#that held me back from posting to Steam for a long time because I didn't think my stupid little game would get enough interest

[anigrams-productions]

My first game, "Memoirs of an Angel", is finally coming to Steam on July 30, 2024. How exciting!

To celebrate, I'm going to be live-streaming playthroughs of each of the four main routes of the game on my Twitch channel throughout the month of July, so keep an eye out for more information about that.

Can't wait for the end of July? The new game version, v1.3, has already been posted to itch.io.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg | divider by @jiyascepter

Soothing Your Aches

Jotun!King!Loki x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: Your caring husband is always there to soothe your aches - no matter when or where.

Warnings: protective!Loki, pregnancy stuff, nudity, bit of suggestive smut, fluuuff

Word Count: 1,7k

a/n: This lil' oneshot is based on an idea from @eleniblue ! I just had to write it, because it's so sweet! Also, I'm so sorry it took me sooo long to get this posted... Hope you like it nevertheless. 🥰

Ice Flower AU Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

"Have you seen the queen?" Loki addressed one of your personal guards, Ivan, as he was rushing down the corridor towards the throne room; emerald green cape flying behind him.

Ivan nodded. "Yes, my king. Your wife was searching for you. I told her you were out in the city." The king of Jotunheim nodded. "Where did she go?" "I saw her going into the direction of the royal chambers, your majesty."

Loki snorted, "I just came from there, Ivan. She isn't there." and gritted his teeth; feeling the anger - caused by his worry, rise within his body. The king just couldn't help himself. It was the fault of his instincts to protect what was his - like so often.

Loki took a deep breath; trying to control his temper. "You have one job, Ivan! Keeping an eye on the queen and her safe whenever I'm away is the only task you've been burdened with - and you fail." The king shook his head, while Ivan obediently lowered his head. "I apologise, my king, I-" The young Jotun tried to explain, but got immediately interrupted. "She is pregnant, for the Norns sake! This isn't just about my wife anymore!"

Ivan swallowed visibly; fear reflecting in his ruby eyes. Loki still tried to keep his anger at bay; knowing that this was the first mistake of your guard. He tried to have mercy.

"I-I know, y-your highness, b-but-" Ivan got interrupted once more. "You are dismissed for today. Now get out of my sight, before I change my mind."

The guard knew that this was his king showing forgiveness and mercy, so he bowed, "T-Thank you, m-my king." and quickly left.

Loki took another deep breath, before he decided to ask one of the maids about your whereabout.

"Tola," his deep voice caused the blond haired maid, who was currently cleaning his presence chamber, to jump slightly and shriek up. "King Loki! Apologies!" She curtsied. "You scared me a bit." Loki shook his head. "I should apologise. I didn’t mean to scare you... Do you know where my wife is?" She nodded. "Sure, my king. Queen Y/N told me that she was going to take a bath in the royal bathing chamber. I offered my help, but she wished to be alone."

A relieved breath left the Jotun's lips. "Thank you." Tola curtsied once more. "Of course, your highness." With a curd nod, Loki turned on his heels and left again; his feet leading him straight towards the bathing chamber.

He could already smell the scent of your soaps and rich oils miles away. It caused him to smile.

Once he entered the bathing chamber, warm, wet air and slight steam welcomed him - alongside your beautiful voice humming an old Norse song.

It's been a long day for the king and all he wished now was to spend time with you and especially to take care of you, as well as the growing offspring within your womb.

Loki quickly started to undress, until he wore nothing more than his loin cloth. Sure, he could've joined you completely nude, but the king didn't wish to 'pressure you' into something. He wanted to take care of you - and if it would include making love, he wasn't going to complain. If not, Loki was more than alright with it.

Smiling, he rounded the corner to face the big pool you were in; leaning against the edge with your head tilted back and eyes closed. One hand held onto the edge, while the other was cupping your swollen belly; gently stroking the wet skin.

Loki watched you for a moment; admired the absolute stunning woman he had married.

"I hope you don't mind if I join you, my queen?"

Your eyes immediately flew open at your husband's words and you looked over; meeting his beautiful ruby eyes.

You smiled.

"No, of course not. In fact, it is highly appreciated. Please do join me, my king." Loki ran a hand through his now damp curls and proceeded to step inside the water and swim over to you.

You welcomed your husband with open arms, of course, given the fact that you hadn't seen him almost the whole day.

"Hello," you whispered against his lips; crossing your arms behind his neck. Loki smirked; wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you as close as your almost five-month-bump allowed. "Hello, Flower." The gap between the two of you quickly melted away, as your lips moulded perfectly against Loki's.

After exchanging several much needed kisses, Loki settled behind you against the quite comfortably built pool edge; pulling you back against his bare chest.

"How are you feeling today, love?" He asked in a gentle voice. His hands came to rest underneath your belly; supporting the weight of your bump. "Honestly?" You sighed. "It could be better. The muscles in my back hurt, just like my feet do. I have stomach cramps already the whole day and felt very dizzy this morning. That's why I decided to take a bath; hoping it would relax my muscles and ease the pain at least a bit."

Loki nuzzled the wet skin of your neck and pulled you even closer against him. "Apologies, Flower. I hate to see you in pain and struggling." Your husband's lips trailed a path of soft kisses from your shoulder up to the shell of your ear. You couldn't help but smile; feeling the butterflies within you running wild. Wild for this man.

"Can I do something for you, my queen? I wish to help." Your smile even widened. Loki was the best husband you could've wished for. "Especially since I am the one to blame for this..." You could practically hear the smirk and playfulness in his voice - and giggled. "Don't say this like we both didn't wish for it to happen." "Well... Point taken." A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, before he breathed another kiss on the side of your neck.

"Now, how can I help, Flower?"

"Hmm..." You thought; being already way too lost and addicted to his touch. You barely saw him today, after all... "Perhaps a massage later? But for now, just hold me, please. I enjoy your warmth and touch-" You felt a nudge against your abdominal wall and bladder, causing you to smile. "Just like the twins," you completed your sentence.

Loki hummed behind you; thumbs starting to trace a pattern in the naked skin on the underside of your bump. "As you wish, my darling."

After the bath, Loki wrapped you up in a big, fluffy, warm towel, and even carried you back towards your shared chambers.

"There we are..." He said; gently kicking the door shut with his foot. You just smiled with your head tucked in the crook of his neck; inhaling his scent. Loki set you down on your spacious marital bed and pressed a sweet kiss on your lips, before he quickly crossed the room in order to tend to the fireplace. The fire was still burning. Loki just had to make sure it was enough to keep you warm.

"Are you warm enough, my queen?" You nodded; giving him a loving, but definitely drowsy smile. "Currently, yes. Now come here, please..." Loki smiled, "In a moment, Flower." and winked, before he vanished in the bathroom, in order to fetch the best massage oils in the whole kingdom. You received them from a healer on Asgard.

Your husband took the comfortable chair, which stood a bit offsides and actually served as an extra seating possibility in front of the fireplace and sat down beside your side of the bed. His free hand inched closer to your body, while he threw you a smouldering look.

"May I unwrap you, Flower? I heard you are in need of my hands." Mischievous, naughty scamp, you thought with a giggle. "Please do, dear husband."

Loki helped you to free your upper body of its confines, but made sure that your legs and feet were still covered in furs and keeping you warm.

"Turn on your side for me, my love." You did what he said; presenting him your bare back. It was a bit of an awkward angle, but there was no other way than this for a massage. You couldn't turn on your stomach - for obvious reasons.

"There we go." Loki squeezed some oil on his big palm, made sure to coat his other palm as well and then started to gently massage your uptight muscles. "Mhhh..." You sighed as he worked on a particular tight knot. The king chuckled lowly. "Your reaction tells me that I must be doing something right. Does it feel good?" You giggled; nodding. "It always feels good when you touch me, my king. No matter the situation." "Thank the Norns then that I enjoy touching you very much. No matter the situation." You could practically hear the smirk on his lips. "Win win situation, sweetheart."

After Loki massaged your sore and aching back, you felt way better and relaxed - but your husband wasn't finished yet.

"Would my lovely wife turn on her back again? I think there are cramps who need to be eased as well..." You smiled; following his instructions once more.

The king's eyes travelled from your face down the length of your upper body; lingering on your bump for a moment longer, before his ruby eyes returned to meet your Y/E/C ones.

"You are stunningly beautiful, my queen. Absolutely radiant. Perfect, for me." You couldn't stop your cheeks from redding at his words. "Thank you." Loki leaned over to kiss you lovingly, then began to gently rub the oil in the skin of your belly as well.

You never thought that it would feel this good, but it did - and the babies seemed to enjoy it as well. You could sense it. "They pretty much enjoy the touch of their father," you giggled; looking at Loki. He smiled; nodding amusingly. "I can positively feel it, yes." You giggled again. "Now shush, my queen. Rest and just enjoy," he teased you a bit. "Yes, my king." You took a deep breath and closed your eyes; trying to be calm. You were kinda surprised that it worked that well.

In fact it probably worked too good...

"I'm relieved to see that this seems to help you." Loki got no response. "Flower? Love?" Frowning, he lifted his head - only to see that you slept in. The king smiled; placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and made sure to tuck you properly in.

Tags: @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @smolvenger @hisredheadedgoddess28 @icytrickster17 @chennqingg @glitchquake @princess-ofthe-pages @crimson25 @elegantcheesecakecrown @buttercupcookies-blog @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @herdetectivetheorist @loz-3 @brokenpoetliz @km-ffluv @stupidthoughtsinwriting @jennyggggrrr @lady-rose-moon @lovingchoices14 @salvinaa @irishhappiness @sheris532 @princessdragon23 @xxannyxx @kimanne723 @mandywholock1980 @the-holy-trinity-l @loki-laufeyson223 @vbecker10 @buttercupcookies-blog @comicalivy

[rvzcvx]

HEYYY i dont really fanfictions but idk,I really liked one of your fanfictions ,is it possible to have a FanFiction with bill x m!reader Or reader non gender ?🎀 With 2005 bill cause he's my favorite Era,I want something cute and fluff cause he was 16..I just had the idea that bill and reader don't really understand it because like bill speak.german and he doesn't understand english and reader doesn't understand german😭!Afterwards for the rest I leave you free ideas! because I trust you

Love you🫶

THE LANGUAGE OF LOVE

pairing: 2005 bill x male reader

warnings: nothing, just fluff

a/n: im sorry for not posting for so long but i had to focus on school. i promise that i will try to post more often!! and btw i love you too, i hope youre gonna like what i wrote

I still couldn't believe it, I was sitting in the living room of Bill Kaulitz, my boyfriend, from my favorite band. It felt surreal, like a dream I never wanted to wake up from.

The room was filled with posters, CDs, and personal items that gave it a cozy vibe. Bill was in the kitchen, making us some tea. I could hear him humming softly, his voice always managing to soothe my nerves.

We met a few months ago after one of his concerts. I had been a fan for years, and the opportunity to see him perform live was a dream come true. I never imagined that I would actually meet him, let alone start a relationship with him. It was hard at first, with him speaking mainly German and me only knowing English, but we found ways to communicate.

Bill walked back into the room, holding two steaming cups of tea. He smiled warmly and handed me one. "Hier, für dich." he said, his accent making the words sound even more special.

"Danke." I replied, one of the few German words I had mastered. I smiled back at him, feeling a warmth spread through me.

We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, sipping our tea. Bill looked at me, his eyes full of affection and something else I couldn't quite place.

"You... like the tea?" he asked, his English slow but deliberate. "Yes" I nodded, "It's perfect, just like everything you do."

Bill blushed, a soft pink tint coloring his cheeks. "Danke, mein liebling." he said, reaching out to take my hand. His touch was gentle and reassuring, a silent promise that everything was going to be okay.

We had learned to bridge the gap between our languages with gestures, smiles, and a lot of patience. Bill would teach me simple German phrases, and I would help him with his English. It was a process, but one that brought us even closer.

