#rated m*

[arelliann]

For @steddiesmuttyseptember Week 3: Lingerie | M

[arathejedi394]

that meme of bucky with the twitter post saying "the winter soldier having flashbacks of gay sex and not knowing why"

“I think I’m gay,” Bucky announces abruptly.

Sam chokes on his beer. Bucky claps him on the back, looking pensively into the dark water. Sam gets a breath, then clears his throat several times before licking his lips.

“What makes you say that?” he asks casually.

“I remember having gay sex,” Bucky answers ponderously. “A lot.”

"A lot?" Sam repeats, now bewildered.

Bucky just nods slowly, his gaze distant. Sam blinks several times, wondering what the hell he's imagining.

“With who?” he demands, looking at him with eyebrows high on his forehead.

Bucky just frowns. “I don’t know. A couple of guys. A big one and a little one.”

Sam looks out at the water, too, mouthing under his breath about how fucking stupid this man can get. Then takes Bucky’s cigarette and drags on it. Bucky snatches it back.

“You’re not a super soldier,” he snaps. “No smoking, kid.”

“Sorry,” Sam replies. “I mean, about – About not remembering… Hm… Oof. That’s, uh, that’s rough, buddy.” He claps Bucky on the shoulder, glancing over his shoulder with a grimace for their friend, the one who was little but now is big and is now retired so he can paint large blue watercolors of some vague masculine figure over and over again, that friend. He faces the water again and blows out his breath. Idiots. Jesus Christ man.

Bucky sighs, wistful, then drags on the cigarette himself. The boat rocks behind them.

“Did I hear you say you remember having gay sex?” Steve calls from behind them.

Bucky glances over his shoulder at him. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “You know anything about that?”

Sam looks at Steve, raising his eyebrows. Steve’s lower lip wobbles for a second and then he just smiles.

“I’m sure you’ll remember,” he then says quietly.

Bucky nods, turning back. Sam drops his jaw at Steve, who just lowers his gaze and sits down on a bench, hands in his lap and head down. Like a kicked puppy. Sam blusters, half gesturing between the two of them, but Steve shoots him a glare and Bucky doesn't notice. Sam looks between the two of them for over a minute, just watching these two idiots standing five feet apart because they’re not gay.

“Okay,” Sam declares, “that’s it! I’ve had it up to HERE with the homoerotic tension on this boat!”

Bucky looks up, frowning. Steve jerks his head up, too, his eyes wide. Sam points with both hands at Steve, but looks at Bucky.

“He knows somethin’ about you being gay for sure!” he snaps. “Frankly, I think he knows more about it than you do! Double frankly! I know that for a mothafuckin' fact!”

Bucky opens his mouth, looking bewildered, then glances between Steve and Sam. “Huh?”

Sam slaps himself in the face with the hand not holding his beer. Bucky frowns at Steve. Steve blushes and looks towards the stern of the boat. Bucky suddenly gasps, jerking a hand up to point.

“I fucked you!” he shouts.

Steve blushes harder, bright red behind his beard, as he look down into his lap, then he nods, seeming speechless.

Sam smacks himself on the forehead again, making a face at their stupidity. Then Bucky shoves his cigarette back into his hand, and he storms right up to Steve and hauls him off the bench by the back of his shirt. Steve squeaks adorably for a man of his large size, but Bucky starts dragging him off the boat.

“Okay?” Sam calls after them as Steve stumbles to keep up with Bucky. “Bye, I guess?”

“Thanks!” Bucky shouts over his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Steve says.

“I’m fucking your face in that alley over there, sweetheart,” Bucky announces. "Then I'm coming all over your beard."

“I did not need to hear that!” Sam shouts back. “Didn’t need to hear that! I expect to be both of y’all’s best man at your wedding! And the officiant! And I’mma give both of y’all away, too!” He turns, then pivots, jabbing his finger in their direction. “And it better be a destination wedding, gay ass dumbasses! I wanna go to Bali!”

Steve waves his middle finger behind him as he skips, eagerly, along behind Bucky down the pier. Sam shakes his head, turns, and puffs on the cigarette again.

“Gay ass dumbasses,” he mutters, “one looks over, the other’s already looking away. My ass.”

[ao3demographicssurvey2024]

In the AO3 Demographics Survey 2024 - an unofficial demographics survey of 16,131 AO3 users - the "Mature" rating was ranked most enjoyed by consumers, while those posting works most frequently posted "Teen and Up". Only 16% of those who had posted works to AO3 said they had never posted M/M, while 69% of consumers "Strongly Enjoyed" M/M works.

To see more analysis, including transcripts of all the data shown on the graphs, please view the full results on AO3 for both ratings and relationship types.

[the-one-who-lambs]

Oh I am having an EVENING. I just got back to school, spent the last 2 days amazingly productive and prepping for finals, and an hour ago I tested positive for COVID.

So then I had to email my students over the Learning Management App (which doesn't keep the formatting of the email site) that class is going be asynchronous tomorrow. At the end of the email, I tried to copy and paste my usual signature. I pasted and hit send too quickly for me to realize it did not copy.

This is an excerpt from the next chapter of the fanfic I am writing.

[void-of-unparalleled-chaos]

Slap a Bow on It

 "Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid. He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end. So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street."

@deadonmayn Day 1: Courting Rituals | Flickering | Dinner is interrupted by a rogue/gang fight | "Are they gone yet?"

TW: Danny is thirsty as hell, mentions/allusions to nsfw but nothing explicit

AO3 Link

   Danny blinked.

   He could only assume that the crime lord, illuminated purely by the light of the fridge in the otherwise dark apartment, blinked back. The helmet didn't give anything away, red plating and slanted eye whites impassive. Good for being sexy menacing. Not so good for reading emotions.

   Danny blinked again, wiping the rheum from his eyes with pinched fingers. He squinted once more at Red Hood, who for some reason was in his apartment at - Danny glanced at the clock - three in the morning. He seemed perfectly content to be digging through Danny’s fridge, if a little sheepish at being caught.

    He should probably be more angry that his apartment was broken into. He absolutely was when he first woke to the uncomfortable feeling of an uninvited guest in his lair, but after seeing the vigilante’s arms laden with food his metaphorical hackles relaxed. The apartment was shitty anyway. 

