you got your Mojo back. The fighting spirit has awakened in you. You embraced yourself, broadened your horizons, and now with more self-esteem, zest for life, more vitality, you switched to creation mode. Now you value yourself more, you have seen the treasures within you, and you are actively working on realizing your dreams to create the life around you that you really want. You have everything for it. The meeting your deeper self opened the door to self-love and new, happier beginnings.

You can rest: What helps you relax/gain strength the most? Page of Wands, Sun, Nine of Swords, Eight of Swords, Knight of Swords

Inspiration (making a mood board at the beginning of the year for example), creativity, dreaming, forms of self-expression. Art can be the best way to relax you right now, which can ease your anxiety. Returning to an old hobby, passion, any activity that filled you with joy when you were younger, or maybe starting something new that helps express yourself and self-realization. For some of you, a trip might mean relaxation, recharging in a sunny, warm place. There may still be holding back beliefs in your head, but don't let these ups and downs discourage you, you have time to heal. Fears, doubts, self-doubt cloud our vision, we get confused. Maybe you need to clear up these confusing thoughts and feelings. If you put them into form, it can be easier to examine and arrange them in yourself. In addition to art, because of the sword cards, I think communication can also help, either verbally or in writing, or if you examine yourself and your thoughts more consciously from a scientific perspective. Whether it's a person close to you, a support community, or a professional, it can help to share with someone what's weigh down your heart.  It is difficult for me to interpret the Knight of Swords in this context. This card usually encourages action and change, not rest. In this situation, it can mean that it is necessary to take the lead, break out of a situation, overcome ourselves, shake ourselves out of the waves of negative thoughts, face our fears and examine their origin. Behind these fears, our true self is waiting to break out. We often think things about ourselves that are not true at all, we don't see the reality, the truth, among the false assumptions. It is difficult to abstract and look at ourselves and our situation with external eyes.

*Note: There is a Youtuber named Thomas Sanders whose videos I have seen in the past and some of those at the time helped me see some things in a slightly different light. Through himself, in an entertaining guise, he reveals to us (I could say that he explains with logic as the Knight of Swords) the workings of a person's personality and mind. Maybe someone else who chose this picture needs this information so I wanted to mention it.

Plan your path: What will you need to the start? / What should you take with you on your path? Hermit Item in your bag: - The Hermit's Lantern

Introspection, stillness. Maybe you need to withdraw from the eyes of the world for a while in order to find your own inner light, the wisdom, the knowledge with which you can go towards a truer, more authentic life. The Hermit searches for answers in himself, he is developing and growing quietly, he only needs himself, he does not let the outside world influence him. The meditative retreat, the practice of your spirituality can become an important tool for you in the period ahead of you, you can find the path that leads to the fulfillment of your wish(es). Let your own inner star, which you keep in your lantern be your compass.

Encouraging/Inspiring message from your spirit guides: Queen of Cups, Reversed Queen of Pentacles

You've reached shore, you're over it. You may have been attracted to the second picture as well, and that reading may partly resonate with you, because it may convey a similar message about your emotional world and the need to take care of the health of your body and soul. It is important to ground yourself, to research grounding techniques and activities, to connect with nature, and to balance your elements, equalizing the proportions against the energies of many previous sword cards with air (mental) element. Observing walks in nature, yoga, craft hobbies, claying, making ceramics, gardening, spending time with animals, practicing living in the present, connecting with Mother Earth. Manage and care your emotions and feelings consciously and don't forget to nourish and care for your body. Pay attention to your health. Nutritious meals, quality rests. A lot of anxiety also weakens the physical body, listen to its signals about what it needs. Take care of your heart, water your garden to gain strength and have the energy to create, to shape your life around you as an artist.

~ 2 ~

You can take a breath: What burden have you left behind in the past year: Queen of Cups

The inner turbulent sea has calmed down, your emotions have become clear, uncertainty has been replaced by stability, clear vision, awareness, and understanding. You already look at your own emotional world with different eyes, you have better understanding about how it works. You have studied yourself, the triple relationship of your thoughts-feelings-actions, as a result of which you have gained a deeper understanding and self-knowledge of yourself, and in the future you will try to handle different life situations and challenges more efficiently and consciously. You take care of yourself and your needs, you have become more understanding and compassionate to yourself and you are already showing more love to yourself.  By the time you reached shore, you realized your own values, you found your inner voice, now you can finally breathe again.

You can rest: What helps you relax/gain strength the most? Queen of Pentacles

Treat yourself like a queen/king. It's time to relax and enjoy earthly pleasures. Taking care of yourself, giving attention to yourself can help you now the most to rest after the toils of the past year. In moderation, but get your favorite comfort foods or pay attention to your health and eat foods that nourish your body, if that resonates with you more. Any form of grounding and connection with nature can also embalm your soul. It can be any activity that relax you, in which you find joy, e.g.; creative projects, baking and cooking, claying, making ceramics, gardening, yoga. Maybe pamper yourself for a few days with a wellness or spa program, beautification, if you prefer this type of relaxation.  Have a pampering intimate time with your partner or with yourself if you are single. Quality rest is important, enjoy, don't rush it. In all of its being (regardless of gender) I feel feminine (including possibly parental) energies from this pile, during this period it may be important for someone to connect to this gentle, caring quality, whether they practice it only towards themselves or by spending time with their partner, children, family.