Bill set his cup down and moved closer to me on the couch. He pulled me into a warm embrace, and I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. We stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, letting the unspoken words fill the space between us. His arms around me were my safe haven, a place where I felt completely at home.

After a while, Bill pulled back slightly, just enough to look into my eyes. "You... make me very happy." he said, his English improving day by day.

"You make me happy too, Bill." I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "More than you'll ever know."

Bill's smile widened, and he leaned in for a kiss. Our lips met in a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of all the things we couldn't yet say in words. When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless, but content.

He wrapped his arms around me again, pulling me close. "Ich liebe dich." he whispered into my ear. I had learned that phrase early on. "I love you too, Bill" I replied.

As the evening turned into night, we continued to talk, laugh, and simply enjoy each other's company. It didn't matter that we spoke different languages; what mattered was the love we shared and the bond that grew stronger every day.

By the time we decided to call it a night, I felt more connected to Bill than ever. We climbed into bed, cuddling close under the warm blankets. Bill held me tight, his presence a comforting weight next to me.

"Gute nacht , mein Liebling." he murmured sleepily. "Goodnight, Billy." I replied, feeling my eyes grow heavy.

As I drifted off to sleep, I knew that whatever challenges we faced, we would face them together. Our love was stronger than any language barrier, and that was all that mattered. In Bill's arms, I felt at home, loved, and understood. And that was a feeling that needed no translation.

[celaenaeiln]

can i know your thoughts on the “typical” nightwing ships (him with wally, roy, slade, kory, babs, apollo/midnighter, etc etc)?

ofc! <333

As a multishipper I literally love almost all of these

Wally

The softest ship ever! Reading about them is so cute. All cuddles and snuggles, and full on comfort.

It's the best friends to lovers trope

Haven't read about them in a really long while but they used to be my comfort ship. Like these two are so soft each other that they just make me feel warm inside.

Roy

Roydick is my spicy birdflash ship. Their chemistry was more heated with them constantly getting into arguements but falling together again. Going back to the comics I realize that Roy hero-worships Dick and that's why they get into so many fights. Roy literally thinks Dick is too perfect

There's this post about them which provides comic panels about Roy constantly comparing himself to Dick

But mostly Roy wants all of Dick. He wants Dick's 100% attention of them and he hates-HATES-that Dick gives everything to Batman. It drives him so mad because he thinks Batman doesn't deserve any of Dick's attention.

Literally tells Batman- you ain't shit. I feel bad Dick had to deal with you. He doesn't deserve it for all the greatness he is.

Roy wants all of Dick and that's where I ship them including their complicated issues. What makes their relationship so great is their problems. Neither of them will compromise (Dick won't let go of Bruce and Roy won't let go of that issue), but after all the screaming and fighting they still fall back together.

It's Dick that Roy goes to every time he has to deal with Cheshire.

Additional post:

>:> hehe

Ollie has the biggest grin on his face XD

Slade

My OTP LETS GO

Bruh I am so into them.

My post on why they were made for each other

YEA YEA YEAHHHHHH

Slade literally used the steam of Dick's shower to write a message in his bathroom mirror.

okay.

I am obsessed with Slade's obsession with Dick.

I love how in one comic Dick is literally just listing everything that's wrong with his life and Deathstroke is just standing there actively listening with his arms crossed.

He's never gonna give up that apprentice agenda.

Kory

Kory!! I LOVE DICKKORY SO MUCH!!!

When I think of love, they are the epitome of it. I didn't know it was possible to feel love through paper until I saw them. One look at the chemistry is overwhelming.

"Questions about what's right and what's not, I'll always have them. Questions about my loving you? No! I do. Very much."

Dickkory love is stronger than Dick's moral ethics and Dick's moral ethics?

I've never seen Dick love anyone as much as he did Kory. There are issues that came up ofcourse. I'm pretty sure there was an anti-alien sentiment among the general public (real life?) that affected them and on top of that the Batman office wanting Dick back so they just ripped him away from the titans and rewrote a whole new love story for them while trashing Kory for it but when the public's reaction and Dick's "he's so perfect everyone wants him so let's play around with love interests for him" aside, they were the king and queen of love.

What I love about their relationship is Dick loved Kori for who she was, not how she looked. And Kori loved Dick for who he was and not how he looked. On both sides, sometimes all people see of them are their beauty not their personality or strengths or being.

Barbara

Barbara. The reason I held off on writing this.

My feelings about Barbara are complicated.

She and Dick used to be my OTP. I loved them so much I actually hated Kori for a bit, thinking that Barbara was so much better-when I was solely in the fandom. But oh how the table have turned. Very recently the feather broke the camel's back so my feelings about the two of them have changed.

Long story short, they're better off friends. But my favorite moments come from mostly short haired Barbara comics.

This Barbara was AWESOME. She was so chill and cool and funny. She would be smart but not in a demeaning way to others.

Also Batgirl 2000 comic Dickbabs was so sweet (below)

Apollo/Midnighter

love them!

I think Midnighter would totally seduce Dick into a frenemies with benefits arrangement. I mean he's halfway there.

But aside from the usual flirting, Midnighter really, really, REALLY respects Dick's fight skills. I'm sure you've seen the panels of that already but since posts have a 30 image limit I'mma skip over that to the other reason: his greater-that-meta-human tenacity. Things and circumstances that take out metahumans, Dick surpasses through sheer will power and dedication.

So I mostly ship Dick/Midnighter but Apollo would probably join in too at some point.

Constantine

Never getting over how John-I don't do things I don't have to-Constantine saved someone because their body was hot and and their butt looked good. But later on in the comic he talks about how cool he was and what he describes Dick as is when asked about him is:

Additional exchange:

Tiger

His relationship with Tiger is AWESOME!!

It reminds me of his batman Dick relationship with Damian. Snarky and affectionate.

I ran out of image space :'0

But Dick basically gets Tiger-Spyral's number 1 and most loyal spy-to abandon the agency they work for, turn coat, and hunt them down to burn the oragnization into the ground instead. They're literally so funny. I loved Dick and Damian's cute banter and Tiger is just Damian aged up but meaner lol.

[peach-and-bugs]

💚Bean Sprout - Lottie Matthews x fem!Reader💚

ch 1 - chapter 2 - ch 3

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: You've been happily married to Charlotte Matthews for some odd years now, but it feels like it's time to take a step in a new direction together... aka mama!Lottie

Warnings: suggestive conversation & implication, insecurity

Word Count: 1,346

A/N: Hello Loves, we're back with more Mama!Lottie! I kept this one on the shorter side compared to most chapters I write, but this one kinda ended pretty naturally and I didn't feel like forcing more into it. As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading! 💚

Lottie Matthews Tag List: (open) @elliesjoints

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy

"Bean Sprout" Tag List: @mistysswampmud @emilynissangtr

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💚-

Of course, a much longer conversation was had, and after a few weeks of intense organization, you both moved on to talking with doctors about your options. You agreed together that you’d carry, seeing as you were younger. You’d argued that 34 wasn’t all that much younger compared to 38, but Lottie had only laughed, shaking her head. It had been some time now, and you'd had begun taking a wide variety of supplements as you started tracking your cycle to get the IVF going. 

On this evening, you were lying flat on your back on the couch, flipping through a binder of potential male donors that the clinic had given you to look through held over your head. Lottie moved into the living room from the kitchen, carrying two mugs of tea with her. She set one down on the coffee table in front of you before she tapped at your feet, silently asking you to scoot. You lifted your feet but didn’t look up from the binder. 

“This is so weird,” You grumbled. Lottie sat at the other end of the couch with her feet up on the coffee table as she moved your feet across her lap. 

“What’s weird, love,” she hummed, taking a sip of her still-steaming tea. She’d been brewing raspberry tea all week partly because of its boost for fertility but also just because she loved the flavor with honey. You sighed, turning through to another page of the binder, your eyes scanning over strange men’s faces and credentials for why you should pick them.

“Flipping through this book just to choose who we’ll use to make our baby,” you scrunched your nose at the wording with a scowl that made Lottie chuckle into her cup. “I wish you could just get me pregnant,” You mused under your breath as you flicked through the binder again, only to look away once more when you heard Lottie hum.

“I’d be lying if I didn’t think about that,” you perked up at the admission, dropping the binder to your stomach as you looked up at her with an arched brow. 

“Oh, have you now?” you mused with a wicked grin. Lottie realized her mistake and refused to look up from her cup, now taking another long sip in an attempt to shield her eyes. The binder was forgotten and slipped onto the coffee table as you moved from you’re lying position. You readjusted, sitting up on your knees beside your wife, the proximity being enough for her to feel your breath fanning over the skin of her neck. Still, she didn't look up, her eyes trained on the cup in her hands as she stirred it with the tiny metal spoon she’d brought with her. 

“Charlotte,” you murmured her full first name in that sing-song tone you so often use. She both loved and hated when you'd do that because, on the one hand, she adored the sound of her voice leaving your lips, but on the other, she knew what game you were playing. You grinned and took the cup out of her hands, moving to the coffee table beside your own because it had become quite offensive the amount of attention it was getting as opposed to you. You could hear Lottie swallow as you moved to straddle your thighs over her lap, arms looping ever naturally around her neck as you tilted your head with an innocent look. 

“Tell me about it,” you mused, batting your eyelashes as she looked up at you as though she’d been caught in your headlights. You ran your fingertips over her forehead, brushing away loose hair that obstructed your view of her, your ever-beautiful wife who’d grown shy at her admission. You knew Lottie had a lot of thoughts when it came to this pregnancy, not all of them being the most innocent.

She rarely ever talked about it, but it had come up long before. Before you were married, even when she had been very drunk one night, her loose lips had let it slip that the thought of her partner carrying a baby, well, specifically your baby, together, was quite exciting, but not only because of the anticipation. She’d felt horrible the next morning, having realized what she’d said, which led you both down a long rabbit hole of conversation to normalize and help her feel better, that thinking that way about your partner was completely normal, and you found the idea quite flattering. 

You knew that given the current conversation buzzing around the house, some of those thoughts and feelings could potentially be found fronting in her mind, though she hadn’t said anything about it till now. And though you now questioned her in a way that made it clear you also found her thought arousing, she held her tongue, keeping her fantasy to herself, much to your disappointment, but you weren't going to push. 

“Well, if you aren't going to tell me, at least help me pick a baby daddy, won’t you?” that phrasing caught her attention now, and you felt her arms snake around your hips, tugging you into her ever so slightly as her eyes found yours with a scrunch in her brow. 

“We aren’t calling him that,” there was a hushed harshness to her insistence that you relished in, biting your lip as you laughed. Without another word, you leaned in and kissed her lips but retreated before any heat could be added. “What was that,” Lottie asked, finally smiling with a curious crook in her brow.

“I like it when you get jealous,” you murmured, pecking at her cheek as you leaned away to reach for the binder again. 

“I wasn’t jealous-” she began to argue as you readjusted yourself over her lap, now letting your legs stretch over the couch as you’re back rested against the arm of the couch. Lottie’s right arm curled around your side while her other hand found its place comfortably over your thigh as you presented her with the binder. 

“Anyways, how do we even choose a doner when we haven't picked an egg yet,” Lottie asked, changing the subject. You pressed your lips in a frown. Neither of you had considered that portion yet. 

“I mean, it doesn’t matter to me. The doctor said we could use either of our eggs,” you recalled. You looked up at your wife to notice a fleeting unsureness in her gaze. “Does that worry you?” you blinked up at her. She faltered as she began to speak, her hand aimlessly starting to rub at your back as she considered her words. 

“I do worry about using my eggs, yes,” she eventually managed. You wanted to urge her to elaborate till it dawned on you. 

“Lot, are you worried about passing your mental illness to the baby?” She didn’t have to answer to verify your suspicion. “Well, we can always use my eggs and find someone similar to you as our donor. That way, it feels more like an even mix, you know?” you brushed your thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Plus, that’ll shrink our pool of candidates and make picking a donor easier,” She seemed relieved by how seamlessly you could solve her worries, though she still had concerns. 