   If anything, Danny was confused as to why he was here judging his fridge’s contents and playing Tetris with tupperware. It wasn’t like they knew each other. 

   Danny blinked a third time just to really make sure he was seeing what he was seeing, "...Hi?" 

   "Hey,"  Red Hood unfroze, seemingly recovered from being caught, and resumed stuffing what looked like a container of tamales into his fridge. 

   Danny couldn’t help but feel sullen at the dismissal. He'd woken up only for the admittedly hot trespasser with thick thighs to barely glance at him. Unacceptable. 

   "Do you want anything to drink?"  Danny must have been momentarily possessed by the ghost of Midwestern manners with how urgent the offer seemed. 

   "Nah," Red Hood stuffed another container into the fridge, turning to look back at Danny, "You don't have any allergies, do you?"

   "Nah."

   Red Hood nodded, pulling out a bag of rotten lettuce. He held it away from himself like it might try to bite him. In Danny’s experience, it very well could. 

   “Do you ever clean out your fridge?”

   Danny shrugged, “It’s finals week. I’ve got to keep my GPA above 3.5 if I want to keep my scholarship. No chores. Only study.”

   Red Hood nodded solemnly as he threw the lettuce into the trash, “No chores. Only study.”

   They fell into silence. Danny watched as the crime lord sifted through his fridge, pulling out rotten food as he went. “Is this because I decked that mugger? Cause’ he deserved it.”

   Red Hood very pointedly threw the expired milk carton into the trash can.

   “Okay then…” Danny yawned, “Well if that's all I’m going back to bed.”

   “Kay.”

   Danny shrugged, turned on his heel, and left the crime lord to rifle through his kitchen.

___👻___

   When Danny awoke the next day, he was greeted by a clean apartment. The absence of crumbs on the freshly swept floor felt odd on his feet, although it was certainly much more pleasant. The trash had been taken out and a new bag had already been installed. He passed by the sink on the way to make coffee, the dishes that had been filling it suspiciously absent. 

   Danny would deny to the ancients and back that his knees went weak when he found the coffee maker already set and filled with grounds... his sister must never know. 

   As he waited for the cup to brew, he opened his fridge for creamer only to come face to face with more home cooked food than he’d ever seen in his life. Danny pulled the food out plastic container by plastic container to stare at in disbelief. Tamales, chicken mole, Mexican rice, enchiladas, and carne asada… It was only a handful of containers, but still. It wasn’t as if his parents had done much in the way of cooking with all their time spent in the lab. Jazz could throw together something basic but nothing like this.

   The local hot crime lord slash vigilante had broken in at three in the morning to feed him and clean his apartment. Huh.

  No time to think about that. He has a final on differential equations in five hours and minimal time to cram. Danny stirs the creamer into his coffee, heats up some Mexican rice, and sits down at the untouched mess of notebooks, paper, and textbooks on his kitchen table. 

   He studies until he has to leave for the exam, only getting up to refill his coffee and get more food. The tamales are pretty fricken good, but they make it hard to focus on the numbers scribbled across his notebook. It’s like each bite is urging him to go back into the kitchen and cook, which is odd considering that Danny can’t cook and he already has enough food to last him through the next day or two (courtesy of the sexy crime lord). 

   He leaves the exam room feeling good only for his mood to immediately crumble when he remembers that he has an aerodynamics final at eight the next morning followed by gasdynamics at one. He takes a brief break to faceplant on the table, scream, refill his coffee for the umpteenth time, and eat some more food but inevitably resigns himself to pulling an all-nighter. Time becomes liquid after that. It’s all just a blur of numbers and properties and instructional videos. 

   At some point, he registers another presence in the apartment. Danny recognizes the ecto signature from the night before so he pays it no mind. Let Hood poke around, Danny has to read more about Newton’s Third Law. What was he going to do? Feed him again?

   The answer was apparently yes. 

   The background noise of shuffling in the fridge and washing empty containers stops and is replaced by soft, mechanical-sounding breaths. Hood is standing next to him, plastic container in hand as he watches Danny run through the Quizlet on his laptop. 

   Danny’s got around eighty percent of the terms memorized. Just another twenty percent to go. He types in the answer for a new blank. 

   Red Hood pokes his shoulder.

   Danny grumbles. His response came back wrong.

   His shoulder is poked again.

   Danny ignores it and moves on to the next blank.

   He continues unbothered for an uncertain amount of time. The words on the screen are blurry like he is trying to read underwater. His mouth splits into an entirely too wide, jaw-cracking yawn. His uninvited guest coos at him as Danny rubs at his eyes. The next thing he knows, his laptop is shut closed and moved away. It feels like any and all visual processing is delayed. Danny stares blankly at the spot the computer used to sit.

   Something slides in front of him to replace the laptop. His core chirps when he realizes it's food. Hood’s answering chirp as he guides a fork into his hand is deep and rumbly with the faint stutterings of a purr. Danny starts to purr in return as he sleepily munches on the casserole.

    Before long the empty plate is taken away. Danny slumps down on the newfound table space and tries to fight off sleep. 

   “I think it's time for you to go to bed.”

   “Noooooo! I’v gotta study fr' aero’namics.”

   “You’re slurring your words there, handsome.”

   Danny’s sleep-deprived brain screeched to a halt. His core chirped to attention, “Flat’ry ain’t gettin’ you nowhere.”

   “It was worth a shot.”

    Danny smushed his face further into the wood to hide his blush and distracted himself by blindly reaching for his coffee mug. Upon noticing, the vigilante moved it out of reach. Danny whined into the table.

   “You can’t overwork yourself like this, Danny,” Red Hood carried the mug to the sink and poured it down the drain. Cruel, cruel man. “I know you’ve got exams but your scores won’t be any good if you go into them like this. You've got to take care of yourself,”  He lightly squeezed Danny’s shoulder. Danny hadn’t even heard him move across the kitchen. “Can you do that, darlin’? For me?”

    Danny groaned, “F’ne. But only cause’ ur hot.”

   The vigilante snorted. It sounded odd through the helmet but not bad. “I’m happy to hear it! Now let's get you to bed.”

___👻___

   Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid.

   He had been helping his parents in the lab since he was four, and he was nearly a straight-A student before the accident. He was an aerospace engineering major with a hefty GPA of 3.8, and most importantly, he’s had extensive lessons on ghosts, the Infinite Realms, and their culture. 

