#live laugh lars

[mentalmilkshakes]

Check out this lad and his awesoem hair

[hershelwidget]

maybe i just want them to be happy for once

[dobythealpaca]

WE CAN DO IT LARRY FANS WE JUST GOTTA PULL THRU I BELIEVE IN US!!!!! DONT GIVE UP HOPE JUST YET!!!!!

WE CAN GET THIS JUST THAT BIT CLOSER!!

[phoebeejeebies]

no longer hate my stats module because my stats module coordinator sounds a lot like lars pinfield and i know the ghostbusters majored in psychology and would have loved SPSS

[larsulrichsblog]

HAPPY CHRISTMAS!!! FAGGOTS 💜

[iheartjameshetfield]

I just want to say that I LOVE your fanfic. It’s so fun to read and all the characters are so interesting especially Lars lol. Please, if you can of course, try to update it faster because i can’t wait for the next chapter ❤️

AHHHHH THANK YOU SMMMM

god it means a lot that you’re actually interested in the characters, especially lars cuz i feel like i’ve made him out to he unbearably annoying, but i love him and he’s literally my baby, he’s just an annoying one

i am working on updating faster, i’ve actually updated twice this week (don’t get used to it 💀) so i hope i’ll continue that streak

again, thank you so so so soooo much 😭🫶🫶

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

PLEASE MAKE THE JAMES KIDS Y/N's OF

A/n: I've had this idea for so long NO ONE RUIN IT

Warnings: Smut, fingering (f receiving), praise kink, age gap, daddy kink, James is reader's stepdad (reader is of age and did not grow up with James as a father figure, he's just some guy), forbidden love?, angst, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

He looks so soft and squishy but also like he could crush me

I would thank him and apologize for being crushable

James had started seeing a woman around his age, things were going great and they were planning on moving in together, but things were a little more complicated than that.

She had a kid when she was young, you, obviously. You were an adult but you still lived with her because you can and housing is expensive.

James didn't have an issue with it, he'd met you a few times and you were quite quiet, young and you didn't really have much to talk about with him, but you were always nice. He did want a relationship with you.

He didn't expect you to call him dad or even see him as a father figure, but he wanted something.

After getting you and your mom moved in he tried to figure out your schedule. He knew you had some kind of job but he didn't know what it was exactly and he didn't ask much, he figured if you wanted to talk about it you would.

After a couple weeks of not seeing you not leaving your room that much, never once catching you outside the house, he decided to take you out with him. Just to band practice, nothing big but it was something.

Until you sat on the floor in the corner with your headphones on reading. James was hoping you'd be interested in the band, you weren't disrespectful and greeted them all, but you just sat there. Because you weren't actively being rude James felt bad for being frustrated with you, but he couldn't help it, he was doing everything he could and you just weren't even trying.

He knew you didn't owe him anything and that if you didn't want the relationship he did he couldn't force it from you, but it hurt. You were living in his home, you were an adult but he was trying to be your dad, at least be someone who you could trust.

James went over to you and pulled your headphones off. You looked up at him and held your page with your thumb, quickly pausing your music for a second. "You don't wanna listen to us?" James asked, a forced smile on his face as he tried to come off as cheery, not as annoyed as he was.

You looked to the band and shrugged. "I'm fine right here." You said, pulling your headphones back on. James stared down at you, arms crossed over his chest.

"She's fine, isn't she?" Kirk spoke, wanting to keep the peace, and Lars was getting antsy.

"Yeah, she is, but..." James grumbled, looking back at you. He huffed and took your headphones, not giving you a chance to argue before he was pulling you out of the room and down the hall to find an empty spot.

"What the hell?!" You asked when he finally stopped and let go of you.

James stared at you a moment before he let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, are you hurt?" He asked, looking over your arm a moment before you shook your head in response. "I didn't mean to get mad, I'm just- I'm trying, I'm really, really trying here, and I know you don't owe me anything, but I'm just asking to give me a chance." He explained, giving you pleading eyes.

You stared right back at him, thinking over what he was saying. "I wasn't trying to be mean." You said. "I just didn't want to leave the house... you keep trying to spend time with me but you don't do things I like."

James took in your words, understanding what you were talking about. He did do that, he always got you going to band practice and hikes, when you seemed happier staying in the car. "Alright... what do you want to do right now?" He asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You thought for a moment before holding your hand out, expecting money. "There's a DQ across the street." He let out a small laugh at that and pulled his wallet out, only giving you about fifty bucks which was still way more than you needed for DQ.

"And you're gonna stay there until I come get you?" He asked, watching for your nod before handing you the cash. You walked back with him to the studio, getting your headphones and book before heading to the restaurant.

James still thought of you, he was still sad you didn't want to do the things he wanted to do but he knew you were happy now.

When practice came to its end and Lars cheered, James went across the street and found you with your face in your book, dunking fries into a shake and popping it into your mouth. "What is wrong with you?" James teased when you took your headphones off, he hadn't wanted to rip them off this time so he sat in front of you and waited for you to notice him.

"Try it." You offered, pushing the fries towards him. He gave you a skeptical look but took a fry nonetheless.

He chewed it after dipping it, expression morphing from disgust to pleasantly surprised. "It just tastes like a cold fry." He said before taking another. You swatted at his hand and he dropped it. "Hey, I paid for them."

"And you could pay for more, my fries." You stated, pulling them back out of is reach. James rolled his eyes at you and went to get his own food, he hadn't eaten in a while and needed something. Once he got his food you were gone to his truck and back home.

It was already late, around five, and it was a long ride home because James lived rather far on the country side. You took your headphones off, listening to whatever he had on the radio -Iron Maiden and Judas Priest, seventies bands- while you read. Occasionally James would give you a nudge and you'd give him a fry from his basket, maybe a chicken strip.

"You don't do much, do you?" James asked, stealing a glance at you.

You raised a brow at him. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Just, like, anytime I see you in your room you're on your phone or laptop... you don't really leave the house."

You look at him as he spoke and turned your head away afterwards, returning his shrug. "I do stuff... I read a lot."

"How do you even afford books? I don't give you money for them, I know your mom doesn't give you money for them." He said, trying to figure it out in his head. "You stealing?" He asked, giving you a stern look as he pulled into the driveway. "If you're stealing I'll have to spank you." He said it jokingly but it didn't stop your thighs from pressing together, or around the food between them.

"I have a job, I'm not stealing." You said before getting your things together and getting out of his truck, hurriedly making your way inside the house.

James laughed to himself as you ran and started getting out of the truck himself before he stopped himself. Your book was sitting in the door still.

He grabbed it and went around the truck to get his things before making his way inside. He dropped his things off and looked at your book, looking it over and reading what it was about. Some kind of smut, it didn't say anything but it was evident and it gave him a giggle.

James knocked on your door and leaned closer to it. "Hey, you left your book." He said, waiting a moment before calling out again. He did it a third time before trying the door and finding it unlocked.

He pushed the door open, the first thing that caught his eye was the camera sitting on the ground. Why you never brought it with you on hikes he didn't understand, it was good quality and could take some beautiful pictures. Then he followed where the camera was pointed.

You were frozen on the ground, staring up at him with wide eyes like a deer caught in headlights. You wore pretty lingerie but that didn't distract him from the purple, tentacle like dildo suctioned to the ground and halfway inside you.

James stared right back at you with the same stunned expression. Slowly, he set the book down on your shelf and left, leaving you alone for all of about five seconds before he swung the door open again. "What the hell are you doing?!" He yelled, making you flinch. "Is this your work?" He asked, gesturing over your body.

You bit your lip, awkwardly covering yourself. "Y-yes..?" You said after a moment. "I-I like what I do." James scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You like what you do, selling yourself to creepy old men?" He asked, looking back at you. He glanced at your bookshelf. "You read smut, get horny, and then do this?" He glared bullets through you for a moment, going over everything that happened that day.