“But I worry it’ll feel more like you’re having a baby,” she murmured, her eyes fleeting from yours once more. You turned her chin with your hand, giving her a scowled look. 

“Lottie. Regardless of who’s carrying or who’s dna is being used, this is our baby. Yours and mine because we’re the ones going through this pregnancy together, and we’ll be the ones raising this child when it’s done, ok?” She sighed, and you could feel her relax under your touch, taking your hand in hers to kiss your fingertips, silently giving you her thanks for understanding. You smiled, letting go of a satisfied breath through your nose before turning back to the binder. 

“Now help me pick a sperm donor so we can get this show on the road,”

[thornnii]

⏤ ✦ pasta?

genre: fluff, domestic wordcount: 0.8K pairing: Yelena Belova x fem!reader pronouns: she/her other: takes place after Hawkeye with Yelena still in NY, roommate!au/flatmate!au, can be read as romantic or platonic warnings: swearing, talk of hunger, food and eating summary: having a stay-in night with Yelena thorn's notes: originally posted 29/Sep/2022; edited. ↳ I want to apologise for the slow update, I've been in London on holiday and didn't have my laptop with me to be able to post.

⏤ return to old post masterlist

It was late in New York but nowhere near dark; New York was seemingly never dark, or quiet for that matter, however the louder daytime noises of tourists and busy stores had now mostly died away. It was nearing the end of February now so it was as cold but not as it could've been, however it was still pretty fucking cold. That's why tonight Y/N and Yelena were staying indoors. The night started with the two roommates doing their own things; Y/N sat on the sofa reading and Yelena... Yelena wasn't actually in the apartment, she'd been complaining of feeling restless all day and had decided to go to the local 24-hour gym to finally blow off the steam.

Yelena had made sure to keep Y/N updated on her movements throughout the city, texting her updates about what she was doing; her run to the gym, when she'd arrived, when she'd taken a brief break, and now that she had left the gym and was on her way home.

In all honesty, Y/N thought Yelena was nuts for going out in this weather. She knew she'd encouraged Yelena to find an outlet for her antsiness but she'd thought the blonde would find things to occupy herself with around the apartment rather than brace the biting weather of a New York winter. Oh well.

A rattle came from the front door of the apartment, before it was pushed open to reveal Yelena whom was armed with two cups of steaming hot coffee. The strong smell of the hot beverage suddenly reminded Y/N that she hadn't actually eaten a proper dinner yet, however the thought was pushed away as Yelena held out one of the warm coffee cups to the girl curled up on the couch. Y/N took the drink graciously and mumbled out a thanks to Yelena, who had decided to sit opposite her on the floor, while Yelena filled Y/N in on what she had seen while she'd been out.

Midway through one of Yelena's stories however, Y/N's stomach gave a loud rumble, bringing back the fact that the girl had yet to have her evening meal. Embarrassed by the disruption Y/N tried to get Yelena to continue her story however Yelena refused to move on.

"Have you not had dinner yet?" Yelena asked, confused.

"Um, no. No, not yet." Y/N admitted reluctantly feeling sheepish under Yelena's gaze "Originally it was because I was waiting for you to get home but then I just completely forgot. Until I smelt that coffee that is."

Yelena just nodded before rising to her feet and making her way to the small kitchen of the apartment.

"What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm making us food." Yelena stated matter-of-factly before returning to rummaging through cupboards "What would you like?"

"Nothing big, I guess, I'm truly not that hungry" Yelena nodded in understanding before pulling out a bag of pasta, holding it up as a silent question of 'what about this?'

"Pasta would be great." Y/N agreed with a smile.

Turning around, Yelena got to work.

Roughly 10 minutes later the food was done and Yelena was sharing the pasta between two bowls. During this time Y/N had moved to sit at the wooden dining table that stood between the kitchen and the living room to keep her roommate company.

Yelena set the bowls on the table between the two of them, before moving back into the kitchen to retrieve sauces and toppings "Which bowl do you want?"

Y/N chose her bowl as Yelena returned to the table to set everything down, successfully managing to bring everything over at once. Garnishing the food didn't take long for either of the girls however Y/N did have to do a double take at just how much hot sauce Yelena was putting on her pasta. Making a mental note to add hot sauce to the grocery list, Y/N moved back to the couch to eat her meal in comfort, Yelena following close behind. As the two settled down under one of their many thick blankets, Y/N grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table, turning on Netflix so that they wouldn't be eating in silence.

"What do you wanna watch?" Y/N asked as she scrolled through her recommended watches.

"That new film that I have been seeing a lot about. It has Maya Hawke in it." the blonde was clicking her fingers in frustration as she tried to remember the name of the film before giving a cry as she remembered it. "Do Revenge".

Switching to the search bar, Y/N found the film quickly and soon the opening credits had begun. The girl held her bowl of pasta close to her as she ate and watched, absorbing the warmth radiating off the food, a cosy feeling spread throughout the apartment as Yelena commented, "This is nice."

"Yeah. Yeah it is."

[pickingbelovedoffthesofa]

Just posted chapter 15 of my 80’s AU Ouizzy fic.

Here’s a snippet of this chapter below the cut to see if it might be up your alley ☺️

"If you want to tell me to go fuck myself, I wish you'd just do that instead..." Izzy said.

Frenchie sighed. "I don't want to tell you to go fuck yourself, Iz. I just... It's a little uncomfortable to talk about money with, as you said, the guy I'm casually fucking."

"To be fair, I did say it was fine if you didn't want to talk about it. I said I may be stepping out of line. My exact words. Not much of a point having boundaries if you're going to invite people to cross them..."

Frenchie closed his eyes and sighed again before testing that the iron was hot, releasing some steam. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get cross. You're right, I did say it was okay. I just... I'm a little sensitive to being talked to like I'm a child..."

"Today..."

Frenchie looked up from the corner of the shirt he was pressing. "What...?"

Izzy raised his eyebrows. "You're a little sensitive to it today... You should mind that iron, it's going to burn..."

"What does that mean?" Frenchie cocked his head. He'd barely even heard the bit about the iron.

"It means that on Tuesday you were rather receptive to it. It's not my place to tell you when to mind your health and take care of yourself, but it is in my nature. I do what I can with mixed signals, but I can't be stepping into landmines, Frenchie. I want you to be very clear with me about things you are and aren't comfortable with."

"Well, I'm thirty eight years old. I moved to New York on my own and I'm doing pretty alright by comparison. Just because you're older-"

"The iron, Frenchie..."

"Doesn't mean I need-" The smell hit him then. "Fuck!" He pulled the iron up, exposing a dark brown planchette where it had sat for too long. "FUCK! Fuck fuck fuck..."

"I tried-"

"Fuck off, Iz!" Frenchie shouted at him.

He didn't shrink back. He didn't even flinch. He calmly took a breath before getting up from the mattress on the floor and walking slowly over to him.

"What're you..."

He stepped behind him, gently taking the hand that still held the iron in his own and bringing it down so the iron came to rest on the board. He flicked the power off with his thumb before running it over the back of Frenchie's, softly.

"-doing...?" Frenchie finished, sounding like someone had cut the power off on him.

"You're clearly upset and you're holding something very very hot and dangerous. How much time before you need to be out the door?"

Frenchie looked at his watch. "Half an hour..." he said quietly.

"You said you're not required to wear dress clothes. Do you have something that doesn't require ironing? There's enough time to iron a different shirt if that's what you really want, but that's not going to leave you a lot of time to eat anything..."

Frenchie's hand began to tremble under his. "I can wear a polo..." he said.

"Okay." Izzy ran his hand over Frenchie's once more before he pulled away, stepping over to the iron's plug and pulling it from the socket. "You finish getting ready and I'll heat up those leftovers Roach sent with us."

[frostehburr]

A Few Games I 100% Completed but Haven't Mentioned Because I Did Them Long Ago

My recent blog posts have been about recent games I 100% completed but they're not the only games I've 100%ed.

Video games have been a big part of my life and I've been playing games since single digits. That's right, I've been a gamer my entire life. Starting with the Sega Genesis. That really ages me, doesn't it?

Admittedly, I only 100%ed one single game on Genesis and that was Disney's Pocahontas. There were a handful of games I had but couldn't invest too much time in because way back then I was a child attending school and homework.

Same story when I got an Nintendo 64. Exception was I didn't 100% any game on that console. However, I did manage to complete a few games on Nintendo's GameCube years later.

By that time I managed to get into double digits so back then I was still a child but was close to the 'edgy' phase everyone in the 2000s went through.

The games I definitely remember 100%ing were Star Fox Adventures, Wind Waker, Luigi's Mansion, Avatar the Last Airbender, Catwoman, Pikmin 1 and 2, and Geist. It may seem like a short list but that was long for preteen me. Especially considering majority of games I played were rented from Blockbuster. If you don't know what Blockbuster was, just know I'm from ancient times before the internet.

Anyhow, years later I had short lived experience with PS2 and somehow got XBox360 and PS3. Honestly, the 360 was a horrible console that destroyed itself more often that a sea cucumber. What games I managed to play on it were also available on PS3 at later time so I personally think 360 was a massive waste of money and would avoid if I was able to restart my life.

But it did give me some fun games to complete. Rare's final good game, Kameo Elements of Power, was particularly great. Fable 2 and 3 were simple and easy. I don't think it's physically possible to not complete a Fable game when it's played. And... ah, Crackdown was the only other one I 100%ed... That was... a game... yes it was...

Sadly, I do not remember 100%ing more games after that, yes even on the PS3 which I still held onto the games for.

I was incredibly busy with high school life at that time so investing an hour or so for a grind was not appealing in the slightest. Although, I do believe the majority of trophies (a new concept Sony/Microsoft came up with) being dependent on online multiplayer left a rather sour taste.

Then came a long period of not playing games as often due to having a job and college and another job to tend to. I did get a PS4 and still played what I could. Thankfully, the spark of dopamine still kicked in whenever I played so it was still something I looked forward to.

I also had a Steam account and played Team Fortress 2 a lot. Valve's most popular hat trading simulator was the only multiplayer game I ever played and enjoyed! Quite a few hundred hours went into that game. I would go back to play it if it wasn't for the forsaken bot infestation plaguing the servers.

Oh that reminds me of the first Steam game I 100%ed, Whispering Willows! It was a simple indie game I decided to play for Halloween season. Actually, it was the atmosphere and little secrets you could find that unlocked achievements that kept me going for the completion. After that, I hit up Tell Tale's Guardians of the Galaxy and 100%ed that easily. Tell Tale has the same issue the Fable franchise has.

However, I never had that sudden click of wanting to 100% all games until I played Insomniac's Spiderman on PS4. The game was spectacular with the placements for collectables and incorporating them into the game's setting. Looking at the trophies on my Playstation Profile, I had a sudden thought of finishing as much of my game library as I could so I can have as many platinum trophies as I can.

Before my PS3 fried and deleted my files on the drive, I managed to get the platinum for all Sly Cooper and Infamous games. I also platinum Second Son on PS4. I may have to restart those games if I can't save my old PS3. Don't know what I'm going to do if I can't save it. Maybe be forced to buy a refurbished one or be doomed to PSN Premium 'service' ugh, hopefully won't come to that.

Remaining platinum trophies I earned on PS4 were from MediEvil, Spyro Reignighted trilogy (with the exception of Spyro 2), and Subnautica. That list is as long as my 360 one but I'm still working on it.

I'm also working on 100%ing Nintendo and Steam games. While there's no official reward for 100%ing Nintendo games, I'm still completing them because they're fun. Sometimes you don't need a trophy or ribbon to say you 100% completed a game... it would be nice but it's not needed.

The games I completed on Nintendo Switch were Luigi's Mansion 3, Island Savers (a free kid's game that looked simple and fun to me), and Fenyx Rising... Yeah, Fenyx is available on other consoles but it feels at home on Switch.

