#please don't mind my writing

[lloyddahb0i]

Sorry for not posting in a while, I was in the process of moving and getting everything ready to go before sophomore year starts. Gotta love Art School.

Any who, these are some concept art that I made for a pre-quarter assignment. I have drawn the two main characters before and have posted them, they just no longer have wheels.

[peipurr]

I'm laughing too hard hahaha this is so funny

[corsairspade]

there are many reasons I like the "Erestor son of Caranthir" headcanon but secretly the main one is that I'm imagining all of the remaining noldo auditors sighing of relief when Caranthir dies and they don't have to try play 4d chess with multiverse time travel trying to catch this guy doing tax evasion. life is good for exilic auditors now.

and then suddenly Elrond and Elros turn up again! even better! oh who's this, Elrond? your good friend Erestor? he's helping you with your taxes? oh how swe- what is this Elrond. What is this. your paperwork for your taxes you say. not a declaration of war? because it looks like a declaration of war on the exilic auditors, Elrond.

and then all the auditors are so busy doing "extreme tax auditing™" for the first time since the second Kinslaying that they don't tell anyone they're pretty sure there's another scion of the house of Fëanor running around.

[ghooostea]

chilchuck and laios are my babies, I love them they're neat (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥)

[eggy-the-boy]

*poking my blorbos with a stick* 

[beastsovrevelation]

Captured Angel

Michael Langdon x F!Angel!Reader

Contains: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, elements of coercion, implied loss of virginity, blasphemy, hierophilia

“Good, you’re awake.”

A chill ran down your spine. You had awakened in an unfamiliar room. Your head ached, your wings hung limp, and your limbs were heavy. The air was soaked to the last thread in malice. It made you nauseous. Gritting your teeth, you dragged yourself up, your mind aflame with a single thought – you had to get out. You looked around, but before you could spot a way of escape, you felt a presence. Dark... Darker than the blackest night. Your heart froze in your chest, a taste of iron suddenly coating your tongue. Though you had not seen his face, you could recognize him anywhere. Seven heads. Ten horns. His honeyed voice left a cold, oily trace on your very soul as he spoke. You drew a deep breath, and spun around, to meet a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips crooked into a smirk. Holding your gaze, he moved towards you. You drew back.   

“Get away from me, filthy Beast...” you snarled.

Deep down, you loathed yourself for the instinctive reaction. You were a soldier. You had a duty to stand your ground, and instead, you cowered. He promptly crossed the gap between you two.

“Ah-ah!” he scolded, clasping your chin “That’s not very nice, now, is it?..”

You grimaced. Michael Langdon. How ironic, for Satan’s son to bear your General’s name. The one who cast him out... You hoped it hurt the Evil One greatly. Michael caressed your cheek. You winced, and pushed his hand away. Sneering, he grabbed you by the throat.  

“Why am I here?” you hissed through gritted teeth.

He glanced down at your heaving chest.

“You’re my captive” he purred “Isn’t it obvious?”

You swallowed. Struggling would only worsen your chances, you knew as much. His gaze darkened with hunger as he watched you – like a wolf, salivating at a wounded deer. Your guts had coiled into a tight knot, a sickly sweet taste coating your mouth.

“Why didn’t your bootlickers kill me?” you asked, not quite certain if you wished to know the answer.

A chuckle escaped his lips. The Antichrist’s lecherous expression made your blood boil. How dare the abomination touch an angel of the Lord, you thought. A strange sensation was budding between your legs, but you pointedly ignored it, just as you ignored the feeling of unease clawing at the back of your skull.   

“That would’ve been a waste...” Michael tilted his head “They thought a gift would please me. They weren’t wrong...”

You snarled, attempting to pull away.

“Get your putrid hands off me!”

He tightened his grip on your neck.

“Hush” he coaxed in a mockingly gentle voice “I’m not going to hurt you, angel.”

“Vile creature...” you spat.

He pulled you closer. You bared your teeth, as your face almost crashed into his. Though you did not need air, the pressure on your throat was beginning to make you dizzy. Every nerve in your body screamed to fight - your muscles   had tensed, prepared for combat. You might have broken away. Escaped this unholy place. You should have at least tried... But, perhaps because of the mist gathering over your mind, your legs trembled underneath you. You found yourself staring at his mouth. His breath brushed against your skin, warm and silken. Your pulse leapt into a frenzy.

Michael snuck his other hand under your clothes. The captors had stripped you of your armour, and taken away your sword, leaving only your linen tunic to cover you. His fingertips caressed your thigh, slowly creeping upwards. You held your breath as you felt him part the soft folds of your skin.

You had never been fondled like this before. Carnal pleasure was forbidden for your kind. You should be disgusted, you understood as much. Still, the electric-like impulse roused by his touch paralyzed you, preventing you from breaking his arm.

He stroked your entrance. You stifled a gasp, your intimate muscles tightened in anticipation. Your hole was beginning to well with slick. Taking your lack of resistance for a welcome, he slipped two fingers inside you. The feeling of his skin against your sensitive membrane made your head spin, and you barely held back from bucking your hips into his hand.

He let go of your neck, only to wrap his arm around your waist. Keeping you steady, he spread his fingers wider, straining you until it hurt. You shuddered. He massaged the velvety walls of your flesh, driving you to the edge of madness. Aware of how much satisfaction hearing your cries would give him, you clenched your jaw. His skin grazed against a certain knot of nerves, and you nearly sunk to the ground as your legs buckled from the bolt of stimulation. Still, somehow, you did not make a sound.

It only made Michael more determined. He fixated on your sweet spot, leaving you to desperately clutch the lapels of his jacket. His mouth lingered but a thread away from yours - you felt his heartbeat echo against your rib cage. He narrowed his eyes, and pressed his thumb to your clit. Overwhelmed, you drew a sharp breath.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?..” he teased “What is it, my dear? What do you want, hm?”

He pushed a third finger into your dripping slit. You whined in pleasure muddled with despair.

“Speak up, angel” he demanded.

Virtue be damned. Something tameless had infected you. Caught in the furor of sin, you eagerly cast your innocence aflame.

“I...” you stammered “I want... I need you to ravish me...”

Michael threw you onto the bed, and climbed on top of you. Laying flat on your back, your wings sprawled open, you looked up at him, your eyes sweetly half-lidded. His knee shoved between your thighs, he ripped the front of your tunic open. You sighed as cold air brushed against your nipples. He placed his hands on your breasts, savouring the softness of your bare skin. His eyes aflame with lust, he took a moment to admire your flushed, helpless body. Biting your bottom lip, you pushed your chest into his touch. He grabbed you by the throat again.

“You’re mine” he snarled “Mine alone...”