   He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end. 

   So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. The thought kept running through his head as he stared at the food in the fridge, the clean apartment, and the prepped coffee maker. 

   He was being courted. 

   He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street. 

   Danny had never been courted before! 

   Sure, occasionally there was someone who tried to shoot their shot, but it always fell flat in the end. It was an unfortunate side effect of being undead. Every human relationship he had felt… lacking. Like it was missing something. 

   Val had come pretty close. All the fighting and shooting felt like a mimicry of ghostly courtship behavior. It's what had drawn Danny to her in the first place, but Val wasn’t fighting him in a display of power and capability. She had genuinely wanted to end him. 

   There was also the incident with Kitty, but she was overshadowing Paulina and mimicking human behaviors. There was never any ghostly courtship involved, and besides, she was only dating him to make Johnny jealous. 

   This is Danny’s first time being properly courted!

   What is he going to do about it?

   He decided that the question could wait until after finals.

   The next few days pass by much the same as before: a tortuous cycle of studying, caffeine, minimal sleep, screaming, and exams. Red Hood continues to stop by and deliver food. Danny has got to figure out the dude’s actual name or a nickname or something. He refuses to keep calling his potential partner Red Hood. When you take away the scary crime lord persona it just sounds like a condom brand. He could always use a pet name, but it feels wrong given that Danny hasn’t shown much reciprocation outside of allowing Hood into his lair. Instead, Danny settles on greeting him with a trill and a series of chirps. 

   As soon as he finishes his last final he flops face down into bed. Tomorrow he’ll get to work on reciprocating Red Hood’s efforts. His kitchen is blessedly clean of any ecto contamination. Without the food fighting back, he should be able to whip up something presentable. How hard could following a recipe be?

___👻___

   Danny was wrong.  

   Staring at the stove which was somehow on fire, Danny couldn’t help but finally understand why Jazz had never allowed him in the kitchen. He quickly rushes to turn off the heat. Danny doesn’t have a fire extinguisher. He’s a broke college student with just enough money to live on the outskirts of Crime Alley. Why would he ever be able to afford a fire extinguisher? 

   Danny slams a lid over the pot to smother the flames erupting from it and wacks the stovetop with a damp towel. As the fire dies down he glares at the somehow burnt gnocchi sitting ever so innocently in boiling water. He probably could have just iced it. The ice would melt into water and put out the fire, right? 

   He takes another look at the ruined food as the bubbles die down and decides he’s probably just cursed. Not all hope is lost though, Danny reasons as he dumps the ruined gnocchi down the garbage disposal. So Italian cuisine was not his forte. That’s okay! He’ll just try a different recipe!

___👻___

   The recipe said quick and easy. 

   This was neither quick nor easy.

   He dumped the carbonized remains of food into the trash with a sigh. It was French toast! How could someone go so wrong with French toast? The kitchen looked like something had exploded in it for ancients’ sake! 

   Danny thunked his head onto the counter, uncaring of the milk and eggs coating it. An entire loaf of bread gone and not a single edible piece of toast to show for it! He groaned. Maybe he just… wasn’t cut out for this whole courting thing. 

   Dejectedly, he lifted his head and began to wipe down the counter with paper towels. He really liked Hood.

   He was funny! While he mostly left Danny alone during his study sessions, Danny had seen the viral videos. Hood knew how to crack a good death joke, and the compilations of him ragging on Batman were something to aspire to. 

   He cared for people! The sponsored soup kitchens and homeless programs were an open secret in Crime Alley, and the working girls were paid well. The street kids knew they were safe in the Alley because anyone who tried to touch them would end up with their head in a duffle bag. Red Hood protected them.

   And ancients was he hot! Thick thighs for days and strong arms that could probably lift Danny like a couple of grapes. Danny wouldn’t mind being thrown around by a guy like that. He would happily let him pin him to a wall and box him in and then Danny could sink his fangs into his shoulder and then- 

   Okay! Stop! Too far! That’s awfully ambitious for someone who can’t even cook a proper courting gift. Think, Danny, Think! 

  Okay… okay. So he can’t cook. That’s fine because Danny can build. He’s been building things since he was practically a toddler. He can make something easy peasy!

   What about a gun? Red Hood seemed to like guns. Danny’s core purred at the idea. If he had to guess, the vigilante had a protection obsession of some sort. A gun was something that could protect Red Hood but also be used to protect others in his haunt and directly feed into his obsession. Yes! The gun idea was good.

   But then again, Hood had been working with Batman more and more frequently, and with that had been using guns less and less. How often could the gun be used? No, no. This courting gift should be usable in all scenarios. 

   What about a knife? Yes! A knife could work! As far as Danny knew, Batman didn't have anything against knives. Surely a knife paled in comparison to Robin's katana. A knife was sneaky and quiet, good for stealth missions unlike a gun, and easier to carry for everyday use. 

   Danny hummed, nodding to himself. He’d do the knife first and save the gun for later. He was going to need supplies. 

   Danny wiped the dripping egg away from his forehead before it could get into his eyes. But first, he was going to need a shower.

___👻___

   So…

   It could’ve gone worse.

   Despite basically being raised reverse-engineering his parents’ inventions, Danny had never tried to make a knife. He could gut a microwave from the local back alley dumpster and Macgyver it into a functioning weapon, but building a makeshift forge on short notice and hammering steel down into a smooth curve was a whole different ballpark. Luckily the local trade school had a forge, and after some good old-fashioned bribery, they allowed Danny access. That was the first problem out of the way. Unfortunately, the second problem remained. It was fine. Danny was used to thinking on his feet. 

  After many YouTube videos and failed attempts Danny had a somewhat presentable blade. With a saw edge on the top and a sharp curve similar to a khukuri on the bottom, it certainly didn’t look like a beginner's design.

   He probably shouldn’t have skipped straight to a more advanced shape. Danny hadn’t managed to fix the slight warp of the blade, and maybe the practice beforehand would have done him some good. Regardless, it was too late to fix it after the ecto wash, and he didn’t think the warp would affect the performance too negatively. Besides, with the ectoplasm infused into it the knife should cut through ghosts with no problem. 