Meanwhile on Steam I worked on and completed Helltaker, Force Unleashed, Overlord Raising Hell and Overlord 2, and Alice Madness Returns... while there's no achievements or blue ribbon for those EA games, I still wanted to complete them and never touch another EA game for as long as I can.

So, including the recent blog posts I made about recent games I've completed, I have a sum total of 21 modern titles. For PS3/360 games I managed 10 completed games. GameCube had 8 and the only other completed game was on Sega Genesis. Giving me a total of 40 complete games throughout my life. I plan on making that number higher. But I don't know if I'll stick with making blog posts about them. Sure it's easy but it doesn't feel as enjoyable or fun as gaming is. I don't know... I'll probably be stuck on here until I figure something out.

[rustedhearts]

hurt (boxer!steve x librarian!fem reader)

summary: steve’s looking to blow off some steam after his first title fight loss, and you tend to him the best you know how.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the king of ring ♡

tags: make way for steve's ego!, smut, like...accidental size kink idk how that happened honestly, steve's not an official dom b/c we don't do that anymore around here but he's a dom, little bit of blood, more biting!!, bruising.

dallas, texas april 1991

"Goddamn it!"

The door to Steve's dressing room flung open, hurling toward the wall with a resounding bang. You flinched, slowly standing to your feet from your place on the leather couch. You were carted back stage by an assistant a few minutes ago, just as the arena, and all of America, saw the referee raise Steve's opponent's fist in victory—for the first time in his career.

Steve stomped into the room, beat red and dripping sweat. He was practically steaming. Your palms slicked as Big and Mikey trailed in behind him, prepared to do damage control.

"Harrington...it happens—"

"—to amateurs. To losers. Not to me," Steve snapped, voice booming and sharper than a sword. You jumped again when his gloves went flying into the wall.

He flattened his damp hair against his skull, fingers jumping and arms buzzing. You could see it brewing on his face—he was going to explode. His jaw clenched, his eyes darted around the room, he began to pace. Tick, tick, tick. It was only a matter of time before he'd burst.

"It's one loss, Steve," you piped up, stepping toward him to comfort. "It's really not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of—"

"Undefeated, Libby. Y' know what undefeated fuckin' means?"

You felt the strain of muscles in your face, how gravity pulled them downward. Big, hands on his hips and head cocked disapprovingly, glanced at you. It was getting easier to spot the cracks between the pair of you these days.

"Steve," you sighed, gathering his gloves from the floor to place them in his bag. "I'm just saying—"

"—I'm not supposed to fucking lose! And maybe I wouldn't 've, if you did your fuckin' research."

You craned to look over your shoulder, finding Steve's gaze on his coach. Steve had taken a step closer, now toe to toe with a man much larger than him. Big—graced with a name that, in all reality, didn't do the sheer size of him justice—fixed Steve with a steady, unimpressed stare. But the thing about Steve when he was angry? Truly angry, seething, seeing black.

He'd fight anyone just to feel release.

"Come on, man," Big huffed, head shaking.

You zipped up Steve's duffel, sinking down on the couch again to rub your temples. This was going to be a long night.

"He was a switch hitter. Woulda been a good thing to know...don't you think? Huh?" Steve sneered, looking up his nose at his coach.

Big held his hands up in surrender. "These things happen, Harrington—"

"Not. To. Me."

The room fell to a ringing silence. Mikey lingered near the door, anxiously petting his mustache. The paparazzi were waiting, huddled at the end of the tunnel for a snap of Steve, 'The King of the Ring' Harrington's first loss. He had a post-fight conference in forty minutes. The endorsement representatives would be coming by to offer their pitiful condolences that you knew would only enrage him.

"They don't fuckin' happen to me," Steve growled, pounding at his glistening, heaving chest with a gauze-wrapped fist.

Big just shrugged, watching Steve turn to stomp your way. You stood, reaching for his arms. All you wanted was to comfort him, soothe him, bring him back to that grumpy but agreeable Steve you all knew. You'd never seen him like this—because he'd never been like this. He'd never lost.

Big inched forward on one foot, but when Steve was merely stiff and silent in your gentle, stroking touch, the coach backed away toward the door. He was always a little cautious after the incident in New York last year. He didn't like the way Steve grabbed you, and he didn't like the way he kept doing it ever since.

Mikey opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish, searching for something to say but too afraid to muster it into words. Steve looked murderous. His huffing and puffing was so loud you worried he'd start to hyperventilate.

"Try to cool it before the cameras start, would you?" Big opened the door, turning to direct a pointed look Steve's way.

Steve, facing you but glaring over your head at the wall, turned sharply toward his coach. "Fuck you."

The door muffled Big's sigh, and you parroted the sound as Mikey disappeared behind him and Steve immediately ripped away from you. Your hands fell to your sides limply, chest squeezing tight.

"Steve—"

"—m' showering."

You took a small step after him toward the showers. "But—"

He stomped off, sneakers slapping on the damp tile. He disappeared around the corner, and you deflated in the center of the dressing room with a frown. When the stream of water hissed, you sank back down on the couch and waited, eyes aching and head pounding, a sour taste like acid in your mouth.

♡ ♡

Steve skipped the press conference. The press would call him a sore loser, his opponent would look like a gracious, genuine fighter, and his endorsements would call Mikey berating and scolding him for his client's actions.

But Steve didn't care. He couldn't face a crowd of reporters and paparazzi as a loser. A failure. He'd face them as a winner, or nothing at all.

They called him The King. His crown was starting to fall. You just wished he could step down from the throne every once in a while.

On the ride home, you reached for his hand and flinched when he flicked yours back into your lap. You searched for his eyes but met only the side of his face. Those hard cheekbones, purpled and blued; that swollen brow bone, torn at the corner and weeping red. His lip was fat and he kept running his tongue over the slit in the righthand corner. You knew he was reveling in the sting, bathing in the pain. He needed it when his fists started shaking like this.

Yet despite the visceral fury physically steaming off him, he was eerily...calm. Calm for Steve, calm for a man with a head as a hot as hell itself.

When Steve was silent like this, you knew a nightmare was brewing.

The car pulled in front of the hotel doors, and Steve yanked your door open with such monstrous force that you worried it would come right off the hinges. Some men had a Midas touch. Steve's was Herculean.

He was silent in the elevator, huffing only short, sharp breaths through his nose. He was silent through the hall, stomping with long, bounding strides. He was silent when he slammed the hotel door after you and tossed his duffel on the velvet chaise lounge near the bar. He was silent as he eased back against the black marble and crossed his arms.

You slowly slipped off your heels, hooking your fingers in the straps to bring them toward your luggage in the other room. You eyed him carefully as you passed him, breezing by in a whiff of sweet, citrusy perfume. The diamonds in your ears flashed his eye with a streak of white, catching the lamplight on the end table.

You were nearly to your destination when his gruff voice cut through the tender quiet.

"C'mere."

You paused, surprised just by the sound of his voice. You turned halfway, digesting his demand. Stern, rigid, empty. It mirrored his expression: emotionless. Your heels dangled near your thigh, fingers curling tighter around the straps.

Steve lifted his chin, eyes rolling away from the floor to fix steady on you. They held that heavy-hooded look you were always wary of. He had his fists tucked under his biceps, enlarging the bulging muscles, protruding the overworked veins. The thin black cotton stretched across his body strained.

Your cheeks flamed and your insides wriggled about the same way they do when he whispers in your ear. You stepped your legs a little closer to each other, tightening between your thighs.

"Steve, I—"

"—come. here."

You held his gaze, face half shadowed by the dark side of the room, brightened by the gentle lamplight on the other. His chest rose and fell steadily, and yours struggled with every inhale. He didn't twitch an inch, didn't move a muscle. The solidity to his steadiness always unnerved you. Right now, it made you want to take a bite of his bicep, where the skin was warm and firm and you knew it would taste like salty sweat.

Right now, the way he was staring at you like you had no other choice but to come to him—like he knew you would listen to him because he had such a deep, clawing, biblically powerful hold over you—made you want to devour him.

You dropped your heels on the carpet, where they landed with a muffled thud. You took small, breezy steps toward him. You felt like you were gliding. You felt so much smaller than you were, so minuscule and tiny under his pinning stare. You felt like he could cup you into his hands and crush you, and something about that thought made you tingle.

You came to a stop when your toes brushed his boots, sweaty sneakers discarded in his gym bag. Palms sticky at your sides, fingers grasping for the hem of your black dress, you tipped your head back to meet his gaze when he slipped one hand from under his arm and tucked it under your chin. Propped between his index and thumb, you let him tug you closer—urge you with just the gentlest of pressure. Your stomach pressed against his belt, and the way his head tipped to gaze down at you made your breath hitch.

Still resting against the marble, Steve seemed cool and eased as he bent to meet your mouth. You trembled on the tops of your toes, too impatient to wait for him to meet you, too desperate to find his lips and taste them. He'd never tell you, but he found it sweet, how mindlessly eager you got for even the smallest of his affections.

Your eyes sank closed when your mouths touched. Gently at first, but with an inch from Steve, his mouth molded against yours with a firmness most like his usual affections. A firmness unyielding, leaving no room for breath and no space for escape. But you were happily pliant to his hand spreading to hold your jaw in his wide palm, nearly sighing in relief when he finally switched from impassively cool to the Steve you knew:

Forceful. Mean. Rough.

His tongue swept your bottom lip like the tickle of a feather, though your giggle became a strangled whimper when his spare hand came to gather the hair at the nape of your neck. Free from confines and soft from hotel shampoo, it was a welcome feeling in his palm, and like he couldn't stop himself from reaching for more of it, he yanked. Fist curled tight against your scalp at the back of your head near your neck, he tugged just once—hard.

You popped away from his mouth with a wet smack and a scratchy whine, catching flashes of striped wallpaper before his mouth attached to your neck and sent you flying into blurriness. You held onto him for dear life, hands leaving splotchy white marks on his biceps. And just as you suspected: they were hot and soft, stiff and massive.

He latched onto the column of your throat with a suction like a vacuum, and you caught glimmers of starlight as he lapped and nipped. His teeth scraped the wet mark when he pulled away, and your body gave a convulsing shiver that, this time, made him exhale a chuckle against your skin. His nose slid through the slick spit, gliding across your throat and up your chin, brushing your cheek when he met your mouth again. His hand returned to your jaw to squeeze, the other still firmly planted in your hair. Your scalp began to buzz in a way that felt like a dead tingle.

The kiss was delicate this time. Careful, precise, like he was worried he'd break you. But Steve never worried about breaking you. He liked you that way. He loved how much you needed him to make sense of you.

Steve slowly pulled back, waiting until your eyes fluttered open and blinked at him with slow, breathless beats before rubbing the pad of his thumb over your swollen mouth. His own seemed a little larger, and as he tipped his head toward the light, you realized his lip had split open again with the force of his kiss. Your tongue immediately sought the remnants on your mouth, relieved to locate the metallic taste just past your bottom lip on your chin.

Steve's lip twitched at that.

"On the bed, baby." His voice was so soft that you were sure you'd fabricated it.

But then he let go of your hair and dropped his hands to his sides, and before he could blink in that expectant, impatient way, you spun around and hurried toward the bed. You were on your knees and about to reach for your zipper when Steve caught your wrists. It was the smack of skin on skin that made you freeze, catching his eye to find it empty again.

"Ah-ah," he scolded gruffly. "Hands down. I'll do it."

He released you and you obeyed, lowering your hands to your sides. Steve inched closer, and your head met his chest as he curled over the front of you to find the back. You inhaled quietly, searching for his scent. Muddled soap and heavy sweat, a cigarette smoked in the lot on the way to the cab. You brought your hands to his stomach and slipped them under his skirt, sweeping them across his muscular sides. He twitched, chuckling deeply despite himself against your neck. Your zipper snicked as it escaped your spine and fell to your tailbone, and your dress pooled in your lap as Steve stood tall again.