Against your better judgement, you nodded. Your gaze wandered down to his crotch, causing your mouth to immediately water. Michael’s lips crooked into a sleazy smirk. He unbuckled his pants, and slipped his underwear down. Your eyes widened as his hard cock sprung free. Large, but not obscenely so. You pulled the skirt of your tunic up, leaving your aching cunt at his mercy.

He pinned you down under his full weight. You wrapped your arms around him, savouring the feel of luxurious fabric under your fingers. Like an animal in heat, you craved to feel him inside. His eyes locked with yours, Michael clasped your leg, and positioned himself more comfortably. You blindly caught hold of his member, helping guide it into your hole.

Your heart skipped a beat – you let out a moan as your membranes clamped around him. Hardly giving you a moment to adjust, he began to move. The sudden strain roused a twinge, but it soon was obscured by shattering pleasure. No longer holding back your mewls and whimpers, you sank your nails into his back. Should the expensive suit get ruined, it will be his fault.

Michael groaned, his teeth bared in primal satisfaction. Your response only encouraged him, and he quickly picked up the pace. Each thrust sent a shattering wave of pleasure through your fevered nerves. You wrapped your legs around his waist, welcoming them. He traced the tip of his tongue over your neck. You hissed as his long hair tickled you, overwhelming your senses even more. He purred, and nipped at your jaw.

“Kiss me” you demanded.

He obeyed, leaning down to press his mouth against yours. You parted your lips for him, and allowed your tongues to battle for dominance.

“Say my name” he ordered, upon pulling away.

“I can’t...” you gasped in horror.

“Your general isn’t here...” he growled “It’s just you and me...” he pressed his face to your temple “Say my name, sweetheart. Show the Beast how much you’re enjoying your downfall.”

He pulled his cock almost all the was out, then slammed it back in, roughly grazing your sweet spot. Your cried out, and sank your fingers into his hair. You didn’t want to think about her. You loathed to imagine her disappointment in you. But his presence eclipsed her face. Drowned it in the storm of ecstasy ravaging you.

“Michael!”

“Good girl” he praised with a grin.

Shock after shock of ecstasy tore through your body, setting every cell of it aflame. Your forehead was laced in sweat. Your muscles quivered from the tension. You were close. Very close. Turned feral by the pleasure, he grabbed you by the wrists, thrusting into you with merciless force.

“Michael...” you moaned.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You arched your back, trembling and convulsing as a scream escaped your throat. Michael threw his head back with a snarl. You had grown painfully tight around him, prompting him to reach his own release. You felt him spill inside you – it was the strangest, most pleasant sensation  you had ever experienced.

You collapsed into the pillows, limp and gasping for breath. He slumped down on top of you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to soak in the glowing haze of bliss. But, just when he had crept off of you, and was about to pull you into his arms, you leapt up. Using his surprise for your advantage, you climbed onto him – this time, you were the one to pin him down. You caught his gaze, and drew a dagger from underneath your ruined tunic. Afraid to molest their master’s gift, the devil worshippers had missed it.

“You will find the men who captured me, crucify them, and bleed them like pigs” you growled, pressing the blade against his throat “Do you understand me, Antichrist?”

A drop of blood sept from under the metal, glowing against his milky skin in a warning.

“Yes” he murmured, as his eyes blazed with adoration.

[deoidesign]

please please please please please please please let me tell you about this comic I want to make it so bad please I can not wait I am losing it

If I don't make the comic then I'm not going to make it... I need other people to see what is in my brain so I'm not the only one going feral over them

[kj-yikes]

3. Dress

(read on ao3)

Lena isn't at all surprised when she catches sight of Kara and her heart jumps into her throat.

Kara is always stunning. In slacks and a button down. In sweats. In her supersuit. But Lena has a particular soft spot for Kara in dresses.

Kara had been in a dress the first time they met. Lena had been distracted by Clark and his insinuations, but Kara had still caught her eye. Tall, gorgeous, blonde ringlets, legs for days, a little dorky, wrapped in a cute pastel pink cardigan.

It wasn't the outfit though, that really sealed the deal for Lena. Nor was it the adorably awkward demeanor of the woman. It was the flash of understanding passing over Kara's face when Lena said she was looking to make a name for herself outside of her family. Kara's face, as Lena would discover, is always an open book, and Lena had recognized the earnestness with which Kara related to the sentiment.

Each time Lena sees Kara in a dress, she's taken back to that first, fateful meeting, the day her life changed irrevocably. She's taken back, and it never fails to make butterflies erupt in Lena's stomach.

Today, at Alex and Kelly's wedding, Kara's in a light blue thin-strapped dress that shows off the gorgeous slope of her neck to her shoulders. It's stunning, and Lena can't keep her eyes off of the super.

As she listens to Kara's melodic voice singing with Winn, Lena marvels at the events that brought them to this particular moment: Kara, landing on Earth after the destruction of her home; Lex's breakdown that brought Lena to National City; the pain, the betrayal, but also the hope, the connection, the adoration.

Kara eyes keep finding Lena's in the crowd as she sings, and each time, a small blush spreads over the blonde's cheeks. Lena finds it incredibly endearing, her heart swelling with fondness.

It's so much feeling to contain within her that it's hard to keep it from spilling over.

Lena struggles valiantly through the ceremony and the reception after to keep it contained, but she's surrounded by love, warmth, belonging.

She can't help when it overflows and seeps out.

"Dance with me?" Lena asks boldly, extending her hand out towards where Kara is sitting. Kara's face forms a shy smile as she takes Lena's hand and follows her to the dance floor.

Goosebumps rise on Lena's arms as Kara's hands snake around her waist, clenching the silky purple fabric at her back as they sway to the music. Deliberately, Lena slides her hands across Kara's collabones and settle them at her neck. The soft, velvety skin under her fingertips is enticing, but Lena resists letting her hands wander too far.

Kara can't seem to resist, though. She slides a hand up the gap in Lena's blouse to rest against her chest, and it feels like Kara has placed her hand on Lena's very soul.

"I haven't had the chance to tell you how beautiful you look tonight." The words slip out of Lena's mouth before she has a chance to stop them. Kara looks down at her bashfully, shaking her head. "It's true, don't shake your head. The most gorgeous woman here."

Kara's cheeks flush bright red. "How can that be true when you're here and looking like this?"

Lena laughs and looks at Kara carefully. Words of affection flow pretty freely in their friendship, in general, but tonight, it feels different.

Maybe it's because it's a wedding, and it's hard not to be in love at a wedding. Maybe it's because every good morning text, every break sitting on the couch at the tower with legs accidentally grazing legs, every shared potsticker during movie night, has been leading up to this inevitable moment. Maybe Lena's just finally mustered the courage to act on the feelings she's had for years.

Lena presses her forehead to Kara's, sinking deeper into bright blue eyes. "Kara?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Kara looks surprised by the answer that slips from her lips, but her eyes sparkle with curiosity and warmth.

