#nature is glorious and loud

[tkingfisher]

A general reminder—periodic cicadas pose no threat to anyone and their plant damage is limited to nipping off the ends of twigs. Please do not hose them with pesticide. They are slow and clumsy and confused and only want to make friends with other cicadas and eventually die of sexual exhaustion.

Yes, the screaming is a lot, but they’ve been extremely quiet neighbors for thirteen years, cut them some slack as they go through the most fraught time of their lives.

[nextnewsnow]

Ant 🐜 ◇

[maruflix]

YOU ARE SO GORGEOUS (IT MAKES ME SO MAD!) #oneshot #hoshinasoshiro #f!reader

hoshina is unfamiliar with the concept of personal space. unluckily for you, the huge crush you have on your vice captain is the least of your worries when he keeps catching you absolutely losing it. / REQ.

feat. hoshina soshiro　　⎯⎯　wc. 2.0k

contents: female reader, reader is an officer in the third division, fluff, stoic reader, reader cannot express her feelings, not-so-oblivious hoshina, kissing

When any kind of problem arises, the Third Division knows three things for sure:

Go get Captain Mina Ashiro to solve the problem for you.

If she’s busy with other important stuff, Vice Captain Hoshina Soshiro will do.

Should the Vice Captain be unavailable as well, look for Platoon Leader Y/N instead.

You don’t mind being busy— you’re happy to know that your fellow soldiers look for you in times of need. The thing is, sometimes people look for you to ask you where the Vice Captain is.

... and you hate Hoshina Soshiro.

It might surprise people to know that you’re able to feel emotions as strong as hate. You’re a naturally stoic person after all.

No noise readies you, no words shake you out of yourself, no person makes your emotions fluctuate — but Hoshina Soshiro is the only exception.

When other people would get discouraged to get close to you because of your lack of emotions, Soshiro is always at ease near you, like the two of you have been friends for a long time.

The way he smiles, the way he runs a hand through his hair, the way he stands— he’s so gorgeous it makes you so mad.

Like right now; the sound of blades clashing against each other rings in your ears as you try hard not to gape at the glorious display in front of you.

Kafka, huffing and puffing with sweat all over him as he desperately tries to keep up with his opponent, while Soshiro moves around with grace, delivering blows that seem so elegant and yet is enough to make Kafka stumble around like a puppet.

You watch, unsurprised, when Kafka falls down ungracefully, butt planted on the floor. Soshiro’s mouth starts moving (probably giving him some pointers) but all you can think about is how perfect he looks as a bead of sweat trails down his neck.

“Hey, it’s your turn.” Kikoru elbows you rather hard, making you snap out of your trance. Your face falls in an immediate deadpan as you stand up, passing by a dejected Kafka.

Soshiro smiles at you, seemingly unaffected by his earlier spar. “Oh no, I’m gonna have to open my eyes for this.”

He says it loud enough for everyone to hear and your heart leaps.

The spar lasted longer than the one with Kafka, but it still ended up with you losing. Well, there’s a reason he’s the Vice Captain and you’re the Platoon Leader.

As a competitive person, you should be angry for losing— but how could you, when Soshiro pulls you up and pats you in the back?

“You’re a great fighter. I might hafta to sit down and take a break.”

The poker face you successfully maintained should’ve given you a goddamn Grammy.

Soshiro spots you in the cafetaria and immediately makes a beeline to your table.

“’scuse me, coming through!”

The surprise in your eyes is gone as quickly as it appears. The entire table greets him warmly while you continue to eat. Soshiro smiles, sitting down next to you as Kafka scrambles to get out of his way.

Reno is trying to strike up conversation, but his only focus is on you. You seem so unconcerned about everything. He likes that about you too, but he wishes you’d let down your guard with him. How could he know whether you liked him or not? — not that he’d stop trying to get your attention.

Soshiro eating the rest of his apple while he watches you slurp down the last remains of your soup. Even when you eat, you look absolutely divine.

Just then, a lock of hair falls down your face, hanging dangerously close to your food. He instinctively reaches out to brush it out of your face.

“Whoops, wouldn’t wanna get that in the soup.”

Soshiro is aware of the stares he got from his subordinates, but seeing those beautiful eyes of yours look at him makes it worth it. Shocked, he watches as your eyes flash through different emotions before finally returning to its usual calm state.

“E-excuse me.” You didn’t give him time to speak before standing up and walking away.

“Wait!”

Did he just hear a stutter?

You walk fast, but Soshiro managed to keep a comfortable distance away from you. He lets you put away the tray of food and is about to call your name when you disappear inside the toilet.

He halts, opting to wait for you, resting his back against the wall. Then he hears something weird.

“AARRGGGHH!!!”

Posture immediately straight, his body involuntarily jerks to the sound of the scream, wanting to check out if you’re okay. Because it’s the sound of your scream.

He doesn’t have to, because at that moment the door swings open and you walk out of the toilet.

Red-faced.

He’s still standing in stunned silence when you slap a hand to your mouth and run away.

If Soshiro wasn’t worried before, he’s definitely worried now.

You keep avoiding him throughout the rest of the day. When you cross paths, you would refuse to look at him in the face. You’d only give him a halfhearted salute before fleeing.

The thing that bothers him is how hot and bothered you look. Are you feeling under the weather? Soshiro knows how hardworking you are, so he’s worried that you’re forcing yourself to work even though you’re sick.

“Platoon Leader, come here for a sec.”

You begrudgingly make your way to him, still not looking at him in the eyes. Fidgeting, sweating, and looking very, very bothered.

“Platoon Leader, are you sick?”

“No, sir.”

“Excuse me.” is his only warning before he presses his palm against your forehead.

Surprisingly, your temperature is... normal?

“W-what the-” Flinching, you make a big reaction and jerk away from his hand. Still, your face is calm. “If that’s all, I’ll take my leave.”

Soshiro sighs as you speedwalk away. Temperature aside, he’s 101% sure that you’re sick. After all, why else would your face be so red?

Unless...

You’re dreaming. You’re dreaming. You’re dreaming. Because there is no goddamn way Soshiro just touched your face.

You have no clue where you’re walking. You just wanted to get away from the only person who’s able to make you lose your cool. So you head outside, to the gardens. You pass by Haruichi on the way there.

“Hey, have you seen the Vice Captain around?” He calls out after you, making you want to scream in frustration.

Can people stop making you remember the existence of the drop dead gorgeous Hoshina Soshiro?!

“I don’t know! Maybe China!”

Haruichi looks very confused. You brush past him.

Full of nerves and unsure what to do, you finally sit down on a bench to catch your breath. You can still feel his fingertips on your forehead and see the worried expression in his handsome face.

He’s worried about you. You’re about to bury your head in your hands and squeal when you catch sight of the very same man walking towards you.

Like a cue, the mask is back on. You wanted to pat yourself in the back for how quickly you’re able to gather your composure. You’d rather die than embarrass yourself in front of your crush... although you just did that when you walked out to a surprised Soshiro.

He didn’t hear you scream, did he?

Did he?

You stand up as Soshiro stops next to you. He’s smiling his usual smile, but something is eerie about it. Like he knows a secret.

“Can I test something?”

You blink once. Twice. Then you nod.

“Walk with me.”

You follow him, puzzled.

Suddenly, he loops a hand around your shoulders.

Your heart misses a beat and you nearly stumble, but you catch yourself with sheer willpower. The stoic expression is getting harder to maintain, the smile on your lips itching to blossom.

“What... why?”

There are chills running down your back when you look up at Soshiro. His smile is wider now, like he absolutely knows a secret.

He absolutely knows.

You break free and run for your life.

Soshiro feels kinda guilty now. He didn’t mean to fluster you so much; he just felt so happy and flattered that he actually managed to make you blush.

That’s why he’s making his way to your quarters, hoping to apologize for teasing you too much today. Soshiro has loved you for many months now; he has no problems taking it slow until you’re ready to trust him with all your emotions.

The door is slightly ajar, so he pushes it open quietly, not wanting to alarm you. He’s about to knock on it to signal his presence when he sees the state you’re in.

Facing away from the door, your body is half slumped on the floor and half on the bed. You’re clutching a giant pillow to your face.

“AAARRRRGGGMMMM” Without warning, you scream, the sound drowned out by the pillow you’re burying your head into.

His mouth drops open but it quickly stretches into a smile.

You raise your head, revealing your blushing face, before slamming it down on the pillow again. A string of unintelligible noises follow soon after.

He clears his throat.

You pause mid grumble and the air is still. Slowly raising your head, you turn your head to the door. The two of you lock eyes.

“Vice Captain! Get out!”

Instead of getting out, Soshiro lets himself in and closes the door behind him. He chuckles at your terrified expression, finally seeing an emotion other than complete indifference.

“So you’re really not sick? Just blushin’ around me?”

You gape, looking very offended but unable to counter him.

“Oh, good. I thought my crush was unrequited.”

Your eyes widen.

“Hey, can I kiss ya?”

“Wh-what?!”

“Sorry. You just look so cute right now. Is that a no..?”

Soshiro moves closer, now kneeling down in front of you. A teasing smile is still present on his features. Gently, he strokes his thumb down the right side of your lips. Gauging your reactions.

You didn’t want to give him any, but even a great actress needs her breaks. A shy smile breaks through your cold facade, and Soshiro beams.

“Oh, this is so cute. I must kiss ya now.”

You don’t know where to look, eyes flitting everywhere but him, but you let him lean into you until you can feel his breaths against your skin.

“W-wait,” you gasp meekly. Soshiro’s other hand is around your waist now. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Soshiro shivers in anticipation. “That’s okay,” he whispers and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “just follow my lead.” And he presses his lips against yours.

It’s so cute how shy you are, so much so that you’re trembling under his touch. He’s pretty sure he heard a whimper when he tightens his hold on your waist. It takes everything in him to control himself when you tilt your head back, parting your lips a bit further for him.

You don’t know how long time has passed because your head is still in the clouds even after he pulls away. It’s embarrassing how a simple kiss leaves you a mess; your breaths ragged and cheeks flushed.

You, who’s usually so stoic, calm and composed, looking like this under him—

“I want to say that I’ll stop teasing you, but I would be lying.” Soshiro grins when you bury your face in his chest.

You’re sulking a bit now. How dare he make you look like a complete idiot. “Whatever. You won’t get another reaction out of me anyway.”

“Is that a challenge?”

After that, he tries to get your attention every time you’re in the same space as each other. He’ll tease you, praise you, sling an arm around your shoulders, hold your things out of reach, all that just to get a rise out of you.

Of course, everyone knows he’s down bad. He acts like a schoolboy trying to get attention from his crush in all the wrong ways. So now even more people ask you about Soshiro; where he is, what he’s doing, like they’re completely convinced you two are an item.

Well, you are.