You tipped your head back to gaze at him, cheeks swollen with heat and lip caught between your teeth. Your hands were still under his shirt, still gripping him like a toy. He gave you it, pulling his shirt over his head with a tug of the back collar. It flew across the room in a dash of black fabric, and then you were gazing at his lean-cut muscles peppered with black and blue and a few fading greens. His stomach flexed when you brought your fingers to circle the nearest bruise, a grunt balling in his throat.

You returned both hands to his sides, right above his belt. Leaning forward on your knees, you pressed your mouth to the warm patch of skin where blood pooled and painted him colorful. You puckered a gentle kiss. Steve swallowed, jeans tightening. Mouth still pressed against him, you lifted your eyes to gauge his expression and he felt like he could burst.

His hands slid into your hair, pushing your head back with a grip on both sides. You rubbed your thumbs into his muscles, massaging the strain.

"Does it hurt?"

He eased his grip on the right side of your face and brushed your hair behind your ear. He stroked your cheek with the back of his knuckles, head cocking toward his shoulder. The scabs of a bare-knuckle practice scratched the skin on your face in the nicest way. He still smelled like blood.

"I like it to," he said.

You pushed off on your heels, nose brushing his chin as you inched closer to his height. He slid your hair over your shoulder to bare your neck, placing the breeze of his knuckles there.

"Me too."

Steve's eyes snapped away from your neck toward your own, a brief flash of surprise seeping through the brutish void. When you gnawed on your lip and danced your fingers over the firm leather of his belt, he let the surprise slip away as swiftly as it came.

In its place came the animalistic need to tear you apart.

He pushed your hands away without a word, and you sank back down to your heels on the mattress, watching with round, welled up eyes as he undid his belt. The buckle clinked and hung loose at his pelvis. The zipper snicked. The denim of his jeans whooshed down his legs. In only his boxers, tight against him and leaving nothing to the imagination, he resumed his hold on your face to direct your attention back to his eyes.

He pulled at the sleeve of your dress hanging limply in your lap. "Off."

You made quick work of discarding the fabric, sliding it down your legs and throwing it away. Steve snapped your bra strap next, and you bent your arms behind your back to unhook the band. All he had to do was flicker his eyes toward your panties for you to remove those, too.

When you were naked, you waited a beat. A moment of such palpable silence that you were certain he'd hear your heart beating. With the way your blood started rushing to your ears, pumping with such forceful gushes and thumps, you could barely hear anything over it yourself.

Then you reached for his bulge, aching and waiting, unable to contain yourself. Once more he grabbed your wrist, holding your touch away from him. You reached with the other hand, happy to play his game. He grabbed that one, too, and soon he had you right where he wanted.

Though, not quite.

He slammed you against the mattress on your back. Pinned by his hold on your arms, flattened by his weight pressing down on you. Your heart moved to your throat, throbbing wildly. Your legs instinctually parted to make room for him between them.

Steve searched between your eyes, bouncing between left and right, inhaling your every exhale. When he saw nothing but bliss, he slid your arms above your head and crossed your wrists together. Gripping them in one big palm, he used the other hand to mark a path down your side that had you squirming and shivering. You giggled when he circled your navel, only to gasp when he swept two fingers down your pelvis.

He knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew every route to take. He knew the shortcuts that would bring you to your fastest peak. He knew the long, winding paths that would make you whine and cry and beg him to cut you a break.

He knew you.

Just like you knew him, and how much he needed to be the biggest in the room. How much he needed this power over you, this control over you. Sometimes, he traveled too far. Sometimes, your favorite thing in the world was when he took over the wheel.

You wanted his control. You needed it.

Steve gently guided the tips of those two fingers between your legs, pushing just gently past the warm, squishy barrier. You sucked him in, mouth unhinging with another gasp when he sank the length of his fingers in entirely. The grip you had on him was tight, and your thighs were already shaking when he brought his thumb to your clit, beating and pulsing with want for his attention.

"You like it to hurt," he whispered, eyes sliding briefly toward your bare chest before your eyes again.

You bobbed your head, face so hot it hurt. "Yes."

"Do you want it to hurt, angel?"

"Please."

Steve didn't let you wait, and for this you were grateful. His hair tickled your cheek, his breath fanned your neck, and then his mouth was clamping onto the patch of tender muscle between your shoulder and neck. His teeth sank in, delivering a dull sting that made you shriek. He pulled away when you began to pant.

He moved his mouth to your breast, fingers loosening around your wrists. He sank into the squishy fat, gathering a chunk of it between his teeth. It stung a little sharper, hurt a little better. You cried out this time, and he pumped his fingers in a gentle push and pull as he moved to the other breast. You could barely suck in a breath.

Wet patches caught gusts of cool air as he maneuvered over your body, covering you in his mouth and leaving you with his teethmarks to prove it. He released your wrists, but your head was so fuzzy and full of air that you didn't even think to move them. Steve wanted them there. You wanted what Steve wanted.

Steve clamped down on your waist, following the valley of your curves. You jerked the other way, body instinctually recoiling. He bit into your hip, then your thigh, then your stomach, then the thin skin just above your pelvis. He had you covered in him and writhing for more, cheeks soaked with tears he was certain you didn't even know were shed.

Face pinched and pooling with red-hot heat, you gasped for air and arched off the bed. Steve's fingers worked deeper between your legs. His thumb rubbed with the firmest pressure in just the right spot. You stomped your feet against the mattress and whined, long and howling.

"Steeeeve."

It burned, he could tell. He could tell by the way you trembled and closed your legs around his hands. He could tell by the way you blinked tears to the ceiling, how you balled your hands into fists—still above your head. You couldn't hold steady and you looked close to nausea.

Steve settled on his knees between your legs, free hand smoothing over your wobbling thigh. He loomed over you with an empty expression, taking in your bare body and his mouth branding nearly every inch of it.

Just as you lifted your back again, hands flying down to grip the mattress in preparation for the orgasm winding a knot behind your navel, Steve ripped his fingers away. You cried—a pitiful, pathetic, snot-filled sob that sliced through the room and made Steve huff.

But Steve had mercy on you. He replaced his fingers with something better, and your cry dwindled to short sniffles as the head of his cock breached your throbbing entrance. He slid your thighs over his, pulled you down until you were forcing half of him in. You howled again, head tipping back, hands reaching for his. You found them on your waist, gripping in a vice.

With slow and steady caution, Steve eased between your legs and mounted over you once more. He propped himself on his forearms, caged on either side of your shoulders to squish your arms against your sides. There was nowhere for you to run. You were inching close to orgasm again already just at the thought.

Steve cupped his palm over the crown of your head and leaned in until his nose brushed your own. His thumb pressed against your forehead, his breath tickled your open, shining mouth. You could see the blood gathering on his lip again. It wobbled there, at the split seam of soft tissue. It glistened and, in your foggy, fucked-out mind: it called to you.

You swept it up with your tongue, sucking with a gentle pull that made Steve's seem cruel. But even that delicate, meek suction had him groaning, had him bucking into you wildly. You released him and he followed the metallic scent of your breath, thanking you for his brief sting with a nip on your bottom lip.

'Hurt me, so I can hurt you.'

And squished under him, taking every assault of teeth and lapping up the blood, you found something in pain you never knew was possible: peace.

A simple, mindless transaction. I hurt you, you hurt me. This is how we say I love you.

Hurt me. So I can hurt you.

Steve pressed your heads together, rutting into you so deep you almost thought you could feel him in your throat. But maybe that was just more tears, pooling and lumping until you couldn't swallow past it. So you released it, weeping in a way that had Steve kissing your hot, sticky cheeks just to ease the hysteria. But he wanted those tears, and he basked in how they tasted on his mouth.

In one final effort, one last turn toward his destination, Steve reared back just enough to bring his hand down on your ass, thigh hitched over his hip to bare it to him. It slammed down with a sharp clap, delivering a sting that spread like wildfire and reverberated through your thighs and spine.

It was exactly what you needed to shatter. It sent you stumbling, clinging to Steve like you'd fall apart without him holding you steady. You weren't entirely sure that was false. You whimpered into his neck, fingers buzzing against his back. You sounded so pathetic, sniffling and hiccuping like that. Steve kissed your jaw and caught a glimpse of the blotchy bruise he left on your neck. You'd be stuck with it for days.

Steve spilled into you, raw and warm, sticky and disgusting. He brushed his nose against your bruise and felt it throb. He ran his thumb over the red shape of his mouth on your hip as he slipped from between your legs. He brushed his hair back against his head and licked the blood from his split lip. His knuckles had broken open and stained the white sheets near your head.

On sore thighs and wobbling knees, Steve settled between your limp legs once more and gazed down at the mess he made. He brushed your hair from your eyes and cradled your cheek. Still catching your breath, you leaned into his hold with heady exhaustion, placing your hand over his. You'd be just as bruised as Steve tomorrow morning, and you'd marvel in the mirror at the pretty colors he painted you with.

And the best thing about it? Steve wasn't hurting anymore. He gave it all to you.

♡ ♡

[peramess]

Wounds // Yandere M. OC X M. Reader (Part Two)

Warnings: Abuse. Grammar. Obsessive Yandere Behavior. Swearing. Etc. MINERS DNI.

Pairing: Yandere Boyfriend X Male Reader (Part Two).

Part One Here.

AU: None.

A/N: Whoa... Who the hell is this posting???

______________________________________________

Letting out a sharp breath as you were moved into a different position, the pain gripping your lungs as your joints throbbed with soreness, you held his hands as to stop him. "Please... just give m-me a second." You breathed out, staring down at his chest as you tried to calm the pain that shot through your entire body.

He didn't say anything, but he did stop. You were thankful for that. Usually he'd ignore you but will coax you with gentle encouragements as he moved you into whatever position he wanted you in.

You guessed he listened to you this time is probably because the new state you were in now. It was worse- you were worse. Worse than you've ever been with him.

Your throat stung with searing heat as you forced yourself to stop breathing as a way to help calm the pain and gave a short nod for him to continue.

He was slower, gentle even as he went to pick you bridal style but even then pain erupted everywhere he touched. Maybe if you held your breath long enough, you could end this torment... A taunting thought crossed your mind, and you actually debated it, You were weak enough, going through so much horror and torment, you could actually-...

No... No, i-.. I can't do that to him.

He would be completely broken then, and so, so lost without you. No, you wouldn't do that to him. You did this, so you'll have to live with it.

"(Y/n)," Looking up as best as you can to meet his eyes, you noticed his lament expression and the deep frown, "I know it hurts but you don't need to hold your breath like that." Atleast he knows what he's done to you; the pain he caused you.

Slowly, you released an unpleasant breath before breathing back in, causing distress in your lungs and ribs, and you watched as his frown lifted just slightly. "Good boy." He kissed your forehead with closed eyes.

You were glad you couldn't feel it.

"Now, let's go get you cleaned up. I'm sure you're starving." He wanted to do something special for you tonight, as a way to make up how he treated you yesterday. You knew that it wouldn't work. And he wasn't stupid, he knows what he's done, knows it couldn't ever be forgiven. But that won't stop him from attempting to mend the shattered bonds between you both. Oh, how you wanted it to be back as it was before.

"I'm... not re-really hungry, Mal..." You were surprised you could still talk, it hurt, of course, but the aching pain in your jaw and face didn't compare to what your body was going through.

You felt his grip tighten as he walked you both into the hallway, his expression deepening. "Oh, come on, (Y/n), don't be like that. It's your favorite!" It's always your favourite. He doesn't fix anything else other than the things you liked, well used to like. Anything he made just caused you nothing but sorrow and longing for the past you once had.

"B-but..." You swallowed, "It h-urts to ea-.. eat, Mal." His touch softened then as well as his expression as he let out a soft "ah" from your explanation. "Then it's a good thing I made soup." He grinned, as if he accomplished something worthwhile.