"I don't read smut." You said. "I read romance, some of them have smut but I don't read for it, I just like romance." You explained, wanting to get off the dildo but not knowing how to do it discreetly or... it was just weird no matter how you think of it, really.

James took in your words, still staring at you. His brows raised as he came to a realization. "You were getting off to me?" He asked hesitantly. Your face lighting up was all the information he needed.

The two of you stayed staring at each other for a long time before a grin spread over his face. "Poor girl, just needed daddy's cock, huh?" He asked, moving closer to you and kneeling in front of you, his cock twitching in his jeans. He cupped your face in his hand, running his thumb over your cheek. "Why don't you show me how bad you want it, huh?" He asked, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

You couldn't say how many times you'd gotten off to him, how you pictured his cock instead of those fucking silicone things, how you heard his voice in your mind, cried out for him. You needed him so fucking bad, but he went for your mom instead.

You started bouncing on the purple tentacle, it was only about five inches. You were still relatively new to this field and didn't have many toys, the ones you had were smaller. The bigger ones scared you but always tempted you, you wondered how big James was and got ones around what you thought.

James started palming himself through his jeans, tattooing his zipper into his cock as he watched you, watched your brows furrow and lips part in soft moans. "C'mon, sweetheart, don't be scared, it's just us here, you can be as loud as you want." He assured, tilting your head up for him.

You lifted yourself up and dropped your weight on the dildo, a high moan ripping from you as it bumped your gummy walls. A low groan left James as well, his gaze now on your pussy, watching it suck in the toy, your puffy little clit poking out all needy and neglected.

"C'mere, sweetheart, let daddy show you what to do." He said, hands going to your shoulders and guiding you off the toy. He turned you around and pulled you into his lap, back flush against his chest while his thick arms wrapped around you.

One hand went to your chest, needing your tits, the other went to your glistening cunt, thick fingers easily sliding through your folds. "You know how to touch yourself?" He asked, chin resting on your shoulder.

"I-I do." You said, breathlessly, reaching a hand down.

James caught your wrist and pulled it behind your back. "I don't want you to do it, just wanted to know what you knew." He explained, hand finding your clit and starting to rub it in slow circles. "Feels good, right?" You gave a small nod, soft moans starting to leave you. "That's good, daddy's gotta make sure you're enjoying this, doesn't he?" Again you nodded.

He kissed along your neck and shoulders, not stopping his little ministrations as he continued to ask you questions. "Do you make good money?" "Do you ever get any threats? Bad fans?" He asked you questions about how it worked, what you posted and how much money you made for what kind of content.

You were so close to cumming and he wasn't stopping, but he kept telling you to wait. "Just one more question, last one, I promise." He'd said about five times, you were getting really close to disobeying and taking whatever punishment he gave you, and boy did you expect a good punishment. "How'd you get into it?" He asked. "You said you liked it."

You swallowed thickly, mind a muddled mess as you did your best to hold back on your high. Your mom would be coming home soon and she couldn't find James in here with you doing this. "Just-just got into it, I-I posted pictures online and-and people really liked 'em." You managed to babble out through moans and heavy breaths.

"That's it?" He asked. "No one made you? There was no necessity for it?" While it seemed insignificant he needed to know you were actually ok and enjoying it. He finally seemed satisfied when you nodded this time and kissed your cheek. Just an inch over and he'd get your lips where he'd been avoiding. "Go on and cum for me, would you?" He said.

You didn't wait another second, finally getting to let go. Your eyes rolled back and you slid slightly on the hardwood floors before he caught you and held you tighter, praising you through your high. "What a good girl, such a good listener, waited for daddy to give you permission." He cooed.

He gave you a minute to stop twitching before he lifted you up and carried you to your bed. There were wetwipes on your nightstand and he used those to wipe you down. He felt bad as he did it, did you always use those? Never had anyone to hold you after? No one to tell you how good you did, tell you they loved you? Nothing?

He sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he looked over your nearly asleep form. He let out a heavy sigh and leaned down, brushing your hair out of your face to kiss your forehead. He was just about to give in and lay with you but then he heard the door open and his girlfriend called for him.

He looked back to you, your fluttering eyes and heaving chest, barely awake, and he just left you. Alone in bed, all over again. Naked. Without him.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Moody Bucky -Oneshot

@imagine-all-the-fandoms informed me that I missed posting this one! I'm so sorry to those of you who were excited to read it, I got bogged down with requests and it got lost in the shuffle. Here you go!

Word count: 2684

“Yeah, yeah sounds good.  See you Saturday,” Y/N replied before hanging up the phone.  

“What’s that smile for?” Natasha asked, walking into Y/N’s room.

“Jesus!  Nat, quit being a spy for one day, please?” Y/N gasped, her hand resting over her rapidly beating heart.  “My heart can’t handle it.”

Natasha rolled her eyes.  “Who was that?”

“His name is Lars,” Y/N smiled.  “He’s one of the Asgardian recruits that Thor brought in from New Asgard.  We kinda ran into each other a week ago after training.”

“Lars,” Natasha cocked an eyebrow at her.  “He’s cute.  But then again, all Asgardians are beautiful.”

“True,” Y/N laughed.  

“What about Bucky?” Natasha asked with narrowed eyes.

Y/N sighed at that.  She had had a major crush on Bucky for a while now.  He was the one she really wanted, but after a year and a half of unrequited feelings she was tired.  She felt like she had dropped some flirtatious hints to him while they worked together, and at times he would pick up the crumb and flirt back, while other times he was a perfectly polite gentleman.  He never pushed for anything more than friendship, and she didn’t want to ruin that friendship and work camaraderie with her silly little crush, so she didn’t push either.  “I’ve got to get over that, Nat,” Y/N said quietly, looking down at her phone in her hands.  

Nat sighed as well, moving to sit next to her.  “He likes you, too, you know.  He just doesn’t know how to go about it.”

“You keep saying that, but nothing has changed,” Y/N said, giving her an unimpressed look.  “If he really likes me and wants me, then he would have done something about it by now.  I’m not going to wait around forever.  I deserve more, don’t I?”

“You do,” Natasha nodded.  “If you like this Lars guy, then go for it.  Even if it doesn’t work out, it’ll be a nice distraction.”

Y/N huffed a laugh.  

***

“She’s got a date,” Natasha said flippantly as she passed by Bucky in the hallway.

“What?” Bucky asked, looking at her confusedly.

“Y/N has a date, this Saturday,” Natasha said, looking back at him.  “With an Asgardian.”  Bucky’s eyes widened at her.  “You waited too long,” Natasha shrugged.  “She deserves to be loved, Barnes.  If you won’t give her that, she’ll find it elsewhere.”  She gave him a tight smile then turned and walked away.

Bucky exhaled sharply.  You waited too long.  The words rattled around in his brain.  Had he really waited too long?  He had a sneaking suspicion that maybe Y/N reciprocated his feelings, but he was too afraid to do anything about it.  Potential rejection and ruining a good friendship held him back, but now…was he actually losing her?

***

Y/N adjusted her dress for the millionth time that night.  It fit her well, accentuating all the right places, the color complimenting her skin tone beautifully.  She was wearing much more makeup and had her hair done up more than she ever normally would.  She looked herself over in the mirror again, then sighed and grabbed her small purse.  “Chill out,” she whispered to herself.  Y/N walked out of her room, her heels clicking against the floor as she headed towards the living room she had to pass through to get to the elevator.  When she entered everyone’s eyes were on her.

Sam let out a wolf whistle.  “Goddamn, Y/L/N, you’re looking good,” he said in a suggestive tone.  “You clean up nicely.”