  Danny had spent entirely too long trying to find the perfect shade of red leather for the handle, but in the end, he accurately matched it to Red Hood’s helmet. He had wanted to incorporate some protective runes into the leather, but he had no idea how to make a lasting pattern that wouldn’t affect the user’s comfort. Eventually, he decided it was an idea to be saved for another project. 

   With his courting gift complete, all that was left to do was break into Red Hood’s lair and give it to him…

   That sounded wrong. Give the knife to him. It’s not an innuendo! Great. Now he’s thinking about those thick thighs again. Stop! Bad Danny!

   He shook himself to dispel the train of thought. Danny had a different, more pressing problem to deal with: How could he present a knife to a vigilante without it coming across as a threat? He didn’t have a box for it, and the knife didn’t have a sheath yet. He could always make himself the box and store it in his chest, but watching someone pull random items out of their body was apparently gross and disturbing, or so he’d been told. What if he just-

   Danny yanked open the kitchen junk drawer and began to root around. After a few seconds of sifting, he pulled out his prize and ever so gently stuck it to the knife. The green gift bow was squished on one end but remained comically large on the blade. He bounced up and down on his toes. It was so stupid that it just might work. 

   Feeling the cool rush of invisibility, Danny phased through the wall of his apartment to greet the early morning light beginning to peak over the buildings. Floating in the air for a minute, he absently fiddled with the bow on his courting gift. With the city starting to wake, Hood should be returning to his lair. 

   It didn’t take long for him to fly past the unseen territory lines and into Crime Alley. Danny had crossed through Hood’s haunt before. It had never felt aggressive like some in the Ghost Zone. Red Hood's haunt was more curious, probing with a warning to behave himself. The haunt felt different this time around. Now it felt welcoming rather than wary, warm. If Danny closed his eyes, he could almost imagine being held in a protective embrace. His core hummed in response, seeking out the other’s resonance. 

   Danny had never been to Hood’s lair. He hadn’t even been given directions, but he didn’t need them. He'd simply follow Hood’s ecto signature to where the haunt’s energy was most concentrated. Like the dead equivalent of a bloodhound. 

   Danny took his time meandering toward the heart of the haunt. He’d never been this far into Crime Alley before, and he didn’t want to get turned around. That was a lie. Danny was nervous and stalling. Doubts flew unbridled through his head.

   What if the knife wasn’t good enough? What if the bow didn’t work? What if Red Hood thought he was threatening him? What if Danny blew his shot? Danny had already screwed up so many other things in his life, he didn’t want to screw this up too!

   There was only so long he could stall. Jittery with nerves, Danny floated outside a decrepit apartment building. The entire structure was practically drenched in Red Hood’s ecto signature, but it radiated in waves from a unit on the top floor. Danny took a breath to steady his racing heart and struggled to quiet his core. It was now or never. 

   He cautiously phased halfway through the wall, chirping in greeting. The apartment was clean and orderly. The fireplace and full bookshelves gave it a homey feel that sharply contrasted with the worn and weathered bricks on the outer wall. The lack of weapons was a surprise. Even if he couldn't see them Danny figured they were still there, well hidden in the otherwise normal apartment. 

   A surprised sound draws his attention to the man on the couch. He’s built like a quarterback, lounging on one side as he struggles to stitch a laceration across his ribcage with a needle in one hand and a handheld mirror in the other. It's hard not to get distracted by the autopsy scar running cleanly across his collarbone and down to his pelvis. Danny wants to lick it.

   Piercing blue eyes search the apartment, arm lowering the mirror. Danny is thankful that he's still invisible. With the heat flooding to his ears, he’s sure he’s as red as a tomato. Danny’s practically drooling at tousled black and white hair and the long scar reaching up from under his jaw to his hairline like a flower stretching for the sun. His crooked nose, clearly broken and healed many times over, only adds to his beauty. Red Hood is truly a modern-day Adonis.

    Hood’s wounded side finally registers in Danny’s brain, rearranging his priorities and catapulting his obsession to the front. Immediately he lets his invisibility drop, absently shoving the knife into his chest for safekeeping. Hood makes a distressed sound as he does so which urges Danny forward. His hands hover worriedly over the man as he pushes as much help/comfort/safety/concern into his aura as possible. 

   He reaches to take the threaded needle from Red Hood’s hand only to be nudged away.

   “It’s fine. I can do it myself.”

   "Hood, let me help."

   "Jason,” he licks his lips, “My name is Jason."

   "Jason," Danny gently cups Jason’s face in his hands, "Please let me help, Jason."

   Blue eyes gaze into his own. The ever-so-faint hints of green within them are captivating, swirling in a hypnotic dance that leaves Danny in a daze. Finally, Jason looks away and nods, breaking the trance between them and passing the needle over.

   Danny allows himself to revert to the mindset of his vigilante days. He stitches the wound with a single-minded focus, practiced hands falling back into a familiar rhythm. Jason watches the entire time, staring intently at his face as he works. Danny struggles to keep his core quiet and pretends not to notice, taping a bandage over the cut. His fingers graze over Jason's body, checking it over for any other injuries. Jason allows it to happen with a distinct feeling of affection/amusement. 

   “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

   “Nah. The kevlar usually prevents stuff like this. I was just unlucky.”

   “Good.” 

   Danny runs his fingers through the white tuft in Jason’s hair, pushing the strands out of his face. His core kickstarts like an engine with a vengeance, humming and searching for Jason’s core song in anticipation. Danny squeaks, stumbling backward. He smothers the sound and quiets his core, but with the look on Jason’s face, he hadn’t been quick enough.

   “Sorry!” Danny stutters out, flushing. 

    Jason’s expression shifts to confusion, “Why are you apologizing?”

   “I’m being way too forward,” Danny drags his hands down his face in embarrassment, “We haven’t had a spar yet and fuck! I haven’t even given you your courting gift yet, but here I am! Invading your space and trying to harmonize! I’m so sorry.”

    “Lucky for you I like forward,” Jason gently grasped his hands, lowering them away from his face. His palms felt warm against Danny’s skin, “Is that what you shoved into your chest earlier? A courting gift?” Jason punctuated the sentence with a gentle kiss to Danny's slow pulse.

   Danny nodded, stunned. Tearing his gaze away from Jason’s lips, he reached into his chest and pulled out the knife. Jason chuckles, his eyes crinkling in mirth, “You put a bow on it?”

   Danny grinned, his fangs on full display, “Well I had to make it presentable, didn’t I?” 