As you stared at his smile, you noticed it was the same as before... Before everything that had gone wrong. And you hated yourself for feeling hope that maybe, just maybe he was coming back. That your Maliki was coming back.

"Alright, here we are," he says as he stepped into the bathroom, and comfortable heat engulfed your body. "Now, all we need to do is take off your clothes."

The bath was already full of steaming water, and you wouldn't lie, you wanted to be surrounded in it. It was times like these that you look forward to, it allowed you to fully relax. After all the pain Maliki causes you, he always gave you a bath as another way to say "I'm sorry", and he always made sure it was the right temperature.

"Wo-Would you stay with me?" You already knew the answer to that, but you also knew he wanted you to include him, he wanted to be wanted. "Well, obviously!" He laughed lightly, "... I can't leave you in a state like this."

"What ab-... about t-the.. soup?" You couldn't help but ask. "It's all finished, (Y/n). Don't worry about it." A whimper forced itself from your throat as you were softly placed down onto the toilet whilst he gently responded. He kissed your head as he palmed your thighs, and crouched down before you, his light touch then moving to remove the pair of boxers he had you wear.

You closed your eyes to ignore the burning sting as they were pulled down, trying desperately to calm your breathing as best as you could. But whatever you or he did, did nothing but cause more agony to your limbs.

"There... It's over now." Opening your eyes, you could see the sadness in his. This could never be over.

You hated seeing him like this, despite the ongoing pain you've had, you wanted him happy. And you hated yourself for that.

But this was your punishment after all. This is what you deserved.

"H-Hey..." your body shook as you forced yourself to move forwards, grabbing his head with both hands as you lent yours to his. He let out a soft noise as he closed his eyes, leaning up into your touch. "I'm still.. here, Mal. An-and I'm not going anywhere." He was looking up at you again with nothing but warmth.

"I'm.. yours..." He smiled as that warmth became clouded with something you were too familiar with, and you let out a breath as you felt his hands tightened on your bruised skin.

"Mine."

______________________________________________

In all honesty, I wouldn't be surprised if y'all forgotten who I am XD

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

I'm sorry @sandiedog3 that your husband had prostate cancer💔. I do hope he is on the mend. Please forgive my delayed response, @skippyv20 I only (may 22, 2024) just happened upon these reblogs and comments.

I am all too familiar with the blessings and curses of robotic surgery. DaVinci is a star player in my industry and I'm grateful Canadians have benefited from the technology.

I'm sorry if readers found my opinions, comments, and illustrations offensive. My rant was in reference to the BP stories strategically circulated AFTER Catherine's cancer announcement. My intent was to question the timing and the motivation.

Search my blog and you will see that I'm all for Catherine and KC maintaining upmost privacy and dignity as they heal.

Some articles to their credit, alluded to the curioussness (my word) that KC was admitted to hospital (for an outpatient procedure) without any indication of how long he would remain. And yet, their own press reports were gaslighting the public to think the king was raising awareness (unlike the "secretive" Catherine) by choosing "transparency." Based on America's treatment for ENLARGED prostate (not malignancy), I could make the case that it was BP who was being secretive and deceptive.

Unlike your husband Sandi/Skippy, and the male readers or other loved ones on this blog, KC did NOT enter hospital with a diagnosis of prostate CANCER.

KC entered the hospital supposedly under treatment for ENLARGED prostate.

In America, at least in my area which is world renowned for medicine, it is rare to remain overnight to effectively treat an ENLARGED prostate. In fact, the condition can be treated with remarkable technologies inside the physician's office. It's frightening to think that the man who should have the best care in the world might have gone months without rectifying the situation in the physician's office. Anyone wishing to know more about the use of steam (and other modern technologies) to reduce an enlarged prostate can find a myriad of studies available online.

While Catherine's name was being dragged through the mud, I only noticed one reporter note the obvious: BP refused to share the King's projected length of hospital course.🤔

Instead, BP allowed the press to hail KC as a hero for sharing his diagnosis and Catherine was the villan for choosing to only share "abdominal surgery."

The truth is that KC's hospital course: reasons for admission and length of stay were clear as mud. Three (3) days in-patient for an enlarged prostate, even for a VIP---- Nope!

Initially I was content to mind my own business, until I was frosted by the release of KC's so-called "inpatient stories."

So, here's what I think: KC was admitted and coded for an enlarged prostate. Based on all the advancements for this particular condition, coupled with the private "clinic" accommodations on his properties, I have good reason to hypothesize that he was actually admitted because he was presenting with (cancerous) symptoms that required hospital technology, etc. The purpose of the admission was to perform the necessary biopsies that would diagnosis the cancer.

My use of the Foley catheter imagery collecting bloody urine from his penis was and still is to bring home the absurdity of the dapper, spoiled prince (now king) sitting down to chat (without undergarments) to his daughter in law who can't stand up straight, eat or drink, and might even be managing an uncomfortable Foley catheter of her own.

I just don't see Charles exposing himself (in such an immodest state) to his son William, let alone to Catherine. Now, did the dapper king Charles (who didn't have prostate treatment) saunter down to Catherine's room in his bespoke Savile Row jammies for a chat(s) prior to Catherine's discharge as he had to hurry up & wait for lab results and transport to yet another bloody test----I'll buy that.

But most importantly to me, and what I hope all readers can glean from my opinionated post, BP DELIBERATELY HELD BACK these stories of heart to heart chats when Catherine, his son and grandchildren needed them most: during the vulgar "where is Kate" craze.

Someone had these "stories" but chose to allow the gutter press (I'm looking at you Piers Morgan) to whip up a frenzy about whether or not Catherine was where she said she was, doing exactly what she claimed to have been doing when these bedside chats could have shut it all down.

It still stinks to high heaven.

Again, my REAL issue in the matter remains BPs timing. When Catherine announced her hospitalization, some in our community were suspicious about Charles yet again riding off the KP/Cambridge's coattails. At that time, I tried to believe the best. Although his hospital statement was and remains fishy fishy fishy, I actually shared that perhaps Charles was doing a good deed by entering hospital alongside Catherine. Perhaps he hoped his hospitalization would take the focus off Catherine and put it on him and on prostate health.

KC has NEVER even revealed the location of his cancer or type of therapies/treatments but they labeled Catherine and William as "secretive" and hailed king charles, "a new era of openess and transparency."

After the deafening silence from BP, Catherine's public cancer announcement was met with international acclaim. The star player who had been hung out to dry was suddenly the daughter in law of the king who advised her to speak blah blah blah blah blah...

I'm willing to be wrong, but it looked as though they remained silent until something could be gained from their input.

To anyone who has been touched by the prostate health of a loved one, you have my sincere sympathy---more compassion than I could adequately convey in this blog post.

I would like to graciously add that Canadian & British men might make for more accommodating patients (when it involves their manhood), than what we see here in the US. With all due respect to US men, even the most godly can be hell on walkers, 😫 particularly when it involves their private parts. Our US male patients aren't rounding the wards with catheters to chat at the nurses station, they are making the prescribed laps to get the bleep up and out of the hospital ASAP. I'm still a bit embarrassed by our male surgeons who boast about self-catheterization before a long surgery. TMI 😳

What is going on?

The Meghans bullied Charles's parents into an early grave. Now Catherine is ill because Charles won't discipline his darling boy and that daughter in law from hell.

The press knows Catherine never had a discussion with Sparry (or anyone) about his future children's physical characteristics and yet Catherine took the blame for Camilla.

They have been relentless in the bullying of a sick woman who was far more OPEN about her medical situation than the king in his two (2) sketchy press releases, but the press suddenly has glowing stories about Charles and his positive influence on Catherine.

Charles hasn't spoken about his own cancer, but he's taking credit for Catherine's courage and strength.

Not a peep out of BP while Catherine was supposedly AWOL, but suddenly they have "stories" to share.

Oh and no man is wandering around the wards of any hospital (even VIP) with a foley catheter inserted into his penis while his bloody urine is collected in a plastic baggie just to have heart to heart conversations with his daughter in law on the 1 of 3 days he's lucid. 🙄

Make it make sense.

[sunflowershouto]

promise (tobio kageyama x reader)

𝐚/𝐧: manga spoilers for kageyama post-timeskip. hope you enjoy! -leo

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: kageyama makes a promise 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluffy angst? bittersweet fluff? flangst? 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐬: promise - ben howard my haikyuu masterlist

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞.

‧₊˚✩彡.

"You'll be cold in just a windbreaker."

You hummed in response to Tobio's gentle warning before heading for the closet to retrieve your winter coat.

He stood in the hallway waiting for you, hands already in his pockets, eyes desperately evading the boxes full of his belongings that lined the hallway.

"Are you ready to go, Tobio?" you called, stepping back out with your coat hanging off of you, scarf in your free hand.

He was still as he watched you draw near, hurrying to memorize the image in front of him, the way that you held yourself, the warmth in your gaze.

He was in love with you; that much he knew for certain, though he wasn't quite sure when it had happened, if it had been slow or all at once. He hadn't processed your question, and maybe he hadn't wanted to.

"Tobio?"

"Here..." He reached forward as you finished putting on the coat and began to help you with your scarf. His calloused hands were gentle as ever as he wrapped the wool loosely around your neck, the back of his hand lingering against your cheek for a moment before he drew it away. He nodded towards the door, and you both set off.

The walk up the hill to your spot was silent, but his hold on your hand remained tight the whole way up.

The winter's first snow was falling around you, speckling the ground in a white sheen, snowflakes catching on your eyelashes and in your hair.

Tobio's hand was warm, and you squeezed it lightly, a sigh crossing your lips and swirling up towards the sky in gentle tendrils of steam. You were almost there.

You reached the top of the hill with a heavy silence hanging between you, and Tobio felt guilty; guilty because he was wasting precious moments on silence, guilty because there was no doubt in his mind that he was leaving.

"Tobio..." you murmured, and his heart felt like it had seized in his chest. "How far away is Italy from home?"

"Nine thousand and six hundred kilometers." He knew that number by heart; it had been torturing him for weeks now.

"And you're sure?" You knew this was pointless, that Kageyama didn't do things that he wasn't sure about, and that you were only asking questions that you didn't want to hear the answers to. "You're sure you're leaving?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

There was a small grove of trees that circled around you, branches arching up high and twisting between each other, all stripped of their leaves with the onset of winter. This was the place where Tobio had asked you to be his girlfriend, the place where you'd had your first picnic and your first kiss, the place where he'd asked you to move in with him.

And he realized now, that this was the place where he'd fallen in love with you. Your little grove of trees at the top of the hill.

"I won't be gone forever, you know," he told you, bringing up a hand to cup your cheek, tilting your face upwards so that you'd meet his eyes.

"That's good. Forever is a long time," you sighed, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you melt into him. You want to stay here forever, just the two of you, you want to let the world pass you by, you want to cry and scream and beg for Time to just leave you alone, to let you be with this boy until the snow melts and the flowers bloom and you can wait for winter again.

He could see it in your eyes, now brimming with tears that he wiped away gently with the pads of his thumbs. It wasn't fair of him to ask you this, not when you were so bright and so beautiful, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Will you wait for me?"

"Is that even a question?" you laughed, shaking your head and finally giving him the smile that he had fallen in love with, the smile that he was so desperate to memorize.

He could only stare at you as he was torn apart by the adoration that tugged upwards at his heart and the guilt that settled heavily into his stomach. You were smiling now, but what about in a month? What about in two years?

What if he became a burden to you? What if-

"Tobio... It's okay," you assured him, taking his hand in both of yours. "We'll figure it out as we go. As long as you come back to me... We'll be okay."

He nodded, then pulled you close, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your forehead.

"I'll be here. I promise."

‧₊˚✩彡.

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

NSFW Alphabet (N-Z)

Part 1 | Part 2

The Falcon and The Winter Soldier

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Female! Reader

Summary: A-Z of just smut (and some fluff).

Word Count: 1324

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, minors DNI, unprotected vaginal sex, oral (male/female receiving), masturbation (male/female), overstimulation, creampie, multiple orgasms, teasing, slight spanking, sex toys, cursing, language, mention of bodily fluids.