Y/N blushed and Steve stood up from his spot on the couch next to Sam and approached her.  “You look beautiful,” he complimented her, giving her a side hug.  

Natasha joined him and took her hand.  “Give us a twirl,” she teased, raising their conjoined hands and turning her.  Y/N giggled as she circled herself around, posing with her foot popped up behind her when she was done. 

“Get you some Asgardian ass!” Peter piped up from the corner of the room.  “Show him what we Midgardians can do!”

Y/N blushed and covered her face with her hand as everyone laughed.  “Stop it, you guys,” she murmured.  “Thank you.”

“Doesn’t she look great, Buck?” Natasha asked with a teasing tone, arching her eyebrow as she looked behind Y/N into the kitchen off to the side of the living room.

Y/N turned to look at Bucky.  His eyes were wide as he looked at her from head to toe, pausing particularly along her curves.  He swallowed harshly and blinked, a slight frown marring his face.  “Yeah,” he agreed, shooting a dagger-filled look at Natasha.  He softened as he looked back at Y/N.  “You look amazing, doll,” he complimented her.  He gave her a tight smile, then hung his head and quickly left the kitchen, marching down the hallway to his bedroom where he closed the door soundly.  Everyone watched him leave with a frown.

Y/N sighed quietly.  “I um…I think I forgot something.  Thanks everybody,” she said, quickly walking back down the hallway.  They all said farewell to her as she made her way toward her room, but then looked back to make sure no one was watching her as she veered to Bucky’s door.  She stared at his door for a minute, trying to get the courage to knock.  She pulled out her phone and texted Lars before putting it on silent and pocketing it, then knocking on Bucky’s door.

She heard shuffling and then Bucky opened the door.  He looked dejected until he saw it was her, then his face quickly changed into a pleasant smile.  “Oh, hey doll,” he said quickly.  “I thought you were leaving?”

“Can I come in?” Y/N asked.

“Uh, sure,” Bucky said with a slight frown.  He opened the door wider and stepped back, and she walked inside.  As he closed the door behind her she stood awkwardly near the edge of his bed.  She had been in his room multiple times, whether for a movie night, random hang outs or helping him through another nightmare.  Now it seemed formidable as she steeled herself for his response.  “What’s up?” he asked, looking almost anywhere but at her.

Y/N inhaled deeply.  “Can you be honest with me?” she asked.  Bucky’s gaze snapped to her, his frown deepening.  “Tell me right now why you don’t want me to go on this date, and I won’t go,” she said, gulping at the tremble in her voice.  

Bucky shook his head.  “I…I don’t…I didn’t say that–”

“You didn’t have to,” Y/N breathed.  She walked closer to him until she was almost toe-to-toe with him, looking up at him with longing and hope.  “Tell me you don’t want me to go.”

His mouth slightly dropped, his gaze flickering around her face.  “I…I don’t want you to go on the date,” he rushed out.

“Why?” Y/N pressed him.

Bucky blinked rapidly.  “Because you…you’re…” he sighed and closed his eyes.  “Because I want you to be mine.”

“Look at me,” Y/N whispered.  He slowly opened his eyes.  “Say it again.”

Bucky bit his lip then inhaled deeply.  He slowly leaned his head down until his forehead rested against her forehead.  “I want you to be mine,” he whispered.

“Then ask me,” Y/N whispered back with a small smirk on her face.

Bucky huffed a laugh, his hands grabbing her hands and holding her fingers loosely.  “Will you be mine, Y/N?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she replied, her smile widening.  

Bucky smiled back.  “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it,” he said.

“I’m sorry it took me so long, too,” Y/N said.  

He nuzzled her nose.  “You do look amazing, by the way,” he said, his gaze slipping down her body appreciatively.  “Too bad it wasn’t for me.”

“Oh please,” Y/N rolled her eyes at his moody cheekiness.  “Whose fault is that?”

“Mine,” Bucky chuckled.  His fingers moved up her arms, until he reached the dress straps on her shoulders.  He slowly pushed one down so it hung loosely on her arm, then leaned forward and kissed her naked shoulder.  “I’m pretty sure you were thinking of me, though.”

“So what if I was?” Y/N teased.

Bucky pouted against her skin.  “You like torturing me, don’t you doll?”

“Maybe a little bit,” Y/N said.  “I mean, I could text him, send him a picture of my dress–”

Bucky nipped at her skin and growled.  His metal hand wrapped around the back of her neck and pulled her against him, his flesh hand gripping her hip.  “You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed, his flesh hand traveling down to her ass and giving it a quick slap that had her gasping.  “I don’t share.”

“Neither do I,” Y/N huffed, her hands gripping his shirt tightly.  

“You better call and cancel with him,” Bucky snarled in her ear.  “‘Cause I’m not letting you leave my room for the next few days…if ever.”

“Already did,” Y/N smirked.  

He laughed against her neck before pulling back and looking at her.  “Careful, doll, or you’re gonna make me fall in love even deeper than I already am.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at that piece of information.  “I love you, too, Buck,” she said sincerely.

Bucky’s eyes softened and he smiled before finally kissing her gently.  She kissed him back fervently, angling her head to deepen the kiss as her arms wrapped around his neck, keeping his face pulled down to hers.  It quickly became passionate, Bucky’s hands kneading her ass then leaning down to pull and pick her up by her thighs.  Y/N yelped against his mouth as he started lifting her dress with one hand while the other kept her positioned around his waist, her legs crossed tight behind him.  He got the dress off before laying her down on the bed, his lips barely leaving her skin.

When he pulled back he looked down to find her bare breasts, a thin thong barely covering her pussy.  “Fucking hell, doll,” he murmured.  “What were you hoping for tonight, huh?”  His possessiveness returned, making his eyes darken again.  “Was this for him?”

“Who?” Y/N asked, biting back a smile.

A low rumble came from Bucky’s chest.  “You’re just a little tease, aren’t you?” he asked, his flesh hand slapping at the side of her ass.  

“Sometimes,” Y/N shrugged.

Bucky’s finger dipped below the string of her thong on her hip and started pulling it off.  He threw it off to the side and dipped that same finger in between her legs, feeling how wet she was already.  “You’re soaking, doll,” he cooed at her.  “Who made you this wet?”  Before she could answer, his hand slapped her pussy lightly, making her gasp in surprise, looking at him incredulously.  “Was it him?” he arched an eyebrow at her.

“No,” Y/N whispered.  “It was you.”

He slapped her pussy again, tearing a cry from her lips.  “Who was that?  I didn’t hear you,” he said with a playful grin.

“You!”  Y/N yelped.  “Only you!”

“That’s fucking right,” Bucky grunted, then rubbed at her clit in fast circles with his middle and pointer finger.  Y/N tensed at the pleasure that zinged through her pelvis from his actions, her eyes screwed shut as she let out a shuddering breath.  He leaned over her again, kissing up from her breasts to her neck where he sucked at her skin, leaving bruises blooming in his wake.  “Nobody else can make you feel like this, can they?” he asked, his teeth scraping against the column of her throat.

“Nobody,” Y/N moaned as his fingers started flicking her clit instead of rubbing.  “Shit!  Just like that!  Bucky…baby…”

“Oooh I like baby,” he chuckled against her skin, licking up her jaw.   “What else do you wanna call me?”

“Anything,” Y/N hiccuped, her hips gyrating against his hand.  “I’ll call you anything you want, just please let me cum!”

He slapped her pussy again, making her squeal.  “I asked you a question,” he said.

“Bucky…baby…handsome…fuck, honey, love, daddy!” she yelled.

Bucky chuckled again.  “Wow, never been called ‘daddy’ before,” he smirked down at her.  “Say it again.”