Lena's lips ghost against Kara's, before she finally closes the gap.

The kiss is soft, slow, tender. Sparks start at her heart and shoot through her body. Her heart beats, beats, beats as she learns the taste of Kara's lips, the feel of them against hers. Lena could spend eternity with her lips pressed against Kara's.

It's over too soon. Kara pulls away slowly and opens her eyes, scanning Lena's face with an unreadable expression. Then, suddenly, it's like the clouds part in Kara's eyes, and a wide smile spreads on her lips.

"Lena," Kara murmurs, then Kara's lips are on Lena's again, her hands cupping Lena's face and pulling her closer.

Lena is mildly aware that the slow song is over, as she hears the thump of the speaker blasting a more upbeat song. But Kara's fingertips are clawing desperately at Lena's hips and she can feel Kara sigh against her lips, and Lena can't bring herself to stop. Desire shoots through her veins, engulfing her. Pulling her deeper, deeper still, until it feels like they've melded into one being through their joined lips.

"Kara, don't get me wrong, I am so happy that this is finally happening, but can you please get a room? This is my wedding."

They jump apart like lightning has struck between them.

"S-sorry," Kara says sheepishly, her eyes not leaving Lena's. Alex rolls her eyes as she turns to Lena, a finger outstretched towards her.

"I've got my eye on you, Luthor. Treat her well." Alex tries to hide a smile as she pokes Lena's sternum. Lena forces down a chuckle and quirks an eyebrow. Moving her head to the beat, Alex half dances, half walks backwards, still pointing back and forth from her eyes to pointing at Lena.

Lena feels so light and free as she gathers Kara back into her arms, takes her hand, and spins her to the music.

The rest of the evening is filled with silly dance moves, laughter, and joy. When it's finally time for Kelly and Alex to depart, the crowd gathers around the car to see them off. Lena, who hasn't parted from Kara all evening, wraps her arms around the blonde's waist from behind.

"You truly look gorgeous in that dress, darling," Lena presses herself against Kara's back, whispering into the shell of her ear, "but if you're up for it later, I'd love to see what it looks like on my floor."

Kara's hand freezes mid-wave. She cranes her neck to look at Lena, her dark, hungry eyes juxtaposed with an adorable blush on her cheeks and neck.

"I— uh, yep, yeah, please, okay," Kara stammers, and Lena looks up at her with absolute adoration.

"Let's go home."

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[softgothbabe]

Pull up a chair in front of the full-length mirror, and sit me (naked) on your (fully clothed) lap facing the mirror with my legs spread. Make me watch you play with my sensitive clit until I'm whining and dripping and begging for you to put your fingers inside me. Insert one finger slowly. Hold my chin with one hand to keep my dizzy eyes focused on you gradually fitting a second, then third, finger inside my aching pussy. Pick up the pace. Move your hand from my chin to cover my mouth to silence me as I moan louder and louder. Make me climax so hard I'm shaking and squirting all over your lap.

[necrotic-nephilim]

@profandomhopper i was going to reblog the original post this comment was left on but i felt it divorced itself from the original topic so much, you get your own post for giving me delightful permission to ramble about this. buckle in people this is long.

so, DC is a big fandom that expanses a lot of different types of content, and like anything, is subject to crossovers. the obvious ones like Marvel are for the reason of being a similar and equally popular superhero world, so it's easy to transpose the worlds onto each other and overlap the characters. both of these worlds deal with multiverses and endless, endless heroes. it makes sense and there's no real stretch to think Batman and Spider-Man could co-exist. i mean, there have been canon crossover comics. and even some more random crossovers like White Collar have pretty easy to trace origins, being an actor in WC was a popular Dick fancast back in the day so there was some bleeding over that led to a well-loved niche crossover space.

but Danny Phantom and Miraculous Ladybug are where it gets interesting. because at a surface, MLB sort of makes sense. it's a superhero world, you're following a teen girl superhero and sure the mechanics are pretty contained, but the crossover should make sense. but when you compare it to the crossover numbers of other superhero media like say My Hero Academia, Ladybug takes the *crown* with such a bizarre popularity. and of course, DP feels like it makes even less sense. sure, you *could* lump it into at the very least, superhero-adjacent media, but it's not a true hero world like MLB or DC is.

but, the thing to always understand about DC, *especially* the Batfamily (which is where the crossover content propagates the most) is this: a *very* good chunk of fans don't interact with the comics. i would venture to say even most Batfamily fans don't read the comics and actively talk about it. we've all read a very fandom big Batfam fanfic where the author's note mentions the writer has never touched a comic in their life. typically, these fans are either cobbling together their understanding from fandom content, or by frankensteining unrelated DC adaptations to understand each character. you take Bruce from Batman: TAS, you take Dick from the animated Young Justice, you take Jason from Batman: Under The Red Hood animated movie, you take Damian from the DCAMU Batman vs Robin, and you read some fandom metas to fill in the rest and well, you've got some sort of an understanding of these characters. read enough incorrect quotes, some genfic, a couple of character metas, and boom, you understand the Batfamily fandom enough to start creating your own content. and of course now. now you have Wayne Family Adventures so it's even *easier*. a pretty easy to pick up webtoon that's filling in all the gaps for you. but i've been in this fandom long enough to remember before we had WFA and even then, this was still a common, if not the most popular way, to ween yourself into the DC fandom space. you cherry-picked the canon you liked and then plunged into the depths of fanon.

i'm not here to make in depth commentary on if i think this is a good or bad thing. trust me i have that commentary in my head, but that would need it's own post. i'm very split on it and my feelings are complicated. my feelings on WFA are even *more* complicated. because oftentimes, the attitude expressed by these fans who are frankensteining this version of the Batfamily/DC world they have in their head is they don't *want* to read the comics. the comics don't contain the content they're after. and to an extent, i understand that. if you're looking for light-hearted vibes of the Batfamily all getting along and having the occasional hurt/comfort moments but in the end, they hug and make up, you're right. largely, you won't find that in canon. of course there are so many comics to recommend for Batfamily interactions, but you have to get specific. you'll find them interacting in small groups, Tim and Dick bonding here, Duke and Cass bonding there, but largely, the comics don't care to balance the ridiculously large cast they've given themselves. but fandom does. it's easy to toss them all in a blender and ignore the parts you don't like. the default argument to ignoring the comics or writing something OOC is always "well the comics are OOC and inconsistent too" which, while a flawed argument that massively misunderstand how comics work as a medium, isn't an entirely incorrect one. you could serve on a silver platter to these fans, an easy and accessible way to get into comics and they wouldn't be interested. it's not what they're here for. fandom is always character-driven above all else. it's driven by character relationships and dynamics. if someone wants to consume content where Tim idolized and stalked Jason as 'his Robin' and now is trying to help him rehabilitate and they're super complicated but have this long epic forgiveness arc, why *would* they read the comics? because they're sure as shit not going to find that dynamic in the comics. it's laughably OOC and not canon at all, but that doesn't matter. what matters is the sandbox. most Batfamily fans care *far* more about the sandbox canon gives them than the actual canon itself. feel how you feel about that, this really isn't being negative toward that attitude, but it is a common attitude.