But with so many people teasing you about your relationship, it’s getting hard to hide behind a calm face. You smile a lot more often, especially when he’s around. Your reputation as the division’s most calm and composed soldier quickly fades into memory. At least you got yourself a hot boyfriend...?

Oh well. You win some, you lose some.

[valalice]

ᥫ᭡ waking caitlyn up with birthday head.

cw. smut nsfw. fem!reader. somno (all consent). cait gets eaten out like the queen she is. fingering (barely). cait has a glorious bush.

it was too tempting, too alluring. you felt, no understood, eve's reason to take the apple, but in this scenario cait is the apple and snake is your conscious.

when you had woken up, as you wanted, feeling proud to have finally woken up before cait on her birthday. wanting to sneak downstairs to wake caitlyn up in bed with breakfast, but when you turned to her, intentions of a quick peck on her forehead. you're met with the sight of cait spread on her back, arms and legs sprawled out, blue locks spread across her pillow in a halo, and the silky light grey night slip she'd worn to bed had ridden up above her belly button, exposing her pretty maroon colored panties; you'd favor waking her up a different way than you had intended.

now her panties are discarded somewhere and making breakfast will have to happen later; slotted between her legs, tongue swirling around her bud, all your movements so far have been light, teasing even. eyes staying hyper focused on cait's sleeping form, her face twisted up in a cute furrow, chest rising and falling shallower by the moment, nipples pebbles beneath her slip. closing your mouth around her and sucking, cait twitched, hips bucking up, her head turning to the other side of her pillow, a loud moan rips from her throat. you pushing further into her, arms hooking under her legs, and pressing the blunt ends of your nails into her thighs.

and when she subconsciously tries to close her legs, squeezing your head in the process you moan into her cunt, the vibrations from you mouth sending shocks through her body to jolt away, eyes snapping open, her head moving from side to side.

"what—" she gasps, her gaze finally falls on you between her legs lapping up her arousal. "shit." realizing that 1.) you've woken her up the best way possible and 2.) she still has her thighs clamped close around your head, not that you minded, you were still busy at work getting her close to her peak. cait spreads her legs wide across the the sheets, an arm outstretching to caress the top of your head.

"you're more eager for my birthday than i am." she husk, accent still laced with sleepiness, a lazy smirk displayed on her face.

nodding your head, knowing it'll add to her pleasure when she sighs. her hand leaving your head and follows her other hand as it pushes up her slip, her tits pooling from underneath, and groping them, lowly buzzing off of the pleasure you're giving her; you always treat her so well.

"already s'close, love." a hand returning back on top of your head, pushing your further into her needy cunt, your nose pressed into her neatly trimmed blue pubes; maybe it makes you a sicko, but cait's natural musk rials you up, makes your absolutely feral for her, it's intoxicating truly. "doin' s'good. go on make me cum." she hums, throwing her head back into her pillow, yet a hand still remains threaded through your hair, tugging at it tight.

her words egg you on, the light sheen of sweat covering glistening over her body also achieved the same effect. you're so unbelievably turned on right now, but today isn't about you, so you resort to humping agaisnt the bed, trying to get any kind of friction agaisnt your clothed cunt. and of course, any ounce of please you get from this is given to cait as you release muffled moans into her, eyes shutting as you savor the taste of her slick against your tongue.

cait's hips buck, and if somehow the grip on your hair becomes even tighter; she's close. you're jaw begins to ache, almost as bad as your cunt, but you don't let up, and knowing her sweet release is just upon her makes you keep up, eyes fluttering open to behold the beauty of cait's head pressed deep within her pillow, body angled up into your mouth, and hard grip on her tit, her perky nipple peeking from between her fingers, mouth agape.

in the midst of the moment she clamps her thighs around your head once more, a breathy release of air is released from her mouth, body shuddering as serenity washes over her; her entire body relaxing, letting go of her grip on your hair and thighs falling weak. a string of groans following after from your mouth lapping up her release, letting your tongue flatten over her puffy clit, arms untwining from her legs and pushing yourself up. crawling up the length of cait's body, hovering above her. "happy birthday, baby." you grin.

the woman below you doesn't hesitate to pull you into a messy kiss. the essence from her cunt still left on your lips and down your chin, the taste of her dancing on your tongues. letting up, you laugh at her lips and chin now also being glossy.

"happy birthday, indeed." she purrs, a hand snaking up your arm to hold onto your bicep, attempting to pull you into her, but you resist.

"i'm not done yet, birthday girl." you smirk, basking in the shocked expression on cait's face when she feels a fingering prodding at her hole before dipping in, her cunt squelching in the process.

caitlyn's birthday bash has just began.

[anotherocean]

THE SEED IN YOUR SOUL:

This reading is about a dream your soul has for you. This is my second PAC reading and it's like a compass for your soul-- something you deeply desire, something that is already occurring on some level, and something that has seeds within you already. Please feel free to pick more than one pile, or pick them all, or just pick one. This is meant to be a glance at something essential inside you that popped out at me, and some advice moving forward toward a more complete realization of it. Please let me know if you found this helpful or if it resonated! :)

PILE I. You are so beautiful to me Pile 1, and your life is abundant with riches. There is SO MUCH peace here. You can finally rest. The energy I see is you on a tropical island swinging in a hammock without a care in the world. You are allowed to take life as slowly as you want. You really appreciate the sensuality of things. Really truly. That’s what makes you rich. The abundance spills forth from there, and you have the money to cover all the basics (and more) without worry. You even have enough money to take care of your loved ones it seems, which is something that matters to you. You want to share so much of what you have, and that's part of what makes you feel rich too. You’ve carved out a gorgeous life for yourself, and that life is just for you. It doesn’t look like a life that anyone has ever seen before. It’s fully YOURS... you invented it! If the word “mine” isn’t your guiding word, it should be. You are learning about all the things that are yours, and it makes you truly rich. You can live your life in secret if you want. Or you can live it very loud and big. There is a duality to you. Somehow your legacy in life is both very small and very huge. You live both a very secret life, and a very public one. You acquaint yourself with the riches of the world and live in true luxury, as personally defined by you.

Advice: You’re coming off of a really hard time it looks like. Recognize the difficulties you’ve been through. Honor them. Address concerns you have about security and how that may be holding you back. Security is your birthright, but it is a state you can feel without obsessively pursuing it and valuing it above all else. RELEASE your regrets for how you wish things could have been. People and situations are flawed. We are flawed. Life doesn’t always take the twists and turns we like, and it’s your time to move on. It’s time to step away from those things and embrace your confidence, your fire, your passion. Aim to complete what you’ve started and begin afresh. It’s the end of a cycle and the beginning of a glorious new one. You are headed for exciting new opportunities and the feeling of inspiration is just around the corner.

PILE II.

My graceful and gorgeous pile 2. Letting your body be completely free makes you really happy, and this is something you feel allowed to do privately.  You are utterly unique and solitude just allows you to stretch out into that.  You loooooooove to be alone, and it is a truly gorgeous thing.  I think a lot of the time solitude gets a bad rap, but this pile is all about the gorgeousness that comes from really getting to enjoy your own company, and the world around you.  You are EXTREMELY sensual and I mean sensual with a capital SSSSSS.  Your greatest joy is pure quiet, and the sounds of nature.  From this place of solitude, and a deep knowing, you find absolute and utter, tranquility.  Maybe this is a pile that has experienced pain or trauma or power struggles but that is all over.  It’s like all the nature you’ve surrounded yourself with has just sucked it out of you completely.  Your body is going to take over.  I keep getting that this is maybe a scary thing, but it shouldn’t be.  You are 100% aligned with something holy.  Deep down I think you know this.  Anyway, the divine will wash over you.  Just say thanks, or say nothing at all, and melt.  You are here for this kind of bliss. You are absolutely absorbed into a spirituality that many people would die to experience just a fraction of.  You are existing on other wavelengths entirely, and what a stunning thing that is.

Advice: You’re undergoing a massive transformation.  Embrace the upheaval you are going through.  Move away from rigid thinking (“this is the way it should be”).  Rules and adherence to rules are not your friend right now.  You will still want to use your mind to think clearly, but be playful and inquisitive as you do it.  Ask a lot of questions and be curious.  Understand too, that emotional pain may be part of the process toward what you most want right now, and that is okay, it will only make your heart stronger and you more beautiful.  Let joy, friends, community and camaraderie lift you up and be part of your healing process.

PILE III

Right away I get the glory of good food!  Of nourishment!  This is just the surface.  You have absolutely incredible, deep-in-your-body physical confidence.  You are an athlete, a chef, someone whose whole world depends on their body.  Still, you are going to the gym, making the smoothies, swimming, dancing, your world is revolving around your physical self.  You get massages.  In a sense you are free to worship yourself.  You are free to worship your world.  Judgements from other people (and there are some) only thrill you, and you might even enjoy the fiery friction.  Sexuality is a part of your life, and it’s tied to your creativity.  You are of the body, by the body and for the body.  You get the pleasure of standing up for what you believe in.  You are some kind of star.  Something old-fashioned even.  Or there is something about the way you live that is old fashioned.  Or your notoriety (fame?) is old fashioned somehow… You are my most musical pile.

Advice:  You are setting out on a brand new adventure right now—how thrilling.  I can feel the potential and excitement.  You are a bit concerned about the long term stability of your plan and it’s holding you back a bit.  There is some hesitation, and it might be hindering your progress.  Don’t be so conservative right now, but also don’t be reckless.  There is a bit of a push-pull between a conservative approach, and a devil may care attitude.  Balance your enthusiasm with steady and thoughtful planning.  Above all else, embrace collaboration and teamwork.  Recognize the importance of collective efforts.  I promise that even if this does not relate directly to your goals, that peripheral collaborations will still help you.  Learn from people around you.  My other word of advice is take time to rest and recollect.  Be diligent, responsible and practical and be in it for the long haul.  There is stability in that alone, which should give you some comfort.  Practicality without conservatism will do you a world of good right now as you set out on your exciting new path.

PILE IV

You are a traveler down to the deepest parts of yourself.  You see the world and different people in the world, and make connections everywhere you go.  You rush hurriedly from one flight to another, and then you find yourself somewhere exotic and your world gets bigger and your whole mind expands.  It’s like the drapes were drawn in your living room for your whole life and now you’ve finally opened them letting light stream in, and even the windows are open and fresh air is finally getting inside.  You see so many things.  Greatest mountains, other oceans, animals and flora and fauna of other worlds.  In a sense you are like an alien walking on earth and just want to see as much of it as possible before you have to leave.  You are so free.  You step so lightly in this world, and with so much joy.  You go to cafes you’ve never been to, shops you’ve never been to, temples and fragrant forests where the caterpillars are huge and orange and you reach out and touch one out of curiosity.  You are a true citizen of the world, and deeply connected to humanity.  Your travels do not alienate you, they deepen your roots to Earth and connect you with your global family.  

Advice: You are on a new path, perhaps related to the material world or financial comforts.  There are real tangible beginnings now.  What’s holding you back are indecision and possibly procrastination.  Let go of indecision and avoiding the task at hand.  Make a decision and move forward with it… at some point in the future it might be appropriate to make adjustments, but not right now.  Right now you must embrace your vision and your confidence.  Be bold!!!!!!!!!  You might encounter worry, fear, anxiety but face it head on.  Don’t try to deny or hide away.  See the fear for what it is and have a direct confrontation with it (sometimes this is the war in our mind).  Persevere and value your resilience.  Say thank you to yourself for it.

=====

I hope you enjoyed this reading! I may eventually do paid services if people want additional info or clarifying questions. Very grateful to help and hope some of this information resonated with you. I had fun doing it and the hours slipped away. Put in my inbox or in comments if you want to see me focus on a specific reading.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik being strong enough to pick Price up when he's in a bad mood and just put him on the bench of his workshop.

Price is in air jail and now at the perfect height for when Nik tugs the zipper of his flight suit down to reveal that fluffy chest, those burly arms, that glorious belly and happy trail that leads to the weapon between his legs.

Honestly I don't think John could work those cargo pants off fast enough, maybe Nik forgoes that entirely and cuts a neat hole right in the crotch and rips to get at his prize.

Price is walking (Maybe a little bow-legged) out of there a hell of a lot happier than when he walked in.

The lads chip in for a nice takeaway for Nik for helping them out (Dealing with Price's shitty mood)

Nik uses his dick as a captain tamer.

cw: anal sex, mild brat taming, a little rough.

John’s temper was nothing new. Nik had experienced it in its various permutations through the years. It was like a hurricane; loud, destructive, and indiscriminate in the damage it caused, taking out friends and foes alike. But it eventually ran out of wind; surviving it was simply a case of moving out of its way until the inevitable conclusion. And, just like a storm, it wasn’t personal, but a natural byproduct of all the pressures and stresses weighing on John’s shoulders. He was only human.

Sometimes, however, the bad mood would fail to wear itself out and John would become more cantankerous as time wore on and his frustration built. If he was particularly tired, stressed, his body wound tight, feeding his brain a continuous flow of cortisol and catecholamines, then his grizzly mood was liable to last for days. A dark cloud hanging over the base and Task Force, suffocating.

It was day three this time and Nik’s patience had worn out. It was time to give the feral bastard what he needed. The lieutenant called it ‘a good seeing to’ and the sergeants, while not quite brave enough to say it to John’s face, said he was always a bit more human after he’d been stuffed with cock. Nik had worked out it was the act of having control stripped out of his hands, his mind emptied of all but pleasure, and his body flooded with endorphins from an orgasm. It stopped the spiral in its tracks. Even if it was only a reprieve to simply clear his head, it was often enough to give him the breathing room he needed to resolve the problem. He would deny it, of course, but John surrendered every time.

Nik finished the maintenance he’d been performing on the Black Hawk’s main rotary engine and washed his hands clean in the workshop sink, careful to remove the grease and grime from his cuticles. It was late. Most of the base had either retired to the barracks, gone home to their local residences, or headed out to the pub, but John was still here, huffing and growling over the laptop on the nearby workbench. “I can’t fuckin’ believe they’re takin’ Simon for another trainin’ seminar, puts him out for three fuckin’ days—“

Nik had invited him in to discuss some intel, citing his need to continue maintenance to stay on schedule as the reason for the location and, ever diligent, John had arrived on time with his laptop in tow, unknowingly sliding right into Nik's trap. Nik turned off the taps and returned briefly to his heli to dip into his duffle bag for the lube before he approached John at the bench. He slid his hands around John’s waist just as he closed his mouth over the soft skin beneath the hinge of his jaw, sucking a mark into soft skin.

“Ah, fuck, Nik—“ John went rigid in Nik’s hands, almost knocking the laptop off the workbench as he span to face him. “You randy bloody bastard, ‘ve got work t’ finish."

Those fierce blue eyes, the stern set of John's face, they would have struck quivering fear into the heart of many a man. But all Nik saw was the stress, the tension, the bone deep exhaustion, all locked up tight behind a safety valve that needed a practiced hand to release it. “Nyet, you are done for the evening.”

“Oh fuckin’ reall—“

He didn’t finish. Nik leaned forward and swept the laptop to the side, before grabbing John’s narrow hips and lifting effortlessly him onto the bench. He shoved his way between John’s knees, not letting him clam up, the expanse of one big hand staying at the base of John’s back to keep him from wriggling away.

John wrestled with him, fists bunching in his flight suit and shoving against his chest, their first kiss more teeth than tongue or lips. But as the heat of Nik's body enveloped him, their crotches pulled flush, chests together, John stopped thrashing in Nik's arms. Nik took it as the first defeat, drawing back to nuzzle John's beard.

"Lemme up, ya muppet."

"Nyet " Nik straightened a little, creating a gap between them even if he remained between John's legs.

"Nik," John growled his warning, but it was a hollow threat.

“You will do as you are told, captain. Good boys get rewards.”

Nik knew the low rumble of his voice, the manhandling, it stirred something primal and receptive in the back of John’s mind. He watched those bright baby blues widen before they dropped to Nik’s hand, following it like a hawk tracking a mouse as Nik grasped the zipper of his flight suit and tugged it down, deliberate in the glacial pace of its progress.

John’s mouth dropped open as curls of black chest hair emerged between parting metal teeth, Nik’s dusky nipples peaking in the cool air, and John’s greedy hands slid across the heat of newly revealed skin, following the firm contours of his tits. Nik leaned forward to kiss John’s neck again, encouraging his touch, and this time his captain relaxed, his legs spreading a little further apart as his hips tilted. He was begging to be fucked. Nik would take John here as planned, and then he would take him to his bed to exhaust him into complete surrender.

Nik tugged his flight suit open to its fullest extent, his cock arching up in readiness where he hadn't bothered with underwear knowing his intentions with John that evening. He popped a few of John's shirt buttons to kiss the furry perk of his pecs, smiling against John's skin as he squirmed, opening his belt and fly with practiced ease. "Oh, fuck, Nik, no, not here..."

"Da, here," Nik replied, listening to John's tone, his body, rather than his words; the way he gasped so desperately and arched into Nik's heat screamed please, please, please. He didn't resist when Nik slid his arms beneath his thighs and grasped his waistband, lifting his arse for a moment to yank his Carhartts and boxers down his thighs.

John hissed as his flushed skin settled back on the cold surface of the workbench, eager for the return of Nik's palms around the upper curve of his cheeks and the dip of his tailbone. John had an exquisite arse; firm, muscular and round. Perfect for bouncing on a cock. Nik kneaded the top of it as he nipped along the edge of John's jaw to his ear lobe, relishing the powerful body writhing enthusiastically in his arms. Who was Nik trying to kid? John was perfect in every way, even with his penchant for sulking.

Nik earned his first needy moan when he let the tip of his cock kiss the tight furl of John's hole, the slightest pressure rubbing his wet slit against the fluttering muscle in an insistent tease. He nuzzled John's beard as he fished the lube out of his pocket and flicked the lid off with his thumb. John's hands pushed beneath the fabric of his flight suit to grip his shoulders, one looping behind Nik's neck to play in the curls at the nape of his neck. John flinched when Nik squeezed the lube onto his balls, the tube clattering on the workbench when it was cast aside. "Bastard..."

Nik smirked, smoothing warm fingers gently down the seam of John's sac to his taint, circling, teasing his rim with little tugs at the opening. When the first finger dipped inside, Nik swallowed John's groan with a kiss, tongue licking into his mouth when it fell open in a shock of pleasure. John didn't need much coaxing, his body opening eagerly around one and then two probing fingers. Nik crooked them up, John's cock flicking as Nik's fingertips rubbed over his prostate. John panted, his head falling back, the filthy noise of Nik's fingers squelching into his hole accented by his soft whimpers. Blunt fingernails dug into Nik's skin as John clung to him, his leaking cock fully hard against the unblemished milky softness of his inner thigh.

"Ah, ah, Nik... Mm, fuck... Ah..."

"Da, solnyshko. Just a little more and I will give you what you need."

Nik could make John come like this, but his balls ached and there was only one place he wanted to empty them; to watch John unspool on his cock was a privilege he deserved. He pulled his fingers out slowly, his thumb tugging down at John's slick, puffy hole as he smeared lube and precum over his crown and down his shaft, tongue between his teeth as he groaned at the sweet anticipation of what awaited. He was so hard, cock throbbing in his grip, balls already tight, and he took a moment to steady himself before sliding his arms beneath John's thighs again, John's booted feet dangling either side of his back, his trousers bunch just shy of his knees.

His fingers pressed into the flesh of John's hips to keep him still as he ground the tip of his cock over the slick skin of John's taint, lower lip between his teeth as John shivered in his grasp, hips tilting again, urging, begging with his body. Nik's tip notched against his hole and Nik held him firm as he thrust inside, John's body gaping wide around the flare of his crown and thick shaft. John quaked in his arms, thighs trembling, his soft, tortured noises nursing a primal delight deep inside Nik's chest.

Nik kept going, sinking into John's body, inch by aching inch, even as it bore down around him in desperation.

"Fuck, Nik, Nik!"

"Da, my love. Surrender to me as you yearn to..."

It wasn't simply the act of sex. Penetration itself was not surrender and John had ridden Nik's cock from above many times, in complete control as Nik ceded, leaning back into the pillows with his eyes closed. But this act, of letting the tension and frustration melt from his body, of giving in to the pleasure of sex with a man who knew how to pluck every string, of finally letting his mind empty and his muscles relax. That was surrender.

Nik pressed deeper, achingly slow, clutching heat struggling with the girth and length. Every time John's channel fluttered, pulsing between relaxing and gripping, Nik seized more ground. John's eyes rolled back as Nik nestled in his guts and finally bottomed out with a satisfied groan, John's stretched hole pressed against the dark curls of his pubic hair. Nik kissed trembling, spit slick lips, rocking gently, staying deep as he hollowed out his place in John's body. "Mm, detka. You are so tight. Relax, breathe..."

"Nik, ah, fuck, Nik. I'so much, hng."

"Ssh, I know, but you are... mm, taking me so well. All you have to do is let go."

Nik didn't give him any choice. He drew out until John's body sucked on his tip, clenching around it in greedy throbs, before he thrust his full length back in. John bit out a soft, startled cry, back arching as his nails bit into Nik's shoulders. Nik leaned into his lover's neck, the downy curls of his chest hair pressing to the warm swells of his firm chest as he clutched his hips tight to pull them into his cock. The next thrust was just as firm, just as demanding, shaking the table on which John sat.

Nik picked up a bruising pace, forcing John's body into submission with each deep thrust, wet skin slapping wetly as the table rattled under the force of Nik's hips pounding against John's arse. John clung to him, unable to find purchase anywhere but Nik's shoulders as he was fucked hard, Nik's palms providing a softer cushion for him to be pressed into, keeping him from being shoved away so that he was made to take every thrust to the hilt at an angle that sent relentless curls of pleasure arcing up the length of his body.

John shook apart so beautifully, his first orgasm was dry, triggered purely by the insistent, relentless drag of Nik's cock over his prostate. Nik felt the first tremors of it and leaned in to coach him through with whispered encouragement, "da, John, such a good boy, let it happen..."

John's body milked him in tight pulses and Nik watched in awe as John's pleasure unspooled through him, his limbs shaking, broad chest heaving in rattling breaths through loud, high-pitched whines, completely overwhelmed at the full body experience of coming on Nik's cock. It was like a molten heat that burned away the last of the tension and left him pliant and open in Nik's arms.

John's hole relaxed, sloppy with lube and wells of precum, the perfect sheath for Nik's cock, still sucking hungrily on Nik's length every time he withdrew before slamming back inside. Nik chased his high, growling into John's neck, nipping at his hammering pulse to taste the sweat on his skin. His climax crept up his spine, a vine of tension pulling him tight, and he nipped John's ear. "Touch yourself, detka."

John grabbed his cock obediently, pumping down its slick length in furious jerks that matched Nik's pace, his moans reaching a crescendo as he was trapped between two pleasure centres. Nik felt John tighten again, another orgasm, and it teased him over into his own. His hips jerked, stuttering against John's arse, as his cock pulsed its first load deep in John's body. John followed him over the brink, the flood of heat inside him making his eyes roll back as his cock painted his hand and shirt in thick ropes of cum as he was filled with it.

Nik's vision greyed, the force of his own pleasure leaving him breathless as his cock twitched in John's channel. He hadn't realised how pent up he'd been, his balls offering a seemingly endless breeding. He panted hot breaths against John's skin, the tip of his nose resting in the bristles of his beard, lips placing soft, fleeting kisses as his body finally finished. When he finally gathered enough coordination to draw out, the filthy noise of his cock withdrawing made him growl with pleasure, his seed welling at John's hole to drip down the curve of his arse to the floor.

When he lowered John's feet, his legs shook, and he lifted him off the table by the hips. "Go to your room. When I get there, I expect to find you naked in bed," Nik said.

John might have argued if he hadn't been completely spaced, his eyes soft in post-orgasmic bliss. Nik helped him right his belt and trousers and then watched him hobble out of the workshop. Once his captain had disappeared from sight, Nik turned his attention to tidying his tools, a little jelly-legged as he strolled about his workshop.

Nik would find John showered and snoozing, naked and warm beneath his blankets, about an hour later. He washed himself, removing the grime and sweat of the workshop, and slipped in beside him to rub his back and shoulders. John roused slowly, content to let Nik ease his aches, legs spreading when those strong fingers slid between them for a second round, his hole buttery soft, eager for Nik's touch. He was impossible to resist.

[anantaru]

BONUS KINK — POWER IMBALANCE

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — ayato, neuvillette, dottore, alhaitham

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, power imbalance, oral (male! receiving) & oral (fem! receiving), maid! reader in ayato's part, forbidden romance, toxic, dottore's part is kind of scary but what's new

𖧡 — AYATO

this, everything, made no sense and how come the answers ayato sought after were regarded as futile?

he certainly knows it— but no one was able to make him feel just the way you did, with his jaw slacked and his rumbling groans growing dangerously loud, his abdominal muscles twitching delightfully taut beneath the drag of your fingertips prancing over the curves and rills.

to be honest— it's somewhat confusing him, because he was certain you were only putting on a glorious facade to please him, perhaps even do this just because he was your boss, not because you actually liked it, or liked him for that matter.

a ragged mutter, low and with a mouth full, huffs over his dripping cock when your head expertly rolls up and down his rigid erection and traps searing twitches straight to his cock— and as a man with an important reputation to be upheld, ayato instinctively slaps one hand over his parted mouth to catch his sensual noises before they could bubble out of him.

the yashiro commissioner, revealed in his elevated eminence, that he was of calculative and prestigious nature, although right now, all of his well-trained strength was altered into smoke with a snap of your finger and well, your cheeks hollowing so unbelievably tight that you could taste him on your velvety tongue, while your hand eagerly sneaks down from your exposed tits to in between your legs, placing lazy strokes on your neglected clit and putting on a sweet show for your master, evidently feeling the effects when he throbs and twitches on your tongue as a response.

it was hard to tell, and you could notice that his breathing was beginning to quicken, electrifying your needfulness, groping and battering the thin skin covering his balls, running your fingers around all the little ridges until you hear him desperately writhe and sob, like he's been touch starved for months.

if all of this combined— your subtle looks up to make sure he's enjoying it, your immediate willingness to spend your night with him— wouldn't be noticed by a clever man, the yashiro commissioner, who was daily facing important paths head one, and wouldn't even realize that you are always there without demanding something in return, or hoping for a favor or just acquire a chance to play him like a violin.

ayato cannot fathom it, even after looking into the light of your eyes, that you do care, and him being of higher power wouldn't change a thing.

𖧡 — NEUVILLETTE

for all times, you have never questioned the relationship you had with monsieur neuvillette, not only because it was something you thoroughly enjoyed yourself but also because you can avidly see that coming into contact with human affections for once in his life, feeling them circulate over his trembling skin, made the eminent man relax on this particular occasion.

his eyes erstwhile spin gentle without that serious look towering on his face— and it felt good when he touched you, a sharp cry bristling upon your very lips when he laps his tongue over a satisfying spot on your pussy, his eyes searching yours for constant approval before he makes himself even more comfortable in between your quivering thighs.

simply put, you won't lie to yourself, but it was frightening— in fact, the first time neuvillette made his interest in you clear, you thought you were about to be sentenced to a crime, on the brink of a mental breakdown due to the unspecified attention the iudex of fontaine had suddenly given you.

but after a while, you found yourself loving it and cannot hide that there were certain benefits of being in a 'special' relationship with a man of high status such as he was— although, it's always a bit clumsy at first, his tendencies to lean awkwardly on his other arm to get the best angle or hold your hand while he rolls his tongue over your glistening folds, always so eager to please and before you know it, after some careful maneuvering neuvillette gets it right, pressing the tip of his tongue steadily in and out of your hole.

despite the fact that he wasn't aware of his hidden talent of hitting all of your secret spots and giving them their much deserved attention, you frantically clench your fists at the disheveled bedsheets underneath your frame, bucking your hips into his mouth only to be roughly forced back down by the weight of two strong arms on top of your lower belly, keeping you still.

a repeating fury of his hot tongue fucks into your sloppy hole that was greatly amplified by a low growl coming his throat, your lewd arousal melting on his cheeks and chin and it's nearly weakening his state of mind to feel your silken warmth define the shape of his long tongue repeatedly entering you.

for neuvillette, despite everything, he was overwhelmed in this new and strangely comforting setting— but there were rare moments, kisses and affirmations as deep-running as roots, that are trapped in an eclipse of a second, meaning when two souls dip into each other like a ray of sunshine brushing on ones skin.

such constellation were those moments shared with you to neuvillette, and he'd like to keep it that way.

𖧡 — DOTTORE

otherworldly power and the ability to hold yourself on par with literal gods certainly was one of the beneficial factors that strengthened your attraction to dottore— who always worked his way around your body with an alacrity that truly surprised you, with precision, like no other and an ulterior motive, you were blind to.

your soft hands are both placed against his bare chest when he drags his rigid length unthinkingly deep into your cunt, taking advantage of your body as you pressed willingly into him, eagerly riding and moaning above, his touch so unlike any others.

his full lips curve into a handsome smirk, dark eyes sweeping your breath away, "you know what to do," he drawls, sighing deep in his chest when your silken walls envelope him, "do a good job, and you'll get what you want," dottore continues to affirm you, finding revel in your wet and willing warmth.

"or fail, and i'll put you to better use," he warns softly.

you catch his lips form into a slackened mouth, his large palms skimming across your exposed chest as he pulls those wanton, engaging tunes from your throat with ease, your cunt sinking and twisting around his length as you gasped for air, the painful ache manifesting in between your thighs coming second place as nothing, and you mean nothing, ever came close to this.

dottore wanted more, you weren't aware of it yet but he always required more of his experiments, meaning he needed to see results from them— wanted to ruin your soul, it's vitality and your resolve, even if it meant that he had to act out a couple instances and mask himself a liar— his legs parting a little further as he kicks his hips up, giving you everything you needed with his pseudo sweet words and affirmations twisting across your entire body.

your hips were bouncing up and down his length as you clench around him, impatiently trashing your breathing as you helplessly claw red marks deep across his pale chest, your breasts spilled loose before he holds them in his palms, suffocating the last line of defense inside of your body as you practically gasp for air with dottore twisting around every rational instinct left in your exhausted frame.

𖧡 — ALHAITHAM

"hmm?" alhaitham raises a brow, "what's that look on your face?"

pondering above you, his eyes reveal a sprinkle of illumination and give off a subtle shade of light which only made you realize that he wasn't really waiting for an answer from you, at all, and instead greatly rejoiced in having you where he wanted you to be all time long, pressed under his large frame.

you relax slightly, your shoulders dropping an inch back into the silken pillows as alhaitham mentally applauded himself for such monumental effort to gnaw down one penetrative self satisfied smirk when he feels you twitch around his thick length, "what's that look on your face?"

"you scared?"

you suddenly spit back, still favoring the side of him where he wouldn't talk, "shut it," and as stated, keep his mouth sealed, your fingertips sweeping over his biceps and all across his tensed shoulders before teasingly pressing your nails into the flesh, making him flinch and groan at the sensual state.

"that's not how you talk to a superior, you know,"

your naked figure shivers beneath his crawling gaze when he reminded you of an obvious fact, alhaitham was your superior— your boss, and such constellation was certainly new to the both of you nor was it allowed in the first place.

what if someone was to find out? would the scribe even get in trouble? certainly not after everything he has done for sumeru.

but it's second-place when he makes you twitch and turn beneath his large body beginning to move and crowd your spongy insides with a restless snap of his hips, repeatedly sinking his erection all the way until he was completely inside, deliciously mirroring the past couple of times where he had perfectly memorized your reactions— aside from your moans and pleas that would always start and end with a;

"this was the last time!"

but alhaitham never fails to feverishly thrust his shaft into you, "more—," you crave, urgent with need, your quivering body nearly destroyed by the lust he was the cause of, both trembling at the very edge of a blissful orgasm as he slides in and out, inch by inch, pressing you down the bed so you could never forget those moments again— even if one day, you would have to part ways.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[twstunes]

hello and welcome to the Rollo Torment Nexus, designed to impart the absolute worst academic experience to everyone's favorite deranged church boy.

rationale:

1. Rollo has to be surrounded. There is no easy way out short of vaulting over the desk, and we all know he's not gonna do that while class is in session.

2. Floyd "Malicious Noncompliance" Leech has to be sitting directly next to Rollo. This should be self-explanatory. Whether he's actively doing something annoying or just taking notes in sloppy handwriting while wrinkling tf out of his notebook pages, his presence will be enough to test Rollo's patience.

3. Someone Floyd loves to annoy and/or talk to needs to be sitting on Rollo's other side. I've chosen Ace for this example, but Jade, Kalim, Grim, and Lilia would also work. Jamil would also be a good choice, as he would likely find a way to redirect Floyd's attention onto Rollo.

Riddle and Azul also have potential, but there's a solid chance they would take their lessons too seriously & ignore Floyd to the point he stops trying to get their attention. This would result in him being less annoying to Rollo, which is antithetical to the point of the Rollo Torment Nexus.

4. Malleus, naturally, has to be present. Though having him sit directly next to Rollo would be funny enough on its own, having him sit behind Rollo is the advanced play here. After all, if Malleus is within view, Rollo can keep an eye on him, thus keeping his own paranoia at bay. If Malleus is looming ominously behind (& above) him, Rollo has no way of staying watchful without blatantly ignoring the lesson/letting Malleus know he's wary. This would vex Rollo to no end, AND Malleus would find it funny.

5. Now, I know what you're thinking. Why Ruggie? Why not Idia or Azul, since Rollo would be more cautious of them?

Like Jamil & everyone else present for the Glorious Masquerade misadventure, Ruggie doesn't like Rollo. He's also one of the wilier students at NRC, meaning he wouldn't think twice about getting a little revenge at no cost to him.

Ruggie and Floyd are chill, but not overly involved with each other; further, Ruggie's physical presence in the classroom isn't particularly unusual, unlike how Idia's would be. Both of these points minimize the chance of Floyd abandoning his "talk across Rollo" endeavors to chat with Ruggie instead, meaning Floyd will spend longer maximally annoying Rollo.

Ruggie and Malleus get along pretty well! Even with Malleus' lack of Normal Person Social Skills™, it wouldn't be hard for the two of them to strike up a conversation – which would result in Rollo having to hear and be acutely aware of Malleus' presence behind him the whole time.

Ruggie would 100% start talking quietly to Malleus, just loud enough for Rollo to kinda-sorta hear, JUST to get on Rollo's nerves. Like–

Ruggie: "Hey, Malleus, how're you doing today?" Malleus: "I'm doing well. Why do you ask?" Ruggie: "No reason, really. Just, y'know...it'd be funny if Rollo thought we were plotting something right behind him." Malleus: "Oh that's brilliant. Let us continue, then."

[dotthings]

You know who I feel sad for right now is Misha, because I think he wanted to be able to speak much much earlier than he was able to about Cas’s confession. We know he drafted an essay about Cas’s coming out…and then wound up not publishing it. Misha deserved to be able to talk about it in interviews the way Oliver Stark is able to about Buck. Misha mentioned it on zoom calls, briefly. And then it seems like he got yanked back by the PR machine and the nature of Cas’s confession wasn’t discussed on any SPN PR materials and for a time Misha was restricted on what he could say on CE Con stages.

At first, back then, for a few glorious days, I thought the stigma about queer Cas, about Destiel, had been lifted, finally, and then WB/CW brought the restrictions back down via PR. Oh you can have your confession scene, SPN, but corporate will control the narrative on how it’s spoken about or not.

We saw this thaw over time. (Anyone who claims otherwise or that Misha was always able to be open about it, is lying). Now Misha can speak openly about it and that shift began around the time when Chaos Machine really set up shop and changed a few con policies. So I’m happy for Misha that he can speak only about Cas being queer and what the confession means and Cas coming out, but he still has yet to be able to speak in depth about it in major PR. The openness about it comes out on con stage. At first it was non-CE Cons. Then finally he was more able to speak freely on CE Con stages.

Which leads me to another point, which is that, in fact, any of us who thought Cas was supposed to be in the series finale? We were right all along. The PR Misha filmed meant to mislead and misdirect about his last episode…PR misdirect to cover up so it could be a surprise, which makes sense and is sometimes how PR is run. Remember that the production shutdowns of the pandemic happened during the first days of filming 15.19. We found out eventually Dean and Cas were planned to be seen at the Roadhouse bar in Heaven together.

When they filmed 15.18 everyone thought Cas would at least cameo in 15.20. During the filming of 15.18 nobody directly involved knew how far Cas would be shoved out of the story, the actors didn’t know, the writer didn’t know, the director didn’t know, how far 15.20 would be stripped back, no one knew how reduced even mere mentions would be in 15.20.

I’ve talked about this before but a reminder how screwed the spn creatives who worked on 15.18 were, how screwed over the actors were.

You were right. If you thought that there was going to be at least some satisfaction and closure and Cas was going to have one more appearance before the end and it wouldn’t be able to be loud open canon, but something that implied mutual canon Destiel.

We were right. We were right all along.

Antis on twitter dot com can keep scratching and clawing and harassing and gaslighting and spewing phobic comments, denying what Jensen’s views are and dening that corporate censorship is real and that bi Dean is canonical via queer coding and queer Cas is now loud open canon and Destiel is mutual, via canon queer coding. Won’t change what happened here or that the intent was so, so much better and more than what 15.20 delivered, and the reason it fell apart was the production shutdown gave some parties high up too much time to think and then interfere and cut Cas out.

There is no more room to indulge media illiteracy and malicious denialism and trolling from antis.

[livwritesstuff]

i was writing a totally different thing and then all of a sudden it was thundering so here have this

Steve had always loved a good thunderstorm. There’s something sort of magic about them, he thinks, about the greenish, unnatural darkness and the way lightning turns the sky a kind of purple and how the air is both cool and warm at the same time.

Back when he was a teenager, when he was stuck by himself the mausoleum his parents called home, he’d sometimes sit by the patio door and watch the storm, watch the clouds opened up and beat rain down on the pool water, and Steve would feel more alive than he had in ages – even if it felt like he was living vicariously through…something. Maybe through how nature gets to storm and rage in a way Steve never will.

But he tries not to psychoanalyze himself. He’s got his own therapist for that.

Twenty-five years later, here he is still watching thunderstorms. He might not have a pool, but he does have a porch which, in his old age of forty-two, he’s learning might be even better.

He’s sitting on the porch with his husband by his side, and Eddie’s got their youngest daughter sitting in his lap while the older two dance in and out of the rain.

Eddie doesn’t like thunderstorms the way Steve does. It had sort of surprised Steve actually, when he first found out years and years ago because…it’s Eddie. Eddie is like a thunderstorm personified in the best way – all sharp smiles and dark eyes and wild hair and loud, reckless rebellion. Sure, Eddie isn’t bothered by the noise of thunderstorms, but over their years together, Eddie has shared some things — things about his dad and what he’d been able to get away with during a dark, loud storm that maybe he couldn’t otherwise.

So Steve gets it if Eddie still isn’t quite himself during thunderstorms.

Their youngest, Hazel, isn’t a fan of them either. She’s just a few months shy of her second birthday, so this really is the first summer she’s had her own opinions about these kinds of things. The verdict – not a fan of the thunderstorms, though she’s been a trooper about this one.

"Hazy, come play!" Robbie exclaims from the porch steps, but Hazel just shrinks further back against Eddie.

"She's a little afraid of the noise, Beans," Steve tells her, and he watches Robbie's face take on an expression of protective (albeit a little confused) concern.

“How come?” she asks as comes up the steps.

“It can be scary if it’s brand new.”

As if to illustrate Steve’s point, lightning flashes above the trees, and Hazel makes a whimpery kind of whine as thunder follows only a few moments later.

“It’s not scary, Hazel,” Robbie tells her, “Because you always know when thunder’s coming because lightning comes first. And it’s only loud when the storm is close.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, reminding himself that one of these days he’s gotta stop being so impressed by how damn smart his kids are.

Another flash of lighting lights up the dark sky, and Robbie covers Hazel's ears with her hands as she looks out into the rain, "And now there's gonna be the thunder."

A few moments later, thunder rumbled around them, maybe a little bit quieter than the last one because the storm is definitely moving away from them now. Still, Hazel reaches up to grip at Robbie’s wrists, her eyes wide and fixated on the stormy sky.

“See?”

Hazel manages a nod.

“Come play!” Robbie urges her again, “I’ll cover your ears before the thunder comes.”

And this time, Robbie actually succeeds in dislodging Hazel from Eddie’s lap, and together they head for the front yard where Moe is still running around in the rain, wet bangs plastered to her forehead.

“Steve,” Eddie mutters in disbelief as Robbie patiently waits for Hazel’s slow descent of the porch stairs, breaking his and Steve’s subconscious agreement to keep their traps shut while that glorious scene was unfolding, “Oh my god, Steve. What the fuck was that? Are we actually doing a good job raising these kids?”

“I guess so, Jesus Christ.” 

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Subtle-tea (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Summary/Prompt: “You’re only semi-lucid and are sort of reaching for my face, and for various reasons I shouldn’t kiss YOUR face but your hand is right here and I still need to convey affection.”  AKA. You and Benedict drink too much of Colin’s special tea and it spurs you to act upon previously hidden feelings. 

AN: Benedict is the bee’s knees, just a silly lil art guy. I got inspired and I’ve got two more Benedict fics coming out rip. But it’s just so difficult to write for Bridgerton cus you can’t write any gay stuff without it being tragic and/or a secret. Oh well, don’t expect me to write much more female reader content of my own volition/not inspired by my friends.

Content warnings: Reader uses she/her, use of Y/N and L/N, is referred to as “wife” 

Masterlist // AO3 

You had no idea what on Earth was in that tea. But you would have to ask later, because currently you felt as light as a feather and giddy as a giggle, laying on the sofa in the art studio as Benedict was launching himself between two walls, orating about his great desires to create. By far, you were experiencing the greatest emotions on the whim of your artistic associate.

“There’s just so many colours that we are privy to, and we take every single shade for granted!” He declared, his arms wide open to the heavens.

You pointed at him in an accusing manner, “Have you seen purple recently? It’s glorious! No wonder it was the colour of status in the Roman Empire, I too would want it all for myself and my friends.”

“How selfish you are, Miss L/N,” Benedict scolded, “Surely everyone should be given the chance to wear such a colour.”

His anger faded fast. As endearing as it was, it was nothing compared to that grin of his. So naturally you decided to make him smile even more with a ridiculous notion that just jumped into your woozy mind. 

“Do you know what would happen if my mother knew where I was?” You said in a loud whisper. 

Benedict pouted and nodded, riddled with pantomime guilt as he leant over, “You. Me. In a room. Alone.”