Authors Note: POSTING IN 2 PARTS! Because Tumblr won’t let you have more than 250 text blocks. Happy Birthday to Sam! I love how this turned out and I hope you all do too! Enjoy loves <3

Main Masterlist | Sam Wilson Masterlist

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Credit @ chrishemsworht for the wonderful gif

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

He would never ever do something that would hurt you in any way, shape, or form.

He had told you countless times that if there ever was something you weren’t comfortable with in bed or something was hurting that you speak immediately.

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

That man could live between your thighs if he had the chance. At every opportunity, he would search for your core to nuzzle his face in it and bring you earth-shattering after earth-shattering orgasm with his master tongue.

Sam was close to bringing you to a third orgasm in some random room at the party the two of you were attending.

His mouth was sinful as he sucked on your raw and abused clit for how long you didn't know. You lost track of time how long you've been spread out for him on some random surface as he was on his knees. The short dress you were wearing made it easy for him to have access to all of you.

���I-I don't th-think I can d-do one mo-more baby.”

“Just one more. Just one more for me.”

“Shouldn't we go back to the party? People must wonder where we are.”

“I don't care. I don't like the food there. This here is much better. Now cum for me one last time.”

He wouldn’t say no to an offer from you in sucking him off. He just wishes sometimes you would have picked a more appropriate time to do so.

“Her? Now?” Sam questioned as you were on your knees trying to undo his pants. The two of you were at a party, and you had gotten the sudden urge to feel him on your tongue, so desperate to taste him.

You had pushed him into some random small broom closet. The crowns of people outside having no idea what was going on just a few meters from them.

“Yes now. Do you not want me to?” You asked innocently as you grabbed his dick through his underwear. “N-no, I want to. Please keep going… fuck.”

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

If he’s been angry and frustrated that day, it’ll be more rough than usual. You could feel him take that little bit of frustration out on your body as he fucked you hard and fast from behind.

Not that you mind. It was terrible to admit, but you loved those times when he got home from his day a little angrier. Your thighs clenching together in knowledge that he would handle you roughly in bed.

Your head was buzzing as Sam fucked you into oblivion from behind. He had gotten home frustrated and in desperate need to release some steam. Your hands were gripping the sheets tightly in your palms to keep you grounded from his abusive thrusts.

His palm continuously left harsh slaps on your ass cheeks as he fucked you deeply into the mattress.

It didn't take long for both of you to release. His hands held a tight grip on your hips as he fucked you just a tad longer after the orgasm.

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

If there really isn’t time for foreplay and exploring each other, he has nothing against a quickie if one of you is in a rush.

“We don’t have time for this Y/N! We need to leave in 10 minutes.”

“10 minutes is more than enough, Sam! We just need to be very quick.”

The rush to get his pants down as well as your underwear under the dress down was immense as you only had a few minutes to bring each other pleasure before you had to leave for the fancy gala both of you were attending.

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

He’s up for exploring new possibilities in bed if that’s what you want.

New positions, maybe some toys that could be used to enhance both of your pleasures.

If you were game, he was as well.

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

You have sex almost every day. That man can last as long as he wants and is good to go for 2-3 rounds. You don't understand how in the fuck he does it. It's like a secret superpower he has. He mainly uses it to his advantage when he wants to tease you to the fullest.

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

There won’t be that many toys that are used. Sam always says that his mouth, hands, and dick are the only toys that are needed in the bedroom.

Once in a while, he will ask you to fuck yourself with the dildo in your drawer while he watches intensely.

“Please, Sam, can you just come and touch me?” The drive of the toy inside yourself was good, but it would never please you in the same way Sam did.

“No, no. I want to watch. You’ll get me later. Now show me what you do to yourself when I’m not at home.”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

There is teasing to some degree, but he mostly wants to get right on.

But those few times he does actually want to tease you, he’ll take his sweet time in doing so, driving you absolutely insane with need.

“No… please,” the pathetic plea for him not to deny your orgasm again was bringing a smirk to his expression.

“Shhh… I’m not done with you yet,” he said as his fingers were inserted in you once again to build you up. Was he going to allow you to let go this time? That would be left to see when the time came.

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

He can be loud at times, but mostly he’ll just let out grunts and moans of your name on a repeated loop. It became more evident just as he’s about to finish inside of you.

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

Sam loves drawn-out foreplay when he has plenty of time to spare.

He takes good care in preparing you and making you cum at least once before he’s even put his dick in you.

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

Have you seen how he walks? He’s thick and long, and he knows how to make you absolutely crazy with it. The way he holds himself just screams big dick energy.

You’ve been together for years, but you still can’t get used to his length inside of you, and you doubt you ever will.

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

He’s always ready if you are. He’s not joking when he says he wants you 24/7, 365 days.

Even when the two of you are tired but still horny for one another, you will find a way to pleasure each other.

The two of you were laying on your sides, Sam’s chest pressed tightly against your back as his dick was driving itself in and out of your tightness.

It was early in the morning. The two of you were as tired as could be but the need to feel each other was intense.

It wouldn’t be long until the two of you released all over each other. On the bright morning, none of you would be able to hold on for long.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He always takes care of you before his eyes close for sleep. Washing you, cuddling you, running a bath for the two of you to relax in.

He can’t sleep unless he knows you have been appropriately taken care of.

“Good night, sweet girl. I love you.”

Part 1 HERE

Credit @ firefly-graphics for the wonderful divider

Thank you for reading <3 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated if you liked it! As well as a reblog to share it with others!

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Marvel Taglist: @whothehellisbuckybarnes @phoenixhalliwell @x-goddess-of-nature-x @trulysuccubus @skyesthebomb @whoreforsamwilson @natashadeservedbetter @beth-winchester21 @mrs-salvawhore @soldierstucky @missswritings @sariche @claudiaatje @myakai13 @paintballkid711 @ttalisa @teti-menchon0604 @J-e-nster @-im-fantastic- @donut-crazs @tatestripedsweater @feetoffthetablee @uraesthete @mae-black @midnightdragonzero @julia2000love @yvngzxx @midnightzonzz @kaystacks17 @missroro @living-that-best-life @alwaysclassyeagle

Sam Wilson Taglist: @kenbechillin @selenasprompts

Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

If your name is in bold it means I can’t tag you for some reason. My apologies!

[whiskeyfox]

Feeling kinda soft so a post cannon XuanYin AU

After everything He Xuan would sometimes wonder the mortal realm for a change of scenery. He kind of watched times change like this as well.

Some days He Xuan would sit on a step with a steamed bun watching kids play, other days he would get coaxed by the wives of stall owners in to maybe marrying their daughters but their efforts were always fruitless as the tall handsome man would say he already had someone.

After a while a gold ring started adorning He Xuan's fingers, but nobody ever saw the man with his lover. As time went by He Xuan would still sometimes sit there and watch children play, there was something about soft toys that has come around and the man couldn't understand it, they looked crude and poorly made but it brought so much joy to the children.

Standing up, He Xuan dusted himself off and started to make his way through the town, trying to find a quiet spot where he could draw his array to go back to the Ghost City, but before he even reached his destination he stopped at a stall, just at his eye level hung plush black cats, with buttons for eyes and nose, they were poorly made but were somewhat cute nonetheless.

He Xuan must've been looking at it for a while because the female stall owner approached him, took the plush down and practically shoved it in to the mans hands, she gave him a knowing smile and then went about her business of serving other customers.

He Xuan looked at the plush in his hands, running his thumb over the little fabric head as as the corner of his lips tugged upwards ever so slightly. Looking up, He Xuan finally went ahead and found a place that was placid enough and didn't get much foot traffic from other patrons of the town.

The change of scenery was like a slap in the face, but for some it was a gulp of fresh air. Not for He Xuan though, he always felt like the Ghost City was too frantic, ghost would constantly argue or fight, and the Ghost Kids were not the same as human kids.

Pocketing the plushie, He Xuan straightened his back and started to make his way through the city while keeping an eye out for a certain officer. They should've exchanged communion array passwords, but no matter how many times they attempted to something would come up, either a fight would break out in the ghost city, Hua Cheng would call He Xuan or one of them needed to help Xie Lian.

He Xuan didn't blame the couple, but circumstances just never allowed it, it usually led to a hasteful kiss and one of them would be off. But now that he needed to find the other, He Xuan cursed for not having the communication array password.

The search didn't take long though, because the officer was soon spotted making his way through the crowd, he kept his head held higher now and when the other spotted He Xuan, a shy smile tugged at the former gods lips and he went over.

Meeting midway He Xuan pulled out the plus and placed it in YinYu's arm instead, "A human in the mortal realm gave it to me, I have no need for it." He spoke, his tone steady, but the ocean blue eyes were still focused on the plush in its new owners hands.

YinYu was caught off guard to say the least but he looked at the plush and back at He Xuan. One step, two and three, the former god very carefully, he was still a bit unsure how comfortable he himself felt with physical touch, hugged the calamity in front of him but soon let go taking a step back, "Thank you, I shall treasure it."

-------

Aaaaa this came out longer than expected but oh well, I shall proof-read it in the next day or two. But I'm in my feels ;-;

[ignitification]

All for Outsourcing

Alright  so, this post is going to be a long mess. I was just thinking and asking myself why does this panel trigger something in me. 

What we see clearly explained is that a. AfO wants to hijack Shigaraki’s body after All Might has destroyed his; b. AfO wants OfA; c. AfO has incentivised Shigaraki’s hate and rage for all his life in order for Shigaraki to actually be able to undergo his transformation into AfO and to overwrite the will of OfA souls in order to take possess of OfA; d. AfO has understood that he, in his body, could never actually take possession of OfA on his own (because he likely missing in his soul); e. Emotions play a big factor in the Quirk activation/strength. 

I talked about AfO and his mask, and shallowly about his character right at the beginning here. But Hawks's remark about him not stopping smiling even for a second, and the hypothesis that maybe AfO does not feel hate (or anything for that matter) spiked my attention even more, because this is the sort of further proof that AfO, in the end, has worn his mask in so long - that he likely dissociated from his persona as a Shigaraki.  In particular, this paragraph (taken from the linked post) writes:

[...] However, there are some clues here and there which tell us that as powerful and atrocious AFO may have been in the past (even more than now), he is not only a big mastermind but he is obsessed by certain ideas and values and he has warped them so much that behind that mask of villain, of AfO, there is nothing left of human in him. That he is unredeemable and that the loss (or lack) of his facial features [potato face] might be an externalisation not only of the experimentation and the salvaging that the Doc has done on him, but as well of the blurred line between his human part (older brother who wanted, even with the abuse and the abominable things he has done, to ‘save’ his little brother) and the part that defines him as AfO.

Indeed, it does not make sense that AfO, with his 'dream' being becoming the next Demon Lord, would need a piece in order to accomplish his goals. It does not fit the thematic of AfO being selfish and caring only about his own interests (argument which I am afraid can be debunked by his life long partnership with Ujiko and the fact that despite he inhuman treatment he subjected Yoichi to, he still gave him a stockpiling Quirk, however weak and controversial they might be).

AfO is like a circle: he begins and ends with himself.  It is abundantly made clear how he does not care, not really, about what is on his path: he didn't care about mistreating his brother, he didn't care about saving Shigaraki, he didn't care about All Might surviving their encounter -  because it all defies his personal view of the world as his playground.

Of course, this reasoning comes back to Hawks argument: that he does not feel anything (nor hate, nor love - he does not have any morals) and that's exactly why his Quirk is the only thing he relies on. AfO knows perfectly how other than that, there is nothing else to him: he just wants, he just needs and it is others' responsibility to satisfy his needs (if he cannot strive for it alone, as in the case of OfA).