so, you have Batfamily fans playing in the sandbox and building their own narrative. common fandom headcanons are so common, you could practically write a guide on how the fanon Batfamily works with how consistent people are about it. or you could just read WFA, which is practically the new manifesto of it. even now, with this sudden spike in people talking about canon accuracy and "actually this happening in the comics", they don't actually care about the comics, just what they can cherry-pick for fodder. (even if they rob it of so much context they're just as OOC as they were before. see specifically: the recent phenomena with Tim Drake going from the woobified weakest member of the Batfam who everyone needs to save constantly and he's the smart boy but he's also the one with a sad tragic neglectful past who gets overlooked being the way Batfamily fandom played with Tim for years. but recently, people seem to be pushing this idea of a ridiculously badass Tim, Tim who *totally* has a kill count because of his actions in RR (2009) if you take them completely out of context, Tim who bested Ra's and is even more badass than Jason and he's the 17 yr old CEO of Wayne Industries being cool and flawless it becoming the new fandom zeitgeist. neither of these versions of Tim are canon, and the second fundamentally misunderstands his arc in RR (2009) but the shift has undeniably happened and it's been fascinating to watch. the same thing happened with people suddenly deciding Jason isn't the "angry violent Robin", he was a sunshine sweet boy who was perfect as Robin. neither of these are true, but the second feels more transgressive and new to fandom from cherry-picked panels.) the point is largely, Batfamily fans would rather build their own canon than play with the actual canon.

and then, you have Danny Phantom. i'm not into DP and have no interest to get into it, but what i know about it via fandom osmosis is this: DP fans sort of also don't give a fuck about canon. once again, the canon of DP is a sandbox, not a rulebook. the concepts and the characters are the draw, not the plot itself. i've seen DP posts explaining characters who are essentially OCs, but have become so dominant in the fandom via fandom osmosis. there are concepts and ideas about how Danny's powers work and potential concepts with his ghost nature that either aren't in canon or only happened once in canon and fans decided to expand on that and doesn't care about it's own in-universe logic. i've seen a lot of DP fans also express they haven't seen the show and they don't have plans to see the show. because the show is just some children's cartoon with some inconsistencies and a simple plot, as you'd expect from CN. the show isn't the point. no one cares about it's plot, they care about it's characters. they care about pushing the concept of half ghost boy to a logical extreme and seeing what you can get out of that. can you make it weird and fucked up. how much can you highlight on his trauma and body horror. what identity crisis can you give him and how can you build his interactions with other characters in his world around that and also make those characters fun and unique on their own. sure, the skeleton of canon is there, but the meat lies all in the fanon.

Miraculous Ladybug also exists in this similar vein. the characters, the concepts, those hold intrigue. and not even mentioning the fact the original concept for this show was supposed to be aimed to an older audience, so you can see the bones of something a bit more mature and nuanced under this typical, villain of the week magical girl transformation show. the show itself is a bit shallow and that's not a *bad* thing, it's just the medium it exists within being aimed towards children. but the concepts of a teen girl who's basically a sort of chosen one, a boy who doesn't know his father is the big bad of the show, and their weird identity porn love... square thing. those dynamics are *so* complicated and such a fun sandbox to play in with character-driven fandom.

so, at the core, you have three fandoms that care more about the culturally accepted fanon than the canon, with a good chunk of people often not even consuming the original canon content. and well, DC is an *easy* world to transpose just about anything onto. a boy who's half ghost and fighting supernatural threats? that makes sense, DC has ghost heroes like Deadman already. a girl who has this magical item that gives her animal themed superpowers? i mean that's practically the same thing as Vixen's Totem so that one makes sense too. they fit in pretty easy, no needing to change the world to accommodate them. and of course, if you're a fan of *one* fandom where you don't care for the canon content and only like the fandom sandbox, chances are, you'll get drawn in pretty easily to another fandom with similar mechanics. if you can teach yourself the DP fandom rules/concepts, you can teach yourself the Batfamily fandom rules/concepts. and well, since there's so much crossover in fandom members, why not write the fanfiction? crossover fics will always exist, but with such a shared member base, you have a really big boom.

it's why the characters you see DP interact with in DC are *always* characters who are far more driven by fanon than canon. Danny and John Constantine is a *massive* concept. for people who don't read Hellblazer comics. my poor partner, @divine-dominion has lamented to me pretty often about finding DP content in the Hellblazer tag that is essentially turning Constantine into an OC. because whatever version of Constantine is being written about isn't one bit comics accurate, and really, isn't trying to be. and the same thing happens with Shazam. you watch Young Justice and understand him well enough, you get drawn in by the character concept that you just run with it. people put their favorite blorbos in the same place because hey, wouldn't ghost boy be pretty cool in a city like *Gotham*. how would Batman even react to him. and then, the shipping. because ages for the Batfamily can be easily hand-waved and moved around based on where you plop Danny into the timeline, you have your pick of the litter with him, and same with Ladybug. of course there are the most popular ships but largely, the world is your oyster.

i don't think this is the worst thing in the world for either fandom. it's not hard to filter out the crossover tags and scroll past content i don't like. and sure, i see the appeal of making your blorbos from two different places meet. i've got my drafts *full* of DC/MHA crossover ideas because well, i like them both and think that would be cool. i think my only gripe with it is when DP or MLB crossover content seeps it's way into the wrong tags. using the above example, if you're writing about Danny and Constantine but there's zero content of the actual Hellblazer comics, i don't think you need the Hellblazer tag, just the Constantine character tag. tbh i wish this extended onto Ao3 and people utilized fandom tags better. if you're writing Batfamily fanfiction that is very clearly and obviously WFA driven in characterization and concepts, i would far prefer those fics be tagged with the WFA fandom tag rather than the Batman (comics) fandom tag. because well, you're not writing about the Batman comics. and there's nothing wrong with that, but it helps if you don't confuse yourself for content striving to interact with canon more. (this especially extends to Young Justice, by the way. if you're writing for the Young Justice tv show please, please stop using the Young Justice (comics) fandom tag. i'm at my wit's end- /lh)

the whole thing is fascinating. i've got zero interest in entering DP or MLB as fandoms because that's not my speed, but witnessing it as an outsider is my favorite pastime. i see a *lot* of posts going around the DC x DP space that are helping explain to people who's who, what's what, and understanding the canon/fanon of both of these properties so others can better enter the space. which is not something you'd need in a fandom driven only by it's canon content, but it is sweet watching others try to help newbies enter the space. it's a very inviting fandom space, i think, whether you lament it's existence or not. they're just sitting in their corner with their blorbos, and i gotta respect that. the posts explaining the Batfamily to DP fans are always fun for me to read, even if i disagree with some of the characterizations in them because it helps shine a light on what the fans of this crossover regard as "important" enough about each fandom to be worth including those sorts of primers. very fascinating stuff.