   He gets down on one knee, head bowed and knife held upwards in offering as if he were a knight presenting a sword to a king. Jason gingerly lifts it out of his hands, cradling it like a precious gem. Danny watches as his fingers trace the edge. 

   “It feels like you,” Jason looks to Danny for answers, eyes wide with wonder and a beautiful flush on his face.

   “I wanted to make sure it was effective against ghosts, but it's hard to find enough clean ectoplasm around here. I sorta just… used my own?” Danny rubs the back of his neck with a wince, “Do you like it?”

   He waits in anxious anticipation as Jason stands from the couch. Jason sets the blade gently down on the coffee table behind Danny before tugging him into his arms, “I love it, baby,” his words vibrate over a purr that Danny can feel in his bones, “Just don’t go hurting yourself for courting gifts anymore.”

   Danny groaned, tucking his face under Jason’s chin. “You have no idea how much that narrows my options down.” 

   Jason laughs. 

   Danny pulls away to look up at him, lightly batting at Jason’s peck “I’m serious, Jason! I can’t cook for shit! You’re gonna need to wait a long ass time until I can get my hands on more ecto. I hope you’re ready to wait because it’s going to take me months to build that gun now!”

   “You wanted to make me a gun?” 

   “Yeah? I was going to have one ready in the next few weeks but-”

   Jason’s smile is dazzling as he leans down to press his lips to Danny’s. Danny forgets to breathe as he melts into the kiss. He’s tugged forward until they are chest-to-chest on the couch, cores close together. Danny’s not sure whose core starts to hum first, but the sound is unmistakable as they waver between pitches. Danny bites at Jason’s lips, making a pleased sound when they part for him.

   It’s weird to be doing this before a spar. It’s backward, unconventional. Danny can’t find it in himself to care.

   It’s a wondrous thing when their cores synchronize. Something finally clicks, like a lock snapping into place, and suddenly Danny can feel so much. The humming harmony of their cores permeates every single one of Danny’s nerves. The rush of giddy happiness is unlike anything he’s felt before. He can feel Jason, too. The rampant emotions fling between them until it's hard to tell whose is whose. In Jason’s arms with a core bond in place, Danny has never felt so secure in his life. 

   This. This is what he's been missing. 

   Danny breaks away from their kiss to nip at Jason’s jawline, paying special attention to the scar. Jason makes a pleased sound, tugging lightly at his hair.

   “Your teeth are sharp as fuck.”

   “Aren’t yours?”

   Jason nuzzles under Danny’s shirt collar and into his shoulder. Danny shudders as he feels canines dig into his skin. They’re sharp, but not as sharp as his. 

   Danny giggles, pressing a kiss to Jason’s hair. “I want to see how skilled you actually are with those teeth. Once you’ve healed we can have a proper spar.”

   “I’ll show you a proper spar,” Jason grumbles. 

  Suddenly Danny is pinned, lying on the couch with Jason’s weight on top of him. Jason kisses his cheek, tucking his head back into the crook of his neck with a contented sigh. It's like the world's best weighted blanket, Danny thinks as his eyes droop shut in relaxation.

   They remain like that in silence, basking in the positive emotions and comfort of their new bond. It’s about ten minutes later that Danny finally breaks it.

   “Why me?”

   “Hmm?”

   “Just… why court me? I know I pass through your haunt now and then but we’ve only actually seen each other like… once. What could I have possibly done to catch your attention?”

   “You punched a mugger.”

   “Yeah… so?”

   “You knocked the fucker out in one blow before I could even lift a finger.”

   “And?”

   Jason lifted his head to give him a pointed look.

   Danny stared back.

   Oh…

   Oh!

   “Do you have a competency kink!?”

   Jason flushed, ducking his head back down with a groan. 

[sunnydbeam]

Gamma Code - Chapter 1: Hell In The Darkness

▪︎ Word count: 4,628

▪︎ Rating: M

▪︎ Chapter summary:

Your routine, methodical job becomes a deadly pursuit when you get caught up in a problem you didn't know existed. It turns out to be your problem now.

[mrghostrat]

editor's note - chapter 4/5

[slaps chapter] this baby can fit so much gay panic in it

“It’s not so bad, when you’re not drenched in it,” Crowley thought aloud. Aziraphale gave him a doubtful look over the top of his glass, so he doubled down. “Kind of romantic, really. Like a Richard Curtis film.” Aziraphale followed his gaze to a window streaked with endless drizzle. He watched for a moment, took a delicate sip of Tempranillo, then hummed a complacent sigh. “I suppose so.”

[literatooru]

𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

pairing: f!reader x dabi

warnings: 18+ (NSFW) (MDNI) slight exhibitionism, cockwarming, very slight degradation (calls reader slut exactly once), unprotected sex

Dating Dabi has taught you to always expect the unexpected. It's obviously tough, but you've learned to control your own reactions to deal with whatever he throws at you.

One thing you can always take for granted though, is that, no matter how used to him you are, he'll always manage to somehow catch you off guard. Especially when he comes and suggests for you to do things you would could never imagine yourself doing. But of course, it's Dabi. You couldn't possibly say no to him.

That's how you find yourself settled in his lap, his fingertips running along the plush skin of your thighs make your entire body shiver, his chin rested on your shoulder, and his cock buried so deeply inside you that the barest of moves makes your gut twist.

You were initially suspicious when he suggested —almost demanded— you wear a skirt for movie night. Granted, calling it that is a bit of a stretch. Yes, a movie is playing, but everyone in the league is drunk out of their asses to pay any mind to it. That, at least, is one of the reasons he managed to convince you to go along. No one will notice, he had said.

As soon as you both entered the room, he pulled you to the far end side of it, plopping into the couch and pulling you into his lap as someone started the movie. Of course, due to the season, everyone agreed on playing horror one. Just your luck.

You try to focus on it, you really do. But when a particular jumpscare manages its purpose on you, you start in your place, and the movement makes Dabi's body react almost immediately; his hips slightly thrust up.

He chuckles, his hot breath hitting the back of your neck making goosebumps arise all over your body.

"What's the matter, doll?" he murmurs, kneading his fingertips into your flesh.