Y/N’s eyes pleaded with him.  “D-daddy…please…”

Bucky eyelids fluttered at the pet name.  “Yes, babydoll?”

Y/N squirmed at the new version of ‘doll,’ loving how he was playing into the pet names.  “Please!  Daddy please, make me cum!” she begged.

“I’ve got you, babydoll,” he groaned, then his fingers pinched her clit.  

Y/N gasped and whimpered until after a few precise flicks she finally came with a loud moan.  Her legs were shaking as she panted and eventually came down from the high of her orgasm.  “Fuck…” she sighed.

“Good girl, Y/N,” Bucky praised her, kissing her cheek sweetly.  “Do we need a condom?”  She shook her head, unable to fully form words.  “Thank god,” he said, then suddenly sat up straight and manhandled her until she was laying on her stomach.  He spread her legs and lifted her hips so she was up on her knees, her face down in the blanket.  He slapped her ass multiple times, massaging the sting, before she felt the tip of his cock slip through her lower lips.  She hadn’t even heard him taking his clothes off, and she gripped the pillows by her head as she prepared for his cock.  “Ready doll?” he asked.

“Yes Daddy,” Y/N mumbled.  Her hips slightly jiggled and moved back towards him, making the tip of his cock push into her.

“Fuck yeah, you want my cock, babydoll?” he groaned, gripping her hips.  “Say it.”

“I want your cock,” Y/N breathed.  She was still so turned on and lightheaded from her first orgasm and his possessive, rougher treatment that she didn’t even know she liked until now.  “Please give me your cock, Daddy.”

Bucky moaned and finally started pushing into her.  They both gasped at the feeling, Y/N whimpering as he continued to push in, large and overwhelming her tight pussy.  “Holy fuck, so tight,” Bucky huffed.  “I’m not gonna be able to stop, Y/N.”

“I don’t want you to,” Y/N said, trying to look back at him.  “Fuck me, Daddy.”

“Jesus Christ!” Bucky whimpered, then slammed his hips into her, making her scream.  He set a punishing pace, the skin slapping against skin echoing in his room between his grunts and her whimpers.  Within just a few minutes his grip became bruising as he chased his release.  “I’m gonna cum, babydoll.”

“Please…”

“Gonna fill you up…”

“Fuck yes.”

“Then I’ll fuck you again.  And again.  Mark you from the inside out, so he knows you’re mine.”

“Yes Daddy!”

“That’s right, scream my name.  Make everybody know you’re mine!  Let them know who’s fucking you this good!”

Y/N came again at his command, screaming his name as her pussy clamped down around him, her entire body shaking.  Bucky was right behind her, her pussy milking him of everything he had, cumming with a shout and falling on top of her.  They shivered against each other, his panted breaths fanning her neck and his hair tickling her ear as she twitched from the aftershocks.  

“Damn, babydoll,” Bucky breathed after a few minutes.  He lifted himself and slowly pulled out of her.  Y/N groaned at the loss of his fullness.  Bucky lay next to her and pulled her in to snuggle against his side.  He brushed her hair from her face with his fingers and stared at her adoringly.  “Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” she whispered, smiling at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern flashing in his eyes.  “I’m sorry, I got carried away–”

“I’m fine, Buck,” Y/N giggled.  “Great, actually…Daddy.”

“Don’t start yet,” Bucky narrowed his eyes at her.  “Let me recover first.”

She giggled again.  “So jealous and moody,” she teased.

Bucky grinned proudly.  “Only for you, doll.”

[ladyxskywalker]

In Exile

Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader/OFC

after his battle with obi wan, anakin is spared & is instead banished to a remote farm world. there is no darth vader, no suit, no extensive injuries. only inner turmoil. he must find peace & healing. but what he didn't expect, was to find a kind lady there who just wants to be loved & help him.

part two

a choose your own outcome story ! weekly story polls posted at the end of each chapter ! hope you enjoy ! 💌

Sunflowers, part one

It is an unusual time of day.

The sky has already become a softened shade of violet, the wind whispering quietly as it passes by - the suns, still felt to be the warmest right before setting.

Anakin looks up towards the haze. It is the later part of Summer on this planet. A forgotten place with no name that he calls home now. His farm, still needing tending to, even though things are sparse and the people are few here. 

He keeps to himself often because he likes it that way, burying himself in his work, trying to forget things on repeat. Striking thoughts and vivid memories appearing to him in his headspace, never seeming just to go away. 

anakin, this isn't you...

you're going down a path I can not follow...

It’s as if he doesn’t truly want them to disappear. As though he needs to remember, just to keep going in some sick and twisted way. 

this isn’t living.

I’m only just existing…

Closing his eyes for a moment, Anakin lets out a calming exhale of breath, standing solemnly amongst the grass, as he becomes lost inside their gentle stream of swaying. It is the only thing he can allow of himself now. Something simple to ground himself in so that he can not feel anymore pain. Those insufferable feelings will happen later. At night, when sleeping is a luxury for him and he isn’t so busy. He doesn’t get much rest these days, consumed by every ounce of remembering. Wishing he could just turn everything off if only he had willed it to be so. To truly be emotionless. A thread of left behind humanity, constantly reeling him back in again. 

goodbye, old friend…

may the force be with you…

Anakin scoffs, adjusting his tunic before kneeling down into one of the plant beds, examining the delicate leaves taking shape on his now flowering vegetables. They’ll be ready to harvest very soon - he thinks. Which means, he’ll get to be proud of something for a change. Happy to have watched something grow, even if it had been on the outskirts of nowhere, in the middle of this strange and quiet town...

But then, he starts to think of his unborn children. Feeling as though he’d blown his only chance in life of watching them live, breathe, and thrive in the world. Considering the possibility of being a good father, teaching them what it means to be…

intelligent.

brave.

resourceful.

or even … good.

“I’m none of those things. Not anymore…” he says.

This time, not completely realizing that he’s said something to himself out loud, looking away from his dirt ridden hands to make sure that no one else had been there to notice.

But you had.

You always did. Even when you'd tried not to.

So beautiful, and smiling at him in the last remains of daylight.

Holding a freshly picked bunch of sunflowers in your arms, struggling a bit to hold onto all the stems.

“Here. Let me…”

He begins, brushing the palms of his hands onto the front of his pants, before making his way over to your small patch of land. 

I better help her before she loses them all…

don’t need anyone laughing at her.

no one. laughs. at. her…

“Oh…thank you so much Lars, you didn’t have to do that…”

Taking the flowers from her slightly shaken hands, he carefully begins to place them one by one into one of his garden baskets. Forgetting for a moment that he is no longer Vader, and no longer Anakin, either. That Lars is the only name now that he can go by. However misguided. It’s the only thing salvaged from his old life that he can have again. 

“Yes I did…better in here than on the ground. Don’t you have one of these things?” he says gruffly, focused on the task at hand. 

“I did…”

“What do you mean, you did?”

“Another farmer stole my only basket from me…among other things…they were upset, it was my fault anyway, and…”

“Upset? No matter of disagreement should ever warrant thievery.”

they don’t know the meaning of upset.

stealing from a lady…

really?

“They were angry when I didn’t return their affections. Now he’s trying to sabotage my business. Breaking things, poisoning my rose bushes... Spreading falsehoods about me and my family around the village…”

“Who. Is. He.?”

Anakin pauses deliberately between words, feeling a familiar heat inside himself rising to the surface.

Pointing to a house on the farthest side of town, he recognizes it immediately. 

Right opposite the lake.

The man is no farmer.

He's a vagrant fisherman.

Doing his own stretch of time on this desolate unlikely safe haven.

He must have escaped from someplace...

Avoiding a bounty...perhaps.

She's silent now. Perhaps he's frightened her with all of his wordless brooding.

Or...maybe it had something to do with the tightened closing of his fists.

I'm going to kill him.

“Go home. This will all be settled in the morning.”

“Settled…?”

He nods, having a hard time with being gentle. Trying his best to be reassuring.

But then, she smiles, her shoulders falling - relieved, before taking his hand. A metallic wonder resting in the palm of her own. She wishes that he can feel her, but somehow - strangely, she can almost sense that he does there.

“Thank you. I've been so afraid.”

Anakin hums, nodding in understanding.

If only she knew who was standing before her…

would she be in fear of me too here…?

doesn't matter…

But then...

Completely surprising him, she presses a kiss to his cheek.

Waves of unruly hair, almost getting in the way of it...

Leaving him standing there, contemplating a fight to be had in her honor at sunrise the next morning.

…❤️

a/n - thanks so much for reading ! 💫 I've been inspired to write a story again, & what better way to do it than to get everyone involved in the writing process too 😊 this idea has been swirling around in my mind (& drafts folder) for a while now, so it's been really exciting to see it come back to life in a whole new way. each part of the story will be cross posted to ao3, & will be tagged on tumblr with 'sky lady story time 💌' hope you enjoyed this first installment ! I'm excited to see what you guys want to see happen next 🌼☕📖 xo A

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Love You Teacher looks good, actually, and too many people are just jumping to conclusions.

Nowhere in the trailer does it suggest age-regression kink play, only a traumatic response exaggerated for dramatic purposes that, by all indications, inhibits the established couple’s sex life. (Let it be known, though, sexual exploration between consenting adults is chill.)

More casual age regressive tendencies is kind of the norm in relationships, and y’all y-series fans love it. There are so many edits with one part of couple acting cutesy and being taken care of by their supposed faen. ‘Baby’ is a common endearment for a reason! When we’re in relationships, we pout, we act more cutesy, more vulnerable. Love You Teacher looks to be dramatizing this element to spark conversations about balance, mental heath, and care, both for one’s self and in relationships.

This isn’t some weird romance trope that BL’s pulling from the shady corners of the internet cuz it’s kinkier than het romances. Traumatic regression that leaves one partner simple-minded to some extent has been a part of some really silly and also some really profound Western movies. You’ve got dubious films like Big with Tom Hanks or Adam Sandler’s approaches, but Elf, Thirteen Going on Thirty, or even something more indie like Lars and the Real Girl, with a young Ryan Gosling, (P’Dome seems to be a bit of a cinephile so I wouldn’t put it past him as a reference point) reveal the sweet sincerity that can emerge when these kinds of stories are done conscientiously.

Perth and Santa seem beautifully cast in this. Both have worked in BL for some time now (just with other companies—check out baby Perth in UWMA!) and are listed as one of three leads in Perfect 10Liners, so the accusations of them jumping the seniority queue are a bit misplaced. Even if that were the case, that point would be moot after what they delivered in the mock trailer.

Santa’s adorable energy finds great use in both the role of the ideal primary school teacher and the character’s reverted 7 year-old mental state, and it lends itself as a response to actor Barcode’s recent complaint regarding the infantilization and limited mature roles for those who are established as a uke in a partnership. I’m excited for the industry to address and push for conversations and roles that allow these actors to age. Sometimes that means letting them take on gritty characters that we might ignorantly assume are against type, but it could also acknowledge the youthful energy some of these actors and plenty of people in the world take into their adulthoods that shape their life. A kindergarten teacher is a prime example of job that attracts that kind of person!

I could not have imagined a character that used Perth’s disposition, simultaneously aloof and warm, so well. A teacher too-cool-for-school with no passion except for his partner? There’s our aloof guitar playing boy. Who must learn to roll with the punches of life and laugh at how ridiculous and precious it is? And there’s our warm cuddly teddybear.

The chemistry between the two in the trailer was eye-opening, too. They appeared spontaneous and familiar with one another, easily conveying live-in boyfriends in love. Even most of the naysayers for the show, admitted their initial excitement for the pairing’s intimacy. If the show plays well, it ought to be breakout success for both of them.

Give me ALL the Sammy. Everyday. Girl has been shining since BL day one (the og Love Sick, baby)!

The colors! This show looks lovely and lively. The primary school wall decorations. The costumes. The face paint in the trailer is so cute! Sammy’s hair color is genius! It just has so much vibrancy during a presentation when multiple dark, brooding shows were announced.

Director P’Dome has earned my trust. Peaceful Property was quirky, intricately plotted, and endlessly compassionate. I was crying almost every weak! I’m not surprised in the slightest to see him with a show like this. The premise of Love You Teacher is a bit out there, a bit provocative, and has the potential to have such a huge heart. The closest comparison tonally in GMMTV’s history I’ve seen so far is with the work TayNew did right before PP, Cherry Magic! Let me tell you about the boxes of tissues my happy tears went through for that series!

Basically, Imma be fighting tooth and nail for this show until it actually offers a reason for me to not support it. With what we received in the trailer, Love You Teacher has revealed only green flags, gold star stickers, and A pluses!

[mentalmilkshakes]

Observe this guy delighting in his food,,, how could anyone ever speak ill of him?

[lowkeyrobin]

Platonic Ghostbusters x social media manager! Reader?

oooo hell yeah!! ; thanks for requesting and I hope u enjoy :)

GHOSTBUSTERS ; social media manager

summary ; you run the official ghostbusters social media platforms

warnings ; language

word count ; 746

masterlist

Podcast wanted to run the official Ghostbuster social media's but was quickly turned down at that. They needed someone who could actually be on top of that kind of stuff and whatnot. So, Stanz made a deal with Podcast that they'd get a social media manager, and he could act as their teammate with that, basically. Giving them ideas, giving them video clips and extra details, etcetera.

Most of the others didn't see a real reason for a social media manager, but as long as it wasn't their money.

Trevor offered to just do everything himself, but that was obviously turned down as well. The teens all agreed not to let the adults run the account either. They didn't need millennial - Gen X / Boomer humor flooding the whole account and making them look bad.

And that's where you came in.

surprisingly, Pheobe was the one to find you. she's seriously the most chronically offline person ever so the fact she ever opened Instagram was a miracle in itself

lots of talking back and forth and meeting the original four three ghostbusters to get input, then meeting callie & garry and the teenagers

you actually figured out that you used to be friends with Lucky as well, damn

you had managed social media accounts before, but you'd recently quit a few of those because of labor laws being broken so, yknow

you quickly formed a bond with Lucky, Trevor, and Podcast. you were kind of close in age to all three of them and they were all invested in the public image for the brand

setting the Instagram up was genuinely the funnest thing ever

the four of you were chilling in the living room in the firehouse (since sleepover stuff, pheobe was in her room reading) and you had your laptop in your lap and the three of them over your shoulders

the amount of laughing and cackling got some scolding from callie upstairs

it took everything out of you to not make the first post a video of trevor being soaked in Slimer's slime (which had been recorded by Lucky just by coincidence as they were investigating the attic again)

the first three posts, which were pinned, all lined up to be like a banner kind of logo with the theme song in the back, and they all played the same video, clips of the og ghostbusters and how they grew and then the new ghostbusters

the tiktok is its own thing, you allowed trev, lucky, podcast (and pheobe) to run it, but everything had to be ran by you first because pr shit

but thankfully no boomer humor or slang is ever being put on those accounts

most of those people don't even know wtf the internet is anyways lol

stanz has a personal vendetta against you /hj after you posted a .5 of him for relatable promo. he had no idea what you were doing but it was criminal that you made his forehead look so much more bigger than it already was

Winston gives you a bunch of old pics to post to trending angst sounds as well LOL

let's not talk about that tiktok where you, lucky, and trevor dance to/remake submissive and breedable by smosh ft bbno$, okay?

^podcast and pheobe were behind the camera cackling the whole time

lots of random pic posts on the insta as well because why not (most of them are the teens looking awkward, callie, gary & lars trying to look like cool scientists, or venkman, stanz, zeddemore & melnitz being classic, sassy old people)

the socials are never professional whatsoever, it's fun but it's not heavily controversial or obvious that you're there as a pr manager basically or just to manage the socials

like man they don't have the time to look at all the comments, take all the advice, reply to fans, etc

I mean that wage ain't that bad either LMAO

trevor is always bitching about how you make more money than he does /lh

you're not just a representative to them, you're actually family. you're just cool like that

"bro y/n is such a mc I hate them" and you'll reply on your personal w a "says you, reality shifter" or smthn LMAO idfk

always reposting ghostbuster edits / fanart etc because fandom culture 🙏

also I can't get over the fact the ghostbuster theme song is canon now either. yk damn well that shit is plastered everywhere thanks to you 💀

"do the ghostbusters respond??" "stanz said he loves your dog" "HELP HSEIJDLAKE"

10/10 experience

[metallicaislife]

Christmas Decorating - Metallica

Absolute chaos

You went to the Metallimansion and had to tear the garage apart in order to find the Christmas decorations

Like they were tucked away in the back corner so you had to take EVERYTHING out just to get to those two bins of decorations

You left the carnage for the guys to put back

You got the bins inside and they assembled

You wanted this to be fun, but you also wanted to actually get things done

So you assigned yourself as the organizer of the chaos

James and Cliff would be assembling the tree

Kirk was in charge of detangling the lights

Lars was helping you sort through ornaments and other decorations to go around the house 

You put some Christmas records on and the organized chaos began

“I’m not so sure that’s the piece that goes there…” James muttered

“Flip your piece right side up.” Cliff said 

“It is.” James answers

“No, like this.” Cliff says and flips it over

“That doesn’t look right.” James says

“It is.” Cliff answers and moves on 

“This is worse than guitar wires.” Kirk groans

You look over and he’s managed to wrap himself in the most confusing way in the lights

Lars laughs “I’ve got this, you go help Kirk.” 

So you abandon Lars and go to help detangle Kirk 

“Thank you.” Kirk smiles

You smile back and help him finish detangling the lights, laying them out in preparation to wrap around the tree

You and Kirk then helped Lars with the decorations

You started putting garland up around the house 

With not too many more arguments, James and Cliff finished the tree

You took it upon yourself to wrap the lights around the tree, Cliff helped when the top off the tree was a little too tall for you to reach 

Then the lot of you descended on the tree adding ornaments and tinsel chatting and laughing as you did so 

Cliff topped the tree with a star 

When you all finished you were exhausted, you plugged in the tree lights and it lit up beautifully

You hit the house lights, and made some cocoa

You all continued playing Christmas records and hung around in the living room admiring the tree with your favoritest people in the world

[sourbites]

What Remains After Fury

You knew Metallica, and everyone involved, were stressed for weeks building up to the Seattle event. It's been built up in everyone's minds to be this huge thing, and it's honestly really freaking James out. He's been restless, and sleepless, and his temper is more brittle than ever. Which has rubbed off on the others. Lars and James are fighting like never before, Jason's everyone's punching bag, and Kirk can't keep them calm and together forever. With that awesome environment, everyone on the team has been just as brooding, skulking around the venue at rehearsal as if they're being forced to show up.

That's why you're so surprised when you see James, a giddy James, floating around backstage when he's got an encore to show up for in a dozen minutes or so. You know it's James, even with his back to you. You'd recognise him off the beating of your own heart if you had to.

Gently, mindful of his recent mood, you remind him. "Don't forget your encore, James." You say coolly, masking the schoolgirlish sigh you want to swoon out at the sight of him.

Beer in hand (as usual), he turns to you: "I won't. Just wanted to come see you. How you doin', darlin'? Workin' hard?"

It's funny how he almost sounds southern, despite living in California for most of his life. That bluesy purr of his voice does nothing to cauterise the red-hot lust spilling out of you as if you have a bleeding head wound. It certainly feels that way sometimes, as if your mind fogs. Grinning, James raises his brows at you expectantly. Oh fuck, he's expecting an answer.

You swallow dryly, almost stupefied. "Shut up, that's not nearly as smooth as you think it is."

He laughs, his shoulders shaking subtly as the air enters and exits his chest. A thick bicep curls around the top of your shoulders, bringing you to his side for a quick hug. His skin is warm, molten hot — a little clammy from performing for at least two hours by now.

"I'll take your word for it," He hums, slowly slipping his hand down low, low, low. Dutifully following the surface of your back, the dips of your spine, until he reaches the small of your back. Thick fingers grope into your shirt, rounding out around the swell of your hips.

There's a heavy pause for a moment or two. His hair swooshes around as he looks around backstage. Most other crew members are tuning stuff and messing around with lights. AKA: doing what you should also be doing.

"Fuck it," You hear him murmur lowly. "You wanna take your break right now?" The question is directed at you.

You wring your hands in excited nervousness, despite finding yourself nodding. "We shouldn't take too long, though." You remind. The clock's still ticking, and there's a mass of fans preparing for an encore, crowding around the stage restlessly.

"Don't you fuckin' worry about that," James' hand is already rushing you into some emptied-out storage room, hot on your heels himself. 

The door to the little room slots closed, the lock following soon after. The four walls are bare save for a shelf where James is already surrendering his bottle of half-savoured beer. The light is an old, warm-toned fluorescent that flickers painfully every few seconds— as if it's sighing in exhaustion.

With both of his hands aching with idleness, James busies himself by slipping his warm, big palms over your figure, drawing you in with both his index fingers hooked around the belt loops of your skirt. You walk the three steps towards him until your frame bumps into his. Greedily, his hands cup your waist, gathering the material of your shirt into fists. His hot mouth is on yours, devouring your every breath. Your skin rasps against his moustache, a cool nose nudging into his. Just to make matters worse and get you further under his spell, he grazes his teeth against your lower lip, heavy-handedly groping your ass through your skirt.

You don't have time for the slowness, and James doesn't have the sobriety for the tenderness. Skirts are bunched up around the waist, and fly zippers are hatefully yanked down. Tongues swipe over lips, and corners of mouths, getting tasted indulgently. His tongue's in your mouth, and you react on instinct, sucking around it as your palms slip under his shirt, venturing up, and raking your nails back down. He shudders, patting you on the ass in his approval. You smile inwardly, nipping at his neck before you sink to your knees. It's a Pavlovian reaction, to kneel around James' thighs or at his boots.

With prying hands, you manage to tug down his boxers enough. His cock is already heavy and hard, springing up and smacking into his abdomen. Wrapping a hand around his base to secure him, you lean in, your soft breath hot against his skin. You can see the chills on James' arm before he reaches to you, threading thick ringed fingers through your hair reverently. You mouth at his head for a few moments, your lips sliding over his ever-wettening tip. With a few kisses, you sink further onto him. Your tongue flutters around his shaft, tracing the art of the vein that runs along the underside of his impressively thick cock.

James hisses once your drooling lips take him into your mouth. Precum beads a pearly, translucent shine around his peachy-skinned tip. The bluntness of his short fingernails scrape along your scalp, fisting your hair at the crown of your head. You can feel his pelvis and hips flinching. He's holding back. You try to ease him into the hollow of your throat, knowing that eases him.

"Nah, sweetheart. No time for that." James sighs, before practically scalping you with how much force he uses to yank you off him. You follow, jerked backwards with a throaty gasp.

He cups your cheek, stroking down your messy hair. "Later, alright?" He promises, grinning again.