[rynli]

me: I should write the one-shot that lives in my head about Harry applying for a job

brain: you will write a whole casefic about Harry realizing being a cop already killed him once, acab applies even to Kim, and he needs to quit if he wants to get better

[thatbuddie]

sibyl!!! @sibylsleaves!!! i need you to know i have ideas for all the prompts you sent me. aaaaaaaah!!! (which is why i'm not yet posting your ask because i'm holding onto it hoping it'll encourage me to get to the other prompts too lol.)

for now, here you go. this is for all too well (10 minute version). i hope you enjoy this one <3

(for every question why) you were my because

buddie | 3.4k | getting together, love confession

“Being boyfriends and being friends is really different,” Buck says, and Eddie wants to laugh at the fact that Buck is saying this to him. “But if you’re so okay being friends with him,” Eddie explains, “It means there wasn’t anything he did wrong while being your boyfriend. So I don’t understand why you broke up with him.” “I’ve told you before,” Buck says, and his voice sounds contained, like there is something he’s holding back. Is it anger? Is it an explanation? Is it, perhaps, both? “That Tommy didn’t do anything wrong. That’s why I’m okay with us being friends. I didn’t break up with him because he did anything wrong.” Eddie opens his arms wide and then lets them drop down to hit the side of his thighs. “But then what happened? I just don’t understand. What happened?” “You! That’s what happened: You!” (or, Buck breaks up with Tommy but won’t talk about it, and Eddie just needs to know why.)

(read on ao3.)

[howdoyousleep3]

Rating: Explicit (E) Word Count: 4.7K Notable Tags: Dom/Sub AU, Heavy Power Imbalance, Non-Con (from characters other than Steve and in the past, no major detail), Daddy Kink, Age Difference, Sex Trafficking, Human Trafficking, Submissive Auction, Angst With a Happy Ending, Depressive Thoughts, Depressed Bucky Barnes, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Crying, Subspace, Blowjob, Face Fucking, Orgasm Denial, Cock Cage, Size Kink, Size Difference A/N: This was originally supposed to be published in the last Kinktober I participated in under my Age Difference day. I've only read one story that was in the Dom/Sub AU and I was so taken with it, it's all I thought about as I wrote this. It's a universe where, kind of like Omegaverse, everyone has a designation of Dominant or Submissive. I didn't dive into it too heavily, but I left it totally up for my interpretation so...don't mind me lol. Compared to what I usually write, this one is kind of twisted and dark. Please read the tags and don't continue reading if it makes you uncomfy. ❤️

Read here on Ao3.

The lights in this room are much more dim than the ones in the showcase room they’ve just performed in. He feels the line of his shoulders relax at the sight, be it merely a smidgen, heart still hammering against his rib cage. His limbs continue to tremble unpleasantly, his head pounding, his hole wet and aching to the point of pain. 

He is used to this happening when he’s used without completion, climax other than his own being robbed from him, when he isn’t used for his purpose. He does as they’ve trained him though— he ignores his tender emotions and his body’s biological signs of unfulfilled submission. 

Bucky barely has half the mind to take in his surroundings, to lift his chin and glance around the room he’s quickly being shuffled into. It almost looks like a study, someone’s personal office or library. It’s deceivingly cozy with its maroon walls and moody lighting, a fireplace lit and in use on one end of the room, bookshelves lining the opposite wall. He’s slow to take in the bed in the center of the room, one that seems entirely out of place yet perfect in this setting, large and cloud-like and luxurious. 

The exhaustive ache that Bucky feels deep down to the center of his being yearns to curl up in the center of that bed like a kitten, to not be roused for hours on end. Instead he’s ordered to his knees on the rug next to it, the command settling unpleasantly on the nape of his neck like they always do. 

He looks down at himself, his nude and flushed form, eyes locking onto his hands bound and curled together in his lap, and he wonders how this is where he ended up in life. 

“Listen to me,” the handler tells him, voice unharsh yet still grating, the command one he’s forced to listen to. Bucky’s never enjoyed his designation, has rarely ever been comfortable being a Sub, but these moments are the ones he hates the most. He despises not having a choice, has a special kind of hatred for being commanded against his will, his body listening before his mind can fight against it. But he’s quick to respond, quick to mumble, “Yes, Sir,” because that’s what they’ve spent the last three months training Bucky to do. 

“You no longer belong to us,” the Dominant handler states without emotion, and even given the circumstances, relief kicks up into Bucky’s chest. “Your personal possessions are in this bag, your Dom will handle everything else once your bond is initiated. If it is initiated.” Bucky flinches. “You understand the reputation we hold here and the standards we’ve instilled in you, yes?” 

Bucky bites out another, “Yes, Sir,” before the handler is done moving purposefully around the room, coming to stand in front of Bucky. He doesn’t raise his head, just as he’s been taught.

“Good. I advise you to keep those in mind once you leave this place. You haven’t been the easiest Sub to deal with, James. I’d hate for your Dom to send you back here because you did not meet expectations. He won you fair and square with the highest bid; don’t make him regret that.” 

The severity of the situation Bucky’s been put in, the past few months, hits him in the solar plexus when he hears these words. He isn’t sure why his brain decides to catch up in this moment, why he decides to feel the weight of the past weeks here at the feet of his handler in the very last moment they’ll see each other, but he feels his chest constrict painfully. His hole aches in waves, mouth watering in preparation for what it thinks is coming, desperate, and Bucky bites back his whimper when he feels his dick wish to fill out. 

He never gets what he wants, what he needs, is always left feeling unfulfilled and purposeless. They’ve had to increase his dosage of meds they give him each day as a result of how affected he has become from touch after touch leaving him emptier and emptier. A Sub shouldn’t live like this yet here he is, having been picked up off the streets and trained to be the best of the best on such evil touches. 

He’s going to be so fucked up because of this place. 

Having been put on display in every possible way in the performance room during his shining moment, he wonders if this is the last time he’ll feel so used and hollow. Will his new Dom continue to leave him feeling so empty? Will he make Bucky do things he doesn’t want to do, use him against his will, take advantage of him and his designation? He feels so low in this moment he can��t see anything but that happening, of being owned and living this life of misery. Surely Bucky won’t survive. 