The fact that it took AfO so long to realise that he had to use a vessel to accomplish his mission, might have to do also with the fact that the ones holding onto the power the longest were Shinomori (who held it for 18 years, hiding) and Toshinori, before passing it to Izuku. Which means that the power had been transferred to individuals in rapid succession, and AfO had little time (or will) to investigate on how to obtain the power (without forcing it through his Quirk) and rather focused on eliminating the threat OfA as an embodied power represented. In this case, it is highly likely that it is after or during Nana's period that AfO realised how important emotions were, and how family could be such a perfect emotional ploy (and this was likely due only to the fact that Nana tried so hard to hide her family). After all, he, as himself, as a Shigaraki, did not feel anything in the first place - and he likely thought that what he was doing steamed out of brotherly love, or concern - while in reality AfO has been weaving the threads of his egoism since the beginning. An egoism born out of the only possible concern that he might had experienced: the one for himself. We see it in the simple statements he makes throughout the manga; he is never shown angry, pissed or disappointed - but instead he has a serene, mysterious aura around himself reeking of devil intent.

What is worse in this scenario, however, is that AfO throughout identifies with his quirk.

And on a personal level, I think that point e, has all to do with this identification. The thing is, AfO's Quirk presupposes (but does not limit) him to be selfish. After all, even the name is just a short story on how AfO's like might have been since the beginning and how he adjusted to the pace of wanting to have it, and then having it - having power over someone else, and have nothing to account for/to.

As AfO is not a man anymore, and does not feel anything unless it is related to the quirk, he becomes his figure and shadow. It has no limits and bounds when it comes to darkness: a lost figure in his own ideals and principles (maybe dreams) that have nothing to appeal to but his villain side, because there is nothing left. And as Horikoshi is a man that lives for the sake of a (questionably) good parallel, it is not far-fetched to see how since the beginning Izuku should have served a foil, and also as a contrast breaker with AfO. More than AM, Izuku embodies the unselfish desire to save others, to give (contrasting to take) and to trust. AfO is the epitome of taking for himself, and to destroy for a personal reason - being trusted and revered. Furthermore, Izuku is himself a vessel for OfA, and his other Quirks open him the world of heroics, where on the other hand - we see AfO being the one taking other Quirks for the selfish reason to take, and that's all there is to it.

Another parallel - which comes across as fitting, even if for a mere split second, is the one with Muscular. Muscular - or Gotou Imasuji - has nothing else but his bloodlust, his will to live at his prime and the will to express his aggressive vein in the most destructive way possible. But even on this account, Muscular appears way too emotional for AfO (and maybe this could be one of the reason AfO does not have any need for him? Because he does not have a higher goal, and there is nothing which AfO might offer him, which he couldn't obtain by himself or through his quirk?).

Coming onto the main point of this post: if AfO needs Shigaraki for the only reason to steal OfA, because he himself cannot possibly accomplish it and the conversation among the Top 3 hints at the fact that this might have to do with something missing in his soul (or in my guess, emotions - on which Quirks highly depend) which prejudices his possibility of hijacking OfA, thing that he hadn't realised until OfA stabilised itself in Yagi - (and here my best guess is that AfO entirely lacks the emotions of empathy, compassion and love, passing through the possibility of Alexithymia, which would be interesting to explore, in regard to how Quirks affect mental health of every individual) - and taking into consideration how unaffected AfO is by the external conditions that he experiences, and the fact that hate is one of the strongest emotions which can be felt, as raw as it is (and we know how AfO groomed Tomura into festering the negative emotions because he needed them to be strong enough to overwrite the positive feelings on eight people at the least) - it is safe to assume that AfO's downfall will be tied to his soul-missing piece and to his former identity as a Shigaraki? Is this a very complicated foreshadowing to tell us that, contrary to other villains and especially Tomura, AfO is bound to go down exactly because he has never experienced negative feelings, (hate, pain, despair, rage) and has never touched his hand (sorry, I did not intend the pun) how there is something desperately wrong with the world he lives in?

[shelby-love]

KELLY SEVERIDE

Skeletons and Whatnot.

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Author’s note: I feel like this is rubbish, but I also feel like it’s not. 50/50 (1.6K words - might come back to edit it tomorrow)

Also you can see how tired I am (it's 4:30AM) I mean what is this title??? GOOD NIGHT.

~

"That's not possible. Check again."

"But I already did! Like a million times!"

"Adam, I swear to God-"

"Alright, alright…" Your colleague mumbled, turning on his chair to run the data yet again.

While he sat on the chair, looking through files he didn't have a clue about, you were leaning against the wall and shaking in your boots. Your heart hammered and your palms felt clammy.

Not possible. I killed him.

"No look it says right there," Adam declared; proud of himself for being able to gather information like this on his own. "Some girl named Lucy Riggs pawned a gun she got off some guy named Jon Prescott.

You squinted your eyes at the information that made no sense. "Get to the point."

Adam visibly swallowed, "Turns out the guy's name isn't Jon. Shocker. It's actually Parker Torres."

Your blood ran cold at his words. A million thoughts raced through your head. You wondered where he was, what he was doing… The questions that evaded your mind are usually normal, but here, when you thought about the dark man of your past, the questions seemed to be anything but normal.

"What about the gun?"

Adam clicked away until a picture of a metallic gun popped out. "Smith & Wesson Model 64 revolver."

Next thing you knew, a chain of vulgar profanities escaped your mouth, and you couldn't stop them. Ruzek's eyes widened ever so slightly at your lack of composure. "Mind telling me what this all about?"

You took a deep breath. "My skeleton escaped the closet."

***

The lack of information you found within the last couple of days was mind blowing. The only lead you had was the gun that wasn't even in your possession, having gotten lost in a misfit of undocumented sales.

Lucy wasn't of help either. The poor girl just wanted to get rid of her husband's gun, saying everything but useful information along the way. "If he wants a gun, then he better get a good one… A new one too! I don't want that piece of garbage in my house. God only knows who used that gun!" Lucy told you, just 48 hours ago. Those exact same words.

She was right about one thing.

That dammed gun went through so many hands and took double more lives.

And you didn't even have a lead.

"You look like crap," Kevin Atwater teased, handing you a steaming cup of coffee.

You didn't even manage to smile, looking at him through your shades that were, so far, doing a great job at concealing the bags under your eyes from the world.

"Rough night?"

"Mhmm."

Kevin didn't know that you no longer lived with Kelly. The temporary solution to your problems turned out to be moving back to your own place. Putting Kelly in harm's way, no matter how much he thought otherwise, was something you didn't want to do. The comfort of his bed and body were replaced by a thin blanked and an uncomfortable dining chair.

Dozens of glass decorations were laid out all over your apartment. On every window still, next to every door… On every surface, really. You slept on the dining chair 5 yards from your front door with a pistol strapped to your back, a shotgun under the chair and a rifle wrapped around your two arms, acting as a teddy bear for every time you dozed off.

Friends from Interpol would call here and there, with nothing more than sad news.

Hank Voight was pulling out every contact from his little notebook, but not even they could solve your years long case.

You wanted to throw up.

"Hey Kev."

"What's up?"

"You still friends with that FBI agent?"

***

"Second floor clear," The grip on your radio loosened after the second you needed to inform your team about your situation had passed and you moved on upstairs. You could hear them respond in the same matter as you held your gun with both hands and carefully climbed up the stairs.

You didn't let a sound slip your lips as you trekked the stairs up to the very last floor, save for the attic. For a drug house, everything was eerily quiet. It didn't feel like someone left in a hasty hurry.

It felt like as though there was no one there in the first place.

Your need to report that to your Sergeant faded away quickly once you saw smoke. It seized your full attention within a few seconds.

Smoke grenade was your first guess. Nasty things but nothing new.

That was, until you took several steps closer and the smell of the source journeyed through your nostrils. It clicked in your head immediately. Three years of being a squad lieutenant's girlfriend can do that to you. The scent of fire is nauseating and sweet, putrid and steaky, or something like leather being tanned over a flame. The smell  of it can be so thick and rich that it's almost a taste. Kelly's words rung in your head, and  you pulled your radio to your mouth.

"Call CFD! There's a fire on the third floor!" You informed, shielding your eyes. "Stand down! I repeat –"

Things went black after those words.

***

"We have a detective trapped on the third floor," Voight informed the first responders. "That's where the fire started."

Wallace nodded, "Squad 3, take the third floor."

Unlike Wallace, who had found his source of information in Voight, Kelly Severide had found it in Jay, who stood on the street visibly stressed. "Jay where's Y/N?"

Jay frowned, "She went to scope ahead. She was on the third floor when the whole place just blew up…"

"She could be unconscious right now," Kelly muttered. "Squad 3 let's go!"

Kelly Severide was already in the burning building when Chief Boden found out just who was trapped upstairs. "Dammit."

***

"Y/N?!"

Kelly's patience was thinning by the second. Knowing that his time is limited and that the place could blow in a stronger matter at any moment, he paced toward your unconscious body expeditiously.

Noticing the angry streak of blood that came from your nose had his heart in his throat. You were twisted in a way not normal for a human body to be in, catching him off guard the moment he laid his eyes on you.

Despite all that, Kelly still swooped in to grasp your limp body in his arms.

The stress of the last few days he went through didn't come close to a match with this very moment. "I'm coming down chief!"

For a moment Wallace wanted to bark back, but he bit his tongue. Love makes people do crazy things.

He knew that better than anyone.

"Get the hoses ready!" Boden announced and turned to the Intelligence.

"She'll be okay."

***

You were okay.

Maybe even better than you thought possible.

"Kelly wake up."

You smiled cheekily at doctor Mannig, who stood by your hospital bed, waiting for Kelly to wake up with the same thin line of patience as you.

You woke him up with a slap to his shoulder.

Natalie was beaming, her eyes sparkled despite the fact that she was the doctor to the most heavily guarded patient in the whole city of Chicago. "I think congratulations are in order."

"What do you mean?"

She winked before handing you the tablet, "You're 11 weeks along Y/N. Congratulations you two."

You shook your head wildly and pressed a palm to your mouth, acting out what your defense mechanism wanted you to do. "Oh God…"

"Really?" Kelly asked next to you. He had already grabbed your hand and gripped it tightly, holding you to the ground of your new reality. "Are you for real?"

She nodded, "The tests don't lie. I'm so happy for you two."

Natalie hugged you both closely before disappearing back into the crowded ER.

"Hey," Kelly murmured, grasping your chin with his index finger and thumb. "What's wrong? You're not happy? I thought…"

You shook your head immediately, stopping him from saying something that was untrue. "No, Kelly… I'm really happy."

Two heartbeats within one body. Your body.

A child that was going to take after you and the man you loved most in this world…

You felt so incredibly lucky at that moment.

Yet so guilty.

"Our baby could've died today…"

Fresh onset of tears attacked your eyes, pushing through until the moisture was dripping down your face, and you tried to muffle the hiccups with your hands. Everything started to make sense.

"Baby you didn't know…" He tried to calm you.

You shook your head violently, dropping his attempts into the water. "I should've known better. We didn't use protection... Then I felt so sick last week."

"Y/N-"

"But I was so obsessed with Parker Torres that-" You couldn't even finish the sentence because the guilt turned into anger. "God I'm so stupid!"

"Babe, look at me," Kelly's voice hardened yet the hands with which he cupped your face were gentle and comforting. "You didn't know, so none of this is your fault. If you knowingly went in there that's when it would have been your fault."

He kissed your tears away and gave you the softest smile ever. "Do you want to have this baby with me? Because if you don't, we can…"

You stopped him with a kiss.

You were venerable in the moment of the kiss, yet you never felt more at home. In this kiss is the promise of years of love and the sweetness of life. No one mattered at that moment. Not Parker… Not anyone. Only you two and the vow you just shared.

The next few weeks will be hard, that much you knew. You were introduced to a new reality and priorities shifted. The hunt for your skeleton will continue in the hands of the people you trust most and as months go by the light will greet the darkness of your tunnel.

But the next few years, you see nothing but light and happiness.

No skeletons to torture your life, but a baby and a soulmate to make it better.

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