A whimper manages to escape past your lips and you crane your neck to hide your face in the crook of his to conceal your embarrassment. He tuts, the sound laced with mirth. "Shh... you better make sure to keep it down," he says, shifting his hips once more to rip another moan out of you. Another chuckle makes his chest rumble, and he takes your chin between his fingers to make you look at him. "You don't want everyone in here to know what a needy little slut you are, do you?" After you shake your head, he nudges his chin forward. "Eyes on the screen," he says, then waits until you're facing forward once more.

His fingers continue tracing teasing figures on your exposed skin, sometimes slipping past the hem of your shit, moving up, up, up before stopping; never touching you where you need it most.

You let out an exasperated huff, making the corners of his lips quirk up. His fingers dig into your hips to halt your movements when you try to grind against him, and his hands almost slam you back down on him, another small moan managing to slip past your parted lips.

"So desperate," he mumbles against the back of your neck, his nose tracing a teasing trail that makes you shiver, and your entire body tenses up as you hold your breath. He groans against your skin, his tongue peeking out to taste it. "Stop squeezin' me so tight unless you want me to make a mess of you. I don't care who's watching."

You bite your bottom lip so hard that you think you might draw blood. His chest is flushed right against your back; the warmth of his body seeping through your clothes, his scent invading all your senses and clouding your judgment. You need him so, so bad that your legs start trembling from the effort of holding back.

"Tōya..." you mewl softly in a weak attempt to make him do something.

"Yeah?" he whispers in your ear, his hot breath caressing your skin. Moves his head to kiss your pulse point, nibbling on the skin and licking it. You've just opened your mouth to speak when he gives another teasing thrust, your lips instantly clamping shut to prevent any noises from coming out. "C'mon. What is it? Cat got your tongue?"

His hand sneaks under your skirt once more. You yelp when he pinches the top of your thigh, his hand moving inward to brush against you. "Look at you. Soakin' wet and I've barely even touched you."

"Please..." you whisper, your hips shifting on top of him when he uses a single finger to tease your aching bundle of nerves, his amusement growing when he notices how you clench your jaw; the way your brows pinch together and your face scrunches up. The way tears well up in your eyes after almost half an hour of his teasing, feeling so full of him yet feeling no satisfaction at all.

"Please, what?" he snickers. "Use your words, doll."

You're just about to do exactly that when Dabi yanks his hand out and adopts a nonchalant posture. You grit your teeth and are about to complain when a drunken man you don't recognize stumbles forward, catching himself on the arm of the couch before he can hit the floor. You don't have to look too closely to know just how intoxicated the man is; just the smell alone makes you scrunch up your nose, and he's not even standing that close.

"What do you want?" Dabi drawls, discreetly pulling the hem of your skirt down to cover as much of your body as possible.

"Wha's the matter wiph her?" the man manages to say, pointing a finger at you. "You cryin'?"

"Ah, she's all right," Dabi says with a lopsided smirk. "Aren't you, sweetheart?" As he says this, his arms curl around your hips and pull you flush against him, readjusting his position, his hips grinding against yours when he does.

You've managed to to merge your moan with a groan and hide your face behind your hands.

"Sure," you blurt out, your voice muffled behind your palms.

"She's just a crybaby," Dabi has the nerve to add, patting your leg. "Not a fan of horror movies."

"Ah, well. I see," the man says, nodding as he staggers away. "They ain't tha' scary! They ain't real! Jus' actors 'n stuff," he mumbles as he makes his way through the crowd.

"Dick," you hiss at your boyfriend.

He smiles, his body relaxing against the cushions of the couch.

"Isn't that what you want?" he retorts.

You grumble something under your breath (definitely a bunch of insults, all directed at him), and he snorts.

"Right then," he starts, his hand going under your clothes and finally touching you where you need him most. "How about I take care of you properly now?"

[spacequokka]

In My Bed

Pairing: bf!Jackson x Reader Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Suggestive Rating: M Summary: Jackson fell asleep when he planned to surprise you. Word Count: 0.7k, Request Warnings: dry-humping

After a grueling day at work, all you wanted to do once you got home was shower and get in bed. The never-ending stream of conference calls and meetings punctuated with answering emails left you drained mentally and physically. However, when you opened the front door and spotted a familiar pair of sneakers sitting on the shoe rack, you were immediately invigorated.

Jackson was home!

You all but dropped your stuff on the bench as you kicked off your shoes. It was quiet save for the hum of the ice maker in the freezer. Maybe he was asleep? You tiptoed down the hallway and sure enough, the light of your life was laid out across the bed on his stomach using his arms as a pillow. His expression was a picture of serenity as he snuggled your favorite hoodie. Your heart swelled with affection. How does he continue to surprise you with his cute little habits?

There was no telling how long he’d been home, but you needed your hugs and kisses. You crawled over to his side and laid beside him, gently prying his hands away from his head then forcing your way against his chest. In the midst of your shuffling, he woke up groggy and sluggish as he registered what was going on.

“You’re home?” He blinked slowly, then looked at the window. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost five.” Seeing as he was awake, there was no point in being gentle. You rolled him over onto his side and pulled his arms around you. His scent filled your nose, and you sagged with relief, savoring his warmth. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be home today? I would’ve met you at the airport.”

He chuckled at your whiny tone as he drew you close and planted a kiss on your forehead. “I wanted to surprise you. Actually,” he drew back and kissed your lips, “I wanted to show up at your job and take you out for lunch. I guess I underestimated how tired I was and how much I missed our bed.”

You forced a pout, just barely keeping yourself from smiling. “The bed? What about me?”

“Oh, hush. You know I hate being away from you this long.” He hid his face in your neck. “Why do you insist on being all strong and independent? You could come with me! See the world and join the mile high club and stuff.”

You laughed. “Why do I get the feeling the sex is the motivating factor?”

“No, no. It’s a perk. A bonus, if you will.” He kissed your neck, letting his lips linger. “The motivation is having my beautiful girlfriend with me. It’d be so much better if I could wake up with you in my arms.”

You squirmed against him when his teeth skimmed over your sensitive skin. “I’d ruin your image and hurt your sales.” You bit your lip when his fingers pressed into your skin, holding you still as he put his thigh between yours. “Ah, shit. Wait, Jackie. I need a shower.”

His chuckle made it clear that wouldn’t be happening. “Performing isn’t my only source of income, baby. I can stand to lose a few, especially if it means I get access to you when I get off the stage.” He groaned and pressed his hips against you, drawing your attention to his growing excitement. “It’s been too long since I last had you.”