You're guided to stand up, your back firmly pressed into the wall. His breath mingles with yours, and you can almost taste the deeply malted beer on his breath. Fuck, he makes you dizzy. James cups your thigh, steering it around his hip. With his other hand, he gathers your panties and ushers them to the side.

You find your place in the crook of his neck, sighing as he glides his now glistening cock over your wettened slit. In a dull, ache, tingle, James bullies his way into you, his fingers splayed and gripping onto where your hip meets your thigh in vehemence. He bumps against your cervix, his hips jutted forward as if he wants it to bruise you. Shuddering, your breath stops with every time you meet.

Golden, shining locks are swept to the side as you sink your teeth into James' flesh, tongue swiping over the slab of meat that connects his neck to his broad shoulders. You can almost feel his rock-hard cock in the pit of your lungs each time you ambitiously try to breathe. God, he's a monster.

Heated limbs wrap around heated limbs as he carves his hips into yours as if he's a worshiper of some deity, and you, his worshipee. A cry is forced out of you as James withdraws himself, only to pour into you, burning your bruise-tender skin as he goes. He stumbles faster and faster into you, smothering a palm to your mouth to muffle the sounds of your noises. As if that makes anything more subtle. The room is full of heavy breaths, skin punching into skin, and the obscenely vulgar sounds of slicked arousal drooling and bubbling from your puffy cunt with each schlick and schlock of James' thrusts. But sure, you need to keep your noise down.

Tears prickle at your waterline. Each shaky inhale is gutted out of you, your moans stuttering every time you're fucked into the wall.

"Shh, attagirl. Keep quiet f'me," James rasps out, grazing his teeth into the shell of your ear for a moment, dipping further into your warm bubble of space. Furiously charmed, you lean into him; maybe to take some weight off of your one leg that's not wrapped firmly around his waist.

James' hips are snapping into yours, bucking and pressing as if he intends to flatten you. You feel malleable anyway: like hot clay, a pile of mush that's bolstered up with every nasty hurl of his aggressively penetrating cock.

As if you weren't already close to going into cardiac arrest, you can hear the winding corridors quickly fill with hustling and bustling. The encore must be close. And James is missing (or busy, is a better term for it). And the man in question doesn't even seem to notice. His chest rumbles with a deep, rich moan. He bows his head down, caressing the base of your neck with an open mouth. Your pulse is thrumming. Your heart is thumping against your ribcage. You're not sure what will remain of you after James' fury.

"C'mon, sweetheart," He coaxes between smoky gasps of breath. "I know you're close." He goads. You can feel his smirk against your skin.

His calloused fingertips sweep up your throat, cupping your cheek. Uncharacteristically tenderly, he plants a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You grip him, any part of him you can manage, in a blind panic. His hair, his shirt, bicep, forearm, shoulder. Anything and everything that will help anchor you to reality as the sheer consciousness is viciously and thoroughly fucked out of you. Brain melting and going straight to that wild, fluttery pit in your stomach that thirsts to boil over.

You throw your head back against the wall, otherwise limp with jellified limbs if not for James being your pillar. Sensing what you're about to do, he cements his hand to your mouth again, forcing you to swallow the lewd moan that's heavy on your sex-liquored tongue.

"Jesus Christ," James marvels at you, his gaze falling to watch your soaked cunt withstand every vicious stroke of his cock into the channel of your insides. You squeeze your eyes shut as James' rhythm falls faster in a never-ending inward thrust. The pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, and gives it a few overzealous swipes. Your body replies with a wobble. Then the squelch of cum as your aching hole gushes around him, pulsing and milking his cock to follow in your actions and just let go.

Your head swings back and forth between keeping James here for a little while longer and finishing him off to send him back onstage. If you concentrate hard, you can hear Lars' yells for James sandwiched between panicked "fuck"s.

James is hitting something tender and spongy when he finally finishes. His whole body shudders, his shoulders tensed, and his hands locking around you, iron-gripped. He gives a few shallow, half-hearted thrusts just to get it all out of his system (until tonight, inevitably).

"Fuck," He sighs, easing out of you with one hand, the other gingerly guiding your leg down. He fixes himself up, tucking his half-hard dick into his jeans. He swipes his beer off the one lonely shelf mounted on the wall, greedily swallowing it down his throat.

"Keep that pussy juicy, sweetheart. M'gonna eat it later." He grins, giving you a pat on the hip before reality hits him, and he rushes out of the room in a blur for his encore. You're left with the reek of sex and the syrup of mingling cum between your legs.

[chalkscene]

lovebrush chronicles ⇢ “I CAN HOLD THE WORLD IN MY HANDS”

how they react to you saying you can hold the world in your hands then gently cupping their face

ft. ayn alwyn, alkaid mcgrath, lars rorschach & clarence clayden

note: reader’s cat’s name in alkaid’s drabble is set to beans which i named my mc’s cat because i forgot what the default name was djsjdjsja

just as you expected, you find AYN in the music room, practicing his piece for an upcoming school program. careful not to make any noise, you tread lightly to where he’s sat, slowly sliding into the already little space next to him on the piano bench. without pausing his hands above the keys, ayn scoots over to give you more room. soon he’s playing the last key of the composition and the moment the sound fades into silence, he lets out a frustrated sigh and runs his fingers through his hair. unable to find the right words that would seem helpful, you simply lift a hand to brush his locks, straightening a few flyaways and fixing his bangs before you cradle his face in your palms in comfort. for a moment, you wordlessly stare at ayn, taking in his stunning visage, and he doesn’t miss the abrupt quiet. “what is it?” he asks to which you answer playfully, “nothing. just holding the world in my hands.” the smallest of smiles adorns ayn’s features in an instant but not without a subtle eye roll. still, his crimson eyes turn into rubies as a gleam of affection flickers in his gaze. “you’re distracting me,” he replies in jest. you let go of him as you jokingly put your hands up in mock surrender, “please don’t call your bodyguards on me.” that coaxes a chuckle out of ayn, “tempting.” soon, you feel his arm snake around your waist as he pulls you closer and when you don’t inch away from him, he resumes his practice.

you and ALKAID are sat side by side on the couch as you watch beans and sparkles roughhousing in the middle of your living room. you don’t notice how much time has passed but it feels like the silence has gone for too long when you speak. “you’re an astronomy major,” you tell alkaid. “yes,” he confirms earnestly as if the information wasn’t already glaringly obvious. “can you hold the world in your hands?” you ask him quizzically. alkaid is clearly caught off guard by your odd question so without waiting for a response you know you’re not getting, you raise your hands and gently cup his cheeks, “i can.” alkaid gives you no response and you begin to think he’s put off by the cheesy gesture until a smile stretches across his face and he finally speaks. “so you’re saying i’m about…” he pauses briefly as he tries to recall a fact, “12,756 kilometers big.” there’s a hint of amusement in alkaid’s expression as he relays the information to you but you only knit your eyebrows in confusion so he continues with a sheepish grin, “that’s the size of the earth.” “of course.” you can’t help but roll your eyes at his sense of humor but you also find it incredibly endearing that you don’t bother to stifle the giggle that bubbles past your lips. alkaid laughs at your reaction, “what?” “only an astronomy major would say that.”