Plan your path: What will you need to the start? / What should you take with you on your path? Reversed Empress Item in your bag: - Selflove potion

As soon as the Queen of Pentacles appeared, it was as if I felt the presence and essence of the Empress together with her. Strongly feminine, caring energies surround this pile. However, when this card arrived in reverse, I was a bit confused. Even with the Queen of Pentacles, I felt that self-care was emphasized, the Empress has similar energies in a basic situation, I don't think you should take that away from yourself after you managed to recharge. Indeed. Perhaps this is exactly the point, that you continue to pay attention to yourself and take care of yourself first before you do it with others, maintain your inner balance. (Of course, if you are a parent, priorities and balance are usually are rearranged, but don't forget about yourself, your own well-being, and ask for help if you need it and have the opportunity.) Perhaps it also refers to your relationship with others, to pay attention to how much of yourself you give to others and not to shred yourself to please everyone at all costs. It is a wonderful quality of you to care about others and be always there when they need you, but unfortunately this can have the shadowside of giving too much of yourself, consuming all your energy until you have no more to yourself. You love being a mother hen. ^^ Maybe you have taken on tasks for which others should have taken responsibility and solved them. This burnt-out or possibly frustrated state also hinders the development of your creative energies. It may be necessary to set those certain boundaries and not allow others to cross them, taking advantage of you, your altruism and generosity. I feel the main message is to love yourself enough to take care of your own needs first and not get stuck in harmful, destructive emotional addictions.

Encouraging/Inspiring message from your spirit guides: Star, Reversed Three of Cups

For me, the message got around with this advice. Dreams, healing, wishes, goals. Your spirit guides ask you to move forward towards your dream goals. You have heard a higher calling, you have taken the first steps, and your life is slowly starting to take the shape of your desires. Healing, growth, following our life path sometimes go hand in hand with loneliness, but don't let that discourage you. You should let go of fake/superficial friends/relationships, who don't treat you well and don't support you on your way, let them go. "It's better to be alone than in bad company." If they don't represent your ideas of what kind of relationships you need in your life, they hold you back in your development and they are toxic or disrespectful, breaking these relationships can be the beginning of healing and can give you space to later find true partners who really deserve and reciprocate your care and sincere love.

~ 3 ~

You can take a breath: What burden have you left behind in the past year: Reversed Ten of Cups

Relationship problems, toxic relationships/environment, people with low emotional intelligence, hopelessness, lack of love and happiness. Although you were physically surrounded by others, you felt lonely among them. You have been searching your place, where you belong. One-sidedness, overgiving may have characterized your relationships, which did not make you happy or nourish you, but now you have managed to break the chains. Maybe you have been wandering alone for a while looking for your soul tribe, where you will be supported and finally feel loved.

You can rest: What helps you relax/gain strength the most? Reversed Three of Pentacles, Eight of Wands, Magician

Sometimes it's good to withdraw from social life for a longer or shorter period of time (perhaps we pause our studies or don't immediately go back to school after finishing our courrently last course) to be alone, to clear our minds and figure out who we are and what we really long for without competing with others. For this, there are people who travel far away, or even move to a new place, where they can heal, and later, when they feel ready, in the new community there they can start with a clean sheet. Of course, this does not mean that traveling is the solution for everyone who chose this picture, but it is certain that moving forward is necessary, keeping your future in front of your eyes. Let your plans to spear, focus on your own individual goals for faster development and progress. All tools are at your disposal to bring your plans to life. Perhaps you received a message or an offer in the recent past period or you will receive it recently, which may hold out a new opportunity to you or inspire you, reminding you that it is time to get moving and put your ideas into shape. If you need it, unleash your creativity, live your passions and hobbies that you have suppressed or put aside for a while. The period of creation may begin.

Plan your path: What will you need to the start? / What should you take with you on your path? Wheel of Fortune, King of Cups, Three of Cups, Two of Cups, Knight of Cups, Sun, Seven of Cups, Eight of Swords Items in your bag: - A feather of a cedar waxwing - A seashell with the sound of your deep inner sea

Let the feather of this pretty bird reminds you on your journey that you were and are able to rise above difficulties and to keep your good heart. Your karma turns for the better. Your empathetic, giving nature is treasure. You are a good friend who enjoys spending time with others and sharing your emotional and earthly abundance with them, but it is important to maintain a balance. Reciprocity. Make sure that in your relationships you get back as much as you give. Stay aware, see who is worth letting close to you, who can become a true friend/ally, and who is only beautified by filters. Don't let others dim your light, don't give in to deceptions and manipulations. From now on, be the protagonist in your life, shine at its center, like the Sun in our solar system. Maybe the Knight of Cups can also points to make room for romance in your life, let these feelings in if that's what you want. If there is no one who would arouse your interest, be your own suitor, romanticize yourself, your life. Be open to opportunities for more emotional growth and development. Trust your emotional maturity. If a situation still confuses you and shakes your self-confidence, think about what is just a mind game or a delusion, either on your part or on the part of others. Examine your options, which one is the rational decision/available choice for you. Of course, it is often difficult for us to rise above our traumas and fears. Check how real your barriers are. If you don't see the truth at first, you are unsure of what is good for you, which is your path, try to calm down, raise the seashell to your ear and listen to what your inner voice wispering to you.