“But I wanna be squeaky clean for you.” Your squirming only served to increase the friction between your bodies, coaxing him to return the favor by rolling his hips and grinding his erection into your stomach. “Jack, please.”

“Ugh, I hear you.” He loosened his hold. “But if you need one, then so do I.”

With the haze of desire messing with your mind, it took you a minute to process his words. “If we slip and fall in the shower, it’s your fault.”

He smiled wide with glee as he hauled himself to his feet. He held his hand out to you, ignoring the tent that had formed. “I’ll make sure to take the worst of it. Now come on, I need you now before I bust in my pants.”

[lynnearlington]

how can we be lovers (if we can't be friends) - chapter vi

Supergirl, Kara/Lena, M

“I believe there are no less than ten bedrooms in The Manor,” Veronica says in that voice of superiority she’s so perfected. “But by all means, continue to defile the Buttery.” 

When I have no plans to abandon this fic, I mean it. More Hockey AU to be read: HERE.

ko-fi | fic tag

[mike-wachowski]

“Okay.” Sam takes a deep breath, in and out, and Lena can see the cloud of frost forming around her exhale. The sub-thermal temperature of the freezer is already thawing what was left of Lena’s growing hot rage. “Spill. Why are you acting like a dick?” 

Lena huffs. “I’m certainly not acting like a dick. Jess made a mistake. It’s within my duties as the head chef to make sure everything is perfect—”

Sam raises a hand and immediately silences her. “Lena. I’m not your brother. I don’t want you to be perfect. I don’t need you to be our boss right now. I need you to be our friend.” Sam pulls out an empty apple crate from the bottom shelf and plants herself down on it. “Now tell me what’s wrong. Please.” 

Lena slumps to the floor. She sighs, watching the small puff of ice that gathers around her breath, and buries her head in her hands. 

She whispers, “Kara and I kissed.”

“What?” Sam leans in. “Lena, you gotta speak up, the fan is on-”

“Kara and I kissed!” Lena shoots her head up, making eye contact with Sam. “Kara and I kissed, and… we haven't talked about it or anything, and we haven’t done it since, but I— I made her pizza, and my brother called, and I was so upset, and I kissed her, and I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

the final chapter of you can tell a whole story with a taste is now live (and its 16k!)

you can read it from the start here.

[musicalmedli]

You Wanted This (Optimus/FReader)

Summary: Wanting a normal life, you left the base, but unfortunately your connection doesn’t make it easy. However, it does cause a certain confession to finally come.

Warning: Rated M (holoform human x female human, sexual content, minor language.)

--

You Wanted This

“You wanted this,” he yelled in his deep baritone voice a short distance behind me.

I shook my head and continued walking, the lights of the bar I stepped out surrounding and piercing the darkness.

“You wanted this, a chance of a normal life away from the base. That is what you told your uncle,” he continued.

I clenched my hands into a tight fist before stopping and turning. He stood dressed in a midnight blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, tattoos down his left arm listing his faction and role. Occasionally, lights would hint at the red and orange flames that decorated the shirt underneath or the belt that held his dark-washed jeans up. Behind him, I could see the blue auxiliary lights belonging to a specific semi-truck along with the field that held deep gouges from the previous battle.

“I know what I said,” I responded with a frustrated sigh. “I just….” I raised a hand to my head and let out a sigh instead of finishing my thought.

“You didn’t expect to be still associated with me,” he responded as he walked towards me and stopped, hands stuck in the pocket of his jeans. “You lived on base for how long, visited us in our hangar, and you thought they wouldn’t come after you?”

“I was just some random human woman,” I retorted back sharply before shaking my head and sighing.

I was forced to stop shaking my head when fingers gripped my chin. My breath hitched as I watched him lean forward. “You are not just some random human woman. You are the general’s daughter, yes, but you are also in a relationship with me.”

I scoffed, “Maybe I should have ended our relationship before leaving base.”

Bright blue eyes widened before narrowing, an arm wrapping around me before I was crushed to a hard chest. “You knew what you were getting into. My species does not separate as you humans do.”

“We are not even married,” I stated as I placed my hands on his chest, trying to push out of his grip.

“Maybe not in human terms, but I was courting you. I was planning on making you mine.”

“Why?” I asked sharply. “Why put up with me? Why do this with a human when I am sure you have females?”

“Because I fragging love you.”

I stopped pushing and stared at him, my eyes wide and my mouth partly opened. “What did you say?”

He smiled, “I said that I love you. Not an easy thing for me to say either, considering my role.”

I blinked slowly, “You love me, a human?”

“Yes.”

I don’t know who responded first, but our lips crashed against each other while my hand gripped his shirt tightly. He teased my bottom lip with his tongue, coaxing me to open. I slowly opened and moaned against his tongue as he dived in, dancing with my tongue as he claimed my mouth.

I felt as his hands dropped to my thighs, lifting me and wrapping my legs around his waist. We were moving while his mouth continued to dominate my own. I eventually felt the back of metal, his breath coming in deep pants as he sat me down. I looked up to see the semi-truck behind us. He was trying to open the door. It opened with a soft sound before my body was lifted once more and placed on the seat. He followed, closing the door. I heard the locks and saw the dimming of the lights as he nudged me to the back of the semi-truck and onto the sleeper bed.

I fell upon the soft material with him falling on me. His mouth was back on mine, his tongue diving in to dominate my own. His hands moved to cup my face as he pulled back to stare into my eyes.

“I fragging love you, and I plan to never lose you. You are mine,” he growled sharply before his mouth was on mine. His hands moved down my body, where he cupped my breasts through my shirt and bra. He moved his mouth to my jaw and then my neck, sucking on the living pulse.

His one hand slipped under my shirt, pushing my bra up. I hissed, arching against him. “Remove this,” he growled against my neck, pulling at my shirt. I sat up and grabbed the hem, pulling the shirt over my head. His mouth went straight to the skin between my breasts while his hand slipped behind me to undo the clasps.

“You are mine. You should have known this.” He growled against my breasts as he took one nipple into his mouth, teasing the harden bud with his teeth and tongue. He broke free to growl as he lathered my other breast. “Each fragging night I held you in my servo closed to my chassis. Each fragging night, I placed a soft kiss upon your head. Each fragging night, I had you with me. You should have fragging known.”

I moaned as he broke free from my other breast, his fingers digging into my hips as he trailed his lips down my stomach along my waist before stopping at my zipper and button of my pants. I was breathing hard. My lips swollen from our kisses while my eyes were heavy lidded from all the desire that was built inside me.

I watched as he knelt up, undoing the belt, button, and zipper quickly before pulling his shirt off. His tattoo of his faction and rank clear upon his arm. I knew I should have never left him. My instincts told me to stay, but I wanted a normal life. My eyes dropped down to where he was pulling my pants off, his eyes focused on mine before his lips were back on my own. He kissed me as he pulled my pants and panties off, throwing them towards the front. I heard as he removed his own before he broke the kiss to stare into my eyes.

“After tonight, you will be mine. We Cybertronians do not break a bond. We are bonded for life.”

I gasped sharply, my hands going to his shoulders as he thrusted in one quick movement, a deep groan escaping his lips. I felt as he stopped, letting me adjust glad that this wasn’t my first time. Eventually, I nodded. Bright blue eyes stared into mine, harsh to the point that his love shown through each time he moved. Deep thrusts claiming me as his. Mewls answering back as my heart raced, my breath gasped. I loved him. I always did, but I thought leaving would be best, a normal life would be easier. No, I was connected to him. I was truly lost and in love with him.

“I love you,” I gasped with each movement, our hips meeting each other. “I love you,” I said again as my hands grasped his face, pulling to meet my lips once more.

“You better,” he growled as he picked up pace. “Each time. You should have known.”

I gasped as my head fell back. The rolling of his hips as he picked up speed even more, finding that one spot. Even his breathing was coming out in rapid pants. Our ending arriving with one more deep thrust. I cried out his name, arching against him and trembling. He growled upon his finished, wrapping his arms tightly around me and kissing me hard and deep.

Within moments, he rolled, pulling me against him. My heart slowly started to settle along with my breath. I laid my hand upon his chest, feeling the imitation heart that pulsed like his spark. I looked up and swallowed hard. His eyes stared hard before he nodded. I smiled before resting against him. I was connected to them, to the Autobots, to their leader. I was connected to them because I fell in love with him, a Cybertronian, and he fell in love with me, a human woman.

END

[spicycinnabun]

@118dailydrabble for day 99 prompt tomorrow ⚙︎ rated: m ⚙︎ pair: buck/tommy ⚙︎ tags: part 15 of android au, h0rny bot, USB blasting

Tommy stood behind a shirtless EB, his back panel open. One of his ports was bothering him.

Tommy wiggled the connector. “It’s really tight.”

He pulled it out and thrust it back in multiple times. EB gasped quietly.

Still too snug.

Tommy braced his other hand on EB’s shoulder to drive it in harder.

EB’s head bowed, hiding a growing blueberry blush.

Finally, the connector slid in smoothly with a satisfying click.

EB moaned.

Tommy stilled, ignoring his bastard mind. Straight to the gutter. “Did that trigger your pain sensors?”

“P-pleasure sensors,” EB responded, staticky. “Since the roof collapse, they’ve been behaving erratically and without authorization. I'm sorry. Maybe after tomorrow’s updates…”

Tommy swallowed. Fuck. “Don’t sweat it.”

⚙︎

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[sleevebuscemii]

the thing about silver and stories and silver’s story is that before s3 before he loses his leg before he becomes quartermaster before he becomes long john silver. well. i think the reason silver’s story works against him in the end and by his own hand and his own self is that it’s not really his. the choices he makes in the end are born out of a belief in a reality that doesn’t exist, that what he wants is a quiet life with madi, that madi wants that, that flint is a threat, that flint doesn’t care for madi, that flint doesn’t care for him, and it comes almost from a belief of his own lie. of the fabricated version of himself after the events of the s2 finale, the version of himself that is long john silver and that is a pirate and is a walrus crewman and a revolutionary, which was all a narrative that was bred for him by circumstances, not out of his own choosing. i think a lot about the look he gives flint when flint tells him the crew named him quartermaster. the hate and the disdain and the doom because he knows he wasnt chosen as quartermaster because of his own scheming but because of the circumstances of what happened. not because the crew didn’t actually care and want him to be quartermaster but he didn’t win them over with the charm and wit of his manipulation it’s largely because of the sacrifice they believe he’s made for them. and that wasn’t a sacrifice he chose to make. his new role isn’t a victory he’s carved for himself it’s a position he’s caged into, just like billy’s creation of long john silver. silver assumes the role but gets lost in it because it’s not of his own making and that undoes him in the end. for someone who’s identity is created spontaneously based on the situation at hand, i think the one grasp on identity that silver ever had was that at least whatever identity he would create it was His creation. which isn’t the same thing as Having an identity but he loses his identity definitively when he loses that small power. and so much of it is the disability. in the same way that flint’s conflict with identity is between who he is and who people think he is based on his queerness, based on his ‘monstrosity’, silver’s identity narrows when he loses his leg, and narrows his power of being able to become anyone from anywhere doing anything, so he adopts the identities he’s assigned because he has to, because the options for identities he’d chose for himself are limited anyway, would probably be along these lines anyway. and in the end. in the end there’s nothing anyone could do about it because there’s no real silver. flint and madi couldn’t realize or recognize or argue that this version of silver isn’t real because neither one of them knows who the real silver is! madi certainly doesn’t because she doesn’t even know who silver was before s3 and flint doesn’t because silver never tells him. it’s so much of the painful resignation that comes up in their final confrontation and why silver’s backstory, specifically lack of, comes into priority at the 11th hour. flint can’t convince silver that this isn’t what he wants because there’s nothing to reference, he has nothing to bargain with, not the cause not madi not even their friendship. in the same way that miranda worried she’d be unable to recognize who she is now and flint tells her he recognizes her. in the same way that miranda tells him she recognizes him. there’s no one to recognize silver and there is no silver to recognize.

[arty-platypi]

a couple of doodles for my Roz x Vontra fic and cover ideas for said fic. i chose to use the texture of the brush to help with the "shading" in the mini illustrations but now that i'm seeing it here on tumblr the image quality brings it down lole. Haven't been drawing them too much but it's just because I keep writing for them, ha...