LARS invited you to spend the day with him at work—“i’m feeling lonely,” he said over the phone, the pout on his voice very audible on your end of the line that you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. so here you both are, tangled up in each other’s embrace since the moment lars joined you on the couch in his office sometime during the afternoon. under the orange rays of the sunset passing through the glass walls of the room, his blue eyes shine more brightly than they already do and his blonde hair have turned golden. he looks ethereal like this. “something on my face?” his voice snaps you out of your reverie, smugness painted all over his visage. you realize he can tell you’ve been staring. earlier in the relationship, it would’ve flustered the hell out of you but now you simply mirror the expression on his face as you gently hold it in your palms and you’re immediately filled with pride when his breath hitches at your affection. “nothing,” you say with faux indifference, “just checking if i can hold the world in my hands.” lars’ ever so familiar cockiness dissolves from his features, instantly replaced by a loving look in his eyes, “well?” “i guess i can,” you murmur. the deep rumble of lars’ chuckle soon hits your ears then he’s pulling you close as a teasing smirk stretches across his face once more, “you are so in love with me.” and you don’t deny it. you lean further onto his chest as he tightens his hold on your body. against your cheek, you feel his heart pick up the pace and that tells you enough—lars rorschach is undoubtedly just as in love with you.

“knock knock,” you say as you poke your head through the door to the student council’s office and CLARENCE immediately turns to the sound of your voice. “hi,” you add with a grin that clarence returns—or tries to return rather. despite the softening of his gaze and the air of authority around him vanishing, it’s easy to notice the stress that has dampened his spirits. “hey,” he replies anyway. he invites you to join him at his desk and you gladly do, although carefully perching on the edge of the table. “everything okay, mr. president?” clarence huffs out a chuckle at the nickname before releasing an exasperated sigh. “what’s up?” you ask again and clarence answers this time. as an insignificant member of the student body, you only understand half of his student council worries—one of them being this year’s stellaris cup not having enough participants. “what if i join?” you suggest and clarence can immediately sense the halfheartedness in your tone. “you’d do that?” he asks dubiously, the corner of his lips now quirked up as he prepares to call you out on your bullshit. maybe you are just attempting to cheer him up but it’s the thought that counts. “i would,” you retort as you get on your feet with theatrical confidence, “for my first trick, i will hold the world in my hands.” clarence raises an eyebrow but he doesn’t interrupt so you walk around his desk until you’re standing in front of him. when your hands softly land on his face, he’s quick to understand what you mean and in your grip, he shakes his head in amusement but a subtle blush now dusts his cheeks. “that’s a winning talent if you ask me,” you jest. that earns you a laugh from clarence as he jokingly agrees, “it is.” in the same instance, you feel him lean further into your touch, closing his eyes as he basks in it then he sighs in pleasure.

[romance-rambles]

qixi lars | what comes the morning after

The morning after their reunion, Lars wakes up beside his beloved empress. Naturally, he takes the opportunity to admire her before waking her up.

1.1k, post-qixi card story, domestic + possibly toothrotting fluff, reader is mc, series: none

FOR ONCE, IT IS NOT a dream when Lars wakes to the sight of his beloved. And if the warmth of your skin should not be enough to persuade him of such a thing, then his aching arm—burdened with the most important task of all—should suffice instead.

You are, at once, exactly as he imagined you and a fantasy beyond his wildest dreams. The length of your hair falls further than it used to, and there is a scar on the palm of your hand where there was nothing. But the lovely smile you shared with him last night remains the same as ever.

He shifts onto his side, careful to leave the sleeping beauty on his arm undisturbed. His other hand reaches out and carefully brushes through your unkempt bangs, leaving them to lay flat against your forehead.

It is tempting—to poke your forehead as he used to, back on your boat when his world seemed to limit itself to you. But, instead, his hand travels to your cheek, knuckles gently carressing your soft skin.

If yesterday is a day of firsts—the first time he saw you again, the first time he held you again, and the first time you uttered those three words, which, for the longest time, he heard only from the ghost that haunted him—then today, as well, should hold that distinction.

For today is the first day of the rest of their lives as emperor and empress—

And the first time he can appreciate your slumbering visage outside of his nightmares.

The slight furrow of your brows. The faint smile playing on your lips. The way your nose lightly puffs up with every breath you take. And the shadow cast under your eyes by your thick lashes, short though they may be—shorter than his, supposedly.

You measured them both out last night. He sat obediently with his eyes closed, the taste of your lips lingering on his tongue. As the seconds passed by, you grew increasingly miffed. Though you could grasp his lashes, such a fact did not seem to aid you in proving your point.

(You once heard a woman you'd befriended complain that her husband's eyelashes were long and beautiful, and his skin required virtually none of the upkeep hers did. She said she was sometimes jealous that he was more beautiful than she was—but mostly, it was the fact that everyone else knew to appreciate his beauty that drove her.

Somehow, when a brief awkwardness descended after that first kiss, that was the first thought your mind offered you.)

When he opened his eyes, you were as close as you had been at the start of it all. Close enough to hold, closer still to kiss. His lips had flattened; his smile, behind which he was attempting to smother his laughter, deepened.

Amusement glinted in his blue eyes—as it does now, in the present—and he asked:

"So, have you found your proof yet?"

The word no never left your lips. With the way a scowl crept up onto your face, it wasn't necessary. That was when he laughed, and his shoulders felt so light. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this way—but he figured it must've before that fateful night, when they hadn't even said goodbye.

Before his smile could fade, ever so slight, you were already holding his face. And with that came another kiss—this time, from you to him.

Spurred by the memory, Lars leans down and kisses your forehead. Your eyes are still closed, but your hand manages to capture his own. Your once faint smile has grown uncontrollably, its soft edges cutting into your flushed cheeks.

"Good morning, my empress," he whispers softly into your ear, and watches you bite your lip.

(The truth is, you've been awake for a while now.

Or, perhaps, it's more accurate to say that you never slept at all. How Lars managed to fall asleep with the many thoughts that must've been running through his head is a question for the ages.

But if you'd been sleepy at all, then his little stunt certainly woke you up.)

It's only when he pulls away that you deign to crack one eye open. Squeezing his hand gently, you bury your head into his chest with a groan, any thoughts of waking up seemingly forgotten. He chuckles warmly and squeezes your hand in return.

Outside, the sun has already risen. Gentle winds carry birdsong to every corner of the empire as his stomach—and, undoubtedly, your as well—reminds him of its hunger.

In the previous days, Lars would've already been up by now, a quill in hand while he poured over documents in his office. Even in the short time he lived with you, he was always waking up first. You hadn't been joking when you appointed him as your personal chef, after all.

And even if you had been, Lars finds your smile—and your snack stash—to have been payment worthy of an emperor playing fisherman. There are few things a man wouldn't do a for beautiful woman he was beginning to fall in love with.

So, with great reluctance towards disturbing your peaceful countenance, he attempts to wake you up in the only foolproof way he knows how.

"How does some grilled fish sound for breakfast?" Lars asks.

You pull away, lifting your head off his arm just enough that he could easily slip it away. Propping himself up by his elbow, he watches you quietly contemplate your options. Eventually, you sit up, legs folded and bent to the side.

(You would never turn down food when it's offered to you.

And you would certainly never turn down food made for you by the man you love—who also happens to have proved his skills in the kitchen. Naturally, there's only one choice you can make.)

"Good—" A yawn breaks up your words; you cover your mouth with your other hand. "—morning. Fish sounds good."

And his hand remains still in your grasp. Only that, instead of clutching it against your cheek, you have it resting atop your calf. He can't help but think back to the days when even something as simple and domestic as this seemed to be out of reach—that is to say, up until last night.

"Some grilled fish worthy of an empress, coming right up."

Intertwining their fingers together, Lars smiles softly. You don't fight him when he draws your hand closer—and for his efforts in kissing the back of your hand, you reward him with flushed cheeks and a distracted smile.

(It truly is unfair how beautiful he is, you think, and it is perhaps the only part of your thoughts that happens to be coherent. The rest of it comes in the form of visions—of things one would normally expect to happen the night before.

It's hardly the first time you've thought such things, but it is most certainly the first time it's happened in front of the man himself. You suspect this won't be last time either.)

— happy birthday to @sparklesfromtheashes!!