Encouraging/Inspiring message from your spirit guides: Reversed Ten of Swords, Reversed Hanged Man, Reversed Four of Cups, Reversed Six of Wands, Reversed Ace of Swords, High Priestess, Devil

You are over the biggest challenge, a difficult period has come to an end for you. You have awakened to awareness, and this enlightenment brought a healthier view of yourself and your situation, and initiated you on a more energetically balanced path. Your spirit guides say those who hurt you were not worthy of being part of your life anymore, their betrayal brought you a blessing in the long run, even if you don't feel that way at this moment. Your spirit guides want to help you, but for that you have to do your side too, take action and look for opportunities where you can develop and grow. Clear your thoughts. They ask you to learn from the challenges of the past and turn your experiences to your advantage, rebuilding your self-confidence and regaining your fighting spirit, and think things extensively before making important decisions. Maybe you practiced communicating with them in the past, but you've been holding back for a while? (Re)open the channel between you and them and ask for their help or advice for clarity, if you have doubts, if something is blocking your intuition. The Devil card can reveal addictions that chain you down, hinder your development (even spiritually), prevent you from fulfilling yourself and truly live your life. It may be important to question your beliefs and gain a deeper understanding of your spiritual path. This requires introspection and questioning of existing beliefs. It encourages you to dig deeper into your spiritual questions to seek a deeper and more nuanced understanding of your spiritual journey. Start trusting your inner wisdom and intuition. Stay aware of your negative thoughts, temptations, and fears that can derail you. In terms of your relationships, it can be important too to examine your attachments. What pattern do you cling to, what is toxic, what wasn't healthy in your previous relationships, be it in family, friendship, or romantic relationship.

[theboywhoswallowedthesun]

I’m the most hypocritical person ever when it comes to this fandom.

James potter? The absolute love of my life. My kin. My character archetype. I have written essays on this man. Introspective, concise paragraphs about him and his personality and his behaviors. I have tore my own organs out in absolute agony over words I myself created about this man for the purpose of understanding him. Of knowing him. Acknowledging that he spent himself for every person with every breath he ever took. That he knew himself a shell of a man made to cater toward the needs of any other who had the sheer audacity to live within reach of his heart. That he saw his value in his ability to benefit others, not ever vice versa. That he would have cut his own tongue from his throat had anyone else ever not had the courage to speak. That his eyes would have been ripped from his body, if someone needed to see the bigger picture. That James potter as a man ran himself into the ground to let other people stand on his shoulders. That he looked at himself as if a prophet, and those around him the needy. Like he was born as some body for the people, his blood their own. He spent his entire life trying to chase the dwindling notion that maybe, if he loved harder, maybe if he cared more, then he would deserve to rest the body that gave him life. That maybe, his existence in just simply being alive and here, would be allowed. That the large man person woman or thing in the sky would not strike him down for resting his head, if he could prove that he had earned it. If he spent every minute on someone else, that was thirty seconds he may some day get for himself. As if he didn’t having a nagging voice, hot like a breath on the back of his neck telling him to more than he had been. If more was even possible. James potter would cut open his stomach if you were hungry. He would give you his brain if you needed peace of mind. Every second he stood on this earth was spent at the expense of another. He wouldn’t dare receive a quarter of that in return, for then he would only be selfish. He was alive, but that was hardly living. As a character and as a concept he remains to be an incredibly painful example of someone who never left well enough alone, constantly striving to try harder, to be better, if only for the comfort of those around him. And it ultimately killed him.

Remus Lupin? I could care less.

Prongsfoot? It’s hard for me to see in a literal sense but as a concept it couldn’t be more heartbreaking. It’s literary beauty, to think about the idea that they might love each other more than they do anyone in the world- even themselves, that they might spend years trying to suppress the love they feel for each other because it’s almost smothering. They care so loudly, so much, but are afraid of the feelings they hold for each other. That one spent years trying to swallow his love because he knew the man who meant the world to him didn’t feel the same, or that the other tried his hardest to shake off this confusing adoration because he couldn’t possibly like a boy, much less that boy being his best friend. That they cared more for each other, and showed more love toward each other than either one would ever come to know within their grueling lifetime, but still never managed to figure out the mess that was their feelings for each other. That they were never seen one without the other. A packaged deal. One side of the same coin. Soulmates, be it platonic or not. That James was the love Sirius never felt he had to earn and that Sirius was the thing James never, ever felt he had to work for. That they understood each other at a glance. A moments notice filled the silence where words didn’t have to. That it was never a question with the two of them, because the answer was always “yes”. That they were friends- such good friends- that they never got to love one another in the way a boy was meant to love another boy. Friends, even when they wanted to crawl inside each others hearts and claim it a home. Friends, even when their lips mingled head achingly close to one another on those nights where they lost themselves and their sense of right, wrong, bad, and shameful. Friends, even when their eyes met and James potter swore he’d never felt so much before. Friends, when James potter felt like he was meeting his maker every time that man pinned him down, like, you know, mates did. Friends, when the last thought that came through James’ mind when he really did meet his maker was the boy with long dark curls, and how his hand would now never fill the space in Sirius’ ever again. How he would die with his side empty, no one to press against it. Friends, when Sirius let himself rot in a prison longer than any man who had outsmarted the greatest of wizards ever would have, just because he knew no life without James potter.

Moonwater? Not a fan sorry.

[billionairebratenergy]

More Than a Secret

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: They thought they were subtle—careful glances, fleeting touches, whispered conversations behind closed doors. But love has never been something Steve Rogers could keep hidden, especially when it comes to her.

Continue reading below ⬇

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Y/N pressed her back against the cool marble wall of the hallway, her heart hammering in her chest as Steve loomed over her. The distant hum of voices carried from the other room, the rest of the Avengers none the wiser to the way Captain America had her caged in against the wall, his breath warm against her cheek.

"You’re gonna blow our cover," she hissed.

Steve’s lips quirked upward in amusement, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "Am I?"

"Yes," she whispered, shoving at his chest, though he didn’t budge. "You keep looking at me like that, and someone’s gonna notice."