“Unchaperoned,” You said then gasped, your hands clapping against your cheeks in shock, “I would be ruined!”

Benedict mimicked your appal by dropping to his knees before you, “We would have to marry to save your reputation!”

“Imagine me, your wife!” You threw your head back as you flashed your bare left hand to him. Somewhere in the back of your mind, an inhibition screamed at you to stop lingering so openly on something your sober self was set on not happening

But your heart grew gleeful as Benedict grasped your hand gently. 

“I shall imagine it!” He declared and lowered his lips, and planted a loud kiss upon your knuckle - right where the engagement and wedding bands would sit. You lowered your chin just in time to see this with your own eyes before Benedict met your gaze again, still beaming with roguish delight, “Oh what a beautiful imagining it is.”

Your legs curled up beneath you on the couch, and you fell over in hysterical giggling. You clasped your hand to your chest and cradled it like a newborn. As you lay sprawled out, Benedict popped into your field of view with his hands either side of your head, tactfully avoiding your hair. 

“Your laugh is like music! As your husband, it would be my purpose to make you sing at least once a day.”

“Then kiss me again, you silly man!” You squealed, offering your hand once more. 

Balancing on one arm, and completely unaware that this compromising position was aiding in your dizzy frenzy, Benedict kissed the same spot then turned the palm against his cheek. He held it there as he said:

“Look, it’s like you were sculpted to hold me.”

Euphoria ran riot across your body, your heart beating so fast you thought you would die from delight. 

“And you were carved to be held by me.” From your vantage point, with newly founded confidence, you tried to pull his lips down to yours, but Benedict resisted. 

“We shall not kiss ‘til we are married.”

Eyes wide, you squeezed the back of his neck to keep him close, “Is this a proposal?”

“I do not think we are in the right state of mind to make rational decisions,” and Benedict bumped his nose to yours, causing a little laughter before continuing: “But marrying you is the sanest idea I’ve had all evening.”

[heirofshadowsingers]

I started writing a little something for Gwynriel and decided to post a little peak now to see if anyone would be interested to read the rest

Soooo here you go! Let me know if you’d like to read more of it 😇

Azriel surveyed the crowd before him with a sense of unease. Loud laughter and music floated through the air, and yet, it was his shadows who kept grabbing his attention– anxiously tugging and whispering their demands.

Go search, they seemed to command. Go. Go. Go.

I can’t leave, he replied silently and they hissed back in disapproval, still tugging, urging him to leave the lavish ceremony and fly off into the cool night.

Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony was, as expected, outrageous. Rhysand had vowed to make it the most ornate mating ceremony Prythian had ever seen, and he had certainly spared no expenses. The small temple was overflowed by different kinds of flowers, while expensive silks adorned any remaining surface. Faelights and candles hung from the ceiling in luxurious chandeliers and lanterns, their golden and rosy glow bathed the dais and aisle in warmth.

It was a setting plucked straight from the pages of one of Nesta’s romance novels.

Despite the grandeur of the small temple, it was Cassian who Azriel couldn’t stop watching while they’d waited for the ceremony to start. It was the first time he’d ever seen his brother look so nervous, and there was something endearing about the way he kept fidgeting, his entire body brimming with an almost boyish excitement—even if the frilly suit looked absurdly extravagant for someone like the Lord of Bloodshed.

Mor had taken one step inside the temple, shared a sly look with Azriel, and the two of them had nearly burst into teasing laughter. Cassian had caught their mischievous smirks and pointed a warning finger in their direction, grumbling, “One fucking word. I dare you.”

Azriel decided to keep his mouth shut, because, well, Nesta had picked the suit for him and Azriel wanted to live long enough to see the end of the ceremony.

Besides, after sharing another knowing look with Mor, they both knew there would be plenty of time in the future to remind Cassian about the frilly suit.

However, Azriel would be lying if he said the ceremony wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever been a part of. It was an honor to be there, to witness it all, and it had nothing to do with the flowers or the pretty garlands. No, it was the raw and genuine emotion rising between Cassian and Nesta. The overwhelming love radiating around them as they swore their vows— it was enough to bring tears to even Azriel’s eyes.

Not that he would ever admit that outloud.

Just like he would never voice the envy brewing inside his chest from seeing his brother, both of them, with their mates.

Those thoughts—those quiet and selfish ones— would follow him to the grave, even if they were slowly consuming him.

He would make sure of it.

After the ceremony, Rhys had arranged for an even more outrageous dinner and a party to celebrate the mating. Nesta hadn’t wanted to invite too many people, but it had not stopped Rhys from still going all out. Especially since some invitations had also gone out to the High Lords of Summer, Day and Winter as an offer to keep their alliances blooming in good nature.

A large tent had been set up in the garden of the River House to host the glorious reception, where all guests had gathered to eat and dance and eat again until dawn.

Even if the couple being celebrated most likely wouldn’t be staying until dawn themselves.

A bet had been placed among them, speculating how long Nesta and Cassian would last before the need to consummate the mating took over. Azriel had assumed his duties as chaperone had given him enough knowledge regarding their lack of control, and had been confident there was no way they’d last longer than the actual ceremony.

Unfortunately, he had lost hours ago.

Feyre, so far, was winning– having had more faith in her sister’s desires to dance throughout the night, rather than her need to consummate the mating. Which Azriel, if he had been smart about it, should've considered before placing his bet. The couple had already consummated their bond plenty; they’d barely left their bed since Nesta came back from the Blood Rite.

Cassian, to his credit, seemed more than happy to assist his mate in said dancing as they twirled across the dancefloor. He had not stopped smiling once since seeing Nesta in her beautiful cream colored gown.

Azriel himself had not yet set foot on the dancefloor, despite being asked by several beautiful females. He could not shake the uneasy feeling creeping over him that something was wrong. He just couldn’t figure out what. There was absolutely nothing amiss as the crowd kept dancing to the beautiful symphony played by some of Velaris' most talented musicians. There was no looming threat hanging over any of them. No reason for the uneasy feeling.

Still, something felt wrong.

It wasn’t until Nesta and Emerie shared a long and heartfelt hug that the final puzzle piece fell into place. It hit him so hard it nearly knocked the air out of him as he scanned the crowd again; searching for a familiar face that was oddly absent... Gwyn.

Fool, the shadows screamed at him, or perhaps it was his own mind screaming at him this time.

[rocketbirdie]

Arrrghh. People are finishing up Rebirth and looking up the different localizations, and the inevitable wave of hate for the English version is starting to gain traction again just like with Remake. I guess I just get super defensive about it because I have worked on large translation projects before, and it's not as straightforward as players seem to think.

It's not like the good ol' days of "This Guy Are Sick." They don't write the JPN script first, and then just send it out for translation anymore. Nowadays the different language scripts are all written simultaneously, with the teams working back and forth together, to check over each ofher's work and make sure that no one sentence is under- or overshooting a goal. Like it or not— everything is checked over and approved.

There's a lot more being translated than just words. There's so much to take into account— tone of voice, the cultural context, the lip sync and corresponding length of each line (which isn't allowed to run over by more than 0.2 seconds which is CRAZY). It's a messy process and it's a lot of goddamn work.

And then there's the audience, too. Different languages' audiences are often going to have wildly different interpretations of a character. A really good example from FFVII would be Yuffie. In the JPN version of the OG, Yuffie is written to be a confident girl who's dead serious about her ninja training. The ENG translation didn't do that justice... she instead comes off as a silly annoying kid pretending to be a ninja. Remake's DLC was testing the waters to see if they could write Yuffie in a way that's still faithful to both of the strikingly different regional perceptions of her character. And they nailed it.

The same thing happened with Cloud, and continues to influence the way he's written in the Re-trilogy. It's much more subtle than with Yuffie, but it's still noticeable, and I think it's why a lot of people get up in arms about his dialogue.

Cloud has always been written as having a stark disconnect between his tone of voice and his choice of words. It's just that the two major languages get it swapped! JPN Cloud has a harsh, mean tone, but his choice of words is polite and easygoing. On the other hand, ENG Cloud says a LOT of nasty shit out loud, but his true feelings are betrayed by his soft voice and gentle body language.

The difference goes unnoticed by the average player who isn't so invested to give a damn. But if you're actively searching for "bad translations" to get mad at, then you'll find them where one version's Cloud comes off a bit too strong. It's only natural that English Cloud is the one that pisses people off more often— after all, he's literally saying stupid shit to to piss other characters off constantly. His character is so convincing that players want to reach into their screens and wring his neck, and I think that's glorious.

But that's why it upsets me to see people turn that frustration at the localization teams. They didn't "ruin" a character's dialogue— they were just barely able to make something work, all things considered. Character, line length, culture, story context, facial animations, voice acting, for MULTIPLE languages, like... holy shit. It's a miracle that most of it is really really good, and that the bad is only a little bit bad.

Idk where this rant is going. Just... c'mon people. Have some respect for such an insanely complicated art form.

[vibratingskull]

NSFW Alphabet: Thrawn

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Very attentive. Will bath and massage you to help your relax.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn't favor anything or his own body, it is simply a tool for him that he uses and models to accomplish his goals, so he would choose his brain. Loves everything about you, because it is you, but if you really press him for an answer he will say your soft hands that touch him so deliciously and your gorgeous eyes that say everything he wants to learn about your mood, headspace, thoughts,...

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Deeply wants a child with you, so he prefers to cum inside your pussy.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It's only a secret until he asks your permission, but he craves to smell your dirty panties when separated from you during his rut, it helps him keep the urges in check.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Low experience, 1 to 0 former partner. He received a sexual education as any other Chiss and follows his desires and instincts but he is very attentive to your guidance. Very thorough and focused student, learns super fast.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Good ol' romantic missionary because he can hug you and see the pleasure on your face. Will negotiates hard and long until you accept to sit on his face

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not really goofy but he still has his deadpan humor and sometimes you have to stop everything because you cannot stop laughing at one of his zesty remark while he considers you sternly.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

No hair anywhere but his glorious head

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very loving and romantic! He will give you a lot of attention and tenderness

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Rarely masturbates, its more of a last resort.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, overstimulation, scent kink, delay, any "artsy" kink like Shibari (on you or himself)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom. His office or a closet if the rut is driving him insane, but this is exceptionally rare

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The feeling of closeness, intimacy, vulnerability and warmth with you during the act and the aftercare provide him and the desire for a baby

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing that could really hurt and is unsanitary or unhygienic

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Pro at giving, he is a natural at eating pussies and it is really fun to him. Appreciate receiving but prefers to give

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual usually, fast and rough during heat 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Prefers to go big or go home so not a big fan of quicky, but will do it as a last resort during rut (but it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth)

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Willing to experiment whatever you want after proper research and in a controlled environment but he remains pretty vanilla himself

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As an alien on top of his game and with a rut/heat, he can last way longer than you, that doesn't mean that he wants to tho...

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

His first toys were for you, and only thought of some for himself when he started to explore his submissive side with you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Loves delay to make the pressure and tension rise so a big teaser during foreplay but will give so much during the main course! 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Low hisses and growls usually, but will be very vocal when in subspace or when he eats you out.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Aroace king that slowly discovers that aspect of himself with you.

Bonus card : A glorious switch, will dom or sub like a pro

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Very long and girthy, like the rest of his body. Prayers to your body...

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very low, like... You thought he was not attracted to you at first until he explained to you

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Will never fall asleep before you if he even has to sleep in the first place.

[stardewremixed]

So... I was scrolling through fanart which turned into impromptu stream-of-consciousness writing prompts. I hope you like how it turned out.

WARNING: (Mild) smut, references to alcohol, drugs, and smoking. (Does not assume Farmer's gender).

Abigail - Organizes the town charity softball games, breaks a few windows (and a few hearts). Tough girl to hide her insecurities - you know the ones - her parents don't get her or support her and she's lonely as an only child (still living at home with her parents). She has this smug side smile when she's got you right where she wants you and will argue with you over trivial matters because she has to be right. She pitches in when there's a town disaster, the first to roll up her sleeves, not afraid to get dirty and work hard. Would absolutely be the tank in your DnD party. She dominates no matter what sphere she's in, including the bedroom. And Abigail is as wild and adventurous in bed as she is out of it. Oh and you always do it at the farmhouse because she's loud (and her parents are light sleepers).

Penny - shy and sweet as usual, intimidated by the ladies of the town, especially Abigail and Haley. Always carrying books, keeps her head down, and her heart is plagued by being the daughter of an alcoholic and a sailor who abandoned her mom. Dreams of a Beast to rescue her Beauty, would kill (metaphorically) for that library and yellow ball gown, but doesn't actually believe she's that pretty, even though she's stunning and educated and articulate, when she's not stumbling over her words in painful shyness. Reads everything she can get her hands on. Would write a children's novel if she could ever work up the courage to ask Elliott to be her editor. She is the blushy kind of lover and reads up on tips and tries to apply what she's learned. You think it's freaking adorable when she asks for 'sex lessons.'

Haley is not a natural blond (*gasp*) - we know! We were shocked too. She's notoriously vain but it's to make up for the fact that her mother was a supermodel and never had time to be a real mom, so she desperately wants attention and to be noticed as beautiful and worthy. Critiques her nose, the shape of her breasts, her thighs, her brows, her hair style, and hopes to someday love herself as much as her mirror does. Got the Dino tattoo on her lower back as a drunken dare from Emily and now she kinda likes it because it makes her not so perfect for once and that's a relief. She wears the best lingerie - pretty, feminine, lacy. And her fantasy she shares with you after a few too many Cosmopolitans? To do it in front of a full length mirror.

Emily - yes the girl absolutely presses paste jewels on her face because why not? She's the cool big sis (stepsister of Haley). The free spirit. Blue hair. Who cares? Other people's opinions don't really define her. Always wearing multiple necklaces and bracelets and rings. This girl has rings. Believes in crystal healing. Lets her sleeve slip off her shoulder after one too many drinks at half-price karaoke nights. She gives you that side-eye, daring you to take her home. And this girl has got some freaky passion (in a good way of course) and yes, she's flexible. It's not that she is really into one night stands, but she doesn't get hung up on the morality of sex. She just goes where the wind blows and enjoys every moment. No expectations. No labels. Just serious fun.

Maru - is a powerhouse genius with a sort of perma-frown on her face when she's concentrating that's somehow annoyingly cute. It's never quite good enough - whatever she happens to be working on. She has those glorious thick curls always bouncing around as she moves from project to project with eager determination. Summer humidity might create the great frizz storm, but she's too focused to bother taming it. Her rims keep it out of her eyes. Always a gadget or two in this girl's hands and she doesn't mind the Inspector jokes. She is far too serious about science and technology to worry about (or even notice) the random taunts of a more average intelligence population. But just because she's super smart doesn't mean she isn't kind. It just might take her longer to notice you, but that hyperfixation, those beautiful eyes, when they are on you, it's really special.

Leah- when doesn't she have paint on her nose? Dried clay on her clothes? Ink beneath her fingernails? Art is her life and the forest outside her door is a veritable landscape of dreams, the mountain tat on her sleeve a mere imitation. Her thick and wild red braid flows free and swishes back and forth as she moves and every once in a while she gets self-conscious. She knows she is pretty but she would rather have someone notice and appreciate her art. But there's something super sexy about the half-buttoned shirt, suspenders, and the nervous tuck of hair over her ear. People fall in love with her everyday but not everyone stays, as she's learned. Still she perseveres and pursues her love of art, capturing raw, pure moments away from her former bustling city life. When you offered to pose for her and be a subject for her art, it wasn't initially meant to be sexual. But she couldn't hide the flicker of interest in her eyes. And then a few weeks later when you finally kissed good night in her doorway, it was like a fire had been released. You tore each other's clothes off and did it right there standing up, then again halfway to the bed and finally made it to the bed for the third round.

Sebastian - the wild, just-rolled-outta-bed hair that's too long and his mother is always saying he should cut it, but he doesn't listen, just like the warnings she gives about the cigs perched between his lips ("those things will kill ya"). Multiple piercings, skulls on shirts, arm bands, the ripped hoodies - all symbols of his rebellious youth carried on because he can't shake the ghosts of his past. Secretly afraid that he is just a teenage boy trapped in an adult body. Hiding behind clouds of smoke and blue glowing screens make it easier to deal with the fact that he didn't follow his dreams. Freelance programmer. Dungeon master. Designing s video game. Lives in his mom's unfinished basement because it's quiet and Maru used to be scared of the dark. So when he does surface and you remember he's alive, it's actually a big deal. He made an effort and when you thank him, he just shrugs in that sexy casual way and says he wanted to see you today. It's simple but so meaningful. He's quiet but he loves you in simple ways - stealing glances from his computer, using coupons to buy your favorite foods at Pierre's, and delivering a piece of furniture you bought at his mom's shop (and conveniently 'forgot' so he would have to bring it to you, and he knows this and did it anyway). Oh and there was the time your computer crashed in the middle of the night (yes, really) and you were in the middle of applying for a farm grant and thought you lost everything you'd been working on for weeks, and you cried and called him, and he came over to fix it and recovered the data. And you may have made out and landed in bed together after (it was a dark and stormy night and the rain is like an aphrodisiac for you). You apologized a dozen times and said this isn't what you called him for and it wasn't supposed to be a midnight booty call. He laughs and kisses you gently and says he wouldn't have minded it if it was because he's wanted you badly for so long. And you went for round 2.

Sam has so much energy, too much, and he usually channels it into making mix tapes, half-finishing songs, pranking Morris and Shane at JojaMart, and skating half-pipe. But if you thought he was an empty airhead, think again. Behind the beanies, cut off sleeves, and ripped jeans, the crazy hair, and goofy smiles, there's a heart of gold. He will kneel down and tie Vincent's shoes for the five hundredth time, even though his kid bro should know by now how to do it. He'll carry those groceries all the way back to Evelyn's house for her, chattering about animal shapes in the cloud and a wicked sweet song he heard on the radio. Maybe someday he will write a jingle for the airwaves too. He will work a double shift so Shane can take Jas to swim lessons or the dentist or because Marnie was irresponsible again and left his god niece alone again late at night. And he will always buy his friends a round at the Saloon. Even if he's broke and spent all his coin on some vintage rock vinyls and the sugary cereal obsession of the week. He's a kid at heart, but he rocks hard and loves hard. That youthful exuberance is just what you need - bubble baths with rubber ducks, half-burnt pizza, dollar stor rose petals, and (root) beers in bed, making you giggle when he gives you foot massages, and tickling you with his tongue (oh yes, he knows all your sweet spots)!

Harvey may be older and mild-mannered, but he remembers little details about all his patients, whom he has come to know as friends and surrogate family. He never met his dad, his mom passed when he was a kid, and he was raised by his grandpa on canned pork and beans, microwave dinners, and model planes. His grandpa was a man of a few words, but they would paint models every evening. Sometimes they'd go out to the airstrip and watch planes take off and Grandpa would reminisce about the "good Ole days" when he still flew in the Air Force. And he always wore ties so the doc has kept up the tradition, and he still wears the coats with the elbow patches that smell of pipe tobacco and peppermint. And even though grandpa has been gone for a dozen or so years, Harvey still paints models most evenings. And every once in a while, he drives out to that airstrip with you to watch the planes while eating tunafish and pickle sandwiches and sipping wine in paper cups. And when he holds your hand, when he puts his arm around you, when he makes love to you, it's like he fits in your life and your body perfectly. Oh yes! The doctor is in!

Elliott - for all his flowery prose, his day to day speech is actually pretty down to earth once you get to know him. Maybe he comes across as a bit of a snob with his extensive vocabulary, but he really just wants to impress you, not turn you off. He (literally) likes long walks on the beach, dreamy piano sonatas, and long soulful ballads. On Chat nights you can find him loosening his ties, letting his hair down, and kicking back a pint with his BFF at the bar. He is never awake before 9:30 or 10 because his writer brain comes alive late at night. He has a flawless complexion (and he's proud of his skin care and hair routine). Inspiration might strike anywhere so he always carries a pen and notepad in his pocket and says things like "can I quote you on that?" for the Pelican Town Times, a newspaper he's trying to revive and has a circulation of maybe 3 people. He's always publishing poems under a pseudonym but his unpublished novel is his pride and joy and he doesn't let anybody read it so when he finally shares an excerpt with you one day it's a really important moment. And of course, when he does finally publish, the dedication is to you, which will make you cry, and he also dedicate it to the particularly bothersome seagull, which makes you laugh, the one that always squawks at the most inopportune times like when you two are trying to "have a romantic moment." His bed might be a little creaky and his cabin a bit drafty, but he treats you and your body like royalty (and to regular nightly full body massages).

Alex - yeah, he's not a complicated guy. He likes sports, surf, and sun. Granny has been his favorite, the first woman in his heart, and he's kinda spoiled by all her love and attention (yes she still cuts the crusts off his sandwiches and does his laundry), but he isn't a brat. He can fix a leaky roof, a leaky sink, a leaky sprinkler system. He mows the entire practice field at the high school in the spring, rakes leaves in the fall and shovels snow in the winter for his neighbors. He still sells ice cream from time to time in the summer, but usually works as a seasonal lifeguard on Ginger Island. Sure, he might be a bit disconnected and doesn't always know what his partners want, but when he's wrong and you tell him, he admits it. And while he can lift you up on his shoulders so you can pick fruit in the orchard and he has the stamina of a Greek god in bed, he doesn't brag about it (at least not very often). He really just wants to make you happy above all else. Oh and he wants to be a dad someday.

Shane was like a drug, in the beginning - you're addicted to this man, dad bod, scruffy face, and all. You love him in spite of his mean and grumpy exterior. Somehow insults turn into foreplay. Maybe it's toxic but you don't care. This man sets records in bed, and he's not a one-hit wonder. As you start showing him affection and stick around despite his numerous attempts to scare him off, he realizes you're here to stay and maybe he can have something of a life again. So he cleans himself up, goes to therapy, quits drinking, and detoxes. Boy! It's not pretty. But it's worth it to him if it means he can have you. And that makes you love him all the more. Sure he's still addicted to Joja colas, but that's really not so bad. Nothing fazes him. Chasing down cows in a thunderstorm, setting Jas' broken arm, putting out a barn fire, rescuing you from a capsized fishing boat, carrying you out from the mines for the umpteenth time, even a chicken landing on his head while you're discussing favorite sex positions in the garden. Come on. That should have elicted a laugh. He's come a long way from that scowling drunk in the corner at the Saloon who just wanted angry hookup sex. He has become your rock just like you were for him all those years ago.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Does the serum make Steve…. louder? Like his lung capacity is obviously more than the average. Did his vocal cords get super soldier-ed too?

Of course, that would mean that Bucky would have to gag him when they have sex. Especially the marathon, sweaty, desperate, edging, kind of sex where Steve just loses all control over his volume because he can’t even hear how loud he’s being over the the sound of his own blood pumping straight to his cock.

They have all kinds of gags so Bucky can control how loud he wants Steve to be since Steve can’t. Maybe even one that looks like the Winter Soldier mask.

Holy shit, I love this idea.

Even if lung capacity and/or vocal chord strength doesn't equate to volume in any meaningful way, my answer to this ask is fucking YES.

YES.

Yes, simply for the fact that I fucking love vocal partners. Major knee-buckling, weak spot for me. So, there's no way I can resist a louder Steve post-serum. Louder and more sensitive, which is just... irresistible 😮‍💨😮‍💨

This got out of hand, I'm supposed to be doing homework, not writing filth on Tumblr, lmao

And the mention of gags alongside the vocal-nature of this makes me think of this fic:

"Day 18: Leather/Latex" by hannahrhen

Anyway--

I can not get my mind off of vocal top Steve. There's 🤌🏻something about him🤌🏻

Imagine him, on top of Bucky, pressing him into the mattress with all his strength--back muscles rippling, so slim to so broad from his hips to his shoulders that it looks impossible, making your eyes almost roll back, just staring, his ass round and biteable, his thighs flexing, his dick putting in work, carving out space for himself inside Bucky.

Steve's shaking and sweating as his hips thrust, his movements so well practiced--fluid, but deep and hard, too. It's intense as fuck. Just how Bucky likes it. Feels so good.

And, God, the rhythm is more than enough to leave Steve's blonde hair hanging over his forehead, mused and sex-ruffled. He's glowing sweat, misted like a fucking Greek God, but so, so much better than pale, white marble he's pink and feverish, his heart pulsing wildly in his chest all the way down to his devastatingly hard dick.

His heart racing and racing as he pants with his mouth open, groaning lowly when Bucky clenches down on his thick cock hard, it makes Steve insane, so tight, he can't believe he fits inside his little hole, whimpering when Bucky tells him faster, faster, oh, ah, ah, ah, yes!, moaning right in Bucky's ear when Steve stops pinning his wrists to the bed, shifting to grab his shoulders and really pound him instead, and Bucky's hands grab at him greedily, wanting to feel his muscles work as he fucks him, pulling him down. He fucks him good and hard, using all his bulk to make Bucky fucking take it.

When he moans like that in his ear, making him crazy with want, Bucky might try to tilt his head to the side, panting just as hard, breath humid and thick, gasping for just a little oxygen between their mouths, begging for a sloppy, filthy kiss but Steve can't lock lips. He can't stop making sounds. The best he can do is moan right into his mouth.

It's so hot. The sounds.

The noises.

Gasping. Whining. Moaning. Panting. Groaning.

All these obscene sounds that mix intoxicatingly with the harsh, wet sound of their bodies colliding. Steve is fucking him hard. And it feels so good. It lights Bucky up--he's only dry kindling and Steve is a match, the friction between them lights them both. Flames lapping at their skin. Soon enough, it's hot enough to crackle and spread, and they're taking down the whole forest. Ignited. Unable to stop. Not when Steve sounds like that. Not when he moves like that, making Bucky see nothing but white-hot sparks.

Pleasured so good, Bucky can bite his tongue, groaning softly and panting and swearing under his labored breath as Steve lays into him like he wants him dead, pounding his prostate until he feels like he might burst, all this pleasure rushing like painful, aching, glorious, intense static through his veins. Steve can't bite his tongue, though.

Steve can't shut his fucking mouth.

Bucky loves it. He's so loud. When it's not mind meltingly hot to hear every hit of pleasure that he takes, it's hilarious because it's so goddamn inconvenient. As much as Bucky might want to bitch and moan about it, complaining that they'll never be able to have a quickie in some closet or bathroom or back of the car because they'll be found out immediately with Steve wailing like that... the moment he starts to feel irritated, he'll twitch or clench or grab, and Steve will just let out the most guttural, wanting sound at the perfect moment, leaving Bucky snickering. Combing a hand through his hair, cooing at his big, dumb, fucked-out face. Mouth-open moaning.

Yeah, Bucky's best guy is loud.

So, even when Bucky manages to reach up, muscles trembling as he goes boneless on Steve's dick, to jam a few fingers between his gaping, swollen lips... Steve's hardly muffled. He's distracted, sure, licking, tonguing, and slurping around his fingers as if they're his dick, but he's moaning too. He's moaning more. That part of Bucky's body in his mouth. How could it not be good? How could it not make his lungs punch out a sound of desire? Lust thick inside him.

Guh.

He's hot and wet and drooling around Bucky's fingers and not any fucking quieter. He might be louder, Jesus Christ.

Naturally, then, it escalates.

If fingers won't do it, what will? How can Bucky get Steve to a reasonable goddamn volume when they fuck? What about Bucky's underwear, literally ripped off of his body in impatience and now an otherwise useless scrap of fabric, stuffed into his mouth? What about Steve's own underwear? There's no difference, really, Bucky just wants it. How about the bottom hem of Steve's sweatshirt, pushed up and shoved between his teeth, giving Bucky an eye-crossing view of his clenching belly and bouncing tits as he fucks him? A ball gag? Bit gags (again, because Bucky wants it, Steve wants it, there's no reason why it would keep Steve's volume down when a ball doesn't, no matter how fat the intrusion is)? A scarf tied around the back of his head? A panel gag? A thick belt doubled over and pushed between drool-glistening lips? A strip of shiny tape slapped over his full, plush lips that leaves a red mark around his mouth like smeared lipstick when they're done, and Bucky tears it off of him? An inflatable gag that Bucky can pump more and more until Steve is whimpering about the fullness and stretch while he's pumping Bucky full?

What will it fucking take? And why is it so hot, the length they have to go to just to make sure that nobody interrupts them with how loose Steve's lips are. All whiny and needy, despite how Steve fucks like a champ. He sounds like he should be the one getting pounded into the mattress (or couch, or wall, or shoulder wall, or... yeah.)

What will it fucking take?

A muzzle?

Bucky jokes. It's a half serious suggestion while they have lazy, post-mission sex that is absolutely better than the sex anyone else is having when they're not exhausted and at the top of their game, thank you very much. Their uniforms are half on, on the way to getting suspicious stains, half revealing dirty, bruised skin--just enough to whip it out and to take it.

Steve is hesitant at first, considering their history with muzzles. He doesn't know if he could stand to do it. Especially if it's a full muzzle that covers the bottom of his face like what the soldier wore. But, later, when they're toweling off after their post-lazy-sex, lazy-shower-sex... the moment Bucky gives him that lazy, charming grin, popping his dimples, and drawls richly about the pleasure of taking the power back, feeling the reins in his own hands, calling the shots...

Oh, God.

Steve's stiff in his jeans immediately, and he needs to, at least, try. For Bucky's sake. Sure, Steve, Bucky's sake. It doesn't have to do with any kind of selfish need to see Bucky's eyes lit with fire, as he dangles a muzzle in front of his face, taunting him. Steve kneeling. Poised to crawl on his hands and knees toward the other man above him. Low enough he could kiss Bucky's feet. He could use his tongue to clean his boots, humming at the taste, knowing exactly where he's been by the grit on his teeth and tongue. Savoring it. Everything he's done for him. The hell he's walked through to get to him. Above him, Bucky's reclined on the edge of their bed, one hand behind him, leaning, all casual and powerful, alluring with his thighs spread wide, setting the muzzle in his lap before curling his finger smoothly. Wordlessly beckoning Steve over so he can shut him up and they can have fun without the neighbor's calling the cops... again.

Those sure, knowing fingers tilting Steve's head up with a mean grip on his chin and slipping the rigid leather onto his face, making sure he can't open his mouth to moan like hell when he's given the privilege of fucking Bucky.

Those fingers.

Those fingers that Steve's going to watch, silenced and muzzled, as they stretch and pry his tight, wet flesh open, preparing himself for Steve's cock. Propped up on his knees in front of Steve, his belly and chest to the bed, hips up, thighs invitingly wide, showing him where he's so tight and aching, but... not yet.

Steve can't touch yet.

And he can't beg to touch. Muzzled.

He can only swallow back sounds and stare desperately, longingly, saliva flooding his mouth.

While they're at it--Steve muzzled like a big, obedient puppy, so good and big as he slides into Bucky after he's stretched, squirming on his back, his thighs still wide open to give Steve a teasing glimpse of his wet hole--Bucky adds a collar for good measure.

A collar.

The strip of thick, dark leather around his throat is complete with a leash, so Bucky can pull it tight, keeping his big, hulking puppy close with the taut, short stretch of leather between their heated bodies.

His fist. Steve's neck. Connected. Joined as one.

He owns him.

It's not like Steve could go anywhere with Bucky's thick, powerful thighs clenched around his trim waist anyway. He's trapped. Entangled in Bucky's heat. All tight and hot and wet inside. And his voice is just as restricting as the leash around his throat--cutting off his air, pulled at just the right moment to slice his muffled moans in half when he pulls at his leash--and orders him to hold back. D-don't cum. Not yet. I'm, 'm not done fuh-fucking done with you yet. Make me cum again. J-just, ngh, just one more. 'M not done yet. Then you can have your treat, okay, boy? That sound good, huh, pup? Mmm, mmm-hmm, yeah, yeah, just like that, gimme it like th-that.

Steve whines, pathetically muffled. It's barely a sound at all, so softened, but at the same time, it's so saturated with want that it's dripping.

How did we get to puppy play? What?