His handler doesn’t even say goodbye, doesn’t acknowledge Bucky as he leaves, and Bucky hates how much that hurts. He’s once again betrayed by his biological needs, betrayed by the intrinsic need to please and to obey, and even given the piss poor treatment they’ve put him through here, Bucky wishes his handler would leave him with more positive words, with the praise he so desperately craves. 

When he hears the door close behind the Dom, he can’t help the whimper that bubbles up and out of his mouth. 

His eyes don’t leave the floor because no one has told him he can raise his head, and even though he no longer belongs to this establishment, he can’t will his inner submissive to look up. Instead, his eyes lock onto the cage around his dick. He despises this thing. Before he was lured in with promises of a warm meal and an even warmer bed he had only heard of cock cages being utilized in either the most severe of relationships or for fun, no in between. He had never worn one until his training. 

He hates it, has tried taking it off on his own multiple times before his harshest of training had set in. He hasn’t come once during his time here, can barely remember what his own climax feels like. 

“Your pleasure no longer belongs to you, James. Your orgasms are not your own; they belong to your Dom.”

It’s ironic yet devastating to Bucky that all of this training, all of this pain, was pointless. Bucky could be a good Sub for someone, he knows it. He could give the right someone all of the things his training had brought out without the misery he’s gone through for these people. He could give his mind, body, and soul easily over to the right person. This line of thinking shifts into the only thing that brought him comfort each night; the only thing that helped him get the little sleep that he did— 

His Daddy. 

Well, hopefully his Daddy. 

If he’s the perfect man for Bucky, he’ll be his Daddy. 

And his knight in shining armor, this perfect Dom, his Daddy, would come one day to take him away from this hell. That’s what he dreamt about each night, that his Dom, strong enough for the both of them, big enough to easily cradle Bucky’s not entirely petite form close to his chest, would whisk him away from this place and give him everything he could ever need. His Dom that can teach him how to cook his favorite meals for him, his Dom that is patient, his Dom that is proud of Bucky. Every night when he needed comfort to sleep, this man would be the comfort Bucky needed to finally rest. 

Bucky wonders what his Dom is going to be like, what he’s going to look like, but most of all Bucky wonders if he is going to like Bucky. Surely he is attracted to Bucky if he got into a bidding war with someone else for Bucky, if he paid damn near a million dollars for Bucky’s bond, for his life. There is a sliver of hope that the highest bidder’s intentions are pure.

Bucky is so exhausted, right down to the bone, that he doesn’t even startle when he hears the door to the room open once more. He doesn’t lift his head, as he’s been taught, but this time he does it because of the onslaught of nerves that wrack his body. This is it, this is his new Dom, the one he’ll have for life, the one whose bond will be initiated tonight. With one last unmated deep breath, Bucky sends a wish out into the universe for his Dom to be kind, for him to show Bucky the love he’s never been given in life, to love Bucky. 

The sound of steady footsteps reach his ears at almost the same moment a sense of calm washes over Bucky’s being. It hits him in waves, drips down his spine like warm honey, a sensation so pleasurable his chest shakes with his caged sob. His nostrils fill with the scents of cinnamon and vanilla and a bonfire deep in the forest. His eyes well up with tears as he continues to look down at his hands, mind racing in disbelief at his body’s immediate reaction to his new Dom, a reaction he’s not experienced before.

Hope begins to seep into Bucky’s limbs as a pair of sleek, black boots come into view.

“James?”

Oh. 

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until his next exhale comes out as a choked sob. Upon hearing that voice the hope in his body bursts, shatters, into something more fierce, something that has him responding with a quiet and thoughtless— 

“Daddy?” 

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t let his eyes leave the floor, those expensive boots. He feels his hands tremble in his lap, can almost hear them do so. He isn’t given enough time to panic about addressing his new Dom by a title that wasn’t approved by him, wasn’t given permission to use, because his Dom is responding confidently. 

“Look at me, please.”

Bucky’s eyelids flutter upon hearing the gentle command in such a soothing, rich voice, and he takes a deep and shaky breath before listening like a good boy…

And immediately begins sobbing in full.

It’s the faceless man from Bucky’s dreams, he’s sure of it. He has kind ocean eyes, an otherworldly physical presence. There’s experience etched into every part of his being, from his graying hair to the wrinkles around his eyes to the calmness that sweeps off of him in waves. He smiles down at Bucky and it makes him feel like he’s the most precious creature on the planet. 

“Oh, my angel…”

This is the man that is going to save his life.

This is his Daddy. 

With his eyesight now blurry because of his tears, he doesn’t see the hand coming down before it cups his chin. There’s a strength in this grip that Bucky knows will soothe him, hold him, love him for the rest of his life. A thumb swipes at his tears, wiping them from his cheek. He can’t remember the last time he felt such comfort from another human being. Even before he was forced into this facility, through all his sexual encounters, gentleness and softness were not things he experienced. He’s almost forgotten what it’s like, to feel a reassuring touch. 

“James,” his Daddy reverently murmurs, stroking his thumb over Bucky’s trembling bottom lip. “Why are you crying, sweetheart?” 

He swallows thickly, his eyes roving over his Daddy’s face, taking a few seconds to selfishly drink the older man in. His body reacts to its Dom’s presence like it knows its Daddy is finally here, its biological needs taking over all other needs, roaring to life within him. Bucky’s eyes fight to cross when he takes in the size of his Dom’s denim-clad thighs, how he fills out his cozy sweater. His Daddy’s so big. He wiggles his hips where he sits, chin in his Daddy’s big hand. 

“I’ve just…I’ve…I’ve been waiting for you for so long,” is what Bucky ends up saying quietly, sniffling, and his Dom’s smile is slow and sweet, like he enjoys Bucky’s answer. 

“I’ve been waiting for you forever, James.” 

Those words feel like pure sunlight.

But Bucky shakes his head without thought, stops himself abruptly after two shakes. He’s reminded then of his handler’s words, that he was a difficult Sub. He can’t take the risk of being anything but the best Sub. He’s already afraid to lose his Daddy; he has to be good. 

But his Dom has caught his defiance. 

“What is it, James?” 

“Nothing, Sir.” 

His Dom doesn’t miss a beat. 

“No, sweetheart— no lies, no holding back, no unspoken feelings. I always want to know what you are thinking, what your feelings are. So tell me, James. What is it?” 

Christ. Bucky can’t help but sniffle again, unable to get his tears under control. His Dom is perfect. 

“B-Bucky,” he mumbles. “I go by Bucky. I don’t…I don’t like James.” 

His Dom’s smile is warm, his fingers that squeeze around Bucky’s chin reassuring. He repeats Bucky’s name, practicing it a few times, each one sending Bucky melting further into his head and surely into the floor. 

“Of course, sweetheart— Bucky. My name is Steve,” he tells him, and Bucky’s insides warm with more of that sunlight Steve is bringing into his life. 