He tilted his head, his gaze flickering to her lips before returning to her eyes. "Looking at you like what?"

"Like you’re in love with me," she accused, cheeks warming.

Steve didn’t even try to deny it. His smile softened, something warm and unwavering settling in his expression. "Maybe because I am."

A fluttering sensation spread through her chest, making it harder to stay exasperated. "Steve," she warned.

"Y/N," he countered, his voice quieter now, more serious. "Do you really think they don’t already know?"

She stiffened. "They don’t. We’ve been careful."

Steve gave a slow, deliberate nod, but the amusement never left his face. "Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say."

───────────────────────────────

"This isn’t a good idea."

Steve turned his head toward her, his brow furrowing. "Keeping it quiet?"

"Yeah." She exhaled, crossing her arms. "I mean, what’s the point? The team’s gonna find out eventually. Might as well rip the Band-Aid off."

He smiled that soft, fond smile—the one that made her stomach flip and her chest ache. "Maybe. But it’s nice having something just for us, don’t you think?"

That was what had convinced her in the first place.

Because Steve Rogers wasn’t just a superhero, wasn’t just Captain America—he was the guy who had spent his whole life on display, a legend, a leader, a man constantly watched and scrutinized. If he wanted to keep something sacred, something just for them, how could she say no?

So, they’d kept it quiet.

Which had worked for about five minutes.

───────────────────────────────

"You two are insufferable," Natasha had announced over breakfast, stirring sugar into her coffee as she watched them from across the kitchen island.

Y/N had nearly choked on her toast. "Excuse me?"

"You and Captain Boy Scout," Nat clarified, unimpressed. "You think you’re being sneaky, but you’re about as subtle as an explosion."

Steve, ever the picture of innocence, had taken a sip of his own coffee. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Sure. Just like you have no idea why you always train together, or why you sit next to each other at every mission debrief, or why you keep staring at her like she’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this planet."

Y/N could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. "We—"

"Don’t bother lying," Nat interrupted. "The whole team knows. Hell, even Thor figured it out, and he’s usually oblivious to anything that isn’t lightning or mead."

Steve had merely shrugged, like he had expected this outcome all along. Y/N, however, had been caught between horror and reluctant amusement.

"Fine," she had admitted. "But if Tony starts making jokes, I’m switching out his coffee for decaf."

Natasha had smirked. "I’d pay to see that."

───────────────────────────────

"You know, you’re really bad at the whole ‘secret relationship’ thing," Sam remarked, leaning against the kitchen counter as Y/N rummaged for her favorite mug.

She didn’t even bother turning around. "Good morning to you too, Wilson."

"Don’t try to change the subject," Sam said. "You two think you’re sneaky, but news flash: we all saw this coming before you did."

Y/N groaned, finally facing him. "Are we really that obvious?"

Bucky strolled in then, glancing between them before smirking. "Doll, the other night, Steve looked at you like you hung the damn moon because you brought him coffee."

"That’s not—"

"You said it was ‘a token of your unwavering devotion’ and kissed him on the cheek."

"That was a joke!"

Bucky exchanged a knowing look with Sam. "Sure it was."

Before she could argue further, Natasha strolled in, grabbing an apple from the counter. "You and Steve have been a thing since the day you met. The only people who didn’t know it were you two."

Y/N opened her mouth, then shut it again.

Well.

Damn.

───────────────────────────────

"I told you we weren’t being careful enough," Y/N muttered as she curled into Steve’s chest on the couch, his arms wrapped securely around her.

His fingers traced lazy circles on her back. "Or maybe they just know us too well."

She sighed, tilting her chin up to look at him. "So what now? The secret’s out. We just... let them meddle?"

Steve chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I think we just let them be happy for us."

Y/N huffed, then smiled despite herself. "Fine. But if Tony starts making wedding jokes, I’m putting salt in his coffee."

Steve laughed. "Fair deal."

And maybe, just maybe, keeping their love a secret had never really been the point.

⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒

[fairly-odd-takes]

I would really like to see the episode where Hazel, Winn and Jasmine decide to go to Cosmo and Wanda's and suddenly find out that their house is MUCH bigger than they imagined. And they decide to continue investigating and eventually find out about Timmy.

.

[kandicon]

Avatar of the Web who keeps getting mistaken for an avatar of the Stranger because nobody cares to understand the nuance between marionettes and mannequins.

[loveanddeepdick]

nerd!choso who is so unknown at school that people go, “who?” when he’s mentioned. you’re pretty sure that only five people knew who he even was.

nerd!choso who is most definitely the president of some club like chess or dead poets society. he saw you at the club fair and fell in love

he thinks he went to heaven when you approach his table at club rush. yuji, although not in chess, was helping choso recruit people since his poor brother was too shy to talk to anyone. you go up to your friend yuji, making small talk with him.

“i’ve never played chess, yuji”, you giggled

“my brother can teach you!”

you glanced over at choso, not even noticing him at first. he was.. pretty. not pretty as in a way your friends would giggle at you when they saw you in a new outfit, not pretty as in the comments you got under your instagram post, but he was a natural beauty.

yuji had to snap you out of it. of course he noticed though, the way you two looked at each other.

nerd!choso who teaches you how to play chess, not letting the two other members of the small club play with you.

nerd!choso who helps you study, helps you carry textbooks, and helps you with midterms and any exams you have.

nerd!choso who has a nosebleed when you give him a small peck on the cheek when he finally confesses to you after months of pining for you.

you two had been studying in his dorm, comfortable with each other as your head was leaning against his shoulder as you two relished in each other’s presence.

“i like you.”

“oh! i like you t—“

“no. i like you.”

you turn to him. a small smile creeping onto your face. you didn’t say anything, only pressing a short kiss on his cheek. he immediately freezes up, his hands turning clammy and sweaty.

“i—uh..”

then, a trickle of blood comes from his nose, dripping onto his cupid’s bow.

“oh my god, cho!”, you gasped as you jump up, running to grab a tissue from his nightstand where he also kept a picture of you two and a bottle of lotion

you leaned in, wiping his nose attentively. as you chide and nurse him while mumbling, choso can’t help but stare down to take a peep at your tank top. he could see the valley of your boobs and the top of your bra. he choked, letting out a startled gasp before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

he knocked out cold on the spot

nerd!choso who keeps a special picture of you in his wallet. he’ll be at his chess club meetings, at lectures, out with his family, and he keeps a hand on his wallet, knowing you’re in there.

the picture was a polaroid he took with your camera, your eyes were just out of frame but he could see a portion of your fucked out face, his cum dripping from your mouth and splattered on your cheeks. you were completely naked and sprawled out on his bed in his childhood home

it was almost funny how a hot goddess of a girl was naked, covered in his cum, and sprawled out, pussy on display on his old lego ninjago bedsheets.

nerd!choso who dedicates every single one of his orgasms to you. if you were with him, he’d find a way to cum inside you. in your mouth or your pussy, he’s find a way inside. of course, he’d also opt for cumming on your tits or on your face, he wasn’t greedy. but what he really wants, is to cum inside your cute little ass! he’s too shy to ask, of course, but the day would come eventually

if you weren’t here though, he’d pull up his personal secret album for you, filled photos and videos with shots of under your skirt, through the crack of your bedroom, from your window, when you just walking around with a tank top. he loved it all.

but his favorites were videos you’d allowed him to take while he was fucking you from the back or in missionary. he loved watching them on repeat, never getting bored of them. after a while, he gained the courage to show you as well.

you checked your phone to see a notification from your boyfriend and gasped when you opened it.

it was an image of the picture he kept of you beside his bed, covered in his semen. in the corner of the photo was his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

‘i miss you ����’

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon’s never given much thought to babies before.

When he was younger, enough time was spent scorning his father and the childhood he was depriving him of, that any thoughts of becoming a dad himself one day were nonexistent. As far as he was concerned, he was essentially already a stand in parent to his younger brother.

As he grew older and enlisted, his life becoming one that consisted of nothing more than violence and destruction and terror, he thought the odds of him surviving into his 30’s were so slim that he need never bother worrying about having a ‘next of kin’.

That was until, he met you, of course.

Because now that Simon Riley has you in his life, he’s not quite so pessimistic about his existence the way he once was, doesn’t picture a foreboding dark cloud when he considers what his future could be. What a future with you could be.

Still, as much time as the two of you spend actually engaging in the baby making process, Simon really only considers babies as being something that other people have, not him.

Not with his line of work, not with the risks that come alongside the territory, not when he already can barely stand to leave you for deployment, let alone leave you behind with a child on top of everything.

No, Simon is perfectly content with his life where babies are just another anomale.

But then, your best friend announces she’s pregnant. And the sight of you holding a positive pregnancy test in your hands, changes something within him.

Suddenly, Simon is noticing chubby, drooling little infants everywhere he goes.

Fat babies shoved into the uncomfortable looking seats of grocery carts pass by him in the shops, crying babies strapped to their mums on the tube, sleeping babies being pushed around in their prams without a care in the world. Even on base, he notices more people talking about their children, showing off picture of their offspring.

He’s looking at you a little different as well. His gaze on you will darken as you and your friend chat about baby names, casually mentioning the ones that you like for yourself. His grip will tighten around the shopping cart when you wave to passing babies, making them giggle. He’s surprised at the way his cock twitches when you pretend to hold a breast pump up to your own chest, wrapping the baby shower gift you’d gotten her.

It only takes so long for you to notice the change in him as well.

You’ll be strolling through the park on a chilly morning when a young family goes by, Simon muttering something about how the little bald headed infant ‘should have a hat on for fuck’s sake, cold out ‘ere’. You’ll be in the shops, when suddenly Simon returns holding a pair of teeny tiny baby shoes in his hand, appearing comically small in his large calloused palms, wondering if maybe your friend would like them. You’re sitting outside a cafe while a pair of chubby cheeked babies are sat in their strollers staring at Simon as if their lives depended on it. You’re giggling to yourself, watching your boyfriend stare right back at these little girls, when the 6’4” tank of a man slowly lifts a gloved hand and waves at them, earning a pair of gummy smiles in return.

The most evident change in Simon however, is in bed.

Almost overnight, he goes from never having considered children, to suddenly dedicating every effort to getting you pregnant by the end of the year, month, week.

[cherrygirlfriend]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ my nerdy boy

pairing: nerd!rafe x pervert!reader synopsis: all about nerd!rafe and his popular, secretly pervy girlfriend ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა warnings: smut, masturbation (f), implied virgin!rafe, MDNI! wc: 500 a/n; this is the first rafe fic on this account that isn't a repost! anyway lmk if you want to read more about them, this was sort of a 'morning thoughts' kinda post i wrote within an hour of waking up ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

masterlist ♡ pervert!reader masterlist

when you first met rafe, he was tutoring you for math and the moment you saw him, you thought he looked downright edible in his little specs and his slicked-back hair. he wore baggy hoodies and sweatshirts adorned with your college's name, but one time, you grabbed his bicep to 'steady yourself' (to feel him up) and you felt the hard planes of muscles hidden under his clothes that immediately gave you filthy thoughts.

from then on, you'd do anything to see that pretty blush that'd sometimes grace his defined cheeks, and it wasn't even a difficult thing to achieve. really, most of the time calling him cute was enough to get him turning as bright as a tomato.

you always wore something low-cut and tight to your tutoring sessions, biting down on your lip and shamelessly pushing your cleavage together as you pretended to listen to him explain statistics, your panties getting wetter and wetter the more and more he stumbled with his words.

when he finally gathered enough courage to ask you out on a date, you took him to see a movie, keeping your arm around his shoulders the entirety of the movie, until the final thirty minutes when you pretended to stretch and yawn, moving your hand to rest on his thigh.

rafe stiffened in his seat, a bulge starting to form in his jeans that you pretended not to notice, all the while drawing hearts on the inside of his thigh with your long, pretty nails.

when you two finally started going out officially, you could tell that he didn't have much experience with relationships, his kisses were clumsy and he kept apologizing if he was 'doing it wrong' and you thought it was the most adorable thing ever.

the first time he let you into his dorm room, it was like his personality had been transformed into a bedroom. when he slipped off into the bathroom, you rolled around in his sheets, smelling his shampoo on his pillow, your hand going to rub yourself over your leggings.

you giggled when you saw all the different boxer shorts neatly arranged in his drawer, grabbing a blue plaid pair and slipping them into your bag.

later that night, you called him, wearing his boxer shorts, your arousal soaking them the moment you put them on. he answered in a groggy voice that caused another pang of arousal to go through your body. he'd been up late doing homework, explaining the subject of his essay while you simply 'mmhm'ed and 'oh?'ed at everything the boy said, too busy rubbing yourself to pay any real attention.

you were looking at a picture that you'd secretly taken of him as you worked yourself closer and closer, picturing his hand was the one getting you off, thinking about what it'd be like to jerk him off with your favorite strawberry-scented lotion.

when you finally felt your orgasm rock through you, you bit down on your pillow to muffle the moans and the 'nngh!'s that escaped you.

and for the next ten-or-so minutes, you just listened to him rant about his classes, your hand still in his boxer shorts, a satisfied smile on your lips, thinking of all the ways in which you wanted to defile his innocence.

[alienzil]

Nanny Danny

“That is a whole ass baby,” was the only thought running through Lex Luthor’s head when the scientist proudly showed him the tube containing Project KR. It was not remotely the sort of thing he would normally think and most definitely not what he had expected to be thinking the first time he saw the clone.

He’d been pleased when he’d read the reports indicating the success of KR after years of failures. Lex had poured millions of dollars and literally his own blood into ensuring a clone of the alien could be made, one that would be under his total control instead of the unknown aspirations of Superman.  He’d wanted to see the fruits of his labors personally but this…

It. No, not an it. He scrunched his tiny face and smacked his lips and…did he smirk? Was that HIS SMIRK on that baby’s face?! No. No. Babies this small didn’t smile or smirk. They passed gas and their sleep deprived and addled parents mistook it for an intelligent response. He’d heard enough inane conversations in the Lexcorp office about the various progeny of his employees to pick up on that but still. This child had Kryptonian DNA, not to mention his own contribution. Surely, he was far more advanced than the dribbling potato shaped lump of an infant whose pictures he’d been forced to smile and nod over when Mark from accounting had rudely shoved them in his face at the last quarterly budget meeting. Yes, that was definitely a smirk. His, that was his smirk.

“So as you can see its growth is well within expected parameters and we’re planning to start phase one of accelerating the maturation process tomorrow once the testing is do-”

“Take him out.”

“Sir? The testing can all be accomplished while it remains in the tube. There’s no need to-”

“I said, take him out. The project is cancelled.”

“What?! Mr. Luthor you can’t!”

“I think you’ll find I can. Now get me my son.”

*****

Two years later

“Call them again”

“Sir, I’ve called them seven times. They won’t answer.”

“Then call another agency!”

“There isn’t another agency, Sir”

Lex glared at his assistant who stared back at him impassively. Mercy stood by the door staring off into the distance and pretending she didn’t notice him being bested by his own secretary.

He stopped himself from shouting again and took a deep breath before asking, “Then what, exactly, do you propose I do Mrs. Anderson? Adjust my entire schedule around naptimes? Find a toddler size lab coat and safety goggles and bring my son with me to tour the new clean energy project on Thursday? Perhaps buy a tiny business suit while I’m at it for the next board meeting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, Mr. Luthor. I’m telling you that no childcare agency in Metropolis will return my calls anymore. Most won’t even answer.  You’ve gone through 27 nannies in the last 3 months. You need someone better suited to your son’s…special needs.”

Lex snorted. “Special needs might be a bit of understatement. He can lift a car over his head and his favorite word right now is No.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Thank you for…clarifying the situation, Marjorie. If there’s nothing else, you can leave.”

His secretary didn’t move. She looked at him like she was waiting for something and now that he was paying attention, he saw she was holding a file.  “Did you have a suggestion?”

Looking pleased with herself she responded, “Actually, yes, I did.”

“Well?”

She set the file on his desk and flipped it open. He looked down at the first page and raised an eyebrow, “What am I looking at here?”

“This,” she responded pulling out the top set of papers and spreading them out, “is the employee file and background check for Daniel J. Fenton, an intern that started in our engineering department about 4 months ago. He has one sibling, two parents and several close friends he regularly meets with. His current supervisor has nothing but good things to say about him and reports he gets along well with all his coworkers.”

She set out the next set of papers, neatly arranging them on the desk to be easily seen. “These are newspaper articles and screenshots of social media posts regarding a small town vigilante locally known as Phantom. The same small town, Mr. Fenton is from coincidentally. Also coincidentally, Phantom made his first appearance only a few weeks after Mr. Fenton was involved in a minor accident in his parent’s home laboratory when he was 14, the medical records for the incident are included.”

“Hmm,” Lex said observing several photos of Phantom and a younger Fenton arranged in order of similar poses and facial expressions and printed out side by side.

“Finally,” she said handing him the last set of papers directly, “this would be a report from the lab Mr. Fenton works in from an incident that happened yesterday. A test with a new protype went wrong and started a fire. Everyone evacuated per protocol when the alarms went off but one of the other interns was working on a programming issue off to the side of the lab while wearing headphones and didn’t hear the alarm or notice the fire. Mr. Fenton noticed his absence and returned to the lab to get him out.” She stopped talking and let him look at the last several pages in the file, a series of photographs of the lab.

“Is this ice?”

“Yes, it is. It’s several inches thick and covers half of the lab. It completely put out the fire leaving minimal damage.”

“This machine was moved?”

“It was. It was very close to the flames and would have required replacement if exposed to extreme heat or cold. That particular piece of equipment also weighs several thousand pounds and was bolted to the floor.”

Lex read through everything in detail then clasped his hands under his chin and stared at the photo of Daniel Fenton for several moments before turning back to his waiting secretary.

“Have HR send Mr. Fenton up. I’d like to offer him a promotion.”

[isamoa]

“ WHAT GETS THEM HARD! ”

jjk men x f!reader ࿐ MDNI.

ᰔ、summary. jjk scenarios on how their dicks get hard ofc

ᰔ、tags. (ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso), nsfw, female anatomy, cunnilingus, exhibitionism, sexting, masturbation, etc.

ᰔ、a/n. these are just my silly depictions. if u dont agree idgaf lol

SATORU GOJO has the dirtiest mind and the highest sex drive. his pants definitely start feeling a little tighter at the sight of you eating a popsicle or something. specifically in public. he would have no shame in it either—casually forming a smirk on his face and dropping a snarky innuendo about the way you’re eating. “can you suck me off like that when we get home?” he’d mumble from across the table, his eyes peeking out from the top of his glasses, a smirk plastered on his lips; wet from the constant licking of his tongue. your eyes widen, a small ‘pop’ sounding from your mouth when you took the frozen sweet out to gasp at the man in front of you. “gojo! are you serious?” you’d yell in a whisper, looking around to see if anyone had heard him. “you’re right,” he’d sigh, standing up from his chair to reveal the very prominent and very obvious bulge in his pants. “we should just do it now.”

SUGURU GETO on the other hand is a polite man. like satoru, he’s a real freak in the sheets—but not as shamelessly. the littlest things can get him hard for sure, but unintentionally seeing your undergarments would really get him going. like an accidental peek at your panties from under your skirt, or a shirt thats a little too see-through showing off the print on your bra. he wouldn’t say anything of course, not right away. you would just be minding your own business one minute and then he’s dragging you towards the bedroom the next. “sugu- what are you-?” you would ask in a confusing tone, craning your head to look at the said man who was now behind you—pushing your stomach up against the countertop; a single hand brought up to grope your breast while the other laid flat against your hip. “your bra is showing.” he’d let you know blankly; an attempt to distract you while his hand slid it’s way into your pants. you would look down in response to his comment, noticing that your bra was in-fact showing like he said. unfortunately for him, you also already noticed the hardon pressed against your back.

TOJI FUSHIGURO gets hard from eating pussy. simple as that. he will get embarrassingly sloppy—juices coating his face and dripping down his chin, loving every second of it while his cock slowly grows harder. emphasis on grows. and if you think for a second that he does it for your pleasure, think again. this man will eat you out purely for his enjoyment only. his eyes are closed and his hands are squeezing at your thighs—legs thrashing uncontrollably from the uncomfortable pressure in his pants that’s about to come undone. “toji- let me help you.” you’d beg with a whimper, dragging your hand from the top of his head down to his cheek when you noticed the constant shuffling of his legs and the crease in his eyebrow. he’d laugh darkly, the breathy snicker creating a hum between your core that made a whine escape from your lips. “im fine mama,” he’ll say cockily, pulling a hand away from your leg to undo his zipper. “ill cum soon, you don’t gotta do ‘nun.”

CHOSO is a needy guy. his face will turn red at a simple flirty text—but send him a slutty pic and he might just cream his pants. fully naked or dressed in lingerie, his favorite or not, he will definitely feel some pressure down below. he might ignore you for a while, uncertain on how he should reply; if he’s even able to. “fuck- couldn’t wait till i got home, could you?” he’d whine quietly, trying his best to keep his voice down from the bathroom of his office job; one hand holding the phone up to his ear while the other rushed to unbuckle his belt. “sorry cho,” you’d apologize from the other line, voice rather faint as you posed for another picture to send him. “when are you coming?” you ask doubtfully just as his phone vibrates with another notification from your contact. “now- im comin’ now baby.” he replies with a huff, phone almost slipping from his ear. “really!?” you try to clarify—much more excited than the first time. “no, i mean im cumming. right now.”

[inmaki]

gojo showing off your back scratches to geto

( cont from this fic! req, visual ) .

contains: sex talk, desc of back scratches, crack, sugu is called daddy once (as a joke.. right..)

everything was relatively peaceful in suguru's apartment. key word: relatively.

a forgettable yet appreciated sunday afternoon, not a cloud in sight despite the weather forecast predicting downpours of rain. either way, the raven-haired man insouciantly rested across his white couch, reaching the conclusion that today would be a day for self-care, relaxing, and perhaps some meditation.

there was only one thing ruining his peace.

all morning, suguru has been forced to try and ignore the stain a certain someone has left on his couch — a pair of unecessarily expensive yet dirty shoes being the culprit.

despite these attempts, every once in a while his gaze can't help but wander over at the mark — as if it'd poof out of existence if he glared hard enough.

"fuckin' asshole.." he mutters. it was a wonder his relationship with his best friend managed to stay so promising despite all their differences, yet suguru wouldn't have it any other way, even after situations like this.

right when he grumpily turns back to the tv — which was playing some crappy, low budget rom-com — his apartment door is yanked open and suguru swears he nearly jumps out of his seat.

great, was this it? was he about to get robbed, perhaps evicted? and then probably die? forced into the afterlife knowing gojo's shoe-shit was still on his new couch? no that can't—

"i fucked her!"

suguru whips his head towards the apartment door, announcement being disregarded as he nearly groans in agony. speak of the devil.

big blue eyes peak out from under circular sunglasses, one hand already raised in preparation for a dap up while his stupid, big, dirty shoe pushes the door closed behind him. gojo wears a black compression shirt with grey sweats, marching over to his friend with a ginormous grin across his cheeks.

"take your shoes off, now," suguru snaps, nodding to his friend's feet with a frown.

"yeesh... whatever y'say, daddy," the bastard never loses his smile as his hands raise in surrender, kicking them off by the door smoothly. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

geto pinches his nose bridge. "don't call me that," as he continues the scolding, he points to the living room with his free hand. "you got a mystery stain on my couch, satoru. do you know how many youtube videos i watched trying to get this shit off?"

unphased, gojo takes a look at the strangely colored blob against the armrest's leather material and shrugs. "my bad. did you try febreeze?"

"what— no? dude, febreeze is for.." when suguru looks back up to sourly meet his gaze, he could immediately tell the white-haired man was already drifting back into la-la-land, words going in one ear and out the other. "..nevermind. why're you here?"

at the reminder, satoru seemingly brightens, head shooting back up as if he was just told he'd won the lottery.

"oh god, don't make that stupid face—" he pauses. "the fuck are you doing?" suguru might as well say goodbye to his self-care day, because now gojo was stripping in the middle of his living room, shirt thrown haphazardly onto the still-very-much-stained couch.

"just look!" suguru squints as his friend swivels around to face the wall, pushing his bangs away to get a better view of the— oh shit.

it takes the raven-haired man a second to process what he's seeing before shuffling forward, closely examining the achingly red, bulging scratch marks displayed sexily across the latter's back and shoulders. "no way.."

suguru knows the strongest sorcerer well enough to notice how he purposely didn't use reversed cursed technique on these scratches, just so it'd be obvious to anyone that caught a glimpse of what exactly occured. to his further dismay, he can already picture a smug and sweaty gojo walking around their local gym like this, proud simper on his pretty lips as he easily raises a pair of weights in his veiny hands.

a hiss escapes geto's mouth as he runs his finger down a particularly agitated one, knowing exactly how painful they could be after experiencing many hook-ups of his own. even so, satoru only licks his lips, neck craning to the side so he can pride himself in his friend's gobsmacked expression.

"damn, these are deep. you actually hit it?" suguru confirms, raising a celebratory hand.

turning back around, satoru daps him up, a massive smirk now on both their faces. "hell yeah, it was amazing."

it was impossible to predict what gojo would do next after barging through his front door — especially considering how many times he's done so — but this has to be the last thing suguru ever expected.

not that he was complaining — in fact, all of geto's temper and need for relaxation seemingly flew out the window, the feeling of proudness for his best friend overthrowing anything else.

and even if he hated to admit it, the way gojo was so eager to come over and announce his virginity loss to him was more than a little endearing, and dare he say cute.

"that's great, man. congrats." suguru leads him into the kitchen — still shamelessly shirtless — to grab them both a can of beer in celebration. while the white-haired man usually didn't get involved with any form of alcohol, this occasion was most definitely exception-worthy. "you made y/n cum too, right?"

an offended glare is shot his way. "duh, two times."

"huh. surprised you could last."

as suguru pours their drinks into two fragile cups, gojo exhales, not bothered in the slightest by his jab. "dude, same.." he admits dreamily. "she was so fuckin' tight and warm.. and oh— fuck, her moans? heavenly.. 'can't believe i didn't bust after the first minute.."

geto gulps, trying his best to ignore the mental image his brain was producing from his dirty words. you can't blame him — both of you were smoking hot, and he was a simple man.

even now, he could already imagine what you both looked like; panting and moaning, skin-slapping so loud that it echoed through the whole room, how blissed out you'd look as gojo's cock split you in t—

satoru's playful sigh cuts through the tensing air. "who knows sugs, maybe you'll have another kind of stain to worry about next time we're over~"

he's never snapped out of a daydream so quickly. "don't even joke about that."

over the next hour, the two men sat manspread on the stained couch, taking leisure sips while recalling satoru's final moments as a virgin — suguru giving out his secret tips and tricks along the way.

maybe sometime, suguru could offer some.. hands-on learning instead.

mlist! <- sugu.. how could u think abt ur bestie and his gf like that... tsk tsk tsk (if u enjoyed reblogs/comments r appreciated heheh)

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