Steve. 

A strong name for a strong man, a name that belongs to a man that gently commands attention. It’s the perfect name, or so Bucky thinks.

“But you can call me Daddy, Bucky.’

That’s the best name, the perfect name. 

Hands still tied together in his lap, dick still in its cage, Bucky turns his head and nuzzles his cheek into his new Daddy’s palm, the warmth and sheer size of it making him lightheaded. It takes him a moment to recognize that this is the beginnings of him going under, of finding that sweet space within. He’d gotten so used to being forced there, his designation being used against him to put him under, that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be sent there willingly. 

His whimpers seem endless even to his own ears. 

“Look at that,” Steve marvels from his place above Bucky, voice the most soothing of tones, a sensation in and of itself. He allows Bucky to nuzzle his cheek further into his palm, even as Bucky gives into the urge and desire to press kisses to his fingers. Such a forgiving Dom.

“I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you, that you’d be everything I’ve dreamt of having all to myself.”

Bucky sobs. The emotions that one sentence brings him is enough to beg Steve to not go any further. But Bucky is selfish, he is admittedly greedy. He’s been given nothing while being here, before this. He has continuously poured from a deserted and infinitely empty cup and has been given nothing when his heart, his mind, his body demands it, needs it, in order to survive. 

“Your tears,” Steve murmurs, interjecting his own shared line of thinking. “Are they good or bad, Bucky? Please tell me.” 

A request yet a command. A tender one. One Bucky must answer, is finally willing to answer. “Both,” is what he decides to admit. 

“Both?” 

He nods his head within Steve’s grip. “Yes, Daddy. Bad because…because I am sad for my past self. That I was never given a chance to be good and then said chance was forcefully taken away from me.” Before Steve can speak to those words, Bucky quickly continues. “But good because you’re here…you’re finally here. And I…I get to be so g-good for you.” 

Steve’s exhale is heavy, laced with a sound of pleasure that settles over Bucky’s own shoulders and neck. Bucky’s dick strains against its cage, his mind slipping from himself further. 

Steve sticks his thick thumb between Bucky’s lips and Bucky nearly sobs again, hiccuping around where he purses his mouth.

“You are extraordinary,” Steve tells him and Bucky truly believes it given his reverent tone. “The moment you stepped on stage, I knew it. I’ve been coming here for years. Did they tell you that? Years, Bucky.  I’m their hardest client to please, the one they couldn’t wait to be rid of. Money is of no importance, my preferences vague. Kept telling them I’d know when to bid, when the right Sub would be coming home with me.”  

Bucky sucks on Steve’s thumb harder, grateful to have something in his mouth as his Dom showers him with praise. 

“They even told me they’d go out of their way to find someone that fit what I was looking for, that we could forgo an auction altogether. I told them no.”

His Daddy is so powerful. 

Bucky slips further into his head. 

“Never once did I question myself; I knew you were out there. And when you stepped onto that stage with those legs and that mouth and those eyes…oh, kitten— you were made for me.” 

Bucky sways forward, head dizzy with need and relief curling together, tightly wound. Steve wraps his other fingers around Bucky’s chin, holding him steady. 

“And you’re going to be the sweetest, most affectionate boy for me, aren’t you? This is everything we’ve both been waiting for, isn’t it?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, laps at Steve’s thumb and sucks it into the back of his mouth. 

“You’re going to bring us so much joy through your submission, aren’t you? You’re going to bring us the purpose we’ve been craving. Together.” 

Bucky doesn’t know how to communicate that his feelings are terribly overwhelming, that he doesn’t know what to do with himself because of it. The force of his emotions leave his body trembling where he kneels. If Steve’s thumb weren’t in his mouth his teeth would surely be clacking against one another with the force of his tremors. His head spins in less of the dizzy way he’s been experiencing these past weeks and more in a euphoric way he’s always dreamt it could. 

His body already trusts its Daddy, leaning towards him and into his touch, loosening up further and further. The line in his shoulders softens, the tension in his thighs diminishes. Even with Steve’s thumb in his mouth, the tightness no longer residing in his jaw is obvious. 

Even as Bucky spent his nights dreaming of this moment, weeping for this moment, he never imagined it could be this perfect. 

But then Steve is reaching for his belt buckle with his other hand, the button on his black dress pants, and Bucky wonders if he is in fact dreaming. 

“Let Daddy give you something else to suck on, sugar. You look like you need it,” Steve purrs, reaching into his now open dress pants and pulling out his cock. Weeping nearly as much as Bucky has been, Steve’s cock is impossibly thick and deliciously heavy. It has Bucky’s hips wiggling once more, his vision going blurry as he’s presented with his Daddy’s cock for the very first time. He can’t stop the onslaught of sniffles and weepy eyes as he reminds himself once more that he’s so goddamn lucky Steve waited for him. 

He opens his mouth as soon as that cock is above him, letting Steve’s thumb pop from between his lips, whining as he does so. He can smell Steve from here, his warm scent with an added muskiness to it that has Bucky unabashedly groaning, tongue out. 

And then Steve pulls his balls out too, and Bucky nearly asks to be pinched. 

“Daddy…” 

“Gimme a kiss, sweetheart. Let Daddy feel that precious mouth.”

The moment the fat head of Steve’s cock lands on his tongue, Bucky feels the closest thing to submissive bliss he’s ever felt. It’s euphoric. The taste of him, this Dom, his Daddy, blooms on his tongue, bursts through his being. The taste of his excitement, his precome, forces another ragged noise from Bucky as he sucks Steve further into his mouth, savoring every inch of him. Steve’s thunderous and drawn out groan feels like a climax to Bucky.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve exclaims through an exhale, Bucky barely tethered to the earth. “That’s it. Show Daddy how much you’ve missed him, show him how perfect you are.”

In the three months he’s been here, servicing a Dom has not once felt like this. In his time before this, his time on the streets and beyond, he’s never felt solid within his submissiveness. The stretch of his jaw, the hot slide of velvet wrapped steel on his tongue and down his throat, the feel of Steve’s large fingers sliding through his hair; it all brings him a sense of purpose he’s failed to receive all these years. 

And he can’t help but sob around his mouthful. 

“I knew it, I…fuck, I knew you were made for me, Bucky” Steve tells him, voice full of awe and dripping with lust. “I can’t wait to see how far you drop, how far I can push you. You’re gonna let Daddy push you, aren’t you? You’re gonna let him learn all about you?” 

Bucky confirms Steve’s suspicions with another loud, garbled noise around his cock, one of obvious enthusiasm. He’s dropping hard now, wants to tell his Daddy he’s barely holding on, but then Steve’s hands are moving, holding Bucky’s head in place as he pulls his hips back. 

Using Bucky. 

What little headspace Bucky has left reserved for himself is used to marvel at how easily, how purposefully, it was for Steve to step into this role as his Daddy. 

He’d give Steve the world. 

He’ll give Steve whatever he wants, whenever he wants it, all the time. 

This is his life’s purpose now, being used for his Daddy’s pleasure, serving his Daddy. Being owned by his Daddy.

He’s left with no choice but to cry. 

Bucky opens up his throat as his eyes begin to close, leaning forward on his knees, letting Steve fuck his mouth. With an easy and sharp noise, Bucky immediately knows that Steve wants his eyes open and on him. He does just that, looking up at Steve as he sticks his tongue out obediently, moaning at the fullness of his mouth. 

“That’s it, that’s a good boy,” Steve murmurs, voice melting down Bucky’s spine as Steve’s fingers dig into his hair. “You’re so good, you’re already so good for your Daddy. Look at you, look how much you love sucking on your Daddy’s cock. You perfect baby Sub.”

Bucky’s head grows fuzzier, his dick aching, his core aching. He slurps around Steve’s cock but it does nothing to slow the trail of spit dripping down his chin and sliding towards his neck. Steve is a dream, an absolute dream. Bucky needs a communicator, needs someone who will listen and who will talk to him, especially when it’s filthy. Bucky wants to be talked dirty to, wants to experience that side of sex, especially when it’s praise. Especially when it’s from Steve. 

Without warning, Steve kicks his hips forward, a noise akin to a growl falling from his lips, his fingers tightening in Bucky’s hair. It’s a slip of his obvious control, his inner Dom breaking through, impatient. Bucky meets him full force with his own submission, moaning around his Daddy’s cock, showing him he can take it. 

“Yeah, you know what that is, don’t you? Your Sub knows a Dom when he feels one, doesn’t he?” 

Bucky’s whine is damn near desperate. 

“You know how hard it is for your Dom not to take you right here on this fucking floor, sweetheart? Makes me feel feral, the way I want to make you mine. Mhmm, your Daddy doesn’t want that though. Your Daddy wants to take you home, take you away from this place forever. He wants to treat you right.” 

Bucky swallows around his mouthful.

He can feel Steve’s groan all the way down here, down in his toes.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, sweetheart,” Steve tells him, his hands holding onto both sides of his face. He pulls his cock out of Bucky’s mouth just enough to where Bucky can only suckle on the tip of it given the restraint Steve has put him in. The connection of their eyes, the way Steve looks down at him, strikes a chord deep, deep within Bucky. 

He whimpers as he suckles on the big, swollen head of his Daddy’s cock as he listens. 

“I’m going to give you what you want. I’m going to give you my come, fill your pretty belly with it. I have a hunch that’s going to send you right under, which is perfect. You’re so perfect, angel.”

Bucky whimpers again. 

“And then Daddy’s going to take you home. And when we get home, I’m going to give you a bath and play with your little body until you’re nice and loose and ready to take my big cock.” 

Bucky whimpers again. 

“And then I’m going to fuck your little hole until it sends you right back under, until you come all over my cock, until our bond snaps into place and we finally and officially belong to one another.” 

Oh. 

Bucky sniffles as he lets Steve use his mouth, tears trailing down his cheeks and mixing with the spit smeared on his chin. He wasn’t sure if the person who bought him would want to bond so quickly, if they’d want to bond at all. It’s been implied to him since he got here that he was too difficult of a Sub to become bonded. To hear that Steve wants to take him away from this dreadful place, to their home, in order to bond with him is a dream come true. 

It’s what begins to send him under. 

“That’s it, kitten,” Steve pants, fucking himself impossibly deep into Bucky’s mouth. “That’s it, baby. Oh, I can almost feel you slipping from me. Have you stolen my heart already? Have you tempted my bond already, Bucky?” 

Bucky’s vision begins to grow fuzzy around the edges, his mind pulling in on itself, hypnotized by the drag of Steve’s cock in and out of his mouth. In and out, in and out, in and out. Blessedly not rough, but intense and all-consuming. His jaw nearly aches at the stretch of Steve’s girth and it’s— 

It’s bliss. 

Daddy’s hands in his hair, Daddy’s cock in his mouth, Daddy’s praise in his ear, Daddy’s eyes on his face, Daddy’s come on his tongue. 

“Daddy.” 

“You’re mine now, Bucky. No one is ever going to hurt you, never again. I’ll give you everything you could ever want as a Sub and as a boy. You’ll never wish for anything now that I’m your Daddy,” Steve tells him as he shoots off down Bucky’s throat, hands in Bucky’s hair, petting him as he pumps his hips.

His Daddy’s voice is steady and strong, full of promise and love. And as he kneels there at his Daddy’s feet with Steve’s warm come settling into his belly, his Daddy’s cock still in his slack mouth, Bucky finally, finally lets himself sink.

[sulky-cabbage]

AU: Where Sukuna Wins

Part 1

Part 2 here

Imagine an alternate universe in which Sukuna triumphs, dominates over Japan, and endures a lonely existence for many centuries, while allowing some humans to live.

They hold a grudge against him, of course, and want to kill him. They train at Jujutsu High and have some great fighters that occasionally provide Sukuna with some entertainment. 

They are so desperate for salvation, they can only find solace in prophecies about a figure with powerful blue eyes that will defeat the king of curses and rescue Japan.

And do you know what Sukuna does in response to that? One might expect him to go full Pharoah mode and kill newborns, but NO!!

HE DOES THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE !!

Whenever he ravages a village and devours the women and children, he ALWAYS spares the blue-eyed infants.

All the curses know better than to kill an infant with blue eyes. The last time a curse did that, Sukuna made sure to make an example of it.

Killing a member of the Gojo clan is also off limits, as well as anything that could delay the reincarnation of this certain person.

These humans are not the only ones waiting for salvation.

Sukuna is also WAITING...for his wretched existence to end at the hands of this person.

The ONLY one worthy of having the honor to do so.

[kai0sunflower]

SINCE HARDCORE IS NEXT THEORETICALLY THEYD NOW BE ABLE TO SEE THE WORLDPORT- BC ICARUS COULD SEE IT SINCE AT THE TIME THEY WERE NEXT (SHERB MENTIONED THAT IN THE QUIXIS TELL ALL STREAM)

LIKELIKELIKELIKE LONG WAY DOWN THE LINE SHERBERT GOES BACK TO THE END FOR WHATEVER REASON AND THEY END UP IN THE WORLDPORT BC BIT DIMENSIONAL JUMP JUST FOR A SPLIT SECOND

AND ICARIXIS IS LIKE "OH WHY ARE YOU HERE GO BACK I HAVENT CALLED YOU HERE YET" THEN SHERBERT LEAVES BC YEAH AND AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA